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#scream XI x reader
casiia · 1 year
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OMG OMG OKAY HEAR ME OUT. ghostface ethan edging reader after reader receives a phone call from him…!!?!?!?!!!
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[ 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 ੈ✩‧₊˚ ]
pairing .: ethan landry x reader
genre .: suggestive content
word count .: 2k
warnings .: smut-ish (minors dni.), contains scream XI spoilers! scream plotline, threatening, mentions of a knife, soooo unedited, kissing, lingering touches, dry humping
author's note .: maybe planning on making another part to this <3 i have no idea if this is what was actually requested, but i had a lot of fun writing this! took a massive break from writing and i think i’m back, this is probably very ooc and might make no sense but i have zero experience writing thriller things like this idk. dialogue was used from the 1995 (or 7) scream movie. accepting constructive criticism, reblogs are appreciated. 
© casiia 2023 DO NOT REPOST OR PLAGIARIZE MY WORK
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“hey, pretty girl.”
pulling the phone away from your ear confused, you checked your screen to see who was on the other line, frowning slightly when you saw no contact.
“who is this?” setting the home phone back on it’s stand, you let the call ring out on speaker, turning your attention back to the stove.
“there’s no fun in telling you who i am just yet, why don’t you answer a few of my questions first.”
rolling your eyes, you shook the pot once more before turning to lean against the counter, the buttery smell of popcorn filling your nose. “why should i do that?” speaking over the loud crackles and pops coming from the fire, you moved around the island to grab a bowl.
“it’ll be fun. so tell me, what’s your favorite scary movie?”
“hm, i don’t know.” pouring the yellow kernels into the large bowl, you popped a few pieces into your mouth with a satisfied hum. grabbing the phone and turning it off speaker, you pressed it between your ear and shoulder, balancing the device steadily. “maybe, halloween? think that’s the one where that guy stalks the babysitters.”
“you think it was scary?”
“i guess, anyways. tell me who you are now.” ungraciously falling onto the couch, you picked at the pieces of popcorn that had fallen into your lap, licking your lips with a smile as a salty taste covered your tastebuds.
“can’t do that princess, haven’t finished asking my questions.”
“then hurry up and ask them already.” annoyance showing on your face, you reached across the many throw pillows and grabbed the remote —  clicking through the channels with disinterest, before going to browse your downloaded pick of scary movies.
“you got a boyfriend?”
eyebrows raising in shock, you stilled with a quiet laugh. “why, wanna ask me out on a date or what.” you teased the person on the other line, shifting in your seat as you began to ponder who you were really talking to.
“we’ll see, do you have a boyfriend?”
“no.” placing the overflowing bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, you stood to make way to your room, keeping the chunky phone against your ear.
“that’s a shame, such a pretty one you are.”
biting back a smile, you switched the light to your room on; bending down to open your drawer of pajamas, you tossed an oversized shirt onto your neatly made bed. “you gonna be this charming to me when i find out who you are?”
“maybe.”
“got anymore questions for me, or can i start guessing who this is.” unbuttoning your jeans, you kicked the pair of uncomfortable pants off . turning the speaker back on, you tossed the phone onto your pillow, pulling your tank top up and over your head before slipping on the big shirt.
“go ahead, you’re giving me such a good show.”
“what are you talking about?” picking up the dirty clothes that you had left stranded on your floor, you walked into your connecting bathroom, putting the clothes in your dirty hamper.
“hm, that’s a nice shirt you’re wearing. where did you get it?”
eyes widening in surprise, you slowly turned back into your bedroom, your knuckles white as you gripped onto the phone. “can you see me?”
“ah what a good girl! putting her brain to some use.”
“if you can really see me, how many fingers am i holding up?” walking up to your window, you peered outside trying to get a good look. sticking out your middle finger, you squinted as you stared into your dark backyard, trying to piece together unfamiliar shadows. 
“funny, one.”
“shit.” shutting your blinds in hurry, you stumbled out of your room, quickly heading back downstairs. “who is this, jason?”
“from econ? no.” 
“you better leave me alone, my boyfriend is coming over soon.” closing the blinds to your backdoor, you shuffled into your kitchen, grabbing a large knife. “he’s strong, s-so get out of here!” 
“i thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend?” 
“w-well i lied!” locking your front door, you turned down all the lights, curling into a corner, knife in hand. your breath was ragged, eyes darting from place to place in worry. “tell me who you are before i call the police.”
“quit being such a brat, the fun isn’t over just yet.”
chewing on your lip, tears lined your waterline as fear overtook you. anxiety creeping up your throat with every shallow breath you took. “this isn’t funny.” you flinched at the loud noise emitting from the buzzing device, a staticy and robotic laugh filling the eerily quiet apartment. 
“you look so cute with that knife. what’re you gonna do, stab me?”
“show yourself, you coward!” standing from the hardwood floor, you paced around the kitchen, blinking away any tears that threatened to spill down your pink cheeks. frustration and anger burning in your chest, when the anonymous caller laughed again.
“careful what you wish for.”
a loud ringing echoes from the phone as the call ends, the wind whistling against the windows has you whipping your head to each sudden noise. pressing yourself up against the wall, the knife that you held a safe distance away from you.
“where are you, motherfucker.” your voice just barely above a whisper, you jumped at the sound of your doorknob rattling – a fist loudly knocking against the wood of your door. “go away! i’ll kill you.”
“baby? hey, what’s going on it’s just me.”
“ethan?” letting the knife drop to the marble of your kitchen countertop, you winced at the loud clang. running to your front door, you stood on the tip of your toes, peering through the peak hole to see your boyfriend awkwardly standing in front of you. twisting the lock, you threw the door open before jumping into his arms.
“what’s wrong? did you forget i was coming or something?” pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, he circles his arms around your waist with a hesitant laugh. 
“no- no. this guy just prank called me, i was so scared.” pressing your face into his shoulder, you gripped onto his coat, muffled sobs racking from your chest. “he saw me, ethan.” 
“no, pretty, don't cry. i’m sure it was just some sick joke.” gently pulling you away from his tearstained coat, he cradled your face in the palm of his hand; wiping your wet cheeks, he pressed a light kiss in between your brows. “relax, no one’s gonna hurt you as long as i’m here.” 
“can you stay the night?” leaning into his touch, you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you. “don’t think i can sleep without you.” twirling his thick brown hair between your fingers, you sighed heavily, relaxing in his embrace. 
“of course, i was planning on it anyway.” adjusting the bag on his shoulder, he squeezed your hip once nudging you inside your apartment. “don’t want these creeps lookin at you, especially without pants.”
shaking your head with a smile, you wiped your remaining tears with the back of your hand, sniffling quietly and shuffling back inside. “lock it, please.” grabbing his bag, you tossed it onto the sofa, the sound of a lock clicking easing your shoulders.
“you were really scared, huh.” ethan laughs at the abandon knife on the counter, picking it up and putting it back with the other collection of cooking knives. 
“i was, that was the creepiest interaction i’ve ever had.” dragging your hands down your face with a huff, you walked over to your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your face into his back. “y’should jus’ move in with me.” your words muffled, you felt his chest rise and fall with another laugh.
“i was the one that made that request, i’d rather live with you than chad.” he loosened your arms around him, dragging you around his body so you were caged between him and the counter. “i am really sorry you had to go through that, did you call the police?” 
“no, i think there are worse things to worry about. it was just some silly call.” rubbing your arms nervously, you took a deep breath, reassuring yourself of any crazy thoughts. “i don’t want to talk about it anymore, how was your day?” pulling yourself up on the countertop, you shuddered lightly when your bare skin met with the cool marble. 
“uninteresting, just caught up in some classes, i missed you a lot.” moving in between your legs, he dragged his fingers against your thigh, teasing the hem of your shirt higher up your leg. “is this mine? i’ve been looking for it.” inching his hand up your shirt, he squeezed your hip, his thumb trailing along the lace of your panties. 
“mhm, it’s comfortable. didn’t think you’d miss it much.” sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you placed your hands on his chest, drawing little circles into his shirt. looking up at him through your lashes, you licked your lips, your fingers settling at the base of his neck. “ethan…”
“what is it, baby.” bringing his other hand up to your cheek, he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “want me to stop?” moving to retract his hand that found it’s way under your shirt, he looked down at you with worried eyes, scared that he had read the room wrong. 
“no! no. i want you, ethan.” grabbing his wrist, you bring his large hands back to your body, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to his collarbone. “do you— do you want me?” guiding his hands under your shirt, you whined softly, his cold fingers grazing your stomach. 
“oh fuck.” mumbling under his breath, he pressed his lips to your forehead, glancing down at your exposed panties; pretty and pink, decorated with a white lace, a small bow stitched right in the center. 
“gonna answer my question?” trailing along the seam of his belt, you played with the hem of his shirt, your lips lingering on his skin with every word you mumbled. 
“i do, baby. let me make you feel good.” rubbing up and down your sides with a light chuckle, he gently patted your waist. “you deserve it, such a good girl.” 
tugging at the collar of his thick coat, you pressed your soft lips to his with a happy hum, your fingers entangling in his curly brunette hair. swiping your tongue against his bottom lip, you brought your hand up to cup his jaw, pulling him impossibly closer to you. 
ethan grinned against your lips, snaking his arm around your waist to grind his clothed crotch against your damp panties. “s’wet for me, haven’t even done anything to you yet.”
gasping into his mouth at the roll of his hips, you squeezed your thighs around his waist yearning for more. “please, ethan.” your words blurred together as you continued to kiss him – you tugged lightly on his hair with a mewl, the bulge showing in his jeans nudging your clit.
“so needy, can’t wait–”
a deafening ring cuts him off, his phone softly buzzing in the pocket of his jacket. letting your hands fall from his hair and atop of his shoulders, you shook your head with concern. “ethan, no.”
“relax, i bet it’s just chad.” giving your thigh a reassuring squeeze, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the red phone. tilting his screen, he showed you the number on the screen, one that he had not previously saved. “recognize it?”
“no, i wasn’t shown a number.” anxiously playing with your fingers, you kept your eyes glued to the vibrating phone. “put it on speaker.”
nodding at your request, you watched him accept the call, letting it play out loud. “who is this?” 
“hello, ethan. what’s your favorite scary movie?”
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🏷 .: @loaksbitch @sullybby @vmptears my stinky ethan landry apologist
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subbypeterparker · 9 months
Note
Hi!, I was wondering if you could do NSFW headcannons for Ethan Landry 🤭
Ugh you guys know just what to ask me 😫
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warnings: NSFW below the cut!!
first things first, this man is 100% a complete and total sub
let’s be honest, with me we knew this was coming ;)
big on being pinned down ;) doesn’t matter if it’s through actual restraints, or your hands, he’ll be a blushing mess
such a sleeper after sex. as much as you’d love to do proper aftercare, he just instantly falls asleep (don’t worry, you take care of him as soon as he wakes up)
Ethan might be the biggest crier known to man (i’m biased, and think all puppy dog eyes give off that energy)
omfg there is nothing prettier than his eyes when the poor thing tears up
whiner (VERY vocal)
it’s a goddamn miracle chad hasn’t complained about the noise when you two fuck, as Ethan is the loudest person ever
moans, groans, whines, pleas and begs; he does it all, and does it very well
huge on getting choked. breath play is possibly his biggest turn on, and the simple feeling of your gentle hands wrapping around his neck just gets him going
into knife play…but only slightly! he doesn’t want his skin to actually be pierced by a blade, but the uncertainty of what you’ll do to him has him arching into the blade
he thrusts his hips a lot by accident, and usually while he’s inside you somehow (might end up being too rough, and you have to pin him down)
i’d like to think he’s very very sensitive (nipples, his pretty little tip, everything 🤭)
mommy and ma’am kinks. i will take no further arguments, he’s so so into things like that
“yes mommy” is his voice omg 😵‍💫
not big on fluids like spit, but oh my lord is he into cum play
however, he’s not 100% against the idea of you spitting in his mouth
big stutterer when he’s so into it. can’t form sentences, much less actual words
fully convinced he’s an everything man. boobs and butts, never just one
this just means he’s handys with everything he can reach, and you can fully expect him to have his mouth all over you, leaving hickies as he moves
honestly is into role play. as a nerd, his biggest thing is having his partner dress up as a character he fantasizes about
bonus points if it a dominant woman
very into humiliation. sitting with all your friends, while your hand secretly strokes his cock, and all the poor thing can do is sit there and take it
he’s the world’s #1 praise fan!! you heard it here first: whether it’s praising you (“god you feel so good”) between moans, or when you praise him (“baby you’re doing such a good job”), his brain goes numb, and he just becomes your toy to play with
he is however very into degradation, especially if you tie it in with hitting him 😋
pain. kink.
leave bruises and bite marks all over him, and this man will cum on the spot
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
he is possibly my new favourite person i will write for (dw though, peter is here to stay 😋) but jack champion is just the sweetest guy i’ve ever seen, and i’m considering writing for him too (but it would just be fluff and angst)
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astraystayyh · 1 month
Text
Burning in the winter wind
changbin x reader. (fake) enemies to lovers. hurt/comfort but it’s a light fluffy read!! college!au. lowkey romcom vibes (i tried 😭) wc: 4.4k)
summary : Sustaining an ankle injury during a ski retreat isn't fun. Especially when Seo Changbin volunteers to stay back to tend to you- the one man you can never get a read on.
a.n: sahar finally writing a fic that doesn’t take an emotional turn… we cheered!!!!!!!!!!!!! my 3rd fic for the winter falls collab with my writer :,) if u haven’t checked out xi’s fics yet what are u waiting for!!!!! please enjoy reading, i hope you’ll like this one too <3 i love you muah
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“Are you okay?”
It is quite difficult to roll your eyes when your face is pressed against the snow, you’ve found, so much so you're sure you’re breathing in dainty snowflakes rather than the intended oxygen. 
A dull pain emanates from your right ankle, the very one you just twisted while attempting to ski down a sled, making you plummet head-first into the hard ground. Despite how soft snow looks as it blankets the earth in a pristine white, it is quite incapable of cradling your fall. Instead, its snowflakes seem to liquefy, filtrating through your clothes and making a biting cold cascade down your spine. 
Clearly, you are far from okay; hence, your eyes roll in a silent protest at the stranger’s questioning, though they cannot see you. If you further bury your head in the snow and do not move, would they think you are a collective hallucination and spare you the embarrassment of helping you?
“Um, should we call an ambulance?” 
Clearly not. 
“I'm peachy!” you throw a thumbs-up in the air, not bothering to lift your face off of the ground, you’re sure that by now the blank canvas beneath you has reluctantly molded itself to the contours of your face. 
Much prettier than a snowman, you’d personally argue. 
“Are you sure?” the tentative voice quips up again and you suddenly feel bad for ignoring this passerby, now stuck comforting an odd person whose limbs are not adequately crafted for skiing.
“Yeah,” you finally turn around, realizing that the pain in your ankle will not disappear, even if you choose to ignore it. “Just resting, on the snow. The view is nice from here, you know.”
The stranger backs away subtly at your words, and you chuckle inwardly. 
“I got it.” Someone else speaks from your left and their voice carries a familiarity that drapes an uncomfortable weight atop your lungs. You pivot your head incredibly slowly, locking eyes with none other than Changbin. 
You scoff outwardly. 
“Need help?” he asks, hovering above you like a shadow. 
Changbin was once your partner in a lab chemistry project, he is also the one person you now avoid most in college. 
So, you do what any sensible person would in your place— you turn away, once again pressing your face into the comforting oblivion of the snow.
“I… can still see you.” His words linger, hesitating in the crisp winter wind, and you respond with a (now more effortless) roll of your eyes.
“I know.”
“Then, what are you doing?”
“If I pretend you are not here long enough, will you finally tire and leave me alone?”
“No.”
“Fine,” you huff, turning back once more. You summon the resolve to finally push your torso up from the pits of your embarrassment, before glancing down at your ankle, only to find that it has doubled in size. An angry scream bubbles up in your throat, but you will yourself to tame the fire within— if you think slightly more about your situation, you’d burst into tears right here and then.
“That needs to be treated,” Changbin states simply, his eyes also locked on your injury. You shut your eyes closed, forcing a deep breath to travel through your lungs. The oxygen you just inhaled seems only to fuel your anger more. 
“I actually think it’s fine,” you put on the brightest smile on your face, yet your eyes refuse to follow the movement of your lips, making you look like a catatonic doll. You hope that’s enough to make Changbin go away. 
“Who are you lying to?” he cocks an eyebrow at you.
You’re wrong. Again. 
His self-assured tone further aggravates you, so you will yourself to stand up, wincing as soon as your right foot touches the floor. You bite your lip hard enough to draw out blood, the metallic taste of it coating your tongue uncomfortably. 
“See, I can stand!” you say cheerfully and he crosses his arms before his chest, clearly unimpressed. “Try walking.”
“I actually wanna stay here.”
“Still as stubborn, I see,” he sighs, before bending his knees slightly. Next thing you know, you’re scooped up in his arms, your hands wrapping around his neck instantly. 
“What are you doing?” you ask incredulously, eyes darting furiously over his face. 
“Carrying you to the infirmary.”
“I can see that,” you say between your teeth. “I said I'm fine.”
“You clearly aren’t.”
“What are you? an ankle expert?” 
“When your parents own the ski resort you kind of become one,” his eyes meet yours once, still as emotionless as they’ve always been when they gaze at you. 
“Do your parents own this?” you clear your throat, surprise overtaking your tone. 
“Yeah.”
“Can you tell them to upgrade my room to a suit, then?” you bat your eyelashes at him, your smile as sweet as saccharin. 
“You literally buried your head in the snow two minutes ago because you wanted me gone.”
“Exactly,” you nod vigorously, “that was two minutes ago, I am a changed person now.”
“Yeah?” he smirks slightly, the corners of his mouth almost tugging upwards. “What changed?”
You shrug as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I didn't know your parents owned the resort.”
☃︎⋆꙳•❅
“It's not broken, thankfully, just sprained. You need to ice it, and not put any pressure on it. Keep your leg elevated at all times, and avoid walking at all costs.” Maria’s voice reaches your ears in waves, the pain in your ankle making it harder to grasp what she’s instructing you to do. Still, you easily understand that all your winter break plans are now officially ruined. 
“But I wanna ski,” you pout at the fifty-something nurse who smiles sympathetically at you, handing you a cooling balm. 
“You shouldn’t have fallen then.” Changbin deadpans before she can reply and your right eye squints in annoyance. Maria catches it and winks at you. 
“You shouldn’t have fallen then,” you mimic, voice high-pitched. He simply shakes his head, a ghost of a smile appearing for a second on his lips, before disappearing promptly. 
“Thank you, Maria,” he bows slightly, his voice sounding kinder when it speaks to everyone but you. 
“Welcome, baby,” she squishes his cheeks before patting them gently, and you stifle a giggle at the blush sprouting on his face. 
Maria leaves the room, stating that she has another patient to check up on. Your eyes remain downcast, glaring at your ankle as if it’ll scare your body back to health. 
“You'll burn a hole into your skin at this rate,” he comments, his hand suddenly appearing in your line of view. You sigh in defeat before reaching for his hand, intertwining fingers as he aids you in rising. His arm becomes a secure anchor around your waist as he guides you toward the elevator. There, he inputs a code on a small panel before pressing button 44.
“That's not where my chamber’s at.”
“I know, I had them move your stuff to the penthouse,” he explains simply as your heart skips a traitorous beat. 
“Actually? I was just kidding; I don't want an upgraded room.” 
“I wanted to,” his eyes locked on yours, a myriad of stars seemingly swimming in his pupils. “It has easier access for you since it opens up directly in the room.” 
“I'll pay you back. How much is the difference?” 
He leans in, whispering a six-figure number in your ear and you feel your knees buckle underneath you. 
“That much?” your face pales and he nods. “You still want to pay me back?” 
A nervous chuckle leaves you as you lock eyes with the camera in the elevator, “thank you Mrs. Seo for the gift,” you bow down to the best of your capacity. “Thank you, Mr. Seo.” 
The penthouse is much more spacious than your previous room, vast windows framing breathtaking vistas of pristine mountains. The sound of a crackling fireplace tames the fire within you, morphing it into a harmless ember rather than scorching flames, soothing your soul. A chandelier right above the bed casts a warm glow on the room, that softens your heart and makes you less resentful towards the snow.
“Here,” he sits you down on the edge of the bed, before heading to the mini-fridge across from the room. He takes out a packet of ice before promptly kneeling in front of you. 
“It'll be a little cold,” he reassures before placing the ice on your wound. the sarcastic retort you had withers at the tip of your tongue, like a candle flame blown away by a gentle breeze; because Changbin is being gentle to you right now. his eyebrows scrunching as he makes sure not to hurt you even more, his fingers encircling just above your ankle to hold you in place. Clad in his black hoodie and joggers, the tenderness of his touch is an echo of softness from days long past. 
“Thank you,” you whisper, hoping your voice would get lost in the crinkling of the wood. It doesn’t, as Changbin looks up at you, pausing his movements. “For helping me,” you add, “you didn’t have to do it.”
“It's okay. You’re not a stranger, so…” he trails off, as a buried bitterness floods your throat, akin to downing a shot of acid. You withdraw your ankle from his hold, taking the ice packet from him.
“You can go, I got it,” you smile, yet your eyes flee away from him, refusing to catch his gaze, refusing to peer into that same void that once lured you in.
“Fine. I'll come check on you later.” 
As Changbin swiftly exits the penthouse, you sink into the mattress, hands pressed against your forehead, squeezing tight. to Seo Changbin, you were not a stranger. To you, he might have been everything, once.
☃︎⋆꙳•❅ 
You first met Changbin on the stage of your nationwide rap contest, held within the confines of your campus. 
You did not know he was, but you were instantly captivated by his incendiary stage presence, and so was everyone around you, gleaming eyes turned unanimously toward him, the air ablaze with loud cheers erupting like a bubbling volcano. The question at the tip of your tongue was a natural one— “Who the fuck is this gorgeous man?”
It was as though he had sensed your inquiry, because soon after he concluded his rap with a boastful line— “They call me,” a pause, his eyes meeting yours, “Seo Changbin,” he finished, a subtle smirk painted on his lips, as if he knew that his name would become a golden trademark, one that the music world would remember for generations to come. 
His gaze lingered on you, but you did not shy away from it, you’ve never been one to run away from the things you want. Instead, you smiled at him, a toothy grin that left your cheeks slightly aching afterward.
He did not return the gesture fully, but the corners of his lips did tug upwards, as he dipped his head slightly forward in thanks. 
Cute. 
You stayed back long enough to witness Changbin accept his well-deserved first place award, clad in his gray joggers, a snug black tank top, and atop it a deconstructed hoodie boasting enticing holes on the side, giving you a generous view of his sculpted muscles. His silver chains glimmered under the resounding flashes, and you felt a surge of pride at this stranger basking in the spotlight. 
Your smile only grew wider as Chan and Jisung ran to him, encircling him in his arms and shaking him with palpable happiness. Thunderous cheers erupted, a chorus of voices chanting 'Seo Changbin' at the top of their lungs.
His name will stay with you long after that.
“So, is he single?” you inquired casually a few days later in the university cafeteria, three cups of iced americano placed before you, Chan’s extra sweetened. The latter looked up from his phone, eyes slightly widening, before leaning in.
“You like Changbin?” he asked incredulously and you squint your eyes, moving even closer to him. 
“Why? Shouldn’t I?”
“I'm just surprised because you’ve never liked any of the guys I introduced you to.”
“Because they’re all douchebags who can’t keep up with me,” you declared, tossing your hair over your shoulder as Chan smiled amusedly.
“Hey! He introduced me to you,” Jisung chimed in from your left and you rolled your eyes, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “We’re better off as friends, Ji.” 
That was true, your first, and last date with Jisung, ended up with you ordering sushi and laughing at your Tinder matches at an empty parking lot. He's been one of your closest friends ever since.
“Are we?” Jisung made obnoxious kissing noises and you faked a gag, pinching his arm. Han retaliated by yelling so loudly the entirety of the cafeteria turned to look at you. Chan attempted to cover his face with his palm, a desolated look painted on his features.
“Anyways,” Jisung cleared his throat once he settled again, “he is single. But he’s not looking for anything right now.” 
“Maybe he just hasn’t looked at me yet.”
Fate seemed to be on your side because Changbin did look at you after that. Your professor Kim, an unwitting cupid, paired you with him for your chemistry project, and for the following month, you found yourself meeting Changbin every day in the college laboratory, to work on the synthesis and characterization of aspirin.
Changbin was different from anyone you’ve ever taken a liking to. He did not stir violent butterflies in your stomach, nor made your palms sweat endlessly from nerves. Instead, he infused a peculiar serenity within you, enough to make you eagerly count down the minutes until your next meeting.
Contrary to the fiery persona he unleashed on stage, Changbin exuded a calming aura that held you captive each time he drew near. It was impossible to divert your gaze from him, especially when his loose curls cascaded perfectly over his dark brown eyes, ones framed by thick-rimmed black glasses. His scent, a captivating blend of pinewood and spices, lingered like a second skin on your body, trailing after him and enveloping you in its embrace, long after he was gone.
He felt like a winter wind brushing against your skin—strong enough to be felt, yet cool enough to be craved by each one of your senses.
You sensed his gaze upon you as well, felt the subtle brush of his hand against your spine when he moved around you, unnecessary yet deliberate. How he brought you hot chocolate every time you met up to warm up your icy fingers. He was sweet and caring; in a way you’d only notice if you paid attention to the things said silently. 
Yet, he remained an enigma—warm on certain days, cold on others. It seemed as if he restrained himself from growing comfortable in your presence, as if you were a bad weed that’d spread through his roots if he dared approach you. Or maybe that was how he viewed himself— a delicate shell with a void inside, guarding itself against any perceived threat. 
Who was Changbin, truly? What did he like and dislike? Why did he withhold his smiles, stifle his laughter, and avert his eyes after just a fleeting glance at you? Why did he draw near only to retreat each time you attempted to get close? The questions swirled in your mind, creating a tapestry of curiosity that begged to be unraveled by his hands.
“Wanna come to karaoke with me and hang out tonight?” Chan asked a week after the end of your chemistry project. You hummed non-convincingly, nose buried in your newly purchased book. 
“Changbin might come too,” he sang-sung and you quickly perked up, much more interested in his plans now. He snorted at your reaction, and in response, you playfully flashed him your prettiest middle finger.
Chan's disbelief was right though. It was unusual of you to be so expectant of someone’s presence, for your gaze to flee to the door every two seconds awaiting their entrance. 
Despite your high hopes, Changbin did not come that night, and as much as you tried to have fun, a sense of disappointment tainted your mood. That, and the realization that he wasn't a mere crush, but something much more to you. The man you couldn’t get a read on was already coursing through your veins when you thought he had only stopped at the surface of your skin. 
Muttering a quick excuse about needing some fresh air, you left the karaoke booth, exhaling heavily, the warmth of your breath translating into silver gusts of air in the chilly night. As you descended the stairs, however, your ankle twisted on the slippery ice, and you found yourself falling, bottom-first, onto the unforgiving concrete.
An ugly sob caught in your throat as hot tears streaked down your cheeks, your palm now scraped and bloody from the impact of the fall, in a useless attempt to soften the blow.
“Let me see,” someone crouched in front of you, and you gasped softly as your eyes met Changbin's concerned gaze.
“Oh god, this is so embarrassing,” you admitted, clasping your eyes shut as he gently held your injured hand in his own, blowing air into the open cuts to soothe their burn.
“I didn't see anything,” he reassured, his tone overly sweet, and you squint your eyes at his obvious lies. “Definitely did not see you trip over nothing,” he added, a teasing smirk drawn on his lips.
“Hey!” you punched his arm playfully and he laughed, full-blown high-pitched giggles you did not think Changbin, out of everybody you knew, would be able to conjure. His eyes were squinted close, his apple cheeks raising higher as he laughed some more, and you felt an electrifying warmth flowing through your being. Suddenly, you were burning in the winter wind. 
Suddenly, you wanted to confess. 
“Did you just get possessed by a five-year-old girl?” you teased as his laughter quieted down, the smile refusing to leave his face, yet. His eyes softened as they found yours, a simple hum leaving his lips in reply. He applied some pressure on your ankle, checking if it is swollen, but that was the last thing you cared about. The sight of Changbin smiling so freely still running through your mind, again and again. You replayed it enough times since to make sure it was safely guarded in your memory, that the long march of time may not wear it down, graining its delicate edges. 
“You should smile more,” you said softly and he looked up at you, a twinkle of gratitude gleaming in his eyes. 
“Your ankle is fine. Stay here, okay? I have a first aid kit in my car.” He didn’t wait for you to reply as he jogged up to his vehicle, and you sighed, heart clenching at how affected you were by his simple touches.
“It will sting a little,” he spoke gently once he returned, before dabbing up your cut slightly with an alcohol-drenched pad. You hissed softly and he frowned, pausing in his tracks. “Okay?” 
