#So... uh... I guess expect chapter one in a few weeks? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

owliellder · 8 months

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The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: I'm actually thinking I might be doing one chapter every other night, but I would also like to draw on my comically large art tablet at some point this week, so I might skip a day or two.

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 2: Color Matching

You partially regret just agreeing to "tomorrow", seeing as this man decided that he wanted to show up at 4am.

It was the original time set for yesterday's session, and you guess he felt bad for being late, but god damn he texted you an hour earlier telling you he'd be there by 4am. Dragging yourself out of the comfort of your bed was difficult, but in the end it was worth it to draw such a stunner.

You had to get there before Leon did, so there you were; half awake, dressed in a pair of fuzzy pants and a loose t-shirt, and a small cup of tea in your right hand while the other fumbled with the keys to your little work room.

That was the greatest part about your job as a professional painter. You didn't have a dress code.

Though most days you did try to look your best, some days it was just easier to be comfortable. Besides, it's not like tons of people come and see you everyday, it was usually just one person at a time.

It was 3:47am by the time you'd gotten to your workspace and settled, sitting on one of the many floor pillows in the living area you put together away from the actual painting setup. The tea was warm, it was keeping you sleepy, but you couldn't stop taking small sips. It was in your hands, there wasn't much you could do to stop yourself.

You told Leon to just come on in when he arrived, not wanting to walk all the way back down just to lead him back up. The stiffness from sleep was still in parts of your body, so you knew it would be difficult to get up, even when he did finally stride through that door. He dressed nicely today, just what you needed him to do.

Wanting to relish in the dim yet warm lighting of your various lamps for as long as possible, you beckoned the man to come over and sit with you, which confused him slightly. He thought you would be ready to get started once he showed up, but he wasn't one to argue so early in the morning. Instead, he shrugged and slowly sauntered over to you, taking a seat on a floor pillow across from yours.

"Good morning." Leon grumbled quietly, his voice barely hiding the fact that he wasn't quite awake either. That rumble in his chest made your stomach flutter. "Good morning to you, too." You responded, closing your eyes for a moment to take another sip of your tea.

"When uh-" He cleared his throat, putting a fist up to his mouth as he did so. "When are we gonna get started?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, moving the cup away from your lips to stare at him. "I wasn't expecting to be up so early, so just give me a few more minutes to wake up and then we can turn my main lights on."

Leon sucked on his teeth as he thought, turning his head to look over out one of the windows as he rested his wrists on his knees. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to make up for being late yesterday."

You laughed softly before letting out a quiet sigh, setting your tea down on the low coffee table sitting behind you.

"Don't worry about it, but also don't make me get up so early again, old man." You attempted to joke, immediately noticing the wince on his face at the nickname. To divert, you stood up and stretched, patting his shoulder as you walked by him. "Alright, let me pull my stuff out and then we can get started."

Leon followed you with his head, taking a few seconds before standing up himself, pressing his hands onto his knees to help get up from the floor pillow.

"I'm just going to be color matching your tones today. I won't do all of it since obviously lighting changes throughout the day, buuuut..." You trailed off, beginning to rummage through a drawer in one of your desks before pulling out handfuls of paint tubes. "I just need to pull out the basic colors I'll be using."

It was still pretty dim in the room which caused you to have to squint to see the names of the colors on the tubes. Leon found that partially amusing, his chuckle causing you to glare playfully over at him. "Something funny?"

"As funny as it is to watch you go cross-eyed looking at those," he smiled, gesturing with his thumb to the light switches near the door. "I feel like it'd be easier to just turn the lights on."

"My retinas will be fried if those get turned on-" You were cut off by your own shout when Leon took the liberty of turning the lights on himself, laughing as you quickly moved to cover your eyes.

He only had to squint for a second before his eyes adjusted. You, however, were not expecting the sudden change, so you got an eyeful of bright white light. Complete and utter agony that lasted for a full five seconds.

By the time you moved your hands away from your eyes, they were watering and you had to squint for awhile longer. "Give me a warning next time you decide you want to try and murder me like that." You said, wiping away the few stray tears you'd produced from the light sensitivity. "You might live in the light, but I don't!"

The man shook his head and crossed his arms, smile still plastered to his face as he slowly made his way over to the chair in front of your easel. "That's payback for calling me an old man."

