#And he’s just happy be somewhere that isn’t a burning hospital | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hotchnisslvr · 1 month

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for her, i’d endure

pairing: emily prentiss x reader

rating: t

word count: 7.6k

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: torture, descriptions of blood/injuries, drugs

summary: When you and Emily are kidnapped by The Chameleon, an elusive unsub that team had been tracking for years, you’re forced to watch her endure torture at his hands. In the hospital, you reel from your own injuries and the guilt of not being able to stop anything from happening to her. Angst and hurt/comfort with a happy end.

It’s hard to keep them open from the pain it causes you to try. You can’t help the slow drowsy blinking that follows. If they’re closed it doesn’t hurt as bad. Maybe this is a dream. Yeah, a dream. Just close your eyes and go to sleep, you tell yourself. You’ll feel fine in the morning.

Someone harshly whispers your name. You stir, but ignore it. Closing your eyes, you murmur something that isn’t quite a response, and try to welcome the darkness to take over. You just want to sleep whatever this is off…you try to at least. The harsh rasping whisper returns. There’s your name two, three times.

“Huh?” is all you can muster as you crack your eyes open once more. There’s a fluorescent light somewhere to your left, casting strange shadows over your field of vision. Your eyes burn. You want to close them again.

“Yes, that’s it!” cries the whisperer, “stay with me!” There’s an urgency in their voice, and as you take a few measured breaths, you gain more and more control over your senses. “Are you hurt?”

Emily. That’s Emily’s voice.

“My head,” you complain about the throbbing in your temples. “I think I hit my head.” You move to touch the side of your skull to assess the damage when your wrists don’t follow through with the command from your brain.

“What the—” There’s a sudden clarity that takes over as you hear the clatter of metal against metal. Your wrists are bound behind your back. You kick your legs out, or at least you try to. They’re bound too with zip ties to the legs of a metal chair that’s bolted to the floor.

“Don’t panic.”

“Emily?”

Fingers brush against yours from behind your back and you cling to them, though it’s awkward as you try to reach them. You’d know the feel of her hands anywhere. He’s got you and her back to back.

“I’m here,” she says soothingly, despite the edge in her voice.

“What happened?” you ask as your field of vision begins to clear and the picture of where you’re being held begins to form. It's dark save the fluorescent light you noticed earlier. There’s a few panels in the ceiling still flickering to life, though most are dark. Wires and cables hang haphazardly from the ceiling and water drips from a cracked pipe that stretches over the width of the room. The floor beneath your feet is concrete. You can’t see a door and the only windows are two small rectangles high near the ceiling. You’re underground. “Where are we?”

“The Chameleon,” Emily says after a short while.

Your heart skips a beat and you have to take a few measured breaths to keep the panic from creeping in. “You’re sure?”

The Chameleon, nicknamed such by the local media, is a serial killer that you and the team had been chasing across the East Coast for the last two years.You and the team didn’t care much for these nicknames as they often sensationalize the killer and detract from the victims, but it the name was fitting due to his nature to blend in to every environment he’s been a part of. This is largely due to how he is able to gain his victims' trust. Some of his known ruses include posing as law enforcement, a member of the clergy, other first responders, caretaker for a “lost” elderly patient, and more. He’d feign a scenario that caused the victims to unlock their doors, stop their cars, or otherwise pull their focus under the guise of safety. Once their guard was down, that was all he needed to ensnare them in his trap. Victims were initially blitz attacked, as evident by the bruising to their heads and faces, but as he evolved he began to dose them with heavy sedatives before taking them to a secondary location where he’d hold them for twenty four hours. During this time, he tortured his victims indiscriminately; sometimes cutting, sometimes burning, sometimes removing pieces of them or utilizing a combination of all three before ultimately succumbing to his need to kill. He favored a knife, often slitting the throats of his victims once he’d grown tired of playing with them. Despite his ability to blend in and kidnap his victims undetected, everything else originally pointed to someone just starting out, unsure of their preferences. However, this unsub evolved quickly. Victimology stopped differing and he’d settled on a pattern for women in their thirties, dark features, and often in roles that provided some sort of power. Though methods of torture varied, the rotation or combination of torture implicated states similar enough to create a pattern. He stuck to the routine, though. One woman every three months for the last two years. That was until recently. Now, a woman had been going missing weekly, suggesting a major deviation. Something had changed for this unsub, increasing his need to kill quicker and more often. Emily fits the victimology, but taking you too? It didn’t make sense? He’d never taken in pairs before.

“Fuck,” you mutter. You pull at the cuffs around your wrists, but they’re clamped too tightly. They don’t budge. “How long was I out?” you ask.

“Hours,” Emily responds. She sounds tired. “I don’t know how many.”

You blindly reach for her fingers again, this time with your other hand. When you brush against them, they’re slick with something.

“Emily?” you ask, concern edging into your voice. “What’s he done to you?”

“Cutting,” Emily answers clinically. “Left arm, chest, and right leg. They’re superficial.”

Red clouds your vision knowing he’d hurt the woman you love, and that you’d not been conscious enough to at least try to do anything about it. When you get your hands around this bastard’s neck…you yank hard against your restraints and hiss when all it does is cause the metal to dig deeper into your wrists.

“Baby, stop,” Emily whispers, keeping her voice low in case The Chameleon can hear. “We’ve been closing in on this guy. We just have to hope the team recognizes we’re gone before…” her voice trails off as a door opens.

Your heart stops and then starts, it’s usually steady beat now pumping erratically against your chest. You remind yourself to breathe, to take measured breaths to slow your heart and fight off the instinct to panic. The body’s natural inclination for self-preservation is astounding, but you couldn’t just think about yourself right now. You needed to be alert and look for anyway to wriggle into this guy’s psyche, anything to keep him from hurting Emily any further.

There’s a metallic clank as whatever door that’s out of your eye line slams shut. Heavy footsteps echo in the space and you count. Twenty four. There’s twenty four steps. You can’t fight the way your body tenses as a silhouette begins to emerge from the shadows. As the figure comes into focus, your eyes widen in surprise.

“Surprised to see me?” the man says, a twisted smile curving on his

“You know him?” Emily asks as she attempts to crane her neck to look at him.

You take in the man before you: white, mid-30s, average build, dark curly hair, and blue eyes wild with evil intent. You don’t know his name, but you've seen him before. You all had. Your mind flashes to each body dump where the team had investigated and gathered initial evidence to further flesh out the profile. You close your eyes and let your mind’s eye expand your field of vision to include the gathering crowd of onlookers. As you mentally guide yourself through each crime scene, you can clearly see him.

“You were there the whole time,” you say with a surprisingly level of calm as you open your eyes and meet his gaze directly.

He extends his arms to either side, a look-at-all-i-have-accomplished gesture, though there’s no audience save the two of you to take in his performance. “What can I say?” he says. “The media named me for my ability to blend in anywhere I go. I like the nickname, I do.” He points his finger at you as he begins to circle around you and Emily like you’re an injured seal in shark infested waters. “Though you profilers don’t like when these major news outlets do that. It sensationalizes the killer while taking away from victims.” He stops in front of you and bends at the waist to look you in the eye. You muster as much contempt into your gaze as possible.

“Good,” he snarls. “Those sluts aren’t worth remembering anyway. Any thoughts on that, agent?”

You nod. “Yeah, actually, I think I’m pretty tired of listening to you whine about your mommy issues.” A fire ignites in his eyes as you say this. You smirk. “Ooo, that did something. Did that strike a nerve?”

His lip curls as he takes a shuddering breath.

“I think I did, didn’t I?”

His knuckles collide with your face and there’s an explosion of stars behind your eyes as you feel your lip split in two. Emily calls your name and curses the unsub’s. There’s a buzzing in your ears as you blink the fog away. You sit up as best as you can and spit blood onto the floor. If his attention is on you, it’s not on Emily.

“Is that the best you can do?” you say, leveling your gaze back on The Chameleon. “You had to hit me from behind the first time. Are you scared to face a woman head on? Too much of a coward to face them? Or are you just too weak?” You incline your head toward your lap. “After all, you’ve got us tied up. Untie me and we’ll see just how well you do one on one.”

The Chameleon seethes, nostrils flaring as his rage blossoms. “You know nothing!” he bites.

“We know, everything.” You answer. He may not have been on the team’s radar, but you’ve seen this type before; a man that’s been forced into a submissive role and emasculated his entire life finally snaps and turns the tables on innocent women to make up for the lack of care he missed out on from a mother figure his entire life. He blames them because he can’t take his anger out on the person he wants to most. Mommy.

“Do you?” he sneers and you don’t flinch away from his hot breath on your neck.

“You’re easier to read than a children’s nursery rhyme,” you taunt.

The Chameleon snarls and this time his knuckles collide with the center of your face and there’s a sickening crunch. Blood pours from your broken nose onto the front of your shirt.

“Enough!” Emily shouts. “She’s not the one you want.”

You blink through the haze and blaring pain. Emily’s name is garbled as you try to say it, but there’s too much blood in your mouth. Just like the flickering gaze of a reptile, his eyes shift instantly to her. The desire that alights his face makes you want to throw up. She’s the one that fits the victimology. She’s the surrogate, the object of desire in his twisted fantasy.

“I think,” he says slowly, and you’re surprised you don’t see a serpentine tongue flicker between his lips. “That this next part will be more fun with an audience.”

Your vision shifts in and out of focus as you follow his movements. He shuffles just out of view of your peripheral vision and trying to force your eyes to see farther than they can exacerbates the splitting pain in your skull and face. Everything throbs. You can hardly see straight.

He returns with a syringe in hand. He holds it up for you to see. “Maybe I am weak,” he says bitterly. “But I’m the one in control and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He pushes the syringe into your arm and a slow, metallic heat creeps through your veins. Your limbs quickly grow heavy and your senses begin to dull.

Behind you, Emily pulls at her restraints. “Hey! What are you giving her? Leave her alone. You don’t want her, you want me.”

A choked laugh escapes the unsub as he cuts the zip ties at your ankles. You want to kick out at him and knock that smug look off of his face but the signals from your brain are cut off. Your body won’t follow the command your mind is ordering due to the drugs scrambling your system. Your eyelids are heavy. You want to close them. The unsub recognizes this and slaps at your face. “No, no. You can’t close your eyes, now. You’ve got a show to watch.” His lips twist into a sickeningly delighted smile. He slips a key from his pocket and undoes both sets of cuffs keeping you bound to the chair. You slump forward against him and he catches your weight easily. He wraps his arms around your waist and grunts as he hoists you over his shoulder. There’s static coursing through your limbs and despite every wish and desire to lift even a finger, your limbs don’t cooperate.

You slide off of him like rain down a windowpane, though instead of coming to a gentle stop you hit the ground like a stone thrown into a pond; all of your weight crashing down. Your head rattles against the wall and stars explode across your vision once more.

Emily calls your name and you try to focus on that. You blink and her form comes into focus. She’s bound in the same manner that you were in a chair exactly like yours. There’s blood staining her clothes, her blouse cut to ribbons and her pant leg tattered from where he slit it open with a knife; the same knife he used to cut into skin. Blood drips onto the floor.

She smiles at you and her gaze is so tender as her eyes meet yours. “Whatever he does to me, it is not your fault.” She’s soothing you. She’s about to endure more torture and she’s trying to comfort you.

You want to speak, to tell her you’re sorry, that you love her. You want to stand, to untie her and take her to safety. Most of all you want to put that unsub in the ground. A single tear leaks from your eye as The Chameleon wheels a tray table near Emily. The soft eyes she reserved for you steel upon seeing him.

He picks up a scalpel, his fingers gentle as he curls them around it; a stark contrast to the violence he inflicts with it. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Emily licks her lips and raises her chin to look him in the eye, defiant in the face of danger. “I’ve already come back from the dead once before. At least if you’re successful, I know whose ass I’m haunting first.” She narrows her brown eyes to slits. “Come on, lizard boy. Let’s dance.”

•

Tears leak down your cheeks as you’re forced to watch what he does to her. She continues to taunt him, but her voice has grown weak. She’s losing too much blood.

“I wonder,” Emily says, her breathing labored. She lifts her gaze to meet the unsub’s. “You love that knife.” She inclines her chin toward the blade in his hand and his fingers twitch. “Tell me, is it because you can’t get up? Are our mommy issues too severe?”

A wild scream tears from his throat as he backhands her. A sharp grunt of pain leaves her lips but no scream. She sheds no tears for him. She’ll show no fear to him and allow him to feed off of her emotions like he did with his other victims, but he knows she must be feeling the weight of the torture, of the exhaustion settling in.

Her voice is tired, but her words are dagger tipped. “You’re not a man,” she spits blood on the ground, her teeth stained with it as she bares them at him. “You’re just a coward, a little boy missing mommy’s hand to guide him through your pathetic, wayward life.” Each word is sharp and articulated, a needle digging a little deeper and deeper into his flesh with each cutting syllable.

“Enough!” he bellows, spittle flying from his mouth as he lifts his arm. In one swift downward motion, he plunges the scalpel into her thigh.

She screams, her voice ragged and raw. A panicked sound bubbles in your throat, but the drugs overpower your ability to call out to her. Your fingers twitch as you try to summon any amount of strength to them, but to no avail. You can’t move them anymore that. You try to wiggle your toes and only feel a tinge of movement from them. Tears leak down your cheeks and drip off of your chin. The tear stains left behind are cold overtop of the dried blood smeared across your face from your broken nose, still throbbing with pain.

Emily sits hunched over, her shoulders heave with shuddering breaths. She’s breathing. She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive. The thought plays on repeat in your mind. If she dies, there is no place this slimy, spineless creature can hide where you wouldn’t be able to find him.

A strangled moan rumbles from behind your lips as The Chameleon approaches Emily. There’s a smirk on his lips as he brushes his fingers along her jawline. Just as quickly as the smirk appears, it dissipates as he shoves her face away from him, disgust twisting his features.

“I think I’ve had enough of you,” he grits through clenched teeth. “You’re all the same. There is no place for women like you. I’m doing the world a favor by getting rid of you.” He picks up another knife off the tray table and moves to stand behind Emily, knife poised beneath her throat. His shifting eyes fall on you and his smile returns. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the show.”

You feel your brow pinch as a wash of emotion floods through you. Your hand twitches and you manage to ball it into a fist, but you can’t force much more than that.

“Emi—” your tongue lolls inside your mouth and you can’t get her name out but it’s enough to get her attention. Her wavering brown eyes fall on yours and you hope she can feel your full apology and profession of love in your eyes as you await the inevitable.

“I love you,” she mouths and a sob shudders free from your own.

A single gunshot cracks through the air like a whip.

As the unsub slumps to the ground, Derek’s hulking frame comes into view. “He’s down!” He calls as he holsters his weapon and rushes to Emily. His hand moves to the knife in her leg.

“Don’t!” Emily warns. “Let the medics handle it. The keys to the cuffs are in his pocket.”

As Derek squats beside the unsub Hotch and Spencer clamber down the stairs, spilling into the room.

“We need medics,” Derek says to them, eyes filled with concern. “We need them now.”

“Copy that,” Spencer states as he presses against his earpiece and relays the information.

Hotch holsters his gun and rushes to your side. Crouching down, his hands smooth your hair back from your face to inspect the damage.

“Can you hear me?” he says. You blink heavily as his face comes in and out of focus. He repeats the question and says your name. He’s asking you to talk to him, but you can’t.

“He injected her with something,” Emily says weakly as Derek works to uncuff her. “A sedative or a paralytic, I don’t know. She can’t move. She can’t, she can’t—” Emily’s eyes flutter and roll back in her head. Your eyes widen as she slumps forward. Derek catches her before she can face plant the concrete and risk dislodging the scalpel sticking out of her thigh before the medics can do their job to ensure she’s not at risk of bleeding out, if she wasn’t already.

Your hand twitches, fingers jerking against your palm as a sound of desperation eeks past your still lips. Hotch presses his hand into yours and squeezes. His hard eyes meet yours and there’s pain and understanding in them. He’s born witness to seeing the love of his life killed by an unsub. It was something he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. He had to hope that Emily would survive what she’d endured here tonight. He squeezes all of that hope into your palm as the medics crash down the steps, backboards and kits at the ready.

“She’ll be okay,” Hotch promises, though there’s a hint of doubt on the edge of his words. “You’ll be okay.”

As the medics make way and his hand slips free from yours, you can only hope and pray that what he says is true.

•

A gentle beeping is the first thing you hear as your senses slowly creep back to life. The sound is soft, but each punctuated tone sends a pulse of pain to the space behind your eyes.

Your eyes crack open and you squeeze them shut again as the bright white of the fluorescent lighting blinds you.

“Shit,” you hiss. Your voice is hoarse.

“Hey, you!” greets a female voice. Penelope’s voice.

“Too bright,” you grumble.

“Oh! Hold on!” Her heels click against the tile of the hospital floor, a switch flicks, and the light behind your eyelids darkens. You feel the relief immediately though the bruising around your eyes and throbbing pain reverberating through your nose and cheeks starts to overwhelm your senses as you become more alert.

You crack one eye and Penelope’s bright face comes into view. Her pink cat eared headband matches her glasses frames and lipstick. Her smile reaches her eyes and that only just eases some of the anxiety that floods your system, the only other thing you’re able to feel besides the pain. If Emily was dead, Penelope wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye right now.

“I need to see her,” you say, sitting up and immediately regretting it. The room spins and your hand flies to your head, fingers pressed against your temple in a poor attempt to stop the whirling sensation.

“Sweetie, oh my God, don’t—” she stands up and crosses the room, but you’re already pushing the sheets back.

You curse as you rip the IV from your arm, the tape holding it in place ripping out the hairs on your arm. Garcia tries to take hold of your hands, but you bury them inside the folds of the hospital gown as your fingers feel for the numerous electrodes tacked to your chest. Hooking the tips of your fingers around the wire once you find a place to bunch them together, one swift tug is all it takes to dislodge them. The machine beside the bed flat lines as it no longer receives your heart rate.

“Honey please don’t make me—” Her face scrunches as you move to stand. She sticks her arms out to block you from doing so “Oh, you’re going to make me, ok— Derek! Hotch!”

Her shouts are like a drill through your skull. You blink and black spots your vision as it blurs. The pain in your face is so intense, but you have to push through it. If Emily could endure what she did, you can push through this to get to wherever the hell they were keeping her in this goddamn hospital.

Hotch and Derek burst into the room, eyes frantic and scanning the scene. Morgan swiftly cuts through the space, swerving in front of Penelope and taking you by the arms. Garcia may have hesitated to stop you in your tracks but Derek has no reservations whatsoever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks sternly.

Two nurses rush into the room and Hotch placates them with a gesture implying things are under control . He says something to them in a low voice and they glance your way once before nodding and leaving the space.

“I need to see her,” you say as you push against Derek, but in your current state you may as well be trying to push the Leaning Tower of Pisa upright.

His grip around your wrists is firm, but gentle; his hands placed just above the bandages from where the cuffs had bitten into your skin.

“She’s not awake yet,” Derek says. His features soften as he looks into your panic filled eyes. “She’s stable. She’ll be okay, and I promise you that the minute she wakes up I will take you to see her.”

“But Derek—”

He clicks his tongue. “No buts. You’re no use to her if you’re not well. You nearly overdosed on the drugs that man gave you. He broke your nose so badly, they had to re-break it to set it correctly. You have a concussion. Are you hearing me? You need to get your ass back in that bed.”

“Honey, listen to him.” Garcia adds, her voice equal parts soothing and concerned. “You can barely stand.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as hot tears well in your eyes. They slip down your cheeks and seep into the medical tape plastered to your face and nose. You draw in a shuddering breath as Derek guides you back into the bed. He presses a warm hand to your shoulder before stepping back and putting an arm around Garcia.

“Come on, mama, let’s go get a coffee while the nurses get her hooked back in.”

Penelope’s mouth drops into an o-shape as if she’s about to protest.

“I’ll stay with her,” Hotch assures her. “Go. I’ll call if anything changes.” That comforts her enough to let Derek steer her out of the room and into the hallway.

As the sound of their footsteps fade away, Hotch exhales a heavy sigh. The heels of his loafers click against the tile as he crosses the room and takes the chair Penelope had been occupying at your bedside.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he reaches over and presses the call button to summon the nurses.

“Like someone cracked me in the face with a sledgehammer.”

A hint of a smile passes over your supervisor’s lips and a ghost of a laugh passes your own. You wince as the motion sends a new wave of pain rippling throughout your face.

“How bad is it?” you ask.

“The doctors say it should heal fine. They’re baffled that the break didn’t do any damage to your septum. The bruising will take time but you won’t need surgery so—”

You lift your eyes to meet his. “Not me, Hotch.”

His lips press into a firm line. “She lost a lot of blood,” he says after a moment. “In total, he cut her about fifteen times before stabbing her. She was right to tell Morgan not to pull the scalpel out. It was dangerously close to her femoral artery. The unsub was either incredibly calculated in avoiding it or it was dumb luck that saved her.”

Your brow pinches as his words sink in. “What was his name?”

Hotch’s chin dips in response to your question. “Carson Peters. He was a Vet Tech on the perimeter of the geographic profile. We never even interviewed him.”

“The whole time we never knew his name,” you breathe.

“If I know Emily, I’m sure she came up with a few,” Hotch remarks, trying to lighten the mood.

Your lips twitch, but a smile doesn’t take shape. There is an entire slew of names you’d wanted to hurl at the unsub, to say anything that would have taken his attention off of Emily for even a second but you couldn’t because of the drugs he’d pumped into you. You squeeze your eyes shut as an image of him cutting Emily flashes through your mind.

Hotch says your name. You hear the deep tenor of his voice, but it’s as though you’re underwater. Emily’s cries of anguish echo in your ears.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as a tear leaks from the corner of your eyes. “Emily, I’m sorry.”

A firm hand slips into yours and you gasp, flinching from the contact. The image distorts and vanishes. You open your eyes and take a deep breath, dropping your gaze onto the hand in yours. You lift your eyes to meet Hotch’s hard stare. His fingers squeeze around yours and he nods.

“You’re safe,” he assures you. “Carson Peters is dead. He can’t hurt you, Emily, or anyone else ever again.”

Your fingers twitch around his as you blink back the onslaught of tears that want to pour out of you. “I couldn’t do anything.”

Hotch’s features soften. “I know.”

“I couldn’t stop him.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

You swallow the growing lump in your throat. Hotch squeezes your hand again, intentionally doing so to keep your mind from wandering. He’s keeping you grounded.

Your voice cracks when you speak. “I felt so helpless.”

“I know,” Hotch states as he levels his gaze on hours. His brown eyes waver as he speaks. “Witnessing a loved one’s abuse and not being able to do anything about it is a torture all its own. In our positions we have the authority to do something about it and in most cases, we can. When we can’t,” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “It’s natural to play it over and over again, to wonder where you went wrong, to think that somewhere along the line you could’ve done something, anything, to change the outcome.” His brow lifts toward his hairline. “We will kill ourselves ruminating on the what ifs and what could have beens.”

We. He’s not just talking about you anymore. He’s talking about his past when the unsub George Foyet killed his wife, Haley. You’d joined the team several years after her murder, but you’d been briefed fully on the case. It was well known to everyone in the BAU.

It’s your turn to squeeze his hand and you realize how out of the ordinary this exchange is. You’re as close to Hotch as anyone else on the team, but he’s not usually the touchy-feely type; the occasional half hug or handshake sure, but this level of vulnerability is uncommon.

A nurse walks into the room and Hotch stands to greet her. He shakes her hand and introduces himself formally; name, rank, and title. Establishing credibility for what, you wonder. He speaks in low tones and after a moment the nurse looks at you before looking back at him. She nods her head and he thanks her before she exits the room.

“What was that about?” you ask.

“A favor,” he answers as the nurse guides a wheelchair into the room.

“Five minutes,” the nurse says, aiming a pointed look at Hotch.

“Understood.”

The nurse leaves and Hotch pushes the chair up to the edge of the bed. He slips a hand behind your back to help stabilize you as he extends his other hand for you to grab hold of.

“Where are we going?” you ask as you take the proffered hand. You groan as you sit up and your head spins. You swear you can feel every bone in your face throbbing as pain threatens to split you in two.

“To see Emily.”

Your heart swells. You look at Hotch, eyes widening. “I thought—”

“I told the nurse you’d stay put and allow them to do their jobs and help you if you were allowed to see her. Hence, the five minutes.”

“Five minutes,” you repeat, nodding your head.

Hotch smiles reassuringly. “Five minutes.”

Slowly, Hotch assists with the transition from bed to chair. The shift exhausts you and it sinks in just how weak you are. However, the prospect of seeing Emily keeps you alert enough to push through.

The trip to Emily’s hospital room is short. She’s two right turns and one long hallway away from yours. The door to her room is cracked when you arrive and JJ opens it as Hotch reaches for the door.

“Sweetie!” JJ smiles brightly at you, though her eyes are tired. She leans down to pull you in a gentle hug, minding your face as she does so.

Her eyes flit between you and Hotch. “She’s in and out of consciousness. They’ve got her on some pretty strong painkillers, but she’s going to be alright.”

“Are you ready?” Hotch asks.

Your heart hammers in your ears, but you nod your head and whisper, “Yes.”

JJ steps out of the way so Hotch can wheel you inside the room. You raise your chin to peer over the threshold and whimper upon seeing Emily, hand moving to cover your trembling lips. She lies still beneath the sheets, which are pulled up over her lap. Her arms sit atop the sheet, her left arm bandaged from above the elbow to her wrist. Bandages peek out from beneath her hospital gown. An oxygen cannula is fitted under her nose and butterfly bandages hold close the split in her eyebrow. Hotch puts the brake in place after wheeling you right up to her bedside. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “JJ and I will be right outside. Five minutes,” he says.