“Mm,” you nodded, a small smile playing on your lips, “Okay.”
He continued cleaning your cuts, before applying a cooling cream on it and wrapping it in a clean gauze. He hesitated for a few seconds and your breath hitched as he leaned forward, placing the faintest kiss on your palm. 
“Healing kiss,” he said shyly, a blush blooming on his face and you giggled, bringing his hand to rest upon your cheek.
“I like you, Changbin,” you said truthfully, simply, even as your heart thudded in your chest. “Tell me, should I stop? I don't want to hurt myself.” 
“I…” he began, his words trailing off, interrupted by Chan walking out of the karaoke booth.
“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked, worry clearly dripping from his tone and you cursed inwardly. You loved Chan but you’ve never been more annoyed to see him. Your eyes flee tentatively to Changbin as Chan takes your hand in his, inspecting it. 
“Let's go inside, it’s freezing here,” Chan pulled you up and you nodded, as Changbin followed suit, before he stopped you by the door, his hand on your arm. “Come over tomorrow, please? We can talk then.” 
“Sure,” you smiled and he nodded, swiping his thumb soothingly along your wrist. “Thank you,” he whispered, before walking inside. 
☃︎⋆꙳•❅
The landline ringing snaps you away from that long-buried memory, as it disappears before your eyes like morning mist. You rub your forehead tiredly before answering.
“Hello?” 
“Hello, I would like to inform you that we'll be coming up with food service shortly,” the sweet receptionist announces in a cheery tone, and you furrow your brow.
“I did not order anything, though.”
“It is on the house. Enjoy your food!” she explains gleefully before hanging up.
On the house meaning it is Seo Changbin's treat. You couldn't help but scoff at the array of food presented before you minutes later, including that damned hot chocolate he always used to bring you, complete with marshmallows on top and colorful sprinkles because why settle for plain when you could have rainbows in your drink.
“He remembers,” ou whisper to yourself before sighing. What was the point of him remembering now? Every bit of hope you had was dismantled two months ago, akin to a hopeful dandelion blown away by the bitter wind. 
You bite your lip, contemplating for a few seconds before finally dialing Changbin’s number.
“The food will get cold. Come quickly. I won't wait for you,” you mumble before hanging up and tossing your phone away.
A few minutes later, Changbin enters your room, his cologne still following him like a second shadow. You avoid his eyes as you dig into the seafood pasta, the one he ordered for you.
“Good?” he asks, and you glance at him from the corner of your eye. "Yeah, good."
“Are you okay?” he inquires, taking a bite of the pepperoni pizza. 
You knew he was asking about your ankle, and yet, in this moment, sitting on the floor of the penthouse Changbin upgraded for you, eating the food he bought after tending to your injury, you suddenly no longer cared about the state of your body. Instead, an exasperation built up in your throat, directed towards the man who had left you hanging many nights ago. 
“You confuse me,” you say honestly, putting down your fork and he frowns. “I confuse you?” he repeats incredulously.
“Yes. You always confuse me and I hate it.” Sudden tears threaten to well in your eyes and you groan, burying your face in a pillow to hide it.
“I can't believe you are saying this,” he whispers, pushing away his plate and you scowl, lowering your silky shield. 
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You never came, y/n,” His voice, draped in heavy emotion, catches you off guard like a sudden storm in the calm of the night. “I waited and waited for you and you never came.”
“I came,” you say quietly, the hurt suddenly feeling fresh within the confines of your heart. “At the wrong time, maybe the right one, I don't know. But I came.”
“What?”
“I came to your dorm only to see you kissing a girl’s cheek and hugging her by your door. You told her you missed her and to come later once you sorted something out. Was I… What? supposed to enter and sit there to hear you reject me?” You say quickly, finally releasing the words that had long haunted you.
An incredulous laugh escapes his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, slightly pulling at its edges. “My god, that was my sister.”
“What?”
“She came over unannounced that morning. I actually told her she can't stay the night because I had someone important coming over. That someone being you,” he explains and you feel hot embarrassment flood your being, then relief. For what, exactly? Wasn’t it too late?
“How was I supposed to know?” you ask defensively and his eyes widen as he comes closer to you. 
“You could’ve asked me!”
“I was embarrassed because I put my heart bare to you. I told you I liked you when I wasn't even sure you liked me back.”
“Of course, I liked you back.” His voice softens as if it were a truth known to everyone but yourself.
“Then why were you so… distant.”
“Because you scared me, you came into my life unannounced and everything changed around me,” he pauses, a shaky breath escaping him. “Because I wasn’t looking for anything but it turns out I just didn’t know to look for you yet.”
You giggle against your will at his words, shaking your head slightly. “That's exactly what I told Chan when I asked if you were single.”
“See, soulmates,” he grins, satisfied, and you feel tingles pulsate through your entire being at his words.
“Slow down Mr. Seo. We are not even dating yet.”
“Yet? So, is there still a chance?”
“I…” your phone rings and you let out a loud groan as you peek at who's calling— Chan.
“You have the actual worst timing ever dude,” Changbin nearly screams into the phone and you can clearly hear Chan’s confused voice asking “Changbin? Where is yn?” 
Changbin hangs up on him without answering, before putting your phone on silent. Then his, for good measure.
“It's like he’s my archnemesis or something,” Changbin sighs and you laugh, amused by his exasperation. 
“So,” he clears his throat, a bit shyly, “can we start again? Properly?”
“I don't know… I need to see if something’s still there…” you muse and he cocks an eyebrow at you, leaning even closer. 
“And how will you do that?”
You throw your hands around his neck, before resting your cheek on the slate of his shoulders. He remains still for a few heartbeats, only to tighten his hold on you, his lips delicately grazing the exposed canvas of your neck.
“I knew it, you smell nice, and you are really warm,” you sigh contently, closing your eyes as a soothing peace wash over you, all the worries you harbored dissipating at his warmth.
“You smell really nice too,” he whispers and a grin lights up your face. 
“I can hear you smiling,” you point out, leaning away slightly to look at him. 
“I’m happy.”
“That's cute.”
“You’re cuter,” he says, nuzzling your nose with his own. “Your total for the food is 160 dollars by the way.”
“Can I pay back with my kisses?” you smile cheekily, bringing your lips a hair breadth away from his. 
He’s breathless as he finally presses his mouth on yours, “Please do.” 
897 notes · View notes
illiterateaffairs · 9 months
Text
DISTRACTIONS XI | SOMEONE TO STAY
pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)
rating: T
word count: 6,369
summary: ted has some news to share with the team that unexpectedly leads to other secrets coming out. 
A/N: here it is - the penultimate chapter of distractions! i’ve had the events of this chapter planned out for what feels like forever, and i finally get to share it with you all. thank you for reading and i can’t wait to see what you think💙💛
distractions masterlist | previous chapter
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It should come as no surprise that you and Jamie end your night after the Man City win doing some…not-so-innocent activities to celebrate. You’re hesitant at first, not wanting to agitate Jamie’s ankle, but your attentiveness only turns him on more. You’re not entirely sure what time you actually fall asleep, but in the early morning light, you’re awoken by Jamie leaving a trail of kisses on your face and down to your neck, and before you know it, you’re going another two rounds. 
You bask in the afterglow side by side as you catch your breath. When you look at Jamie, there’s a dopey smile on his face.
“You happy or something?” you ask teasingly and his smile only widens.
“Just a little,” he murmurs, leaning over to give you another kiss.
You lay on your sides facing each other for a few quiet moments, as you trace the tattoos on his arm. 
“Have I mentioned how much I like your tattoos?” you whisper. 
“Mm-mm,” Jamie shakes his head.
“Well, I do.”
“Have you ever thought about getting one?”
“A couple times, but not seriously,” you tell him, “Not sure what I’d get.”
“I think you should get a big number 9 plastered across your back,” he suggests with a faux-serious expression.
You snort, “And why would I do that?”
He shrugs innocently, “So you can have a piece of your favorite footballer wherever you go.”
“That’s funny because you and I both know my favorite footballer is…”
“I swear to God if you get the number 24 tattooed anywhere on your body, I’ll scream.”
You laugh out loud, placating your boyfriend with another kiss. “I think I’ll have to keep thinking of other tattoo ideas before I commit to anything officially.”
“Fine,” Jamie agrees.
You move your fingers up the length of his arm to run gently across his face, “With everything that happened last night, I never got the chance to ask you about your dad. Was he at the game?”
Jamie looks down, but covers your hand with his, “No, he wasn’t. Which I think honestly messed with me more. I ended up texting him afterwards, but I haven’t heard back yet.”
“I’m sorry, Jamie,” you whisper, knowing their relationship was complicated, but that he still begrudgingly cared about the man, “I think reaching out could be good. You don’t have to forgive him, but you deserve a little closure.”
Jamie nods, “Yeah. Ted said something like that, too.”
You smile internally. Of course he did. 
Jamie lifts his head to glance at the clock on your side of the bed, “I think we overslept.”
You roll your eyes light heartedly, “Yeah, I wonder why.”
Jamie smirks giving you yet another kiss, “We should get ready. Can I drive you to the club today?”
Your heart flutters at how excited he seems to publicly take you to work for the first time. Unfortunately, you had a few loose ends to tie up this morning, so you’d be going to the club later this afternoon, getting the all clear from Rebecca over text on your way home last night. 
“I’ll actually be in a little later today. I have some things I need to do first,” you’re attuned to the way Jamie’s face falls, so you quickly reach out to stroke his cheek again, “I promise there’s nothing to worry about. I want to tell you everything. I was thinking over dinner tonight? I can make my lasagna that you like so much.”
Jamie’s expression relaxes, though you can tell he’s still a bit weary of what exactly you’ll be telling him. Still, he gives you a tiny smile, “That sounds great, babe.”
“Good. Now hurry up and get ready. Don’t want Roy to yell at you.” 
Jamie groans, but reluctantly pushes himself out of bed. You eventually manage to get up yourself once he’s ready, pulling on one of his tee-shirts so you can kiss him goodbye at the door. 
Once he’s gone, you take a deep breath. Despite your indecision about your job situation, spending the night carrying on with Jamie, Keeley, and Roy made what you wanted to do become clear as day. You weren’t sure how everyone would react, especially with the trouble Keeley and Rebecca had gone through, but you knew in your heart you had to follow your dreams on your own terms. And that’s exactly what you were going to start doing this morning.
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Jamie arrives at Nelson Road with a sense of self assurance he’s never had before. Sure, he’s always had an air of confidence and cockiness about him his entire life, but today Jamie feels a special sense of pride when he enters the locker room. Not only had he helped his team win a game in his home city the night before, he was dating the most incredible girl he has ever met and now everyone knew it. 
As if they didn’t hype him up enough about it the night before, his teammates greet him with pats on the back and teasing remarks about the match, and about you. Jamie rolls his eyes, joking right along with them, but on the inside he’s admittedly enjoying the praise. He knows the team loves you, and is very protective of you. And while he knows they’ve grown to love him too since returning to Richmond, it warms his heart that they not only approve of his relationship with you, but are almost as excited about it as he is. Almost. He was definitely the most excited.
The Greyhounds go about their morning, getting ready for training, and the spirit continues to be high. For whatever reason, though, Jamie senses a shift in the mood when the coaches enter the locker room. They’re probably going to want to get serious about their final game of the season, he assumes, but another piece of him worries that something else is going on.
“Hey, everyone listen up,” Ted calls out and he’s missing the usual pep in his voice, “I’ve got something I want to say to you all before training.”
The team instantly stops whatever they’re doing to give their coach their full attention. Ted exchanges a look with Coach Beard who nods reassuringly. Roy and Trent stand off to the side, seemingly in the loop as well, and they don’t look thrilled about whatever it is. 
When Ted turns back to face the team, he’s scratching his face nervously, but he takes a deep breath and continues, “There’s been a lot going on in my life lately, mentally, as you may know. And while I’ve been handling things better, there’s still one thing I can’t fix here, and that’s my relationship with my kid. He hasn’t said anything himself, but I know I’m not present enough in his life. So, that’s why I decided after our season’s over, I’m going to go back to Kansas. Permanently. So...this will be my last week as your coach.”
It takes everyone in the room a second to process this, but when reality hits them, there’s an uproar of confusion, sadness, and frustration. It's unclear what each of them say, as they talk over one another, but most are just trying to tell Ted to stay in their own way. 
Ted nods his head, letting them get it all out, before raising his hand to calm them down. “Hey, hey, hey. I know it’s sudden, but trust me I didn’t think this through lightly. Coaching you guys the last few years has been one of the greatest honors and privileges of my life. But now I need some time to focus on my family and I hope you all will come to understand that.”
Silence blankets the room again, before another chorus of murmurs echo their understanding, though the mood in the room is still solemn. For Jamie’s part, he’s mostly remained silent from his seat on the bench, too shell-shocked by the news to say or do anything. He understood that Ted was leaving, but the actuality of it wasn’t hitting him completely yet. Probably because he didn’t want to let himself believe it, with how important Ted was to him, even if he didn’t always acknowledge that. 
“So, who’s gonna be our coach next year?” Dani asks, and few teammates tack on ‘yeahs’ in equal curiosity. 
Jamie notices Ted’s eyes briefly flit to Roy, but the assistant coach just continues starting straight ahead with his arms crossed.
“Uh, I’m not sure yet. Think that’s up to Rebecca, but I just told her the news this morning,” Ted answers honestly. 
“Coach Beard, are you leaving, too?” Colin questions this time.
Everyone’s heads whip to the man in question at the front of the room next to Ted.
Slowly Beard nods his head, “Yeah. I’m leaving, too.”
Another round of depressed groans carries through the locker room as the team processes a second loss.
“Wait, what about Y/N?” Sam brings up before he can even stop himself, but as soon as he sees the alarmed look on his coaches faces, he realizes his mistake. “Shit.”
The team grows quiet again, their heads turning to Sam this time, and Jamie’s heart skips a beat at the sound of your name.
“Uh, what does Y/N have to do with this?” Isaac questions.
“Yeah, just because she’s American doesn’t automatically mean she’s leaving, too.” Jan Maas adds on.
While Jamie’s equally confused, his heart continues to pound against his chest. With furrowed brows, he looks between a guilt-ridden Sam, and Beard and Ted, who exchange looks of their own. An uneasy feeling forms in the pit of his stomach, as he and the rest of his teammates wait for an explanation.
A nervous Ted clears his throat, nodding again, “I think what Sam is referring to is that...Y/N is actually my niece.” To the chorus of gasps, Ted continues, “Yeah. She didn’t want you fellas to know, so you didn’t think she got her job because we were related.”
Jamie’s heart drops. So many things become clear in that moment; why it felt like you’d been keeping something from him, how you’d become so close to Ted in a short period of time, why you were so good with Henry when he visited. You’ve known him your whole life. He can barely hear Ted continue as he processes all of this. 
“I’m sure this isn’t how she pictured you all finding out. But either way, me leaving doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll want to go as well,” he tells everyone.
However, no one has time to feel relief when a small voice pipes up.
“But what about that job she’s interviewing for?” Will asks from the back of the room, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Suddenly nervous with everyone’s eyes on him, he carries on with a stutter, “I-I heard her talking to Sam in the boot room about it one day. She’s interviewing for a writing job in New York.”
Once again, everyone’s heads sharply turn to Sam, who looks apologetically at Jamie across the room. That’s when it sinks in for everyone. You in fact could be leaving them too. 
Jamie can barely hold eye contact with Sam, turning his attention to his shoes. His breathing goes heavy, and he barely makes out Coach Beard ordering everyone to start heading towards the pitch for training. Sam is the last one to file out besides Jamie. He wants to apologize to his friend, for helping keep your secret, and letting Jamie find out this way, but he doesn’t know what to say to make him feel better. So, he just defeatedly follows the rest of his team out of the locker room doors.
Jamie’s not sure how much time passes when a hand on his shoulder brings him back to reality.
“Hey, Jamie,” Ted’s soothing voice says to him, “Want to chat in my office for a sec?”
Jamie nods absent-mindedly, rubbing his face before following behind his coach. He passes Roy who only gives him a pat on the back before leaving with Beard and Trent. 
Ted shuts the door behind Jamie, before rounding his desk to sit in his office chair. Jamie fidgets for a few seconds before leaning against the shelf near the door. 
After it's clear Jamie’s not going to start this conversation, Ted speaks up again himself, “Well, first off I want to say I’m sorry that you found out about everything this way. I’m sure she wanted to tell you all of that herself, and I’m sure Sam didn’t mean for it to come out that way either.” 
Jamie nods, still not looking at Ted. Internally, he laughs bitterly. You were probably going to tell him all of this tonight; feed him a nice meal just to break his heart.
“If it’s any consolation, this is the first time I’m hearing about this job in New York, too,” Ted adds, “So it has nothing to do with my decision to go back to the states, if that’s really something she’s considering. In fact, I haven’t had the chance to tell her my news either.”
“So, she’s really your niece?” Jamie finally says. He definitely knows it's the truth, but he’s still in disbelief that it's been right under his nose the whole time. 
“Sort of,” Ted snorts, “Her dad is Michelle’s brother. So, in a way she’s not technically my niece any more. But she’s still my family in the way that matters.” 
Jamie nods again. A piece of him is touched by the way Ted has clearly been looking out for you the last few months; especially after your breakup. But another part of him is horrified that he’s been sneaking around with a relative of Ted’s this whole time. 
It’s as if Ted can sense his uneasiness as he speaks again, “I’m really happy for you two by the way.”
“Really?” Jamie asks, making eye contact with him for the first time.
“Really, really,” Ted nods, with a kind smile on his face, his head resting in his hand, “I think it’s great. I mean, I just found out yesterday, but she is clearly very smitten with you.”
Jamie’s cheek’s flush and he prays Ted doesn’t notice. “You’re not going to threaten me or tell me I’m not good enough for her?”
“Nah, that’s more of a dad’s job; and she’s got two so I’m sure you’ll hear that speech plenty,” Ted teases, “But I also know you, Jamie. I’ve seen you come into yourself the last few years, and that person is a good guy. Getting to see your growth has been one of the best parts of coaching this team, and one of the things I’ll miss the most. I don’t need to tell you not to hurt her, because I know you won’t. Besides, I can see that you’re just as smitten with her, if not more.”
If Jamie wasn’t blushing before, he definitely was now. Not only because of his comment about his feelings for you, but also due to Ted complimenting him. He was once again overcome with sadness thinking about Ted not being around anymore, but he couldn’t handle that thought right now. And he certainly couldn’t handle thinking about how he’d feel if you were leaving, too.
Unsure of what else to say, Jamie just settles on a simple thank you. 
Ted gives him another supportive smile. “Don’t mention it. Just go easy on her about this whole job thing. She’s probably confused by it all, and she might not even go. Just talk to her about it, okay?”
Jamie nods, managing a tiny smile of his own. “Coach?” he asks softly, “Would it be okay if I skip training today? Think I need to clear my head. Might end up going for a run on my own anyway.”
Ted nods assuringly, “Of course.”
As Jamie stands up and heads for the door, he turns to Ted one last time. “Coach?”
Ted looks at him curiously.
“Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me the last three years. I think it really sucks that you’re leaving, but I understand why. You’ve got to do what’s best for you and your family, and I’m sure your son will be glad to have you back around. I know the rest of the team’s bummed, but they’ll probably be over it by tomorrow and support you, too.”
This time Ted is the one overcome with emotion, knowing it's rare to get this much sentiment from Jamie Tartt. Trying not to show it, Ted just nods and gives him another smile. “Thank you, Jamie.”
With one last tight smile, Jamie pulls open Ted’s office door and disappears around the corner.
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Your plan to have a productive morning was very successful. After treating yourself to a big, homemade breakfast, you hunkered down at a local café to get some things done regarding the job options you had. In effort to not get distracted, you turned your phone on ‘do no disturb’ and then spent a few hours drafting emails, tightening up your manuscript, and preparing what you were going to say to Jamie later in the day. 
After feeling satisfied with your work, you close your laptop and decide you have a bit of time before you need to be at the club, so you plan to go to the grocery store to get everything you need for dinner with Jamie. However, when you open your phone to type out a list, you see dozens of missed calls and texts.
Your first instinct is that someone had to have died. But that was ridiculous. Still, your nerves are spiking as you check your texts. There were a slew of them from various members of the team, and even Roy and Trent Crimm. In some shape or form, they were all asking about your relation to Ted, whether or not you were leaving Richmond, and if you were taking that job in New York. 
You feel like you’re going to be sick. How the fuck did they know all of that?
You get your answer when you finally listen to the one lone voicemail you had. It was from Sam.
“Hi, I can’t talk long, I’m meant to be at training, but I need to tell you that I fucked up and I’m sorry. The team knows about you being related to Ted. And about the New York job. It all just came out and I can explain more later, but I just need you to know that I’m so, so sorry. And I’m sorry if it hurt Jamie, but I know you two will work it out. Okay, I gotta go. Beard and Roy are coming. I’m sorry again. Okay, bye.”
There’s not an ounce of you that can be mad at Sam, especially with how distraught he sounds. And shit. Jamie. The one person that didn’t reach out. You can’t imagine what he’s thinking right now.
Running out of the café, you furiously navigate your phone to order an Uber to the club, furiously cursing yourself for not being able to drive on the left side of the road. Stupid England. 
Once you arrive, you race through the halls to the locker room. It's about time for lunch, and you count your blessings that most of the team must have already left the premises to eat. Among the few stragglers is Sam, who is anxiously sitting on the bench staring at his phone. His head shoots up when you enter, causing him to stand with wide eyes, meeting you halfway.
“Oh, my God, Y/N, I am so sorry, I completely messed everything up,” he begins, desperate to fix it all.
You shake your head as aggressively as you can, “You do not need to apologize to me. It’s okay. I just need to find Jamie, is he here?”
Sam frowns, “No. He didn’t end up training with us today, and no one’s heard from him since this morning.”
“Shit,” you sigh, rubbing your hands over your face. You rack your brain for where Jamie could have possibly gone, but one thing still isn’t making sense to you. Dropping your hands, you return your gaze to your best friend.
“Sam, why did this all happen?”
Sam’s shoulders sag, his expression unreadable. His eyes eventually leave yours to look at something over your shoulder. The sound of someone clearing their throat makes you spin around to see Ted standing in the doorway to the coaches’ offices. He nods his head for you to join him.
Glancing back at Sam one more time, he gives you a small smile and squeezes your shoulder. He apologizes one last time, to which you assure him  that everything is okay. But you were finding it hard to believe that yourself. 
Ted shuts the office door behind you and you dramatically fall into Beard’s chair as Ted sits in his own. 
You don’t bother beating around the bush, “What the hell is going on? I don’t come to work once and Sam ends up spilling the beans on everything. Did something happen?”
Your uncle gives you a sympathetic smile, “Yeah. I spilled some beans of my own.” At your confused expression, Ted plows forward, “I’m going back to Kansas.”
“For the summer?” you ask, though you fear you know the answer.
“No, Kiddo,” he sighs, “After the season’s over, I’m moving back to be closer to Henry. And Beard’s going back, too.”
“Oh,” you nod in understanding, but still find it hard to process, “When did you make that decision?”
“This morning, after my mom left,” he admits sheepishly, “But I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”
You sit across from him in silence, taking it all in. The only reason you were here in the first place was because of Ted. What were you supposed to do now?
“The team didn’t exactly take it well,” Ted explains, “And in the midst of the chaos, Sam asked what me leaving meant for you. Everything sort of snowballed after that.
You inhale deeply, taking it all in. 
“And Jamie?” you ask quietly, “How did he take it?”
“I think he was just caught off guard and trying to figure out how to process it all,” Ted tells you, “He was surprised about the family thing. And the whole job in New York thing.” 
“Jesus, he’s probably pissed at me again,” you groan, “I was literally going to tell him everything tonight. I just needed a few more hours.”
Ted’s lips quirk up, “That’s life, Kiddo. It doesn’t always go exactly how we’d like it to.”
You scoff, “Yeah well life is stupid.”
“Yeah, it can be,” Ted chuckles, “I think it sounds great; a writing job in New York. That’s what you’ve always wanted, right? To write and live in the Big Apple?”
“Yeah. It was,” you say quietly, “But I wasn’t sure if that's what I wanted still, so I was trying to figure it out before I told Jamie. Or anyone.”
“Hey, that’s fair,” Ted nods supportively, “If you want my humble opinion, I think it’s great if you want to go for it in New York. I also think it’s great if you decide to stay here and continue to figure things out. Heck, it would even be great if you wanted to come back to Kansas, too. But Kiddo, you have to make that decision, whatever it may be, on behalf of yourself. Not for me, not for Jamie, not for anyone else. Just for you.”
Ted’s words settle in the air and you take it all in. While you were already pretty dead set on what you were going to do, you definitely agreed with his sentiment. You had to follow your own gut for once, not anyone else’s.
“You’re right,” you eventually say softly, “I think I know what I’m going to do, but I think I owe it to Jamie to finally have him be the first to know.”
Ted gives you a supportive smile, and your stomach flips.
“So, you’re really leaving?”
Ted nods solemnly, “I’m really leaving.”
“Then who the hell is going to make ridiculous puns around here to annoy Roy?”
This makes Ted snort, “I don’t know. I’m hoping I’ve rubbed off on enough of them, that they’ll carry on the tradition.”
You laugh along with him. You wonder if Ted will ever fully understand the impact he’s had here. On the club, on the team, and even on you these past months. You have a feeling even if he did, it wouldn’t be enough to change his mind. 
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You spend the next few hours trying to track down Jamie, hoping the sooner you could find him and explain things, the less damage would accrue. 
However, he wasn’t answering your calls or texts, and no one seems to know where he is. You fear, even after your promises to communicate with each other after your last falling out, Jamie had once again resorted to pushing you completely away.
Lucky for you, Keeley happened to pop by the club that afternoon, and after getting caught up on the drama, insisted on driving you to Jamie’s to see if he’s there. Unfortunately, after searching every nook and cranny of his lavish home, you resign to the fact that he’s not there. You feel defeated as you resituate yourself in Keeley’s passenger seat, unsure of what to do next. She offers to drive you around Richmond, suggesting that Jamie could be blowing off steam, running somewhere, and maybe you’d pass him. You take up her offer, less so because you hoped to catch a glimpse of him, and more so to avoid going home to any empty home for a little while longer. 
It was nearly 6PM by the time Keeley drops you off at your flat. Suffice it to say, you didn’t find Jamie jogging around Richmond. You also didn’t find him wallowing in Crown and Anchor, but that didn’t stop you and Keeley from doing so yourself over a quick pint before calling off your search for the night. As she drove you home, you briefly wondered if Jamie could have possibly fled back to Manchester, to see his mom again. But that was four hours away, and there was no chance you were asking Keeley, or anyone for that matter, to make that drive. And the Uber fare would be atrocious. 
As you climb your apartment stairs, you resign to a night of waiting by your phone, hoping to hear from him, and if not, trying to find him again tomorrow. 
When you walk into your home, you’re instantly overcome with the feeling that you’re not alone. You’re proven right when, as you’re discarding your coat and shoes, Jamie enters the living room from your kitchen. 
“Hi,” you breathe out, after getting over the shock of seeing him, “Have you been here the whole time?”
Jamie shrugs, “I went on a run for a bit. But eventually I got the urge to come here.”
You nod, still on edge, “You, uh, didn’t think to answer any of my calls or texts?”
Jamie cringes, “So, I’m pretty sure I left my phone in my bag in the locker room.”
You scoff in disbelief, “Jamie…”
“I know. I know. That was stupid. But I left the club in such a hurry, I wasn’t thinking.”
“I was worried sick all day, I thought you were shutting me out again,” you whimper tiredly, unable to stop yourself from giving into the emotion that built up all day.
“Shit,” Jamie mutters, taking large steps to close the gap between the two of you to gather you in his arms, “I’m sorry.”
You allow yourself to feel comforted by his embrace for a few seconds before you’re shoving him away abruptly, “Fuck! I shouldn’t be making you apologize to me, when I’m the one who lied to you and hurt you. Again!” 
You cover your face with your hands, frustrated at yourself for making Jamie feel even an ounce of guilt, when you were once again in this situation because of you.
Gently, Jamie pries your hands from your face and interlocks your fingers together. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“It’s not, though! I keep messing things up between us because I don’t know how to communicate like a normal human being. And you don’t deserve to be jerked around like this. But I promise, I can explain everything if you give me the chance.”
Jamie swallows, taking in your words, though a tiny smile plays at his mouth. “I promise I will give you the chance, but is it okay if I say some things first?”
You hesitate, your eyebrows furrowing over what he could possibly have to say, but eventually you nod. 
“Thank you,” Jamie whispers, giving your hands another squeeze and then he takes a deep breath, “You’ve been spending a lot of time lately reassuring me that I’m good enough, but I feel like I haven’t done enough to assure you that you are more than enough for me. Yeah, it has sucked to feel like you were keeping stuff from me. I knew you couldn’t have been doing anything wrong, but it still hurt that you either didn’t want me to know or trust me enough to let me in. But now I understand that it has nothing to do with me. I get that letting people in is hard and that you were afraid that the secrets you were keeping would make things harder. Sure, it would have been nice to know you were related to Ted from the get-go. I might have not tried so hard to sleep with my coach's niece the first chance I got.”
