#like of course i tried my hardest. i put my glasses case in my bag hours before

[pascallatte]

Y/n L/n | In The Bag

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: dive in on what you have in your bag, some might be yours and some might be not.

Date: August 2018

A/N: wanted to try the Vogue stuff (1 of ~) so here's a tryout, also a little tbt cause I lost the fic I was supposed to post today😵‍💫. basically, this is some sort of filler atm so without further ado enjoy reading and stay tuned for more!!!

You were sitting on the couch wearing a white silk dress that your stylist had prepared for you to wear. The video featured you showing off your prized headphones before cutting back to you sitting down.

“Hola Vogue, soy Y/n L/n, y esto es “¿Qué hay en mi bolso?" But since they told me to speak in English then I’ll have to speak in English…” looking directly at a camera smiling while placing the bag in front of you.

“This bag is very old, by old like really old. It was given to me by my mama when I got my role in Pirates of the Caribbean. It’s from a small shop, near our place in Madrid and it’s been with me ever since.” You explained the history of your bag of choice when asked off-screen.

“And as you can see it is a very big bag so I have most of my personal stuff here. It’s not the cleanest but it’s organized, just the way I like it,” beckoning the camera to come to take a look at the inside, which was in fact organized.

Setting the bag down on the table, you stretch your arms in exaggeration, “Ok!! Let’s dig in…my bag.” Reaching in you take out a small green purse, “Ah so this is my “legal things” purse, like all my IDs and cards are here- you’ll be seeing a lot of purses by the way. It’s how I separate things for easy access.” Opening up the purse, you pull out a card given to you by a brand and your license.

Showing your license to the camera, “Look this was taken, let’s say about 7 to 8 years ago, and you can still see the cheeks that I’ve tried the hardest to lose, but well it’s still here,” you said shrugging placing it back in the purse. “But hey, I’m actually happy it stayed it gives me the youthful look, most lose when they....age,” you said whipping your head to the camera.

“Next are these glasses most of you see me wearing if I’m out and about. These rectangle sunglasses actually come in a.. pouch I think? And these reading glasses in a hard case that I totally lost so they’re just sitting on top of my bag so they don’t get squished.”

You tried the sunglasses on and posed for the camera silly, before shaking your head and laughing. “Oh I actually- the sunglasses come in a pair, so the other one is with my partner, obviously. But he doesn’t really wear it since he prefers those big ones,” crossing your arms and looking at the camera straight-faced.

The video cut to you pulling out a wristlet, “ok, so here we have the wallet that I just bought, 'cause I really didn’t lose my old one, it just disappeared.” Opening up the wallet, you showed the insides towards the camera, it shows cards, receipts and a very well hid picture behind one of the cards that the camera was able to detect. “So, I don’t really keep any cash on me, just these cards cause bills are too bulky, I do keep my coins though.”

“Do I prefer coin purses or wristlets?” You said, repeating their question. “Uhmmm I love a good coin purse, but wristlets do come in handy and I can like slip it in somewhere easily.”

“Makeup and lady essentials that I won’t be showing you, sorry,” you bring out a see-through pouch with your balm, sunscreen, and powder inside. “I don’t really wear make-up if I’m not working so I have this…” you paused thinking what it was called, “.. tinted lip balm- I have two actually I just left the other one at home. I also got this sunscreen to keep the skin safe from the sun and of course, wrinkles, 'cause we don’t want that.” You said, squeezing some of it in your hand. 

“Lastly, we have this powder that was given to me a few months back. And it’s useful when you want to look put together in a rush or like look fresh, so thank you to whoever gave this to me,” cheekily as you waved the powder around.

“Okk, what else do we have here- oh!” You exclaimed looking around, wondering if you can show it. Deciding to, you brought out a cap that clearly did not belong to you and fans would know whose it was. “Ok, so we have this cap that I didn’t know was in my bag, until now. I don’t really wear any head accessories but he does so, let’s just say it’s their essential, not mine,” you said placing the cap that was noticeably big on you, on your head bopping around.

“Next is, MY must bring. Drumroll please,” joking, before pulling out a camera. “My camera, I am the sort of person that wants to look back on moments I love so this camera is really the best. Usually, I would use my phone but I got this as a present. At that time since I was debating whether to buy one, so they just said here you go, your very own camera. And yeah, I’ve had this for about a year now” Looking through the viewfinder you took a picture of the crew showing it to them afterwards.

“Photos? You’re asking me if you can see some?” Shyly you nodded, and moved to show the small screen, you’re back facing them. “This was the latest one, like a few days ago in a party, then us having a drink at home, and-“laughing to yourself as you saw the picture,”-and this picture that I really can’t explain what was going on.” It was basically a picture of you laid up on the floor wearing clothes that were significantly bigger and longer on you, a fake moustache drawn on your face and your hair stuck in all different places.

“Brief explanation Ummm, let’s just say it was a fun night that led us to do weird things, one being this photo,” you giggled to them, which you nodded before placing it down on the table.

“Now, these are my headphones, I got them last June and they’re really helpful when you like some quiet time or you just really have to focus on work. I don’t really like those wired ones, different to what someone prefers, since I wreck and lose them easily so these headphones are my best and safest options.”

Snickering, you brought out a half-eaten bag of chips, “here, my friends are the chips I’ve had in my bag since last week. Why I haven’t finished it is because it’s too hot for me to handle. My friends laugh at me for they claim it isn’t spicy at all- it is.” You pop one in your mouth before offering it to the people you’re with.

“I mean, I’m not a big fan of chips and spicy food, but I’d enjoy it from time to time.” You said popping a final Cheeto in your mouth.

The video cuts to you bringing out something big from your bag. “And this pouch, this pouch actually takes up almost half the space in my bag, so let’s see what’s in it,” you pulled out a big cream pouch, which looked heavy to say even on camera.

“I have all sorts of chargers here my phone charger, headphones, iPad charger surprisingly,” you mumbled, knowing all too well you don’t own one, “and some cord I don’t know its use.” Placing it on the table you pull back your hand before sticking it in the pouch once again, “this is a small hair brush I keep in my bag, it’s supposed to be in the makeup bag, not sure how it got here so-yeah this brush cause we don’t want our hair to be tangled.”

“I also have these perfumes in my bag don’t ask who owns who, they both have this vanilla scent on them which we love to use when we go out on a walk and that’s actually the reason I have it in here.” You said, reading the labels on the bottles you have on each hand. One that was really used and the other barely.

“Lastly I have this hair clamp and silly socks. When it gets too hot I put my hair up and when it’s cold I got some warmers on my feet. The funny thing is that this hair clamp has been missing for a couple days now, and finding it here in my bag just makes me laugh at myself for not checking it properly.”

Leaning back on the chair, legs cross you beam up at them, “Well vogue, that’s what I have in my bag. I’m sorry that took me too long but thank you for spending time with me it’s a pleasure. Bye Bye!!” Waving to the camera, you blow a final kiss before the video ends.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙

Taglist: @benonlinear @t-stark35 @heyitsme-2 @elleeeee21 @holmesstrange @tagakalat @flyestvenustrap @oldermenaremyreligion @cherryred444 @hobiismyhopeu @ilovehotdadsandshit @djarinsstuff @guacala @avengersheart @pukka-latte @lilvampirina (the ones in bold are the blogs that I can't seem to tag, so please inform me if you aren't getting tagged. thank you!!)

[shuckstruck]

last post istg i promise this isn’t made in a fit of self-pity i mean it for real these are my for real normal everyday thoughts on my Neurodevelopmental Disorder

I CANT ADD A READMORE ON MOBILE IM SORRY THIS APP SUCKS

anyways i’m happy for all of u who are comfortable with ur body and ur brains but christ alive i just want to rip my brain out of my skull and cut out all the adhd parts of it. i don’t want anything that comes with it i don’t care for any part of it it doesn’t improve me it makes me worse. i could be so successful and normal and motivated if i didn’t have adhd and instead i’m tired and lethargic and nothing i do is right and everybody blames me for it like i make life difficult for myself and everyone around me on purpose

[tennessoui]

if you wrote obikin for #4 with anakin as a single parent and obi-wan as luke and leia's teacher i would simply die happy!!

here it is!!! thank you so much!

4. Teacher/Single Parent AU (modern!AU)(DinLuke shows up as little kids)(2.4k)(whoops)

Anakin stares across the table at Luke, who gnaws on a slice of grilled cheese, carefully leaving the crusts behind. Oh god, he’d forgotten to cut them off of Luke’s sandwich, had cut them off of Leia’s instead, even though she didn’t mind them. And of course they hadn’t told him either. He can’t tell if he’s been forgiven for his error or if it will come back to haunt him later tonight when he tries to put the twins to bed at eight.

“Luke,” he says carefully. “I think I’m just a little confused.”

Leia looks up. She loves when her father is a little confused because it means Luke is probably a bit in trouble and she gets to be the one to set the record straight for him.

Which isn’t to say Leia is a tattle-tale. Anakin’s seen her watch Luke hit another child upside the head with a toy train and then say absolutely nothing when questioned by the daycare instructor.

Daddy’s interrogations are just a special case where she can become a guilt-free turncoat.

“How did you get a Unicorn sticker in art class?” he asks.

The Unicorn stickers, of course, mean unsatisfactory.

He pays extra money for his children to be coddled and kept away from words like Fail and Unsatisfactory, even though that’s what all the parents know the stickers mean. As long as the children don't yet.

“And I don’t understand the rainbow sticker at all,” he continues helplessly, regarding the piece of artwork in front of him, where a handful of dried macaroni noodles are lacklusterly glued to the page.

“The Unicorn sticker means it was bad, but the rainbow sticker means that Mr. Kenobi forgives him,” Leia pipes up, leaning across the table to take the icky crusts from her brother’s plate and dipping them into her tomato soup.

“But it was dry macaroni,” Anakin says incredulously. Luke’s eyes start getting misty as he stares resolutely down at his plate. That’s the last thing Anakin wants. But he just doesn’t understand. Luke’s the most creative of both of his children, has seemed to take after Anakin in that way. Last Christmas, Anakin had given him a model train set that he’d put together inside of a week. If he can do that, he can do a self-portrait in dry macaroni.

“He gave Din all of his noodles,” Leia reports.

“Didn’t Din have any?” Anakin asks, feeling completely out of his element and also sort of like a detective trying to solve a cold case.

“He wanted to save them for his puppy,” Luke mumbles. “They just got him and they can’t figure out what he eats, so Din thought he could try macaroni because I told him I like macaroni and cheese a lot.”

Anakin is on the cliff of despair, but he can’t exactly ask whether or not this Din knows there’s a difference between the dried macaroni from art class and boxed macaroni and cheese from Kraft. He’s not sure he even wants to know the answer.

“And then Luke didn’t have a lot left for his picture,” Leia finishes the story and her soup in one fell swoop.

“Couldn’t you have asked Mr. Kenobi for more?” Anakin asks Luke who shakes his head but doesn’t seem to want to elaborate. Anakin turns only slightly pleading eyes to Leia, who is the expert on anything her brother doesn’t want to say.

“Mr. Kenobi sits at the front, and Luke sat at the back today so it was really far.”

“But you always sit at the front!” Anakin says, appalled. Sure, he hadn’t managed to make it to the most recent round of parent-teacher conferences due to an unfortunately timed shift at the garage, but he knows where his kids sit in a classroom.

Luke mumbles something into his bowl.

“What was that?” Anakin asks.

Leia translates. “Din doesn’t sit at the front,” she says.

Anakin sits back in his chair and runs a hand over his mouth. Luke has a crush. His son, Luke, has his very first crush on a boy and he’s already doing stupid things in order to see the boy. Oh no. Oh god. Of all the things to take after Anakin on, it’s this one.

“Okay,” he says, mostly to himself. “It’s okay. Unicorns aren’t so bad.”

“Way better than giraffes,” Leia tells her brother bracingly, seeming to know instinctively that the gossiping part of this conversation is over. “And you got a rainbow, which means Mr. Kenobi isn’t mad.”

Anakin wonders, with the context, if that’s actually what the rainbow means, or if Mr. Kenobi isn’t just incredibly observant.

“TV time, kids,” he says, only feeling sort of bad about the screentime or whatever, as Luke perks up and runs with Leia into the living room.

After five minutes to make sure they’ve successfully turned on and found a child-appropriate show, Anakin gathers the dishes and loads the washer. Then he sighs as loud as he can without disrupting the kids.

Then he pulls out his phone and the school directory and finds the email for one Mr. Obi-Wan Kenobi, art teacher.

It takes him twenty minutes to figure out an email that doesn’t sound too judgemental, harsh, worried, skeptical, or angry. It takes another five minutes to figure out how to sign off on it. Kind regards? Best? Thanks? Sincerely? What is the etiquette for emailing your son’s art teacher to arrange a meeting because you’re worried your son will fail the class simply because he’s inherited terrible genes from his father?

It takes ten minutes, in the end, for Mr. Kenobi to email back, and he does so with a very straightforward message. He’s available to chat after school hours tomorrow, if it works for Anakin.

Anakin pulls up his work schedule. He’s supposed to work until five in the evening tomorrow, has already booked a slot at the after-care program for the twins. But.

He texts Ahsoka to ask if she could cover the last few hours of his shift. She texts back a string of rather offensive emojis, but settles down when he tells her it’s for his kids. Technically, he isn’t even lying. He’s just being overbearing.

He spends another fifteen minutes trying to compose a response email in between making sure the kids brush their teeth, wash behind their ears, and have their bags packed for the morning. He’s so stressed out by it that he’s not even sure he includes a signature at all before he hits send. God. Meeting Mr. Kenobi had better be worth all of this stress.

---

Finding Mr. Kenobi’s classroom is almost more stress than the correspondence from the night before had been. The only reason Anakin doesn’t sit down and cry against the garishly yellow brick lining the hallways is that he keeps telling himself that if his two seven-year-olds can do this, Anakin surely can.

The art classroom is tucked away in a forgotten corner of the school and it takes three wrong turns and one accidental entrance into a thankfully deserted first grade room for Anakin to find it. He knocks on the open door and then decides he should call as well to announce his presence. “Uh, Mr. Kenobi? I’m Anakin. Skywalker. We talked last night?” He takes a couple of steps into the room, which is lined in children’s art and paint-stained tables.

A man emerges from a backroom, dressed in a very loose and paint-flecked denim shirt over a white tank top and a pair of slacks. He’s wearing a pair of thick glasses that he takes off as soon as he sees Anakin. His beard is neatly trimmed and his hair, a sort of bronzed auburn, neatly combed.

He’s holding a paintbrush in one hand, and still, of course, Anakin’s dumb brain overrides the part of him that’s saying, This is clearly Mr. Kenobi in favor saying, quite politely, “Oh! I’m sorry. Is Mr. Kenobi back there?”

The man who could not possibly be more obviously the art teacher raises an amused eyebrow.

Look. No one told Anakin that elementary school art teachers could be so attractive. He’d not done anything to prepare for this.

“You must be Luke’s father,” Mr. Kenobi says, waving him forward.

“What makes you say that?” Anakin asks, a tad too defensively, thinking of his own self-deprecating thoughts last night about Luke taking after him when it comes to being sort of stupid around people they liked. He’s just being paranoid.

“The...last...name,” now Mr. Kenobi is definitely trying to hide his smile and Anakin wants to die. “Would you like to sit?”

Anakin does so rather graciously, given the circumstances. He even makes sure he keeps their chairs very far apart. Mostly in order to preserve his own dignity, but he thinks he should get credit for his self-control at this spur of the moment single-parent-hot-teacher conference.

“I’m sorry for my appearance,” Mr. Kenobi says, pulling the oversized button up closed over his tank top. “I must admit, I mostly forgot you were coming by. I was working on one of my own projects.”

“You paint?” Anakin asks.

Mr. Kenobi tilts his head slightly and flicks his eyes around the room as if in answer.

Anakin flushes but digs his heels in. “Well, I don’t know,” he mumbles mulishly. “Do math teachers do math in their spare time?”

This startles a laugh out of the teacher, which makes some long forgotten part of Anakin’s psyche sit up and preen. “I’m sure some of them do,” he says. “No, I do art mostly for the town right now. I’m working on a series of pieces for the public library at the moment.”

Anakin tries his hardest not to obviously melt, but Mr. Kenobi has not looked away from his face much so surely he can see it in his eyes.

“That’s quite. Nice,” Anakin says, coughing into his fist.

“And what do you do?” Mr. Kenobi asks in a way that’s just on the other side of polite. Anakin has the strange thought that if they had cups of coffee between them, he’d feel like he was on a very casual first date.

He has to shake his head to rid himself of that idea. “I’m a mechanic,” he says.

Mr. Kenobi looks interested, of all things. Most people don’t. Most people make some sort of assumption about him, about his life, his ability to parent his children, as if they’re not the ones rolling into his shop at 5:54 pm because their car is “making a funny noise”.

But Mr. Kenobi just looks interested.

“Oh?” He says. “That makes sense. Leia is always talking about how her father can fix anything.”

“Well,” Anakin blushes and looks away. “You know kids. Turn it off and turn it back on usually blows their minds.”

Mr. Kenobi smiles indulgently before clearing his throat. “You wanted to talk about Luke?”

“Oh! Yes!” He had come here with the express desire to talk about Luke with Mr. Kenobi. Not secure a date with Mr. Kenobi. “I saw that Luke got a... unicorn...and a rainbow on his last project, and it made me worry.”

It sounds very, very overbearing coming out of his mouth. This is an elementary school art class. Why did he think that he should come in and talk to a teacher over his son’s bad grade? Especially when it was pretty clear Luke deserved it.

Mr. Kenobi tilts his head in confusion. “Well, yes, I suppose I usually give Luke two suns on his work, so I understand if the change was upsetting to you.”

“And we’re saying that two suns are good?” Anakin checks, feeling very out of his element here.

“Oh, yes, very good,” Mr. Kenobi assures him. “But his last project wasn’t. Well.”

“He says he got distracted,” Anakin mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. “Over a boy.”

“Haven’t we all been there,” Mr. Kenobi murmurs, sounding very amused. Anakin peeks over his fingers at this declaration.

“Yeah,” he says roughly. “That’s sort of exactly what I thought.”

Mr. Kenobi clears his throat again. “Well. That’s why I gave him the unicorn then. It was a bit of bad work, but a very rare showing of it. And the rainbow, to signify that I know he’ll be back to normal again next time. You shouldn’t worry about this one project either, Mr. Skywalker. I do give final grades holistically, not weighted by any one assignment. This is, after all, a children’s art class.”

Anakin wants to thunk his head on the table in front of him. “You do know that all the parents think unicorn means unsatisfactory, right?”

“Why?” Mr. Kenobi has the nerve to look shocked.

“They both start with U, I don’t know,” Anakin says, waving an agitated hand through the air.

“Well, sometimes parents can be quite stupid,” Mr. Kenobi says primly and then looks horrified at himself. “Please don’t tell them I said that.”

Anakin laughs and gets to his feet reluctantly. His worries over Luke have been dealt with, but he finds himself very reluctant to leave.

“Well,” he says slowly, eyes firmly looking only at Mr. Kenobi’s face, “Thank you for meeting with me. I guess you don’t get many frantic parent-teacher conferences over a unicorn sticker.” He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck with his hand in embarrassment. He can admit now that perhaps he had overreacted.

Mr. Kenobi places his hand delicately over the hand Anakin still has on the table, just for a second, squeezing it with enough pressure that Anakin has to look up at him again. “Only the best parents,” he says with a half-smile.

Anakin finds himself grinning back, unwilling to move his hand now that Kenobi’s touching it. “And, um. If you ever take the kids on an art museum tour or something, and you need chaperones….give me a call.”

“Would I have to wait that long?” Kenobi asks innocently.

Anakin’s never shaken his head no so quickly before. “Any time,” he tells the man very seriously, already backing out of the room. “Before you think too much about it and decide not to would probably be preferable.”

Mr. Kenobi laughs. “I’m sure I’ll think about it a lot,” he says as he turns to go back to his art studio. He calls over his shoulder. “In bed, tonight.”

Anakin trips over a child-sized easel with a loud clatter and an even louder curse, and he can’t decide which of the two should be more thankful school is out for the day. Probably Mr. Kenobi. Yeah. Probably definitely Mr. Kenobi.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

I Can't Help It If You Look Like an Angel

Summary: Spencer is not that kind of doctor, but he'll always come when Y/N needs him, even if germs are involved.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Warnings: One cuss (sh!t), kisses, small insecurities

Word Count: 2.5 k (was not supposed to be this long but I'm a monster)

Author's Note: From this list (3, 12, 14) since I hit 300 followers! Thank you! This request is from @willowrose99 (look for the bold)

I Can't Help It If You Look Like an Angel

Spencer’s half done with his third book that weekend when his phone rang. A weekend spent in the company of Nietzsche and Sartre is, according to Spencer at least, a weekend well spent. He can feel the relaxation that settles in his bones come crashing down as he phone rings.

Thinking it’s Hotch calling the team in for an unexpected case, Spencer, lethargically, walks over to answer the phone. However, realizing the caller is not his boss pulling him away from a restful weekend, but Y/N, his heart rushes with a sudden urge of excitement.

“Y/N,” Spencer starts. He’s more than happy to have Y/N interrupt his weekend; they even made plans for a day out on Saturday at the new Anthropology museum that opened downtown. But all of Spencer’s made up plans fall in front of his face, as he hears Y/N’s quiet sniffles.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry to bother you. I know that you’re probably enjoying your rest, but I guess I have a cold. One of the kids at school, I suppose,” Y/N tells him in between sniffles. Her voice is scratchy and Spencer tries not to think about how his brain seems to short circuit at the way his name sounds.

“I’m coming over,” Spencer says, cutting her off. He doesn’t like doing that, in fact he hates when that happens to him, but right now he knows that Y/N is going to try her hardest to stop him from coming over.

“No Spence, it’s germs. You hate germs and I’m really gross and snotty and—”

“Stop, Y/N. Don’t say another word. I’m on my way” Spencer says. He feels a little guilty for hanging up on her, but he knows that if he stayed on the line any longer she’d end up convincing him that he didn’t need to rush over. There’s not a lot of people in this world that can convince Spencer to change his mind, and he’s pretty sure that Y/N is one of them.

Spencer walks into his bedroom, looking for some supplies like a man on a mission. He decides to pack a small bag for the next three days. He’s off from work anyway, why not spend that time making sure Y/N gets better. Spencer packs away a couple of sweaters, flannel pajama pants and two thermal shirts. In the back of his drawer he spots a very old college tee shirt.

A memory, an early memory with Y/N, comes flooding to the surface. They got caught in a rainstorm after a picnic in the nearby park. Spencer changed into his comfortable tee shirt and pajamas. He would never forget the look on Y/N’s face; the way the rain collected on her glasses and for some reason she had yet to wipe them off. She called him an angel. Maybe it’s for bringing her some warm clothes or maybe she’s slightly on edge from their dash into Spencer’s apartment. Whatever it was that made her call him an angel, Spencer never wanted her to call him anything else. Besides his own name, in that scratchy sick voice that made him feel a little guilty for liking so much.

Spencer collects some other things he needs for his stay. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hair brush, and his hair serum that Y/N says she likes the way it smells. When she told him that, Spencer could hardly wait to buy the entire supply from the CVS down the street. He tucks away in this bag with a small smile.

Walking out of his apartment, Spencer locks up and makes his way down to his car. He glances at his watch, realizing that it only took him a couple of minutes to get ready for Y/N. Quicker than what it takes for him to get ready for an emergency case. Then again, tending to a sick Y/N seems much pleasurable then looking at served bodies and mangled limbs.

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

After making a pit stop at a small convenience store near Y/N’s apartment, Spencer pulls into the guest parking spot near her complex. He attempts to shoulder the weight of his go bag; even though he only packed a couple philosophy books, they are quite dense. In his hands, he grasps the grocery bags.

Y/N’s apartment, thankfully, is on the first floor. Spencer approaches the door and thinks twice about knocking or ringing the doorbell. The last thing he wants to do is wake a sick Y/N up. He rummages in his pants for his car keys. Attached to the keys is a cat keychain with a spare key to Y/N’s apartment. Balancing the groceries and his own bag, Spencer quietly attempts to open Y/N’s door without possibly waking her up.

Once he finally gets the door open, Spencer realizes all too late that a large orange cat guards the tight hallway entrance. Spencer Reid, though a genius in his own right, is completely aware of the fact that he has two left feet.

“Oh, Zelda! Oh shit!,” Spencer yells as he trips over Zelda, Y/N’s orange cat. Zelda, scared from the noise, leaps from her spot guarding the hallway to the kitchen. Spencer brushes himself from his fall and picks up the groceries that fell during his tumble.

“Zelda, baby?” Y/N calls from what sounds like the couch from the other side of the wall.

“Hi Y/N, it’s just me. It’s just Spencer,” He says, placing the oranges back in his canvas bag and on the kitchen table. He sees Y/N laying on the couch. Surrounded by a pile of crumpled tissues, she smiles weakly at Spencer. He walks over to her and like an involuntary muscle, she scoots her feet so Spencer has room to sit.

Spencer, setting the beg on the floor, tucks Y/N’s legs over his. He rests a comforting hand on her calf that’s covered by a worn quilt.

“You didn’t have to come Spencer. I’m really okay, I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t ghosting you this weekend,” Y/N explains. The TV has been left on, but on mute. The colorful lights illuminate Y/N’s face in her dimly lit apartment.

“Nonsense, Y/N. What are friends for,” Spencer offers, wondering beyond belief if he messed up calling them friends. Their relationship had been quite strange for the past couple of weeks. Intense moments of silence where Spencer thinks he’d have the time to memorize every freckle on her nose or small grazes from fingers to wrists where Spencer swears she left scars that he hope would never heal.

“Friends,” Y/N says quietly. Spencer, offering a tight lipped smile, leans forward to straighten the blankets under Y/N’s chin. He presses the back of his hand towards Y/N’s forehead, feeling her warm skin under his knuckles. He’s not sure if the heat he feels is from her bug or from the adrenaline coursing through his veins at being this close to Y/N.

“You’re hot,” Spencer says, not moving his hand from Y/N’s forehead. She, loving the way his ears turn pink when he’s embarrassed, uncovers her arm from under the blankets and holds onto his wrist, keeping him attached to her forehead. Not that he’d want it any other way.

“So are you,” Y/N says. Spencer flinches and moves his hand from her forehead like she scorched his hand. In reality, her comment pierced his heart with hope.

“How much cough syrup did you take?” Spencer asks, choosing to face the situation with humor. There’s no way in the world Y/N could ever find him “hot” without the aid of cough syrup or another mind numbing substance.

“None,” Y/N says, reaching around to turn off the television. Spencer, getting increasingly nervous as the minutes of that intense silence passed, mentions to Y/N that he needs to put the groceries away.

“You really didn’t need to do that, Spence. I feel bad enough that you came here just to get sick yourself,” Y/N says. She’s folding the blankets that she was just resting under.

“I’ll always come when you need me to, Y/N” Spencer says, his breath catching and his eyes latching onto Y/N. He looks at her too long and there’s that intense silence again. Silence that is as thick as fog. Spencer can’t see facts through all the love that swallows him whole looking at Y/N.

