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agendabymooner · 9 months

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of long lines and names || cl16 fic

charles leclerc x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

Summary: Aimee Yael and Charles Leclerc are too young to have five kids under six, but those boys became the life and memories that the couple wanted to keep forever. OR a series of scenarios during Aimee’s pregnancies that Charles remembered the most.

Content warning: Pregnancies with twins/five kids, dad!Charles and the grid uncles, based on Charles’ long name, a crying Charles, mentions of Anthoine Hubert, Niki Lauda, Jules Bianchi and the Leclerc dad (nothing too graphic nor personal, mostly based on their names only), loss/grief, Toto being a d-bag for a moment, possible use of explicit language, family-centric/dad!Charles-centric content, mentions of other Hearth sisters children (Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen)

Note: This will be a flop but I love these fictional Hearth-Leclerc kids. I love all of their kids! In fact, I have a series of spreadsheets dedicated to the Hearth sisters, and other characters and the names of their babies. Enjoy xx

masterlist

2024 — Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu and Jules Lorenzo Blaise Pascal Timothé Leclerc

Aimee Yael Edmunson (Hearth) had never been stressed before. She had no reason to be. As a woman from a wealthy family — the granddaughter of Scottish billionaires and a daughter of an FIA executive — she had no reason to stress over the little things that were in the area of her control. Like her half-sisters, she had the money and intelligence to handle things well.

All except for the two little things in her womb that were continuously developing as the fourth month of her pregnancy went on. It was hard to hide it from everyone if you were to ask her. She had already spoken to her mother about carrying this amount of children in one go— Amara Louise Edmunson had only given birth to one child, and it was her. Nobody knew the struggle, but her mother had comforted her as much as she could.

Aimee was calm despite the disaster that happened to be an unplanned pregnancy, her rational mind thinking that she shouldn’t be in some form of distress or discomfort to avoid any complications in her body.

Her boyfriend, Charles Leclerc, thought otherwise.

When her body hit the ninth-week mark, there was already a tiny bump that someone might have seen as bloated. A natural one, no? But Charles was known to overthink things, and when he somehow got his prediction right, he had never cried so hard about having not only one— but two kids. He cried as if he was the one with the uncontrollable hormones. Aimee watched him cry empathetically, feeling grateful that she didn’t have this much anxiety that could risk her health and her babies. Still, she wondered if the tears he shredded were tears of joy or something else.

Charles said he was happy, but at the same time, he thought of how their families would react— minus Pascale, Blanche and Amara.

When her body hit the seventeenth-week mark, they couldn’t hide it from their families any longer, hosting a dinner at their home in Monaco where Aimee did all of the cooking. Everything she made were cravings that became stronger as her first few weeks of pregnancy went on—rice, pasta and somehow a good selection of desserts and pastries that Charles ordered before the dinner.

Welcoming each family member into the house wasn’t the most significant part of the dinner. The maternal figures of Charles and Aimee’s lives — Pascale, Amara and Blanche Ford — were on standby just in case someone decided to act differently towards the two.

Stevie and Lewis Hamilton were clearly (too obviously) shocked at the protrusion in Aimee’s stomach but hadn’t made any comment on it for a while. They merely spoke about their daughter Lottie, who would cuddle with Roscoe whenever her little crawling body approached him. They were talking about their child, all while their eyes peered down on Aimee’s growing body.

Sylvie and her fiancé Max Verstappen were surprised. Still, the model had managed to pass off her shock as excitement over the invitation to the couple’s new home before she tried to maneuver through the huge bump in the road— or rather, in Aimee’s body. Max tried asking Pascale and Amara about it by mouthing, “Is she actually?” only to receive a glare from them. Blanche scolded him quietly to keep it shut while she served him a drink.

Charles dreaded inviting his brothers into his new home because they always picked their timing. When Arthur and Lorenzo Leclerc saw Aimee’s bulging figure, they immediately turned away and snorted aloud. Charles wasn’t this anxious about anything as exciting as this, but Arthur’s offhanded comment, “I’ll be attending your funeral when Toto finds out,” definitely had him recoiling. Pascale had to smack both her other children for scaring Charles off. Aimee nearly cried on the spot when Arthur made the joke, to which Charles returned to his composure and glared at his youngest brother for making her feel so shitty.

The mentioned man and his wife were met at the front by the three maternal figures. Toto Wolff wasn’t typically this intimidated. He was usually level-headed, but how they stared at him while they welcomed the couple left him asking what was happening. Tilly seemed to sense some sort of protectiveness towards whatever it was, and when she had gotten a glimpse of it, her eyes sparkled at the sight of Charles’ hand over her little sister’s stomach. She wordlessly grinned before tugging her husband down on a seat right across the two.

Toto couldn’t say a word if he were being truthful. The moment his eyes settled on the bulging stomach, his glare toward the Monegasque driver hardened. This was Toto’s nightmare, but it wasn’t as if he could just say that in front of the most overprotective women to have existed. So he threatened Charles wordlessly, passing words back and forth with other people while he glared at the Ferrari driver whenever he piped up.

“So…” Toto started after finishing what seemed to be his second wine of the night. “Aimee, you’re pregnant. How long?”

“Uh,” Aimee shifted uncomfortably, scared even to look Toto in the eyes. “Seven- seventeen weeks.”

“She’s seventeen weeks and four days—“ Charles was thrilled. He was. But the stare that Toto gave him immediately had his mouth shut as he looked back and only settled to hold his girlfriend’s hands underneath the table. “Four days,” he murmured to himself.

“So explain how,” Lorenzo started but had given up halfway through, gesturing at Aimee’s stomach, “how has she grown this much if she’s only that much?”

“Yeah, about that,” Charles’ grin widened continuously as he announced, “We’re having twins.”

Aimee and Charles’ siblings were cheering for the couple as a series of hollering escaped their mouths. Pascale, Blanche and Amara were grinning from ear to ear while Toto… he was a man that was hard to please.

“Two?” Toto uttered, already pouring himself another glass of cabernet sauvignon. “And you two are… getting married?”

“What?” Arthur blurted out with an incredulous look, shooting in Toto’s direction. Sylvie and Stevie looked at each other, asking themselves, ‘what the fuck is he on?’

“Uh no,” Charles nervously laughed, but no one seemed to understand the memo when Toto glared at him as the Monegasque muttered, “but I suppose this is a wrong answer to say aloud.”

“We’re not going to get hitched,” Aimee laughed in confusion, “why do we have to?”

“Because you’re pregnant?”

“Do we have to get married?” Aimee looked at Tilly for some help.

Tilly, sensing the discomfort from the pregnant woman, reached to pinch her husband in his side, eliciting a groan from him as she glared, “No, you don’t have to.”

“Yeah, you don’t,” Sylvie glared at Toto. “Tils and Toto didn’t get married until Tia came along.”

“So, you’re just going to be waiting for the fourth child to be out until you marry?” Arthur asked bluntly, leaving him to cower when Stevie, Lorenzo and Sylvie shot him a look of annoyance. “Oh mon dieu, je pose juste une question.” Oh my god, I’m just asking a question.

Toto wasn’t sold at the thought of his youngest in-law being pregnant with another driver’s children. He’d seen Stevie get married off to his own driver, Lewis, and it still never sat right with him to witness them being married or having a family with some men. Charles could agree on the same thing, because if his hypothetical daughter was to be courted and even have a boyfriend he wasn’t sure how he would act either.

He didn’t think that he would have the same problem with vice versa until he found out that Aimee was carrying two boys. He wondered how to prevent them from having girlfriends or boyfriends at an early age because he was certain that Aimee would just play mother of the groom on the pretend wedding that the boys would have at a young age.

But his worries withered away when he held Hervé and Jules for the first time. He could still remember realizing how strong they were from the grip they had on his fingers. He could still remember the sight of Aimee crying after she introduced them to their father— not wanting to see Charles cry again due to the tribute that she had given to Charles’ family that passed years ago.

Perhaps it was a good idea that she did the crying this time; she deserved it after watching him have a breakdown over the little things that he didn’t need to worry about — and Charles needed to have the backbone for thinking himself as a shitty father for his unborn children.

“What’re their names?” Esteban almost laughed after seeing Charles stare at Pierre mindlessly. It really wasn’t a good idea for Gasly to have Charles repeat the babies’ names all over again especially when the Monegasque was way too tired for his friends’ bullshit.

Mick kicked Pierre lightly with a hush, rocking the baby in his arms as he quietly asked, “Do you not listen or do you just live to piss your best friend off?”

Charles glared at Pierre, whose smile stood out as he giggled. Scoffing quietly, Charles gestured to the boy in his arm, “Jules Lorenzo Blaise Pascal Timothé.”

Then he nudged his head at Mick’s direction before he introduced the other twin, “and the boy in Mick’s hold is Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu.”

“Sorry, I didn’t listen, Shal can you—“

“Oh my fucking god. Shut the fuck up, Pierre.”

“I’m kidding,” Pierre snorted as he quietly cackled. “What do you call them though?”

2026 — Sacha Niki Pierre Philippe Leclerc

Torger Wolff promised that he wasn’t going to squash Charles Leclerc’s head until it popped once that Hervé and Jules Leclerc were born.

He loved his nephews after all and spoiled them as much as their Uncle Toto could. He made sure the boys had their bunk beds prepared at the Wolff home in Monaco or England just in case they came for a sleepover with his son Adelmo and his niece Lottie Hamilton — who were just about the same age as the twins. He spoiled them equally.

But god, was he ever ready to get rid of their Da the moment he received a text from the Monegasque with the words, “She’s pregnant.”

“Morning, Sainz, is your stupid teammate in the office?” Toto didn’t even listen to the Spanish man’s answer as he continued to make his way to Fred Vasseur’s in-site office at the Scuderia Ferrari area. “Charles Leclerc! I’ve warned you once—“

The Ferrari team principal turned to look at the entryway of his office with a scowl, crossing his arms in annoyance. Toto wasn’t even in his team’s area and he was still acting like he shouldn’t have to knock at the damn door. The man that he was addressing, however, was teary eyed when he turned to look at Toto.

“Is this your third or fourth?” Toto asked, still glaring at the Monegasque.

“Third,” Charles wanted to smile but the last thing he wanted to do was die in this damn motorhome. In the hands of Toto Wolff, of all people.

“And no ring?” Toto then found him holding whatever in his hand, peering down as his mouth opened slightly.

In Charles’ hand was a gold ring, ruby sitting on top of it as he clutched on it tightly. It wasn’t just a gold ring. From what Toto had learned, it was Aimee’s grandmother’s engagement ring.

“I was— proposing to her—“ Charles sobbed quietly, a smile now resting on his face as he begged himself not to ugly cry in front of the Mercedes team principal. “Then she said Herb and J were going to be big brothers. I was on my knees, Toto! I promise! I want to propose first but she just spewed that— oh god, I have three children now.” It didn’t even dawn on him that he was about to have three under five until he cut himself off.

Then he was just crying hysterically in the middle of the office with Carlos barging in frantically. “What the hell, Charles?! Are you okay?”

Toto smiled proudly at the Monegasque driver, clapping him on the back before he shrugged at Carlos Sainz and Fred. “Don’t worry about him,” Toto replied quietly to the other men, “he’s having his third child, that's all.”

Carlos and Fred were confused and scared. They weren’t sure if it was because of Charles’ breakdown on the floor of the Ferrari team principal’s office or if it was because of Toto’s calm demeanour. But regardless, if Toto said not to worry, then so be it.

Baby Boy Leclerc was written on his little hospital bassinet. But Toto got the first glimpse of his birth certificate.

Sacha Niki Pierre Philippe Leclerc.

Toto had no reason to be upset. He wasn’t. He was just as equally as annoyed at himself when he realized how overprotective he was when it came to Aimee - who, as of this point, had already given birth to her third baby. He had no reason to be protective especially when she was doing a damn good job at protecting her two children. Now, he had the chance to witness her protect Sacha — the boy that they named after Niki Lauda, who happened to be close to the Hearth sisters before he passed.

Like Tilly’s second pregnancy, Aimee and Charles welcomed their son to the world with wedding bands in their fingers. Pierre almost had a stroke watching Charles boast about his wife and their third son— but the final nail in the coffin had something to do with Sacha Leclerc having Pierre as a namesake. It wasn’t everyday Pierre got to pass out over such a small thing— but to be a namesake and named the godfather of the child? Yeah, Pierre Gasly would boast about him too.

Arriving back home was easy. However, according to the Leclerc children’s grid uncles, writing down the boy’s name into the banner (which said, “Welcome Baby Sacha Niki Pierre Phi—(with a gap) lippe”) was quite complicated. They had done a good job with the twins’ welcome banner two years ago, but according to them their handwriting got too sloppy.

Lando groaned quietly, “Don’t give them such a long name next time. Look at Max! His name is just Max.”

Max Verstappen reached for a balloon on the floor before hitting Lando with it, “It’s a Leclerc thing to give them six names, of course they have to have the long name.”

“Oi, don’t make fun of my name,” Charles called out from the kitchen, pouring his two boys some glasses of apple juice the toddlers babbled in protest against their Uncle Max’s response. “Even H and J aren’t happy with what you said. You’re not being kind to your own nephews the more you make fun of me.”

Pierre chuckled, sitting next to Aimee as she fed Sacha. The Frenchman said, “I’m so convinced that those two are Charles’ minis.”

“They are becoming more like their Da as days go on,” Aimee pulled her tank top’s strap back on and began to burp Sacha. “I’m so outnumbered as of this point.”

“Baby PJ’s going to be like his Oncle Pierre, I can tell you that much,” Pierre smugly said, reaching out to caress Sacha’s cheek as he said, “I’ll be his big mentor and I’ll make sure his Da doesn’t have much influence on him.”

“His name is Sacha, Pierre,” Aimee rolled her eyes. Pierre, from the moment he was told of Sacha’s full name, had decided that the baby’s nickname was PJ — or Pierre Junior. He hadn’t even held the baby yet when he walked in the room but he had already staked his claim and declared Sacha as a Mini Pierre. “And you said the same thing to Herb and Jules when you met them, look how they turned out. They’re so much like Charles.”

“We all have our trials and errors,” Pierre mumbled, “and you know what they say— third times a charm. Maybe PJ will be the same.”

2029 — Anthoine Charles Elio Perceval and Alain Marc Léonard Arthur Leclerc

“You have quite some swimmers,” Pierre cackled hysterically, slapping Charles in the chest as he tried to get his shit together instead of laughing at the fact that his best friend has five children under seven. He really couldn’t when he had to remind himself that Aimee had given birth to another set of twins just a day ago.

Charles began to curse at him in French, already exasperated after the long night that Aimee had. She had a labour that lasted longer than the previous pregnancies that she went through and it annoyed her more than it made things painful. Charles’ five year olds and his three year old son were fussing about not being around their mother for longer than two minutes and were already on the way to the hospital with their Mamé Pascale and Mamma Blanche, eager to meet their little brothers.

Pierre, Max, Lewis, and Mick were all standing in front of the glass window of the hospital nursery with Charles, eyes all trained on the twin boys that slept peacefully alongside other infants. Charles never wondered, but he was always surprised that Aimee was this strong to even give birth to five of their children— fuck that, she had given birth to five of his boys. He couldn’t even find himself to swear to his best friend when he was too busy loving the shit out of his newborn sons. His boys.

On the men’s left was Anthoine Charles Elio Perceval, whose personality was already showing by the way his resting face wrinkles to a scowl. Pierre couldn’t afford to cry over the tribute to their friend who passed years ago that all he did was laugh at his best friend’s experiences in fatherhood. He could just cry later on, the Frenchman told himself while he continued to pester Charles about his five sons.

Next to Anthoine’s bassinet was Alain Marc Léonard Arthur, whose soft smile had the men outside the nursery melting as he cooed softly and shifted around. Charles and the others could tell that out of the two of them, Alain would be the one to stop the Ferrari driver from ripping his hair out.

Anthoine would most likely give Charles a run for his money and raise hell with Hervé and Jules.

Alain would be the one to be as angelic as PJ — whose nickname stuck after Pierre continued to visit the boys every other week — and his mother Aimee, whose youthful glow remained despite entering her motherhood five years ago. Aimee wasn’t that outnumbered after all.

Max scoffed next to Pierre, “You wouldn’t be saying that if you hadn’t known anything about protection.”

“I’ve had practices,” Pierre winked at Max, making the Dutchman grimace. “Just no luck yet. It’s not as if I’m shaming Charles for it.”

“Five kids are better than none,” Lewis shrugged, still looking at the twins on the other side of the window. “How you’ve done it— fuckin’ beats me— but I sure as hell am jealous.”

“Never hurts to try for one more,” Charles chuckled. “You really think Lottie and Leland would be satisfied to have each other? It doesn’t really make a good playhouse squad.”

Lewis huffed, “They’ve already got your boys, Adelmo and Max’s Millie. I don’t think Steve would appreciate having to push out one more.”

“What about you, Max?” Mick joked before nudging the Dutchman with a smirk. “Opting for one more?”

“I’ve got a girl,” Max deadpanned, “and I’ve another one on the way. I’m not the kind to be greedy but I think Millia and Lila would make good big sisters to a little brother, don’t you think?”

“Are you two settling for the little girl’s name then?” Pierre asked. “Lila?”

“Poor Sylvie doesn’t even have a child named after her,” Mick laughed.

“She named our daughter Emilia,” Max defended himself, “I didn’t ask her to name the girl Emilia. She just said it’s too damn pretty.”

“Besides, Max isn’t really known for giving things good names,” Lewis teased. “Last I checked he wanted to call Emilia ‘Jane’.”

“Fuck off, Sylvie loves Jane Austen,” Max scoffed, shoving Lewis slightly when the British man laughed. “Besides, her name would have been Blue or something.”

“All jokes aside,” Lewis paused before clapping Charles on the back. “I’m pumped to see your bunch hanging out with their cousins. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Four months,” Max murmured. “It’s been four months for all of us.”

“I know,” Charles rolled his eyes. “H and Jules are looking forward to the Australian GP— they’ve been wanting to wreak havoc in the paddock since Abu Dhabi.”

“Those kids of yours need to lose that energy,” Pierre chuckled. “Have you ever taken them for a walk?”

“I always take them out for a walk,” Charles muttered. They just have a bad habit of running away from their Da. All the freaking time.

Speaking of.

“Da!”

“Look at those little devils go,” Pierre and the other men turned to the direction of the sound of running feet, hoisting little PJ up in his arms while the eldest Leclerc children ran towards their father, who had immediately lifted them up and pressed a kiss on their cheeks.

“Where are they? Where are they?” Hervé and Jules tried to keep their voices down, as they were told by their Mamé before they entered the hospital— begging their dad to show them the newborn babies as he pointed through the window.

“Oncle P,” Sacha reached for his godfather’s scruffy face as he murmured, “où est Maman?” Where’s mom?

“Elle dort comme un bébé,” She’s sleeping like a baby. Pierre whispered to the boy, now pointing to the babies as he continued, “Like your little brothers.”

“Mm? Mais il ne dort pas,” But he’s not sleeping. Sacha pointed at the baby to the right. “He’s no sleeping?”

“He looks like you, Da. Look,” Jules pointed and said in awe while grinned at his father. “And he does too!”

“He’s like me and Jules!” Hervé exclaimed in amusement. “They look the same, Da!”

“Yes they do,” Charles grinned, “because they’re like you two. Twins!”

“How come I don’t have twin?” Sacha asked, slumping against his Oncle Pierre. Max and Lewis turned to the boy and offered him a soft smile.

Mick then reached out, “It’s better that you don’t,” he joked, “you’re one of a kind, little PJ.”

“But he won’t have any driving partner for Ferrari?” Hervé protested in annoyance. Charles laughed at this. His sons were born to be Ferrari drivers, said once by Sebastian Vettel. They were born to a Ferrari driving father and a mother who worked for McLaren. Even the amount of papaya outfit never stopped the Leclerc children from aspiring to become the Prancing Horse’s next generation of drivers.

All but one. Sacha turned to look at his eldest brothers and said, “Me and L’land are driving for Mercedes!”

“No! You’re driving for ‘Rari, ‘member, PJ?”

“Mummy said I can drive for anyone,” Sacha pulled himself away from Pierre’s chest for a second to cross his arms, pouting at his eldest brothers. “I wan’ drive for ‘Cedes!”

Lewis looked at Charles with approval all over his face, obviously cocky at the statement made by the three year old.

“You don’t want to drive for Alpine like your Oncle P?” Pierre asked, goading his godson into joining his team.

“Hm, maybe! But I wanna be like Uncle Lew and Da!”

“Mon chou, you are like Da,” Charles grinned widely. “You and your brothers are mini Charles.”

Seeing his sons now — the two that he held in his arms, the toddler that Pierre had on his own pair and the other two that were just born yesterday — had him thinking about the importance of their names and their existence. Charles didn’t seem to think of himself as someone so sentimental, but his life with Aimee seemed to change his viewpoint. He valued his family more than he did before.

He didn’t care much about carrying the family name as long as he could remember where his sons’ names came from.

If his eldest asked, he was more than willing to tell them a story about how Hervé and Jules got their names from their late grandpa and uncle. If PJ asked, then Charles and Aimee would sit him down to tell the boy about Aimee’s Uncle Niki and great grandfather Philip Hearth. And someday when his youngest grew curious, he’d tell them all about Charles’ good friend Anthoine and a French driving legend named Alain Prost.

He’d sit them all down to let them know about the people that he and Aimee loved and how they loved to keep their memories alive through the boys.

But for now, Charles Leclerc was quite content with nurturing his boys with his wife. He was only looking forward to caring for Aimee Leclerc and their children. Then maybe someday, the Leclerc bunch would grow to care for their mother too.

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proxima-writes · 10 months

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the last great american dynasty

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6.8k (whoops)

summary:

Joel Miller has loved the historic Victorian home in his neighborhood since the first time he laid eyes on it. When the elderly owner passes, he thinks he might get his chance to finally buy it and fix it up.

He doesn’t expect to find you, the granddaughter of the previous owner and trustee of her estate, standing in the way of his dream

author's note:

inspo board this work is inspired by taylor swift's song "the last great american dynasty" and is part of the folklore album anthology! if you enjoy, please consider reblogging/commenting and make sure to check out the other works by the amazing collaborators on this project.

tags/warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, work contains journal entries as part of the plot, porn with plot, pre-outbreak!joel, grandma is a named OFC, sassy reader, dirty talk, teasing, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paint as a flirting mechanism, mild enemies to lovers, pet names. let me know if there are any missing!

August 20, 1948

I have arrived in Texas. I am uncertain where to go or what to do. For so long I’ve answered only to George, but now I am my own woman and the world before me has suddenly become much bigger, seemingly overnight.

I just hope it will be good for me.