You manage a small laugh.
“Obviously, I don’t regret that though. And I get why you did it. I get that it might have made your job more complicated, and then even more so once we got together. Telling family is a big step. So, I get it, I do.
“I even get why you didn’t tell me about the job in New York. The thought of you leaving…I can’t even think about it too much. But I also know that it's your dream. And the last time you told a guy you wanted to go after your dream, he discouraged you. And even though I would never do that, I know deep down that still scares you. But I want you to know that I think it's amazing; that you’re writing again, and that you have the opportunity to do it in the city you’ve always wanted to live in. I’m so proud of you, and want you to be where you need to be. Even if it's not here with me. So, that's why, as much as it kills me to say, I think you should do it. You should take the job in New York.”
Jamie’s words weigh heavily on you. Firstly, you’re heartened by his reassurance that you were more than enough for him. You didn’t realize how much you needed to hear that. Secondly, you were simultaneously surprised and not surprised that he was encouraging you to pursue the New York job. It wasn’t a direction you had been expecting this inevitable conversation to take, but it was Jamie you were talking about. Of course he’d say exactly the right thing and support you, even if it meant you moving back to another continent.
Overcome with complete adoration for him, and since words are failing you at the moment, you can’t help but to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. As you pull away, Jamie is clearly surprised by the act of affection, but he’s also not complaining. He looks at you expectantly, hoping you do eventually have something to say in response to his speech. And you do. You just need to figure out how to word it best. 
You eventually inhale your own shaky breath, meeting his eyes once again, “Thank you, for saying all of that. It means a lot to me. Even if you say you understand, I’m still sorry for keeping everything from you, especially now that it has come out this way. It really all stemmed from not wanting to mess anything up between us, but of course the opposite still happened.
“I’ve been dying to tell you about Ted for so long, but like you said, telling family is a lot, and Ted’s an important part of your life too, so I didn’t want to make things weird between you two. 
“And the job…I knew you’d be excited for me. But I think I just never wanted to see the look on your face when you heard it was in New York. And then things got more complicated when Keeley told me she knew a literary agent, here in the U.K. who might be interested in meeting with me.”
“Oh?” Jamie’s eyebrows shoot up in hopeful curiosity.
“Yeah. So, as you may have guessed, I needed some time to sort out what I wanted to do and where I wanted to go.”
“And,” Jamie asks timidly, “Have you decided?”
After a few beats, you nod. “Yeah. I decided I can’t work for that agency here.” Jamie’s face falls and you’re quick to latch back onto his hand, “But I also can’t take the job in New York either.”
Jamie stares at you in total confusion, “What?”
You smile slightly, finding his expression oddly adorable. “I want to write more than anything, and part of me is happy doing it by any means necessary, but I also hate the idea of not being able to prove myself on my own. Back in Chicago, Mason got me the job at the advertising firm. Then, when I got tired of that, Ted and Rebecca got me the job for Richmond. My friend from Chicago got me an interview in New York, and Keeley knows a literary agent here. Everything I’ve done has been because some else suggested it or did it for me. I’m not naive enough to know that sometimes connections are how people get work these days, but I don’t want that to be my story. I want to succeed because I did it on my own. 
“So, this morning, I told the publisher in New York I was no longer interested in interviewing for the reading position, and then spent hours refining my manuscript and submitting it to a few small, independent publishing houses to see if any of them would be interested in working with me. I know it won’t be as lavish as the publishing houses in New York or the one Keeley had connections to. But all writers start from somewhere, and I want to start somewhere on my terms.”
Jamie digests everything you said, and eventually gives you a shaky smile, “And where are these publishers you submitted to?”
You give Jamie your own shy smile, “Right here, in England.” Jamie’s grin widens as you continue, “I’ve never felt more at home, than I have here. And with the exception of my own family, I’ve never been surrounded by more people who genuinely care about me. I feel more like myself than I ever have before and I’m not really keen on losing any of that.” You bite your lip, “And I also sorta really like a certain footballer that lives here, too. So that’s kinda the cherry on top of it all.”
Jamie lets out a disbelieving laugh, “So, you’re staying?”
“Yeah,” you nod, “Is that okay?”
Instead of answering, Jamie places both his hands on either side of your face and kisses you with as much passion as he can muster. You don’t hesitate to reciprocate, sliding your hands up his stomach to rest on his chest. You knew better now than to make a decision on behalf of a man, but god, were you glad that you got to keep doing this for the foreseeable future. 
When Jamie pulls away from you a few moments later, his eyes are watery, “I know I said I was okay with you going to New York - and I meant that - but, God, I’m glad you’re not.”
You giggle, “I’m pretty happy with my decision, too.”
Jamie leans in to kiss you again, but you lean back with your nose scrunched up. Your brain is less clouded by emotions now, and you finally pick up on the aroma flooding your home.
“Are you cooking something?”
Jamie smiles awkwardly, his face flushed, “Yeah, so during my run, I had this grand idea to surprise you with dinner like you usually do for me. So I grabbed what I could from the store and attempted to make your lasagna recipe. It’s probably nowhere near as good as yours is, and the garlic bread is store bought, but that shit still tastes fucking good, if I do say myself.”
You can’t keep the bright smile off your face, “I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”
Jamie squints, “Yeahhh, maybe wait to try it first before you give me too much credit.”
You giggle and shake your head, before pulling Jamie in for a warm hug, which he accepts without protest.
You couldn’t care less how the food was going to taste. It could be burned to a crisp and you still knew it would be the best meal of your life. Because Jamie, your Jamie, took the time to make it to make you happy. And push you towards a decision that he thought would be what you wanted, even if it hurt him. 
You were so lucky to have him, and you were comforted by the fact that he seemed pleased to have you as well. And now there were no more secrets between you threatening to unravel everything. Jamie wasn’t going to disappear on you again, and you certainly weren’t going anywhere either. Richmond was your dream home now, and the fact that your person lived here too was the best kind of bonus.
A/N: THERE IT ISSSS CANT WAIT TO HEAR EVERYONE’S REACTIONS! ALSO, was anyone else bummed we didn’t see the team’s reaction to Ted leaving in the show when they first heard? i’ve had the scene in my head as the ted reveal since i thought of this story between season 3 even came out because i knew they’d take ted away from us and i was shook we didn’t get a reveal. i get why and part of me appreciates them not focusing on the sad, but i really took away from my story haha
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mellifiedprincess · 1 year
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this was a request, and i thought it was a sweet idea. this one’s a little sad, just jacks baby girl gets some hate, but don’t worry because baby boy jack won’t let that shit slide. i hope i don’t disappoint! :)
jack champion x reader
I’VE GOT YOU
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An angel. If anyone were to ask Jack to describe you in a few words, without a thought, he would say an angel. That’s what you were to anyone who knew you. You had this golden aura that surrounded you. You were this ray of pure sunshine, walking around spreading nothing but love and kindness. Even when people didn’t deserve it. Some people just took advantage of you too much, Jack noticed, of course he noticed. You were his angel baby, after all.
That was one thing Jack always worried about when it came to you. You were too nice, too loving, and while those were good qualities to have, they weren’t exactly in your favor as of recently.
It started at one of the after parties of the Scream XI premiere. On your way in, you got separated from Jack. He got in fine. And while usually he made sure you were right in front of him, both hands on your waist just to make sure you didn’t get dragged from his sight, you got pushed to the back of a group, breaking your hold on Jack. It wouldn’t have been a problem, not one at all, if the people that separated you wouldn’t have looked at you with pure disgust, telling security you were a groupie trying to squeeze your way in.
Being the overly nice sweetheart you are, you tried explaining that you were separated from your boyfriend Jack, but was immediately met by laughter. “There’s no way Jack would be with you! He’s literally in my dms all the time.” One brunette girl says, she looks at you with false pity and begins laughing with her friends again. Of course her words hurt your feelings, but you were never one to make a scene. So, as soon as you feel those familiar hands on your waist, you quickly forget about the interaction, just relieved that Jack found you.
“Sweetheart, you know your supposed to stay in front of me. You’re only about the size of a cupcake. What if you would have gotten hurt, hmm?” “I know, I just got pushed to the back. I’m fine th-.”
“Wait! You’re actually with her? What the fuck?” The girl from earlier interrupts you, and then begins laughing in disbelief. Jack’s jaw was locked, eyes staring daggers through the girl, before looking back down at you. “Was she mean to you while I wasn’t here?” He knew the answer. He knew something was wrong with you the second he found you. But he also knew that if you wanted him to do something, you would say so.
Instead of answering him, you just shrug, almost getting distracted by playing with Jacks fingers. “Angel, you know you’re supposed to use your words when talking to me.” He gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head up to make eye contact with him. “I know, I just don’t want you to say anything to her. I just want to go dance with you, Mason, and Jaz.” You can’t help the small frown that forms on your lips.
You feel Jack place a sweet kiss to your cheek, before grabbing your hand in his. “Okay, baby. Let’s go dance.” An excited squeal makes it’s way past your lips, and you jump up and down excitedly. “God you are so fucking adorable.” He says before finally leading you into the building.
The next time someone was mean to you, you were out getting lunch with Mason and Devyn. Jack had reshoots for an unreleased project that day, so he couldn’t make it unfortunately. But, you didn’t mind spending time with two of your closest friends without him.
You were all catching up, telling each other what’s been happening in your crazy lives, when out of no where you felt something cold being poured over your head followed by someone shouting “Stay away from Jack, you bitch!”. You couldn’t do anything but sit there in shock, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. You watch as Devyn jumped up, chasing after whoever it was, while Mason rushed to your side, throwing his jacket around you. “Are you okay? You want me to call Jack?” He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t believe someone would do that to you.
You immediately shake your head no, pleading eyes looking at him. “No! Don’t call Jack, please! He’s busy at work right now, he doesn’t need any distractions from me.” You wipe your tears away furiously as they stream down your reddened cheeks. Mason sighs before pulling you into his side. “That bitch got away!” A furious and out of breath Devyn comes back over, talking to someone on the phone. “Yeah, I’m here with her now. Hold on.” She gives you a sympathetic smile, holding her phone out to you. “I called Jack, just to let him know what happened.” You sniffle again as you grab the phone from her hands, already knowing how upset your boyfriend is gonna be.
“He-hello?” Your watery voice breaks Jacks heart, his sweet baby girl doesn’t deserve any of this. “Hey angel.” He pauses for a moment, trying to figure out the best route here. “Devyn just told me what happened. Listen to me okay? I want you to go back home for the rest of the day. I’m leaving set early and coming straight home.”
“No don’t leave set early! I’ll go straight home, just please don’t leave because of me.” You pleaded with him, you know him leaving early because of you will only result in more nasty rumors being spread about you and your relationship. He doesn’t respond for a few seconds, contemplating the best course of action. “Okay, baby. Hand the phone back to Devyn now.” Before you hand it back though, you hear Jacks voice again. “Hey, I love you, okay? Everything’s gonna be fine.” “Okay, sweets! I love you too!”
Jack ended up asking Devyn and Mason if they didn’t mind staying with you until he got home. Devyn wasn’t able to unfortunately, but Mason offered to at least walk you back to your place. This would later come back to bite you in the ass.
As soon as Jack came home, he wasted no time in pulling you into his chest. Taking your face in his hands, and placing sweet kisses all over your face. “How’s my pretty girl feeling?” You wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle closer into him. His warmth and smell making you feel dizzy in the best way possible. “I feel way better now that you’re home. I even made your favorite for dinner!” His heart could have burst right then and there. “We can eat later, right now I just wanna love on my girl. Is that okay?” His thumbs rubbing the apples of your cheeks. “That’s perfectly okay, sweets.” You pinch his sides, turning and running to your bedroom as he starts chasing after you. But he stops as soon as Butters catches his eye. “Um, baby? Why does Butters have a mini cowboy hat on? And are those cowboy boots for cats?”
And here we are present day. Its been a week since the incident at lunch with Devyn and Mason.
Jack was still so furious at the person who dumped their drink on your head, and called you a bitch?!
You were trying your best to stay positive about everything, and that made Jack even more furious at the person. You were just too fucking good for this cruel world, and the fact people were hating on you all because you had what they wanted, was absolutely ridiculous.
You were doing a great job at not reading all of the rumors or hate online. That was until you saw an article online, claiming you were cheating on Jack with Mason. With Mason of all people? Mason who has been nothing but a big brother and best friend to you and Jack? You couldn’t believe what you were reading. And what made it even worse, was the picture attached to the article. One that someone had to have taken while following you two back to your apartment. And to anyone outside of your lives, it did look very suspicious, his jacket thrown around you, as well as his arm around your shoulders. But that was just Mason being protective of you after the encounter you had a few minutes prior.
You knew Jack wouldn’t believe any of it, that’s not what you were concerned about. What you were concerned about was all the hate comments Mason would likely get, not to mention the comments you would be getting. And you knew you shouldn’t look at them. You knew it would only cause you more hurt.
That didn’t stop you though.
Before you knew it, it had been two hours and you were still reading through the hate. You didn’t even realize you had tears streaming down your face this whole time. The things that people can come up with. It’s truly unsettling how crazed people get over celebrities.
Some people went as far as creating an entire instagram account, dedicated to hating on you.
But the breaking point for you was when people started threatening to kill you or begging for you to kill yourself. The fact people actually wanted you dead because of your relationship with Jack made no sense at all.
The panic started settling in, not even giving you a chance to fight back. Your breathing was labored, mouth dry, tears still coming down like a waterfall. Your chest felt so tight, it all just hurt so much. But luckily, Jack walked in just in time. “Baby? I’m back from the gym. Josh and Haley wanna get dinner with us tonight.” You heard his keys get thrown on to the kitchen island, before his footsteps start making their way to your bedroom. “You can start getting ready, while I shower. Orrr you could join me-“
As soon as he sees you, he already knows what’s happening. He already knows what started the panic attack. Nevertheless, he falls to his knees in front of you, grasping your small hands in his large ones, and starts rubbing comforting circles on your wrists. “Hey” His voice is a whisper, he didn’t want to make things worse for you. “Angel?” You’re not able to respond, only look up and lock eyes with his pretty brown ones. “Hey, there you are. Are you able to talk?” You can only shake your head no. “That’s okay. Just tell me how bad this attack is, use your fingers.” You hold up 8 shaky fingers.
He nods his head, grabs your hands and places a kiss to the back of both of them. “Baby, were you looking at things online you know you’re not supposed to be looking at?” With a trembly sigh, you nod your head. “Yes.” You’re voice was so tiny and broken, Jack swore to himself he could kill whoever made you feel this way.
“People want me dead, Jack!” You burst into more tears, covering your face with your hands. “What?!” Jack stands to his feet, sitting down beside you before pulling you into his lap. “Where’s your phone?” You grab it from the bed and hand it to him. While he reads through some of the things that have been said, he pushes your head to the crook of his neck, running his hand through your hair.
That lasts for a few minutes before he puts your phone down and reaches for his own. “Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’m gonna fix this.” He stands up, taking you with him and heads to the bathroom. “I’m gonna run you a bath, help you relax a little bit, okay?” “That sounds really nice, baby. Thank you.” You give him a small smile, and place a quick kiss to his lips, before he starts the bath.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. I don’t want you thinking about anything. Turn that pretty brain off and just relax.” Jack was stern when he said this. He was being serious and you knew better than to try and argue with him.
“Okay, I will! But don’t be too long please.” He leans down to place one more kiss to your lips before heading back to the bedroom. He knew he should at least give his manager a heads up, but at this point he would start a fucking war to protect you. He opens his instagram app, quickly clicking on all of his favorite pictures of you, before typing his caption-
“This beautiful girl right here, means more to me than anything fame could give me. I would throw all of it away, give all of this up, if it meant she would never see a day of sadness again. All of these nasty rumors being spread about her, are absolutely disgusting. And now she’s receiving death threats? This has gone too far and I regret not saying something before now, but coming home to find the literal light of my life having a panic attack, because people want her dead, was the breaking point for me. I will never want anyone like I want her. I will never love anyone like I love her, and all of these crazy fangirls need to realize that.
And to my angel- you bring so much happiness to everyone who truly knows you. I love you so much, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to truly express how much. If I could take all the tears you’ve cried over the past few weeks away, I would. And I’m just so incredibly sorry that someone as pure of heart as you, had to go through all of this. You will always be too good for this world, always will be too good for me. And I just feel so lucky, that I get to wake up every day, wrapped in your arms. Knowing you chose me, out of everyone in this world, to love. Keep your head up, baby. Let them say whatever they want, cause at the end of the day, we’ve still got each other. That’s all we need.”
After what felt like an hour, but was only 15 minutes, Jack walks back into the bathroom. He sits down beside the tub, and looks over at you. “Hey, sweets.” You mumble, the dried lavender calming you almost to sleep. “Hi, my love.” He tilts his head slightly, giving you a look of pure love and adoration. “You almost ready to get out?” You give a sleepy smile and nod. “Yeah, can you grab my towel for me sweets?”
“Yeah baby, it’s in the dryer so it’s all nice and warm for you. Be right back.”
Jack quickly makes his way back to you, wrapping the towel around you and without any warning, picks you up and carry’s you back to your bedroom, placing your comfy robe around you. “Now, c’mere.” Jack beckons you to sit back on his lap, he’s placed himself against the headboard now. When you make it closer to him, he gently grabs your arm, pulling you to his body. You wrap your legs around his waist, and immediately start playing with his curls at the back of his neck.
“I need you to listen to me when I say this, sweet girl.” You look at him and nod, “Okay, you have all of my attention sweets.” He only smiles, reaching to grab one of your hands, and placing a kiss to the palm of it.
“I want you to know, that I love you. I love you so much, it honestly scares me. Before I met you, I didn’t think I would ever find anyone. And then I met you and everything that didn’t make sense before, does now. You’ve planted these flowers of love and care in my heart, and they are so deeply rooted now, if I were to lose you, it would kill me.” Jack spoke so soft, but stern enough where you knew he meant what he was saying.
“I wish I could go back, and say something to all the haters before now, but I didn’t and I’m so sorry for that, angel.”
“It’s not your fault it happened Jack.” He shakes his head, cutting you off. “It’s my job to protect you, baby. I should have been better at it.”
“I love you, and you do more than enough for me, every day.” You try to reassure him, but Jack being Jack, would take more persuasion. “I already feel 100 times better, just being here in your arms. You make me feel safe, and fearless against the world.” Your lips meet his for another kiss, this one deeper and more meaningful.
“You are heaven sent, I swear.” Jack whispers against your lips. You knew the hate would continue, you knew Jack still felt like it was his fault, but you also knew Jack loved you and would protect you no matter what.
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kamotecue · 7 months
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stolen glances ✮ l. walti
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pairing: lia walti x reader
summary: in which a certain midfielder couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. PWNT!reader
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
you kept your eyes ahead, the captain’s armband worn around your left bicep. you took a glance at the other team’s line up to see lia walti turning her head away. you shrugged it off, thinking she was looking at something else when in reality she was looking at you.
you gently swung the arm of your mascot, who turned to you and gave you a soft smile. then it was time to walk out, you heard the filipino fans cheer for you. it was their first time the team has made it into a major tournament.
you watched as the fans sang the national anthem with pride, so with your hand over your chest you sang as well. once both national anthems were sung, it was time for both teams to take a picture for the starting XI. you pulled your hoodie over not realizing two things, your shirt got ridden up and you certainly didn’t realize the certain midfielder had her eyes on your exposed stomach.
as you successfully pulled off the hoodie, she averted her gaze turning to her team and unzipped the trainer jacket handling it to her team’s kit staff. she quickly joined her team, presenting their team’s banner.
as you headed over to your team, taking a spot in the middle of the back row. hali, your fellow co-captain, gave you a nudge before facing the camera. you presented the banner with a small smile, as the picture was taken.
“jusko, kinakabahan ako. [oh my god, i’m nervous.]” you said, as hali laughed and shook her head pushing you to the area where you had to switch banners.
you faced lia as she gave you a small smile, noticing your interaction earlier. you returned it, as you switched banners. then shook hands with the lineswomans, and the ref before heading back to your team for the huddle.
“remember, no matter what the result is we still have two games to change it:” hali said, before you went to your designated spots. you were up front with your fellow striker, sarina bolden.
then the kick off began, in the first half no one was able to score. until a penalty was awarded to switzerland, bachman one of their midfielder’s was the one assigned to take the penalty.
you watched olivia as she moved left and right behind the goal line. and as she ran, she swiftly shoots it, aiming it at the back of the next at the left post. the score being 1-0, the ref blew the whistle signaling the end of the first half.
you headed to the tunnel besides olivia who looked a bit crest-fallen.
“you did well, liv. it’s not easy to save a penalty, don’t blame yourself alright.” you said, as lia watched from the back. a small smile made its way onto her face, as she found you a bit sweet.
“what if we lose?” liv asked
“then we lose, liv, we win as a team and we lose as a team. football is a team sport, i have faith in my team.” you gave your goal keeper a soft smile, before heading into the locker room to receive more tactics from your coach, alen.
you had a water bottle in your hand, taking a few sips from time to time. then everything was a blur, in the 50th minute you received a cross from hali, and went for a header, you watched as it touched the back of the net, making you equalize with switzerland.
you ran to the section of the filipino fans, doing your signature celebration as they screamed. sarina jumping on your back, as you gently wrapped your arms around her legs so she doesn’t fall. sara and angie gently shaking you, which made you laugh.
lia watched as you celebrated the goal, it was philippine’s first goal of the tournament. you had the biggest smile, as she adored it.
but it was over as soon as piubel, swiss’s #17 scored their second goal. you lifted your shirt wiping the sweat of your face, as you turned to your team who looked a bit exhausted, why wouldn’t they be? the amount of shots on target were blocked and saved.
you analyzed the scene, and quickly made a plan. in the 87th minute, flanigan made a cross, delivering it to sarina who went for a header but a swiss defender quickly blocked it, yet it wasn’t enough to fully clear it. barker tapped the ball in, making it hit the back of the net.
you watched as she ran, the defenders chasing afterwards. you simply watched as they celebrated, a small smile making its way to your face.
“idol, pa-picture.” you yelled, catching the attention of sara who snickered at your silliness. you caught the eyes of lia, giving her one of your eyes smiles. but as soon as the game went into extra time, it took three minutes in before lia scored a goal earning making it 3-2, the game had ended as the whistle blew.
you sat on the ground catching your breath, as lia sat beside you.
“you played well.” lia said, as you gave her a small smile.
“you did as well.” you said, as hali called your name making you look at her. she tossed you a bottle of water, or gatorade before she went to the rest of the team.
“want to swap shirts?” lia asked, as you shrugged and gave her a nod. you watched when she played at arsenal. she tugged off her shirt, handing it to you while you took of yours.
“and once everything is over, want to go on a date?” lia asked, as you felt a bit flushed.
“why not, it seems like we will be teammates after all.” you said, as lia furrowed her eyebrows. you laughed at her confused look.
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tojikai · 1 year
Text
Permanent Mark XI: Epilogue
Pairing: Gojo x Reader
Genre: Angst
Warnings:  pregnancy, insecurities, miscarriage
Series Masterlist
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“Maybe fate would be a little kinder...”
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"I heard about it when Satoru called. He's a mess. He said your husband contacted him." You heard faint voices as you came around. There was a white wall in front of your face as you tried to blink away the fog that is covering your vision. Are you being lulled to sleep? Why is everything spinning? You wondered as you looked around. Figures. There were figures. You moved your hand up to reach one of them but the piercing pain in your hand stopped you from doing so. So, you tried to sit up, panicking when your head started to throb the moment you lifted it from the pillow.
"Don't try to sit up, Y/N. It's not good for you." It's a familiar voice. You know this person, what's their name? "You have to rest to gain your strength quickly." The voice spoke again, their figure reaching out to you. The weight of their hand was too much that you could only lie down. There were distant voices that you couldn't clearly hear and to you, the figures where the voices are coming from are just blobs. Are they even human? You wondered as you tightly closed your eyes shut.
What happened after you fell asleep? You thought to yourself. Are you dreaming? How did you even get here? There was a pain in your lower stomach that made you wince as you tried to recall the memories of last night. You feel like you're underwater. The noises started to morph until they were only distorted sounds around you. What happened after you slept? You wondered again as you felt pain erupt from your lower stomach in a throbbing manner. Your place your hand to soothe it, sighing as it slowly fades, before coming back again, making you hiss.
"What's wrong, my dear?" You heard your voice talking. Who are you talking to? You wondered as you felt yourself caressing your stomach. Like there's something that you're soothing, comforting inside it. Like a baby, craving a mother's touch.
That's right, baby. Your baby. Something happened to your baby.
Before you could scream, you woke up on a chair. Giggles were coming from the crib in front of you. Gorgeous sounds made you smile to yourself, despite not seeing the little human inside. You stood up to see the baby's little hands reaching out to you as his eyes sparkled with the happiness of seeing you.
My baby. My baby boy. 
He was reaching out to you as he let out cute sounds that melted your heart in the most beautiful way possible. Your hand reached out to caress his soft cheeks, earning more giggles as he wrapped his little fingers around you 
"Hey, how's your nap?" You found yourself saying. The baby continued to laugh, squealing happily as you picked it up to kiss his chubby cheek. "How's your nap, my love?" You spoke softly again, letting the baby nuzzle his nose on your cheek. His warm breath gives you a different sense of comfort as you sit back in your chair.
"How're my babies?" A voice spoke behind you just as a hand touched your bare shoulders. You looked up to see Satoru, towering over you and your child with a contented smile on his beautiful face. He leaned down to kiss your forehead while caressing the head of your infant. You leaned up to let him kiss your lips before smiling up at him. Everything's so simple.
It was like a ray of light shone from the sky and cast upon you and your little family like there's no roof above your head. Are you dreaming of the future now? The future you once saw was with Satoru and this is how you truly want it to be. Despite all the doubts, uncertainties, and issues surrounding your relationship with him, you still want you and Satoru to make it. And that is something you will never tell him. Why? Because you want to know first if it's also you for him.
You looked up and saw a roof with flowers, leaves, and everything pleasant to the eyes. There were also his eyes boring down to yours as he looked down on you and your little one. You almost drowned as he leaned closer and closer and you let your eyes flutter, expecting to feel his lips on yours but were met with nothing but cold air. You opened your eyes to a white room once again with the smell of antiseptic and a heavy feeling on your lower leg.
"Hey, sweetie." You looked down and saw your mom, holding your hand as she sat down beside you. Standing by the door is Suguru in his sweatpants and long sleeve shirt. Did he rush here? You wondered as he walked closer to you. There was a small sad smile on his face. 
"How are you feeling, Y/N?" You looked up to see Shoko towering over you as she checked the IV. Why is everyone here? You wondered as you reached down to pat your stomach, a habit you developed ever since you found out that you were pregnant. It's your way of saying good morning to your baby.
Your baby. What happened to your baby? You remembered waking up on blood-soaked sheets and pain in your lower stomach before being rushed to the hospital. What happened after that? You remembered yourself crying as you begged the doctors to save your baby. 
"Mom…" You looked over to your mom as she moved to hug your form. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm sorry…" She rubbed your back as you looked over to Suguru hoping to find some answers but he could only look at you with pity in his eyes. There was a throbbing ache in your head but the pain that is finally settling in the middle of your chest could never compare to it. What happened to your baby? You asked yourself as you looked back to the dream you just had. 
“Mom…what happened to my baby?" Tears started to form in your eyes before you even knew it. You don't have the strength in you to cry out in agony and you could only let your mother hold you as you helplessly wailed. You lost your baby. Your little angel. The only good thing that happened to you in the past months of hell.
You didn't hear any of their voices as you shut your eyes and muted everyone out, reminiscing the sound of the giggles of the child in your dreams; reminiscing everything about it. The baby's little hands, cheeks, eyes, and the way he cooed when you smiled down at him. It was bliss; a brief moment of bliss before you say goodbye to the little life that you once bore inside you, giving you the strength to turn your world around.
"Y/N…" You heard Suguru's voice and the warmth of his hand enveloping yours. Shoko sat on the foot of your bed, watching you sob as she rubbed your leg in an attempt to comfort you. "It's gonna be fine.” You can’t even find your voice anymore, the pain in your chest was beyond belief. The words coming out of your mouth were incoherent as they slipped past your lips, interrupted by the throbbing ache in your heart.
You wanted to go back to sleep, go back to that dream and live in it forever. Those four blue eyes that you adore. Satoru’s and your unborn son. You wanted to go back to it, leave reality with no way of returning if you must just to feel that moment of bliss again; even if you have to repeat that little scenario for a lifetime. 
“Is she…awake?” A familiar voice barges into the room and there stood Satoru, with his chest heaving up and down as he panted. He looked at you with pain in his eyes and you could feel Shoko squeeze your hand, you looked at her and nodded, understanding the unspoken words. You know that they thought you wouldn’t want to see them but looking back at Satoru you could only whimper in pain as he rushed to hold you.
