#but that’s what I get for watching it barely a month after my grandpa passes

[the-feral-gremlin]

Tw for grief/loss

“You know, they say death is final but it isn’t. For the people left behind, the pain feels like it never ends.”

#that line gutted me a little more than I thought it would #but that’s what I get for watching it barely a month after my grandpa passes #mel monroe #virgin river #tw grief/loss #tw grief #tw loss #tw loss of a loved one #i’m rambling

[notafunkiller]

sparks fly

Summary: While you are looking for Rebecca, you unexpectedly meet her brother, Bucky Barnes, your new gorgeous neighbor.

Pairing: neighbor!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: fluff, age gap (the reader is 25, Bucky is 33), teasing, no mention of y/n

Word Count: <1K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: An extra thank you to @marvelouslizzie and @lavenderhaze967​ for being my beta readers and for the endless support.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

It started in the most random way. One morning, you want to announce Rebecca and your other neighbor, Elena, there might be some noise next week cause you need to call someone to fix your leaking faucet, but you are shocked to see a strange man when the door opens.

You and Rebecca don't know each other well since she didn’t seem much around and you moved there just 2 months ago.

You are embarrassed and surprised, especially since you are still wearing your pajamas. Bucky is trying not to stare at your legs or chest and be respectful meanwhile you are ogling him. From his bare feet and his pink shorts to the white tank top that you’ve never expected to look so good on anyone and his perfect man bun, you find him really attractive. He’s a tall, big man -huge-, with the bluest eyes ever.

And he’s so nice and friendly. You run into each other a few times before you invite him over for dinner. Since you are going to live across each other, you want to know a little more about him.

Bucky has been staying in Rebecca's apartment since she got married, so just a couple of days. He returned to New York after being abroad for a year. The fact that he owns an advertising agency doesn’t surprise you since he is a creative person and a known photographer apparently (you googled him), but he’s surprised when he finds out you’re a copywriter.

You slowly create a routine and spend every Saturday evening eating and watching films together while discussing work and random things.

"I would love to have a cat one day," you say with a smile.

"You can, Tisha loves animals."

Your landlord is a nice person indeed.

"Only if you get one with me." You’re not serious, though. You wouldn't "blackmail" him like that. You haven’t gotten a cat until now because your previous landlords made it clear that it’s not allowed.

"Let's go."

You laugh, shocked by his serious tone. Is he messing with you? "Are you serious?"

Bucky gives you a confused look as he finishes his last bite and drops the fork on his plate. "Why would I joke about it?"

"So you are a cat guy!" You jump excitedly from the chair. You knew it!

"Is this a thing?"

You snort, mimicking his tone "Is this a thing? Of course it is, silly. You passed my test.”

The look on his face is priceless, but you can’t judge him.

"I am confused."

"If you hated cats, then you’d be a red flag."

"You kids and your slangs." He shakes his head amused.

"Do you need an extra explanation? You roll your eyes, but, truth be told, you like it when he plays the old man card. He is not old after all. 33 is definitely not old. "People, men especially, who hate cats are absolutely the worst."

"Not animals in general?"

"Nope." You shake your head. "It's a different thing."

"Oh, please go ahead." He gestures with his right hand for you to continue.

"Cats people love all animals usually. Many puppy lovers, unfortunately, especially men as I said, hate cats. As in... when you ask people what animals they like the most or you talk about cats, they are offended and say they are dog people in that awful way, you know? They shit on cats and mention how dogs are better, despite it not being a competition, because they always wait for you and love you unconditionally. How cats are these horrible little creatures because they can’t be tamed."

"Ohhhh." His lips form an "O" as he finally starts to understand. "Because cats are independent and they hate that, don't they?"

"Finally, grandpa!" You high-five him.

And in less than an hour, you two get home with the two female cats that chose you instantly when you got there by licking and crying after you. They slept in your lap the whole ride home, even when Bucky stopped to buy them some food, and the next day, as two proud and happy parents, you made sure Alpine and Miss Bubbles are vaccinated and trimmed.

#neighbor!bucky barnes #neighbor!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #my stories #my fanfics #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic

[thefallennightmare]

Moment of Weakness-one

*credit to whoever created the gif. found on google/Pinterest *

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Notes: I'm not too sure how long this series will be so let's just enjoy it!

Tags(open): @splendidreads @sebsgirl71479 @mdpplgtz03 @pattiemac1 @elizacusi-blog

The heels of my boots smacked against the hardwood floor as I hurried around the room, trying to finish my work. The setting sun had blasted its rays through the window, an indication that I had about a half hour left before the work day had ended and I was able to go home. 

Even though I would have rather stayed longer, with him. 

Part of me thought of going to ask him if he needed me to stay later tonight but that would require me going into his office and talking to him; something I had only done one or twice in the few months of me working here. 

Any time he needed something, he would either write a note and leave it on my desk or send me an email. We barely spoke to each other and if we did it was a quick good morning as he was walking in and a goodnight as I was walking out. 

He was always right behind me in the morning, both of us usually arriving at the same time but he would always stay much later in the evenings, long after I had gone home. 

Being New York’s top mob boss was a full time gig and it kept him busy. Which is why he hired me. When I first applied for the job, I thought I would be the assistant to a C.E.O or something. Needless to say, I had been shocked on my first day when I walked in and noticed who I was actually working for. 

His name was the hush gossip around town, his mob gang running the neighborhood I had lived in my whole life. It has been passed down from generation to generation. When he found out that I had lived here and remembered his grandpa running the gang before his father did, I had been hired on the spot. 

When I told the people in my life of my new job, they were worried for my safety. They reminded me that I could have gotten a job anywhere in New York, why did I agree to this one?

The pay was perfect, exactly what I needed to get by and then some, but the main reason why I accepted this job was because of him. It would have been a lie if I said I didn’t find him attractive. I had to keep reminding myself, though, that it was just a crush. Nothing more. 

Of course, I couldn’t help but worry on how I would be assisting him. But it ended up being the typical mundane tasks any assistant would have. Running errands for him, helping sort his meetings, taking some calls, deterring anyone he didn’t want to see or didn’t have a meeting away. There was only one person who was allowed to walk into his office freely. 

Her.

With a soft sigh, I packed up all of my belongings, the clock on the wall striking six in the evening, and the thought of sitting on my couch in my lazy clothes watching trashy television brought a smile to my face. 

The door behind my desk clicked open and I felt the warmth radiate from him as he walked out, a charming smile across his soft features. 

“Leaving for the night?” 

My eyes glanced at him and felt my heart begin to pound in my chest, the vibrations echoing up to my throat. 

I nodded. “Unless you need something else from me?” 

He shook his head, a smile still plastered over his face. It was almost as if he knew how much his smile made me weak in the knees. The hairs that had been slicked back when he arrived this morning were now a mess on top of his head, no doubt from him running his hand through it. With the light from the lamp on my desk, I could see the few gray hairs that peaked underneath the browns of his beard. 

He looked breathtaking. 

My eyes darted to his left arm, the black and gold vibranium catching the said before light and I had to force myself to look away, so I didn’t get caught staring. 

Except I knew I had because he hid his hand into his jacket pocket.

“No, you go home. Enjoy the rest of the night. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Have a good night Mr. Barnes,” I smiled with a red face at being caught. 

“I already told you, Y/N. You can call me Bucky,” he insisted. 

I smiled at my boss, James Buchanan Barnes, and while tossing my bag over my shoulder bid him a goodnight with a nod. I could feel his burning gaze on my backside as I walked away. 

I hummed a low tune while I typed away at the computer in front of me, the list of emails waiting to be sent. Bucky had made sure that this task was my number one priority today because the monthly meeting with the other two mob gangs that ran the other neighborhood around us was coming up. He wanted to make sure that those leaders knew what was going to be discussed before they would arrive that day. 

It had been held here at Bucky’s office for the last handful of years because of his reputation and position in the mob. He was well respected among the other gangs, their own leaders looking up to him. The reason for these meetings were to discuss business, of course, but also to make sure that everyone remembered who was in charge. 

A large presence was felt behind me but I didn’t have to look to see who it was. A smile pulled at the corner of my lips but kept my attention on the email I had been typing. 

“Need something?” I asked over my shoulder. 

The blonde smirked. “I’m just wondering when you’re doing the next coffee run.” 

I spun around in my chair, eyes glancing up towards the man. His beard had been a bit fuller since I saw him last week and his long hair was slicked back, his blue eyes shining bright. 

“Last time I checked Rogers. I’m not your coffee runner,” I joked while standing to my feet and gave his chest a pat. 

The firmness of it did not go unnoticed by me. 

Steve chuckled. “It’s Buck. He’s ready for his afternoon coffee with lunch.” 

I nodded. “Is he busy or can I pop in to get his order?” 

He held up a piece of paper in his hand. “I already got it. Bucky wants me to go with you.”

“Sam usually comes with me,” I raised a brow. “

Steve shrugged with his hands in his pockets. “Figured you could use a change of company.” 

I nodded, eagerly to spend some time with him. Steve was not only one of Bucky’s bodyguards but was also his childhood best friend. The two of them grew up together and while I didn’t speak much to Bucky, Steve and I found ourselves talking almost every free chance we could. There had been a few times our conversations had taken a flirtatious route, neither of us correcting it or changing it. What started off as fun was slowly becoming serious which confused the hell out of me.

Admittedly, he was very attractive as well but there was only one man that currently kept my wandering eyes, even if that’s all that it would come too. I wouldn’t allow it to become anything else because of her. 

“Bucky does know that I don’t need someone to come with me almost every time I run errands for him, right?” I spoke. 

Steve nodded. “He does but it’s company policy.” 

I playfully scoffed. “Is that what you think of me, Steve? Company policy?” 

There was a flash of something in his eyes and his tongue quickly darted over his lips. 

“You really want to know what I think?” Steve’s voice became heavy as he took a step closer. 

I met him halfway, chin raised up to him. “Yeah, I really do.” 

We stared at each other, gazes burning, and I couldn’t ignore the way my stomach flipped when Steve’s bottom lip got stuck between his teeth and I knew he heard me suck in a breath when he began leaning closer. 

Someone clearing their throat caused me to move away from Steve and when I saw who had caught us, my heart sunk. 

Bucky stared at the two of us, lips parted in confusion. “Am I interrupting something?” 

Steve sighed while shaking his head. “Always had perfect timing, Buck.” 

A red blush of embarrassment covered my body and I kept my gaze at my feet while the two friends bickered back and forth. I waited for them to finish so I could make the afternoon coffee run, hoping that the rest of the day went by fast. 

“James, you’re not going to believe who I ran into at the shops this morning.”

My head snapped up at the petite voice, eyes watching with jealousy as the woman placed a quick kiss on Bucky’s cheek. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” Bucky mused. 

Steve nodded with a smile. “Hey Natasha.” 

The red head smiled back at Steve. “James keeping you busy?” 

“He’s actually letting me leave with Y/N to grab the lunch order,” Steve joked while looking at me. 

Natasha's gaze followed and even if her smile said one thing, the look in her eyes said something completely different: annoyance. 

“How are you, Y/N?,” she asked. 

I gave her my own fake smile. “Good.” 

It wasn’t news to anyone that Natasha wasn’t happy about Bucky hiring me, she wanting to be the only girl in the office but as Bucky told her many times, it was his choice and his alone. 

“Well, I have to fill you in on my morning,” Natasha returned her attention back to Bucky. 

My broken gaze watched as she cupped his cheek to lay a kiss upon his lips, the diamond on her left-hand glimmering in the sunlight. 

Steve noticed the way I longed to be in her position, so he gently nudged me. “Ready to go?” 

My eyes locked with Bucky’s for a second, a small glimmer mixed with the blue pool of his iris', before I had to force myself to look away once again, now staring at Steve. 

“Yep.” 

Steve wrapped an arm around my shoulder and nodded a fast goodbye to Natasha and Bucky before leading me away from them. 

With our backs to them, I hadn’t seen the look Bucky burned into Steve, who still had his arm nestled on top of my shoulder. 

#mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes and yn #mob!bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #sebastian stan #moment of weakness-mob!bucky barnes

[wolame-o-ccx]

Hey there! Just discovered your blog and your TOH AUs and look SO interesting but I can't find any easy way to get through your comics in order (or where to begin, what each AU is about etc)

Is there a post with a summary or some link for the chronological order I may have missed?

And if you're taking suggestions, a pinned post with all the info would be great to help newcomers like me get into it!

Thank you for your time!

Hellooo!!! Yeah welcome to this side of the toh fandom - my space is especially unorganized 😭 I'll take up the idea to make a post summary!! For now I'll just state them here for you while that's in progress :3

For any other newcomers, this post might help you! Click more if you're interested :)

- PITMDAU (Philip In The Modern AU)

MASTERPOST LINK !! CLICK HERE!!

This AU is just what you think! Philip in the modern AU :)

Just to quickly brief you on how this happened ;

Philip managed to escape the demon realm ahead of the hexsquad but passed out straight after he went through the portal. Hexsquad finds him and decides to bring him home, because better a watchful eye than a risk or mystery right? He woke up two days later confused and even tried to kill someone but didn't work and he passed out again and then he woke up another day later less aggravated.

Quick note! This Philip is a little less bad than canon but can still be considered a bad guy :3

For a whole month it was awkward living with him and he barely ate anything but Hunter did give him leftovers. After a month of adjusting to their situation, (and seeing that he doesn't seem to have any intention of violence) Luz starts teaching him modern day technology along with the rest of the Hexsquad!

Or TL;DR : old man confused about the modern day

Final notes!!

• There is a spin off to the AU, which is Gamer Grandpa where, Philip has a Twitch channel and streams and you can ask him questions! (I have not been answering them 😭 don't pressure me but I'm genuinely sorry 😭🌹)

• There are also crossovers with my other AU, SCAU (scroll down to read about that!) And also future canon!! :3

• Philip eats glyphs and hexes holdem cards to keep his curse at bay! :) no palisman sacrificing!! No siree! Don't argue with me on this! Its canon! /lhj

• Also Caleb is there too to mess with Pip giggles

- SCAU (Sharing Caleb AU)

MASTERPOST LINK!!! CLICK HERE!!

Sharing Caleb AU is an AU wherein Philip and Evelyn, well, share Caleb! Nothing went horribly wrong, Caleb didn't get killed by Philip and so on. But wait! Its more complex than you think!

In the masterpost and the first few links to the first few comics you'll see, I'd like to note that they were posted before what canon SCAU is now so Philip didn't find Caleb (and Evelyn) in his 20s or so, but when he was 8! Philip stumbled upon Evelyn in the forest rambling about Caleb after a month of wandering around alone in the BI and she takes him home and Caleb gets a beating /lhj

They then at some point find the starchild The Collector in the woods (again lol) somewhere and bring him home — Caleb adopts him, inevitably creating the Witteclaw Siblings (TC&Pip) (the chaos bringers) (Witteclaw are their parents) <3 (also we call him Enzo instead of TC it's like their deadname lol)

Final notes!!

• Philip is a WHOLE LOT more tame than canon, he's in fact even a whole nother person (he was still racist for a bit but he grew out of that)

• Philip is a mama's boy as we like to call him here :3

• This AU had a crossover with PITMDAU, as you'd know!

→ following that crossover, surfaces Pipson! A slash mlm ship between Pip and Jason, a character I made as a joke originally from PITMDAU. Jason, you'll find similar to a certain um.. god.. is a human, orphaned and has a younger sibling (I self inserted myself but I promise I'm nowhere to be seen, it's just like one brief mention once) (Me and Jason because I share the same birthday as Jesus lol)

• There's also already a future SCAU timeline but so far only glimpses :) it's still in the works as I try to make Hunter exist somehow.

• Philip still gets his curse thingy! Except! He carved glyphs into his arms thinking he would be able to open the door to the human realm (obviously, didn't work) and he's now immortal and in pain and needs to drink elixirs and eat glyphs.

EDIT : FORGOT TO ADD BELPAPA AU (don't send me hate pls ☺️🌹)

- BELPAPA AU

FUCKING CRIES it's a .. it's.. it's um.. it's a. Au where.. Philip and Papa Titan fall in love ... No there's no masterpost but if you click on the tag.. belpapa au .. you can find the comics.. very ez navigation I posted like 5 comics of these only so.. um.. um.. 😭😭😭 HEAR ME OUR HEAR ME OUT!!!1! no I am not elaborating further I will cry

I have not updated the masterposts navigation in a long time, and seeing that my sketchbook is full and I haven't bought a new one, maybe I can find time to arrange them! So bare with me ok :)

EXTRA GENERAL NOTES

The crossovers that happen are NOT CANON to any of the AU stories, else it will just disrupt the story as a whole and I do not have the brain capacity or power to change everything while trying to make it make sense

I mostly won't focus on lore, the crossovers being an exception because that's what it's purpose is and has always been

Most of these comics are for silly fun times!! So have fun!! Or if you don't like it, that's cool!

Feel free to ask anything you want involving AUs and I'll even take suggestions or headcanons you may have! :3 Fanwork is cool and I'm fine with anyone using my art with the condition of crediting so you don't need to ask me!

Don't be shy to interact with my posts! I promise I'm a nice person! I've seen plenty of people being scared to comment, they always tell me they're too shy and I just wanna say guys I don't bite 🌹

There's also a Philip exclusive crossover (very short, only like three posts?) where PITMDAU, SCAU, Canon and Belpapa AU Philips meet eo.. that's all..

#pitmdau #sharing caleb au #belpapa au #masterpost #pipson #asks

[onemaebee]

wtf, 2023.

-grandpa has a little fall friday morning, my parents take donuts and coffee over to support my gma while she decides if he needs to go to the hospital. he's a little wobbly so yes. find out he has a brain bleed from a fall a couple weeks ago where he did hit his head, and in the whirlwind that follows he is put in a medical coma and does not wake up. he does wait until only my grandma is in the room before passing (my mom was urging gma to go to the bathroom and she refused, so my mama said fine i'll go and show you it's safe). we'd discovered he had prostate cancer that spread to the rest of him last month, and he's been rapidly going downhill with dementia for the last 15 years, but thankfully he wasn't mean but instead a big kid. he had no idea who we were but was happy vibing.

-my toddler had several laughing fits at what was later revealed to be key times. he was belly laughing to tears at nothing. he only did that when my grandpa made silly faces at him-- he loved all the small children and babies and they adored him, even if neither party had any idea who the other was, lol. the consensus is that grandpa's angel was checking in on his great grandkids and doing what he loved.

-rotavirus started ravaging the household sunday night. i have never done so much laundry. missed the funeral yesterday because it hit husband, and if i spread this to my gma or any of the babies i'd never forgive myself.

-i'm actually okay emotionally, so fucking thankful he's whole again because the old pictures really drove home how Not There he was.

-the completionist (youtuber) that we've watched for over a decade and donated to his charity for dementia research and victims… hasn't donated a cent. still no resolution on that, but it's upsetting.

-the polymega console we ordered in early 2021 is going to ship????

-still sick so no thanksgiving visit to gma's and canceled on bff M coming over (first thanksgiving since divorcing her pos toxic ex)

-bff K has a boyfriend for the first time at 42, and he treats her like mr. mae treats me, and after having been her confidante for the past 4+ years as she tried online dating this is the only guy i think could be The One she ends up with. god knows she deserves it.

-i finally nailed the chex mix recipe 8)

-these homemade mashed potatoes are going to be better than the bob evan's brand, which i didn't think was possible because that's already perfection

-i got to drop off mini pb pies to the kids' friends (whose parents are kind of my friends too now woah), sent one home with gma, gave one to bff M (promised her the whole feast but at least she gets an entire pie to herself, no judgement), and still have a whole big one to dig into later

-tomorrow i get to go start on christmas shopping which is my FAVORITE eeeeee i love giving, the looks of joy on their FACES is GREAT

-tomorrow we put up the tree and it's gonna be a lil nutty with a toddler around again but it'll also be super fun

-i've got. so much erasermic new stuff saved in my phone tabs that once i have the chance to breathe it'll be THERE and i know how much joy they bring me, it's so heartening to have that waiting for me <3

i'm not as active as i want to be, barely at all tbh, but i will be eventually. things just gotta calm tf down.

who knows what 2024 is gonna bring?

[lavender-sheperd]

Info dump about feeling alone n stuff

So I'll start this off by saying my mom was never really present like she should've been, she's got a few chronic illnesses and she's disabled, a lot of my childhood she was in bed, asleep, busy, or some other reason that she couldn't give me attention. I'm sure we did lots of things together but what I remember most is her not being present.

I have to brothers but for most of my life the older one has been mean and the younger one was a complete brat so I didn't have any connection to them.

When I was really little (4-5?) my mom was moving us 45 minutes away and would usually go up for a few days and come back to town for one or so. Now already that was hard for me because she was the only person I knew, no friends, no friendly neighbors, no dad. She'd leave me and my brothers with her mom who is an immigrant (doesn't speak a ton of English) and who honestly disliked us a lot. She refused to let us call out mom even if she said it was okay, she would watch us and criticize everything we did, she was very emotionally cold. It was a lot harder than it should've been for me and I kinda thought about how I missed my mom constantly. One time my mom came back for a lil bit and told me I could come with her, but my dumb lil self was being rude so she just left me. Now that's fine, but for me it was: mom is home > I can go with her!!! > Say something > mom is mad > says I can't come > drives away > without her for days

Which for a small child was really damaging

Then, later my mom said we were moving a state away and me and my brothers had to stay with her parents while she packed up the house

That meant that 8 year old me had to stay in a new state with people I barely knew

My mom would be in California for a few weeks and we'd stay in her parents house which was cold, and empty. She didn't like having the heater on so the house was cold, didn't like decorating so it kinda had the bare minimum. No toys, no books, 30 minutes of tv a day, not allowed to really play in the yard. We really didn't go anywhere like parks or anything, maybe the McDonald's play place once a week. So that left a lot of time for me to cry about how I missed my mom. My grandma was still as apathetic as ever and wouldn't let us call her. My grandpa was a bit better but they were bad parents and didn't know how to interact with kids at all. This went on for only like 2 months but it felt like an eternity for me as a kid

Next, my mom eventually stayed in my grandparents house, she's always stayed up late and slept late (like 4-7 am to 1-2 pm) so she'd stay in bed a lot of the day. My grandma watched me like a hawk so if I tried to go to my mom's room to see her my grandma would get mad at me and once again, refused to let us see her even if our mom said it was okay. That went on for a summer.

When we moved out she was still sick and stayed in bed a lot or was on her phone or working, and often she'd tell us she was going to run a quick errand and be gone for 4 or 5 hours

Think "I'm going to run these donations to the thrift store and that's all" at 3 and then at 8 when it's dark and I've kinda accepted that she probably got in a car accident she'd come home acting like that was completely normal

Me and my brothers had no way to contact her so when she was gone she was gone and we just had to wait, she'd often drop us off at our grandparents and we didn't know how long we'd stay and couldn't contact her

When we were moving again she's leave me and my brother, or just be at the house so she could fit more in the car. She'd say she'd be right back and hours would pass in an empty house with no way to contact her. I remember a time that the only thing in the house was the TV, a few chairs and a towel, and she was gone for probably 4 hours again, it was 9 pm and cold and so the only thing I could really do was push the chairs together and use the towel as a blanket.

She used to leave us at the library after school, or our grandparents, or the park (at one point our school was a 30 minute drive) and we'd just have to wait, if we could call her she probably wouldn't answer, if she answered she'd lie and say she was on her way.

One summer she'd go out with a friend every few nights at probably 9 pm, 1 am would roll around and my younger brother would refuse to go to bed until she was home so we'd call her. Never picked up. That whole summer she'd always say that she didn't realize her phone was dead, it was on do not disturb and she didn't realize, it was being weird and she didn't get the call. Every single time.

While a lot of this is pretty small, as I child I literally only knew like 4 people so it was a huge thing that I suddenly couldn't contact my only person.

Anyways that's the (maybe) whole list of reasons why I now cry when I have to be alone, why not being able to talk to people makes me so upset, why friends not responding for weeks makes me so upset, why people needing space feels like a punishment, why not being able to contact people makes me panic, why I have Mommy issues, why I have daddy issues, and probably some other stuff, attachment issues?

I don't know why it all affected me so much but it really did

[fawnonthelam]

“The withering stoic” isn’t a typically feminine archetype but Greta Garbo challenged that stereotype in a way that’s still hard to articulate, all these years later.

When I see her onscreen, I’m reminded of my late Grandmother, my Father’s mother.

While my parents were getting a house, we lived with my Grandparents for a few months when I was a very, little girl.

I would wake up before everyone else and look for deer out my back window. The room was half an upstairs side, with a partition between my bed and the side where my baby brother slept.

Water would trickle down a rock face of what was called “the mountain” (slight, all things considered but I guess it technically was) and moss flourished at the base between the rock and the yard.

That’s where deer would feast in the morning and I’d quietly watch before everyone else stirred, excited I was usually the first one in the house to see them.

I would go downstairs once I heard movement. My Grandmother would be taking coffee at a couch, with a cup of hot water nearby and I’d go hug my Grandma, sit beside her and start talking about dreams, what I wanted to do for the day and asking about when Grandpa was going to blow the bird whistle (a little water whistling toy) and could I play with [insert antique toy that my Grandma always let me play with, “Let her have it”, she’d say every time, to my collector Grandfather’s nervous acquiescence.]

Then I would get her comb, sit on the couch beside her and comb her hair; an icy flaxen pageboy bob that was parted asymmetrically, very similar to Garbo’s signature style, grazing her shoulders and how she wore it for as long as I could remember. I don’t have any memory of her wearing it any, other way.

She would sit in serenity and calmly respond to and gently laugh at my chatter. Apparently, despite being a kind and laid back woman, she was a powerful presence because even as a child, I noticed many strangers seemed terrified by or nervous around her. I never could understand why.

It wasn’t until I watched Greta Garbo films that I understood the dynamic, that the stoic ambiguity of her face so much resembled that of my Grandmother and what it did to people; some of us just have an imposing face and stature that can be misread as cold and aloof in a way that makes people nervous, no matter how hard we try to make others comfortable.

As I sat there, combing her hair, she would drop a “VO5” hot oil pod in a tea cup of hot water and asked me to watch the time, remember how to tell when five minutes had passed and then she’d ask me to give my opinion on what she should wear that day.

Her steel grey eyes, gazing out the window, would glimmer and crinkle up in contained mirth, her carved face would break into a barely controlled smirk and a little giggle would muffle in her throat, as I explained why she should wear the “floaty” chiffon shirt because she could dance better in it, if nothing but a burst of dance would do in the moment. She loved to hear my reasoning for why she should wear certain things.

Of course I always suggested that she use her golden mesh evening bag for everything and she would laugh, every time and say “Well, not today but we’ll go somewhere together sometime where I will bring it.”

That was during the time she’d gotten really sick and there were fewer and fewer places where she could go, without being in too much pain.

I loved her. And while many in the world didn’t understand her, the cooly reserved, withering stares and bulls-eye statements and reflections, she loved fiercely to those who were blessed with that gift and was funny and kind in gentle, dry ways.

I secretly liked that few understood her. She was ours.

Shortly after her funeral, that I’d been too young to attend, my mother handed me her mesh evening bag and told me that Grandma said I was the only one who knew what should be done with it and where it should go, so she knew it had to be mine.

#greta garbo #film #silent film #memories #family #be true to yourself #Youtube #Movies #Movie #History

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IMPORTANT: Here's my beautiful family.🩵Fun family timeline! Please take the time to read it all. Please keep me & my family in your prayers.🙏We're very broke now. 😭Please help! City of Sparks violating our Civil Rights as Homeowners. Our property was paid off years ago. I'm trying to protect my family from anything. To all my family please print this out & share with everyone in our family.❤️

Family living in Nevada for 44 (Forty-four) Proud nurse, coach.

NEVADA BORN/RAISED!

REFUGEES & IMMIGRANTS

WELCOME HERE!

THIS IS AMERICA! PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN WITH Veterans!

MY FAMILY LIVING IN NEVADA

SINCE 1979 & SAME HOUSE

OWNED (NOT RENT) SINCE 1990 (before I was even born)

& COLLEGE GRADUATES &

NEVADA NATIVES!