You twisted your head around to the chair so you could give him an indignant look, catching a glance as he was putting his hands up in defense with a small "what?" before you turned to look down at the tubes of paint sitting next to your hands on top of the desk.

"Nothing, just wasn't expecting to work with a toddler, that's all.." You mumbled, smile creeping onto your face as you heard him click his tongue from behind you. "I was an old man not five minutes ago and now I'm a toddler?" Leon asked, voice peaking dramatically.

"Yes, you have quite the range, Mr. Kennedy." You began sifting through the various paints you'd pulled out, humming softly as you contemplated what route you wanted to take with them. Stick to primaries? Add secondaries? Should I just use every color I need? Hmmm..

Leon watched as you stared at the paint tubes you'd picked up, tilting his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look. He snapped his head back upright when you started to speak again. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to use a lot of different colors, or just stick to a minimum.."

It was almost as if you knew what he was wondering. "Uhh... what's the difference...?" The man questioned, raising an eyebrow as you turned around, seemingly having made your decision already.

"Using just the main 6 colors-" You turned around and were faced with his very confused stare, causing you to explain a little better. "The main colors you see in a rainbow."

He breathed out a quiet "ahh" at that. Okay, good. He knows his basics. Cute...

"I can mix just red, blue, and yellow at varying degrees to get any color I need. Adding green, purple, and orange will help even more." You pursed your lips, lightly tossing the paint tubes in your hands before setting them down away from the other tubes. "I need white also. Damn.."

"What's wrong with white?" Leon asked, leaning forward a bit to watch you dig in the drawer for a tube of white oil paint.

"Nothin'. Just forgot, is all. Trying to keep this as authentic as possible..." You mumble, quickly closing the drawer with a slam after pulling out the paint you were looking for.

Silently nodding his head in acknowledgment, Leon turned his focus to his surroundings again, admiring your choice in decor once more. He bought a nice decorative pillow for his couch yesterday after being here the first time.

You grabbed a few strips of thick white paper, running your thumb along its textured surface before setting them down. You told him to stay where he was as you set up a small art palette, little dollops of the paints sitting neatly in the circular grooves.

"I'm gonna make color swatches of your skin for myself." You spoke up as you suddenly turned and walked towards him, holding the palette in your left hand while holding the strips of paper and a small yet flat paintbrush in the right. "Also, I'll need to get a picture of you in the position you want, but I'll do that after all of-" you waved everything you're currently holding in a small circle. "-this."

Leon simply responded with an "oh, okay", his knee beginning to bounce as you quickly began to mix little bits of your paint together to get a simple pale skin tone down before you even attempted to match his.

As you worked, you were starting to grow nervous with the silence, and clearly the man in front of you was as well, given he had started to sweat slightly on his forehead. He wasn't nearly as conversational as the last two agents you painted.

"So.. you've earned yourself a portrait..." You smiled slightly, holding up the strip of paper you'd brushed your mixed paint on to see what colors to mix in next. "What'd you do to earn one?"

Leon hummed. It was hard to think about every mission he's gone on, all the horrors he bore witness to, the people he saved, the people he couldn't save, how it all started, and now the fact that he's done-

"Hey, woah, I'm sorry." The sound of your voice drew him away from his thoughts. "I didn't know that would be a.. sore subject for you." He blinked at you a few times, furrowing his eyebrows soon after. "What?"

You pulled the strip of paper away from his face, pulling your lips tight with a shrug of your shoulders at his response. "You suddenly looked mad. Like... really really mad. I thought you were gonna snap at me or-"

"No. It's just bittersweet, is all." Leon cut you off, waving his hand dismissively at you before nodding once down to the paint palette in your hand. "You can keep going."

You stayed frozen in your crouched position for a few seconds longer before continuing to swatch your paint. You kept silent, not wanting to seem like you were antagonizing him.

"I used to be just a cop." The man suddenly said, causing you to look up from where you were mixing your paints together. "Only for a single day, but I was a cop. Simple as can be."

You nodded, beckoning him to continue with a small smile, which he did. "I'm sure you've heard about some of that already though, since you worked with Claire not too long ago."

His comment caused you to let out a small "ohh" in sudden recognition, nodding your head again. "Yeah, that's right! She mentioned you on that, okay.."

Leon continued to talk about all of his missions vaguely, still having to keep confidentiality in mind. You let him drone on, having gotten his skin tone matched in a few different areas now. You stopped to scribble on the papers with the paint swatches, making sure to label where each tone came from on his face and hands.