Your eyes don’t leave Emily. “I understand.”

When the door clicks shut you let the floodgates open. You take Emily’s hand in yours, minding the IV jutting out from it, and cradle it to your cheek. “I’m so sorry,” you sob. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything to stop what he was doing to you.”

You blink away the stars that dot your vision as each sob sends an intense wave of pain through the break in your nose and bruising under your eyes.

Emily’s thumb sweeps slowly across your cheek. You take a shuddering breath and swallow your tears as you turn your attention to her. Her eyes crack open and a small smile ghosts her lips.

You gasp and choke back a sob. The smile that splits your face sends a burst of pain through your bones, but you don’t care. It doesn’t matter. You’d feel this pain and all that she endured to see her warm, brown eyes on yours like they are now. Her smile, despite the pain meds dulling her senses, reaches her eyes and they’re so bright. As you look into them, for a moment you’re no longer in the hospital. You’re on a bench overlooking the Potomac and the sun is setting; its golden rays falling over Emily’s face and her eyes changed from brown to liquid gold. It was then you knew you’d never love looking into someone’s eyes as much as you loved looking into hers, that you’d never love anyone as much as you loved her.

You blink once and you’re back in the hospital. “I’m so sorry,” you blubber and clutch her hand to your chest. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

Her voice is hoarse when she speaks, but the way she says your name is as soothing as ever. She shushes you and presses her fingers into your skin as she grips your hand. “Shh, baby, honey, look at me.”

You swallow and try your best to still your quivering lip as you raise your eyes to hers. Hers are focused as she looks at you. Her perfectly manicured eyebrows arch toward her hairline as she inclines her head toward you. “There is nothing that you could’ve done that would’ve prevented this, and that is okay.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head in refusal.

“Hey,” Emily says, pulling you back in. “Look at me.”

You sniff and take a deep breath as you open your eyes. “If anything,” she adds. “Your being there saved my life. He drew out the torture because he had an audience. If you hadn’t been there, there’s a chance he would’ve killed me before the team got to him. Do you understand?”

Your gut response tells you that she’s right, and you have to fight the part of your brain that’s telling you otherwise.

Her hand slips out of yours and reaches to cup your face, keeping her palm along your jawline to avoid your injuries.

She smiles and gestures to herself with her other hand. “Most of this is superficial anyway. The knife he jammed into my thigh will scar and take a while to heal, but that’s the worst that was done to me. I was,” she presses her lips together as tears glisten in her eyes. “I was so worried about you.”

Something between a laugh and a sob escapes your lips. “We make quite a pair, don’t we?”

Emily laughs in turn, the sound enough to make your heart swell three times over. “At least we’ll be able to spend our recovery together,” she says hopefully.

You smirk and tilt your head, considering. “My place or yours?”

Just then the door creaks open and Hotch steps inside. He smiles. “Sorry to cut the reunion short, but if I don’t get you back, I think the charge nurse will have my gun and badge.”

You all share a laugh. As he fixes the brake on the wheelchair, Emily tugs your hand toward her mouth and places a soft kiss to the backs of your knuckles. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You smile and nod as the tight feeling in your chest from before ebbs away. “Okay.”

As Hotch exits the room with you in tow, JJ hands you two cups of coffee. “For you and your watchdog,” she says with a nod towards Hotch.

You thank her and as Hotch pushes you back towards your room, you finally feel like things will be okay.

•

Two weeks later, you’re still on medical leave, but you feel as though you're getting back to normal. You’d been released from the hospital first and a few days later, Emily. Her apartment was bigger, so you’d gone to yours and with help from Penelope packed a bag. It was easier for you two to be in the same place knowing how often the team would be checking in.

Garcia had stayed over with you, helping you keep track of the medications the doctors had prescribed. She helped take care of Sergio too. The little guy had been all too happy to see you, weaving in between your legs and rubbing his furry head against your calves. When Emily returned home a few days later he couldn’t stop meowing. When she rested, he’d fall asleep beside her or curled up in her lap.

Just as expected, members of the team had been through in pairs, on their own, or as a whole. Penelope stopped in daily with coffees and pastries from the shop next to Emily’s building. Derek came by every other day, occasionally with Savannah when her work schedule allowed. She’d checked Emily’s wounds a few times from your insisting as you were worried about infection. Savannah assured you each time that Emily was and would continue to be fine so long as she kept up with changing her bandages and taking the antibiotics she’d been prescribed. Hotch had only visited once, which was unnecessary but still so kind of him. You knew he often stayed late working to ensure everyone else could go home on time. He did this all while balancing his responsibility as a father and the fact that he sacrificed a little bit more of his personal time just to check in on you two meant so much. Rossi had sent homemade Italian with Penelope or Derek. This week you’d been given enough carbonara to feed an army.

You’re fixing two bowls now for you and Emily, a late dinner as you’d both fallen asleep around 3pm and napped until 7pm no thanks to the pain medicines that kept you two on relatively similar sleep schedules. You shred some parmesan and sprinkle it over the top before sticking a fork into each.

“I’ve got dinner!” you call as you make your way back to the bedroom.

“Thank god, I’m starving.” You push open the door with your hip and place the bowls on Emily’s bedside table.

You lean down and kiss her, wincing slightly. The bruising around your eyes and cheekbones has gone down dramatically, but your nose was still bound and held in place by a splint and medical tape. The doctors say in about a week or so, it should be healed completely but to still exercise caution with day to day activities.

Emily rests on top of the covers. Her hair is up and out of her face in a loose ponytail, pieces of which had fallen out while sleeping and now stick to and around her face in various places. You try your best to smooth them down before cupping her chin in your hand. You smile and stroke your fingers along the smooth skin of her jaw before dropping your hands to pull the throw blanket down off of her waist, exposing her legs, bare except for the plaid pajama shorts she wears and bandages wrapped around her thigh.

She shivers in response to the air against her legs. “Sheesh, give a girl some warning!” she protests and you throw her a cheeky grin.

You open the bedside drawer and retrieve the supplies to clean and dress her wound. “We should finish the rest of that movie,” you suggest as you climb onto the bed to kneel beside her. Using a small pair of scissors, you carefully snip away the bandages to reveal the square gauze pad covering the wound. “I want to know how it ends and we keep falling asleep.”

Emily snorts. “That’ll happen when we both take narcotics before bed thinking we’ll make it to the end.”

“Yeah, but,” you remove the gauze and inspect the incision, searching for any signs of infection around the twelve carefully placed stitches. As you squeeze a bit of the antibacterial ointment onto your finger and gently rub it over the spiky black threads of the sutures, you can’t help but think of how much it resembles the caterpillars that used to invade the trees in your backyard as a kid, a story Emily did not care for your retelling when you first did this. “It shouldn’t be so hard to make it through a two hour movie.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen The Parent Trap,” Emily says, bristling as your fingers rub over a particularly sensitive area.

You apologize as you lay a fresh gauze pad over the wound. Your fingers move quickly as you unroll and wind a new roll of bandages to keep the gauze in place. When you finish, you wipe your hands off and gently massage the skin around her thigh knowing it helps to stimulate blood flow to the area.

Emily moans in response to the treatment. Her head lolls to the side and she peeks at you from behind long lashes. “I can’t wait to show you how grateful I am for your incredible nursing skills.”

You arch a brow at her as a smile quirks at the corner of your mouth. “Down girl,” you tease playfully.

Emily bends her opposite leg, raising her heel to curve around your body. She pokes her toes up under your tee shirt and your back stiffens as they touch your skin. You reach behind your back and grab her by the ankle, chastising her as you laugh and place it back on the mattress. “Emily!”

“What??” she asks, laughter tumbling from her full lips.

“We’ve not been cleared yet for that!”

She pouts in response and you clamber over her, carefully, so as not to disturb the injuries of her leg. You straddle her waist and lean down to place a soft kiss along the curve of her jaw. “Trust me, I want to get back to that as much as you do.” Your eyes drop to the swell of her breasts, her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her camisole. “But you and I both know neither one of us are capable of having gentle sex, and I don’t think our doctors would be happy if we did anything to make this take any longer than it already is.”

Emily groans in frustration. “Stupid doctors and their stupid orders.”

You laugh as you lean down to grab your dinners off her nightstand. Carefully, you lift your leg and roll over her body to your side of the bed; passing Emily her bowl as you do so. You reach down and pull the throw blanket up over both of you as you snuggle into the uninjured half of her body. She turns and places a kiss on your temple as she grabs the remote and clicks on the tv.

As she twirls pasta around on her fork, she turns to you and smiles. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” she says, eyes twinkling.

You smile in turn. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be than with you here, right now, at this moment in time.”

“I love you,” she says.

“Not as much as I love you,” you answer.

“Impossible,” Emily promises.

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elvensorceress · 1 year

Text

listen

buck/eddie | rated: T | 3.5K | ao3

Death isn’t usually loud.

The things around it can be. Gunshots. Bombs. The screaming. Buildings collapsing. Wells collapsing.

Thunder.

But death itself is quiet. Final words, final breath, last goodbye, everything ending fading disappearing.

He’s seen plenty of death. He’s watched someone he once loved more than anything die right in front of him, her body too broken to function any longer.

He’s had panic attacks and breakdowns, and he’s been devastated and terrified, and he’s been certain with absolute clarity that he was in his own final moments.

None of it feels like this.

The others are loud. Frantic. Buck told him there are glass doors and they aren’t supposed to go beyond them, that he was taught they weren’t supposed to. But Buck has always been one to break all the rules.

His sister is here. With their team, their family. Everyone is here now. There’s nothing more they can do but wait. But they’re loud anyway. They’re worried, crying, praying.

Maybe he should be praying.

Eddie often stays quiet, see. He’s not a man of many words. The ones he does say— he’d like to think he chooses them well. He’d like to think they have meaning and impact. Even if it’s just silly, playful, nonsensical, teasing.

He hasn’t said enough words.

He knew it when he was bleeding and dying and staring frozen at the man who was his only wish when he knew he would get nothing else from this life. He wanted Buck’s arms around him when he died. That was all he wanted. All he could possibly ask for at the end.

Buck isn’t in his arms. He can’t die because Eddie couldn’t hold him. He can’t die because Eddie needs him and can’t reach him. He can never reach. Buck was tethered to life by a single safety line.

Maybe Eddie is, too. Because he’s quiet now. He can inhale, and exhale, and somewhere his heart is still beating. He’s still alive somewhere. Eddie can feel it like the magnitude of an ocean cut down to a single wave. But the wave is still washing through him. It’s still pulsing in his chest.

His hands are trembling. In a way they never do. He’s steady and level. Expertly trainedbrainwashedtaught not to react in situations like this. Maybe his body doesn’t remember. Maybe it never knew exactly how to react to death, to a life with Ana, to his son’s fear, to losing everyone he served with.

It doesn’t know how to react to Buck.

It never has.

His blood pours and it covers him. His skin craves but it burns, too. His hands ache to comfort, support, caress, feel. His body wants to feel. His whole entire being wants to feel. And then he thinks about the hand that pulled him from death being the thing that molds to his own flesh muscle bones and brings him back to life. He thinks of the way a smile lights up Buck’s whole face and how his mouth would feel, how his lips would feel pressed to Eddie’s.

People say love can be physical through touch. Through embraces and kisses and reminders of connection. Through the heat of friction, the taste of someone else’s breath, the fluids of the body, the shared need and wash of happy chemicals that trigger pleasure.

He never really thinks about the physicality of love. Not in that way. Eddie thinks of how he’d break and bleed and sacrifice and take any pain, any recovery to keep him safe. To keep him alive.

How it’s reciprocal, synchronized. His heart beats a matching rhythm. The contraction, the release, the rushing, the flooding.

It’s the only thing that’s loud. It’s the only thing he can hear.

He’s alone. Somewhere in a hospital. Because Buck is in this hospital. But his heart is still beating. It hasn’t been strangled. It hasn’t been shocked out of synchronicity.

When they tell him he’s sleeping, he’s knows it’s not really sleeping.

He’s very still and pale. Pink lips are blue and pink skin is purple. But he breathes.

Eddie rests a hand on his chest and he can feel it. The slow movement of air, the oxygen that will keep his body alive. The beat of his own heart echoing within Buck’s chest. It’s loud and it should be. Nothing should ever be quiet again.

There are words he needs to say. He’s screamed all of them in a desperate exclamation, in his chosen name, but Eddie needs to scream them all over again.

He needs the whole universe to listen. And give him back.

(read ch 2 on ao3)

#buddie #jenwyn fic #buddie fic #911 spoilers #idk I had so many feelings #this is just word vomit but *shrug emoji*#Eddie and I are in pain okay #ficlet: listen #fic: listen

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fandom-imagines-stories · 1 year

Text

Christmas Crackers

John Mitchell x Reader

Words: 4869

Summary: Having taken in a new vampire turned by Herrick’s crew, Mitchell does his best to ease her transition. The reader mourns the loss of her mortal life during her first holiday season without her family. The house comes together to help.

Notes: It’s beginning to look a lot like Trope-mas… But seriously, I know I’ve kind of been M.I.A for a while. I’ve been working on school and some original works that have taken up a lot of my brain. I hope to write more often, especially for my favorite vampire. Mitchell, as I’ve said, is probably one of my biggest comfort characters. I thought it would be fun to do Christmas with the Being Human gang. One of my favorite parts of the show is the dynamic between their supernatural problems and their ‘human’ moments and I thought Christmas would be fun for that! (I’m only on season two, so I don’t know if they have one in the show) Let me know what you think and happy holidays to those who celebrate!

Warnings: Oh so obnoxiously sweet. (and my usual angst, of course)

More Mitchell Imagines HERE

5 months ago

You stood trembling on the stoop. Eyes darting at every movement. Body so awake it hurt. Everything buzzed. It burned. You knew what would stop it. They told you what to do. But you couldn’t. Not again. Not ever again.

Your shaking hand rapped against the door. You watched it like you were no longer inside of your body. You were somewhere else. Somewhere dark. Somewhere hungry.

God, please be you. You thought. Please answer.

You knocked again.

The door swung open and a pair of confused hazel eyes met yours. Your own confusion took over for a moment.

The man from the hospital?

You wanted to cry, though whether from relief or desperation, you couldn’t tell. He didn’t say anything. His face just morphed with slow realization as he understood. You weren’t sure how, but he knew. He knew why you were there.

And where you came from.

You held his gaze. “Are you Mitchell?”

Present Day

The neighbors still weren’t quite used to you. Of the inhabitants, you tended to stay tucked away the most. It’s not that you chose to become a recluse. You missed waving at people or yelling something at someone driving like a knob. You missed people. But their heartbeats wouldn’t leave you alone.

You watched out the window of your room like a phantom behind the curtain. The brisk air outside cooled the glass to your touch. People bustled around, gift bags or evergreen wreaths in hand. Today was the day you were supposed to be putting up the tree in your parent’s living room. It was your turn to put the tree topper on.

The glass fogged up, blocking your view. You wiped a tear from your cheek.

A familiar dark car pulled up to the curb. George got out first. He looked irritated, but that wasn’t unusual. He was bickering with the car’s driver.

Mitchell looked up at the window. It’s where he could usually find you. He gave you a small smile and waved. Your breathing hitched. Today had been hard, the thirst worse than it had been in weeks. But seeing him gave you the reassurance you didn’t realize you needed.

“Does she ever come away from there?” George asked, following his companions' gaze. “I mean, it’s gotten a little creepy, don’t you think?”

“She likes it,” Mitchell shrugged. “It makes her feel… a part of everything still.”

“She has a job down the road. She goes out now and again. It isn’t as if she isn’t allowed to leave.”

“She isn’t harming anything.” Mitchell scowled. “Let her be.”

George grabbed his bag and shuddered. “I feel like I’m in a Victorian novel.”

“Will you just help me with these?” Mitchell shoved a shopping bag into the werewolf’s arms.

You came down the stairs and were promptly handed a mug of tea by Annie.

“How are you feeling?” Having been stuck in the house with you all day, she was well aware of how hellish it’d been. She even had to talk you out of going to work a few times.

You nodded and took a drink. “Better.”

The boys came through the door and you both smiled. George gave you a nod, but Mitchell knew.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

You looked at Annie. “How does he do that?”

She shrugged hopelessly in response and took your tea. Mitchell stepped towards you, eyes filled with worry, arms filled with… were those ornaments?

“What’s that for?”

“Don’t avoid the question,” he said sternly, setting the bags aside. He searched your face and put his hands on your shoulders. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing, I swear.” You pushed away from him and moved to the sofa. “I just… had an off day.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” George chimed in. “‘Off day’ sounds like someone died.”

“She called sick for work,” Annie said.

“And I didn’t go anywhere.” You curled up with your arms around your legs and try and hide your trembling. “Promise. I could just feel it more today and… and…” Your hand went unconsciously to your throat. You wanted to kick yourself. You’d been doing so well.

Mitchell could hear the pain in your voice. The fight for control was one he’d lost so many times. Seeing you go through it broke his heart. But you were trying. That’s what mattered.

“Come here,” he soothed, pulling you into his arms. He tucked your head under his chin and rubbed slow circles down your arms. He could feel you shake against him and held you a little tighter.

“I didn’t hurt anyone. I didn’t hurt anyone.” You repeated it more to yourself than to him, like a prayer. He kissed your forehead.

“I know,” he whispered against your soft skin. “I’m proud of you. You’re so much stronger than I was.” Your whimpers turned to sobs. He looked over at George and Annie. The two nodded and retreated to the kitchen. “It’s alright. I know, love. It’s alright.”

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” George asked, brushing artificial pine needles off of his hands.

“What Y/N needs is a bit of normality,” Mitchell explained. He set a box of ornaments on the table. He glanced at the two women in the kitchen making cocoa to accompany the cozy decorations.

“And holly and mistletoe are going to solve that?”

Mitchell scowled. “She needs our support, George. It isn’t just the end of her first year as a vampire.” He hung the wreath on the door, expression saddening with sympathy. “It’s her first Christmas without her family.”

A glimpse of understanding passed over George’s expression. He hadn’t thought about it that way. And what could a few decorations hurt, anyway?

“Who wants hot chocolate?” You called, arms full of steaming mugs. The beaming smile on your face warmed Mitchell’s heart. If he hadn’t seen the state you were in an hour ago, he’d never known anything had been amiss. You handed George a mug and leaned over to Mitchell with his. “Don’t worry, I spiked yours.” You pulled away with a playful wink. He suspected his wasn’t the only beverage with a bit of liquor in it.

“I told you this was a good spot for it,” chimed Annie, admiring the placement of the small fake tree.

Mitchell handed you the box of ornaments. “Here. We saved the best part for you.”

You took out a silver bulb and gave the box back. “Come on. We all have to hang them together,” you cheered. “Just be careful not to drop them. I can’t tell you how many ornaments my siblings and I broke because we would chase each other around the living room. My dad would get so mad…” Your laughter faded and a mournful gaze took over your eyes. You blinked it away.

Mitchell looked at the others and shrugged. He picked a deer-shaped ornament and found a place for it in the middle. You reached for the same spot and your fingers brushed each other.

Blush attacked your cheeks and you jerked away, finding a different branch.

Annie elbowed George in the side.

“Ow!” He exclaimed. “What was that for?”

She pointedly glanced back and forth from him to the two of you. Mitchell had said something to make you laugh and his eyes lit up at the sound. You stood so close that your arms kept bumping each other, to which you would both leap back, only to draw together again. George’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“What?”

Annie rolled her eyes. “God, you’re hopeless.”

You lounged on the couch, legs tucked comfortably beneath you, and smiled at the room around you. It wasn’t much, but the living room had sported its cozy Christmas spirit for a little over a week. Mitchell was right. Silly as it was, it’d helped. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it before, but now, blinking in the tacky colored-lights Mitchell teased you for getting, you understood what it was.

You were finally starting to feel at home.

The stairs creaked under two pairs of footsteps.

“We’re heading out,” Mitchell announced, pulling up the collar of his jacket.

“I hate that you have to work Christmas Eve,” you sighed, waving to George as he ducked out the door.

Mitchell shrugged. “Unfortunately, The Ghost of Christmas Present doesn’t mop floors.” He grinned. “I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t forget to pick up the crackers!” You called after him. The door slammed shut and you laid back, pulling your blanket around your shoulders.

Annie appeared beside you. “Alright,” she said. “Spill.”

“What?”

“You two fancy each other!” She cheered, poking your arm excitedly.

You could feel the heat rush to your face. You turned away, hoping she wouldn’t see it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please. Like you haven’t ogled at each other since you first came to the door.”

“Mitchell has helped me,” you insisted. “I came here because I heard he would be able to ease the transition and help me learn to not hurt anyone.” You stood up from the sofa and crossed your arms to hug yourself. It kept your hands from shaking with the nerves. “I’m just a stray he’s taken in. Nothing else.”

“I see the way you look at him. And the way he acts when he’s around you, I mean come on!”

“Annie, stop it-”

“He’s got this whole place done up like a shop window for you. Do you think Mitchell would do that for- what did you call yourself- some stray?” She grinned. “No, no when I know something, I know, alright and I know that-”

“Enough, Annie!” You exclaimed. If your heart could beat, it would burst out of your chest. Running shaky fingers through your hair, you looked at her with genuine hurt in your eyes. “I’m not talking about this anymore.” You could feel the ache start to set in and it wasn’t just from hunger. “In fact, I think I need to step out for a bit.”

“What, no, Y/N don’t-”

“I’ll be back before the boys. Don’t follow me.” You didn’t even grab your keys. You just hurried out into the night with your head clouded by your thoughts. If Annie could tell how you felt about Mitchell, surely he’d guessed as well. Was he just being nice to you so you wouldn’t go back to Herrick? Did he just feel sorry for the poor newborn vampire? Or worse, maybe he thought this was all some game, a way to amuse himself through a restless immortality.

Whatever it was, your assumptions accumulated against your heart, squeezing and retching it until it was unbearable. Only one thing pulled you out of your heartbroken haze. As much as you wanted to stop it, it was a comfort to feel something other than the hurt in your chest.

Hunger.

Mitchell swayed back and forth, mop handle in hand. He was cheerier than he’d been in a while and it had not gone unnoticed.

“Someone’s gotten into the Christmas spirit,” the sensible werewolf noted. Mitchell didn’t seem to notice him. George waved a hand in front of his face.

“Hmm? What?” Mitchell said. The words delayed in his mind. George couldn’t help but smirk as he processed them. “Yeah. I suppose I have.”

“This turn wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain doe-eyed newbie bloodsucker, would it?”

Mitchell almost dropped the mop. “What? N-no. I don’t know what you mean.”

“And you say I’m a bad liar,” his friend teased. “Come on, you can tell me. Annie’s been fussing about it for weeks now. You like Y/N.”

Mitchell’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. But, after a moment of useless floundering, he surrendered.

“Is it really that obvious?”

George grimaced. “You did turn the living room into a Dickens novel. By Christmas standards, I think you went a bit overboard. But hey, what would I know, I’m Jewish.”

Mitchell leaned against the mop, burying his face in his elbow. “Christ, this is just perfect.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is. So what? You’re interested in her. She clearly feels the same way. Why not just go for it?”

“Because she doesn’t feel it, George,” Mitchell sighed. “Not the way I do. She’s just in a difficult transition and she’s using me to make it easier.”

“She’s stayed with us for almost six months, Mitchell. I think it’s safe to say she isn’t just using you,” George nudged him with a small smile. “Besides, I think you’re overstating your usefulness there, mate.”

Mitchell rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut it.”

Blocks away, you huddled close to the shadows as you wandered aimlessly through the streets of Bristol. The sun irritated your skin. It was too bright to lift your eyes for more than a few seconds. And of course, there was the thirst that pulled you toward every unaware passerby.

But even now, you could hear his voice saying he was proud of you. You could hear his comforts and his quiet understandings. It kept you from falling over the edge that you wavered dangerously close to.

You loved him. You hated yourself for it, but there it was. You couldn’t help it.

Somewhere, someone was playing Carol of the Bells. You stopped and listened.

When you were young, you were in a choir that went caroling every year. Carol of the Bells was the final song each evening. Your sister always said it gave her an eerie feeling, rather than one befitting the jolly time of Christmas.

Now, you understood what she meant. Not that it mattered, since you’d never be able to tell her.

“Lost your way, love?”

You started walking again, the voice turning the song to little more than ringing in your ear. A hand latched onto your arm and yanked you back. You tried to jerk away.

“Come now, there’s no need for that,” Herrick tsked. “I just want to talk.”

“There’s nothing you can say to me.” “It’s the wrong time of year to sound so ungrateful, don’t you think?” He pulled you into an alleyway. You thought of calling for help, but what would anyone do? He was in his uniform and you looked half-out of your mind.

“What do you want from me?” It’d been months since you’d even heard from Herrick’s crew. It seemed after you chose Mitchell, that they’d decided to leave you be.

“I want you to do what you were created for,” he said simply.

Your brows drew together. “What are you talking about?”

He sighed as if speaking to a child. “You completed the first part of your purpose, but you’ve completely bungled the rest. You were meant to make Mitchell come back to his instincts, not teach you how to suppress yours.”

Your heart sank into your stomach and you had to lean against the wall of the alley.

“There, there. You didn’t really think we let you find him by accident, did you?”

“Let me?” You growled.

“I don’t know how I can make it any clearer, dear,” he scoffed. “You were created to lure Mitchell back to us. I saw the way he looked at you at his silly human job. He bought you hot chocolate, didn’t he? He felt bad for you. It made you the perfect candidate.” Herrick leaned towards you with a grin. “Everything you’ve done, I’ve allowed to happen. But I’m telling you, now, that your time of playing house has come to an end. I’m tired of waiting.”

Summoning your courage, you stepped towards him, face to face and sneering. “I’m not going to let you touch him.”