HOME MEANS NEVADA

My dad his named pronounced "Tawng Van" spelled Thong Van. (Don't laugh). In 1979 is when he & his family moved to Northern Nevada. My dad & his family were refugees. My dad in Chinese my grandma called him "Yun Seen"-his name in Hakka Chinese.

Those who know me, know the story. My Father, my grandma who was still alive until 2002-& everyone on his side of the family (my aunts,uncles,my way OLDER cousins) were refugees from Vietnam from Vietnam War.Their territory at the time was bombed,explosions heard every now & then since 1975,dangerous conditions,everyone & people heard screaming & crying hysterically,seriously scary-not a joke. Waiting impatiently to flee out of Vietnam,hiding in the basement for days.The scary military alarm air raids in Vietnam sound heard to warn everyone the enemy is here.

With my dad’s mostly Chinese/Vietnamese small portions of French/German/Native American/Ashkenazi Jewish descent. My dad & his side of the family knows what REAL hardships are fleeing with only photos, clothes,and important necessities to flee with.

My dad’s territory in Vietnam literally exploded with napalm bombs,military helicopters heard everyday, my father & his family witnessed & experienced.Fleeing on a ship, country to country to get to their destination-Nevada-USA 1979.💙I will always love Refugees. Refugees are always welcome in my life & in my heart.I’ve never been to Vietnam but have been to China when I was 12 & 18. Now you have my story about Vietnam,now Pray for Israel & Ukraine. Israel & Ukraine needs our help now. Always be kind to one another. Peace;no war!

And half of our family is Asian half our family is white. Even-though my parents look Asian we have some Chinese, Vietnamese, Native American, small portions of French, German descent, Ashkenazi Jewish descent(but Jewish is not my religion).

My Grandma on my dad's side she was BORN with blue eyes. I permanently changed my eye color to blue eyes in Mexico in 2017. So they're not colored eye contacts. They're permanently blue.

Every time I see my blue eyes I think of my grandma I was very close to. She passed away when I just turned 9 years old inside the same house we live in. She literally died in front of my face on January 4, 2002. 😭

I watched the Paramedics do intense CPR on my grandma she was 93 years old it was her time. Exactly 2 months after my birthday November 4th also 4 months after September 11, 2001; September 11th attack in New York. Never forget 🇺🇸. I was very close to my grandma. Worst thing that happened in my life.

My mom Chan Van some people call her "Janey " when she worked at Nails Deluxe on Baring Blvd in Sparks, Nevada. She worked there for 27 years then works as a cook for 6-7 years. She moved to Nevada in 1989. She's a LEGAL immigrant from China.34 years in Nevada. My grandma called her "Summy" her name.

Grandma (mom's side) named Lee Dack Ching. Born in Songkou, China. My grandma's Little brother Is called my Great uncle in english & in Hakka Chinese we call him "Q-goong." "Q po" is my great aunt.

Grandpa (Liang Gaw Yi: Yoi Goong in Hakka) (mom's side) He had no siblings

Grandpa's (Chuong Van) (dad's side) little brother in hakka is called "Sook Goong"

Thoai Ly Van-Grandma's dad side has a little sister from my grandma's father but not same mother. Grandma's mother left when she was a kid, but visited her mom & her mom's new husband (my grandma's stepfather). Grandma's father worked in Malaysia. Grandma's (dad's side) my grandma's grandma raised my grandma (Thoai Ly Van) my grandma's grandma's (my great,great grandma) named "Uh Ty" in hakka. name is "Chai A Su" my grandma's grandpa died but raised my grandma. Grandma's grandpa name is unknown.

Dad's siblings -

1) oldest sister "Ty goo"(Ky Van-Truong)

2) older brother name not known (died before dad was born,

3) Kim Van in Hakka is called "Sey goo" my aunt who lives with me Kim Van

4. my dad Thong Hoc Van (pronounced Tong)

My aunt calls him "Num" means number 5 in Vietnamese but my dad is the 4th child in his family. In Vietnam they used to call the first born #2 born so my dad is truly the 4th child but is called number 5 in Vietnamese "Num"

5) dad's little brother named "Yawn Su" the name and then he's my uncle we call him in Hakka "Uhhh Sook" meaning uncle.

6)&7) twins 2 boys) died when born 2 of them died my dad never met them. My Aunt Kim says she doesn't remember if she saw them in person.

I originally thought my dad was the youngest but he is the youngest sibling who is still living. I forgot my grandma had twin boys my dad's 2 little brothers whom he never met because they died right after they were born.

My dad is number 4 (4th child) I was born on the 4th of November and my grandma died on the 4th of January 2002. 4 is an important & significant number to me. But also in Chinese Cantonese homophone of "4" is pronounced "Si" the number 4 mean death in Chinese. When I was born my mom called me a "miracle baby" because I didn't die when I was born because I was born on the number 4.

I also had past cousins die on the 14th and 24th before. But in my life the 4 is very lucky to me. The number 4 is a good omen in our family because it also helps me remember loved ones like my grandma who have passed I was very close to them.

My older sister Catherine Van-Schwartz (Catt Van) who was a local former KOLO 8 News Reporter years ago then 7 years as a news reporter then news reporter in Oregon Katu2News. Also Gonzaga University Post Graduate (Summa Cum Laude-highest degree) from way back in 2012. Now she's a Lobbyist in her town.🇺🇸Super cool!& then my other successful blood-related family of doctors in my family, veterans, a cop, a dentist, etc.

This is also probably why I graduated with my first Bachelors Degree from University of Nevada, Reno on May 13, 2016 it was Friday the 13th 🖤. Unlucky things may happen to me-more than most people.

But I was born on the 4th & anything that has to do with the number 4 is considered significant in good way. People born on the 4th have very 🔮🦂psychic gifts. It makes me extra psychic because I'm a November Scorpio.

Scorpios are the number 1 most psychic/intelligent signs and then the other water signs other than Scorpio. In numerology my lucky numbers are 11 and 9 as well. I graduated from Edward C. Reed High School June 11, 2011. Eleven is very lucky. 9 is my lucky number in Chinese, nine-homophone means "long-everlasting" in hakka it's pronounced "Gew". 9/11 (September 11th 2001 is significant to me because it was 4 months before my grandma died.

Barack Obama was born on the 4th of August. Joe Biden is also a November Scorpio who was born November 20th. Obama was elected on my birthday November 4, 2008. I was born Election day. I'm a TRUE Democrat. Eventhough Laura Bush is Republican, I like her & she was born November 4th too. Hillary Clinton born a Scorpio too but in October. We're very presidential/ political people.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Mom's side siblings-my mom Chan Van is number 7 (seventh child out of 9 children) in Chinese 7 means "Lucky" (777)☘️ Most of my aunts & uncles have 2-3 children of their own & some of my cousins I'm friends with in real life we Wechat eachother weekly. I love them! I miss my grandma Lee Dack Ching she passed away December 1, 2013. I was close to her too because I called her monthly in China.

I met my (mom's side) grandma in person when I was 12 years old. I remember talking to her on the phone when I was a little kid that I wanted to meet her in person soon! My grandma lived in a rich house 3 (three) storey house who had a farm & used to have chickens & piglets as pets. My cousins have dogs in their rich big houses there. It was so much fun seeing that in person when I was 12. I always wanted a farm with animals🩷That was my dream to have horses in my farm.🩷

Mom's siblings:

1. Tut Kew (oldest uncle)

2. Gew Yee (oldest aunt)

3. Toong Kew (uncle)

4. Yawn Kew (unlce)

5. Jin Kew (uncle)

6. Gon Yi (aunt-my mom's closest sister friend)

7. My mommy! Chan!🩷

8. Song Yi (aunt)

9. Yew Kew (uncle-my mom's closest youngest brother friend)

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Ky Van-Truong (died June 8, 2023) my oldest aunt on my dad's side-her children-my WAY older cousins. Sometimes they call me their niece & I call them my aunt or uncle because of big age difference.Ky was married to Truie Truong (Goo Chong in Hakka) my uncle who passed away in 2017.

1. Kien My Truong-Lu married to Hoa Lu 🇺🇸❤️💙

2. Tammy Truong-Cozad

3. Boy died

4. Monica Truong

5. Hong Truong

6. Henry Truong

7. Alex Truong

8. Elaine Truong-Gustafson

9. Dr. Thomas Truong

EVA HEAP! December 1st is our Best Family friend's birthday. She is our best white friend in the world. Her name is Eva Kathryn Satterberg Heap. She passed away in 2011 the year I graduated from high school. December 1st is also the day my grandma on my mom's side died in 2013. December 1st is significant in my family. She has Swedish background but mostly we've know her from Reno, Nevada.

When I was 5 years old I either wanted to be a veterinarian or a doctor but now I'm a nurse! Eva Heap was a nurse! We love you Eva!🩷When I was around 7 years old me & Eva love to write letters to eachother by mail. She always told me that I'm so special to her & my family. I went to her Celebration of Life at the Methodist Church near Oddie BLVD her grandson knew who I was & thanked us for being their friend. He said he loved me writing to Eva all the time & he loved our family. I love you Eva & your family. 🩷You're always family to us.

(CHARLIE) Charles Wessels & Eva Heap were the best white family friends in the world. They were my dad's side of the family's SPONSORS for Refugees & a church sponsored my dad's side of the family in Northern Nevada in 1979 (44 forty-four) years ago.

Charlie was also in the Air Force 🇺🇸. We have a couple of VETERANS in our family & are very proud.🩷We love you Charlie & Eva! Without you guys, my family would have nothing in Nevada.

So grateful for family. You'll always be family.🩵 I thank God. I thank Jesus Christ, Mother Mary, Guan Yin, Buddha. My family of Catholics & Buddhists. Good Catholics like Joe Biden & JFK. He may not be perfect but he has a genuinely good heart. 🩵🇺🇸 Whatever God or religion you're in, we come from the same one. By the way my favorite presidents are Obama, Biden, John F. Kennedy, and Abraham Lincoln. 🤍🖤

The last funeral I went to was my grandma's (Thoai Ly Van) when I was 9 years old. I was really traumatized. I don't go to Funerals but I go to Celebrations of Life. And just because I don't come to a funeral doesn't mean I don't love them.

One of my aunts Ky Van-Truong died last year June 8, 2022 & I cried really hard for days & hours even months. It reminded me of my grandma when she died in my house in front of my eyes.😭 I don't go to funerals anymore because once I cry I can cry for hours and not stop it was incontrollable. My Aunt Ky Van-Truong shared with my family including my grandma that we all speak Chinese Hakka.

My dad & mom have a big age difference & they always loved eachother. My dad just turned 85 years old & my mom just turned 60. We're very broke please don't do this to my family!😭God pray for me & my family. I don't know how much more time I have with my dad & my aunt 😭. Don't waste my family's time; they're getting very old 😭😭. They worked SO hard for years to have all the money to pay everything for me & my older sister when we were growing up. God Help! Without them, I'd be nothing without them!😭

My older sister: Catherine Van-Schwartz's birthday is May 8th. My Aunt Ky Van-Truong died on the 8th of June of 2022. 8 is significant in our family.

Our best neighbor friends In the world was white & named Joyce Ferguson she lived in the green colored house next to us & she passed away in 2013. 2 days before she passed away, I had a dream about her coming to our house & gave us flowers little did I know 2 days later Joyce's son came to our house & let us know she passed away 😭. I really had a premonition. Our family loved her.

Ever since my older sister & I were kids we would hangout with Joyce's grandchildren who were around our the same ages as us: Courtney Ferguson, Rebbecca, Skylar. Joyce would come over to give us foods like crackers and ham, giving is Christmas presents like jewlery during every Christmas while my family-my mom made them egg rolls and gave fruits from our 5 trees my grandma planted 33 (thirty-three) years ago at our house in the backyard. Peach trees, Plumbs, Asian Pears, cherries. Joyce & her family loved to get their nails done at Nails Deluxe on Baring Blvd in Sparks, Nevada.

2013 I lost my grandma-my mom's side of the family December 1st. I also lost our best white neighbor friend Joyce Ferguson living next door to us in 2266 Rockd*** Dr😭Then when Joyce died their family moved out in 2013 then weird people started moving in next door 😭. In September 2018 the worst neighbor who kept harassing us moved in next door (2266) their real actual last names is Zimmermans & Caulderons. They just moved out 2 weeks ago. Today is October 23, 2023.

In 2013 is also when our white neighbor friends the Espils: Jack Espil's wife Katie Espil died from Cancer. Jack remarried a few years later. We loved them. Espil's mom named Dee got her nails done with my mom at Nails Deluxe. Our neighbors were our friends. Espils moved to Fernley where Charles Wessels (our family) is buried in the Veteran's Memorial. Us Van's and the Espils have Veterans in our family. Us & the Espils always put our American flags up in front of our house on special holidays. We always loved watching that family ride their motorcycle and they used to have a a beautiful royal blue Ford Mustang that I always admired. Now I have a blue SUV Subaru my dream car since 2018. Espils lived in 2265 accross from us.

2013, we lost 3 great, loving people.

Me/my family have been hanging up our American Flag up in front of our house since 2001 when I was 9 years old when September 11th happened. Every year every special American Holiday we hang up the American Flag. Me & some of my current white neighbor friends have veterans in their family too and we've been friends with some of them since these houses were first built in 1990 before I was even born. It makes me so happy when they hang up their American flags the same day as us. It always makes me happy when I see my neighbor friends put up their American flags in front of their house even if they don't have veterans in their family. Me & all my white neighbor friends around my age, have college degrees. We smart.

I DO NOT support Trump. Trump escalated racism in 2017. My white neighbor friends are not racist. Jorgensons are my favorite white neighbor friends.❤️my friend from the Jorgensons recently diagnosed with cancer 2 years ago. I'm so sad.😭Sue (Susan & AJ) we've known since these houses were first built. They always waved at us when we were kids driving by & talking to us at Coscto & Smiths when we were kids. Everyone in our neighborhood were so nice back then. Most the newer neighbors who caused us problems, moved in since 2017 are so evil & noticed they're originally from California.

Gabby Gomez was my best childhood neighbor friend. We would skate together, bike together, scooter together, hike together, lived directly across the street from me (2255) my best hispanic friend. We wrote letters to each other since I was 8 years old. She was a year younger than me so she was a grade younger than me but we both had Mrs. Burnley & Mr. Himmel from Diedrichsen Elementary School. Diedrichsen was number 1 school in Washoe County back then but we were zoned Katherine Dunn but we/ my family fought the variance and used my aunt's 2 story house address near Diedrichsen Elementary & Mendive Middle School.

2017-when racism escalated when my uncle (Goo Chong in hakka) Triue Truong- Ky Van-Truong's husband passed away. On that same day before he died I went to my parents big room and I saw a quick glimpse of my Uncle Triue Truong sitting on my parents' bed. He looked really sad. I saw that glimpse of a ghost for 2 seconds and little did I know a few hours later my uncle died. It was scary! I was psychic again! My older cousin Tiffany messaged me trying to drive to Reno-she's from California trying to visit my uncle at the hospital. Tiffany got to Nevada but then my uncle died at the hospital. 😭 It was in the middle of the night in the morning. One of the worst phone calls.😭 Me & my uncle spoke Hakka Chinese too.

Another time 6 months ago in 2019, me & my mom had the same dream about a black truck coming to our house. 6 months later in 2020, caught on my camera a black truck shot our car with a BB gun. Scary PSYCHIC dreams me & my mom had. Scary warning dreams! Pay attention to your dreams!

Also in 2008, when my family and I went to visit Eva Heap at Sky Valley Drive Retirement Home in Reno, Nevada. before we went there we went to visit the Cemetery where my grandma was and I took a picture & caught a ghost in my picture! It was so creepy. I loved visiting Eva at her Retirement Home. I always cried when going to the cemetery and always cried when visiting Eva because I knew that Eva wasn't going to live that much longer. My family & I loved het very much. She is family. My family's favorite white friend. She passed away in 2011. 😭🙏

In Summer 2011 when I graduated high school with my Honors Advanced Diploma, my mom, older sister, and I visited China a 2nd time visiting my grandma (Lee Dack Ching) on my mom's side. We stayed there for 2 weeks. I went to China at age 12 and age 18. I prayed to get into Nursing School in Reno, Nevada USA & not have to tale remedial college courses.

I ended up not taking remedial classes because I did well on the Accuplacer. I did get into nursing school a few years later. 2011 would be the last time I saw my grandma in person I just bawled and cried my eyes out when it was our last day in China. I knew that would be the last time I'll see grandma. In 2013 she died from a Stroke she had been sick for a while. 😭I was 21 years old when she died. My other grandma Thoai Ly Van died from Congestive Heart Failure in January 4, 2002 when I was 9 years old.

In Summer 2016 my dad, mom, older sister Catherine, and me went to Hawaii for my college graduation present, when we went the bus tour to take us to Polynesian Luau the bus stopped at a Mormon temple & something felt eerie I told someone to take a picture of us in from of the Mormon Temple and there was a ghost a lady floating head behind our picture. It was so creepy!

Also when we visited Pearl Harbor in Hawaii my older sister lost/ or someone may have stolen my sister's Driver's license. She called police to let them know her driver's license was missing, because apparently that's what you're supposed to do. It felt creepy after visiting Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. I also brought 2 tiki men key chains home- was that bad luck?

I know that bringing rocks home from Hawaii is bad luck but I don't know about Tiki Men keychains. But in 2016, Catherine left KOLO 8 News Now News Reporter a few months later my older sister moved to Oregon for her KATU2 News Reporter. I was secretly really sad & emotional when she left Reno, Nevada. 😭But everything happens for a reason. We meet the people we're meant to meet & teaches us lessons in life.

Then in 2017 my best friend Ravina Grewal-Sanghera moved to Chicago! I miss her!😭I've been best friends with her for 16 years since track & cross-country & our friend Melanie Reynolds-Sanford who's still in Nevada. My best Indian American friend & one of my best white friends. I'm really shy but talkative but I don't have that many friends in real life.😭Help me & my family. I'm not popular in the community like my older sister Catherine Van-Schwartz. I wish I was naturally likeable right away without having to explain myself. 😭🙏

Yesterday I was praying to God, Mother Mary, Jesus Christ, Guan Yin, Buddha. And prayed to protect the house lit a white candle for protection. Please pray for me & my family. Yesterday I found a big snowflake Christmas light under my piles of junk. I don't know where it came from. I hung it up where we have our Guan Yin, Mother Mary, Jesus Christ Crucification Cross, Buddha on for praying altar where we pray everyday.

That snowflake reminds us about Christmas and Christmas is a time of Jesus Christ. Never forget to pray to Jesus too because that's what Charlie & Eva & all the white people who passed away who helped my family in Northern Nevada Sparks/Reno, Nevada - they believe in & a sign from them that they're protecting us too. I'm grateful for family. Never turn your back on family close or not close. Blood is thicker than water.❤️

🩵I'm glad my older sister met Adam Schwartz. He's the most awesome brother-in-law. He's white & also I love his family. Thank you for being helpful through these very trying times.

I love all my mixed family of Asians and all my mixed family of Caucasian/White People whether we are blood related or extended family-I love you all. Please help in anyway! Family will stick together whether we talk or don't talk to each other that much anymore. Our house is a family legacy. END RACISM!

✞♡ # Selfie # Nurse # Coach # NativeNevadan # StopAsianHate # GoodMorningAmerica # GMA # RobinRoberts # JesusChrist 🦂 # Buddha # GuanYin # MotherMary # ProChoice (though, in politics) # Equality # Justice #Healthcare # Running 🏃🏻‍♀️ # PositiveVibes # LoveDrivesOutFear # NevadaBornAndRaised # NevadaNative # athletic # HomeMeansNevada # Nevada # UNRnevadaAlumnaMay2016

•2019:OlderSisterCatherineVan&Adam Schwartz’sWedding&TheirWebsiteOn: https://www.theknot.com/us/catherine-van-and-adam-schwartz-aug-2019•ReminiscingMoreThan200PeopleCame.

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Trippin At Joshua Tree Trip

Spent Memorial Weekend at Joshua Tree since I've been craving for a vacation, especially since I worked in tourism, my social battery just always feels drained.

I just booked a cabin in the desert, it's (now) called "glamping" but honestly, you get what you pay for, especially if you're a native city-dweller like me with no boy/girl scout experience or how to camp overall. It felt like it was still worth every penny.

Just not with airbnb since they're assholes who will ALWAYS side with the hosts, even if the hosts will require their guests to clean every nook and cranny just to be charged a "cleaning fee."

Anyways, I took LSD on the way there because, again I wasn't sure what's to see out there in a desert, just thought that rocks and cacti will be boring if you're not high..

Well, I was wrong. I still had an 'ok' trip on the drug but I wished I could see the stars better. I have to admit, I felt like a stereotypical boho, white girl there as while I was tripping, I felt like I wasn't just feeling like I'm "one with" the desert, but the universe with how the sky was brightly sprinkled by stars. Not forgetting the beautiful sunset and sunrise!

I'm honestly afraid to divulge more about the LSD trip because I tend to have the opposite side effects to what others have described theirs as essentially, being on the trip has helped me refocus on my values in life.

Such instance was when we were watching the sunset just outside of the cabin, I gave a blanket and my cap to my partner while we were sitting outside the patio and .. I just felt like time paused for that moment since when I was looking at his side profile, he reminded me of my dear uncle, Bobby and how I wished so badly that he was there with us to enjoy the beautiful sunset.

In the end, I couldn't sleep and spent the wee hours of the morning until sunrise at the bonfire crying about my life (from past to present) because, in my head, I revolved my thoughts around Uncle Bobby.

Growing up, he was one of the 2 adults who was pretty consistent in my life until his passing in my junior year of high school. I've mostly felt guilt from childhood till now because I had wished for him.. in the end, I could only feel like me and my family abandoned him back in our home country, especially since we migrated to America. We did visit our home country every summer for at least a couple of months (our entire summer after school), but my abuser kept taking us to places that she can shop or vacation at while I can barely have a day to stay in our house, what more let Uncle Bobby out of his room to see him.

His scenario was similar to the book "Flowers in the Attic" by V.C. Andrews because his family, our other 20+ relatives, saw his severe Cerebral Palsy as an embarrassment, if not a "punishment from God" (since some of them converted to a variety of religions) YET they cheated him and his mother (grandma) from what inheritance/insurance they could've received from his father's (grandpa) passing so by the time I was born, my mother (abuser) had to shoulder the financial obligations while needing to pay someone peanuts to take care of both an ailing old woman and a man with severe disabilities. We were already in 3rd world poverty by the time I was born, if my abuser hadn't married an American, I wouldn't be here now having the time to do the things I never once thought, what more imagined to do.

In the end, I still revolved my life around the thought of my uncle for what I could remember him. Even though its been 10 years and 7 months since he passed, and I still remember spending the summer for his wake and funeral, I still think of him just as he was still alive.

I just can't stop crying since its the only thing I knew to do. I've been labeled as a loner before I knew what that even meant because the other kids thought I was "creepy" being by myself.

Truthfully, I like being alone with my own thoughts or rather 'world' as its the only place I could feel like I had a family, or rather.. they were still alive.

I endured all the bullying and ostracism because for me, it didn't hurt as much as losing my family. At 3 yrs. old, my grandma passed away, I never met my bio dad since he walked out before I was a year old, so until I was 17, I only had my abuser, uncle and his caretaker. Even though we had A LOT of relatives, they were cold and cruel because they saw my family as the 'black sheep', despite my grandpa having supported them, especially financially when they came from nothing themselves. I did have a few others in my life but they passed away as I was growing up that I felt like I was "bad luck."

I never cared for others to think I'm pathetic for crying because I felt like I found some comfort in my own head letting it all out while getting some answers that felt like it was "good enough" to help ease the pain of losing people who you'll never see again.

When I was watching the stars, I could only think of Carl Sagan's quote that people are made of the same materials as the stars. In my naivety or wishful thinking. I could only hope that the people who have passed in my life (if there is reincarnation) that they can be whoever or whatever they are now, but I could only remember Mark Twain's quote about him never having to fear dying because .. he never did care about being born either. It was a lottery, still I want to be hopeful, if not for myself, at least for Uncle Bobby. I still wished that I was there for him when he was always there for me when I was getting abused at home and in school because he was the first (after grandma) to see me as a family that even my own parents never wanted me.

In a way LSD has made reflect and remind me of the way and why I do things.

#personal diary #vent #triggering stuff #memorial day #memories #online diary #diaryposting #loner #hallucinogenic #abandoned #mental health

[uncpanda]

Back to the Navy Yard: Part 10

AN: Here it is! The Final Chapter of the series. This has been so much fin to write, and I hope you enjoy it! Instead of just looking at one moment, I decided to drabbles from several significant moments of their lives after reuniting. 

Master List

The Wedding: 

“You sure about this? It’s not too late to back out.” 

You level a look at your dad, “Seriously?” 

You gesture to your outfit, and he shrugs, “It’s just a dress.” 

You smile, “It’s my wedding dress.” 

  “A dress is not a reason to get married.” 

You take your dad’s hand, “I know that. But I never would have bought the dress if I wasn’t madly in love with him daddy. And I love him. I love him so much it’s crazy.” 

Your dad scowls. It’s been a month since your kidnapping, (your original weekend plan had been met with resistance  from the team) a month since you’d found out you were pregnant, and both Aaron and your father, had been reluctant to let you out of their sight. Even Jack had been attached to your hip, especially since finding out he was going to be a big brother. 

No one else knew, but you knew they suspected. You supposed planning a wedding within a month was a pretty big clue, at least for you and Aaron. Dave had been kind enough to offer his home for the wedding, but you had declined. Instead, you’d decided to use your dad’s back yard, where you and Kelly had played as children, and where your mother had planted her garden. A garden your father had always kept up.

He sighs, “If you’re sure.” 

You lean up and kiss his cheek, “I love you daddy. Plus think about all the grandkids.” 

He snorts at that, “Jack is pretty big help with the boat.” 

He offers his arm right as the music starts, and you take it right as the door opens. You smile at the sight that’s waiting for you at the end of the aisle. Aaron and Jack both look amazing in their blue suits, and their smiles are nearly blinding. And as you take those first few steps towards them, you’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. 

Stillwater: 

“So this is where you grew up PopPop?” 

You watch as Jack presses his face up against the window of the car. He’s studying every inch of the town. 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Dad!” 

“What? It’s true. I hated growing up here.” 

You roll your eyes and you watch as Aaron smirks. You smooth a hand over your belly. You’d recently popped out a little bit, and people could actually tell that you were pregnant now. 

“Is that Grandpa?” 

You smile at the sight of your grandfather. You haven’t seen him in years, but he still looks good. He hadn’t been able to make the trip for your wedding, due to recovering from a hip replacement. So instead, you’d arranged to come see him. 

Your dad huffs, “That’s the old man.” 

Jack smiles, “He and I have the same name, right?” 

Aaron’s the one who answers, “That right.” 

He’s barely put the car in park when Jack throws the door open and runs to nearly hug your Jackson Gibbs. You watch from the passenger seat as your dad quickly follows him, to make sure he’s safe. 

Aaron takes your hand, “It’s nice, isn’t it? Having a big family.” 

You smile, “Absolutely.” 

And with that you go and hug your grandfather. 

The Move: 

“I’m just saying there was a very nice house for sale right down the street from us. Our kids could have played together!” 

You roll your eyes, and look at Ziva who’s smiling fondly at her husband. “The children can still play together Tony. They’re only a ten minute drive away.” Her hand goes down to smooth over her own protruding belly. She’s five months along and you’re six months and then there’s JJ who’s four months. The three of you have been instructed not to lift anything. And any time one of you tries to do anything there’s some sort of shout. Ziva’s already thrown a knife. 

You watch as Jack carries in a box of his toys. You ruffle his hair as he passes and he gives you a grin. Like always you smile when you see the gaps in his smile. He’s recently started losing teeth like crazy. And your father has been playing the tooth fairy which means Jack has been making out like a bandit. When you had mentioned something about spoiling him, your dad had said it was part of his job as a grandpa. You hadn’t had the heart to argue. 

