#liminal buzz | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

b33zlebubz · 4 months

Text

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER SIX - run, hide, fight

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

Arriving at this new base brings many changes. Some good, others frustrating. The best of which being a new phone, wiped clean of anything that could track you, and a new room.

It's a bit bigger, this time. The bed is less of a cot and more like something you would be given at the residencies you used to find yourself in and out of; and it's quite the relief for your sore back. There’s enough space to wander and even a desk with a window, overlooking more concrete buildings and bleak snow. This time, though, you don't let yourself rot between your sheets. After you get about ten hours of sleep, you get up, get dressed, and become acquainted with the new base.

It's different. Much, much bigger. Soldiers of all kinds dart around from several different countries you can't quite pinpoint, and you feel very out of place in hoodies and jeans while everyone else seems to be in some important uniform. You see Soap in the hallway and briefly come across Laswell just as she arrives to meet Price, but other than that you don't see any of the others often. They seem content to leave you to your own devices—let you linger with them in the dining hall, squished between Price and Gaz as the others talk. Occasionally they’d leave the base, leaving you continuously more restless and bored as the days pass and nothing new happens.

This leads you to where you stand now, aimlessly wandering down the barren hallways of the base, late at night. You had intended to go find something to snack on if the D-fac was still open, but instead you find your curiosity leading you down a dark, liminal hallway you haven’t yet familiarized yourself with. A few people eye you as you pass, others turning to get a second glance—but you barely pay them any mind.

Eventually, you find yourself in some kind of training room.

It's empty; save for mirrors across the walls and a cushioned floor that sinks below your shoes. There's a worn punching bag pressed off in the corner and someone's gym bag laying abandoned next to it. The lights are off, though, and you find yourself staring back at your reflection in the mirror. The bruises on your eye are beginning to yellow.

Fists clench and unclench; a buzzing, restless energy in your veins.

You glance around and listen back down the hallway, waiting to be seen and reprimanded for being somewhere without clearance. Footsteps don’t echo down the hall, or talking, or anything of the sort…so, you approach the bag tentatively.

You push it, first, and your brow furrows as you realize it's heavier than you thought. The recoil nearly sends you flat on your ass and you stumble back a few steps, surprised. Your hands ball into fists and you land an experimental punch to the object, and you feel the impact down your arm and into your elbow. A curse leaves your mouth as you shake the ache out of your fist, and the sound echoes slightly in the silent room.

How did they do it? How did that kid punch you hard enough to leave a bruise, but walk away uninjured? Was it muscle? The element of surprise? What did he have over you that you didn’t?

“Fix your thumb.”

You jump and whip around to face the door. Ghost is there.

He’s leaning against the side of the doorway, tattooed arms crossed over his chest. There is a towel over his shoulder and in the light you can see the dark marks of sweat staining the black t-shirt he wears. You think it's safe to assume he's at least a little bit psychotic, because he's exercising this late at night and still wearing the balaclava. This time, however, it's hiked up over his nose—revealing where faint scars jut through the blond stubble on his chin. His expression is neutral, if maybe a little bit annoyed that you’re in the room he was previously using.

His eyes narrow at you and your shoulders straighten. Your fists lower slightly with surprise and initial panic, but it fades a little as you process the command he gives you.

"What?” You breathe, trying to keep your voice level.

“Fix your thumb,” he says again, cocking his head slightly and gesturing towards you with a gloved hand. You notice, with slight amusement, that his gloves have a skeletal pattern on them. “You punch like that, you’ll break it. Keep it over your other fingers and try again.”

You give him a strange look, confused. You had expected him to shoo you out, maybe snap at you a little—not give you advice on how to fix yourself. Nevertheless, you do as he says. You situate your thumbs over your other fingers and punch the bag again. This time, it doesn’t ache as bad. You throw a few more punches, and still the punching bag barely moves.

“You’re barely bloody hitting it, kid.”

“Trying,” you huff between hits, frustrated. “Not exactly buff like you guys.”

“You don’t need to be strong; you just need to be smart.”

You launch your fist again with a grunt, but suddenly he’s got a hand on your arm, stopping you. Your face whips around to snap at him and he stares back at you with a look of calm resolve. His eyes are dark behind the smudge of sweat and eye black, and you can almost picture how his face looks, this close. His hold on your arm tightens and you grimace, flashes of a facial scar and a southern accent cutting through your mind.

“I’m not meant for this,” you argue.

“Maybe not,” he hums in response. “But you’re not helpless. Where’s the kid who put up a fight last week? Who took a chunk out of Soap’s arm?”

“That kid was panicking.”

“That kid was angry,” he presses, nearly interrupting. “And tired of being pushed around, yeah?”

You’re biting your cheek so hard it hurts, but his words strike a chord within you. You tilt your head in a nod of agreement, and your fists clench again. You swallow thickly.

“So tell me how you did it the first time.”

You close your eyes tight, digging deep into your memory of last week. You barely remember doing it—biting Soap’s arm and kicking free, distracting him long enough to stumble down the steps. You remember the coppery taste of blood in your mouth, the split second where you nearly gagged from it, how you still taste it in your nightmares and wake up retching from the memory.

“I bit him,” you strain. “Then I kicked him.”

“Where?”

“In the dick.”

“Always a good option,” Ghost shifts his stance behind you. “What else could you have done?”

You wrack your thoughts, and it's then you notice his head is above yours, his neck exposed. You jut your elbow into it and he shifts to stop it. You gasp, surprised by the sudden movement, and the dog tags around your neck swing in front of your face.

“Good,” he grunts. “If it were anyone else that hit would’ve landed.”

You let out a breath. Your heart slows its incessant thumping as you roll your shoulders and right yourself again, rubbing the sore spot on your collar where he had you restrained. "Even on Soap?"

"On an off day, maybe." He responds with a nod, before turning to saunter over to his gym bag. "Soap's strong---but he's smarter. To win a fight against him you'd have to catch him off guard."

You scoff, "You're making it sound like he actually plans to fight me."

"Just…hypothetically. Doesn't have to be Soap. Him and Graves are a lot alike."

"So I've heard," you mumble, rubbing your sore neck as Ghost throws the gym bag over his shoulder. He turns to face you one last time with one last word of advice.

"Keep your head on and you'll be fine if anything comes up," he says. "Run first, hide second, fight as a last resort."

You run a thumb across your red knuckles in thought, your brow furrowed as Ghost gathers his things and leaves without another word.

Run first, hide second, fight third.

His words repeat in your head as you leave the gym to go back to bed, and they continue to echo in your brain throughout the rest of the week.