He just smiled. “Sweetheart, you already have.”

Your body went cold. His eyes burrowed into yours like they had their own claws. He was right. You’d already gotten too close. You’d done exactly what he wanted.

Your feet moved before you’d thought to run. You took off down the alley. Harrick’s disdainfully cheery voice echoed after you.

“Happy Christmas!”

Mitchell unlocked the door with one hand and held onto the box with the other. They were nearly all sold out on Christmas Eve, but he’d tracked them down. You said that popping open the Christmas crackers was your favorite tradition growing up and he wanted to make sure you didn’t miss out this year.

Annie leaped up from sitting on the stairs when the door opened and Mitchell and George stepped inside. Mitchell was grinning from ear to ear with excitement.

“I found them,” he beamed.

Annie chewed on her bottom lip nervously. George looked around the living room.

“Where’s Y/N?” He asked. Mitchell’s eyes followed his and shot back to Annie.

“Now,” she gulped, “don’t panic.”

“Panic?” George squeaked. “Why should we panic?”

Mitchell put his hands on her shoulders and tried to keep his voice calm. The worry in his eyes betrayed him. “What’s happened?”

Annie frowned. “It’s Y/N. She just… left.”

“Left?” George exclaimed. Mitchell put a hand up to silence him.

“What do you mean, left? Why did she leave? Did she say where she was going?”

“No!” Annie stepped away, pacing with exasperation. “I don’t even know what happened. We were talking about-” She stopped suddenly. Her eyes widened and she looked over at Mitchell. “Ohhhhh.”

“What? What is it?”

She winced. “How dangerous is an emotionally distraught newborn vampire?”

Mitchell’s gaze switched from worried to panicked. “What did you say to her?!”

Before she could answer, the front door creaked open. You stepped through without a word. You didn’t even look at any of them.

You went straight into the living room, slowly walking around its perimeter with your eyes glazed over. Your fingers traced the garland until you reached the tree. Your eyes fixed on the stack of presents beneath the tree and it was like watching every memory of every moment since you’d been here.

Having morning tea with George in a peaceful and quiet kitchen. Gossiping with Annie and finally feeling like you had a sister again. And Mitchell… god, Mitchell. Every smile, every comforting touch, every flutter in your stomach when he looked at you.

It’d all been a lie.

George and Annie didn’t know what to do. They stood quietly together in the entryway. Mitchell took slow, cautious steps towards you.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “What happened?”

“It never meant anything,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

“What never meant anything? Y/N, love, you’re scaring me.”

You finally tore your gaze away from the tree and met his hazel eyes. “I have to leave.” You started for the stairs, but Annie stepped in your way.

“Y/N, if this is about what I said, I didn’t know it would upset you so much-”

“It doesn’t matter,” you interrupted. “None of it matters.”

“Did you…” George started. There wasn’t any judgment in his voice. He looked at you with such genuine concern it made the hole in your chest ache even more. “Did something happen out there?”

You choked back a sob.

Mitchell hurried to your side. “Y/N, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out. Things happen, but you can still-”

“Stop trying to help me!” You shouted, voice breaking. All three silenced and watched you with surprise. “It isn’t what you think, but I can’t… I can’t be here anymore… I’ve put all of you in more danger and now he’s going to…” You cried, shaking your head. “No, no it's better for me to just go.”

“So you didn’t hurt anyone?” George asked, sounding relieved. Both he and Annie still looked confused, but Mitchell’s expression had darkened.

“What did Herrick do?” He growled.

“Herrick- when did Herrick come into this?” George exclaimed.

“What did he do, Y/N? Did he hurt you? Did he force you to feed? What happened?” The anger in Mitchell’s voice was only overshadowed by his worry for you.

Your lip trembled as you spoke. “He told me the truth.”

“What truth?” Annie asked.

Mitchell already knew. As you relayed everything Herrick said, it only confirmed what he’d suspected from the moment you showed up at the door all those months ago. Sobs interrupted your story, but you pressed on until you finished. He couldn’t decide what his arms itched to do more- wrap around you in comfort or tear Herrick to pieces.

“That’s why I have to go,” you concluded. You wanted to sound determined, but it just came out as miserable cries. “I won’t be a part of his plan for you anymore. I can’t.”

“Don’t you see?” Mitchell sighed. “You’ve already beat him. He sent you here thinking you’d draw me back, but really you’ve become my anchor. You reminded me why I chose to leave.” He drew a deep breath and braced himself. “Because loving you makes me feel human.”

The room went silent. George nodded at his friend, a smile teasing his face. Annie looked ready to burst from excitement. A tear streaked down your shocked face and landed on your jumper.

“You… what?”

Mitchell’s eyes softened and a small smile graced his features. “It’s the one thing Herrick didn’t expect. It’s not lust or-or the need to fix you. His plan didn’t work because I fell in love with who you are, not what he tried to turn you into.”

You felt like your head was underwater, his words flowing together and making your breath catch in your lungs.

“But I- I thought- I didn’t think you-” you stammered.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” Mitchell said, the sincerity in his voice making your heart swell. “But I can’t let you go on thinking that he’s won. Herrick thought he could use you, but you're stronger than he thought. Stronger than you think. Even if you don’t feel the same, you need to know. All this time, it’s really you who’s saved me.”

You didn’t know what to say. All you could do was close the space between the two of you and pull his lips to yours. Mitchell breathed a sigh of relief against your lips and deepened the kiss, his hands moving around your back to pull you closer while yours tangled in his hair. Even when you pulled apart, your forehead stayed pressed against his, and your bodies intertwined.

“I love you, Mitchell,” you said breathlessly.

You looked into each other's eyes in the light of those tack Christmas bulbs and forgot the world around you.

“Is this a bad time to say I told you so?” Annie beamed.

George chuckled. “I second that.”

You and Mitchell stepped away from each other and you couldn’t stop smiling. His hand took yours, fingers laced together and the fabric of his gloves softly pressed to your palm. Everything hit you all at once.

And you just started laughing.

At first, he thought you’d started crying again and Mitchell’s hand held yours a little tighter. But the sound of your laughter rang through the living room and he just turned to George and Annie in complete confusion. They both shrugged. You cackled like a madwoman until you could contain yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you snickered. “I’m sorry, this is just… ridiculous. One minute I’m scared shittless of Herrick in a creepy alleyway and the next we’re confessing our love to each other in front of our flatmates.” You held Mitchell’s hand up to your heart. “And to top it all off, it’s Christmas. You have to admit… this is insane.”

Mitchell chuckled and pulled you back into his arms. “This is our lives.”

You looked around, taking in everything. George and Annie looked as happy as you felt, and even a bit smug, content with their successful matchmaking. Mitchell kissed your cheek, his gaze following yours around the house. The living room really did look like one of those shop windows you gawked in as a child.

It was perfect.

You nodded. “That it is.”

Annie tore through the wrapping paper and you watched with a nervous smile.

“I hope it works,” you said. “I just thought it would be nice to have something else to wear every once in a while.”

The ghost opened the box and gaped at the bracelet within. It was simple, but it was sweet and she instantly through her arms around you. “I love it!” She cheered. “Let me get yours.”

You leaned back against Mitchell’s chest. The two of you were seated on the floor, with his back against the couch and you practically in his lap. While Annie reached for your gift, you told George to grab his.

“I know Christmas isn’t your thing, but I still wanted to get you something,” you explained.

“Y/N that’s…” He said, feeling rather touched by the gesture. “Thank you.”

Inside the wrapping was a nice dress shirt.

You snickered. “That way you’ll have something to wear for your dates with Nina other than that horrible orange one.”

“Alright, fair enough,” he agreed, laughing.

Annie, unable to actually go out and buy anything, had made her gifts. For Mitchell, she burned a CD with his favorite old rock songs and for you, she made a photo collage using pictures she could find on your old internet accounts.

“You know, so you’ll never forget what you look like,” she said.

“It’s perfect.” You gave her a small smile, taking her hand. “Thank you.”

She went back to the tree and grabbed the final two gifts. “And now for the lovebirds.” She handed Mitchell a small bag and you a poorly wrapped paper lump.

Mitchell smiled sheepishly. “I tried.”

“Go on,” you said with a grin. “Open yours first.”

You watched as he removed the thin, colorful paper and looked into the bag. He pulled out a pair of grey, fingerless gloves that were in much better condition than the ones he was currently wearing.

“I know they aren’t much, but I thought, well you wear those all the time, so something new might be nice and well, it’s all I could really think to get someone who's been around as long as you have,” you rambled. He smirked at your nervousness and started to set the bag aside. You held up a hand. “Oh! Wait, there is something else.”

His brows knitted together as he checked again and lifted a small packet out from the bottom of the bag.

“Is this… cocoa mix?”

You nodded, suddenly feeling a lot more embarrassed about the gesture. “I never paid you back for the one you bought me when we met. It was terrible, but my wrist was broken and it was my birthday and you were the only person that made me feel better.” You exhaled, smile falling. “In hindsight, I guess that’s when Herrick started all of this and it might not be as good of a memory for you as it is for me but-”

He cut you off with a quick, sweet kiss.

“It’s great,” he beamed. He held up his gloves. “And these are great. I’ve been meaning to get new ones. Thank you.” He kissed you again, chuckling against your lips. “Yours might be a bit disappointing.”

“I’m sure it’s fi-” You ripped through his terrible wrapping and found the gaudiest pair of sunglass you’d ever seen. You gulped. “Fine.”

“Oh god, Mitchell, where did you find those?” Annie gasped, trying to contain her laughter.

“What? What’s wrong with them?” He asked, eyes as innocent as a puppy.

“Nothing,” you put a hand on his shoulder, also struggling not to burst out laughing. “They’re lovely.” You snorted and slapped a hand to your mouth. “I swear. They’re wonderful. Look.” You put them on and, though you couldn’t see your reflection, knew you looked ridiculous with the large, plastic frames. Annie and George were practically rolling.

Mitchell frowned. “They’re supposed to help with the sun.”

“I know, dear,” you said, now joining in their cackles. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“Alright, that’s it,” he exclaimed, leaning forwards so you tumbled out of his lap and onto the floor. He leaned over you, attacking you with kissing and tickling while the other two kept giggling like schoolgirls.

“Wait wait, we forgot- Mitchell stop it-” You laughed. “We forgot the crackers.”

“I’ll get them,” Annie said.

Mitchell sat back up, pulling you up with him. “I’ll return the sunglass tomorrow,” he said.

“Don’t you dare. I’m keeping these forever,” you teased, taking them off and setting them aside.

Annie brought out the Christmas crackers and the delightful popping sound filled the living room. You placed a pink papery crown on Mitchell’s head with a bright smile he wished would last forever.

As he put on your crown, you took in everything- including those awful glasses- and felt a deep content settle into your heart for the first time since turning. When you pulled him in for a kiss now, it was full and loving and, most of all, thankful. Mitchell may not be the best gift giver, but he’d already given you something so much more valuable than anything he could buy.

He gave you a home.

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216; @yellowbubblewrap

#john mitchell x reader #john mitchell #being human #annie sawyer #george sands #aidan turner #happy holidays #angst #hurt and comfort #comfort character #christmas comfort #merry chissmas #being human imagine #aidan turner imagine

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footprintsinthesxnd · 1 year

Text

Love Through the Pages | Chapter 7

Masterlist

Synopsis: Bob Floyd isn’t the man you typically find in a love story. His awkward mannerism and unusual ways don’t make him the typical heart throb, but Bob certainly has his charms. He finds love in an unexpected place when he finds a hidden message in a book that changes his life for ever. He meets the girl of his dreams but true love is not always an easy road and can they survive the ups and downs that life throws at them.

Warnings: 18+, potential slow burn, mentions of injuries and hospitals, language, smut, 18+, swearing. Nothing too specific for this chapter.

Your hands glided over the silky red fabric, smoothing out the creases. You’d been staring at yourself in the mirror for the past 5 minutes, willing yourself to grab your jacket and leave your apartment. You felt so self-conscious as your hands slid over your curves, the low v-cut neckline showing off more cleavage than you thought was appropriate for a bookshop opening night. Slipping on your heels, you clicked down the hallway, sweeping up your jacket and purse. You let out a deep breath before pulling open the door and heading out into the cool night. Your apartment was two blocks from the shop and you made it there in record time, ready to help Bradley set up any last-minute bits.

Once inside you popped up to Bradley’s apartment, dropping off your bag and coat before going back down the stairs. Bradley was talking to the band who had just arrived. You spotted Natasha there too and made your way over to see her.

“Hey Nat, what are you doing here? I didn’t know you knew Bradley.”

She laughed, “I don’t know Bradley. My girlfriend’s in the band.” She said, pointing towards her. The girl was of average height with brown hair. She was smiling and chatting with Bradley.

“Her name is Sophie,” Nat said, smiling over at her.

“Oh, I’ll have to go and introduce myself.” You and Nat continued chatting until Bradley and Sophie came over.

“Hey Sophie, it’s so lovely to meet you. I’ve been working with Nat for 2 years and I’ve heard so much about you.” Sophie blushed slightly, her nose wrinkling and she laughed. “Not too much I hope.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve only told them the good things,” Nat said, linking her arm around her girlfriend.

The night went by quickly, the band playing softly creating a calming atmosphere and the dim lights casting an ambient glow across the room. Bradley and Jake had been chatting in the corner for what felt like hours, sharing soft kisses when they thought no one was looking. Bradley held Jake close as he wobbled slightly, laughing like children. You watched them smiling, Bradley looked so happy. You’d not seen him this happy in a long time.

“They look good together,” a strange voice spoke from behind you. Turning around you came face to face with a friendly-faced man. His blond hair was neatly kept and his silver-framed glasses balanced precariously on the bridge of his nose. He smiled shyly at you, his cheeks dusted with a light pink glow. You smiled sweetly at him, following his gaze to where Bradley and Jake were laughing together.

“They really do.” You turned back to him. “So do you like reading?”

“Umm… I'm not a big reader but recently something has changed. A book I read changed me and I loved every second of it.” You nodded at him knowingly. You understood that feeling, immersing yourself in another world, somewhere you could lose yourself if only for a little while. You chatted easily with the stranger, you laughed freely at his jokes. But you couldn’t help that growing feeling in your stomach that you were betraying the Code Breaker. The guilt inside you twisting, were you really betraying him? You’d never actually met him. He complimented your dress and you explained how Bradley had begged you to wear it. “He’s hoping I meet this guy I’ve been talking to,” you laughed. “I don’t normally wear things like this.” You tugged at the hem of the dress.

“Well if it’s any consolation I was hoping to be meeting a girl I’ve been talking to tonight. My friend, Jake, promised me she’d be here. He told me I shouldn’t wear my glasses to meet her. Apparently, they look like ‘birth control goggles’.” You laughed with him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder.

“Oh no. I think they look good. I like men with glasses.” You gave him a sweet smile, watching the pink hue spread across his cheeks. You felt a warm fuzzy feeling growing, something you had never felt before.

Suddenly there was a crash from behind you and you watched in horror as Jake tripped backwards into the piano Sophie was playing. Bradley tried to grab his hand but it slipped through his fingers and Jake crashed into the stage, laughing hysterically. Bradley laughed too but you couldn’t help but feel utterly embarrassed at your friends, who had just annihilated Natasha’s girlfriend’s performance.

“I’m so sorry I should go help them,” you rushed forward and the stranger followed you. You tucked your hands under Bradley’s arms and pulled him up, as he laughed. “I think Jake’s had too much to drink.”

“Yes I think so too,” you couldn’t help but smile as you watched the stranger help pull Jake up, supporting him against his side.

“I think we should get you home, Jake. Come on.” You helped him guide Jake toward the door, carefully weaving through the crowds of people. You sent Sophie an apologetic smile and she smiled back reassuringly.

When you reached the door, Jake turned, slurring a thank you to you before promptly bending over and vomiting on the pavement. You wrinkled your nose and made eye contact with the other man. You gave him a sympathetic smile as you hoisted Jake up. “I should get him home. Thank you for the lovely evening.” He grinned at you and you smiled back, the warm feeling spreading through you.

“No thank you. I had a lovely time…” you paused waiting for his response.

“Oh umm I’m, Bob,” he stuttered out, nervously. You went to reply but Jake leaned over and vomited down Bob’s leg. You watched as Bob screwed his face up as Jake started rambling apologies. You waved as he waddled off down the dimly lit street, Jake clinging tightly onto his arm.

You stepped back inside, shivering as the warm air hit your skin, causing goosebumps to flair up along the pale flesh. Bradley came over to you, he’d been talking to Sophie, and you hoped he’d apologized for Jake’s actions.

“Do you realize who you’ve been talking to all evening?”

“Yeah, it’s Bob,” you said, matter of factly.

“Oh, I’m so glad you realized, I thought I was going to have to spell it out,” Bradley sighed with relief but you just stared blankly at him.

“Realised what?”

“It was Bob,” Bradley said, raising an eyebrow at you. Why was he repeating something you’d already said? “Code Breaker Bob.” Your eyes widened as Bradey spoke and you looked back around to the door he’d just walked through.

“You mean you're telling me I’ve been speaking to him all evening and you didn’t tell me!” You explained, smacking Bradley lightly on the arm. He feigned injury, but just laughed at you.

“Honestly, sometimes I wonder how you’ve lasted so long without me. Good job I got Jake to give me his number earlier.” He waved a crumpled piece of paper at you and you snatched it out of his hand quickly, glancing down at the ten-digit number Jake had scrawled across the page. His writing was nowhere as neat as Bob’s. You dashed up the straits for your phone. “You’re welcome,” Bradley called after you, but you had already disappeared.

Tag list: @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @blue-aconite @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @alexxavicry @a-reader-and-a-writer @topguncortez @maggiescarborough @callsignmaverick5 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @sunlightmurdock @basiccortez @airedale17 @callmemana @shadowolf993 @dhwanishah09 @wkndwlff @topguncultleader

#lovethroughthepages #bobfloyd #robert floyd x reader #robert 'bob' floyd #bradley bradshaw #jake seresin #natasha trace #lewis pullman #robert bob floyd x you

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believemetheodore · 1 year

Text

Whether near or far

Ted Lasso x Rebecca Welton

Rebecca is missing. And Ted feels sick to his stomach.

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, non graphic references to the death of Ted's father, mentions of alcohol, Rupert is mentioned, panic attack/ general anxiety (please let me know if you want me to add anything else)

Rebecca is missing. And Ted feels sick to his stomach.

He does his best to nod along as Keeley relays what information she knows. She hasn’t been able to get ahold of Rebecca for almost 48 hours. Her phone goes straight to voicemail. She hasn’t been in the office, and she’s not at her house. Keeley’s obvious concern amplifies his own as she continues to speak.

Keeley was already waiting in the car park when Ted and the team got off the bus, the first thing out of her mouth being, “Ted, have you heard from Rebecca?” His heart stopped. He had yet to hear from Rebecca. She had texted him to say good luck before their game against Southampton, followed by a congratulatory text and a goodnight later in the evening. That’d been 12 hours ago.

He has so many questions he wants to ask, all of them on the tip of his tongue. But all Ted can manage to do is continue to nod along, and at this point, he can’t tell if it’s a polite confirmation or if it’s simply an attempt to shake the ringing sound from his ears.

A glance over at Beard and Roy is all he needs to excuse himself for the rest of the day. His shirt collar feels too tight, and his backpack too heavy, but he doesn’t waste any time making his way toward Rebecca’s house.

He calls her mobile once, twice, and three times. Each call goes straight to voicemail, and he fights back the wave of nausea that hits him each time he hits redial. The spare key Rebecca gave him months ago burns a hole in his pocket the closer he gets to her doorstep. He has no reason to think that he'll find anything other than what Keeley told him she'd found, an empty wine glass on the kitchen counter, her bed unmade, and each room as empty as the last. Still, part of him keeps hoping, pushing down his fear.

Rebecca isn't home, and wherever she is she went in a hurry, or without care. Her purse and winter coat were left behind. His mind wanders to worst-case scenarios as he locks the door behind him, London’s icy weather hitting him like a wall.

He hates this feeling. Memories of the time his son Henry broke his arm at school flood his mind. It was more than a year ago now, but there has never been a feeling worse than wanting to look after someone and not being able to. Only being able to see his little boy over facetime as he showed off his new cast broke his heart. And Ted can feel that familiar cracking beneath his ribs as he imagines the possibility of her being somewhere hurt or sick, and all alone.

Ted grapples with himself, fighting to keep Rebecca’s wellbeing at the forefront of his mind, making his way on foot around Richmond, stopping anywhere he thinks she might’ve ended up. He sees her well enough after all this time to know everything she does is for a reason. Rebecca wouldn’t just up and disappear without cause. Though, he can’t decide if that makes him feel better or worse about this situation.

He calls her mother, but Deborah Welton can only confirm that Rebecca hasn’t been taken to the hospital, and isn’t hiding out in her childhood home. “Ted, sweetheart, don’t wear yourself thin fretting over Rebecca. She used to do this when she was a girl. Run away and hide for a while,” Deborah tries to offer her comfort, he can nearly hear her gentle smile, “She hid up in our attic for a whole week one summer, lived off of meals from a picnic basket I was leaving at the bottom of the stairs”.

He likes the idea of young Rebecca being so stubborn. He likes the confirmation that she's always been tenacious, and fiercely independent. He can see the vein of shyness running through her, even in that childhood tale. It's a quiet nervous quality visible in her tendency to bury herself rather than feel as though she's burdening others. She's timid in her acceptance of affection of any sort. Though it's been a privilege to hop over those fences, and help break down some of those walls she built.

He thinks about himself as a child. Probably just as hard-headed, persistent in his need to complete any task he'd set his mind to. He knows his habit of shutting down difficult feelings and deflecting from his own troubles has followed him into adulthood, and by golly if it hasn't come back to bite him in the butt. He's working on it. Rebecca makes it easier.

Deborah’s words help slow his racing mind. He focuses on the positive: Rebecca has done this before, and she's more than likely safe. She'll be okay.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Ted breathes out, “any idea where she might be now?” “She’s always been a mystery to me. But, wherever she is, it’ll be right under your nose. She never strays too far from home”.

It's like the worst scavenger hunt he's ever been on. Doing what he needs to do to recall everything Rebecca has ever told him; trying to call to mind the tiniest details. He picks up the metaphorical pieces she's left behind, hints and clues she's sprinkled into their daily conversations, neither of them the wiser. He can only hope he's known her well enough, loved her well enough, to find her hiding spot.

It's raining now, but Ted hardly notices the wet spots on his puffer jacket as he makes his way across the green, through winding cobblestone alleyways. Rebecca isn't in the pub, but Mae promises to let him know if she catches head or tail of her.

His home isn't too far, and his feet carry him without instruction, his hands shoved in the pockets of his khakis. Ted runs over the last couple of weeks, trying, and to his dismay, failing to pinpoint any stressors that may have prompted Rebecca's sudden disappearing act. He can't remember her acting out of sorts.

She seemed so calm, and decidedly content the last time he saw her. She had been curled up in bed with a smile across her sleeping face when he snuck out at 5 am to meet the team for their away game. But there must've been something he missed, a worry of hers he didn't hear, her insecurities creeping in.

His stomach twists and he can feel nausea returning, his own past and regrets fueling his anxiety. Doctor Sharon has walked Ted through turning his life inside-out, upside-down, and backward. Helping him come to terms with all his lingering animosity, and misplaced guilt. Still, his mind continues to retrace those familiar steps on a downward spiral, drawing comparisons where there are none.

When his father died Ted spent a week in bed, staring up at the acoustic tile ceiling of his aunt's basement. Despite his anger and upset, Ted had been desperate to understand how he hadn't seen his father's death coming. Surely there had been red flags, or glaring warning signs he had missed.

He never could put his finger on anything. Ted let his rage set in. Allowed his resentment to grow, and the tiny pit of guilt to make a home. Stole beer and liquor from the fridge for the rest of his senior year. He made his friends laugh, even if it was at his expense. College was much the same, though he did his best to slow down on the drinking, especially once Beard was in the picture.

Ted had sworn he wouldn't let anyone get by him knowing that they might be hurting inside. He'd seen the pain Rebecca had on her shoulders the moment they met, and he'd helped her carry the load, shedding some of his own baggage along the way. But now it seems there's something he missed.

He shakes his head again, wiping out the mental image of days gone by. He's starting to feel like an etch-a-sketch with all this shaking to erase business.

He reaches his own doorstep, waving hello to familiar faces as they pass while he searches for his keys. He plasters on a bright smile, and hopes that it's enough to distract from the way his hands haven't stopped shaking.

He takes the stairs up, slow and steady not certain that he trusts his legs to support him if he goes any faster. He's knees feel weak and he knows it's only a matter of time before he crashes to the floorboards. He's determined to make it into the privacy of his own flat first though.

His backpack is abandoned by the door and he's quick to throw off his jacket, and shimmy out of his pullover. Jittery fingers fight the tiny buttons of his shirt collar, working them open to free his breath.

His knees give out in the kitchen and he resigns himself to ride out the panic attack with his back to the kitchen cupboards. He's honestly just glad he made it home.

Ted focuses on his breathing exercises, breath stuttering when his anxious thoughts win out.

People don't just run away to hide without cause. Rebecca and Ted have only really been together for a few months, though they'd both be fools to assume they haven't been in love far longer than that. It breaks his heart to think that maybe she didn't trust him enough to share her struggles with him. Maybe, like he was for Michelle, he's become too much to handle. Maybe it's him she's hiding from. He's not sure he'd blame her if that was the case.

In for four. Hold for seven. Out for five. Ted forces himself to breathe the way Doctor Sharon had taught him. It takes a while, but it works.