-R

PRESENT DAY

If there’s one thing you never expected, it’s to inherit a mansion from a grandmother that you’ve never spoken to. As far as you were aware that kind of thing only happened in movies, so receiving a phone call from an estate lawyer that had been trying to locate you for a whole year since this mystery woman’s passing was a complete shock.

Now you find yourself with a car full of your belongings driving cross country to a sleepy suburb of Austin, Texas. The first stop is the lawyer’s office, where a secretary eyes you warily as you sit in the lobby of the lush office suite, fingers toying with a loose thread on the t-shirt you’d been wearing for the last eight-hour leg of your road trip.

A voice calls your name from a door just past the secretary’s desk, an older man with white hair and a deeply wrinkled face smiling kindly at you. You stand, shaking his hand as you pass by him into his office. He gestures to the wingback chairs that face his impressive dark wood desk. You take in the diplomas on the wall and the floor to ceiling bookshelves lined with thick, leather bound tomes.

“I appreciate you comin’ all the way out here so quickly. You were quite the tough one to find,” the man says with a chuckle. He pulls out a thick envelope, cream colored with swooping, swirling handwriting across the front reading your name. “Your grandmother was a dear friend of mine. She established a trust in your name not long after you were born.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m still a little confused. I didn’t even know I had a grandmother,” you admit quietly. He nods solemnly.

“She never told me all the details, but there had been a falling out between her and her daughter. They kept their distance after that.” When you don’t say anything, mind too busy racing with the questions that you suppose only your mom can answer now, he continues. “Would you like the review the details of the trust?”

“Um, sure. I guess that’s why I’m here, after all.”

He slips a piece of paper from the folder, sliding it across the desk. The same swirling handwriting fills the page.

My Dearest,

You may not know me, but I’ve watched you grow in photographs and letters since you were born. You mean the world to me, even if I could not fit in the world that your mother created for you. I respected that choice, hurt though it may have. She had her own path to forge, just as I did, and just as you will. I am eternally grateful for the parts of her life she did share after she left.

In the event of my passing, I leave my estate to you in its entirety. I built my true happiness in those walls, and I hope you can do the same.

-R

You read the letter twice, eyes stinging with tears. A tissue box slides across the desk, and you pluck two sheets out gratefully.

“In this envelope are the more official documents. The deed transfer that will need your signature, beneficiary statements for her banking and savings accounts, things like that. My office will handle all the paperwork filing,” the man says. A few more forms are laid out on the desk, and you lean forward to read them.

“Holy shit,” you snap, eyes wide as you swipe the beneficiary statement from the wood. “There must be too many zeroes in this, right? Or a rogue comma? That can’t be the right amount.”

“I assure you that’s the correct amount,” he says with a laugh. “And if you’ll sign down there, it’ll be transferred to your name and designated account.”

Your mouth goes dry as you read through the rest of the documents. In addition to the sizeable amount of money about to hit your bank account, there’s a five-bedroom house being transferred into your name, as well as a safety deposit box. You sign each form where directed, sliding them back over to the lawyer.

“I believe this is yours,” he says, holding a house key out to you. He drops it into your open palm. “Good luck.”

“I wish they would just put that place up for sale already,” Joel grumbles from the passenger seat of his brother’s truck as they drive by the out-of-place 1920s Victorian home on their way to a job site.

“You’ve been sayin’ that for the past year since that poor old woman passed,” Tommy says with a laugh. “Give it up, brother. Your dream house is just goin’ to rot away before your eyes.”

“Don’t you say that,” Joel replies. He doesn’t need Tommy speaking his fear into the universe.

The house has already been showing signs of falling apart in the last ten years Joel has lived in the neighborhood. The roof needs work, the shutters need replacing, the lawn is overgrown, and there’s a sizable hole in the wrap-around porch that seems to get bigger over time.

He’s wanted that house since the first time he saw it while he was house hunting ten years ago, a then three-year-old Sarah on his hip as he toured a nice little house that was available in the neighborhood at the time. While the home he’s built with his daughter through long days of hard work is nothing to scoff at, he’s always dreamed of something with more character and story.

He just hopes he’ll get his chance.

You stare up at the old house in front of you, shielding your eyes from the late afternoon sun. It’s a beautiful house, though there’s no denying its seen better days – two stories with large bay windows on both floors, white wood siding and chipped red shutters that are clinging to their rusty hardware, a large wrap around porch that has vines encroaching on the banisters, a lawn overgrown with weeds. You tentatively climb the steps of the porch, peeking nervously into the large hole in the wood to the left of the front door.

“That’s private property,” a gruff voice calls out, making you jump. You turn, finding a man standing on the sidewalk with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You ain’t supposed to be snoopin’ around.”

“Actually—”

“Why don’t you just head home, sweetheart, and I won’t have to call the cops,” the stranger says, cutting you off. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“This is—”

The man huffs, arms dropping as he digs in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a cell phone. “Seriously, I’ll give you until the count of three. We don’t need trouble around this neighborhood, alright?”

The nerve, you think, narrowing your eyes at the man. Since he clearly doesn’t want to hear what you have to say, you decide to take a different route. You reach into the pocket of your shorts, pulling out the key that the lawyer had given you earlier that day. You take a sideways step closer to the door, keeping your eyes on the man as you pointedly insert the key into the lock and opening the heavy wood door.

His mouth drops open in surprise and you smile at him.

“You were saying?”

Joel had seen the car parked in the driveway of the empty house when Tommy dropped him off after work. He’d quickly checked on Sarah, newly thirteen and fiercely independent, finding her working on her homework at the kitchen table, before making his way across the street.

He hadn’t expected to find a gorgeous woman snooping around the old house, curves hugged in denim shorts and a tank top that made his mouth water. He also hadn’t expected the woman to produce a key from the pocket of those sinfully tight shorts.

“You were saying?” You ask, lips curved in a smirk and eyebrows raised at him. When Joel doesn’t immediately reply, still too stunned that you have access to the house, you turn and walk through the door, shutting it behind you.

He finally shakes himself of his shock, bounding up the steps and knocking on the door. You pull it back open.

“I’ll buy it from you,” Joel says immediately.

“Excuse me?” You reply, your hands moving to your hips. “It’s not for sale.”

“Come on, what’s a girl like you need all this space for?” Your mouth drops open, pretty lips stretched wide in surprise and Joel struggles to keep his thoughts from drifting to sinful places.

“A girl like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re young, that’s all. You don’t need a house this big and this much of a project!”

“What makes you think I don’t have a big ol’ family I’m moving in here? Four kids and a loving husband?!”

Joel blinks. “You got four kids and a lovin’ husband?”

“No, but that’s besides the point.” You roll your eyes, jabbing a finger at his chest. “It’s not for sale. Now get off my porch before I call the cops on you.”

With that final word, the door shuts in Joel’s face again, the sound of your retreating footsteps signaling the end of the discussion.

November 12, 1948

There’s a gentleman who comes into the diner every Tuesday. He always sits in one of my booths, with his perfect hair and suit and handsome face distracting me until he leaves. Some of the other waitresses try talking to him but he doesn’t pay them any mind. They’ve whispered to me before that he comes from money - oil, or something, not that it matters.

His name is William, and I think he’s trying to steal my heart.

-R

“So, let me get this straight. First, you threatened to call the police on this woman. Then, rather than introducin’ yourself or welcomin’ her to the neighborhood or even apologizin’, you just go straight to tellin’ her she doesn’t need a house that big and that you wanna buy it from her. Did I hear that right?” Tommy says, watching Joel as he throws together dinner the following evening.

“Yeah, that sums it up,” Sarah says. Joel huffs.

“Well, when you put it like that.” He sips his beer as his daughter and brother share a look. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothin’,” they say in tandem. Joel narrows his eyes as Sarah breaks out in giggles. Tommy stands, heading to Joel’s pantry and rifling through the shelves until he finds an unopened bottle of whiskey buried in the back.

“What are you doin’ with that?” Joel asks.

“Welcomin’ your new neighbor like the gentleman I am. Sarah, watch the pasta while I show your dad how it’s done,” Tommy replies, heading for the front door, Joel trailing behind him.

Tommy crosses the street with quick steps, eyeing the porch dubiously as he knocks on the door. Joel stands beside him, hands shoved in his pockets as he curses under his breath about his brother’s stupid antics.

You open the door, dressed this time in a pretty sundress that makes Joel’s mouth go dry. Tommy flashes you a grin and Joel can’t help the annoyance he feels when his brother’s eyes trail over your body.

“Hey there! I’m Tommy Miller, you may have met my dumbass brother over here the other day. I’m certain he didn’t make the best impression, so I just wanted to come over and welcome you to the neighborhood,” he says, holding the whiskey out to you.

You introduce yourself, ignoring Joel. “Thank you so much, Tommy. Would you like to come in?”

“Sure thing,” his traitorous brother replies, stepping over the threshold. When Joel makes a move to follow, you give him a pointed look before shutting the door in his face.

“You want a beer, Tommy?” You ask the handsome man in your kitchen. You can’t help but be impressed by the genetics of the Miller family, both men tall and tan and handsome as hell. Sure, one of them could use a lesson on manners, but you’ll admit that since your confrontation your mind has drifted to thoughts of brown eyes and soft dark hair that belong to the brother you left on the porch out of spite.

“Yes, please,” Tommy says politely. You open the dated refrigerator and grab two beer bottles, popping the caps against the countertop and handing one to him. “This sure is a nice place.”

“Thanks. I just inherited it from my grandma,” you explain. “It’s a little…dated.”

He chuckles. “We call it ‘character’ in contractin’.”

“That what you guys do, then? Contracting?”

“Sure is. Miller Brothers Contracting and Construction.” Tommy scratches at the label on the bottle before saying, “Look, I know my brother can come off the wrong way. He didn’t get the social genes. But he’s a good guy, and he’s loved this house since the first time he saw it. Always wanted to buy it, fix it up, raise his little girl here. Maybe add to his family one day.”

You look around the rundown kitchen. You’ve only been here a day and you know you’ve got your work cut out for you. The electrical and plumbing are all outdated, the appliances need replacing, the floors need to be refurbished, and that’s just the first floor. You could use some help with it all, and maybe the grumpy contractor next door who cares about the house could help you with it all.

“I appreciate that he loves the house but…I never met my grandma. Never even knew who she was or that she was even alive, and it’s the only connection I have to her. I don’t know if this is going to be my forever but…I want to at least give it a shot.”

Tommy smiles. “We could help with that.”

It feels like ages before Tommy’s stepping back out onto the porch, a beer in his hand that makes Joel frown.

“Y’all were havin’ drinks while I sat out here like an ass?” He asks incredulously. Tommy throws an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

“Yes, and if you don’t quit your whinin’ I’m not goin’ to tell you about our lovely conversation,” the younger man says as he walks with Joel back to his house.

In the kitchen, Sarah is pouring the pasta sauce and ground beef over the noodles. Joel takes over and waves her away, mumbling his thanks as he mixes the ingredients together. He sets up two plates, setting one in front of his daughter and sitting down with the other. Tommy makes an affronted sound before fixing his own plate.

“So?” Joel asks. Tommy slurps at his food.

“Was the lady nice?” Sarah asks.

“No,” Joel replies at the same time Tommy says, “Yes.”

Joel glares at Tommy. “You gonna tell me what she said or what?”

“She ain’t sellin’,” Tommy finally says. “But, she wants to fix the place up. Offered our services so you could get your grubby fuckin’ hands in there.”

“Language,” Joel says, eyes flicking to Sarah. The girl rolls her eyes. “Really?”

“Yep. Better start callin’ the guys. From what I saw we’re dealin’ with electrical from the 50s, plumbing from who knows when, not to mention the HVAC and roof will need to be upgraded, too.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin before grinning at Joel. “You up for the challenge?”

“Hell yeah.”

August 23, 1949

William and I have just been married.

I know, I know. I can’t believe it either. But he is truly the light of my life.

The wedding was charming, if a little gauche. I’m still not abreast of all these new societal expectations that surround a man like William, but I’m willing to try. Today he will be taking me around to view houses in the more opulent neighborhoods, the type of homes I used to gawk at but one of them will be mine.

I must be dreaming.

-R

Joel and Tommy start working on the house right away. Every day there’s a line of pick-up trucks parked on the curb and the sounds of construction start early in the morning and continue into the late evening. The electrician and plumber come through first, updating the wiring and pipes through the whole house. The roofers and HVAC come through next, replacing the crumbling shingles and dated central unit with a split system for each level of the house.

It’s not until the big projects are done that you get to have fun with the place, which is how you found yourself methodically painting the front door a muted lime green early one morning.

“What do you think you’re doin’?”

You sigh. Despite Tommy’s assurances that Joel is a great guy beneath the grumpy control freak exterior, you’ve continued to only get the side of the man that grates your nerves.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m painting the door.”

“You can’t paint the door that color,” Joel says, heavy footsteps stomping up your newly repaired porch.

“Says who?” You retort. You smear another stroke of paint over the sanded wood.

“Me, for one. The historical society, for two.” He pulls the brush from your hand and holds it above his head and out of your reach. The movement drags his shirt up, exposing a strip of tan belly with a trail of dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. “Why are you bein’ a pain in the ass?”

“I was put on this earth simply to make your life more difficult, Joel Miller. Isn’t that obvious?” You reply sarcastically. He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like you got that right. “What are you even doing over here? It’s Saturday.”

“We’re goin’ to the store. You gotta start pickin’ stuff out for the bathrooms and kitchen,” he says, tossing the paint brush into the tray. “And then we’re gettin’ a new color to cover this up.”

Joel leaves the porch and you follow behind him to the black pick-up truck idling by the sidewalk. He opens the passenger door for you and you raise your eyebrow at the gesture but climb inside.

January 3, 1950

Our New Year’s party is the talk of the town. There were so many people in the house I began to lose count. William had so much champagne ordered I swear we could fill an entire swimming pool with it all.

The ladies at the club have already begun to ask when we would host our next event. I can’t wait to plan another.

-R

“Can you please focus?” Joel begs, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He’s laid out three tile combinations, one for each bathroom in the home, and he needs you to look at them but you keep getting distracted.

“You’re no fun,” you huff. You examine the tiles, pointing to a turquoise blue one he’s picked for the shower in the master. “I love that.”

He looks at you in surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. She can be reasoned with.”

You giggle and Joel can’t help the smile it prompts from him, the sound of your laugh so sweet compared to your sharp tongue.

“I like the white and blue combinations for upstairs, but in that powder room I want a pink theme,” you tell him. Your eyes search the displays, landing on a blush pink glass subway tile option. “Like this!”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Joel replies without thinking, taking the sample from you and comparing it next to the floor tile he’d chosen for that bathroom. When he glances at you, you’re giving him a confused look. “What?”

“Nothing,” you reply, shaking your head. “What about the kitchen?”

“What were you thinking for in there?”

“Green cabinets. White and black backsplash, the kind with the little hexagons that look like flowers. I gotta pick out appliances now that the electrical can sustain newer ones, too.” You pause. “And how do you feel about wallpaper?”

“It’s the devil,” Joel replies.

Your grin is downright mischievous. “Excellent.”

February 2, 1956

William had a heart attack. It scared me so badly that I haven’t let him out of my sight since. The doctor said he’s been working too hard, drinking too much, and not sleeping enough. Maybe the parties have started to be too much for him.

I’ve been feeling unlike myself. Tired, nauseated. Hopefully my heart isn’t troubled, too.

-R

Joel places a hefty order for all the items you’ve picked out today from nearly every aisle of the store - tile for the bathrooms and kitchen, vanities and plumbing fixtures, countertops, lighting, and appliances. While he’s preoccupied with calculations and measurements and pricing things out, you pick out paint and wallpaper for the projects you’ll be able to do on your own.

He finds you a while later, a cart full of paint buckets and supplies. To your surprise, he grins.

“More paint, huh? You pick a new one for the door?” He asks. You smile back at him, butterflies erupting in your tummy.

“Yep. Does navy blue suffice, your highness? I thought we could paint the trim the same color.”

Joel nods. “Good choice. Look, I’ve kept you here so long for all the orderin’. You wanna get lunch?”

“Careful, Joel. I’m like a stray cat - once you start feeding me, I might never leave,” you reply with a laugh. You push your heavy cart of paint towards the exit.

You miss the soft smile he gives to your retreating figure.

September 23, 1956

Our daughter is here. She’s the sweetest little thing, though she can screech like a banshee when she sees fit. William is so besotted, he keeps looking between the two of us with stars in his eyes like he can’t believe how lucky he is.

I love them both with my whole heart and soul.

-R

Joel takes you to a retro family diner with black-and-white checkerboard flooring and red vinyl accents with a vintage jukebox in the corner. You’re delighted by the themed menu, eyes immediately zeroing in on the classic malt shakes and french fries.

Over lunch, Joel actually opens up to you. He tells you about going into construction right out of high school and dragging Tommy into it when he’d gotten back from serving his tour with the Army. He talks about his daughter, Sarah, and you can’t help the smile that stretches your lips as you watch his eyes light up while he talks about his little girl. She’s at a sleepover this weekend, which gave him the extra time to visit the home improvement store this morning.

In turn, you tell him about getting the call from the lawyer one afternoon that changed your life forever. How you’d packed up everything you owned and driven across the country to find out that you had a grandmother that your mother never told you about that left you her entire estate.

“Wow. That’s…wow,” Joel says when you’ve paused to take a sip of your chocolate shake.

“Excuse me?” A voice asks. You both look up at the elderly woman dressed in a t-shirt with the restaurant’s logo and pressed slacks. She smiles. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and ever since you sat down I’ve been wrackin’ my brain tryin’ to place your face and it’s just hit me.”

She holds out a framed black and white photo of six waitresses standing beneath the same sign that’s still out front, all of them grinning at the camera. There’s one face, however, that looks familiar despite you never having seen her.

“Her name was Rebecca. We used to work together. That’s me, right there,” she says, pointing to the girl standing to the woman’s left. “Rolled up to town at eighteen, fresh off a divorce and hardly a penny to her name. My daddy, god rest his soul, he owned the restaurant and gave her a job when she’d come through lookin’ for work.”

“Wow,” you murmur. “This is insane. Do you have any other pictures?”

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “‘Fraid not, darlin’. Just the one. But I know she kept a lot of journals. Was always scribblin’ in one and spent what little extra cash she had makin’ sure she had a new notebook ready. Maybe they’re still around?”

July 16, 1958

William…

William is gone. My light, my love, my world. The doctor said his heart just…stopped. In his sleep, right beside me.

I have to continue to live with a hole in my own heart, the piece that William stole years ago gone with him.

But I have to be strong for our daughter. Our brave girl, my little bird.

-R

When Joel brings you back to the house, you stare up at the facade, wondering if the journals the woman had spoken about could still be inside. Lost in thought, your eyes land on the little window that sits above the bay windows on the second floor, where the master bedroom is. You’ve been sleeping in that room for months now and you know there’s no window there that you can see from the inside.

“Hey, Joel?” You call out, eyes still fixed on the little window like it might disappear if you look away. “This place is only two stories. How come there’s a window there?”

He looks up at the roof. “Huh. Might be decorative?”

“Or it might be a secret room,” you tell him.

“Okay, Sherlock. Let’s go see.”

You lead him upstairs to the master bedroom, most of your grandma’s furniture still present save for the bed that you replaced upon arriving. You stare up at the ceiling, but it’s smooth - no trap doors to be found.

“If I were a secret door, where would I hide?” You ask.

Joel, who’d been poking his head into the walk-in closet, replies, “Probably the closet.”

There’s a creak of old hinges as Joel reaches up high and tugs the brass pull handle fixed in the ceiling. A descending ladder falls to the ground and you both stare at each other in surprise.

“I’ll go grab a flashlight,” Joel offers, sprinting from the room. You stare up at the hole in the ceiling, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

He returns quickly. “I’ll go up first.”

“Ever the gentleman,” you tease, watching as he ascends the ladder, your eyes shamelessly fixed to his ass as he climbs. You hear the click of the flashlight and see the sweep of the beam through the opening in the ceiling. “Anything?”

“Lots of suitcases. Hang on, let me grab one of the small ones,” he calls down. There’s the sound of something being dragged across the floor before he’s slowly lowering a leather suitcase into your hands.

It’s surprisingly heavy and you drag it by the handle to the bedroom, kneeling on the ground to pop the latches and open the dusty lid. Inside are stacks of leather bound notebooks, edges of the pages yellow with age.

“I’ll be damned,” Joel says, wiping his palms against his jeans. “We found the journals.”

Joel drags the suitcase downstairs, setting it in the living room for you while you order pizza and open a bottle of wine for the occasion. You sit beside each other on the couch and he hands you a journal that you carefully open.

May 17, 1974

We had another argument last night. She claims that I’ve been too overbearing, too protective, too stifling, but what else is a mother meant to do?

-R

May 18, 1974

Her bed was cold and empty this morning. Her piggy bank smashed to bits on the floor and her drawers cleared. Despite my tight grip, my little bird has flown away.

It appears that history does repeat itself. Imagine that.

-R

“Holy shit,” you say, sitting back on the couch with your glass of wine in one hand and one of your grandma’s journals in the other. “She ran away.”

“Who did?” Joel asks, biting into a slice of pizza.

“My mom. She just…packed up and disappeared.” You glance at him. “Guess that’s why I never knew about her.”

“Maybe you should stop uncoverin’ dark family secrets for the night,” Joel suggests. “You know, the dining room could stand to be painted.”

You glance over to the room in question. Joel must have set down the drop cloth on the floor while you’d been engrossed in your discovery.

“Sure. Why not,” you acquiesce.

October 29, 1976

I’ve received an envelope of photographs in the mail, pictures of my daughter holding a little baby. She’s written notes on the back of each one. I’m a grandmother.

My daughter looks happy. Healthy. That’s all I can ask. She didn’t provide a return address.

As for the baby…I love her so much. She takes my breath away. I keep one of the photos on me at all times.

-R

Joel turns on the radio while he works, humming along to the classic rock station selections. He’s been working on painting the wall near the wood molding while he left you with a paint roller to cover the middle of the wall. He looks up at you occasionally, admiring the way your muscles work as you wash the wall with color.

You must sense that he’s watching, turning your head over your shoulder and looking at him curiously. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he says. You smile at him, setting the roller in the tray. He can’t help but look at your ass in your tight leggings as you bend over.

You straighten up, walking over to him. There’s a glint in your eye that has Joel on high alert.

“You got a little something on your face,” you tell him.

“No, I don’t,” he counters. He’s a master at painting. He knows damn well he doesn’t have a drop on him.

“Yeah, you do,” you argue. You reach out, and your fingers smooth across his forehead. “Right there!”

Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise and he lets out a bark of laughter, bringing his fingers up to his forehead. When he pulls his hand away, they’re stained blue and you’re grinning at him like a mad woman.

“Yeah? Well, you got some right—“ He smears his paintbrush across your chest and you try to step back, but it’s too late. “—there,” he finishes.