“I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I-I was careless, Y/N. I’m sorry, love.” He repeated as he kissed the top of your head. You could only cry, knowing that if there’s anyone who can understand the pain that you are feeling at that moment, it would be Satoru—the father of your child. Suguru and Shoko still don’t know what to say. They were shocked when your mother called and told them about what happened. They were hoping that things would fall right back into place with the arrival of your child, but it seems like now isn't the right time. For your child, and for you and Satoru.
"What were you doing Satoru?" Shoko spoke, unable to suppress her feelings as she looked at you. She cannot speak about the pain you feel but seeing your body tremble, and your heart crumbles once again in front of a man who broke it multiple times just revolts her. You've already hurt so much. 
"They wouldn't let me in. Her father saw me and he let—" Satoru tried to explain but stopped to look at Shoko with pleading eyes. It was hard. It was hard to explain when you know that everyone around you can doubt everything that you say. It’s even harder when you know that you can never blame them for thinking of you that way. Satoru knows that you’re only holding on to him right now because you know that you share the same pain. Not because you want him to put you back together. He knows that you’d never trust him to do that anymore. 
It took an hour for you to completely calm down, falling in and out of sleep after the nurses gave you some medicine. You held on to him the whole time. He let himself take in your face and the warmth of your hand in his. And he found himself in that situation again; when he had to leave the hospital after you got into an accident. When he had to memorize your face and the feel of your skin against his because he doesn’t know when he will get to hold you like this again or if he’ll ever get to hold you like this again. 
What will be your decision now that the life that used to connect the two of you before is gone? Will you let him stay, will you let him pursue you, will you allow the both of you to try again and hope that maybe this time it’ll work? No. If you let him stay, he’d make sure that he’ll make everything work. 
No matter what it is, Satoru knows that you’ll always have all of him. 
_______________________________________
“You got everything you need ready?” You heard your mom as she walked past your room. Your door was open and you could only let out a short hum as you fixed your lipstick. You walked to the windows only to feel a gust of wind caress the exposed skin of your stomach. The sound of your heels tapping the wooden floors echoed with each step that you make. You stopped to take in the view outside. The lands stretched out to the horizon before the small buildings of the city not too far but also not too near. 
Your hand reached to the exposed skin on your side to trace the tattoos that held more meaning now than they did before you got it. A permanent mark for all that you went through.
“You sure it’s still going to be this one?” You remember Suguru asking as you bit your lip and nodded. You got it a month after your miscarriage. Those three butterflies represent you, your life now, and your life that went away. It represents you because you are now ready to grow more for yourself. It is your life because, despite the ugly past, it still bloomed into something that could be beautiful. The last butterfly is your life that went away—your baby angel. 
The pain you felt when you lost your angel can never be erased but it’s something that made you realize a lot of things. It made you realize that sometimes, no matter how much you protect and try to build something if it isn’t time for it yet, then you wouldn’t have it. But that doesn’t mean that you can never have it. Sometimes, losing something is also because of ourselves. When we thought that we just want to keep it safe but we ended up crushing it with our own hands. But that doesn’t mean that we can never pick it up and create something with it again. 
Much like the sand. No matter how many times that waves take it down, you can always just start building from it again. But in life, you have to trust fate. Not everything is in the palm of your hand.
Your mother didn’t make you explain everything to her right away. But with the help of therapy and a little bit of change in your relationships, you were able to open up to your mother. She was sad, angry, and disappointed when she got to hear the story in detail. You found out about what happened to Rie after that confrontation with your mother but you didn’t know how to feel about it. You don’t feel happy but you don’t feel sad to the point of convincing your mother to change anything about it either. There are consequences to the mistakes you made, and that just happened to be hers. 
She’s probably enduring something more because of her own doing but that is none of your concerns now. You couldn’t help but think that what happened to you is also a consequence of what you did. This is something that your mother asked your therapist to help you overcome. 
You sighed as you closed the windows, letting the rising sun make your skin shine before you closed the curtains and stepped out. Downstairs was your mom on her phone and Kento sitting on one of the love seats of the spacious living room. He looked up at you with a smile before standing up. Your mother was about to walk outside when she noticed your presence.
“They’ve loaded up your suitcases in the car already. You said everything’s in there, right?” Your mother offered you a small smile, holding her phone away to talk to you. There’s been changes in your relationship with your mother—good changes. She’s paid more attention to you now than she ever did. Not only because of your training but because you’re her daughter. You thought you were a bit too old for that kind of care now, but as she said “You are my daughter forever. I want to make it up to you while I still can.”
You have no idea how her conversations with your Dad went after everything but you got a feeling that it has something to do with it. You appreciate it all, you just want to try with your life again. Do something for yourself, make something for yourself, and live for yourself. It was a hard decision to make with all the traumas and pain in your heart but you’ll only regret it if you don’t try. 
“Yes, Mom. Let’s go.” You jogged carefully downstairs, smiling at Kento when he warned you about slipping. He’s been one of your support systems, along with Suguru and Shoko during the months of your recovery. Though you know that Satoru has been getting updates about you from the two, you were determined to fix yourself rather than your relationship with him. This time, for the very first time, you decided to make it about you and you only. The last time that you saw him was at the hospital. You know that it took everything in him to let go of you but your mother made it clear that your recovery doesn’t require him to be around you. You saw him cry again, it broke your heart again but you're also too shattered to hold on again. 
“You don’t want any fractures again, Y/N.” Kento held your hand as you walked down the last few steps. “I already met the quota, I’m not getting any fractures again.” You giggled as you joked before letting go of his hand to walk out and into the car. Today, you’re flying overseas with Kento to train there. Your mother also figured that it’s better for you to get some change of atmosphere and scenery.
Arriving at the airport, you spotted your father waving at you near the private jet. You smiled and waved back at him. Even though he wanted to go with you, the company needs him here. He promised to visit you every once in a while along with your mom and you made sure to assure them that it would be fine. After all, Kento is going to be with you.
“What’s up, Ms. President?” You heard a voice come from behind you and were surprised to see Shoko and Suguru. Your jaw dropped as you turned to Kento, eyeing him with accusation as you shook your head. “They told me to say they couldn’t come.” He spoke monotonously, although with a small smirk, carrying your bag to hand it over to you. You turned to Shoko who’s now holding a peace sign.
“So that’s why everybody’s preventing me from stopping over at your clinic and the shop.” You pouted at them as you threw your arms around Suguru, letting him lift you off your feet slightly. Shoko was laughing softly at the sight. Even if she never showed it much, she’s the most worried for you. She kept in contact with your mother no matter how intimidated she was by her at first and always checked up on your doctors to know how you’ve been doing. She wouldn’t tell you how she tried to keep Satoru sane and grounded by letting him know how you were. 
He’s still as in love with you as he was before. And Shoko knows that you know.
“You think we’d let you go without seeing you off?” You pulled away from Suguru letting his hand stay on your waist, feeling how he gently traces the outline of your tattoo with his thumb. “I thought you’d do that.” You looked down before punching his chest, hearing him laugh as he let Shoko snatch you away to hug you as well. It felt like it was the tightest hug she has ever given you. And despite the small difference in your age, she made you feel like you have an older sister that you could let everything out to. 
“Come home really soon. I’m going to miss you.” It was rare for Shoko to speak her emotions and it made your heart swell. “Of course, it’s just gonna be for a short while.” You assured her, taking a deep breath to stop yourself from crying. It’s hard to leave the people who have been with you at your lowest. The people who didn’t give up on you no matter how hopeless you were. The people who helped even if they themselves were in a pinch. “Call as much as you can. Or I’ll follow you there.” Suguru joked, poking your side and making you giggle.
“Y/N.” You heard your mother speak behind you. You turned around, seeing her smile at your friends before looking at you with concerned eyes. It worried you because it’s new. What could be making your mother so anxious? “Someone wishes to see you off. Only if you want to, though.” She didn’t have to tell you who it was. You already know. You know Satoru too much to not expect him to be there. Looking back at Satoru and Shoko, they could only look at you with the same nervous gaze that your mother gave you. 
“Y-yeah. It’s fine, I can do it. Where is he?” You can hear your heartbeat go faster as you followed your mother. You didn’t think that she’d let him see you off like this. You were led to the far end of the private jet before your mother pointed out where to go. She said that he should be the one to come to you but you figured that it would be better this way. You know that he already made up with Suguru, and also explained everything that happened in your mother's office to Shoko. You just thought that this last private time is what you both need. But you're certain that it wouldn't change anything in your plans.
“Y/N.” A voice called from your far right and you had to close your eyes and take a deep breath before turning to look at him. His hair blew in the wind, his slightly sunken cheeks, and the blue eyes that used to hold all of your heart. You smiled softly as you slowly walked towards him. You didn’t think about how you’d react to him. You didn’t think about how you’d feel if he came here today. But you knew you had to face him one day. And that is today. 
“How have you been?” He asked you right when he reached you, eager to talk to you, to hear your voice again. He doesn’t know when he would see you again. He doesn’t even know if you’d ever cross paths with each other again. And if you do, would you still be by yourself? Or would you be…with someone else? Someone worthy of your love. Someone who deserves your heart. Someone who’d keep all the promises that Satoru made to you.
He shook his head and closed his eyes as he looked down. He cannot cry. Not right now. Not when he’s alone with you—probably for the last time. He doesn’t want to ruin things for you. He never wanted to ruin things for you; for the both of you. You let him hold your hands with his shaky ones, reluctant and afraid that he’ll scare you away. 
“I’m okay. I’m…getting better.” You answered and were about to return the question but he stopped you, squeezing your hand gently. “That’s the most important. That’s the only important thing.” He brought your hand to his lips, unable to stop himself as he pulls you closer. You slowly wrapped your arms around him. Slowly, like you were afraid to connect with him again. But you needed it. You know you needed it.
“I don’t…I don’t really know what else to say. I just wanted to see you. And I want to…want to say…” He was speaking in a rush. Like you’d disappear in front of him. Like you’d go away within seconds and he has to speak his heart out or he’ll never ever get the chance to ever again. He probably wouldn’t. But you didn’t think he’d be this aware of it.
“...that I love you. I always have and I always will.” He was helpless against the tears falling from his eyes as he looked at you with nothing but longing and love. The sun made him more beautiful than he already is. It made him look softer than he feels and sounds and how you wished that things could still be so simple. How you wished that fate could’ve been kinder to the both of you. 
“Satoru—” You tried to speak to him but he only ended up hugging you to him. To his body, letting you feel his warmth again. Despite his cold hands, his heartbeat felt heavy and alive, burning with all the feelings inside him. “I’ll probably never hear you call me like that after this ever again.” He sobbed, shaking as he took in your scent. “But, love, I’ll always love you like this. Do you understand?” You let him put his forehead against yours, your nose brushing against his.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” You nodded your head, biting your lips to stop your tears. You already cried too much, you thought you won’t be able to cry again but here you are, tasting salty tears as you let your lips cling to his for the last time. It was slow, unhurried, bittersweet. It almost felt like turning the last page of your favorite book. You had to remind yourself that you’d find another book that you’ll also love but this one will never be forgotten. You don’t even know if you could love another book as much as you love this one. No matter how painful and cruel the story was. If you could read it all for the first time, you probably would.
If you could change the ending, you probably would.
But only fate could tell. Only fate can lead you where you should be. If by any chance, you stumble into each other again as better people than you are right now, then it will probably let you start all over again. Can two people who chose to walk on separate paths end up going back to each other again? People could go through changes, and still end up where they started. And it was only fate giving them a chance to do it over. You’ll never cross that thing out. You just want to let it all go, and see if it’s going to come back to you. See if it’s really for you. 
You left with Satoru’s three words. But to him, he sent you off with his whole heart and a piece of his soul. Something he will never want to take back. He’ll be worn out loving someone else, but the piece he left with you will stay forever. 
And that missing piece of him is the proof; a permanent mark to remind him that once in his life, he was loved by an angel like you. 
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1K notes · View notes
halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months
Text
THE CALL OF A FOREIGN SWAN (XI)
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|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XII ||
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PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader
WORDCOUNT: 4.8k
WARNINGS: Blood, violence, angst, death, guns & weapons, bullet wounds, gore, shootings, talks of executions, drugs, smuggling, etc.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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The both of you immediately jump up, though Kyle quickly holds you back before you can rush to the door. His eyes slash to yours, meeting with a sizzle of color. There’s the clatter of feet from downstairs and shouts that echo out through the walls. Loud, brutal.
Your heart beats into your ribcage as his hands grab your shoulders above the blanket. 
“Shh,” he hushes, lowly whispering while moving one finger to his lips as your mind rushes through the motions of what you’d just witnessed and now this. Gaz squeezes your shoulder to get your attention back on him. When you suck down a shaky breath, he mutters slowly. “Listen.”
Your ears strain, eyes flashing like a movie as images dance behind your pupils. Execution videos. From what you figured out and what you’d been told, your father was accused of drugs and weapons—never…never…that.
Execution videos.
There’s yelling from throughout the house, boots moving through glass. Someone had broken in, and you don’t know where your mom is.
“Gaz,” you gasp, hands snapping to his wrists as you stare into his eyes. “Gaz, my mom, she’s—”
“She’s with Keller,” he eases you in a whisper, moving your body back from the bed into the corner where a large wardrobe sits stationary. He speaks as if to placate a child down from a panic attack. “She’ll be alright with him, yeah? You can’t think like that.”
“But, I don’t know,” you stutter, and he shushes you again as the sound of pounding feet spreads out throughout the mansion. You’re reminded of a group of wolves stalking prey. “I have to find her.”
“You need to stay here,” the Sergeant urges. “You need to stay where I can keep an eye on you.” He doesn't look nervous, and his eyes are firm and hard—Kyle leaves no room for hesitation or doubt, and that inner strength is the only thing that stops you from trying to bolt out that door. His hands squeeze your arms before one leaves to grasp your elbow. “Understand?” 
You nod in a jerk, eyes dancing away as a particularly loud crash echoes through the walls. 
Gaz releases you and dashes to his bags, peeling out his X12 when he kneels down and slams a new magazine into the bottom, pulling back the slide with a defining click. The safety is all at once moved back, and the weapon is hot in his hands as you watch closely. 
Execution videos. 
“Come here,” Kyle waves a hand, and you do so, socked feet hitting like rocks. Brown eyes bore into you as feet pound up the stairs. “We need to barricade the door.” 
“Okay,” you nod, mind running on autopilot. Flashes of the massacre in the park bounce off your skull, but instead of the innocent bodies, all of them bore the face of your mother. While you’d had your disagreements, you would never want your last remaining family member dead. 
“You grab the chair, I’ll get the nightstand, alright—” Right as he’s about to finish his sentence, shots ring out from the hallway opposite of yours, and you slap your hands to your mouth to stifle your scream. Gaz’s face snaps to the door, inner war being fought with himself over the safety of Alex and your mom.
She comes first, he reasons, the instincts second nature at this point.
Rushing to the desk chair, Kyle’s shoulder brushes yours as he sprints past, setting the wood under the handle and pitching it so the back legs press into the floor. Your eyes dart to the items on the bed, breath coming out in fast puffs of air—different priorities alighting. 
Stepping on fast feet as Gaz backs up a few paces to study the door, gun held trained on it and jaw clenched, your hands grasp out and steal the USB, shoving it into the pockets of your PJs. The journal quickly follows, grasped between your hands. 
Your eyes slide over the laptop with hidden despair that gets shoved to the back of your mind. Now wasn’t the time, and you could only carry the journal—to your person, its contents were invaluable. 
Maybe they would even give you a reason as to why. 
More crashing, more shouts. You flinch, placing the journal into the crook of your arm above your blanket. Your room would have been a better place to be—it had windows, whereas this one didn’t. If someone broke through the door, or someones, plural, you’d both be on your own with whatever you could get your hands on; that itself was limited. 
As the tense shoulderblades of the Sergeant stay stuck under your gaze, you blink in fast realization. A familiar remembrance lights behind your eyes. 
Of course.
You breathe out, “We have to go across to my room. There are ways out, and…and in my nightstand, I have a—”
“We have no clue if there’s more outside,” Kyle glances over his shoulder. “No. But there’s something you can do—quickly, yeah?” You nod quickly. 
“In my bag, the black one, I have a radio.” The man’s words are hurried but easy to understand, your hands are already peeling back the zipper to his belongings as voices start to fully form from down the hallway. “It’s already on the channel, just press the button on top. There we are,” he affirms to you as you act, barely sparing a glance as his feet widen. “Red one. Good.”
The static halts when you bring the item to your face, breath huffing over the line. 
“What do I say?” You ask lowly, snapping quickly out in a hiss.
A finger is reached over his straight firing arm and held in the air, still and silent. Brown eyes don’t blink, as you see the strain of the tendons in his neck—Gaz slowly brings the limb back down to return to cup the bottom of the X12. He’s so still you wonder if he breathes.
In reaction to this, you also freeze like a bird on a wire, teetering only inside of your mind to the gusts of imaginary wind. You watch the soldier and feel your heart drop when footsteps clatter right outside. More gunshots fire off from farther away, rapid, ruthless gunshots, but you can’t even react to it. 
People are speaking. 
“This her room?” Blood drains from your face. 
Gaz licks his lips before gritting his teeth; he doesn’t move beyond a slight slide up to the doorframe—shoulder flush to the wall as it had been in that alleyway a million years ago. Waiting. 
“...How the fuck am I supposed to know that? The bastard gave us a botched floor plan. And who the hell is the blonde guy that’s giving Duff shit downstairs?” 
“Shut it…you hear that?” A pause where you can hear your heartbeat as it sits in your throat: a minute passes, two. A different voice speaks.
“I don't hear a damn thing.”
“That’s the fucking problem, you idiot!” 
“Just open the damn door and shoot the place up, man—she sure as shit won’t go anywhere without ‘er mother! So what, she’s just hidin’.”
Gaz growls before he snaps out, rushing in front of the door before he levels his gun to it once more. With a sound of alarm, you watch him put upwards of six rounds through the wood—a rapid-fire brigade of metal as gunpowder flies through the air. You duck your head, forgetting for an instant where you are and who’s holding the weapon. 
The slam of dead meat, though, is something that can never be erased from your mind. 
Gaz watches the door before walking backward, grabbing another magazine from his bag, and stuffing it into the back of his sweatpants band. 
Brown eyes stay on the barrier—as if waiting for the dead to walk again. 
But they don’t, and when the screams from downstairs still battle on, returning fire and shouts for cover, you realize the warzone that your own home has become, and how ill-prepared you were for it. 
How many people were there? And wasn’t there a team of friendly soldiers just in town, too? Surely they knew that this was a big risk to take coming into unknown territory. But the words of the men outside had hit you like a brick, making you go light-headed as Gaz hurriedly took the radio from your hand and barked through it. 
“This is Bravo 2-6, to Firebird, do you copy?” 
Had they said…floor plan? The rain increases outside, lightning strikes overhead and the boom that joins seconds later makes the house shake. You look to the ground and your face twists.
“Firebird,” Gaz snaps again. “Multiple hostiles and we don’t have eyes on the perimeter, do you copy?! Repeat, multiple hostiles.” The line is utterly dead. 
Kyle’s eyes flash, jaw clenching with a knot in his chest.
“Fuck!” He shouts, a quick bark of a curse. Your eyes watch him as he moves to the door, peeling back the chair and grasping the handle, before you can caution him, the barrier is already moved away with a firm hand, pistol held aloft as it goes out first to scope the long stretch of wood and navy colored walls. 
“What the hell is going on,” you whisper to yourself shakily, the scent of blood in the air. 
Kyle’s already going through protocol—the larger, main infiltration team being downstairs with the smaller, more stealthy kill squad had come here to try and find you—it was different from the scene in the park. A new tactic. Where the previous had been under the guise of disorganized chaos, a cover for a larger plot, this was straight-out aggression, with, at the very least, men and women who knew how to carry themselves in a formation and section off targets.
The man steps out into the dimly lit area, glancing down at the two bodies that are slumped to the ground. For shooting through a door with only sound to go off of, the shots weren’t bad. Two for the one on the left, four for the one on the right; liver, lungs, throat, and a hole in the chest. His magazine was down to eleven shots. 
Stepping into the gore with only socks over his feet, he hears your hurried steps follow after, your hard breath, and the way your breath catches at two more bodies that would be stained into your mind. 
When could you catch a break?
But Kyle knows there’ll be many more deaths in the near future, and he can’t help you with that beyond a quick comment of, “don’t look,” thrown over his shoulder. 
The hallway is empty, and the Sergeant re-groups, corralling you back into his room as you blink away the image of men riddled with bullets and leaking blood onto the hardwood. 
“Get in,” Gaz grunts, pushing on the small of your back and bringing you over to the wooden wardrobe at the far wall. “Sit in the corner and don’t stand up until I come back.”
“Come back?!” Your face lights with panic, even a bit of disbelief as the mahogany door is pulled open, old clothes in plastic bags coming to the forefront of your vision. “What do you mean ‘come back’...? You just said we can’t leave—you’re not going anywhere!”
Lighting strikes above; a death scream from below. Gaz glances back to the entrance again, and you see his throat bob. Harder pressure is pushed on you and you squawk as your body is suddenly corralled into the wardrobe. 
Brown eyes meet yours seriously.
“The men I have in town aren't answering, which means they’re either dead or cut off.” You tense, holding your journal tighter to your chest. “Best we can do is wait for local authorities,” a pause, “if your neighbors heard the shots above the storm. Or,” Gaz sighs and taps you under the chin, making your face stare head-on into his. While it should have made you startle back, the scene is so reminiscent of the heart-felt moment at the pond that you have to fight your body melting into his.
“Or,” he continues, licking his lips and fixing his single hold on his pistol. “I go out and clear the mansion with Keller after we get your mum to a secure area like this. We don’t have time for discussion—plans change and we have to make do. You can’t come with me.”
A bead of silence hits the floor, rolling around the two of you. You don’t exactly know what to say, hadn’t this entire night, and now with the fire inside of you looking more like a match instead of an inferno, your aggression is waning with this man. It made sense, what he was saying. It did, truly. 
“Spitfire?” There’s no time for this, not when the gunshots aren’t slowing down. Kyle takes your acceptance of his touch as a good sign, leaning in just the tiniest bit closer as he looms there, the light of the room alone the line of his silhouette. He implores. “Nothing will happen to you or your mum…okay?”  
You gaze into his eyes, flickering over the browns and the ambers, the little flecks near the pupils that are tiny with adrenaline—mirroring yours. Your lungs heave with air, nostrils flaring. How many times have you dreamed of those eyes? Those books into his soul behind a black balaclava and that thin sliver of pigmented flesh. The peeling room, the man in the corner. 
But here, now, those eyes are the only thing that you can latch onto. 
Your head jerks in a quick nod, breath caught in your throat. 
Gaz hides his sigh of relief, nodding right back. “Alright.” He backs up, letting his hand drop. “Stay here, don’t open the door for anyone unless I call out.” His mouth opens and then pauses, closing a few seconds later, eyes darting up and down. 
He doesn’t want to leave you. 
“Kyle—” you open your mouth, feeling meek as his fingers curl around the door to the wardrobe. You don’t want him to leave either. 
“Stay here,” he repeats, firmly. Pleading to your senses. 
And then the darkness consumes you and his footsteps sprint away.
You’re shrouded in a veil of blackness, and not just because of the lack of light. Mentally, your understanding of this situation has entirely been flipped on its head.
Chiyou—a business of blood and violence, with your father working either beside it or for it. But was that alongside his smuggling and drug dealings? Or separate? And named after an Eastern Chinese deity—where was the connection there? 
As far as you know, both the heads that had prices out on you and your mother weren’t stationed in China. You blink, slipping to the hard base of the wardrobe.
Or were they? 
You weren’t blind, you knew that Kyle’s team hadn’t been having any luck overseas finding these cells. Had even eavesdropped on a few of his check-ins with Laswell from behind cracked entryways. Were they looking in the wrong place the entire time?
Shouts from under you make you cringe, more afraid of being alone than the sounds themselves. Your instincts were…messy. You’d always frozen at the sight of danger, those old ancestors of yours rearing their heads as if ahead of you there was a bear with dripping fangs; a trained ability that spanned generations and had somehow gotten you here of all places. 
Your phone was back in your room, set on the coffee table after the call with Hector. And on the nightstand…your mind flashes to the video on your father’s laptop. That gun…the one with the gold detailing, held in a gloved grip. 
You knew that gun. 
You know that gun. 
But the bodies outside of your bedroom door keep you here, with what little you have of self-preservation. The clothes surround you as your blanket puffs, journal, and USB are kept secure as your lips thin to a line. Lightning for a moment drowns out the commotion, and you can’t help but worry for your Sergeant. 
If he died…what would happen to you? 
The thought of his dead form would have, at one point in these three years, brought you comfort—retribution in a brutal and animalistic sense as it would have brought to a hunter chasing a mammoth. A bison to a cliff. A knife in the dark. It would have given meaning to the nothingness that you’d become.
Why was that nothingness now getting muddled? Why did the thought of Kyle’s death leave this house feeling more empty than it always had been? You can’t make sense of it. 
Shifting, you rub at your face harshly, astounded by the shaking of your hands; your entire arm. You look down at yourself, seeing the way your knees jerk and your lungs sputter. 
“Christ,” your voice breathes, bouncing off the wood beside your head. Adrenaline is a perfect drug to stave off knowledge, and so you hope it stays as long as it wants. You don’t want to understand this. 
But that adrenaline won’t stop the creak of the floorboards leading into this room. 
Your head perks like a bird, neck elongating and spine straightening. Inside of your breast, your very veins go cold. The fighting hadn’t stopped, no, it was still very much going on—if you strained your ears enough, you could even hear the voice of Gaz coming up, shouting orders and relaying information. 
Another creak, slow; steady. From the crack of the doors, you can see a shadow as it passes around the room—tall. Holding your breath, your hand meets the wood, fingers tense and knuckled strained. There’s a ruffling of Kyle’s bags, and the thump of clothes to the floor. 
Searching. 
“Where the fuck is it? Stupid idiots got themselves killed over a damn girl—least of our problems.” You bring your free hand to your mouth, stifling a low quivering breath. “And which laptop is it…? Why the hell are there two?” An exasperated exhale as if the two dead bodies out in the hall didn’t exist—as if this man wasn’t an intruder with the intent to kill two innocent people.
Your hand barely cracks open the barrier between the two of you, your wide eyes and halted breath meeting the form of a middle-aged grunt wearing a bullet-proof vest and a lower face covering. He was bald, with sun-tanned skin and a black pair of sunglasses sitting halfway back his skull. Large, too. Nearly as big as Sergeant MacTavish had been when you had run into him. 
His gloved hands pick up your personal laptop, turning them around in his hands with a growl. 
“Son of a bitch, I’m not getting paid enough for this.” The device is tossed to the floor, and you hear the screen shatter as the metal dents sharply inward. You flinch back, blinking in shock, a dull horror spreading inside of your gut. “I’ll just trash the both of ‘em.”
No! Your panic grows larger than a mountain, face twisting in wide horror. How fast your loyalties change, a part of you hisses, at any other moment—at any other point in this journey, you would have let him do it. Shatter the screen, rip out the keys; put bullets through the hard drive, and the CPU. To protect your father? It was no question. 
But now.
Now, you see the flash of a handgun that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, your life snapping past faster than a freight train. 
Right before the click of the safety can make itself known, you’re barreling out of the wardrobe with a flurry of your blanket and a brief trip as your father’s journal is kicked by your heel. It skids away with a subdued slap as eyes snap over to your charging body. 
“Oh, shit!” The man yells, gun swiveling—but it’s too late. You have every element that you need. 
Your body collides with his as a cut-off grunt is forced from your chest, the hard form under you shouting as his spine meets the sharp end of the nightstand. Panting, you hit the ground as you slam backward, scrambling on your hands and feet. With your chest dancing up and down, your fingers grasp desperately for your father’s laptop. The smooth metal meets your digits in a rapid motion as you slap your flesh down, grip curling around the edges as vile curses echo off the electric air. Thunder booms over the house, the lighting flashing in your eyes in answer. 
You don’t speak, you don’t fly expletives as your mother would be horrified to hear if she could—neither do you try to understand your own actions. As if behind the wheel of a speeding car, your mind only just manages to catch up with your body; heaving lungs sucking down a loud gasp as you stumble to the doorway. 
The wooden frame explodes with the dig of volatile metal, sending remnants into your shoulder before you disappear into the hallway. You flinch into a duck and wrench the laptop to your chest, yelping as two more shots ring out. There’s a white-hot flare of burning in your thigh, and you falter with a bugging of your eyes at the dampness of your pant leg. 
“Hey!” 
Your foot trips over the limp ankle of the men in the hallway, arm out to brace your body against your room’s door as your forehead knocks against it as you shout. You don’t have time to make sense of the black dots in your vision or the blood now along your feet—the flood of your right thigh and the weakness of it.