You took note of how he circled back to his single day as a cop and to certain missions. His mention of saving the president's daughter had you immediately smiling. That was a straight ticket to earning his own portrait in that hall of the White House, he could've done just that his entire life and he still would've been seeing you at some point.

You focused on mixing your paint for a little while before noticing he had grown quiet, looking up to see him staring out the window, a faint orange glow from the sun rising highlighting his features. And his tears.

Growing concerned once again, you set down the paintbrush on the palette so you could place a gentle hand on his shoulder. It seemed he didn't notice that, too lost in his head to notice anything at this point.

"Hey..." You asked with a soft voice, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. "We don't have to talk about it anymore, you know..."

Finally, Leon looked back at you, eyes widening once he realized how watery his eyes were. He turned his head away so you didn't watch him wipe the tears that had fallen down his cheeks and use his sleeve to dry his eyes. It wasn't like him to be so easily bothered by this stuff.

"I just need one more color swatch and then you can go, okay? We can save the photo for another day." You gave the man a weak smile, one he didn't reciprocate. You understood.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but you filled in for him. "Seriously, it's no trouble at all. If you need more time then you need more time." Standing up from your crouched position, you left your half-finished color match swatch with the finished ones before walking over to set everything down on the desk.

You didn't want to crowd the poor man. That was probably the last thing he needed. Despite having only painted for a select few, you've learned to just step away from these retired agents when things would go awry. It was akin to a war veteran suffering from PTSD; they did almost have the same experiences as far as you could tell.

"I'm sorry."

Leon finally managed to say to you, his hands anxiously rubbing up and down on the tops of his thighs. Must be a nervous tick.

You angled yourself so you could see him while your body still faced the desk, smiling at him while your hands worked to neatly stack the strips of paper before clipping them together with a paper clip.

"There's absolutely no reason for you to apologize." You kept your smile as you responded to Leon, looking back down at your hands to make sure everything was put together properly. "You forget I strictly work with agents like yourself. From all the vague tellings, I know that the job is tough on you guys; body and mind."

It was weird having someone outside of the agency talk to him about this kind of stuff. It was weird for him to be bringing it up in the first place. Or, at least he felt like it was.

"Still, I should know better than to do that." Leon sighed, rubbing his hand along the side of his face before stroking his chin, scratching at the stubble growing.

"Know better than to do what? Let yourself process everything you've been through?" You spoke in almost a whisper. If your tone was any louder, you fear you'd come off as accusatory.

"I get it. Really, I do." Leon groaned quietly at your words, causing you to click your tongue. You grabbed your swivel chair and scooted it over so you could sit in front of him, and when you did, you brought your legs up to sit criss-cross just like yesterday, only there wasn't a table separating the two of you. You looked solemn. He didn't like where this was going.

"The whole point of painting you a portrait is to honor you and your work as an agent, but it's not just about getting yourself painted." You leaned forward in your chair, elbows resting on your knees, all the while keeping your voice hushed and gentle. "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

Your words were really starting to strike a chord for Leon. He hadn't given it much thought. He didn't want to give it any thought at all. All he thought was "I'm just going to get myself a nice fancy portrait and be done with it". He didn't even consider what the portrait of him would actually symbolize.

"Oh." Was all Leon could muster, letting his gaze fall into his lap where his hands now sat clasped together. If it weren't for the comfortable environment you had set up here, he probably would've bolted ages ago.

You let him think everything over for awhile, wanting to give him all the time in the world. Clearly he needed something, but he wasn't allowing himself any sort of leeway.

It took some courage building internally, but you decided to stand up, taking the one step closer to him before placing your hand on his shoulder once more. You squeezed it a bit, bringing his attention back to you as he lifted his head up.

You attempted to smile at him, moving your hand off his shoulder so you could hold your arms out slightly. This man needed a hug and you were more than willing to offer the leeway he wasn't granting himself.

Leon stood up rather quickly which surprised you, and startled you just a bit, before feeling his large arms tightly wrap around you. It was a little awkward since he had to bend a bit to hug you properly, but it worked out in his favor, and yours too, since he got a better opportunity to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

He sighed happily when he felt your arms slowly wrap around his chest, doing your best to squeeze him for that extra bit of comfort, even rubbing up and down on his back. It had been so long since he had a real hug. It felt good.

