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unholyhelbig · 28 days

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MORE RONNIE AND NAT FICS PLEASE🥺🥺🥺

Title: Chyornaya Redka [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: With Reader is away on a job and Ronnie comes down with a nasty cold, it's up to Natasha to come to the rescue.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): general sickness, gross sludge, mentions of kidnapping, blood and saliva, and horrible grammar

[a/n: This is shorter than I usually like to write, but it was a little harder for me to put together (I'm a wuss and I miss my mom, ok?) but you can't go wrong with a good sickfic!]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Natasha Romanoff hunched over her laptop, the blue light making her eyes water. When she started running the better part of the city, she hadn’t anticipated all of the paperwork that awaited her. There were zoning laws, and countless rolls of red tape. Each shipment from the harbor was accompanied by a ledger, always brittle from the canal air.

She sighed, hugging her robe closer. It was getting difficult for her to concentrate in her office, so she’d relocated to the living room. The television was on, the volume low and keeping her company. She ached impossibly for you, in these moments.

The irony did not escape her. She was the one who had sent you and Yelena across the country for a stuttered shipment of firearms. The two of you together looked unassuming enough to not turn heads in Florida. You’d taken a mini-van, and the last time she checked in, you were in Louisianna, staving off the heat in the hotel room.

Natasha leaned back into the softness of the couch cushions and contemplated calling it a night. She squeezed the bridge of her nose, letting out another sigh that nearly made her lungs twitch. She was drowsy, body heavy with the idea of sleep. But Natasha couldn’t bring herself to move just yet.

She startled awake with the click of the light switch in the kitchen. It was followed by the sound of water streaming from the fridge and into a cup. Natasha blinked a few times. She frowned and looked at the clock. It was nearly two in the morning.

Natasha wandered into the kitchen. She wasn’t shocked to see Ronnie, hungrily gulping down the icy water. Her curled hair fell in ringlets against her shoulders. She was the spitting image of you and it made her heart ache. A smaller, quieter version that had taken a liking to Natasha.

She finished her water with one last gulp and stood on her tip-toes to place the glass in the sink, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Natasha didn’t like the look of her right now. She was paler than usual, a strange brittle stance.

Ronnie was small for her age, an eight-year-old that was shorter than her classmates. It was a point of contention and frustration for her. But you were always gentle with her, softly reminding her that she was beautiful.

Her bangs were stuck to her forehead with a cold sweat. Natasha had never seen the girl like this, not in the two years that she’d been ushered into the household. Dutifully, Natasha knelt until she was at the same level as Ronnie.

“Are you feeling okay, baby?” She rasped, pressing her hand gently against the girls head. She radiated heat, letting out the smallest of whimpers before slumping into Natasha’s touch. Up close, she was frailer, a whisp of a thing.

Oh. Oh God. This was bad.

Natasha felt a rush of panic. She’d never taken care of a sick child before, especially not by herself. Veronica had a stomach ache here and there, a pain in her ear after the three of you went on vacation and she’d gotten waterlogged. But nothing like this.

She contemplated calling Clint. He’d dealt with dozens of runny noses and vomit-filled waste baskets. But, she remembered the time just as quickly as she’d forgotten it. No, this was something she’d have to figure out on her own.

“I don’t feel good,”

Ronnie’s voice was small and gentle, but it was also the saddest thing that Natasha had ever heard. She swore that her heart broke right down the center at the sound, moving her hand to the girls shoulder. It was so frail under her touch.

“milaya devochka” Natasha tsked and scooped her up, placing her on the kitchen island. Ronnie whimpered “I have just the thing.”

Melina was a woman of science, she always had been, but there were a few Russian folk remedies that she adhered to. There was often Garlic broken around the house, and ginger tea that was shoved into her hands at the first sign of a scratchy throat.

Her least favorite, but most effective, revolved around a black radish. Melina would methodically cut the top from the spiced vegetable. She’d core it and filter honey into a cup. It was a rancid mix that would always leave her choking on the taste. The sweetness never outweighed the bitter. But it worked without fail.

By the following morning, Natasha was right as rain.

“chyornaya redka and honey. It won’t taste good, I’m afraid.”

A mason jar was kept in the furthest reaches of the fridge. Yelena would crinkle her nose and shove it to the side each time she caught a glimpse of the dull gray liquid. One spoonful was all it would take, but the overwhelming spice of that single gulp was startling enough.

Ronnie started to play with her fingers, nervously winding them as if they were knots that needed to be untangled. It was a nervous habit, one of her many ticks that Natasha had picked up on over the last two years. It was endearing, really.

She dunked a spoon into the frothy gray sludge. When she turned, she recognized the grimace and the way that Ronnie pressed her lips together. She was just short of crossing her arms over her chest in defiance.

The girl turned her head to the side for extra show, not even letting Natasha get close with the mix. Her breath caught, but it sounded like gravel under a tire. Her chest needed some serious clearing, and Natasha was always willing to be the bad guy.

“Vee, it’s not that bad. Just one spoonful and your fever will break.”

She lifted an unimpressed eyebrow, “you first”

It clearly hurt her to talk. She swallowed twice and winced with each movement. Natasha Romanoff was not going to let a child bully her into taking a spoonful of radish surprise, so sir, she wasn’t. But that tear clouded eyes were boring into the mob boss, cutting, really.

Natasha shifted from one foot to another, frowning at the liquid that slowly started to congeal. It would just get worse the longer it sat. She glared down at the spoon and then back up the unbudging girl on the counter. She certainly was your daughter.

With a reluctant sigh, she clenched her eyes shut and placed the spoon in her mouth. Somehow, it was fouler than she remembered. Somehow spicy and sour all at once. The honey did little to buffer the flavor. Yet, she schooled her features into something unbothered for the sake of Veronica.

“Okay, kiddo, open wide.”

She was met with a skeptical stare, but a deal was a deal. It wasn’t something they took lightly in this house. Veronica had conned Kate out of more than one full-sized chocolate bar on the principal alone.

Natasha dutifully guided the spoon to Ronnie’s mouth, and she gave the kid credit. She swallowed it with tears building in her eyes and a frown that was unmatched, but she swallowed it none the less before producing a grumble and slumping forward into Natasha’s arms.

She was burning up, an immense force of heat that wasn’t prepared for. Still, Natasha acted on instinct and scooped her into her arms, letting the young girl curl effortlessly into the small of her neck, small fingers gripping onto the edge of Natasha’s robe.

“Okay, moy malen'kiy strelok, it’ll be okay”

Natasha wasn’t sure about that, a small bit of anxiety still creeping along the back of her neck. There were a million questions that she didn’t’ have the answer to. What if it was more than just a cold? It could be appendicitis, or the scarlet fever. You’d never forgive her if you came home to a child with consumption.

She’d made it to the top of the stairs by the time her thoughts calmed down. Ronnie was sniffing into her neck with pitiful cries that continued to sink Natasha’s resolve. Veronica’s room was illuminated by a night light, an oscillating fan creating a white noise.

Natasha lowered the drowsy girl back into bed before diligently tucking her in. “I know it’s warm, kiddo, but we have to break that fever of yours.”

“Blaze,” Ronnie swallowed again, voice already sounding clearer “please”

Blaze the Dragon. It was a little on the nose, a dark green stuffed animal that Natasha had picked up in an airport earlier in the year. It was meant as a small gift, an apology for being late, but Ronnie took to it easily. The little dragon went with her everywhere, the stuffing worn around the middle where it was clutched to her little chest.

Natasha pushed Ronnie’s damp bangs from her forehead. She was already cooling down, but her eyes drooped with exhaustion as she hugged the little dragon closer. Her other hand reached for Natasha, holding her wrist with as much conviction as she could muster.

“Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, milaya devochka. I promise.”

And she wouldn’t. All sense of urgency to finish her paperwork had left Natasha. She settled herself on Ronnie’s twin sized bed, the small girl curling into her side. Her warmth was overwhelming, and she shivered as she clung onto her, breathing from a small parted mouth around a clogged nose.

Natasha traced soft line’s down Ronnie’s back and waited for her to fall asleep. Even in a deep slumber, she didn’t’ release her hold. Tears had soaked through Natasha’s shirt, wicking the fabric. There was an ache deep within Natasha’s chest that she could only recognize as undying affection.

Children were never in the cards for her. Not with the childhood she had. She never wanted for a single thing, but that came at a cost. Her family was constantly in danger. There were times where they’d rush from a public place, or duck down in a tinted vehicle.

Melina made encounters like these like a game, but the older Natasha got, the more the cold reality began to sunk in. Those were times of great danger, and she swore to never fall in love, to never put anyone else in an unassuming position.

But then, there was you.

She wanted to call it love at first sight, but that seemed much too dire. Your head was hanging, chin to chest, a steady stream of blood and saliva dripping from your lips and painting your jeans. Your eye was swollen shut, but she noted how your shoulders refused to tremble.

People didn’t tend to look Natasha Romanoff in the eyes, but you had. As best you could, you pulled against your binds and clenched your jaw and disregarded all of your pain just to level her with an unimpressed stare.

It should have caused anger, discontent. This was someone who had wronged her, after-all, but it did the opposite. She was intrigued by you, and you continued to surprise her with every single day. Two years living together, and a ring resting at the back of her side of the closet.

A grumble escaped Ronnie. She cuddled deeper into the perfumed comfort that Natasha had to offer. A string of words leaving her mouth. “Thank you, Mama”

Natasha’s heart seized. Mama.

Veronica was not a girl of many words. She said what she meant, and figured that silence served to convey the rest of her emotions. Little squeals of joy when Kate scooped her up and swung her around, or words of affirmation when Yelena would joking spar with her, were normal.

This was said in a state of grogginess, but meant all the same. It should scare her. But it doesn’t.

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x reader #Mafia au #Yelena Belova #Kate Bishop #Clint Barton #Reader insert #request #natasha romonova #Bishlova #kate bishop x yelena belova

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just-a-ghost00 · 3 months

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Mini PAC - Details about your soulmate/TF using game cards and letters

Group 1 - Cassette

Banana card : they are fruity! If they’re a man, they have big D energy. They are joyful. They come from a warm climate country. Possibly an island.

Bunny card : this person is super cute and lovely. They look like a baby. They are very kind and soft with others. They have a high sex drive. Their teeth and ears could be parts of their body that you like about them. They feel very innocent and vulnerable.

Airplane card : this person likes to travel for fun and/or travels a lot for work. They live at a distance from you. They enjoy fast communication. They are active. They are curious and love to be challenged.

Letters : T H U N L I I O E Z E I C U Y I M A

Words or names I picked up on ( feel free to add more to the list in the comments) :

Liam, Theo, Noah, Noe, Zain, Zina, Zelie, Mona, Mina, Naim, Chloé, Chile, Lucy, Milan, Athene, Luna, China, mole, eye, cutie, cinema, zinc, camel, thyme, chain, lion, Leo, Helio, Nile, mint, maze, hazel, mountain, cunt, aconite, Lyna, Lina, Alice, menace, county, yen, Celine, TMI, TUE(sday), OCT(ober), autumn, Ciel, honey, Luca, Han, menu, hate, anime

Group 2 - Subway

Bicycle and train card : they live at a distance from you but it could be easily accessible. They enjoy traveling and/or they travel for work. They like biking.

Dress card : they are pretty feminine. They like to dress unconventionally. So if they’re a man, they like to wear skirts or high heels, to put on makeup. If they’re a woman, they’re a bit of a tomboy. They enjoy fashion in general. They could be a model.

Dolphin card : they are sociable. Their family matters a lot to them. They are very sensitive and in tune with their intuition. They have a kind and generous heart. They are playful, even flirty. They like water and/or leave near a body of water.

letters : W E E M S A U T T B A E E O R E N R

Words and names I picked up on (feel free to add more to the list in the comments) : tenor, Muse, water, Mona, Mason, Saturn, Beau, war, ram, Taurean, brat, bae, West, euro, won, MON(day), mount, sun, tarot, bus, runes, tan, beast, Roman, Roma, Meteora, Mars, ASMR, Ares, Arena, amore, nature, muerte, mentor, senor, Matteo, master, webmaster, woman, man, Erasme, Bruno, brunette, same, torn, tears, BTS, Naruto, Moana

Group 3 - Snacks

Letters X L N E J E E A O N A H N N L I R W L

Words and names I picked up on (feel free to add to the list in the comments) :

Hélène, Helena, Nia Jax, jail, Leo, Xena, hell, Joan, Joana, Jane, Jean, Jona, jean, Noel, Noe, Noa, lion, JAN(uary), Wall E, halo, hola, hello, Axel, Hoax, Jihane, Will, Jorah, horn, Jael, Jeanne, norn, helix, Halle, alien, Rollex, Rollin, Alienor, Jolie, Rio, Janeiro, Nelliel, Ronnie, Leon, Johann, Neil

Watermelon card : They support Palestine. They come from a warm climate country. They love summer. They love watermelon. They like your juice ;)

Tennis ball card : They are athletic. They enjoy tennis or any type of ball game. They got balls ;) They are swift and fast. They communicate quickly, they are witty and sarcastic.

Socks card : You'd feel very cozy with them. They have an odd but warm personality. They enjoy date nights snuggling by the fireplace or Netflix and chilling. They have cold feet.

#pick a card #pac reading #soulmate reading #twin flame reading #spiritual pac #love pac

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seeingivy · 1 year

Text

ribbons release

actor eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: happiness for once. until it is not. ronnie's love for foreshadowing strikes again.

an: not a fan of this chapter, but we digress. read it and do not kill me if you don't like it.

song: not explicitly mentioned, but this chapter reminds me of about you by the 1975. ratty healy, I hate you but you ate on this one thing.

previous part linked here

“I ju-just sent my loc-location, Eren.”

“I got it, Y/N. I just need you to hold on for ten more minutes, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.”

Seattle is famous for rain. You understand that all too well now. After what you’ve counted as twenty-seven minutes - from when you went to take the trash out to the mailpost you’re hiding behind now - you’re all but soaked. Drenched.

Your phone is blowing up with texts, the rain is only getting harder, and the mini black dress and ribbon in your hair do no favors to keep you warm. You slide out of your call with Eren and quickly scan through the messages, buzzing so loud they’re blocking Eren’s voice.

reiner: so, so proud of you always!!! stop being a big famous pop star and go back to being the little twerp who needs my help killing spiders on set :/

levi: I love you too, kid. And on a real listen, we really do love the album.

armin: ann and i are smelling a triple threat on the horizon. love you to the moon and saturn <3

connie: i was accidentally pooping while i listened to dorothea for the first time and i think the combination of those two things at once gave me like a really visceral reaction. im not ok. u are amazing.

mikasa: u are givg me aneurysm. pls don’t forgor to call me the scnd ur okay.

erwin: Call me ASAP.

erwin: Not urgent. Just feeling emotional about my little Canadian reaching hearts all over the world.

king of bitches (maybe: ryomen sukuna): Fluff shit indeed. Blow me a kiss when you beat James for Album of the Year.

danny: where is the album release post? it’s almost been half an hour.