The strange routine continues. You find yourself walking to the training room often, finding him there, and letting off some steam for a few hours before returning to bed. He doesn't ask why you keep coming, and you don't ask why he keeps agreeing to spar with you; you just appear and jump into it. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you don't, but it isn't really anything substance other than his clipped version of small talk and fighting advice.

You're up in time to meet the others for breakfast in the mornings, so other than a raised eyebrow from Price at the bruises on your knuckles, he doesn't question it.

"Maybe I punch the walls in my sleep," you say with a shrug whenever Soap is the first one to point it out, earning a chuckle from Gaz who sits to your right. You glance up at Ghost to see his eyes crinkle a little, but he doesn't usually regard you much at the table on a good day, anyway.

"Definitely wouldn't be the weirdest thing," Gaz juts a fork in Soap's direction. "Pretty sure this bloke's a sleep-wanker."

Soap smacks Gaz's arm and the British soldier chuckles.

“Nah,” Ghost pipes in. “But I did catch 'em sleeping with an AR-15 underneath his pillow like he was gonna kill the fuckin' tooth fairy.”

Soap begins to defend himself, his mouth full of cold military food. "I was piss drunk. And it was right after Macarov. Gimme a break."

"You're piss drunk now, Sergeant." Price comments.

"M’not drunk. Hungover."

Gaz leans over slightly to explain, holding a hand to his face as if it was a secret; "he tried out-drinking Ghost last night."

"Really?" You smile a little over a glass of orange juice. "And how'd that go over?"

"Bloody hilarious," Ghost interjects, earning a smack to the shoulder from Soap.

You were seeing more and more of what they were like outside the battlefield, now—slowly grasping a hold on their personalities. They were quite the group whenever they weren’t actively terrifying and you figure, despite how they didn’t seem to agree with your presence at the start, they were starting to warm up to you.

Maybe that was Price's intention, inviting you to meals with the others when you started leaving your room more.

"'Should take the kid, next time," Gaz suggests suddenly, causing your head to perk up again at the same time Soap's does. "Get 'em off base for a bit."

Price sighs, shaking his head. "I don't know, Gaz…"

"I'm seventeen," you argue. "That's technically almost an adult, here."

"Still not old enough to drink."

"Alright, then I won't drink." You shrug. "Or start any wars. Promise."

You think, maybe, they all can read each other's thoughts from the amount of time they spend together—because Price's eyes sweep from Soap, to Ghost, then back to you and Gaz as he takes account of everyone's opinions on the matter.

Then, he lets out a breath, shaking his head.

"Fuckin' hell," he chuckles. "Alright. Don't see why not…next time we're out, we'll take you with."

You crack a grateful smile, happy to have something to look forward to after all this chaos is over. It's short-lived, though, because Soap scoffs—lifting himself from his crossed arms to lean back in the seat.

"Price," he speculates. "Aren’t they supposed t'be hidin'?”

Something thuds under the table, and by the heated look Soap and Ghost immediately shoot each other, you think it's safe to say Ghost kicked him. Before you can open your mouth to retort, however, Price beats you to it.

"They've done a damn good enough job of hiding so far, Sergeant."

"They're a kid. What could they possibly know about anything?"

Your brow furrows. This time, though, you find your voice.

"The hell did I ever do to you?" You ask, fists tightening under the table. "I didn't ask to be here."

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly go to bootcamp so that I could babysit some orphan, either."

"MacTavish," Price's tone is thick with the closest thing to anger you've heard from him so far. "Come off it."

The table is silent. Ghost sits up straighter in his seat and Gaz clears his throat awkwardly. You narrow your eyes at Soap, your heart rate beginning to pick up in your chest.

"Do you have a problem with my dad or something?" You press. "Because I'm not him."

"Aye, you’re not him, and that’s exactly the fuckin’ problem,” he retorts quickly, jutting his finger into the wood of the table. “You’re just his deadbeat, spoiled kid who he left behind after he brough a whole fuckin’ mission.”

Your chair launches backwards when you stand forcefully to your seat, rage running hot in your veins. Soap seems a little surprised at your sudden outburst—eyebrows raised as he watches you stand.

“You don’t fucking talk about him,” you all but snarl, hands on the table. “This isn’t about him. You didn’t know him, and you don’t know me.”

"Tell 'em, kid," Ghost murmurs, unfazed by your temper.

"Ghost, you're not helping."

"Good."

"You’re right. We don’t know you. Which is why we shouldn’t give you special treatment just because you’re some bigwig’s kid," Soap stands as well, looming over you. You hold his gaze as he talks. "You were bound to get roped into this shit sooner or later, and y'knew that. S'not the time for you to play the scared-little-kid card.”

“I am not fucking scared.”

“Then why did you run? Bite me? Why won’t you hand over the fucking codes?”

Your heart beats wildly in your chest. Your mouth opens, but you don’t have an answer. You never had the answers—and you don't have a response. Instead, you scowl and avert your gaze.

“That’s right. You’re just some fucking charity case,” He points a finger into your chest. "Just the fucking delinquent mutt the C.I.A. dragged in that’s better off back in the system that made you this way.”

Something boils over, then. Two weeks of fear and uncertainty melting into something like molten lava. It's wicked and hot and sharp as it floods your chest and moves your muscles before you even have a chance to think clearly. Before you realize it—your knuckles collide with the side of Soap's cheek with a pain that burns so good it's invigorating.

The table erupts in shouts and curses, and Price grabs your arm. You try to wretch free, but it's no use, and you're dragged around the corner and out of earshot. When you finally pull your arm away, he grabs it again, pulling you close so he can whisper.

“The fuck has gotten into you?”

“Did you not hear any of that?” You retort. “You aren’t gonna fucking back me up?!”

“You make it a little hard to when you’re knocking my sergeant’s teeth out, mate.”

You grit your teeth. “It was long fucking overdue, and you know that.”

Price sighs. Aggravated, he squeezes the bridge of his nose between his fingers, shaking his head. “This was a bad idea…”

“Then let me help!” You grab his sleeve as he pulls away, desperate. Now that the words have started, you found it hard to stop them. “He’s right. I’m a fucking burden. I don’t know shit about anything. Not the fucking codes, not how to fight, how to make bombs or shoot a gun—I’m terrified and I’m useless and I’m fucking tired of it!”

“No.” Price breathes, meeting your gaze again. “I made a promise I’d keep you safe. Keep you out of this.”

“To who? My dead dad you never met?” You laugh bitterly through the tears that prick your eyes. “I have nothing, Price. I haven’t for years. And now you guys show up and give me an opportunity to make something of myself and you think I’m just going to be okay with hiding?”

He scowls. Seeming conflicted, or just trying not to lose his patience and yell at you, he turns away. You turn to hold his gaze, preventing it.