You rush back to the paint tray and dip your hands in the liquid, brandishing your palms like weapons. He starts to advance on you, smirking as you back up.

“Stay back,” you command. Joel laughs, dodging your swinging arms as he charges, dropping low to press a shoulder into your belly, dragging you down to the ground in a heap of limbs.

He presses his body to yours as he reaches an arm out to the paint tray, covering his own hand in paint. Your eyes go wide and you squirm beneath him, your paint covered palms reaching up under his shirt to press the cold liquid to his ribs. He flinches away, giving you enough room to scramble out from under him.

Joel grabs your arm, paint smearing on your skin as he tugs you back down. You wrestle together, paint getting everywhere as he lets you straddle his waist. His hands grip your hips, fingers pressing tightly as he stares up into your face.

“You win,” he murmurs, voice low. Your lashes flutter, hips canting over the obvious bulge in his jeans. He groans, hands urging you to do it again.

“What’s my prize?”

Joel slips his fingers beneath the hem of your tank top, dragging the paint stained material up and over your head and tossing it aside. His gaze burns across your newly exposed skin.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He says, a hand sliding up your belly to palm one of your breasts. Your head drops back as you moan.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply. He chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest as his eyes grow darker, his gaze more heated. “Come on, Miller. What’s my prize?”

With a growl Joel sits up, wrapping an arm around your low back and twisting your bodies until you’re on your back, staring up at him as his lips stretch in a devious smirk. His fingers curl into the waistband of your leggings, sliding the fabric down your legs. His touch paints your skin blue as he does.

His hands press your thighs apart, opening you up. Your cheeks heat as he stares down at you like he’s trying to commit every curve of you to his memory. Finally, he leans in and you can feel his breath ghosting over your heated flesh.

Joel’s tongue traces through your slick folds, a broad stroke that has you gasping and arching your back. He hums against your sensitive flesh as he repeats the languid motion, his stubble catching on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

You reach your hands down to tangle in his hair, paint catching on the strands as you tug and pull. He groans against you, tongue moving faster as he circles your clit before pulling it between his lips. A hand leaves your thigh, the one not coated in paint, and two thick fingers press to your entrance, sliding inside of you as you gasp out Joel’s name.

“Christ,” he groans as he presses in deep before withdrawing slowly, curling his digits against your front wall, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, pretty girl. That for me?”

“Uh huh,” you reply, breathless as you work your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. Joel watches you, his lips and chin shiny from his efforts. “Joel, please!”

“Please what?” His hand moves faster, fingers pressing harder as his lips spread in a lascivious grin that makes your toes curl. “Come on, baby, ask me real nice and I’ll give you anythin’. Ain’t that right? You know damn well you’ve had me wrapped around your sassy little finger since the moment we met, don’t you?”

You whine, nodding your head quickly. “Knew you were a glutton for punishment.”

“Could say that again,” he says, chuckling as he lands a smash to the outside of your thigh with his free hand. “Now, come on, baby. Follow directions. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna cum, Joel. Please!”

“Good girl,” he growls, lowering his lips to your pussy to lick at your clit. He hums as he lavishes the sensitive bud with attention and it’s the final push you need over the razor's edge you’d been teetering on since he started. You press your thighs against his head as your nerves light up and your muscles go tight with pleasure, his movements slowing as he works you through your release.

Your muscles go limp, head dropping back to the floor with a thunk. Joel sits up, crawling up your body and trailing kisses across your tummy and chest in the patches of skin not covered by paint. He grips your chin, holding you steady as his lips press to yours in a kiss so deep you worry you’re at risk of drowning.

Your hands fumble with his belt, pulling the leather free of the loops in a frenzy. He stands quickly, freeing himself of his jeans and boxers in one motion before reaching behind his head to tug his shirt off while you admire his labor-toned body.

Joel drops to his knees, pressing his hips to yours and dragging the thick head of his cock through your sensitive pussy, bumping your clit and making you both groan in tandem. His forearms rest on the floor beside your head as he teases you like this, slow drags of his length through your wetness, the tantalizing catch of him at your aching hole. You tilt your hips slightly, hoping he gets the hint, and he chuckles.

“You know the drill, baby,” he says, breathless with his own desire. “Just say the word.”

“Fuck me, Joel, please.”

His cock slips inside of you with little resistance, the stretch of him making you gasp. His eyes remain fixed to yours as he bottoms out and you smile up at him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

Joel gives a small, experimental thrust that makes your eyes roll back with pleasure. He does it again, a sharper snap of his hips making you cry out and dig your nails into his shoulder. He builds his own rhythm, one that has your hips chasing his on every pull from your body, one that has you chanting his name and staring up at him like he’s a god and you’re simply a sacrifice on his altar.

He sits back on his heels, the angle changing as your hips get lifted onto his lap. His hands wrap around your waist, fingertips pressing tightly to your ribs as he uses your body for his pleasure, pounding into you roughly.

“Cum for me again,” he demands, bringing a thumb to your clit in quick circles. “Come on, sweetheart, want you to cum on my cock. Was so pretty on my fingers.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the near overstimulation but you nod, wanting to give this man whatever he wants if it means he’ll keep touching you, holding you, looking at you.

You cum again with a shout of his name and he groans, deep and visceral as he presses in deep, holding your hips to his as his cock pulses inside of you with his release.

Joel slowly lowers your hips to the ground, withdrawing from your body as he does. He flops gracelessly to the floor beside you, sweat damp chest heaving with exertion. His head turns to yours, grin wide and eyes bright.

“You’re covered in paint,” he comments, reaching out to run his hand across a streak on your collarbone.

“So are you,” you reply, mimicking the gesture against his ribs.

“What do you say to a shower?”

You smirk at him before jumping up and racing to the doorway.

“I’d say last one there doesn’t get the hot water!”

You can hear his curse as you rush up the stairs, making it halfway before a strong arm wraps around you and stops you in your tracks, your laughter echoing through the house.

June 27, 1993

The neighborhood has changed so vastly. Much of the older homes have been torn down and replaced with less handsome architecture. The residents grow younger while I continue to age. Just last week a handsome young man and his darling daughter moved in down the street. He looks exhausted. I remember those days.

Not all the neighbors are lovely. Harold next door has an annoying dog that barks at all hours. He prances her around like a show pony, when she’s just a yappy little creature.

-R

ONE YEAR LATER

The house is finally finished. All the tile has been laid, everything has been painted, appliances delivered, holes repaired, fixtures installed, and wallpaper glued. You go downstairs for coffee in the morning, you take it to the parlor room you’ve made into a study. Floor to ceiling bookshelves display every journal you’d unearthed from the hiding place in the attic, each one read through cover to cover.

When you finally told your mom about what you’d been up to, her surprise and hurt could be felt even through the phone. You mailed one of her mother’s journals to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said the next time you spoke. “So much time had passed and I didn’t know how to fix what I’d broken.”

You don’t begrudge her decisions. Your grandma left you her story, and through that you’ve been able to know her.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs precede Joel’s appearance in the study, his hair messy from sleep and his eyes half shut. He drops beside you on the couch, grabbing your coffee from your hands and taking a sip of it.

“Is it everything you’ve always wanted?” You ask him, tilting your head to his shoulder. You still remember the way he’d been desperate to buy the house from you and you laugh at how the world works, given that he now wakes up in bed beside you and is tasked with the lawn maintenance every weekend. He presses a kiss to your head.

“It’s even better.”

June 29, 1993

I don’t think the dog will be bothering the neighborhood again anytime soon.

Turns out he doesn’t hold as much pride for the dog when she’s been dyed lime green.

Imagine that.

-R

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mrsevans90 · 5 months

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Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 1

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller

Word Count: 3,502

Warnings: Abused animal, domestic violence, stalker ex-boyfriend, mention of nightmares/PTSD, smut in future chapters.

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A big thanks to @shellyshellshell for encouraging me to write this story!

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

*Syverson POV*

It’s certainly difficult to leave the cool air conditioning of the house to head to work when the weather forecast predicts another scorching Texas summer day where the humidity makes your clothes immediately stick to your skin. It’s nothing I’m not familiar with having grown up in Texas my whole life and then spending two tours in the desert before returning home. You’d think I would move somewhere cold, but the south is all I know. I certainly couldn’t leave Nana and Pawpaw either. After finishing my last tour, I came home and bought an empty house in disrepair and spent the better part of a year ripping it to studs and rebuilding. I was really struggling with returning to civvy life after spending the majority last ten years in the sand pit. Originally, I had just planned to fix up my house so that it was comfortable and hell, livable, until I discovered what I wanted to do outside of the army. Remodeling my house taught me that I really enjoyed working with my hands and building things. I guess you could say taking a broken, outdated home and making it beautiful and functional again really resonated with me on a deeper level. I was lucky to leave the army with only some mild PTSD and nightmares. Hell, I had all of my limbs and was alive which is more that I can say I deserve. Staying busy helped me cope so after working towards getting my contractor’s license, I decided to start my own company, Syverson Contracting. It was still a small operation with only about seven employees including my cousin Alex, but we got by just fine.

After getting ready for the day and sipping on my cup of coffee on the porch with my German Shepard, Aika, I put my boots on and headed to the truck for the first day on a new worksite. Like usual, I called Nana on the way to work to check in. My grandparents lived about fifteen minutes away from me, but I still called to check on them every morning and make sure they’re doing alright. As I drive, Nana starts chattering all about how her friend’s granddaughter is single and I should be looking for a good woman to marry and settle down with. We’ve had this conversation umpteen times before but I can’t seem to get it through my stubborn grandmother’s head that it’s useless. I’ve been burned by too many women in the past as a young and naïve man and I just don’t want to bring someone into all of my problems. Yes, I go to therapy at the VA to help with my PTSD but it still doesn’t stop the sleepless nights and nightmares that immediately send me back to wartime in the desert. As much as I’ve always wanted a partner in life; a beautiful wife to come home to, a couple of kids and the proverbial picket fence, I just don’t see how it could be in the cards for me now. I’m too fucked up. Nana of course would never understand and I certainly don’t want to drag her into it so I just listen to her drone on and on about some chick named Susanne and then tell her that I’ve got to go.

After speaking with my team and giving instructions for the job, I went to Alex’s flatbed truck and we all started unloading the materials. The home we were working on was owned by a young couple expecting their first child. It was a simple job, replacing the flooring throughout the house, building a shed in the backyard for lawnmowers and other garden tools, and repairing some dry rotting siding near the fireplace. The great thing about my team is that I could get them started and didn’t have to micromanage them. After several hours in the walloping sun, we all broke for lunch. After cooling off and reenergizing at the local Wendy’s, we all headed back to the house to continue our work. Since I was used to being in these weather conditions, I decided to head out toward the edge of the woods in the backyard and start building the garden shed. When I went to lift up some of the plywood, I was beyond shocked to find a shaking and filthy little tan dog who appeared to be injured and terrified.

“Shit. Heya buddy, I ain’t gonna hurt you. It’s alright pal. Let me take a look atcha.”

As a true animal lover, I was immediately enraged. Someone had intentionally abused this poor defenseless animal and either abandoned it or it was able to limp off to the woods. The little male pup, couldn’t be older than a year was bleeding from four different wounds on the side of his sand colored body. The second I scooped him up, he was whining and cowering in fear.

“You’re alright little man. I’m gonna take care of ya. Let’s see if we can getcha to a vet.” I call Aika’s vet office and unfortunately there is no answer. Janet must still be taking her lunch break.

I see Alex walking outside to grab some of the flooring to bring inside and yell for him to come here.

“What’s up, Sy?”

“Just found this little guy beat to hell by the woods.”

“Jesus. What kind of bastards do that to an animal?” Alex ponders as he was looking at the injured and sick animal.

“I’m gonna see if Dr. Robinson’s in. Hopefully I can get the little feller in today but I need you to run the site until I get back.”

“No problem, Sy. Didn’t she just have another kid? I’m not sure if she’ll be there but I know Jessica said something about them hiring a new vet so I’m sure someone will be around.”

The veterinarian’s office was only a fifteen-minute drive from the site so after giving the poor thing some water, I loaded him up and drove there.

On the ride over, he seemed to relax a bit and not shake as bad as he had been and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Oh Austin! How good to see you! Did your Aika have an appointment?”

“Hey Ms. Janet, is Dr. Robinson in? It’s not for Aika. I found this guy by the woods and he’s been hurt something awful.”

“Heavens to Betsy! Poor little angel! Elizabeth is out on maternity leave but we’ve hired a new vet. You'll like her. Let me check with her and see if she can work you in.”

“Yes ma’am.”

A few moments later, Janet scurries back and directs me to an exam room with the little guy. I guess I could have just dropped him off and went back to work but my heart just couldn’t stand it. Hell, I fought to bring back Aika from Afghanistan because of how quickly I fell in love with her and she’s been the best dog ever. I can’t imagine leaving this little guy to potentially die from his injuries without a friendly face nearby.

*Knock Knock!*

The door opens and my heart stops at the same time. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen enters while carrying a clipboard and a stethoscope. She’s a petite little thing only reaching to my shoulders with long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and crystal blue eyes that feel like they see straight to my soul.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Emma Miller. I hear you found this little guy in the woods?”

“Uh, yes ma’am. Hello there, I’m Austin Syverson. Yeah, I uh, I found him and he looks like he’s been abused.”

She smiles brightly and shakes my hand when I introduce myself and the moment I touch her soft skin, I can hardly think straight. Why the hell do I feel so jittery? It’s just a beautiful woman Sy. Get ahold of yourself. I tell her exactly what I found and she quickly starts examining him while speaking to him in a sweet voice.

“Hi sweet boy. You poor thing! I’m so sorry someone has been treating you so horribly. We’re going to take care of you, yes we are. You’re going to be good as new! I’m going to give you some fluids because you’re dehydrated little guy. Once we get some fluids in you, I’ll try giving you some food. How about that little man?”

I can’t help but smile as she baby talks to him while inserting an IV in his tiny arm and starting him on fluids. She examines the wounds more carefully before retrieving a pair of things that look like tweezers.

“If I had to guess, I would say this guy is about 10-12 months old. I suspect these wounds on his side are from a BB gun. Would you mind holding his head? I’m going to give him some pain relief in his IV to help him relax and then try and clean the area and see if I can remove them. We’re a bit short staffed at the moment with Dr. Robinson out and two of our techs calling in sick so I’ll need your help if that’s okay?”

“Fucking BB guns.” I murmur under my breath. Damn some people are just the worst.

“I’m happy to help.” I tell her quickly and take up residence next to the puppy’s head to hold him still.

“Thank you.” She replies quietly while concentrating on rubbing some brown cleaner across each wound.

I can’t help but watch her as she focuses on removing all four bb’s and placing them into a metal bowl. She’s so effortlessly beautiful and incredibly adorable as she works on the dog who seems to be feeling so much better with the medication and fluids that he has received. She sews up each wound quickly and efficiently. The pup seems to be almost as captivated by her as I am. When she’s done, he even attempts to wag his tail for her. Dr. Miller explains that he will need a flea and tick bath before she can dress the wounds because he has several fleas on him and she doesn’t want them getting into the incisions.

“Mr. Syverson, I hate to keep you from your day. Would you want to just come back for him in a little while? I have to do an exam on a yorkie with diabetes but then I’ll bathe him on my break and get his wounds dressed.”

“Sugar?” I ask.

“I’m sorry, pardon?” She responds a bit flustered.

I smirk as I see the blush tinting her cheeks. “The yorkie. Is it named Sugar?”

“Oh! Yes! Someone you know?”

“My grandma’s neighbor, Mrs. Clayton, has a yappy little yorkie named Sugar and I believe I overheard that it has diabetes.”

“Yes, well that would be her.” She smirks back.

“I don’t mind waiting with the little guy. Is it alright if I stay and help you bathe him? Since your short staffed and all?” I ask with my most charming smile.

Her beaming grin tells me all I need to know. “Sure, Mr. Syverson. Can you give me about twenty minutes?”

“Only if you’ll call me Austin or Sy. Mr. Syverson is my pawpaw.” I say with a grin.

“Alright Austin. I’m going to leave you with some wet food on the table for this little fellow, but can I trust you to only give him small amounts slowly? We don’t know when his last meal was so we don’t want to overwhelm his belly.”

“Yes ma’am.” I mock salute at her with two fingers and she giggles when she leaves the exam room. I swear the moment she did I was a goner. I need to find a way to hear that giggle more.

“Well little guy, it looks as though we are helping each other out, huh? You ain’t the only one broken and battered.” I say as I give the dog a small plastic spoonful of wet dog food that he almost swallows hole.

“What should I call you?” I hypothesize aloud while the pup continues eating sloppily from the spoon I’m holding.

“Since Dr. Miller here patched you up, how about Miller? We can call you Mills for short. What do you think about that? I like it.”

Emma finally returns to the exam room and is happy to see that the Mills has eaten the food I gave him and kept it all down. Due to the food, medications, and fluids he received you can already tell a slight difference in his demeanor.

“Let’s get you all cleaned up, shall we?” She says while carefully picking him up and carrying him to the back of the building before pausing. “You coming, Austin?” She asks.

God, I hope I will be soon. I think before I rush over to open the exam door for her and follow her to the back.

“You know, I’m breaking rules by letting you back here so don’t make me regret it.” She says to me teasingly as she carefully sets Mills into a large stainless-steel sink and begins to bathe him with medicated shampoo.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Dr. Miller.”

“No, if I have to call you Austin, you have to call me Emma. It’s only fair.”

“Well, Emma is a beautiful name so that will be easy. If you don’t mind my asking, where are you from? We haven’t had a new vet in town since Dr. Robinson came and that was probably ten years ago.” I watch as Emma carefully removes three ticks from his fur and want to outwardly cringe. Ticks are the devil’s bug.

“I’m from Alabama. I’ve only been in Texas for about a month but just started working in the office this last week.” She tells me as she very carefully continues to clean Mills.

“What brought you all the way out here? Did your husband get transferred out here or something?”

She side eyes my question with a smirk. “Nope, just the job. No husband or kids. No boyfriend either in case that was your next question.” She remarks sarcastically.

My stomach flips with excitement even though she caught on to what I was really fishing for.

“Well, I’m certainly glad you’re here. For Mills’ health needs of course.” I add quickly while gesturing to the pup.

“Mills?”

“Yup. Short for Miller, after the doctor who’s taking care of him.”

Her cheeks blush bright red as she runs a flea comb gently through his fur. “Well aren’t you just the charmer. I’m surprised Janet didn’t warn me about you. She’s been clueing me in on pretty much the entire town.”

“Ah, good ole’ Janet. She knows there’s no need to warn you about me. She’s known me since I was in diapers so that should tell you enough about my character if she didn’t warn you off.”

“That’s good to know. So, are you planning on keeping little Mills? Or are you wanting us to adopt him out once he’s all healed?”

“Oh, I plan on keeping him if that’s alright. As long as my girl, Aika, is okay with it I’ll keep him. Can’t imagine sending him off to a stranger after what he’s already been through.”

“Well, if your girlfriend isn’t on board with keeping him just let us know and we can see about arranging a foster for him until he’s able to be put up for adoption.” She says while stepping a little further away from me.

Girlfriend? Oh dumbass, you made her think Aika is your girlfriend.

“Aika’s my German Shepard. I don’t have a wife, kids, or a girlfriend either.” I said poking fun at her sarcastic comment from earlier.

Emma grins but just continues to rinse Mills off. She notices that one of his paws looks a bit swollen but she can’t find any cuts or wounds so she thinks it may just be bruised from trying to run from his abuser.

Once we get him dried off, I hold his head again for her to clean and dress the wounds on his side and I’m dreading leaving.

“So, I’ll need to see little Mills in 3 days to check his wounds and remove the stitches. I need you to clean and redress the wounds one time a day like I’ve shown you. I’ve got his medication and antibiotics here and a couple of cans of that wet food that you fed him earlier. I recommend continuing to feed it to him slowly so that his tummy doesn’t get upset. Nobody likes waking up to a dog throwing up or having diarrhea in the house. If he does okay with that food we can discuss increasing his food intake at the next appointment. Do you have any questions, Austin?”

“Just one. Can I get your number, Emma? You know, in case I have questions about your prodigy, Little Mills, here.” I add with a smirk.

“I’m sure you have the number for the vet’s office.” She smirks.

“That I do, but I’d like yours as well, please.” I ask with my most convincing smile.

“Alright, alright. Just don’t advertise it. The last thing I need is people like Mrs. Clayton calling me after hours.” She concedes with a giggle and I can’t help my boisterous laughter at the last part.

“Nobody wants someone like Mrs. Clayton calling them all the time. That woman would talk to a wall just to hear her own voice.” I hand her my phone and she quickly types her number and I save it under “Mills’ Future Mama” and smirk to myself.

I pay and make the next appointment for Mills and then head to the local pet store for a collar, leash, dog bed, and more dog food. Luckily, Mills sleeps on the ride home and I can’t decide if he’s finally realized I’m not going to hurt him or if he’s still drowsy from the effects of the meds he received. I head home and send Alex an update that I’ll be back at the site tomorrow.

When I get home, I bring everything inside before carrying Mills over to Aika and carefully introducing him. After the initial excitement wears off, Aika heads outside to the backyard and I’m relieved that she seems to accept him. She’s always been such a good dog so hopefully I can rely on her to show our little rookie around and teach him our routines.

I go about showering and eating dinner, but I can’t seem to get my mind off Emma. I obviously want to play it cool but she has infiltrated my mind to the point where I just can’t think of anything else. I know this is a bad idea but I can't stop myself. I decide to take a picture of Mills in his little bed and text it to her.

Sy: <attached image>

Mills’ Future Mama: I’m glad to see my namesake is adjusting to his new life. I take it that his sibling accepts him?

Mills’ Future Mama: Also, you’re lucky I opened that picture text. Typically receiving a picture from an unknown number is never a good thing 😖

Sy: Sounds like your mind is in the gutter or you have some seriously unhinged acquaintances, darlin. Aika has accepted him into the pack without hesitation.

Mills’ Future Mama: More like, men are nasty and will take any opportunity to send an unsolicited dick pic to even the most unwilling recipients. Glad you found the little guy. He seems right at home.

Sy: He is. You should come visit him sometime.

Mills’ Future Mama: Why would I do that when he’ll be in my office in three days?

Sy: Maybe to see his owner?

Mills’ Future Mama: I’d imagine his daddy will be the one bringing him back to my office though?

Sy: Alright then, how about I make you some dinner at my place? Say tomorrow at 5pm?

Mills’ Future Mama: Make it 5:30 and I’ll be there. Just know I’ll be sending your information to my best friend in case you try and murder me.

Sy: What type of people were you surrounded by in Alabama? 🤨

Mills’ Future Mama: I was actually in a super safe town. Just watch too many crime shows to make careless mistakes.

Sy: Smart lady. You can tell whoever you want, darlin’. I’ve got nothing to hide and I appreciate a woman who has some self-preservation skills.