“Maybe I knew that, and maybe that’s why I called you,” Y/N murmurs quietly, almost like she’s more scared to admit it to herself than to Spencer.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, breaking her gaze to put the half melted tub of green tea ice cream in the freezer.

“I think I’m going to shower, I need to put a fresh pair of pajamas on. I’ll be right out,” Y/N tells him, turning on her heel and leaving Spencer along with his thoughts.

Spencer can hear the water from the shower turn on. He estimates that Y/N will take at least 5 minutes in the shower, accounting for a margin of error, he supposes that he should start to heat the soup he bought from the store now, so it’s ready for Y/N when she’s done in the shower. Too bad all Spencer’s brain power is good for his statistics and numbers, not recipes and romance.

As it turns out, not a single statistic, nor a single digit could account for the possibility of Y/N walking out her bedroom, her hair damp and skin practically glowing, wearing Spencer’s worn college tee shirt. Spencer reckons that his eyes must have been bugging out from his head, given the spirited smile Y/N wears.

“I’m sorry, Spence, you know how much I love this tee shirt. I was putting some of your stuff away in your drawer and I saw this and I just couldn’t help myself. God it even smells a little bit like that hair gunk you wear,” Y/N rambles. She stands, leaning on her door frame, staring at Spencer who holds a wooden spoon that he used to stir the soup.

“You look like an angel,” Spencer says before he can stop himself. He just knows that his face is flaming red.

“You remember that?” Y/N asks, her voice light and hopeful. Spencer recognizes something in it. It’s the way his voice sounds when he talks to her, about her, with her. He can only hope that this is the way she always talks to him. He hopes with every fiber of his being that she uses that light and hopeful voice with him and only him.

“Of course Y/N. Then again, even if I didn’t have an eidetic memory, I’d still remember every single detail about you,”

“Now you’re making me feel guilty about stealing your shirt. You’re being all sweet and kind with me, it makes me fuzzy in the head,” Y/N confesses. She walks to her kitchen table, slowly closing the gap between her and Spencer.

“Keep it, it looks better on you anyway,” Spencer tells her. Her eyes grow big at his words and she presses her lips together like she’s holding something in. But something in her switches. Something in her grows a little sad and Spencer watches before his eyes as Y/N withdraws into herself.

“You can’t say that stuff to me, Spencer. You can’t say that stuff to me and not expect me to love you more than I already do,” Y/N says, her eyes shut and her lips pinched so tightly that it almost looks painful.

“Y/N,” Spencer starts, unsure what he’s supposed to say. His brain always seems to be playing catch up around Y/N. “Can I say it if I do love you back?”

Y/N eyes flutter open and narrow at Spencer, as if she’s reading him. Her eyes scan for any sign of a joke, of a prank, of Spencer trying to trick her. Maybe he should be upset that Y/N is doubting him, but all Spencer can feel is hatred for the person that made her doubt herself so much to not believe him.

“I’ve never felt what I feel when I’m with you, Y/N. No one else has made me feel truly me except you, Y/N,” Spencer professes, setting down the wooden spoon on the counter to reach Y/N’s hand.

“I never thought you’d feel the same way, Spence. I love you, God. That feels so good to say,” Y/N says, letting out a strained laugh. Spencer standing up next to her, places his hands on Y/N cheeks, and tries to lean in lower to kiss her, but Y/N’s finger on his lips stops his movement.

“I’m so sorry, I should have asked. I thought that this is-” Spencer stammers, suddenly very concerned that he violated Y/N in some way.

“Shhh, angel. It’s okay. I want you to kiss me. I really do, but I just want you to tell the facts on you getting sick if you kiss me,” Y/N says, not moving her finger from Spencer’s soft lips. He kisses her finger and grasps her hand with his.

“Sorry, I just had to do that,” Spencer smirks, “but to answer your question, unless you have a bad cough, and some of the respiratory mucus has made its way into your saliva, the cold virus will not be transmitted by kissing,”

“That’s good, so please kiss me, Spencer,” Y/N practically begs, eager for Spencer to leave pieces of him all over her. Eager for him to leave physical evidence of the marking he’s already left on her heart.

“You just might have to take care of me next week,” Spencer counters, peppering kisses over her jaw, knowing he’s purposely avoiding her lips.

“Spencer, I’m sick! Don’t tease me, just kiss me,” Y/N whines, and Spencer caves. He leans in slowly, meeting his lips to Y/N’s. It was the kiss that Spencer knew he’d be waiting for. A kiss that seals fate without a return address. A kiss that reminds him that he’s alive. A kiss that says forever and always.

Spencer, resting his chin against Y/N’s head, closes his eyes. The intense silence that existed between them, now is this light and hopeful air.

“Y/N, do you use my hair gunk?” Spencer asks. He can’t help but giggle with her and breathe in the familiar scent of her hair. He places three kisses on Y/N’s head and gently pushes her hair to the side to kiss down the back of her neck.

“I’m not sure what I love more, the smell of your hair gunk or the man that wears it,”

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[secretbangtnn]

summary : Getting a letter from a very prestigious school was something that you could have never expect, and even more unexpected was that you didn’t need to pay a penny for it. Beautiful news that were too good to be true, but oh how stupid you were to not question such a perfect chance to get away from your shitty life.

notes:

Guys i would be more than happy for some feedback, its my first time writing in english and im more than nervous. Im not sure if what i wrote is good or even understandable. + i would be more than happy to start an ask game with this book

Chapter one

Living or in your case existing was always somehow calm. Everything you do had a plan and everyday had the same pattern, like a boring vase that stood in the same kitchen you actually were. Blue marble tiles awfully similar to tears that run down the woman's cheeks, making them a little bit more redder than before.

Not that they weren't that color before, always blushy and ready to be seen. And maybe that's why you had that sour taste in your mouth while watching them, knowing that your own were as beautifully red as hers.

"why?" a simple question sounding now like the last call for help. Voice groggy and nose runny making the sight before even more unbearable to look at. But why weren't you moved, why the tears didn't make you guality like they should. "you planned this?! You planned to leave me alone like a selfish bastard!"

Looking down didn't seem like the best option, knowing that it could just take the nerves in the room to a whole new level but you could not stop yourself. She was always one to guilt trip you into everything.

A little shout left the chapped mouth making you jump a little while lifting your head simultaneously. Sight before you seems to worsen and as you took a step back the woman took another two in the end catching your small wrist in her clawed hand.

Hissing and looking dead in her eyes made you somehow more conscious of the whole situation.

“I didn’t know.” and you really did not. Gritting your teeth so hard that it felt like some of them could fall out at any moment seems to stop you from doing sudden movements.

Breathe in and breathe out.

“Of course you think I am stupid! Just like your father, bringing me to insanity step by step. But that’s what you wanted from the beginning, am I right?”

“Stop being delusional mom” Oh how hard it was to say the name of that woman. Mother of child that she forgets most of the time, only to remember at the most shitty time. Today was exactly one of the examples of why your dream was just to wake up not seeing or better not having to think of that woman.

“Am i now? It’s you who wants me like this.” She laughed, throwing her head back in the motion. Elegant column of her neck now easy to see, showing purple and red marks similar to those from claws. “You thought I would not know, you thought you could just run away like a scared little child. Now tell me, how long were you planning this o-or maybe it was your father’s plan from the beginning.”

“I didn’t know about it, I didn’t even apply to any of the schools and you are the one that should know that.” toxicity leaked from your voice in big streams, but it was something that u could not stop at that moment. She was doing it again, acting crazy and psycho making everyone question why she wasnt getting hospital help yet.

“So you are saying that it’s my fault? You were supposed to care for me, for your ill mother, not that you are useful for anything else. How could you even think of disappearing, going to school so far away and leaving me to rot here myself like you were not meant to end like this too!”

Snatching your hand you looked at the woman once again, tears in eyes making you look fragile. Her own body looking weak, nearly dead limbs hanging from a malnourished body, showing the world wrack of a woman she was. Complexion ill looking, but what was not in her case, pale looking with green, purple and blue spots everywhere the skin was shown.

“Why are you being so shocked? Don’t tell me you thought you were going to leave someday.” Her laugh made you grit your teeth, jaw starting to hurt from the tension you were keeping. “Once again you showed how foolish you are, just like your father, just like that scumbag.”

“You are insane.”

“That we already know, so why don’t you come back to your room and start preparing for tomorrow. I want to eat a really nice breakfast next morning and maybe then after we can talk about what job you are going to have to make a living for us.”

And that was your sign to go, not looking back at the sick smirk on your mother mouth momocking your whole being. Step by step you saw the old stairs, in some place missing the color. Your room was nothing special, at least that what people said, for you it was some type of heaven. Peace that you could only catch while being there, laying on your old bed while looking at the dull ceiling.

Closing the door, you exchaled a heavy breath, sliding down on the flat surface of the door. Eyes closed like you have always done after an intense situation, today was not an exception to that.

Asking yourself what just happened, how and why. Unconsciously you looked at the letter beside you, laying so weirdly on the piece of not carpeted floor. The big fault in a little piece of paper. It was funny how this thing made such a bad influence on your life just by arriving on your doorstep.

The fact that the only person you could compare yourself to now is a story character of the name Harry was nearly not as funny as it sounded. However how u can explain getting a letter from a prestigious school you for sure did not apply or even looked up not even thinking about getting a scholarship to having a chance to think about it.

By any chance you were not stupid, but your ambitions flew away with another day in this shit hole you called home. Main reason being your own mother, which not only made it clear but for sure would kill you faster than let you leave.

You took the letter, keeping it in your hand like some unknown object you have never seen before. The texture itself is weird, making you shiver in some way. Big letter stood on the black piece of paper meaning only one thing.

Oh yes, that definitely was unsetting.

You remember clearly the first time you read the words that were put in this blank envelope. Big chance waiting for you, welcoming you with big arms and assuring you that you have nothing to be scared of.

And maybe those words were the one that brought you to that situation. It was not even three hours after the fight with your mother. Sun long down now moon shining on your pale face. Packing everything you tried to be quiet and quick hoping that your mother again ate too much of those big pills.

Big bag now laying down on your bed with a small letter beside it looking as innocent as before. You were not even seventeen making decisions that would cost you more then you can imagine. Living hell with possibility of going to another but in that moment nothing mattered like running away from old monsters.

Floor cracked under your feet even thought you were considered as a lightweight. How could you not be so malnourished when your mother forced you to teach yourself how to cook, never letting you eat before her. You tried to reason her moods or harsh behaviour to you but no matter how many times you tried it always ended in another reason why your life was just simply sad.

Running away was a good decision. You tried to say it so many times to actually believe in those empty words. The truth was that you were an innocent little child, not even a full adult that has never tasted a social life or had a friend.

“It will be alright.” Taste on your tongue after saying this a little sour with a heavy backpack danglin on your right arm. One step and then another, you touched the cold handle of your white doors. It was the first move to make and probably one of the hardest.

Bag on your arm is even more heavy making you realise what is happening. Silent breath flowed past your lips preparing you for your next step.

You pushed it closing it carefully while hoping that the oldish touch to the wood wont make an appearance in a loud noise. Silly smile now seen on your face with big relief in the back of your mind. The hardest part was just before you.

Your mothers room, not fully closed - like always, she needed to make sure nobody would come uninvited. It was just one of her weird characteristics that came with such a messed up mental health.

Small noise came out under your feet, not loud enough to wake up the woman next door but audible enough to be heard from closer.

Photos all around you telling you that you were getting near the main door. Little pictures with you inside faded from ears of hanging, making you stop for a while.

Smooth glass now under your fingers as you touch a specific photo. You and your mother being in the green garden of your grandmas. Happy vibe and pretty smiles now nearly unbelievable to witness on either of faces. It hurted or maybe it was just the adrenaline escaping from a sudden stop.

Oh how the sweet monet was quickly destroyed by the harsh noise from one of the rooms, and you exactly know which one. Loud thud rang out in the quietness of the house, making the silence even more noticable. Your breath escaped leaving you in a big ball of nerves and anxiety.

One...two...three

Silence like the one before big storms but maybe just this time it was not that. You couldn't withdraw now, you were too far and too close to the feeling of freeness. So you did the only thing that came to your mind.

Catching a sliding backpack, you turned to the door in front of you, knowing that just behind them is waiting something so much bigger than your old mother. How stupid for you to not rethink your decision, and believing your innocent mind that its just a good thing, better life that could only make you happier.

So you did it, you took the heavy steps that echoed in the narrow corridor. Light breeze touched your face, and just like the first time you gasped at the feeling. Door closing not that gently as you started running as fast as you could.

Silly smile now on your face with a bouncing bag on your shoulders keeping you on the hard ground. It was feeling similar to the first sight of the ocean or the first taste of sweet ice cream on a hot summery morning. You were in ecstasy choked by the overwhelming emotions.

And maybe because of that you were completely unaware of the danger that waited for you on that chilly night. How could you think about it when everything seemed so distracting almost as you were dreaming and in that moment you probably were closer to believing in this being a slumber.

So as you sat on the cold bench of one of the parks near your home, realization finally came silencing your beating heart. Colder weather now felt more real, as it bit your rosy cheeks. You shivered, keeping your backpack on your lap, trying to hide behind it from a chilly wind that seemed like it came from every side.

Being alone hit you like a truck and the little noises of the night didn't help your rising nerver. You started to lose your breath, feeling your tears sliding down your numb cheeks. It was terrifying now with the knowledge of your wellbeing and adrenaline wearing off with every second.

“Mom?” A silent plea that came out of your lips with shakiness that was more than noticeable. You didn't know why you said that, but the woman was probably the only person you knew. Such a sad truth that you needed to understand. You were alone now, and with that thought a more shameless sobs left your mouth with an occasional whimper.

You were sure you were going to end up dead. That you won't see the new sunset with how your body shivered. Not knowing how life worked or what is bad or good you were a little lamb that waited for hungry wolves to eat her whole.

And maybe one of those predators just saw his next meal. Long strides brought him just in front of you. Your sobs are too loud to make you hear his boots coming closer and closer. His breath just centimeters away from your head, brushing your hair like the not forgotten wind.

“Sweetheart?” It was a calming voice, not too deep but definitely belonging to a grown man. Your posture momentaly stiffened, as your closed eyes now looked at the big leather shoes before you. Your whole body is not moving, only shivering because of the chilly weather and light clothes. It was funny how suddenly you have forgotten about being alone, now wanting just this, wishing for all of this to be a big nightmare.

A deep sight left man's lips reminding you about the realness of the whole situation. You could not move, completely scared, your fingers clutched the bad praying for something to happen. The plan to just act like you were not there, ignoring the man fastly ended, when he sighted once again and crouched just to your eye level.

Deep brown eyes, looking at you with nothing but softness. If you didn’t know better you would say the man looked as if he knew you, cared and was in big relief finding you. But your mother's words echoed in your head, making you believe that every man walking on this planet is bad.

“What are you doing here sweetheart?” Once more this deep voice pierced you. Your mouth opens to answer, deeply knowing that nothing will come out. You just looked in his dark eyes, wishing that maybe he will be the one who can read minds. His eyes now on you, more concerned than before, observing your shivering body.

He was tall and broad for sure, towering over your figure surprisingly even while crouching down. His huge shoulders covered by a creamy coat which now was getting dirty by laying down on a pavement, as it partly hid his expensive looking boots.

Too distracted you didn't notice his hand coming to touch your red cheek, now gently stroking the redness of your skin.

“What a poor soul, so cold and left alone without a coat. Tell me sweetheart would you come and let me warm you a little?”

[ack3rlady]

The Universe Had His Back - Chapter 5

Sunrise

Summary: The aftermath of the breathtaking encounter between reader and Levi when true feelings are revealed

Chapters: Four | Five | Six

Master List

Warnings: Fem! Reader, Angst, Fluff, Modern AU, Reference to alcohol abuse, slight swearing.

Word Count: ~ 2.5k

Inspiration: Starry Night - Suho

Tags: @sooibian, @queenofcurse, @red-n-tall ; Anyone else who'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

You accepted Levi’s offer to drive you home, a decision you would come to regret the moment the car was in motion. The journey was quiet, with you mostly looking out of the window as he drove. Your greed for more time with him that you didn’t account for how dejected you would go on to feel once the adrenaline dried out. You hadn't exactly ended things with him on amicable terms. The ride home in his company just added salt to the unhealed wounds. Levi turned his head towards you several times like he wanted to say something, but didn't.

“How’s Luna?”, your words finally cut through the silence, voice low and shaky.

“She’s fine. Isabel stayed at home with her today.”, he responded, eyes focused on the road.

Then it was quiet again. It took all the strength to bottle up the multitude of emotions building up within you that were burning to be expressed. So, you decided to focus your attention on the row of lush green trees along the sidewalk, whirring past you.

Levi quelled his desire to lay his hand on yours more than once; intertwining your fingers snugly together while you ran soothing circles on the back of his palm - something he always did while driving with you by his side.

‘Old habits die hard’, he thought. Neither of you uttered a word again till your apartment building was around the corner. You sat glued to your seat, unmoving even after he parked.

“You know that you could just come see her, right? She asks about you every day.”, Levi’s gaze was still fixed on the car parked in front of his own, his voice barely audible.

You sighed, feeling ashamed for depriving your own baby of your presence.

“I’m not ready. What if I can't keep it together in front of her? I need to get better before she sees me.” you despaired, looking down at your feet, too afraid of the effect on Luna if she saw you like this.

“I’m going to be right there with you. And how do you expect to get any better if you deny yourself the exact person who is capable of making you feel so?”, Levi turned in his seat to face you, placing a firm hand on your shoulder.

He was right. Of course, Luna was the only one who could pull you out of this abyss. Why had you been running away from her this whole time?

“C-Can I come see her after work tomorrow?”, you squeaked.

“You don’t have to ask. We’ll both be waiting for you.”, he whispered moving his hand to rest on top of yours.

You finally mustered up the courage to look towards him. He wore the same smile on his face that you had been in love with for the last eight years; the exact one that always assured you that everything was going to be okay.

.

Reader’s POV

You entered your apartment and laid the shopping bags on the counter. Taking off your shoes, you placed them neatly on the rack by the door, taking a little step towards keeping the word you gave Miche this morning. It was late in the evening; the Sun having just set. You glanced around your gloomy apartment, at the dark shadows and how even the brightest colored paints and fabrics looked somber in the dusk’s dullness. The eeriness of the space was starting to eat at you when something shiny on the kitchen platform caught your eye. It was a bottle of whiskey, its amber liquid gleaming in the residual rays of light entering through the window.

The conflict in your head began as you started walking towards it absentmindedly. Was tonight going to be the same as the other wretched ones of the last two weeks? Faces of Luna, Levi, Miche and Nanaba flashed before our eyes as you inched towards the humble kitchenette. Finally at your destination, you picked up the bottle and stared at it, putting up a hard fight against the demons in your head.

You jumped when the door to your apartment suddenly slammed open, making the bottle almost slip out of your hands.

"Sweets!", A loud voice called out to you, the light from the window reflecting off the intruder’s glasses.

It was a moniker given to you by your dear friend based on "your profession and character" as they liked to call it. But the truth was, it was a part of the 'couple name' they had created for you and Levi called 'Short and Sweet', earning them a few punches from the holder of the other half of the title.

“Hange, you almost gave me a heart attack! What are you doing barging into my apartment like this?”, you grumbled.

“Well, your door was unlocked. So, how was your run in with Shorty? Tell me everyth... What the fuck is that?”, they began with excitement, but it dissipated as soon as they switched the lights on and spotted what you held in your hands.

You looked like a thief caught in the act. Guilty.

“It-It's nothing. I wasn’t drinking it.”, you stuttered, hastily putting it away.

“You mean you hadn't started drinking it yet?”

They were probably right. That’s how your evenings usually began these days. You tried your hardest to conquer the need for a drink, only to eventually give in and ending up passed out somewhere in your apartment.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a knock. Miche and Nanaba tiptoed inside through the still unlocked door with guilty smiles, as if ready to turn on their heels in case if you decided to chase after them.

“So? How did it go with Ackermann?”, they asked eagerly in unison.

“Wait. Was my day broadcasted in the news or something? How do you already know?”, your face had a giant question mark stamped on it.

“Who do you think brought it all together?”, Hange grinned, proudly wiggling their eyebrows.

You furrowed yours, and audibly gasped seconds later when it hit you. The sequence of events played before your eyes; how each person you had seen today and led to you meeting Levi. First Miche and Nanaba, then Suki. Your jaw slacked, and you gaped at each one of them in complete disbelief at what they had just pulled off.

Miche quietly slithered to position himself closely beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders – a little too tight. Well, you were contemplating introducing their jaws to your fist, so you guessed he was just being cautious.

“Who else knew of this?”, you hissed.

“Not Shorty, if that’s what you’re asking. I cooked up the idea. But it was Erwin who played commander and assigned roles! Everything from you and Levi having the same day off work, Suki and Furlan pestering you two into going with them, Nanaba and Miche forcing you out of here, Isabel staying home with Luna so that Levi could leave, and now us being here to witness the success of our little project, it was brought together by him. In fact, Erwin is checking in on Levi as we speak!”, Hange exclaimed triumphantly.

You felt stupid after finding out that you and Levi got played by practically everyone you knew. How were they this good at keeping it under wraps?

“Why did you do this?” You asked.

“Because you are both too stupid realize how crazy you are about each other and how this estrangement is paining you. So, we just decided to nudge you in the right direction. You’re welcome, by the way!”, Nanaba grinned.

“What are you even talking about? He’s the one who willingly ended what we had.”, you despaired.

The memories of the months preceding the divorce were fresh in your mind. Levi couldn’t stand being in the same room as you for more than a few minutes at a time, constantly falling out with you over something or the other. You remembered how much it hurt when he always seemed irritated by your sheer presence.

“Rubbish! You should know by now that Shorty is a complete moron with his feelings. Don’t you remember how long he stalled asking you out on a date all those years ago? And also, how I finally had to ask you for him? This is history repeating itself, silly!”, Hange chuckled, gently flicking your forehead

“Erwin and I see him every day, Sweets. We know how much he regrets letting you go. But he’s too much of a chicken to do anything about it. We’ve been badgering him to reconnect with you for a while now. But he was terrified of making a move. The dumbass is utterly in love with you. Precisely why Erwin and I decided to take matters in our own hands.”, they stated matter of factly.

The barrage of information caught you completely off guard. But you couldn’t help but dwell on one detail in particular -

“He’s still in love with me?”

.

Levi’s POV

Levi felt restless on the drive back home, aimlessly fidgeting with his seatbelt and rapidly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He was worried about you. Well, he always was, but more so because of what happened today. He suppressed the constant urges to turn his car around and return to you because he needed to get home to Luna and relieve Isabel of her baby-sitting duties.

He parked the car in the driveway and walked through the front door, momentarily freezing upon seeing a tall blonde man seated on the couch with Luna half asleep on his lap, immediately relaxing after recognizing who it was. He was reading her a story from one of the many books you had bought while Isabel was lounging on the loveseat beside them, her face glowing under the light from her phone screen. All three turned to Levi upon hearing the jingling of his keys.

“Papa!”, the little one was refreshed by the sight. She ran to greet her father by wiggling her way off the man’s lap and on to the floor and hugged is leg.

“Hi, moon beam! Erwin, what are you doing here?”, he asked as he gave Luna a kiss and then looked up at the man.

“I’m here to check in on you. How was your meeting with uh... ahem?”, Erwin cleared his throat instead of mentioning your name in the toddler’s presence.

“Check in on me? How do you know about that? What did you do?”, Levi’s temper audibly rose with each question.

“I’m going to tuck Luna into bed, and you are going to wait right here for my return. We need to have a little chat.” he glowered at the taller blonde before he could answer, ignoring the sheepish smile slapped across his little sister’s face.

Luna was out cold the moment her head rested on the pillow given how worn out she was after horsing around with Isabel all day. Additionally, story time with Erwin already had her feeling drowsy by the time Levi had returned home. Ten minutes and a few goodnight kisses later, he was sitting at the dining table with the two adults, sipping tea that Erwin had just brewed.

“When do you plan to start telling me what is going on? I could have had dinner during the wait.”, he jibed.

“I take it that Suki and Furlan were successful in bringing you two face-to-face?”, Erwin’s tone was casual, maintaining steady eye contact with his old friend.

He proceeded to explain in great detail, how he and Hange worked with both your close friends to hatch this plan.

“Can’t you two keep your eyebrows and shitty glasses out of my fucking business?”, Levi growled.

“Since you both can’t communicate like mature adults and figure things out for yourselves, we had to step in as catalysts. Hange is at her apartment right now, making sure she’s okay.”, Erwin kept his defense short.

Levi was at a loss of words. Sometimes he felt like he wasn’t worthy of his two friends. Hange and Erwin always went out of their way for him when he was hit with a challenging situation, and all he ever did was snivel about it.

“Fine. I’ll give you both credit where you deserve it. I had been wanting to see her myself. But I didn’t know what to say. She is coming over tomorrow to see Luna. So, thanks, I guess.”

Erwin knew that this was the closest thing to an apology and appreciation that he was going to get from Levi. So, he took it with a smile.

“Awesome!”, Isabel's scream cut through the calmness.

“And you.”, his fiery gaze landed on her at the far end of the table where she strategically seated herself away from the reach of her older brother in case if he was particularly irked. “I’m going to take care of Furlan later. But you too are hiding things from me now?”,

“Hey! I was just following Erwin's orders! And how could I say no to having my favorite person all to myself for an entire day?”, she reasoned, her face resembling a cartoon cat that Luna was fond of; Puss in Boots, was it?

“So, how did it go?”, Erwin intervened before Levi could scold her further.

Levi took a minute to gather his thoughts. Images of your face flashed before his eyes, making his tense posture relax significantly.

“I - I don’t even know how to describe it. I feel like for the first time in forever, I might sleep well tonight just because I met her. She looked so beautiful.”, his lips showed signs of the smallest smile as he ran his fingers along the rim of his teacup, gazing at the dark liquid contained within.

He quickly composed himself after realizing that he had in fact just said these words out loud and they were not just in his head, but it was too late. Isabel oohed with amusement and yelped after receiving a flying spoon to the head from him.

“It was also... a stark reminder of what an absolute piece of shit I have been to throw away everything we had. She’s in so much pain.”, his softened expression clearly revealed the despair behind his words.

“As are you, Levi. You made a grave mistake. Unfortunately, you're not the only one who is paying for it. But there is no use lamenting over the past, is there? What counts is what you plan to do now. Have you decided what you will say to her when she visits?”

Levi let out a long, suffering sigh. “I regretted what I did the moment I came back to an empty home from the court that day, Erwin. Seeing her today only reaffirmed how shitty my life is without her. I need to win her back. I’m afraid she’ll reject me after what I did to her. But - But she still needs to know that I -

I’m still in love with her.”

Chapters: Four | Five | Six

[swiftiesimonriley]

hurts like heaven (divorced! frankie x lawyer! reader)

divorced! frankie x lawyer! reader, silver linings playbook! au

rating: teen (I guess), no explicit content except for drug use

warnings: depictions and descriptions of drug use (if this makes you uncomfortable you may want to skip this one), mentions of divorce and custody battles, mention of time spent in an inpatient behavioral health setting

word count: 3.9k (WHOOPS i got excited)

a/n: I am so excited for my first frankie oneshot!! thank you so much to @hailmary-yramliah​ for this request, I hope you like it!! here is my masterlist, and if you have any requests you can send me an ask! also credit to @hunterschafer​ for the beautiful frankie gif!!