Hand vibrating more than a blender, your wrist twisted over the handle with pure fear; lungs panting and your heartbeat echoing in your head. Sprinting footsteps follow, and just before you can slip inside your room and knock the door closed—one with an actual lock on it, meaty fingers shove through the entrance. 
“Get the fuck back here! These were my buddies out here y’know that, you little bitch?!” Your shoulder rams itself into the wood, your eyes welling with instinctual tears as you grit your teeth and worry the line in your forehead as you grunt.
The barrier whips back, and you hear the snap of the tiny bones in the man’s fingers, right beside your ear as he screams in pain. The hand disappears, and the quick click of the latch tells you the door has closed as your vision goes spotty, head light. You have to blink rapidly to steady yourself from falling over. 
No time!
The lock flicks closed, a rageful bellow sounds off beyond and soon a large body is rocketed as a battering ram. The wall shakes—the lock jingles and you think the entire foundation might break in on itself like paper. 
“Fuck,” you hiccup, licking your lips and your head snapping around.
You had the window, or you had…
Your head swivels to your nightstand, dragging your right leg as a pulse emanates from it. You don’t even notice, that adrenaline is too much of a drug to allow that. You’re shaking, covered in blood and your mind is sectioned off into bits of glass. 
Run. Freeze. Fight.
Three options and a rapidly closing window to choose from. A bullet flies through the door, and you scream, jerking yourself to the side before your body rules above your mind. Your hand darts to the nightstand’s handle as the laptop hits the top, right as the entire frame is shattered off of its hinges. 
Before you can blink, the chilled press of metal is shoved aggressively into the back of your head. 
“Samson was too good of a guy for this, but I ain’t.” Your hand is still over chilled, hidden metal—halting. 
The next second seems like an eternity.
“What?” You whisper a question, head beginning to turn itself around, suddenly numb to the press of a muzzle. 
“Don’t you move until I say so!” The man barks, and you freeze as a cat would. But that doesn’t stop your mouth.
“What the fuck did you just say?” A heavy chuckle is laced with secrets as you glare into the wall, darkness all around as light streams in from the hallway. From behind your curtains, you can see the flash of earthly storms and hear the pound of rain trying to drown out the mayhem. 
And it’s either working, or the gunbattle downstairs has lessened to a near-dead degree. 
Don’t think about Gaz—don’t think about it. Don’t.
 “Why the hell is a dead girl talking to me?” He clicks back the hammer, and you hear every sound of shifting alloy as your sweat drips down your chin. 
Suddenly you’re that same woman that lives in that basement, the one that has masked phantoms standing in it—the clacking off bullets being loaded into a revolver. 
This man knew Samson Row.
He knew Samson fucking Row.
“I’m giving you the benefit of havin’ last words, alright? You should be thankin’ me, Sweetheart.” You slip your hands around the gold-detailed body of a jet-black pistol from within its inky confines and push at the safety with a firm finger.
It’s the same feeling in your chest that you remember having as you let that pen-knife fly all that while ago; a blank sensation of purpose that overflows all else. A complete flood of the mind. 
You need him alive.
“I can’t speak when there’s a gun at my head,” your voice is meek, shaky. “Can you just…move it away for a moment, please? I…I,” you divulge into tiny sniffles. “I can’t think clearly, Sir.”
There’s a harsh scoff, the pressure of the barrel leaves. 
“Yeah, that’s about what I expected from a rich asshole like you—slobberin’ and pleadin’ for your life when it all comes down to it, eh? Yeah, you’re not any better than me, are you? Pathetic—” 
Your arm knocks the gun away from where it is hovering in the air, the man inhaling as the weapon discharges from his fast finger; making your ears ring with disorientation as the wall behind you catches the charge. It doesn’t take an expert to point and shoot.
The man drops his firearm as two bullets bang into his chest, and you alone hold a smoking gun. 
 You stumble back from the force on your arms, the weapon almost wrenched away from your grip as the strain makes you tense even harder. But you hold on, above all else, you hold on. Even as your feet stumble, your spine hunched over like a broken stick, the gun remains in your hands. It’s gold details like a brand. A curse. 
The man wails in pain, falling back to the floor as he takes the brunt of the bullets to his vest—but you know that even wearing one of those doesn’t stop the transference of force. Internal bleeding; broken ribs that can puncture organs. The agony is still there, even as the protection is. 
He writhes, both hands pulling at his chest as bile is expelled from his mouth—his throat echoing hiccups as his eyes dispel tears. He writhes, and you watch as you lower the gun in front of you, both hands clenched so tightly the knuckles crack. 
“Spitfire!” You don’t react to the familiar call sometime later, caught up in the image in front of you of the now unconscious intruder, blood leaking from his mouth and nose. Your body is numb.
This felt…good.
Hands grasp at your arms and you jerk back, vision blocked and your hands tightening once more around the gun. Shadows move, dance.
“Hey! Hey, woah, woah.” Brown eyes. 
You loosen your grip as Kyle looks you over, eyes spasming over your face as you blink rapidly. 
He breathes heavily, his eyes panicked and pupils small as they sit inlaid into his visage of panic—he’d heard the shots. 
“Fuck,” the Sergeant breathes, glancing over his shoulder as his hands move to capture your cheeks quickly as you let the gun fall to the floor with a clatter. “Christ, Love. Bloody fucking Christ.” 
“Gaz, I…” Your voice sounds foreign. 
“No,” he shakes his head, licking his lips as his warmth tries to fight the dead chill in your veins. Your vision once more slides. “C’mon, turn around, okay? Let's face this way.”
“My mom—”
“She’s alright. Keller’s on the line with the boys in town—our line was cut. It’s all alright. We’re going to get you out of here, yeah?” When you don’t react, feet stumbling, the Brit gets a million times more worried than he already is. “Spitfire?”  
His expression goes to a cleaned slate at the sight of the gushing wound in your thigh. 
The blood pools around your feet, staining everything from your clothes to the wood and rugs of your room. Crimson. Like wine. 
He can only scream for Alex as you drop into his arms, finally succumbing to deadweight, his brown eyes the last thing you can recall seeing.
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cherryslyce · 1 year
Text
Second Son (XII) | Regulus Black
Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.
— Chapter Synopsis: Dumbledore, Harry, and Y/N explore the Crystal Cave. Draco's mission proves to have dire consequences.
Part XI / Part XIII / Series Masterlist
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Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader
Notes: Oh man. Yay for the end of sixth year ? ... haha
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The rocky ventricle of the cliff side was far less exciting than the seaside, but there was something beguiling about the dim green shine and wet black rocks of the cave. Harry was careful to maintain steady footing as you all hiked through the damp cave, soon finding a rounded dead end. 
Before you can question Dumbledore, he whips out a small knife from his robes, spinning on his heel to face you both. A small pang of panic shoots through your body before you realize that your headmaster was cutting his hand and not attempting to maul you both with the ornamental paring knife. 
Tilting your head, you search the man’s calm expression for an answer, “Sir?” Your voice trails off as he swipes his bloodied hand against the rocks beside him. 
The man turns to you both with an undisturbed smile, “To gain passage, a payment must be made. Payment intended to weaken the intruder.” 
You mask your bewilderment and simply shoot a fleeting glance at Harry, who did not even attempt to suppress his bafflement. 
As the blood seeps into the crevices of the rocks, the stone wall begins to flake and crumble. Stepping back as the rocks fall towards your feet, you feel your mouth drop open at the newly revealed sight of opaque crystals. The new cave pocket was alight with a dull gleam, displaying a likeness to a troll-size geode. 
“Voldemort never did skimp with such extravagances.” You muse, ignoring the unimpressed eyebrow raise Harry shoots towards you. 
As you all clamber over the seemingly endless hills of jagged crystals, you decide to reach out to Regulus, no longer able to ignore the persistent blaring of the hundreds of magical signatures around you. 
‘Reg, there are countless different magical signatures in here.’ 
‘I think I might know what this place is.’ Regulus’ words are hushed, clearly deep in thought as he tries to untangle the foggy web of memories that Sirius unlocked.
Darting your eyes around the darkness, you nearly slip as your concentration splinters into a dozen different directions. 
‘You do? How?’ 
‘The ocean. My human-self was immersed in research on some place called the Crystal Cave. Something about the beach and a hidden horcrux. Since you’re all searching for his horcrux, I can only assume my research was right.’  
Before you can coax Regulus for more answers, you stop behind Harry as Dumbledore peers across the vast darkness of the water. It seemed as though there was nothing left to explore, the eerily calm body of water expanding far into the void. 
Closing your eyes, you zone out of the conversation between Dumbledore and Harry, focusing on the overwhelming amount of magical signatures around you that seemed to be screaming for your attention. 
There was something familiar about the magic, it was almost like the magic around Regulus’ portrait except more potent with a tinge of something you couldn’t quite comprehend. Before you have time to contemplate these findings, you open your eyes as you feel a tug on your sleeve. 
Meeting Harry’s concerned eyes, you realize that Dumbledore had somehow managed to summon a small canoe from the waters and now both men were patiently waiting for you to collect yourself. 
“Sorry.” You whisper, gesturing for Harry to get inside before you. Dumbledore simply assesses you with a thoughtful look before turning to face the dark waters as you shakily step into the canoe. 
The journey across the waters is surprisingly serene, and you had half the mind to be cautious of enemies hidden in the darkness around you. It was troubling that you all hadn’t stumbled across any serpentine puzzles or tremendous creatures. 
If this place truly contains a horcrux, it would be best to be on guard. Underestimating Voldemort would only lead you to a swift death. 
As the canoe reaches the edge of a crystal island, you all part from the delicate boat quietly. Most of the journey had been spent in tense silence and you were beginning to get a sinking feeling from the cave, as if there was a large chunk of mystery you wouldn’t be privy to for a while. 
The three of you clamber towards the top of the crystal mound, circling around a particular crystal that emerged to form a basin. The depression at its center contained a cloudy liquid, an inky black fog swirling in the center to conceal the contents at the bottom. Dumbledore swipes his hand over the liquid, clearly trying to vanish it with magic. 
You feel confusion wash over you as the liquid warps under the pressure before merely repelling his hand. 
Dumbledore raises his head to look at Harry before turning to your questioning eyes, “It has to be drunk.” 
Stepping back from the basin, you nearly topple over as Regulus’ voice loudly rings in your head, voice strained with panic, ‘Don’t drink it! I remember now. The Dark Lord – he brought Kreacher here and did something to him. Kreacher barely made it out alive, but he was frenzied and told human-me he had drunk something.’
Regulus’ words come out in a huge rush and your nerves prickle from his uncharacteristic loss of composure. 
“Sir. I don’t think you should drink it.” Your words have both men turning towards you, clearly seeing no other way to access the horcrux. Biting your lip in contemplation, you decide to elaborate, “Headmaster, I’m sure you are already aware of my companion. He told me that the concoction nearly killed his house elf.” 
Dumbledore seems to consider your words before he drops his gaze back down into the basin, “I see. However, there seems to be no other way.”
Harry seems to be alarmed by your words and steps forward, “But sir–” 
Dumbledore holds up a hand and closes his eyes in resignation, “Conditions. There are conditions for you both that I failed to impart to you before we ventured here.” He opens his eyes and narrows them, “If something is to happen, you both must save yourselves. Do not worry about me.”
You share a look with Harry, before you reluctantly nod in agreement. They were not the most difficult conditions you’ve ever been given, between your headmaster and Harry, you would pick your friend, always. 
As Dumbledore and Harry fall into a hushed conversation about the conditions and the liquid, you slowly drift into your thoughts again. It didn’t make sense what you were feeling, how were there so many magical signatures around even with no sign of actual magical beings? You wanted to ask Regulus for help, but you knew that the boy likely knew nothing past what he told you. 
Exhaling shakily, you watch as Dumbledore scoops up some of the liquid before drinking it. The reaction is almost instantaneous, your eyes widen as you see his eyes darken, choked noises escaping his dry lips as he lightly convulses. 
“Professor? Professor!” Harry’s concerned words grow louder as the man grunts loudly, shaking more violently on the spot before tumbling down onto the ground. You lunge forwards, reaching out futilely as Dumbledore continues to grunt and jerk. It seemed as though he was no longer even aware of his surroundings, too enraptured by what the liquid was doing to his body and mind. 
Swallowing harshly, you feel fear prickle through your body as Dumbledore thrashes around before stilling suddenly. Harry turns to you briefly and your heart clenches at the sight of his horrified expression. 
Seeming to ground himself, Dumbledore sits up and jerks a hand towards the basin. Harry seems to understand what the man is trying to say and he rushes back to bring more of the liquid. 
You stay next to Dumbledore, helplessly muttering assurances to the man as he seems to be dragged back into his haze, beginning to groan and plead for something. Harry is able to keep his composure for the most part and continues to feed Dumbledore the concoction, rushing back and forth to try and empty the basin quickly. 
“It’s my fault!” Dumbledore’s wails are sure to haunt your dreams for the next coming months, and you’re faintly aware of the tears blurring your vision. It was one thing to face blood-thirsty creatures and other wizards in battle, it was another thing to be completely helpless in the face of psychological torment. You were barely strong enough for the former, you had very little training to cope with the latter. 
In the flurry of your panic, you’re unaware that you’ve been flooding your mind link with anxiety until you feel a sudden wave of comfort being nudged toward you by Regulus. The warm feeling of his magic wrapping around yours grounds you and you make note to thank him later.  Shaking your head, you push aside your dread and focus on the task at hand.
Just as your mind clears, you see Dumbledore cease in his hysteria, feeling Harry lean down towards the man from next to you. You both release an exhale of relief as your headmaster seems to be fully aware again, his eyes no longer glassy and unseeing. 
“Water.” His croak comes out dry and you shoot up from your spot to clamber towards the basin, eyes widening in relief as you see a pendant laying at the bottom. 
It worked, you had the horcrux now. 
Wrapping your fingers around the object, you’re struck with confusion almost immediately. The locket had no magical trace or signature whatsoever. 
“Wait. Harry-” Your words get caught in your throat as you turn around and see Harry standing still, attention drawn to something in the water. Bringing the locket up to your face, you scrutinize it further, still feeling no residual dark magic. 
Gripping the chain tightly, you slowly pull it over your head and tuck it underneath your shirt, not perturbed by potential dangers as you realize it was practically just an ordinary necklace. 
You had seen cursed necklaces before, and you were fairly confident that it wouldn’t toss you into the air like Katie Bell or try and choke you to death. 
Great, you all suffered for nothing. 
“Lumos Maxima!” Harry’s shout distracts you from your thoughts and you begin to walk toward him, still not understanding what he was seeing. As you near the edge of the island, you gasp as you feel an onslaught of magic suddenly crash into you. 
Stumbling back, you watch as pale, gaunt figures begin to claw their way from the water’s surface and toward you both. The grisly creatures were all milky, but you could see some distinguishing differences between them all. 
What disturbed you most though was the fact that you could feel faint magic lingering around them. As you backed away, you realized that aside from the numerous unique signatures, there was a darker, suffocating magic that blanketed them all. 
Your mind started racing – They were puppets. Reanimated using magic. Not corpses, but not living. They were people. Perhaps a branch of necromancy.
It all clicked. “Inferi,” You gasp and grab Harry’s arm, dragging him towards a stunned Dumbledore.  
The inferi were far more harrowing in real life than in pictures from your textbooks. You could see the sunken skin that seemed to bloat around protruding bones, and wisps of hair that sprouted unevenly from their bulbous heads. 
Harry begins to fire off spells at the army of inferi and you reach around your jacket for your wand, eyes widening in panic as you realize they were surrounding you. 
“Fire! Harry, they fear fire!” Your shout is drowned out by Harry’s yelling and you groan in frustration. Grabbing your wand, you thrust it up and swing your arm over your head, “Pluvia Ignis!”
The heat of fire envelops you immediately and you blearily squint your eyes as a colossal ring of fire blazes up toward the cave’s ceiling, licking at the muggy air. Continuing to whirl your wand, you let out a sigh of relief as you see that you hadn’t burnt your companions to a crisp. The heat had the inferi receding back into the waters, but your celebration is cut short as you realize that the ring of fire was now consuming nearly every inch of the cave. 
Dumbledore stumbles towards you, one arm slung over Harry’s shoulders as the boy helps him find his footing. Ceasing your movements, you move to join the two as you watch the last few inferi dive into the water. 
Furrowing your brows, you feel a sudden pull toward the water. The pull was coming from your pocket and your hand, and you drew your hand back as you saw your finger gravitate toward the dark pool. Your ring was being attracted towards the water for some strange reason. 
Feeling the tug persist, you incline your head to look at your pocket. 
No, it wasn’t just your ring, but Regulus’ portrait as well.  
‘Reg?’ 
‘There’s something wrong. I feel…’ The boy’s words are shaky, but you can feel how his confusion mirrors yours as he trails off.
You have little time to ruminate further as you’re soon being dragged off by Harry as Dumbledore parts the flames. The inferno drags away into two tall walls, clearing a direct path back toward the other side of the cave. 
The journey back passes by in a blur as you’re busy with making sure Dumbledore wouldn’t keel over and die, while Harry moves the canoe along as quickly as he could. All along the way out, the tugging gradually faded and soon the conundrum was buried away in your thoughts. 
As soon as you all stumble out of the cave, Dumbledore grabs both of your elbows and apparates away from the shore. The warping of your body through the travel has you disoriented and mildly irritated, and you were mentally cursing your past-self for all the decisions that had amounted to the events of that day. 
The three of you touched down at the astronomy tower with a loud pop and muffled groans, your knees nearly buckling from exhaustion as soon as your heels slammed against the wooden boards. 
Harry helps guide Dumbledore to sit down, the man further weakened by the apparition. As you crouch down in front of the enervated headmaster, you both can barely make out what the man is mumbling. 
“Severus…Severus,” Dumbledore wheezes out. You share a look with Harry and usher him away with a wave of your hand, “I’ll stay and watch over him. You hurry and find Snape.”
Harry doesn’t look entirely convinced, but seeing no better alternative, complies with your words and quickly disappears behind a pillar and into the darkness. Before you can turn around to focus your attention on the pallor man next to you, you hear light footsteps slowly ascend the staircase. 
Turning your body to fully face the stairway, you reach for your wand and tense up in anticipation. To your surprise, you see Draco’s figure slowly round towards you both with his wand drawn. 
“Draco?” Your words are painted in disbelief, and you feel a pit lodge in your throat at the slytherin’s frantic eyes and white-knuckled grip. 
‘Reg, Draco is going to attack us.’ You clench your jaw and keep your hand on the hilt of your wand. 
‘Defend yourself, forget about Dumbledore.’ Regulus’ words are firm, with such strong conviction that you almost get whiplash thinking about how fraught he had just sounded in the cave. 
Shuffling away from the headmaster, you stand up shakily and draw your wand out to your side, not exactly rising up to the challenge, but ready to defend yourself. You were confident that you could hold up just fine against Draco. 
“L/N?” Draco sounds a tad surprised, as though he hadn’t seen you up until that moment, “What are you doing here?” His voice is now as panicked as his face, and you see his hostile demeanor falter slightly. 
Holding up one of your hands, you try to reason with the boy, “Draco, don’t do this. I know, okay. I know.”
Your words seem to only incense the boy as he practically snarls at you, “You don’t know! You don’t know what it’s like to be chosen!” With his last words, the boy is tearing the sleeve of his left arm upwards, thrusting his dark mark into your gobsmacked face. 
As your eyes drop down in resignation, you make eye contact with an alarmed Harry who was crouched on the floor below. Subtly shaking your head at the boy, you drag your eyes back up to look at Draco. 
The boy’s face was now twisted in something akin to pain, and you felt pity root you to your spot. Before you can open your mouth to speak, your attention is grabbed by the sound of a door opening in the distance. 
Frowning, you shuffle back to block Dumbledore, “You’re not alone?” 
“A passage. Vanishing cabinets that I repaired.” Draco’s words are embittered, but you knew it wasn’t towards you. . 
Noddin, you shrug one shoulder at him, commending him for his ingeniousness. Seeing that you were not going to reply, he lowers his wand slightly, “I don’t need you. Go. You need to leave. I only want him,” he jabs his chin in the direction of Dumbledore, who was still slumped on the floor. 
A large part of you did want to run, but you didn’t think you could ever look Harry in the eyes again if you did. 
‘Run, birdie. Listen to him. Protect yourself.’ Regulus’ pleads make your finger twitch and the urge to abandon your incapacitated headmaster grows stronger. 
“You know I can’t, Draco. Please don’t do this.” You step forward and reach out to him. 
The boy shakes his head fervently, “I have to. I have to kill him, or else he’s going to kill me.” His voice cracks with the last confession, and you feel your jaw clench at the cruelty of the situation. 
“I can help you. Blaise and I, we can protect you.” Your words are soft and you see Draco frown in conflict, eyes shining from unshed tears. He seems to almost believe your words — that you could possibly get him out of this predicament, but any semblance of resolve disappears as footsteps echo from the stairwell again. 
Looking down at the hole in the floor, you see that Harry is gone, possibly hiding or getting help. You shakily exhale before looking back at Draco. The slytherin looks at you like you’re about to be walked to your execution, and you can feel a stone of dread sink in your stomach. 
The first person to pop up from the staircase has your heart stuttering from fear, “Bellatrix.” Your voice is surprisingly firm, and you almost want to pat yourself on the back from how well you were standing your ground. 
The woman in question whips her head towards you and lets out a booming cackle, hands clutching at her stomach like she was just pronounced the heir to an enormous fortune. 
“Ickle, Y/N,” The crazed woman approaches Draco, peering over his shoulder, “and, oh! Dumbledore! Two sitting ducks!” She breaks out into more laughter and you avert your eyes from her hysterics to look at a distressed Draco. 
‘Y/N, leave. You can’t take on Bellatrix, she is utterly insane. Apparate somewhere, please.’ Regulus’ voice seems to fade out in your head as you go still from shock when you see Fenrir Greyback make his way towards you. Just as you regain enough sense to try and turn tail, the werewolf is hauling your figure towards him in a bruising grip, slamming you up against a nearby pillar. 
You gasp in shock and grit your teeth to stop from screaming as the werewolf moves a hand to grip your throat. Before you can try and hex the beast, a monotonous voice breaks through the tense atmosphere, “Enough.” 
Darting your eyes away, you almost want to cry in relief as you see a stone-faced Snape make his way out from the shadows. The grip on your neck slackens and you try to find your bearings by gripping the ridges of the pillar behind you. 
The rumors that Greyback was horrifying were not exaggerated by any means. 
Before you can breathe out in relief, figuring that your ex-Potions professor likely would spare your life, Greyback grips one of your arms tightly and stuffs his other hand in your jacket pocket, tearing himself away from you, Regulus’ portrait held victoriously above his head. 
“No!” Your scream is guttural, feral even, but the werewolf simply grins widely at your distress, pointed teeth menacingly peeking from his mouth. You try to lunge for the werewolf, wand drawn, but you feel someone slam into you before you can get far. 
Thrashing against the figure, you cry out as they twist your hand behind your back, making you drop your wand. Before you can plead with Morgana to send you the strength to hurl your assailant through the wall, you hear a voice harshly whisper in your ear, “Stop it. You’re going to get yourself killed.” 
You tense from shock and whip your head around to see a frustrated Draco glaring down at you in warning.  Pursing your lips together, you feel tears gather on your waterline as you turn back and see Greyback handing the portrait to a delighted Bellatrix. 
“Foolish child!” Her words stung, but your snarl only seems to amuse her, “And baby cousin, how disappointing.” Bellatrix’s smile is vindictive, like pure acid, as she appraises Regulus. 
‘Reg. I’m sorry! Please, I’m sorry!’ Your frantic words pour out as tears begin to slide down your cheeks, eyes blurring violently from the endless onslaught of tears. 
‘It’s okay, birdie. It’s not your fault,’ Regulus' words are loud in your head, and you release a strangled sob, feeling Draco tighten his grip on you at the sound, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever liked someone as much as I’ve liked you.’ 
Blinking away the tears, you can barely process what was happening as Bellatrix suddenly draws her wand, “Bombarda!”
Regulus’ portrait explodes in a spray of gold, pieces of the frame clattering around the floor, and you see the canvas flutter to the floor between you and the madwoman. 
“Reggie!” You try to throw Draco off of you, but the boy overpowers you and keeps his iron grip on you. 
Regulus turns his gaze towards you and you see him flash a small smile at you, one full of longing and sorrow, ‘I’ll find you again, my love.’ 
“Incendio!” Bellatrix’s gleeful yell echoes throughout your head, deafening you, but you’re sure it was your screams that could be heard from the other side of the castle. You feel Draco flinch behind you, and you drop down onto the ground, taking the slytherin down with you. 
You hunch over, tipping your head onto the floor as you begin to sob, incoherently mumbling as the death eaters around you seem to direct their attention to Dumbledore. 
You knew you should have kicked Draco to next Yule and grabbed your wand to defend the weakened headmaster, but you could barely tie together a coherent thought, and when you did, it only revolved around Regulus. 
Regulus – who was gone, for good this time. Gone because of you. 
It would be a euphemism to describe the feeling as emptiness, because what you were feeling transcended any feeling you could precisely pinpoint. Bellatrix might as well have thrust her claws into your chest and wrung your heart to a bleeding pulp. 
You wanted to bang your head against the wood and beg for a redo of the entire day. 
It was all a terrible dream. 
Yes, it was nothing more than a figment of your imagination. That made sense, you would never be that weak, right? 
Yes. You were dreaming.
This had to be a nightmare. 
Opening your eyes, you feel your nails digging into your head just as black dots start to swim in your vision. You couldn’t find the strength to lift your head up. 
It all had to have been a dream. Otherwise, why would it be so silent around you? You could sense it, nobody was in the room with you anymore. 
The dark spots start to move more vigorously, blooming across the wood and overtaking your vision. As your sight waned and the rushing of blood in your ears settled, you heard a muffled voice reach you, “Shit! Y/N!” 
And then you knew no more than darkness. 
Yes, it had to be a dream. Just a bad dream. 
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on-my-vigilante-sht · 11 months
Text
Capitol Punishment X
Haymitch x Reader
Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.
A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.
Warnings: Canon level violence, rape (though never explicit), alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts, swearing, illness, pregnancy, miscarriage
Word Count: 3.1K
Part IX | Masterlist | Part XI
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A/N: Sharing this because I think it’s kind of cute. Since the movies don’t dive into Annie super deeply I based her character off one of my friends because she’s literally the sweetest person in the world
“It’s a clock, with a new threat every hour, and every threat is confined to its wedge,” Katniss explained, leading the group to the cornucopia. “Where that big tree is, that’s 12, which strikes every night at midnight. Next is the blood rain, next to that is the toxic fog, and then monkeys. And then at 10, that big waves comes from over there.”
“Okay, so we just stay out of whatever section is active, should be easy enough,” you put together, resting against the cornucopia. You were all then interrupted by a gasp. Turning your gaze you saw Gloss pull a blade from Wiress’ neck and heard the canon go off. Katniss didn’t waste a second before launching an arrow into his chest, another canon.
The other careers appeared as members of your group began fighting them off. Cashmere ran towards Katniss, causing Johanna to move her out of the way before launching an axe into Cashmere’s chest, another canon.
You looked over, finding Haymitch in a sword vs spear fight with one of the women from two. “Duck!” you yelled, pulling out a knife. Just as the woman was about to stab her spear at him again, he ducked, rolling to the side, allowing you to put a knife in her chest. It wasn’t enough to put her down at the moment though, as she merely pulled it out, attempting to throw her spear at you now. But before she could release it Haymitch put the blade through her stomach, stopping her short. Another canon.
And another canon as the body of the other female from 1 fell into the water. District 1 was officially out of the games now. Katniss went to chase a fleeing Brutus and Enobaria but Haymitch stopped her, telling her to let them go.
We couldn’t even stop to catch our breaths as the island started spinning. You were pretty sure you screamed “What the hell?” as you fell, grabbing onto the rocks desperately.
Weapons were flying out of the cornucopia and all you could do was pray nothing would hit you. You could feel your hands slipping as you continued to be whipped around. Fortunately the spinning slowed just as you couldn’t take it anymore. Once it stopped you stood up, immediately becoming dizzy but you didn’t care, too worried about your husband. You spotted him, throwing up next to the water. Not far away you could see some of the others helping Katniss out of the water. You reached Haymitch, patting his back as he finished emptying his guts.
“Are you okay?” he asked, placing an inconspicuous hand on your waist.
“Yeah,” you agreed, knowing what his hand placement meant. “Everything feels fine.”
“Y/N! Haymitch!” Finnick called, “we have to go.” You helped Haymitch up, grabbing a spare sword for him as the two of you followed the others off the island.
You, Haymitch, Katniss, Peeta, Johanna, Beetee, Annie, and Finnick all settled in the tree line, Beetee informing you that he had a plan. But before he could explain it you heard a scream from the jungle. “Katniss!”