The sun is much lower in the sky by the time he regains feeling in his limbs, and the ringing in his ears stops. He needs to use the countertop to steady himself as he stands but feels surprisingly stable once he's at his full height again. There’s a bottle of whiskey in the living room calls to him, but he pours himself a glass of cold water instead. Logic prevails as Ted reasons that surely Deborah Welton is right. Rebecca likely hasn't gone far, and she'll re-emerge when she feels comfortable doing so; he decides he should be sober when she does.

He’s on his second glass of water when he notices the cashmere cardigan draped over the arm of his sofa. A quick look towards the front door reveals the silver sneakers he walked right past in his state of panic. It’s his home, but he still tiptoes down the hall and up the stairs towards his bedroom. As expected there’s a human-sized lump under the navy blue duvet, curled up in the middle of the double bed.

“Becca?” his voice is low as he crouches next to the bed. He resists the urge to reach out and touch her. Part of him is too afraid to scare her off, the rest still not entirely convinced she’s been here all along.

She stirs, rolling over to face him, green eyes fluttering open. “Good morning,” she sighs. He can’t help the chuckle that leaves him, “Not quiet”. Rebecca’s brows furrow as she blinks herself awake. Ted’s face comes into focus, his eyes rimmed red. “You’re home early,” she says.

He nods, “boys were ready to leave earlier in the morning than we expected. Traffic wasn’t bad”, Ted confirms. “Keeley said she couldn’t get a hold of you. You weren’t at home when she went to check either”.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers.

Normally the quiet tone is reserved for early morning mumbled affections, flirtations and dirty jokes; light and accompanied butterfly kisses or mischievous laughter.

Now, she sounds frightened and ashamed. He can see the damage Rupert's talons left behind, the concessions she continues to pay. And Ted works to set aside the influx of his own emotions, waiting to hear her out before he reacts.

She breathes deeply, her voice stronger when she says, “I didn't mean to worry you. I didn't think you'd be home until tomorrow morning”.

“You just wanted to hide for a while” Ted offers an understanding smile. His left hand reaching to help loosen the vice-like grip her right hand has on the duvet, “ain't nothing wrong with that”.

She shrugs. She wanted to hide. Overcome by an urge to run away. But, she could've gone anywhere. She could've booked a flight, or spent a month in the Mediterranean on her yacht. But, instead, she dug out the spare key that Ted had given her and snuggled herself down under his duvet. She thinks now that maybe she didn't want to get lost, but rather wanted to be found.

They agree to shower together. Washing away any lingering hurts or fears. Content to have their own moment completely alone. He helps her wash her hair, and she laughs when soap suds get stuck to his mustach, even more, when he adds more just to make her happy. She calls him silly, but he can hear the affection in her voice. He can feel it when she cups his cheek, their eyes meeting; her silent way of checking in.

She puts her silk pyjama pants back on but steals one of her worn sleep shirts for the night. Ted tries not to read into it but allows himself to relax at the sight of her in his clothes; a reminder that she isn’t going anywhere.

“I guess I should let your mom and Keeley know I’ve found you,” Ted smiles his usual little smile, much more himself now. “You called my mum?” He sets his phone down on his nightstand after shooting off the necessary texts. Neither of them wastes much time before slipping into bed together. Ted shrugs, “Figured she might know where you were hiding”.

Rebecca hums. She doesn’t love how close Ted and her mum are, especially since her own relationship with the woman is still on the mend. But, the innocence and genuine nature of his reason for reaching out to Deborah settle her mind. His honesty reminds her Ted never has much to hide from her.

“What did mum have to say?” “She said you’d probably be right under my nose,” Ted’s voice is muffled now as he nuzzles against her neck, “She was right”. “I just needed to get away. I feel safe with you. I suppose your flat was the next best thing”.

In the morning they’ll talk about what had Rebecca all stressed out and jonesing for a place to hide. And, Ted will tell her about his panic attack, and how afraid he was when Keeley said Rebecca was missing. They’ll make plans for the future, and build a mental map to help them both navigate days like this should they come again.

Tomorrow will be a day for understanding, clarity, and growth. They’ll learn to love each other better than they already do and shut down all unneeded apologies.

But tonight, exhaustion wins out. Rebecca is at peace in Ted’s arms where she feels safest, the rest of the world held at bay. Ted finds sleep easy with the smell of Rebecca’s shampoo on his sheets, and her fingertips tracing patterns up and down his back. They focus on the moment they’re in. Loved, and in love, certain they’ll make it through this. Together.

#ted lasso #ted lasso x rebecca welton #ted x rebecca #ted lasso fanfic

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profoundbondfanfic · 2 years

Photo

Final day with some of the favorite fics our followers sent us. Thank you guys once again for the support and for sending us your choices.

Next week we’ll self-reblog all the reviews with the fics that were featured during this celebration. Once that’s done we’ll go back to the usual schedule. Thank you!!

PART 5:

the cheapest room in the house by biggaybenny [Explicit, 89k words]

what if instead of a very sincere and earnest love confession dean just found out cas was gay? no confession, no god-jack endgame. just post-s15 stupidity. just dean being deranged. the dean downloads grindr for cas fic

the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance (doomcountry) [Teen, 31k words]

Almost two years after the world doesn't end, Castiel falls from grace—and loses his voice in the process. It is the impetus for confession and change; before long, he is settling into a loving relationship with Dean, the Winchesters are tired, and hunting for a place to land has taken precedence to hunting anything else. Dean and Castiel fall in love with the strange little house on the end of Swallowtail Drive, and for a little while life is as it should be—sweet, affectionate, and beginning afresh. But more and more Castiel sees and hears things in the house that beg the question of whether or not a place itself can be alive. The walls and rooms seem to shift and grow and breathe, and one night, Dean comes home from a hunt changed in a way that Castiel cannot explain. In the months that follow, their domestic bliss takes turns for the dark and sour, and the confusion of their circumstances will ultimately test everything Castiel knows about the man he loves, and everything he believes to be true.

The Line Begins to Blur by Rosewhipped [Explicit, 128k words]

A Soulless Sam traps and attacks Castiel--Dean finds out. This story is coda until it isn't, because I realized I wanted the boys to have a happy ending. It follows season six plot/timeline for several chapters and incorporates quotes from actual episodes. Rape, rape aftermath, and recovery are explored. Eventual smut and even some fluffiness. Without a soul, Sam could see everything a little bit more clearly. Feelings no longer distracted him from goals. He was free to pursue anything without shame, guilt, or hesitation. He turned an analytical eye to all that lay before him, calmly calculating the movements and reactions of those around him to stay ahead of their thoughts and actions. He was always playing a role, acting through a scene, he had been for months and he was getting very good at it.

There Goes My Life by turningthepages [Mature, 54k words]

“It’s mine. The baby’s mine.” He never wanted to admit it, nor would he ever really forgive himself for thinking it, but at that moment, hearing those words, Dean felt like he could see all his plans for a happy future burning to ash right in front of him.

they're playing dido in the hospital gift shop by spocklee [Explicit, 16k words]

can't a guy just have a completely normal sex dream in peace without his formerly-dead best friend walking in?

Tilted Mercy by LittleAngelCassie [Explicit, 111k words]

The sins of the past never stay buried; Dean’s spent years trying to suppress the memories and nightmares that chase him relentlessly. The now 35-year-old Omega entered the BDSM lifestyle seeking penance for his crimes against humanity hoping to rectify all his wrongs through his own pain. After a particularly frightening encounter, Dean agrees to try a different approach to his self-atonement. Compassion was never in the cards until Castiel Novak showed up at his door, pushing Dean’s boundaries and forcing him to face this new reality that includes a possible future with the handsome alpha. Welcome to a new world twisting ABO and BDSM, where somewhere between retribution and redemption lies …Tilted Mercy.

Unintended by emwebb17 [Explicit, 82k words]

Castiel is a successful defense attorney beginning to doubt the integrity of the work he does. After winning a date with a firefighter named Dean at a charity auction, Cas decides that he needs to make a change in his life. He just has one more case to take care of, but his involvement has devastating consequences.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

#500 followers celebration #favorite fics #group rec #submitted rec

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whentommymetalfie · 1 year

Text

Home to you chapter 31

-For better or worse-

Prologue//1//2//3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28/29/30

Pairing: Tommy/Alfie

Summary: Alfie faces the consequences of his actions and tries to make the right choices to keep Tommy safe. But it might to more harm than good.

Warnings: hallucinations, self harm, ptsd, aftermath of forced hospitalization and medical malpractice, disordered eating, dependency

Wordcount: 5K

Alfie storms off. Leaves Tommy and the destruction he’s caused behind. Maids scatter as he stomps through the hallways of Arrow house, steps uneven due to the pain radiating down his back into his right leg. ‘

In the kitchen, he at least has the decency to grunt a ‘thanks’ to the terrified cook telling him there’s food left out for him, but declines being served said food anywhere else. The darkened, windowless kitchen suits him fine. And he’s not decent enough to feel sorry when the cook excuses herself and promptly leaves the room to avoid the anger that must be permeating the air around him.

He turns off the few lamps in the room because this day has given him a splitting headache on top of the pain in his back, sits down on a chair and glares at the food on the plate. Fuck Tommy. Fuck him and his broken head and his beautiful eyes and his blind trust that Alfie will do the right thing rather than the thing that feels good in the moment. Fuck him for the way his lashes fan low over his eyes when he’s tired, the way he’ll curl up against Alfie’s chest as if it’s the one safe place in the entire world and fuck him for screwing his head up so badly that just one day of bad news and worry has turned him into this.

And most of all fuck him for making Alfie feel that he would burn entire cities to the ground if it meant keeping him safe, making him happy, making him smile again.

He picks up the plate and is just about to toss it against the wall when a morsel of sanity takes over and he puts it back down. Settles for skewering a potato with enough force to nearly crack the porcelain.

Lizzie finds him there in the kitchen an hour later, though this time staring at an empty plate and with a cooling pot of tea on the table.

“Should I ask one of the maids to make up a spare bed?”

Alfie looks up to possibly throw something at her, but the unexpected look of sympathy on her face stops him. He grunts and picks up the fork to push his thumb against the handle until it bends.

“Picked up on the tension, eh?”

“The maids gossip,” Lizzie says and goes to stand before him, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms over her chest. “But I think the whole house noticed the debacle.”

Alfie rubs a hand over his face. Tries to scrub away the image of Tommy looking up at him with big, scared eyes. Forget how he fucking dragged him through the hallway. He’s like that, isn’t he? Boiling over and burning everything in his way. Even if he tries to tell himself it was justified, he can’t fucking lie to himself: nothing justifies making Tommy look at him that way. He thought he’d gotten rather good at reeling himself back in, but apparently he’s not quite as in control of his faculties as he thought. And fuck Tommy for that, too.

“If you’re going to get on some high bloody horse and tell me that it was an awful thing of me to do, fucking yell at him, then I’m not interested in hearing it,” he tells Lizzie, who quirks an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to tell you that, because I think you already know.”

Alfie looks down at the table. Finds a particularly interesting knot in the wood. Considers leaving, but that would mean going back to the bedroom and he’s not ready to face the consequences of his actions. There’s of course the option of going sleep somewhere else, but that feels like admitting fully that he’s fucked up at an entirely new level.

While he ponders this, Lizzie goes to a cupboard and procures one of the bottles of whiskey which are apparently stocked in every room in this bloody house. The sight is dangerously tempting. Thankfully she only pours a glass for herself and puts it away before seating herself by the table.

“So, what news from Birmingham, then?” she asks.

The mere thought of this giant waste turned fuck up of a day sends a bolt of pain through Alfie’s skull and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Less than I would’ve liked. Like finding a needle in a haystack, this. Or a rat in a fucking nest of other rats,” he says. “That wife of his has a powerful family at her beck and call. Apparently not above getting blood on their hands. Or rather, paying someone else to get blood on theirs. At least seven Americans showed up with the steamer Monday morning. They’ve brought the heavy fucking stuff, from what little Jakob could tell.” They had machine guns. So did you. They must’ve had more than us, then. “We can be fairly sure they’re the ones responsible for Michael’s escape. If he’s smart he’s left the fucking country, but I’m afraid evidence points to the opposite. Dumb as a box of rocks, that man. And fucking arrogant. Think it’s far more likely that he’s lying low.”

“That does unfortunately seem likely.” Lizzie lights a cigarette and when he waves a hand at her in a beckoning gesture, she hands him one along with the lighter. He lights it up. It’s not his pipe but it’s fucking something.

“Had hoped Jakob would have more answers,” he says as he takes the first blessed drag of smoke. “But all we really know is Michael’s gone. He’s presumably hiding. Biding his time and planning whatever the fuck his next move is, and until he makes that move it’ll be hard to catch him.”

“Any idea what that next move might be?” Lizzie asks and he resists the urge to drop his head into his hands. It’s hard to play a game when your opponent plays after entirely different rules, especially when one’s own head has stopped working right. Even in the dirty business he’s used to, it’s fucking frowned upon to hurt the helpless and innocent. Calling Tommy innocent in any other situation is a stretch, but in this, he was. Simply trying to put the pieces of himself back together, bothering fucking no one. And Michael, in the most cowardly way possible, uprooted everything. There’s no telling what he’ll will do considering the limits he’s already crossed. That’s what today’s been about: Frustratingly little progress and a mounting fear that Michael will do something irrational and cowardly that’ll put Tommy in danger and Alfie will be as helpless to stop it as last time.

“I have a few ideas,” he mutters vaguely once too much time has passed between Lizzie’s question and his answer.

Lizzie takes a quiet inhale of smoke, and then, as if she could read his mind, “He wouldn’t be stupid enough to go after Tommy again.”

“I think we can be fairly certain that he would,” he says and taps ash from his cigarette onto the empty plate before him. Pours tea into the far too dainty cup he’s found in one of the cupboards. “Ada and Arthur are at least working to weed out Michael’s loyal people in your organization. Turns out that may be easier than expected. People who’ve been bought can also be bought back. Surprising to absolutely no-one, he’s not very good at building loyalties. So that’s something, innit.”

Lizzie nods. “I got a call from Ada. Told me they’ll stay the night in Birmingham and check in tomorrow. So you might want to get it together by then, because if either of them see you acting that way around Tommy-“

“Yeah, yeah I fucking get it,” Alfie says. “They’ll chop off my balls or something. That sister of his made that very clear.” He leans back in his seat and clasps his hands on his stomach. Watches Lizzie through narrowed eyes. “Though I have to admit, Mrs. Shelby, that you’ve been admirably level headed about the situation.”

Lizzie snorts at that, but her voice is soft when she speaks, “Well, I know what it’s like, trying to take care of him. You’re worried. That’s why you lashed out at him.”

“Got a foul temper, too. Can’t blame only the circumstances.”

Though the worry sits like a tight band around his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

It’s exhausting. Never being able to let go for even a second. . He lost it at the sight of Tommy shivering on the cold stone steps. Waiting like a loyal dog for its owner.

“I hate that he’s here,” he admits. “I can’t- fuck, I can’t function if I don’t know he’s safe.”

“He just sat outside for a few hours. Things could’ve gone worse.”

“Of course it could’ve gone worse, that’s the whole fucking point-“ he swallows the rest of the sentence along with a gulp of tea.

Lizzie runs her thumb across the edge of the whiskey glass and quietly says, “He’s not easy to love.”

The tea goes down his windpipe and Alfie breaks into a cough, just barely keeping it from spraying over the entire table. The weight of Lizzie’s words lands heavily on his shoulders. As if Arrow house itself has just collapsed.

When the worst of the coughing has subsided, he stands up.

“Well, I better go upstairs,” he says and forces himself to look at Lizzie, even if it’s too late to save face. “See if- yeah. I’m going upstairs.”

Lizzie calmly meets his gaze.

“There’s a spare bedroom right next to yours,” she says, as if nothing happened. “Just in case.”

Alfie leaves the kitchen. Hopefully Lizzie will think he just has abhorrent hearing. He pushes her words far down to the back of his head in some corner where he won’t be confronted by them. Wanders back through the house, where everyone is turning in for the night. Maids walking about, turning lights off, collecting laundry, carrying fresh towels. Ishmael is stood outside the bedroom door, loyal as ever. He needs to bring someone here to work in shifts. Can’t have him falling asleep on the spot. For now, he dismisses Ishmael, telling him to get a few hours of sleep. They’ll have to make do.

Alfie walks into the bedroom without knocking. Esther is on the chair next to the bed, reading glasses low on her nose and with a book in her lap. All he can see in the bed is a bundle of blankets, but soon he catches a glimpse of dark hair. Esther stops reading when he enters. Puts a finger before her lips and closes the book. She gives Tommy’s sleeping form a look, puts the book on the nightstand and comes to meet him, ushering Alfie out of the room.

“He just fell asleep,” she whispers as she closes the door. “I didn’t think he would. But it wore him out, the…” Episode, attack, bi-fucking-hourly breakdown? “He was very upset after you left,” she settles for.

“You asked me to leave,” he grumbles like a petulant child. And receives an ice cold look in return.

“Because, with all due respect Sir, you were behaving like an idiot,” Esther says. “And that doesn’t seem to have improved.”

Alfie can feel his shoulders visibly slump. He scratches his beard and clears his throat.

“I might’ve overreacted,” he admits. The sharpest creases between Esther’s brows smooth out.

“I know it comes from a place of concern for his well being,” she says. “But that’s no excuse. You can’t yell at him that way. Or forcibly drag him around.”

“I know, I fucking know,” Alfie says. “I know I can’t fucking control his every move. Been enough of that. And I want him to know that it matters what he thinks. What he wants or doesn’t want. That’s the whole issue, innit. Because I don’t want him… wanting things that are dangerous. You see my problem, here?”

“You can’t decide what things he wants. And if you’re going to let him make his own decisions, you have to live with them not always being the decisions you want.”

“So I’m just supposed to let him starve? Or wander around talking to crows all night? Because that’s what he’ll fucking do if I let him.”

Esther hushes him, eyeing the door.

“There’s always a middle ground,” she then says. “We don’t let him starve. We give him smaller meals. And you don’t let him wander around alone, you stay awake with him to read. Reminds him the crow isn’t real.”

And what if that’s not enough? he thinks.

“Yeah. Sure.” he says.

The frown has melted from Esther’s face, turning into that encouraging smile she so often wears when they discuss this.

He sighs. Rubs his hands over his eyes.

“Would you mind keeping an eye on him tonight?”

“Of course not, but-“

“I’ll sleep in the other room. Have to get some rest or I won’t be any use tomorrow. And I don’t want to wake him up if he’s finally asleep-“ He doesn’t want Tommy waking up and being afraid. Of him. He gestures for Esther to go back into the room, ignoring her frown returning. “There’s still a spare bed in there. But you can fetch me if he does wake up and- yeah. Just wake me up, if he really needs it, alright?”

Her frown remains, but Esther nods. Alfie escapes through the nearest door, thankfully discovering it’s indeed another bedroom. He regrets his decision the second the door closes behind him. Even more when he’s discarded his clothes in a heap on a chair and laid down in the cold bed, where Tommy’s absence quickly becomes painful. He can count the nights they’ve slept apart these past few months on one hand, and all of them were very much involuntary and forced by circumstance. Such as Tommy being laid up in a hospital bed. Or those dreadful few days in the asylum.

He could give up. Stop this charade, go back to Tommy and hope for the best.

He doesn’t.

Instead he lies awake, staring at the ceiling. He’s exhausted, truly fucking exhausted. Tommy has spent most nights wide awake, or waking both Alfie and himself with his nightmares. He still wanders out of bed at odd hours, and though Ishmael guards the door even at night and can remedy the situation, Alfie still has to wake up to calm him back down. Point is, Alfie isn’t sleeping much. But despite his eyelids feeling heavy, his body can’t seem to relax enough to let him slip into sleep. His mind is whirring with thought. He knows he’s fucked up. It’s what he does, isn’t it? Been a while, granted, so it’s long overdue that he does something colossally stupid with disastrous consequences. Tommy is so fragile, and he knows that, it’s not him that’s the victim here, but that doesn’t make it any easier, constantly walking that line, no room for the slightest mistake. Not now. Not after what happened. He can never tell Tommy, but it’s hard to see any light at the end of this new tunnel. To think that Tommy just a few weeks ago could go out by himself, eat if not entire meals then at least small portions each day, that they spent their mornings entangled in each other’s arms in sundrenched sheets, that Tommy would fucking smile, sometimes several times in one day. His throat grows tight at that thought.

He's not easy to love.

Oh, but he is. It’s so fucking easy. Just difficult knowing how to navigate it. What to do with all of this. To not suffocate, hold on hard enough but not too hard. He pushes that thought away. Because love… the mere word is terrifying.

But he knows, doesn’t he, that if Tommy never gets better, if he can never heal from this, he’ll spend the rest of his days just trying to make it feel bearable.

And what is that, if not love?

He wants to climb out of bed, storm into the bedroom and take Tommy in his arms. Never let him go again.

But he doesn’t. Instead he closes his eyes, thinks of all the things he must do to keep him safe, for which he needs to be fucking awake tomorrow (imagines caving in and returning to the bedroom, waking Tommy up and Tommy looking at him with fear) and eventually drifts into an uneasy sleep.

…

When the sunlight wakes him, he’s hardly more rested than when he went to sleep, and reaching across the mattress for Tommy only to find the bed empty only further sours his mood. He climbs out of bed, gets dressed, stows the guilt away in one of those dusty corners of his mind where it won’t bother him, and leaves the room. As he sets off down the corridor, planning on heading to the car without bothering with breakfast or any other nonsense that stands between him and getting to work, he still finds himself pausing. And as if by their own volition his feet take him back.

He cracks the door to Tommy’s room open. It’s quiet. He opens the door a further to catch a glimpse of the bed. Sees Esther first, sat by the bed with her knitting needles in hand, and then a small heap of blankets on the mattress that makes no sound and only rises and falls slightly at regular intervals.

The dust stirs as the guilt rears up. He beats it back down.

“Esther,” he hisses, just loud enough to make her look up from her striped sock and come towards him. He backs into the corridor and Esther follows.

“I’m going to Birmingham,” he says. “You let Tommy know, yeah? I’ll be back this afternoon.”

“I think it’s better if you tell him yourself,” Esther says in a tone that leaves no room for bartering. Or perhaps he’s just too fucking exhausted to go with any road but the one of least resistance. So when she steps aside and very pointedly looks towards the bed, he goes inside.

Tommy is asleep, holding the blanket close to his face, long lashes resting against pale skin sprinkled with freckles. Alfie’s heart clenches at the sight and he has to once again steel himself for what he’s about to do. Leave, even though he knows Tommy needs him here.

But Tommy also needs to be kept safe from his lunatic fucking cousin and right now Alfie needs to focus on that.

He reaches out to shake him, hand falling back to his side the moment the impulse lands. Instead he leans down and kisses his forehead, smoothing his hair back. Tommy’s eyes bat open and he blinks sleepily at him for just a moment, lashes fluttering over the impossibly blue. Then he bolts upright, throwing his arms around Alfie’s waist and burying his face in his stomach

“I’m sorry,” Tommy says into his belly. Holds on tightly. Alfie cradles the back of his head. Strokes his back with the other. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he wants to cave, open his mouth and apologize for everything, for yesterday, for leaving him alone all night, tell him he’s an idiot who only wants him to be safe and his baser instincts got the better of him leaving violence in their wake as always.

“I’ll have to go into Birmingham.”

Tommy pulls out of the hug and looks up at him, eyes big and sad. Then he lowers his gaze and nods. Alfie looks out the window to keep the ache in his chest at bay.

“But I’ll be back tonight. And- yeah. You just do whatever.” He pats Tommy’s head and the arms around his waist fall. “If you want to sit outside that’s perfectly fine. Just be safe. Don’t go anywhere alone.”

When he’s gathered himself enough to stop being a goddamn coward and looks at Tommy, Tommy is staring down at his lap, picking at his blanket. He strokes his hair.

“You’ll be okay. Yeah?”

“I’ll be good,” Tommy whispers. Alfie leans down and kisses the top of his head, and makes for the door. He hands Esther a note as he passes her in the doorway, leaning in to quietly tell her, “If there’s an emergency, you can reach me on this number. You call me, yeah? If he really needs it.”

Esther accepts the note but follows him out in the corridor, leaving the door cracked open behind them.

“Sir, do you remember the incident with mister Fairfax?”

And Alfie knows exactly what she’s referring to, doesn’t he? He pushes the memory far from his mind and says, “This isn’t like that.”

“Are you sure?” Esther’s gaze is unrelenting and he stares back.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure. Because until Michael Gray is caught, Tommy won’t ever feel safe. Won’t ever be safe. That’s all that matters. Making sure he knows that piece of shit can never hurt him again.”

Making sure Michael pays dearly for what he’s done.

He leaves before Esther can protest. And before the memory of the sadness in Tommy’s eyes pulls him back into the room and urges him to stay.

…

Alfie’s foul mood doesn’t improve throughout the day. The lead to a townhouse presumably owned by Michael proves fruitless, and so does the trips to the many abandoned warehouses. Needle in a fucking haystack. Come afternoon, he’s sat in the townhouse he’s purchased where they’ve set up a temporary office, waiting for a message from one of the many outposts his men are guarding. The stillness reawakens the worry for Tommy. On the desk, the phone virtually screams at him to pick it up. Call Arrow house and check in on him. Make sure he’s okay. But he swallows that urge. He’s doing what he can for Tommy, and he needs to stay focused on his current mission. This is good. He’s doing something real. Concrete, with a clear goal in mind. Even if that real, concrete, goal oriented thing only consists of waiting right now. But it helps his sanity, thinking of it that way. He can’t erase what happened to Tommy. He can’t make the awful memories from the asylum go away. Maybe he can’t even pick up all the broken pieces. And he knows it’ll haunt him for the rest of his life: Tommy’s panicked screams as the men dragged him away. The fear in his eyes. The dirt and squalor of the cell. The fact that Alfie was fucking there, but couldn’t keep it from happening. He can’t change any of it. But he sure as fuck can see to it that Michael pays the full price for what he’s done. Sooner or later he’ll find him-

A sharp signal has him jerking forward in his chair and reaching for the phone.