You have bigger problems at the moment. Like the frozen piece of fabric you’re wearing. You should have named the album sweaters or scarves or something. Then at least you’d be warm. And blend in with the paparazzi.

Fuck.

“W-wait, Eren. Y-you ca-n’t b-be the one to get me.” you murmur, shivering through your teeth.

“Do you want to stay with someone else? I know nice people here. My neighbor is in her late forties and has like two middle school aged girls that are really nice. They’d take care of you, I promise you can trust them and-” he rambles.

“N-no. I want to st-stay with you. But pa-papara-zzi. S-send ss-omeone e-else.”

“Paparazzi? Why are-?”

“Er-eren.”

“Would it be that bad if it was me? Like it has to be someone else, Y/N?”

“Y-yes.”

“I have someone in mind. She’s leaving right now, okay?”

Eren’s sound is muffled over the line now, which has you digging your phone into your ear to catch the ends of what he’s saying.

Blast the heater….butt warmer on before she’s in the car….bring it up and I will kick your freeloading….

“Y/N?”

“H-here.”

“Good. I’m sending her. Don't get upset, this is the best I could do, okay? I-I promise she’s actually nice. You can trust her and-and I’d never send someone who would do something bad.”

“O-okay. I t-trust you. J-just get me ou-out of th-this, please.” you whimper, praying to god the rustling behind you is a rabbit and not the group of them finding you.

“I’m trying sweetheart, okay? She’s speeding. She’s on Main and Third, three lights and she’s there.”

That’s when you see it. The flash of the camera. And hear five consecutive clicks right after. You look around the periphery, before you see two of them, two tall guys speed walking closer to where you’re hiding.

So you do the only thing you can. Stand up and run instead.

You scramble up off the pavement, hiking your dress down, and keep running down the block. Climb up the gates, knock over trash cans to block the way, anything to stop them. And when you look back, after who knows how long, you realize they’re gone.

And sit flat on the messy pavement, finally lifting the phone back up. Only to realize Eren’s no longer on the line because your phone is dead. You drop it straight into your lap and dig your hands into your head, covering your ears to stop the pounding sound of the rain from getting any louder.

God. Just breathe. Whoever is coming to get you is on the way. They’ll come get you and then you’ll be out of this mess.

You hear three resounding clicks and a flash of a light to look up at two different paps, two girls this time, getting a straight on picture of you. And all you can do is put your head down in your lap and cry.

They already got the picture. There’s no point in trying to run out of it anymore.

“Y/N.”

“Pl-please. I’m b-begging you. You already got your picture and can ss-spin it into whatever you want. I-I’m still a person, please. Just let me go.” you respond, the tears blinding your sight of vision.

You feel a towel being wrapped around your shoulders and soft hands lifting you up by your arms. And then all of a sudden you’re in a warm car, being sped out of the neighborhood past the groups of paparazzi in between the houses, and not directly across from them having your picture taken.

You’re in a car. You’re okay. You’re leaving. You’re okay.

You lean back and breathe hard, phantom sobs still racking out of your chest, trying to register that you’re almost there. Safe behind closed, triple locked doors.

“D-did you tell Eren?”

“Yes. He’s not far, we’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Okay. T-thank you. I’m Y/N.”

“Lana.”

You turn your head to actually take in the driver this time, to be met with the Lana you feared. Ricky’s ex-girlfriend, Lana. She has short brown hair - entirely different from her long, beachy waves from the Girlfriend incident - a pointed nose and a very clenched jaw.

“Th-there are more blankets on the floor. I pumped the heater pretty hard, but I’ll turn all the fans your way. And anything you could possibly need is being rushed to the house for you, so just don’t worry, okay?”

“I appreciate it. Thank you for coming to get me. I-I”

“Please don’t thank me. I just-”

She takes a harsh intake of breath and turns to give you a look, her mouth upturned.

“He locked you out, didn’t he?” she whispers.

“Yeah.” you respond.

“What did you do?”

“I told him I didn’t like him back.”

She turns her head towards you, a look of confusion on her face.

“It was a PR thing.”

She snorts.

“Your managers must hate you.”

“I’m starting to think they just might.”

“Well. Don’t feel bad. Not for a fucking second. Just because he likes you, doesn’t mean he’s entitled to you reciprocating back. You like who you like. And if I were you, I wouldn’t stop liking a guy like Eren for a skeeze like Ricky either.”

You lean against the glass, hot air blowing in your face, as you take in her expression - so enraged, so exasperated, so furious that it gives you a chill. But when she looks over and gives you a halfhearted smile, you see the pained expression there too.

That’s when you pinpoint it. Lana reminds you of Historia.

“I’m sorry.” you respond.

“For?”

“You knew he locked me out. He must have done it to you too, no?” you whisper, the tension in the air delicate.

She swallows hard and clenches her knuckles on the steering wheel, eyes laser focused on the red light shining on her face. And beyond the original striking features - her sharp jaw and nose - you see the softness too. The dimples, the wrinkles near her eyes, the light brown freckles.

“I wanted to take time off from acting. It-I did a role that was really traumatic and I just needed a break. And he was just about to go on tour and he wanted me to come to support. Like a little cheerleader.”

“So he locked you out?”

“For two days. He-he’s just. A lot of the fame stuff got to him when he was really little. And now he’s got this convoluted sense of self-image and it just- I don’t know. He’s got problems.” she responds.

“I’m sorry. Really, that’s-”

You stop talking, words failing you. And maybe it’s the way your head was frozen ten minutes ago and it’s being melted now, or that the picture they took is going to leak soon, or that there is no good thing to say to something shitty like this. It only took him three months to turn on you, which you’re guessing is generous now. She must have infinite patience for putting up with it for an entire year.

“In a weird way, I’m glad it’s me and not Eren. You- this does something for me. Making sure you’re not out there for two days, it-it helps me.” she whispers, looking over to give you a smile.

“I really appreciate you, Lana. Thank you. And I-I’m not mad at you for the Girlfriend thing. You had every right to do that.”

“Y/N. I have every right to drag Ricky James’ name through the mud. But not yours. And I- shit. Please don’t tell Eren we talked about this. He’s going to kill me.”

“Why?”

“He told me that if I brought it up, he’d kick me out of his house. I kind of stay there because I-I hate living in our townhouse on set because of how toxic it is and he was nice enough to offer. And he made it very clear that I have to pick you and make sure you’re okay, not make you uncomfortable or anything. We’re here to take care of you and-”

“I brought it up. I’ll deal with him if he gives you a hard time. I used to be really good at that type of thing.”

“I know for a fact that you could tell him to twirl in the air like a show pony and he’d do it.”

“I’ll test the theory and let you know.”

She laughs, giving you a smile which you warmly return. Your phone buzzes in your lap, finally revived, and you send a quick message to Mikasa and Jean before shutting it off.

“I-I didn’t know that it was going to go that far. I knew the song and that we were just going to sing it. Let people speculate it was about you. I-I didn’t know they’d have a girl who looked like you OR bring Eren up on stage. And Eren didn’t know anything about the song or the performance at all - they, they set him up.”

“Why would they do that? I mean, they got horrible backlash in the entire thing.”

“They thought people would like it. And they severely underestimated how much people love you. And they did it because, Eren- he. He doesn’t follow rules and-”

“Follow rules?”

“I’m saying too much. He-he’s going to get mad. Ju-just rest, okay? You’re okay now, we’re two minutes from the neighborhood..”

You give her a questioning look, which she returns with a dismissive shake. Stubborn - she’s Historia alright. You lean back in the chair and reach for the music nob, twisting it on. Only to be met with the Teletubbies Theme blasting through the car and a very flustered Lana turning the knob off.

“Fuck.”

“Teletubbies?”

“I-I can explain.”