She stiffens. “Prim?” she yells, running off in the jungle.
“I’ll get her, stay here,” you tell the others, “no sense in splitting up the group more.” You run after Katniss, jumping over hazards on the ground. Eventually you find her, “Hey, what’s-”
You’re cut off by a deep scream. Haymitch’s voice was screaming your name? As you tan towards the sound you wondered if he had followed you and run into a tribute on his way to find you. You didn’t really care as you continued into the jungle.
“Y/N It’s not him!” Katniss called after you. “It’s a jabberjay.”
“Jabberjay’s copy,” you insisted, Haymitch and Prim’s screams getting louder. Another voice you recognized as Gale’s started screaming too.
“Get to the beach,” Katniss called as the mutts started swooping down. They were screaming in your ear, beaks pecking at your skin as you ran. Eventually you spotted the others, your mind not connecting why it looked like they were banging on glass. Once you hit the forcefield you understood. Haymitch was looking at you, yelling something but you couldn’t hear him. All you could hear were tortured screams. You crouched down low, Katniss doing the same, trying to cover your ears and protect your head from the screaming, pecking birds. You felt tears flowing down your face as they continued, Haymitch desperately trying to keep your attention from the other side of the forcefield. You knew he was okay, he was right in front of you, but his screaming and yelling were still torture.
~
From the other side of the forcefield Haymitch was banging on it desperately. When he heard you shout for him he thought you may have run into another tribute. When he hit the forcefield and couldn’t get to you, that was the scariest moment of his life. Not when he was reaped, stood in the arena the first time, or even when he received an almost fatal wound in his first arena. Not when you got into fights your first games, not when you were taken from him the first time, and not even when the Quarter Quell was announced. It was torture to hear his wife scream but not be able to reach you. And when you came into view and reached the forcefield, screaming and crying, that was the most pain he felt. He was desperately trying to keep your focus on him but you were crouched in a fetal position, trying to protect yourself from the jabberjays. Unable to do anything, both he and Peeta sat down, trying to comfort each of you.
Haymitch wondered to himself whether or not the Capitol suspected or knew of your relationship yet. He wondered what the commentators had said when you reunited. It didn’t matter whether Snow was angry you both may have revealed the secret, Snow was trying to kill everyone from 12 anyways. After so many years of torture he wanted to send a “fuck you” to the Capitol, showing them that they didn’t own his wife.
~
You had no clue how long it was until the jabberjays flew away but it was very suddenly silent and Haymitch collapsed next to you, having been leaning up against the forcefield. “Y/N!” he immediately cried, pulling you towards him. “What happened?”
“I heard you screaming,” you sobbed. “I reached Katniss when I heard you yell. I thought you ran into another tribute but it was just the jabberjays. They sounded like you, they were screaming for me to help you.”
“Hey,” he shushed you. “I’m okay,” he stroked your hair. “And so are you. C’mon let’s go to the beach with the others. The water may calm you down.” You nodded, standing up on shaky legs as he led you to the ocean.
You settled down on the sand next to Katniss and Johanna as Haymitch went to find Peeta who was getting water.
“You know Peeta was right,” Johanna told Katniss. “The Capitol won’t touch your sister. If they tortured her or did anything to her, forget the districts there’s be riots on the fucking Capitol.” She turned her attention up to the sky. “Hey how does that sound Snow? What if we set your backyard on fire?” Katniss looked appalled at Johanna’s dare to outwardly defy Snow. “What? There’s no one left I love. He can’t hurt me,” she informed cavalierly.
Finnick and the others approached along with Haymitch and Peeta each cupping leaves of water. “I have a plan,” Beetee informs. “Where do the careers feel safest? In the jungle?”
“Jungle’s a nightmare,” Johanna countered.
“Probably here on the beach,” Peeta guessed.
“And why aren’t they here?” Beetee asked. You felt like you were in school again.
“Because we claimed it, it’s ours,” Johanna stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“And if we left they would come?”
“Or stay hidden in the tree line,” Finnick suggested.
“Which in just under four hours will be soaked from the 10 o’ clock wave,” Beetee remarked smugly. “And what happens at midnight?”
“Lightning strikes that tree,” you returned.
“Here’s what I propose. We leave at dusk, we head to the lightning tree, that should draw them back to the beach. Prior to midnight we then run this wire from the tree to the water. Anyone on the water or on the damp sand will be electrocuted.”
“How do we know the wire’s not gonna burn up?” Haymitch asked.
“Because I invented it. I assure you it won’t burn up.”
We all exchanged looks, everyone in the know about this plan except Katniss, Peeta, and probably Annie. “Well it’s better than hunting them down,” Johanna said, perfect in her begrudging attitude. “What do we do?”
“Keep me alive until midnight,” was all Beetee said.
~
Seeing as you all had a little while until you could set Beetee’s plan in motion you and Haymitch found a spot on the sand with Finnick, Annie, and Johanna. “Ugh everyone and their partners,” Johanna remarked in disgust. “Even District 1. Cashmere and Gloss were too close to just be sibling.”
Everyone laughed. “You could always date Beetee,” you joked, looking over at the man still fiddling with the wire.
She scoffed, “Not in a million years. Besides,” her tone became serious again, “I’m not gonna give the Capitol anymore ammo.”
“Fair,” you replied. “They didn’t have the chance to take anything from me.”
“What do you mean?” Annie asked curiously from Finnick’s arms.
“My mom died having me. It’s common in 12, there aren’t any real doctors. We have healers like Katniss’ mom but if you need surgery or something… you’re out of luck. And then my dad died when I was 12 in a mining accident. Also pretty common unfortunately,” you explained.
“You didn’t have any friends?” Annie asked, genuine concern painted on her face.
“No, not really. After my dad died I had to go to school and appealed to work in the mines. In 12 you’re supposed to wait until you’re 18 but because I had no way to get any money, I was allowed to work.”
“That’s awful, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. What about you Finnick? What’s your tragic backstory?”
He chuckled, thinking for a second. “Umm well, my parents had me, they’re both still alive. I had a lot of friends in school,” he shot a smug smile at you to which you rolled your eyes, “and then I was reaped at 14 and you all know the rest.”
“Better to be unremarkable than-” Johanna began.
“Excuse me? Unremarkable? I’m the youngest ever victor,” Finnick cut in with feigned offense.
“With a mommy and daddy who loved each other and plenty of food on the table,” Haymitch mocked.
“Okay Haymitch, what’s your story?” Finnick countered.
“I also grew up poor and then I was reaped for the deadliest Hunger Games. After, everyone I loved was dead so yeah,” Haymitch countered. It was all such sad, tragic information but the way each of you delivered it and framed it, it became a game to see who had suffered the most and each of you wanted to be the winner.
“Johanna?” you asked.
“Pretty much the same as Haymitch,” was all she said.
“Annie?”
She shrugged. “I was raised like Finnick,” she answered shyly.
“So I win,” Haymitch concluded proudly.
“I had the same fate as you,” Johanna scoffed.
“Yeah but my games had 48 tributes,” he countered.
“No I said backstory,” you interrupted, “which I win unless anyone else can beat orphan with no friends pre-their games. No one?”
“Okay fine,” Finnick conceded. “But if we’re talking post-games? I win.” You gave him a look. “Fine we both win.”
“Everyone I cared about was murdered,” Haymitch insisted.
“Yeah!” Johanna agreed. As they began to bicker you wondered if the Capitol was broadcasting this conversation. You doubt they’d allow the country to hear how they killed victors’ families and sold them into prostitution.
Finally Beetee interrupted the argument. “It’s time.”
~
You had helped Beetee wrap the wire around the tree and now it was time for you, Katniss, and Johanna to take it to the beach. “Make sure it doesn’t break, we need the connection,” Beetee stressed for the fifth time.
“Yes, Beetee, I know how electricity conducts,” you gave a sarcastic smile.
“Maybe I should go with them… as a guard,” Peeta interrupted.
You glanced at Johanna. Shit, you needed Katniss alone long enough to make the game makers think she’s dead. Fortunately Beetee stepped in. “No, I need you here to protect me. There are four tributes left, two of which are careers.”
“Why can’t Johanna stay?” Katniss asked.
“Look, it’s his plan,” Johanna interrupted. “Just do what he says.”
“Thank you,” Beetee said, turning back to the tree.
Katniss conceded, picking up the roll of wire. “Wait,” Haymitch said, stepping towards you. He then did the last thing that you expected. He placed a hand on our waist, the other on your jaw before pressing a kiss to your lips. You were surprised but returned the kiss nonetheless. when you finally pulled away Haymitch said, “Come back to me, okay?”
“Of course,” you agreed with a smile that he returned.
“Can we go?” Johanna called. “I don’t wanna be anywhere near the tree or the beach when the lightning hits.” So you complied, following the two girls.
You weren’t walking for very long when Katniss stopped. She tugged on the wire when it suddenly snapped. “Get down,” Johanna whispered, essentially tackling Katniss onto the ground. As she began cutting out Katniss’ tracker you spotted Brutus and Enobaria.
“I’ll lead them away,” you whispered. You threw a knife, barely scraping Brutus’ shoulder. He spotted you as you climbed out of the little valley you were in. Once you reached the top you ran off into the jungle, hoping to lead the careers away. Brutus and Enobaria were chasing after you as you ran around the jungle, gradually leading them towards the beach, away from Beetee and the others.
You were getting tired and you knew you couldn’t keep this up. Enobaria had become distracted by some other tribute but Brutus was still hot on your tail. As you reached the beach you found it extremely difficult to run in the sand given your legs that felt like lead. Brutus had the opportunity and he took it, tackling you to the ground. Hard. You didn’t notice anything at first, just trying to grab one of your knives as quickly as possible. Brutus had dropped his sword as he had tackled you, leaving him to try to get the knife from you. Fortunately you were quicker as you shoved the knife up into his throat, blood spilling all over you.
As you pushed his body off you heard a canon go off. And then you felt it. Intense cramping in your stomach like none you had ever felt. Tears began to slip down your face as you realized what was happening. You could faintly feel blood pooling in your pants as you rolled over, curling into a fetal position.
You felt sobs wrack your body as you realized you were having a miscarriage. You had made it through the games, you were almost to the end but it happened now? Why couldn’t Brutus have just not tackled you? How were you going to tell Haymitch? He so rarely let himself get excited over things but he was excited to start new and have a family.
Just then the entire arena went dark. Not even a minute later there was a hovercraft over you, the death claw scooping you from the sand. Had they accidentally grabbed you instead of Brutus? But before your questions could be answered you blacked out from blood loss.
~
“Katniss!” Finnick yelled just as she released the arrow into the forcefield. Haymitch and he had been running towards her but were blown back as lightning hit the tree, causing the explosion. Fortunately for him and Finnick they were far enough away that they didn’t get hurt too badly but Katniss was still half conscious as a hovercraft appeared, lifting her out of the arena like on of the deceased. “Go!” Finnick told Haymitch as a ladder dropped. “I’ll get Beetee.”
“What about Y/N and Annie?” Haymitch asked.
“Annie is near the other pickup site, Johanna should’ve brough Y/N there too. We gotta go before the Capitol gets here!” So Haymitch reluctantly went up the ladder, following up after Katniss. He looked down briefly, finding Finnick climbing the ladder with Beetee wrapped around his shoulders like a sack of flour.
Once Finnick was a couple feet off the ground the ladder started to be pulled up automatically. As soon as Haymitch got inside, he turned to help Finnick with Beetee.
Once everyone was safely inside the hovercraft, Plutarch made his presence known. Finnick was the first to speak. “You got Annie and Y/N?” All Plutarch did was purse his lips and look down. Haymitch felt dread fill him. “What?” Finnick demanded sharply. “You got them out right?”
“There was an issue. The Capitol found out sooner than we anticipated and were were only able to secure this hovercraft and because you were all close to Katniss. The people on this ship are the only ones we were able to rescue.”
Both Finnick and Haymitch were angry and terrified. “You left them in there?!” Haymitch yelled. “Why didn’t-”
“You both knew the risks!” Plutarch interrupted. “You both knew not everyone was coming out of that arena and that Katniss was the target. I’m sorry but there’s nothing that we can do. We can’t get back into Capitol airspace and the arena is swarmed with Peacekeepers now.”
Haymitch was furious. More so than when he was reaped, his family was killed, or all those times when you were taken from him. If he and you couldn’t get out together, at least you should’ve gotten out. You and his child that you were carrying.
Part IX | Masterlist | Part XI
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casiia · 1 year
Text
panties thief — LANDRY.E
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just a wee bit of dark content (read at your own risk!)
ethan never thought of himself as a pervert, not until he offered to do your laundry and found him stuffing a pair of your laced panties into his pocket. quickly abandoning the clothes in the washing machine, he stumbled back into the den where he unfortunately found his roommate, chad.
“where are you rushing off to?” the other man acknowledges ethan, returning his attention back to his unfinished sandwich.
“room. gotta catch up on…econ.” the statement runs out of his mouth sounding more like a question; as he awkwardly stands in the middle of the room waiting for his roommate to finish chewing so he could get a response.
the fabric that he had stuffed into the pockets of his pants felt heavy — the cloth weighting him down as shame at away at his conscience. he knew what he was going to do with it, and the thought of you finding out made his cheeks burns. it was almost like he wanted you to stumble into his room, watching with wide eyes as he jerked himself off to your clothes.
“don’t over work yourself too hard.”
“i won’t.” with grit teeth, ethan hurries off to his room, shutting and locking the door behind him.
wasting no time, he pulls your undergarments out from his pockets, quickly kicking his pants off. settling himself into bed with a whine, he pressed his palms to the tent that formed in his briefs, a small wet patch showing in the middle. bringing your panties up to his mouth, he bit down on the cloth, his tongue grazing against the lace that was stitched on top. he imagined you wearing the pair — imagining the way your skirt would hike up your thighs revealing them. he thought of you masturbating in them, the way your slick would coat the cotton, how you would circle your clit atop of the fabric, how pretty your moans would sound.
as he let his thoughts run free, he found himself reaching under the waistband of his boxers, calloused fingers squeezing the base of his cock. inching his briefs down his thighs, he jerked himself with your name on the edge of his tongue. his drool soaked your panties as he continued to get himself hard.
precum dribbled from the head of his cock and over his fingers, his cock throbs in the palm of his hand, a needy whine escaping his mouth.
pulling your panties out of his mouth, he kisses the fabric once before loosely wrapping it around his twitching length. curling his fingers around his cock, he drops his head back onto his pillow with a whine, strands of his brown hair sticking to his forehead. he digs his heels into the mattress, jerking his hips upwards to meet his fist. incoherent words and curses fall from his mouth as he pleasures himself to your panties.
a grin paints his lips at the thought of returning this particular pair to you, he wouldn’t tell you what he did to it, just to let you keep your innocence. he would try to get a peak of your panties whenever your outfits allowed him, hoping that you were wearing the ones that he once had around his cock.
ethan sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, his brows furrowing in concentration. with one final squeeze he lets himself go, his orgasm painting his chest in a sticky white. “fuck.”
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🏷️ .: @loaksbitch @sullybby @dilfverz guys i think i am unwell.
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whatifyoulivelikethat · 9 months
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I’m sorry, but I desperately need to know how the not allowed!reader reacts to Seven!!
Especially the explicit version…
let's be honest, it's about her, isn't it?
drabble: ‘not allowed’ series (myg+jjk), idol!BTS, based on real time pairing(s): jungkook x reader, mentions of yoongi x reader (fluff)
--
"I always think of you whenever I hear music."
"So, all the time?"
The way he grinned with the shine of seven million stars.
Dork.
“The actress did a very good job.” Jeon Jungkook was still giving you that look. The not-the-compliment-I-was-going-for look. Or maybe the give-me-more look. He gave the latter a lot. For various… reasons. “I thought it was very fun and a good showcase of your personality.” Nope. Also, an exploring hand was working around your thigh, creeping up your hip. “Your voice executed perfectly, as usual, you genius. I could listen to it seven days a week, for sure.”
You smiled back, but Jungkook knew you were being a shit.
“Noona…”
If possible, it was somewhere between a whine and growl. Only him.
He frowned. “Did you not fully understand the lyrics?”
You tried not to snort. As if being Min Yoongi’s girlfriend meant you wouldn’t know the multiple uses of fuck. Possible that you were even more well-conversed than Min SUGA – although he, world-class rap star, rockstar, had you beat in screaming curses in arenas. Hm. You pretended not to notice the hand snaking around your waist, keeping your gaze at those round brown eyes everyone knew so well. Ah, fuck it.
“I thought you would be more naked,” you mused with a hint of disappoint.
Gasp, jaw drop, as if he was shocked after literally releasing a song about fucking seven days a week.
“Noona! The music video has to be broadcast safe!”
“Hm, but you’re really going to release a song about me and not be accurate to how you always are around me?” You gripped the hand at your waist and leaned closer to him, peering piercingly at Jungkook’s flushed cheeks. “Ah, I’m wrong, huh? It’s not about me?”
“W-Well, no one is supposed to know… I just… steered the lyricists a bit…”
“Yoongi warned you that you shouldn’t,” you whispered, breath against his chin, smiling as he shivered at your closeness. “One might even say, not allowed. You’re a bad boy.”
His hand in your grip was trying to tug away and slip under your shirt. The mood lighting caught the new lip piercing, flashing a spot of red on the edge of trembling lips.
“Not yet I’m not.”
“Don’t say stuff like that with those big peepers of yours. It’s insincere,” you playfully chastised.
He turned his head and now the distance between you and him was only wisps of breath. About to give his reply but you cut him off, flicking your tongue against the bottom of his lower lip, teasing that little mole hiding under there.
“You’re not even available seven days a week to fuck me right. Hah, it breaks my heart.” You voiced your woes lightheartedly, closing your eyes, smiling against his smile, not yet kissing him but tiptoeing on that thin line.
His voice deeper, with longing. “You know I want to.” Again, somewhere between a whine and growl. Trying to be tough but too tender to do so. “You have to do that pesky thing called having a job too.”
“Oh, yeah, I should use all my vacation and sick days to fuck you, right?”
The smooth metal of the ring and stud touched your lip.
“That would be a good start.”
And then Jungkook grabbed your head and pulled you into his intense kiss, silencing your laugh to fuck you right, all night.
-
part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv
--
drabbles masterpost | masterpost
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maroon-cardigan · 3 months
Text
labyrinth— part XI.
a stancy x bi!fem!reader polyamory series | a cozy 90s autumn-winter au. ‎♡
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labyrinth’s playlist ‎♡
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index | part X
summary: things get tense when you, steve and nancy have to decide what to do about your peculiar situation.
word count: 3.3k
warnings: this series and my blog are +18, minors do not interact. angst, smoking cigarettes, internalised biphobia.
author’s note: hope everyone is having a nice & relaxing christmas, can’t believe this little series it’s almost over 🥺 but i’m so excited to show you what i’ve been working on in the last few months ‎♡ x
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champagne problems
Love slipped beyond your reaches, and I couldn’t give a reason.
December, 1991.
After spending a few minutes in silence laying on top of Nancy’s rug, you grab your underwear and start putting it on. You feel the two pairs of eyes following your movements as Nancy plays with the hairs that grow on Steve’s chest.
She sighs before moving to do the same thing, putting on her panties and bra on before reaching from the drawer of one of the small tables next to the couch.
‘Want one?’ She says taking out a box of cigarettes. You look from her to Steve, and you nod at the same time.
The three of you sit on the floor with your backs against the couch, wearing the underwear you took off from each other earlier. It’s been a while since you have smoked, but so much has happened tonight that what you need right now is the rhythmic breaths of a cigarette to help you clear your mind.
Nancy bites the nail of her left thumb as the cigarette consumes itself on her right hand and her eyes get lost on the pattern of the rug. Your gaze is focused on the sunset that sneaks into the room through her curtains, while Steve’s head lays on the edge of the couch’s cushion with a thoughtful frown.
Nancy clears her throat before she lightly hits the cigarette with her finger against the ashtray she set between Steve’s legs and yours. ‘I don’t think this is practical.’
Your head turns to her as your eyes narrow, trying to understand what she means. Steve looks down, and his chest fills with anxiety at the coldness in Nancy’s tone, because he’s seen this film before. So he exhales the smoke from his lungs and gives her a sad nod.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ She says to you taking the cigarette to her mouth, her hand shakes as she does, ‘this was a fun one-time thing, but it can’t happen again.’
‘What?’ You speak. Nancy fights the need of rolling her eyes at your irritating frown.
‘Hey,’ Steve’s hand tries to find your knee but you brush it away with the palm of your hand. You can’t stand the hurt in his eyes when you reject his touch.
‘Don’t touch me, Steve.’ You say, sitting on your feet away from them. ‘What the fuck, Nancy? Is this some kind of joke to you?’
‘Don’t start.’ Her tone is irritated, but she’s avoiding your gaze. They can’t see the way this is breaking your heart.
You stand up and start putting your dress on as you speak, ‘I should’ve known you were going to be like this.’
‘Why are you mad at me?’ Nancy asks from her place on the floor.
‘Because you’re doing it, again!’ You scream at her, ‘You’re taking all of these decisions for us, and I can’t stand it!’
‘Cherry,’ Steve stands up, taking a step towards you to try to hold you, but you can’t accept any kind of human warmth right now.
‘And you…’ You look at him right in his eyes, ‘You’re just letting her do it!’
‘I’m not—’ He starts, ‘Cherry, it’s not like that. This is a hard decision to make, it’s— it’s an unusual situation.’
‘It’s not hard.’ You say standing firmly. You look from Steve’s eyes to Nancy’s and try to find their compassion, their softness, the tenderness they made love to you with. ‘I fucking know it’s not, because I would choose both of you in a heartbeat.’
‘Babe,’ Steve ignores your stubbornness and finally cups your face in his hands, brown eyes full of desperation, cheeks still red after the sex, ‘it’s not that we’re not choosing you, even I need some time to—’
‘Time for what exactly, Steve?’ Your voice breaks and your eyes start watering, the feeling of humiliation taking over your body. ‘I’ve loved you since I met you. I don’t need time to think about anything.’
Steve’s eyes melt at your words, but you get away from his grip before he can say anything and walk to stand in front of Nancy.
‘And you. You’re breaking my heart, and you don’t give a shit and I’m tired of it.’ Your voice breaks at the end of the sentence before you raise your voice again, ‘All I want to do is love you, but you don’t fucking let me, Nancy.’
You grab your purse and shoes, not bothering about putting them on as you walk out of the apartment. You hear Steve say your name, but you shut the door behind you.
Nancy starts dressing up nervously, hands shaky as she speaks. ‘Y-you better leave, Steve.’
‘I–, no.’ He runs his hands through his hair in frustration, ‘Jesus, none of you are letting me speak. I have a saying on this too.’
‘There is no this, Steve!’ She screams. ‘As if my family doesn’t think I’m enough of a freak. I’m not doing this. I’m not.’
Nancy grabs a trash bag to start cleaning around the living room. Steve starts dressing quietly, the sound of bottles and the bag she’s dragging filling the silence between them.
‘All I’m saying is maybe we could sit down and talk about it like adults.’ he says putting his jeans on.
Nancy shakes her head before dropping the bag on her side. ‘I’m going to my room. You leave when you want to.’
Steve walks towards her. Closing the distance and wrapping her wrist with his hand to keep her from leaving once more.
‘Nancy, you’re running from us.’ He says with a sweet voice, he can’t explain how sad her stubbornness makes him. How stupid he feels about disappointing you. ‘I want Cherry–’
‘Then go get her!’
‘But not without you!’
Nancy’s jaw clenches at the desperation on his voice, and the first tears start falling through her face.
‘I can’t give you that.’
‘Nancy, you’re not doing anything wrong.’ He holds her in his arms then, and her head finds the crook of his neck naturally as she starts sobbing, ‘You’re not doing anything wrong, babe.’
She stands back and cleans her face while shaking her head. ‘Please, leave.’
Steve’s thumb strokes her wet cheek and his eyebrows arch in a silent plea not to push him away. ‘Nancy, let’s go get Cherry. Let’s go tell her the truth.’
‘The truth is,’ She breathes in deeply with a sobbing sound, ‘I can’t give you this. Not to you, not to her. So, you better figure this out on your own. I’m out.’
Steve swallows as Nancy untangles from his grip. His eyes burn as she walks into her room. His voice is a low hurt whisper, ‘Nancy…’
The sound of the door being locked echoes through the apartment. The living room fills with the ghosts of the day: the shared kisses, the sounds of need, the shy smiles, the delicate touches. It all seems to linger in the surface of Nancy’s furniture, like specs of dust over the wasted possibilities.
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Steve leaves the spare key he found under the doormat on the console table as he walks into your silent apartment.
You feel the door of your room open in the distance, your head foggy with sleep and the threat of a headache. A weight on the bed startles you and the only response from your defensive body is to hug and hide your face deeper into the pillow underneath you. Steve’s warm hand strokes your freshly washed hair, the kiss his warm lips leave on the bare skin of your back burns like a tattoo before his hands put your blanket over your shoulder.
‘I’m sorry.’ He whispers, melting at the sight in front of him, ‘I’m sorry I made you feel like I wasn’t on your side.’ The idea of losing you because of this mess makes his chest ache even more.
You’re too tired to cry right now. When you lift your head from the pillows and look at him with puffy eyes and a red nose, he can’t help but wrap his arms around you. There’s no space between your bodies as you lay your head on his chest, getting lost on the squares of your patchwork blanket, yet Nancy’s absence is everywhere around you. You can’t help but replay her words in your head, thinking of the coldness she treated you with, and the knot on your throat comes back.
Steve grabs one of your hands and kisses it, his eyes close as he does, trying to inhale as much of your almond scent as he can. ‘I love you.’
You look up to him. His hand finds your face and his thumb strokes your eyebrow.
‘Really?’
He lets out a soft laugh, though a note of sadness is still hidden behind it. You sit up with the blanket covering your chest to look at him better.
Steve puts a strand of hair behind your ear and studies your face, ‘My sweet girl,’ you could melt at the tenderness he says it with, his nose strokes your cheek, not looking for your mouth but with the purpose to grasp at the sweetness of the moment within the bitterness of the shared heartbreak. ‘You just didn’t notice.’
Your eyes fill with tears again and Steve kisses your forehead. ‘I don’t…’ You start as your hands grasp at the fabric of his sweater, playing with its collar ‘I don’t want you to think I don’t want this, because I do. But…’
‘Shhh,’ he says holding your face against his neck. ‘You don’t need to explain anything to me. You’ve got a heart with plenty of room, remember?’ You nod as the tears start wetting his sweater, ‘You and Nance are the most important thing in my life.’
‘Hold me.’ You whisper as your body misses the warmth of hers between you and him. Your grip tight on his sweater as Steve keeps you closer to him. You mouth kisses his neck and jaw with pain dripping from your eyes until he leans into you to give you what you want: to get your pain kissed away.
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The first couple of days after Christmas pass, and it’s clear for Eddie and Robin that something changed that afternoon, but they don’t know what. You’re practically living in Steve’s apartment, leaving a few things in one of his drawers, finding a place for the books you’re currently reading on his bedside table, getting two bottles of your shampoo for his shower. It’s not a choice out of the decision to move on, but out of the need of sleeping next to the only person who can understand the pain you’re going through.
You both think the only way to help Nancy is to give her unlimited access to the other two people who can help her. But Nancy refuses to leave her apartment because your presence in too loud inside the living room you share with Robin.
After Robin came back from her mom’s, the gloomy atmosphere of the hallway told her something was wrong. The note on the coffee table explaining that you were going to spend a few days at Steve’s almost filled her with hope until she read the worry in Eddie’s eyes.
Steve found you on his bed, your new discman playing the Twin Peaks album that Nancy picked from his shelf on Thanksgiving, as you laid with your eyes closed, Falling playing on repeat. He touched your arm and gave you a sorry look when you opened your eyes. ‘They’re here.’
It was not easy to explain.
So now you spend those days pretending to watch the snow fall from Steve’s window, pretending to watch all the tapes Steve had in his shelf, pretending to read the paragraphs in your books, pretending to laugh with your sister on the phone. Sometimes, you turn to Steve and see him lost in the colors of the TV screen, you run your fingers through his hair softly, and he lazily looks at you before his sad honey brown eyes turn back to the commercials. And then you know that what’s behind those irises it’s as unfixable as the hole in your chest.
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Nancy has been apartment hunting for the last three days. She gave her notice the day after Christmas, telling the landlord she found a job in a different part of the town.
‘Where are you gonna go, Nancy?’ Says Robin as she walks in a mess full of numbered boxes.
‘My parents’.’ She says looking down at the list she has carefully written with the contents of all the boxes, ‘at least until I find another place.’
‘Are you kidding me? Nancy, what the fuck?’ But her friend is too busy ticking the box of cutlery to look up. Robin can’t stand it anymore and takes the clipboard out of her hands, ‘Nancy, what are you doing!?’
Nancy scoffs at Robin’s attitude as she tries to take the clipboard out of her hands. ‘What does it look like I’m doing? I’m moving on with my life.’