When he hears Ishmael’s voice on the other end, his chest fills with icy dread.

“Sir, Mrs. Shelby asked me to call-“

“What happened? Is Tommy alright?” He gets out of the chair and nearly pulls the phone from the desk, catching it at the last moment.

“Nothing happened, but he’s- we can’t handle him when he’s like this. It’s been bad all day but it keeps getting worse-“

“Is he hurt?” Has he hurt himself, is he in immediate danger, why are you still on the fucking phone and not taking care of him-

“No, Sir.”

“Keep him safe until I get there. I’m on my way.”

Alfie drops everything, gets in a car and drives back to Warwickshire at a speed that very nearly leaves the vehicle wrapped around a tree in a particularly sharp turn. But he makes it back in one piece, gravel spraying behind the tires as the car swerves to a halt on the driveway. He prepares himself to find Tommy on the front steps again. Perhaps wandering down the road following the imaginary crow. And that’s if they’re lucky. He doesn’t want to consider the other options. But the steps are empty and the grounds surrounding Arrow house eerily peaceful, bathed in afternoon sun. His men guarding the front door have no news so he marches straight past them and into the house, almost knocking Ishmael over as he bursts through the door. He grabs his shirtfront and hauls him upright.

“Where is he?”

“The bedroom, Sir,” Ishmael says and follows as Alfie sets off up the stairs. “Mrs. Shelby and miss… your housekeeper-“

“Esther.”

“Esther, is with him. I’m not sure what’s happened, but-“

“Then I don’t need to fucking hear it,” Alfie snaps and picks up the pace down the hallway. He’s panting by the time they reach the bedroom and he can finally tear the door open.

He expects some form of destruction. Instead he finds eerie stillness.

Tommy is curled up on the sofa, knees pulled to his chest and arms clutched tightly against his body while Esther sits by his head, stroking his faintly tremoring arm. He’s unharmed as far as Alfie can see, but his eyes are foggy. Staring straight ahead, through Lizzie who sits only inches away on a chair but might as well have been oceans away.

Esther stands and comes to meet him while Lizzie scoots her chair closer to lay a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy doesn’t react.

“What happened?” Alfie asks as Esther comes up to him.

“It wasn’t so bad at first,” she says quietly. “He even ate breakfast. But he’s been slipping further and further away all day. Finally he wouldn’t respond to anything. Began talking to himself or- well. To things and people who weren’t here. Tried to get at his scar again.” Her voice wavers and she pauses to get it under control. “I couldn’t get through to him. Mrs. Shelby had to help me keep him from hurting himself. But eventually he just exhausted himself.” She looks towards Tommy, blinking away tears. Whispers, “I couldn’t help him.”

Alfie’s throat is too tight to give an answer so all he manages is a nod. He walks up to Tommy and kneels before him, laying a hand on his arm.

“Tommy?”

Lizzie quietly slips away from his peripheral, saying something to Esther so softly he can’t quite hear it before shutting the door behind her with a click.

Tommy still hasn’t responded to the light touch on his arm. Alfie begins stroking his hair, fingertips raking softly over his scalp, and finally the fog clears from his eyes. He sits up, eyes growing wide as he takes sharp breaths through his nose. The faint tremor in his limbs grow worse.

Fuck, he shouldn’t have left.

“I didn’t know what to- I didn’t- I’m sorry,” Tommy stutters, fingers twisting into the blankets. Alfie takes his hands, cold under his, and squeezes them gently.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Been a hard day, eh?”

Tommy shakes his head and looks to Esther for help. Alfie cradles his face, caressing sharp cheekbones with his thumbs. “I know it was. That’s okay. You don’t have to hide something like that.”

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut, wraps bony fingers around his upper arms and clenches until his knuckles go white.

“I wasn’t going to be any trouble. I tried. I’m sorry.”

Alfie bites back the ‘stop fucking apologizing’ already fully formed and ready to slip out his mouth.

Tommy lets pit a trembling breath. “I tried to be good. But I- everything I do is wrong.”

And that, that just about breaks his fucking heart, doesn’t it? No wonder he’d think that, after the display Alfie put on yesterday. No wonder he’s been slipping all day. Probably too paralyzed by fear of doing something wrong to make any decisions at all.

Alfie pulls Tommy down from the sofa and into his lap. Tommy goes easily, melting into his embrace, burying himself in his shirt.

He hears the door shutting as Esther leaves.

“Oh, no, petal,” he tells him, kissing his temple and holding him tightly. “No, you haven’t done anything wrong. And even if you had, you’re entitled to make every bloody mistake in the book.” Tommy’s hands twist into his shirt. Alfie rubs his back. “I’m sorry, love, about what happened yesterday. I’m a fucking idiot. Even more of a fucking idiot when I’m worried. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

Tommy shakes his head. “It was my fault”

“It’s not your fault that I fucking lost it. Uncalled for, that. I can’t ask you to make your own decisions and yell at you when you do. Doesn’t matter if I agreed with it or not.”

Tommy just keeps shaking his head.

Alfie can’t deny it, it dawns on him that there’s part of him -a bigger part than he’d like to admit- that wants Tommy to depend on him. Look at him with those trusting eyes, full of adoration, let him make all the decisions and eagerly obey. Wear his clothes not because it’s the only clothes he’s got but because he feels safe in them. And he fucking wants Tommy reach for and cling to him rather than doing things on his own. Maybe even sit like an obedient pet and wait for you the second you’re out of sight? He shakes his head to clear it from the disturbing thought. Fuck. no, even he has his limits. This all belongs to some dark, primal part of him that he needs to keep under control, not feed into.

He cradles the back of Tommy’s head, one of his thumbs rubbing small circles on the side of his neck.

“Maybe you don’t think so now, but you’ll want to decide things eventually. There’ll be a day when suddenly you’ll want all sorts of things again, even if that might seem far away right now.”

He doesn’t really expect a reply, and doesn’t get one either. His right leg has begun to ache and he shifts slightly.

Tommy wraps his arms around his neck and hugs him tightly.

“Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Alfie promises. And decides that the situation in Birmingham and has to be left for his more or less competent men for the rest of the day. Might not be the right decision but fuck it’s the only decision he can make.

#tommy x alfie #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #breathe again verse #home to you

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winderlylandchime · 8 months

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2/2*points to the art* YOU SEE THAT?? IM LIKE 89% SURE IS BRIAN! That’s right BRIAN! His BOYFRIEND! Who I’m sure will be here any minute now! WHY ARE YOU GIVING HIM FREE ART? FOR A SONG?!?! Justin, i will personally give you a performance of Row your Boat just stop talking to him, NO JUSTIN! NO YOU WILL NOT GO TO HIS APARTMENT’ ‘Debbie, I swear to God, you better be fucking nice about Ben because otherwise I’m jumping through this tv and turning this show into an episode of CSI’ He is so over this episode that I swear I can see smoke coming out of him. He has no clue what’s coming. ‘My man who are you trying to impress? Your grandpa is somewhere calling you a bitch right now. *mock Ethan in a childish voice* not even your rich successful boyfriend.. THATS CAUSE HIS BOYFRIEND KNOWS THAT ART IS AN ESCAPE YOU LITTLE PRETENTIOUS FUCK. Your jealousy is showing, we get it you got your couch off a street and you wish you were Brian. Oh he had a boyfriend? You’re telling me someone actually willingly spent time with him? Correction: youre telling me that he somehow had a boyfriend that sounds just like Brian? bitch who the fuck are you trying to play right now? justin and I are smarter than this, we see right through the bullsh-i hope that picnic gives you diarrhea’ ‘HE WAS IN THE HOSPITAL FOR THREE DAYS? THREE WHOLE FUCKING DAYS?! AND HIS MAN IS NOW ON SOME OTHER MANS FLOOR EATING CHEESE? AND JUSTIN STILL DOESNT KNOW HE VISITED EVERY DAY?! IM ABOUT TO FUCKING BURN THIS PLACE DOWN TO THE GROUND. THREE FUCKING DAYS! fuck this whole fuck- your man is dying and you still wanna kiss Brian? If i was Ben, id die just to make him feel bad.’ ‘Oh so Justin spent a day with that cello fucker and now he’s coming to Brian with inspiration..i have a feeling this won’t end good or maybe it will gotta stay positive! HELL YEAH BRIAN! Eat and fuck on the floor and make him forget that little weirdo. Oh damn it, was it because he said romantic? THEYRE CUTE! WHY ARE THEY RUINING THINGS…Justin, no offense but 31 is not too old to fuck around. I should know. He’s acting like he should be in retirement home already. *looks at me sad* this is the beginning of the end isn’t it? Please tell me, that next episode that little shit disappears mysteriously.’ He is bouncing his leg so much that the entire couch is shaking. ‘DEB! AND BEN! Debbie, please be nice, ive been so disappointed already. Is this..is this the beginning of something nice between them?’ He is very happy that Emmett didn’t accept the check and he keeps saying that Pickle Guy is smiling at him right now. *jumps in the air* ‘ow. DEBBIE AND BEN LOOK AT THEM! FUCKING FINALLY! Thank god something good happened, i was losing my mind. Okay so basically for her to be nice to you, you almost gotta die..noted’ And he once again groaned so loudly that Im sure the neighbor heard him ‘WHY IS HE BACK! JUSTIN WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HERE?! Asshole neighbors? My dude, youre the asshole. JUSTIN STOP LYING. You never even liked violin music?! Who are you and what have you done with the Justin from season 1 and 2 because this is bullshit. he came for his song? Justin, just put a cd on in BRIANS LOFT! Romantic?! Justin…for fucks sake what the hell. I wanna puke. I don’t have enough pills to watch this. What is he doing? justin sit your ass back the fuck dow- JUSTIN NO JUSTIN NO JUSTIN NOOOOOOOOO YOU FUCKING CHEATING ASS BITCH! YOU MADE THE RULE! YOU BROKE IT ONCE YOU BROKE IT TWICE! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS FUCKING SHIT? I’ve never been more grossed out by a kiss before. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK JUSTIN?! i am actually really fucking sad right now. I hate this fucking shit. He’s actually CHEATING. This is cheating. This is… i can pretend that nerd kiss was him doing him a favor but this? He’s been toeing the line for the whole episode. HE CHEATED BC OF A VIOLIN. BRIAN PLAYED GUITAR IN THAT ONE EPISODE and no offense to cello players everywhere, guitar is way hotter! Man, fuck this shit and fuck him too’ He then proceeded to call our mom and the only thing i heard him say was ‘please don’t hang up, i will actually cry’

Um, I really need to go back and watch these episode again because:

YOU SEE THAT?? IM LIKE 89% SURE IS BRIAN! That’s right BRIAN! His BOYFRIEND! <- Very likely but I never paid close attention. Holy shit.

hope that picnic gives you diarrhea I AM DYING

HE WAS IN THE HOSPITAL FOR THREE DAYS? THREE WHOLE FUCKING DAYS?! AND HIS MAN IS NOW ON SOME OTHER MANS FLOOR EATING CHEESE? AND JUSTIN STILL DOESNT KNOW HE VISITED EVERY DAY?! IM ABOUT TO FUCKING BURN THIS PLACE DOWN TO THE GROUND. THREE FUCKING DAYS! Oh look it is the song of our people, the anthem of the fandom. THREE FUCKING DAYS

H'e actually cheating - oh brother anon, oh brother anon.

He called your mom... oh sweet child.

#ask winderlylandchime #dear sweet anon #queer as folk #a straight man watches qaf us 2000 in the year of our lord 2023

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jj-ktae · 2 years

Text

Game Twelve - Loving (Final)

Title : Survival Games Genre : AU, Angst, Fluff, Romance Pairing : Taeyong x Fem!reader Words : 4k Summary : A deserted island and no hope left. There is only despair and this boy, Lee Taeyong, who seems to be the only survivor. You both were on the flight KAL134, from Auckland to Seoul.

AN : It’s the last chapter! Thank you to everyone who read it, even though i started written it a few years ago, i’m glad some of you still waited for the final update.

- Teaser - Discovering - Sharing - Thinking - Accepting - Hoping - Breathing - Missing - Treasuring - Longing - Enjoying - Saving

Loving

You can only stare. Taeyong is right here, with a bright smile and shy fingers clasped around yours.

It takes a good two minutes for you to realize he is actually in front of you and not dead somewhere on that cursed island.

You hug him, muscles tensed and eyes burning, before he takes you to the nearest bench to let you calm down.

As usual he isn’t in a rush, he is calm, quiet, observant. He is still beautiful, with clean clothes and perfect skin and smelling heavenly.

For a reason, you knew Taeyong would smell so earthy if he wasn’t trapped on a deserted island. It’s like you knew him based on his behavior in a place where normal is just a memory.

Taeyong looks calm, but he wants to cry. He feels so relaxed, so peaceful after all these days of looking around for you. Everything was so messy, everyone was scattered on the island, looking for a way to run away. The explosion made it impossible for anyone to get close to this side of the beach.

He tried, he tried so hard to ask around, tried and questioned anyone who had seen you, taken by coastguards.

No one did. No one knew, especially the Korean authorities, who would not let him know anything – after all he was just a fellow survivor.

Officially, he was no one worthy of getting information on you.

He almost gave up, almost.

And then he met another fellow survivor. It was unexpected, the way they crossed paths late at night, in the middle of pouring rain in front of a convenience store.

He heard “You’re the quiet kid! You made it out of the island?” before finding the man, about to close his umbrella.

“I was there too, I remember you! You look different but I recognized your eyes.” The man feels familiar, but not enough for Taeyong to mention anything specific about him.

He only bows, a hand reaching for his hood to pull it off his head.

“I’m glad you’re okay, that girl must be so happy, she was looking for you everywhere!” He laughs, probably thinking Taeyong knows what the hell he is talking about.

But Taeyong looks so confused.

“That girl, the one you came with! She was looking for you everywhere! When we came back here, she was asking everyone about you! You didn’t know?” He continues, his face falling a little bit like he didn’t expect Taeyong not to reunite with you.

“You saw her?”

“What do you mean? You didn’t…?”

Taeyong wants to yell; it’s almost midnight, he is starving, and maybe this man can help him, right in the middle of this tiny neighborhood where he rented a ridiculously tiny flat to crash while figuring out what to do with his life.

“Which hospital did you go to? Did she tell you where she lives? How was she? Was she badly hurt?” He starts firing questions, probably spitting more words in a few seconds than during their whole time on the island.

The man nods, like he wants to answer every question right on the spot then stops Taeyong when he sees him too overwhelmed by the discovery.

“Hold on, let’s sit down, I can’t keep up with all these questions. I don’t know where she lives but I can tell you which hospital we stayed at. She was fine when she left.” He explains, the rain hitting his plastic bag when the wind blows cold drops under the awning. “I was sure she had found you, she was desperate. I’m sorry you couldn’t find each other. We were at this hospital in Gwangjin…what was the name again…?”

Taeyong frowns. “The hospital is in Seoul?”

“Yes…? You sound surprised…?” The old man blinks, like it’s supposed to be logical.

He has no idea that Taeyong literally searched every hospital in this damned city.

“I went there, she was not registered as a patient…”

The old man thinks, then snaps his fingers. “when did you go there…?”

“A bit more than a week after we were rescued. I didn’t stay at the hospital for long. Why?”

The man hums, “Did they send you here right after the incident?”

Taeyong is getting even more confused. “No, we stayed at one of the island around the area, then they sent the non-injured people here. Me and my friends were among the first group, but we had no one who was severely injured so they gradually sent everyone back in the span of 5 days. I don’t get it, how did it go for you?”

“We were three, all in critical condition. Your friend got burned on her arm and shoulder and broke her leg because she had a cast. She told me she was sedated and intubated for 5 days because of the burns. We were staying at another island nearby, one which had a hospital with an Intensive care unit. We didn’t know where the others went and with only us three there, it meant everyone else was either in better shape than us or dead. Your friend, she couldn’t stop trying to find information about you and the others, but no one on this island knew about the other survivors. Even when we came back, it was only us with a Korean doctor. We stayed there for two weeks before we were stable enough to come back. I guess this is why she wasn’t registered as a patient when you went there.”

Taeyong tries to assimilate all the elements. You’re okay now, but you were severely injured. Doyoung told him you went back to the beach when you saw Solene, that you wouldn’t listen to them when they tried to stop you. He remembers seeing Jaehyun right after hurting his back while tripping and how he was limping his way back to the jungle. Jaehyun promised to go back to the beach to find you, but it was too late.

The engine exploded as soon as they were far enough not to get even more hurt.

Taeyong had then entered a phase of delusion and in his head, you were safe, even though he saw the plane explode, even though Jaehyun told him you were searching for him right where the explosion happened.

Because it couldn’t end this way.

None of his friends objected, none of them tried to make him stop hoping for something that was not going to happen.

But now that the old man explained everything, he felt ten years younger, with fresh hope and the probability of finding you makes him thank the old man before rushing to Doyoung's.

“You what? It’s one in the morning, are you drunk?” Doyoung is not someone who appreciates being woken up unless it’s for a good reason. He has enough when he is at the hospital but Taeyong is here, breathless and talking about a hospital where you stayed and how he needs to have access to information about you.

It takes a long moment, during which Taeyong explains that you actually went to a hospital in Seoul, but way after he stopped by.

“She’s at which hospital? The one in Gwangjin? Konkuk? She’s not there anymore so we need to find her information in the archives…. alright.” Doyoung looks around his phone before sitting down in his living room, hair messy. “I’ll send a message to someone I know who works there. I could get her address and a few other things. Is that alright for you? How was she after the explosion?”

“In critical condition, she was intubated and everything.” Taeyong doesn’t want to think about a parallel universe where you died on that beach. It could have happened and the mere thought of you, dead and abandoned somewhere on that island or worse, in the sea, makes him want to puke.

Doyoung is back next to him with a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself. She’s okay now. You never stopped believing and you were right. Hopefully we’ll get more information tomorrow so you can find her. It’s behind us now, Taeyong. You can go back to the normal life you were craving for.” It’s so unlike Doyoung to speak this softly; he knows what’s happening in Taeyong’s brain. It started as soon as he came back near the beach, right after the explosion.

“I have to go and see if they’re okay.” Doyoung cannot believe he just heard the plane explode. It made the biggest noise he had ever heard, breaking through the trees and shaking the birds out of their nests. He starts shaking at the thought that maybe his friends didn’t make it out alive. He sighs, breath short. “Whoever wants to come, come.”

Johnny and two men follow. Mark stays with the others and the few who are injured.

On his way, he approaches Doyoung, as apprehensive as him. “Do you think-”

“Don’t say it.”

He doesn’t.

It doesn’t take long for the fire to appear before their eyes. The sea is hidden by a dark cloud, fast and so tall it’s probably impossible to ignore what’s happening.

They hear voices, loud and arguing. Doyoung accelerates. He sees Jaehyun first, trying to hold a livid Taeyong who seems to be aiming for the beach.

“I have to go back!”

“Taeyong, look at the beach, you wouldn’t even make it past three steps. Stop!”

“You don’t get it! What if she’s alive? What if she was able to hide? She’s probably waiting for me! If she’s hurt I have to take care of her!”

“You’ll die before that happens!” The boat from earlier is getting closer, they’ll find us all! Please stop!”

Taeyong can’t. He might have been hurt but he feels nothing, his heart beating way too hard to let him focus. His reason is gone, the danger imperceptible when it comes to you. Deep inside he knows he wouldn’t make it. The beach is on fire; the plane is pouring dark clouds of unbreathable smoke. The only way to reach the beach is from the sea, but even the boat is still too far.

You’ll be dead before anyone finds you.

“Doyoung please, help me. He won’t- he won’t understand.” Jaehyun is out of breath from trying to stop Taeyong. The latter is pulling with all his might, his hands trying to free himself from his friend’s grip so he can go to the beach and find you.

Doyoung’s face is unreadable as he walks closer, along with Johnny. The two men who tagged along look devastated, probably because no one knows if more people stayed behind. The scenery is shocking, like their house is on fire.

“Taeyong…you have to listen to us. There’s no way we can let you go back. None of us would be able to search the beach and its surroundings, and none of us will see you die trying to find her. Once they find us I promise we’ll let them know that there is still someone to save. Please.”

His eyes are delicate, like he is trying to reason a kid throwing a tantrum.

But Taeyong is not a kid, and he knows damn well that no one is going to risk walking into that hell.

So he cries, he cries because he can’t give up yet he has no choice. He stops moving, his body going limp and his knees hitting the thick roots on the floor.

“I lost her, Doyoung.”

It turns out the old man told the truth. It didn’t take long before Doyoung received an answer from that girl who used to work in the same unit as him. She sent everything she found; from your full name to your address and phone number. Doyoung got everything, even your father’s name.

He wished he could have seen Taeyong’s face when he sent him the information, from where he was hiding in an empty room at his own workplace. He wished him good luck and made him promise to buy him a meal.

Taeyong runs to the address.

It’s a house in a fancy neighborhood, where the streets are clean and the cars expensive – after all, you did mention that your family was wealthy. He wonders how he doesn’t feel anxious, because he’ll probably meet with your family, considering it was the only address and it was linked to your father’s name.

He stills takes a deep breath and rings the bell, the light from the videophone allowing whoever was inside to see him.

Hopefully there was no mistake and it’s your parents’ house.

“Hello ?” He blinks the thoughts away as he tries to stay calm. It’s a female voice but not yours.

“Hi, I’m Lee Taeyong. I…well…I was-I was on the plane-“

“It’s opened.”

He freezes. Just like that? Did he freak them out? He didn’t even finish his sentence. He pushes the heavy door and finds a woman near the front door, clutching her apron.

Come to think of it, you also mentioned that you were not on good terms with your parents. What if you’re still not talking to them? Maybe they don’t know about your whereabouts since you left the hospital. What if they ask about your boyfriend?

And what if they ask how he got their addre-

“You were on the island too, right? You’re the important person my daughter had been looking for?” She clicks her tongue but smiles, looking relieved. Taeyong has no idea what’s happening, but the lady looks nice and surprisingly knows about him.

Plus, she called him important.

“…I was on the island. I don’t know if I’m that important person you’re talking about, though.”

“Come in!” She steps aside once Taeyong reaches her level and gives him slippers. “I’m quite sure I heard Lee Taeyong, just like I’m quite sure I heard my daughter say your name in her sleep. Did you know she has been sleeping on the floor, stating she felt weird sleeping in a bed?”

Taeyong’s brain is wrecked; first it was the old man, then Doyoung and now your mother. Everything is accelerating and he has trouble processing the information.

All he knows is that you sleep here, you seem to get along with your mother and she looks more than eager to help him.

Your mother shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter, you’re here for Y/N?”

“Yes, I’ve been looking for her since we came back…I didn’t know whether she…”

She gasps, “It must have been hard for you too…I suppose you were close to her there?”

He nods, not knowing how to explain the whole situation.

“She told us her boyfriend tried to leave the island without her and died.” The woman shakes her head, both disappointed and apologetic. “Thank you for taking care of her. She knew nothing about how to survive in such complicated conditions. I’m glad she was able to rely on someone who is still trying to find her even after all this. Maybe she told you how…difficult it used to be between us and her. Every day I thank the lord for bringing me my daughter…”

She tears up, making Taeyong panic even more. He can relate, he had the same thing happen to him at the hospital, when his mother and sister came. They looked at him like he mattered, like his existence meant something.

He cried so hard.

“I guess you do not know she found a job? I think I could give you the name so you could find her? She’s at work. Oh I’m sorry, would you like something to drink? I wish to ask more questions, but I don’t know if Y/N wants to talk about what happened. She barely said anything about her time on that island.

“I’m fine thank you and yes, I would like to know where she works, if it’s okay with you.”

It’s so easy.

Your mother shakes her hand in a detached manner before grabbing a pen and a piece of paper.

“I’m quite sure it’s completely okay, Taeyong.”

He arrived way too early. It’s the middle of the afternoon and you probably are still very busy but he doesn’t care. He will wait until you leave the building.

Your mother mentioned that you’d probably not finish before 7p.m and even though it’s 4p.m, Taeyong is restless.

There’s no way he’ll let you slip away again.

But what if you’re mad at him? What if you yell because he left without you? There’s a thousand things he’d like to apologize for and he hopes you’ll listen.

You did refer to him as important, if your mother is right.

He wonders if you changed, what you look like in formal clothes. Do you wear makeup? Is your hair the same? What type of perfume do you use

He gets fidgety thinking about when he’ll hold you- if you let him.

He thinks for so long he barely noticed the sun hiding. The group chat is full of messages from the boys wishing him good luck and it makes him smile. He puts his phone back in his pocket and right one time, right when he lifts his head to, yet again, look at the door of the tall building, you’re here.

And you’re so pretty he doesn’t even trust his legs anymore.

You walk towards him, half-happy and half-wary. You look like you can’t believe it.

But when you meet each other halfway and he shyly grabs your hand, you wrap yourself around him and start crying.

“Found you.”

It took almost ten minutes, during which you looked like you were dreaming but you’re not. Taeyong is here and you’re holding him.

You both sit on a bench just so you can chat without looking creepy in the middle of the street. You’re shaking and confused and holding his hand like he could evaporate at any moment.

“How…? I thought you were…” There are a thousand emotions in your eyes, from confusion to happiness.

He tells you everything from the moment the plane exploded. Every detail, until it’s dark and people are barely walking around you. It takes forever and it’s a mess in your head but you focus, so hard you barely catch the part where Taeyong got your workplace from your mother.