You listen as your dad and Aaron bicker while carrying in the crib. It’s something your dad, Aaron, and Jack had made together, and it’s gorgeous in your opinion. And you knew they’d made Tony sit in it to test the sturdiness of it. You also knew they were working on a matching dresser. You’d bought the changing table and rocker. 

There’s even more bickering in the kitchen where Uncle Dwayne and Dave are debating on how to set up and organize the kitchen. You exchange looks with the other pregnant women before deciding it would just be best to go hang out on the screened in porch. 

The Maid of Honor: 

“I’m going to kill Laurel.” 

Aaron, Jack, and your dad are staring at you warily. “I love her and she’s my best friend, but who the hell holds a wedding, in New Orleans, in the middle of July! Add in the fact that I’m seven months pregnant, and I’m going to sweat to death.” 

Your dad holds out a cold bottle of water, and you take it, and press it against the back of your neck. It feels amazing. You do your absolute best to spend as little time outside as possible, and you thank God that Laurel chose and indoor venue. You nearly cry in relief when you realize she’s turned the air conditioning down as low as it will go. 

She laughs at the look of relief on your face and places a hand on your bump, “I can’t have my god-daughter or god-son boiling in there, can I?” 

You hug her, and blame the relief tears on the pregnancy hormones. 

False Labor: 

Two weeks before your due date, Aaron stops traveling with the team. He absolutely refuses to miss the birth of his second child. He’d been there when Jack was born, and he was determined to be there when this one was born. ‘Your false labor starts two days before your due date. You’re certain it’s the real thing and you end up sounding the alarm. Your dad comes over to stay with Jack while Aaron takes you to the hospital.

It happens two more times, and always in the middle of the night. Eventually, your dad brings his pack, and his pillow and collapses on your couch. When you give him a questioning look he simply shrugs and says, “I’m sick of the back and forth.” 

You just roll your eyes and go to get something to eat. 

The Real Labor: 

Your real labor happens in the middle of the day, a week after your due date. You’re home alone, officially on Maternity leave; Jack is at school and your dad and Aaron are at work. You don’t send out a text until your water breaks. You want to make sure it’s real this time. Both your dad and Aaron arrive at the house with sirens blaring. You sigh. The drama kings. 

You say nothing as you toss your bag into the car, and slide in right as another contraction hits. You close your eyes and reach out to grip someone’s hand. When it’s done you look to see who it is; it’s McGee, and there are tears in his eyes. You wince and apologize. 

Your dad rolls his eyes, closes the car door and simply says, “He’ll be fine.” Before telling Aaron to drive. 

The Baby has Arrived: 

You stare at your husband. While normally you find Aaron the most handsome man in the room, seeing him with your newborn baby in his arms, makes him the sexiest man you’ve ever seen. You adjust against your pillows, “Are you sure about the name?” 

He nods, his eyes never leaving your daughter. Jack had gotten his wish for a sister, “I’m sure. It might actually make him like me.” He coos down at your daughter, “Your PopPop is a stubborn old mule. But he’ll love you.” As though Aaron, himself, isn’t stubborn. You roll your eyes. 

There’s a knock on the door, as Jack’s head peeks in followed by your dad’s. You smile and wave them in. Jack runs to you. That surprises you, you figured he’d go to Aaron and the baby first. Your dad lifts him onto your bed, and he very gently hugs you. “Hi Marmee!”

“Hello my sweet boy.” 

You comb your fingers through his hair, and kiss his forehead. He bounces a bit, “Do I have a brother or a sister?” 

You look over at Aaron, who’s staring at the two of you with a smile. You nod, and he walks towards you, lowering the baby for Jack to see. He reaches out an strokes her cheek, “She looks like Marmee!” 

You laugh, and look up at your dad who’s standing by the door, “Want to see?” 

He smiles and wanders over. Aaron slides your daughter into your father’s arms. As always, he’s a natural. He’d always had a way with babies, kids, and animals. The only place he was lacking was with adults. 

You watch as he bounces her her slightly, and you can tell, just like when he looked at Jack for the first time, he’s in love. You have a feeling the man is living for his PopPop title. He looks at you, and asks, “What’s her name?” 

“Daisy Shannon Hotchner.” 

He smiles, “It’s beautiful. Thank you for including your mom.” 

You nod, “It includes Kelly too. Daisys were her favorite flower. I think she named every stuffed animal and babydoll Daisy. I thought it was a good way to include them both.” 

Your dad clears his throat, “I think . . .it’s an excellent idea.” 

“Can I hold her?” Jack’s little voice is enough to break you out of your thoughts, and your dad moves to sit on the edge of the bed. You watch as he and Aaron help Jack hold Daisy, and you can’t help the amount of love that fills your heart at the sight. Your little family is perfect. 

Mom and Kelly: 

It’s a pretty day. The sun is shining, and the only clouds in the sky are white and fluffy. It’s been years since you’ve visited. When you were a child, your dad would bring you two to three times a year. You readjust Daisy in your arms, as you stare down at the headstones. Your mother and sister’s names stare back at you. 

You glance at your dad. There’s a blank look on his face for just minute before he bends down and replaces the flowers. He dusts leaves and blades of grass off the headstones. 

You’re silent for a moment before you start, “Hey mama. Hey Kelly. Sorry it’s been so long, but things have been busy. I got married, his name is Aaron. And he’s amazing. And through him I got a beautiful son named Jack. And he knows about you guys. He likes to hear stories about you. And recently I gave birth, which wasn’t fun, but the end result is pretty damn. Her name is Daisy Shannon. Dad and I are doing well. He comes over for dinner most nights now, and he likes to steal Jack away to work on the boat. And when we go to the park, he insists on carrying Daisy. He even wears the Boba baby wrap.” 

“Don’t tell them that! Your sister will laugh at me.” 

You smile, and ignore him, “We miss you guys, and we love you.” 

Your dad’s arms wraps around your shoulders and he places a kiss on the side of your head before stealing Daisy away. 

You roll your eyes, stay a few more minutes while your dad tells them all about Jack and Daisy, before the two of you head out. You meet Jack and Aaron in the middle. 

Jack immediately rushes to your dad, who scoops him up and onto his hip with his free arm. You go to Aaron, who takes your hand, “How were your mom and sister?” 

“They’re good. We told them all about you and Jack.” 

“We’ll have to go with you next time.” 

You shrug, and look off in the direction they had come from, where Haley had been buried. The cemetery is peaceful, and as you walk through it, and back towards the car, you can’t help but think this is the most alive and happy you’ve seen your dad in years. It’s nice. 

You get everyone in the car, your  dad sit in the back in between the carseats, talking with jack while allowing Daisy to play with his finger, when he gets the call.He barely says two words before hanging up and saying, “I have to go to work. Can you drop me off?” 

Aaron nods, “Sure thing.” 

“And could I get a quick consult?”

You laugh, “We can manage that.” 

And as Aaron pulls away from the curb, your little family heads Back to the Navy Yard. 

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #leroy jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs #gibbs #dad!gibbs x daughter!reader #ncis #ncis reader insert #ncis imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm reader insert #cm imagine #jack hotchner

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

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PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

**

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

**

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

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[gukeobi]

New Beginnings (M)

pairing: werewolf!jeongguk x reader

genre: Slight angst, fluff (?), smut (jeongguk has a breeding kink, Alpha kink kinda, passionate jeongguk), kinda enemies to friends to lovers? lol 

words: 17.4k (i’m sorry)

warnings: blood mention, non present character death 

-----------

It was cold. Fresh snow covered the soft forest ground in a sheet of pure white, some delicately resting on the branches of the bare trees that lived around you as more continued to fall from the sky above. The iciness burned your bare hands, leaving them red, flushed and numb as your excited giggles rang throughout the empty forest like a mantra. 

You were only four years old, and every year since your birth you would visit your grandfather at his cabin in the woods. Your mother, his only daughter, had passed during childbirth and afterwards he had secluded himself to a simple cabin in the woods that was miles away from any form of civilization to continue his independent research studies. He was a retired wildlife biologist, his motivation to continue his work in a professional setting dying along with his only child. 

“Don’t wander too far now, Y/N,” Your grandfather called out to you, watching you from the patio with a smile on his face and a cup of coffee warming his hands through his thick gloves. You turned back to look at him and nodded in response to his request, cheeks flushed and a smile so wide it hurt. It was times like these in which you reminded him so much of his late daughter, the sparkle in your eyes and the snow melting in your hair.

 The thought caused a sharp pang of hurt to spread through his chest. 

Turning back to the snowy fortress in front of you, you continued to make your way through the vast never-ending whiteness with no true end goal in mind. You collected anything that caught your eye--pretty rocks, fallen leaves, and even a small collection of hellebore flowers which were hidden behind a naked tree. With your treasures held delicately in between your chubby red fingers and arms tucked tightly against your chest, your tiny legs weaved through the forest in continuously growing elation. 

Your excitement was short lived, however, when your lack of awareness resulted in your foot getting caught on a fallen branch.

“Ow,” you whispered gently, watching as blood stained the whiteness below you almost immediately. Your knee scraped against a sharp rock hidden beneath the snow during your fall, the fabric of your pants tearing upon impact and the objects that were once held protectively against your thick warm coat were now scattered across the forest floor in chaos. With tears clouding your vision, your hands gripped your bloody knee gently. 

The sound of your quiet weeps seemed to echo in the otherwise empty forest, bouncing against the trees and coming back to mock you for your obliviousness to your surroundings. The slight rustle of the snow covered bushes across from you managed to draw your attention away from your injury briefly, though what you saw was not at all what you expected.

Standing between two trees was a wolf. Its sleek black fur was a stark contrast to the pure whiteness surrounding it, the midnight inkiness unable to camouflage itself from unsuspecting eyes. It was large, towering over you impressively even with its massive paws sinking into the snow below it, leaving depressions in their wake. Its hulking physique was intimidating, muscles visibly rippling underneath its thick winter coat as it stalked towards your tiny fallen figure. 

You watched in awe and slight nervousness as it stopped right in front of you. It’s head alone was almost the size of your entire frame, and it’s eyes never once left your flushed, tear stained face. 

“Hi,” you breathed, your voice small. Gently taking your hand, you held up your palm face up towards the wolf’s face, its nose cold and wet as it touched your hand before it slowly transitioned into warm, sleek fur as the wolf pushed its forehead into your palm. You ran your fingers gently across the wolf’s head, your tiny fingers dwarfed significantly, relishing in the warmth it brought. 

The first touch of the animal’s tongue on your injury stung, the roughness irritating the already inflamed skin. You whimpered, though watched silently as the wolf cleaned your wound like it would to one of its young. Looking back up at you once it was done, deeming your injury clean enough, its eyes flashed a brilliant shade of vermillion before returning to their dulled amber color as quickly as it came. 

Too engrossed in feeling the warmth of the wolf’s body temperature beneath your frozen fingertips, you were slightly startled when you felt it’s snout gently nudging your thigh, signaling for you to stand up. You followed without complaint, albeit a slight limp on your left leg, and brushed the snow that clung wetly to your clothes with your fingers before embedding your fingers back into the wolf’s warm, soft fur on its back. It led you back the direction you came, the trip silent except for the crunch of the snow beneath your feet as the cabin quickly came into view. 

“There you are,” your grandfather breathed, a smile plastering his wrinkled face as soon as you came into view. His eyes quickly drifted to the creature beside you, taking in it’s hulking figure and bright red eyes. He wasn’t worried or scared like you expected him to be, and instead lowered into a small bow to show his respects. The wolf followed suit, lowering its head before backing away from you to return to the forest; it’s home. “I was wondering where you ran off to, silly girl.” 

“Grandpa!” you giggled, running up the patio steps before crashing into his chest in a hug. The sun was quickly setting, casting hues of golden and soft rose onto the snow as you turned back to watch the wolf disappear between the trees once again. It was almost as if it was never there to begin with. “Did you see that? Did you?” 

“I did, my love,” He spoke to you, his voice gentle as he brushed stray hairs away from your face. Pointing to your torn pants, a frown found its way on his face at the sight of the raw, exposed skin. “What happened here?” 

“I was running through the snow,” you began, sighing at the warmth of the inside of the cabin as your grandfather led you to the kitchen. You sat down on one of the dining room chairs, watching as he grabbed a first aid kit from one of the cupboards. “And I tripped over a rock. It hurt pretty bad.”

Your grandpa hummed, listening to your story intently as he slowly disinfected the wound with antibacterial soap before taking out a bandage to cover it with.  “And then?” 

“And then this big wolf showed up out of nowhere!” you exclaimed, waving your hands high above your head to try to demonstrate. “He was huge, but he didn’t hurt me. He helped me. He licked my knee and led me back here.” 

“Did he?” Placing a bandage onto your knee, he chuckled as he gently took your small, cold hands in his own and led you from the kitchen to your bedroom. You quickly changed from your wet, outside clothes and into your warm sleep clothes, hopping into bed with a smile that didn’t seem like it was fading still on your face. 

“I have something to tell you, Y/N. Something important.” your grandfather spoke, his voice low as he pulled the covers up to your chest. By now the sun has fully set, the only light illuminating your room coming from the pale moonlight glow and the dulled bedside lamp. “There are many wolves out there, Y/N. Special wolves. They will never hurt you if you welcome them with open arms and an open mind.” 

With that, he placed a kiss on your forehead and turned off your bedside lamp, the door to your bedroom closing softly in his wake. Almost complete darkness welcomed you, the light of the full moon bathing you in it’s ethereal shine, and as you fell asleep that night you swore you could hear the distant howls singing you a lullaby. 

---------

  The coldness of the outside air was pleasant against your skin, the thick material of your hoodie sheathing most of the elements from your exposed flesh. You worked diligently on moving each box from the back of your car to the inside of the cabin, music playing quietly through your headphones to fill the quietness of the empty forest. 

You were now twenty-one, and it's been 3 months since your grandfather has passed. 

His death had taken a huge toll on you. You had stopped visiting him during the summer after your thirteenth birthday, school and relationships outweighing the desire to spend the three months you had free in the woods alone and not with your friends. Up until now you didn’t feel any regret in doing so, your relationship with him eventually fading into the only communication being handwritten cards sent every holiday or your birthday. Though ever since you found out about the news of his death the only thing you could feel was heartbreak and guilt. 

Stepping back outside you grabbed the last box out of your trunk, shutting it with a sigh before moving to finally go back inside. You were tired, lately that’s all you’ve been, and moving from the heart of Seoul to the forests of a forgotten city was harder than you’d originally envisioned it to be. The drive was long, the bright early morning sky fading into the depths of midnight before you could even realize, barely any stops made in between. The only thing you wanted to do now was rest. 

--------

Looking around the cabin it was exactly how you remembered it being, albeit desolate as the livelihood that used to thrive was now replaced with cold emptiness in the absence of its light. The dark tinted wood flooring was cold beneath your sock clad feet as you moved to light the fireplace, illuminating the living room in a light golden hue and filling it with warmth. 

There were many pictures lining the stone built around the fireplace, and you could recognize your face in some of them as you moved to pick one up. You ran your finger gently over the glass, brushing some of the built up dust away to reveal the image of you and your grandpa’s smiling face staring back at you. 

It was snowing in the picture, your faces flushed red and snow stuck in your hair. The memory of when the photo was taken was fuzzy, blurry at some of the edges but it still made your eyes well up; a small smile on your face as your tears hit the glass protecting it. 

Gently placing the picture frame back on the mantle, your eyes drifted to the other photos that lined the stone. One that managed to catch your eye was one of your grandfather, smiling like always and surrounded by three very large wolves. 

One was an earthy brown color, lanky and tall but still muscular and intimidating while the other a healthy mix of grey and white, specks of dirty brown littering it’s coat. The last one was slightly hidden, it’s obnoxiously large head peeking behind your grandfather’s shoulder shyly as it’s inky black coat contrasted nicely with the warm autumn background. It felt strangely familiar, though you couldn’t pinpoint why. 

Your grandfather always talked about the wolves that roamed the forest in which he lived and how they were special, different. You never truly understood what he meant by that, though you assumed he had simply built a relationship with the creatures as he focused his studies on them and their behaviours. 

You tried not to dwell on it too much. 

Shaking your head you placed the photo back where it was on the fireplace, taking one last look at your new home before putting the fire out and getting ready for bed. 

------- 

In the morning you were rudely woken up by the sound of somebody knocking on your door. It was strange, you thought, nobody came by these parts by chance and the closest neighbour you had was miles away. You doubted if they even really cared if somebody new moved in overnight, though you assumed news spread fast in small areas like these. Furrowing your eyebrows, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes before quickly answering the door. 

What greeted you were two men, one noticeably taller than the other with dirty silver blonde hair and kind eyes that seemed welcoming. The other had hair the shade of night, with cat-like eyes that made you more uncomfortable the longer you looked at them. Both were wearing simple clothes, though arguably not appropriate for the freezing weather. You shifted nervously. 

“Can I help you?” you spoke, voice slightly raspy from sleep. The coldness of the early morning air nipped at your exposed arms, your simple t-shirt not doing much to shelter you from the cold as it entered into your home. Your eyes drifted to the taller one of the two as he spoke. 

“Hi, my name is Namjoon and this is my brother, Yoongi.” he spoke, eyes crinkling at the sides as he smiles at you. He has a gentle smile, you think. “We live a couple miles up the street and heard of somebody moving in. You’re new around here, yes?” 

He spoke eloquently, obviously educated and smart judging by the way he chose to present himself, but there was a slight disconnect with his words--  a slur to his accent you didn’t recognize. One you couldn’t point out. 

You nodded in response to his question, a polite smile on your face. “I just finished moving in yesterday.” 

Something felt off, they felt off. The shorter one of the two, Yoongi you remember his name being, you caught his eyes wandering-- drifting past your shoulder in a futile attempt to see inside your home. Shifting uncomfortably, you leaned your shoulder against the wooden door frame in an attempt to block his view. You didn’t know where this conversation was heading, and you really didn’t want to find out, either. 

The taller one, Namjoon, opened his mouth to speak before he was quickly interrupted. 

“The old man that used to live here,” Yoongi began, eyes narrowing at you underneath his fringe. His voice was relatively monotone, yet somehow aggressive and accusatory. “What happened to him.” 

Namjoon whipped his head around to look at the shorter man, eyebrows furrowed and expression tight. The frustration was evident in his voice as he quickly turned back to you, “I apologize for him-” 

“It’s okay,” you waved off quickly, though slightly hurt by the bluntness of his tone. Clearing your throat you fought hard to fight back tears, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of strangers by completing breaking down. You let out a small sigh before continuing, “My grandfather, he passed away a couple months ago. He left all of his belongings to me in his will, so I-I wanted to move in to make sure nothing happened to his home and research.” 

At that, both of them seemed to deflate in relief, their shoulders less tense-- though at the mention of the word ‘grandfather’ they seemed to be more intrigued. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Namjoon spoke, his voice low. He stuck his hand out in a handshake, his palm large against your own smaller one as you gripped it gently. His hand was warm, incredibly so, despite the freezing temperature he was standing in. “I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through right now and I apologize for intruding.” 

“Thank you,” you replied, the warmth of his palm comforting. “Would you like to come in for some coffee? Tea?” 

“We would love to,” Looking regretful, Namjoon turned to look at Yoongi briefly, the latter’s eyes never once leaving your face. “But we should really get going. Next time, maybe?” 

Smiling, you nodded your head in agreement. “Next time, then.”

You watched silently as they left, your hands stilling on the door as you went to close it. They had stated earlier that their home was miles away from yours, yet you didn’t see them getting into a car or any mode of transportation to make their way back-- instead the sound of their shoes crunching on the gravel of your driveway as they walked seemed to echo in the quiet early morning air. 

Furrowing your eyebrows you shook your head, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The whole interaction left a weird taste in your mouth, though you attempted not to linger over it too much, unsure if you’d realistically ever see them again. Closing the door with a dull thud your bare feet padded against the cold wood flooring as you made your way to the living room, relighting the fireplace with a match to help fill the room with much needed warmth. 

------ 

You spent most of the day unpacking your things. The interaction early this morning with Namjoon and Yoongi was pushed to the back of your mind now as you attempted to settle in. Surprisingly enough it wasn’t as difficult as you initially thought, though you guess you can place it on this place being your second home for thirteen years of your life. 

As the cabin was located semi remotely and the nearest town wasn’t anywhere close to you, your grandfather had built a tiny farm in the “backyard” to produce his own food. He refused to hunt live animals to eat, his reasoning being he didn’t have the heart to do so; a lifestyle you adopted from him during your younger years. Putting on a thick, warm hoodie to help combat the chilly winds you ventured outside to check on it. 

What you expected to see were rotting and decaying plants, seeing as there had been nobody around to take care of them for months.

 But they weren't. 

The fruits and vegetables looked as fresh and healthy as they could be, vibrant against the dull earthy ground they grew on. There had to be a logical explanation for this, produce couldn’t have survived as long as they have without being eaten by wildlife or destroyed by the elements and lack of care. Getting down on your knees, you moved to check the roots of the plants for any disturbances or ruptures when you heard it.

Behind you there was the snapping of a twig, the sound irritatingly loud in the otherwise quiet forest. You stilled, breath hitching in your throat as you tried to process what was happening. Perhaps you were being paranoid, you thought. You lived in a forest, there were wild animals all around you and one twig snapping shouldn’t warrant such a reaction. 

That was until the sound was followed by a low growl. It was quiet enough to not be heard if you weren’t paying enough attention, but loud enough to make the hairs rise on the back of your neck. Turning your head slowly, the first thing you tried to do was figure out who, or what, was there before turning your body completely. 

Standing about 10 feet away from you was a wolf. It’s coat was as black as a clear night sky, sleek and silky yet slightly matted with the only color being the dulled amber of its eyes. Its snout was pulled back in a snarl, the stained whites of its elongated canines taunting you while its eyes stared directly at you in aggression. 

You remembered distinctly about the values your grandfather instilled in you when you were young, to be gentle to the wolves that live on this land and to approach them with respect. So you raised the palm of your hand silently-- the situation eliciting a strange sense of deja vu--the act in itself a sign of non aggression. 

It didn’t work. 

The wolf’s growls got progressively louder as it stalked towards you, it’s massive paws sinking heavily into the earth below. You didn’t have time to react before it lunged for you, the plants behind you smothering behind as you fell back, the smell of blood penetrating the air as the thorns of the blackberry bush behind you pierced your skin. The palm of your hand stained a deep wine red. 

It’s growls seemed to reverberate in your skull as saliva dripped from it’s bared canines and onto your cheek, it’s hot breath making you choke up in fear. The feeling of it’s heavy paws on your chest made you feel like you were suffocating, pushing you further into the wet soil. 

You were scared. Unbelievably scared. The adrenaline and panic was pulsing through your veins like blood, hot and thick and circulating your entire body without pause.

It’s only been a day and you’re already staring at the face of death. 

“Please,” you begged, your eyes wet with tears as they fell down into your hair and mixed with the soil below. To whom or what you were pleading to you did not know, your eyes slowly drifting from it’s bared teeth to your own pitiful reflection staring back at you in its eyes. The creature seemed to falter at the eye contact, eyes widening a fraction before you see it’s nose wiggling from your peripheral vision. 

Slowly you could see the wolf’s snarl fade, it’s large paws stepping off your chest and back into the wet earth as it continued to back away from you. You were scared and confused, your body terrifying still until you heard the sound of branches snapping and leaves crunching as the wolf made its way back into the forest where it came from, sparing one last look at your fear-stricken form before disappearing from your view completely. 

You lied there silently for what felt like an eternity, your hands shaking as they gripped the dirt, the pain from your cut dulled from shock. Getting up quickly you rushed inside, taking off all your clothes and turning the shower dials to the hottest setting. It burned, your hands still slightly trembling as you scrubbed yourself roughly and watched as the water ran down the drain pink before eventually turning clear. The shower didn’t do much to calm your nerves. 

--- 

“This was a bad idea,” you mumbled to yourself, brushing your wet hair away from your face with your hand. There was a heavy bandage wrapped around it, the wound not as painful as it was a couple of hours ago but still pulsing painfully if you moved it the wrong way. You stared blankly at your bedroom wall, your thoughts blank as you noted with dull interest how the light birch color contrasted nicely with the darkly tinted wood flooring.

 Maybe you should have stayed at your apartment in Seoul. It was safe there, arguably so, and you could’ve collected all your grandfather’s belongings and had them stored somewhere rather than secluding yourself away from the rest of civilization like a recluse. 

But the guilt of abandoning the last familial connection you had with your mother out of teenage stupidity really weighed down on you, keeping you up at night and consistently plaguing your thoughts. You had originally thought that moving here into his cabin and protecting, perhaps continuing, his wildlife research would bring you some sense of closure or relief. Maybe you were wrong. 

 Letting out a deep sigh you moved to open a drawer on your bedside table, pulling out an old faux leather bound book. You had found it in your grandfather’s study while you were cleaning out some storage, tucked neatly in a hand built bookcase between a plethora of others that looked vaguely similar. The only difference was the golden wolf stamped onto the spine and cover, reflecting beautifully as the light from your lamp bounced off of it. 

When you ran your finger over the design it felt smooth beneath your fingertips, stunningly beautiful yet the only thing you could think of when you saw it was the beast that almost killed you earlier today. 

Opening the book gently, what greeted you was the illustration of a howling wolf-- the black ink contrasting the off-white page with the word ‘Lycanthropy’ written below it. You ran your finger over the ink, feeling the coarseness of the wrinkled paper as you diligently flipped the stained pages, each one filled with notes, sketches and anatomy studies of what your grandfather deemed ‘lycanthropes’. 

Of course you had entertained the idea of werewolves when younger, though once you were out of your preteen years you had scrapped the idea entirely as you knew it was biologically impossible. But when your grandfather was alive all he talked to you about was the wolves and how special they were, how they were different. You were young at the time so of course you didn’t question it, though now you didn’t know what to think. Your whole reality and what you knew to be real, not real or just simple folklore used to entertain and scare children was being flipped on you and your mind was a muddled mess.

 If these creatures actually existed, these werewolves--or lycanthropes as your grandfather so politely called them-- what stopped other things like vampires and witches from being real too? 

You shut the book in haste, anger quickly replacing confusion as you clenched your fists. What you were angry about you didn’t know, but you knew you weren’t going to let this go easily. You needed answers, and you were going to get them. 

-------- 

It’s been several days since your encounter with the wolf and the discovery that werewolves were, in fact, real. Or, so you assumed. You haven’t been outside since the attack, holding yourself up in the study to read every book that lined the shelves and sort through every scrap paper abandoned on his desk in an attempt to find answers. 

The early morning sun was beaming through the window, warm against your face as you slept peacefully. You’d fallen asleep in the study again, your face squished up against the cold wood of the desk and the ink stained papers after a long night of reading and studying. It was nothing like you’d ever seen before, every detail about every living and non living thing that dwelled in this forest was written and logged into separate books and carefully stored so they wouldn’t get ruined or lost with age. 

You blinked your eyes sleepily, stretching your arms above your head as you winced at the pain in your neck from sleeping in an uncomfortable position for days. There was an awful taste in your mouth and a pounding headache making your eyes squeeze shut in pain, the bright sunlight streaming through your window not doing much to help with the dull throbbing in your head. You suppose the lack of food, water and sleep finally caught up with you. 

Rubbing your temples with your fingertips you vaguely remembered reading about a natural migraine remedy that grew in the forest somewhere in one of your grandfather’s books. There was no asprin here, so you had to make due with what you had. 

Quickly sorting through the mess of papers on the desk you found what you were looking for, an old looking book with various plants huddled together stamped in golden ink on the front cover and spine. You flipped through the pages, finally locating a detailed illustration of the peppermint herb you needed and a description of its uses located directly below it.

You got ready quickly, changing clothes and taking care of your hygiene before grabbing the book you needed off the kitchen table and making your way to the back door. Before you could place your hand on the handle you froze, a sharp pain irritating your palm as you clenched your fist at the memory of the dangers that lurk within those woods. You weren’t as scared as you used to be, more educated and less naive than you were before but the weariness was still there. 