Mills’ Future Mama: Trust me, I’m very skilled at many things. 😜

Sy: Damn woman, I’m trying my best to be a gentleman here. It’s not fair to tease me.

Mills’ Future Mama: Not teasing. Just stating facts. 🙃

Sy: Tomorrow can’t get here soon enough. Here’s my address. Any food allergies?

Mills’ Future Mama: Nope! I’ll bring dessert. I’m interested to test your cooking prowess.

Sy: You’re killing me.

Mills’ Future Mama: See you tomorrow!

Part 2

Taglist: @shellyshellshell @henryownsme @caramariehurst @beck07990 @mollymal

#captain syverson fanfiction #captain sy #captain syverson fic #captain syverson smut #captain syverson #captain syverson fluff #syverson #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #sand castle #henry cavill

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prodagustd · 5 months

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the road not taken 02 | myg

Summary: You could count two times when you thought you got over Yoongi and then realized you were wrong (or maybe three times?)

part two: get up and fall again

< part one

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?)

—warnings/tags: slow burn,angst, fluff, eventual smut, angst, sexual tension? lmao, use of drugs (just weed), flashbacks, ANGST!! Btw english is not my first language !!

—words: 11k

—a/note: I took the longest time to write this but I'm back!! I'm so happy to finally post this !! fun fact: while I was writing this I listened to let the light in by lana del rey on loop!! and ofc, last night by the strokes !! hope you like it, as always, you're welcomed to discuss this part in my asks. 🥰

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Four years ago.

Three weeks before New Year's Eve.

Ever since you could remember you understood one thing that was going to define the first years of your life: you weren’t your brother. It wasn’t difficult to understand, but it was difficult to remember.

There was a four year gap between Simon and you, and an abyss between who he was and who you were that people didn’t seem to understand. Even if you had no interest in it, just the idea of competing with the image of your brother was completely pointless; he was the first son of a first daughter, the first grandson, the perfect portrait of your mother’s face, while you were the last granddaughter, the one who came at the wrong time, the one whose eyes could only resemble the sad ghost of your father.

You spent your preteen years witnessing how your aunts and your grandmother expected you to be the same, as if you were supposed to be as charming or as funny as him, despite the clear evidence that you were a completely different person. Maybe it was the dark clothes, or the black eyeliner you wore everyday, maybe your lack of social skills and the bad attitude in the mornings or just the desperate attempt to be different, while he was the cool sibling, you were seen as the weird one.

Maybe growing up with that label taped to your forehead would have made you resent him, you didn’t remember when or how, but you managed to separate him from all that bullshit. You loved Simon not just because you were attached to the hip since you were born, but because he was one of the few people who never expected anything from you but to be yourself. He always encouraged you to wear whatever clothes you wanted and listen to whatever screaming rock band you liked at the moment even if he didn’t understand any of it. And after all it wasn’t his fault that he was tall and handsome and good at basketball, it wasn’t his fault that you couldn’t and didn’t want to be a female version of him. You decided to embrace the difference. You weren’t your brother, and because of that you had to fight your way to find your own self.

When you found The Alley, or as Yoongi called it, the theater near the park with the weird fountains, you felt it clicked for you. It wasn’t just your theater classes, it was a place filled with people just like you, people who understood you. You didn’t have to explain your jokes there, you didn’t have to think twice before speaking, the image of your brother wasn’t hovering over you when people saw you, it was nice.

For the first time you were part of a community, you spent more time in The Alley than in your home, you knew all the bands who came to practice at the place, you knew the lady who cooked pizza for all the movie nights, you were friends with the guy who sold the tickets and the girl who worked at the bar. You spent all your summers volunteering with your friends, making popcorn, accommodating the seats, writing the plays you were going to perform when October came, it was part of you.

But when you had to leave for college you knew you had to leave everything behind. It’s been a long time since you outright refused to feel something remotely close to nostalgia. You refused to live evoking memories, to think that a fleeting good moment could make up for all the bad ones. It’s been a long time since you outright refused to live in the past, but tonight seemed to be an exception.

When your feet turned the corner of the park and your eyes found the Christmas Lights decorating the old theater on the other side of the street, you were hit by a wave of something you knew you shouldn’t feel, something close to relief. A feeling you always seemed to run away from.

“Should we buy popcorn?” Yoongi’s soft voice made you come out of your trance. You looked at him, waiting for the traffic light to turn red so you could cross the street.

“We need to get in line to secure our seats first.” You explained to him, feeling a rush of nervousness washing down your body. When you had your last day at The Alley you said goodbye to everyone and never made plans to come back, this was unexpected.

“But what if popcorn runs out?” He asked, as if that could be a possible scenario. “The line isn’t even that long.”

He pointed to the short line at the entrance, which was formed by just five people.

“Popcorn is not going to run out.” You rolled your eyes. “And even if the line is not long, we still need to get the best sets, they are not numbered.”

Yoongi stood in his place, understanding your logic, but at the same time wondering how did you know that the seats weren’t numbered in the first place.

He frowned “How did you know?” He asked. You turned to him, looking a bit confused, but then, a green light lit up his face, the traffic light allowing you to cross the street. You grabbed his hand, dragging him with you.

“Hurry up!” You exclaimed, quickly crossing the street to reach the end of the line.

Yoongi ran after you, but didn’t demand the answer of his question when you reached the end of the line. It was like both of you agreed not to disrupt one of those rare good moments when you didn’t have a frown on your face, it was so hard to grasp it that he decided to do whatever you said, he even let you make fun of him when you realized he was wearing a dress white shirt under his coat, just for the sake of keeping a smile on your face.

You touched the collar of his shirt, tugging from it just to annoy him.

“Ouch!” He complained, but didn’t do anything to pull away from you.

“My mom is probably thrilled that I’m hanging out with you.” You mentioned, fixing the collar and smoothing the fabric with your fingers like you weren’t the one who messed it up. “I bet she thinks that if I spend enough time with you, you’ll turn me into a lawyer like you.”

Yoongi scoffed, believing that impossible “I’m not a lawyer yet.” He said, and you knew that, but he wasn’t far from it. “But even if I was, I couldn’t turn you into one.”

“Of course not, we can’t both be lawyers.” You murmured, leaning on the wall behind you. “Besides, I couldn't be a lawyer… I’ve never learned to lie.” You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, waiting for his reaction, but he just rolled his eyes, sighing.

“You’re mean…” He hissed.

But Yoongi seemed to be fine with it, he took all your mean jokes about lawyers like a bullet, accepting his destiny, accepting how different both of you were.

In times like these, it hurt a bit to notice how kind he was, from the tip of his red nose to the palms of his rough hands, kindness was all he had to offer. The contrast of how hard you struggled to be nice to how easy it was for him was palpable, Yoongi smiled to the skinny teenage boy who checked your tickets and the girl who gave away flyers advertising the next movie night the following weekend and never forgot to say thank you, while you had to constantly remind yourself not to curse every person who crossed your way, at least not out loud.

Once you were inside the place you forced yourself to shake those thoughts off your head, determined to drag Yoongi across the principal hall in order to get your seats without looking back.

There were multiple kinds of chairs at the theater, it was one of the things that made it so special. The Alley was never built to be a theater, it was a big old house bought by a group of friends years and years ago. They tore up a few walls and built it to be a place to watch movies, paint, do theater, play music or write poetry. On movie nights they put together different chairs and a projector and it suddenly turned into a cinema.

You were sure Yoongi didn’t know any of this, it was the first time he put foot in this place, but you, who had plenty of experience, knew where the best seats were.

The best seats were located in the middle of the room, it was a couple of recycled red cinema chairs. You remembered that Sid, one of the owners of the place, told you that he got them at an auction and that they were vintage, but to you they just looked old and dusty at the time. Of course over time you realized that they were the best place to be, they were located just in the perfect place and they were the most comfortable, but they were only two sets of four chairs, so if you didn’t hurry up you would have ended up at the back of the room sitting on some bleachers.

Yoongi didn’t understand why you were in a rush to get there, but you were right, you got the best seats.

“Now, stay here.” You told him “I’m coming back with popcorn.”

You thought it was only right that if he bought the tickets, you were supposed to buy popcorn and drinks. But then again, you weren’t supposed to think of this as a date at all.

You rushed to the entry of the room, turning on the corner near the bar and saw the stand of popcorn. As you stood in the line, you realized you didn’t notice how cold it was outside until you felt how warm the place was inside. You guessed that the hurry to get to the seats didn’t give room to think about it at all.

Almost four years went by and it was like time didn’t pass at all inside these walls. Things in your hometown never changed, and sometimes you liked it that way, but most of the time it was the main reason why you wanted to run away from it. Your mom always said you were a creature of metamorphosis, always changing, and you accepted the title for a while, but now you were wondering if your need to morph just meant that you could never be truly happy with any of the paths that you chose for yourself.

In no time you bought the popcorn and came back to your seat, a little displeased with the thought, but glad that you didn’t find anyone who could recognize you. You were safe for now, perhaps you could watch the movie and come back home going unnoticed.

But of course things never worked in the way you wanted.

“Sorry, excuse me.” You murmured, managing to carry two cups filled with coke and a bucket of popcorn, you watched your step carefully, trying not to step on other people. You raised your gaze, focusing on reaching the empty seat next to Yoongi, who was looking at his phone.

You took a seat next to him, handing him the drink. He murmured a small ‘thank you’, but didn’t look at you. “What are you doing?” You asked him, burying a finger on the side of his torso, making him jump in surprise.

“I’m trying to prove you wrong, look…” He replied, showing the screen of his phone to you. You narrowed your eyes, trying to focus your gaze on whatever he was showing to you, a website filled with reviews of Home Alone 2. “It has good reviews.”

You snatched the phone off his hands, observing the preview photo and the poster of, what it seemed to be, Yoongi’s favorite movie. You scrolled for a couple seconds, checking if what he said was true. “Three stars' average reviews is not good.” You informed him, but now he looked offended.

“Three stars is good for a Christmas movie, what are you talking about?” He insisted.

“What are you talking about? The first one has five stars’ average reviews, if you settle for bad Christmas movies, that’s on you.” You teased him, giving him his phone back.

He shook his head, scoffing “I can’t believe you think Home Alone 2 is a bad Christmas movie, it has that scene with the pigeon lady!” He kept insisting.

“Which scene?” You asked, but by doing that, you gave yourself away.

“What do you mean which scene?” He asked, confused. You opened your mouth, wanting to defend yourself, but then he gasped. “God, Pinky. You have never watched Home Alone 2, haven’t you?

Your mouth hung open, starting to laugh “I-... I just-”

“No, I can’t believe it.” He laughed, shaking his head in disapproval “You never watched it.”

“I’ve watched the beginning, okay?” You tried to explain. “And I think it was enough for me to decide if it was a good movie or not.”

“Bullshit.” Yoongi said, now a bit offended that you talked shit about a movie that you didn’t even finish.“You can’t decide that if you didn’t even watch the scene with the pigeon lady.”

You laughed even harder, covering your mouth with the palm of your hand. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

He opened his eyes widely. “Of course you don’t, you didn’t watch the movie!” He exclaimed “You just have to stop pretending to be a film critic to enjoy some movies, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes. “C’mon, the fact that I’m here means that I’m willing to try.”

The fact that you were here meant you were irremediably in love with him, a voice in your head reminded you of that, and maybe it was the same thing.

“For me?” He teased you, making you close your eyes for a split second. That didn’t help at all.

You sank into your seat, “For you, I guess.”

And that could've been the beginning of the end of the night. You and Yoongi watching the movie and coming back home before it was too late and laying in bed remembering every word he said, like they meant something else, before falling asleep.

But nothing could ever be that simple.

“You!” A high pitched voice interrupted the silence. You raised your gaze, startled. Your eyes found a redhead girl turned around in the seat in front of you, pointing her finger at you with a big smile decorating her bright red lips. “I knew I recognized that voice from somewhere!”

You felt your stomach drop.

Minnie.

“Oh, God, Minnie.” You breathed out. “You scared me!”

Perhaps on the way here you prayed so hard not to see somebody you knew tonight that whoever that was up there in the sky heard you, but instead of helping you, decided to laugh at you in your face, because sitting directly in front of you was Minnie, one of your closest partners during your theater days.

And the only person who you ever told about Yoongi.

“Do I look that old?” She giggled, cupping her face in her palms “It’s only been a few years, but I feel like I haven’t seen you in decades!”

“Yes…I mean, no!” You pressed your lips together, crossing looks with Yoongi, who looked at you with curious eyes. “I just didn't expect to see you here.”

“Me?” Minnie scrunched her nose, laughing “I didn’t expect to see you, what are you doing here?”

“Me?” You nervously laughed. “I was in town and I- we came to see the movie…” You managed to explain, trying to act as normal as possible, but you were sure that your shaking eyes, jumping from Yoongi’s face to Minnie’s, were giving you away. “This is Yoongi, by the way. And this is Minnie, a friend.” You introduced both of them.

If any of them realized how nervous you were, they didn’t say a thing.

Minnie, as expressive as she was, opened her eyes wide open, surprised.

“Oh, Yoongi, Yoongi?” She asked, emphasizing every vowel of his name.

“Is there another Yoongi?” Yoongi laughed, turning his head to see you.

You wanted to vomit.

“Mmm, not that I know of!” She smiled, offering her hand for him to shake. “Nice to finally meet you, Yoongi-Yoongi.” Yoongi took her hand, shaking it three times right in front of your petrified face. “I heard a lot of things about you back in the day.”

Minnie winked at you in a very exaggerated manner, instantly making you freeze in your place. Now you were a hundred percent sure that you were about to vomit, but maybe that would be an amazing scenario for you, you would have to run away to the closest bathroom and wouldn’t have to be in the presence of this interaction.

“Oh, really?” Yoongi smiled, displaying his gummy smile. “What things?”

“You know, all kinds of things.” She raised her eyebrows, clearly amused with the look on your face, that begged her to please shut up.

“Me and Minnie- we used to come here a lot when we were in high school.” You intervened in the conversation, trying to change the subject as soon as you could without thinking much.

“That’s right, we were pretty close!” She reminisced “We were always paired up together.”

“Paired up in what?” Yoongi asked, naturally.

“Theater.” She explained without giving you much time to think about saying something else. “Didn’t you know that your girl had her beginnings here, at The Alley?”

You gulped, and Yoongi, for the first time during the night, seemed to read you just right. He tilted his head, surprised “Well, no. She didn’t say anything.”

“Really?” She frowned, not understanding why, but Yoongi immediately got it.

“It was a long time ago…” You trailed off, trying hard not to make it seem like a big deal, like it was just a hobby you had when you were a teenager, but Yoongi knew you. He could see it in your eyes, the same look you had when Simon caught you using his legos, when you had to tell your mom you got suspended for getting in a fight in high school, the same look you had when you were caught. It was clear to him that you didn’t want him to see that part of you, whatever it was.

“I mean, she’s always been pretty mysterious, hasn’t she?” Minnie said “It takes a while to figure her out, you’ll get there.”

“I think I’m close enough, aren’t I?” His answer was smooth, almost annoying you. He playfully squeezed your knee and you wished he hadn't done it, because your old friend was now looking at you with stars in her eyes full of excitement. It had been almost four years since you had a proper talk with Minnie, but despite the fact that little to nothing happened between you and the man next to you, you were sure she was convinced you were on a date right now.

And perhaps it was not just his hand on your knee, maybe it was the fond look on his eyes too, seeking complicity in his jokes, but you were not going to go down that route tonight. You scoffed. “Not one bit.” You said, out of bitterness, because Yoongi knew you as well as your brother, perhaps his only flaws were being dumb and blind, but that came with being a man anyway.

For your own good, the lights of the room flickered twice, meaning that the movie was about to start soon. “That means I should leave you alone, right?” Minnie sighed, “But it’s really nice to see you here after so long, sweetheart.”

You nodded, offering her a soft smile, but you couldn’t help but feel guilty. It was in Minnie’s nature to always offer love and kindness to everyone, but it was hard to hold her gaze when she called you by that name, knowing that you didn’t deserve it.

“It’s nice to see you, too.” Was all you could say, despite it being a lie.

In another universe you would’ve loved to see your old friend and feel something bigger than nostalgia, but you couldn’t, you felt obligated to reject the feeling. You couldn’t live in the fantasy of what could have been.

She was about to turn around, but before she could do it, she raised one of her fingers, like she just remembered something. “By the way… Are you still doing theater?” She inquired.

You shrugged, shaking your head “Ummm… Not really…”

She pouted, disappointed. “That’s a shame, because… I don’t know, it’s crazy that I’m seeing you tonight. I know of someone who’s looking for someone just like you, if you were interested.” Her words lingered in the air, but the lights flickered again. “But I’m guessing I should keep that for after the movie… And Yoongi!” She exclaimed, pointing at him “I’m glad that you finally stopped dating dumb girls, my friend right there was very popular around here. You’re very lucky.”

You almost gasped, immediately turning your head to Yoongi, who just scoffed amused. Before you could even breathe, your friend turned around exactly when the lights went off, starting the movie right away.

You held your breath for what felt to be an eternity, but in the darkness you saw a smirk tugging from Yoongi’s lips, being followed by an outburst of laughter. The sound of his quiet laugh made you freeze in your place, was he laughing at you?

You opened your mouth, trying to find an explanation for your friend’s comment, but he shook his head as if he was stopping you, clearly entertained by the shocking look on your face. “Oh, save it for later.” He whispered, brushing it off.

You pressed your lips together, sinking in your seat as you observed him focusing on the movie, and you were supposed to do the same, but you couldn’t think of anything else. The only thing you could hope for was that he couldn’t see how red your face was, because you sure as hell could feel it.

God, you wanted to die, but whoever put you through this whole thing knew that death could only be seen as kindness.

How come that after years of quitting theater you were still being this dramatic? You didn’t know, but tonight death felt like a greater destiny than the embarrassment you felt.

In situations like these, you remembered two specific times during the past seven years when you thought you got over Yoongi, but then you realized you failed miserably.

You evoked the memory of those two situations for a special reason, to teach you a lesson: you must not continue to engage with the man sitting next to you. There were three reasons for you to learn from this lesson, because otherwise:

It would hurt your mind.

It would hurt your heart.

It would hurt your soul.

These seemed three perfectly logical reasons to learn the lesson, but you were never the best student.

The first memory that always came to mind was the first time Yoongi and Simon came back home for Christmas after going to college. It had been six months since you decided to convince yourself that the last two years you spent being in love with him were just a fever, but when Yoongi walked in the room and you saw that he got a new haircut and pierced his ears, you thought that the plan “get over my brother’s best friend” would not work at all, at least not now. Maybe you could try the following year.

(Spoiler: the following year did not work either.)

The second time was last summer, a few months ago, when both of them came back for summer break and Yoongi invited you to some pool party. You were supposed to go with Simon, but at the last minute he ended up getting sick and told you two to go alone. There was a time when you believed that Simon worked as some kind of barrier between you and Yoongi, hanging out with them meant that now you were a group of three, it reminded you that the only reason you kept seeing Yoongi was because he was Simon’s best friend, nothing else. And when you and Yoongi were alone, well… It was different.

That night none of you were planning to get into the pool, it was a strange house full of strange people and it almost felt like you were crashing the party. You were wearing a black summer dress and Yoongi was wearing jeans, you only went for free alcohol and to check if someone had any weed, you thought you were safe. Of course every little effort you made trying not to think that way about him anymore was ruined when decided to take off his shirt, grab you by your hips and jump in the pool, dragging you with him.

Needless to say, you were furious. The only thought that crossed your mind was that neither of you had a change of clothes, but he didn’t care. When you got your head out of the water, you saw him laughing.

You gasped “Fuck you!” You punched his arm, not caring that everyone around you was observing you, laughing because he did something cute.

He kept laughing “I’m sorry, you looked hot!” He defended himself, grabbing your arms to pull you closer under the water.

“What!?” You shouted, fighting against his hold but wondering if you heard that right.

“You looked like you needed a dip!” He clarified, shouting back. His lips stretched widely, showing you a white smile. You wished you could punch that cheeky expression off his face, but you were too busy trying not to sink into the water as he firmly gripped your waist, crashing your body against his bare chest.

“You idiot, I can’t swim!” You whined, gripping his shoulders so you wouldn’t drown.

He snickered, hugging you closer. “It’s fine, Pinky, I wouldn’t let you die in front of all these people.”

The moment you realized you had not gotten over Yoongi was not then, it was not when he took off his shirt either, and it was not when you saw him running his fingers through his wet hair, nor when you saw the drops of water dripping down his wide back, no. Not even when he wrapped his strong arms around your body or when he gripped your hips and lifted you up to seat you on the edge of the pool. You realized that you were still in love with Yoongi when he sat next to you, and when he realized that you were not playing, that you were really angry, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed your forehead, whispering “I’m sorry.”

The heart clenching memory of the look on his face, the sound of his voice and the touch of his lips against your skin were enough to screw you up, but not enough to make you learn the lesson.

Now, sitting next to him, you began to think that you were finally losing your mind when you tried to focus on the movie for the first ten minutes, and then for the next thirty minutes, and the next fifty, but when an hour passed you found out, or you just remembered, that it was useless to focus on something else when Yoongi was by your side.

You often forgot how impossible it was for you to ignore Yoongi’s presence, even in the most packed and loudest rooms, but the confirmation that you finally drove yourself insane was when you noticed that you just couldn’t ignore his arm laying next to yours in the shared armrest, or your hands touching when you reached to grab popcorn, and you certainly couldn’t ignore his fingers when they reached to play with the fabric of the hem of your sleeve.

You carefully looked down to the arm rest, observing his fingers tugging the tiny piece of ruffle fabric at the end of your sleeve. He wasn’t trying to get your attention or to annoy you, it was something almost unconscious, a small gesture, very easy to miss, but it was enough for you to stop breathing for a moment. Now, it was impossible to ignore the warmth of his fingers slightly grazing over your wrist.

You sighed deeply, feeling the failure sinking in your bones once again. The line between what you were supposed to feel and what you were actually feeling was always blurry, but this time seemed to be completely erased, and once again, you were the one to blame for thinking that this time seeing Yoongi could be any different.

You were screwed up again.

You could say you enjoyed the last part of the movie, at least the parts where you were zoning out enough to quiet your mind, but when the lights were turned on you remembered that your brain hated you.

Your eyes swept the place, observing the people around you clapping as the credits rolled down.

“So?” His voice sneaked into the hustle and bustle of your head, making you turn to look at him, but your eyes focused on the almost empty bucket of popcorn on his lap. “Do you like it? I’ve never seen Home Alone on a big screen.”

You grabbed a handful of popcorn from the very bottom of the bucket. “I’ve seen it plenty of times on a big screen.” You said, stuffing your mouth with the food so you wouldn’t answer any of the questions you knew he was about to make, but the second those words left your mouth you realized you gave yourself away.