“Please. I’d love to hear it.”

She drums her fingers on the steering wheel as the silence hangs in the air.

“Okay. Maybe I can’t explain.”

“No need. I appreciate versatile music taste in prospective friends. Especially classics like this.” you respond, cranking the music back on.

“Friends?”

“Don’t be silly. Not exaggerating, but I think you quite literally saved my life a few minutes ago. You’re like the La-La to my Dipsy.”

“Lame. You’re more of a Tinky-Winky. And anytime. We girls stick together, right?” she responds, reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze. Like Eren.

Did she learn the hand squeezes from Eren? Is he squeezing her hands? They live together so …are they dating?

“We’re here.”

You nod, appreciative of Lana more than maybe any person on god's green Earth, as she pulls into the driveway and helps you out of the car. It’s only after sitting that you’re realizing your legs are so bone dead tired that you’re barely moving on your own.

You move past the hood of the car as Eren walks into the garage, immediately beelining towards you. His hair is long again - it’s always changing every time you see him - and he’s all wound up with tensions sitting in his shoulders. His hands are warm and cupping your face, yanking the cold towel off and replacing it with a warm one.

“Hey. You-you nicked your face, Y/N. And you’re freezing, you-” he whispers, brushing his fingers across the skin near your eye that stings on touch.

Lana holds the door open as he leads you in, arms aggressively moving up and down your shoulders and his face all pinched up in concern.

“You’re good to go? I put your stuff out by the door.” Eren says, gesturing to Lana.

“Is she leaving?” you ask, looking up at Eren.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, it’ll be just us. And I’m sure Mika and Jean will drop everything to fly out for you tomorrow, I can tell them if you need me to and-”

“Well, don’t make her leave. She shouldn’t stay on that stupid set just because of me.” you respond.

Eren looks over and glares at Lana, who is now wide eyed and giving Eren a sheepish smile. Fuck. He asked her not to talk about that.

“Lana.” he says, in a warning tone.

“Eren. Chill out. I didn’t even-”

“You’re so full of yourself, you know that? You- she got drenched and the rain and you were talking about set?”

“It’s not like that! It just came up and-”

“Oh, for sure. You just happened upon it like you were a villager walking in a town square. Ooh Y/N. You just got drenched in the rain and chased by paparazzi, but more importantly, the girls I work with are super bitchy.” he responds, mimicking her voice.

“You-it wasn’t like that! You’re so aggravat-”

“Eren. Leave her alone.” you ask, looking up at him. And you’re sure you must look horrible because he immediately stops when he looks at your face again and signals for her to leave, which she’s receptive to.

“Okay. Lana, text me when you’re there. And check if you were followed on your way out.” Eren says.

Lana stops and holds both of your arms at your biceps, hands soft on your skin.

“Do call me if you need anything, okay? Especially Ricky related. Whatever you do, I’ll back you up, Tinky-Winky. ”

“Thank you, La-La. I’ll take you up on that.” you respond, giving her a warm smile.

“Oh god. No. No, you don’t get to be friends now. Fuck no, Lana. Please stick to the geriatric grandmas you play Scrabble with.”

“You’re just mad they beat you at mahjong last week. Because you’re a prissy loser.”

“And you’re-”

You jab Eren in the side, signaling him to stop, as they both nod and she slides her way out. From the way he’s arguing, the look on his face is so similar to the one he gives Connie when they argue, you know they could go on for years if they got the chance.

“Fuck you, Eren.”

“Eat shit, Lana.”

She flips him off as the door clicks shut behind her, the lack of her presence making you suddenly aware of your breaths. And of Eren, warm Eren rubbing into your shoulders and concerned green eyes staring into yours.

“I like her.” you whisper.

“Me too. Don’t tell her that though, she’s got an ego problem.” he responds.

You laugh, which has him smiling at you, and suddenly you’re sobbing. And on cue, Eren has his arms around you, his touch warm and his voice oh so soft that it kills you. That you haven’t seen him in two months. And haven’t talked to him for longer.

“Eren.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry, it-it’ll be okay. I- we’ll fix this, okay? I’ll call Levi and Hange, whoever you want, they’ll all come and-”

You reach up, tangling your arms around his neck as he keeps nervously talking, trying to hold you closer even though it’s not physically possible. And he’s just so-

So familiar that he feels like home.

“You’re breaking my heart here, Y/N. Please stop crying, I-I’ve got you, okay?” he murmurs, straight into your skin as you nod, trying your best to even out the sobs still leaving you. And slowly but surely, the stream slows and your breath evens out enough to get at least a few words out.

“Okay. Okay, okay. I’m okay.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“As much as I like holding you, you’re freezing. Take a shower first and we can do this all you want, okay?”

You pull back, wiping the tears off your cheeks and giving him a nod. He gives you a small smile, before placing his hands on your shoulders and leading you down towards the bathroom. And you don’t miss all the posters and pictures he has on his walls - one from each season of Attack of Titan, a few of him and Armin, and even one of him and Lana flipping off the camera together.

He pushes you into the bathroom and immediately turns on the shower all the way to the hottest setting, before turning around and putting his hands on his hips.

“Towels, clothes, shampoo. There’s soap in there already and take as long as you want. Sit in here for three days if you have to just- do-do whatever you have to do and-”

You pick up the bottle of shampoo, the lavender scented Pantene, the one that you’ve been using since you were fifteen. And you know, you know that Eren’s atrocious ass uses a three in one hair and conditioner so it’s not his.

“Eren.”

“Hm?”

“Did you just happen to have the brand of shampoo that I use?”

“N-no. Those are Lana’s.”

“Then why are they unopened?” you ask, giving him a smirk.

He glares at you, before rolling his eyes and holding your face. And now he’s leaning so close, so close that your lips are only a few feet away from yours, when he talks.

“You know why you can’t make fun of me for keeping a spare of your shampoos in my house?” he whispers, green eyes burning in yours.

“Why?” you whisper back, stomach lurching.

“Because you’re actually here. I knew you’d come back to me.” he responds, giving your cheek a pinch before walking out.

And when you watch him walk out, giving you one last smile before he shuts the door, you can’t help but roll your eyes. Typical Eren. Funny, irritating, and soft all in one.

He’s the same as you left him.

You pad out of the shower, Eren’s hoodie and sweatpants ridiculously huge on you, as you follow the sweet smell into the kitchen. Eren is leaned over the counter, sliding vegetables into two bowls of ramen as you walk in.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Took a while. Thought you died in there.” Eren responds, pressing his hands to your skin to test how warm they were.

“I almost wish I did.” you respond, laughing.

Except Eren doesn’t find it funny and instead he’s dropping the utensils and standing at your side.

“Y/N.”

“I was joking!”

“Nothing about that was funny. Don’t ever joke about that.” he responds, rummaging through the drawers at your side before pulling out a little tube of gel.

Eren taps the top of the counter, which you jump onto, before he takes his place in between your legs. His hands are focused on reading the instructions, forehead all scrunched up in concentration.

“What’s that?”

“It’s like this…scar ointment or whatever. Helps things heal better, I want to use it on that cut on your pretty face.” he responds, twisting it open and squirting some on his finger.

He brings his hands to your face, eyes intently focused on your cheek. You hiss the second his finger makes contact with your skin, the tingling sensation catching you off guard.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I know it hurts.” he whispers, smothering the cold gel down the side of your eye.

“I-I fell on the pavement. My knees are pretty bad too, Eren.” you whisper, which he nods at.

After he finishes, he’s carefully sliding the ends of your pants off and carefully placing the ointment on each of the jagged marks on your legs. And you eye the bowls of ramen at your side - knowing instantly that the one without mushrooms is yours - and reach for the food. The broth is so warm it soothes the aching feeling in your throat, still seasoned to perfection the way Eren always makes it.