“I’m sorry for leaving, I’m sorry I couldn’t come back on the beach and save you. I heard from the old man, you were hurt, and I couldn’t- I should have- we couldn’t-”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself knowing you died while trying to save me again. You already almost did once.”

It’s true, Taeyong doesn’t have to spend his time risking his life for you. Not even once did you think he should have tried to find you. You were too busy hoping he made it out alive.

And apparently, he felt the same.

It’s suddenly awkward when he is done speaking, because now everything is peaceful and you’re both not used to each other in such a clear mind-set.

You almost forgot how introverted Taeyong is.

“I’m sorry, it feels weird talking to you here- in reality.” You say and he smiles, shaking his head.

“Now that we’re back and can finally, you know, live, I mean, I found you and now…I mean..”

He hates how he has no idea what to say. He just wants to ask you if you still want to be with him, why is that so complicated?

You laugh, shaking your head because obviously Taeyong would have no idea how to ask if you still feel the same.

So you put him out of his misery.

“I told you I’d still want to be with you once this ended.”

He sighs, the words oddly satisfying and pleasing to hear. You still want him, you still want to be with him. He can be with you without worrying about food and survival. He can sleep and eat and exist with you.

You blink softly when he doesn’t answer, falsely worried “If you still want to be with me, that is.”

Taeyong’s only answer is a kiss.

It’s a minty kiss, with clean clothes and soft hair. You don’t have to worry about the lack of hygiene, you don’t feel insects crawling up your legs.

“I love you” he breathes between two kisses, ignoring the stares from the people around.

That night, you both crash at Taeyong’s where you order food and make love like you never lost each other.

He tells you to stay with him, almost begs you not to leave his side.

You accept.

“You still owe me like, I don’t know, a five Michelin stars meal.”

Doyoung is such a drama queen.

It’s a common Friday evening. For the past two months, your life with Taeyong has been nothing but easy, with a slice of awkwardness that you blame on the fact that it feels like you met yesterday.

You both had to discover each other all over again.

Your favorite things to do, favorite food, music preferences, everything that you had no occasion to talk to each other about; all of this was shared after you found each other.

Taeyong is a pile of mysteries and surprises especially when he makes you watch romantic movies and tells you he isn’t good with spicy food.

Taeyong who used to eat huge coconut worms? Cute.

“I can get you fried chicken.” Taeyong answers, grabbing the bottle or rum to pour himself a drink.

Johnny invited everyone to an exhibition, where he was able to showcase his pictures, including those made during their trip – thank god his camera was connected to a cloud storage online. He added more from when they came back, including some of his friends.

It was a huge hit in his company, which made his life more bearable. He was even planning on opening his own studio so to celebrate he invited everyone at his place.

Doyoung was able to explain to his father that he was aiming for general surgery and not plastic surgery. It was tough but they accepted. He is still regularly threatened by his father, though.

Jaehyun is going to marry that girl. It turns out she has the biggest crush on him and was even more worried than his parents about the whole crash.

Mark didn’t say anything to his parents. He went to Canada for a month and came back, still officially a student.

As for Taeyong, he started working at the detention camp after he decided to pay them a visit. They were surprised to see him but quickly mentioned being short staffed so he asked if they were hiring. They looked shocked by how well-spoken and calm he was.

Most of the kids there don’t end up the same.

But he makes sure to help them now, the best he can. He feels useful, even though he has to break up fights and avoid getting hit by the most violent ones.

They’re not a lost cause. No one is.

“You’re the doctor, Doyoung.” Johnny adds, laughing when his friend scoffs. “Taeyong just started working, leave him alone.”

“I’m not saying I want it now, maybe in a few months? Come on, I saved all your asses before, during and after that plane crash. What do I get in return? Frozen cheese bread and cheap alcohol?”

Taeyong shakes his head before joining you on the couch. It has been yet another exhausting week at work but you lived for these moments, when you could have a normal life with social interactions.

You had no issues with the fact that the plane crash was pretty much still present in your minds. It was behind you, and you came back stronger, with more than traumatizing memories only.

You glance at Taeyong who is rolling his eyes while Johnny and Doyoung tease each other.

“You okay?” He mouths when you yawn. “Wanna go back home?”

You shake your head, earning a soft peck from your boyfriend.

“Nope, nope. Jaehyun, come and sit between them! Where the hell is Mark?” Doyoung yells, falsely outraged. “Some of us are still single, gosh the thing I go through.”

You laugh, head thrown back when Johnny mimics his friend.

“I’ll get you that meal, Doyoung. Pick the restaurant, I’ll pay.” You state, not even joking and finally, that shuts him up.

“Am I invited?” Taeyong teases in your ear, trying to be discreet.

You shake your head and he lifts his brows, surprised.

“You’re the dessert.”

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xgoldxnhour · 1 month

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@aamusedly

Perhaps it was the grief waning in or just needed to get the fuck out of dodge. El sat, legs crossed until they went numb, the rest of her body following with the alcohol filling in her system. The night sky is a beaut tonight, once you get away from street lamps and traffic. Arizona may be considered to some as hell on earth, reaching up to 120 degrees most days in the heat, but suppose that isn’t the case anymore with a loss this heavy.

Her twin brother, Jesse was the kind of person who could change the tone of an entire room in an instant. Far too charismatic for his own good, always the life of the party and the last person to leave one. They used to joke, saying he’d make quite the august cult leader if attempted, right up there with Waco and kool-aid drinkers. They also used to say they’d someday get out of this town and head somewhere with sandy beaches and taco trucks. Suppose they dreamt of a lot of things. Until she got a call from the hospital a year ago about a motorcycle accident. Broke his back, internal bleeding, head force trauma. Wouldn’t make it through the night—and he didn’t.

And so, here she sits on the tailgate of her Jeep Cherokee Sport with a bottle of Jack. Or at least it’s hers now.

“Happy death day, dickhead.” She mutters before taking a long swig until it burns enough to cough.

“You picked one helluva place there, kid. Don’t know to call it poetic or ironic?” A voice speaks, walking around as if from the passenger seat. El seems completely unfazed, as if she was expecting it.

She gestures the bottle to him with an amused squint. “What can I say? I’m a poetic kinda gal.”

‘Jesse’ walks forward, leaning into the tailgate but not quite sitting. “So, what? You making some contingency plan? Making mirages in the desert in case the cops come looking?”

“And why’d they come looking?”

He shrugs. Since neither knows the answer.

“Building a case in case you do something stupid.”

“Oh, I’m the stupid one?” She scoffs, shaking her head. “No, yeah, ya caught me. Haven’t you thought maybe I came out here for some peace and quiet?”

“Now, that’s ironic.” Jesse head falls, laughing to himself. Being that he’s simply a figment of her imagination, her creation, her perception.

#aamusedly #v: mirage #((let me know if this is okay!)

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daisynik7 · 4 months

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✨WIFEY✨ I’M BACK (again) and much has changed, i’ve done a 180 of my schedule so waiting to see if that sticks, but i’m feeling better (if you exclude the period cramps 🤡) but February has been pretty good so far, i should clarify i wasn’t the one hospitalized but a family member who isn’t the most comfortable with English so i stayed with them to be translator, but all is well like i said discharge was a few days ago and they’re feeling much better!

thank you for your well wishes and sweetness, i’m still taking you up on all your kind offerings regardless, i need them 🥲 i am sending you just as much!

hope this year brings you more small and big meaningful moments that you can always cherish and look at with a good feeling, get-togethers with friends, and i hope you’re weekend with your boyfriend went well!

how was your weekend? well spent at the very least, even if you did nothing:) anything special going on this week? as always so proud of you! 🫶🏼 i’m prepping for a Lunar New Year spread given that i’ve taken off the last few years, i'm a bit rusty so we’ll see how that goes.

i don’t how much the weather has shifted since you wrote me, hoping it’s just getting warmer for you but i still hope you’re keeping warm<3 the weather has been kinda wack here, warm days and cold days, forecast says it’s going to rain, which it does, but then it snows all night which i had no knowledge of but ok😅

i missed you so very much, you’re love was very much felt and as always the storm has passed so i just look at the past and take what lessons i’ve learned and move on and i hope you’re able to do the same with any mishaps in your life, especially those that you can’t always control :) i love YOU my darling daisy i hope today and this week goes amazing for you, thank you for being you there isn’t much more i’d know how to articulate how much you mean to me 🥹

loooooong overdue: but i come with bouquets of flowers for the prettiest snookums in the whole universe!<3 💐💐💐

SNOOKUMS! I'm so happy to hear from you! While I've missed you immensely, I'm happy to hear that you're doing well and being very productive! I hope you're taking enough breaks though and not burning yourself out too much. also, so sorry for the misunderstanding! Very glad to hear your family member is doing better now. ❤️

Thank you for your well wishes and positive vibes as always! I'm learning to cherish all the little moments I'm so lucky to experience in life. I know at times, I can take these small moments for granted, so I'm trying to be better at appreciating them more!

Happy February! And an early Happy Valentine's to my most special Valentine! And Happy Lunar New Year! What's the spread looking like so far? I can't wait to hear about all the delicious dishes you'll be preparing in celebration!

The biggest news from me is that my brother just got engaged! Him and his girlfriend (now fiancée) have been traveling all over Asia the past month and he proposed to her in Japan. It was very sweet and romantic. They are coming back home in a few days and we will celebrate with dinner somewhere!

We had a pretty bad storm last night, but I think we're in the clear now. Still pretty cold during the mornings and nights, but nothing too drastic! Hope you're staying warm and cozy during those snowy nights!

Sending you all my love as usual, all my kisses, all my snuggles, and only the best, most positive vibes for my wifey. Thank you for always making me feel so loved, I appreciate and love you more than these silly words of mine can articulate. Take care of yourself! ❤️ love you so much thea

#my lovely thea #lovely moots #wifey's love letters

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bookworm105616 · 2 years

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Not a new update, but for my friends who read It’s All Futile! It’s All Pointless! I present to you an earlier draft of chapter two.

(Also if you followed me just for this, I’m sorry I’ve been reblogging exclusively Dracula Daily my feed scares me.)

———————————————————————

The house was too quiet at night.

A handful of crickets chirped, some floorboards creaked, an owl seemed to be having a fit somewhere - but it was all hushed. Muted.

He longed for the sounds of the city. Cars and sirens and the occasional gunshot. His dad’s frankly ridiculous snores, which he always used to pray would mysteriously stop one day because he could hear them through the door and they kept him up tonight.

Well. At least that wish came true.

Strange to think about. The fact that he would never see his dad again. Those feelings were jumbled, all tangled up tight in his chest and writhing like living creatures - like a nest of snakes.

It’s hard to mourn someone you never truly knew. He knew his dad was a big-shot politician, he knew his dad’s favorite hangover cure was a Virgin Bloody Mary, and he knew his dad was happy to throw money at him no matter the occasion if it kept him out of sight for a few hours. Little more than that.

Is it wrong to wonder if you miss your own father or not?

During his time in the hospital he quickly learned that those thoughts often led to the sort that made his burns ache.

So he stopped. He sat up (carefully, he was always so careful now) and made his way to the window. The moon was full and bright. If he strained he could almost hear a wolf howling somewhere in the distance.

Softly he brushed the curtain aside, allowing light to stream in through the glass and scatter a few beams of moonlight on the dark-wood floor. With his damaged hand he reached for them, sighing quietly to himself.

There was a gentle knock at the door. He startled, head whipping away from the pretty sight.

Isn’t it a bit late for this?

Surprisingly the door didn’t squeak when he opened it. He’d expected it to - the doors in his condo nearly always had.

Tommy was standing in the hallway, twisting the hem of his shirt in his hands like just needed something to do with them. He smiled - or rather, he grimaced. Like he was trying to offer a grin but his facial muscles didn’t quite remember how to make the expression.

“Ow do?” He coughed. “I uh - I heard you tossin’ and turnin’ and shit. Thought it might be the quiet, y’know? Got to me when I first moved here too. If that is your problem. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you, I can go -”

Tubbo reached for Tommy’s arm as he turned to leave, letting go like he’d touched the eye of a hot stove when the other boy flinched violently. “It’s okay. Did you want to come in?”

“We have to be -” Tommy put a finger to his lips. “We have to be really quiet.” His voice lowered to practically a whisper.

Glancing over his shoulder as he took a small step inside the door, he hummed nervously. “I can’t - I shouldn’t stay long, yeah? I’m not supposed to leave my room at night.”

Not my business, definitely not my business.

“Why not?” Tubbo blurted out as he moved to his bed and started pulling off the comforter, planning to lay it on the floor to use as a cushion.

“I’d get into trouble. Mischief if you will.” He glanced at the window, averting his eyes. “Plus Dream is worried I’ll steal things or run off in the middle of the night. Ah - what are you doing there Boss Man?”

“I don’t want my ass to get bruised sitting on the uncomfortable floor. I’m delicate. Like a bumblebee.” Tubbo answered matter-of-factly. “Now talk to me. I want information.”

He plopped onto the now well-spread blanket and crossed his legs, gesturing for Tommy to do the same. After a moment’s hesitation, he did.

“What do you want to know?” Tommy asked hesitantly. He did everything hesitantly - even his fidgeting was uncertain, halting, like he could and would stop in a heartbeat if anyone so much as raised an eyebrow at him.

What is safe to ask?

Shrugging, he leaned back against the bed frame. “I don’t know. Just general stuff maybe, like….who planted all the flowers and shit out front? They’re well pretty.”

“Oh.” Tommy shifted and looked like he might smile, eyes softening. “I did. I always thought I would hate gardening, but it’s basically playing in mud for hours. I love mud. I want to eat mud. Flowers are pretty cool too though. Maybe I can show you the garden in the morning.”

“That’d be awesome.” Tubbo tossed his head, trying to clear some hair out of his face. It was always getting in the way, itchy and thick. He was fairly certain he inherited his hair from Puffy, whose unruly mane had curls large enough to wrap around her wrist like bracelets.

“You’re - I mean -“ Tommy paused and cleared his throat, suddenly flushing a light, embarrassed shade of red. “I mean you’re not just saying that to mess with me are you? Because we don’t have to look at it.”

“Flowers are fucking cool man.” Giving up on his previous method, he just finger-combed the hair out of his face - huffing a little in annoyance when his nails caught on a tangle. “I’d love to look at some flowers, I swear it.”

Shoulders eased, relief clear on his face, Tommy gave a little nod of approval - apparently Tubbo had passed some sort of unspoken test.

“Good. That’s really good.” Jerky shrug, awkward wooden-puppet movements. “What do…what do you like to do? Y’know, for fun?”

What do I like to do?

Ride the bus for miles and miles until nothing looks familiar. Reach new records in Packman at an antique arcade in the decrepit old shopping center near the condo, located squarely between the shady Chinese Takeout Place and a derelict convenience store. For a while he’d made it a goal to try the pumpkin pie at every diner in L’Manberg, because hell, why not?

“I’m a chess prodigy.” He settled on. “I used to compete in tournaments and stuff - even got on the fucking news once which was pretty pog to be honest. So I play chess sometimes. Usually against the computer, since I haven’t found anyone who can beat me yet.”

“You don’t sound like you enjoy it very much,” Tommy noted. “You sound - fuck, what’s the word…resigned? I don’t fucking know. Like it was okay but not fun.”

Startlingly, he was correct. Chess was something Tubbo started doing because it was easy, he was good at it. A natural at it. He got trophies. Prizes. Applause.

He didn’t get his father’s attention.

“I prefer video games these days. Play a lot of Minecraft.” Smile - grimace, it’s all the same in the dark. They could just make out each other’s faces in the dim moonlight, any details beyond vague shapes shrouded in shadow.

“Ha.” Tommy laughed, a short, breathy thing. “We haven’t got a computer here. Apparently I’m not supposed to go near anything with a fucking screen.” He explained, sounding rueful and mild in equal measure. Clearly it was something he’d gotten used to a long time ago.

Laying flat on the floor, Tubbo could feel the grit and grooves in the wood under his back. There was a gauge in the floor he traced absently with his fingers, enjoying the strange texture.

Foolish is going to find this hilarious.

“Why not? Does Dream think they’re radioactive or something? Is he one of those people who shops at Trader Joe’s?” He didn’t mean to gush, but he’d never met someone who didn’t have access to excessive technology. Almost everyone in his family had worked with computers to some degree - hell, even his dad’s ex-fiancée had been into that shit.

Laying down next to him, Tommy snorted. “It’s my doctor actually. Says the internet might ‘further my delusions and ‘damage my fragile psyche’ or whatever the fuck.”

“Care to elaborate on that, Boss Man?” Tubbo pressed, turning onto his (un-injured) side to stare at him imploringly.

At first, Tommy said no. Then Tubbo’s stubborn silence finally got to him and he sighed, giving in to the smaller boy’s plea for information.

“All the adults think I’m crazy.” Tommy admitted in a conspiratorial whisper. “Totally fucked in the head. I’m guessing they didn’t warn you about that.”

“Must have slipped their minds.” Tubbo answered amiably, almost lethargic in his calm reaction. “So are you?” He was half listening, half staring at the ceiling. It was relatively plain, but there was an intriguing stain just above his head and he was trying to figure out how it got there.

“Am I what?” Tommy rolled into his side just like Tubbo had, until they were properly face to face. His gaze felt searching, prying, but Tubbo didn’t think he meant it to be so he didn’t mind much.

“Crazy. Mad. Totally bonkers.” He yawned and it was painful, his melted skin protesting most enthusiastically.

Puffy always said those were very negative terms, crazy and mad and all that. She said it was okay, that everyone struggled with mental health sometimes and some people just needed a little more help than others which was ‘totally fine’. That didn’t make them crazy or bad or wrong.

I miss her.

Tommy laughed that quiet, rueful laugh again. “The hell if I know, Big Man. Maybe. Fucking probably.” He adjusted his body so he was lying on his side like Tubbo, nearly eye to eye with him.

“That’s okay.” He let his eyes drop shut and bunched the blanket up under his head as a makeshift pillow. “I think maybe what happened to me is making me a little crazy too.”

Sleep wrapped him in her warm embrace and he drifted off, fast asleep (or doing a great job of pretending to be) before Tommy could ask any follow up questions.

#dsmp fic recs #emptying my drafts #dsmp fanfic

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spilledkauffie · 3 years

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Bucky x Pregnant Reader

Just some funny & fluffy HCs (they’re kind of long, sorry!!)

*xFemale!Reader || Part 2 !

He’s super cautious about everything, if you want soup for dinner he makes sure it’s not too hot, if you want ice cream he lets it thaw just a little so it’s not too cold. When you asked him why he was sticking a thermometer in your coffee he simple said, “too much heat isn’t good for the baby, it could burn it,” as he stared at the meter, “uh-huh, and you do know we’re not in the 1940s anymore, right? We have a much better understanding of mom-baby connections,” you tilted your head, “Look I’m just being cautious, for you, okay?” It’s old fashioned, but it’s sweet.

He nearly has a heart attack when he sees you on a ladder, a step, the counter, or anything with heights. He will literally man handle you, grabbing you carefully by the waist or under your arms (yes, like a child in trouble) to bring you down from where you were, even if it isn’t actually that high. “It wasn’t even that high, babe,” you sigh, waiting for him to get your chips off the top of the fridge, “it’s not like I was climbing Mount Everest.” / “Close enough,” he shake his head at you with a sassy tone, still distraught over you just heaving yourself up onto the countertop.

Sam is always over! Though he doesn’t have kids, he has nephews he’s close with and thus has had some experience with babies and children. Often Bucky just rolls his eyes when Sam’s giving advice, but Sam comes back with “Oh, I’m sorry, who should she believe, a 106 year old who took vintage sex ed in 1900, or someone who was at the hospital with his sister, like eight years ago?” you had to laugh at the comment, but Bucky just ducked his head, “it was 1939…” / Sam is actually a big help for you, he said he’d try to get his sister up to visit with you and talk baby stuff next time the boys are on a mission so you’re not alone.

Sleeping, Bucky’s made it a habit of always going to sleep with his hand somewhere on your stomach, it’s mainly a protective thing, since before the baby he just had to have an arm around you, holding you. But now it has to be skin on skin contact, which means you’ll feel him slowly and softly slip his hand under your shirt when he comes to bed later than you. You’ve come to love it, often placing your hand on top of his.

↳ “lazy days” have become much more of a thing as you entered your third trimester, some days you just don’t want to get out of bed, and Bucky is completely fine with that, he’ll cook, he’ll bring you whatever you want, he’ll lie in bed with you.

You’ve gotten really concerned about the pregnancy and being a mom on a few occasions. Usually this results in some bouts of depression. In times like those, Bucky makes sure he is there physically and mentally for you. If you don’t want to talk about you, he lets you snuggle up as close and as tightly to him as you want. He understand silent suffering and how much just a physical person being there means. When you do want to talk about it, he’s always there and ready to listen.

One minor wince or groan or mumble from you and he’s on it with the “what’s wrong?” / “what is it?” / “how can I help? Is the baby coming?!” He’s mildly paranoid that he’s going to miss something vital or important if he isn’t 100% paying attention to every detail. This is why no you’ve never teased him about anything regarding the baby, because he’s so concerned and invested that it might just give him a heart attack… He is 106.

He was beyond panicked when you called him over, desperately reaching a hand out for him as he sat down next to you. Taking his hand, you press it to your side, and tell him to wait. Super confused if this is a good or bad moment he waits with an anxious look until- “did you feel that?” you smiled up at him; his jaw drops and spreads into a smile as he shifts closer to you in awe silence you both feel another kick, “wh- how did you do that?” he asks, stroking his free hand through your hair, as he bites the corner of his lip. Finding it precious you’re nearly crying from the happiness when he kisses your forehead.

He’s that guy that gets a book on “pregnancy for dummies,” so he can attempt to better understand what you’re going through that he can’t necessarily see. Needless to say part of the book horrified him, “oh my g- do you know what’s happening inside you?!” You just shake your head finding 10/10 entertainment in just watching his face whilst he reads it. The actual “how birth happens” chapter might’ve been one of the best.

He’s actually a little scared, or worried, about touching your baby bump (with a certain hand). You’ve told him you don’t mind that it’s cold, but he’s still avoidant. When asking him why, he didn’t want to say because he thought you might laugh, promising you wouldn’t he confessed, “what if the vibranium… magnetises the baby?” You managed to keep a straight face for approximately two seconds before breaking into laughter.

Your random (and very intense) moods are the biggest handful for him. He’s trying his very best to know what to do, but he never wants to make you feel like it’s not normal to feel a certain way.

↳ The Crying: one time he was telling you about this past mission he was on. It was like casual conversation for him to talk to you about it, but when he got to the part of “so they had these big dogs-” he looked over at you to find you in absolute tears, he stopped in his tracks, biting in his bottom lip as you stared at him, “and? then what?” you asked, voice breaking, he shook his head slowly, keeping eye contact, attempting to think of something, “then-” / “then you became best friends with the dogs and they were on your side in the fight?” he nodded dramatically to you response “yes, that’s exactly what- what happened… yep, nothing more to that story.”

↳ constant State of Annoyed: at times you’re just purely annoyed for no reason, typically more passive aggressively, but sometimes you’re just straight up honest about it. When he tells you good morning and reminds you how beautiful and glowing you are, you’ve said “I love you, but your voice sounds like a duck today,” or “I am not glowing, be honest, I look and feel like a blimp.” He still tries his best to compliment you, other times he just hides for the day. Until you become super needy at night.

↳ MamaBear Instinct already kicking in: you’ve become extra protective / defensive. One time you were at the store, around one A.M. (because cravings!) and you were picking out cereals together. Bucky was surprised to see some brands he knew still around: “wow, Chex?” he picked up a box, “I didn’t know they were still making these-“ he trialed off about the cereal, but you noticed some kids snickering a few feet down the aisle. “Then again, the last time I had these they tasted like cardboard,” Bucky winced, “probably cause they were made out of it back then-“ / the kids laughed again, despite the soft Hello Kitty pj pants you had on, you were far from soft. “HEY!” You called out, “are you laughing at him?!” Bucky turned to see who you were talking to, but before he had time to address them himself, he was reaching to stop you from lunging over the cart at them, “I will fucking fight you if you are!” / “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Bucky completely stepped to block you, lifting his hands to meet yours gently, but you just tried to push them out of the way still flustered.

#spilledkauffie #Bucky Barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky hcs #bucky headcanon #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes hc #bucky barnes x female reader #winter soldier headcanon #winter soldier hcs #sebastian stan #sebastian stan hcs

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wangxianficfinder · 2 years

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Fic Finder

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1. I'm hoping you can help me find a modern hospital AU that I vaguely remember but don't have a clue who wrote it. Wei Wuxian is a hospital volunteer (very good with young patients) but also a long time patient (maybe cancer) who encounters Lan Wangji and his family. I'm not even absolutely sure it's Lan Wangji who's the patient. However, it was clear that living to an old age was definitely not guaranteed for either. Lovely story, so I'd be very grateful if someone can track it down.

FOUND! some things go forward by everythingispoetry (T, 73k, wangxian, modern, hospitals, teenage drama, slow burn, hurt/comfort, happy ending, Mojo’s post)

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2. Hello! I'm looking for a fic - WWX returned to Cloud Recess and has been staying at the Jingshi with LWJ. But he thinks he should move out so he moved to a guest room. I remember a scene where LWJ came rushing in a panic because he thought WWX left :(Thank you!! @kayechan-blog

FOUND? can i look the other way by shipyrds (G, 2k, wangxian, post-canon, misundesrtandings, fluff)

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3. hi hello🥺 I need your help finding a fic, maybe you've read it!!! All I remember is that xicheng go on a much needed vacation but on their way they meet two kids and end up adopting them. I can't find it anywhere😭😭 @hissingfire

FOUND? For the heirs to come (be brave) by velithya (E, 24k, JC/LXC, post-canon, canon typical violence, smut, hurt/comfort, insecurity, fluff, accidental child acquisation, found family, PTSD, grief/mourning)

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4. Hello! I'm looking for a fic that I don't recall in nearly enough detail to even know where to start looking. I just remember this one specific scene where wwx is injured(?) and manages to climb up the stairs to cloud recesses, but he's not allowed in bc he's only allowed in for the winter/when it snows. I think it happened to be the day before or something? And the juniors discover him outside and are outraged. Does anyone recognize the fic? Tysm!!