“Yeah, I imagine.” He scoffed, signaling with his head towards the empty seat where Minnie was sitting a few seconds ago. You were grateful that she disappeared the moment the movie ended so she wouldn’t hear this conversation. “I heard some of it just now.” You huffed, pretending to be tired of him and chewing long enough to prevent yourself from talking. “Is there anything else I should know? Apart from the fact that you have a secret twin who takes theater classes and has friends who are actually nice?”

The only thing that could come out of your mouth was something rude. “Oh, shut up.” You spat, looking at anything else except his face.

Yoongi shifted on his seat with a shameless smirk decorating his face, getting closer to you. “Don’t! Don’t shut me up.” He laughed, casually grabbing your face between his fingers so you wouldn’t run away from his gaze. “I want to know all about that, like, were you really talking shit about me during high school?”

You frowned, remembering what Minnie said about Yoongi dating dumb girls. Of all the conclusions he could have drawn from that, was that the one he came up with?”

“I wasn’t… talking shit about you.” You wanted to explain “Have you considered that I was just really into gossiping?”

He snorted, “It’s the same thing.”

“It’s not.” You denied.

“So you were gossiping about me?” He asked “About the girls I dated?”

“C’mon, what about it?” You tried to dismiss as quickly as possible “I was like fourteen, and in my defense, you never had good taste in girls.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes, a bit offended “Why? You really think the girls I dated were dumb?” You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress a laugh. “That’s not very feminist of you.”

You rolled your eyes “Oh shut up, what do you know about feminism?” You said. “Those were just… facts.”

“Yeah, I’m sure of that.” He scoffed “What I’m not so sure about is that thing your friend said… That I’m really lucky to be with you.”

“Ignore her.” You tried to cut him, looking away so he wouldn’t notice how embarrassed you were.

“No, why?” He smiled, poking fun at you. “She said you were really popular, but I don’t get it. I don’t know a man who could stand your behavior for more than two hours. Besides me, of course.”

You could be offended by that, but it was the truth.

“Well, they couldn't,” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “They just wanted me for my talent.”

“Let me doubt that.” He said “If you were so good, why did you never tell me?”

“Well, it was a secret” You confessed, there was no point in hiding now. “I didn’t want anyone to know, people would think it was dumb.”

“And when did you care about what other people think?”

You sighed. All the time, you wanted to say, but you kept that for yourself.

“I just... wanted it for myself, no one had to know.” You explained.

Yoongi waited a few seconds for you to say something else, but you weren’t willing to pour your heart to him just yet. Yes, when you found The Alley you discovered a part of yourself that was completely unique, but that didn’t mean you wanted to share it. It was for you only, and you were happy with that.

“Well, Pinky.” He sighed, squeezing your knee like he always did. “Even if it was a secret… I’m telling you, you were pretty obvious.”

“What do you mean?” You frowned, confused

“I mean, you always liked High School Musical a little bit too much.” He explained as a mocking smirk tugged from the corners of his lips. “At first I thought it was just Zac Efron, but now it makes sense.”

You nudged his shoulder before the frown in your face disappeared into laughter. “High School Musical is the best movie ever, to be obsessed with it was just logical.” You tried to excuse yourself “That and, of course, Zac Efron.”

“I never thought you would have a thing for basketball players.” He muttered, trying to play nonchalant as his eyes wandered towards the corner of the room, circling back to your gaze. You realized he was expecting an answer for that.

“Kind of.” You waved off, pretending to be laid back about it. “But only the ones who have this internal struggle about their father’s plans for their future and their unusual passion for musical comedy.”

He let out an amused snort. “Very specific, what a shame.”

You stared at him for a second, wondering what game he was trying to play now.

You tried so hard to keep your face straight, to try to show him that you weren’t phased by any of his stupid jokes. You wanted to remind him that you weren’t like any of those girls who were charmed just by the sight of his eyes, you weren’t like those girls he stopped in the hallways just to make them giggle when you were in high school, you wanted to make clear that you were different — except that, of course, you weren’t. The moment he displayed that specific smirk, you committed the unforgivable crime of blushing.

But he was quick to dismiss it, he always was.

And you were obligated to forget about it.

“So? Why did you leave it?” He inquired, “Were you that bad?” He ignored that the room was now almost empty. Maybe in another situation you would’ve taken advantage of that and told him it was time to go to avoid telling the truth, but why hide now? Maybe telling the truth wasn’t so bad.

You smirked, rolling your eyes. “I was the best one in my group, you don’t even know.”

“Yeah?” He moved closer to you with big eyes, showing you how curious he was.

“Of course, do you have any doubts?”

“Well, yes, a few.” He teased “I’d have to see it for myself.”

“Sure, when they clear the stage I’ll do a demonstration just for you.” You joked, successfully making him laugh.

“That would be an amazing way to avoid my question.” He pointed.

You felt your chest getting lighter, and if that hinted you that it meant something dangerous, you ignored it.

“I wasn’t doing that.” You tried to defend yourself.

“You do that all the time.” He reminded you, and he was right. You bit back a smile, darting him a look for exposing you.

“Fine, then. I’ll be honest.” You surrendered, maybe Yoongi could convince you to jump off a cliff if he looked at you with those eyes. “I left it when I was finishing high school, I was about to leave for college and… I had to grow up, you know? I grew too attached to this place but I knew I couldn’t cling onto these things forever.”

“Can’t you?” He questioned “Didn’t you like to do it?”

“I mean, yes, but-”

“Then, why drop it?” He interrupted.

You breathed in, wishing that you could find the words to say it in a way that made sense, because you weren’t sure what was right or wrong anymore.

“Maybe I was on an ego trip back then, I don’t know.” You admitted. “I thought I was genuinely good but I couldn’t do anything about it, like I was stuck here. I had to let it go, for me it’s all or nothing.”

Perhaps you weren’t talking only about theater now. Perhaps you were talking about everything, perhaps you were talking about him. And it was a bit harsh, but it was the truth, or what you decided to be the truth. Yoongi took one hard look at you, as if he was expecting you to realize how dumb that sounded, but you already knew that, otherwise you wouldn’t be there right now, at home before Christmas because you dropped out of college. You didn’t even know if when you left for college that excuse made sense, you just knew that you were bitter and angry and if you couldn't follow your dreams, you didn’t want them at all. And if you couldn’t be with Yoongi, you couldn’t see him at all.

You ripped the bandaid off, but three years later it exploded in your face.

“All or nothing?” He repeated, but you just nodded. “But did you try first? Because as far as I know you didn’t.”

You bitterly laughed,“Yeah, right” You got up from your seat, ready to leave “And who would’ve taken me seriously?”

He got up with you, blocking the way to stop you from getting out from the sea of chairs just yet. You raised your chin, finding his eyes. “I would have.” He casually mumbled, but his words echoed in your head, clenching your heart.

You tried to search in your brain for something snarky to say, but you froze under his gaze. “And If I wouldn’t have…” He continued “If I were a complete prick who doesn’t care about you, you should’ve done it anyway. Even if your mom puts on a bad face.”

You wanted to stop him, to shut him up. But he was right, even if you didn’t need to hear that tonight. You loved your mom and you knew she didn’t expect anything from you but to be happy, she was just worried, you knew that, but you hated that she had to see you trip with your own decisions.

“Have you ever tried to be wrong?” You asked him, pushing his chest with your palms. “Like, just once?” Walking past him, hearing his laugh behind you followed by his quick steps running after you.

“Don’t be mad ‘cause I’m right.” He teased.

“I’m not mad.” You said, walking towards the entrance, hearing music coming from the other room. “Just annoyed that you had to go to college and left me here making dumb decisions.”

He smiled, happy that you decided to show a glimpse of love for him. “Do I need to remind you that you’re just twenty one and your life is not over?”

“Yes, maybe.” You said “Several times a day, please.”

You stood in the hall, attempting to put your coat back on, but he stopped you, stealing the piece of clothing away from you. “What are you doing?” He asked, smiling. “Don’t you know that we have to dance now?”

You widely opened your eyes, almost completely forgetting that. When you bought the tickets for movie nights, you were also invited to the afterparty that was held right after the movie ended, hence the loud music playing in the next room, the biggest one of the place. You didn’t think Yoongi would be interested in staying.

“Do you want to dance?” You checked first. You didn’t know if you were interested in staying either.

“C’mon, I have plenty of experience from frat parties.” He bragged, taking a few steps back towards the room where the music came from.

You shook your head. “This isn’t like those parties you went to with Simon where they play Shape Of You every three songs”

“Why would it be different?” He said, slightly offended. Yoongi kinda liked Shape Of You…

You grabbed his hand, dragging him into the next room as you asked him something very important, “Yoongi, do you know who The Strokes are?”

After entering the room, Yoongi disappeared for a few moments to leave your coats in the cloakroom of the place, leaving you alone to collect your thoughts once again. When you first entered the place to watch the movie you couldn’t wait to leave, and now you were in a dark room under the red lights, feeling excited at the idea of dancing like you were a teenager again. It was time for you to understand that your life was already a mess, nothing was going to change if you stayed at The Alley dancing just for tonight.

When Yoongi came back you were quick to drag him towards the center of the dancefloor, right when the first chords of Last Nite by the Strokes began to resonate in the room, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of happiness running down your body. Yoongi looked at you funny, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. He didn’t expect that you, of all people, would be excited to dance.

It turned out that Yoongi didn’t live under a rock, he did know who The Strokes were, but barely. You knew that he always preferred hip hop and rap, but the lack of interest he had for other genres surprised you. “I don’t know the song!” He shouted over the music

“What about it?” You said, grabbing his hands to pull him closer. “You must dance anyway, or they’ll kick you out!”

The look of terror in Yoongi’s eyes made you laugh, but you didn’t pity him, he was the one who wanted to dance in the first place, even when both of you knew that he wasn’t the kind of person who dance at parties, he wasn’t the kind of person who danced at all.

“How!?” He asked, ignoring the mass of people jumping around him.

“Just do what I do!” You exclaimed, shaking your head side to side to the rhythm, making the strands of your hair hit your face, and his face too. Yoongi laughed, knowing then that if he didn’t dance he would look like an absolute loser. He was still hesitant to follow you, but when you began to jump, he slowly began to jump too, trying hard to shake his head the same way you were doing as he felt his ribcage shake from his laughter.

You nodded your head, happily tapping your feet against the ground to the loud rhythm of the drums “Oh, baby I feel so down, oh, it turn’ me off” You sang to him, but he shook his head, disappointed that he didn’t know the lyrics and couldn’t sing the words back to you, but you didn’t care, you were happy enough watching him trying to copy your moves.

You grabbed his hands, perhaps taking advantage of the situation to tangle his fingers with you, opening your arms with your hands still connected to his, shortening the distance. “I’m not a good dancer either.” You said, maybe way too close to his face.

Yoongi scrunched his nose, giving you a half twirl to make your back crush against his chest, trapping you between his arms. “Are you saying I’m not a good dancer?” You felt his lips brushing against your cheek, making you shiver.

You closed your eyes shut, trying to breathe in. “Not all!” You yelled, spinning out of his arms. “But no one’s watching.”

He took the liberty to slide his hands down your torso, gripping your waist and pulling you close to his body. “You are watching.” He said, like he was reminding you.

“Then, impress me.”

You were thankful that the sound of the music drowned the sound of your heart, who was threatening to run away from your chest in the exact moment he smiled at you, accepting the challenge.

You couldn’t count the amount of times Yoongi made you spin in the room, like you were dancing a waltz, before you realized that neither of you were wearing clothes made for dancing, you were wearing a black long sleeve shirt and Yoongi was wearing that ridiculous white dress shirt that made him look like he came out of one of your dreams when he rolled up his sleeves. As one song ended and another one started, he began to stop caring if he didn’t know the lyrics, it was fine as long as he followed you, but when your hands began to felt sweaty and you felt like you needed air, you decided it was time to leave, but not before you finished dancing Song 2 by Blur, because what other chance would you have to dance Song 2 by Blur with Yoongi? And what other chance would you have to watch him copy every move you made like you were an expert at dancing? And what other chance would you have to be alone with him without feeling like your heart was sinking? It was like the loud music didn’t allow you to feel anything else but joy, or maybe you were already high from all the people smoking weed around you, either way, you were happy.

You didn’t want to began feeling overwhelmed, the most exciting thing that happened today, before Yoongi, was finding out that your mom’s boyfriend gave her a teddy bear that sang All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey when you pressed its paw, you could blame —or just thank him— for taking you out of your house. Your heart didn’t feel as heavy as it did at the beginning of the night, but you knew it was time to leave.

As he waited at the door, you decided to look for your coats. There was a line of people waiting to leave theirs, when you were just trying to leave the place. You expected to get in line, wait a maximum of five minutes and then leave, but right at the end of the line you found, of course, Minnie, because it couldn’t be any other way.

She was alone, holding two purses and a big puffer jacket that was probably not hers. As soon as you stood behind her, she turned around, clearly she wasn’t expecting to see you again. “Oh, hi again!” She greeted you with the same big white smile you saw earlier tonight. “I had to leave when the movie ended, but I wanted to talk to you, where’s your boyfriend?”

You sighed, not wanting to remember what she said to Yoongi. “He’s not my boyfriend, Minnie.” You said. “He’s just… Yoongi.”

“Just Yoongi, huh?” She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. “What are you doing on a date with Just Yoongi?”

“It’s not a date, he just invited me to watch the movie.” You tried to explain, but she wasn’t convinced.

“Sounds like a date to me.” She giggled, completely ignoring what you said. “I remember when you were like fifteen and cried because he kissed some ugly girl at the New Year’s party, and now you’re on a date!”

You shook your head, you didn't dare to acknowledge what she said. The memory of that night made you cringe, you remembered running to Minnie and telling everything about it while sobbing like somebody just died. She hugged you and told you that she was sure the girl was super ugly, which wasn’t the truth at all, but it was the version she decided to keep.

“But it’s not a date.” You reminded her.

“If you say so…” She winked at you, taking a step forward to advance in the line. “But anyway! Weren’t you still in college?”

Perhapsit was the rush of the dopamine in your body, or the fact that she spoke to you as if not a day had passed since the last time she saw you, but you told her the truth.

“Well, I’m supposed to be in college.” You said, “But I dropped out recently.”

“Oh, thank God.” She suddenly let out, almost by accident. You looked at her, amused that she dared to say that. “I mean, don’t get me wrong!” She rushed to say “It’s just, you know, it was about time for you to realize.”

You smiled, feeling your chest getting warm. When you told people you dropped out of college, most of the time they looked worried, like you made a mistake, but Minnie looked relieved, and that made you feel like it wasn’t such a horrible decision.

“I know, don’t remind me.” You huffed, looking at your feet.

“I can't help but do it.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest, thinking “I always thought I was going to see you on a big screen someday, I was disappointed when you left for college.”

How cheesy, you wanted to say, but you couldn’t, not when she was the one who believed in you in ways you never did.

“Well, I’m out of there now.” You just said.

“So, if you’re not in college and you’re not doing theater, what are you doing?”

You scoffed, feeling like you just got scolded “Rotting in bed until Christmas, I guess.”

“Okay, I can respect that, but what about after the holidays?” She continued to ask.

You shrugged, “I have to figure that out yet.”

“So… About what I was telling you before the movie started…”

“Yeah, I mean, about that…” You wanted to interrupt her, but she was quick to cut your sentence.

“Yeah, I know what you’re gonna say, you’re out the theater stuff too, I know.” She said, waving her hands in front of your face so you wouldn’t keep talking. “But I’ve got this friend in the city who’s a director, he is working on this project and is looking for a main character, I don’t know, for some reason it reminded me of you. And now you’re here, so it has to mean something, right?”

You furrowed your eyebrows “Why would it remind you of me?” You inquired. “We haven’t seen each other in years.”

“Crazy, isn’t it?” She laughed, “He pitched to me, it’s some gothic dramatic love story, he wanted to know if I knew of someone.”

Was this some kind of joke? You, realizing that you were never happy in college, coming back home, coming back to the theater where you used to dream to step on a stage someday, or Yoongi telling you all that stuff about not even trying to make your dreams come true, and now this? Something inside you moved, you didn’t know what, but you did know why you were home after all. You told Yoongi about this in your garage the other day, you dropped out of college for a reason, you weren’t built to have a nine to five job, but you also weren’t sure what is what you wanted.

You looked at Minnie like you were sorry to turn down her proposal “Minnie, I haven’t been on a play in years.” You told her, already anticipating the rejection of her offer.

“I know that, but I’ve always trusted your talent, otherwise I wouldn’t be talking about this.” She replied “Look, I’m not asking you to say yes right now, but if you want to know more you can give me your new number.” You kept quiet for a few seconds. Not knowing what to say, you began to nervously laugh, that sounded crazy to you. “C’mon, don’t laugh! If it's of any use, it's a very well paid job.”

Now you began to laugh for real. “What do you mean it's a very well paid job?” You asked, not believing her for one second. Most plays you used to be part of during your high school days never left a dime.

“It is!” She insisted “You don’t know my friend, he has rich parents, he doesn't do things for the love of art. I mean, he likes theater, but he also likes money.”

Well, that could’ve made you change your mind right away a four years ago, but still, a few hours ago you came to this place counting the seconds to leave, now you were debating if you should accept a job offer. You shook your head, realizing that the line moved far enough, it was Minnie’s turn to leave her coat.

She took a few seconds and then it was your turn. You quickly asked for Yoongi’s jacket and your coat and when you turned around, Minnie was still there, not willing to give up.

“What do I have to do to convince you to at least give me your new number?” She pleaded, looking for something in her mini bag. You observed her pulling a lighter and a joint and putting it between her lips to light it up.

“What are you willing to do?” You joked, or not.

“What do you have in mind?” Well, she knew you.

“I have an idea…” You insinuated, pointing at the joint.

She let out a cloud of smoke out of her mouth, suddenly frowning. “Really?” She said, trying not to sound annoyed, you nodded your head several times, almost excited. “You can’t be asking for the whole joint.”

“But I am.”

Minnie shook her head in denial. “I can let you smoke it once, I’m not giving it to you.” She offered instead, but you wanted to make it worth it. If you were going to even consider accepting the job, if you were going to even think about something like theater again, you wanted at least something in return.

“I’m giving you half my number, then.” You said “Try to guess the other half.”

She narrowed her eyes, hesitating. Your old friend knew that you weren’t joking at all, and for some reason she really wanted you to consider her offer. You knew you won when she rolled her eyes, giving in. “You never stopped being a little bitch, have you?” She hissed, reluctantly handed you the joint. You happily accepted, taking a long drag before it went out. Minnie sighed, sadly watching her perfectly rolled joint in the hands of someone else. “So? Your new number?”

A devilish smirk appeared in your face as you began to walk backwards, taking long steps towards the entrance as you enjoyed the confused expression on Minnie’s face. “I never changed my number.” You confessed.

Minnie’s mouth hung open in disbelief, but she made sure that the last thing you saw from her that night was her middle finger up, directed towards you.

It’s been a long time since you outright refused to feel something remotely close to nostalgia, to live evoking memories, to think that a fleeting good moment could make up for all the bad ones, but it was impossible not to. Instead, you were condemned to live wondering what it would be like to come back home someday and not feel this way, to come to The Alley and not feel like you left a part of you there, to look at Yoongi and not feel like you were going to miss him all your life.

And tonight wasn’t an exception, because when you came back to Yoongi and he offered what seemed to be the warmest smile in the coldest of winters, you knew it might haunt you forever.

But maybe, just for tonight, you didn’t care.

“Why are you making that face?” Yoongi asked, raising a brow as he grabbed his jacket from your hands.

“What face?” You asked back, innocently keeping your hands behind your back.

He opened his mouth to explain what he meant, but then shut it again, staying silent for a minute as he inspected your face. “Did you just… smoke weed?” He laughed, probably already smelling it.

A smile appeared on your face as you showed him your right hand. Yoongi observed the joint between your thumb and index finger, and wondering where you got that, he tried to take it from your hands.

You took a step back, moving your arm away from him so he wouldn’t steal it. “What? Is this not legal?” You chuckled.

“Who gave you that?” He asked, grabbing your wrist, but you raised your arm higher.

“Are you interrogating me?” You kept teasing him, fighting his hold. “I’m sorry Mr. Min, but I’m not a snitch.”

Yoongi let go of your wrist, quickly giving up. “Are you not sharing?” He asked, a little disappointed.

“I don’t know.” You pointed your finger at your chin, pretending to think about it “Are you allowed?”

You walked past him, heading towards the entrance to exit the place. “You’re so annoying.” You heard him say, already knowing he was following you.

Both of you knew that the night was coming to an end, as soon as you stepped foot on the street you could smell the dew on the grass and hear how loud were your footsteps on the empty street. You looked at him through your lashes, observing him lighting up the joint between your lips as with a lighter he found in his pockets. You held the smoke inside your mouth for a few seconds before blowing it on his face, but he just laughed, stealing from your lips.

You wondered what else you could do to make him stay a bit longer.

He crossed the desolate street, grabbing your hand to drag you into the poorly illuminated park. It was really cold and you could see your cold breath in the air. Everyone else in the world seemed to agree that it was time to sleep, but you didn’t dare to complain as he decided to take the long way home.

“How do you know when you’re high?” He curiously asked, eyes locking up with yours as he took another draw.

It was easy for you to tell, you could get high with only one puff. “I have this thing, I test if my teeth are heavy.” You told him, expecting him to understand right away.

He laughed, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Look, if you clench your jaw you can tell that your teeth touch each other.” You explained. Yoongi stopped dead in his tracks, standing in front of you to test it himself. “I know that I’m high when my top teeth are feeling heavy.”

Yoongi snorted, keeping his mouth closed to test it himself. “I don’t know if mine are heavy.” He said “Are yours?”

You already knew you’re high, but you tested it regardless. Closing your mouth, you pressed your teeth together to know “Yes, they are.” You laughed, feeling dizzy. “How do you know?”

It wasn’t the first time you saw Yoongi high, you remembered that time, you were woken up at three in the morning when your brother dragged him into your house after their graduation party because he smoked too much, and Yoongi’s mom couldn’t find out that her son almost died because he didn't know how to use a bong.

It was the first time that he made Simon look like the responsible friend. Yoongi was seeing shadows before leaving the party and when he arrived at your home was calmer, but still high. He was strangely afraid of going upstairs, so the three of you stayed in the living room watching very low quality episodes of Pinky and The Brain on YouTube. Simon let you stay under the condition of not telling your mom about Yoongi having a bad trip, so you did. The memory of Yoongi laughing at the screen and eating the cake your mom bought to celebrate was still very engraved in your mind.

This version was very different. Yoongi’s hooded eyes were crystallized and there was an awkward smile plastered on his face that wasn’t going away. You could tell he was high in the way he was walking, and especially in the way he was still holding your hand.