"Mr. Morales, after a thorough review of the details of this case, including but not limited to testimonies of your close friends and NA sponsor, revision of your record, and speaking with the judge who oversaw the suspension of your pilot's license, I have come to the conclusion that you are currently unfit to have full custody of your daughter. I am hereby granting full custody of Eleanor Luciana Morales to her biological mother."

The minute Francisco Morales hears the words of the family court judge before him ruling in favor of his now ex-wife, he nearly passes out.

The former Delta Force soldier vaguely heard the protests of Pope, who is the only person sitting within the rows of seats on the side of the courtroom where he currently resides. He doesn't register his lawyer uttering a half-assed apology or even the cheers from his ex-wife and her family on the other side of the room.

All he hears is white noise as the judge bangs the gavel to settle the room, explaining that Ava now will have primary and sole custody and that Frankie will only be allowed supervised visits with a social worker, and that Ava can take her daughter home today.

Their daughter.

Frankie knows he isn't perfect - fuck, he is far from it but this just seems like a sick joke.

As soon as his license was officially stripped from him, he knew his marriage was over. The tension had started almost a year earlier when Ava suspected Frankie of using, to which he vehemently denied.

Of course, it was true, but how was he supposed to explain and admit to the love of his life that he needed the cocaine flowing through his body in order to feel anything anymore.

Things began to crumble soon after the initial suspicion by Ava. 

The best way Frankie thought to deal with this problem was to put some space between himself and his wife. He didn't want her to see him when he was strung out and begging for one last hit - God forbid his daughter see him like that.

In a way, Frankie was grateful that Ellie was still an infant, and that she would have no memory of the fights he had with her mother over his addiction.

He began staying out late at bars and other places downtown where he knew he could meet his dealer and get more of his fix, trying to keep it as far away from his home as possible. 

After a few drinks and a successful meeting with his dealer, he would make his way home where he eventually came down, the immediate rush of guilt and sorrow filling his heart as he would return home and see the bedroom door was locked, indicating he had to crash on the couch.

It was when he stepped through the threshold of his small cottage that he felt the shame bubble up from deep inside him, knowing that he couldn't just snuggle up next to his wife and pretend things were fine, or even cradle his daughter in his arms and rock her to sleep, as on these nights Ava made sure to keep Ellie in the bedroom with her. 

Those were the nights that haunted him the most.

Breaking Ava's heart was something long in the past - and he knew she wouldn't be able to just forgive him for what he put her through. She was always the one to give people the benefit of the doubt - something he used to tease her about but now feels scorned by. She was the one who stood by him when he admitted he had a problem - giving him support and resources for healing all while lending a helping hand. 

She knew he wouldn't try to harm their relationship on purpose.

But when his use began to impede more on their relationship, Ava put her foot down. She was getting tired of the cycle of hurt that came with each band of withdrawal and promises of this being the "last" time, only to see her husband relapse again and again. She tried her hardest to continue supporting him, her high school sweetheart, but she had reached her limit. She started spending more time with her parents, leaving Ellie in their care for most days so she didn't have to see her father stumble through the door after a night out. 

Two weeks later she served him with the divorce papers.

Frankie knows that he fucked up, be he never meant to harm Ava or Ellie along the way, especially his baby daughter, whose brown eyes were almost carbon copies of his own. He can't even stomach the idea of Eleanor growing up without her father in her life - she is his whole world, and since the day she was born he promised her that he would always be there for her.

But now, his heart aches knowing he is going home to a semi-furnished one-bedroom apartment, no wife or daughter waiting up for him like when he returned from missions or deployment.

Francisco Morales was not one to take the easy way out.

He clutches his patient belongings bag tighly in his right hand as he walks out of the lobby of the inpatient rehabilitation center, scanning the outside pickup area for a familiar truck. After looking around for a moment a truck horn beep startles him, turning to see a familiar mop of black hair peeking out of his truck.

Chuckling to himself, Frankie jogs over to the passenger side and hops in, feeling Pope immediately wrap him tightly in a hug. "I missed you Cat," he murmurs into the pilot's shoulder, giving him a comforting pat on the back before releasing the brown-haired man from his arms.

"I missed you too Santi," Frankie sighs, placing his bag down on the floor at his feet, "I don't know how much longer I could stay there without seeing a familiar face."

Santi lets out a low laugh as he starts up the truck and pulls out of the patient drop-off area before turning onto the main road. The two sit in silence for a few moments as Frankie stretches out his limbs, turning his head to look out the window as they drive down through the city.

The black haired man knows better than to pry and quiz the pilot about his 2 month stay at the local inpatient rehabilitation center. After the fallout of the trial, things got rough really fast. Santi knew deep down there was a chance of relapse, even with Frankie left the courtroom promising that this would never happen again - but it was all too much.

At 3:11 am Santi got a call from Frankie.

By 6:30 the pair were at the very same doors that Frankie had just emerged, with Santi comfortingly rubbing his hand up and down the brunette's back and they waited to check him in and head over to intake.

But Santi doesn't pry.

He just drums a tune on the steering wheel as he continues driving down the main stretch of road in the city. He watches out of the corner of his eye as they get to a red light as Frankie fixes his hair, running his fingers through the brown fringe across his forehead and he lets out a chuckle.

"What's so funny Pope? I don't wanna look like I'm fresh out of the hospital." He huffs, looking over his hair again before closing the mirror.

To say Frankie was nervous was an understatement. He had been out of the hospital for less than ten minutes and he was already on his way to meet a new lawyer. His new lawyer.

The previous week Frankie received a call from Santi during his afternoon rec time. At first he couldn't make out what the other man was saying, he remembers huffing out something the lines of "are you fucking drunk?" but made sure to keep quiet as he knew some people in the rec area didn't take too kindly to brash language.

He then remembers the hearty chuckle on the other end. "No I'm not fucking drunk 'fish, I'm excited! I just ran into one of my old college buddies-"

"Do you mean fuck buddies?" Frankie teases, letting out a quiet laugh as he hears a scoff on the other end of the line.

"No you idiot! I didn't sleep with every girl I knew back then, I know it's hard to believe," Frankie lets out a loud laugh, "I ran into an old friend of mine who went to law school, and let's just say she owes me a favor and she agreed to take on your case! Fish? Frankie?"

The pilot drops the phone as soon as the words are processed.

He has another chance. Another chance to see Ava and his baby girl. A chance to get them both back into his life for good this time, now that he has detoxed and spent his time working on his coping strategies.

They could be back in his arms once again.

"Mr. Morales? Mr. Garcia? She's ready for you."

"It's go time." Santi nods, standing up out of his seat and motioning for the pilot to follow him.

The pair make their way down the white and bright hallways of the law offices, walking past several cubicles full of lawyers and other workers chatting away before coming to an office with a glass door at the end of the hallway.

Frankie nervously plays with his fingers as Santi knocks on the door, hearing a soft "come in" from the otherside.

He follows the black haired man into the office and freezes in his tracks when he sees you get up from your desk and rush to pull Santi into a hug. He tries to keep his eyes from widening like a cartoon character but he can't help it - Santi didn't mention how gorgeous you are.

He listens to you both talk for a few moments before you reach your hand out and introduce yourself, a light smile playing at your lips. Frankie nods and takes your smaller hand in his before watching you go back to your desk. You open your laptop and pull out the file your assistant gathered on the details of the previous case.

"Mr. Mora-"

"You can call me Frankie," the pilot interjects, his cheeks turning red as you nod and take a mental note of that. "Frankie, do you want to start off at the start of your story for me? I always find it more beneficial to ask from the client's perspective about the details of the case, it makes a stronger case," you say, picking up a pen and looking at the brunette sitting across from you.

Frankie lets out a small cough and takes a soft breath in before laying his cards out on the table.

Santi stays quiet in the seat next to him, nodding along at the details of the story and offering a comforting hand on the back as one of his closest friends speaks about some of the darkest points in his life with you as if you have known him as long as you have known him.

It takes about 45 minutes of Frankie's explanations and your questioning to get all of the information you need for the initial meeting, making notes of the progress the pilot has made within the inpatient treatment center as well as Santi's testimony. You put your files away in the folder on your desk and stand up, making your way over to the two soldiers and giving them each a handshake, telling them both that you feel extremely confident in this case, and that you can't wait to help Frankie get his family back.

You can't miss the way he breaks out into a grin, probably one of the first genuine ones in a while, and you see Santi nod his head approvingly at you before giving you a quick "thanks" as the two begin to stand up and walk towards your door. 

Before they leave you quickly call out to Frankie, who turns around quickly and his chocolate brown eyes lock with yours.

"What's your daughter's name?" You ask softly, watching as his posture relaxes at the mention of his pride and joy. He reaches into one of his back pockets of his jeans and pulls out a small photo from his wallet and hands it to you.

You look over the tiny photo - it must have been from the day she was born. Her big brown eyes are the same as her father's, a small smile on her face.

"Her name is Eleanor, Eleanor Luciana," he smiles, a small tear welling up in the corner of his right eye.

A smile plays at your lips as you see the absolute adoration in his eyes as he talks about her.

You know you have to win this case.

You spend the next 3 months prepping for the case.

You know this process is not an easy one, especially for Frankie. At first, he came to your office twice a week in the afternoon right after his NA meetings, most times with Santi in tow. It was awkward at first for sure - I mean it isn't fun working with a lawyer about the bad choices he had made or the fact of the matter that he feels like a piece of him has died since he has been away from his family.

Santi helped ease the tension.

When it got hard for Frankie to talk about some of the details of his drug use, or the fights he had with Ava, Santi was there to help ease the conversation and help Frankie get through it. It helped that the two knew each other like the back of their hands, with Santi being able to crack a joke at a moment's notice and bring the pilot back down to the ground.

It was when Santi brought up old memories of your time back in college that you heard real laughter from the brunette.

They weren't your proudest memories, but the way that Frankie laughed at you and Santi's old college stories brought a smile to your face and gave you a feeling of butterflies in your stomach that you didn't want to go away. You knew deep down you shouldn't feel those butterflies, especially when dealing with a client, but something about the pilot made your heart flutter.

But the minute you would feel the butterflies, like after Frankie gave you a compliment about your outfit, you would feel the guilt wash over you in waves. Frankie was a father, a former husband who was working with you in order to win back his ex. How could you feel this way about a man who was fighting through hell to get his family back.

You were just his lawyer.

Seeing him open up each time he came into your office was something that struck you deep down, knowing that being this vulnerable is something that he doesn't take lightly. 

The two of you continue meeting twice a week after NA, with Frankie telling you about his feelings from his meeting and talking about his goals for this upcoming trial.

You continue preparing him with questions you know will be brought up by the family court judge, focusing on his plans for the future after his discharge from the inpatient center, focusing on the changes in behavior he has made of the past few months. His answers become more confident the harder you work, and you feel your heart start to swell as he talks about how excited he is to see his baby girl again.

But you also feel pain in your heart at the thought of the man before you leaving your life after this week.

It's the Friday night before the trial, a night you typically take off early on, but tonight is different.

Frankie was sitting here in your office earlier this week when he casually mentioned that he was getting his 6 month sober chip on Friday. Upon hearing this news you gasp and stand up from your desk, your feet carrying you over towards him before you could even register what you are doing - suddenly you realize that you have pulled him into your arms.

Frankie is shocked at first, a small "oof" escaping his lips as you held onto him, but he is grateful you cannot see the blush rising on his cheeks.

You quickly pull yourself back and subconsciously smoothing out your light green work pants before taking a step back. "I'm so proud of you 'Cat, that's so amazing!" You smile, brushing a piece of hair back behind your ear.

The pilot nods, a small smile playing at his lips.

"How about you come here on friday. You, me and Santi can have some pizza and a beer to celebrate," you suggest, watching as Frankie furrows his brow before letting out a chuckle.

"You don't ask all of your clients to have a pizza party in your office after hours do you?" He laughs, taking his hat off and fixing his brown locks before sliding it back on his head.

"I can't say that I do, but this is what Santi and I would do back in the day to celebrate, so why not celebrate this achievement before we get in the courtroom." 

You chuckle, remembering the days spent in the shitty apartment Santi had off campus. "Alright I'm in." Frankie smiles, "I'll bring the beers."

That night the three of you sit on the floor of your office like kids and chuckle at old stories, both from college and from the boy's times spent overseas. You watch as Frankie laughs at something Santi says and you feel the pain in your heart return, knowing that in a few short days your client would be back to his old life, and you would be stuck here back in the real world at your job. You know it's wrong, but these past months have been different than any other case you have taken on.

You know Frankie is going to be able to go back to his family after all of this - he is stronger than when this whole ordeal started and he has the support to prevent another relapse. 

Hell, you are proud of him outside of work, knowing this process wasn't easy - but the idea of this man walking out of your life brings you sadness. Knowing he won't be in your office twice a week for hours, cracking jokes and talking about nothing in particular towards the end. 

Sometimes you wonder what things would be like if you met under other circumstances. Maybe you two would have a shot - walking hand in hand at the local farmer's market, singing karaoke at the bar with Santi, Benny and Will, or even going on a flight with him.

You even opened up to him, telling him things even Santi doesn't know. But you need to remember why you are here - to win this for your client.

"Mr. Morales, after going over the details of this case, I see the dedication you have made towards your rehabilitation and future. I have talked with the treatment team at Maple Grove rehabilitation as well as your NA sponsor, and based on all of the information I have gathered is that you are fit to have custody of your daughter. You will now have shared custody of Eleanor Luciana Morales."

Before you can properly process the words of the judge, you feel two strong arms wrap around your torso and lift you in the air. You feel a blush come over your cheeks as you hear Frankie saying "thank you" over and over again as he sets you back down on the ground.

You both simultaneously pull back and hide your blushes as you thank the judge for his discretion and you faintly hear the bang of the gavel in the background as the court is dismissed.

You don't miss the way Ava storms out of the courtroom with her family and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Santi walks over to the two of you and pulls you both into a hug, rubbing a hand comfortingly up and down your back and thanking you for everything you did.

You nod as Santi pulls back and turns to his brother in arms, chatting about something you can't quite hear as you begin to pack up your white briefcase, pausing when you see a photo of Ellie on the table.

Since the beginning of the trial Frankie felt the nerves wash over him as this suddenly felt so real. You had suggested that he bring in a picture of Eleanor to place on the table so that whenever he became nervous, he could look down and see who he was doing this all for. Seeing the photo now brings tears to the corners of your eyes and you close up your briefcase - turning around to see that Santi has left the courtroom, just leaving you and Frankie.

"I just wanted to say thank you, for everything," he says softly, nervously scratching at the hair at the nape of his neck.

You nod curtly, trying to ignore the sore feeling in your throat - a telltale sign that you were about to cry.

Frankie tilts his head in confusion and walks closer, reaching out and grabbing your smaller hands in his. "I mean it - you have helped me through this whole process, and you are the reason I get to see Eleanor again, and for that I cannot thank you enough."

His words cut through you like knives - you knew this was coming. Your job is over, and it's time for him to move on.

"All in a day's work," you chuckle quietly, having to look down at your shoes to avoid letting the tears fall.

You suddenly feel softy fingers tilt your head up. Blinking through your lashes you see the pilot looking at you with only adoration in his eyes. You lock onto his chocolate orbs and nod slightly as he moves closer, softly crashing your lips against his.

You feel his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling him flush against his chest in a soft yet comforting way. You find yourself getting lost in the moment, one of your hands tangling in his hair as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

A moment later you both pull away, leaning your forehead against his as he lets out a small chuckle.

"I've been wanting to do that forever," he smiles, locking eyes with you once again, "I had to wait until I wasn't your client anymore, I didn't want to make it awkward or unethical."

You smile at his confession, brushing a piece of his brunette locks out of his eyes.

"Well now that you are no longer my client, would you like to go grab a beer?" You ask, looking at the way his eyes light up at your question.

"I would love that."

He watches as you grab your briefcase and wraps an arm around your waist as the two of you head for the courtroom doors.

He feels his heart swell in his chest knowing he not only has Eleanor back in his life, but now he has you too.

taglist: @hailmary-yramliah​ @babyprim​ @shadowolf993​ @jasterslegacy​ @collectorofexperiences​

[taeyohonic]

stolen dances | chap. 8

summary: sometimes supporting the person you love is the hardest challenge you’ll ever face.

pairing: jeon jungkook x fem!reader

rating: m

warning: swearing

additional tags: f2l, ceo!jungkook, bestfriend!jungkook, shrink!yoongi, my best friend’s wedding meets 27 dresses (if the boss/secretary couple had happened), angst-y

words: 2200

links: prev. | next  [masterlist]

note: lower case letters intended

chapter summary: maybe there are too many red flags to ingore.

“what do you mean the menu changed?”, you hiss into the receiver, not caring how your colleague aches an eyebrow at your harsh tone.

“mr. jeon’s assistant called yesterday and demanded the gluten free pasta to be added instead of the duchess potatoes.” your caterer sounds as lost as you feel.

“but… the duchess is gluten free – now there’ll be a double pasta dish for entrée and sides”, you explain to the person who professionally cooks. never would you have imagined you’d be this upset about a vegetable.

“i’m doing what mr. jeon wants, ms. _____. my apologies.” yeah well, jungkook doesn’t know what he wants. his cold shoulder equals an iced crystal – your best friend has been mute even after getting back from his business trip. all the information you need as his unofficial wedding planner are thrown at you from different partners – like the caterer today or the florist last monday.

it’s seems like jungkook really wants to sabotage his own wedding to win this fight between the two of you. until now you’ve let him throw his childish temper tantrum, passively accommodating his changed decisions. but you’re drawing the line at the duchess potato.

“very well”, you say to the caterer. “i know you’re just doing your job – sorry for being rude. i can’t wait to taste… the gluten free pasta.”

the chef on the other end chuckles at your faked enthusiasm and you soon join.

“will you be there for the cocktail testing?”, he asks and you rummage through your desk, finding your planner in milliseconds.

“of course, it’s still on saturday?”, you ask, not trusting jungkook to change dates just to mess with your schedule.

after confirming the date, the two of you hang up and you start to pack up for the day. you’ll do the log entries for your students from home.

“everything okay, ___?”, your coworker jisoo questions, seeing you leave earlier than normal.

“yeah, don’t worry. i just… forgot an appointment. see you tomorrow”, you answer absently taking your prepacked lunch from the community fridge to eat later.

after taking two different trains and one bus, your self-made hummus is looking more like vomit than food as you stand in front of jungkook’s office building. but with your stomach in knots, you lose all appetite.

“miss ______, what a lovely surprise!”, the doorman greets you with an honest smile on his face. normally jungkook would send one of his town cars to collect you for your weekly lunch. to see you getting out of a bus worries the employee.

“how is the family, hanseo?”, you ask and answer his smile with one of your own.

“all well and healthy, miss! mr. jeon just got back from his meeting”, he informs you warmly and you bow in thanks.

with swift steps you move to the elevator, ready to make jungkook listen. arriving at the final floor, you greet his secretary with a short hug, your eyes already set on his closed door.

“may i go in?”, you ask mrs. yang – not really up to date on jungkook’s schedule. her knowing eyes stare right through your question.

“he’s all yours for the next hour; i’ll hold all phone calls.” you nod silently grateful for her discretion.

two loud knocks are the only forewarning jungkook gets before you barge into his office. your best friend sits at his desk, the top buttons of his shirt undone. his neatly styled hair and the reading glasses tell you that the last few hours were full of business decisions and negotiations.

his tired eyes look at you in surprise, before they cloud over with indifference.

“_____”

no ‘hey, how’ve you been the last week?’, no ‘did you manage to grab the credit card i forgot at the restaurant i stormed out of?’, no ‘i’m sorry, i canceled your favorite potato dish’.

“jungkook”, you greet him and hate yourself for how soft your voice sounds. your feet won’t allow you to move further into the room as your body stands still right next to the closing door.

a hefty silence sets around you, while the two of you muster the other. you notice the bags under his eyes – even with the expensive concealer covering the dark rings.

“_____”, your best friend says again, uncomfortable with the tension in his office.

“jungkook”, you answer, mimicking his tactic.

two estranged friends smile timidly at each other, before the CEO gets up from his seat and closes the distance. in front of you, he hesitates for a breath, but then you are in his arms. your winter coat and heavy bag create a barrier which jungkook crushes easily. he presses your body close to his chest, the suit jacket tightening around his shoulder blades.

you embrace him back, just as fiercely, and inhale his musky scent. he smells like love and you feel your eyes water.

“you’re a jerk”, you whisper against his neck, not ready to let go, but willing to work through your anger. the former idol huffs and buries his nose deeper in your hair. you can feel his breathe against your scalp and thank the lord with a silent prayer for taking a shower this morning.

“i know”, jungkook admits as he manages to squeeze you tighter at the same time.

“you’re a child”, you continue while drawing soft patterns across his shoulder blades with your fingertips.

“i know”

another silence follow – but it’s one without anger. it feels like going on vacation. nevertheless, problems need to be face, you’ve learned that from your shrink. so, with a heavy heart, you lose your embrace and try to step away from your best friend. after reluctantly holding on to you, he huffs and lets you go.

“have you eaten?”

“jungkook, we need to talk about this”, you tell him while the both of you sit on the leather couch. you have to suppress the impulse to take off your shoes, an old habit after the long nights spent in his office.

“when did you eat lunch, ____?”, he asks again and loses his suit jacket. the white button up shirt underneath looks a size too small, which troubles your heart greatly. jungkook doesn’t seem to notice, his focus remains on your eating habits.

“jungkook, i’ll eat later, promise”, you deflect and pat your bag with the hummus vegetable stew in it. your best friend doesn’t seem impressed.

“you’re upset because i haven’t told you about a close friend of mine”, you start, only to see him grimace at your wording.

“for five months”, he specifies.

“it never came up in conversation, jungkook. you… you don’t know all details of my life”, you justify yourself while mentally bowing at your backbone.

“yesterday, your mother invited me to their vow renewal, i can open a whole art gallery with your food pictures and i helped you plan a funeral for your living room plant last month”, jungkook replies astonished. “i even held the eulogy.”

yeah, fair, you’ll never forget seokjin’s oscar worthy crying scene in front of the calathea. even jimin was impressed.

“but you can’t introduce me to the guy accompanying you to my wedding?” there is a thick, and reasonable, accusation behind his words. you feel your hands sweat as you look at the tired eyes of your best friend.

“i’m afraid you won’t like him”, you offer. it’s the most logical explanation you could come up with after your phone call with taehyung. when truthfully, you are more afraid of the person yoongi will see in you face-to-face with jungkook.

but your best friend seems to buy your white lie. his face softens as he rests one hand on your knee.

“_____”, jungkook starts, “every friend of yours is a friend of mine.” you snort right into his words, not believing him for a second.

“you put my last boyfriend into jail.” the answering chuckle from him does not sound one bit apologetic.

“he was trash.” you know he’s right, still, his distrust was there before it turned out that your ex-boyfriend committed tax fraud.

“what about jisoo?”, you ask. “you’ve never warmed up to her.”

jungkook looks like he just swallowed something bitter at the name of your coworker.

“she hit on me.” his reveal shocks you.

“but she has a fiancé!”, you exclaim, only to see him roll his eyes.

“she hit on me”, he repeats unforgiving.

just… great.

“yoongi is different”, you say softly, not ready to reflect on jisoo’s audacity. it’s quite common for others to hit on jeon jungkook – he’s famous after all. but your own friend?

“let me be the judge”, jungkook demands equally soft and squeezes your knee.

“i’m not asking for your judgement, kookie”, you huff. you don’t need his approval. and yoongi sure as hell doesn’t want it.

“but”, you start again, “i think it’ll be best if you got to know him before the wedding.” you’ve thought about this a lot. it seems like the best course of action. even if you can’t picture yoongi and jungkook in the same room.

“he isn’t invited to the wedding”, your best friend scowls like a child. now you push his hand from your knee, irritated by his actions.

“he is”, you press, not willing to back down. jungkook’s eyes flash in anger.

“you can go with taehyung. he still has to make amends for fucking the DJs”, the CEO offers businesslike and moves up from the couch, like he just singlehandedly solved the problem.

“i don’t need a pity partner, jeon. i – there is a person who actually wants to go with me to your wedding”, you bite back. sure, you had to beg yoongi, but you won’t disclose that now. you’ve seen his gummy smile last week as he tried on expensive suits. he looked way too happy and handsome.

your best friend pushes some documents around his desk, deep in thoughts.

“as my best man you won’t have much time to be with him during the wedding. he will be alone in the midst of strangers. it’ll make him uncomfortable”, he tries to reason. you can’t help but roll your eyes – yoongi’s whole job description is to talk to strangers and make them feel safe. but wait…

“i’m not your best man, jungkook.” you’ve scheduled the event. seokjin’s best man speech comes right before the main course. you even sent the man some keynotes, with topics not to add to his roast.

“you got upgraded”, jungkook states with a shrug. no, no, no, no, no.

“you’ll have to rearrange the seating chart – the place next to my parents’ is now yours.”

“jungkook”, you breathe, astonished by his thoughts, “i’m not your best man.”

he tenses at your refusal, but won’t admit defeat too soon.

“you’re my best friend, so you should be my best man as well”, he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“she was against it at first – some bullshit about gender norms and how the photos will look. but, ____, not talking to you for this long made me realize, that you are way more important than seokjin.”

you can see the red flags wave behind jungkook as you feel your heart quicken at his words.

“jungkook” no longer is your voice angry. the sadness in your tone makes jungkook flinch while looking at you from across the room.

“we’ve both created very – very idolized versions of one another”, you start to explain. “maybe you think of me as important – but jungkook, there is so much we haven’t shared with each other.”

he shakes his head, willing to interrupt, but you hold your hands up in warning.

“jungkook, i lo- i like being with you a lot these last few years. but there are parts of you i’ve never met. i never shared your trainee days with you, the hardship, the success. i was only an unknown fan cheering your band on from afar.”

you take a deep breath. “but even now, you still surprise me with new sides of yourself. leaving me on an island? disinviting my plus one? that’s not the jungkook i know. and that’s sure as hell not someone i want to toast to.”

your best friend looks like you’ve just broken something dear to him and you can feel the defeat in your bones.

“seokjin is your best man, jungkook”, you end and smile at the CEO who won’t look at you anymore. before you can move closer to him, the door opens.

“mr. jeon, your next appointment is waiting.” mrs. yang sounds apologetic and looks uncomfortable between the two of you – so far apart.

jungkook nods at his secretary and she closes the door, leaving you to finish the train wreck of a conversation.

“are we no longer best friends, ____?”, he whispers as he logs into his computer. his posture screams dismissal, but you can see how tensed his shoulders are and how hard is mind is working.

you have to suppress the coo on the tip of your tongue.

“jungkook – you are my best friend. you are a person of the utmost importance to me.”

“you still like me?” i love you, you fool.

“i still like you way too much for my own good.”

he nods silently and you can see the tiniest smile spreading across his lips.

you leave without goodbye, only to feel your phone vibrating in your pocket while the elevator rushes to the lobby.

bring your plus one to this week’s movie night.

before you can send a smiley face in responds, an email form the caterer pops up.

subject: duchess potatoes are back.