“Eren.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Sure.”

“Are you and Lana dating?”

He looks up from your leg and gives you a devilish smirk. And then starts laughing. Like full on, crouched over, tears from his eyes laughing.

“Okay. It wasn’t that funny.” you murmur, rubbing your hands against the warm bowl and frowning.

“Oh god, Y/N. Jesus-”

“It’s a normal question! She lives with you, you trusted her to come get me, and you guys have a picture together in the hallway.”

“Are you jealous?” he asks, standing up and leaning straight into your space.

“Absolutely not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“You don’t need to get all embarrassed. Watching you kiss Ricky James made me want to break something, preferably his neck.”

You swallow hard at the mention of Ricky again, the thought of him and what happened was so far away because you were with Eren. In his space, in your shared bubble, after so long. And he catches on too fast because he’s already profusely apologizing.

“Hey. I didn’t mean to bring him up, I-I’m not trying to push you into telling me what happened it’s just-”

“No. No, Eren. It’s okay. I know. I-”

You breathe in hard and put the bowl of ramen down and reach for his hands instead. You keep your eyes focused on them - on the little mole on his left hand, the feeling of his knuckles underneath your fingers, and on him squeezing your hands three times before you start talking.

“Ricky and I were faking the relationship for PR. Since London Boy and all that, it was Danny and Sareen’s idea. That-that’s why I stopped talking to you, I-I felt bad. And I was ashamed that I was even doing it, I-I don’t know. The Little Women press and all that, it would just get people to stream and talk. Make me a triple threat. And then today, I- He told me he liked me. And I said I couldn’t do that right now. That I don’t like him back. I went to take out the trash because it was so awkward and then I was going to go home but he- he locked me out. And when I asked to come back in, he repeated the same words to me. That he couldn’t do that right now.”

Eren lifts your hands, still locked with his, and presses a kiss to the top of your knuckles, as you continue. His lips burn your skin, still.

“I was out there and it-it was cold. And then I heard the cars and I saw seven paparazzi trucks, right on the porch. Ricky, his address isn’t leaked. No-no one knew I was there or that he was but they all showed up, right when I was out there and-”

“He called them, didn’t he?” Eren asks, his tone so harsh, so unyielding that it almost doesn’t sound like him.

“Yeah. And I ran, for so long. I- they got a picture. A few, I know they did and I was just so, so scared that I was going to be out there forever, that I was all alone and they were just going to-”

Eren reaches forward, wrapping you in his arms for what feels like the fiftieth time tonight, but you welcome it. Focus on his heart beating under your ear, running your fingers over his fish tattoo on his bicep, and on his soft, steady breaths.

“Eren.”

“Hm.”

“You didn’t say anything. What are you thinking about?”

“What I’m thinking isn’t productive for you to know right now.”

You look up at him, giving him a questioning look.

“Drop it, Y/N.”

“No. Tell me. I’m sure you’re mad and all but-”

“Mad? I’m fucking furious, I’m livid. That he fucking locked you out and left you in the cold. You-you could have been seriously hurt. You are hurt. And not only that, the fucking paparazzi. You-you ran in the cold, you fell, you can’t stop crying and-and- I’m going to kill this asshole when I see him next because it’s his fault you’re feeling like this.”

“Eren.”

“No. Shut up, Y/N. I’m being serious. I-I don’t like seeing you like this and don’t tell me not to. He hurt you. It’s that simple.”

You deflate, knowing Eren too well to know that he won’t drop this. Especially when he’s overly passionate, deep in the feeling right now.

“Okay. But can you just be here for me right now? I need you here and not all….tense and mad. B-Be soft. And warm.”

He stops, the frustration in his forehead dissolving as he takes a breath and smiles at you. Not fully, but it does the job.

“Okay. I can do that. Let’s watch Fruits Basket. And then go to bed.”

“You hate Fruits Basket.”

“But I love you. Enough to watch your weird bestiality adjacent show and pretend to like it.”

You smile and he reaches forward to pinch your cheeks.

“Look at that smile. There she is. There’s my sweet girl.” he whispers, voice all tangled in his throat.

You wake up to an empty bed, Eren’s side cold. And you pull his hoodie on before padding downstairs to find Eren’s phone pressed to his ear. He gives you a wave and points to the plate - a mix of eggs, french toast, and fruits - perfectly placed to perfection.

You give him a smile and he walks off, taking the phone with him. You frown as you watch him disappear, jabbing your fork through the cantaloupe.

What is he talking about that’s so important he doesn’t want you to hear?

You jump off of the stool and quietly pad towards the direction he walked, hiding in the hallway. He’s leaning against the wall, staring at the picture right across - one of Levi and Hange kissing your cheeks at the vow renewal - and angle yourself to hear his words.

“Is he okay?”

“I’m glad. You tell me if you need anything else, okay?”

“Okay, Coco. I missed you too, yeah?”

Who the fuck is Coco?

He hangs up and you immediately scramble back to the kitchen, trying your best to stay inconspicuous as he comes back and gives you a smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes, the expression on his face almost tired.

“Hey sleepyhead. You okay?”

“Mhm. Food is really good, Eren.”

He gives you a smile as he sits at your side, eyes focused on you as you eat your food. He places both of your phones in front of you, and you spot yours with nearly a hundred notifications. But when you reach for it, Eren grabs your hand in the air and locks it on his own instead.

“Just-wait. Eat first.” he says, his tone hollow.

You turn your head to the side and take in Eren’s expression, downtrodden and uncharacteristically unexpressive. The complete opposite of Eren yesterday - moony eyes and soft smiles.

“Eren.”

“Y/N. If I ask you to do this for me, can you trust me and listen?”

“No. You-what’s wrong? You’re being weird.” you ask, reaching for his hand.

He looks over, the look indiscernible, as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“You-I took care of most of it, okay? Levi and Hange are coming. Just, don’t panic. You-it’s okay.”

“Eren. You’re scaring me. Just tell me.”

He takes a deep breath, cracking the knuckles in your hand as he nervously talks.

“You-your pictures leaked. The ones of you running last night. And-and people started speculating really fast - wondering why you were running and crying on the night your album released instead of celebrating it. And-and then Ricky, he tweeted a bunch of things.”

You pale. And reach for your phone, which Eren stops again.

“They’re lies. Obviously. You don’t need to read them, not yet. And Lana told me she’s ready to back you up, whatever you want, when you need it. But, that’s not-”

“What, Eren? Just spit it out.” you respond, frantically.

“They- Ricky’s fans are mad at you. They’re sending you death threats.”

“Oh.”

You deflate, staring at the cold mess of breakfast on your plate. Death threats. Hate, you’re no stranger too. Of people commenting on your looks, how bad your singing is, how lame you are. But wishing you were dead? Full on, unbothered and cursing your existence?

“And not just you, but your family too.” he whispers, watching your face fall.

Your family. Your parents, Colt, Falco-

“Excuse me. What did you just say?

Eren doesn’t respond and the tears fall immediately from your eyes, hot and angry as he reaches forward, immediately swiping them away. His expression's pained, he knows this all too well.

“I sent your family a security detail. Don’t worry. Colt was only minorly injured and-”

You stand up and grab Eren’s shirt, bundling the fabric into a fist in your hands, as you glare at him.

“Injured? What the fuck do you mean injured, Eren?”

He sighs, lifting his hands to move yours, and hold them. You’re still clenching hard, so hard you’re sure you’re drawing blood, but he’s doing his best to uncurl your hands as he talks.