The metal handle was cold against the palm of your hand, the outside air welcoming against your face as you stepped outside. The weather was more forgiving than it used to be, the sun shining bright overhead and the temperature pleasantly warm. Your shoes touched the forest floor for the first time in what felt like forever, the book you needed tucked protectively underneath your arm as you made your way through the forest. 

It was hard to identify the difference between the herbs at first look as they all looked the same to the inexperienced eye, though you diligently tried your best. 

Bending down, your knees touched the wet earth as you sorted through the bushes, comparing the leaves to the ones that were sketched onto the pages. It wasn’t long until you heard the slight rustle of the bushes behind you, your fists tightening around the pages of your book. 

“You can come out you know,” you began, plucking the peppermint leaves off their stem before getting up and turning to where the sound originated from. “I know you’re out there.” 

You heard it before you saw it. It’s low growl pierced the tense air as it finally exposed itself to you, the same massive paws that pinned you to the ground and made you choke on your own fear left dents in the moist forest floor as it stepped from behind the trunk of a young redwood tree. It’s teeth were bared in a sharp snarl, its once dull amber eyes now a brilliant shade of vermillion as it stared at you in distrust. 

“I know what you are,” you spoke, voice wobbling as tears clouded your vision. “You’re a lycan. A werewolf.” 

The lycan’s growls grew louder at your confession, the hairs on it’s back rising and it’s posture getting defensive. You recognized the wolf from the one in the picture resting above your fireplace, it’s then shy gaze replaced with a look of distrust.

 It seemed just as angry and confused as you were, yet you didn’t know if that comforted you or not. 

“My grandfather, Il Sung, you knew him didn’t you. He studied your kind for years and recorded everything in his books and you let him.” The lycan seemed to falter at that, it’s posture slackening slightly-- caught off guard. You decided to test your luck, slowly stepping closer and watched as the lycans growls continued to grow, though they didn’t seem as threatening as before. “You let him because you trusted him, and he trusted you. I moved here to protect his home, his research, and by extension that means you!” 

You shook your head, the anger bubbling inside you quickly rising to the surface as hot tears stained your cheeks.  “I’m not scared of you, you beast. Why would I be?” 

Tension quickly rose, the once pleasant air now suffocating with each word that passed your lips. “You’re a coward! Nothing but a sheep in wolf’s clothing.”

Your voice echoed in the otherwise quiet forest, every emotion that you’ve managed to keep at bay and hidden inside of yourself spilling out without your consent. The anger, the guilt, the sadness-- all of it. “I have done nothing to you. Nothing! Yet you come into my home and threaten me? Me?!” 

The lycan’s growls stopped completely, it’s posture relaxing and it’s eyes returning back to their normal bronze shade as the only sound reverberating off the trees was your emotional mess. There was a quiet pause before you continued. 

“I’m not here to hurt you, ” you began, never once breaking eye contact with the creature in front of you. “I loved my grandfather more than you could know, and I’m just as hurt and confused about everything that’s happened as you are. So please, just give me a damn break.” 

The silence following was deafening, you both didn’t dare to move as you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity-- both of you standing your ground. Your face was flushed with tears as you watched in confusion as the wolf trekked closer to you, it’s movements cautious and slow. The closer the lycan got the more you noticed how large it was, reaching up to the center of your belly in height with muscles rippling through its inky black coat at each step it took. It was more intimidating than you’d admit to yourself. 

The first touch of it’s wet nose against your palm made you flinch.

 Yesterday you had finally removed the bandage from around your cut, opting to let it breathe and putting a natural ointment on it to help the healing process. It was still relatively fresh, only a few days passing from the time you had received it to now, so it stung slightly at the first pass of the lycan’s rough tongue. It’s ears were slightly pinned back as it licked your wound, looking more like an oversized dog than the beast that tried to kill you a week prior. 

Your left hand, the one that was uninjured, shook slightly as you raised it, your fingers carefully embedding themselves in the silky fur of the lycan. It stilled at the feeling, a low growl vibrating through its body before it continued its ministrations. When it was finished it stepped back slightly, its eyes flashing the same bright red it had before when it first showed itself to you.  

Stepping back, your hands felt cold in the absence of the lycan’s warmth, fingers clenching in a fist as you furrowed your eyebrows. The headache from earlier seemed to come back worse than it originally was earlier, the bearing sunlight suddenly too harsh on your eyes. 

This whole situation was oddly familiar, and it confused you. A lot.

You moved to make your way back to the cabin without another word or sparing glance, weaving through the trees and leaving the lycan abandoned far behind you. 

------- 

   Early the next morning you found yourself in the garden. The weather was still pleasantly warm, a slight breeze leaving goosebumps along your bare arms as you worked on plucking the ripe fruits and veggies from their stems and throwing away the rotten ones. Your headache from yesterday had eventually subsided after following the instructions written down for you, a fairly tiny jar of peppermint oil managing to save you from a night-long nightmare. 

It wasn’t long after that you heard it’s arrival. Although the crunch of fallen leaves no longer scared you with it’s rather cliche implications, you were still surprised to see the familiar figure of the wolf with an inky black coat standing in the treeline. 

“You’re back,” you breathed, shock flooding your features as you watched it saunter towards you. It stopped relatively close, only about six feet away from the garden where you were kneeling. At first you were unsure if it even heard you, though the huff that passed it’s lips as it sat down quietly to bask underneath the afternoon sun proved otherwise. You noticed its auburn eyes following your every move; watching, observing, thinking. 

 Knowing there was somebody residing underneath that wolf’s skin made you feel vulnerable and exposed underneath it’s heavy gaze, the lycan never once moving from its position underneath the sun. Originally you thought that somewhere in the study there would be records of the wolves that lived in the forest; their names, photos, drawings-- anything. 

You found nothing. 

It frustrated you more than you’d like to admit. No matter how much you read or studied, you still felt completely naive to the world suddenly shoved in front of you. 

“When I was younger, every summer I would come here to visit my grandpa,” you suddenly spoke, eyes intently trained on the tomatoes you were currently picking. The lycan didn’t seem to make any moves at the sound of your voice. “And all he would talk about was the wolves. It was always about the wolves.”

Getting up, you brushed the soil off your pants before turning to face the wolf completely, it’s gaze never leaving yours as you spoke. Sighing quietly, you rested the basket of freshly picked produce against your hip to close your eyes and collect your thoughts.

 It felt nice to talk to somebody after being alone for so long, even if they couldn’t talk back. 

“My mother died shortly after my birth,” you explained, moving to set down the basket on the edge of the porch. You chuckled lightly, wringing your hands together as your gaze moved to look at the clear blue sky above, tears brimming your eyes. “And my father, he hoped that by sending me here I-I would have a chance to have a connection with my mother’s side before it was gone completely.” 

Your voice was quiet as you continued. “And I gave that up for my own teenage selfishness” 

It was quiet for a long time after that. None of you moved, the birds chirping high in the treetops as they mingled together and the distant sound of rabbits running through the brush filling the void. You swung your legs thoughtlessly as you sat on the edge of the porch, the rough material of your jeans shielding you from any unnecessary splitters as your back touched the cold, rough wood when you lied down. 

You spoke up after a while of silence, voice low and impersonal as you focused on the gentle swaying of the trees. “If I could go back and spend more time with him I would, y’know?” 

The wood was rough on your elbows as you got up to rest on them, your gaze once again returning to the lycan. It still felt so surreal. “But I can’t. So I just have to make due with what I have left now.” 

You got up without another word, grabbing the basket of fruits and vegetables and moving to make your way back inside. Turning around, you watched as the wolf followed your every move with its eyes intently, a silent goodbye resting on your tongue as the door shut behind you. 

----- 

It’s been a month, and you were adjusting quickly. 

Your routine has stayed fairly the same the entire duration; during the day you would venture out into the forest to collect herbs and spices or sit on the porch underneath the warm sun, while your nights were spent locked in the study with a dull lamp glow illuminating the stained white pages. It was comfortable, you were comfortable.

Surprisingly enough, the lycan would continue to come by everyday. Whether you were taking care of the garden or sketching quietly on the porch-- it would come. At first its presence would slightly bother you, seeing as it would sit in the exact same spot everyday and just stare at you while you worked, but gradually with each passing week you managed to get more relaxed with each other. 

“What do you think?” you said, turning the sketchbook over to show the wolf the portrait sketched on it. The lycan was laying on the porch next to you, head resting between its paws and it’s coat shining underneath the glaring mid-day sun. It wasn’t too hot per say, but you couldn’t imagine the summer heat felt too good on its thick dark coat. 

Lifting its head up the wolf looked at your drawing, a huff passing it’s lips as its tail wagged back and forth slowly against the wood. It’s large paw rested on your thigh as it stretched, a low whine catching your attention as it’s large head moved to rest on your lap. You smiled, setting down your sketchbook and pencil next to you before entangling your fingers gently in the fur of its back. 

It was still kinda shocking how fast your relationship blossomed. One day the lycan refused to be more than a couple feet away from you and growled whenever so much as raised a hand to touch it, the next it whined if you didn’t want it’s head in your lap. If you were being completely honest with yourself you didn’t know how to feel about this. 

There was still somebody in that wolf, thinking, watching, feeling--and you didn’t know their name or who they were. Hell, you didn’t even know if it was a man or a woman. 

Sighing, you closed your eyes for a short moment. You felt wrong for looking, truly you did, but curiosity managed to get the best of you in the moment. 

It was a man. 

You didn’t know if that made you feel better or not. 

-------

The next day wasn’t like anything you expected. 

Your morning had started off slow, an awful crick in your neck from falling asleep with your head in a book for the third time in a row that week. It was approximately noon when you got out of the shower, feeling more refreshed than you were an hour prior and a cup of freshly made peppermint tea warming your hands. The only plans you had for today were to get more ginger root and yarrow to help with some of the dull pain from your cut, the wound healing up nicely so far--though you suspected there will be a scar left behind. 

When you had exited your cabin you had expected to see the lycan sitting waiting for you like he always does, but the spot he had claimed as his was cold and empty. You tried not to overthink it too much, albeit you were a little disappointed at the lack of company as you weaved through the trees. 

It was about an hour since you had first left, sweat started to bead at your forehead as you looked for the herbs you needed quickly. The leaves from the trees above helped shelter some of the sweltering heat and provide some shade, though your clothes still continued to stick to your body unpleasantly. 

There was an uncomfortable feeling steadily creeping up your neck, your hands stilling on the forest ground as you strained your ears to listen for anything that may be off. Behind you there was suddenly a low growl, the sound of stray twigs snapping under immense weight. 

You had thought that it was just your lycan friend--you’ve yet to actually learn his name yet, you were still working on it--fooling around and trying to scare you like he used to do. Smiling, you stood up and turned around. 

That was your first mistake. 

Gasping, you stumbled back out of fear. Standing there was a wolf, a fairly large one at that, with muddy red fur and a deranged look in its eyes as it snarled at you. It’s growls got louder as it stalked closer to you, the fur on its back raised and saliva flying from it’s canines as it barked at you in aggression. 

Your heart was beating erratically against your chest, fear coiling around your throat like a snake and tightening so hard it felt like it was hard to breathe. You stepped back, your movements slow and steady in an attempt to not show any signs of aggression--the creature not slowing any signs of backing down as it continued its advancements towards you. 

The wolf lunged at you unexpectedly, it’s jaws snapping a few inches away from your lower stomach and saliva splattering against your thighs. Fear took over as you ran, thorns and branches whipping at your exposed legs and creating blistering marks in their wake. Your lungs burned painfully, the sound of the creature quickly catching up taunting you as you attempted to outrun it. 

You were foolish to think you could outsmart a creature of speed and agility, tears of frustration and fear burning your cheeks as they fell and disappeared on the forest floor. Before you could register what happened there was sharp pain in your leg, your screams piercing the silent forest. 

There was blood. A lot of blood. Your hands shook violently as they touched the cold metal of the bear trap currently hooked in your leg, the pain immeasurable and quickly spreading throughout your entire body with no signs of rest. 

“No, no, no!” you cried, shaking your head violently and attempting to pry the trap off of you. It ended up just causing you more pain, blood dripping from the wound and soaking the dirt below you. 

The growls were back, louder than before as the creature busted through the foliage with a murderous look in its eyes. It’s barks and snarls ridiculing you as you hysterically tried to rip the metal off, hot tears running down your face and your cries getting lost in the ruckus. 

 The thought of dying out here, alone, broke your heart. 

Everything felt distant, you could feel yourself passing out. The only thing you could discern from your quickly blurring vision was two large figures on the ground, fighting and snarling through a clash of bared teeth. You couldn’t hear anything through the ringing in your ears, the sickening crunch of bone being the last thing to echo in your head as your chest heaved slowly and your fingers turned cold. You watched drearily as the figure pinned underneath the other fall limp against the ground. 

The last thing that entered your peripheral before you blacked out was glowing red eyes surrounded by inky darkness.

---------- 

  It was quiet, the only sounds in the room being your gentle breathing and the rough scratching of a pen against paper. Your fists clenched around the softness of the blankets swathed around you, the sun harsh against your eyes as you blearily opened them and grimaced at the awful, stale taste in your mouth. A headache was consistently pounding against your head, mingling with the dulled pain coming from your leg that made you whimper quietly. 

“You’re awake,” somebody said beside you, their voice loud in the otherwise quiet room. There was suddenly a warm hand on your forehead, feeling for a temperature briefly before it left just as quick as it came. “I’m glad. You’ve been out for awhile now.” 

Panic struck your entire being at the foreign voice, your eyes squinting as you attempted to look at the source through your blurry vision. It was a man, he had a somewhat baby face which was accompanied by broad shoulders hidden underneath a plain black t-shirt; his dark hair falling over the worried look on his face when he leaned over the bed to look at you. 

“Who-who are you,” you asked, your voice wavering as you attempted to back away from the stranger. There was a sharp pain in your leg as you quickly sat up, moving to push yourself against the corner of the bed in an attempt to get as far away from him as possible. “Where am I?”  

“Calm down, it’s okay,” He spoke, his voice gentle as he raised his hands to not show any harm. His eyebrows were furrowed underneath his hair, a deep frown on his lips as he moved his gaze down to your leg that was hidden beneath the sheets. “My name is Seokjin, I’ve been helping you recover from your injuries the last few days. Do you remember what happened?” 

Shaking your head, you wrung your hands in the blankets uncomfortably as you tried to process the situation. Your memory was extremely foggy, bits and pieces at the forefront of your mind but nothing too significant. A ll you could remember was the feeling of the wind burning your lungs, how the tears felt as they burned your face and the absolute fear that consumed your entire body.

You stared at the door a couple feet away from you, thinking of a way to get as far away from this person as possible. Realistically you knew that even if you tried to run you wouldn’t get that far, your injury preventing you from doing so. That couldn’t stop you from trying, though. 

“Please don’t do anything you’re going to regret,” Seokjin sighed, following your line of sight. When he looked back at you his eyes were a vivid shade of gold, almost like the wild dandelions that were growing near the edge of your cabin, your own widening in shock. 

You remembered reading somewhere about the varying eye colors of lycans and what they signified, the different ranks present in a pack. Contrary to popular belief a pack’s dynamic wasn’t based on the submissiveness of those considered to be weaker or inferior, rather it was a system built on the caring nature of a single lycan’s personality-- if they were born leaders or natural caretakers at heart.

 Omegas were blessed with yellow eyes that resembled the early morning sun and are generally the most caring, often given the weighty responsibility of caring for young pups or tending to the injured. Betas had eyes the color of the deep ocean and are regarded as the peacekeepers, the safety net. They’re calm and do most of the logical thinking. 

Then there’s Alphas. They have taunting red eyes and are the primary leaders, usually bigger and stronger than the rest of the pack to make sure everybody stays in line instead of going awry or rogue. Their main responsibility is to keep the pack safe, to lead. 

“Y-you’re a lycan?” you whispered, voice shaky. Admittedly you felt more pacified than you did a few moments prior, though you still didn’t completely trust this lycan or his intentions. 

Unsurprisingly Seokjin didn’t seem shocked by your knowing, a small smile tugging at his lips as he slowly lowered his arms to rest them by his side.

“What happened to me.” you demanded quietly. 

The lycan sighed, a distraught look on his face as a hand came up to comb through his hair. To be truthful, Seokjin didn’t know exactly what to say to that. He felt it wasn’t fair for him to speak on it further without his brother being present, afterall he wasn’t there when the incident occurred and he knew how much the other wanted to see you when you woke up. 

“I think that it’s better if Jeongguk explains that to you.” He eventually spoke, voice low and a knowing look in his eyes. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at his reply. 

“Who?” 

“You’ll recognize him when you see him.” With that Seokjin left the room, closing the door softly behind him. You could hear his footsteps quickly fading as he left, your shoulders falling with a sigh you didn’t realize you were holding. It was quiet for a while after that, the soft chirping of birds outside seeping through the open window next to you and the atmosphere almost serene in nature. 

Curiosity managed to get the better of you, your hands gripping the blankets covering your leg as you carefully untucked it, grimacing at what you saw. Your entire lower leg was tore up, a couple stitches suturing close some of the worse ones near your ankle and a series of smaller cuts and blisters sweltering above them. Everything was covered in some form on semi-translucent film, yarrow you believed it was, and was extremely tender to the touch as you gently prodded the areas with your fingers. 

“You shouldn’t be touching that.” 

Whipping your head around at the sound of the voice, your eyes quickly landing on a figure standing shyly in the doorway. He was young, that much was obvious, no older than twenty with hair the same shade as coal and big, doe eyes that stared at you in earnest. Jeongguk, you would believe Seokjin said his name was.

 You didn’t speak as he stepped further into the room, nervousness dripping from his form like honey as he opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to form words. 

“I’m sorry,” he eventually let out, eyes downcast on the polished wooden floor beneath his feet. “This shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.” 

Opting to stay silent you watched the boy from beneath a curious, questioning gaze. You were fairly certain you didn’t recognize his face from anywhere, but you could feel a sense of familiarity between the two of you.

 He kept his face down, hidden away from your scrutinizing gaze but you could still see his eyes turn from their normal dark brown to a deep cherry wine color at his obviously distraught emotional state. 

You could recognize those eyes anywhere, no matter what happened. It was the lycan that visited you every day, the one you befriended and grew to trust. You felt more at ease than you did before. 

Shifting on the bed, you sat up before speaking. “Do you know where am I, Jeongguk?” 

If he was shocked at the sound of his name passing through your lips he didn’t show it, opting to shift slightly closer to the bed where you were situated. You could see the apprehensiveness apparent on his face, worried about how you would react to the information he was eventually going to give you. 

“You’re in my home, we brought you here after the attack.” 

You nodded, furrowing your eyebrows as you processed his words.

“About that,” you whispered, nervous and unsure of how to word your question properly. “What exactly happened that day, Jeongguk?” 

Jeongguk sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed without thinking of how you would react and burying his face in his hands. To be honest, he felt awful about what happened. It was his fault, their fault. 

“Recently there were issues with a rogue intruding on our territory,” He began, his eyes solely focused on the birch flooring. “We were out patrolling the borders when I managed to catch his scent.” 

From there Jeongguk explained everything that occurred, sparing you some of the more gory details of the altercation he had with the lone wolf at his rather unexpected arrival, stopping periodically to gauge your reaction. It felt odd having somebody explain to you what happened to your own body, the memories still buried beneath the heaviness of shock and denial. Maybe that was for the best, you thought.

“I’m sorry.” 

Furrowing your eyebrows you moved to look at the boy, your mind still reeling as you placed the pieces together. “This isn’t your fault.” 

“But it is!” He abruptly stood up, burying his hands in his hair and his eyes shifting. “I-I should have been there, with you. We should have driven the rogue out before anything like this could happen.” 

Both of you stayed silent after that.

Technically he was right, if he had gotten the rogue lycan off his territory none of this would have happened, you wouldn’t be lying here injured and confused. But you also knew deep down he did everything he could to prevent it. 

-------- 

A few days have passed since you woke up, your leg felt significantly better than it had in the beginning and the swelling was greatly reduced after each night. Jeongguk visited you every morning and stayed a couple hours to help keep you entertained, bringing a blank notebook and some pencils with him as you two drew to pass the time. Sometimes you talked, sometimes you didn’t. But you were comfortable.

Seokjin would come in to check on you and your injury at least two times a day, washing it with cold water to get rid of any dirt that may cause an infection and replacing the yarrow treatment before bandaging it up again. 

“Where did you learn so much about medicine?” you asked one day, watching as Seokjin finished up wrapping your leg with piqued interest. 

He smiled, standing up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed next to you and gathering up his supplies. The clothes he was wearing today were rather simple, a loose white shirt tucked into black ripped jeans. He looked good, you thought. 

“Il sung, your grandfather, taught me actually,” there was a fond look on his face as he spoke, his fingers stilling on the bowl of yarrow he used to soak your leg a couple moments prior.

“Were you close?” 

Seokjin nodded, looking at you with golden eyes from beneath his lashes. You reminded him so much of Il sung that it hurt, the look in your eyes as you spoke to him and your rather gentle disposition almost an exact copy. 

“Very.” 

--------

It’s been a week now, and you were getting considerably restless. In the entire duration you’ve been staying here you haven’t left the room once; there was a bathroom across from your bed and food was brought to you regularly by either Seokjin or Jeongguk, so you never had a reason to leave. But now that was going to change. 

Swinging your legs gently over the bed, you pushed the heavy blankets off of you and carefully made your way to the door. The wood was relatively cold against your bare feet, the obnoxiously oversized t-shirt Jeongguk had given you to wear after you took a shower brushed against your black sweats, a slight limp in your leg present. 

It was silent when you first stepped out. There were a couple other doors next to yours, all of which were closed and locked with a staircase leading down to the lower floor. Your hand held against the railing as you carefully limped down the steps, observing how everything was engrossed in a sheet of darkness with the absence of the lights being turned on. 

There was nobody in the main room from what you could tell, nor the open kitchen that was located in front of a rather large sliding glass window overlooking the backyard. The cabin was relatively modern, the walls a light birch color and the flooring darkly tinted; it felt similar to your own home, a fact that made you feel more comfortable. 

What captured your attention the most was that it was too quiet, too desolate. You knew that at least two lycans lived here, Seokjin and Jeongguk, so there had to be more hiding in the shadows somewhere. Wolves run in a pack rather than alone, so the only question was where they were. 

Moving from the kitchen to the main area, you smiled at the feeling of your feet coming in contact with the fluffy rug laid out on the floor, the material soft and warm against your bruised soles. There were a couple pictures hanging on the walls to add some decoration, but not too many as you looked around. Turning to observe more of the living area, you raised your eyebrows at what you saw. 

There was a wolf laying on the couch, a heavy blanket covering most of its body as its vivid blue eyes stared lazily at you. It had earthy brown fur, not as dark as Jeongguk’s but not that light either, cream white and tawny decorating around its snout, chest and one of its ears. You recognized it from the picture sitting above your fireplace mantle back at home. 

“Hi,” you smiled, a little put off at the prolonged eye contact it insisted on making. No matter how many lycans you surround yourself with, you’ll never get over how intimidating their eyes are. 

The wolf seemed to perk up at the sound of your voice, getting up and stretching lazily before excitedly bounding over to you. It was tall, reaching up to the middle of your stomach in height with a slightly lanky but muscular build.

 It’s snout was immediately buried in your stomach when it got close enough, sniffing and wagging its tail almost like an oversized dog. You giggled at the feeling of it’s tongue against your bare skin, it’s tongue rough against your navel as it stuck its head underneath your shirt. It was a little too friendly--you almost forgot there was actually a person in that wolf’s body instead of just an animal. 

“I see you’ve met Taehyung.” 

Turning to look at the source of the voice, disbelief took over your features at what, moreso who, you saw. Perhaps you should have seen it coming, and in all honesty you think deep down you did. You just wonder how many other surprises are out there waiting for you at this point. 

“Namjoon?” 

He flashed you a dimpled smile in reply, placing the grocery bags he was carrying in his hands onto the kitchen island. His silver blonde hair was covering his forehead, a little longer than the last time you saw him but overall nothing really changed. A couple of others came strolling in after him, their hands full with varying other items and smiles stretching their faces as they laughed at something you were unaware of. 

Jeongguk came in next, his smile immediately fading at the sight of you and Taehyung. His eyes changed to their blood red color, glaring at the wolf in front of you and the rather friendly position both of you were in. 

“Back off Tae.” He growled lowly, rolling his eyes at the smug huff that came out of the Beta’s mouth. Taehyung was testing his limits and he knew it. 

Either way the wolf complied and stepped back, the air suddenly cold against your stomach where the immense heat of his head used to be. Seokjin came in last, mumbling under his breath about something you didn’t care to strain your ears to find out, his eyes widening at the sight of you.

“What the hell are you doing out of bed?” Seokjin stammered, dropping the bags he had in his hands and quickly rushing towards your side. He rolled up the leg of your sweats to check on your injury, making sure none of the stitches were pulled in your little endeavor out of your room. 

“Seokjinn,” you whined, trying your best to balance on one leg as the lycan in question examined the other. “I was sick of being cooped up in the room all day, I needed to get out for a little bit.” 

Standing up from his crouched position, Seokjin sighed as he gave you a disapproving look. He had his hands on his hips like a scolding mother, the imagery in your head making you smile. 

“Do you understand how dangerous that could be if you pulled one of your stitches coming down the steps?”

 As bad as you felt for doing so, you completely tuned out Seokjin’s voice. You didn’t feel bad for leaving the room without his permission first, and you weren’t going to let him make you think so either, even though you knew that he was only scolding you out of the wellness in his heart. 

Your attention quickly shifted to a door that was opening on the second floor, Seokjin’s voice little more than white nose as a very sleepy looking man soon came into view. It was Yoongi, you remembered his name being, his head of black hair a mess atop his head and his clothes in disarray as he made his way down the steps. 

“Wow Yoongi, way to look presentable for guests,” One of the men you didn’t recognize taunted, laughing when the other flipped him off. He had light blonde hair and a wide smile, a little intimidating but an otherwise welcoming aura to him. 

You and Yoongi made brief eye contact as he passed into the main room, his eyes flashing blue quickly in an intimidating glare as he sat down on the couch.  

“Well since everybody is here,” Namjoon began, his voice capturing everybody’s attention in a matter of seconds. Even Jeongguk looked up from where he was stuffing his face with a sandwich you didn’t even know where he got. “I think we’re due for some introductions.” 

You soon found out that the man who patronized Yoongi was named Hoseok, his bright smile catching you slightly off guard when he directed it at you for the first time. There was another, Jimin his name was, a little short and quiet with chocolate brown hair that was parted in the middle but he has a nice, gentle smile and a good heart from what you could tell. 

-------

Later that evening you found yourself sitting on the couch watching T.V with Taehyung. Seokjin had made dinner for everybody about an hour prior, luckily he hadn’t made you return back to your room pending your full recovery so you had a chance to really get to know everybody. 

You had become surprisingly comfortable with them pretty quick, helping put the groceries and other purchases from their once a month trip to the city where they belonged while making conversation. Everyone was nice to you, even Yoongi. 

Taehyung had refused to shift back for reasons unknown to you, his head heavy in your lap as you ran your fingers through his soft fur but you didn’t complain. You could hear him whine when your fingers stopped petting him, a soft chuckle leaving your lips at the sound. In the short time you knew him, you could tell he was just attention starved and affection rather than a big scary wolf. 

The sun had set quickly thereafter, the day quickly bleeding into the night as you finally felt the effects of the day wearing you out. Namjoon, Jeongguk and Yoongi had left somewhere into the woods about an hour ago, for what reason you didn’t really know but you didn’t feel like questioning them at the time, trusting it was important. 

--------

Jeongguk groaned, the sound of his bones cracking back into place as he shifted sounded brutal even to his own ears. It was well into the night now, they had just gotten back from patrolling the borders for the third time in only a week. Ever since your attack he’s been paranoid about something like that happening again, his nights filled with sleepless regret as your attack replayed in his head like a bad dream. He tried not to think about it too much as he quickly pulled the clothes he left out on the porch over his naked body. 

“You coming?” Yoongi called out to him in a gruff voice, staring at him from his position in the doorway of the sliding glass window. The moonlight shone lightly over his shirtless pale figure. 

“Yea, in a bit.”