The blinking red light of her answering machine grabs her attention as she shakes her head and turns her back to Robin to start working on a different box. Dr Davis’ secretary left a message after she missed her appointment two days ago, but she doesn’t know how to reply or what to say.
‘Nancy, you’re hurting yourself and I– I can’t stand seeing it.’ Robin tries to find Nancy’s eyes, but they’re just a pair of stone-cold sapphires.
‘Well,’ Nancy sighs, detachment taking all over her body, ‘the door’s right there, Robin.’ She keeps working for a few more seconds, but Robin doesn’t move from where she stands. ‘I’ve made a bunch of mistakes this year. I just need some time away from all of this.’
‘Steve and Cherry–’
‘Steve and Cherry will get over it. They,’ She swallows before speaking again, ‘they’re in love. You and I know they’re in love. They’ll feel sorry for a few weeks until I move away, and then they’ll just move on with their lives. Aren’t they already living in his apartment, anyways? The sooner I leave this place the better it’s going to be for everyone.’
‘That’s not true, Nancy.’ Robin’s voice is low, ‘They love you.’
Nancy bites her lip and breathes out deeply before walking to Robin and take her clipboard off her hand.
‘When you decide to be my friend again, call me. In the meantime, don’t bother me. I need to leave by New Year’s Day.’
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Three days later, Nancy’s living room is filled with the cold blue light of the snow’s reflection. She has moved a chair next to the window to observe the snowflakes falling, and little Autumn, both awed and equally terrified of the labyrinth of boxes around her, finds a way to climb onto her legs and rest her head against Nancy’s lap.
She has procrastinated making a decision about the little black cat. Her mother is not a cat person, but it would be too heartless to leave her behind. Autumn is everything she’s got left at this point, her friendship with Robin hanging from a thread and you and Steve officially out of her life. She tries to picture your body on the empty ground where the rug should be next to Steve’s, remembering the texture of your lips against her stomach, the lines of his thumb’s fingertips that her tongue memorized. The devotion in your eyes as you let your body take control over you.
Her hands lift Autumn to hold her in the crook of her neck as her tears start falling, the illusion of protecting the kitten gives her the comfort she needs from you and him. And she stays like that for what feels like hours, while the tea next to her grows cold.
The doorbell rings when she starts dozing off. She turns on a lamp on her way to the door, boxes illuminated by the golden light.
‘Hey Wheeler,’ Eddie’s face fills her with annoyance, but a part of her is also relieved to know it’s not you or Steve.
‘Hey,’ She says with a soft smile, ‘How are you, Eddie?’
‘’m good, ’m good.’ He says with a confident smile, ‘Look, I went to the Chinese place down the road and got too much food for myself so ‘was wondering if you’d like some free dinner?’
Her stomach growls at the look of the white bag Eddie holds in his hand, she doesn’t remember when was the last time she ate. Eddie looks at the way Nancy’s features soften, and her defensiveness evaporates before nodding shyly.
‘See, that’s what I don’t get about Mike. He’s a control freak when he’s playing D&D but then he’s a fucking mess on everything else.’
Nancy laughs loudly and rolls her eyes, ‘You’ve no idea. I don’t know what I’m gonna do now that I’ll have to live with him again for a few weeks.’
Eddie takes a spring roll nonchalantly after Nancy’s comment. For a few seconds, the only sounds come from Autumn’s purrs next to the heater, and their chopsticks against their plates.
‘Robs said you’re leavin’ on Monday, huh?’
‘Yeah…’ the tip of her chopstick plays with a few rice grains. Eddie tries to find her eyes, but Nancy gets lost in the mess of sweet and sour sauce in front of her to avoid his gaze. ‘I fucked up big, Eds.’
Eddie leaves his food aside before standing more comfortably in the chair. His eyes narrow before he takes a sip of his soda, ‘I don’t get you, Wheeler.’
She rolls her eyes with a sad smile, ‘I don’t get me either.’
‘No, I– like, who gives a shit about what you do, Nancy?’ Her eyes lift with hurt in them, but Eddie doesn’t let her speak, ‘You were treated like shit by Jonathan, and it took you ages to leave his ass, but two people are willing to be with you and it takes you three seconds to pack your stuff.’
‘Do you hear yourself? Two people, do you know how bizarre that sounds?’
‘Nobody, nobody gives a shit about what you do, Nancy. That’s my point. So, what if you like them both? I’ve been trying to get Cherry and Steve together for two years.’ He lets out an ironic laugh, ‘And then you move back and it’s instant. Do you know how obsessed with you she was? Never shutting up ‘bout you and Steve had to get back together, willing to take a step back to let you two be happy.’
‘Steve and I don’t belong–’
‘Steve is in love with you as much as he is in love with Cherry. And instead of going next door and talk like an adult you’re here all alone like a goddamn Victorian widow. I can’t stand it.’ Nancy’s eyes turn hard as stone, her mouth opens but Eddie is not over, ‘And that whole “the door’s right there” shit might work with Robin, but you need to listen. Shit, you’re going to listen to me, Wheeler. You’re not fucking up by having the weirdest relationship Hawkins has ever seen, but by running away from it. Because that stupid plan you have in your head of leaving them to be happy together is not going to work, princess. They want you.’
Nancy crosses her arms and licks her teeth in annoyance as her eyes get lost in the plate in front of her.
‘Stop being a coward.’
Nancy stands up and starts putting the empty plastic plates in a bag. Eddie mirrors her, standing up from his chair and cleaning his hands before speaking. ‘New Year’s party’s at mine tomorrow. We want you there.’
‘I’ll be at my parents by then.’
‘Hmm, I don’t know why I don’t believe you, Wheeler.’
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part XII: safe
taglist: @ahoyyharrington @mochminnie @luvslogan @we-out-here-simping
I do no consent for people to plagiarise, translate, copy or repost any of my written works anywhere. I do not consent people to use any of my written work for AI purposes.
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daechwitatamic · 1 year
Text
XI. All of It || KNJ
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(banner by @itaeewon)
Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)
Rating: NSFW - minors dni
Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns, eventual and brief smut
Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader
Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!
Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 
Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.
//
Being away from home for Christmas makes you re-evaluate the choices you’ve made, and the people you’ve pushed away.
Section Warnings: language, drinking, kissing, one pov switch, big time jumps
WC: 8k
The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Sunday December 24th
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Namjoon asks you for the ninetieth time. 
“Namjoon, go,” you laugh. Mrs. Kim is running out to get a few last second groceries, but insists that you stay at the house to “rest”, instead recruiting her son to help her carry everything home. “She’s waiting for you!”
“You could tag along,” he offers. “I know she told you to stay, but she’s not that scary! You can disobey!”
“I absolutely cannot,” you tell him seriously. “It’s fine - you’ll be gone, what, an hour? I can entertain myself.”
He sighs, like he hopes you’re right. “Okay. I’ll try to hurry her along so we’re back sooner.” 
You stretch to kiss him goodbye, and watch as he exits through the kitchen door, loping around the house to where Mrs. Kim waits for him. Then, alone in the kitchen, you face the silence and stillness. 
This is fine, you think. It’s a moment where you don’t have to be on in front of strangers, a moment where you don’t have to watch what you say because his family is forming their impression of you. You stand there for a minute, palms on the cool countertop, just breathing. 
Then, from the other room, you hear something: the unmistakable sound of the opening lines of your favorite, cheesiest Christmas movie. 
You creep to the doorway of the living room. The second he sees you in his periphery, Mr. Kim jumps a mile and scrambles for the remote, rushing to change the channel.
“I’m sorry!” you call, trying to bite back laughter. “I didn’t mean to interrupt - I’ll go do something else!”
His cover blown, he stops scrambling. On the tv screen, a team of flying reindeer pull Santa’s sleigh across the moon as the opening credits run. Mr. Kim hangs his head in shame.
“I will never hear the end of it if they find out I’m watching this,” he tells you. 
“This is my favorite one,” you tell him honestly. “So if you want to leave it on for a while… I promise to take the secret to my grave.”
You sit in comfortable silence in a plushy, blue chair next to the couch, enjoying a garbage holiday indulgence, listening to the crackling fireplace, and watching the snow flurries out the window. And, true to your word, when you hear the front door unlocked, you pull out your phone like you’ve been doom-scrolling for an hour while Mr. Kim turns on the news station.
That night you accompany the family to Namjoon’s uncle’s house. It’s big, and bright, and loud, and full of screaming little cousins running underfoot, and aunts that shriek and hug you when Namjoon introduces you as his girlfriend.
“Our Joonie!” one aunt cries, pulling him sideways away from you like that will stop you from hearing her. “She’s beautiful!”
Namjoon winks at you, and tells her, “Smarter than me, too.”
Later, you catch some air together outside. 
“I am not smarter than you,” you tell him adamantly. 
“We can agree to disagree,” he murmurs into your mouth, because he’s already kissing you. 
“Merry Christmas,” he tells you when you break apart, his voice low and soothing, warm and loving. “I’m really glad you’re here with me.”
“Yeah,” you say, snuggling closer into his embrace. Snow falls lightly, as it has on and off all day, landing on your dark winter jackets. “I am, too.”
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Monday December 25th
Christmas Day is bittersweet. 
The morning is lovely; Namjoon and his parents exchange a few small gifts and you bat away Mrs. Kim’s apologies that she has nothing for you.
“We keep telling you,” Namjoon laughs, his feet in huge, fluffy slippers that his parents got him, “just send us home with food. Neither of us can cook, it’s a miracle we haven’t starved.”
“Don’t say that to your mother, she’ll worry,” Mr. Kim chides. 
You glance at the clock and notice that it’s about the time that Lin would be getting home from work. Impulsively, you excuse yourself and step back into the guest room, closing the door nearly all the way and pulling out your phone.
Lin answers on the second ring. “Everything okay?” she greets you.
It makes your heart a little heavier. It doesn’t even occur to her that you might be calling just to say Merry Christmas.
“Nothing’s wrong,” you assure her. “I just wanted to tell you Merry Christmas before you went to bed.”
“Oh.” She sounds surprised. “Well, Merry Christmas to you, too. And your boyfriend. Are you having fun?”
You’d shrug if she could see you. “They’ve been really nice,” you tell her. You hesitate, then say, “Hopefully you’ll meet them someday.”
“Sure, at the wedding,” Lin jokes. “You’ve always been so private!”
You’re not sure what to say to this. You know it’s true. You never shared much with her, never had a big group of girlfriends to tell things to. It was always just you and Taehyung.
Now you’re sad for two reasons.
Somehow, Lin seems to read your mind through the phone. “Is it weird not having Christmas with Taehyung’s family?” she asks.
“I was trying not to think about it,” you admit, and she laughs.
“I’m sure they miss you!” she says. “I’ll tell them hello - I see his mom all over town. I’m sure it was weird for him to come home without you. Do you think he’s jealous that your boyfriend gets your attention now?”
She’s joking, but she’s spearheaded the truth so perfectly that it knocks your breath out. 
She interprets your silence correctly and the teasing vanishes instantly. “Oh, honey,” she says, voice full of regret. “I didn’t know you were going through that. Are you, like, actually fighting? What happened?”
You swallow the lump in your throat. “We… aren’t speaking right now,” you admit, your voice tight. “But could we talk about it another time? They’re all waiting for me out there and I don’t want to get all upset…”
“Sure, sure,” she says quickly. “But Y/N? Taehyung loves you - he’s been your best friend for so long. He’ll adjust. It’ll be okay. Alright?”
That’s all it takes to set you off - just her kindness, her reassurance. As you tell her thank you, and goodbye, you’re choking back tears, trying to get it together. As you hang up, you feel - for the first time maybe ever - like you actually miss her. 
You and Namjoon spend the afternoon reading on the couch together, your feet on his lap. His parents tut and whisper that there’s two of him now, and you can’t help but smile. 
Late in the afternoon, you glance at your phone, tempted to text Taehyung Merry Christmas. You’ve never had one without him before, except for the year he had the flu. In the end, you slide your phone back into your pocket, screen still locked. 
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Tuesday December 26th
You and Namjoon decide to head back a day early once the weather reports start forecasting an actual blizzard. 
His parents are disappointed, but understand. Namjoon’s dad warms up the car, idling in the driveway while you two collect your bags and zip your coats. Namjoon steps out ahead of you, and you can see past him that the clouds are low and gray, the air feeling like impending snow. 
Mrs. Kim calls you back by your name, and you hesitate, turning to see what she needs. She shuffles in from the kitchen, a reusable grocery bag in her hands, laden with leftovers. She pushes it into your hands wordlessly.
“Thank you,” you tell her enthusiastically, eyeing the number of containers she’s crammed in there. “We’ll eat well for at least a week. Thank you so much.”
She keeps her hands on the bag’s handles for a second longer, not allowing you to pull away. She opens her mouth, then hesitates, like trying to decide how to say what she wants to say.
“I hope you’ll come back soon,” she says finally. “If you need help with… cooking, or… if you need someone to talk to… I hope you’ll come to see me as someone you can reach out to.”
Tears well in your eyes and you blink them away quickly, embarrassed, as she finally releases her hold on the bags.
“Thank you,” you tell her, your voice a little choked. “And thank you for letting me stay here. I appreciate it… so much.”
On the train, Namjoon bumps his knee against yours. “You’re quiet,” he says, a loving accusation.
You sigh. “Your family’s awesome,” you tell him.
Understanding, he takes your hand and gives it a squeeze. “Come home with me any time,” he says. “They’d love it. And so would I.”
You watch the countryside roll by in silence for a while. You’re almost drifting off when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Then again, and then again.
[10:51 AM] Taehyung: my mom says merry christmas  [10:51 AM] Taehyung: i missed you during the drive home [10:52 AM] Taehyung: i miss you now, at home [10:52 AM] Taehyung: we’ve always spent christmas together  [10:52 AM] Taehyung: the guys said you’re with namjoons family [10:52 AM] Taehyung: i’m glad you weren’t alone. I would have felt even worse [10:53 AM] Taehyung: i know i said it a lot of times, but i’ll say it again. i am SO sorry for what i did [10:54 AM] Taehyung: can we talk when i get back to campus? Like… actually talk?
You turn the screen and nudge Namjoon’s elbow, letting him lean over to read it. You feel… kind of empty. 
“I think he means it,” Namjoon murmurs. 
You press your lips together, clutch the phone so tight your knuckles turn white. 
“I think he does, too,” you agree finally.
“You gonna talk to him?” Namjoon asks. 
“I don’t know,” you whisper. You turn the screen off and slide your phone back into your pocket, the messages unanswered. “I’ll think about it.”
An hour later, as the train rolls past campus, your heart clenches as you catch glimpses of the places you’d spent with Taehyung the last few years - the dorms, the academic building, the football field. You pull your phone back out, feeling something inside you crack and break. 
That something might have been your pride, your hurt feelings, your tightly-clutched anger.
[12:04 PM] You: merry christmas to you and your family, tae
[12:07 PM] You: yeah… let’s talk when you get back
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Friday December 29th
“Did you know that you’re the warmest person on the planet?” you ask. 
“I think you mean hottest,” Namjoon jokes.
You’re wrapped up together, in his bed this time, as you’ve been for most of Christmas week. The blizzard came and went without incident for the two of you - you stayed inside, comfy and warm, reading together, eating food that only needs to be microwaved, and talking - about his book, about your upcoming classes, about the beautiful snow coating everything outside.
About your upcoming conversation with Taehyung. 
There’s something you don’t talk about, though - your niggling feelings that you owe Lin more, like you have something to make up for for bailing on going home. 
“I can mean both if it makes you feel better,” you tease back. “But right now, I really mean warmest.”
“I’m sticking with hottest,” he says, eyes closed happily.
You’re quiet for a few minutes, just listening to him breathe, just reveling in feeling happy and safe and - yes - warm. 
“Joon?” you murmur.
“Mmm?” He doesn’t open his eyes.
“Wanted to ask you something.”
Now he peeks at you, curious at your sudden meekness. “What is it?”
You wiggle your toes in discomfort. Namjoon waits you out, like he always does. 
“I was thinking about how I left Lin alone this week,” you say slowly. “I mean, she’s always alone. It’s not, like, my job to make sure she’s not lonely.”
Namjoon says your name quietly, disarmingly, a reminder that you don’t need to jump to defensiveness - not with him.
You sigh. “I feel bad,” you admit. “So I was thinking about going home on the train for New Years? And, um, no pressure, but if you want to come with me –”
“Of course I do,” he says immediately, not even letting you finish. “Of course I’ll go with you.” He laughs, once. “Honestly, I’m honored. Have you ever brought a guy home before?”
You hide your face, blushing and fighting a smile. “Literally never.”
He grins at you, and you press a kiss to the dimple closest. 
“Sounds fun,” he says. “When do you want to go?”
“Sunday, maybe?” you suggest. “New Years Eve day?”
“That’s fine,” he says, eyes on the ceiling as he flips through his mental calendar. “You gonna give your aunt a heads up?”
In the end you text Lin and Taehyung the same thing - “coming home Sunday for new years. See you then?”
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Sunday December 31st 
The train ride to your hometown is significantly quicker than Namjoon’s was. Somehow, you feel even more nervous this time than you did on your way to meet his parents. You’re not sure if your nerves are for introducing Namjoon to Lin, or for talking to Taehyung again after what a disaster it was last time.
Both, probably. 
“What if he pulls some shit again?” you ask out of nowhere, the question that’s burning under your skin finally breaking free.
Namjoon grimaces. “I’ll be there this time.”
You sigh, frustrated. “And that’s fine for in the moment, but I’m more worried about like… the long-term. If he acts like an idiot again, where do we go from there? Do I just just not talk to him for another week until he’s sorry again? Is it a cycle? Or do I cut him out completely and just… give up on the friendship?”
Namjoon’s grimace doesn’t waver. “I think that’s up to him. And you,” he says gently. 
You let out a slow breath. 
“I wish I knew what to mentally prepare for,” you admit, huffing out a quiet laugh.
“Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it,” he promises, and you appreciate the gesture. But it isn’t the same for him, and you know it. Taehyung’s his friend, sure, but it’s very not-the-same.
“Anyway,” you say, trying to give yourself a mental shake. “I’m excited to bring you home. I’ll focus on that.”
“I’m more nervous about that part,” he admits with a smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You sit like that for the rest of the trip, leaning into his embrace. 
Lin’s house is walkable from the train station if you know the shortcut through a broken chain-link fence - which, luckily, you do. You let yourself in the front door with the key you keep, both of you kicking off your shoes and leaving your suitcases in the narrow entryway. 
You enter the small living room first, Namjoon behind you trying to get his boot off of his foot. Lin gets up from the couch with a smile, coming to give you a hug.
“How was the ride?” she asks, starting to pull away. 
You start to answer her, when her face suddenly changes as she sees Namjoon come through the doorway behind you. Her smile drops, her face goes pale, and - completely inexplicably - she starts to tear up, a hand coming to cover her mouth.
Adrenaline and alarm rush through you.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt, “I should have warned you I was bringing Namjoon. It was kind of a surprise. Shit, Lin, are you mad? We can get a hotel room for him instead –”
“I’m not mad,” she manages, wiping under her eyes. “I’m happy. I never thought - Honey, it’s so nice to meet you.” 
She’s moving around you and hugging Namjoon, who looks at you with comically wide eyes over her shoulder.
She lets him go, sniffling a little, pulling back to get a good look at him. 
“It’s nice to meet you too,” Namjoon says awkwardly. “If it’s too late notice for me to stay here, I understand –”
“No, no,” she says quickly. “It’s fine. It’s wonderful.” She turns her teary gaze back to you.
You’ve never seen Lin cry, never in your life - not even over Grandma. 
“It’s just,” she says, clearly trying to get her voice under control, “Y/N’s never brought home a partner before. You barely even brought home friends. As you grew up… it felt like you were pushing this place away, rejecting it as a home - like you didn’t consider it a place worth bringing the people who were important to you.”
This floors you, knocks you right out. You take a deep breath, try to still your shaking hands. You turn to Namjoon. “The guest room is through that door off the kitchen,” you tell him. “Do you want to bring your bag in?”
He gives you a long, searching look - like he’s trying to figure out if you’re okay, like he’s trying to figure out if it’s okay to leave you on your own.
But it is. This time, it is.
You give him a reassuring little nod, and he gives you the tiniest hint of a smile back before going to get his suitcase from where he’d abandoned it in the entryway. He wheels it past you, through the kitchen and you turn back to Lin, who’s wiping furiously under her eyes.
“Lin,” you say quietly. “I… I didn’t know you felt that way.”
She sniffs again, working hard to get it together. “I understood,” she says kindly. “Things were so hard for you. I could understand it if you took your anger at your situation out that way.”
“It wasn’t that,” you say, trying to explain. “It was just… the only person who was important to me was already here.”
Her eyes flash to the living room’s front window, which looks out to the street - where, across the pavement, you can see the corner of Taehyung’s house. Then her gaze flits back to you.
“I see,” she says somberly. Then she brightens. “But not anymore, huh? Now you have a boyfriend.”
“Yeah,” you say, eyes on the doorway where Namjoon had disappeared with his bag. You can’t fight your smile. “Apparently I do.”
She squeals a little and pulls you back into another hug. “I can’t wait to get to know him,” she tells you. “I hope you two will come around a lot more.”
You’re reminded of Namjoon’s mom saying the same thing. It feels… strange - to have homes waiting for you, with people wanting to see you. It’s something you hadn’t ever really felt, growing up. 
For the first time, you’re starting to see family as something you have to build. 
“By the way,” Lin says, glancing at the clock, “are you two having dinner at the Kims with me tonight? If so, I’d better tell her to add a place at the table for your man.”
“Oh my God,” you say, laughing, covering your face. “Don’t call him that.”
“Dinner at the Kims?” Namjoon asks, finally deciding it’s safe to come back now that you’re done hugging. “Tonight?”
“Just across the street,” she tells him. “I have work tonight, so unfortunately I’ll have to leave around ten. Are you joining? Or are you and Taehyung…?”
You shrug. “He texted. We’re supposed to talk. Maybe tonight’s a good chance for that.”
She reaches out and squeezes your shoulder. “I like the sound of that. Start the New Year off with a clean slate.”
You like the sound of that a lot, too. You really, really hope that’s what the night will bring.
“We’ll go,” you say, looking up at Namjoon for confirmation. He nods, like he doesn’t care what you do as long as you’re together. Which… is probably exactly what he thinks. “Right?”
“Sure,” he says easily, reaching out to grab your hand. “What’s for dinner?”
Tons is the answer to that question. Taehyung’s mother cooks for the six of you like she’s cooking for twenty. 
Lin leads you into the house, calling cheerful hellos. You hug Taehyung’s parents happily, then step back, meeting your best friend’s eyes for the first time in almost three weeks. He chews his lip nervously, gives you a tiny nod. You return it. Behind you, Namjoon is shaking Mr. Kim’s hand, introducing himself.
“Sorry,” you say quickly. “Mr. and Mrs. Kim, this is my boyfriend, Namjoon. He’s a grad student at the university.”
Mrs. Kim and Lin head into the kitchen and Mr. Kim heads for his study down the hall, leaving the three of you alone in the living room. 
Awkward silence echoes.
Taehyung breaks the silence first, addressing Namjoon. “You want a beer?”
Namjoon eyes him for a minute, jaw clenched. For a scary second, you think he’s actually going to tell Taehyung to go fuck himself. Then, he unclenches, twists his mouth to the side like he’s thinking, and nods.
“Sure,” he says. “A beer would be great. And maybe one for Y/N, too?” 
“Yes, please,” you say, flashing Taehyung a thankful grin. When Taehyung returns, holding out the bottles to you, you take them, feeling… hopeful. It’s just a beer, sure, but it feels like a peace offering. It feels like everything might actually be okay. 
Dinner is delicious, and somehow not awkward. Taehyung’s mother has always doted on you, so she peppers you with questions - about school, your thesis, about how you and Namjoon got together. You’re afraid it will be weird, but while Taehyung doesn’t contribute to this part of the conversation, he listens attentively. You realize he probably didn’t know the story, himself. 
When ten o’clock rolls around, you hug Lin goodbye at the door - something new for both of you.
“This year’s gonna be better for us,” she promises you in a whisper. “I can already tell.”
You nod against her shoulder, then wish her a safe drive. 
“Five… four… three… two… one! Happy New Years!”
Everyone in the room cheers, Taehyung blowing into a noisy paper horn. Namjoon’s eyes glitter, and then he tugs you closer by the waist, kissing you soundly. Somebody - Mrs. Kim, you suspect - whistles and you feel yourself blush. Your happy, bashful laugh breaks the kiss, and he squeezes your waist once as you break away. 
You grin up at him, so happy you could burst from it. It’s hard to believe that four months ago you were strangers, tip-toeing around each other at home.  It’s hard to believe that four months ago you couldn’t shelter in his arms, listen to his heartbeat, tell him every stupid thought you have.
The Kims have huddled noisily on the other side of the room, giving you two a little privacy for a moment, so you take the opportunity to press yourself closer to Namjoon. You stretch onto your toes, your lips close to his ear, and whisper, “Looking forward to this year of loving you, Joon.”
His arms tighten around you and you swear you hear his breath catch.
Then, he nuzzles his face in his hair, whispering back, “I love you.”
You hold him tight, swaying a little, your heart soaring and soaring. You don’t think you’ve ever been this happy in your life.
Tae’s parents go to bed shortly after midnight, and you’re eager to leave, too - your house across the street is empty tonight, after all. 
Taehyung walks you two to the front door. Namjoon steps out first, heading down to the grassy yard. Taehyung calls your name from the top step, and you hesitate. 
“Can… could we talk now?” he asks, voice small. “Like… alone?”
Two steps down from you, Namjoon mutters something that sounds an awful lot like audacity. 
“I’m all ears,” you say. 
Taehyung flushes, his chest going dark and patchy above the collar, the way it does when he’s upset. “Listen,” he says, “I know what I did was really fucked up. I want to apologize - to both of you. I really am… so goddamn sorry.”
“I appreciate that,” Namjoon says evenly, voice low. There’s something hot about how he says it, and you feel a tingle and a thrill. You want to take his hand and drag him home.
“I…” Taehuyng falters, his eyes on you. “I really do want to talk to you about everything. And… it’s hard. Right? It’s not just me? I think I’ll… do a better job saying what I mean if it’s just us.”
You frown, but the truth is you understand. For your whole lives, it had been the two of you. You speak your own language with each other. What he’s trying to tell you is he can be more authentic if he isn’t trying to communicate in a way that lets Namjoon in, too. 
You look at Namjoon to gauge how he feels about this. He looks back at you, face unreadable. Your choice, the blankness tells you.
“We stay right here,” you say, pointing at the steps. 
“That’s fine,” Taehyung says eagerly, like he can’t believe you agreed. 
You look at Namjoon again, and he nods. “I’ll be over there,” he says, nodding at your house. “You know where to find me.”
“Don’t worry,” you tell him, a little devious. “I definitely plan to come find you.”
His smile back is wicked as he turns and lopes across the yard, disappearing into the dark.
You wait for him to start, to say what he wants to say, but he just looks at you. In the dark, his eyes look almost black.
“Okay,” you say finally. “I’m here to talk. So let’s talk.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, like it’s bursting from him, like he was waiting for permission to unleash it. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that to you.”
You press your lips together and look away, shove down the wave of emotion - fresh anger, deep hurt. “So why did you?” you manage. 
“I could see myself losing you all semester,” he admits. His voice trembles, just slightly. “I could see it happening little by little and I couldn’t figure out why and I felt so… frozen… I didn’t know how to pull you back without crossing any lines with you…” He rubs a hand over his face, inhales roughly. “When I found out you were in love with Namjoon, it’s like my brain went into this panic state and my body just reacted and did the only thing it could think of that might stop you from walking away.”
You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. Angry tears string at your eyes, their tracks suddenly warm on your cheeks. Your voice shakes when you mutter, “That’s so fucked up, Taehyung. I don’t deserve that.”
“I know,” he says, rubbing a hand down his face again. His shoulders shake, barely noticeable, before he pulls it together to continue. “Of course you don’t. I just… wanted you to stay. I don’t know… how to live a life that isn’t… half yours.” His sentence is punctuated with long sniffs, hurried swipes under eyes - for both of you.
You hate it, but you know exactly what he means. You hadn’t known how to live a life that wasn’t half his, either. But you’d learned - you have to build it yourself. It doesn’t come out of nowhere. 
“Tae…” you say, sniffing once more and trying to take a steadying breath. “That stuff you said to Namjoon…”
He hangs his head, exhaling, the sound whispery and warbling. “He really just pissed me off,” he admits, not looking at you. “But, for a second, I really did wonder…”
You can see exactly what’s coming and you brace yourself, wondering how bad this next admission will hurt.
“Of course I love you,” he says, looking up at you. He’s not crying, now. Instead, he looks at you so seriously, like he’s got to see your reaction, to know you hear him. “You’re my best friend. There was really a minute there where I wondered if my way of loving you could really be that different from…”
From your way of loving me. He doesn't need to say it.