_____

happy new year! i hope you all have a healthy and kind 2021! let’s make life better by wearing our masks, helping others in need and supporting those who experienced hardship during this tiering time!

i know i promised yoongi/jungkook cat fight – but the chapter got so ugly that i squeezed in this scene of reader und kookie talking about this mess. so that yoongs won’t bleed during game night.

i’d love to hear from you all, it’s been really silent in my virtual life…

all the best and the warmest of hugs from, dana

taglist: @livewittykid  @thequeen-kat @kagami-s-void @goldenclosethobi @youwannabelostandnotbefound @jinsalpaca @bishuthot @laabellaavitaa21 @baekstans @jalexad​ @kimluvwoo​  @jinsearthh​

[echo-hiraeth]

Chapter 12: The Daughter

Part of the “Ilicit Limerence” series

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: Having met Lorraine, the reader is quite startled, will the Texas retreat turn out disastrous?

Warnings: swearing, angst, vomiting, pregnancy symptoms

Masterlist

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Javier cringed a bit noticing the shock in your eyes, one that you managed to play-off very gracefully. “Oh we-we’re not married”, you chuckled, shaking the husband’s hand next.

“Gotcha, alright. Well, let me go put the dessert in the freezer and we can catch up”, she chirped, carrying her freezer bag into the garage.

Chucho picked up on the change of atmosphere and ushered his son-in-law into the living room, giving the two of you some much-needed space. Javier took a deep breath.

“Did you know they were coming?”, you asked quietly, setting a timer for the oven.

He closed the kitchen door, turning around to face you. “Yes, but I didn’t want to stress you out.”

“Javi, you promised me no more surprises”, you chided, covering your face with your hands. “You need to tell me these kind of things! We just talked about this!”

“Querida, please. I wasn’t even sure if she’d still show and I didn’t want to cause you any unnecessary stress”, he reasoned.

“I’m aware, but even then, these are things you just tell me! I don’t care if she’s here or not, but I would’ve liked to know beforehand! It’s kind of awkward having to just suddenly stand in front of your ex-fiancée”, you explained, washing and drying your hands.

“I wanted to tell you but – but I just couldn’t figure out how, or when, it just never seemed like the right time.”

You took some steps towards him, threading your fingers with his. “I’m happy to know you tried, but next time, try to bring it up okay. I-I didn’t mean to go off as much as I did I’m just so fucking stressed.”

“But why, pop adores you! The hardest part is over with”, he tried to soothe you, squeezing your hand in his.

You scoffed a bit, shaking your head. “She’s so beautiful Javier, I can’t believe I’m saying this but I guess I’m jealous.”

He threw you a confused glance, stuttering a bit as he tried to fathom what you had just said. “You’re joking? Corazón, Lorraine and I are ancient history, there’s nothing there. I’m here with you, because I want you to meet my father. Lorraine’s just a family friend, nothing more, I promise you.”

“Shit Javi, sorry I-I didn’t mean to-“

“Hey, it’s okay, I understand”, he comforted you, wrapping his arms around you. “Take a deep breath okay, I love you.”

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt, hugging him a bit tighter. “I love you too, Javi. Thank you for bringing me here.”

He leaned into your touch, tilting your chin up to kiss you. It was a moment for him to convey just how much he adored you and just how sorry he was, lips moving against yours in an easy, soft rhythm. You pulled away with a muted sigh, looking into his eyes as you stepped back.

“You should check up on your dad, I’ll finish up in here”, you suggested, turning your attention back to the side dishes. “We can talk about it later.”

He gave a nod, more a formality than anything else and disappeared behind the wooden door. You drew in a deep breath, bracing yourself on the counter as you tried to comprehend everything that happened within that ten minute window.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on y’all, but I didn’t want to barge in mid conversation”, her voice sounded from behind you.

You jumped a bit, not exactly expecting for your boyfriend’s ex to sneak up on you like that. “I-it’s okay really”, you reassured her, covering the corn in tin foil.

“I can tell he hasn’t changed much”, she started, “He never was much of a talker.”

“He talks to me, it’s just not always as easy for him as it is for us”, you retorted, packing the other bowls in the fridge. “It’s a matter of mutual respect and understanding.”

She rested her hip against the counter, crossing her arms in front of her. “Well, respect is earned.”

You mentally knocked yourself on the head, not wanting to deal with this or spend a whole weekend biting back catty and snarky replies. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean for that to-“

“How far along are you?”, she interrupted, nodding towards your stomach.

You reflexive hand on your bump, feeling a bit uneasy. “Excuse me, w-what?”

“Oh come on, you’re not fooling anyone with the oversized shirt, I have two sisters with kids”, she explained, coming closer.

“W-we really-“, you started once again.

“Oh was it unexpected?”, she questioned, making somewhat of a face.

You set the last dishes in the sink, intent on getting out of this conversation. “Javier asked me to help in there, so, I’ll see you at the table.”

It was a poor excuse, but one that worked nonetheless. You hurried your way out of there, re-joining the three men in the living room, taking a seat on the couch next to Javier. He rested his arm on the cushion behind you, encouraging you to sit closer. He noticed you’d gone somewhat pale but didn’t decide to pursue his train of thought, instead listening to the other two go on about some truck repairs.

Lorraine joined a few minutes later, smiling at the two of you before sitting down next to her husband. “So, how’s Columbia been?”, she asked, not specifically looking at either of you.

“Closing in on Escobar and the cartel, but the situation is stable as of right now. Had some close calls but we mostly manage to come out on top”, Javier answered, looking at you during the second part.

The three of them looked at you now, and you answered the question before any of them could ask it. “I work at the embassy as well, DEA, same division and office.”

“But you’re quitting, right?”, Lorraine pressed, pouring herself a glass of whiskey.

“Depends, but for now I have no intention of resigning.”

That seemed to set the husband off a bit, who leaned forward more, actively engaging in the ongoing conversation. “That’s kind of irresponsible, don’t you think? Exposing yourself and your child to all that corruption, drug use and violence.”

You noticed the way Javier’s jaw tightened, his fingers balled up into a fist. “We’re not just throwing her out there. There’s barely any field work to do now and she’s not putting herself at risk.”

You laid a hand on his thigh, hoping to calm him even just the tiniest bit. “I stick to mainly office jobs now, but if I do go out I have Javier and my other partner right alongside me.”

Chucho shot you a wink, assuring you that you were doing great. “She can handle herself just fine out there, pregnant or not. One of the best damn agents we have out there”, Javier continued, now wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Does the embassy know about you two then?” You both nodded. “Sounds like one heck of a complicated mess to me”, Lorraine chuckled.

“If anything, I think she’s keeping him sane down there”, Chucho intervened. “They can’t have much of an objection to that, she’s saving them heaps of therapy bills.”

You and Javier both softly laughed at that, lacing your fingers with one another. “It’s nice to have someone down there. If I didn’t have him to come home to every night I wouldn’t know how I’d survive down there”, you confessed.

The hearts in his eyes were nearly visible as he just plainly admired you. He drank in your praising words as he tried his best not to show just how flustered he was. Chucho knew his son better than that, grinning at the two of you as he raised his glass. “Bueno, bienvenida a la familia, mi hija.” (Well, welcome to the family my girl/daughter.)

You blushed a bit at Chucho’s words, staring down at your lap as you tried to keep yourself from grinning like an idiot. Javier pecked your cheek, muttering something about appetizers. You sat next to him at the table as well, right in front of Lorraine as Chucho seated himself at the head of the table. The atmosphere seemed to have finally turned around and there was some light-hearted conversation going on, with an occasional burst of laughter.

The rest of the evening went by just as smoothly, the only hiccup when you and Lorraine were alone in the kitchen, plating the turkey and getting the heated dishes out of the oven or off the stove.

“I’m sorry for being nasty earlier tonight, I just want the best for Javier”, she explained, shrugging off her oven mittens. “He’s a very complicated man, but it seems like you’ve got him figured out.”

“Thank you for apologizing, I’d hate for us to not get along”, you smiled, grabbing a hold of a kitchen towel. “And I’m sorry Javi was such a prick to you back in the day.”

She chuckled. “It’s all good, I’m very happy with my husband, we just haven’t been blessed with kids yet.”

“Well, when you least expect it, it might just happen”, you joked, softly stroking your own bump.

“I can tell he really cares about you, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous.”

You both laughed at that. “How do you think I felt when I saw you walk in? Such a gorgeous Texan woman, tough competition.”

“Now, now, don’t be silly. You’re much more his type! Adventurous, sexy, witty, tough, independent.. you could teach me a lesson or two”, she replied, handing you a pair of mittens yourself.

“Whatever the case, I need some dinner first – I’m starving.”

The table was covered in little plates and bowls, the smell of turkey and gravy lingering in the dining room as you joined the others there. You sat down once again, practically drooling as you looked over the absolute feast in front of you. Chucho started off with a little speech, expressing how grateful he was to have you all there and how happy he was to have a new addition to the family. There wasn’t much talk during dinner, all of you eager to just dig in and have at it. Javier had an amused look on his face as he watched you go for a third serving of that creamy mash, giving you an extra big scoop as you pouted at him. By the end of your main course, your bump had nearly doubled in size, your oversized shirt more regular sized that intended. Javier was right there with you, leant back in his chair with his belt unbuckled.

Lorraine’s husband, David, was already up and carrying dishes into the kitchen and when you go up to do the same, you felt a gentle hand on your arm. Chucho was sweetly smiling at you. “Why don’t you sit down for a bit, you’ve been on your feet for way too long.”

Javier went to stand as well, grabbing a hold of both your plates until his father cleared his throat once more. “Go join your girl, we’ll take care of it.”

You really tried, but protests didn’t get you very far in this house. So you eventually ended up on the couch, curled up in Javier’s side, a soft quilt covering your legs. He slowly but surely started laying down more flat, subtly taking you with him, until eventually you both fell asleep on the couch. He had his arms wrapped around your back, his cheek resting against your head as your nose was nuzzled into the collar of his shirt.

Lorraine and David were headed out for a walk, leaving only Chucho. Upon finding the two of you, he grabbed a second quilt, snatching the camera off the dresser to snap a picture of the both of you. It all felt very surreal to him, his son coming back from Columbia a better version of himself, but as he saw the two of you laid there, a pure depiction of intimacy and care, he sure as hell believed it. His boy was in love and worse than he probably realised himself.

You woke up to the screen door falling shut, successfully jolting you awake. This sudden motion in turn caused Javier to wake up as well, immediately putting his hands on you. You quickly reassured him, giggling a little as he fixed your dishevelled hair. The sun was setting by now, an orange hue filtering in through the drawn curtains.

Dessert was filled with more small-talk, Javier eventually zoning out, not being the overly social type. You put a hand on his thigh under the table, sending an encouraging smile his way, reminding him that it was almost over. But when David suggested some more drinks on the couch, you could tell your boyfriend was getting annoyed. Deciding to be a good girlfriend, you stepped in.

As you went to stand you let out a purposely loud wince and hissed a breath. All eyes were on you, entirely according to plan. Even Javier thought you were serious, immediately holding out a hand to steady you.

“Querida?”, he asked.

“I’m okay Javi – just my back”, you lied, placing a hand there yourself.

Chucho put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Hijo, debes cuidar a tu esposa.” (Son, you should go take care of your wife.)

“Oh no – I don’t want to cut things short”, you continued, bracing your other hand on the table.

Lorraine moved to stand on your other side, grabbing a hold of your arm. “Nonsense, let’s get you to bed. Javier can help you up and I’ll get you a heating pad”, she tutted, guiding you into his arms.

You apologized another couple of times before Chucho ushered you upstairs as well, insisting you needed some rest. Halfway up the stairs, hidden from view, Javier let go of you letting you walk the rest of the way by yourself. Once inside the room, with the door shut, he pulled you flush against him, capturing your lips with yours for a saccharine kiss.

“Thank you”, he muttered, stepping away from you as he heard some steps down the hall.

Lorraine knocked before entering, handing Javier the heating pad. “We’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

As the door shut again, he threw it right at you, sighing as he rested his head against the door. “I made the right decision at that altar. She doesn’t shut up, does she?”

You threw the pad right back, shaking your head as he caught it. “Manners, Peña.”

 The next morning you were hit with karma, hard karma. You were just in time, registering the familiar nausea and biting acidic feeling in the back of your throat and flailing the covers off of your body, rushing into the bathroom. You fell to your knees, so hard they’d be bruised, bracing yourself on the porcelain as you emptied out your guts. Your morning sickness was still around, but it wasn’t a daily reoccurrence anymore. But this very morning, it hit your hard, your back arching with the intensity of it all, legs shaking.

With the door wide open, Javier woke as well, hearing you wretch and hurl in the other room. He decided to give you some space, knowing you didn’t enjoy him seeing you like that. But when after ten minutes, it still wasn’t over and you were still heaving every thirty seconds, he decided the head downstairs.

He was greeted by his father, who sat at the kitchen table in a flannel, reading a newspaper. “Hoy te has levantado pronto. Something wrong?” (Well, you’re up early.)

“You have any mint tea or something?”, he asked, frantically flipping through the cabinets, “Usually helps her out.”

“Throwing up?”, Chucho questioned, folding his paper in half. “Go take care of her, I’ll bring something up.”

Javier just nodded, quickly grabbing a glass from the cupboard before sprinting up the steps again. He found you completely out of breath, head leaned on your forearms as your chest heaved up and down. He knelt down beside you, gently helping you into his arms, letting you lean back against him.

“Take a deep breath, I’m right here, corazón”, he shushed, wiping your forehead and mouth with the little hand towel.

You pushed his arms aside, sitting back up as you felt another wave of nausea hit you. He closed his eyes, annoyed there wasn’t more for him to do or help you. He fished a hair tie out of your make-up bag, tying your hair back before stroking up and down your back. It hadn’t been this bad since that day of the raid and he bit his lip as he tried to keep his worries to a minimum.

There was a knock at the door and Javier left your side only to see his father standing there, with a tray of stuff. “Have her drink those and eat that, she should be okay then.”

Without any more words he handed the tray over to his son, patting his shoulder before taking his leave again. Once back in the bathroom he noticed you were sat back against the wall, wiping your mouth down with the towel once again. He handed you one of the glasses and you tipped it back, scrunching up your nose at the sour taste. Javier encouraged you to keep going, handing you to second glass before also handing you the stack of saltines.

Once you managed to get all of that down, you took a deep breath, resting your cheek against the cold tiles on the wall. “This baby better be the cutest one ever.”

“How’re you feeling?”, he asked, kneeling down in front of you.

“I don’t know what was in those horrendous drinks, but it sure did something”, you chuckled, letting him pull you to your feet. Once up you reached for your toothbrush, eager to get the weird mixture of flavours out of your mouth.

He wrapped his arms around you again, sighing into your hair. “You’re shaking, querida. Get back in bed.”

“I’m fine Javi, just let me put on some clothes and we can get some breakfast”, you explained, turning around to face him.

He carefully knocked his forehead against yours. “Okay.. but if you so much as feel dizzy you’re laying the fuck down.”

There was something sweet about how protective Javier got at that times. It had started even before the two of you got in a bed together, within the first weeks of you working with the two of them. Whether it was giving you the newest and best vest or going into raids in front of you, he always made sure he had you covered. It didn’t stop there, that side of Javier started to come up more and more, whether it was defending you from patronizing glances and comments at the office or sex-crazed sicarios at the bar, he was always there. And now, as you were walking down the staircase of his childhood home, nearly three months pregnant, he was there as well. His broad palm engulfed yours as he guided you down the steps, telling you to watch out for the carpet on the last four of them.

Chucho was stood in the kitchen, bent over the stove stirring in a pan. He gave you a smile and a wink as you took a seat at the kitchen table, Javier disappearing into the garage.

“Feeling better?”, he asked with an amused tone.

You crossed your legs, skimming over the headlines on the front page of the newspaper. “Loads. How’d you know what to do?”

He set a plate of breakfast down in front of you and himself, sitting next to you. “My wife.. she had really bad morning sickness when she was pregnant with Javier. Doctor gave us a whole list of home remedies to try. It’s the sour foods you need.”

You listened intently, surprised by his knowledge and experience with pregnancy as a whole. “It worked like a charm, tasted putrid but did the job.”

“Remind me to write it down for you, got something to counter the swelling as well”, he told you, swinging his fork as he spoke.

Before you could thank him Javier walked back in with a bottle of milk. Filling a plate for himself before taking a seat across from you, next to his father. “Fence looks pretty banged up, had a storm recently?”, he asked, shoving a forkful of bacon and eggs in his mouth.

“Earlier this week, meant to fix it before you came but didn’t have time.”

“Oh”, you chimed in, “we could give you a hand, I mean we’re here anyways, might as well help out.”

Chucho put a hand over yours. “Hija, you helped enough with dinner yesterday, take the day off.”

Javier cut you off before you could even so much as begin to protest, talking to his dad himself. “She’s right pop, we’ve fixed it before, no reason we can’t do it again. Weather’s nice enough today.”

 It was uncharacteristically warm today, the beaming sun making it feel like a nice late summer day. You were sat up against a tree, comfortably watching from a distance as the two men worked on some replacements for the fence. Being the stubborn woman that you are, you’d insisted that you could at least do something, so Chucho shut you up by giving you some of his work shirts. They all needed some repairs, just simple patchwork and some sewing, nothing you couldn’t handle.

They worked on the fence all day, so you offered to make some dinner, using some of the Thanksgiving leftovers. By the time you were done cooking and heating everything up it was about six and the two men still weren’t back. So you went out again, making your way over to the edge of the fence, by the water. You were greeted by your boyfriend, aviators perched on his nose. His shirt had some sweat stains by now, strands of his dark hair plastered against his glimmering forehead.

“Dinner’s ready, you two can finish up tomorrow”, you suggested, leaning up against the good part of the fence. “I set the outside table, so the floors won’t get too dirty.”

To say Chucho was happy to have you here would’ve been an understatement. It hadn’t even been forty-eight hours, but the man was no fool. It was almost magical, the way you could just conjure up a day filled with smiles and joyful banter, it had been too long since that was the case. He’d been somewhat anxious to hear his son had put himself out there again, fearing another Lorraine might be the case, but seeing the way you took care of one another, the old man recognized a fairy-tale when he saw one.

The next day you managed to sleep in, being woken up by the dipping of the mattress. When you opened your eyes you were met with a sweaty Javier and a tray of food. He muttered something about eating lunch in bed before heading for the shower. You just laid back, slowly waking up more as he rinsed the sweat and dirt off of his golden skin, remerging in a flannel and some boxers.

“Why didn’t you wake me up”, you asked, sitting up against the headboard before glancing over the tray.

He sat down next to you, moving the tray as he did. “You needed the rest and we needed to finish the work on the fence. Didn’t think you’d sleep in past lunch though.”

“Javier Peña are you insinuating that I’m lazy?”, you giggled, grabbing the sandwich off the plate.

“I’m insinuating that you’re working too much”, he started, pushing you back into the pillows, “and that you need to take it easy.”

He grabbed a sandwich himself, laying back next to you, wrapping one of his arms around you. “How’s your dad?”

“Pop’s fine, out for the rest of the day”, he sighed, “Which means that I have all day to spend with you. Wherever and however we want.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, nudging his leg with your foot. “We have time for that tomorrow, when we’re home. Let’s soak up some more of the town before we leave instead.”

The two finished lunch together, got dressed and headed out. It was another warm afternoon, a pleasant breeze hitting the apples of your cheeks as the two of you strolled along the local shops. You looked so much like a couple in that instant, his arm slung across your shoulders, fingers fumbling with the strap of your purse. The two of you were talking and laughing about something work-related, his adorable dimple on full display as he smiled at you. He noticed you squinting, eyes struggling to stay open against the sun, so he grabbed the aviators out of his breast-pocket, gently placing them on the bridge of your nose, along with a kiss.

You were blushing like a teenager. Cheeks rosy with adoration and giddiness as you enjoyed the quality time with your boyfriend. The two of you would spend Christmas down in Bogotá, so you figured some early Christmas shopping was in order. Connie and you had a tradition of giving each other the essentials, good wine, some nice candles and soap and something blingy. Hence why you were stood in front of a jeweller, gazing in the window. Javier stood behind you, looking over your left shoulder with both hands resting on your hips.

“See something you like?”, he asked, lips ghosting over your ear.

You bit your lip, looking over the shiny bracelets and necklaces. “Do you think she’d like one of those engraved name bracelets for Liv?”

“What? I thought you were picking something out for yourself”, he chuckled in confusion.

You spun around, bracing your hands on his chest. “And what exactly would I need?”

“A ring maybe? I-I don’t really know what your taste in jewellery is”, he stuttered, scratching the back of his head.

“Why would I want a ring, I barely wear any – oh OH”, you replied, suddenly realizing what he was getting at. “I – what?”

He immediately started shifting, his confidence seemingly leaving his body. “You know, if we’re gonna raise a kid together and be together, might as well tie the knot. It’ll save us a lot of questions and weird looks.”

Your mouth hung open, eyes staring straight at him through the tinted glasses. “That is just the worst way of doing this. But I really like the gemstone rings”, the last part was more of a whisper, your hand on the doorhandle as you walked into the shop.

He smirked to himself, shaking his head as he followed you. “So not big on diamonds, huh?”

“Putting down thousands of dollars for some broken glass? Now, I thought you knew me better than that, Peña”, you teased, peering over at the displays.

Some sales assistant soon greeted the two of you, flashing you a bright, teeth-baring grin. “Good afternoon, can I help you?”

“Hi, yes”, you replied, smiling as well, “I’m looking for a bracelet to engrave, something cute and simple, adjustable as well.”

And with that the two of you were off, leaving Javier to look at all the shiny displays and windows surrounding him. You never ceased to amaze him, mocking him for his impromptu “proposal”. He chuckled into his hand as he looked over the rings. The two of you would get your little moment, he was sure of it, but some grand, big gesture wasn’t exactly in the cards, though he supposed a nice ring would mean a lot on its own. He spotted a thing band with three stones, a bigger one surrounded by two smaller ones. The middle stone had somewhat of a darker, deep purple/pink to it, a colour he found himself deeply attracted to. It had character yet subtlety, refinement yet something robust. It stood out but not because of the size or design, it stood out because it embodied you.

A second sales assistant was helping him now and he discreetly pointed over at you, asking the employee if they could estimate your ring size from here. There was a bit of laughter, but ultimately Javier walked out with a tiny box, lucky enough to have a suitable size in stock. You’d slipped the employee your actual size while Javi thought he was being slick.

The rest of the afternoon you were on the lookout for something for Steve and Javi. But soon you decided to stop at a little café, needing to be of your aching feet for a while. You sat in a booth alongside Javier, thigh to thigh with his arms around your waist. You shared a slice of cake with him, talking about a shop you’d seen in passing. A few shopping bags sat among you, mainly presents and necessities, seeing how the market for maternity clothing and necessities wasn’t as varied as the one here in Laredo.

By the time the two of you got back to the ranch it was already dark. You walked in through the backdoor, Javier’s jacket wrapped around you as it cooled off a lot more outside. Chucho was sat at the kitchen table, oiling up some of his tools.

“Have a nice day?”, he asked with a half-sided smile.

You plopped down in the seat across from him, letting out a deep breath. “I never knew Laredo was so fun.”

“Well, feel free to visit more often, especially if you need help with that little one”, the old man pointed out, gesturing to your bump.

“Trust me, I’ll drag Javi here myself if need be”, you whispered, raising your eyebrows in the direction of your boyfriend. “Let me write down the address for you as well, just in case.”

 Later that night, when Javier was already fast asleep you snuck back downstairs. You were still hungry, the whole “eating for two” thing clearly no understatement. When you were in the living room you noticed the light in the kitchen was still on. You carefully approached the door, relaxing when you saw it was just Javier’s father.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt”, you softly spoke, bracing your hands on the doorframe.

He shut the tiny television off, beckoning for you to have a seat. “You’re not, hija. Why are you still up?”

You swiped a strand of hair behind your ear, stopping a yawn from slipping out. “Was feeling hungry, baby is like a bottomless pit.”

The two of you quietly laughed at that, Chucho gesturing towards the fridge. “By all means.. Unless you want me to make you something?”

“Oh no, no, you’ve done so much already, Sir, some bread will do”, you assured him, grabbing the bread from the cupboard.

“Call me Pop, sweetheart, we’re a family now”, he reminded you, getting up to get you some cheese and ham. “You need the fats, they’ll keep the cravings away for a while.”

You gratefully took his advice, shoving a first bite into your mouth. “I’m sorry Javier’s been so distant, he gets caught up in his own head down there.”

“I’m glad he came, it’s been years”, he put a hand on your cheek, making you look right at him. “Thank you for giving me back my boy.”

Whatever you expected it wasn’t that. You put the sandwich on the counter, wrapping your arms around the man, trying to keep yourself from crying. “Thank you for giving me a family.”

 Leaving that Sunday morning was harder than you’d expected. Chucho couldn’t resist as he stocked your bag up with some home goodies, stressing once again that you should call more often. There were no tears, only genuine smiles and warm hugs as he dropped you off at the airport. The flight back was easy and nice, giving the two of you the opportunity to rest some more. Your drive back to the apartment was prolonged by the afternoon traffic, successfully annoying your partner.

“Do you want to come tomorrow night?”, you asked, trying to distract him from the person cutting him off.

“What’s tomorrow?”, the hand on your thigh moved to the stick, putting it in neutral as the car stopped yet again.

“I have my twelve week check-up, for the baby”, you clarified, sprawling a hand over your lower gut.

He grabbed a hold of your hand, gently pressing his lips to your knuckles. “Of course, querida, I’d love to go.”

You’d noticed his eagerness as soon as you set foot off that airplane, his hands seemingly both everywhere and nowhere at once. Sure the two of you weren’t teenagers anymore, but four days without any actions was even starting to get to you. His hand on your knee was enough to send that familiar electricity coursing through your veins. He was right there with you, the shirt you were wearing oversized to a point where the neckline slid down just enough to show off the top of your breasts. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried back in Texas, it was that you’d slapped his wrist away as soon as he did so.

He cursed the Columbian traffic, fingers tapping on the steering wheel as he tried to control the aching need to lose himself within you. Even just the sight of you, comfortably resting your head against the window was enticing. Once of the main road, it went a bit faster, his foot pressing down on the pedal a bit harder on the last street. He parked the car in one motion, not bothering to check if he was in between the lines. You got out of the passenger side, walking back to the trunk to get your bags, but Javier grabbed your hand before you could. The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know: get to the apartment now.

The door closed as he pushed you up against it, pressing needy open-mouthed kisses to the crook of your neck while his hands worked on the buttons of his shirt. You briefly pushed him off, ripping your own shirt off before unclasping your bra behind your back. He let out a low groan at the sight of it, letting his own shirt drop to the floor as he surged forwards, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His hands found themselves on your breasts, squeezing the tender flesh as he pressed his groin into your hip.

“I fucking need you, baby”, he growled, literally sweeping you off your feet.

You let out a squeal, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck. “You seriously need to stop doing that! There’s a reason your back always hurts!”

“And I’m sure you’ll take care of it later”, he chuckled, setting you down in front of the bed.