The black haired boy simply nodded, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Jeongguk just needed time to think, to try to gather his thoughts before returning back inside and being forced to face his insecurities and fears. What happened that night, should have never happened. He was supposed to be there to protect you and he wasn’t, that was something he would never forgive himself for. 

A couple minutes passed before he sighed, finally moving to go back inside. His eyes immediately fell on your sleeping form, the brightly flashing colors of the T.V reflecting off your face beautifully as a smile rested upon his lips. It was the same smile that immediately was replaced by a deep scowl at the sight of the lycan currently resting on your lap. 

“You’re really pushing it, Tae,” Jeongguk growled, his fists clenching at his sides. Taehyung’s blue eyes only smugly stared at him in response, rolling over onto his back on the couch with his head still in your lap. 

“Go.” 

Taehyung growled at him quietly in response before lazily getting off the couch, the sounds of his nails padding against the wood echoing in the halls before it was replaced by the gruesome crunching of bones as they rearranged themselves back in place. You shivered at the sudden absence of the wolf’s warmth, your face scrunching up as you curled in on yourself on the couch. Jeongguk’s heart swelled at the sight. 

Moving to turn the T.V off, the room was engulfed in silence and darkness as he came back to where you were resting, gently hooking his arms around your back and knees to bring you up to his chest. He walked up the stairs to where your room was located, placing you on the bed softly before carefully tucking you in. 

He was falling, faster than he’d like to and worse than he expected.

-------- 

 The sun was annoyingly bright against your eyes, your cheeks warm and flushed as they stretched in a wide smile while you watched the lycans interact with each other in the backyard below. You could see two wolves wrestling in the dirt a couple feet away, what you recognized as Jimin’s slightly smaller form pinning Taehyung beneath his paws as his exaggerated yelps caught your ears. Namjoon and Yoongi were sitting on the porch, their fur rustling slightly in the wind as they quietly observed. You didn’t know where the other two were. 

It’s been two weeks since your attack, and two weeks since you’ve arrived at the pack house. Your injury was pretty much healed by now, minus a couple cuts and some bruises that were an ugly mix of green and purple, but Seokjin said you were pretty much ready to go back home whenever you were feeling up to it. You were extremely happy at the news, missing the feeling of fading white pages beneath your fingers and the wet soil on your knees as you took care of the garden. 

The only issue you faced now was how you were going to tell Jeongguk about it. 

Both of you have grown significantly closer, between the sparing glaces and the way your heart beats uncomfortably against your chest when one of the other pack members so much as mentions him, you would go as far as saying you fell for the lycan. 

Sometimes the two of you would spend the nights together on his bed talking about nothing and everything at the same time from dusk till dawn, other times he would lead you to a secret lake in the early morning just to watch as the sky bleeds into stunning hues of crimson and rose right in front of your very eyes. 

It was amazing, he was amazing. And that scared you. So much. 

These last few years of your life have been filled with so much pain and loneliness, you don’t know if you could handle giving up possibly the best thing you’ve ever had. Jeongguk was something that came hurtling at you out of nowhere like a bullet, ripping through your chest and leaving you scrambling at each breath. He was pain and pleasure coexisting in one, something you didn’t know if you could handle at this point in your life. 

The sound of the shower turning off managed to take you out of your thoughts, steam coming out of the bathroom as Jeongguk exited, roughly toweling his hair in an attempt to dry it and his sweats hanging low on his hips. He was in there for almost an hour in an attempt to sate his nerves, or more specifically after you yelled at him for pacing so long you were worried he would put a dent in the flooring. It gave you some much needed time to think. 

“Hey,” Jeongguk whispered, sitting down next to you on the bed and following your gaze to watch the rest of his pack below with lidded vermillion eyes. 

“Hey,” your eyes drifted down to his bare chest, your fingers reaching out on their own accord to touch the flattened scars that were littered there. They were slightly pink, more flesh toned and obviously old. The boy was quiet as he rested his hand on top yours, his skin incredibly warm and his heartbeat quickening beneath your palm. 

You took a deep breath before finally opening up to him. 

“Y’know, earlier today Seokjin said I was pretty much healed,” you spoke, linking your fingers together with the lycans quietly. You refused to look at his face, solely focusing on your entwined hands still resting above his heart. “He said that I can go home.” 

Jeongguk was quiet at that, his grip around your palm tightening slightly. At the mention of the word ‘home’ he faltered, a sharp pain in chest as he felt his heart break slightly. He knew it was selfish for him to want you to stay here with him, to live with him, to be with him--but that didn’t stop him from desiring it.

“When are you leaving?” Jeongguk whispered, keeping his eyes on your intertwined hands. The look on his face and the sound of his voice made your heart hurt. 

“Taehyung said he’d help me get ready in the morning,” your voice was quiet, your palm suddenly cold when the lycan got off the bed in haste. He stood in the center of your room, deathly quiet as he raised a hand to thread through his damp hair. “Make sure I get back home safely.”

His eyes seemed to glow in the sudden darkness of your room, the sun quickly retreating back into the horizon while the moon came to take its place in the sky. He didn’t know what to do, what to think. He knew he could still visit you like he used to, sit with his head in your lap and the feeling of your fingers combing through the tangles in his fur with the afternoon sun on his face, but he also knew deep down things wouldn’t be the same. 

 You were shocked when he came back, his palms warm against your cheeks as he looked into your eyes as he pleaded, “Stay here, with me. We can take care of you, I can take care of you. You wouldn’t be alone anymore.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes, lip quivering and your voice cracking as you looked at the desperate look on his face. “I-I can’t. You know that.” 

You couldn’t leave behind your life and everything that was entrusted to you to live with a pack of lycans, some of whom you’ve only known for a short two weeks. It was crazy, and if it was the full moon influencing his actions you didn’t know but the pleading look in his eyes broke your heart. 

 “I should go then,” Jeongguk dropped his hands from your face, backing up towards the door. He was looking everywhere but you.“The pack is waiting for me.” 

You followed him as he made his way down the steps, slower than the lycan as you attempted to catch up to him. The attempt was futile, his hands were already gripping the handle to the sliding glass door and exiting before you could even make it past the main room. “Jeongguk, wait!”  

The rest of the pack was waiting outside, already shifted and waiting impatiently as they stared at both of you. He ignored your voice, untying his sweats and pulling them down his legs as he got ready for the run. You turned around to give him some privacy, a deep flush covering your cheeks as you jumped at the sudden sound of bones shortening and elongating, cracking and rearranging as he shifted. 

It wasn’t as quick and harmless as it appeared in movies or shows, the process agonizing long as it hurt your ears to listen to. 

You only turned back around once it was silent, watching with glistening eyes as Namjoon led the rest of the pack into the darkness of the forest ahead of you. The pale moonlight of the full moon reflected off of Jeongguk’s coat, making him appear almost a dark blue color as he slowed to a stop behind everyone else. 

He turned back to look at you, ears lowered against his head as you both just looked at each other. You didn’t know if he could see the tears staining your cheeks or the solemn look in your eyes, but if he did he didn’t acknowledge them as he ran to catch up with his brothers deep in the trees. 

----------

The entire house seemed as if it was abandoned. There was no Seokjin yelling at one of the other boys for messing around in the kitchen while he was cooking, or Taehyung and Hoseok wrestling on the main room floor over whoever gets the last strip of bacon. The worst was the absence of Jeongguk’s gentle breathing as he laid next to you, sprawled out on your bed after a long night of talking as the gentle rise and fall of his chest lulled you back to sleep. It was too quiet, and you hated it. 

It was almost six in the morning when you finally saw the first break in the treeline. The sun hasn’t come out yet, the sky still bathed in darkness but from what you could make out there were only six wolves tiredly trotting back to the house as opposed to seven. Furrowing your eyebrows, you lifted your head from where it was resting on top of your folded arms, recognizing each lycan almost immediately and noticing that the only one missing was Jeongguk. 

By the time you made your way to the bottom of the steps the pack was already shifting, their exhausted groans reaching your ears as they pulled their clothes on with tired, battered breaths. The lycan you were looking for was nowhere in sight.

“Hey, Y/N,” you jumped slightly at the feeling of a hand on your skin, turning around to see Seokjin looking at you with a worried expression on his face. “What’s wrong?” 

Confusion and worry laced your features as you looked around, your hope of expecting to see the black haired boy the more you searched dwindling. “Jeongguk, where is he?” 

Seokjin only sighed in response, a look on his face you didn’t feel like acknowledging as his hand squeezed the flesh of your arm comfortingly. He opened his mouth to speak, “I think we should go back inside to talk-” 

“No!” You pulled back from his grip, staring at him in disbelief as he attempted to shut down your inquiry. The others were looking at the both of you with empathetic gazes, making you feel gross and exposed. “Why isn’t he here, Seokjin? I need to talk to him.” 

“We don’t know where he is,” Namjoon spoke lightly, his hand resting in the middle of Seokjin’s bare back as he slowly walked up from behind him. His eyes were gentle as he looked at you, their intimidating red color not doing much to help calm you. “He’ll be back, Y/N, I promise. He just needed time to think.” 

Jeongguk needed time away because of you. You didn’t know how to react to that, your eyes downcast as the older Omega gently led you back inside. There was no protest this time, the exhaustion of everything finally catching up to you as settled to retiring yourself back to bed.

--------

Later that night you found yourself in the kitchen. It was dark, almost midnight the last time you checked, a bowl of barely touched cereal in front of you as you let yourself get lost in your thoughts. 

Seokjin had come in about half an hour prior to talk with you, not necessarily about anything specific but you knew what he implied beneath all his questions and comments. It helped a little bit to discuss everything you were feeling with somebody who actually listened, and Seokjin had a natural ability to cheer you up.

You looked up at the sound of footsteps, sighing at the sight of Yoongi quickly coming into view. It wasn’t like you disliked the lycan, you two just didn’t have the strongest connection with each other yet and if you were being honest you were slightly intimidated by the black haired boy. He was quiet, always observing and barely talking. 

Nobody spoke, not that you were surprised, the sound of your metal spoon clinking against the bowl sharp against the otherwise silent room. Yoongi stood with his back against the fridge, a bottle of water held tight between his nimble, pale fingers as he watched you with an intimidating gaze. 

“We need to talk,” He suddenly spoke, moving to rest his forearms on the kitchen island. “About Jeongguk.” 

You knew this was coming. Between Yoongi and Seokjin, you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole pack knew about what happened between you and Jeongguk. That doesn’t mean you want to speak to them about it, though.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” your voice was quiet, your eyes remaining downcast on the now soggy bowl of cereal. 

“You’re right, you didn’t.” You could feel his eyes on you, watching your face for any shift in reaction, no matter how miniscule. This is the most you’ve ever heard him speak in the two weeks you’ve known him. “But Jeongguk, he’s-he’s young. He’s sensitive.” 

There was nothing to say, nothing you could say. You knew that all of this was coming from the good of heart, but it felt like you were getting blamed for something that was out of your control. 

“I know you’re still slightly new at this,” you scoffed at that, tonguing the inside of your cheek in frustration. It sounded like he was placing the blame on you, like it was your fault Jeongguk lashed out and didn’t come back. It wasn’t though, and you weren’t going to let him, or anybody else, make it seem like it was. “But things are different for us. We don’t feel things the same way you do, we don’t understand things like you do.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you mumbled, pushing away the bowl of cereal. 

“Wolves mate for life, Y/N.” Yoongi spoke, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he looked at the upset look on your face. “And Jeongguk already fell for you.” 

--------- 

Jeongguk didn’t come back for a week. 

The wait for him was agonizingly long, not just for you but for the rest of the pack as well. By the fourth day you could see the nervousness apparent on the other’s faces, and then by the fifth you could hear the arguments in the other room and the tiny whispers at dinner. You couldn’t help but feel like this was your fault, the guilt constantly eating away at your stomach and making you feel sick. 

You knew Jeongguk could easily take care of himself out there, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about him. 

You managed to hear him before you saw him. 

It was getting pretty late, the sun quickly setting into the horizon as you sat in the main room. Everybody else had already retired back into their rooms for the night, leaving you alone as you mindlessly drew in an old sketchbook Jeongguk had given you the first few nights you were here.

 He obviously didn’t want to be heard, immediately backtracking as soon as his paw made a creak in the wood flooring of the porch. 

“Jeongguk?” you whispered, setting your stuff down on the couch before slowly getting up. The lycan looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face, ears pinned on his head as he quickly retreated back in the forest.

 Your bare feet scratched against the harsh forest floor as you followed after him, the clean clothes one of the boys left out each night in case he came back one night in your hands as you quickly caught up to him. He wasn’t running, he was hardly even jogging, instead walking at a leisurely pace ahead of you with his nose held high. 

He stopped behind a tree to shift, the sounds making your nose curl in disgust as you dropped the clothes on the floor next to him before turning around to give him privacy. You could hear the sound of him pulling his pants up, facing him again once you heard him start to walk away. 

“Where have you been, Jeongguk?” you questioned, your anger quickly rising as he made it a point to stay silent. Fresh scratches and bruises littered his sides and shoulders, the sight making you even more upset than before. 

“What happened, Guk? Why are you all beat up?” your anger was quickly replaced with worry, tears welling in your eyes at the sight of him. His standoffish attitude was really starting to affect you, you hadn’t even had a chance to properly see his face as he kept his back turned towards you but you would bet it looked just as worse as the rest of him. 

“Everybody was worried about you,” tears were falling down your cheeks openly now, the pent up emotions finally making an appearance. Your voice was shaky and low as you confessed, “I was worried about you.”

Jeongguk stopped suddenly at that, his fists clenching at his sides as he hung his head. You carefully made your way up to him, your cold palm against his hot skin making him jump slightly as you touched the center of his back. His face wasn’t as bad as you expected, a small cut on his cheek being the only thing you could see as you stepped in front of him. 

“Did you feel anything between us?” He looked vulnerable as he asked you that question, nothing like the big bad Alpha that you first met all those months ago. The thought made you chuckle, your hand reaching up to softly stroke the cut on his face. “Anything at all?” 

“Of course I did, Guk.” you smiled, your thumb tracing indistinguishable shapes on his cheek as you looked into his eyes. 

“Then why won’t you stay with me?” 

You sighed, closing your eyes for a brief moment before reopening them. He was young, younger than you at least, so you knew you couldn’t blame him for not understanding. “It’s not that simple, Jeongguk you know that.”  

The lycan nodded, the once hopeful look in his eye dying as he attempted to take a step back away from your touch. You grabbed him before he could, both of your hands cupping his cheeks as you forced him to look at you. 

“But we will find a way,” you smiled at him, your heart fluttering at the confused expression on his face. “I’m not going to leave you, Guk. Never.”

You intended to keep true to your statement, there had to be a way to figure this all out. No situation was purely black and white, and you’ll find the shades of gray in between no matter what. 

The feeling of his lips was incredibly warm as he pushed them against yours, slightly chapped but otherwise still soft. The amount of emotion he put into kissing you wasn’t anything you felt before, the feeling of his tongue sweeping against the plumpness of your lower lip and the heat from his body sending butterflies in your stomach. 

His hands fell down to your hips, pushing up your t-shirt to feel the softness of your stomach beneath his palms with battered breaths before pushing you back. You gasped at the feeling of the rough tree bark against you, his body pinning you further back as he continued exploring your mouth with his own. 

You pulled back slightly, breathing heavily and your lips red and plump with saliva. Jeongguk smirked at the sight, his thumb coming up to pull down your bottom lip with the tip of his finger before moving his mouth to the sensitive skin of your neck. The elongated point of his incisors scrapped lightly against your pulse, making you shudder at the sensation.

This was everything Jeongguk dreamed of; the feeling of your soft skin beneath his claws and the innocent look in your eyes as you stared up at him. The things he’d do to you as you lied beneath him, baring your neck in submission to your Alpha as pumped you full of his seed in hopes of putting his pups in your belly. He shuddered at the thought. 

The strands of his hair were silky beneath your fingertips, gasping and tugging at the roots as he bit down on a certain area of your neck that made your core clench. You didn’t know if he could smell your quickly rising arousal, but judging by the smirk you felt against your lips as he kissed his way back up your neck proved he did. 

“Guk,” you whispered, whimpering at the feeling of his palm applying pressure lightly against your navel. “Are we-?” 

Jeongguk opened his eyes, his hands stilling immediately as he moved his face in front of yours. “Do you want to?” 

“I do.” You nodded, moving your hands from his hair to his bare back, mindful of the bruises and cuts already there. The lycan continued his ministrations, pulling your shirt above your head quickly before making his way down your clavicle. You were hyper aware of the fact you were outside, mindful of anything, or anyone, who may be watching or listening. 

“So pretty,” Jeongguk murmured into your skin, biting and sucking marks into your breast. You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue on your nipple, sucking it into his mouth before pulling back and blowing cold air on it. His hands were on your waist, kneading roughly as he pushed his body further against yours. “You don’t understand how long I’ve wanted this.”

“Me too,” Your voice was breathy, your hands reached down to palm him slowly over his jeans as his whimpers of pleasure sent waves of arousal through your body. He pulled back from your grip, smirking at you as you attempted to reign him back in--your body cold and exposed to anybody who may be watching.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched him pick up his discarded hoodie, laying it out on the forest floor before walking back over to you. He led you back towards it slowly, his mouth back on yours as he licked into your mouth and his hand wrapped around your throat possessively. 

The fabric was soft against your knees as he carefully pushed you down, the feeling of his warm hand splayed around your neck making you dizzy in pleasure. 

“Guk,” you whispered, kissing one of the bruises that were blossoming on his side gently. He moved his hand from your neck to hair, tightening it in a fist as you unbuttoned his jeans, pushing down the denim to expose his cock to your hungry eyes.  

Jeongguk was big, flushed red at the tip with veins running along the skin, hot and heavy in your hand as you gripped him. Your mouth watered slightly at the sight, pushing your thighs together before licking a long stripe from the base all the way to the head. His groans made your core clench, shifting desperately for friction. 

Your lips wrapped around his cock, stretching around his girth as your tongue wrapped around the tip and dipped into the slit. The lycan moaned loudly, his fist tightening in your hair and tugging you down slowly. 

“‘S this okay?” Jeongguk asked quietly, whimpering at the feeling of you humming an affirmative around him. You worked on getting him slick with spit, a steady rhythm starting to form the more you bobbed your head up and down. 

Gagging slightly at the pressure at the back of your throat you went as far down as you could, tears bubbling in your eyes as you relished in the pleasured moans coming from his mouth. You could feel your core clenching around nothing, the wetness between your thighs making you shift uncomfortably at the emptiness. 

Pulling off with a pop saliva dripped down your chin, your hands spreading the wetness on his shaft as you looked up at him with fucked out eyes. You felt his hand wrap lightly around your throat again, the pressure intoxicating as you pushed you to lie down on the ground. 

Jeongguk’s mouth was back on yours as soon as your back touched the fabric, his forearms caged around your head. You moaned at the feeling of one of his hands coming down to rub your core over the thin material of your leggings, hips rising of their own accord to chase after the feeling.

“Mmm, you’re so wet, baby,” The lycan purred, biting down on your bottom lip with one of his incisors. It stung, you could taste the iron as blood seeped from the cut and into your mouth. Jeongguk growled at the sight, taking the chance to lick into your mouth and taste the blood on your tongue with his own. 

The feeling was intoxicating, your head swimming with pleasure as you felt Jeongguk’s rough fingers dip beneath your clothes and stroke your bare core. You haven’t been this intimate with anybody in a long time, so you were extremely sensitive to all his advances. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered, wincing at the slight burn as he inserted a fingered into you slowly. You haven’t had anything inside of you for so long, welcoming the pain that came with it.

“Gonna stretch you out nice and good,” Jeongguk whispered in your ear, biting on the soft flesh there. “Make sure you’re ready to take my fat cock, isn’t that right baby?” 

You nodded at his words, grinding your hips onto his fingers as the tightening feeling in your lower stomach kept building. His words were affecting you more than you thought, your fluids dripping down his digits and soaking your leggings. 

He hastily got rid of the offending garment, a slight tearing sound reaching your ears as you were left completely bare in front of his hungry eyes. You gasped when you were suddenly flipped over, cheek pressed up against the soft fabric of Jeongguk’s hoodie and your hips pulled high in a rather demeaning, submissive position. 

The sudden feeling of the lycan’s rough tongue on your core made you whimper from pleasure, his rough hands spreading your lips and further exposing you. You flushed deeply in embarrassment at the feeling of your juices leaking down the inside of your thighs, though Jeongguk eagerly lapped them up with no sounds of protest. 

With the pressure on your clit and the fullness of his fingers scissoring deep in your core you couldn’t help it, the budding tightness unravelling as you came onto his tongue. Your body shook lightly, trembling in his grip as you attempted to bite back your moans. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Jeongguk confessed, his mouth glistening with the aftermath of your orgasm. He gave you a little bit to recover before you felt his tip pushing against your entrance, the sensitivity from your previous release making you whimper and recoil slightly. 

His body covered yours as he leaned over you, sandwiching you between the floor and him as he pushed slowly into you inch by inch. He felt so good inside you, hot and pulsing between your thighs with each forward stroke. 

“I’m going to breed you so good, baby,” Jeongguk moaned, linking his fingers with your own as he finally bottomed out in you. “Make you take this knot and put a litter of pups deep in that little womb of yours. Wouldn’t you like that?” 

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes as he pulled all the way out before slamming back in. It hurt, but the pain mingled with the pleasure deliciously--taking everything he was giving you with a stream of satisfied moans. The only thing that managed to distract you from the pleasant fullness of your core was the mention of the word ‘knot’. You didn’t understand what he meant by that, but you also didn’t attempt to evaluate his words as your body jerked forward at the next thrust. 

Your juices were leaking all over Jeongguk’s sweatshirt, staining the fabric and making you flush at the scene when you lowered your head to peer in between your legs. The sight of your lower stomach bulging with the lycan’s cock only made you more wet, your moans and whimpers echoing in the quickly darkening forest. 

Jeongguk took notice of your fascination, moving one of his hands from your hips to palm gently below your navel. It felt better than you thought it would, your knees trembling and threatening to give out from beneath you from the pleasure. He leaned back on his knees from his previous position over you, his other palm warm against your skin as he pushed between your shoulder blades. 

“Harder,” you cried, shutting your eyes at the feeling of another orgasm quickly building. Jeongguk complied, his fingers pushing hard against your clit and relishing in the feeling of your walls squeezing him tightly. 

He was a complete mess, almost as much as you were, your cum sticky on his thighs and sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. The thin strings of your juices connecting you two together made a gross wet noise each time he pulled out, the sounds it made as he pushed back in making him growl in enjoyment. 

Your orgasm hit you like a truck, your vision going black as you shut your eyes at the overwhelming feeling. The oversensitivity made you wince as Jeongguk kept fucking you, slightly pulling away from him before he roughly pulled you back. 

“Almost there, baby,” He whispered, kissing your neck reassuringly. He was almost there, he could feel his stomach tightening with his impending release. “Take it, Y/N. I know you can.” 

Nodding, you continued to moan at the slightly painful feeling. It felt good, so good, tears falling onto your flushed, sweaty cheeks as your body jerked forward with each rub against your walls. 

Something felt wrong, the pressure between your legs was growing and getting tighter with each thrust Jeongguk made inside of you. Paired with the oversensitivity from your two previous orgasms, it hurt to feel stretched out so much. 

“G-guk wait,” you whimpered, clenching your fists around the fabric beneath you as you shut your eyes shut at the pain. “Hurts-” 

“It’s okay, It’s okay,” Jeongguk shushed, brushing your sweaty hair back from your face as he pushed you further to the ground. “You can take my knot, right baby?”

You sighed at the mention of his knot, wondering if this is what he meant by it-- the growing and painful pressure stretching your core to it’s max with no signs of stopping. You trusted Jeongguk, though, and knew he wouldn’t do anything deliberate to hurt you. “I can, yea. I can.” 

The feeling of his cum emptying inside you made you moan, warm against your walls and temporarily distracting you from the pain of his inflating knot. With one last hard thrust you two were locked together, Jeongguk moaning loudly from behind you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. The scraping of his elongated teeth against your skin made you shiver as he continued to release inside you. 

He slowly rolled the two of you onto your sides once he was finished, gripping the inside of your thigh and holding it up slightly to prevent the two of you from experiencing any unnecessary pain. Looking down at your battered and abused core, you saw Jeongguk’s excess cum leaking from the sides of his knot; wet and sticky on the sides of your thighs. The visual made you flush deeply. 

You were beyond tired, slumping tiredly against the boy as you felt his warm tongue licking your skin. The feeling made you chuckle. “What are you doing?” 

“Grooming you,” Jeongguk mumbled nonchalantly, continuing without hesitation. He swept over your abundance of bite marks and hickeys with the wet muscle, pausing to leave little kisses on each one of them. His palm was heavy as he cupped your stomach protectively. 

“Can I bite you?” 

“Can you what?”

You looked over your shoulder at the boy, taking in his fucked out expression and incredibly flushed cheeks as he stared at you with his intimidating red eyes. He didn’t seem affected by your surprise. 

“Bite you, mark you as mine.” His voice suddenly got quiet, lowering to look at the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he stroked the skin there softly. “Make you my mate.” 

Thinking back to Yoongi’s words, you knew the implications that came with what he said. You also knew that by agreeing to be Jeongguk’s mate, you would have little to no chance of going back to the life you once had. But everything Jeongguk gave you, everything he made you feel wasn’t something you wanted to give up. 

“Okay,” You whispered, closing your eyes before reopening them and giving the boy a small smile. The look on his face was indescribable, your heart beating just a little bit faster as you both looked at each other in happiness. “Okay.” 

His lips were on yours in a second, pushing hard against your own with a smile on his face. You kissed back with the same enthusiasm, his tongue licking the inside of your mouth quickly before he pulled back. 

“It’s going to hurt a bit,” Jeongguk murmured against your lips, gently pushing your face back against the fabric so he could reach your shoulder easily. He kissed the skin of your neck lightly, your pulse hot against his mouth as he gripped your hand, running his thumb along the raised scar there. “Don’t be scared.” 

You didn’t have much time to prepare before there was an immense pain spreading throughout your entire body, your screams of pain disturbing the quiet forest around you. It burned so much, the feeling indescribable as the feeling continued to spread throughout your entire body. His teeth weren’t in there for long, pulling back out after a couple of seconds as you felt blood drip down your back. 

“Hey,” Jeongguk whispered, cupping your cheek in his hand as he pulled your face up to his. You could see the blood staining his face and teeth, dripping down his neck and chin as he consoled you through the pain. “You’re okay, I promise.” 

Looking at him through the tears you smiled, kissing the worried look off his face as the burning pain finally started to diminish. The taste of iron was heavy on your tongue. 

----------

Both of you did, in fact, manage to find a way. 

About a week after you and Jeongguk’s endeavor in the woods, he had managed to convince you to move everything from your grandfather’s cabin into your room while you moved in with him in his. It took a lot of consideration, and negotiation from Jeongguk’s side, but you were happy. 

That being said, you still visited the cabin every now and then to make sure everything was okay. 

Walking back into the pack house afterwards was awkward, you couldn’t look anybody in the eye as you walked past them, attempting to hide all the marks on your neck with your shirt while Jeongguk grinned ear to ear like a damn fool. 

It wouldn’t have mattered anyways, the smell of blood and sex tainted the air as soon as you stepped foot in the house much to yours and Seokjins adamant dismay. He yelled at both of you after you showed up, going off on how you could have at least washed off in the lake to at least attempt to hide what you two were up to, and to Jeongguk for running away like a hormonal, upset teenager. 

You were told that once Jeongguk bit you, you didn’t have your own unique scent anymore. Instead, you were permanently masked by Jeongguk’s smell to remind everybody who you belonged to. The fact made you blush when he told you, the thought oddly comforting and making your belly tighten. 

As you were packing everything into boxes to transport them back to the pack house, you had given Namjoon the picture that used to be above your fireplace mantle, now knowing who the once mysterious wolves next to him were. He thanked you immensely. 

Overall, everybody was happy. You were happy. This was a new beginning in your life, and you wouldn’t change anything that happened for the world. 