It doesn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would.
“The answer to that,” you say dryly, “is yes, very.”
He nods, acknowledging this. “And,” he admits, voice going quiet with shame, “I think a little part of me was trying to hurt you back. When I found out you’d been getting serious with him and keeping it from me… that hurt, you not telling me. You and me… we don’t lie to each other, and we don’t keep secrets.”
You scoff. “That’s bullshit, Taehyung. We’ve been doing both for… years.”
The silence stretches between you as he considers the truth of these words. His gaze drops to the ground. 
“I guess you’re right,” he says sadly, like he hates that it’s true. “Things have been fucked up between us for a long time now. And… I’m sorry for that, too. I’m sorry for being a terrible friend - this year, and all these years. I shouldn’t have let you… keep hurting. I think I was lying to myself about… how you felt. If I didn’t address it, if I didn’t technically know, then I didn’t have to do anything about it. And if I didn’t do anything about it, I couldn’t risk doing the wrong thing.”
You take in his explanation, your arms crossed over your chest. It doesn’t make things okay, it doesn’t absolve him. But you can understand. You’d been afraid to rock the boat, too. 
You two should have talked years ago.
“How long have you known?” you ask quietly.
He makes an unhappy noise. “Ah. We don’t have to do that.”
“I just want to know.”
He sighs. “Since high school, I guess?”
You look away, letting out another bitter laugh. “That’s a long time.”
“I guess I thought if I never looked directly at it, then nothing between us would change,” he explains. 
“It had to,” you say firmly. That’s the truest thing you can say right now.
“I know that,” Taehyung says, exhaling. “I know that, now.”
You’re both quiet for a minute. You shiver a little, wonder if Namjoon is okay over at Lin’s house.
“These last two years were hard,” Taehyung says suddenly, like now that he’s opened the tap he can’t stop the flow of words, can’t stop spilling every truth. “I stopped knowing… how to be your friend. I didn't know where the line was - I didn't know what would hurt you, what would mess with your head when I was just being me, just being us.”
“We need new boundaries,” you say quietly. 
He nods, agreeing. “It won’t be easy,” he sighs. “Because… well, it can’t be the same. But I feel like we can figure it out.”
“Should be easier, now,” you observe. Now that he doesn’t need to worry about your heart, you mean. 
He nods, understanding. 
Past the horizon of trees, a burst of fireworks light up above the line of rooftops.
“You have a resolution?” you ask him. 
He nods, sucking on his teeth a little. “Yeah. To… let someone in.”
You turn to look at him, silently waiting as he finishes the thought. 
“We wasted a lot of time,” he says, smile twisting sideways wryly. “You were… y’know… waiting for something that wasn’t coming. And I don’t think I gave anyone else a fair shot either. Just because… she’d have to be my best friend, right? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?”
You look across the street again. “Yeah,” you say. “Usually that’s how it works.”
“And where would that have left you?” he asks. 
“Yep,” you say flatly, understanding exactly the point he’s trying to make. “That was my problem for a while too, when this started.”
“What I’m saying, though,” he tries again, a little frustrated that his words aren’t doing what he wants, “is that you were the brave one. I was too scared to see what would happen, to see what we could figure out. You gave someone a chance. You had faith that we’d be alright.”
You nod, considering this. “So, are we?” you ask. “Alright?”
He nods. “Can I hug you?” he asks. 
You smile, crooked. “I think that’s allowed,” you joke.
He wraps his arms around your shoulders and you lean your head against his chest. “My dummy,” you say affectionately, and his laugh rumbles under your ear. “I missed your stupid ass.”
Then, you step away. “I should go,” you tell him. “Namjoon’s probably looking at my baby pictures and there’s no one in there to stop him.”
Taehyung laughs. “Okay,” he says. “See you back at campus? Happy New Year, Y/N.”
“Happy New Year,” you tell him, as you walk away. 
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Friday May 25th 
[3:55 PM] Joon 💕: it’s here [3:55 PM] You: O.O [3:55 PM] Joon 💕: you want me to open it? [3:56 PM] Joon 💕: or should i wait for you to get home? [3:56 PM] You: omg pls open it [3:56 PM] You: just text me yes or no [3:56 PM] You: nothing else. just that. hurry.
[3:58 PM] You: NAMJOON
[3:59 PM] You: i will THROW UP!!!!!!
[4:01 PM] Joon 💕: you got in [4:01 PM] You: SHUT THE FUCK UP [4:01 PM] You: YOU’RE KISDING RIGHT [4:02 PM] You: PROMISE ME YOURE OT LYING [4:03 PM] Joon 💕: lol you think i’d fuck with you over something like this? [4:04 PM] You: no??? But??? Everything is turning black around me??? I think i’m dying??? [4:04 PM] Joon 💕: breathe, babe [4:05 PM] Joon 💕: and come home soon so we can celebrate [4:05 PM] You: be there soon
You call Lin first. She answers on the third ring, groggily, and you’re aware that she must have worked last night and you’ve woken her up. 
You can feel guilty later.
“I got in!” you squeal, and she shrieks so loud you have to pull the phone away from your ear. 
“Congratulations!” she’s crowing when you get brave enough to put the phone near your face again. “I told you you would!”
“I know, I know,” you say, breathless with delight. You’d applied for a few grad programs in the area, but your sights were really on a small, private university in the city. Their writing program was renowned, but they only took a small cohort each year. You had felt confident that you’d get into the writing program here, at your current university, with Namjoon, and you’d been right. But it hadn’t been your first choice, not if you were being really honest. 
“We should celebrate,” Lin tells you. “What if I came to campus this weekend? I could take you and Namjoon out to dinner?”
“We’d love that,” you say. “I’ll just double-check that he doesn’t have anything on his schedule but it should be fine.”
“Let me know. And Y/N? I’m really proud of you.”
You’re almost home when you hang up, and you practically skip the rest of the way to the apartment. It’s almost hot out, the late-spring evening promising summer days on the horizon. You take the steps two at a time, ready to get swept up in Namjoon’s arms, ready to share your joy and triumph with him the way you’d once shared your uncertainty.
He delivers; you’re barely through the apartment door when he’s sweeping you into a hug, swinging you around so your living room spins around you. You laugh, delighted, holding on tight. He sets you on your feet, peppering your forehead, cheeks, and lips with playful, sloppy kisses.
“Namjoon!” you protest, laughing. “Let me put my bag down!”
“I can’t,” he murmurs, smiling, lips still against your forehead. “My genius girlfriend got into her dream program. I must kiss her.”
Even as he says this, though, he steps away, allowing you to slide your bag off your shoulder and set it on the floor.
“Did you tell Lin?” he asks. “I texted my mom - she’s so happy for you. She wants us to come visit; she said she’d make your favorite as a celebration.”
“Ooh,” you say. “So many people want to feed me for this. I should get into grad school more often.”
“No one tried to feed you when you got into the mid options,” he points out, eyes glinting playfully. He moves to sit at the breakfast bar, turned sideways in the seat so he can still face you.
“To answer your question,” you say loudly, ignoring his bullshit, “yes, I called Lin. And please tell your mom thank you, and we’ll visit soon.”
Namjoon’s thumbs move as he types. “As much as I love my mom’s cooking, I was thinking tonight we should celebrate just us?”
“Keep talking,” you say slyly, coming up behind him to read over his shoulder as he answers his mother. You lean against his warm, wide back, letting him hold you up for just a moment. Then you wrap your arms around his middle, resting your cheek on his shoulder, waiting as he finishes up. 
He sets his phone down and turns to look over at you. “Want to go out for dinner?”
“What did you have in mind?” you ask, picking your face up from his shoulder so you can see him better. You keep your arms around his, his own little jail cell of affection.
“Somewhere nicer than normal?” he suggests. “Since this is a big deal.”
“How nice?” you push, eyes narrowed.
He smiles at you easily. “The kind of nice where they have you try the wine before they pour it.”
You laugh loudly, finally releasing him. “Wow,” you say. “I might need to pull out some high heels for that shit.”
“You might,” he agrees, his smile turning a little flirtatious. “What do you think?”
“Yeah,” you say, considering. “You want to call and make a reservation somewhere while I go wash my hair?” 
He nods, already reaching for his phone again. “Anything for my genius.”
“Shut up,” you laugh, swatting at the bit of his ass you can reach with him being seated as you pass by, heading for the bathroom. “Don’t miss me too much.”
“Impossible,” he calls, as you disappear. 
Later, after you’ve dried your hair, as you sit at your desk with your make-up bag unzipped before you, you wonder if this is news you should tell Taehyung.
Once upon a time, you would have told him first. Back in the fall, even, he would have been the first to know. 
Now, in the five months since you’d reconciled, you and Taehyung don’t talk that much. What used to be several dinners a week on campus is now a meal at the apartment maybe once a month - and never just the two of you. The last time he’d come for dinner, Namjoon had been home, and Jungkook and Hoseok had both joined, too. And that was over a month ago. 
What used to be daily texts about absolutely every stupid, little thing is now maybe a text or two a week - Taehyung’s texts to you mostly consist of dumb memes that make you feel like you’re losing brain cells by looking at them. Your texts to him tend to ask after him - how are you, how’s your mom, did you pass that midterm?
It isn’t like it was before. You feel a little bit like you’re both tiptoeing, teetering in this space between too much and not enough. You’re both pushing the boundaries of your distance, of your time apart, hunting for the edges, looking for the places where the map turns black. To not tell him big news like this seems like a deliberate distancing, not quite the middle ground you’re trying to find.
And besides, Taehyung does know you’ve wanted into this program. You’d talked about it months ago when the application process started, when you’d been choosing your back-ups, talking through your Plan B’s with anyone who would listen. 
You text him - ‘big news’.
[5:52 PM] Taehyung: 🫄?
[5:53 PM] You: i literally fucking hate you kim taehyung!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[5:53 PM] Taehyung: lmaooooo it’s a legitimate question!
[5:54 PM] You: now i’m not telling you! I’ll call your mom and tell her instead!
[5:54 PM] Taehyung: wow. You haven’t used that line on me since we were eight.
[5:55 PM] You: yes and i was very upset with you that time too 😤
[5:57 PM] Taehyung: ok so what’s the news
[5:58 PM] You: ask your mom
[5:58 PM] Taehyung: this is abuse
[5:59 PM] You: ok you crybaby. I got into the good one. I got the letter today
[6:01 PM] Taehyung: yooo congrats!!!!!!
[6:02 PM] Taehyung: i’m so happy for you seriously
[6:03 PM] You: thanks tae 
[6:04 PM] Taehyung: you honestly SHOULD tell my mom lol she’ll cry
“So,” you say to Namjoon. His face flickers before you, broken and dancing by the candle flame on the table between you.
“So,” he echoes, leaning back in his seat. The bottle of wine you’d split sits nearly empty next to the flickering candle. And yes, he’d gotten to taste it before it was poured. This place is upscale.
“Do you want to talk about this?” you ask cautiously. “Or should we not tarnish the celebration?”
“Tarnish?” he echoes again, brows furrowing in confusion.
“Yeah,” you say, “I mean… my program’s over an hour from here. We have to talk about that eventually. What it means for us.”
His brows don’t unfurrow, and his mouth slides into a frown. Seconds ago he’d been relaxed, but now he sits up, leaning closer to you. That candle flame flares and settles again, excited about nothing. 
“What it means for us?” he repeats.
“Can you say something that I didn’t say first?” you snap. His eyes widen, and you close yours, deflating. “Sorry,” you say immediately, before you even open your eyes to look at him again. “I’m just… scared about this, I guess.”
“Sweetheart,” he says softly, still frowning, “I didn’t know you were worried about what we’d do. I thought it was obvious.”
“What?” you utter. Sometimes Namjoon does this, has entire conversations or solves problems in his head, forgets to let you in on it. “What did you think?”
He shakes his head, like he can’t believe you didn’t know what was going on in that brain of his, like he forgot you don’t reside in there, too. “I thought we’d just find a place together, in the middle. We could each commute to class about half that distance. It’d be like forty minutes each way, it’s not totally unrealistic. Plus, a lot of the classes are hybrid these days, half the time we’re online…”
Now it’s your turn to frown. “It’s forty minutes by car. Have you looked at the train schedules?”
He looks embarrassed suddenly, not meeting your eyes. 
“Namjoon?” you prompt, suspicious. 
“I…” he says, still not looking at you. “I mean… yeah.”
“Yeah what?” you ask. 
He sighs, caught. But he’s so predictable, this boyfriend of yours. 
“I was looking at what towns are in that area, right in the middle,” he admits. “I checked the trains from there… and some apartments, too.”
“Namjoon!” you scold. “I hadn’t even gotten in yet!”
He gives you a sheepish smile, those dimples shadowed dark in the dimly lit restaurant. “I knew you would, though,” he says, so easily, like it was just a basic truth. “I knew they’d want you.”
You sip at your water to cover how choked up you feel at his absolute faith in you. When you’ve got yourself under control, you set your glass back down and ask, “So, what’d you find?”
“I can get here on light rail,” he says, a little bit of victory slipping onto his face. “Right outside campus, honestly. There’s an express sometimes, too.”
“You don’t think you’ll get tired of that?”
He looks at you seriously. “My choices,” he tells you, voice low, “are to commute by light rail to my grad classes from the place we’ll share, or to learn to drive and buy a damn car so I can drive two hours to you every night from here. Which would you rather I do?”
You stare at him, face slipping into an indignant frown. “Be serious,” you chide.
“I am being so serious,” he tells you. “I’m going to see you every night. I’m going to sleep by your side every night. Those are the options.”
You can’t even look at him; there are times you’re slapped with how undeserving you feel of the love he gives you, how completely he’s made you his world. This is one of those times.
“And for me?” you croak finally. “Is there a light rail option for me to get to my classes?”
He shrugs, which means no. “You’ll need a car,” he admits. 
“I don’t have a car,” you point out needlessly. 
He grins at you across the table. “How’s your credit score?” he asks. 
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 Tuesday July 12th
Namjoon locks the padlock on the back of the rental moving truck, ensuring the door won’t open and spill your belongings all over the highway. 
“I think that’s everything,” he says. “Do you want me to check upstairs one last time for anything?”
“Check the closets,” you tell him, and he nods, giving your arm an affectionate squeeze on his way by. As he disappears upstairs, you sit on the bumper of the moving van, desperate to get out of the scorching summer heat. 
A few of the guys, who’d all come to help - and to say goodbye, follow Namjoon inside. Jungkook plops down on the sidewalk, using his bucket hat to fan himself, and Jimin sits next to him, taking a long drink from a sweating water bottle. 
Taehyung sits next to you on the bumper, the van bouncing a little as he does. 
“Hey,” he says. He doesn’t look at you. You’re reminded of sitting side by side on the stone steps that are to your left, past Jungkook and Jimin, the day you’d told him about Namjoon. “I have something to tell you.”
You look over at him, alarmed. His face is drawn, and he chews on his lower lip nervously. 
“Yeah?” you say uneasily. Once, you might have reached for his hand to help ease his apparent nerves. That was Old Boundaries, though. New Boundaries say hands-to-yourselves, except for hugs goodbye.
He licks his lips, eyes on the pavement. He scuffs his sandal along the road, takes a deep breath.
“I got into an art program abroad,” he says finally, all in one breath.
Your eyes go wide. “Taehyung!” you cry. “That’s amazing news! Where? When do you go?”
He looks at you sideways, almost smiling, almost happy. “All the way in Europe,” he admits, laughing a little. “I’m scared out of my mind.”
“Oh my god,” you say, reeling a little. “You’re moving to Europe? How long is it? Is it, like, for school technically, or a job-?”
He considers this, head cocked as he thinks. “Kind of more like an internship with some killer benefits, and education mixed in?” he says. “It’s a little… unorthodox, I think. Anyway… it’s eighteen months… so almost two years.”
“Wow,” you say. “Wow, Taehyung, congrats.”
“Thanks,” he says, almost shyly, back to looking at the ground. “Anyway, I’ll make sure we have dinner or something before I go. I have the rest of the summer here. Just… make sure you call my mom a lot while I’m gone, okay?”
This makes you laugh, knocks you out of your little stupor. It’s just so typical Taehyung, asking you to do his duties for him. “They have phones in Europe, Taehyung,” you point out flatly. “You call your mom.”
Namjoon emerges from the apartment building, followed by Yoongi and Hoseok. Seokjin, a year ahead of Namjoon, had graduated the week prior, had already moved away from campus. “You ready to go?” Namjoon asks.
“Yeah,” you say, pulling the truck’s key from your pocket. “You ready, co-pilot?”
He grins at you over the heads of the other guys as you stand, preparing to hug everyone goodbye. “Ready,” he tells you. 
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Thursday December 19th
[9:14 PM] You: i have☝️ a question about christmas
Your phone lights up with a facetime call; you should have known Taehyung wouldn’t just text like a normal person.
“Taehyung’s facetiming me,” you inform Namjoon, who’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch, scrolling through his own phone. “Don’t say anything questionable.”
“Questionable how?” he asks, as you answer the call.
“Hello, Kim Taehyung,” you say, waving.
“Bonjour,” he says, grinning.
You grimace. “I know I don’t speak French, but… I think your French is pretty bad,” you tell him regretfully.
He rolls his eyes. “Anyway. Christmas. I’m staying here.”
You frown, disappointed. “Really? I know it’s a long flight, but…”
You trail off as a voice behind Taehyung says something. He turns for just a second, murmuring, “Just a second, jagi.”
Namjoon’s head snaps up and his eyes meet yours, comically wide as you both clock it. You bring the phone very close to your face. 
“Kim Taehyung,” you say, and he looks back at you, eyes equally wide, caught. “Did you just call someone jagi?”
“He did,” Namjoon says. “He absolutely did.”
Taehyung covers his face with a hand, slender fingers obscuring closed eyes.
“Oh, my god,” you say.
“Don’t,” he whines through his fingers. “Don’t make a big deal about it.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” you demand. “In France?”
“Stop,” he complains. “You’re so annoying.”
“Does your mom know?” you cry. 
“Yah! Enough!”
“I need to know!” you tell him. “I have to know or I will simply combust!”
Taehyung lets out a long, defeated breath, and looks silently at someone off-camera. Then, resigned, eyes on the ceiling, he says, “I’ve sort of been seeing someone here.”
“Sort of,” the someone off-camera scoffs.
You end up talking for almost another hour, both Namjoon and Taehyung’s new girlfriend moving into view as the four of you talk. Taehyung blushes and complains his way through the story of how they met, and she chimes in happily to add how they ended up together. 
You hang up with smiles after telling Taehyung how happy you are for him. And you are - you remember his New Year’s resolution, almost a year ago: to let someone in, finally. It seems - based on the affectionate little touches, the quick, sly glances, the giggles and jokes that you’d just witnessed through your phone screen - that he actually did. 
And, somehow, it doesn’t hurt at all. How could it, when Namjoon slides his hand affectionately up your thigh before he rises from the couch, stretching and yawning as he heads for the bedroom you share?
As you brush your teeth side by side, he asks you around a mouth full of toothpaste, “So, do you want to stick to what we did last year? Christmas with my parents, then New Years with Lin?”
“Sounds good,” you say, sliding your toothbrush back into the holder.
No need to think about it. It’s an easy answer. It’s always an easy answer when it comes to Namjoon. Because wherever he goes, you know you’ll always follow - feet, heart, all of it.
<- Prev
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wow wow wow wow wow i can't believe it's over!!!!!! i fully do not know what to do with myself now!!!!!!
thank you all so so so much for going along this journey with me, and waving your pitchforks at taehyung, and putting up with my incessant need to defend his stupid ass, and for just being really incredible readers i love y'all so much :(
I have a Seokjin fic coming sometime in April, a fluffy oneshot called "Sit. Stay."
After that, it might be quite a long time until I post a long series again - fall at the earliest. I was doing okay balancing work and grad school through the fall and in the winter I had some breaks like over Christmas. But to be really honest, since late January it's been really, really hard for me to stay active. If this wasn't written ahead of time, I couldn't have done it. So just... know I'll be back, I have more stories I want to make happen... I hope some of you will wait for me even though I know I hardly deserve it &lt;;3 and i'm really really thankful that you were here at all
303 notes · View notes
00127am · 2 months
Text
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ASTEROID BLUES is a cowboy-bebop inspired, x afab! reader fic series that revolves around the futuristic misadventures of easygoing bounty hunter, ln yn.
info. wanted posters are not full plot synopsis. for individual fic information, please click on the 'here' underneath each section. sfw fics will be posted on 00127AM, while all nsfw works will be posted on ROCKSTARYUTA.
soundtrack. tank! seatbelts young jesus logic kimidakenotenshi soul scream interlude: past to present nct u
living bounty to bounty, who's your first target?
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE ──── ✈︎ sfw johnny suh ⌖ space cowboy ― fellow bounty hunter wanted for his ... unorthodox methods. the only problem? he's hunting you too. SESSION I. black dog serenade kim jungwoo ⌖ high roller ― wanted for a number of debts owed to some of the galaxy's most powerful syndicates. try not to get too distracted by that charm of his, or else you'll find yourself toeing the line between professional and personal. SESSION II. gateway shuffle huang guanheng ⌖ bartender ― wanted for the commodification and underground auction of information. secrets traded for a drink. watch your words and your glass. SESSION III. easy come, easy go lee donghyuck ⌖ con artist ― wanted for fraud, embezzlement, and that silver tongue of his that seems to constantly get him into trouble. or save him from it. whatever you do, just don't manage to become his next mark. SESSION IV. see you space cowgirl, someday, somewhere! liu yangyang ⌖ pilot ― wanted for illegal gambling and racing. in his world, the most important thing is staying one step ahead--so don't fall behind. SESSION V. boogie woogie feng shui zhong chenle ⌖ heir ― wanted for his outrageously large fortune tied to his namesake. he's playing a dangerous game in the galaxy's elite circles, so tread carefully, lest you become entangled with his high-stakes world. SESSION VI. honky tonk woman oh sion ⌖ journalist ― wanted for learning something he shouldn't have, wrong place, wrong time. whatever you do, don't underestimate him. after all, you know what they say, the pen is mightier than the sword. SESSION VII. stray dog strut maeda riku ⌖ thief ― wanted for his most audacious heist yet. a heist that involved stealing from the wrong person this time around. a person who wants the phantoms thief's head on a platter. be vigilant, or you might miss him before you even know he's there. SESSION VIII. see you space samurai click here if you have any further information about these fugitives
BOUNTY WORTH ₩2,500,000
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE ──── ✈︎ ®️ nsfw moon taeil ⌖ ceo ― wanted for the enterprise he has built from the ground-up. it's a shame that the only way to get to him is to become his personal assistant. SESSION IX. you're gonna carry that weight lee taeyong ⌖ hacker ― wanted for the infiltration and theft of millions of megabytes from the 119 conglomerate. he probably knows where you are before you do. ever heard of a digital footprint? SESSION X. cowboy funk nakamoto yuta ⌖ hit man ― wanted for the assassination of the galaxy's most prominent politician. watch your back. in his line of work, you rarely see him until it's too late. SESSION XI. hard luck woman qian kun ⌖ igp officer ― wanted for arresting the son of one of the most notorious cartels in the galaxy. he's not very willing to roll over and be captured, certainly not when he's trying to arrest you. SESSION XII. waltz for venus kim doyoung ⌖ doctor ― wanted for preforming back room operations and illegal modifications. his medical expertise is only second to his ethical ambiguity. try not to lose a limb. SESSION XIII. ganymede elegy xiao dejun ⌖ entertainer ― wanted for his most recent scandal involving a heated affair with the igp chief's wife. one that was destined to end poorly from the start. the world is his stage, avoid getting caught in the spotlight. SESSION XIV. pierrot la fou mark lee ⌖ collector ― wanted for the prized artifact that lies deep within his vault. seems like your employer is willing to do anything to get their hands on it, including sending you to charm your way into stealing it. SESSION XV. brain scratch lee jeno ⌖ informant ― wanted for the dissemination of information regarding neo zone tech. hailed as a whistleblower, he's wanted galaxy-wide. just don't believe everything he says, or you might just find yourself amidst one of his rumors. SESSION XVI. sympathy for the devil click here if you have any further information about these fugitives
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taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @222brainrot @firstdonutllamafarm @yangasm @sunflowerbebe07 @scinclaitnoir @hyuka-bby thank you for supporting me! ♡ ⤷ for those who are / are not on my general taglist : please let me know if you would like to be included on any of these fics taglist!
──── ✈ see you space cowboy ...
46 notes · View notes
rockstaryuta · 2 months
Text
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ASTEROID BLUES is a cowboy-bebop inspired, x afab! reader fic series that revolves around the futuristic misadventures of easygoing bounty hunter, ln yn.
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──── ✈︎ asteroid blues ...
info. wanted posters are not full plot synopsis. for individual fic information, please click on the 'here' underneath each section. sfw fics will be posted on 00127AM, while all nsfw works will be posted on ROCKSTARYUTA.
soundtrack. tank! seatbelts young jesus logic kimidakenotenshi soul scream interlude: past to present nct u
Tumblr media
living bounty to bounty, who's your first target?
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE ──── ✈︎ sfw johnny suh ⌖ space cowboy ― fellow bounty hunter wanted for his ... unorthodox methods. the only problem? he's hunting you too. SESSION I. black dog serenade kim jungwoo ⌖ high roller ― wanted for a number of debts owed to some of the galaxy's most powerful syndicates. try not to get too distracted by that charm of his, or else you'll find yourself toeing the line between professional and personal. SESSION II. gateway shuffle huang guanheng ⌖ bartender ― wanted for the commodification and underground auction of information. secrets traded for a drink. watch your words and your glass. SESSION III. easy come, easy go lee donghyuck ⌖ con artist ― wanted for fraud, embezzlement, and that silver tongue of his that seems to constantly get him into trouble. or save him from it. whatever you do, just don't manage to become his next mark. SESSION IV. see you space cowgirl, someday, somewhere! liu yangyang ⌖ pilot ― wanted for illegal gambling and racing. in his world, the most important thing is staying one step ahead--so don't fall behind. SESSION V. boogie woogie feng shui zhong chenle ⌖ heir ― wanted for his outrageously large fortune tied to his namesake. he's playing a dangerous game in the galaxy's elite circles, so tread carefully, lest you become entangled with his high-stakes world. SESSION VI. honky tonk woman oh sion ⌖ journalist ― wanted for learning something he shouldn't have, wrong place, wrong time. whatever you do, don't underestimate him. after all, you know what they say, the pen is mightier than the sword. SESSION VII. stray dog strut maeda riku ⌖ thief ― wanted for his most audacious heist yet. a heist that involved stealing from the wrong person this time around. a person who wants the phantoms thief's head on a platter. be vigilant, or you might miss him before you even know he's there. SESSION VIII. see you space samurai click here if you have any further information about these fugitives
BOUNTY WORTH ₩2,500,000
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE ──── ✈︎ ®️ nsfw moon taeil ⌖ ceo ― wanted for the enterprise he has built from the ground-up. it's a shame that the only way to get to him is to become his personal assistant. SESSION IX. you're gonna carry that weight lee taeyong ⌖ hacker ― wanted for the infiltration and theft of millions of megabytes from the 119 conglomerate. he probably knows where you are before you do. ever heard of a digital footprint? SESSION X. cowboy funk nakamoto yuta ⌖ hit man ― wanted for the assassination of the galaxy's most prominent politician. watch your back. in his line of work, you rarely see him until it's too late. SESSION XI. hard luck woman qian kun ⌖ igp officer ― wanted for arresting the son of one of the most notorious cartels in the galaxy. he's not very willing to roll over and be captured, certainly not when he's trying to arrest you. SESSION XII. waltz for venus kim doyoung ⌖ doctor ― wanted for preforming back room operations and illegal modifications. his medical expertise is only second to his ethical ambiguity. try not to lose a limb. SESSION XIII. ganymede elegy xiao dejun ⌖ entertainer ― wanted for his most recent scandal involving a heated affair with the igp chief's wife. one that was destined to end poorly from the start. the world is his stage, avoid getting caught in the spotlight. SESSION XIV. pierrot la fou mark lee ⌖ collector ― wanted for the prized artifact that lies deep within his vault. seems like your employer is willing to do anything to get their hands on it, including sending you to charm your way into stealing it. SESSION XV. brain scratch lee jeno ⌖ informant ― wanted for the dissemination of information regarding neo zone tech. hailed as a whistleblower, he's wanted galaxy-wide. just don't believe everything he says, or you might just find yourself amidst one of his rumors. SESSION XVI. sympathy for the devil click here if you have any further information about these fugitives
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taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @222brainrot @firstdonutllamafarm @yangasm @sunflowerbebe07 @scinclaitnoir @hyuka-bby thank you for supporting me! ♡ ⤷ for those who are / are not on my general taglist : please let me know if you would like to be included on any of these fics taglist!
──── ✈ see you space cowboy ...
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32 notes · View notes