The silence lingered in the air for a second. He pressed his lips together, scanning your face. “I know I’m high when it’s hard for me to tell if I’m looking at one thing or the whole picture.” He tried to explain “Like, I can’t focus on more than one thing at once.”

Somehow, you understood. “What are you looking at right now?”

In that moment, Yoongi seemed to be asking himself that very same question in his head, but he already knew the answer.

“Your mouth.” He replied innocently.

Someone in the very back of your mind started to wave a big red flag, but on the surface, where an intoxicated version of yourself was laying under the moonlight, you could only laugh.

“Isn’t it a bit distracting?” You asked him, pulling him forward so he would start walking towards the exit of the park.

“Yes, very.” he guaranteed “But I don’t mind.”

Yoongi followed you out of the park, and in a team of two you remembered the way to your home. It was like both of your brains had turned off, the conversation didn’t have to mean anything, you didn’t have to wonder why he was there with you at all.

The clock on your phone said that it was three in the morning, but in your mind time had stopped forever, or at least until next morning. When you turned the corner and reached the end of the street, you knew it was time to say goodbye. But what if you didn’t want to?

You struggled to find your keys, maybe because you were high or maybe because you just didn’t want to remember where the keys were. And when you had to open the door, you leaned against the door frame to say your last words.

You looked at him with hooded eyes, his pink lips were slightly parted, like they were about to say something but they didn’t. In the haze of the moment you thought it looked just like an invitation to kiss him, but of course you wouldn’t. Of course you couldn’t.

What you could do, instead, was prevent him from leaving, at least for a while. Was that allowed? You weren’t in your right mind to answer that question.

You sighed, sleepy, touching the collar of his shirt. “I can’t let you go home like this.” You let out, faster than you could think.

Yoongi scrunched his nose. “It’s fine, it’s just a few blocks away.” He waved off your concern, but his feet were dug deeply on the wood floor of your porch.

“It’s not a few blocks away.” You argued “You live like ten blocks away, and you’re still high…”

“I can manage.” He smirked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear like it was nothing.

“C’mon, you can stay.” You offered. “My bed is big enough for both of us.”

Your voice came as a whisper, but your words are clearly heard by Yoongi. He scoffed, causing you to start laughing “I didn’t mean that.” You blurted out. trying to correct yourself, but he was already laughing at you.

“What did you mean?” He was curious.

You lightly punched his shoulder. “I meant that… You can stay.” You repeated “Besides… There’s still Simon’s old clothes you can wear to sleep.”

He raised his eyebrows, getting closer to your face, or not, you weren’t sure.

“What would your mom say?” He mumbled, still in denial.

“What?” You chuckled “I’ll tell her the truth. I’ll just say you were too drunk to come back home.”

“That’s not the truth.” He said, booping your nose, but you could barely feel the coldness of his touch.

“Do I really have to tell her that we were high?” You wondered, booping his nose back.

Yoongi smiled, knowing you were right. “I guess not.” He admitted.

“So?” You dared to insist.

“I’ll stay…” He said, putting a finger up. “Under one condition…”

“You want me to tuck you in bed?” You said, laughing at your own joke like it was the funniest thing you had ever said.

Yoongi snorted, covering your mouth with his hand so you wouldn’t keep making loud noises. “No, not that.” He shook his head. “You have to make me breakfast.”

You bit the palm of his hand, making him pull away with a groan. “Is that what your life is worth?” You teased “Breakfast?”

“I’m not gonna die walking ten blocks.”

“What if you enter a bad trip?” You joked “The streets are scary when it’s dark.”

“C’mon, don’t talk about bad trips.” He closed his eyes shut, like he was trying to picture flowers and kittens so he wouldn’t think of something bad.

“God, Yoongi. Are you staying or not?”

He sighed, opening his eyes to display his characteristic gummy smile. “Fine Pinky.” He gave in, “Show me how big your bed is.”

taglist: @kingofbodyrolls @tea4sykes @overtherainbow35 @namin13 @p34rluv @moonchild1 @oukya @yoongisoftface @namgihours @honsoolgloss @idkjustlovingbts @loviyunki @yoongisducky @bangtansmauyeondan @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @hopeefulchick @heroinanne @mortal-body-timelesssoul @lizzm98 @hiii-priestess @wii-wii @jungkookies1002 @busanbby-jjk @acquiescence804

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tipsyleaf · 4 days

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(If u already mentioned something about this then pls ignore this)

But the dynamic between Leon, his wife, and the kids it’s giving me — his wife’s mom loves him soo much/smothers him and same with the grandkids. While the wife’s dad…whenever they’re alone there’s that tension. That “oh, so you’re the one dating —err my daughter’s husband despite Leon and his wife being married for ever how long 😂 there’s always that dynamic lol.

Imagine they’re visiting the grandparents house. Kids excited. Violet acting like she’s not (she is), Cecilia happy and kicking her feet because she knows granny makes the best cakes/pastries, and Scotty..well whatever babies do. Babble.

While Leon is out here sweating and his wife all happy seeing her parents again.

Timeline establishing moment: they met in late '07- early '08. Got married in late '10 and conceived Violet on their honeymoon (they weren't fucking around with having babies). So if we're going by current times of '24 they've been married 14ish years...

Readers parents I'd imagine we're an old fashioned couple. Her father probably an Ex military general. Like, Leon even in the Army heard stories of this guy but never got to meet him until you brought him home to your folks. Your mother was just a homemaker raising her daughter on the words of Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem. Raising a strong woman with the love/compassion of her mother and the strong will/ambition of her father.

But yes! His wife's mother absolutely ADORES Leon. Every time they visit she immediately starts fussing at him about taking care of himself too along with the family. Probably shoves food on him like a dealer trying to sell drugs. Literally will not stop giving him kisses on his head and calling him "the perfect son she always wanted". Insists on him calling her Mom which he happily obliged. She's so happy you married a good man like Leon and gave her 3 beautiful grandbabies.

Her father... Oh God... The moment Leon hears his father-in-law mutter "Hello Leon." He's immediately like misses puff...

Leon is PETRIFIED of this man. Always calls him Sir. Even when her father calls him Leonard (literally not even his name...) The only bonuses Leon has going for him is working for the government (good pay and job security), can protect his family/army training and giving them grandkids.

But grandpa with their grandbabies... COMPLETELY DIFFERENT MAN. Super gentle and sweet, especially towards his granddaughters. Constantly slips them money. Grandma is doting over Scottie, she loves babies, and taking him off their hands.

Violet is constantly acting like she doesn't want to be there, but the second grandpa shows up it's like she's 5 again she's so excited. Cecilia too, running at top speed to throw herself at him. He slips them both $20, Cecilia excited that she got money runs back to her parents... So grandpa slips Violet another $20 cause he knows she's older. Knows the worth of money and before they leave they always get a fat check for each kids college funds their grandparents opened for them as soon as they found out they existed. (Ofc grandparents spend their retirement on their grandbabies)

Cecilia gets to go home with half a cake from grandma and frozen cookie dough because as good as a baker daddy is grandma's still the best (🙄)

Violet gets her money and a new crochet hat every visit. She has a collection of them that she keeps her pin collection stuck to.

Scott gets toys, a trunk load of toys and clothes that he can grow into. Plus a lot of advice on raising a baby... Like you two hadn't already been raising 2 girls but okay.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy #🌿 ivy replies #🌿 ivy writes #resident evil x reader #🏡 domestic life with leon kennedy

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mawofmeraxes · 1 year

Text

Nothing That Will Stop Me

request: hello! i saw your recent post and was wondering if i could request a jaime lannister x reader fic, where the reader was captured (much like he was in season 2) and he kept looking for her but couldn’t find her, and she finally finds her way back to him after months. and it’s like their reunion and he’s so relieved yet concerned and he takes care of her and yeah :)

thank you and i hope ur having a good day! and ofc feel free to ignore this if you don’t feel comfortable writing it <3

summary: After enduring months of suffering under the hand of your captor, the dragon queen Daenerys Targaryen, your memory and studies of the guards allows you to narrowly escape and make your way back home to the one person who never stopped trying to find you, Jaime.

characters: jaime lannister x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: angst, fluff, happy ending, romance, reunion, captivity, wounds, cursing, imprisonment, almost death, murder, unsexual nudity, bathing scene, anti-daenerys targaryen

masterlist

In hindsight, maybe it had not been a good idea for you to accompany Jaime for the capture of Highgarden.

But you were a warrior just like he was, and neither your gender nor the expectations put upon you would stop you from participating in the fight that surely was to occur as you took Highgarden and all of its resources.

Your only regret was that Lady Olenna had to die.

While she may have seemed like a stone-cold bitch (and she was), she was also a woman that you had admired very much.

She would speak her mind with no regard or care for who was listening, got people to do what needed to be done, and even got shit done herself.

You had been suspicious over the true identity of Joffrey's murderer, as you simply knew that it could not be Tyrion who had done it.

So when Olenna had confirmed it for you and Jaime after drinking the poison, you were not surprised at all. No, you knew exactly why she had done it. For her lovely granddaughter.

The same granddaughter who was now ashes where the Sept of Baelor used to be.

Ironic, wasn't it?

Not long later found you, Jaime, and Bronn on the road back to King's Landing, watching as the carts and the men slowly made their way with the new resources.

Bronn had been paid handsomely, as was expected, and you just sat there and waited for what your lover wished to do next.

The main reason why you coming was a mistake, Jaime would later think, was that nobody thought about what the dragon queen would do in retaliation.

The Dothraki screamers were a sight to behold, and you had truly never been so scared of anything more in your entire life. Those men were ruthless, skilled fighters who knew exactly what they were doing.

And then Daenerys Targaryen herself flew in on her dragon and began burning everything in sight, and that's when you knew you were truly fucked.

You didn't foresee being captured at all. You simply thought that you would be slain in battle due to the chaos that surrounded you. Assumed that you would die while attempting to protect yourself.

Losing sight of Jaime was a clear mistake. You didn’t see him again during or after the fight. Perhaps that was a good thing, but you didn't know if that meant that he got away or if he was burnt to a pile of ashes.

When you later stand among the captured men being threatened by a dragon to kneel and submit to the new queen, you knew you could not do so. Simply for your loyalty to Jaime. No one else.

You would never betray him.

When you saw Tyrion Lannister you were not entirely shocked. Knowing that somehow you would be crossing paths with him again. And when Daenerys questioned a woman being a soldier you had simply stared at her, no words to say for the spiteful woman who had just burned so many men alive.

She was clearly ready to burn you alive as well, a look of pure rage and death in her eyes, but luckily for you, Tyrion's oh-so-smooth tongue and fanciful words about your connection to the Kingslayer Jaime Lannister seemed to sway her, and suddenly you were a prisoner.

You had lost track of time as the days went on. You did not know if it had been days, weeks, or months since you had been separated from Jaime.

You did not even know where you were at this point. Dragonstone? Where Daenerys had set up her base? Maybe you were somewhere in Essos, shipped off far away never to be found again before you die. You simply had no idea. All you knew was that you were carted off for days upon days on land before being brought onto a ship where you remained for a few more days. Before leaving the boat you were blindfolded and bound and dragged to the cell where you have stayed ever since.

You had thought about escaping of course, but you knew that your chances of surviving were slim, as all of the people in the queen's employ were ruthless and willing to do anything for her.

So here you remained. Unknowing if the love of your life was dead or not. Clueless as to whether you would be able to get out of this alive and try to find him.

But if he was alive, was he even looking for you? Was he even trying to find you?

You didn't know.

Maybe you never would. Maybe you would die in this dark, cold cell with no one even remembering who you are or what your name was.

But you didn't want that. You really didn't.

The only upside to being sequestered to the same cell day in and day out is that you've been able to just sit and watch when your guards changed, what time of day it was, how long each guard would stay for, and everything else that would help you plot your escape.

You knew exactly when the perfect time for you to attempt it was, the only problem that you were going to encounter was figuring out where exactly you were the second you got out.

Being brought here on a boat brought about the biggest problem that you would come across. If you were on Dragonstone, which would make the most sense, you would somehow need to find a smaller boat of some sort to cart you back onto the mainland.

So you hoped you weren't on Dragonstone.

You ended up being on Dragonstone.

Honestly no surprise there, you saw it coming from a mile away.

You could also see the dragons that circled in the sky.

If they hadn't almost killed you the day you had been captured, you would have thought them beautiful and majestic up there. But now, all you could think about was the death and fear they wrought.

Getting far away enough from the castle and using your knowledge of the maps you had studied had luckily gotten you to the single village that resided on the island. Finding some food and a boat to steal from there hadn't been any harder, and you had luckily been able to row yourself east until you hit land, rowing until you could barely feel your arms.

The plan from there was to start heading south until you would hopefully hit Kings Landing and be able to see if Jaime was there, hopefully still alive and breathing and not burnt to a crisp like many others.

When you did end up finding land, you decided that sticking to the coastline would be your best bet of not getting lost and went south for a whole day on foot until you reached Duskendale. When you asked the barmaid at the nearest tavern and inn how far Kings Landing was from there, she told you on foot it would take about a day and a half of travel.

Exactly what you needed to hear.

You spent the night at the inn using the coin that you stole while on Dragonstone.

It was honestly the best night's rest that you had had in ages. Whether it was due to the hay bed that you laid on or the fact that you knew that you were going to be reunited with Jaime soon, you were luckily able to rest through the night with no disturbances. You continued your journey in the morning.

You weren't used to walking long distances like this anymore. After your imprisonment, you were feeling weak and tired. The muscles that used to line your body were no longer strong due to disuse, and the lack of good food and water helped to ensure that you were not at your best.

So the day-and-a-half trip that was predicted turned to two and a half days, as you rested often and refused to push your body to the limits.

No use in rushing back home if you would just die along the way.

And almost three days later when you kept walking and began to see the red keep in the distance you could have cried in relief. It would only be a few hour’s walk and then you would be home. With Jaime.

If you didn’t die in the slums of Kings Landing first.

Arriving in the city was no different than the thousands of times you had done it before. The only difference this time was that you would have to make your way to the red keep on your own, with no guards or carriages to cover you.

Luckily you were not recognizable at this point as a proper lady. Your hair was marred with dirt and tangled from your imprisonment. Your clothes were ratty and almost falling off of your back. You blended in completely with some of the poorer folks of the city, and as you continued making your way through street after street you started to become worried that you wouldn’t even be allowed in the red keep at this point.

Luckily you had spent many a moon in the castle. Which meant that you knew some of the secret passages like the back of your hand.

It was easy to find the nearest one that led to Jaime’s room again. You had never forgotten it even when you spent moons alone in your solitude.

You had spent many nights sneaking in and out of his rooms, doing things that you shouldn’t have been doing, and going into the dangerous city when you knew it wouldn’t be recommended for a lady of your status.

But the lady of your status that you were supposed to be was non-existent, and the warrior you were captured as had much to say and much to do. Like sneaking into the city.

But that didn’t matter anymore.

All that mattered was being home.

You were walking up the last staircase now, taking your time as they took their toll on your weak frame.

Just a few more steps and the wall on the left would push straight into Jaime’s room. Opening up right behind a large tapestry that no one would have suspected.

Luckily the sun was still high up in the sky, meaning that you wouldn’t be coming into the room while he was possibly sleeping.

If he was even here.

During your time getting back to King's Landing you had much time to think about where Jaime could be. If he had made it out of Daenerys’ attack. You hadn’t seen him when you had been lined up with the others, but that could mean anything. He could have been able to get away or he could have been burnt to ash. Unrecognizable to everyone. A pile of ash.

You had to hope that he was still alive though. That he had made it out and had been hoping, waiting, and searching for you while you plotted your escape from the dragon queen.

Now would be the time to find out if it was all for nothing.

If you were to enter this room just for him to be dead, you would have escaped for nothing.

You would have rather died in that damp musty cell than come all the way here just to have your heart broken.

At this point, you don’t even know what you'd do if you were to find out that he was gone. You didn’t want to think about it. Not now. Not while you were so close.

The door was right there now. All you had to do was push and it would lead you straight into his room.

When you did so, it didn’t feel like anything special. It was just any other secret passageway door. It opened until it was slightly hindered by the tapestry that rested against it. But you kept pushing with all of your might until there was enough room for you to slip through and push it back closed.

When you turned to take in the room it was like nothing had changed. It still looked the same as the last time that you had seen it. Lush, red, and gold, with some of Jaime’s belongings strung about.

And there, in almost the center of the room, sat Jaime.

He was at the table that you both frequently ate at, drinking a glass of wine and staring at the table as though it had the secrets of the world inside of it. He had a blank look on his face, not portraying any clear emotion.

You felt the tears start to well up in your eyes at the sight of him.

After all these months, all of this struggle you had finally made it back to him. And he was okay.

He was alive. It’s the only thing you could have ever asked for. Prayed for.

You stood there for a moment, taking in the mere sight of him. Absorbing it all.

It was like he hadn’t changed at all. His golden brown stair still shined the same. His rugged beard that lay on his jaw was unshaven and messy, exactly how you liked it. The only difference was the bags under his eyes. He looked restless and like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

And maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he was so heartbroken and worried over your capture that he had not been able to sleep properly the whole time.

Of course, you were right.

You couldn’t stand there any longer, you needed to hold him. Feel him.

“Jaime…” Your voice croaks out.

His eyes widen, and his head jerks a little but his eyes remain glued to the table. Like he can’t believe he heard your voice. Like you're unreal.

You murmur his name again, and this time he turns his head to look in your direction. His eyes are wide, full of shock and disbelief. “What…” He whispers it, the sound barely heard from where you stand across the room. He stands up slowly, eyes still on your frame as though you’ll disappear if he looks away. “Is it really you?” He questions, slowly stepping towards you as though you were a frightened doe.

A smile starts to spread across your face, your eyes widening in relief. “It’s me, Jaime.” And take your own steps towards him, meeting him halfway.

When you both come together again everything feels right. His arms wrap around you as tight as they possibly can, his right arm around your waist while his left wraps around your shoulders with his hand cradling your head. Your arms come to wrap around him just as tight.

You stand there for a moment, feeling the warmth that his body emits. His breath hot as it brushes the top of your head in quick pants. You can feel the scratchiness of the top he wears.

But then you feel the shuddering that begins in his chest and leaves his mouth as a sob. He pulls you in tighter, breathing picking up as he begins gasping for breath as more and more sobs leave his body and warm tears start to fall onto the top of your head as he cradles it into his chest.

Tears have started welling up in your own eyes at this point, soon turning into sobs of your own as you both hold each other with plans of never letting go.

At this point, Jaime had thought you dead. He thought that you had been either killed in the Reach or captured by the false queen and executed for being her enemy. But here you were. Warm, whole, and in his arms again. Although you did look worse for wear. Hair tangled in knots while your clothes lay in almost tatters on your body. You were dirty, mud and dirt smudged across your face and under your nails. But it was you, and at this moment you had never looked more beautiful to him. You were alive.

He loosens his grip around you and pulls back slightly so he can look at your face. His eyes meet yours and you smile in joy when you see that happiness that reflects back at you. “I thought you dead.” He whispers, his left hand moving from the back of your head to cradle your cheek.

You move your own hand to cover his, “I thought you dead as well. I did not know if you had escaped or not.” You turn away a little bit and close your eyes at the memory of the nights you cried until you passed out in the cell. Cried at the thought of him dead forever. “I had no way of knowing if you died. The fields were ash by the time she captured the rest of us.” You turn to look back at him now, the look on his face mimics your own.

“I had hoped for so many nights that you were not dead, but the thought of you captured did not sound any better.” A scowl starts to mar his face. “Knowing that that false queen had you this whole time-” He cuts himself off and abruptly pulls his arms off of you, not taking note of you jumping in shock at the action. He then starts to pace the floors of the room, running his hand through his hair. “I will have her head for what she has done.” He continues pacing, not looking at you as he shakes his head in anger at the audacity of that Targaryen whore before he abruptly turns his head in your direction and stops pacing. “Look at you.”

He walks back over to you, picking at the rags that cover your body. “I’ll have the maids prepare a bath for you.”

And then he’s walking towards the door, calling out to the maids for a meal and a bath.

All of the maids come rushing into the room in a flurry, and you just stand there and wait as Jaime directs them on what food and clothes he wants them to bring for you.

You only stand there waiting for a few short minutes before the bath is ready, as it’s the one thing he impressed upon the maids as most important.

When you walk into the bathing chambers the large marble bath that rests within it is full of steaming water filled with flowers and oils. You feel all of the stress simply fall off of you as you breathe in the warm air and let it soothe you.

Jaime walks in immediately after you, folded clothes resting in his hand for you to change into when you are done bathing. He sets them done before walking over to you, eyes wide and open. “Allow me to help you, my love.” He says and you simply nod while he begins to undress you.

He pulls off the tattered tunic that you wear, throwing it to the side before he unwraps the band you have covering your breasts, allowing you to breathe freely with no restrictions. Next, he rids you of the breaches that you wear, basically tearing them off due to the rips and holes that they already possess.

The entire time you watch him as he works, watching as he uses his one hand to help you undress, providing one of your hands in assistance whenever he has trouble. Something that you have both long since grown used to doing.

Once you stand bare before him he lightly grabs onto your shoulder to guide you over to the tub. “Rest in the tub for a moment, love.” He helps get your weak frame into the water. You only realize now how exhausted you are. You haven’t eaten a proper meal in months and using your muscles after going so long without has proven to be a strain on your energy. You simply nod as you feel the hot water soothe and calm your aching muscles.

You don’t know how long you sit there before Jaime is asking you to dip your head back into the water to wet your hair so that he can brush through it for you.

“I never wish to be separated from you again, Jaime.” You whisper into the warm air, turning your head so that your eyes can meet his.

He looks into your eyes, his green ones meeting your own, “Trust me, we will never be apart ever again.”

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oneforthemunny · 11 months

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could i request a fluffy blurb of rockstar eddie taking sephy on her first holiday when shes a baby 🥹

ofc love <3 anything for you!!

"She's a tiny little thing, ain't she?" Wayne hummed, cradling his granddaughter in his arms, propped up on his thighs so he could look at her.

Persephone was two months now, still tiny and growing into her features, but old enough she didn't do the little newborn scrunch. When she'd stopped, it had made Eddie unexplainably emotional. He'd pouted all day with her in his arms, moping about how she "was growing up too quick already".

The vacation had been Eddie's idea. To go out to the Laguna Beach house, not too far but away enough for privacy. Out of the city and out of your house, where you'd cooped yourself up for the first few weeks of being new parents. Both of you were too scared to take her out, the paparazzi alone made Eddie want to keep her inside, and the car was a whole other thing. Yet somehow you'd agreed to go a few hours up the road, the first car ride with baby Seph, and with Wayne of course. He'd agreed far too easily to come stay with you for a while, help the two of you out while you adjusted.