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #werewolf jungkook #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts one shot #bts imagines #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #i'm so glad to finally release this

[futurewriter2000]

Back Home

A/N: The fact that I spent 15 minutes looking for a gif and still didn't find the one that would be perfect, I gave up and just put a photo on. I love this fic however, one of my favorites and I hope you will too.

REQUEST:hiiiii! i hope you’re having a wonderful day, filled with sunshine & rainbows !! 💫✨ may i please request sirius x daughter! reader imagine where the reader is staying with sirius for the first time since he went to azkaban and when she goes to bed he tries to tuck her in but struggles because the last time he’d have done it, he probably would’ve read her a story but she’s presumably grown out of that by now and so he’s not really sure what to do ? 🥺🍄

XX

All those easy days finally led to now- today. He had prepared thousands of different speeches, conversations, scenes inside his head but when it came to those last moments of seeing you for the first time since he had been taken away from you, nothing could make his heart beat faster than the simple thought of that. His hands were clamming up, his fingers were snapping due to all the anxiety, his knuckles cracking, his golden family ring twisting on his middle finger...

Nothing could have prepared him for today. Not thousands of different speeches or comforting words of his best friend, who had been taking care of you for the last few years. Maybe that was a bit comforting; for Remus to keep his promise to him, even though he thought he was a murderer, he still took you in. Remus with his good wolf-like heart, despite all the things he believed.

He told Sirius you wouldn't care how he was dressed but Sirius had changed about seven times already. Tie or no tie? Bow or no bow? A jacket or a blazer? Jeans or pants? Hair combed or natural? Shaved or not shaved?

It all led him to here; him pacing up and down the living room, twisting his family ring on his finger as another mistake has caught his eye. "This probably should be put away?" he continued to look at the black family vase. "KREACHER!" he shouted and the small elf appeared from thin air.

"Yes, Master-"

"Put this vase away. Hide it, throw it- I don't care. Just get it out of my sight." he spoke nervously and the elf obeyed, cursing under his breath.

He heard the door open and a loud laughter echo through the hall. Your laughter- it wasn't as small and high as he remembered it to be but it was still yours- that he definitely knew.

"Oh this place hasn't changed at all, Moony." you said as you had looked around the hall, a nostalgic rush of memories running through your head. "Grandpa told me he always hated this portrait of him. Said his nose was too large."

Sirius chuckled. That was true. He always did hate the portrait of him in the hall but never said anything because of his wife.

"Never said anything because of my wretched grandmother." you repeated his thoughts.

"Your grandmother was more than just wretched, Paddy." Remus smiled and grabbed your luggage. "I'll take these upstairs. I think you remember where your room was."

"Up, left, three doors down." you finger gunned him and made your way through the hall.

When you entered the living room, you were alone. Nothing but the same old black leather sofa, the magnificent fireplace you used to warm up with your grandfather when you visited- though where is grandpa. You swore his jar was right on the fireplace. A dark ugly vase.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked around if somebody has placed it somewhere else. When you did, your eyes met his.

Your breath got caught in your throat and you felt yourself standing completely still. Something cut you in half, maybe the way he had watched you but when you came out of your shock, you realised it was still the same warm, fuzzy, homely feeling that washed over you.

"Wow." he smiled, looking at you from head to toe. Your hair was long and he was quite surprised because when you were a child, you always hated long hair. Too much brushing- you used to say. Your eyes were welcoming, bright and similar. He used to tell you that they reminded him a bit of his younger brother, Regulus. He used to have that same welcoming and bright look in his eyes when he was a little boy. It wasn't much in the shape or the colour but in they way they saw the world, which scared him and inspired him at the same way.

You were not a little girl anymore. You had grown. You had gotten curves and a womanly-like shape. Of course, jeans and a leather jacket. Reminds him of himself when he was your age. Your face was full of youth and you looked taken care for.

"You're definitely not a little girl anymore." he said as he tried to catch his breath.

"Yeah." you smiled, sitting down and looking a bit around. "Twenty. Even I'm starting hard to believe it." you smiled and patted the seat next to you.

"Twenty." he sighed under his breath. He felt his heart sink and his shoulders slump. He had missed everything. From your childhood, to your first day at Hogwarts, your first date, graduation,...

"You haven't changed much." you said and he looked at you, laughing a bit.

"You think so?"

"Yeah." you shook your head. "Your hair is still long, your eyes a bit tired."

He kept quiet. Yes, he was tired. He was exhausted from hiding all the time, from living in that prison, filled with revenge for that rat. "He calls you Paddy still." Sirius smiled, referring to the nickname Remus had given you. "He used to do that from the moment you were born. Little Padfoot, he called you."

"Oh, he had told me all about the day I was born. You fainting in the middle."

"I just had to lay down for a while, okay. He's over-exaggerating." he started to defend himself.

"Bet." you laughed and he joined you.

"He told me you're training to become an Auror."

"Yeah. Guess, I take after my old man." you smiled brightly at him, melting his heart into a puddle of love and pride. When you saw him melt in front of your eyes, you put your hand on his knee and gave him a comforting look. "I always believed you were innocent. I just could never prove it."

"Oh, darling." he couldn't help himself, pulling you into a hug and letting tears fall down his cheeks at the words you had said. "I don't think you know how much I needed to hear that."

---

The whole experience of being here felt nostalgic. You knew you had been here before, stepped on those same stairs, dug your toes in that same rug, put your watch on that same night stand,... even the sheets felt as light and silky as it did when you were only a child. You didn't mind spending your time here. Your grandmother was strict, more than you heard but your grandfather was soft, nothing like you had heard from Remus or your dad or Regulus... not that you remember your uncle much. You had some faint memories of him but he simply disappeared one day and neither of your grandparents wanted to mention his name ever again. A forbidden name but it was his room, you occupied and whenever you laid here, more connected you felt to him and your roots when your father was away.

You spent weekends here or week days here. Remus was always in search of jobs and some months he couldn't provide for the both of you so you had spent some years here. Your grandfather melted at your sight, he simply adored you and he reminded you so much of your own father. Your grandmother always told you that you had made him go soft but grandchildren tend to do that. You knew she was softer to you as well, more than she was with your father and your uncle. Your grandfather said that she wanted to do right by you, not drive you away like she did with her sons. He knew because he did just the same.

There was a knock on the door that took you far away from the old memories. "Come in." you said gently and a curly-head lad popped his head in.

He gave you the usual smile- just the one that had been filled till your 6th year of life.

"I came in here to wish you good night." he said as he entered the room, keeping something behind his back. "Oh wow." he looked around the room, feeling a little chill run down his spine as the memories of his brother ran through his mind. "It's just as I remember it. You didn't change it much."

"No. I didn't feel the need."

"I wonder where is he." Sirius said in a low whisper, barely audible to you. You decided to let go of this topic.

"I wanted to ask you something."

He turned back to you and sat down at the edge of your bed. "Shoot."

"What happened to grandpa?" you asked, causing Sirius' eyes to furrow. "His ashes? Did you spread them anywhere?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The urn. It used to sit up on the fireplace. It was a large black one. I know this place he used to take me just before he passed away. Only me and him knew about it. He never told grandmother about this place and he made me promise that it will be out little secret. It's a cave somewhere in Ireland. Cliffs of Moher, I believe."

"Wait..." he stopped you a bit. "That big ugly black vase was filled with his ashes?"

"Yes?" you raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh..." he felt his cheeks flush and you could see his eyes bulk out.

"Have you done something to the urn?"

"No, no. Of course not. I just put it in a much safer place." he lied and you could see right through it. He definitely did something to the urn but you let it pass, since the object in his hand pulled more of your attention.

"Alright. What's that in your hand?" you pointed and he quickly looked down.

"Oh, this." he pulled it out and it was a big thick book- a book you had a clear memory of. "It's silly, you probably don't remember it anymore."

You let out a laugh. "You're joking, right?" you sat up gently took the book away from him. "The Tales of Beedle the Bard!" you let out another excited laugh. "How could I not remember this? You used to read it to me every night. I could not fall asleep without it."

Sirius felt his poor heart explode in his chest. God, you still had that little girl inside of you. The one he tucked in every night but always resister with your tiny little legs because it was always too hot.

"I thought you'd have outgrown it.." he said quietly.

"If my friends ask me, yes but between you and me-" you leaned forward and whispered. "This is a little secret."

He let out another laugh. "Would you like me to read it to you again?"

You smiled widely. "I'd love for you to read it but dad-" you said and is eyes snapped to you, wide in surprise as it was the first time you had called him that in so many year. "- wouldn't you rather... get the Urn back first before Kreacher throws it away?"

"Probably a good idea but I'll be back." he stood up and ran out of the room, causing you to laugh at the sight but when he did come back with his father in his arms, he already saw you asleep in your bed.

He gently put his father on the desk and made his way to you. The book was open in the middle, one of yours and his favorite tales. He scooped the book up and placed it beside the vase. Then he remembered just how much his father hated these fairytale based books, so he pushed it far away from him.

"Even when your dust, I can't trust you." he said, narrowing his eyes at the vase before going back to you and observing you for a moment.

If he really thought about it, he didn't really lose you. Maybe time did take a way some of the precious memories he wanted to share with you but you turned out beautiful. You turned out to be this amazing, forgiving and understanding angel that still loved to read fairytales and take care of people when they were already ash.

He grabbed the edge of the covers and pulled it up to your chin, tucking you neatly just as he would when you were a child. Then he could hear something happening at the foot of the bed and see your bare feet poking out. He let out a small laugh.

"Some habits stay the same." he said, pushing away the strands on your forehead and giving you a gentle kiss. He then quietly took the book and his father, smiling that he gets to spend the rest of his life, creating new memories with you.

#sirius black #sirius black imagine #harry potter #marauders #marauders imagine #marauders imagines #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #james potter #james potter imagine #sirius black x reader

[literate-lamb]

can I kiss you on the dancefloor?

Steve Rogers/Reader

One year into a relationship, yet still dancing in secrecy. Steve thinks he’s protecting you.

When a civilian and a hero fall in love, anything could go wrong. But not in the way Steve would have thought.

Or how the media play with the lives of superheroes.

►word count: 7.6k

► warnings(!): slight angst, alcohol

A/N: My gift to @blue-like-barnes for the Hoelentines Fic Exchange! I’m sorry it took some time, giftee. I didn’t expect this to turn into a monster (yikes). Thank you for hosting @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares @drabblewithfrannybarnes ! Dividers from @firefly-graphics​ and GIF from Giphy

On his day-offs, Steve Rogers was a man full of disguises. 

When they first started, it was the baseball cap and thick-rimmed glasses. He liked it, it was simple, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone would notice. How could one not when his face was the one plastered in old war propaganda, in the museums commemorating his achievements, and even flashes on the telly when you walk past the local electronics store. 

Hence, it wasn’t a surprise when the tabloids posted a photo of him in his disguise, waiting at a crosswalk on a cold night. 

‘Captain America spotted on a midnight stroll’ came the next morning. It was taken after he was done walking you home, thankful they didn’t catch a glimpse of you.

“So capsicle, where were you off to last night?” Tony greeted him at breakfast, offending paper in hand. He unrolled it, opening and making a show of reading, displaying the front page for all seated to see. “Nice reading glasses, wasn’t aware you needed them.”

Striding into the room, Natasha came and snatched the tabloid. She gave it a critical eye, judging, before turning towards him. 

“Hmm, recycling disguises, Rogers? I’m disappointed.” 

Steve just groaned in reply.

The second time it happened, he had gone to the Black Widow herself for advice. He had expected sound advice coming from a former KGB spy who spent her paycheck on hair, but all he got was a stick-on mustache. Something about ‘needing to blend in rather than pointing the obvious’.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Steve, but at least it’s better than that nerd get-up,” she smirked.

You had liked it. Giggling every time he kissed you, the fibres tickling your lips. He had ‘a caterpillar’ on his upper lip as you called it. And Steve had learned to get used to the itch.

But it wasn’t long before his new look was the star in barbershops. 

‘Captain America’s new look takes the world by storm.’ They had caught him again in another paparazzi shot. Tony had teased him for days after.

He couldn’t shake it off easily, constantly reminded of it when he walked the streets. Seeing them on screens when he’s channel-surfing. Even when he’s training new recruits, his vision filled with a sea of unshaved cadets, their hairy upper lips a prominent fixture.

He knew he had to do something when Bucky and Sam came in one day sporting twin mustaches. 

He discarded the strip of fibre in the bin. Reminding to pay Natasha a visit.

The third time he decided, he seeked out the help of Scott Lang, who was a master in keeping out of sight during his burglary days. Scott had given him a black beanie and told him to grow out his facial hair. 

The beanie hid his golden locks and the beard made him look rugged. You loved it, your thighs quivered when it was him and you in the four walls of your room. Uncontrollable groans as he went down. ‘Beard burn’ you had called it. Whatever it was, he loved the sounds you let out.

Four months. That’s how long the disguise lasted. His longest disguise to date. 

Before he became a trend.

‘Captain America is the new style icon.’ The internet sleuths found out where he got it too. ‘The sale of Walmart beanies skyrocketed by 70% thanks to Captain America.’

Tony had bought everyone in the compound a black beanie for Christmas, including the receptionist.

“Our grandpa’s a trendsetter, who knew,” he announced. Steve had smacked the back of Tony’s head with the beanie before retiring the disguise.

Now, sitting in The Sleeping Cat, Steve had opted for aviators and a Nasa baseball cap. He still kept his beard after your pleads, and he liked the look, he admits. It was back to basics for him and this was one of the only places where he was safe from prying eyes. Afterall, it was in this very café where he had met you.

The Sleeping Cat was a quaint little thing, a hole in the wall in a quiet part of the city. Not many knew of its existence, the entrance obscure, a blink and you’ll miss it. Which made it all the more perfect for him. The baristas knew him and minded their own business, offering him a smile every time he visited. ‘You’re safe with us’ they seem to say. 

He could say the same about the patrons. Most that frequented were regulars like him, they seemed the same, looking for a place to get away from the overbearing world. They seemed to share an understanding, paying him no mind as if he was just another man they passed on the streets. And that’s how he preferred it. 

Just a boy from Brooklyn.

Ding!

The chime of the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Facing the door, he saw you, smiling as you came through.

This was the best part of his days. 

You had met Steve Rogers at the most unexpected of times.

Terminated from your previous job at a small gallery, dumped by an ex-boyfriend after a 2 year relationship, you were at an utmost low. To escape your roommates —in case of pitying or prying, but if you were honest with yourself, it was to escape your own humiliation— you left the apartment on weekdays under the guise of going to work. In reality, you were at The Sleeping Cat applying for jobs on your laptop.

It was during one of the afternoon hours when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning to your left, you were greeted by a pair of startling blues. They were bright but worn as if they’ve seen too many. Looking at the bigger picture, you took him in. Hair hidden under a cap, a sharp jaw and an equally sharp nose, and if you looked closely, you thought you could spot a few moles on his cheeks. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t put a finger to it.

Eyes fleeting to his lips, you realized he was actually talking.

“Huh?” 

“I was wondering if this seat’s taken?” He smiled, gesturing towards the empty seat opposite. He was clearly amused.

“Yeah, sure, sure,” you nodded, making room for his things. 

The following days, it became a routine and an arrangement. You would be at the café as early as the owner would allow, laptop in hand. While he would come in the afternoons in a different jacket each day, a sketchbook in hand. You would be propped up, sending application after application, praying for luck. While he would quietly sit, churning sketch after sketch, in a relaxed demeanour. 

Sometimes you would peek over your screen and watch him draw for a few minutes, lost in his strokes. When you look up, you’ll find his eyes locked with yours, and you’ll immediately reimmerse yourself behind the screen, embarrassed.

It was a comfortable routine. You came to expect him everyday. And on the days that he didn’t make it, you felt a bit forlorn looking at the empty seat. You both didn’t talk much, yet you were getting comfortable in his presence.

Until one day, he broke the silence.

“So, what is it that you do?”

You stared, dumbfounded. Looking around there wasn’t anyone nearby. 

“Were you talking to me?” you asked.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “It’s just that you’re always on your computer…” he trailed off.

“I’m an assistant curator at an art gallery— or, er, used to be,” you explained. “Long story short, I lost my job and now I’m looking for a new one, that’s why I’m here.”

He seemed to ruminate before replying, “So you know a thing or two about art?”

You both started a new routine; one with a lot of communicating. He would ask you about your mundane weekends and interests and in turn, you would ask about his. Except, he was anything but mundane. 

On the days he was absent, you learned Steve was away on a lot of ‘business trips’. When he returned, he had never failed to present you with a souvenir. From matryoshkas to sarongs, it was always a surprise accompanied by a tale.

“The pattern on the sarong is called a batik, and it’s amazing how they’re drawn using wax like a liquid crayon. It’s an interesting art form.”

Outside of your little routine, he was an enigma. You barely knew about the Steve outside of The Sleeping Cat. Sometimes he threw the names ‘Bucky’ and ‘Sam’ a lot —out of exhaustion— without giving away anything, remaining tight-lipped. While his mysteriousness should’ve been a cause of concern, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards him, wanting to peel more of his layers, like the shell of a matryoshka. 

The routine went on for a few more weeks, with calls of interviews and business trips in between. Before you received a phone call.

“I got a job! At the Whitney!” you squealed, shaking his shoulders over the table, oblivious to the other patrons. Steve endured it, smiling. 

“Congratulations,” he said when you’ve calmed down. “I guess this is the last time I’ll be seeing you?”

You froze, high coming down, realization settling in. After a few weeks of secret meetings, of getting to know him, of having lunch together, of sharing laughs, you’ve come to see Steve as a good friend. And maybe, there was the birth of something more.

“Let’s exchange numbers,” you said, opening your phone. “This way, maybe we can hang out again. Have lunch sometimes?”

“I’d like that.” He smiled. 

And the rest was history.

Making your way towards The Sleeping Cat, you amused yourself with past memories. Memories from almost over a year ago. 

Steve had come to give a speech at the opening ceremony of an exhibition at the Whitney. Your first exhibition as a curator. An exhibition on art from the war times. When they had announced his title, a loud ‘oh’ was the only thing you could muster. 

The ‘ding’ of the bell resounded, announcing your arrival. Heading in, you saw a head perked up, beaming, baseball cap securing his golden locks and aviators hiding his mesmerizing blues.

This was the best part of your days.

But maybe, you were getting a little tired.

If someone were to ask you months ago if you were happy and content with your relationship, you would’ve replied with a swift yes in a heartbeat. No hesitation, no reservations, no doubt. Now, sitting in the same cafe, the same one you frequent on dates, the same one you both met in, you weren’t sure of the answer anymore.

As Steve gets up to order for you both, your eyes wander to his sketchpad. It was filled with sketches of random objects; the flower on the table, the pastries on display, sometimes the patrons of the cafe, and occasionally, you. 

“You’re my favourite subject, so far.”

It was not for the lack of love or the lack of affection. Steve was the most loving; loyal in so many ways, gentle when asked, and protective to a fault. Maybe the protectiveness was the cause of it all.

Staring at Steve’s back, your mind shifted to a memory from the past week, when your roommate pulled you aside from a get-together at the ice rink.

“Hey,” she called your name, taking a hold of your elbow. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure, what’s up?” you followed her, leading you to the sides.

Her eyes conveyed her worry. It amplified with the chewing of her bottom lip, a nervous tick.

“Are you and Steve… okay?” she asked, her brows perked. “I’m not sure if you notice, but today, it’s full of couples.” 

You looked towards your group of friends. There was your roommate’s girlfriend tying her skates, your other roommate and her boyfriend talking to another couple —their friends— and they were all holding their significant other’s hand. Oh.

“I don’t want to throw you out of the loop, but there would probably be a lot of double skating involved today,” she said, widening her eyes, looking comical. “Do you want me to talk to Steve? Maybe I could convince him to come, y’know?” 

Out of your two roommates, she was the only one who knew of your paramour. Having walked in on you and Steve making out on the couch. She was sworn into secrecy, with the promise of autographs from all the Avengers. 

“Look, it’s okay,” you assured her. “I can handle skating alone, and you know why he can’t really come here with us,” you shrugged.

“Okay, but aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around? Don’t you want to shout to the whole world ‘I’m fucking Captain America!’” she flailed.

You shushed her, muffling her mouth with your gloved hand.

Part of the secret was how Steven Rogers was an engineered superhero. A superhero with many enemies, leading him to fear for his loved ones, and that included you.

You went into the relationship whole-heartedly knowing the challenges; discreet rendezvous, kisses in the dark, minimal contact in public. You were his secret and he was yours. It was for your own good, wasn’t it?

“What’s got your little head wrapped up?” Steve’s voice startled you, bringing you back to the café. On the table, two cups of coffee and a slice of cake was served.

“Hmm? Oh, just thinking about this party the museum’s throwing this weekend,” you took your cup, blowing, contemplating your next words.“Say, how about you and I, I don’t know, go as dates?”

Steve crunched his brows. “You know that’s a hard thing for me to do, especially with your colleagues around.”

“I know! But maybe… maybe, you can go in one of your disguises this time? Remember that one time we went to Central Park?”

Steve exhaled, he remembered that afternoon. It was the one-off that you both ventured on a date in the outdoors. 

Decked in his beanie, casually strolling through Central Park with you beside him. Although he was still wary, keeping his hands in his pockets, fighting the urge to hold your hand. 

No one had recognized him; not the ice-cream man, not the kids running around, not the mothers pushing strollers. No one. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You leaned forward, pecking him on the lips multiple times. “Thank you!”

“You sure this looks convincing?”

“Trust me, punk. Grade A assassin here, thank you very much,” Bucky boasted while fixing the wig on his scalp, untangling the unruly strands.

Steve had sought Bucky for help, with the belief that assassins were good at hiding in plain sight (and maybe, he just didn’t want to go to Natasha twice). Bucky was also his most trusted confidant and he knew about you, Steve trusted him not to tell. But now looking at himself in the opposite mirror, he wasn’t so sure of that anymore. 

Long dangly tresses hung on the sides of his face parting in the middle, a trimmed beard leaving a bit of goatee, and to finish it off, Bucky dressed him in a checkered shirt consisting of random coloured squares. He looked like he just stepped out of the 60’s.

“Oh, wear these,” Bucky handed him a pair of large wire-framed glasses. “Done.”

Steve took a look in the mirror. A seedy pimp was the first thought that crossed his mind.

“Thanks Buck, I owe you one.”

“Sure Stevie, just bring me around next time on one of your dates, I’d like to meet her,” Bucky winked. “Or make it double.” He wagged his brows. “Like old times.”

Steve snorted.

“Okay, I got—“ Steve’s words halted when an alarm blared overhead. It demanded their attention.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, your presence is required in Prep Room six,” called the disembodied voice. “There’s been a breach of extraterrestrial energy in the airspace of Sweden.”

Steve exited and rushed through the hallways, Bucky following close behind. He made it through the living quarters, trudging to the training wing before entering one of the many prep rooms. 

“Nice costume, Cap. Halloween already?” Sam quipped. Almost everyone was present, they were equally amused.

Before anyone else could follow, Tony strided in immediately, grumbling. “Okay team, there’s been an E.T synthezoid putting holes in the ozone layer. I’ll fill you all in the quinjet. Suit up and meet me at the hangover in 10.”

Everybody gathered their equipment and hurried to leave, passing by him. Before Tony could, he took notice of Steve and did a double take. And then a third. 

“What’s with the pimp daddy get-up, Capsicle?” 

Steve huffed, ignoring the jab. “I have something that I need to attend. How important am I in this, Tony?”

“We need all hands on deck. We don’t really know what we’re up against, Fury’s still running recon,” Tony explained, squaring his shoulders. “Whatever it is you have, Cap. It can wait. Lives are at stake here.” With that, he left, not standing by for a response.

“Darn it,” Steve cursed, removing the glasses and the wig.

He left the prep room with his shield in hand. With one hand, he shot a text to you. He’ll make it up next time.

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Emergency mission

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Can’t make it, sorry

You switched the screen off, sighing. Around you, the party was in full swing. Invitees mingling with refreshments in hand, discussing the pieces on display tonight, and bidding on the pieces they find exquisite. Hors d’oeuvres and champagne were being served, brought around by servers on silver platters. You’ve been munching on them non-stop, grabbing one every time a server comes your way, needing something to occupy you.

Surrounding you, you’d see the occasional couple walking around, enjoying their time. The palms of their hands locked in each other’s as they navigate together, rarely straying afar. 

You clenched your hand, reminded of how empty it felt. 

It was inevitable, you were warned of this, you were told to expect this. Dating a superhero meant that he was never solely yours. You were sharing your boyfriend with someone, except that someone was the world. 

“Hiiii!” a shrill voice broke your thought, calling you by name. A blonde woman, followed by a brunette emerged from the gathering of art-goers, headed towards you. “It’s been a long while!”

“Hey! Yeah, it’s been awhile,” you waved, recognizing the two. 

When they reached you, you were aware of the slight tension in the air, leaving the three of you standing awkwardly. After all, these two were your ex-colleagues and you didn’t exactly leave the previous gallery on good terms. Tonight was a night with masks, it seemed.

“So, how are you two doing?” you decided to get it over with.

“We’re fine, everyone’s fine! But how are you? We heard you worked here now, pretty impressive,” the brunette —Claire— winked at you. You laughed.

“Yeah, it’s so nice seeing you again, and at the Whitney? The pay must be good, you know what I’m saying?” Hilda chimed, knocking her elbows with yours. You didn’t appreciate it but you endured.

 “Say, what are you doing over here far away? Why not you join us over there,” Hilda pointed, towards a mounted canvas at the end of the hall. It was occupied by two men in a discussion among themselves. “Chat a bit to catch up, a bit of art philosophical debate in between. What do you say?”

You contemplated her offer, not wanting to seem pretentious, but thought about the false flattery and ego-stroking that would sure ensue in their company. The thought of it drained you.

“It’s okay,” you waved them off nervously. “I have to call my boyfriend sooner, gotta check up on him and let him know I’m... alright.” You held up your phone, playing on convincing.

“Oh? He isn’t here tonight?” Claire seemed to feign worry. 

“No, he got caught up with something. He’s a busy man,” you cooked up an excuse. No one could know. 

“Okay… In that case, we’ll leave you to it. Maybe we’ll bump into each other sooner.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys soon.”

They waved before backing away into the mass of patrons. You let out a breath you didn’t know you held in. 

While the interaction was unexpected, this was what you had to deal with when it came to the question of your relationship. The excuses, they became second nature to you. The lies. The deceit. Anything to protect Steve’s identity, and inadvertently, you.

Throughout the night, you mingled with any clients interested in a work of art, all the while stepping out of Hilda and Claire’s line of sight. You didn’t wish a repeat of the earlier evening.

When the crowd started dwindling, signalling the end of the night, you were relieved of your duties. You headed straight for the restrooms after, one getaway before leaving. You huddled yourself in a cubicle, locking it shut.

Seconds in, you heard the creak of the restroom door followed by the clicks of heels.

“Can you believe it? Someone like that got the chance of working here.” 

You recognized the nasally tone. It was Claire. 

“Yeah? Not like she deserves it. I mean look at her? Demure, slow. It’s like talking to a mouse. I bet she’s a prude too.” That was Hilda.

The gushing of the faucet muffled their voices, but their sharp words were clear as day, your ear catching every snark and hiss.

“And when she was talking about her boyfriend? He probably doesn’t even exist, it was just to get off our backs,” Hilda paused. “Last time I heard, her boyfriend dumped her. So, I guess she’s creating imaginary ones now.” 

They both cackled.

By now, you knew they were talking about you. Their words didn’t hurt as much, you knew the colour of their hearts beneath the masks. But was that how people viewed your hidden relationship? A facade? A farce?

Once the door clicked shut, and the tapping of their heels faded, you left the restroom, heart feeling heavier.

(y/n) [6:45 PM]: stay safe stevie ! remember to hydrate

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: punch those meanies

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: (`⌒*)⍟-(`⌒´Q)

Steve chuckled when he turned on his phone, amused at your texts. You always sent him good luck messages every time he went off for missions. Although he didn’t seem to get the emoticons that you sent, even after being taught by Peter Parker. He just didn’t get them.