"Look, you've done a lot for me and I appreciate it. I do. But this is the only thing I'm gonna ask of you."

You squeeze the sleeve of his fatigues.

“Let me avenge my dad, Price,” you’re begging now, looking up at him. “Please.”

You hold his stare for a while. Blue eyes soften, just slightly, as he considers your words. Considers you. You think, maybe, he might actually look unsure of himself and his next words as he stares at you, and his mouth opens as if he’s about to say something.

Then, the room is engulfed in a red light.

You yelp at the alarms that sound—latching onto his arm. John’s head whips around, confused, to the light above the door that flashes red across the room. You hear footsteps and yelling before Gaz appears in the doorway, eyes wide and out of breath.

“Captain,” he pants. “We gotta move. Graves found us.”

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai @karurururu @pertinentpostmortem @kaoyamamegami @hayleybarnesx @nostalgialeech @scuftryo @0alk0msan @synthe4u @stunkbiggu @bebobeboben

#kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty reader insert #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader

195 notes · View notes

officialdaydreamer00 · 9 months

Text

Dream Diary of Irene Lovejoy

characters: irene lovejoy (aka the prefect), ace trappola

supporting characters: deuce spade, jack howl, epel felmier, ortho shroud, sebek zigvolt, grim

cw: weird and realistic dreams, liminal spaces, references to the backrooms™, use of blue matter to replace blood

first dream: the endless hallway (ace trappola)

they didn't know what they were expecting when they went to ramshackle dorm that day. the prefect and grim weren't present in classes as usual, so naturally, they were rather worried.

well, deuce and jack were, the others were more confused than worried.

deuce knocked on the old wooden door. "prefect? are you there, prefect?" he called. "grim?" but nobody replied.

"maybe they're still asleep?" epel suggested, but ace furrowed his eyebrows in doubt. "prefect doesn't sleep that much. usually, she should've been awake and walking by now."

now they were getting even more worried.

deuce tried to open the door. however, it did not budge at all. not even a single creak indicating its moves. it as as if they were in front of a solid brick wall. "it's... locked?"

"i say we force the door open by magic." sebek, who had been (surprisingly) quiet the entire time, proposed a plan with a serious solemn look on his face. they nodded and held up their pens, pointing at the dorm's door.

it took them a few tries before the door was blasted off of its hinges. the five stepped inside the dorm. immediately, a cold atmosphere engulfed them whole, sending shivers down their spines. even ortho had a feeling of utter dread blaring in his system. the hall was void of human presence, completely. there was no signs of the three ghosts who resided in this dorm either. it was like a no one had been here in decades, and that whole idea had never felt more wrong than in that moment.

the moment they made it to the lounge, they felt their heart dropped simutaneously. "great seven, what the hell happened here?" the entire place was wrecked from top to bottom. nothing was whole and blue splattered everywhere, on the floor, on the walls, on the broken furniture, on the prefect-

"wait, prefect!?" there she was, sprawling face down by the broken couch. grim was also found unconcious near her. deuce held the prefect in his arms as jack picked grim up. both of them were stained with the same metallic blue that covered the room, and on the prefect's wrist had a strange mark literally carved into her skin. and, by the looks of it, the mark was fresh and... glowing(?) a deep blue hue.

"what's that?" ace picked up her arm and stared at the symbol in confusion. and he touched it.

the next thing they all knew, was a sudden drowsy state, and five loud thuds as they dropped to the floor around the prefect, falling into a deep sleep.

"ugh..."

ace woke up, feeling disoriented. his head was throbbing painfully as he tried to sit up.

"what... happened...?" he cradled his head.

as his vision soon cleared, ace found himself in a hallway. the monotonous grey walls and the constant buzzing of fluorescent light were gnawing at his mind, ace thought he would go crazy if he stayed too long.

"hey. you're awake."

ace jolted at the sudden voice echoing next to him. he snapped his head towards the source, only to see...

"p-prefect!?"

the prefect was sitting close to him and staring at him with unreadable wide eyes. chills crawled down his spine, ace felt as if there was something so... wrong about the prefect- should he even call the one in front of him 'prefect'?

"you've been there for almost an hour now. come on, get up." the 'prefect' ushered him up, grabbing his arm rather roughly. "the others are waiting at the base."

there it was again. ace felt a pit of dread formed in his stomach. the prefect would never manhandle anyone like that. and she practically never called his name.

"what- who are you?" ace muttered, ripping his arm out of her (surprisingly) tight grip and keeping his distance.

"what are you doing?" the 'prefect' said calmly. she turned her head to ace in a slow but strange manner. "we don't have much time. we have to go, now."

it was then ace saw her face. she had the prefect's face, but her eyes. her eyes were a dull blue, while the prefect's were sea green. this further solidifying his doubts.

she- this person wasn't the prefect.

"you- you are not her."

ace took a step back, alarmed and on guard. who was the impostor wearing her face in front of him? where was the real prefect?

the 'prefect' only stared at him, never even blinked once. then, her head snapped to the side as if her neck broke. the thing began to take a step towards ace, who staggered backwards. his hand reached towards his shirt pocket, only to find his magic pen gone. the thing kept getting closer to ace, its skin began to melt like candle wax, revealing the grotesque bone structure that made up its being.

eyes glanced towards the thing, he ultimately decided. "oh, fuck this." he turned his heels and ran.

ace continued running, knowing full well the thing was chasing him down, considering the heavy footsteps gaining up on him.

"how long is this damn hallway!?"

ace glanced behind him. his heart nearly stopped when he saw the thing only a few steps away, its hands reached out just waiting to grab him.

'is this how i'm gonna die? to a creature before even finding the prefect or the others?'

no. of course not.

a hand outstretched from the endless wall, grabbing his hand and pulling him through. ace's heart almost leaped out of his chest when that happened, and before he could react, the hands slapped over his mouths, rendering him speechless.

"shhh quiet! it will hear you!" the person whispered-yelled. ace widened his eyes once he got a better look at the person under the flashlight they held.

"p-prefect?" his voice was muffled under her hand.

the person in front of him now had a rather disheveled look. messy black hair with wisps of white framing her face, tired sea green eyes marred with dark eye bags hiding behind a pair of round glasses. ace also saw the beauty mark under her right eye, just barely hidden behind her hair. this was the real prefect.

"prefect, where—"

"you touched the mark on my wrist, didn't you?"

the prefect gave ace a hard glare, to which he gulped nervously.

"i already sent my absence note to the professors the day before, but the little monster just have to touch my wrist, now you guys too?"

"w-who's the 'little monster'? gr-"

he was interrupted yet again.