He pushed you onto the mattress, immediately following suit, kissing up every inch of your body, paying special attention to your bump. “Oh don’t tease now”, you whined, sitting up to drag his face over to yours. “Fuck me, Javi.”

“Don’t you blow your back out now.”

Taglist: @pedritomando @peterhollandkait @radiowallet @ophelia-ingenue @phoenixhalliwell @diogodxlot @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @asta-lily @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @missstef23 @jasmincita @dobbyjen @kesskirata​ 

[hargrove-mayfields]

Harringrove April Day 16- Nostalgia

On just about every flat surface in their mansion, Steve’s mother had put out some fancy Tiffany light fixture.

Steve’s room was the only place in the whole house he got to have any day in the interior design, and his lamp, well it didn’t quite have a stained glass shade, or ornate detailing to fancy up the mansion, his happens to be an old nursery lamp from when he was six and still had a themed bedroom.

At the peak of his too cool for school teenager bullshit, he’d attempted to throw it out, sent it away to the curb with a bag of stuffed animals he claimed he didn’t need anymore, but the very same night he started having nightmares again, so he scrambled to get it back before the raccoons found it first.

That dusty old lamp had saved him from countless nights spent awake and terrified, and he wasn’t one to say he was ashamed of that.

Except, now Billy Hargrove, the pinnacle of badass, is in his room, and there it is, still plugged in on the nightstand.

Of all things too, it couldn’t have just been a generic race car lamp or something he could play off as not really being for kids, it had to be stupid Bambi.

There’s a story behind it, that when he was a toddler, his first venture out of Indiana was to go see his gramma over in Maryland, and, after one look at his big brown eyes and his fluffy brown hair, she immediately nicknamed him Bambi.

After that the name just sort of stuck with him, his parents using it when they wanted on his good side, to make up for forgetting his birthday, or as an apology for leaving him alone so long the babysitter left, so of course his mom thought it would be adorable if his bedroom was themed around it.

Somewhere in a dusty corner of the attic, he still had the curtains and the quilt and the wall hangings, and under his bed was a pillow embroidered with his name and a picture of the clumsy cartoon deer made by his gramma. And of course, there was the brightly shining lamp.

He would never admit that he kept them there for when he was at his most frightened, clutching the pillow to his chest during a nightmare, or wrapping the soft material of the tiny old quilt around his shoulders when he felt an imaginary pair of eyes watching him.

Because Steve had seen some shit, he felt that after witnessing a ten-foot tall faceless monster come through the ceiling and try to kill him, and having a herd of baby versions of that same monster charge at him with nothing but a baseball bat to protect himself and a group of defenseless children, he had earned the right to use a damn nursery lamp in his bedroom.

But, that ass-backwards swell of pride at still using his childhood comfort items at 19 years old is definitely crushed by the fact that, after being in his room for a grand total of five minutes, that’s immediately what Billy drifts to.

A drunken apology at a New Year’s party might have made up for the concussion and proved he was probably not going to beat his face in again, but it didn’t change the fact that he was in Steve’s bedroom with the edge of the printed lampshade pinched between his fingers, and a contemplative look on his face.

It was a little while after their truce was reached, that Billy just started showing up at the Harringtons’ door unannounced. Sometimes it was to borrow Steve’s first aid kit. Sometimes he’d steal some of his weed. Once he’d come over just to watch something on Steve’s TV. Whatever his reason, Steve had let him in every time.

In this particular instance, it had been Steve who had called Billy, because he had a math project and an essay due first thing tomorrow morning, and Nancy was too busy to help him.

At first he’d considered just not getting the work done, but he decided Billy would do. He was smart enough that the co-ed teacher in the math class they shared had begged him to switch to the advanced classes, so Steve figured his help wouldn’t be so bad.

But his desk where all of his school stuff is is upstairs in his bedroom, where he’s left out the dumb baby lamp, and of course that would be exactly what Billy goes straight for. Steve feels himself start to panic a little, unsure if he could trust Billy’s reaction, and convincing himself that Billy might beat his ass for being a fragile little fairy or something.

It never comes, Billy just sits down all casual on the bed next to Steve, pulling one of his legs up so he could cross it over his knee, and nods over at the lamp again. “Wish I still had something from when I was little.”

The weight of the entire universe is lifted from Steve’s chest, knowing that Billy isn’t going to tear his head off. He lets out a sharp breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “Yeah?”

Billy nods and looks down, fidgeting with the pendant he always wore around his neck. “My dad threw everything out. All I have is one little picture of my mom.”

Steve knew he lived with his step-mom, but had never even thought about what happened to Billy’s real mother. He realizes the pendant was probably a locket, the very one that holds the aforementioned picture, and asks “Can I see it?”

It looks like Billy has to think about it, as he keeps twisting the locket between his fingers, before he nods and opens it. Steve leans towards him, putting his hand up under it and holding it in his palm, straining to see the tiny, aged picture.

Even though he’s never seen this woman, it makes Steve incredibly sad, seeing her little face all worn out in that locket around her son's neck. He wonders if she was dead, or if maybe she’d lost custody for some reason, or if maybe she had just left, but whatever happened, when his eyes flicker back up to Billy’s face, the tears shining in his eyes and the way he avoids his gaze, he knows better than to ask.

Steve lets the locket fall and watches Billy snap it shut quickly, and he realizes he has no idea what the right thing to say is.

What he wants to say is that he’s sorry, for him losing his mother and having nothing but one yellowed and tear stained picture to remember her by, but that seems too much like prying, somehow not really appropriate.

Instead, he remembers what Billy said about his dad throwing his stuff out and says, “Your dad must be a real asshole, huh?”

Billy scoffs and blinks away the last of the tears in his eyes. “You’ve got no idea, Harrington.” There’s a long awkward pause, until Billy asks, “You know how I’m always coming over here with like, all kinds of shit wrong with me?”

Steve thinks he knows where this was going. “Sure.”

Chewing on the corner of his nail, Billy takes a moment to get his thoughts together, his eyes flitting nervously across the room, focusing on pretty much anything but Steve, mostly the picture frame behind him. “I lied. It’s not, like, fights or whatever I say. At least not with other kids.”

Steve himself was no stranger to conversations like these, he himself had to confess something of a similar calibre to Nancy, when they were still dating, because his father had come home from a business trip pissed off about something, and slapped him across the face just a little too hard. The sturdy silver ring that he wore on his middle finger had split the skin on Steve’s cheek, and he couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse to cover his tracks.

Admitting to it out loud was one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, so he decides he won’t make Billy say it. Maybe they weren’t on the best of terms, only here to do homework or whatever, but if he was going to open up about this, he definitely wasn’t going to make him experience that same humiliation he had.

“Is it your dad? That does that to you?” Nancy hadn’t been kind enough to spare him, forcing him to tell her once that the scar he so proudly sported wasn’t actually from a fist fight with Tommy like he said, and he wouldn’t do the same to Billy.

In lieu of a response though, Billy sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, his hands starting to shake ever so subtly, and Steve knows he’s got to keep pressing. “Do you need help? I can call the chief-“

“No.” Billy shakes his head and makes eye contact with Steve for the first time since he started talking. “Cops only make it worse.”

Steve could understand that, had tried once when he was about eight or so, with the assistance of one of the housekeepers, to call the police when his father twisted his arm so far behind his back his shoulder popped out of place, but they wouldn’t dare arrest a public figure like his father, especially not for a little corporal punishment. The first thing they’d asked was what Steve had done wrong, not why his father had felt it fitting to beat on his eight year old for a tiny mistake. He never asked for help again.

“Well is there anything I can do?” Despite their differences and the fact that he only called him here to cheat on his homework, he truly did want to help Billy. Something about repeatedly surviving horrific monster attacks made him a lot more protective of those around him, and now that they were over their dumb pissing contest, Billy was included in that too.

“Think you’ve done enough letting me into your mansion, unless that’s not good enough for your hero complex.” It was a pathetic jab, there was no bite behind his broken tone, and Steve would almost rather have him at his worst than see him so vulnerable and sad.

Steve tries to reason with him softly, “You know it’s not like that, Billy.”

“Do I?” Walls had been put up as Billy made his last ditch efforts to protect himself from being weak in front of Steve. “Cause where I’m sitting, it seems like you get off on charity cases like mine. You tryin to swoop in and save me, King Steve? Feed your ego so you can feel like the savior you were always meant to be?”

He was baiting him, trying to pick a fight so he’d push him away, Steve had seen it all before in himself and wouldn’t fall for it. “Listen. I just want to help you.”

Everything about Billy suddenly seemed to make a whole lot more sense. That whole part animal, tough guy thing was just an act, and Steve knew because he had done essentially the same thing.

Before Nancy Wheeler had taught him to be better, he and Billy really weren’t so different. He’d let high school bullshit bother him, beat up the nerds and fucked all the cheerleaders and mocked anyone lower than him on the social ladder like he was supposed to, but it always made him feel off.

In the end, it had been so easy to get him to the other side, to show him what to do instead, he supposed all he needed was a little push to help him actualize what he already believed.

And then it hits him, in that moment, that this was Billy’s push in the right direction. That he was Billy’s Nancy.

“I don’t expect you to tell me everything and I’m not doing this for me, just,” It became extremely important to him to not set Billy off, to say just the right thing to keep him on the right track. “my door is always open, Billy.”

At first, it seemed to have worked, Billy sat staring at the floor, his lip quivering as he mulled over Steve’s words, but, when he stood abruptly and snatched his leather jacket from where it was draped over the back of Steve’s desk chair, Steve knows he messed up.

“Where are you going?” He stands up fast enough to give himself a head rush while Billy shrugs his jacket back on and yanks the door open.

“Need a smoke.” That’s all he gets before the door slammed in his face, and he hears Billy's heavy boots stomping down the stairs and the sound of him slamming his front door.

He waits with bated breath and tears pricking the corners of his eyes for the sound of Billy’s car starting and tearing out of his driveway, but it never comes.

Still, he feels immensely guilty and selfish and stupid as all hell for not just biting his tongue. He should’ve just fought back, argued with him like was expecting him to instead of trying to be comforting like he was his fucking therapist or something.

Because this was Billy fucking Hargrove, stereotypical meat head bully. Why he even felt the need to help him, other than their similar upbringings and coping mechanisms, or the fact that Billy had obviously been reaching out, hoping for someone to care, was beyond him. Or maybe it really wasn’t, he knew exactly why, he just felt weak and stupid for trying, and especially so for failing.

Apparently he’d been so caught up in his little pity party that he missed the sound of the door opening back up, and didn’t notice Billy had come back until his bedroom door was open.

Steve was so relieved that Billy came back, that he hadn’t pushed him too far or fucked everything up, even if he reeked of too strong cigarettes, and growled at him when he came in, “Don’t we got fucking work to do, Harrington?”

They don’t end up finishing the essay. Steve was hopeless with numbers, and they were too busy goofing off, so the math project didn't get done very quickly. It was okay though, Billy wasn’t much help at all when it came to English anyways.

Steve walks him outside when he has to go, beating a curfew of midnight. He stops on the porch, immediately crossing his arms against the frigid cold of the night air. Billy stops too at his car, his fingers through the handle, and turns around, calling across the yard. “Hey Harrington?”

He hardly waits for Steve’s response, a quick “Yeah?” to tell him, “Thank you.”

There isn’t time for Steve to respond before Billy’s yanking open the door of his Camaro and backing out of the driveway, but he knows he’d still made astronomical progress tonight.

It makes him feel incredibly dumb, laying in his bed that night, illuminated by the warm light of that very same Bambi lamp and trying to put his thoughts of Billy to rest like he was some cheesy teenage girl, but he’s just happy to have found a friend, to have made a difference in somebody’s life, and he knows that on the other side of town, laying in own bed with his locket left open on the pillow beside him, Billy feels the same way.

[toastedkiwi]

Home

Summary: you spend most of your days in hospitals but you finally get to go home with your dad. Corona Chronicles w/ Chris Evans!

Pairing: Chris Evans x Daughter!Reader

Warning: sick!reader, cancer, illness, Corona Chronicles, some angst, mainly fluff, dad!chris evans taking care of reader.

“Hey, Love bug,” Chris said as you’re wheeled out.

You smiled under the mask seeing your dad. It’s been rough since this pandemic decided to hit. You’ve already got everything against you and you don’t need another. The hospital wouldn’t let your dad or any parents into the kid’s wing due to the recent threat.

The chair comes to a stop. The nurse puts on the brake. Your dad grabs your blanket off your lap and throws it over his shoulder. He holds out his hands and you happily take them. He helps you stand up in your converse. You easily hug him.

“I missed you, love bug,” Chris said pressing a kiss to the top of your head with a mask on.

“I missed you too, daddy,” you mumbled.

“Lets get you into the car,” he said.

You nod and part away. He stays close in case you fall. You aren’t back at a hundred percent— truth be told, he hasn’t seen you at a hundred percent probably ever. You’ve been very sick your whole life whether it’s heart problems or lung problems or just cancer. It’s an ongoing battle for you. You weren’t supposed to last this long.

“You got it?” Chris asked as you buckle in.

“I know how a seatbelt works, old man,” you sassed.

“You little turd,” he said shaking his head and putting the blanket back over your legs.

You rolled your eyes making him smile. He closes the door and goes around the car. He gets into the driver’s seat. You pull off the hospital mask and Chris does the same with his own mask. He buckles himself in.

“You ready to go home?” Chris asked.

“Yeah!” You said excitedly.

It makes him chuckle. He starts the car and drives away. He’s very happy to take you home. There would be a party but with everything that’s going on, it’s best to minimize your contact with people. It’s just gonna be the two of you like it always has been and Dodger. But he thinks you’ll be doing alright with that since you do get overwhelmed with the parties that your grandmother throws.

“What are we gonna watch?” Chris asked.

“I was thinking Robin Hood—,” you said.

“Yes! Such a great choice. You’re definitely my kid,” Chris said grabbing your hand and holding it.

You laugh at your dad’s excitement. You definitely missed him while being stuck at the hospital without him being able to visit you and comfort you when they stick needles into you. You absolutely hate needles and the radiation therapy. He tries his hardest to be there to support you but with his job as an actor, it can be hard. Usually, your grandparents are there or aunts and uncles who can visit will be. But in recent years, he’s gotten to visit you more often due to him taking roles in Boston or Massachusetts.

The car finally pulls into the driveway and seatbelts are undone.

“Wait, let me help you, love bug,” Chris said as you’re about to open your door.

He opens his own and slides out. He shuts it and goes around the front of his Audi Q8. He pulls open your door and you move your legs over the side. He grabs your blanket again and puts it over his shoulder. He can hear Dodger barking inside as he takes a hold of one of your hands as you slide out.

“Dodger has definitely missed you,” Your dad said closing the car door.

“Of course, he loves me the most,” you said.

He gasped in mock offense. He goes to the trunk with you following. You lean against the car.

“He does not. And he’s my dog,” Chris said.

You roll your eyes as your dad grabs your duffel bag which he slings over his other shoulder and he grabs the office box filled with your knick knacks that once decorated your hospital room. Instead they’ll go back up into your room.

“C’mon, bugs, we can’t keep him waiting,” your dad said reaching out his only free arm to you.

You go into it and he pulls you into his side kissing your temple. You both head to the front door. Your dad hands you his key. You unlock the door and open it. You both are immediately met with the mutt.

“Get inside, bubs,” Chris said.

Dodger happily wags his bushy tail and jumps up and down trying to play. You head to the couch and sit down on the couch with your dad telling Dodger to take it easy and he closes the front door. The pooch licks your face making you laugh. You haven’t seen each other in a good three months.

“I’m gonna go put your clothes in the washing machine and I’ll wipe down your other things, love bug,” Chris said.

“Okay,” you said knowing he’ll take any precautions to make sure you don’t get this virus.

You both know it’ll be very bad if you do especially since your immune system isn’t the greatest and you’re more at risk than the average person. It’ll be pretty rough.

Soon enough, he’s back and rubbing your back as you throw up into the toilet. He knows it’s the chemo and the radiation and thankfully, you’ve finished your rounds of both at the hospital.

“You done, love bug?” Chris asked.

You nodded wiping your mouth with toilet paper and drop it into the toilet. Your dad flushes the toilet and puts his arms under yours. He easily lifts you up onto your feet. You lean back against him not quite ready to stand on your own.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered shuffling you other to the sink.

You’re much like him in needing to brush your teeth after throwing up. Your dad stands close by because he’s not gonna let you fall.

“Tired, love bug?” Chris asked.

You nod your head really wishing you weren’t so weak. Your dad scoops you up into his arms. You rest your head against his shoulder and some tears slip down your cheeks.

“It’s okay, honey,” he said bringing you into his room.

He puts you carefully down onto his bed and helps you get under the covers. Chris wipes away your tears. Dodger joins you in the bed with his lion.

“I’m gonna get you some water. And we’ll watch Robin Hood,” he said.

You nod and he presses a kiss to your forehead. He disappears off and you’re left with the sound of Dodger growling and chewing on his lion. The brown eyed dog peaks over looking at you and you reach out for him. He scoots closer to you and you scratch him behind his ears.

“Alright, bugs, I’m back,” Chris said.

You sit as best as you can. He brings the glass to your lips and you take a sip. You wave him off when you’re done. He places the glass down onto his nightstand and pulls out the remote for the TV and Apple TV. He climbs into the bed beside you as he turns on both. You curl up into his side tucked under his arm with your head on his chest.

“I definitely missed this,” Chris said getting the movie on the TV.

“Yeah, me too,” you mumbled.

[strawbwrry]

fulfilled - cho seungyoun

word count : 6.3k words

includes : cupid!seungyoun, angst, fluff, lotta love, and a whole lot of character development!

@celestial-lasagna​ hope you enjoy it! - [starlight]

—

The concept of soulmates is a daunting one, the idea of having someone meant for you, somebody perfect for you, somewhere out in the world, is a bit difficult to think about. What happens when Cupid, the man who at the snap of his fingers could pair you up with the love of your life, falls in love himself? Does he give up on her? Or does he risk everything he has just for the possibility to be with her?

—

He snapped his fingers, in just a few moments the pair of women just across the street would begin their journey to a beautiful relation, he watched them walk right into each other, watched as their flushed faces, and fumbling hands struggled to figure out what to do, that was his tenth pairing of the day.

Life was bleak. Even with the exciting task of pairing people with their soulmates whether it be platonic, or romantic, what else was there to it? He himself could never fall in love, he could never tell any one of his friends about his secret, he would never be allowed a family, he could never work. He felt empty.All he does is set people up, walk around town and pair people he knows who fit each other well. With everything he needs being paid off by his superior, there’s nothing left for him to do. He walked around without much purpose, simply putting one foot in front of the other not caring where he ended at the end. As time passed he occasionally paired a few people, used some of the cliches, he could only smile watching each pairing’s small shy smiles and blushing faces as their first meeting occurred, watching a love begin to bloom, and as much as he hated the sense of uselessness he felt being able to do nothing, it did bring him joy watching as each pairing began their slow trek to either romance or friendship. He stared at the couple from a distance, deep within him he felt only a pang of jealousy, “No point in hopeless thinking,” he said to himself, letting his mind wander.

“What if there was a point in hopeless thinking?” He jolted away from the sudden noise beside him, placing his hand over his chest, he turned to look at the woman beside him. He looked her over briefly, beautiful hair, fluttering eyelashes, kind yet mysterious eyes, and a small smile, something deep within him felt wrong, something felt sad, and as much as he hated to do this, he ignored it. “What would the point be then?” He said through a small laugh brought on by the way he had been scared, “It shows you what your not thinking about. If you keep thinking about something you’ll never be able to do, then your ignoring the possibilities of what you could do. If you move past what you can’t do, then you can commence trying to start doing what you can.” He stared into her eyes wondering just what she knew, he felt almost read, like a book left wide open. “I guess you’re right, but how do you move on from pointless thinking and move into thinking with a purpose?” She hummed quietly to herself, fidgeting with her bag a little bit as she tried to think of a proper answer to his question, “You accept it?” She answered with a tone of uncertainty, “You either try and do what you can’t and learn from your mistakes, or accept that whatever you want to be able to do is impossible for you, and try and do or find something else your passionate about...I guess?” He grinned at the woman, “My name is Cho Seungyoun, what’s yours?” She smiled back at him, “I’m [L/N] [Y/N].”

—

“You either try and do what you can’t and learn from your mistakes, or accept that whatever you want to be able to do is impossible for you, and try and do or find something else your passionate about...I guess?” It had been nearly a week and he continued to think about her words over and over again, her voice echoing in his mind.

He paced around his apartment tidying it up, picking up abandoned singular socks, fixing up the pillows resting on his couch, picking up spare papers, placing books back into his bookshelf, then he heard his doorbell ring. Putting down the small laundry bag he’d been carrying around to put his clothes in he walked over to his door and opened it curiously, who’d come around this late at night? As he peered through the crack of his opened door he was shocked to say the least when he saw the women who’s words had been weighing on his mind for nearly a week straight. There [L/N] [Y/N] stood, at his doorstep with a suitcase in hand, and tears streaming down her face, and a scared expression plastered onto he face. “Seungyoun? I’m sorry I’ve been looking for my friend’s apartment and I can’t for the life of my seem to find it, so I decided to ask the owner of the first apartment I saw for help to her apartment, I’m so sorry.” He opened his door fully and invited her in, “Oh no! Don’t worry [Y/N], please come in and have something to eat, you look exhausted from carrying that suitcase.”

—

The room was quiet as he brought in a small plate of snacks for [Y/N], placing it before her, “Are these snacks okay? I wasn’t sure if you’d like them, but I also haven’t gone grocery shopping in a while so I don’t have much.” He stopped briefly feeling awkward before looming at her to ask, “Would you like something to drink?” She smiled picking up some of the snacks laid out on the plate and beginning to eat them as her stomach quietly grumbled, “Can I have water? If it’s not too much of a bother?” He nodded quickly heading back into the kitchen, “Of course not! One glass of water coming right up.” His feet padded against the floor of his kitchen, he continued to think about her words, even as he opened the tap to put water into her cup he could only continue to think about it, he cleared his mind as much as he could and walked back to his table which he sat on the floor across from her, and placed the cup near her, “Thank you!” Her voice chimed as she took a sip and continued to eat. “You’re welcome.” He smiled gently, “If this isn’t too invasive is it okay for me to ask why you’re carrying a suit case with you? And trying to find someone’s apartment at 2 in the morning?” He examined her reaction carefully, watching as her face’s reaction stalled and her smile faltered, it was personal. “I had to get away from someone quickly. I did the first and only thing I could think of and I asked my friend if she’d let me stay with her while I get up off my feet and can find a way to make a stable income. Not to mention find a place to live and make sure I never have to come near the person I’m trying to get away from.” Her eyes landed directly onto his, “The reason I was crying at your doorstep was because I felt as if a man was following me, you can never feel to safe out, especially this late at night.” Seungyoun nodded accordingly, “I will admit I was very shocked to see you at my door step at 2 am, but I’d love to help you find your way to your friends apartment, I’ll walk you there, especially now that you said you felt as if someone was following you.”

“Thank you so much Seungyoun! Once again I’m sorry I dropped in on you but, guess I got lucky huh?” He was taken aback by that statement, “Lucky?” He questioned with a small confused smile. She nodded finishing up the plate of snacks he’d brought her, “I don’t know anything about you besides the fact that your name is Cho Seungyoun, that theres something troubling you, and now, where you live. You let me come into your home, brought me snacks, a glass of water and awkwardly stared at your palms wondering if asking me what was wrong would be too invasive. I could’ve rung some weirdo’s bell, could’ve stumbled right into some kind of danger, but I didn’t. I got lucky.” She paused to finish the stub of water at the bottom of her glass and got up to stretch a bit, “I have her address right here, will you walk me to it?” After a short moment of waiting he instantly stood up and nodded as he began to fiddle with his clothes, he walked over to the desk near his bedroom and picked up his phone and shoved it into his back pocket. “Yeah let’s go.” They walked over to the door way of his house, she sat down on the steps to adjust her shoes, Seungyoun stood near her slipping his feet into his untied converse and beginning to tie his shoelaces quickly, and picked up his keys. She stood up and reached her hand out towards her suitcase only to be stopped by the pale hand belonging to the male besides her, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll take it for you.” She shyly nodded along feeling her face become hot, “Thank you.”

They exited the apartment silently, walking side by side as Seungyoun looked at the address scribbled onto the paper, he took a left turn down the sidewalk, he then heard a sharp inhale coming from his right side and turned to see her as she quickly moved her forearm to wipe her tears away from her eyes. He stared at her and she looked at him and smiled sadly through her tears, “I’m sorry, don’t mind me, I guess I just needed to let everything go.” He sighed and let go of the suitcase placing it down on the floor and opened up his arms, “I could give you a hug if you want.” She silently looked up at him, admiring his face illuminated by the moonlight casting its gentle light upon them in the dark street. Without answering she walked into his arms and rested her head against him, gently gripping at the fabric of his thin cotton shirt as she tried her hardest to weep silently. He wrapped his arms around her and held her, gently keeping her close to him as she let it all out, he could feel her tears wetting his shirt but he didn’t care in the slightest. She trembled against him, and as much as he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, he couldn’t help it.

His eyes wandered onto the figure of a male nearby, he felt dread fill his stomach as he realized a truth that he knew would come, they were meant for each-other. He double checked, triple checked even, but he couldn’t deny what he saw, an amazing match. He felt a pair of eyes look at him, he moved his gaze down to the person wrapped in his arms and smiled, watching as their gaze went shy and she looked away. He giggled to himself and lifted his thumbs up to her face and gently wiped her tears, “Are you ready to continue?” She nodded as she shyly pulled herself away from his arms, he picked up her suitcase and again they began to walk. Seungyoun turned his head to look back at the male just across the street working at the convenience store. “I have to,” he thought to himself as he made the choice to pair them up together, his left hand snapping discreetly at his side.

She silently laughed at herself, earning a baffled stare from Seungyoun, “You must think I’m a strange person, showing up at your door crying, coming in to eat snacks and explain my personal problems, then crying into your shirt at nearly 3am while you’re helping me find my friends apartment. I must’ve looked so pathetic showing up at your door.” She continued laughing quietly, “You met me at a truly low time in my life haven’t you?” He continued walking straight knowing exactly where her friends apartment was, it just so happened to be the same building where a few of his friends lived, he let out a breathy laugh, “I guess I did didn’t I? I don’t think your pathetic. I do think that you’ve been holding all your troubles and misfortunes inside as to try and put a strong face on though. Crying isn’t weak nor pathetic, it’s always been my opinion that people who can express their emotions as needed are some of the most respectable people I’ve known. You’re going to be okay [Y/N], trust me when I say that, and if you want me there I’ll stay by your side and help you along the way.” She smiled to herself as she gently adjusted her hair from being in the way of her face, “I’d love to have you there.”