“They threw a brick through the window. And the glass, Colt was sitting right there. I was just on the phone with Falco, he said he’s doing better. The security detailing has medical so you don’t have to worry about that again and they’re both okay and-”

“No part of this is okay, Eren! Quit saying it’s okay when it’s not! They almost killed my brothers.”

“Y/N.”

“No. No, this is horrible, Eren. They-they don’t do any of this stuff. Falco’s barely thirteen. And Colt - he’s going to college. He’s not a celebrity, he’s not a singer, he’s just a student. How is he supposed to go out after this? Why- how is it supposed to be normal? And now, they’re going to be like us. They’re going to feel like they’re trapped in this fucking suffocating ass fish bowl and everyone’s watching and laughing at them and they just-”

“Y/N. Stop. It’s not going to-”

“Falco’s too soft for this. He’s just a kid, Eren. I can’t- no. This isn’t fair. Eren, they didn’t even do anything. They’re literally just related to me, they just love me and they’re getting hurt because of it. You- you’re probably getting dragged in the mud too. Everyone who helps me gets subjected to this, loving me comes with this big thing behind me and I can’t even keep people who get it with me. I let you go when you were the only person who understood and I messed it all up and got myself involved with Ricky James of all people and-”

“Y/N. Stop. Please."

You sit flat on Eren’s floor, head in your hands, and cry, teardrops falling straight onto the floor. And Eren’s sitting there with you, with your big mess of jumbled feelings and mistakes, and trying his best to help you with it.

That’s how Levi and Hange find you two, after pocketing the spare key Eren told them about. After he insistently called them and payed for a private jet, going on and on about how Y/N needed them. And here you two are, despite their original conceived notions that you two were fighting, on the floor, in each other’s arms.

“Some things never change, huh?” Hange whispers.

“Yeah. They keep fucking crying every time we see them.” he whispers back.

Between Levi and Hange - Jean, Mikasa, and Connie who make it out that night - and Eren and Lana, they fix things. Most things.

Ricky’s narrative about you is clear cut - half-true and half-fake. Your team forced him to date you and defend you for PR purposes, after the Girlfriend incident. There was an agreement that you two would write certain songs, make certain appearances, and support each other.

But then Ricky turns the gate. Says that you’ve deeply, severely hurt him. That you led him on, that you used him to boost your own ego, and that you were dangerously obsessed with fame and not him. That you were all things - heartless, fake, that he doubted if you were even a real person. A glorious pop-star, empty and hollow on the inside.

And people jump on it fast. Citing the fact that you would throw away your friendship with Historia to be famous, that you stopped dating Eren when he stopped being successful, that you can go to tours but not to Mikasa or Jean’s birthday parties.

The worst part? Ricky lied, but the things they pointed out were true. Every mistake you make is on display and that people make it a point to draw attention o it. That you really were in too deep, too deep into pleasing Sareen and Danny, and being a triple threat that you forgot that they were all there too.

Eren, especially. Sweet, sweet Eren who saved you, who held you when you needed him.

You look over at him and Lana, the two of them very aggressively debating how to use their last turn of their daily Wordle, and feel your heart deflate.

You dropped the ball. You’ll never make it up to him.

Lana, in her infinite kindness, has chosen to share her own story, as a corroboration for yours. That Ricky taunted, mocked, and harassed her the entire time they were dating. That you're anything but the things he says. Because she’s had enough and she’ll do it to help out her Tinky-Winky. (Much to Eren’s dismay, he hates that you’re both becoming closer as time goes on.)

And to complement the announcement, Lana asked for one thing. To go out in style. You wrote a song with her and promised her that she was going to be the lead actress in the music video. A girl rage moment, like The Man. Danny and Sareen approve the move, making no comments or concerns about anything else that happened, and ask to be involved when the time comes.

You sit on it for a few days. Till you’re ready. But where you are now - with these people - needs to stay for a little longer. Before you brace everything again.

“Yo.”

You smile, opening up space for Connie on the couch for you.

“Hi Con.”

“Deep in your thoughts there, princess. Thinking about how your album is about to go Multi-Platinum?”

“No. Just the entire thing.” you respond, frowning.

Connie rolls his eyes, reaching forward to squish your cheeks way too hard.

“Ricky, when I catch you, Ricky-” Connie says under his breath,

You snort, reaching forward to push Connie off. You focus back on Eren and Lana, who are now pulling each other's hair and a nice string of insults, as Mikasa and Levi brew their tea, entirely unbothered in the back.

And when the screen in front of you flashes, when your third album goes Multi-Platinum after a week of being released, they’re all climbing on you. Jean and Mikasa are hollering in the back, Connie and Lana are jostling you in the air and pressing kisses to your cheek, and Eren, Levi, and Hange smile at you, the three of them enveloped in their own hug, across the way.

You split your separate ways at the end of the week, when you’re ready. Connie, Jean, and Mikasa return to set, Lana and Eren are gone with the wind, and Levi and Hange disappear again.

When you sit on your plane back home, it sits in. How lonely this entire thing is. How a week full of your friends who love you only happened because of this sickening thing. That it's not a given, that they're presence is only in the bad times and almost never the good.

Your phone buzzes in your lap and you pick up your phone to read the notification.

eren: don’t be a stranger. fish like to swim in schools, not alone.

It’s something that rings in your mind, time and time again. When everyone else wins the war, when you keep performing and letting them take and take, for the sake of the work. For the art, for your dream.

And when you give up acting, singing, and dancing at the end of it all and make zero intentions to ever do any of this again, the question still bothers you.

If fish like to swim in schools, why did Eren push you so far away? Why was he so intent on swimming alone? Where you couldn't follow?

eren: I'm not saying that for you. and I know that this is selfish but...

eren: I need you just as much as you need me.

Fucking liar.

next part linked here

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pandorasprongs · 1 year

Text

CHAPTER THREE | so inviting, i almost jump in.

'it's nice to have a friend' masterlist + playlist | previous chapter

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

SUMMARY: jamie and reader go out for drinks and meet a familiar face that brings up a painful memory for both of them.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: i'd like to apologize in advance for this one because the end is just 100% angst so brace yourselves sorry :')

It was like deja vu. Over the past weeks, you and Jamie started hanging out on a regular basis. Late nights and weekends were often spent eating pizza, watching old movies, and searching for old schoolmates online. He even helped you re-organize your room when he arrived during one of your cleaning days. You uncovered a box of old toy rings that Jamie gave you every birthday of yours for five years.

Initially, Jamie would message you if he was on the way. But the more he came over, it went back to your usual habits of him just showing up at your door at random hours of the day. When you weren't home, he'd message that he dropped by and then you'd call him when you got back. He'd race over to watch another one of your favorite childhood movies.

You hadn't realized how much you missed it all till you started spending time with Jamie again. You missed it so much that you may have neglected to mention to Liv how often you were with him. Despite the mini-sermon she gave you weeks ago about confronting Jamie, you hadn't actually made any moves to do it. All of this started to feel normal, regular, and the thought of disturbing that scared you too much. Even if there were times where you were annoyed at how casual he talked about the past few years of radio silence from him. Or how he'd mention his Man City teammates and you felt like tensing up every time.

There was no need to bring it up anymore, something you repeated to yourself. Plus, you were noticing that Jamie was now closer to your childhood best friend than the one who broke your heart. But still, you were cautious around the footballers Jamie associated with. Even when the season started again and Jamie would offer to tour you around the clubhouse or reserve tickets for the games, you'd always politely decline. You're sure the AFC Richmond players aren't terrible people given how highly Jamie would talk about them, but better to be safe than sorry.