"don't, and i mean don't, say your or anyone's name here."

he wisely shut up. the prefect sighed, a hand fixed her glasses as another hand ran through her messy mop of hair. "this place, where we're in, is my dream. in here, people like me are called the dreamers. the glowing mark you saw acts as a key leading people into a dreamer's mind. and those people can't return to the real world only until a dreamer found them, because if you somehow die here, you disappear from the real world too."

"us dreamers have to find a series of things or people who had fallen into our dreams the... wrong way. i can't explain how or why it's wrong, it just is." the prefect turned to look at ace. "like my tasks now. it went from finding my earrings to finding you guys."

the prefect shook her head. "i think i've said enough. you have to return to the real world, right now. and when you do..."

her hard stare turned softer with concern as she gripped his shoulders. ace could feel her hands shaking. "please, never try to come get me like that, ever, again."

a beat of silence. ace nodded grimly.

"okay, prefect."

"good."

she let out another tired sigh. in this moment, the prefect seemed to have aged more than she ever was. she rubbed her tired eyes, looking back at ace with a serious gaze she always had on duty.

"when you return, inform the dorm leaders about our... situation. text them, call them if you must, no one can leave or enter ramshackle until i've found all of you. am i clear, ace of hearts?"

ace nodded again, this time more firmly. "yes, prefect."

"good, good." she lifted a hand to cover his eyes and chanted something under her breath. his eyes went all blurry again, and he closed his eyes.

ace woke up with a gasp. he scrambled to sit up as chills creeped down his back. he looked around, and surely, he was back at ramshackle.

he then noticed the rest of the first year gang was still unconscious, and he remembered what the prefect had told him. he quickly pulled out his phone to send riddle a text, then he waited.

they'd wake up soon. ace sat there, waiting for the next person to wake up.

taglist🏷️ @azulashengrottospiano @aqua-beam @identity-theft-101 @siren-serenity @cookiesandbiscuits @minimallyminnie @moonlit-midnight @ceruleancattail @ang33333333l @twistwonderlanddevotee @axvwriter @silvers-numberonefan @leonistic @krenenbaker @savanaclaw1996 @i-like-forgs @bun-lapin @red-viewe

reblogs are appreciated!

347 notes · View notes

majickth · 1 year

Note

Mister Etho Slab, Preferably from the Hermits Hollow AU bc i don't know if we saw him in it yet, but i would love to see him in it as your local EthoGirl

A gas station sits sandwiched between spindly pines and an outstretched road. Its lights flicker a fluorescent off-white glare, illuminating the sole occupant inside the store: a bored looking cashier who alternates between flicking through his phone and reading a magazine. He waves when you enter, but otherwise pays no mind other than looking up every so often to make sure you’re not shoplifting. You get the sense that, even if you were, he’d shrug and keep reading anyways.

It only hits you, when you’re elbow deep in the coolers reaching for a drink, why the place feels so…off. It’s not that it’s midnight and you’re the only customer here. It’s not the constant droning buzz of fluorescent lights. It’s that you don’t remember how you got here, or why, or where you’re going after. You’re stuck in a transitional point, a liminal station being neither here nor there, existing only in the confines of where you were before and where you will be soon. Wherever that may be.

“You shouldn’t think about it too much,” the cashier says, unprompted. “Places like these aren’t meant to be thought about.” It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak. In fact, it’s the first time anyone’s said anything at all since you first entered.

You decide it’s for the best to just pay for your drink and leave.

#you 🤝 me #🤝 is us being ethogirls #anyways etho is a gas station cashier #no one seems to remember which gas station #but if you need anything from him just go into any one and hell be there #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitcraft fanart #mcyt #mcytblr #mcyt fanart #ethoslab #ethoslab fanart #hermits hollow au #majickthart

807 notes · View notes

meatonfork · 1 year

Text

A Change

————————————————————————————————————————

pairings: platonic 141 x grim; grim x oc

warnings: none

summary: maybe visiting your apartment actually had some benefits aside from the impending loneliness

————————————————————————————————————————

they’d noticed a change.

you had finally decided to go home after a mission. there was no point in you even renting the apartment out if you never even went to it.

it was dusty and cold. the heat was off due to you never stepping foot in the place for months. the bare minimum of furniture accompanied by a lack of items that claimed someone did in fact live there.

setting grocery bags on the counter, you huffed out a sigh. your eyes drifted over the liminal space, feet trudging to the light switch. spoon sat on the counter, gnawing at the plastic bags.

a buzz on the counter called your attention to your phone sat face down on the smooth surface.

opening it, you were met with a message.

you doin good kid?

soap.

yeah! all good, bud. thanks xx

and you left it at that.

you could lie over text; it was easier. they couldn’t see your tells, or the way you tensed a bit before throwing on your best smile.

it was hard. coming back to an empty apartment when your squad, aside from simon, all had someone to go home to. you felt guilty for leaving ghost there alone, but you knew you needed to tend to your own apartment.

you leaned your elbows on the counter, head in your hands. it felt wrong. tears welled in your eyes, the sting being all too familiar. you could feel your cheeks heating up. you missed having someone to go home to. you missed your siblings. sometimes, you even missed your awful parents, because at least they were there.

maybe i should’ve asked price to go home with him instead.

the tears traveled down the apple of your cheeks and down your neck, getting lost beneath the fabric of your shirt.

shaking your head as if to push away the thought, you wiped the tears and you started unpacking the grocery bags. you didn’t buy much, just enough to make due on your leave. you probably wouldn’t be back in a few months anyway, it didn’t really matter. but, when you inevitably did come back, you didn’t want rotting food in your pantry.

putting the plastics bags into a little cubby, a knock sounded at the door. it was soft, but it had purpose behind it.

your back tensed, no one knew where you lived. none of your boys knew, and it was for a reason. you feared they would hover. and that was the last thing you’d needed. sometimes, you needed time alone.

on high alert, you moved towards the door. slow steps lead you to the frame, and you shifted to look through the peephole.

confusion clouded your mind as you saw a girl on the other side. she wasn’t particularly tall, but she was still taller than you. dark hair with curtains bangs hiding a bit of her face, and round glasses sat upon her nose.

with your head cocked to the side, you opened the door a crack.

“uh.. hi? can i help you?” you cleared your throat. she was pretty. dark brown, peach blossom shaped eyes looked back at you.

“yeah! i just moved in a couple months ago, and i’ve never seen you before. do you live here?” she offered a small smile, shifting on both feet.

it clicked. you actually had neighbors. you always assumed you did, but never went out of your way to meet them.

hiding your shock, you answered, “oh! uh, yes. i do. i’ve just been at work. i haven’t really had the time to come back i guess. i kinda just stay there instead of coming back.”

“well, that seems like a tough job. it’s nice to meet my absent neighbor. i’m mei, by the way!” she smiled and stuck her hand out.

grasping her hand in your smaller one, you gave it light but firm shake.