Steve dialed your number, sitting on the edge of the bed as he dried his washed hair. Beeps ringed before you picked up, your smooth lilt permeating the speakers. 

“Hello? Stevie?”

Steve smiled, missing the caress of your voice after a day filled with explosions and cries.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he greeted. “How’s my girl been?”

“Great, now that you called,” you teased. “But are ‘you’ fine?” you emphasized.

On the other end of the line, you mirrored his position, sitting on one corner of the bed. Picking the newspaper in your lap, you observed the front page: ‘Avengers saves the Arctic!’ 

“Same old, same old,” his voice carries. “Listen, about yesterday—“

“It’s okay,” you interrupted him, other hand gripping the newspaper. “You have to protect the Earth and that also means me. You don’t have to apologize, I knew what I signed up for.” 

Did you? Or was it now a hollow statement to convince yourself?

“I still want to make up for it, my girl deserves that much,” he responded.

You slowly unclenched the paper. It left Steve’s form crinkled.

“If you want to sooo bad,” you exaggerated. “There’s a Valentines charity ball for our arts program in three weeks time. You think you could make it this time?”

“You know no promises, but I plan to, even if I have to do everyone’s laundry for a week.” You heard rustling on the other line. “What’s the exact date? I’ll put it on my calendar.” 

“The 16th.” Scratchy scribbling filled your ear, the sound loud in the silence. 

“Done. Can’t wait to see you all dolled up, sweetheart.”

“Me too, baby,” you said. “At least put on a nice moustache this time.”

He laughed. Your heart felt lighter. To him, it was probably nothing, but to you, it was a form of reassurance. A reassurance that what you had was real.

“Steve, you got a moment?”

The aforementioned man turned around, taking a glance over his shoulder. Sharon Carter slowed to a stop, a small smile on her face. As always, she carried an air of superiority, matching that of Steve’s wavelength. Yet today, it seemed dim.

“I think we need to talk, you have time for coffee?”

Glancing at his watch, he nodded. “Sure, Sharon. Lead the way.”

She took them outside of S.H.I.E.L.D and into the chilly air of DC, navigating through streets and crowds while huddling in their coats. They chatted, breaths puffing as they caught up, the familiar scenes passing by.

He hadn’t been in DC in awhile, it felt good to be back. 

“We’re here.”

Sharon headed in first, holding the door for him. He thanked her. They ordered and got seated. A smile was shared, strained as it seemed. 

“Better just rip the band-aid off,” Sharon sighed. “I miss us.” 

“Sharon—“

“Please, hear me out first,” she insisted, showing her palm. “We probably shouldn’t have done what we’ve done after Aunt Peggy’s funeral. I just lost someone I looked up to the most, and you lost the woman that you loved. We were both grieving. It wasn’t fair to the both of us.”

“While I do miss us, I know that it wasn’t meant to be,” she continued, shooting a sombre smile. “I understand that now. I guess, what I wanted was closure.”

Her hand quivered on the table between them. Steve clasped his over hers, offering to soothe.

“I don’t regret what happened in Germany. While yes, it should have not happened, it was what we thought we needed at that time. We both lost someone we held dear,” Steve explained, hoping his words reached her. “None of it was a mistake, Sharon. You’re still someone I trust and hold dear, remember that.”

Steve clutched her hand tighter, running his thumb over her knuckles in circular motions, attempting to calm and show understanding.

In his efforts, unknown to the two, the shutter of a camera went off across the street.

Something felt off. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. At first, you thought it was your own anxious mind running. 

You woke up late on a work day, burned your eggs and toast, accidentally wore unmatching socks, and your roommate was acting weird. All jittery when you entered the hall, stammering her words, and performing this bizarre dance when you walked past the living room. You gave her no mind when you passed the threshold and slammed the door, phone gripped in hand.

Loverboy [6:00 AM]: Good morning, dear 

Loverboy [6:01 AM]: [image]

A photo of Steve, sweaty after a run showed on the screen. He was smiling, shirt stained and clinging to his chest. You had taught him how to take selfies.

You [7:20 AM]: morning, handsome

You [7:20 AM]: 😍😍😍 

The morning texts were the best part of your morning commute. It made the arduous and packed journey worthwhile. Even when you almost tripped at the doors, it couldn’t take away your joy.

You made it just in time and clocked in, meeting clients and discussions with artists throughout the day. It was uneventful, although the bad luck seemed to have followed when you spilled your coffee on the concrete.

It was when you left the museum that your day took a turn for the worst.

On the ride home, the man opposite you was reading a newspaper. Nothing unusual, but at a glance, you thought you saw a familiar face printed on the corner. Before you could take a closer look, the man folded it in half and got off.

A few minutes later, you arrived at your stop, exiting the station with the fast-paced crowd. That’s when you were bombarded.

Lining the streets, your vision was filled with the scattering of a crowd of papers. Every face you saw was plastered in them.

‘The Good Captain In Love?’

‘A Superhero & A Civilian Romance?’ 

‘Captain America’s Girl? Mysterious Woman Sighted’

The sight of them left you in a panic, your anxiety spiking through the roof. Your world started spinning, everything —buildings, trees, faces— blending altogether. Everywhere your eyes deflected, a headline invaded your sight, imprinting itself on your retinas. Had they found out?

Composing yourself, you headed towards the nearest news stall, mind boggled with too many questions and not enough answers. How? Why? When?

Only, it wasn’t your face they were publishing.

‘“Oh Captain, My Captain” America in love? Spotted last week in DC was Captain Steven Rogers with a mysterious lady. They seemed to be cozy with each other, an eyewitness told Us Weekly. Story on Page 11.’

The photograph showcased Steve with a blonde woman, sitting in a café with their hands clasped on the table. Your heart shattered at the sight, remembering how empty yours have felt lately. 

Was he purposely out with this woman in public? What did that mean for you? Why were you shadowed?

“Are you and Steve… okay?”

“She’s creating imaginary ones now.”

“Aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around?”

“You know that’s a hard thing for me to do.”

“Hey lady, you gonna pay for that?”

You were shaken out of your stupor. Looking down, you were clutching the magazine too hard, ripping the image of Steve and the woman in half, right in the middle where their hands met.

You apologized to the man and paid for the magazine. Immediately discarding it in the next trash bin you saw.

“So… you and Sharon?” Sam had asked him after training.

“What?” 

“You, and, Sharon,” Sam emphasized, pronouncing each syllable. “Are together. Man, when were you gonna tell me? I thought it was over.”

Steve froze before replying, “Because it is. A long time ago.”

“Well, this seems to say otherwise.” 

Sam showed him his phone, the screen displaying an article; ‘Captain America’s Girl Revealed. A Family Affair That Transcends Time.’ On top of the article was a photo of him and Sharon at the cafe in DC, his hand atop of hers on the table. A zoomed in version of their hands were provided, fueling the tabloid’s narrative.

Steve paled at the sight. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was his fears manifested; his anonymity taken, his privacy invaded, but his worst fear was putting his loved ones in danger. And if it was due to their association with him, it would leave him racked with guilt. 

While the tabloids were wrong, he knew that Sharon could defend for herself. You on the other hand… 

His heart rate rose, a new wave of anxiety spiked. Steve wondered if you’ve seen this. No, you must’ve seen this. 

Fishing for his phone, with clammy hands, Steve quickly dialed your number, anxiously waiting for the beeping to end. 

‘The number you’ve dialed is not—‘

“Damn it!”

His outburst surprised Sam, shocking him. Sam gave him a look, inquisitive. 

“Sorry Sam, I have to run.” 

He left, heart in his throat.

When Steve arrived at your apartment, he was almost out of breath. He was still anxious, the ride here not doing much to his addled mind. But he was determined.

Rapidly knocking on your front door, Steve composed himself. When it opened, he was met with the sight of your roommate -- the one that he has never met before.

“Ca-Captain America?” she yelped, shocked to see him on the doorstep.

“Is your roommate in?” he steeled.

“Which one—” 

“Steve,” a voice interrupted.

The door pulled further, widening the entrance. Steve was met with your familiar roommate. She was tense, arms locked across her chest, eyes full of fury. Steve detected something else in them; worry.

“You fucked up,” she said. He winced.

“I know,” he admitted. “And I’m here to make things right. Can I please see her?”

She sighed, stepping in, nodding towards your room. 

Steve hastily walked in, stopping in front of your door. He knocked thrice, signalling you, before turning the knob. It was unlocked. The room was dark when he entered, every source of light switched off, except for your curtains. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed was you, figure illuminated by the street lights against pitch black darkness. When he stepped in closer, you looked up, eyes meeting his. 

Steve turned on the lights and closed the door. He took a good look at you; hair frazzled, eyes bloodshot and dry, nose red. You were the image of heartbreak.

“Are you ashamed of me?” you asked, eyes locked with his. 

“What? No, I—“

“Is it because I’m not strong?” you cut him off. “I know she’s Peggy’s niece… a-and I know how much you loved her. She was your first love.”

“She and I, it’s all in the past. She moved on and lived her life, and I… did too.”

“But did you really, Steve? Move on?” you whispered, getting up. You stood in front of him. Steve could see how puffed your eyes were from crying. “Or was I just… a rebound?”

“No. No, you were never a rebound,” he took hold of your forearms. “I care for you, too much.”

“Then why?!” you shrieked, shocking Steve. “Why the secrets? Why the hiding? Steve, you’ve never even introduced me to your friends. Shouldn’t they know?”

“I wanted to protect you!”

“Protect me from what?!” you roared, eyes full of fury. “The Avengers? If they knew about me, they would protect me. Don’t you think so?”

Steve had no words to that, his mind a jumbled mess.

“I’m… beginning to think that you’re embarrassed with me,” you sighed. “We’ve never been on a date publicly, as each other. We’ve never held hands in public. I want you to meet my friends. I want to introduce you to them, and maybe soon, I want you to meet my family.”

“B-but, I’m tired, Steve. Tired of all the hiding. Of all the sneaking around. I want to tell the world that I’m in love with Steve Rogers, not Captain America,” you sighed, shedding a few tears.

You waited for his reply, only to be disappointed. 

“You know I can’t do that.”

You saw red. All you saw was red. 

You started pushing him, swatting him in the chest. Steve didn’t fight back, letting you unleash your anger, your disappointment. He took your hits, letting you release your pent up emotions. He began backing away when you started advancing, back against the door.

“Get out! Get out!” you screeched, pushing him.

When he unlocked the door and crossed, you immediately shut the door in his face. Steve heard sobbing from inside, his heart shattering at the sounds. 

“This way, Captain,” your roommate approached him, showing him to the door.

Steve relented, shame flooding him. He fucked up.

You stopped visiting The Sleeping Cat, wanting to avoid him at all costs. You blocked his number. You immersed yourself in your work, prepping for the upcoming charity gala. 

Sometimes you find yourself thinking about him when sleep proved to be difficult. It’s when you’re laying at night that you missed him the most.

But it was for the best, you reasoned. For you and him.

The Avengers PR had pushed for a fix-it, publishing a story that spoke a truth. ‘Just Friends: Romantic Allegations Proved False’. Steve had hoped you’d seen it. 

He called you every day but found himself blocked from everything. He still tried, hoping you’d come around one day. He came by The Sleeping Cat every other day, sitting in the same spot, hoping to catch you. 

But you never came.

You clasped the necklace in place, admiring how it sat on your clavicle through the mirror. You took a step back and took yourself in, smiling at what you saw. It didn’t reach your eyes.

Today was the day of the Valentines gala and you weren’t feeling particularly giddy about it. 

Opening your phone, you stared at the one contact that stood out, finger hovering over his name. That name used to give you so many feelings, but today it was a reminder that you were going alone, again.

Sighing, you threw it in your purse and left. Another lonely night, and on an even celebrating love.

Days turned into weeks, and soon, before he knew it, the day of your Valentines gala arrived. 

Steve stared at the calendar. The heart-shaped doodle he drew called out to him, reminding him of fond memories. Fond memories that seemed like a distant dream. But then, he went back to last week, and it all came crashing.

He had hurt you. While thinking he was protecting you, he hadn’t realized he was inadvertently pushing you away. He had no one to blame but himself. 

He loved you. No, still loves you. You grounded him, gave him the normalcy that he craved. Reminded him of a distant time before he was Captain America. 

You made him feel like the boy from Brooklyn again.

While he was ruminating in his feelings, Steve was caught off-guard when the door burst open with Tony Stark coming through. From his peripheral, he could see Bucky and Sam peeking through the frame.

“Heard from the Manchurian Candidate that someone has a case of the achy breaky heart,” Tony said, smug.

“Leave me alone, Tony. I’m not in the mood,” he grumbled, setting down the calendar. 

“And leave you wallowing like shit while your girl is out there probably equally miserable? I know a thing or two about women, Rogers, and it’s that they don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Tony snapped his fingers and from behind, Sam came in with a tuxedo in hand.

“Thought you might need this,” Sam said. 

Bucky came out behind him, with a brush and can of hairspray. “And I still know how to do hair.”

“And I have friends in places,” Tony quipped. “I can get you in.”

Steve was surprised. His friends had surprised him. You would’ve loved them. He was left speechless.

“What are you waiting for, Cap? Suit up.” Tony winked.

Swirling the glass of rosé, your gaze fell towards the dance floor. An upbeat song was being played as people flocked near the middle, letting their bodies take charge for the night. You saw your former co-workers among the throng, hands thrown around their significant others, having the time of their lives.

The gala was in full swing, if the crowd and chatter was any indication. Red and roses were the main theme, with a red carpet stretching from the grand staircase towards the main hall and roses lining every corner and wall. Taking it all in, you were proud to see your ideas visualized and work came to fruition.

You sipped your rosé, enjoying every bit of the gala as you could. From the sidelines, you spoke with a few potential clients and art collectors. Their presence made you feel your importance, and if you dared say it, a little less lonely.

It was during one of your little chats that you didn’t realize when the hall suddenly fell quiet. You turned around when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi folks, mind if I crash your party?”

Steve smiled at Tony’s antics. They both had arrived at the gallery dressed in their best, and with Tony’s connections, they were granted access. 

Stepping down the grand staircase, Steve felt all eyes on him. He paid them no mind, the thought of you the only occupant of his racing mind. Gazing over the crowd, Steve spotted you to the side, occupied in a chatter. 

Taking deliberate steps, Steve soon found himself behind you. He admired your gown and hair, it entranced him. You still hadn’t registered his presence, even when your partner had ceased chatting and was now staring at him.

With a tap on your shoulder, he was taken away as immediately as you spun around. Steve took in your whole image; your dolled-up face, your intricate dress, your styled hair. It left him floored.

You always did manage to take his breath away. Was this what he had been missing out all this time?

Taking your unoccupied hand, Steve pressed a small kiss before meeting your eyes. 

“May I have this dance?”

Giving away your drink, you took his hand as he pulled your towards the centre, taking space among the crowd. A slow number started, and before you realized, you were swept in a slow dance. It didn’t take long before you felt the sensation of his two left feet.

“Sorry, a hundred years and you’d think I’d know how to dance,” he said.

A small smile lightened your face. Steve savoured it all he could. Gulping, he took the first step.

“I’m... sorry for what I’ve done. I realize now that you were right,” he started. “I thought I was protecting you, but now I see that all it did was push you away. You have all the rights to be mad at me. I was being an idiot, a selfish one. I didn’t think about how you felt about it.”

You winced. Steve had stepped on your toes again. He murmured an apology, resorting to swaying instead.

“Can we start again? No more hiding. No more disguises,” he breathed, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “ We can meet your friends, you can meet mine. Bucky’s been pestering me to bring you to the compound, he wants to meet you.”

You laughed. How Steve had missed the tune.

“How can I make it up to you? How do you want to take the first step? A picnic at Central Park? Dinner at the compound? A trip to the beach?”

You seemed to contemplate, a thoughtful look on your face. You both failed to realize all the eyes on you two.

“How about now?”

“Right here? Right now?” he asked.

“Yes, right here, right now,” you said, determined.

Without hesitation —no more— Steve dived in, planting a kiss on your wine-coloured lips for the whole world to see. Your first kiss in public, yet it felt as if it was only the two of you there, lost in the moment. 

You both didn’t notice the gasping crowd nor the clicks of cameras from photographers nor the booming laughter of Tony Stark. You both only felt the other in your orbit, and that was all that mattered.

“Can you put that down? You’ve been staring at it for the past hour.”

You pouted, setting the frame on the side table, where it has been designated since its publication. 

“I can’t help it, I think it’s a good shot. Don’t you think so, Alpine?” you petted the snowy white cat lazing on the arm of the sofa. Its’ purrs intensified.

“Dinner’s ready!” Bucky shouted.

You and Steve left the room, joining the others in the dining room for dinner. On the side table, the framed article sat neatly, showcasing the tale of the famed occurrence that took place at a charity gala.

‘America’s Girl: The Modern Woman of The Captain’s Dreams.’

Fin.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #fluff #angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #happyhoelentinesday2021

[saynotoshityouhate]

Bluebird

Words: 1568

Summary: Your new relationship with Adam Sackler is put to the test when a close family member passes away. 

Tags/Warnings: angst, crying, death of a family member, funerals

Author’s Notes: This is based on an experience I had earlier this month, unfortunately. You could say I’ve been going through some shit lately. I found this helpful to write it all out - and although Sackler wasn’t there, I was surprised and overwhelmed by the support of my friends. 

____________

You ended the call in shock and began to cry, almost forgetting that you were on a date. You looked up at the man sitting across the table. “Uhhh, kid? Everything okay?”

You had been dating Adam Sackler for a couple months when you heard your grandmother had passed away. Things were going really great - he was funny, charming, and a perfect match for your quirky personality. You felt absolutely terrible that you basically shut him out over the next week, as you were so incredibly busy seeing to the arrangements for the visitation, funeral, and the various meals that went along with it. As the oldest grandchild, you felt an extra responsibility to do more to support your family, often at the expense of your own emotional and physical well-being. Adam tried his best, calling you (he wasn’t much of a texter), stopping by your apartment, bringing you Gatorade to replenish your electrolytes...he really was too good to be true. You just didn’t know how to process your own emotions, let alone let someone else in on those emotions. You didn’t want to burden anyone. Regardless, you didn’t have time to burden anyone - there were phone calls to be made, meetings to attend, and the guy at the flower shop was being a real pain in your ass. 

It was the day before the visitation and Adam had come by your apartment to bring you dinner from your favorite Chinese restaurant. You sat quietly on the couch together, eating directly out of the white paper cartons. You felt Adam’s intense gaze on you constantly, as if he was trying to read your mind - since you certainly weren’t going to share. “Kid - you good? What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?” You answered with a mouth full of orange chicken. “Nuffin’ I’m fine,” you kept your eyes focused on your chopsticks, avoiding those hazel eyes. “Graaraggghhhaaarrrrr” Adam slammed his beef and broccoli onto the table with a loud groan, standing up from the couch. He began pacing the living room, hands in fists, primal noises escaping his plush pink lips. “Adam!” You shouted at him, setting your dinner down as well. “When are you going to knock off this ‘I’m too evolved to possibly need help’ act? I’m working my ass off here to get you to let me in! Let me help you, Y/N, you’re doing too much! Please!” Adam knelt down in front of you, grabbing your hands and looking up at you with his puppy dog eyes. You slapped his hands away, standing up and stomping across the room. “I am not too evolved! I’m fine - I told you that. Multiple times! And if you can’t understand that, maybe you should just leave. I have so much work to do for tomorrow, and you’re distracting me with your drama.” You pointed at the door. “Y/N...come on…” he sat back on his heels, eyes wide with worry. “It’s probably best that you just go...I’m sorry.” You opened the apartment door for him. Adam stood up to leave, walking towards you. He leaned in for a kiss, but you turned your head away. He settled for a kiss on the cheek, and a squeeze of your shoulder, as he exited. 

You locked the door, and leaned your back against it for support as you felt your entire body weakening. You closed your eyes and slid down the wall, collapsing into a puddle on the floor. Your body heaved with sobs so intense you didn’t even make a noise. Your eyes were screwed shut so tightly, but the tears still flew out of your eyes, soaking your face and shirt. You pulled your knees tight to your chest, the pain from the weight of the week slightly relieved by the opening of your shoulder blades. Opening your eyes, you completed your breathing exercise which usually worked to calm you down. In for four seconds, hold for four seconds, out for eight seconds. Repeat until calm. Your breaths began as shaky and stuttered, eventually evening out, causing a release of tension across your face, shoulders, and back. You could have kept crying for hours, but as you told Adam, there was too much to do. Thinking about Adam made your eyes well up again, but you shook it off. Focus. Pushing yourself off of the floor, you headed to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face. 

You barely slept that night, tossing and turning, thinking of the work to do the next day. You’d wake up, remembering something you hadn’t done yet, and roll over to write it on the notepad you kept on your bedside table. Looking in the mirror in the morning, your face was puffy and eyes bloodshot. You groaned. What a horrible day this was going to be. You took a quick shower and pulled yourself together as much as possible. You had three errands you had to run before getting to the funeral home to set-up. Getting into your car, you had a chance to look at your phone for the first time and saw two missed calls from Adam. Setting your phone on the passenger seat, you promised yourself you’d call him after the day was over. Choking back tears, you went through your day. With each item you crossed off the list, two were added. Your resolve was at risk of failing, but there wasn’t time to let that happen.

At 4:00pm, the doors were opened, letting in the friends and family who had arrived to pay their respects and share their sympathies. You stood tall and strong in the front of the room, wearing a simple, conservative black dress and sandals with the slightest heel. You knew you were going to be running around, and comfortable shoes were a necessity. You greeted the crowds of family and friends with hugs and handshakes, smiling at the compliments and accepting the words of sympathy. “You look just like her when she was younger.” “She was so proud of you.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, smiled, and said thank you before moving on to the next person. One hour into the two hour event, your cousin elbowed you in the side, pointing towards the door. “Who’s the giant? Someone from grandpa’s side of the family?” 

You immediately burst into tears. There, towering over a sea of white haired aunties, was Adam. Wearing a brown tweed jacket, blue button down and green tie, he was scoping the room in search of you. When he found you, he began swimming through the crowd of elderly visitors. “‘Scuze me! Fuck! Sorry! Oof!” You couldn’t help but laugh through your tears. Finding his way over, he stood in front of you, slightly out of breath. “Hey, kid.” Through your sobs you replied, “You came.” He sighed. “I’m always going to be here for you, kid. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” You crashed into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his chest, resting your forehead on his sternum. You stayed here and cried for what seemed like hours, Adam squeezing you back, while also managing to rub your back and stroke your hair. Adam stood by your side the rest of the evening, arm wrapped around your waist to hold you steady. You caught yourself introducing him as your boyfriend, to which he looked down at you and smiled, squeezing your waist in approval. 

He drove you home that night and you asked him to stay, where he held you all night, his large body intertwined with yours. When waves of sadness crashed over you during the night, he rubbed your back and walked you through your breathing exercises. He made you breakfast in the morning, where he asked you to tell him stories about her. He listened intently, smiling and laughing, and at one point even shedding a few tears. He stood tall and strong next to you at the funeral, smiling up at you as you read a bible passage in front of the entire church, kissing your cheek when you returned. In the car, after everything was over and done with, you turned to look at him. He chewed his lip as he drove through the crowded downtown streets, his dark shaggy hair falling into his gorgeous eyes. “I’m sorry I pushed you away, Adam.” You began to cry, reaching over to put your hand on his thigh. “I can’t imagine having done this week without you. Thank you - for everything.” He reached down to hold your hand in his. “Thank you for letting me in, kid. I was fucking scared, seeing you burnt out like that. You gotta talk to me, Y/N, you know I love the sound of your voice.” He squeezed your hand and pulled into a parking spot. “I’m sad this week is over - it means she’s really gone.” You looked down into your lap, tears spilling onto your cheeks. Adam wiped a tear off of your cheek. “You know she’s floatin’ around here or some shit - you just gotta be open to seeing her. Like over there!” He excitedly pointed to a bluebird that had landed on the railing of your front stoop. You smiled, taking a deep, cleansing breath, as you both sat in silence watching the bird before it gracefully flew away.

A/N: special thanks to @agirlwhoisaphantom and @weareallstoriesintheend​ for their support this past month. I wouldn’t still be upright without them. 

#adam sackler #adam sackler x reader #adam sackler angst #adam driver character universe #adcu #adam driver #adcu fic

[shreddedparchment]

Tamales and Christmas Lights

12/21/2020

Pairing: Steve x Mexican American Reader          Word Count: 6,838

Warnings: light smut, talks of having kids, language, drinking

A/N: This is the first time I have ever written anything for a specific type of reader. I don’t usually write for a specific race or ethnicity because I can’t speak as to the intimacy of living in that person’s shoes. By this I mean more of a family life. I’m eager to learn but for now, I will write what I know and that is a reader of my own background. I hope I don’t alienate anyone too much and that you all enjoy the story for what it is. There is a bit of Spanish in this one, but so long as you read all of the dialogue what is said is explained in English shortly after. Anyway, I’m SUPER nervous about this one, and it’s a little on the short side but I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks for your support! xoxo

“What do you do for the Holidays?”

Steve stiffens for a moment beneath you, bringing your gaze up to his sleepy face.

It’s so late and he’d only just got in an hour ago. Probably on the verge of sleep when you’d asked your quests.

“What?” There’s stress in his eyes and you’re sorry to interrupt the peace of the moment.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He rubs your shoulder, large hands trying to coax you back down onto his chest where you’d been laying with your head cradled underneath his chin.

“You’re lying. And you haven’t answered my question.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head, “Nothing. That’s what I do for the Holidays. I don’t do anything. I should probably change that since Buck is finally back. But I think I overheard Sam making plans to drag him to some party and I’m not up for that.”

“Oh…” You deflate, laying your head back on his chest but he notices the disappointment in your voice and he pushes you up again.

When you don’t move, he forces himself up, pulling back until he can rest against the headboard of your bed. You’re also made to sit up but Steve leans forward to guide you close to his body so that you’re practically straddling him.

“What did you have in mind? That wasn’t an empty oh.” He notices.

You shake your head, suddenly terrified to bring it up.

“Come on, baby, don’t leave me wondering. I’ll assume the worst.” He reminds you.

You smile, appreciating the way he reaches up to grab your chin and give your head a little shake. You probably shouldn’t like it but you love the way he makes these small gestures of possessiveness over you.

There’s something feral within you that purrs into submission when he claims you so openly. You’re his. Heart and soul. He knows it already even though it’s only been a few months of being together.

You fist his white shirt, wrinkling it as you pull him closer and kiss him sweetly despite the aggression in your hands.

There’s just something about him that makes you want to just squeeze him! Like that feeling you get when you see a tiny puppy or kitty and you just wanna hug it and squeeze it and love it to death.

He huffs a small laugh at your reaction, though he doesn’t understand it.

“What was that for?”

You lick your lips, kissing him once more before leaning back and releasing his poor shirt.

“You know you’re mine, right?” You ask him, eyes fixed on his pretty face.

You’re not a fan of the bruising around his left cheekbone, but the rest of him is just as perfect as ever.

“And you’re mine,” he assures you. “And if anyone tries to take you away…”

The implications are tantalizing but you don’t linger there. You laugh and shake your head, turning to the windows of his room to watch the heavy snowfall.

It’s freezing outside. It makes you shiver and you pull yourself closer to Steve, wrapping your arms around him by hooking them underneath his own. You ball yourself up in his lap as best you can and rest your head against his chest again as his own arms come back around you, large hands splayed out on your back as he rubs it to give you warmth and comfort.

“Why did you ask me about the holidays, babe?” he presses.

“I want to take you home with me,” that’s the truth. “My grandma has been asking me when I’m going to get married and maybe if they see I have a big strong boyfriend she and the rest of my aunts will leave me alone.”

Steve huffs another laugh, “Are they seriously asking you when you’re getting married?”

“Yeah,” with a nod, you push up again despite being completely at peace in Steve’s arms. “They’ve been asking since I graduated high school.”