Besides, with his now swamped schedule, you hadn’t seen Jamie recently. The most you did was when he’d send messages before training or games to which you’d answer with a “Good luck!” It was weird in the beginning, given that when he was at Man City, Jamie didn’t do any of that, but you hoped that this meant he wouldn’t leave again.

The next time you did was the night after one of their games, which continued their winning streak, thanks to Zava. While you knew Richmond fans — well, Liv and Frankie — were absolutely ecstatic to have him, Jamie despised the guy. You stopped yourself from pointing out the hypocrisy of him hating the player for being self-centered and thinking highly of himself.

You guess it’s working though because now you’re watching Richmond secure their fifth win in a row with your neighbor’s kid, Ronnie. When her mom found out you were a Science professor, she practically begged you to tutor her kid (and occasionally babysit). Ronnie was in primary school, so the lessons were pretty simple and you’ve been doing sessions every week to help her out. You always rewarded her afterward with whatever she wanted to watch on your TV that was age-appropriate, of course. This time, — after running back to their flat to get her Obisanya shirt, — she decided on watching the game.

“Zava’s incredible,” she murmured next to you, staring at the screen as if in a trance. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the reaction. The game was finished and so the channel was just playing match highlights, which for Richmond, were mostly their current star player. Sometimes, you’d spot Jamie in the background and even though the rest of the team was cheering along, he was having a hard time masking his resentment.

When you were finally able to drag her away from the TV, you heated up two plates of lasagna. Ronnie’s mom still hadn’t knocked on your door and you didn’t want to leave her alone in your flat, so she was having dinner with you tonight. For the most part, it was just like eating with Jamie. She was non-stop talking about the match which turned to talking about her favorite players and future games. It reminded you of Jamie as a kid, who’d go on and on about the exact same things.

As you’re washing dishes and Ronnie’s answering some extra worksheets, — she asked for them! — you hear the doorbell ring. You go over and find Jamie standing at the door, much to your surprise.

“Hey! Didn’t know you were coming over,” you say, but after noticing his exasperated expression, you tilt your head. “I know you don’t like a certain teammate, but I thought you’d at least be happy about the win.”

Jamie sighs. “I know." He gives you a weak smile, and you have to admit that even that simple act made your heart skip. “Is that lasagna?”

Jamie enters the room without warning and as soon as he does, your eyes widened remembering who else was there. You turn to the dining room table at the same time as Jamie and together, watch a 9-year-old stare in awe.

“Oh my God,” she let out. “That’s Jamie Tartt!” She walks over to you, leaving behind the worksheets.

You lean over and whisper to Jamie, “Forgot to mention I’m watching my neighbor’s kid.”

But Jamie’s already jumped into celebrity mode. He crouches down and confirms, “That’s me.” He glances at her oversized jersey before asking, “You a fan of Richmond?”

Ronnie nods her head enthusiastically. “I’m Ronnie! Congrats on winning!”

Jamie chuckles, and thanks her. “Nice to meet you, Ronnie.”

You hear someone approach the door and clear their throat and you turn to find Ronnie’s mom looking curiously at you. You turn back to Ronnie — who has now launched into a full monologue about how much she loves the team — and exclaim, “Look who else is here! I think it’s time to head back to your flat, Neens.”

She pouts at that statement, but one look from her mom and she was waving goodbye to the player. You quickly collect all of her stuff scattered around the place and hand it to her mom, who seems too exhausted from her shift to even notice the other person in the room.

Once you close the door, you lean on it and sigh in relief. “Sorry about that. I sometimes watch her after tutoring if her mom isn’t back, yet.”

Jamie shakes his head. “Nah, not a problem. I love meeting fans. Real ego boost.”

Yet another countless eye roll. “Calm down. You’re not even her third favorite player.”

Jamie scoffs, almost offended but after remembering the lasagna, he heads to the kitchen for a plate of his own. You walk beside him and after tripping over a loose marker Ronnie left, you fall forward. Jamie's reflexes kick in and he catches you quickly and you grab hold of his — really broad, you notice — shoulders to steady yourself.

Now you're stuck in a position that happens in almost every 90s rom-com you've watched: your feet diagonally off the ground with Jamie's hands gripping tightly at your waist. Both of you are too much in shock to move and simply look at each other with wide eyes. Your faces were close, too close to be platonic if it was intentional. So much so that if you leaned forward, just a little bit…

You snap out of the trance and move to stand straight up as Jamie lets go of you. You head over to the sink and quietly curse at yourself and that stupid blue marker. Things haven't been weird between you and Jamie for ages. And you weren't going to let the possible resurfacing of your feelings ruin that. Not again. Plus, if you were already burying your old feelings of resentment, why not add onto it too?

You go back to washing dishes when Jamie asks you a question. "Are you doing anything Saturday night?"

Given what just happened, your mind wanders off in the romantic direction before you shake your head. Instead, you respond, "I think you know better than anyone that I never do anything Saturday night." You reply as you wipe your hands. "Why?"

"Just wondering if you want to get a drink with me. Well, you get a drink and I get water 'cause fucking Roy’s banned me from alcohol till the season’s over. I just really need a night out. Fucking Zava, I swear." Forget the fact that he was technically at a night out with his teammates earlier; he more of just wanted a night out with someone who isn't so related to his football life. Or, he just really wants a night out with you.

You snort at that last comment but oblige anyway, ignoring the feeling of disappointment.

Jamie and you had only ever hung out together in the comfort of your own home. You'd just assumed that it was to avoid any unwanted press and since the bar he mentioned was one of those members-only pubs, it makes sense that the first time the two of you hung out publicly was there. But seeing as it was a pub, it's not going to be a romantic not-a-date date that you'll be going on.

Though, you soon realized how different it was from your usual places. Everyone there was dressed up so formally and you were glad that you picked the black trousers that you usually only wear to work over your everyday jeans that had paint stains at the bottom of them. Maybe you had worn it in case Jamie at the last minute decided to take a detour to a nice restaurant, but you were relieved either way.

The two of you ended up just sitting in the bar while Jamie complained about his most recent Twitter feud. Christ, you pray for Keeley Jones for having to deal with all his PR nonsense. When he starts shit-talking Roy for getting him up at 4 am for training, — “I thought he was joking!” — you end up tuning out of the conversation knowing how long the rant was going to be.

Your eyes drift off behind Jamie when you notice a familiar face. Suddenly, it felt like the walls were closing in on you. You could feel your breathing hitch and your fingers were scratching the inside of your palm. Before you could even consider doing anything, he reached you.

"Jamie Tartt!" The footballer's train of thought is broken and he turns to his former teammate to greet him. "Haven't seen you since you went off to be a reality star!"

Jamie simply rolls his eyes at the comment. "Well George, I haven't seen you since they forced you out of Man City!"

"They couldn't afford me anymore," He shrugs before his eyes land on yours. You shift in your seat and you can see the exact moment when Jamie notices how uneasy you've become. "And who's this with you?"

He doesn't remember you. And why would he? To him, you were just another crazed fan at a pub, one of many he's encountered over the years. You doubt that the memory of that night stuck with him the way it did to you.

"This is (Y/N), an old friend of mine," Jamie adds carefully and you build up enough courage to shake his former teammates' hand, but not enough to stay in this conversation.

"I'll let you two catch up while I get another drink." You explain, in an obviously fake cheery voice, but only Jamie spots it. He reaches out for your hand on the table to comfort you, but you swipe it away before he can.

You head off to the other side of the bar to order another beer, but you can't stop your eyes from shifting over to the pair of them again. Jamie looked so comfortable laughing and talking to George. You scoff at the sight. How could he act so chummy with that guy when he was the driving force for why the two of you ended on shitty terms in the first place?