“you too, mei. don’t get used to seeing me around.” you offered a sad smile, eyes during just a tad bit down. “i’ll be gone again soon.”

“oh! uh, okay! i better get back. my cat is probably wondering where i went. see you around, neighbor!”

“yeah. see you around, mei.”

and with that, you shut the door softly.

a soft meow from behind you pulled a small gasp from your mouth.

“spoon! you scared me.” you laughed out.

spoon sat there, staring you down.

“what? i didn’t even do anything. i just told her the truth.” an exasperated sigh left your lips at the realization of talking to you kitten. “whatever, man.”

———

it was two days later, lounging on your couch and finishing off a report you had to drop off in a few days, that another soft yet firm knock at your door sounded through the apartment.

you opened the door quicker this time, assuming it was maintenance or an odd solicitor.

“oh! hey, mei.” you smiled.

“hey! i know this is weird, but i was wondering if i could use your bathroom? they shut the water off to my apartment because a pipe broke in the kitchen.” she was in comfy clothes. sweats, a t-shirt, and a pair of converse.

“oh. um, sure. come on in. sorry, it’s pretty boring. again, i’m never really here.” you side stepped, and let her in.

“it’s okay. i don’t mind. thanks so much!” she shuffled passed you, and you pointed out the bathroom to her. thank god you stocked the bathroom, or that would’ve been awkward.

you followed behind her when she stopped.

“you okay?” your head tilted as your eyes focused on the back of her hair that was thrown up in a bun, similarly to yours.

“what’s this?” she pointed out the report splayed across the coffee table.

“oh, just work stuff.” you chuckled before turning to put it all in the manila folder.

“still working on your time off? man, your job sucks.” she laughed before making her way to the bathroom.

you sighed, looking to spoon who now sat in your seat.

you decided to make some tea while waiting for mei to come out of the bathroom.

a squeal behind you made you jump, twirling to look back.

“what!” your heart was racing. being on edge constantly was not helping you in the slightest.

“your cat is so cute! oh my goodness!” you watched as she reached her hand out to the small void sitting in your couch.

“oh, spoon? yeah, she’s something else haha.” your heart calmed, a hand over it as if it to still it.

“she’s very cute. i like the name too.” she peered over at you while still petting the kitten.

“i found her at work, decided to keep her with me. everyone back there loves her.”

“i can see why. very, very cute.” she smiled up at you from her crouched stance, before standing and making her way to the door. “thanks for letting me use the bathroom, i’ll be out of your hair now.”

“yeah, not a problem. have a good day, mei!”

“you too, neighbor.”

and she was gone.

as the rest of the month dragged on, you found that either of you would invite the other over for a movie night almost every other night.

you didn’t like to be alone in an empty apartment, and mei enjoyed having you around.

in time, you found that you enjoyed having mei around too.

she helped you redecorate your apartment. a nicer couch, a new rug, a cat tree for spoon. even wall art, which you never even thought to buy- because why? but what mei said was set in stone, and you put it up anyway.

telling mei you had to go back to work for a while was bittersweet. you missed your boys, they were your family. but, god, you would miss mei.

she was a breath of fresh air when you desperately needed it. like when you go swimming in the deep end of the pool, but you didn’t take a deep enough breath.

———

they noticed the change. the month you were gone had changed you. it wasn’t very noticeable, unless they knew that they were supposed to be looking for it.

ghost noticed first. but seeing as he was your best friend, it was expected.

gaz and price fell in quickly, noticing the slight pep in your step.

and finally, soap was queued in when you laughed lighter and you smiled more.

it was a nice change.

you had also become more careful during missions.

it’s not that you weren’t alert and on edge before, but now it was heightened. you were constantly checking over your shoulder. even on base. you made sure to get hurt less often.

you would still take a bullet or a stab wound for your boys, no hesitation. but, it was almost as if you had a new push for a will to live. to be okay.

that was, until a particular mission where you almost lost your life.

laswell had put your team on a human trafficking task.

“take them all down.” was all she said. and you were damned if you didn’t.

that was how you found yourself watching your lieutenant in a knife fight, his gun thrown to the ground. you were across the street, lining up for the shot, but ghost’s back was to you. you couldn’t get the target without shooting your best friend first. and you absolutely were not doing that.

you were about to inform your captain of your predicament, moments frantic, when i red dot appearing on ghost’s back paused your movements.

you didn’t even think, mind going a million miles an hour. you just ran.

a gun shot rang out, your body falling to the ground as a cry left your mouth. a blinding white pain burst through your chest.

you groaned as you fell in the dirt, blood pooling around your body.

“oh, fuck.”

“grim! what the fuck, kid. we need medical!” your body was flipped around and a pressure was put on your chest, just below your heart.

opening your eyes, you saw a skull staring back at you.

“hey, kid. keep your eyes open for me, yeah? why the fuck did you do that?” he grunted as he put more pressure on your chest.

you groaned, quickly sucking in breath as he applied more pressure, “couldn’t let you get shot, l.t.”

“i was fine. we need medical, now!”

you couldn’t hear very well, the blood loss making you tired. you wanted to take a nap.

“kid. hey, grim. eyes open. c’mon, kid.” he lightly slapped your face, but you could barely register the dull pats on your cheek.

———

a beeping to your left slowly got louder as you gained consciousness.

your eyes started to softly flutter open, only for them to close upon bright lights blinding you.

soft groans left your lips as your finally opened your eyes, squinting until you adjusted.

“what the fuck was that.”

you startled, looking at the giant sitting to your left.

“what? what was what?” your throat was dry, voice strained. water was thrust into your view and you took it shakily. gulping down the water, you looked back to the lieutenant.

“i was fine, grim. why the fuck did you do that.” he crossed his arms, eyes boring into yours.

“you were going to get shot! on top of that, there was someone right next to you. what the hell was i supposed to do? just let you die? i can’t just sit and let that happen to my best friend.” you glared right back at him, not daring to move your upper body in anticipation of the pain that would follow.

“and now you’re shot.”

“yeah, but i ain’t dead. you would’ve been. i’d do it again, l.t.”

“don’t. don’t do it again. you’re being sent home for a bit to rest. not my decision, by the way. it’s price’s.” he sighed as he lent forward, elbows resting on your bed.

you picked at the fabric of the blanket that sat on your hips.

“i figured. taking a bullet to the chest isn’t prime condition to continue, yeah?” you looked back up to him.

he nodded and leaned back, “yeah, kid. glad you’re alright.” he stood and ruffled your hair.

“me too, simon.”