“That’s odd,” he observes and you can see how it might be to others. “It’s always been like that in my family. My grandma got married when she was seventeen. Same for my mom. Had kids pretty quickly too. So, they’re kinda waiting for me to do the same. Because getting married and having kids is what I’m supposed to do.”

“Do you want to get married and have kids?” Steve’s hands stroke your hips, a small movement of passive affection.

He’s eager to give you all the touch you want in private but you know to keep things a little more tame in front of others. Steve isn’t big into the P.D.A.

“Eventually I guess. I don’t know. It’s not a question I feel like I need to answer right now. I’m a little more sure about the marriage than the kids but I’ve got lots of time to think about it.” you shrug.

“Yeah, we’ve got lots of time,” he asserts and your heart shoots into your throat, stomach twisting with fluttering wings that make it feel like you’re doing somersaults.

“We?” you smile, despite yourself.

“I wanna marry you eventually, I thought you knew that?”

“No,” you laugh.

“Oh, well now you know.”

“You can’t just spring that on me, Steve!”

He laughs now, hooking his hands behind your knees and yanks you closer. You’re right on him, and as you settle, you feel a familiar stirring between your bodies as the exhaustion of the mission wears off and his eagerness to show you how much he missed you becomes obvious.

“I think I just did,” he teases. “If you want to take me to meet your family, I am more than happy to come along. We have been together almost a year, it’s about time I think.”

“A year?” you gasp, realizing that it hasn’t been a few months after all.

Time with Steve is so much like a dream that it feels like it’s passed in the blink of an eye.

“Yeah, we hooked up in that closet off the shooting range on New Year’s Eve, remember?”

“Okay, first of all, hooked up? You’re spending too much time with Sam and Bucky.”

Your face heats up, neck burning and ears probably hot to the touch as the memory of you half drunk finding Steve alone in that shooting range.

You’d confessed recklessly and Steve had practically tackled you into the wall when he’d realized you were serious, despite being tipsy.

The frenzy that had followed that first kiss had been uncontrollable and he’d maneuvered you both into the bathroom and then pounded into you with you pinned between him and the counter.

You can still remember the shock of cold smooth concrete under your naked butt.

The next day, Steve had sought you out to tell you that he liked you too and that he wanted to take you out properly and that he was sorry for letting himself get out of hand the night before.

You responded by accepting his invitation but then luring him into your bedroom to ride him until he was breathless and groaning with satisfaction and you were twitching from reaching a third climax.

Your love with Steve has always been rooted in a very physical connection but over time, the emotional depth has increased exponentially and you’re best friends now, as well as lovers.

Now he’s here, remind you of that very beginning and telling you that it’s time to meet your family?

“You don’t have to go, Steve. My grandma will probably ask you a million questions and the rest of my family will be just as nosy and loud. We can get kind of rowdy when we get all together.”

The last thing you want to do is chas him off with an overbearing family, but at the same time...you love them! If he’s going to be in your life, he needs to accept them too, right?

What if he can’t? What will that mean for the two of you?

“Growing up it was just me and my mom,” Steve explains, stroking the length of your arms. “A big family is just what I need, I think.”

You watch him as he leans forward, his lips finding that stupid spot on your neck that always makes you melt.

As his tongue darts out, tracing a small circle, you absolutely collapse against him, arms wrapping up around his shoulders loosely, eyes very slightly rolling into the back of your head.

“Are you sure?”

“So sure,” he whispers, the heat of his breath raising goosebumps on your skin.

He pulls you down against his stiffened cock and you moan as he throws you back onto the bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Steve urges, reaching over to place his hand in yours so that you can stop pulling and tugging at your own fingers.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, staring at the peach colored house with bright red trimming around every window and the bright red doorway. It’s absolutely covered in lights, twinkling in different colors. Traditional tiny lights but then around the tree in the front yard are huge bulbs, green, blue, yellow, and red.

They’re novelty lights? You’re not sure if that’s what they are, but you find them silly. Your grandpa’s idea probably.

Your grandmother’s house hasn’t changed one bit since you were little. The only thing that changes are the cars parked along the street, the large rose bushes along the front porch are bare.

Several green hard plastic chairs line the front wall angled oddly as someone had most likely been sitting there last night. Aunts and uncles, your mom and dad probably talking late into the night.

Even sitting in the car, with the engine idling, doors shut tight, you can already hear one of your aunts laughing her head off inside the house. The shouts of kids playing also reach your very normal ears. Steve must be able to hear everything.

“Do you think they won’t like me?” Steve worries, and now it’s your turn to turn and soothe his nerves.

“Oh, no, Steve. That’s not why. I know they’ll love you. I’m just afraid of what they’ll say. Or that they’ll smother you. I haven’t exactly told anyone in my family that I’m dating anyone much less…”

The two of you never talk about his official title. Who he is. Even though he’s retired in many ways, he’s still the first. Sam might be Captain America now, but everyone knows Steve as the original Captain America. There isn’t a person on this planet that doesn’t know who he is.

Normally, it doesn’t matter. To you, he’s just Steve Rogers. Super soldier, for sure, but just a man that swept you off your feet with his sweetness and kindness and okay, those damn shoulders and his ass is biteable. But he’s just Steve!

Your family will see the title first, you’re sure of it. They’ll see Captain America.

“Are they not big Captain America fans?” his teasing is gentle and innocent.

“Steve!” you shut your eyes and chuckle, “ I’m seriously so worried.”

“I can take it, hon. I’m a big boy. Come on, let’s get in there. I wanna meet your grandma.”

Suddenly he throws his door open and steps out of the car, shutting it off as he goes.

“Wait!” you gasp, scurrying to get out with him. 

You scamper around the car until you’re beside him and take hold of his hand. He pulls you towards the door confidently but you let go of his hand and rush forward before he can reach it.

Fixing your hair, you push the door open and are immediately assaulted by the smell of spicy menudo. It makes your mouth water. The smell of spices and pine sol. Fabuloso is mixed in there too, your mom’s idea to mix the two cleansers together and use them to make a unique smelling concoction that gets the linoleum floors cleaner than if you used one or the other.

The low sofas are covered in shining clear plastic, no doubt put in place by your grandma just before all the family began to arrive. The flat screen is decorated with a simple green garland, beside the TV console is a low table where the remote sits on a lace doily, underneath in a wooden pocket are several magazines and underneath the pocket on the base of the table sits a blue round tin of butter cookies that no doubt has all of your grandma’s sewing things instead of the treats it promises.

The house isn’t big. In fact, it’s on the small side. The large master bedroom is situated at the back of the house along with the bathroom, past the kitchen where you can see the light on all of your aunts sitting around the table exchanging their respective chisme and keeping their hands busy with something you can’t see.

From the hallway to your right where the only two guest rooms are located along with a second half bath come running two of your younger cousins. They’re children still, your youngest Tia’s kids.

They don’t even notice you as you stop walking, choosing to run instead towards the back door in the distance past the kitchen, master bedroom, and bathroom.

One of your other aunts, the second oldest, turns her head as they run behind her.

“Que chingaos les dije?! Stop running in and out or I’m gonna kick your asses!” She yells at them, but the kids ignore her and disappear through the door. It slams shut behind them.

“Lulu, no les puedes decir algo?! They keep running in and out of here like wild animals.” Your second eldest aunt demands.

“They’re just playing, leave them alone.” Your Tia Lulu waves her sister off.

To your right you finally notice the centerpiece of the living room, a huge christmas tree with red, blue, and green glass ornaments. The lights are white, twinkling in different patterns, tinsel covering every branch to an obscene amount. At the top sits an old porcelain angel that your grandmother had once told you she’d received from her own grandmother and had actually been made in Mexico by some nun at an old church that had been knocked down a long time ago to make room for a cattle ranch.

The base of the tree is almost completely obscured by the dozens and dozens of presents from very large to very small. Each one is addressed to one or other member of the family. The kids especially all get gifts from each of your uncles and aunts.

You take another step towards the kitchen only to be stopped again as the restroom in the hallway to your right flushes and from inside it emerges your grandfather, buckling his belt as he lumbers out.

“Grandpa,” you call to him excitedly and he whips his head up then beams at the sight of you.

“Mijita bonita, cuando llegaste? Aye, chula…” His words fade out as he reaches you with his arms outstretched and pulls you into a quick tight hug.

His large hands pat you on the back several times before he kisses your cheek. He brings his hands to your shoulders and pushes you back a little to get a look at you.

“When did you get here?” he repeats, and gives your arms a squeeze.

“Just now,” you begin, but as you’d hugged your grandpa had turned you around and Steve moves in behind him.

He meets your eyes, shrinking a little, drawing his shoulders in to make himself smaller in the very normal person sized house.

“Grandpa, uh, I have um...this is my boyfriend, Steve,” with one arm extended you gesture towards the super soldier standing by the door.

“Steve?! ¿Trajiste un gringo?”

Your grandpa whips around, searching at average height level for the white boy you’ve brought and finds himself face to face with Steve’s chest.

He adjusts quickly, finding Steve’s face and with a gasp, he slams his hand over his heart and laughs.

“That’s Captain America!” he laughs.

The declaration brings the kitchen to a pause and like dominoes all of your aunts rise one by one, moving into the doorway of the kitchen to catch a glimpse at the commotion in the living room.

More gasps follow and soon you can’t hear yourself think as they all break into a cacophony of excited chatter.

Your Tia Lulu is the first to shove her way through, as she’s the youngest, she smiles at Steve flirtatiously before shoving your grandpa out of the way.

“Move aside, dad! Hello, hi. I’m Consuela but everyone calls me Lulu. You can call me sweetheart.” She throws out her tongue as she laughs, a clear joke but Steve good naturedly takes her hand and shakes it, a shy but kind smile on his handsome face.

“Oh my God, Tia, stop,” you plead.

“I’m just kidding, werca fregada. Don’t get your panties all in a twist.” She swats at you while your grandpa retreats to the sofa where he must have been sitting before, stuffing fives, tens, and twenties into envelopes for the kids.

Grandma and Grandpa never get anyone anything. They just put money in envelopes for the kids.

As your aunts file in, all five of them, you wait until Steve looks at you to bite your bottom lip and mouth a quick apology.

He shakes his head, setting your heart at ease as your aunts circle around him talking fast and occasionally asking him a question or two which he answers readily.

“A year.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I’m not Captain America anymore.”

“Consulting mostly.”

“Yeah, I-I have my own place.”

“It’s a rental.”

Your aunts gasp at that in particular, “Ooh, it’s a rental. Those can be so expensive. Did you get the insurance?”

“Uh, well, no. I didn’t mean, it’s actually one of Tony’s-Stark. He had it set aside for us when he found out we were coming to visit.”

The madness reignites at the mention of Iron Man and as they plunge into more questions, your turn just in time as your mom makes her way over to you.

“Why didn’t you call me?” she wraps you up in her arms and you hug her back, holding it for a little longer than you normally would but you’ve been so stressed with bringing Steve here that you feel a relief wash over you not only because she’s there to help you, but to finally have it happening means you can stop the anticipation.

“I’m sorry, mom. I decided to get him down here super last minute and I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Where’s dad?”

“He’s out back with your tios. Drinking already,” she shakes her head but there’s no surprise there from anyone. “They’ve got the pit going. Chicken and fajitas to go with the menudo.”

“It smells so freaking good,” you laugh.

“Is he really your boyfriend? How long has this been going on? How come you haven’t told me?”

The hurt in your mom’s voice is subtle but you hear it and lament it.

“I was going to tell you. Every time I called. But at first it was too new and then after that I just didn’t know how to explain it to you. I know you hate my job. Now I’m dating a former Avenger?”

It’s her turn to look apologetic.

“Mija, you could have told me. I do hate that you put yourself in harm’s way, but that’s your job. No mom is going to like that.”

She takes a moment to glance at Steve, then with a flick of her eyebrows and a quick nod in his direction, she scoots closer, “Isn’t he like super old?”

You laugh and nod.

“He’s older than grandpa,” She laughs with you as you whisper, Steve giving you two a quick glance.

“He doesn’t look it,” your mom admits.

A tiny upturn to the corner of his lip tells you he can hear everything you’re saying.

“Is it serious?” She asks, letting you steer her towards the kitchen as her probing continues.

Inside the kitchen you find the entire kitchen table cleared of the usual place mats and ceramic Jesus centerpiece to make room for the bowls of masa, cooked seasoned pork and chicken for the filling of what will be tomorrow’s tamales.

At the stove you see your grandma a well worn lime green apron tied tightly around her waist and neck, huddled over the very tall and large pot, stirring and adding seasoning to the murky russet soup inside.

“I hope that has lots of posole!”

Your grandma turns at your voice and her face lights up.

“Mijita, chula!” she gushes, rushing forward to wrap her arms around you and kiss your cheek with a loud smack.

“Hi, grandma, I missed you so much,” you realize, hugging her tight.

“Por qué no nos dijiste que ibas a venir? Werca, cabrona!” she smacks you hard and you laugh, holding her hands as she pulls back to look at you. “You need to eat more.”

“Grandma, I’m eating fine,” you laugh, amused by the direction her thoughts go.

“She brought a boy home, mom,” your mom gives you away, then sticks her tongue out at you as she replaces her mother’s place at the pot.

“Mom!”

“You brought a boy?” she’s ecstatic! “A boyfriend?”

“Yes, he’s a boyfriend.”

“What’s his name?” she starts wiping her hands on her apron, cleaning them up to meet Steve.

“His name is Steve.”

“Es un gringo?!” her exclamation of surprise is just like grandpa’s.

“Yes, he’s white, does it matter?”

“Pos, no. It doesn’t matter, as long as he’s nice to you. Is he good to you?”

“He’s the best, grandma. He insists on taking me out every Friday to eat and watch a movie.”

Well, every Friday that you or he aren’t on mission. And it’s such a small thing but you know it’ll make her happy to know that he takes you out.

“Ooh, that’s good,” she approves. “Does he have a good job?”

“He’s a consultant where I work.”

“With the Avengers?” she gasps.

“Yeah.”

“A consultant? What does that mean? Is he a nerd?”

You laugh, throwing your head back, “He’s the biggest nerd, though he’ll never admit it.”

“Well, andale, let’s go meet your boyfriend,” she pushes you towards the doorway and you make to lead the way. “Is it serious?”

She whispers the second question, though you know that Steve will be able to hear.

Is it serious? “I uh…”

“Ayt! Don’t you all have husbands?”

Saving Steve from your aunts, your grandma moves forward and pushes and pulls and slaps them away from him, shoving them back towards the kitchen.

“Esos tamales no se van hacer solos.”

“Ow, mom! Stop hitting us,” your eldest aunt Margarita frowns.

“Magge, no te da verguenza?”

“Why should I be embarrassed?! Have you seen her boyfriend? Steve, do you like older women?” your Tia throws back at him as your other aunts push past you, patting you in the back and whispering congratulations at your luck.

“Technically I’m older,” he calls and everyone looks at him, not talking, apparently in shock at the fact that he truly is over a hundred years old.

“Oh my God, your boyfriend is Captain America?!” your grandma realizes, turning to slap your shoulder lightly for not explaining yourself.

Everyone bursts into laughter, the chatter moving into the kitchen as you join the laughter, Steve smiling from ear to ear as your mom rushes back out, eager to meet him.

Grandma pulls him into a hug and he gently returns it, smiling politely as she gushes over how handsome he is and how tall and then getting angry at you for not feeding him before admiring the exquisite shape of his body.

“Your grandpa had a body like this when he was young, mija,” grandma assures you. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Probably all the tamales,” you tease and she smacks you gently again before laughing in genuine amusement.

~~~~~~~~~~

You can’t find Steve anywhere. The kids are all inside, watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in the living room, crowded around the flat screen with expressions that range from amusement to boredom.

Mostly it’s the older kids that are tired of the claymation film. They’ve seen it every year since they were old enough to sit up.

“Should I change it?” you wander in from the front, your Tias laughing as the door shuts behind you cutting the sound off.

One of the things you’d missed was the happiness that filled the house this time of year. Even though they fight like cats, it’s cats that are sisters and love each other deep down.

They always end up laughing again eventually. 

Your cousin Claudia sits up at your offer, “Yes! Put something else on!”

“No!” the littler ones revolt.

“Even if it’s Elf?”

You stop by the TV, remote already in hand and all of their eyes light right up.

“Okay, okay, put Elf!”

Their accents make you smile. Like you, they’d probably grown up speaking mostly spanish as a toddler and then as you’d started school, English had begun to push in as your default leaving you with a heavy accent for a few years.

Now it’s almost completely gone and only emerges when you shout angrily, or so Steve says.

As the opening narration begins, you catch Claudia’s eyes and give her the remote, “Have you seen Steve?”

“Captain America?” she smirks, getting a serious kick out of your choice of boyfriend.

But you’d also seen her all flustered when she’d met him. She thinks he’s hot and honestly, he is so you can’t blame her. At sixteen, she’s lost almost all of her bashfulness.

“Yes, Steve. Have you seen him?”

“He went out back with Tio, I think.”

“My dad?!” you gasp, already terrified of what they might be talking about.

“Yeah, he looked nervous. You should probably go save him from Tio’s interrogation.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you throw at her, already moving towards the back door in a hurry.

The inside of the house is toasty warm, especially with the tamales cooking and the menudo on low heat to keep it warm in case anyone wants thirds or fourths.

“Where are you going?” your mom asks as you pass by.

She’s sitting at the kitchen table, across from your grandma talking in hushed tones.

“To get Steve, Claudia said he was with dad.”

“Well, leave them alone, I’m sure he’s being nice.”

Your grandma laughs and you shove the door open and disappear back out into the chilly winter night.

Wrapping your arms around yourself to combat the chill that begins to set in, you scan the backyard and move past your tios sitting around the clearly diy firepit one of them had built for your grandparents, each one knocking back a beer in either bottle or can.

They’re not as loud as your tias but they’re still talking loudly, laughing and then arguing over the superbowl.

“No manches, guey. That linebacker doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. He should have stayed in Atlanta.”

You tune them out as you spot Steve and your dad standing by the table of barbecue a little further out by the back corner of the chain link fence.

Steve is standing with one hand on the tongs, flipping over some of the leftover chicken your grandma asked your dad to cook since someone will eat it eventually.

They’re talking, both in deep conversation until Steve smiles and seems to relax. Your dad, who stands at five feet, nine inches in height, has to reach up to clap Steve on the shoulder then smiles too, both of them turning their focus on the chicken.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, moving towards them with purposeful steps.

Both of them look up as you approach and immediately Steve hands your dad the tongs before moving towards you and peeling off his black leather jacket.

“Hon, why are you out here without a coat? It’s cold.” he says sweetly.

He can’t feel the temperature like you can but he can tell when you’re cold.

“Dad? What are you two doing out here?”

You’re so suspicious of your dad, worried he might be saying things to hurt Steve, but both of them look happy even.

“I’m showing him how we make the chicken,” your dad says innocently.

“Uh huh...sure you are.”

“He was,” Steve promises.

“I don’t trust you,” you say sternly, using one finger to point up into Steve’s ridiculously handsome face. “You’re just trying to suck up to my family.”

“Me?” he gasps, forced innocence on his face now too.

You narrow your eyes at both of them in turn, wrapping your arms around yourself again as Steve rubs them to try and warm you up.

“Come on, let’s go back inside,” Steve urges you, then turns to look at your dad. “Thanks for the lesson, Hector, I’ll keep it in mind for the future.”

“What lesson?”

“Never you mind, nosy. Come on, before you catch a cold.”

Steve sits you on the sofa once he’s got you inside and settles in pulling you against his side then kissing your temple before turning his focus on Buddy the Elf sitting in a bathroom singing with Zoey Deschanel as she showers.

“When did you sneak off to talk to my dad?”

Eyes narrowed, you watch him for any of his usual tells that he might be lying or hiding something from you.

So far, nothing.

“I didn’t sneak off. You were busy talking to your aunt and your dad invited to show me how to make the chicken. He was nice, serious about you. He wanted me to know that he’s got his eyes on me and if I hurt you all of your uncles will come find me and castrate me.”

He smiles wide, amused by this for some reason.

“It’s been a while since I’ve felt fear like that. Your dad really meant it.”

You’re not convinced but he reaches down to take hold of your chin and force you to look at him.

“Give me a kiss, pouty.” he requests.

How can you resist? You lean up and give him a quick kiss but then the kids say, “Ooooooh.”

You turn to them and throw Claudia a pillow but she laughs and catches it, leading the rest of them into giggles.

~~~~~~~~~~

The night grows older and everyone comes inside. As midnight approaches, the kids filter into their usual seats at the feet of their respective parents. Your six aunts and their husbands pile onto the sofas or linger in doorways, all attention diverted to the Christmas tree and the piles of presents underneath.

Your grandma and grandpa get center seating on the longest sofa, both of them ready with cash envelopes in hand for giving out as soon as the time comes.

Your dad on the other hand sits himself by the tree and while all of the adults talk amongst themselves, the kids are as quiet as they will ever be, little to teen eyes all trained on the pile of gifts.

“Mija, ven siéntate aqui. Magge, dale el asiento a tu sobrina,” your grandmother calls, waving you over to sit beside her.

Your aunt looks from your grandmother to you and then back, looking almost affronted by the request until your grandma gives her a face of deep annoyance.

Your aunt has a moment of realization, then sighs but begins to get up.

“No! Tia, it’s okay. I’ll stand. I’m alright here.”

“Don’t argue with me and get your butt over here,” your grandmother interrupts.

“She never sees you,” your tia reminds you. “Come sit here, I’ll sit on your tio’s lap.”

“Like hell you will, you wanna break my legs?”

“Callate lo sico, estupido imbecil,” she smacks him in the arm but then sits in his lap and he smirks as he wraps his arms around her waist.

Steve pushes you towards her, then leans down to kiss your cheek.

He knows you hate to leave him standing there.

“Go, sit with your grandma.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, of course babe. Go.” He kisses your cheek again then pushes you towards the sofa.

As you settle in, giving him another look of consideration, your grandma takes your hand and holds it gently plucking a smile from your worried expression.

“He’s okay, no one is going to take him from you.”

Not that you think anyone would, but it’s a common phrase among couples who are glued at the hip.

As your grandma’s old cuckoo clock chimes in midnight, your dad points at your cousin Claudia who gets up and quickly shuts off the living room light leaving all of you in the glow of the white twinkle lights.

As your dad begins to call out names, the kids scoot closer in excitement and watch as they’re each handed gifts after gifts.

Eventually the floor begins to fill with crumpled up wrapping paper and colorful bows and ribbon. Toys are yanked from boxes and the laughter begins to fill the room again.

Your aunts and uncles also get their names called and you don’t feel bad that your name is never called.

They had no idea you were coming and your Tia Magge leans towards you, “I’m sorry we didn’t get you anything, Mija. We didn’t know you were coming.”

“Oh, I know, Tia. It’s okay. I just wanted to see you all and bring Steve to meet you.”

As you gesture towards where you left him standing, you find him missing but think nothing of it as he might have just gone to the bathroom.

There are only two gifts left under the tree, one very large one which your dad calls out for your grandpa, and then he pulls a shoe sized box, wrapped in silver paper onto his lap but gestures at your grandma who lets go of your hand and begins to call names out and pass the envelopes with money to the kids.

Because you can’t stand sitting there any longer, the mess on the floor still growing, you get up and move into the kitchen.

Trash bag in hand you move back out to the living room and begin to stoop over and pick up the wrappings of all the presents exchanged tonight.

Your grandma calls out Claudia’s name and as the teen sits back down, your dad clears his throat.

“We have one more gift, and it’s for my beautiful daughter,” he says, shocking you into standing as he calls your name.

“Me?!” you gasp, completely in shock.

You hadn’t been expecting anything though you and Steve had definitely brought gifts for everyone.

Your gift had been the ability to see such bright smiles as they opened said presents.

“Here,” your dad holds it out and you let go of the trash bag as Claudia takes it from you.

With a quick wipe of your brow, you take the gift and look for a name so that you’ll know who to thank, but there’s no name.

“Open it!” One of the younger kids says with excitement.

“Yeah, rip it!” another urges.

“Rip it?” you chuckle, and rip it.

It is indeed a shoebox, but as you lift the lid and place it underneath, you find in the shoebox another box, slightly smaller, also sealed up tight this time in pink shiny wrapping paper..

“Oh my God,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

You open that box too, tossing the wrapping paper to Claudia who tosses it for you as you find yourself staring at yet another box, wrapped in green snowflake paper.

“What the hell is going on here?” you laugh again, tearing it open and finding a smaller one.

This goes on and your family laughs at you as you open box after box after box, until finally the smallest box is the size of laptop charging block.

“How the hell does anyone even find a box this small?!” you gasp, shaking your head as your shoulders shake with laughter.

You tear the last box open, discarding the bright red paper then open the top to find a small black velvet bag with a drawstring pulled shut.

“Finally!”

Your exclamation brings laughter from the room and as you pull the bag open, you turn it over since the room is in semi-darkness and you can’t see in.

Onto your palm tumbles a silver ring. Sitting on top is an emerald cut diamond, solitaire, that glimmers in the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.

“What the-?” you start, but from the hallway behind your mom emerges Steve, looking nervous as fuck.

He swallows hard as he walks towards you, stopping only when he’s right in front of you then slowly, as butterflies tumble violently in your lower belly, he kneels.

“Oh my God…” you whisper, too shocked to speak any louder.

He says your name, clears his throat because his voice shakes, and you smile, on the verge of laughing or crying. You’re not sure which.

“In just about a week we’ll have been together for exactly one year, but I’ve known since you pulled that bullet out of my a-my backside and called me a big baby for whining about it that you were the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

“Both of us work in a very dangerous job but I don’t think I know anyone else who is as brave or strong or sure of themselves as you. I wasn’t sure what to expect from life after I gave up being Captain America.

“Suddenly there were an infinite amount of possibilities ahead of me and yet, not once did I think that marrying anyone would be the path I’d take. I’d given up on love, on the chance of a normal life, but you’ve woken me up. You’ve pulled me out of my past and with you I can see that future we talked about the other morning.

“I see my life as your husband and father to our kids laid out in front of us and I can’t wait to get started. So, I guess, I just need to ask?”

Your family laughs, reminding you that you two are not alone.

“You’ve always said that if someone proposed to you, you wouldn’t want it to be in public and well, these people are your family so they’re not public. They represent a life I would very much like to be a part of. I’ve had no one for so long, I want this family, so will you marry me? Will you let me be a part of your family?”

You’re in shambles. You’re sobbing, smiling through the waterworks as your heart pounds so hard in your chest and all of the oxygen threatens to leave your brain.

“Yes!” you gasp, and the room explodes with cheers and applause.

Steve takes the ring and quickly slips it onto your finger before rising and pulling you flush against his body. He kisses you eagerly, laughing against your own lips as you kiss him back just as passionately.

As he pulls back, an audible smack snuffed out by the roar of excitement in the room, you search his eyes for any form of doubt.

There’s none.

“Is this what you were talking to daddy about? Asking me to marry you?”

“It was the right thing to do,” Steve explains, and you feel vindicated in your earlier suspicions.

“Jerk!” you smack his chest but he pulls you in for another kiss.

The two of you share in the moment for only one more second before your grandmother is pulling you two apart so that she can hug you and kiss Steve’s cheek. Your mom is also in tears, hugging you tight as your dad hugs you both, then shakes Steve’s hand before pulling him in for a quick hug.

There’s a terrifying POP that sends you and Steve ducking from instinct, but you find your grandpa holding up a bottle of champagne.

“¿Dónde está la música? Turn on the radio! Let’s celebrate!” He shouts, lifting the bottle to his lips.

As the kids spring up and split up throughout the household to play with their toys, your aunts and uncles begin to pair off, swaying and singing at the very top of their lungs as Feliz Navidad fills the room.

Steve makes his way back towards you, swerving past your excited family until he has his arms around you again, pulling you in close until he can sway you to the beat of the music.

“I’m guessing the party is just getting started?”

“Oh, babe, you just gave them the fuel to go until the sun comes up.”

Steve chuckles leans down to kiss you again, summoning an encore of cheers.

#steve x reader #steve x mexican american reader #steve rogers x mexican american reader #captain america x reader #christmas fanfiction #steve x reader fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #tamales and christmas lights