-

“This should be it.” Seungyoun said as he stopped right in front of a door, his right hand still lightly gripping the suitcase he’d been carrying for the entirety of the walk from his place to the apartment complex. It was a mere second before he felt her arms wrap around his neck, “Thank you so much for everything.” He hesitated for a few moment, his arms timidly wrapping themselves around her waist. As her grip around his neck loosened his arms began to fall, letting one hand barely ghosting near the left side of her waist. He felt butterflies in his stomach when she leaned in and placed a small kiss on his cheek, she let go and gave a small smile, “I’d give you my phone number but I don’t currently have a phone.” Though his cheeks now red he laughed at her words, his arm falling down to his side then coming back up to run through his hair he looked at her smiling, “Well if you ever need anything you could come to my place, just, not at 2am.” She giggled in response, he found himself laughing along with her, a silent affection beginning to grow deep inside his heart much to his knowledge that this would only ever end badly. “Well I think it’s time for you to wake up your friend, and for me to head back home.” She nodded, “Thank you for everything Seungyoun.” He smiled sadly as he tried not to think of the sad reality, “It’s no problem. Bye [Y/N]!” He began to walk, his hands shoved into his front pockets as he took steady strides, he looked back to see her waving, “Bye Seungyoun!” He smiled and waved before ruffling his hair and shoving his hand back into his front pocket. He turned back just one last time feeling happy to see her friends door open and [Y/N] hug her friend tightly and enter into her apartment. He felt his smile fade from his lips as he let the moment pass.

—

“Are you going to go through with it?” Seungyoun felt a chill come down his back at the sudden noise coming from besides me, “Of course I’m not going to Myungja, do you think I’m that stupid? The only reason I’m still alive is because of this stupid job if you can even call it that,” he stopped in his tracks and turned his head, a small smile placed onto his lips, though it didn’t convey happiness, “I don’t want to drag [Y/N] into this mess Myungja. If I do end up falling in love with her, then you can just kill me right then and there and replace me just like you did with the last when he fell in love. Leave her out of this.” His smile faded, “You know, I only begged you to come back so I could watch over my mom, now that she’s gone I could care less whether I live or die.” The ghostly figure of the woman behind him sighed angrily, “Shouldn’t you be more appreciative that I even gave you the chance to watch over your mom till she died?” Seungyoun scoffed as he kicked small pebbles resting on the sidewalk, “Please I wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t killed me to begin with.” She inhaled sharply who which Seungyoun laughed, “What didn’t think I’d find out? I’m not dumb I know very well where you’re from and what you’ve done. How youve tortured your descendants and prey on men who remind you of your very own lovers from long ago.”

“Not to mention how you terrified your daughters, left then left to brutally kill your husband and his new girlfriend early in the morning. Sure you made me a cupid because I look just like the man who impregnated you then left, cause you wanted to cause me pain, cause I remind you of the daughter that you think caused all your pain, but get over yourself, you never had a soulmate.“

—

Two months of knowing [Y/N], it had been two months of knowing her, and he knew he was falling in love, each moment, whether she came to simply talk about how their weeks have been, or came to cry on his shoulder about her fear of the future, or even if it was her confiding her deepest secrets in him, he loved every second he spent with her. He deeply enjoyed each fluttering moment, the moments he felt incredibly warm at just her touch, all the time he spent admiring her when she was unaware, the moment he’d catch her staring at him, every single moment. This night she just so happened to comeback drunk, a silly smile plastered onto her face as she stumbled, the grip onto her purse loose, Seungyoun watched her walk excitedly in front of him, he had just returned from a small walk to fulfill his daily cupid tasks only to come back to see [Y/N] heading right for his door, she stopped right in front. She took a deep breath then rung on the door, he came from behind her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder as he slid his key into the keyhole and felt her tense up beneath his hand, “Don’t worry [Y/N], it’s just me.” She reached up to grab his hand placed onto her shoulder to throw his arm across her shoulders, “Can I have something to eat Seungyoun?” He laughed smiling at her odd behavior, “Of course, come on go in [Y/N].”

After removing her shoes and laying her bag by her shoes, she plopped herself onto the floor near the small coffee table placed on the floor, “Ramen please!” Seungyoun laughed, “Your wish is my command.”

—

He giggled softly as her head began to droop after finishing her ramen, “[Y/N] go lay down on the couch and sleep I’ll wash your plate.” Reaching his arms across the table he gently picked up the plate, and stood up, walking towards the sink and set it at the bottom. His right hand got the sponge and his left picked up the soap, and so he began washing the plate, letting the warm water fall, his attention focused purely on the bowl in front of him which is why he was taken aback at the arms that suddenly wrapped around his waist, and the sudden warmth behind him. “[Y/N] go to sleep you’re tired.” She let out a grunt in disagreement, “But you’re warm.” He sighed and finished washing the dish and placing it onto the dish rack, and quickly washed off the chopsticks, once again placing them into the dish rack. He dried his hands off on a small rag beside the sink and turned around to hug [Y/N], gently patting her back as he let his own back press up against the edge of the sink. “I’m tired.” He laughed at her small voice, “Yes, I know. Come on I’ll walk you over to my bed so you can rest. I’ll be in the living room don’t worry.”

—

His eyes wandered over the sight for just a bit smiling at how your hands tightly held onto the bedsheets in your sleep, moving every so often, he gently adjusted the blanket then stood up and left his bedroom, leaving the door open just a smidge. He plopped himself onto the floor and rested his head onto his arms placed upon the coffee table. Letting out a breath he’d been holding in for a while, in a sudden gust of air moving through his living room he inhaled sharply, “What do you want?” The ghost sat besides him laughed, “You’re so rude Seungyounnie.”

“Please never call me that ever again.” She rolled her eyes and paced through the room walking through him, causing chills to go straight up his spine, “You’ve really let the place go haven’t you?” He lifted his head up and turned his face to her, “Get to the point already. You’re stalling and it’s annoying the hell out of me.”

“Feisty aren’t we?” She paused before walking towards him and taking his chin between her thumb and pointer finger, “Have you made a choice yet?” His eyes shifted away from her and he pulled his face away from her grip, “Yes. I have, but you know what?” She grinned evilly, her mouth twisting into a smile that’d strike fear in anyone’s heart, “What?”

“I don’t plan on telling you what my choice is. At the end of the day would it change anything for you to know what my plans are? No matter what my fate is in your hands, so I guess you’ll just have to patiently wait to see what happens.” He gave her a small smile, “Thank you for a second chance at life, for letting me fulfill my final wish, and even giving me the chance to experience love. I’m afraid it’s time for you to go since she’s starting to wake up.” He watched the shocked figure begin to fade away, then gently rested his head onto his arms again. “I guess all I have left is to accept it.”

“Accept what?” He turned his head to meet eyes with [Y/N], now very awake, and very sober, “Don’t worry about it [Y/N]. Does your head hurt?” His eyes stayed trained on her, letting himself have this one last day, letting himself smile happily for one last time. “It hurts a little bit but, it’s fine.” Her head rested on his shoulder and her hand gently grabbed onto his arm, “Seungyoun, could I talk to you about something?” She turned her head up and was shocked to see his face so close to hers but paid it no mind as her eyes bored into his, “What do you want to talk about [Y/N]?”

“There’s this guy I met, his name is Wooseok, and he asked me out on a date and I told him I’d give him a response after I thought it over for a bit. There’s only one thing stopping me from going out on the date, and how do I say this,” She paused her face growing hot from the close distance of their faces, she suddenly turned away, “Its you. Can you tell me what we are? I just— I really like him, but I really like you and I just wanted to talk about it with you.” Seungyoun smiled sadly remembering that late night when he made the difficult decision of pairing her up with the guy working very near them at the convenience store that was placed just across from them. “[Y/N] I love you,” Her face whipped over to stare at him, her eyes filled with confusion, “But, I really think you should go on that date. I think that it’s something you should do.” He lifted his free hand and gently placed it onto her jaw, he rested his forehead on hers and laughed to himself as he tried keeping his tears from falling, “I’ll go on the date, but before I say goodbye to this, to us, can I kiss you just once Seungyoun?” He let his tears fall freely as he nodded, he twisted his face and let her lips fall onto his, just once. He smiled softly into the kiss, feeling a moment of total complete and utter joy having her for just a moment. For just that moment he felt warm, he felt a love he’d never felt before. He pulled apart from her, it was very brief kiss really, but within that short while he let all his feeling go, he let go of his selfish desire to love someone. He knew the first second he met her he’d never be the same, but as he let his tears fall when she moved her head to rest on his chest, he knew one thing. He’d never regret this.

—

He sat on a park bench waiting, his hand busy mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, that is till he heard a footsteps approaching him. It’d been nearly two years since he’d seen [Y/N], he’d been traveling a lot and she’d been busy with work, her home, and her boyfriend. They stayed friends of course, weekly phone calls, and a FaceTime in which he got to meet her boyfriend. He was a very handsome man, brown hair, sparkling brown eyes, pink lips, the man by all means looked perfect. That wasn’t what Seungyoun liked though, he enjoyed the louving look glazed over his eyes when he looked at [Y/N], he didn’t exactly seem the most open, but Seungyoun rested easy at night knowing [Y/N] had someone in her life that loved her. That in of itself was enough for him.

He looked up from his phone to see [Y/N], the same beautiful smile plastered onto her lips just like all the afternoons spent over his coffee table laughing over unimportant things, his heart fluttered. He stood up and went to give her a hug, grinning ear to ear when they pulled apart, “It’s so good to see you Seungyoun!” His wise smile still stuck to his face he giggled,”It’s so great to see you too [Y/N]!”

—

“Waaaah your engagement ring is so pretty, when did he propose [Y/N]? And why didn’t he ask for my approval?” She laughed from across the table, “Well that’s actually why I wanted to meet up with you, I wanted to invite you to our wedding!” Seungyoun smiled happily, his hand barely holding onto her as he examined her ring, “I’d love to attend your wedding [Y/N], when you know send me the date, time, location, and dress code because I’m absolutely going,” he let her hand go and chuckled, “I’ll even buy myself a nice suit to go.” The silence that followed was tense, he was happy, she was happy, yet something lingered in the air, an unknown sense of discomfort.

“I never told him about us, I only told him you’re one of my best friends. You don’t have to be on edge Seungyoun.” He stared into her eyes, “There’s something you’re not telling me, what do you want to ask [Y/N]?” He cursed himself internally, he changed the subject totally ignoring her words, she saw right through him. “You know me too well Seungyoun,” She smiled rather shyly, “I don’t have anyone to walk me down the aisle, and I was wondering if you’d do me the favor of walking me down the aisle the day of my wedding.” She looked up and was met with his shocked face, “Of course you don’t have to do it! I was just wondering since— There’s no one in my family to do the job and I want someone important to me to walk me down the aisle. So I couldn’t think of anyone else besides you to do it.” Seungyoun smiled, his hand once again met hers and held it lightly, he then locked her fingers with his and held her hand firmly, “I’d be honored to have such a job on the day of your wedding. Of course I’ll do it [Y/N]! I was just a little bit shocked you’d want me to do that on your wedding day.” Her hand tightened, gripping back at his hand, “I wouldn’t want anyone else to have the job.”

—

Seungyoun’s hands nervously adjusted his suit, he tightened his tie, and anxiously stuck his hands into his pockets, “Thank you so much for doing this for [Y/N].” His head whipped back to meet with the shorter man’s eyes, he smiled, “It’s an honor to walk her down the aisle Wooseok. Please take care of her. You’ll never find anyone quite like her.” Wooseok smiled shyly, “I’m really lucky to say I’m getting married to her aren’t I?” Seungyoun chuckled softly and moved to stand right in front of Wooseok, they’d become friends in the recent months and truthfully it made Seungyoun happy, gave him peace of mind knowing Wooseok. He placed both his hands on his shoulders and grinned, “Very lucky. Treat her well. Or else.” He lightly shook his shoulders and the both of them laughed as he let go of his shoulders, “Seungyoun! [Y/N] wants to see you!” One of her bridesmaids yelled from the door of where the men were getting ready, he gave Wooseok a parting smile and wink then walked to the door, he walked besides her as they ended up at room where the bride and her bridesmaids were getting ready. As he stepped into the door he instinctively bowed before looking up and seeing [Y/N], his eyes gazed upon the sight of [Y/N] in her gown, he felt his eyes water as soon as he saw her. He walked closer to her being careful of her gown as he went in to give her a hug, he let himself cry a little bit as he felt his heart ache in his chest. “She’s okay.”

“You made the right choice Seungyoun, she’s okay Seungyoun,” he repeated to himself over and over again, trying to drill it into his head that his choice was right, upon feeling [Y/N] begin to shake in his arms he pulled apart to see tears gently brimming at her eyes which he instantly began to gently dab at her eyes, “I’m so in love with her.” She began to laugh, “I don’t know why Seungyoun but I just felt so sad when I hugged you.” He chuckled looking at her affectionately, “Are you ready to get married?” She smiled at him, “I will admit I originally never even intended in getting back into a relationship. I’m here now and even if I was having cold feet earlier, I want to get married to Wooseok, I really do. I will admit though, I wish things between us had gone differently.” She stood up and neared her lips to his cheek and placed a chaste kiss to the area just below his cheekbone, “Nevertheless Seungyoun I’m happy everything played out how it did. Even if nothing happened between us I’m convinced we’re soulmates. Just simply platonic soulmates.” He chuckled shyly feeling a blush come up to his cheeks, and then moved his hands, he took her hands into his and smiled, “You know what [Y/N], maybe your right.”

—

It was starting, the moment was starting, Seungyoun laughed at the nervous expression plastered onto his face, “You look beautiful.” She smiled widely and linked her arm with his and was handed her bouquet, “Seungyoun I love you. Thank you for doing this.” He smiled gently flicking her shoulder with his free hand, “Stop thanking me, I’m honored to be important enough to have such a role at your wedding,” they began to walk, “Its now or never [Y/N].”

He led her outside and the flower girl began to walk, the doors were opened for them and with their arms linked they began their slow walk down to where Wooseok was. As they walked in he smiled proudly at the quiet whispers talking about the bride’s beauty. With each step they took Seungyoun’s heart got heavier. Dread gathered at the base of his throat but as he looked at Wooseok and saw his eyes become shiny as tears built up in his eyes, as his eyes stayed focused on [Y/N], staring at her like the only woman in the world he felt a sense of happiness wash over him. Though painful, as they neared he let the link between their elbows break, he gave her a gentle hug, and turned to Wooseok and whispered quietly, “Cherish her.” He nodded lovingly as his hands took hers after she handed her bouquet over to her maid of honor. “I will.”

Seungyoun sat down on his seat, “She’ll be just fine Seungyoun.”

—

Seungyoun excitedly rushed down the hall, in his hands were two bouquets of flowers and a small balloon entangled around the larger of the two bouquets. He had once again began back on his life of traveling around the world paring people up with the lives of their life at the snap of his fingers, but chose to focus on one type of soulmates, platonic soulmates. He felt anticipation build up in his chest as he pushed open the door of the hospital room his best friend sat in, as he opened the door he was greeted by the sight of an exhausted Wooseok fast asleep on the chair besides the hospital bed, and [Y/N] gently cradling a baby girl in her arms. She grinned up at him, “You came so quick! I thought you were across the world just two days ago?” He chuckled walking closer to her to place his hand on her head to gently mess up her hair, “Well when your best friend tells you they’re going into labor, you get on a plane as soon as you can and make sure you get there to meet your new niece.”

“You’re incredible Seungyoun. Why did you buy two bouquets of flowers?” He gently leaned into closer to the baby, looking at the small baby girl in her arms fondly, “I wanted to be the first man to buy her flowers.” [Y/N] smiled looking at the beautiful flowers now placed besides the other small gifts brought by some of her other friends, “Well I’m happy to announce you’re the first man to buy her flowers.” He chuckled softly as he felt his heart burst when the small baby began to smile at him, “She’s adorable [Y/N].”

“Do you want to hold her?” He nodded, he pulled off his jacket and placed it on the smaller chair in the room afraid the material of his jacket would be to rough, he then neared [Y/N] being careful with the baby’s head. The baby was small, she gently squirmed as she was transferred from one person to another, cradling the baby was an experience Seungyoun never expected to feel. He adjusted his arms ever so slightly and was pleased to see the little girl begin to get sleepy, when he lifted his head to inform her mother he smiled fondly seeing [Y/N] who had just been awake now fast asleep. With both parents fast asleep Seungyoun couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. He moved to sit down on the chair where he’d hung his jacket, he gently rocked the little girl watching as her eyelids closed and soft noises escaped her mouth, “Oh honey the wonderful things I could say about your mother,” he giggled, “It’s Uncle Seungyounnie, I didn’t think I could love anyone more than your mother, but now that I look at you all I want to do is protect you from all the evil of the world. I’ll be the best Uncle I can be. I promise you that honey.”

—

“Angel, hold onto my hand tightly!” The little girl tightened her grip onto her uncle’s hand, “Your mommy and daddy would kill me if you got lost.” She smiled, “Seungyounnie will you win me that monkey?” Seungyoun turned his head to look at the monkey hung up on the game booth stall, “Of course!” The little girl excitedly let go of his hand and ran towards the stall, Seungyoun sat on the stool placed in front of the water squirter then picked up the girl and sat her on his lap, “Angel watch this.” He grinned placing his money down, a teen, two dads, and a little kid joined the game right after, he smiled widely watching what looked like stars twinkle in her eyes as she look at the monkey, “1, 2, 3 DING!” The game had started and Seungyoun had no intention of losing, his eyes focused on the target, smiling widely when the water continuously hit the center point, “DING DING DING!” “Player three! What prize would you like?” Seungyoun grinned happily then watched as the little girl happily pointed towards the monkey, as she took the small monkey into her arms and cuddled it she left forward placing a happy kiss onto his nose, “I love you Seungyounnie!”

He never really had a reason, from the moment he died till the moment he was brought back he’d felt empty. As his eyes gazed upon the little girl who meant so much to him he felt a longing deep in inside his heart fill up with a kind of joy he’d never felt before. His love for the little girl was indescribable, Seungyoun was convinced this little girl would change lives some day, just like she’d came into his and changed his life. He felt fulfilled.

“I love you too my little angel.”

[itgetsdarksometimes35]

For Freedom

Warnings: This chapter: none; the series: non-con, dub-con, depression, forced marriage, angst, forced pregnancy, 18+

Word count: 4,237

Pairings: Dark!Bucky Barnes / Reader

Summary: Reader is the youngest girl in her family. After being sold to Bucky Barnes, and forced to have his child, she and her sisters look for a way to escape.

~ indicates time change

- indicates a POV change

A/N: Hey you guys! I know I planned on this being the ending, but I thin this will be a small series. The next part will be the ending for sure, though. Hope you enjoy, next thing out will be Love In True Form, and then I’ll get to work on challenges. Then after that, I may have a new series for you all...

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It took months to save up enough money. You only needed enough to get two one-way tickets to Germany, but you were scared to take out too much in fears of James finding out. In that time, your oldest sister, Lucille, had twin boys. She had 5 sons altogether now, and you couldn’t wait to see her again. You hadn’t spoken to her since she was married and taken away years ago; Anne seemed to be the person who was doing all the communicating for you all. The second oldest, Vienna, had 3 daughters before she finally had her son. Her husband refused to give up until he had an “heir.” Anne had only 3 children, two boys and a girl. All the names to your nieces and nephews were a mystery, along with their faces and ages. You could guess Lucille’s twins’ ages were less than a year, but you could never be sure. Anne knew you had your son, but she didn’t know his name. She never asked, and she told you not to tell her. You weren’t sure if your other sisters knew, but it would only be a matter of time before they did. 

Bucky had turned 1 years old a month prior to you both leaving. James threw a small party at a local amusement park that he had rented out for the entire day. His friends and family were the only in attendance, as usual, and the older kids enjoyed the rides while Bucky smiled at all his guests and messed his face with icing from his safari cake. James had been so happy to plan the party; balloon animals, a small petting zoo, and face painting areas all decorated the park. You couldn’t deny the way he beamed at Bucky as he screamed in affection at the baby goat drinking from the bottle or the way he giggled at the stuffed rabbit James’ friend, Natasha, had gifted him. James wasn’t loving with you, but you were thankful it didn’t carry over to Bucky. You wished yours and James’ situation was different. Maybe you’d love him in different lights. 

When James thought you were buying groceries one day, you went out to get you and Bucky’s passport and buy your tickets. The passports would be ready and shipped to your house in 5 weeks, you paid an extra fee to get the expedition processing, and our flight would be the following week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“See ya tonight, bud.” James caressed Bucky’s head while speaking to the pouting toddler. Bucky was always upset to see his daddy leave for work, and overjoyed when he came back. Your heart clenched. Were you doing the right thing? Then James turned to you and you shook the thought away. Of course you were. 

“Have a good day, dear. We’ll miss you,” You chirped as you kissed James on the cheek. He turned his mouth up in a small smile before kissing you on the lips. 

“Can’t wait to get back.” He winked at you and your stomach turned at his crud intentions. You were nothing but a walking toy for him, something to cook him food and bear his children. You faked a smile before dipping into the house while James drove off. 

You shut the door and quickly walked upstairs, your cab would be here in an hour. Plenty of time to pack. You set Bucky in his playpen and he looked at you as you frantically moved around yours and James’ shared room trying to throw useful items into the suitcase you brought to the house the day you moved in. 

“Da-da,” Bucky cooed from the pen as he picked up a block to start stacking. 

“Da-da went to work, baby. Now you and mommy are going to go on a trip,” You turned to your son and smiled at him, “Are you excited?” You talked in your baby voice and your son smiled back at you. His 3 teeth on full display for you. 

Your suitcase was filled with as many clothes as you saw fit. Everyone had specific items to bring, and your job was the clothes. Anne and Lucille would bring baby supplies, diapers, sippy cups, toys, etc; Vienna shared your job. The plan was to pack light, anything other than what you absolutely needed had to be left--including photos, and then drain your husband’s bank account for money. Finding out James’ banking information was the hardest thing for you to do, he kept it all locked in a safe in a room that was always locked. After snooping on him one night after he thought you were asleep, you were surprised to see the combination was the day of your marriage. 

As you were leaving the bedroom, you saw Bucky’s baby book. It wasn’t big, and you could fit it in your purse. There were millions of photos on the walls, but none of them were personal to you. They were high tech and flashy photos James had spent too much money on. None of them looked natural. Then again, you had never felt natural with him. But that book held photos you had captured with an old polaroid you found in the basement.  The film was just as old, but there was enough to last you years. You grabbed it and stuffed it into your purse as the Taxi started honking. You picked Bucky up from his playpen and left. You would just have to deal with Anne’s complaining when you got to Germany. 

The taxi dropped you off at the airport 45 minutes before you were supposed to board. You rolled your suitcase over to the bank that was next door, and entered with Bucky on your hip. James listed you as an account holder in the case of an emergency. You were positive he hadn’t seen anything wrong with this, you’d still need to know his information, and he probably thought he had broken you beyond the point of willing yourself to run. Little did he know. 

“Good morning, I’d like to withdraw some funds from my husband’s account,” You said to the older woman with a blonde bob and bright red lipstick. She smiled and set the glasses hanging around her neck on her nose before turning to the screen ahead of her. 

“Alright, name please.” You told her and she typed a few times. “And his?” She looked at you, and you noticed a bit of lipstick in her teeth. 

“James Buchanan Barnes.” The woman nodded and typed away.

“Da-da,” Bucky yelled and you looked down at him with a smile. 

“That’s right, honey, that’s daddy’s name.” Bucky smiled up at you before grabbing at your hair to play with. 

“Oh, he’s a cutie,” The older woman exclaimed, “Can he have a lollipop?” She reached into a brown bowel on the counter separating the two of you before pulling out a blue sucker. 

“I don’t see why not. Thank you.” You took the blue lollipop before turning to Bucky who was eyeing the candy with intensity. “What do you say?” 

“Tank to!” You unwrapped the lollipop before handing it to Bucky. He grabbed it with his chunky hand before greedily sucking on it, already getting a blue sticky streak on his mouth.

You turned your attention back to the blonde, and she asked you for your name and bank information. You gave it to her as she continued to type away at her computer. “Alright, can you tell me the amount you’d like to withdraw today?” 

You cleared your throat before answering, “All of it.”

The woman’s eyes got big. “Ma’am, there’s 2 million dollars in here. Can you give a reason?”

“Yes ma’am.” You adjusted Bucky on your hip as you tried to remember your lie. “My husband, James, was recently in a horrible accident at his job. I understand the hospital can take the money from the account, but they’ve given me the option to give it to them in person as well. I was on my way to catch a flight to him, and decided this was a route I’d like to take. Our insurance wouldn’t inflate because they wouldn’t have to pay anything, too, and now that we have this little one,” You lifted your hip that carried Bucky a bit higher, “I want our insurance as good as possible. We never know, you know?”

The blonde looked as if she were about to cry. “Oh, you poor thing! Yes, of course I understand completely. I have 2 daughters, and when their father got sick our insurance and healthcare went completely down the drain. I wish I could’ve had the money you have, I know it can be terrifying to have bad policies when raising children. Especially young ones.” You were nodding your head, trying to look pitiful. You felt bad for lying, especially to this woman. She looked so bad for you and was able to relate to your fake story. Your stomach flipped, and you felt like you were going to be sick.

“Thank you, I’m sorry about your husband. It’s a horrible situation that some of us are put in.”

The woman agreed and typed on the computer again. A register was opened and she counted out taped together stacks of money. She put them in a cream colored bag along with a receipt and handed it to you. 

“I hope everything goes okay for you and your little one. Us moms have to stay strong and do what’s best.” 

You held back tears at the woman’s words. “That we do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You made your way back to the airport as Bucky babbled a song from a show you both watch together. The bank teller, who’s name you learned to be Camille, informed you that your husband would be emailed by the bank about the deposit due to legal protocol. You knew James checks his email religiously and that he got notifications on his phone. You knew that he was probably on a phone call with the bank right now, screaming into the phone. But you didn’t care.

By the time he figured out you’d left, you’d be in Germany. Or close to it. You planned on destroying your trail once you got there. Anne had planned it all out. She deleted her history and told you to destroy all your letters by burning them. She led her husband to believe you all had traveled to Greece with undeleted searches. It would throw all of them off for a bit, but eventually you knew they’d figure out you went to Germany. You all knew that you couldn’t stay together after a while, it’d be too risky. You knew at some point one of you might get caught, and the rest would have to save themselves. You were fugitives, trapped in your own homes, with men that were supposed to provide security as the guards. But, until then, you’d stick together as long as possible. You were stronger as a team during the weaker parts of the beginning. 

As you boarded the plane you felt a wave of nausea hit you. You rushed to the plane bathroom with Bucky still in your arms. You threw the door open, and emptied your stomach into the toilet bowl. 

“Uh oh,” Bucky said, making you laugh at his purity. 

“It’s okay, honey, mommy’s just a little nervous,” You reassured your son. You flushed and washed your hands before stepping out of the cramped room to find your seat. The plane took off soon after that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were jerked awake as a flight attendant tapped your shoulder, her brown hair pulled tight into a low bun. 

“Sorry to wake you, ma’am,” She had a smooth voice that you felt could put you right back to sleep, “But you’ve arrived at your destination.”

“Okay, thank you.” She smiled at you before standing up straight to move to the back of the plane to wake up other passengers. Bucky was asleep in your arms, and you planned to keep him that way. He had been good throughout the entire flight, but you weren’t surprised. He was such an easy baby, you couldn’t have been blessed with a better one. Especially not in your circumstances. 