———

being home wasn’t as fun as you remembered.

the reason?

the guys had found your address. someone had to drive you home. that someone being soap. lovely, soap. he was now your number one enemy.

they were hovering, and you’d yet to see mei.

your lack of quiet time was taking a toll on you.

the four men currently sat in your living room, taking up the floor as you sat on the couch with your feet in simon’s lap, his hands holding onto your shins.

“you guys, i’m fine. i really don’t need you all here.” you rolled your eyes as they all turned to look at you.

“kid, you can barely walk, hmm?” price looked down at you, setting a cup of tea in your hands.

“yeah. and you look like shit, someone needs ta take care of ya.” soap chuckled, looking up at you from the floor. gaz chuckled as soap looked at him.

“no. no, i really don’t. you just wanted to know where i live and pester me. don’t act like the hero here, suds.”

“suds?? you just call me suds? yeah, i ain’t leavin’ for a bit.”

a groan sounded from you as you leaned your head back into the arm of the couch.

you were about to retaliate, when a knock sounded from the door. a soft, yet firm knock. mei.

everyone froze before you sat up, slowly making your way to your feet.

“no, i’ll get it. sit your ass down, and don’t move.” gaz jumped from the floor, pointing you down.

you threw your hands up in surrender and shook your head.

the click of the door opening sounded before gaz spoke out, “hello? can i help you?”

“oh my gosh, hello! um, is q here? they told me they were home, but i can come back at another time…” mei’s voice drifted through the room.

“you’re good! let her in, kyle!” you yelled back.

you heard shuffling before mei stood in front of you.

“hey, q! oh my god, what happened to you? and who are these men?” her eyes drifted over your small figure, wearing only a sports bra, showing off the gauze that had small blotches of blood on your chest.

“i’m okay! these are my coworkers. i won’t be going back to work for a bit.” you laughed a bit.

mei never knew what you did, but she’s already meeting your team. and it was 100% out of your control.

“q? what does ‘q’ mean, grim?” soap tilted his head as he looked to you.

“what the hell does ‘grim’ mean, love?” mei looked to you from next to simon.

you groaned, sitting up a bit. simon helping by reaching over and placing a hand on your arm. you nodded at him in thanks.

“i’m in the military, hun. grim is a callsign. these are the guys in my squad. i, uh, got shot.” you looked to her. she didn’t move, letting it sink in. the guys had gone quiet.

you hadn’t told her? who even is she?

“and ‘q’ is what mei calls me.” you looked over to soap.

“who is mei?” price looked between you and the asian girl standing at the end of your couch.

“mei is my girlfriend.”

it was silent. an awkward smile over took your face, “surprise!”

“mei, this is simon, john, kyle, and johnny. guys, this is mei.” you pointed everyone out. small waves and smiles was exchanged.

“how did you get shot?” mei questioned as she shuffled her feet.

“oh… um, simon was about to get shot. i took the bullet for him.” you looked between the two.

mei and simon looked at each other before she smacked him upside the head.

“oh my god! mei, what the fuck?” your eyes widened as you leaned forward.

“you’re supposed to be watching them! you’re their team!” she raised her voice at your lieutenant.

everyone’s widened, watching the exchange. until gaz burst out with laughter.

simon cleared his throat, “mm yeah. i am. cant really do that when they push me out the way of a bullet, though. can i?” his stare moved to you.

a blush rose on your cheeks, “that was definitely, 100% my fault, mei. i already got my ass chewed for it, too. don’t worry. i’m fine. and i’ll continue to be fine.”

“you better. move over, hulk.” mei stepped over simon’s legs, making to sit between you two. her arm wound around your back, pulling you to her side.

“oh my god, i love her already.” soap howled with laughter as simon sat still. stunned from mei’s shove.

“me too.”

———

it took a few days, but everyone left. and you only had mei looking over you. you two hadn’t talked too much about your profession and injuries since the team were looming around.

“hey, q? can we talk about this?” you paused the movie as she pointed to the gauze wrapped around your chest. her eyes were watering, and her hands held a slight shake.

“hmm? hun, im okay, really!” you held your hands out for her. she moved forward, head resting on your stomach.

“i’m okay, i promise.” you ran your hands through her long brown hair. she squeezed your stomach as she sniffled, spoon sitting on the back of her legs.

tears welled in your own eyes. a sniffle left your nose and mei looked up.

“babe, why are you crying?”

“i’m sorry.” you whispered back.

“don’t be, hun. it’s okay. like you said, you’re okay. hmm?” she settled back in your lap, fingers running up and down your thighs.

maybe coming home really wasn’t that bad. you finally had someone to come home to. you could leave the heat on, and mei would watch spoon for you- if you didn’t take her back to base. you could grocery shop for more than one person now.

and she may not be your blood family, who missed so much, but she was found family. just like your boys, who loved you unconditionally. no longer having to feel guilty for moving on, and doing it on your own.

the place you called home finally had a purpose, and warmed your heart.

————————————————————————————————————————

a/n: i did it! it’s done :) i really hope you enjoyed it!!

1K notes · View notes

wuahae · 11 months

Text

liminal space [11:32, friday]

xu minghao x f!reader; one-sided jun x f!reader

wc: 3.1k notes: college!au, soft angst, unrequited love, strangers(?) to friends(?) to ??, y'all i really don't know, feedback is very appreciated!

— in which you've hidden yourself away, hoping for someone to see. and then someone does.

warm light seeps through the crack beneath the door, scattering across the carpet in the darkness of your room. the noise on the other side comes muffled, music from soonyoung’s shitty playlist (he had called dibs, this time) blurring together with the cacophony of voices outside. briefly, there’s a loud cheer that rings through the house; junhui must have won his first round of beer pong of the night, judging by the whoops that followed.

sat on the floor at the foot of your bed, you bring your knees closer to your chest, tucking your chin in as you try to block out the sound. it’s almost a feat, how you managed to get yourself in this position every single time.

last month, you had told yourself you would really do it this time, that you would stand your ground and tell jun no, you wouldn’t be at the party he was hosting the following friday, or maybe ‘host it somewhere else this time.’ but then he’d looked at you with pleading eyes, expectation shamelessly displayed across his face, and your resolve crumpled like wet tissue paper.

and now here you were, hiding in your room after managing to slip away from all the commotion. it was the closest to peace and quiet you would get, for the rest of the night.

(you should have just gone with wonwoo and jihoon when they offered. they’d even given you a poorly veiled pitying look before they left.)

jun probably doesn’t even notice, you think wryly, picking at a loose tuft from the carpet. you’re sure your absence is far from sorely missed, especially with all the company they had over, not to mention the extra buzz and energy that comes with the alcohol. it’s especially why jun’s insistence on your attendance never quite makes sense to you, even after all this time—not that it really mattered.

junhui would always ask. you would always say yes.

a knock on the door makes your head jolt up. scrambling to your feet, you call out at the unexpected intrusion, tepid hope latching onto your heart. did jun finally prove you wrong? “yes?”