"She's gained a pound." Eddie said proudly, beaming from his place by the open windows, the soft crashing of the waves was lulling Persephone to sleep after her feeding. It must've sounded like her sound machine at home because she'd gone down so easily.

"Lookie there." Wayne beamed at you, eyes crinkling and shining when they met yours. "Told ya she'd be alright."

You had a brief panic a few weeks ago, worried that Persephone was too small, that she wasn't growing the way she should. Wayne assured you babies went through it, and why you trusted him, your nerves never settled. Until the doctor proudly announced that she's started to gain some weight. Just a pound but still, it was a victory to you.

"She eats enough I'm surprised it wasn't more." You giggled, looking down at your baby girl with pure adoration. The tiny faces she'd make even while sleeping- God, she was such Eddie's child. She was getting more expressive every day, wide eyes that would look around, just watching and taking in everything.

"Think she likes the sound of the water." Wayne nodded, thumb caressing her little fat cheek, grinning when she curled into his touch.

"Yeah," Eddie agreed, walking behind you, hugging you to his chest sweetly. You leaned back into him, your own hand finding his arm, stroking it gently.

"I'll go put her in her crib," Wayne stood slowly, shushing Sephy when her face crumbled, clearly upset about the movement.

"I got her." Eddie said quickly, stepping to take her from Wayne. "We're about to go unpack anyways, so I can put her in there."

Wayne nodded, a final look at his granddaughter before he passed her to Eddie gently, moving his hands so he supported her head. "If the two of you are gonna be a while, I'm gonna lay down." Wayne stretched slightly. "That drive was brutal."

You smiled, padding behind Eddie. "I think that's a good idea. The chef should be here later to make dinner. We'll see you later, Wayne." You went one way following Eddie and Wayne went the other.

Only, the two of you didn't sleep. Even two weeks ago, you would have been passed out on top of each other the second she was asleep, far too exhausted to do anything else. Now, maybe it was routine or comfortability, but you had grown used to not napping all the time. More well rested.

Persephone laid between the two of you, both of you watching her sleep. Every tiny baby yawn or stretch or squeak in her sleep had the two of you looking at each other, melting in adoration.

"Sometimes I just look at her, and it's like I can't even comprehend she's real." Eddie muttered, his finger tracing down the tufts of hair on her head, so soft and downy. "Like we made this. You carried her inside of you and now she's like a real thing that's here. Moves and breathes and eats and all."

You giggled lightly, reaching your own hand out to touch him, scratching at his scalp. "And poops and cries and bites my nipples off." You added playfully.

Eddie snorted in amusement, looking up at you. Your heart skipped, his eyes so sweet, so full of love that you thought you might melt under them. "You're fucking amazing, you know that?" Eddie muttered. "The best. Better than I deserve."

"Don't say that." You blushed.

"It's true. I never deserved you but now... You're so out of my fucking league it's not even funny. On a different level." Eddie admitted, his own hand reaching out to cradle your face.

You nuzzled into his touch, the ocean behind him making the most gorgeous scenery. Serene and peaceful and exactly what you needed to relax.

"You know you had a part in making her too." You gave him a pointed look. "Takes two."

"Yeah, but I had the easy part. You did all the heavy lifting." Eddie scoffed gently. "And I can't thank you enough. I really can't. You're just... you're the best person I've ever known." Eddie's eyes shined when they met yours, his jaw clenching with emotion. "And I've known a lot of people."

"And I'm the best?" You choked out, your own eyes watering. You'd blame it on your hormones still raging, though you knew better. Eddie always made your sappy and sweet like this, for no one else but him.

"The absolute fucking best. No competition." Eddie grinned. "I love you."

"I love you." You whispered back, leaning in over Persephone's head. He kissed you sweet, tender, much slower than he would have in his earlier years. It was all gnashing teeth and mean kisses to prove who was more in control. Not now, now he took his time, kissed you like you were his lifeline. To him, you were.

Eddie ended up opening the windows, sitting with Persephone on the balcony later when she was awake. Her in his arms, pushed against his chest so she could watch the water. You didn't have the heart to tell Eddie it all looked like blobs to her, so you sat next to him, head on his shoulder while he babbled away to her. The breeze from the water wrapped around you, comforting and thick, it made you relax finally.

#vivisblurbgame #oneforthemunny #munnytalks #rockstar!eddie munson #dad!rockstar!eddie munson #wayne munson

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beanghostprincess · 2 months

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i need to know what you think about uta being ace's and sabo's sister too... like imagine a perfect world where uta existed without the mess of film red (i did enjoy it but also uhhhhhhhh there are a lot of weird things abt it bc i dont think shanks would actually take in uta like that considering he did experience piracy as a kid. so why would he put uta through that even if she'd stay put on the ship–) ANYWAY. so lets say shanks found uta after obtaining the devil fruit and takes her to the nearest island (dawn island.) then found makino and luffy and convinces her to stay w them or whatever.

i imagine that ace and uta do bicker w each other a lot. however sabo is very kind and excited to have a sister!! he's protective of her and enjoys her songs. (which brings out a surprising singing side from sabo ehe...)

i also imagine that uta is as rowdy and gluttonous as her brothers tbh. i mean, she's the only girl there so she's more than likely to be influenced by them. ALSO imagine uta being raised by dadan wheewwwww.... i think if she was raised alongside asl bros, she'd end up way different than she did in film red and well- actually become a pirate– (maybe rivaling with her brothers? that or she acts as luffy's biggest rival to be pirate king as her way of supporting his dream) (idk im just thinking as i type)

so everythings the same but uta is there with three insane brothers (shes as insane too... she is their equal). though it's lowkey clear dadan has a favorite (she loves a tough daughter) and god everything w garp would be so insane too like. before sabo was accepted and started living with the bandits, garp was happy to have a granddaughter (till she said she wanted to become a pirate too 😭) BUT he makes sure ace and luffy treats their sister right and is again being a favorite– however, she wouldn't suck up to him like that. like how the brothers would shield each other from garp, she would also shield them from garp !!

"leave my little brothers alone, old geezer!"

and yes, even if uta is a year younger than ace and sabo, she still would call herself a big sister (especially for knowing luffy longer than the other two. shes just used to being the older one)

anyway... lets say asul au is a tjing, now consider ASUL + S as we love talking about asl+s. with uta around, sanji likely thinks that all sisters are good because shes nice to him too. and how she clearly loves her brothers too. but ofc, uta surrounded by brothers while claiming to be the big sister, makes sanji incredibly jealous about their sibling relationship. it reminds him of reiju and his brothers, how they never really got along. while asul got along really well. they fight a lot but it's never with the intention to hurt each other or make the other feel worthless.

and who am i if i dont bring up sabosan at some point LOL. (also mb that this ask is so long i just love uta sm and i love aus sooo bad <<3) uta is definitely one of the first to notice her brothers' fondness of sanji. she is fond as him as well but not the same way as them lol. she tells sanji some secrets about sabo and sanji just cannot tell if shes actually serious or not because of how mischievous her smile is. and uta absolutely teases sabo about sanji, especially when hes not around like– that little song that little kids sing when it comes to someone havinf a crush.

"sabo and sanji sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g !"

and luffy definitely chimes in while sabo is beet red and begging them to shut up fkldjfldj. makino and uta Looooves gossiping about sabo and sanji. makino does ask to tone down her teasing, which she does, but she can't help but push each other's buttons.

idk theres just a lot to think about if uta was raised with asl brothers and uta growing up to be a pirate :^)

THIS IS SO CUTE !!!! Honestly, Film Red never sat right with me but not exactly because of Shanks' decision of keeping Uta. I see that pretty much in character for the guy-- What I don't like is the way they rushed the ending and the way it all ended, in general. It's just obvious they wanted to do Uta's story but in a way that didn't affect the canon and it's just- Stupid. Idk.

But let's say Shanks meets Uta and spend some years together and she does consider him her father (as I see it, because in this sibling group all of them have to have daddy issues. Except Luffy. Because more than daddy issues he just. Doesn't care-) but he leaves her with Luffy because he says it will be good for her. I think she wouldn't agree with his decision and something like in the movie would happen. Where he just... Leaves. And Uta ends up hating him or at least resenting him a bit. And it's obvious he did for her and he had good intentions but she's just a kid, so she genuinely takes it personal. So, yeah, the girl stays as Luffy's older sister, basically. At least this is how I see it.

Then Sabo and Ace appear and- It's chaotic.

Imo, she's still a diva and she still loves music because it's in her blood and also, she spent some time with Shanks so she already has a bit of her personality made. But being with them makes her learn more about protecting herself and being a bit ruthless, although I think she's more of the type to ler her brothers do the dirty work and only follow them in their shenanigans if they go "You only say that because you can't do it!!" (<- Ace, definitely) and she has to prove she can be as strong as them. So she's a diva but she's a bit more impulsive and reacts in a more violent way. Especially with food too.

I think she wouldn't get along much with Ace at first because he's a mess and she's also a mess and they're really similar when it comes to being Luffy's older siblings so they wouldn't agree on most stuff. But daddy issues are a good way of bonding and I'm pretty damn sure that if Ace ever said "Should I have been born?" in front of her, she would go insane trying to make him see that everybody deserves to live.

With Sabo, though, I think they'd get along pretty well. Sabo is still chaotic but a bit calmer than Ace and he has a strong ideology that Uta would definitely share. He wants to make a statement for freedom and Uta agrees and tbh, he's a writer and she's a singer and there's no better friendship than that one.

Her relationship with Luffy is pretty much the same, except that she now acts way more as a sister and not only as a past friend. Of course. She joins them drinking too!!

Ngl, you can hate me for this but I think the events of Red could easily happen... Again... I mean... Not exactly those events but-- Uta's dream would obviously be to reach everyone with her music. To make them feel seen and loved and making them see they should live. Because after spending so much time with her brothers, she wants to sing songs for the rest of the people that feel the same way they do. She always has them in mind when she sings and she always, always, tries to make them have fun and enjoy life. I think Uta's perception of living and freedom would clash a lot with Ace's and she'd try to make him want to live through music. Same with with freedom and Sabo/Luffy.

But then Sabo dies. And Ace dies. But Sabo comes back and-- I am sorry, and I know it partially was the mushroom's fault, but she's kind of unstable mentally (who isn't in this show tbh) and it wouldn't surprise me that her blatant optimistic views would make her want to do exactly what happens in Red again. But I think this time it should be Sabo and Luffy the ones saving her and, you know, idk, maybe Shanks is there too but this isn't about him today. Whatever. She doesn't hurt anyone and it has a good ending, but it's not the point of the post--

So Sanji is there with them! Following what we've already been saying about Sanji staying with the ASL bros but now adding Uta!!

Uta would absolutely. Adore. Sanji. He's the perfect little sibling. He's cute and knows how to cook and he's literally everything that's right in this world. She complains about Luffy crying but when Sanji does so she only says it's cute and that he deserves to cry-- Uta likes cute stuff canonically and Sanji is the cutest thing, so it makes sense. Also, Sanji just assumes every woman in the world is perfect from that very second because between his mom, Reiju and now Uta he has only had good experiences with girls. He does feel kind of left out at first remembering everything that happened with the Vinsmokes, but Uta always tries to include him in every little thing!

She really likes teasing him and Sabo, though. Uta might adore Sanji but that doesn't mean she isn't a little bit mean to him. It's obvious that they like like each other because, you know, they're kids. Look at them. It's obvious. Uta knows, Luffy knows, Ace knows... Sabo and Sanji spend so much time alone and Sabo always tries to be next to him and he looks at Sanji with like, literal heart eyes.

Uta: Do you like Sanji? Sabo: Sanji? No. No. No. Sanji's just a friend... Uta: Why are your eyes shaped like hearts? Sabo: Allergies...

Uta is an artist. A singer. She's 100% a hopeless romantic. I will die on this hill. So while Ace is extremely "ughhhh" *disgusted noises* by Sanji and Sabo's flirting and Luffy couldn't care less (he just likes teasing them because it's fun to see them panicking), Uta tries HARD to get them together. They're listening to her songs? She will sing a romantic one. They're alone? She will gently push one of them closer to the other. They eat spaghetti once and she goes all the way to try to do the thing where they eat the same one so they kiss. Etc etc etc. She won't stop being a little brat about it too, teasing both of them. And it's driving Sabo crazy. Makino asks Uta about the kids because she knows the girl is as invested as her in the relationship. Funniest thing in the world.

Now I can't stop thinking about them spearating when Sabo dies, following what we said etc etc etc And Uta becomes a famous singer. She doesn't kill anybody, okay? Let's leave it on her just- Doing a huge concert. Sanji and Sabo have already reunited but please, imagine these two not dating just yet. They're in love and pining but not dating. Everyone hates it. And then Sabo joins them for the concert, ofc, and when Uta sees them again (and sees Sabo is alive?? Because what the fuck why didn't they tell her???) one of the first thing she says is "Okay, okay... So you two are... You know?" and they don't understand what she's saying but literally all the crew is like "They're still pining. Please. It's awful". Girl makes it everyone's problem so she does this kiss cam thing to get them together finally. Like I said, good ending.

#sorry for replying so late i have like. a ton of asks and not enough time wekjjbjkrbf #but this is literally amazing i adore this #uta my absolute beloved she's the best #one piece #asl brothers #uta one piece #black leg sanji #revolutionary sabo #portgas d. ace #monkey d. luffy #sabosan

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foralternateuniverses · 1 month

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By some miracle, Ichiji finds himself having a bunch of missions away from Germa, each right after the other, and in one occasion, he ends up having a really really nice one night stand with a certain raven-haired freckled pirate.

Later, he finds out he got pregnant from said one night stand.

It's too late to do something about it, fortunately, the first one (after him) to find out is Reiju who pushes him to run away from Germa and look for the father of his, turns to be, daughter. Fortunately, again, said daughter looks just like the sire.

When Ichiji meets the spade pirates, not only does his daughter still not have a name (he's been referring to her as 1.5 tho), but also Ace and Deuce got together.

Ace, ofc, won't abandon his newfound daughter (obv he's naming her Rouge), and, ofc, has Ichiji stay with them (as if Ichiji had someone else to go now).

Deuce is, understandably, rather put off by the situation (but his knowledge of Ace's parents-related traumas make him bite his tongue), but he decides to try not to be too difficult and also help with little Rouge, which ends up bringing him closer to Ichiji too, specially with Ichiji learning to be more human too. (Ofc the rest of the spade pirates also help with the baby, their little treasure, the local princess).

It's when everything finally seems peaceful that Germa catches up, Niji and Yonji have finally found their missing older brother, and are apparently really excited about being uncles? (Yonji gets excited immediately, Niji takes a little to warm up but he ends up being the one who spoils little Rouge the most, even if they need to learn how to treat such a small being).

~~I'm thinking about having all this be pre Alabasta, so I can have fun with that too

~~Marineford comes and the world discovers that not only does Roger have a son, he apparently also has a granddaughter (because ofc they take their little girl there, who are they supposed to leave her with?)

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

Deuce gives her a checkup and is immediately alarmed by all her anomalies.

Ichiji is like: she's just like I was at her age fr fr

Deuce: THAT'S NOT NORMAL WTF ARE YOU?

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

Ace meets up with Luffy in Alabasta and ofc, needs to show off the picture he has of his daughter (they briefly managed to get their hands on a camera and took as many photos as possible, every crew member carries one at all times). Luffy is very very excited, but Sanji is sweating bullets seeing the girl's curled eyebrows (she got Ichiji's brows) and blue eyes (tho their shape is very obviously Ace's), he can see the Vinsmoke in her and he's not sure how he feels about that.

~~Should the Vinsmoke siblings show up at Marineford? That's their brother in law after all.

~~Luffy crying of happiness when meeting his lovely niece.

And I'll leave it here for now but man am I getting a bunch of cute ideas...

Will do some art later too...

Anyway another one for the Ace X Deuce X Ichiji agenda folder

#one piece #acechiji #vinsmoke ichiji #portgas d ace x vinsmoke ichiji #one piece acechiji #op acechiji #portgas d ace #masked deuce #portgas d ace x masked deuce x vinsmoke ichiji #acedeuchiji #ace x deuce #aceichi #acedeuce #1.5 au #ichiji has the baby after running away but before finding ace #Yonji probably notices the danger his father poses to his niece and ends up making contact with the Revolutionaries #which ends up dragging Sabo to Marineford #does he get his memories before or after Marineford? i still dont know but Ace ain't dying

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

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Running from the Flames {24}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Warnings: 18+ only, Pierre being a simp- this is a work of fiction and the events are not based on reality. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

I would never truly be comfortable in front of all the cameras but they no longer sent me spiralling into a panic attack. I still held Pierre’s arm a little tighter as we stepped out of the limousine and made our way towards the mass of reporters.

I looked back at the car longingly but it was already pulling away so the next one could pull in, possibly the one with Granny and Matthew. Pierre had renewed her interest in the sport and now she was looking to invest in one of the teams, obviously we knew it was going to be Alpine but she wanted an invite to the event so she hadn’t declared that piece of information yet.

Someone called Pierre’s name and we were led to the side where a few special commentators were allowed to interact with guests. We were told to stand at the x taped to the carpet and dutifully moved into position as the woman introduced herself as Anya Beckett of Vanity Fair.

“I am here with the gorgeous couple, Pierre Gasly and Brianna Vowles, so tell me, who are you wearing tonight?”

Pierre expertly unbuttoned his fitted jacket with one flick and held the sides open as he did a turn. The women in the crowds lining the red carpet nearly deafened me with their screams and he waved with a smile and a wink that would only make them louder.

Since he was busy working the crowd up and then darting forward to sign a few autographs the microphone was turned to me for the answer.

“We are both wearing special pieces from Betty Strauss to raise awareness that today is the international White Ribbon Day which aims to eradicate violence against women.”

“Oh yes, I see that now,” she said as she waved to the crossed neck halter. “But this is definitely not any of the vintage collections I have seen, how did you possibly get the Betty Strauss out of retirement?”

A cheer went up as the next limo arrived and I looked down the red carpet to see Granny waving like a Queen to her subjects. Matthew looked every bit the professional model he was as he tucked one hand in his pocket and looked down the camera with a pose, one arm around Granny’s waist.

“Wow, I hope I look half as good as that at her age,” Anya blushed as Betty strutted her way over in towering heels. “Betty, it’s wonderful to see you outside of Fashion Week. I know this wasn’t on anyone’s bingo card for the season.”

“Life would be a drag if I were anything but unpredictable. Doesn’t my granddaughter look wonderful?”

Anya’s eyes darted between us. “Granddaughter?”

“Harry may have got the surname in the divorce,” Betty joked, “but we still had Damien together.”

“Of course,” Anya laughed nervously as she gave Matthew a side glance but he was used to Granny’s sense of humour that dad had inherited. “And can we expect to see this stunning piece in the new season drop for Strauss Fashion?”

I shook my head and spoke up. “This, along with Pierre’s suit and his racing helmet, are going to be up for auction tomorrow night after the race. All the money will be donated to The Kering Foundation so if you haven’t registered already you can find the link to the form on any of mine or Pierre’s social media accounts.”

I looked around trying to find him and spotted him way back down the red carpet with Charles who had just arrived. The two were talking animatedly together and he pointed my way before clutching his chest. I cocked an eyebrow up at Pierre and Charles cupped his hands around his mouth to shout over the crowd. “He won’t stop telling me how beautiful you look!”

“I can’t, it’s true,” Pierre shouted before they were asked to make their way towards the building and he caught me around the waist, his lips teasing my ear as he whispered. “You are so beautiful it hurts.”

“Ay, come on guys, some of us are depressingly single,” Charles complained as he pushed us apart and stepped in between to drape an arm over our shoulders. “Bri, you do look beautiful, Pierre, eh, not so much.”

“Bullshit,” Pierre scoffed. “You just called me ‘handsome daddy’ back there.”

“Wait, you don’t speak spanish…unless…” Charles looked at me and I could feel my cheeks burning under the layers of makeup. “You call him papi chulo? Oh, this is too good.” He slipped away from us, waving to the crowd as he rushed inside calling out for Carlos and I buried my face in my hands.

“Thank you for your time, enjoy your evening and best of luck for the race tomorrow,” Anya said after seeing it was going to be impossible to get our attention back and turned to the camera to reconfirm the information she had received. “There you have it, you could own some unique pieces of memorabilia whether you are a fan of Formula One or fashion, and it’s for a great cause too.”

Pierre winked to the camera and waved goodbye before leading us into the convention centre that was lit up brightly.

“Now everyone is going to be calling you papi chulo,” I groaned as we stepped inside and I immediately spotted Charles and Carlos huddled together. “I’m going to get a drink and let you have fun with that.”

Lewis found me at the bar and I complimented the flamboyant outfit he wore that was as far from the black tie dress code as possible. The bright rainbow tie dye colours of his oversized clothes represented his support for the LGBTQ+ community and on the back in bold print it said ‘Black Lives Matter’.

The bartender spotted Lewis waiting and rushed past the other people who had been waiting longer than us and Lewis tried to tell him to serve the others but the man obviously had his orders of priority.

“I’ll grab a mock mojito, please.”

“Oh, make that two,” I said I saw the ingredients on the menu and decided it looked delicious. I turned to him while we waited and noticed the white ribbon pinned to his shirt. “Hey, we match.”

“We all do,” Lewis chuckled and nodded his head to Lando and Oscar who were talking together not far away, a white ribbon pinned to their suits. “Pierre worked up a sweat chasing everyone up and down the paddock this morning. He even got one on Roscoe.”

“You don’t even let me put anything on him.”

“That’s because you want to put him in Alpine colours,” Lewis pointed out.

“I didn’t know he was planning that.” I searched the room and found him in a fit of laughter between Carlos and Charles, no doubt being teased goodheartedly.

“That’s hard to believe, he’s absolutely terrible at keeping secrets.”

I laughed at the honest statement and took a sip of the drink that had been placed on the bartop. The fresh zesty flavour of clementine and lime filled my mouth and I hummed in appreciation as I placed it back down. “Ok, you have officially sold me on non-alcoholic drinks.”

“They will be in high demand tonight. I don’t think anyone will want to drink too much with the race tomorrow.”

We looked at the youngest drivers on the grid and laughed as they tapped their bottles of beer together, cheering to their team.

“Oh, to be young again.”

Lewis choked on his drink with a laugh. “You're only 26, Bri.”

“I swear I hardly need to sleep anymore, I get so much stuff done before anyone else is awake that I need a hobby. Actually, I saw this clip on tik tok about how easy it is to knit that I am seriously considering trying. I practically fit the criteria for a retirement home.”

“You can make me a sweater, cute little pattern on it, plenty of colour, bam.”

I snorted at the idea and shook my head. “I think I’ll leave the big projects to the professionals,” I said with a nod in Betty’s direction. “But maybe a beanie won’t be too hard, or little booties.”

“Whose booty are we talking about?” Pierre asked as his arms wrapped around my waist and held one fist out to Lewis. “Sup, man.”