You got off the plane and went in search of your suitcase in the bag return. You quickly found it before you headed out of the crowded airport. Bucky was quick to wake up after hearing the commotion of the early Wednesday morning traffic. Taxi drivers were yelling in German and English to the people exiting the airport, offering them a ride for a “price they couldn’t get elsewhere.” You would’ve taken the offer, but knew that you had to wait for the bus. Anne had said it’d be easier to hide that way. The taxi driver would ask for a direct address while the bus would drop you off at another station. Miles from your true destination. Plus the bus driver was less likely to remember you. 

Your stomach growled as Bucky bounced in your lap. You had eaten on the plane, but had vomited nearly everything up. Your stomach wasn’t agreeing with anything today, but you knew it was just the guilt and nerves you felt. Everything would go back to normal once you were with your sisters, and plus they would have something good for you to have at the house. 

The bus smelled and was cramped with loud people on their way to work. They spoke words you couldn’t comprehend loudly in your ear, and Bucky sat amazed at them. When your stop came, you eagerly grabbed your suitcase, bag, and son and all but jumped off the bus, glad to be rid of it for now. You followed a path Anne described in great detail until you came to houses with numbers. You dragged your tired body along them until you found the number that had played in your head for the past few days. Number 39. Your new home

You climbed the three steps up to the brown, wooden door, and grasped the iron knuckle. You pulled it up and down several times emitting loud thuds to echo in the small community of homes. Bucky grasped the front of your chest and stuck his face into it to represent his hunger. 

“I know, baby, mommy will feed you soon.” 

Your heart beat loudly in your chest as you waited for an answer. You counted 23 seconds before you considered your possible mistake. Did you go down the wrong street? Was 39 the house number or was it the bus number you were supposed to take? Was there any way to contact your sisters? Could you somehow convince James that you had been kidnapped in hopes he’d believe you? Just then the door creaked open. Your worries came to a halt as you saw Vienna standing in the doorway. She had, of course, aged a bit since the last time you saw her. Her hair was shorter and a little bit dull in color and she was skinnier than the chubby teenager you were used to, but there was no denying that was her. 

“Oh my God, Vienna?” Her droopy tired eyes held tears as she took you in. Her lip trembled and she whispered your name. She opened the door wider as she held out her arms to you. “It’s been so long!” 

You held her tighter to you with the arm that didn’t hold Bucky. She pulled away from you as tears escaped from her eyes. Your own were starting to conjugate in yours. Vienna stepped aside so you could step into the small house. She took a peek outside before shutting and locking the door behind you. 

“Where’s everyone else,” You asked, setting your bags down at last. 

Vienna didn’t have to answer as you heard your name being called behind you. You turned and adjusted Bucky into your other arm as you see Lucille stepping out of a room. Her back is a bit hunched over and one of her eyes seemed to lazily shut now. Gray hair was sprinkled across her scalp, and wrinkles were setting under her eyes. She was only 36. 

“Look at you, you’ve grown so much,” She exclaimed, stepping closer to you. You were only 1 when she was married off at 16. She was the youngest one wed, but she was also the prettiest. Your father had no problem finding a man to sell her to. She was the only one auctioned off before 18. Vienna left at 19 and Anne left at 22. None of you were as strong as Anne, she had held on the longest. You had left at 18, too. 

You hugged her tightly. You never got to know her, but you still loved her deeply. You hated the cards you all had been dealt for keeping you apart for so long. You let go as Vienna stepped closer to you both. She rubber Bucky’s small back. 

“And who is this little guy?” She smiled down at him as he gave a 3 tooth grin back. 

You sniffed before handing Bucky to your sister. “This is Bucky. My one and only.” Vienna mimicked the name before bouncing him on her hip a bit. 

“Well, Bucky, I think it’s time for you to meet your aunts and cousins.” 

Lucille took your hand as Vienna carried Bucky into a room filled with kids and a crib with two babies sleeping. They all were watching a TV, but turned to you as you walked in. 

“Kids, come meet your 4th aunt,” Vienna said as she cooed at Bucky. 3 girls and a boy walked over to you and Lucille. “That’s Jade,” Vienna pointed to the girl with dutch braids, “Josephine,” The one with big curls and floral dress, “June,” The one with a ponytail and a sports jersey, “and Jared,” The only boy. They all waved to you, all looking a bit uncomfortable. You didn’t blame them, they had traveled from God knows where to a weird house, and now they were meeting people they had never met before. Probably never even heard of. “And this is your other cousin, Bucky.” Josephine, she looked to be the oldest-- probably 13, smiled at the child. 

“Oh, he’s so cute! Can I hold him?” She looked to her mom for confirmation before looking at you. Her big eyes soft, just like her mother’s.

“Yeah, of course. He’s hungry, do you want to feed him?” Her eyes lit up. 

“Yes!” You chuckled at her enthusiasm, and she gave a shy smile once realizing how excited she sounded. 

“He can eat crushed up fruit, do you guys have any?” Your eyes searched Vienna and Lucille. 

“In the kitchen. I can go do it for you,” The girl replied, scooping up your son before moving through a door that led into, what you assumed to be, a kitchen. 

“We left just in time,” Vienna said, “Her father had already found a man to marry her. She’s sweet, and I know she’d make a great mom one day, but she’s also so smart. She has a life to live before she should even think about a baby,” She sighed, “But of course, women in our situation don’t hold any other value.” 

Vienna’s children had gone back to watching the TV, and Lucille called her children up. 

“Boys, come here please.” 3 boys walked over to you. “This is my oldest, Tennessee,” The boy with dusty hair nodded to you, he looked about 16, “Then Anthony,” the one with curly hair and glasses, “And Kyle,” He had freckles and a dimple on his chin. Lucille pointed to the crib. “Over there are Michael and Ian, they’re 3 months old. Didn’t think I had it in me, but I guess it’s not over until the big change, huh?” You smiled at her as she squeezed your hand. 

“It’s nice to meet everyone,” You say and they nod at you, taking their seat on the floor and couch yet again. There were still 3 kids that were taking steady glances at you, and you were about to ask about them when you heard your name yet again. You turn to the left to see Anne walking down the stairs. 

“Anne!” You ran over to embrace your sister. You and her had by far had the strongest relationship, being closer in age and spending the most time together. You felt yourself crying once again. Anne broke the hug and held you at arms length, looking you over. 

“Wow,” She breathed out as tears flowed freely. She looked exactly the same as she did 7 years prior. You giggled at her and she joined you. A little girl, no older than two, ran to hug her legs. “This little stinker,” Anne said lifting the girl up, “Is my youngest Brooke.” She kissed the girl’s cheek before waving the last 2 boys over. “That’s George,” The oldest one with shoulder length hair, “And Evan.” He looked exactly like your father. Had the same lifted left eyebrow and everything. Anne looked like the man she hated the most, and you knew she’d never be rid of the man who she blamed all her sorrows on. Especially not now that her son looked like him, but you knew she’d never neglect her child. 

Josephine was walking out of the kitchen while wiping Bucky’s hands. You grabbed your sister’s hand and led her over to your son. 

“And this is Bucky.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the tear filled reunion, you found yourself at a small dinner table with your sisters. They were all huddled around it as your nieces and nephews sat in front of the tv and had dinner. They giggled at the silent screen that flashed cartoons at them. Bucky lay asleep in Anne’s arms as she bounced him. 

“Alright,” Anne whispered loud enough for just you all to hear, “So, does everyone know the plan?” You all nodded. Anne had planned this all out. Every time something was needed outside of the house, somebody different each time would leave to retrieve it. It would go in rotation from oldest to youngest. You would carry a burner phone with you and would only use it if there was an emergency. The phone would have one number on it, the house phone, that another sister would be right by until the other one returned back safely. 

After dinner, you helped Vienna clean up. You both had insisted Anne and Lucille get some rest, saying they had gotten there the earliest and were tired. Anne took Bucky to the room you, her, Bucky, Brooke, and June would sleep in. The house only had 3 bedrooms, and 5 people would have to bunk in the small bedrooms with only one king size bed together. It would be a squeeze, but it was all definitely better than the Hell you all had escaped. 

While cleaning, you found yourself not being able to focus on the story Vienna was telling you. Your stomach was turning, fighting the peas and chicken you had just ate, and your head was suddenly hurting. You were sweating too. Were you having a panic attack? 

“You okay, sis?” Before you could answer, you were vomiting up your dinner into the sink. Vienna soothingly rubbed your back as you finished off the remnants. You turned on the faucet to wash away the mush. 

“I’m s-sorry. I guess I’m a little scared still?” Vienna looked at you and gave a knowing smile before resting her hand on your shoulder. 

“How far along are you?”

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

The day had been a shitty one. James was in the middle of an important business pitch with Sam Wilson, a promising company from Louisiana that he wanted to partner with, when his assistant rushed in. He tried to order her out, but when he heard “money” and “gone” he had to apologize and excuse himself. After seeing the bank’s email, and hearing the voicemail they left his assistant after she called them, he rescheduled his meeting with Sam, explaining vaguely what was happening. 

James believed someone had stolen your information in order to rob him blind. He didn’t think you would do that, what reason would you have? Name anything on this Earth and James would have it in your hands the very next day. He was clutching the steering wheel with a vice-like grip that was turning his knuckles white. When James got home, he looked on terrified at how it was left. He called your name out while he ran around looking for you and Bucky. Once he found it empty, he started dialing 911. You both were missing.

James was tapping his foot waiting for the operator when he saw it. The picture album that you begged him for when you first found out you were pregnant. It was gone. 

The metal hand clutching the phone crushed right as he heard the female voice on the other side greet James. You and Bucky weren’t kidnapped, you had run away. 

James went downstairs to call his friends, Steve and Natasha. He was going to need their help tracking down his bratty wife. She was smart, he’d give her that, but she’d have to try a lot harder if she wanted to get away from an ex super soldier. 

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

@jtargaryen18​ @coconutqueen21​ @collette04​ @stayhazey​ @nsfwsebbie​ @official-and-unstable-satan​

[theskywaslookingback]

this art from @cutawaytulip​ gave my jontim brainworms so i had to write something for it, obviously

“Come on in, make yourself at home.” Tim says, throwing open the door to his flat and flicking on the light. It illuminates the sitting room with a kitchenette off to the side, a short hall that leads to the bedroom and bath. There’s still boxes piled in the corner of the sitting room, half unpacked next to a short and squat bookshelf, comics lining the top two shelves and a couple of hardbacks making use as bookends. His couch was a pick from the charity shop, an ugly shade of pea green covered in what once might have charitably been called flowers but look more like patches of mold. There's a rickety table placed in front of it, a pile of coasters stacked at the center - a gift from Sasha when Tim moved in a couple weeks ago.

“It’s...nice.” Jon says, wrinkling his nose a bit in obvious distaste. His socked feet curl into the carpet, his shoes set neatly next to the front door.

Tim laughs and dumps his messenger bag on his tiny kitchen table. It wobbles a bit, the legs a little uneven that he hasn’t bothered to fix yet. Some unopened mail flutters to the floor. There’s a couple of mugs sitting in the drying rack and Tim takes them out, heading for the coffee pot almost on autopilot. “Coffee?” He asks.

“Oh, yes, thank you.” Jon says from the sitting room. 

Tim hums in acknowledgement. He’s been making coffee for himself and Jon for over a year now. Jon prefers tea in the morning and afternoon, but when they plan to stay up late for research then they both gravitate toward coffee. Hell, he even has a mug that he designated Jon’s for nights like this - a pale yellow with lines on it, made to look like a library card. There’s always the smallest smile on Jon’s face when he sees it, like he’s delighted but trying to hide behind a veneer of pretentious apathy. 

Jon’s got his laptop out on the coffee table by the time Tim gets out with their coffee, papers strewn over the table and across the cushions of the couch. Tim makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “Already, Jon?”

“What?”

Tim gestures at the piles of research vaguely, almost spilling coffee over his hand.

Jon takes his mug. “Is that not why I’m here?”

“Is it?” Tim gins, raising an eyebrow. “Sure there’s no other reason? A little Netflix and chill?” He’s joking, of course, he knows Jon has never expressed any interest in him in that way. Just a harmless flirtation, meant only to bring a little bit of heat to Jon’s face and neck. 

And that it does, the tips of his ears burning a ruddy red at the implication. “Tim-”

“Kidding, kidding.” Tim says, brushing some papers away to sit next to him. “What are we looking at?”

Jon huffed. “Nothing exciting for now. Tax forms for case #0022711.”

“Ah, was that the arson one?”

Jon elbows Tim in the side lightly. “We don’t know that it was arson.”

“No, right, it was the spooky fire lady, right, okay.”

“Just--” Jon sighs and shoves a handful of records into Tim’s lap, “Help me with this.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

Night falls slow and easy during the silence between them broken only intermittently by the scratch of pen on paper and clack of keys on Jon’s laptop. Tim gets up to refill their coffee and takes a moment just to watch Jon, glasses sliding down his nose and brow screwed up as he tries to make sense of sixty years worth of tax fraud and insurance claims. He can’t stop the smile that breaks out at the corners of his mouth, fond at the way Jon shoves at his glasses with his thumb and surely leaves smudges on the glass.

“What?” Jon asks after a moment, startling him out of his reverie.

“Nothing.” Tim says, “Might be about time for a break though.”

Jon hums, pats his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He holds them up to Tim, a question and offer all in one.

“Get your shoes on. We’re not smoking in here.”

Jon wrinkles his nose. “It’s cold outside.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.”

“Ugh,” Jon says. He stands and stretches, going to the door to pull on his shoes.

They take the access stairs up to the roof. There’s a little garden area off to one side, with a low brick wall to sit on. Tim sets out an ash tray while Jon lights two cigarettes, handing one off to Tim. They sit down side by side, Jon leaning a little into Tim’s side for warmth, his elbows on his knees.

Jon looks up, blowing out smoke. “It’s nice up here.” 

Tim hums in agreement. It’s hard to see the stars anywhere in London, but he thinks he can make out the faint pin pricks of light amongst the clouds and bright lights of the city shining up from below. The moon is a faint slice of light, grinning down at them. He looks back down at Jon and can’t stop the smile from forming.

It’s a bit windy, and almost too chilly to be up here without their coats, but Tim wouldn’t trade it for anything. He puts his hand down on the wall between them, fingers splayed loosely. Jon doesn’t look away from the sky but his hand twitches before moving down to set on top of Tim’s loosely curling their fingers together. It sets Tim’s heart off beating hard in his chest and he forces himself not to say anything, not to stare. 

He can take this slow, he can. Jon was the first friend he’d made after...well, after the hardest time he’d ever had in his life. He wouldn’t trade that for anything. Gently, so gently, he squeezes Jon’s hand with his own and watches Jon’s mouth curl into a smile.

They have time.

They have so much time.

[also on ao3]

[jane-fucking-seymour]

Every Tudor Rose Has Its Thorns - CH 2 now live

AO3 Link here

“So… you think they’re alive?” Jim asks, tilting his head.

“At least one of them is a ghost, I think,” she explains, walking towards the alley next to the theatre. They had gotten their tickets refunded due to “technical difficulties,” despite knowing that the real issue was far beyond that. “But the visions I had when Catherine and Anne went up for their songs… it felt really powerful. It could be more than one. Maybe all of them, just based on the pure strength of it.”

“What, so you think the ghosts of the ex-wives of Henry VIII are… haunting the performers when they go on?” Jim asks. “One ghost doing that, sure, but all of them? Seems pretty unlikely.”

Melinda frowned and looked down at the programme, flipping to the page where the actors were shown. She tilts her head. “You know, they never say what the actor’s names are in here. They just say Anne and Catherine and the rest.”

“Maybe it’s an acting thing?” Jim asks, though he clearly sounds like he’s fishing for an answer. “Some actors do that, live as though they’re the characters they are.”

Melinda nods in consideration, but goes back to the original theory: that the ghosts are involved.

“I mean, it’s not surprising that they would be earthbound if it is actually them,” Melinda says. “Not after everything they got put through.”

“Do you think they caused the technical difficulties?” Jim asks.

“I didn’t sense anyone else around, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility,” Melinda replies. “Why would they want to ruin their own show, though? It’s about their story, their lives being told-”

“No, they’re not ruining their own show.”

Jim and Melinda jump a bit as they hear a voice behind them. When they turn, they spot…

“You’re Maria, right?” Melinda asks. “You’re the drummer.”

“I am,” Maria nods. “I was hoping you’d still be around. I… I don’t know how to explain this, but I really think you should come with me.”

Melinda watches her for a moment before tilting her head. She slowly walks more towards Maria, gently taking her hand. There’s a slight jolt before Melidna is once again pulled into a vision:

She’s managed to avoid the guards, sneak into the premises, and get to her door. With a running start, she bangs through it, immediately looking down at a woman in bed. She looks deathly ill, yet oddly familiar…

Melinda can hear herself speak Spanish to the woman, crying as she holds her. She can see her arm gently push back some hair, gently speak comforting words to the woman she held, crying out her name as the former queen’s eyes start to dim and close:

“Catalina!”

Suddenly, Melinda was back to the present. Maria looks terrified.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt her, is she-”

“It’s okay, she’s okay,” Jim says, nodding. He keeps an eye on Melinda, though, just in case.

Melinda took a moment to clear her thoughts before she continued. “That was… the other side of the vision I had when Catherine of Aragon’s song came up.”

“Vision?” Maria asks, taking a step back in surprise. “Are you a witch?”

“No,” Mel is quick to dispel the theory. “But I do… have a gift. I can see the dead.”

Maria pales. Melinda narrows her eyes.

“How?” Melinda asks. Maria is quiet, so Melinda clarifies: “How are you alive and dead at the same time?”

She looks down at her hands before she looks back up at the couple. “I… I need you to come inside. To come with me to see the others.” She looks from Melinda to Jim and back to Melinda. “I promise, we’re not… we’re not bad. And we didn’t do anything to cause those issues.” She takes a deep breath. “Oh, I can’t believe Jane’s going to be right on this.”

“Right on what?” Jim asks, stepping forward.

Maria makes a face.

“She said she felt someone else on stage with us tonight. Someone cold. She’s been off ever since.”

That was enough for Melinda to follow Maria into the backdoor.

As soon as they walk in, Maria takes Jim and Mel to the dressing rooms. Melinda recognized the queens: Jane was sitting next to Anne, quietly discussing something. Catherine and Cathy were getting their things together. Anna and Katherine were on their phones.

It’s the latter that speak up first.

“I mean, I’m seeing stuff where people say their electronics went haywire due to a ghost,” Katherine says. “Even as common as we’ve been having it lately.”

“It could also be some faulty wiring, though,” Anna points out, scrolling through some searches. “Or maybe the wind that’s been picking up knocked something loose.”

“I swear, I felt a cold wind, and I…” Jane starts, but she freezes up when she spots Maria and her guests. “Who’s this?”

Maria clears her throat and steps forward. “Everyone, this is Melinda Gordon and Jim Clancy.” She looks directly at Catherine for the next part. “Melinda can speak to the dead.”

They’re all quiet for a moment before Anne speaks up.

“Oh really?” She asks, a hint of joking in her voice. Melinda grimaces at that; people usually are in disbelief, but the mocking tone some can get reminded her of the high school and college bullies. It’s not easy doing her job, after all.

“Yes,” Maria continues. “Actual ghosts.”

“How do you think she can help?” Cathy asks.

“How do we know to trust her?” Jane asks.

“I think I know the answer to both of those things.”

Before Melinda or Jim can answer, someone else has jumped to their defense: Melinda recognized her as Joan, the pianist. Right behind her was Bessie and Maggie. All three of them were in normal clothes now, bags left at the side of the door as they move towards the group and stand nearby.

“Maria,” Joan says quietly. “I saw you stumble on Catherine’s song today. You were looking right at her in the front row.” Joan looks over at Melinda, almost pitying her. “And you looked incredibly pale. I thought it might be a trick of the light, but I’m assuming you being here makes it not the case.”

Melinda nods, stepping forward. “I had a vision. I was in a bed, hurting, and someone barged into the room and held me as I died. It felt like the person wasn’t supposed to be there, but I needed her to be there.” She looks over at Maria, who is looking at Catherine. “I think it was you. You called her name as she died, didn’t you? You called for Catalina. That was who you were holding, as she died.”

Maggie frowns. “Not that I don’t believe you, but anyone who knows our histories knows that Maria held Catherine at the end. How do we know this isn’t a trick?”

“Because,” Joan says, “when that… vision… of hers happened, Maria looked completely out of sorts.” She steps towards the woman in question. “What did you feel?”

“I felt… connected,” Maria explains, moving to gently hold Catherine’s hand for support. Catherine, of course, holds it firm. “I felt like someone was connecting with me. And I… I heard Catalina’s cries. I heard what I heard when she died. Then I looked up, and it was Melinda.”

“Did you… see something… during Don’t Lose Ur Head?” Maggie asks, frowning.

Melinda shivered at the thought. “Yes. I saw someone being taken to the block. A young, red headed girl called for her mom-”

Anne stands up quickly, like a reflex, but Maggie quickly grabs her arm. It calms the woman somewhat as she sits back down. Jim stands a bit closer to Melinda as she backed up at the sudden movement, but with things calmer, she relaxes a bit more.

“Not quite how that went,” Anne says quietly, “but if Catherine and Maria believe you, I’m inclined to as well.”

“Sometimes my visions aren’t exact to what happened,” Melinda replies. “Sometimes they’ve got more symbolism in them then actual events-”

Melinda stopped, though, when a sudden chill fell through the air. She felt her head reeling with no warning; she put a hand to it and tried to breathe through it. Jim was calling for her, she knew this, but the voice became less and less her husbands and more and more like someone else.

The lights suddenly turned off.

And he appeared.

What hit her first was a wave of emotions - fear, jealousy, panic.. But mostly anger. A lot of anger. She couldn’t tell who he was exactly, as the Shadows around them were so thick, but he pointed to her and spoke; it cut through her mind like glass.

“You should not be here,” he said, and Melinda winced every time he spoke. “You should not be here.”

“Who are you?” She asks, but he screamed, and the Shadows rushed her, and everything went dark…

… only for the lights to turn on a moment later.

Melinda blinked; somehow, she had ended up crouched on the floor, hands on her head as she looked around. Jim was immediately at her side, checking her over.

“Are you okay-?” He started, but someone else’s voice cut through his question. This time, it didn’t hurt Melinda at all.

“Jane?!?”

The couple looked over to find Jane Seymour collapsed to the ground, eyes unfocused and glassy, breathing rapidly as if panicked. With a nod from Mel, Jim rushed over to see if he could help.

“What’s happened, why is that happening again?” Katherine asks, clearly panicked.

Melinda picked up the clue. “Again? When did it happen before?”

“It happened yesterday, too,” Bessie says, stepping forward. “She’s been having these type of spells for a while now.”

“Anna had some to start with as well, Cathy too,” Joan points out. “But Jane’s been hit the hardest with them.”

Melinda nods, looking over at Jane just in time to see her gasp for air. She coughed, being helped to sit up by Jim.

“Are you alright?” Jim asks, looking the woman over.

“Jane?” Joan is right beside her queen in an instant; now Melinda knew what she meant by they took care of their queens; Joan was Jane’s Lady in Waiting in their previous life, after all.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Jane mumbles, a hand to her head as she collects her thoughts. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s the damned ghost, that’s what’s come over you,” Katherine says, clearly angry. “What does it want and why does it keep on messing with our productions?”

Anne looked over at Melinda before stepping towards her. “Alright, I don’t quite believe you, but… what did you see? Before, in the dark?” Melinda seemed to be confused, so Anne continued. “If you’re having those vision things, I’d assume you’d have one when things go bad.”

“That’s not how it works all the time,” Melinda says, “but I did see the ghost. He was…” she swallowed thickly at the next few words, looking over at Jim. “He was surrounded by Shadows.”

Jim’s jaw set with anger for a moment, before he corrected his expression. Melinda continued.

“He said I shouldn’t be here. He was tall, that’s all I got from it.”

The lights flickered again and Melinda once again felt a wave of nausea. She blinked, squeezing her eyes shut. Catherine frowned when Anna did the same.

“We should leave,” Melinda said through shaky breaths. “Whoever it is, they’re going to try again.”

Anna is unsteady, but she powers through it to get to the alley. As soon as they’re out of the theatre, Melinda feels her head clear up considerably. She breathes a sigh of relief as she looks at Anna; she seems far better, too.

Maria steps forward. “Do you mind if we go somewhere a bit more private?” she asks, looking at the couple. “Our flat’s nearby. Might be the best place to discuss this more.”

“Sure,” Melinda says. “We’ll follow you.”

Maggie leads the group as they walk down the street, Jim and Melinda in the middle of the pack. Maria and Bessie hang at the back. They’re silent, before Maria speaks:

“You’re on the fence for this, aren’t you, Bessie?”

She sighs. “I don’t know what to think,” she replies. “But if you think she’s the answer to what’s been happening lately I think it’s worth a shot.” She shrugs. “Not like we had any success with anything else, so…”

Maria looks back at the couple, who are quietly walking, Melinda’s arm in his. “Yeah. I really think they are.”

As they walk, Jim looks Melinda over some more. “You sure you’re feeling alright?” Jim asks quietly.

Melinda glanced over then shook her head. “A little woozy,” she admits. “The visions are strong, and I think it’s because of who they are.” she gives him a small smile. “I’ll be ok. I’ve got you here.”

Jim tries to smile back, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. Melinda understands this, but her focus right now is moreso on Jane.

“She looks about as good as I feel,” Mel mumbles.

Jane looked as pale as a ghost, stumbling occasionally as they moved towards the queen’s flat. Joan was right next to her, watching her closely as they moved.

“Yeah, and Anna doesn’t look too well either,” Jim observed. Anna was at the front of the pack with Katherine, answering her questions and smiling with her, but Jim’s EMT training allowed him to see the occasional stumble and wince in pain. “It took a lot out of them, too, I think.”

“When we get to the flat,” Catherine says, having heard their conversation, “We can all take a breather there.”

Cathy watches the couple very closely for a moment before she just continues on with Catherine in tow. Catherine narrows her eyes at Cathy for a moment before moving on.

The sound of a child’s laughter rings through the area; it makes Melinda smile as she and Jim are let into the flat. From there, everyone comes together in the living room.

“The weird stuff hasn’t followed us home before,” Cathy says. “So we should be safe here.”

Melinda breathes a sigh of relief; her head already feels like it’s clearing, and some of her energy’s returned. “This place feels a lot better than the theatre.”

“Please, sit down,” Anna says, offering them two spots on the couch. Melinda and Jim sit down next to each other while the others settle down on chairs around them.

Catherine, with a small smile, starts the conversation:

“If you don’t mind, Melinda, I think it’d be best if we just get into it, okay?”

Melinda nodded, and Catherine continued.

“Maria seems to be convinced that you’ve got special powers,” Catherine replies. “And you definitely saw something at the theatre multiple times.”

Melinda nods. “It’s more powerful than what I usually deal with, to be honest,” Melinda says. “I just feel… a lot of energy, coming from all of you.” She looks around the room. “It’s not bad. It’s better than when you were at the theatre. From personal experience, that means the Shadows aren’t able to affect you here.”

“Shadows?” Cathy asks.