FOUND? Scenes From Three Winters by LtLJ (G, 12k, wangxian, post-canon, romance, family feels, family issues, family drama, PTSD, body horror, bad parent LQR, happy ending)

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5. Heyo Mod L! I’m looking for a fic where WWX and the Wens moved to Yiling. It started as WWX teaching the kids how yo write and escalated from there. He has a small school there and JC came to see when he found they weren’t paying taxes? Please help me and Thank you!!

❤️ Just as the Snow Melts by draechaeli (T, 66k, wangxian, my post)

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6. Hello i'm trying to find this fic which i suddenly remember while reading Like Rabbits by Setari I'm saying that cause i think the fic i'm looking for is similar in terms of them having multiple kids but WWX going to gusu to ask for help cause there's a wangxian baby on the way/is born but WWX and LWJ already had a couple of kids that WWX keep secret (i think) so he gone to gusu to ask for LWJ to help care for the kids. Timeline events wise i think it's when the Wens and WWX are living in the Burial Mounds i'm not really sure on that. It's been a while back since I've read that fic the details might be completely wrong from what i said vs the actual events in the fic. Also sorry if that's short on details but that's all i remember and hopefully the fic i'm looking for isn't just a figment of my imagination.

FOUND? The Third Time by CordeNarcissus (M, 12k, wangxian, ABO, mpreg, unplanned pregnancy, marriage, everyone lives au, alternate endings)

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7. Hello! Im looking for a yizhan fic (please just delete this ask if it's not within the bounds of the blog but if it is, plspls help me find it) It's a getting BACK together fic, future (?) fic and all I can remember is Yibo is almost retired, living somewhere where there are mountains (?) And xiao zhan just keeps on dropping by without a heads up, and sometimes even waits for him. It actually takes a while for them to get back together or even kiss againI really want to re-read that delicious pacing of a fic, thank you so much for your hard work! <3<3 (Is it obvious that i would die without this blog, i love you all so much) @losing-victor

FOUND! A Long Time Ago… We Used to be Friends by DeviyudeThoolika (E, 49k, WYB/XZ, slow burn, angst)

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8. LWJ is the head of the Lan, who were devastated in the war against the Wen. None of the other clans protected them, despite both them and WWX requesting. LWJ asks for WWX's hand in marriage. Everyone thinks it is to punish him or get revenge, but actually it is because WWX snuck out to help the Lan and Jin-asshole was going to have him killed for it. @fightmehomework

FOUND! golden when the day met the night by Anonymous (not rated, 67k, wangxian, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light angst, fluff, eventual smut, WIP)

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9. hi! i was looking for this one wangxian fic that’s inspired by a richard siken poem or something like that, but i cant find it :( so i was wandering if anyone remembers the title or has the link

FOUND? drop me down to the dream below by AroPeterWam (E, 44k, wangxian, time travel, comfort, angst w/ happy ending, reincarnation, dimension travel, sick WWX, noncultivator WWX, WIP)

FOUND? the landscape after cruelty, which is, of course, a garden by Folderol (G, 3k, WWX & WQ, burial mounds settlement days)

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10. Hi! Can you help me find a fic where Lan Zhan is a God of Death or something close to that wherein whenever lwj touches smth, it dies. I remember reading it on AO3. The story goes something like lwj accidentally touched wwx and then wwx dies. :(( Thank u so much!

FOUND? Destined to Meet You by Reader997 (E, 30k, wangxian, hades/persephone au, mpreg, first time, childbirth, smut)

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11. HELLO!!! love all the hard work that you do!!!!!! i was wondering if anyone has the link to a wangxian fic where lwj’s mom lived in a cottage (?) and was sick, so wangxian moved there to help her, oh and it was an modern au, and i think had only one chapter out of 2 when i read it, that’s it thank u so much!!

FOUND? paired wings soaring by typefortydeductions (E, 33k, wangxian, modern, domestic bliss, slice of life, angst & fluff & smut, hurt/comfort, kissing, BDSM, light somnophilia)

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12. Hello, here's one for the next Fic Finder post -- It was a TGCF crossover where Wei Wuxian's soul, during the 13 years he was dead, was being kept safe by Hua Cheng. Hua Cheng was willing to intervene on WWX's behalf because Lan Wangji prayed to Xie Lian for the safety of his soul, and Hua Cheng approves of other people who worship Dianxia. I read it back before I knew anything about TGCF, and I'd really like to read it again! @mikkeneko

not FOUND happiness, with you by glowelegans (M, 5k, wangxian, TGCF crossover, grief/mourning)

'happiness, with you' does not seem to be the one I'm thinking of, though I'm happy to read it too! The one I remember had WWX talking to Hua Cheng throughout most of it, in some kind of spirit-trapping pouch or vessel in Hua Cheng's possession.

FOUND! The Pros and Cons of Keeping Wei Wuxian's Spirit Hostage by cringewerewolf (T, 12k, wangxian, hualian, angst, suicidal ideation, humor, happy ending)

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13. Hi! This is such a great resource for finding fics y’all do so much. I’m looking for a fic where most of the ensemble cast is in acting school together and the final production of the semester is Much Ado About Nothing, and WWX and LWJ play the leads. Could you help me find it? Thank you!!! @waterlilyvioletfog

FOUND? too wise to woo peaceably bybhere_perishing (M, 43k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, drama school, actors, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, pining, getting together, angst w/ happy ending, fluff & smut)

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14. hello! I'm looking for a fic where LWJ sleeps with Burial Mounds era WWX. It was not a very long fic, and they were not together. LWJ does not go to the Burial Mounds. I think they meet up in some dusty room in Yiling. He may have talked to Wen Qing about WWX's condition and that he needs to dual cultivate. There was definitely mention of what terrible shape WWX is in after his fall into the Burial Mounds, broken bones,I think it mentioned his wrist held together with resentment. @significanceofmoths

FOUND? A Cup of Tea by Silvers_Hidden_Corner (Silver_Flame_2724) (E, 4k, wangxian, burial mounds settlement days, dubious consent, aphrosidiacs, porn w/ plot, dual cultivation, WWX has new golden core, communication, fix-it of sorts)

FOUND? sometimes my hands don't feel like my own by northofallmusic (tofsla) (E, 8k, wangxian, resentful energy tentacles, tender body horror, weird sex, golden core mad science, relationship negotiations, chronic pain, sex magic)

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15. Okay I really need your help!! I know I've seen you answer this on a fic finder post before but I've been scrolling through for HOURS and still haven't found it 😭 basically the fic is an arranged marriage between lwj and wwx and wwx has a really hard time adjusting to cloud recesses. Lwj and lxc try their best to help him but lqr is punishing him for every small little thing. I think there's a scene where wwx breaks down while getting fitted for new clothes maybe? I remember near the end jc comes to visit and lqr comes to apologize while he's there and wwx just starts crying bc he thinks lqr is going to make him leave just as he and lwj finally got close. Please please help me find this fic!!! Thank you so much for all you do!!!! @dekus-gonna-wreck-you

FOUND! Mourning Robes by Starlight1395 (T, 17k, wangxian, arranged marriage, no sunshot, angst w/ happy ending, hurt/comfort, depression, dissociating, fluff)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder

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taestefully-in-luv · 2 years

Text

The Island | KTH (Seventeen)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 9.5k

Warnings: swearing, sexual (romantic) tension, anxiety.

Notes: Hello everyone!!! I am BACK. Thanks so much for yalls patience. I will be posting chapter 18 in just a few days! Enjoy the chapter:) and let me know your thoughts! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat about the stories!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni @helenazbmrskai @justinetingball @jpeachytaev @marplest @calling-dips-on-j-hope @lecavivien @fancycollectormoon @mawwnsterr @siredsong @happyhrsme @storms-and-stars-blog @mingi-banana @soeur-de-ame @ladycubes0t7 @heavenmyg

Previous --- Next

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The ding of the elevator is almost haunting…the way the sound almost echoes in a shrill manner that has an uncomfortable shiver running down your spine. You stand here, frozen, despite the fact the doors have parted, sliding open to let you through. Your breath is somewhere caught in your dry throat as your palms rub against your jeans repeatedly. You are feeling your chest tighten with every second that passes, you focus your eyes on the hallway that has been shown to you now that the elevator doors are opened and you gulp at how it seems it is never ending.

“y/n?” Taehyung is not completely sure how to handle this, your nerves are something he has grown somewhat used to but this is about your mom…and he isn’t sure what to say or do to make you feel at ease. But he sets his own nerves aside as he reaches for your clammy hand, the touch almost shocking you.

“Hm?” you whip your head up to the side to look at him and you see how his brows furrow in concern. “Ah, right.” You nod your head as you finally take a step forward, walking out of the cold elevator.

“Ellie really could have told you exactly what’s going on though…” Taehyung mutters softly, “Instead of leaving you so anxious.” He says a little more quietly as his worried eyes scan your face. His brows pinch together further when he realizes you aren’t even listening to him. You just march forward with that scared yet determined expression on your face.

You are happy of course. Your mom woke up. But the tone of Ellie’s voice leaves you wondering how her condition is…she just asked you to hurry to the hospital and you didn’t waste a second in getting here. Your mind is a mess, with negative thoughts and possibilities bombarding you like a life threatening quake. What if she…? And she…? No, you don’t want to do this to yourself.

Finally, you see the nurses station in sight. You rush to it, your fingers grasping the cool counter top as you lock eyes with one of the nurses, her features soften into a small smile when she recognizes you.

“Hi y/n. Why don’t we go to your moms room?” She stands from her rolling chair, smoothing out her scrubs as she nods towards the doors to the right of where you are.

“Okay.” You gulp, nodding your head subtly.

The nurse offers you another small smile, while leading you away. You’re so focused on your task at hand that you almost forget about Taehyung…almost. You hurry to look behind your shoulder when you see him sitting in the waiting room, his eyes already finding yours as he gives you an assuring nod. You barely nod back before turning back around to continue walking towards your mothers hospital room but suddenly you stop in your tracks and reach for the nurses arm.

“Wait.” You breathe out softly, your head spinning back in Taehyung’s direction. “Can he come with me?” you lock eyes with Taehyung again and he gives you a look of question.

“Well...” the nurse nibbles on her bottom lip while her eyes go between you and Taehyung. “Is he family?” she notices your eyes drop to the floor before she’s perking up. “Oh of course he is! How silly of me to forget. Sure sweetheart, tell him to come with us.” She tilts her head towards Taehyung as she smiles at you.

You look towards the nurse and give her a smile that shows your gratitude before whipping your head back to look at Taehyung again. You wave him over and he glances around like maybe you could be talking to someone else and when he realizes that obviously you are looking at him he hesitantly gets up and walks towards you.

“Everything okay?” he asks you.

“You can come with me.” You tell him quietly.

“Are you su—”

“Let’s go.” You spin around to continue your short walk to the room your mother is occupying. You let the nurse knock on the door a few times before she is opening it while you take a much needed deep breath before walking through. Taehyung quickly tumbles in after you, his eyes scanning the room while you stand frozen by your mothers bedside. The nurse quickly leaves the room, she catches one last look as you stare at your mother.

There she is. Sitting up, hand in midair, gripping a plastic spoon as she shovels pudding into her mouth. Awake. Alive. You are immediately greeted with tears in your eyes, you are almost in disbelief as you take a look at your mother who looks so normal. Your feet stumble forward a little bit as you try to walk closer to the bed but you stop again to lift your head and look around the room. Ellie and your father are seated in the chairs next to the window with expressions on their faces that you cannot quite decipher. Are they happy? Worried? What—

“You two haven’t left for Korea yet?” your mothers voice has you turning your head to face her. She eyes you and Taehyung expectantly before she lightly scoffs.

“Ah, right.” She nods her head dramatically. “That already happened, didn’t it?”

You can’t help the narrowing of your eyes as you look at your mother curiously. What did she mean?

“But I will say. I am very surprised to see you two are still together.” Your mother mutters quietly, she begins digging for the last bits of vanilla pudding with her spoon.

You don’t say anything for a moment, you just blink at your mom, trying to figure out what her first words meant. You are soon distracted from your thoughts when you hear the screech of a chair against the tiled floor and the sight of your father coming towards you.

“y/n…” you feel your dads hand squeezing against your shoulder before you turn to face him. His eyes are on your mother, a frown pulling down his lips before he finally puts his attention on you.

“Your mother…” he begins to say, but his words get caught somewhere in his body before he is able to continue. He quickly closes his mouth before releasing a long breath, his lips coming together again, forming a thin line as he gathers his words.

“Oh please.” Your mother speaks up with the roll of her eyes, your head snapping back in her direction. “It really is not that big of a deal.” She takes her now empty cup of pudding and sets it down next to her on the table by the bed. “What your father is having such difficulty getting out is that apparently I have some sort of…” she begins gesturing with her hands. “Memory loss situation.”

“M-Memory loss?” your whipping your head back to look at your father who just sighs out, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

“She—”

“Oh, I can speak for myself.” Your mother cuts off your dad, “Well, my last memory is that yesterday your father and I met with you and Ellie and your uh,” she gestures towards Taehyung, “little boyfriend over here, for dinner.”

“Dinner?” you tilt your head as you try to recall what she is talking about. Then the realization begins to dawn on you. “Wait—”

“The dinner you decided to tell your father and I that you will apparently be leaving for Korea. For three weeks.” Your mother mumbles bitterly. “Even though you just returned home not too long ago…and you want to leave again.”

“Wait.” You start shaking your head, “That dinner was…over a year ago? Way more than a year ago…”

“Ah yeah. So I have been told. Today’s date does not exactly match the date I believed it was.” Your mom flattens her palms against the sheets that lay over her thighs and stares down at the material that covers her. “Some accident I guess, huh?” she finally lifts her eyes to look at you properly.

“You…” you feel your chest begin to tighten and that familiar burn in your throat as tears prick at your eyes. “You don’t remember anything that has happened in the last year?” your voice cracks somewhere between the words ‘anything’ and ‘last year’.

You don’t notice, thanks to your growing blurred vision but your mother gulps anxiously, a pained look of guilt on her face as she turns her head to the side.

“Afraid not.” She forces out lamely.

You feel your heart drop, you feel it land somewhere by your feet as you take in your mothers situation. This means your mom has no idea what has occurred in the last year. She has no idea who you are. She has no memory of the relationship you two have built. How close you both got. How proud she is of you. She has no idea who you have become. In her mind you are still this incapable, helpless girl who runs away from everything.

“I…” you sniffle into your sleeve before trying to blink back any more tears. “Uh, I am just glad you are awake mom. That you’re okay.” You decide to say, nodding your head reassuringly towards her, your father and your sister.

Taehyung stands in the back of the room, watching as you try to remain calm and collected. He also realizes that this means all of the hard work you have put in with growing a good relationship with your mother—doesn’t exist in her mind. He feels a weight on his chest as he hurts for you.

“So obviously your trip to Korea went well.” Your mother speaks up again after a few moments of silence, she nods her head towards Taehyung and gives you a smile which surprises you. “You actually made things work.”

“W-Well…” you immediately start to feel antsy because well, that wasn’t exactly true.

“Considering how you are I really didn’t expect you two to actually end up together.” She comments plainly. “Thought you would have gave up and run back home.”

You ball your hands up at your sides at your mothers words, you feel your mouth go dry and you—well, you hate this.

“So,” your mother finds Taehyung’s eyes, “Are you living here now?”

Taehyung blinks repeatedly at all of you before trying to clear his throat. “Umm…” he takes a few steps forward until he is next to you. “I..?” he looks over at you for help but you are still absorbing your mothers harsh words.

Taehyung shakes his head before clearing his throat again and facing your mother. “Uh, no. I still live in Korea. Just visiting.”

“Hm? Well, I have to say…I am very impressed you two are together.

“Im-Impressed…?” Taehyung finds himself asking.

“Well, of course. It’s no secret how my daughter is.” She gestures towards you, “If it isn’t easy…well,” she sighs out, “Then she won’t do it.”

Your heart pinches uncomfortably in your chest…it has been a while since your mother talked about you like this. It hurts all over again.

If she knew the truth…would she be so incredibly disappointed in you? Would she look at you with disapproving eyes and mutter a ‘well, that makes more sense.’? You really are the failure your mother always set you out to be.

“But…” your mother cuts in through your thoughts. “She didn’t back out. She didn’t give up. She did what she said she was going to do. And now here you are, her boyfriend.” Your mothers tone goes soft as you lock eyes with her. This only hurts you more.

“I’m proud of you.” She all but whispers, her eyes hold love in them and you want to fall apart. The truth will crush her. The truth…crushes you.

“Actually—” you feel your lip quiver as you begin to speak but then suddenly Taehyung’s hand is on your lower back as he proudly says something you don’t quite hear. You only hear your racing, thumping heart. The heavy beating ringing loudly in your ears.

“What?” you look over at Taehyung, your confused expression making him chuckle.

“I was telling your mom, that yup, I’m your boyfriend.”

And then reality is finally making its way back into your life. You have been in such an anxious daze since the phone call this morning but this, Taehyung’s words are finally pulling you back into real life.

“What?” you say again, blinking up at him before you scrunch your brows together and start shaking your head.

“No, we aren’t…you aren’t…” you start mumbling quickly, looking at Taehyung like he has lost his mind.

“That’s great, honey!” your mom cheers, while you continue to stare at Taehyung with panic in your eyes.

Taehyung grins at you, his eyes slightly widening in attempt to hint at the fact that you need to go along with this. His arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you in closer and plants an obnoxiously loud kiss to the side of your head.

“Tae—”

“So,” your mom claps her hands together a couple of times, “The doctor says I can go home in a few days…they just want to monitor me a little longer just to make sure everything is oh, you know, working fine.”

“Actually…” your father finally finds the courage to speak again, “They suggested we,” he takes a moment to sigh out. “That we all stay at the house for a few weeks, try to ease back into normal life and see if we can’t help jog your mother’s memory some.”

“I’ve already talked to my job…I got the ‘ok’ and well,” Ellie stands as well, walking towards the other side of your mother’s hospital bed. “Looks like we will all be together in the house again…like the old days.” She lightly chuckles.

“Wait, me too?” you point at yourself with wide eyes. “I don’t know if I can just leave—”

“Your job will understand.” Your dad cuts in. “Considering the situation and all.” He gestures towards your mother. “Isn’t it possible to work from home?”

“Well…” you begin to nod your head slowly. “Yeah I suppose that could work. I’ll have to see.”

You stand here, smooshed into Taehyung’s side as he smiles with the nod of his head. Ellie glances over at you two and tries to stifle her laughter, your father eyeing you nervously and your mother catches your attention as you realize she’s been staring at you. You notice a strange look in her eyes, an almost knowing look but you don’t understand it.

“Family dinners every night instead of just once a week? Ellie actually coming home for an extended stay after her rebellious nature told her to move out the day she turned 18, and y/n with a longtime boyfriend? Things are looking pretty great.” Your mother grins.

“You literally don’t remember the last year of your life…” you grumble, “How can you say things are great?” you ask quietly but your mother just smiles again.

“Because we will all be together.” She beams at you. “Doctors said something about maybe two more days here. So, dinner at the house the day I can go home.”

~~~~~~

“What the fu—”

“Okay, okay.” Taehyung lifts his hands up in attempt to surrender to you. You both just walked into your apartment and he can tell from the mostly silent car ride…you’re mad.

“Before you say anything,” Taehyung begins, “Let me explain!”

“Oh sure. Yeah. Explain.” You look at him with an unimpressed expression as you shove off the cardigan you are wearing. It drops to the floor and filled with an obvious irritation, you kick it off to the side as you try to slip off your shoes.

“Well!” Taehyung looks at you as if you should already understand the explanation he has yet to give. “Did I really have any other option y/n?” he exclaims like a child. “I could see it. I could literally see you beginning to spiral with every word your mother spewed at you.”

“Oh?” you poke your hip out as your hand lands on it. “So you thought lying was the best way to solve that?”

Taehyung opens his mouth but then quickly closes it to think about what he has really done. He didn’t like, want to lie. He just didn’t want you to go through more pain! You have gone through enough. He didn’t want anything else to pile on top of everything else going on.

“I just…” Taehyung sucks in his bottom lip as he begins to chew on the flesh. “Your mother can be a little scary sometimes.” He admits innocently. “I just didn’t…” he breathes out, his stomach feeling a little uneasy as he tries to explain himself.

“This is ridiculous.” You huff out. “We are just going to have to tell her the truth.” You point out bitterly, your hand drops from your hip to your side and you feel your entire body go weak.

“y/n.” Taehyung steps a little closer to you now, “I know you’re afraid of her reaction. You…” he swallows down his next words as not to further irritate you. “I don’t think there is any harm in letting her think you, you know, succeeded at this whole relationship thing. Once her memories come back she will understand why we lied and poof,” he waves his hand around. “We will all move on from it and you know, no harm no foul.”

“When her memories come back…” you feel your eyes sting with a puddle of tears filling your eyes. “What if she doesn’t…get her memory back?” your eyes fall to the floor and you feel yourself trying hard to swallow your own spit.

“I know this is hard on you…I know this makes you feel like you have gone backwards with your mom.” Taehyung reaches for your hand, you let him but it lays limp in his.

“You’re right.” You admit in a hushed breath. “I am afraid. Of her reaction, that is.” You finally lift your eyes to gaze at Taehyung. He nods in understanding and manages a small smile.

“I know.” He whispers. “We can just pretend for now…plus, it shouldn’t be that hard since…” he glances around the room for a second before trying to find your eyes again. “Well, I told you I would stay until your mom woke up. And well…” he gulps, “She’s awake.”

“Yeah.” You murmur in agreement. “She is.”

“I don’t want to be in the way…of your family. As you guys try to help your mom readjust.” He explains softly, “I should probably go home.” A small chuckle leaves his lips and you give him a stiff smile, trying your best to remain calm.

“That does make the most sense.” You agree. And you do agree. It’s not like he isn’t making sense. But sometimes even the most logical things can sound like a string of words that don’t make any sense. All your ears hear is a jumble of sounds that have no real meaning. But thankfully the logical part of you translates his mumbo jumbo and you come to terms with the fact he is indeed speaking your language.

“I can stay for dinner and head out the next morning?” he offers, still holding onto your clammy hand. “That way I can properly say goodbye.”

“Yeah.” You pull your hand away from his and bring it to your face, your fingers tugging at your lips as you begin to think. “I still have to figure things out with work…pack for my parent’s house…should probably update everyone on this whole,” you shake your head in annoyance, a slight eye roll that makes Taehyung smile in pity. “Fucking….situation.” you grit out softly before heavily sighing out.

Taehyung can sense your frustration. Your obvious stress making his chest feel heavy as he watches you try to keep it together.

“I know this is hard—”

“Yeah. No fucking shit, Taehyung.” You snap, your eyes already wetting with stupid tears and you just grow more irritated. You lower your head as you slam your eyes shut for a moment. “Sorry.” You get out quickly. “I just…”

“I know.” Taehyung’s long fingers find your hand again, he grips onto your hand and uses it to guide you closer to him. You give in easily, your feet moving forward without any conscious effort. He pulls you in, his arms wrapping around you and you remain stiff. You don’t feel like you can actually muster the energy to hug him back but it seems Taehyung doesn’t mind as he just runs his fingers up and down your back, a soothing action that manages to comfort you even for a fleeting moment.

“You can cry.” He says quietly. “If you need to…” he continues to rub your back and he finally feels your muscles begin to relax before they tighten again and he hears you release a pained, almost silent whine. You hadn’t realized how tense your body had become thanks to the day you’ve had but you feel yourself grow a little lighter as you finally cry out your frustrations into Taehyung’s chest.

Taehyung doesn’t say anything else, he doesn’t really need to…his presence at the moment is honestly enough. You aren’t really sure how long you cried for but dude, you needed it. You pull back from Taehyung and lift your lips into a genuine smile and offer a quiet ‘thanks’. He breaks out into a much brighter, teeth proudly displayed smile as he pats you on the head, humming a ‘you’re welcome’ and going in for a cheek pinch.

“I guess I should book this flight, huh?” he asks, his bittersweet tone not going unnoticed by you.

“Yeah.”

~~~~~~

“Oh, absolutely not.”

You stare at your mother with a slight confusion as she continues cutting into her chicken breast. She didn’t even spare you a glance as she responds to what you had just announced.

“Umm…” you steal a glance at Taehyung who also looks a bit surprised. “Well,” you continue chewing on your own food when you finally swallow. “We weren’t really…you know, asking for your permission.” You tell her with a light tone. “We were just letting you all know.”

“I already set up your rooms.” She tells you nonchalantly, as if that is a truly valid reason for Taehyung to extend his stay.

You and Taehyung are seated at your parents dining room table, enjoying a meal together in celebration of it being your moms first night back at home. Ellie digs into her mashed potatoes, chewing loudly as she butts in.

“You can’t leave yet!” she exclaims, her mouth full and you throw her a look of disgust and she just waves you off. “Right, mom?” she gives your mother a look of urgency, “You want us all together?”