“it’s me,” the voice says, the quiet tone somehow carrying through the door. “minghao.”

the hope disappears as fast as it came. ah.

squashing the embarrassment that comes after predictable disappointment, you walk to the door and turn the knob slowly, peeking out from behind the open sliver. your eyes try to adjust to the sudden light. “hi.”

a polite smile. “hey.”

a long silence stretches between the two of you, even with the noise still blasting from the living room. you shift onto another foot, playing with the doorknob as a nervous habit. “…what’s up?”

“i texted wonwoo, he said you might have some hangover medicine in your room.”

“oh, i think i do,” you contemplate, pursing your lips in thought. “let me check, though.”

you turn, only to hesitate by the doorway when you look back. minghao is still looking at you. the doorknob twists once. “do you, um,” you offer awkwardly, “want to come in?”

he shrugs. “sure.”

the hinge creaks slightly as he opens it further to enter, along with a quiet click as it closes shut. you flip on your desk lamp, filling the room with a soft glow. rifling through your desk drawers, you try to ignore the way he hovers somewhere a distance behind you, shoulders bunched to shrink away from the awkwardness.

it always feels like uncharted territory with minghao, like you’re treading on a lake thinly frozen over. you’ve known him for the whole year, ever since jun first introduced you to the rest of his friends, but you don’t even think you’ve spoken more than twenty words to him in that time.

you don’t know if it’s for the lack of trying (you’ve befriended the rest of jun’s group just fine), but there was something about minghao that stilted your ability to talk to him—not that he seemed particularly interested to bridge the gap either. you supposed it wasn’t anything you were fighting for; it was something comfortable you’d come to terms with long ago, this vague acquaintanceship you’ve let remain stagnant.

you were just never really sure what to say with him.

“oh, here,” you say, holding up a bottle of nausea pills. “did you want the painkillers too?”

minghao shakes his head. “no, that’s okay, just the nausea’s good.”

you squint at him, bottle rattling as you hand it over. “i thought you were d.d. tonight?”

“i am,” minghao replies, something exasperated coloring his features. “these are for the people in the car.”

ah, you mouth. “better than a trash bag for each person?”

his lips press into a thin line, stressed at just the thought. “we’re bringing the bags just in case. i am not cleaning puke out of my car this time.”

you let out a soft laugh at that. “at least soonyoung lives here. one less person you have to worry about.”

minghao sighs, looking down at the bottle. “i’m grateful for that every single day.”

“unfortunately, that just means his mess turns into my mess,” you joke, taking a seat on the floor. your arms wrap around your legs again, curled back up to your chest.

minghao tilts his head. “wonwoo and jihoon don’t help out when they get back?”

“well,” you rescind, “our mess. but they’re usually too tired when they come back to handle whatever happens before the sun rises.”

minghao huffs out a laugh. “at least there’s only one messy drunk living with you.”

“ha, at least.”

a beat of silence. music continues to play muffled from the living room, the sound of clattering cups and ping pongs bouncing off the wooden floor.

“it’s quiet in here,” minghao comments, looking around.

nodding, you give him a tentative smile. “yeah, surprisingly.”

another beat of silence. soonyoung gets hold of the karaoke mic and starts his singing domination till dawn—or until he passes out.

“how’s the party?” you ask, immediately cringing. small talk was never your strong suite.

“it’s good,” minghao nods absently. “standard. it doesn’t seem like you’re enjoying much of it, though.”

tensing, you look up at him. in the lowlight, your eyes try to adjust his frame into focus. you try to imagine what it would be like to look at him wholly in the light, to know what the parts of him covered by shadows looked like. the way his hair rested at the nape of his neck, the shade of his eyes, where the slopes of his features began and ended. could you ever really figure him out? would you ever really know?

“is that rhetorical?” you end up saying, after a brief pause.

“just an observation.”

“yeah, well.” your hand finds its way back to the carpet, picking at the loose tuft again. “there never really is much for me out there anyway.”

“you really think so?”

you give minghao a wry smile. “i think i’ve tried to deny it for too long to not think so.”

an expression flits across minghao’s face, too quick for you to see what it resembled in the dark, before he points to the spot next to you. “can i sit? i think i’d like some peace and quiet myself, too.”

befuddled, it suddenly dawns on you as you scooch over slightly to make room that this was the longest conversation you’ve ever had with minghao. you can’t even manage a verbal response in your surprise, settling for a jerky nod before he plops down next to you.

neither of you say anything after that, sitting quietly as the clock ticks by. you try glancing at him, but you whip your head away before he can notice. you really didn’t think it would ever get this far; maybe you should have said no—(stop, you silently rebuke yourself. that’s rude to even think about.)

“can i be honest?” you try instead, breaking the silence.

minghao turns his head to face you. “hm?”

you bite your lip, contemplating on how to phrase it. “i’m just kind of surprised. you know, that you wanted to stay.”

“at the party?”

“no, like…” you resist a sigh, forcing the words out thin and pressed. hell. “in my room. with me.”

“what?” he raises a quizzical brow. “why?”

“i don’t know,” you confess. it seems stupid when you say it out loud. “i thought you didn’t like me, or something.”

minghao pauses. “what’s there not to like?”

you bite your tongue, enough for it to hurt and taste the metal. “no, nevermind. forget i said anything.”

“no, seriously,” he insists, and it’s something you’ve never heard from minghao before. gentle, but firm, like he won’t let it go until you tell him the truth. “what’s there not to like?”

but you can’t tell him the truth; you can’t lie to him either. there isn’t much you know what to say, when it comes to anything you haven’t already specifically curated per occasion. maybe that was why it was so hard with minghao—you could never tell what he wanted you to be.

“everyone sees it, you know,” minghao continues. “how much you care. it’s why they like being around you. they all see you as a good friend.”

your gaze shifts to the ground, giving a dry smile as you curl further into yourself. you almost want to laugh. “everyone, huh?”

from a few familiar chords, you hear soonyoung starting his encore rendition of ‘don’t stop believing,’ with the extra tambourines and all. it almost does a good enough job of filling in the silence that hangs in the air, if only you couldn’t feel the hesitation from minghao before he speaks again.

“but you like him, right?”

“what?”

“jun. you like him.”

you whip your head towards him, eyes widening. “what?”

minghao has the decency to look at least somewhat apologetic about his bluntness, but it does nothing to quell your panic as you scramble to deny his accusation. except, the defense dies on your lips when you remember it’s not so much an accusation as it is a statement. you like jun. you know it, and he knows it too.