“They’re dark energy,” Melinda continues. “Powerful, dark, negative energy. It’s sometimes leftover energy from bad souls, other times those souls are… converted, into the Shadows.” She shivers at the thought, remembering when they took her over, remembering when they made her think and almost do terrible things…

“What’s the Shadows have to do with us?” Jane asks quietly, looking down at her hands. “Why are we being tormented?”

“And some of us more than others,” Anne replies. “It seems to be tormenting Catherine, Anna, and Jane more-”

“Is it, though?” Katherine asks. “You almost died on stage. Again.”

Melinda sat up at that. “You said that it happened before at the theatre, too. Can you tell me what’s been going on?”

They all look at each other, uncertain. Jim speaks up then.

“We want to help,” he tries. “But we need all the information we can.”

“You have to at least believe that there’s truth to what I’m saying, don’t you?” Melinda asks. “You wouldn’t have invited me into your homes if you didn’t.”

Katherine narrows her eyes. “You said you got a vision every time you touched one of us, right?” When Melinda nods, Katherine stands up in front of her and offers a hand. “Well, prove it.”

Melinda looks at Jim and, with a nod his way, looks back at the hand. With some hesitation, she takes it, and-

-she’s suddenly not in the room.

She’s on stage, the exact one Melinda had been watching only an hour before. She’s singing something, on her knees, breathing heavily as she talks about being touched and enough being enough and people supposed to be different. Just as she finishes it, she hastily blows a kiss at the audience as she gasps for air and looks up, a single pink spotlight on her.

The crowd is silent for a moment, and it seems to save her life - she can hear something above her crack.

Her eyes go wide as the spotlight momentarily is blocked by something. Realizing what’s about to happen, she instantly backs up, straight back as a bar suddenly slams right where she just was.

She gasps, catching her breath, wincing as she feels something hit her hand as the bar makes impact with the ground. She ignores the pain as someone grabs her and rushes her off stage, the audience being evacuated…

��� and Melinda gasps as she is brought back to the present.

“Holy crap,” Katherine says, eyes wide. “I… Maria was right.”

“What did you see?” Bessie asks.

Melinda catches her breath for a second. “She was singing, then she looked up at the spotlight, and a bar fell and hurt her hand,” Melinda says, pointing to the mark on Katherine’s hand.

“That’s what happened Thursday,” Katherine says. “That’s what happened when I was injured. And I never told anyone who I knew about it.” Katherine looks back at Catherine. “She’s legit, swear it.”

Catherine nods at the girl and then looks at Melinda. “I think it’s enough evidence to continue,” Catherine says quietly. “Now… what would this shadow want with us?”

“The Shadows work best through people,” Melinda says. “That’s how they became a threat to us back in Grandview, they influenced people to make their move.” She shivers at the thought, but doesn’t get too into detail; they’ve only just started to trust her, she didn’t want them to be scared.

Not yet, anyways.

Catherine nods. “So you think it’s possible whoever is doing this is trying to influence us?”

Melinda leans back on the couch. “Katherine was almost killed that time, and Anne was today… did anything else happen?”

“Yeah,” Anna says. “Catherine was almost electrocuted the other day.”

Catherine winces at the memory. “I was on stage and about to sit on the throne during No Way, and suddenly the damn thing broke apart. One of the legs splintered off and cut a nearby wire. If it wasn’t for Maria, I would have been shocked.”

Melinda nods. “Anything else?”

“There was that time Katherine tripped and knocked herself unconscious last week,” Anne points out.

“And the slip and fall Catherine had,” Cathy points out.

“And Anne’s phone literally blew up in her hand the week before on stage,” Maggie added.

Jim had been keeping count. “So it’s really only been physical ‘accidents’ for Anne, Katherine, and Catherine?” He asks, nodding towards the correct C/Katherines to clarify who he was talking about.

Cathy nods. “The rest of us… when those things happen, we start to feel weird.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest defensively. “It’s like something’s there. Something cold. Something not pleasant.”

“You feel an anger, right?” Melinda asks, looking directly at Cathy. “You feel like you’re helpless, and you feel cold and angry and not yourself, right? And you can’t let that feeling go because it’s taking you over?”

Jane nods, but looks wary. “They seem scary the more you talk about them.”

“They are, to be honest,” Melinda says, looking down. “But it’s beatable. It is.” She looks up again, a gentle smile on her face. “With some support from others, we can beat it here.”

Cathy seems hesitant to say something, but after a moment (and a deep breath) she steps forward. “The ghosts that you can see… can you see anyone else?”

Melinda tilts her head, confused. “I’m sorry?”

“Do you see any other ghosts,” Cathy repeats. “Can you see any other ghosts around us?”

Melinda frowns. “Who would I be looking for?”

“A young girl, probably,” Cathy says. “Or, uhm… maybe two women, or maybe a teenaged boy.”

Melinda considers Cathy for a moment before she nods quickly, looking around the room. She’s been at this long enough that she can filter out the queen’s and ladies in waiting’s presence well enough to find other people when she needs to, but right now…

“... there’s no one else here,” Melinda says, looking back at the woman. “I’m sorry, is it someone you know?”

Cathy sighs. “It’s nothing.” She gets up and leaves.

Catherine steps in. “I’m sorry about her.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Melinda says. “I just… who was she looking for?”

Catherine isn’t sure she should answer.

Anne cuts in.

“Well,” she says, getting up. “We should probably start preparing dinner.” She smiles to try to diffuse the tension in the room; it’s kind of working.

Melinda nods and goes to stand up with Jim when Katherine gives them a look.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Kat asks, raising an eyebrow.

Melinda blinks. “Uh… didn’t you say you were preparing dinner?” she asks. “We were headed to the door.”

“But then you’d miss dinner,” Katherine replies.

“Sorry, uh, we weren’t aware we were invited,” Jim replies.

“We’ve still got a bit to talk about, if you’re interested in hanging around,” Maria says. “It’s likely this’ll happen at the show tomorrow, too. It’s been like this for a while now. And if you’re our chance of stopping it… well, I think we can all agree we’d want to give you all the time in the world to figure it out.”

“Besides,” Maggie says, smiling widely. “We need an extra hand in the kitchen. Anne’s not allowed in there since the Knife Incident.”

Melinda looked alarmed. “The accidents have been happening here, too?”

“No,” Maggie replies. “We just can’t trust Anne, Katherine, and Cathy to be on their own with a bunch of knives and a dart board anymore.”

Jim looks concerned and Melinda’s very confused.

“Which K/Catherine-” Mel starts, but the queens laugh.

Catherine motions towards the kitchen. “Come on, Melinda, you can chop up some vegetables and we can keep on chatting.”

Melinda nods, then looks over at Jim. “Are you ok with this?”

“Free dinner? Yeah, sure,” he replies, smiling back at her. “I’ll get to work on some research while you guys are talking.”

“I’d like to help with that,” Anna says. “If you don’t mind.”

Mel nods appreciatively. “The more the merrier.”

Jim gives Melinda’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, and Melinda nods in his direction. It’s an unspoken conversation between them - if Mel needed anything, she can go to Jim, and Jim’ll be there. On the flip side, if he found anything out, he could come into the kitchen to let her know. All that exchanged in two movements and no words.

Honestly, Catherine thought as she led Melinda into the kitchen, it was rather adorable how the two interacted. A happy, healthy couple who had each other’s backs. She wouldn’t know what that felt like - not really - but she’s glad at least someone seemed to have a love story out of a storybook. It was a nice change of pace from the usual.

Anna was thinking something very similar as she replaced Melinda on the couch. “You two are something special, aren’t you?”

Jim chuckled. “We’ve been at this for years,” he said, unlocking his phone. “I’m not usually this involved in it, but I’m glad to be when she asks me to.”

“You guys are really adorable,” Bessie replies with a grin.

Jim’s about to reply when Anna sharply inhales some air, frowning as she looks down at her phone. Jim springs into action.

“Can I see?” Jim asks, offering Anna his hand. With some consideration, Anna puts her wrist in Jim’s hand, watching as he looks it over. “Bessie, do you guys have a first aid kit?”

“In the closet,” Bessie nods.

“Does it have an ace bandage?”

“Yeah.”

“Bring it over, please, and some ice in a bag from the freezer if you have any,” he says, and Bessie rushes to grab the requested materials. When she’s not in earshot, Jim speaks to Anna quietly so no one else can hear: “You know, if it was hurting this much, you shouldn’t have let Katherine grab it so often on the way here…”

Anna huffs.

“How’d you know?” Anna asks, tilting her head.

“When we were walking here,” Jim said, “I noticed that you were wincing, but it wasn’t in time with the walk. Then I saw Katherine take your arm and that’s when you winced.”

Anna is impressed. “All that from looking at me?”

“I’m an EMT back at home,” he explains, taking the first aid kit and pulling out the ace bandage. He wraps it and puts the ice on top.

“Amongst other things, I take it.” Anna replies. “More like us than them, right?”

Jim looks up at her, and Anna smirks a little bit. Jim tilts his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Anna smiles a bit wider and goes back to researching, leaving Jim confused.

Meanwhile, Melinda had been helping prep for dinner, watching as the other queens and ladies were preparing things as well.

“Are you sure it’s ok if we join you guys for dinner?” Melinda asks, cutting the vegetables as requested.

Catherine smiles. “It’s no problem at all. It’s been a while since we were able to cook for people, anyways.”

Melinda smiles politely back before looking around - she can hear some of the others talking in the other room, she can hear a child laughing again somewhere in the building, and she can already smell the dinner cooking. It seemed… peaceful.

“How many people know about you all?” Melinda asks, going back to preparing vegetables. “The truth, I mean.”

Catherine hums. “Not many. A handful.” She nods towards Cathy, who is putting something in the oven. “Cathy is the one to keep track of that.”

“It’s mainly need to know,” Cathy says. “We don’t exactly want everyone to know, it would scare quite a bit of people.”

“So do you have fake names for the board at the front of the lobby?” Melinda asks, genuinely curious.

Cathy nods. “Just there. It’s not in the programmes or anything. Just didn’t feel right.”

Melinda nods, wincing in pain for a moment before getting her bearings together.

Catherine tilts her head. “Are you ok? Here, eat something,” she says, putting an apple in front of the woman.

Mel shakes her head. “Not really that hungry, sorry,” she mumbles, a hand to her head. She sighs. “I was running a fever back in Grandview, too, when this all happened there.”

“What else happened while you were fighting these… Shadow, things?” Katherine asks, tilting her head curiously.

Melinda swallowed. “I… was consumed by it.”

Cathy tilts her head. “Consumed?”

Mel nods. “It wore me down. I couldn’t differentiate ghosts and visions from people and real life.” Her arms involuntarily cross as she remembers. “It was scary. I didn’t think I’d find my way back. I thought I was lost.”

“What got you back?” Catherine asks.

At that, Melinda smiles. “My son. And the memories of my family, my loved ones - it helped me break through.” She frowns. “We don’t have Aiden around this time, though. He was the reason why I could break through in the first place. He gave the opening. And he’s not here.” She frowns. “So… the big question is, what are we going to do if they try to take one of you?”

No one had an answer for that.

Meanwhile, Jim and Anna were sitting in the living room, looking through papers and websites to find leads. They had sat in relative silence for a while - a comfortable one, but silence nonetheless.

It’s broken when Jim makes a small noise of annoyance and puts down a piece of paper.

Anna raises an eyebrow and looks at him. “You alright, Jim?”

He looks over, a bit surprised by the question, but sighs and answers. “Look, Anna, the last time Melinda dealt with the Shadows… she almost didn’t make it out. It’s practically a miracle that she survived.” He sighs. “I know this is important, and I wouldn’t dream of stopping her from doing her work, but-”

“You don’t want her hurt in the process.” Anna finishes, a knowing nod.

Jim leans back a bit, slightly more relaxed. “Yeah.”

Anna thinks about it for a moment before she stands up and walks over to him. “Listen, Jim… I know we’ve only just met. But from what I can tell, you two have gone through much, much worse.” She points to his hair. “Your reflection is blonde, but you definitely aren’t. So, basically… this isn’t your first body, is it?” She looks him over. “It looks good, by the way, though I think I see what Melinda saw in your reflection, which I’m assuming is your second form? So I can see who you were but in reflections I see the body you’re in now?” She shrugs. “That’s what I’ve come to the conclusion to, anyways.”

Jim sits back, absolutely floored. “I’m extremely impressed that  you figure this out so quickly - I couldn’t even figure it out for a while.”

“It was more of theory than fact, but I’m glad I was right,” she says. “Maybe souls can see souls. And maybe you’re not so different from me and my family, and maybe you’ve been through something similar. I get supporting your wife and all, but you take it to an inhuman level.”

“I’m not…” He runs a hand through his hair; guess it’s time to come clean, he supposed. “This body was someone else’s before it was mine. He crossed over, and I took his place as soon as he did.” He looks her over. “Originally, Melinda was thinking you guys did something similar to the bodies you have now.”

“We didn’t,” she assures. “I know you can’t completely trust me, but we didn’t. We showed up in these bodies.”

“Have you tried sending off DNA or fingerprints or death records?” He suggests. “We’ve seen weird stuff, Anna, maybe you all happened to die at the same time and you jumped in after that. I didn’t remember doing that at first, either-”

“We didn’t.”

The two look over to find Katherine. She’s standing in the doorway, two plates in her hands, Melinda right behind her.

“Kat-” Anna starts, but Katherine moves into the room, offering Anna and Jim plates. They both take them. Jim moves over so Melinda can sit next to him as Katherine continues.

“We showed up with them,” she says firmly, looking over at Melinda.

Mel nods. “These bodies… they’re here, but they’re not,” she explains. She frowns as she looks at Katherine’s hand. “I get visions any time I touch them, and their energies are so strong… it’s like the Shadows, but not threatening. Not dangerous.”

“That’s… not something we’ve seen before,” Jim says. “Payne might know something about that. He said to call him if anything gets wild, didn’t he?”

“I left a message for him already,” Melinda explains. She sees Jim’s worried look next to her and gently squeezes his hand, letting him know she’s okay. “We’ll have an answer tomorrow.” She looks at the group. “He’s a professor of the occult. Used to work in Grandview, now he’s researching off in the Himalayas.”

“And you think he’ll be able to help us?” Anne asks.

“I think so,” Mel confirmed.

“That’s all we can do for now, right?” Jane asks, looking around. “Just wait until Professor Payne gives us some more information?”

“I think so,” Catherine replies with a nod. She looks at the couple with a soft smile. “You two should get some rest. Call time is fairly early.”

Melinda blinks. “Call time?”

“Well,” Anne says, smiling. “You want this solved as much as we do, right? Might as well give you the best access we can.”

“So you’ll be our VIP guests for as long as you need to be,” Jane continues. “Behind the scenes access before, during, and after the show.”

“We figured it would help with the investigation,” Anna replies. “Maybe help you catch whoever’s behind it, since we’re all in agreement it’s supernaturally aligned.”

“And besides,” Jane says with a teasing grin. “If someone gets injured again, Jim won’t have an excuse for being slow to help.”

Jim chuckles at that and looks over at Melinda. “Well, I guess we’ll reschedule the ghost tour of the Tower of London.”

“Why would you pay for that?” Anne jokes, waving her hand dismissively. “You’ve already met them.”

[samwellmarinesociety]

Be Still, and Know That I am Near

[I’ve also posted this on my AO3!]

As a freshman at Samwell University, Connor figured that he'd be leaving his home life behind in Arizona. However, an early morning encounter in the locker room provides him with the opportunity to grapple with his faith as well as find some sense of closure.

(A special thanks goes out to Emiliana [ @lifeofthetryhard on Tumblr] for her help with translating the Spanish. Although Connor is Mexican-American and she’s Venezuelan, her grasp of Spanish is much better than my own.)

“¿Estás seguro de sabes dónde está la pista?”

Connor pinched the bridge of his nose as he glanced up at the clock above his dorm door. “Sí, Mamá,” he answered, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice lest he be called out for  using a tone. “Tengo el mapa que me dio.”

“Solo pregunto porque me preocupo de ti, mijito,” his mother reminded, still using the sickly sweet tone that she used when he was a baby. “Trajiste el-”

“Me tengo que ir, Mamá. Te quiero.”

“Te quiero, Connor.”

Putting his phone away, Connor picked his gear bag off the floor and quickly made his way out the door and down the lobby stairs. The fading summer sun was already halfway to its throne at the top of the sky, bathing Lake Quad in its brilliant golden light. Since the semester had not officially started, he could walk along the cobblestones without fear of crashing into someone.

As clichéd as it was, the photos on the official Samwell website could not compare to the beauty of the real campus. Given how the weather along the Eastern coast had been much warmer this past year, the trees were still lush with their leaves. It wasn’t nearly as warm as it would have been back in Arizona, but the feeling of the sun on his back was like a hug from an old friend.

Faber Memorial Rink was a decidedly modern building, especially in comparison to the more colonially-inspired architecture of most of the campus. It was almost intimidating in the way it loomed over the trees and shrubs that dotted its exterior. To some, sports were akin to a religion, so Connor supposed that Faber would be a cathedral. The giant windows that captured the morning light only more strongly enforced the metaphor.

“Mamá would probably have my head for talking about religion like that,” he grimaced as he entered the main hall of the rink. Still, Connor couldn’t help but compare the giant crimson banners that adorned the walls to the purple flags that his home parish would put up during Lent. Signs and symbols of what each institution held dear were woven into both. Even the Latin motto of “Penitus Potes de Fonte Sapientiae” was a reminder of the life he’d left behind at home.

Or rather, the life he was trying to leave behind.

The lights already being on in the locker room was strange, but Connor brushed it off as one of the custodians passing through earlier. The expanse of rooms that he’d toured through after officially accepting his admission offer was by no means the most extravagant he’d seen. In fact, it disgusted Connor just how much money some schools put into their sports teams while letting their libraries and lecture halls fall into squalor. It was, however, nice that he didn’t have to worry about tripping over ripped carpeting.

He paused for a moment before the trophy case. In the aforementioned light, the wood finish of the cabinet appeared to be the same shade of crimson as the Samwell crest. Connor wondered if that was an intentional choice on the commissioner’s part. Beyond the glass panes were the various trophies, plaques, and medallions that had been awarded to Samwell players of yesteryear, though the majority of them were more recently dated. The name Jack Zimmermann seemed to be part of ninety percent of all the awards- he even had one all to himself for being voted team captain three years in a row.

“I guess he really was well liked, both on and off the ice.”

Another award that caught his eye was the John Carlisle Award. “For exemplification of team spirit through enthusiasm and devotion to the game,” Connor read aloud, his eyes falling on the only recipient of the award. “Eric Bittle, 2013.”

News about Eric Bittle had spread through the college hockey channels even before Connor had decided to accept his offer to Samwell. He was just rather different compared to almost every other up and coming forward- a background in figure skating, a fondness for baking, his… general demeanour, to put it lightly. Connor supposed it was noble in its own way for Eric to stick to his ways rather than try to change his personality for the sake of a sport. As long as Eric was good on the ice, he didn’t really care about what the guy did in his spare time. 

Hockey wasn’t what Connor pictured himself doing after graduating- part of it was the lack of privacy associated with professional sports. Even if he didn’t do post-game interviews or speak to reporters, his whole identity would be up for the world to speculate about. That was the sort of perpetual attention that he couldn’t stand.

As he came out of his labyrinth of thoughts, he became aware of a repetitive sort of sound that couldn’t be attributed to the sound of the water pipes up above. Grabbing his bag, Connor tried to move towards the locker room as quietly as he could. Fear wasn’t something that ran in his blood- not fear of noises anyways.

Connor stopped just by the doorway. His grip tightened around the handle of his bag, as though he could swing it in self-defense. Most days, he paid more attention to his legs than his upper body. One of the upperclassmen- Chowder, he thinks their name was- had mentioned something about Coaches Murray and Hall being strict about workout regimens. That was the kind of infringement that Connor didn’t quite appreciate, though he understood why it’d be important. With bated breath, he whirled around and nearly stumbled into the locker room.

“Hello, Connor!”

“Tony?” he replied in surprise before quickly correcting himself. “I mean, Tango?” The nickname culture was still something he was trying to get used to. Prior to coming to Samwell, he had simply gone by Connor or, more rarely, ‘Con.’ The others on the team, however, were insistent on giving him a new nickname; he’d be damned if it was something silly like ‘Whiskers’ or even ‘Whiskey.’ 

“I don’t even like the taste of whiskey.”

 “You’re on the floor.”

Tango’s eyebrows shot up as though he were surprised by this observation. “I was pretty much done anyways!” he answered as he got back on his feet. “Did you want some privacy? My stall’s over there anyways; I just like the airflow from the vent here and-”

“Hold on.” Connor sliced his hand through the air, his lips tight as he tried to keep his expression neutral. “Done with what, exactly?” It was only then he noticed that Tango had something in his hand that was also looped around his wrist.

With that, Tango simply opened up his fisted hand to reveal a rosary, its glassy blue beads refracting the overhead light. “Praying- I try to get a decade or two in before practices.” When Connor didn’t immediately respond, he started to explain. “Oh, it’s a rosary- Catholics use it to pray and we count along the beads, but we start here with the crucifix-”

“I know what a rosary is, Tango,” Connor quickly interjected before he got a Sunday school crash course. “I was just, I don’t know, surprised, I guess. To see you, you know…” He gestured at the part of the locker room floor where the other man was just kneeling.

To his surprise, Tango didn’t seem quite upset by his rather abrupt response. Instead, he simply ran his fingers over the beads before looking back up at Connor. “I didn’t scare you, did I? I’m just used to being the first one in a locker room since my dad was responsible for maintaining the rink back home.”

“No… Look, can I ask you something that’s probably a bit personal?”

“Of course! What is it?”

Connor sighed as he looked up at the vent Tango had mentioned earlier. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he began, a sentence starter that was rarely, if ever, followed by an easy question. “Why here, why now? You could always go into Boston on Sunday.”

As the words left Connor’s lips, there was an aching at the back of his mind. He knew exactly why Tango would be praying the rosary. It was as if he couldn’t believe himself- the truth sounded like an utter lie when he said it.

Doubt, he had been told all his life, could not coexist with faith. In fact, it was the absence of faith. Connor wondered if the priests back home just had a script to follow when it came to quelling uncertainties about the hows and whys of Catholicism.

“You know in your heart that the teaching is clear.

Faith in the Father has led your soul here.

Bear up the cross, let the Church be your spine.

Don’t question too much,

And you’ll get along fine.”

Eighteen years of being told to follow, obey, and believe had caused Connor to falter in all three aspects. Actually, scratch that- it was easy to follow. Perhaps too easy at times. He went to Mass every Sunday because his whole family went- one had to be on their deathbed to miss out. Knowing his family, they’d even wheel him in and park said bed in the aisle during the Mass.

Obeying was similar in most respects. Connor knew the rules and why his family insisted they follow them. That was the difference, really- to obey was to intentionally follow, to be mindful of why the rules are what they are. Funnily enough, he had to look into the history of the Church’s customs to understand their context. The priest at his home parish always glossed over those in favour of condemning the ways of the world in his homilies.

To believe… that was the hardest part of his faith. Catholicism, like so much of life, was full of self-contradictions. Having existed for over two millennia, such was inevitable. Yet rather than try to reconcile the conflicting doctrines, the faithful were expected to accept it all as God’s will.

“What good is it to blindly accept it and believe? Do you really have faith if you don’t know who or what you’re putting your faith in? Not that I could ever ask that out loud- those would be grounds for excommunication. Or worse, rejection from my family.”

It seemed that Tango was also deep in thought because it was only now that he gave an answer. “I know I could pray at church, but why not make use of my free time right now?” He gestured to the still, empty locker room. “Everyone’s got their pregame rituals, their ways to clear their minds. Mine just happens to be prayer.”

“How can you believe in something that doesn’t make sense, in something that condemns people for things they can’t control?” Connor could feel a hauntingly familiar tightening in his chest and his throat. To keep his hands from shaking, he balled them up into fists, his nails digging into his palms. The thoughts bouncing around his head were no longer under his tight mental control- it was as if Connor was now feeling everything he’d been bottling up for so long all at once.  “It doesn’t fucking make sense!”

Tango, by virtue of him being, well, Tango, was probably preparing to ask a question. So Connor steeled himself in preparation so that he wouldn’t end up lashing out at his teammate. His own questions about their apparent shared faith were already volatile enough, so he wouldn’t be surprised if Tango was offended by his language and gave him the cold shoulder from now on.

Yet, instead, Tango took Connor’s hand and just gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know it doesn’t make sense- if the Church couldn’t figure it out after two thousand years, they probably never will.”  He looked up to meet Connor’s eyes. “There’s not a lot I’m sure about, Connor. But I know that praying helps calm me down. That and going to Mass are just things my family has always done- so I guess it’s like bringing a part of home with me?”

“Part of home,” Connor echoed as he reached into his bag and pulled out the rosary his Mamá had packed into his belongings before he left Arizona. The dark green glass of the beads were almost black in the shadow of his fingers, but the medal of St. Sebastian at its center seemed to sparkle nonetheless. “Jesus, I- wait, no, shouldn’t have said that. I just- I haven’t really prayed this in so long. Most of the time, I just followed my family when they moved their fingers.”

Tango’s eyes went wide as he looked at the rosary in Connor’s hand. “Woah, did you get that for your first communion too?”

“Uh… probably?

“Me too! Unless this was my confirmation rosary… or maybe it was my graduation rosary? What is it with relatives and giving rosaries as presents?”

Connor shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re telling me- my abuela gets everyone in the family a rosary every Christmas, Easter, and September 8th. Somehow, she hasn’t bought any duplicates so far.”

“My aunt makes them with string and those plastic beads little kids use to make art- like this!” Tango gestured to a bead lizard that was hanging off the side of his own hockey bag. “I can’t even imagine how long it takes her to make them for all of my cousins…”

Instead of using the extra time on their hands to get changed, Connor and Tango ended up sitting together in the former’s stall, just talking about their families and lives before Samwell. For Tango, it seemed that praying the rosary was less about delving into his connection with God, but rather, about keeping his connection with his family. 

If Connor were a philosophy or theology major, he’d be tempted to say that those things were one and the same.

As Bitty called everyone out to the ice to begin practice, Connor took one last look at his rosary, now hanging from a hook in his stall. Even if he wasn’t any closer to understanding the faith he’d been raised in, he at least had a friend to take this journey with.

⁂

Sundays, according to Bitty, were generally free days for the Samwell Men’s Hockey team unless they made it to the playoffs. So the following week, Connor met Tango in the South Quad early in the morning before heading into the suburbs around the university. He was thankful for the rows of trees that lined the campus sidewalks- it was always gross to sweat through his dress shirt.

Mass at the parish of Our Lady of the Incarnation didn’t start until 11:00 AM, so after they sat in one of the pews, Tango pulled down the kneeler. With a nod from his new friend, Connor fished into his pocket and took out the beads his mother had packed in his belongings.

“Go for it, Whiskey.”

His rosary, once a foreign, almost unnerving memento, now felt intimately familiar in his hand. He pulled out a small paper from his other pocket and began to read it, the pewter crucifix held reverently between his thumb and pointer finger.

“En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo y del Espíritu Santo. Amén. Creo en Dios, Padre todopoderoso, creador del cielo y de la tierra…”