“I really don’t want to intrude…” Taehyung decides to speak up, “You all really should be spending quality time and I don’t know, just being a family—”

“Aren’t you basically family now?” Your mother tongues her cheek, “y/n is your girlfriend.” She motions her hand towards you and you start choking on your spit. “You wouldn’t leave your girlfriend during such a hard time, would you?” she blinks at him innocently. “I mean, look at her. She can’t even stop herself from choking on…honey, were you even eating anything?” she shakes her head and lets out a quiet hum. “See what I mean?”

Ellie watches in amusement, she raises her glass towards your mom, as if encouraging her to continue. You watch in disbelief as your mother tries to convince you both that Taehyung should stay, finally you scan the table to find your father looking rather uncomfortable.

“Dad?” you call out for him. “Some help here?”

“Ah, well.” He looks between you and your mother before he’s sighing out. “Maybe it isn’t a bad idea that Taehyung stays—”

“It is settled then!” your mom lays her hands flat against the table top, “We really don’t have to discuss it further, do we?” she begins cutting into her chicken again, a satisfied grin on her face. You blink at her and then at Taehyung in confusion…he shrugs his shoulders, mouthing a ‘what do we do?’ while you express you have no idea.

“Just give in Taehyung.” Ellie winks at him, stuffing her mouth again with more mashed potatoes. “Or can I just call you ‘y/n’s boyfriend’?” she wiggles her brows with that same knowing look that only embarrasses you.

“He already bought his ticket though…” you decide to make an excuse but Taehyung is quick to brush that off.

“I can get my money back, no problem.” He comments with a shrug. You hit him on the shoulder and laugh a little as you explain you were trying to help him out of this. He tilts his head and mutters a soft ‘oh’ before gazing into your eyes and telling you with just a soft look that he doesn’t mind staying.

“So!” Ellie interrupts your little moment with Taehyung with her loud voice. “We are all so curious!”

“About?” you question cautiously.

“That’s right we are so curious.” Your mother chimes in, “We would love to know more about your time on the island. We didn’t really get to hear about it from the two of you.”

This catches you off guard. The island? The island almost feels like such a distant memory at this point. Something you honestly have started pushing away because those memories…they’re…well, they are precious to you. They pull at your heartstrings in ways that get you feeling emotional and lost and sad but also hopeful. Those memories can either feel like they are burning you or feel like they are comforting you.

Taehyung seems to understand your feelings because his expression practically mirrors your own. He looks as if he just experienced a wide variety of emotions, off the look on his face alone. You don’t have the courage to look at Taehyung to gauge his reaction but you can sense what it’s like.

“W-Why?” you ask, your eyes jumping from person to person to get some sort of explanation.

“Well…” your mom looks up at the ceiling as she thinks. “For me…you arrived quite recently from the island. I have your photos so fresh in my mind,” she admits softly, her eyes dragging back down to look at you. “Do you know how curious your father and I were every time we received a new photo of you? We would say ‘What movie is she watching?’ ‘did she cook that herself?’ ‘What are they laughing about here?’ We…” your mother tries to keep her emotions at bay but fails as she trips over her own words.

“My parents…” Taehyung speaks up, his tone soft and subtle. “They told me they did that too.” He laughs to himself, “They said that’s what they looked forward to every week. Those photos that came to the house. They held on to that hope that I was okay…they looked forward to seeing a photo of me smiling in a house they would never know. Next to a girl they’ve never seen.” Taehyung tilts his head in your direction and looks into your eyes again, “They especially loved the photos of me when y/n was in them as well.” He says a little quieter. “They said that’s really when I looked the happiest.”

You feel your heart do a flip in your chest, you want to tell it to calm down but you can’t control it. It’s flipping around, doing forward flips, backward flips, fucking cartwheels.

“We know the feeling.” It’s your dad this time. “We were so scared…but when those pictures arrived and I saw my daughter just simply living…” he pauses to collect himself. “I felt I could finally get a wink of sleep.”

“And knowing she wasn’t alone.” Your mom clears her throat, her attempt at pushing away anymore emotions she didn’t intend on letting lose. “That was the ultimate comfort.”

“Well…” Taehyung begins cracking a smile as he recalls the island, his memories beginning to resurface and he looks at you with a playful glint in his eye.

“She practically was alone….in the beginning.” He shakes his head, his hair falling into his eyes. “I…” he laughs as he recalls how he tried to purposely push you away. “I told her we should stay away from another and she agreed so quickly.” He looks at you again, his eyes crinkling as he laughs. “She wanted nothing to do with me after I offended her after we first woke up.”

“I needed comfort!” you defend with a lighthearted giggle. “You were literally the worst at making me feel better!”

“Yeah but you retorted with so much sass, oh my god, you really were the world’s biggest brat.” He continues to tease you and you pout, making him laugh harder.

“I was not!” you swat his arm, “You—”

“Oh please! You really exuded youngest child energy. I called it. Didn’t I?” he asks you with a smirk. “Come on, admit to everyone that I totally called it when I asked if you were the youngest in your family.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his smug expression making the heat creep up your body.

“I will admit no such thing.” You raise your nose in the air, “You literally told me that we weren’t getting sent home because we happen to be in the kitchen at the same time sometimes. Because you know…we had to eat.” You deadpan.

“Oh, don’t act like you weren’t doing that on purpose!” Taehyung accuses with a wide grin, “You just had to eat at the same time as me.”

“What?” you act offended. “You mean like, I don’t know, dinner time?” you question incredulously.

You both continue to go back and forth, your voices getting louder with each jab at the other, your laughter making it near impossible to breathe at this point. You two are so immersed in your conversation that you forget that your family is just watching, listening and you completely miss the look Ellie and your mom share.

“Classic enemies to lovers trope. Love it. Classic.” Ellie forks another mouthful of mashed potatoes…must be her like, third serving at this point. “You two truly are something else.”

You and Taehyung barely even register the fact that Ellie even spoke to either of you as you both continue rambling on about your early days on the island.

“Oh!” you shout, your eyes finally tearing away from Taehyung as you give your attention to everyone else at the table now. “Did I ever tell you guys Taehyung would leave the house every single day? For hours?!” you throw your hands up dramatically, “He would only come back inside once the sun had set and he was like,” your face morphs into a look of disgust. “like all sweaty…” you turn your head back towards Taehyung with curious eyes. “What in the world were you doing?”

Taehyung looks confused for a moment before his eyes are widening and he’s busting out in laughter. His little eruption has you smiling like an idiot, you shake his shoulder getting him to calm down so he can tell you.

“Oh my god.” He shakes his head repeatedly. “I never told you what I was…?” he starts laughing again. “To be honest, I am embarrassed about it now.”

“What?!” you giggle, your eyes shining as you wait for him to continue.

“Okay…please don’t laugh.” He says in a tone you honestly can’t take seriously.

“Yeah, sure. Sure.” You force yourself to agree, but your sly smile lets him know you will not let him live this down.

“I went out every day to…” He bites on his lips, suppressing his laughter again. “I was trying to build like a raft out of wood I would find. But it didn’t exactly work out.” He finally admits.

“You…you were trying to…how?” You ask, trying not to laugh as you imagine a grumpy Taehyung trying to build a fucking raft.

“I would break a part tree branches—”

“Tree branches?!” you feel yourself unable to control your giggles. “Taehyung…”

“They didn’t really give me the tools to escape!” he defends in a pout. “It was honestly so pathetic.”

“Wait…” your expression shifts into something more shocked. “Were you going to leave me?! Escape on a raft by yourself?!” you start lightly punching his arm over and over as he bellows over.

“No! It was for both of us, I swear! I swear!” he tries to catch his breath, you both stare into one another’s eyes as you calm down.

“Wow.” You breathe out, your smile not leaving your face. “We really had quite the beginning, didn’t we?”

“Somehow I wouldn’t change it.” Taehyung’s wide grin softens into something more tender.

“What’s the story behind this picture?” your mom slides a photo across the table, catching yours and Taehyung’s attention. You reach for the photograph and immediately gasp when you recognize this particular memory. But wait, when did your mom get the photos from the island? Anyway.

“Oh my god. Do you remember this?” you shove the picture in Taehyung’s hands, you look at him with expectant eyes.

“Ah yes.” Taehyung nods his head for everyone to see, “This was when you were forcing me to hang out with you.” He says with a straight face.

“Wow y/n…” Ellie cringes, “Never beg a man for anything.” She shakes her head at you and you give her a displeased look before looking at Taehyung again.

“They really sent a photo to our parents of you wiping flour off my face though.” You laugh, “Random.”

“Look at the way his body is pressed up against you.” Ellie points out. “This picture just oozes sexual tension.”

“Oh come on Ellie.” Your dad is the one to cringe now. “Why do you talk sometimes…”

“What?” she shrugs, “I wonder what else they got on camera…?”

At this you feel your cheeks warm up and you glance at Taehyung who is turning as red as you feel. You can only imagine the amount of x rated photos that never made it out for mailing day. Your dad has a point, why does Ellie talk sometimes.

“Anyway.” You breathe out shakily, “I never saw this photo in the stack you gave me?” you question your parents who just share a look with one another.

“Well, honey…” Your mother begins, “You were so heartbroken when you returned home…I didn’t think you needed all the photos of you and Taehyung.” She admits, a strained smile on her face.

“There’s more?” you blink at your parents. “Can I…Can I see them?”

“Of course.” Your mom slides over a rather thick stack of photos and you take a moment before taking them in your hands. Taehyung braces himself as well as he continues being taken back to a place that once meant everything to him.

“Oh wow.” You exhale a slow breath, “This is?”

Taehyung takes the first photo in your hand and holds on to it, bringing it closer to his face as he inspects what he sees. Suddenly, he blows out a puff of air. His eyes scanning the photo and he looks up towards your mom and brings the photo to his chest.

“Can I keep this?” he asks.

“I thought you’d might want to.” She smiles towards him, “You guys had already confessed by that point, right?”

At this, Taehyung chuckles, he shakes his head with a playful scoff. You eye the photo again when you catch a glimpse of it.

“The only thing that was confessed that night was that Taehyung agreed to be friends.” You giggle, “He didn’t see me as anything at that point.”

“Anything?” he challenges. “You wore the hell out of that dress.” He says, his words only aimed at you. “Just look at the way I am looking at you. You naïve girl.”

You blush at his words, feeling flustered once you remember your parents presence. You reach for the photo and study it yourself. It was the night of the first request, you two had to create a first date. He cooked you dinner, you ate on the patio, he admitted he wanted to be friends too, and as a part of his romantic gestures—you both slow danced in the living room. And this photo captured that moment. You and Taehyung are clearly sharing what looks like an intimate moment, his hand on the middle of your back…it’s clear his fingers are lightly stroking your exposed skin.

You remember that feeling. He apologized for touching you like that, saying he had done it mindlessly. You will never forget that tingle and your confusing feelings that played with your mind. You let an accidental giggle slip out as you eye the photo. Any person would look at you two and agree that you were undeniably affected by the other. No wonder the company pushed you two along.

“I still think about them sometimes.” You admit softly, your breathing relaxed even though this is still a sore subject.

“Who?” Ellie quirks a brow, her question bouncing off the walls in the room.

“Them.” You say, your voice sounding detached.

“The company.” Taehyung translates for you, his eyes hardening a bit as he thinks. “Me too.”

“I know this could be easily seen as a bitter situation,” your mother meddles with good intentions. “But think of it this way…it brought you two together.”

“Together…” you mumble quietly, the word barely escaping your mouth for anyone to hear. Together. She thinks this has been some sort of success story but she couldn’t be further from the truth. You start to feel the guilt creep its way into your body, your soul. The guilt bubbling over and you know you eventually will not be able to handle it.

“Mom.” You lift your head to look at her straight on. “To be honest—”

“Why don’t we clean up!” your mother cuts you off, her voice rushed and her hands already fumbling with the dishes on the table. “It’s healthy to take a walk after dinner, you know? Why don’t you kids go for a stroll and your father and I will clean up.” She offers with a playful thumbs up.

“Oh hell yeah. I hate doing dishes.” Ellie nods in approval, she stands from her chair.

“But I also hate doing dishes?” Your dad blinks up at your mother who is already stacking the plates.

“Oh come on honey.” Your mom chuckles, “Come on, come on.” She nudges him on his shoulder and he sighs out.

“Anything for you, I guess.” His lips curve into a smile as he stands as well, he bumps hips with your mom, making her laugh. “But we are listening to music of my choice!” he exclaims, “Where’s the speaker?”

“I hid it earlier.” Your mom teases. “If you can find it then I guess you really are in charge of music but if you can’t find it within…hmm..5 minutes then you lose and I get to pick.” She starts handing him the plates and your father is taking them and heading towards the kitchen.

“I bet I can find it in 2 minutes.” He yells out. Your mom laughs harder now, she looks at you and Taehyung and Ellie and lowers her voice.

“I didn’t even hide it,” she admits, “It’s in the same spot as always. Want to bet he doesn’t even look there?” she snickers to herself. You can’t help but crack an amused smile at your mothers behavior. She always was her best self around your dad.

“Well, shall we go on that walk, fellow kids?” Ellie is reaching into her purse for her pack of cigarettes. “I would love to hear more about your island adventures!”

“Thought you quit smoking?” you stand from your own chair, Taehyung following your lead as you make your way out of the dining room and to the front of the house.

“Been stressed. Cut me some slack.” Ellie follows after you both as she searches her pocket for a lighter.

“Yeah, yeah.”

It’s gotten late, you think to yourself. The sun had long set and it’s proving to be a chilly night. You bring your hoodie over your nose as you walk between your sister and Taehyung. Your sister is going on about some new movie she had watched recently while Taehyung quietly chuckles as he watches you freeze your ass off.

“Anyway, I guess I can see why he called me shallow but honestly I won’t lie, if the male and female lead aren’t both hot then I really don’t want to watch the movie.”

“Ellie.” You deadpan. “That is shallow.”

“Like, I don’t care how good the plot may be!” she throws her hands up, “If you both aren’t making my lady parts quiver then what the fuck is the point?”

“Shallow as fuck.” You repeat.

“So now that mom and dad aren’t here…” Ellie decides to tilt her head towards you and Taehyung, a devious look in her eyes. “Let’s talk about what else happened for those cameras.”

“You are honestly disgusting!” you hit your sister while she cackles to herself.

“Oh come on! Give me some dirty detail, you two!”

“Oh there is more than one detail.” Taehyung looks straight ahead, smirking when he feels your annoyed gaze on him.

“Can we not share that type of thing in front of other people?” you huff out, “It’s weird.”

“You didn’t think it was weird when we did those things in front of other people.” Taehyung points out, laughing out loud when he feels you pinching his arm.

“Wow.” Ellie begins nodding approvingly. “My sister a freak.”

“I am not!” you defend, looking between Ellie and Taehyung when Taehyung gives you an unconvinced look, wagging his hand around indicating you kind of are.

“Are you two…ganging up on me?”

“It’s payback for all the times you were an absolute brat.” Taehyung teases while Ellie shakes her head ferociously.

“You have no idea my guy. This girl was such a little diva when we were kids.” Ellie confirms Taehyung’s suspicions about childhood you.

“Oh I fucking knew it.” Taehyung chuckles, “Was she one of those kids that refused to eat anything besides chicken nuggets?”

“She refused to be a bearable human being, if we are being honest.”

“Mm. Makes sense.” Taehyung agrees quickly while you groan theatrically, making Ellie and Taehyung share a quick fist bump as they successfully annoy you.

“So.” Ellie starts swinging her arms back and forth, her eyes narrowing in on your parent’s house soon coming into view. “Obviously you two are pretending to be together for moms sake.”

“I was going to tell her the truth…” you say after a beat, “But—”

“Don’t.” Ellie rushes to say. “I think it’s better like this. She’s uh, she’s doing well right now. Let’s not reveal anything that might shift her mood, you know? We just need to make sure she’s happy and comfortable and…you know how she gets when you…” Ellie pauses to choose her words carefully but goes with her first word choice anyway. “…Disappoint her. She just has high hopes for you, you know? And when you don’t do what you are capable of…well, she doesn’t take it well. As we all know.”

You absorb your sisters words. Feeling a bit bad about the entire thing but deep down you know she’s right. Maybe it is best to just keep this going and just explain everything if she gets her memory back—when she gets her memory back.

“Okay.” You steal a glance at Taehyung who has his head tilted back as he soaks in the night sky. He has no business looking so ethereal right now…his side profile putting your entire image to shame. The moon glows softly, the light highlighting his striking features and making you wish he wasn’t so damn beautiful. It isn’t fair to the rest of the world if you are being honest.

“You know,” Taehyung starts whispering. “It’s like a sixth sense when you’re staring at me.” He tells you, his eyes staying on the stars. You immediately whip your head forward, an embarrassed blush painting itself on your cheeks as you start mumbling some words no one can make out.

“It’s okay.” He slowly turns his head towards you. “I like when your eyes are on me.”

“Okay, well that’s my cue.” Ellie coughs out awkwardly, “I’ll be inside.” She gives you both a salute before jogging towards the house.

“You know something…” Taehyung tilts his head back up to look at the sky. “The sky on the island was the most beautiful sky I have ever seen.”

“Almost doesn’t even feel worth it to look at any other night sky, does it?” you laugh lightly. “There were always so many stars…the moon was always so mesmerizing.”

“Remember the way the moon looked over the water?” Taehyung asks, “I swear I was falling in love with that view.”

“Me too.” You whisper, your own eyes scanning the sky above you.

“When I see you…” Taehyung stops walking, his hand reaching for your arm, pulling you to a stop as well. “I am reminded of that view.”

“Cheesy.” You grin. “So I am the moon or what?”

“No.” Taehyung shakes his head, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. “You aren’t the stars either.”

You release a breath as you raise a brow at him, clearly not understanding.

“Then what am I ?”

“You’re the night sky. You’re everything in between. You are all of the spaces waiting to be filled by something bright and beautiful. You are the canvas. You are what’s necessary for something else to shine. You aren’t the moon or the stars y/n. You are the one being decorated, they are merely your ornaments. You are what’s important.”

“Tae—”

“Talking about the island tonight reminded me of that. I think I forgot.” He continues to walk towards your parent’s home again, leaving you breathless on the sidewalk as his words really process in your mind. You rush to catch up to him, calling out his name. He turns to face you, a look of adoration on his face as he hums a response.

“If I am the sky…then you are the water.” You whisper. “At the horizon, we are connected and nothing can take that away from us.” Your heart starts to melt, the gooey remains soaking your chest. “The things that make me beautiful are reflected in you as well. The moon and stars are also yours. We share what makes the other shine.”

You look back up at the sky and take a deep breath, you don’t know what this life has in store for you but you are starting to think that maybe you were born as you just to experience this moment. You feel whole as you stare up, looking into the sky—you see yourself. For the first time in your life you are truly aware of your existence and you know that in this world the night sky and the water will always be together. They will always connect at the horizon and they will always be devastatingly beautiful.

~~~~~

It’s around 2 am, your body keeps tossing and turning in the bed you are currently occupying, your sister knocked out next to you, her arm swung over your stomach. You keep shoving it off you but she always return, making you roll your eyes with an annoyed chuckle. You wonder if Taehyung is asleep. He’s in the room across the hall, probably snoring away as you struggle to enter dreams for the night.

Feeling restless, you reach over and grab your phone. You click it on and see your many missed notifications. Jimin and Jungkook are the main ones who have been blowing up your phone lately but you scroll through to see what else you’ve missed. You notice a couple of texts from Marcus…one expressing his sincerest apologies for coming onto you when you have been so clear about only being friends. The other hoping you are okay and that you enjoy this time with your family.

There’s a few unread emails and some mostly uninteresting notifications from various apps. You debate with yourself if you should just click your phone back off and force your eyes shut or maybe…you know, open your messages and find Taehyung’s name. Feeling wide awake and bored you decide on the latter.

y/n 2:16am

Awake?

You think too many minutes pass you by and you decide that of course, he is not awake. And you drop your phone onto your chest as you quietly groan out. You stare up at the ceiling, counting imaginary sheep. You get to sheep number 18 when your phone suddenly buzzes, starling you as you fumble the device. You look at your lit up screen and notice the name you were hoping for.

Taehyung 2:22am

I’m trying not to be. But yeah, no luck lol

y/n 2:22am

hmm same. Want to sneak out of our rooms and play Mortal Kombat in the living room?

Taehyung 2:223am

Is it still sneaking out if we are adults?

y/n 2:23am

Shh, don’t ruin the fun. So?

Taehyung 2:23am

Honestly? I would love to get my ass kicked by you.

y/n 2:24am

Makes sense, since I am good and you are…not

Taehyung 2:24am

I am not saying you are good…I am just really bad. We’ve been thru this.

y/n 2:24am

Ignoring that last bit as usual. Meet you in t minus one minute

Taehyung 2:25am

Okay :)

You and Taehyung exit your bedrooms at the same time, he face lights up when he spots you and you quickly shoot your pointer finger up towards your lips, whispering a soft ‘shh’ with a smile on your face. Taehyung gestures for you to lead the way and you do, you guide him down the hall until the living room is in view. You switch on the light and plop down in front of the TV, getting the PlayStation turned on and reaching for the controllers. After everything is set up, you scoot back some and cross your legs, getting comfortable. Taehyung comes down next to you, sitting only a few inches away.

“We haven’t played video games together in a while.” Taehyung mumbles.

“Which is crazy because it’s literally one of our favorite past times.” you point out to him with a smile in your voice. “I know how much you love to lose by my hand.” You send him a wink as he scoffs, his lips spreading into a wide grin.

“You win a couple of times and get such a big head.” He rolls his eyes and you give him a pointed look.

“A couple of times?” you mock, “Please name a time you have won against me.”

“How do you know I am not just losing on purpose?” Taehyung’s bottom lip juts out adorably as he looks at you. You give him a look of pity, your hand going to squeeze his shoulder as you slowly nod your head.

“Because, Taehyung…” you pause for dramatic effect. “You genuinely….suck.” Then you’re breaking out into a fit of giggles when he shoves you off him shaking his head.

“I should know your smartass mouth by now, shouldn’t I?” he laughs, defeated.

“Let’s just play, hm?”

“Fine, fine.”

You and Taehyung play a few rounds, occasionally bumping into one another to provoke the other as you two compete. Taehyung manages to beat you in one round, he shoves his victory in your face but instead of getting upset at your loss, you look up in his eyes and smirk at him.

“How do you know I didn’t just lose on purpose?”

Taehyung eyes you suspiciously, his eyes going from you to the screen before finally deciding that there’s no way you lost on purpose and that he just has a new found talent for this game.

“I’d like to see you play Jungkook.” Taehyung mentions your friend, “That should humble you real quick.”

“You don’t think I could beat Jungkook?” you pout.

“Not a chance.” Taehyung leans forward a bit, his scent all too familiar as you accidentally breathe him in. “You can beat Jimin though, no problem.” He teases.

“Wouldn’t be fun,” you slump your shoulders in your spot, “One time we three played some games and Jimin literally set the controller to the side and got on his phone instead.” You begin laughing at the memory and Taehyung joins you.

“Yeah, sounds like Jimin.”

“I miss them already.” You confess. “I feel like they…I don’t know, I just feel like they’re an extension of me at this point.” You look down at your hands that grip the controller. “My people. Hate always being so far away.”

“Well, they’ve told you a million times to just move there already.” Taehyung bumps your shoulder with his. “You could have a nice life there honestly.”

“That’s a huge decision.” You would love to though. No matter what happens with Taehyung, you really could see yourself thriving in Korea.

“Yeah, it is.” He hums, his agreement not surprising you.

“What time do you think it is?” you ask, locking eyes with him. Taehyung only shrugs, not caring what time it might be. For the first time in a very long time, he’s with you and doesn’t feel any…pressure. The only thing that matters about ‘time’ is that it’s getting spent with you.

“If I had to guess probably around 4 or 5.” You decide to say, “Might as well just stay up to watch the sunrise at this point.” You half joke.

“Should we?”

“Hm?”

“Sunrise.” Taehyung points towards the window. “We could sit on the porch and talk until the sun rises.”

“It’s cold outside.”

“Blankets!” Taehyung points to the few thrown over the couches. “What do you say?”

“I say you’re crazy.” You say with a straight face. “But I guess I am crazy too.”

~~~~~

Your parents don’t expect to find you and Taehyung cuddled together, wrapped in several blankets on the bench on the porch at 7 in the morning. You two look innocent enough, your head leaning against his shoulder with his own head on yours. Your mom tip toes back inside to grab her phone to capture a few photos of you and Taehyung. Who says you can’t make new meaningful memories outside of the island that are photographed?

Your mom shows your father a satisfied grin before ushering him back inside. They linger in the living room as she shows him the photos she took of you both.

“Oh, they will thank me for this.” Your mother whispers out. Your father goes stiff as the familiar feeling of discomfort visits him again.

“I really don’t know if this is a good idea…” he lowers your moms hands that hold her phone. “How do you even know this will work?

“They just need the push honey.” Your mother begins defending her case, “They just need to be reminded of their time together that made them fall in love in the first place.”

“But to this extent?” he rubs his temples in attempt to ease some tension.

“Would you believe me if I said this was Ellie’s idea?” Your mom quirks a brow at her husband and he scoffs, pulling her in for a hug.

“Oh my honey, I know you better than anyone.” He kisses her head. “I know exactly how mischievous and meddling you are. Been that way since we were teenagers.”

“Just…” your mother becomes quiet as she leans into your fathers frame. “Let me do this for her.”

Your father sighs out, defeated, of course. When has he ever been able to tell her no?

“We should wake them.” He pulls away from your mom, “They are going to freeze to death out there.” He lightly chuckles.

“Okay, you do that while I start breakfast.” She leans up to plant a soft kiss against your fathers cheek. “And honey?”

“Hm?”

“I know this will work because sometimes the solution to a problem is much more simple than it seems. Sometimes you just have to go back to the beginning. The place where it all started. And for them? That’s the island.”

#bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #the island chapter 17

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