Lewis bumped his knuckles against Pierre’s. “No booty talk here but it sounds like Bri’s about to start nesting.”

Pierre’s brows pinched in confusion at the term. “Nesting?”

Toto broke through the crowd and looked relieved to have found Lewis, calling him off to talk with some investors but Lewis stopped to look back at Pierre with an amused look. “Google it.”

We didn’t have time to search for the definition because Otmar found us first with Esteban in tow. He gave them both a quick pep talk to boost their confidence before nudging them off towards the throngs of people wanting to talk to the drivers.

“How are you doing, kiddo?” Otmar asked as we took our places at the designated Alpine table. Granny and Matthew were already seated and enjoying a bottle of champagne together.

“Never been better, truly,” I said with a grin. “I would have rather had the usual family dinner than this though.”

Otmar laughed and agreed. “It’s a necessary evil and with Betty’s contribution we will be a serious contender for a place in the top three for the Constructors Championship next year. And I think the boys are holding their own in the lion's den.”

I scanned the crowd for Pierre and found him easily thanks to Esteban’s height. The men he was talking to were as charmed by him as I was and they listened to his compelling story with interest, laughing along with him when he joked about something.

“I’m glad they are getting along better,” I commented as I watched the two Alpine driver’s share a grin as they moved onto the next group.

“Makes my job easier, that’s for sure.” Otmar leaned back in his chair and swirled the amber liquid in his tumbler. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you about - Harry?”

“Harry?” I asked confused before following his line of sight and twisting in my chair to see my grandad sauntering into the room. I rose to my feet to give him a hug but I was lost for words since he was always too busy with work in the States to travel anywhere outside of it.

I immediately looked at Granny as he gave me a final squeeze before moving on and she cocked an eyebrow up at the sight of her first husband pulling out the chair beside her.

“Long time no see, Elizabeth,” he greeted her as he took a seat.

“Well I didn’t divorce you because I wanted to see more of you, Harold.” She waved a hand between the two seats either side of her. “My husband, Matthew. Sweetheart, this is Harry Vowles, Damien’s father.”

I leaned closer to Otmar and whispered out of the corner of my mouth. “This is awkward.”

Otmar swallowed his laugh and whispered back. “Isn’t it just?”

“So what brings you here, Harold?”

I tuned into the conversation but Gramps merely tapped his nose with a mischievous smile that had Granny narrowing her eyes. “All I’ll say is it is worth delaying some very important meetings.”

The lights dimmed and the MC for the night announced that the business part of the evening had concluded, finally. Pierre soon found his way back to the table and shook Grandad’s hand, spending a little time catching up since the last time they had seen each other which had been at the race in Austin, Texas.

I chewed on my lip as I watched the interaction before Pierre took his seat beside me, his hand slipping under the table to rest on my thigh. “Did you know he was going to be here?”

Pierre’s lips parted and his eyes darted around before his mouth shut closed again. He was suddenly uncomfortable in his seat and shifted around, tugging at his bow that was suddenly seeming to choke him.

I reached over and pressed my hand to his forehead, feeling it warm under my skin. “What’s going on, babe? You’re breaking out in a sweat.”

“Nothing, it’s just hot in here.” His hand slipped from my knee and he stood up, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. “Je t’aime, I’ll be back in a minute.”

I grabbed his hand and he looked down at where they joined, a small smile playing on his lips. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

His smile grew and he lifted my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “Never better, mon amour.”

Click here for chapter twenty five.

Tagging: @my-only-way-tocooperatewithlife @prrttysposts @alwaysclassyeagle

#pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x poc!oc #pierre gasly x oc #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #f1 fic #running from the flames

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quitealotofsodapop · 4 months

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So there's a lot of subtle hints that, despite already being reincarnated and such, the Pilgrims' spirits are still around as their own seleves and looking after Wukong and their decendants. The most obvious being the golden cicada that would constantly appear to Tang in S3 and that moment in the scroll of memories where all the Pilgrims' spirits seemed to reach out to Wukong

I think the biggest piece of evidence for this idea is Master Subodhi himself.

In my theory; he's a manifestation of the Golden Cicada first human life. And because a cicada moulting and eventually dying still leaves behind a shell, so do does the Golden Cicada leave behind a "shell" in the form of a spirit of his old lives.

Named for Subhuti, the 10th Diciple of the Buddha, who embodied the knowledge of Emptiness; who better to teach Emptiness to other beings than an *empty shell* of a failed diciple's (GC) life?

The cicada we see following and encouraging Tang throughout S3 is Tripitaka's spirit itself, trying to encourage his successor in a way thats not too mind-blowing for him. Sadly only really Tang and certain gold-vision-owning monkeys can interract with the buggy spirit.

Basically if Tang ever met his past lives, he'd be able to have a Discord chat with them ala Avatar Aang;

Zhu Bajie on the otherhand would haunt the sh*t out of Pigsy's for the food alones since in his opinion; "I was promised endless offerings! I ain't leaving yet!"

Sha Wujing meanwhile is Sandy, and a person he doesn't wish to become again.

And ofc we have Ao Lie interracting with Mei like she's his fave niece or possible granddaughter.

#lmk theories #lmk master subodhi #lmk tripitaka #lmk tang #lmk ao lie #lmk zhu bajie #lmk golden cicada #lmk #lego monkie kid

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fuck-customers · 1 year

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ajgjfskkrfl. i'm not antinatalist or anything but like. if you dont want kids, if you don't think you'd be a good parent, Do Not Have Them. I have seen SO MANY bad parents as a cashier and it drives me insane. Just in the past month i've witnessed:

A mom was being passive aggressive because her mom was buying a journal and pen for her granddaughter (the mom's daughter) but couldn't pay for all of her (the mom's) $50 worth of makeup. she kept complaining about how her mom likes 'that girl' more than her.

7-8 year old girl wants to buy a hairbrush with $5 she brought in but her mom snatched it away and was like 'um you don't ever sit still to have your hair brushed anyway so obvs you dont ever want to brush your hair??' ofc she put it in the wrong spot too

very cute talkative baby comes in the line and is like 'hi :)' to me and i'm like 'hi!!' and he starts baby babbling and i'm nodding and going 'yeah exactly i see!' (Like you're supposed to jsjff) but his mom suddenly (and p loudly) says, 'um, i'm SHOPPING. it's QUIET TIME.' and he completely shuts down. then shes like 'lol im sorry hes so noisy :)' ma'am don't you think it's kinda fucked up that you have your toddler trained to stfu when you get mildly annoyed w him?? she even tried to argue w me when i said he wasnt bothering me, like 'oh i was talking to him he wasnt noisy at all' 'no no i get it you're so patient :) i know it gets annoying' UGH.

10 year old boy was talking to me about pokemon cards after buying a pack and he was telling me what he had, what he was trading, what he was looking for, and i was listening and nodding and talking about what I had in my binder and what I was in the process of trying to find as well. it was literally only like 5 minutes that he had been in the store that his dad came in and was like 'dude, you always do this.' and he grabbed the kid's hand and basically dragged him out. the kid managed to say 'bye' before he got all the way out the door but like. obvs he doesn't get many chances to talk about the things he likes. all i'm thinking is. he's so going to move out so early.

i mean for real if you're going to mistreat your kids so much why tf did you bring them into the world in the first place. use the condom and take your birth control

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bwoahtastic · 4 months

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oh nico being so excited but also so nervous about having a baby. she knows that jenson is going to be an amazing dad, but she's terrified that she'll be a terrible mom. he keeps telling her that she'll be great, but there's always a little voice in the back of her head telling her that she'll never be good enough. she feels like she's doing everything wrong, and even though she tries to hide it from jenson, he can tell that something is wrong. the only time he sees her relax and actually enjoy the pregnancy is when they go to visit her parents. he is literally looking at property listings in finland and is prepared to move their entire lives to make nico happy, when keke and nico's mom find him and suggest that it might be easier if they just come to stay with jenson and nico in monaco for a while.

nico is so happy when her parents come back to monaco with them. everything feels so much easier with her family there, she's less stressed, and she can finally relax about the pregnancy. it's a bit awkward for jenson at first, but he just wants nico to be happy. after nico gives birth, the first people to hold the baby after her and jenson are her parents. nico's favorite memories of that day will always be jenson and keke holding the baby.

Plss nico is so excited when,she finds out she is pregnant but the doubts come fast and hard... jenson is just so natural, would make a great loving dad, but Nico doubts herself. What if she isn't loving enough? What if the kid won't like her? Is she too cold, too strict? What if she isn't careful enough during th4 pregnancy and hurts the little one?

Nico tries to hide it all but jenson notices, sees her worried frown and her tense smile. But he also sees how relaxed she is when they are in Finland, when her mum fusses over her an her dad firmly but lovingly tells her she is doing great, and ofc cuddles his baby girl when she feels bad. Jenson sees her being happy and instantly stsrts looking at houses and how to move to Finland, he would do thst for her without 2nd thought!

Then keke comes to him and talks to him about how him and nico's mum want to move to monaco to help out and jenson instsntly says they should stay in their house with them! No need finding an apartment! Nico is so relieved seeing jenson is fully agreeing it. She is so happy with her parents there, feels safe and secure and with everyone she love there for her!

Nico finslly having her baby and holding her, so in awe! She wants jenson to hold the little one too ofc, giving her a moment to breathe whilr Keke fusses over her, more emotional than she ever saw him and so proud of her! Jenson asking Keke if he wants to hold his granddaughter and Keke is so in,awe! And nico is smiling tiredly snd so content

#asks #rule63 verse

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dingochef · 10 months

Text

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Stalking, P in V, oral (female and male receiving), Semi-public sex, light spanking,

Summary: You get to know Jake's family better, learn few truths about your life, and try to figure out what Jake's brother's deal is.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 9

Word Count: 2.9 k

Chapter 10: Just You

The rest of the afternoon is spent hanging around the kitchen helping Sharon with some of Thanksgiving pre-prep.

Sharon keeps the conversation going, "So, Elsa, any special Thanksgiving traditions at your house?"

"Nothing too different than most people's, we'd usually go to my Grandma's for dinner with my extended family."

"We've got that too, that's Friday night for my side of the family. You'll get to meet all of the Lucarellis."

Jake pipes up,

"That's the Italian side."

"How many people is that?" you ask trying to get an idea of the size of the get-together.

"It's about 40ish people with all the generations. I'm one of five kids so it's our kids and grandkids."

"Wow, that's a lot of people. My extended family is 10 people," you reply with my eyes widening. Jake notices the look on my face.

"Don't worry about remembering everyone's names, I'm pretty sure it took me till I was about 10 to get it all right," he reassures me.

"Oh yeah, they're all dying to meet you. Everybody is curious about the girl that got Jake to settle down," Sharon gushes.

"Mom, you're making it seem like Elsa's going to be the main attraction. Don't scare her," Jake says to his mom in a fake whisper.

You laugh, catching Jake's eye. He winks and gives you that panty dropper smile.

The conversation pivots, and moves to your work,

"So what is it you exactly do, Jake was a bit vague about that," she asks.

"Probably not intentionally so, I work for Lockheed Martin in the research and development division. The specific details are literally top secret," you answer.

"You and Jake and your top secret lives, always thought that was just in the movies."

"Where'd you go to college?"

"Notre Dame for my undergrad and Stanford for my PhD."

"You a big football fan? That's what I think of most when I think of Notre Dame."

Jake snickers behind his mom where he is chopping vegetables for stuffing tomorrow.

"Yes, I'd say Elsa is a big football fan. She sat me down and told me Saturdays in the fall were for Notre Dame football and I was welcome to join her or find something else to do."

"I had to let you know my deal breakers. Not everyone enjoys Lydia and I losing it over every play."

"Lydia is Elsa's best friend from Notre Dame, she lives with Rooster in La Jolla," Jake fills her in.

"Oh yeah, you mentioned that Rooster had found himself a lady friend. Nice young man."

The food prep wraps up and you help Sharon clean up the kitchen.

She goes and sits down on an overstuffed armchair and puts her feet up on an ottoman.

"Well, I'm done cooking for the day, dinner tonight is pizza," she sighs out.

"Well earned, Mom. Do you want a drink? Make yourself comfortable," Jake asks.

"That sounds good, a glass of red, please. There's a few bottles in the rack in there, pick something out."

"Elsa, you?" he asks over his shoulder as he steps into the kitchen.

"Yes, please." you settle on a matching overstuffed sofa.

"Oh, you'll get to meet Mike tonight. He's going to stop by for dinner on his way home from the hospital."

"I was wondering when he'd make an appearance."

"Alicia and the girls will be here tomorrow."

"That was going to be my next question. Jake's mentioned them before, especially when I asked how he was familiar with Frozen. He called me Icy when we first met."

"I'll level with you, I love my granddaughters dearly, but if I have to watch that movie or Moana one more time I'm going to lose it."

"You and I will get along well. I've always liked my name, but it did get annoying after the movie came out."

Jake has reappeared with two glasses of wine and hands one to you and Sharon and disappears back into the kitchen presumably to grab his glass.

"So Jake mentioned you met at a bar, how'd that go? Did Jakey have some suave pick up line?"

You nearly snort on your wine,

"You want to tell her or should I?" you ask Jake as he enters with his glass. He sits down next to you with his arm on the back of the sofa and asks,

“Tell who what?”

You wait till he is taking a sip,

“Your mom wants to know how exactly we met at the Hard Deck and if you had some smooth pick up line.”

Jake nearly chokes on his wine,

“Hardly, I ran into her spilling her drink, which is the only reason I got to buy her a drink that night at all. We talked for a while, I apparently didn’t pick up some obvious clues nor ask her what she does for a living. I was drinking pretty fast because she made me nervous and then I tried to pull my ‘I’m a pilot and this how planes fly routine.’”

Sharon groans,

“You tried to explain how planes fly to an aerospace engineer. I’m sure I raised you better.”

“Hey, the whole pilot thing has worked pretty well in the past. Then she promptly gave me an epic ego check and left me a smoldering wreck on the barroom floor.”

Sharon’s eyebrows furrow, confused how anything could be salvaged that situation.

“I assumed I’d never see him again.” you add.

“Something about you definitely intrigued me and I wanted to see you again or at least say sorry,” Jake continues. “I got your number from a friend and invited you to a Padres game the next day, and for some miraculous reason you said yes.”

“I figured I'd get at least a baseball game out of it,” you add.

“But apparently, I pulled the old Seresin charm out and the baseball game became dinner and the rest is history.” Jake wraps up, kissing you on the side of your head.

“Your charm was not trying to be a flashy pilot, and just being Jake,” you reassure him as you pat his knee.

“You guys are adorable,” Sharon practically coos.

“Where’s Tom? I haven’t seen him around all day?” you ask.

“Oh he’s volunteering at the community health clinic. When he retired from his own practice he decided to volunteer a few days a week here and there to keep busy. He’s usually back by 5,” she answers. you look up at the clock on the mantle and it says 3 pm.

“That’s cool, what a neat way to stay connected and give back.”

Sharon has finished her wine and her busy day and an afternoon glass of wine has mellowed her out. She yawns,

“Well, I’m going to go ‘rest my eyes’ for a bit till Dad gets home.” She gets up and drops her glass in the kitchen and heads off to take a nap.

You stand up and look at the photos on the mantle and the wall. There’s the usual family portraits, some baseball photos of Jake and his brother. A large wedding portrait of Mike and Alicia, (you assume), baby pictures of the grandkids, graduations, and other family moments all line the wall.

Jake has joined you and is standing next to you.

"Your family literally looks like the fake families they put in photo frames," you tease Jake.

"I can't help that we were all gifted with gorgeous genetics."

Continuing to look at the photos each one is filled with that signature Seresin smile. The one that radiates pure joy.

"It's not just the looks, which I agree are top notch. You can feel the love your family has for each other, that comes through even though it's just a moment frozen in time."

"All family photos are like that, you probably have a wall like this at your house."

"No, they're not. A distinct memory I have is my mom smiling brightly for the camera and then her face going back neutral or RBF. She never walked around the world with a smile. My Dad was better about it, but I think that slowly faded over time by being with my Mom."

Jake wraps his arms around you, knowing how hard it is for you to talk about certain things.

"I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed by how loving your family is. When I went to meet Liam's family when we got engaged, it felt like my family. Polite and cool, when they weren't sniping each other with passive aggressive remarks."

Jake kisses your forehead, it's always at his mouth level and easy to reach.

"I get that your relationship with your parents is in the 'It's Complicated' category, but understand, and this can't make up for the past, but you're a part of the Seresin family and all that love."

"You're going to make me cry. How are you so good at all this emotional stuff? I feel like I'm just figuring this out on the fly."

"This is only an observation, but I don't think you've ever felt real love before our relationship. Not to say your parents don't love you in some way, but it's based on you being something for them, like you being an Olympian. Real love isn't like that, it's based on you being just you. Just like you fell in love with just Jake, the man, not Jake the hotshot pilot."

The tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes, I take a deep breath.

"You realize you've made a better assessment than my therapists ever did. I really had to be in love to understand what was missing. Have I mentioned how much I love you?" you laugh, wiping at the tears with you hands.

"Yes, but I love hearing it.'

"Okay, I think we've made some good progress here today," you joke.

Jake looks confused.

"It's literally how every therapist, I've had has wrapped up the end of a session," you explain.

"Are we wrapping up this session?"

"I think so, I'm going to have to absorb that truth bomb and just bask in the love your family is lousy with."

He laughs and pulls you back into a deep hug. The tension in you melts away. You and Jake end up back on the couch snuggled together.

"So, here's your chance to preempt any embarrassing stories your brother might drop on dinner," you tease Jake.

He groans,

"Oh Lord, there's a few."

You spend the rest of the afternoon with your head on his lap as tells you stories about growing up.

Around five, as promised, Jake's Dad arrives home. You and Jake greet him and Sharon reappears to give him a kiss on the cheek. They discuss when Mike will be over to time the pizza delivery. Jake's dad calls out to the living room where Jake and you are still on the couch,

"Elsa, Jake tells me you like a good gin and tonic."

You sit up and respond,

"I do in fact like a good gin and tonic, got to prevent malaria."

Jake and you walk into the kitchen.

He responds with a good laugh,

"It'll be nice to have another g&t drinker in the family, these two," he points at Sharon pouring a glass of wine and Jake getting a beer from the fridge, "Are very anti-gin and tonic."

"I know, Jake has made his opinions known about gin, he said it was like kissing a Christmas tree."

"It is, it's so piney," he whines. You lean over and kiss his cheek.

A gin and tonic is slid across the counter to you, which you gladly accept.

"Thanks, Tom."

He holds his glass up in a cheers motion and you mimic him. The first sip is exactly on point, you let Tom know,

"Perfectly done."

"I've had years of practice," he responds drolly.

Sharon cuts in,

"Why don't you folks make yourself comfortable in the living room while we wait for Mike. I'll be there in a second."

You follow Sharon's suggestion and Jake and you take the loveseat opposite the armchair. Jake instinctually puts his arm up on the back around you. You wait for Tom to lob out a question.

Which he does, but not to you,

"How's the teaching gig going, Jake?"

"I really like it, I was a little unsure of how teaching would be versus active duty but it's so rewarding to get these pilots in, devastate them the first day and then have to be flying at my best to win at the end of it."

Jake and Tom keep talking about Jake's work for a while. Sharon comes in and joins the group. There's a knock at the door, Sharon jumps up to answer the door,

"Oh, it's Mike, I was wondering when he'd get here."

She opens the door to a similar looking man a few years older than Jake with a bit thinner build, but the same crazy green eyes and blond hair. Sharon takes the pizza boxes from Mike and Jake jumps up to greet his brother with a big bear hug.

A mix of each other's name, "Good to see you", and "It's been awhile" emanates from their hug. Everyone migrates to the kitchen and soon pizza is served up and everyone is seated.

Again you wait for a question to come your way and this time it does.

"Elsa, I hear you're a PhD aerospace engineer who went to Notre Dame on a gymnastics scholarship and works on top secret aircraft. Knowing Jake, one of those has to be untrue," Mike asks in more of an interrogative way than friendly. Like he's checking out your cover story.

"Nope, those are all true," you answer.

"If you're all those out of the world things, why did you pick my brother of all people to be with?" His tone is so serious that you can't tell if he's joking in a brotherly way or if he's being mean about it.

Your brain wants to go with the snarky response, which is "Because he has a very big cock," but luckily your filter is working and instead you say, l

"Because he is a very good man whom I love very much and who loves me just as much."

Sharon and Tom look at each and lift their eyebrows, communicating in that way old married couples do.

Mike rolls his eyes,

"Yeesh, you really are gone for him."

"Yeah, I think it's past the point of no return," you look over to Jake and he is watching the exchange between you and his brother like a tennis match. His face alternates from an adoring to annoyed look with each volley.

"Yeah, but I still can't believe he landed someone as high caliber as you."

Jake interjects himself to the conversation,

"I think we covered that enough, moving on Mike."

He does with surprising ease and pivots to his next question,

"So, how long have you lived in San Diego?"

"A little over four years and I, we actually live on Coronado Island, if you're familiar with the San Diego area."

The rest of dinner goes relatively normal and the get to know you conversations flow easily and feel less like you're a spy caught in enemy territory being questioned.

Mike excuses himself after dinner to get home before the girls have to go to bed.

That night as Jake and you are settling into bed, you ask Jake about his brother,

"Is your brother usually that aggressive to new people, or was it just me?"

"It was just you, I think it blew his mind that someone like you is actually in love with me."

"That I don't get."

"He's always been the do good of our family, he's a doctor, married, and kids. All things my parents are rightly proud of. I don't know if he feels like I one upped him on a partner or he's actually jealous."

"What about his wife, Alicia?"

"Alicia is lovely, I don't doubt those two are crazy in love, I just think he's put out that he's not the golden boy right now. My mom has been waiting for me to settle down for so long I'm surprised she isn't picking out wedding colors right now, so she understandably is excited and he feels a lack of attention, I guess."

"So the usual siblings vying for their parents' attention, like when you were kids."

"Yup, are you close with your sister? I know you call her fairly regularly."

"We're pretty close, my sister has always gone her own way, she didn't have the need to get approval and validation from our parents. She just did what she liked to do and that was art. So we weren't competing with each other in the same realms and could be friends. I think she liked that my parents were so over involved in my life that she had more freedom. But I think I've thought about family dynamics enough to today."

"Agreed."

Jake rolls over to spoon you and pulls you back into his embrace.

"I love you," you whisper.

"Love you too," he answers.

It doesn't take long to fall asleep.

Chapter 11

@kmc1989

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@mayhemmanaged

@callmemana

@dempy

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

@callsign-viper

@senjoritanana

@djs8891

@atarmychick007

@memoriesat30

@midnightmagpiemama

#top gun maverick #hangman fanfiction #hangman #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #hangman x you #top gun smut #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x you

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