“how—how did you know?”

he gives you a borderline sheepish look. “it’s kind of hard not to tell.”

i seriously want to die, you moan internally, head falling back between your knees. “are you serious? is it just some open secret then?”

the ground might as well open and swallow you whole. maybe if you were lucky you’d walk outside and the zombie apocalypse would have started and you would never have to worry about this again—

“i think i’m the only one who knows, though.”

you stop. “oh.”

“yeah.”

“i thought you said it was obvious.”

“it is.”

something builds up in your chest, about to explode. “so why—”

“it is, when you know where to look.”

you open your mouth to say something in response, but you don’t even know where to start. all that really comes out is a little noise in the back of your throat, half of an objection that can’t even make its way past your lips before minghao continues.

“you’re not the only one that watches, you know.” your eyes flick to his, but once your eyes meet it feels more like he’s looking at you. like he’s latched onto you and you don’t know how to have him let go. minghao has your loose thread between his fingers, and he pulls gently. “maybe no one else notices, but we’ve been around each other long enough for me to see how you look at jun.”

your breath catches. “and how do i look at him?” (the question is less for minghao and more for yourself.)

“you’re the first one to see him arrive and the last to see him go.”

it’s strange. you never once thought you would ever end up in this position with minghao, much less tonight, where you had come into it determined to hide yourself away. and yet here you were, talking to him for what might as well be the first time with frayed edges and bared thread.

“what,” you try to deflect, a strained smile pulling at the corners of your lips. “a friend can’t do that?”

minghao gives you a pointed look, almost exasperated, as if waiting for that thread to finish pulling loose. “i think we both know friends don’t look at each other like that.”

you don’t think you have minghao figured out (your only solace is that you don’t think he has you totally figured out either), but he’s coming into focus for you, little by little. it’s why you allow that final stitch to unravel, loose thread pooling at your feet. “just me though, right? he, on the other hand, looks at me like a friend just fine.”

he hums. “you think so?”

you breathe out a short laugh, too realistic to be anything but bitter. “why else do you think jun asked me to live with a bunch of other guys? there’s no way he could think of me as anything more than a friend after that.”

there’s a pause, the type you’ve learned during the course of this night that means you need to prepare for what minghao’s about to say next. “then why’d you say yes?”

poignant. hard-hitting. you still don’t really know what to say in response when he asks you questions like these. there isn’t really much you can tell him either, not without sounding pathetic.

(junhui would ask. you would always say yes. you recognize the weight of this more than anyone.)

and as self-aware as you are, you also know that you just can’t say no to jun. not when you’ve loved him ever since he’d gotten all scratched up trying to feed the little kittens hiding in the schoolyard bushes back when you were 14, not when you’ve been with him through it all—the fake sick-days, the last-minute cram sessions the morning before a test, the time you’d opened the door on a sunday evening and he’d stood there mud-covered and scrape-kneed holding out a single four-leaf clover to you. because you had said you’d wanted it, because he wanted to be a reason for your good luck.

yet time passes and it stops for no one, and while jun has taken it in full stride, friendly and magnetic to everyone he chances upon, the same cannot be said for you. no matter how hard he tries to drag you along to every occasion, you realize it will always be just that—his hand tugging you along, you will always be watching him from behind.

“he’s my friend.” it echoes empty. you’re sure minghao can hear it too. “nothing can really change that.”

no steps forward and no steps back, you’re stuck in this liminal space, trapped in the memory of being that girl who cried for hours after she accidentally stepped on a snail on a rainy day, the girl who wanted that four-leaf clover because she was scared to go to a school without jun there next to her.

sometimes, you wonder if jun knows how you feel about these types of things and he tries to drag you along with it anyway. maybe it’s his silly idea of exposure therapy, that if he brings you to enough of these events and introduces you to enough new people that you’ll finally grow and change with him. but you’re not really changing, you’re just trying—for jun, who still doesn’t realize the smile you give him every time you say ‘yes’ is pressed and designed specifically to make him happy.

but minghao looks at you, really looks at you, and asks, “but you want it to? change, i mean.”

you draw in a short breath, quiet. “i don’t know.”

“then…” his eyes shine, distinct in the lowlight. “do you want to change?”

gnawing on your bottom lip, you rip your gaze away, staring back to the floor. you’ve thought about it over and over, especially on nights where you’ve hidden yourself away. a part of you wants to keep being that person, the one you know that jun will keep coming back to. it’s familiar, it’s what he knows, and there’s a security in that, for both you and him. you know what it means to change, to not necessarily be the person that falls into step with jun—and as much as you’ve wanted to be that for as long as you can remember, you want to start moving past that, even if it means you’ll grow into a person jun won’t recognize anymore.

“maybe,” you say finally, like defeat in the admittance. “i think i’m just tired.”

there’s a brief moment of silence, one where the weight of your answer rests heavy. minghao opens his mouth to say something else, but before he can, seokmin’s loud voice bounces through the house, resonating.

“myunghooo where are you…! let’s go hoooome!”

minghao gives you an apologetic smile instead, shuffling to his feet. “i’m sorry, i think that’s my cue to go.”

“ah, no, you’re good,” you respond hurriedly, standing up after him and rushing to the door to open it for him. “i’m sure i’ve kept you here long enough.”

“hey,” he says, right as you twist the doorknob. there’s a gentle reminder in his gaze. “i wanted to stay.”

something lodges in your throat, something you’re not sure how to even verbalize, but you’re saved by another holler.

“myuuuunghoooooo!”

“coming!” minghao calls out, before turning to you. “i’ll see you later, okay?”

yeah, you mean to say, but the word gets caught between breath and speech as you look at him go. with the door open, the bright hallway light scatters throughout your entire room, the warm light from your desk lamp and the hallway blurring together into one; and yet, minghao comes into focus, all at once.

“minghao,” you interrupt, right as he steps foot out the doorway. he looks back at you, curious. “thank you,” you wring your fingers together. “for listening to me.”

minghao smiles, a slight quirk of his lips. “of course.”

as you watch him turn around, you think that this is the end of it, but then he pauses, for just another second. you blink, waiting.

“whether you choose to or not,” he says, and your mind flashes back to your previous conversation. if you want to change, if you truly want to let go of jun. “i’ll always be here, if you need anyone to listen.”

after the night has come to a close, when you’ve finished cleaning up the house and everyone has gone to bed, your mind swims with the memory of his words, the echo of the conversation still rushes in your ears.

and you think you might just hold him to that.

tbc.

please leave feedback if you enjoyed the fic!

#svt x reader #minghao x reader #jun x reader #svt scenarios #the8 x reader #minghao scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt angst #junhui x reader

164 notes · View notes