Jamie's told you all about how he's been working on himself and trying to become a better person, but a part of you still feared that one interaction with that guy would unravel everything. He was an absolute prick; the number of fights and scandals Jamie had been in for his entire career was nothing compared to the amount George had in his first five years.

You wanted to trust Jamie, but he was always quick to change who he was when he was around certain people. You just hoped he had grown enough to not let his Man City "mentor" — too many of George’s scandal photos had a 19 to 22-year-old Jamie Tartt in the background — bring back the side of him he's tried so hard to erase.

You don't know how long they were talking, but by the time they moved over to the pool table, your vision was already starting to blur. The drinks just kept coming. Flashbacks from that night started to come in too: the spotting Jamie in the crowd, the confrontation, the holding back of tears, and the walk-out. You couldn't look over at the pair of them without an intense pain appearing in your chest.

Jamie looked back to where you were supposed to be seated and found you spacing out into a corner. It was the same dreamy and tired look you had the first time you tested your alcohol limit when your parents were out of town. Immediately, he abandoned the game of pool and rushed over to you.

"Maybe that's enough alcohol for tonight." Someone pulls the Cosmopolitan from your grasp and you squint your eyes to identify them as Jamie.

"Ha, that's rich coming from you." You can't remember how many times you've had to help Jamie sneak up the stairs and into his bedroom after a night out. "Aren't you still busy hanging out with that Man City prick?" Lack of tactfulness is the most obvious sign you'd drank too much.

"Woo, a little harsh there," You hear George come up to the two of you. You rush — well, more of stumble — forward to confront him, but Jamie holds you back. The retired footballer points out, "She's a feisty one."

"Let's bring you back to your flat, yeah?" Jamie offers softly, but you remove yourself from his arms and shake your head.

"I am perfectly capable of getting home by myself." You grab your clutch from the table. "Don't want to ruin another night for you guys, right?"

A pang of guilt visibly hits Jamie, but George is just left confused. You start to walk towards the exit and get to the door till you feel someone gently take hold of your left arm.

"You can't even see your phone clearly to book a taxi. I'll drive you home." Jamie's voice is low and whatever common sense you have left takes him up on your offer. He turns his head to say goodbye to George, but all the former footballer does is shout, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" following by a boastful laugh.

You clench your clutch at the comment, but Jamie brings you out the door before you can turn back and do something that'll land you on the front page of the Sun the next morning.

When you get to Jamie's car, he carefully helps you into the passenger's seat and puts on your seatbelt before getting into the car himself. Once the car starts, you take the chance to close your eyes in an attempt to remedy the throbbing headache you feel is already coming on.

You don't know how long you stay like that, but when you open your eyes, you're already at your building. You slowly get out of the car and once you make it to the sidewalk, Jamie asks, "Can’t believe you just downed a dozen drinks like a recent divorcee."

"I wonder why," You scoff and side-eyed him, unwilling to move your head from looking forward. You see the footballer's expression drop and suddenly you understand what Liv was going on about. You finally break. "How could you still be so friendly with him, Jamie! He’s an absolute arse and everyone in England knows it!"

"He was my teammate! And still a major name in football, even after retirement and all the shit he’s done. I didn't want to risk anything!" Maybe if you were sober, you'd accept that reason. There were countless alumni, tenured professors, and chairmen that you had to suck up to just to keep your job. But were drunk people ever known to be rational?

"Is that why you let him talk to me like that? Back in the pub?"

"You two barely spoke a word to each other," Jamie points out but you shake your head furiously.

"I mean back in Cardiff!" You exclaimed loudly and you knew for a fact that at least one of your neighbors had heard your outburst. But you didn't really care.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You went to walk up the stairs, expecting it to be the end of it. If Jamie didn't have anything to say, then what was the point? He'd let you walk away and tomorrow morning, you'd be back to normal and you can just pretend this night didn't happen. You've done it before.

"You said you didn't want to talk about that." Jamie finally speaks up.

"I thought I didn't," you admit, your voice levels lower than before. You continue walking when you feel a presence following suit. You stayed in that silence till you made it back to your flat. It's a miracle you didn't tip over on the way in, but spite was enough to power you through.

Jamie closed the door behind him and sighed, "I couldn't just ignore him at the bar."

Suddenly, any fear of confrontation seemed to disappear. Your anger resurfaced and you spit out, "You seemed just fine ignoring me for seven years." You turn to face him and for a second, the pitiful look in his eyes almost made you back off. Almost. "Or is abandoning your best friend easier when she's not some big-shot footballer?"

"I know you're mad," Jamie starts and you angrily run your hands through your hair.

"Yes, I'm mad, Jamie!" You shout and you watch him take a step back, but you don't falter. "I'm mad at you! Seeing George tonight just reminded me of it and how a part of me still fucking hates you for taking their side."

"I've been trying to apologize—"

"I know, Jamie, but I'm still pissed at you, okay? For leaving me like that! And for letting me leave that night! I mean, how could you? Just throw away a decade of friendship for some football assholes that threw you away the second they could." Everyone knew how Jamie's career with Man City ended and it was surely a sore spot for the player, but at that moment, you didn't care.

Before Jamie can even defend himself, you start again. "I... fuck Jamie, I loved you. You were my best friend. I would've spent every waking hour with you if I could've. But you couldn't care less about me, right? The moment someone more famous than me believed in you the same way I always did. You just stopped answering my calls, and my texts, and even my parents when they asked you for me! Worst of all, you didn't give me a single reason why!

"Honestly, I would've been fine if you did stop being friends with me, as long as you gave me an explanation. Even if it was for some stupid reason that I wouldn't understand or hate you for, because at least I could've moved on! Instead, I spent years wondering where it all went wrong. If I could've done something, anything to change what happened." You start to feel the strain on your throat and know for a fact that at least one of your neighbors would be eavesdropping, but you were finally letting it out.

Your voice comes out hoarse, "And then the next time I did see you, in that pub, you were a whole new person. A complete and utter prick, Jamie. After that night, I prayed that you'd come to your senses. Do the decent thing and apologize, even if it was just a fucking text or something. But no, you kept ignoring me and pretending I didn't even exist. So I forced myself to stop thinking about you. To stop caring about you calling me. To stop dreaming about you telling me you fucked up and that you were sorry. So I could move on with my life."

You look away from Jamie and around the living room in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing down. You were unsuccessful. "And after years, I did move on. I went to London, got a job, and stayed as far away as I could from football. From you. But God, you always find a way back to me, huh?

"It just had to be you who found me in Nelson Road that night. It had to be you who picked me up, who drove me home, and reminded me how happy I was when we were kids. So much so that I thought I'd be fine without an apology! As long as I had you back in my life, it'd be fine. But as you can tell now, it's not." The amount of alcohol in your system was wearing you down and you were starting to get tired.

You start to lose your balance when Jamie's there to catch you, but you harshly push him off you. He doesn't seem affected by your strength, but even then, he moves back.

"Just get out, Jamie." is all you manage to say this time and after hesitating for a moment, he does. Now you're left alone again, only with your thoughts and the realization that any chance of bringing back what you had with Jamie was gone.

A/N: and that's that! i hope this teases the interlude nicely cause i'm sick of being so vague about that night since that's up next and trust me, it gets worse in that one... anyway i hope you all enjoyed this one!

TAGLIST: @moonflowersandsparkles @faith-alons26 @rexorangecouny @aiyaiy @thegirlthatwantedtowrite @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @higherthanheroes @guccilongboard @alipap3 @rockchickrebel @ellietartt @shineforever19 @skewedcherries @jamirtarttdodo @meg-ro @deepdarkvelvet @scaramou @rae4725 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo (couldn't tag you for some reason?)

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt fanfic #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt angst #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #it's nice to have a friend series

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