You let him hug you for as long as he needed, which was longer than expected, but definitely not unwelcome by any means. Though, his warm breath against your neck and the smell of his cologne was causing you to blush. That's really the last thing you needed him to see after being so vulnerable and open with you.

You felt him start to pull his head away, prompting you to pat his back gently as an end to the hug. Despite the fact that it was faint, it was clear to you that he was blushing when you were finally able to look up at him.

You wanted to remain calm for Leon, letting out your nervousness through a quiet cough. "I know we've only met up twice, but if you ever need a change in scenery, just know that my workspace here is always open to you. I'm always open to you, okay?"

Your words were making him feel weird. Something he hasn't felt in a long time was creeping up his chest. Your smell lingering on his coat wasn't helping, either.

"Yeah-.. yeah, okay." Leon huffed through his nose, reaching up to scratch at the stubble underneath his jawline as he averted his gaze to the floor.

The sun was fully up now, so you walked over to where the light switches were next to the door, flipping them off. All your other ambient lights could be turned off later. For now, you needed to focus on the man still standing in front of that maroon chair.

"You can stay if you feel you need to, but I just want you to relax." You said, looking over at him as you heard his footsteps slowly walk past you to the living space.

"I'll head out." Leon bent over and grabbed his motorcycle helmet from where he'd set it down on the rug near the floor pillows. He placed his on his head as he walked over to where you stood next to the door, not really wanting anyone to look at his tear-stricken and red face any longer.

Once he finished fiddling with his helmet, you reached out and took his hand in both of yours, patting the top of it softly. "Text me when you're ready to come back over."

You couldn't see Leon's face anymore since he'd put the visor down, but you could definitely see him nod his head. He opened the door and let himself out, touching the side of the doorframe as he rounded the sharp corner and walked down the stairs.

After closing the door behind him, you started walking around your workspace to turn off all the lamps and other ambient lighting, pausing to listen to the sound of his motorcycle start up and drive off.

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serenecypher · 3 months

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Bangtan Host Club Chapter One

Genre: BTS Ot7xf!Reader, Poly!AU, Fluff, Romance, Crack-ish, Eventual Smut.

W/C: 2600

Summary: Tired of your boring mundane life? Become an exclusive member of The Bangtan Host Club™ today and let 7 charming men help you out.

Warnings: This chapter is rated PG13, but future chapters may include Mature Themes.

Disclaimer: Please do not copy/translate or cross-post my work. The tag list is open. just DM or send an ask to be included.

A/N: Here is the first chapter for Bangtan Host Club! Hope you enjoy it. Send me any feedback you have, it would be greatly appreciated. Also, as I said before, the characters of the boys are inspired by the manga and anime Ouran High School Host Club. If you haven't seen it, please watch it. Make your guesses on who plays who in the replies lol

If we are all being honest, you are going through it.

Chapter 1 >> Chapter 2

You’ve spent the last two hours trudging across the same corridor, smelling the clinical scent of the same floor disinfectant that is starting to make your nose itch, waiting for this damned locksmith to show up. You have managed to lock yourself out of your apartment that you moved in about two weeks ago, by the way, and as your landlord has so kindly bestowed upon you the singular contact, called the locksmith about three times.

There is only one other apartment on your floor and your sweet old lady neighbor has gone to the countryside to live with her grandson for the month, leaving you all on your own. Your day had been exhausting at work already and you had put all your hopes into getting home and numbing the pain away with takeout and binge-watching. You clutch your phone tighter in your hand and decide that this is going to be it. You are going to call the locksmith, and you are going to complain, and they are going to listen and come help you in the next ten minutes. The steps are all clear, so you dial the number again.

It's picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello?” the same gruff voice you’d talked to thirty minutes ago answers.

“Uh, Hi, I had called earlier, about losing my apartment key? Mr. Choi’s building?”, you rush out the words as fast as possible.

“Oh yeah, someone will be there with you shortly.”, the man replies, you distinctly hear the sound of a baseball game in the background. The man gulps something on the other end and mutters, “You need to relax a little, lady. There is no need to get your panties all up in a bunch, have patience.” He burps and the line disconnects.

“Motherf-”, you whisper to no one but yourself. Did this random guy just try to “little girl” you? What has the world come to? Who talks to other people like that? Isn’t he supposed to be doing a service for you? All men have, is the audacity. This world is a rotten cesspool filled with misogynists and bigots and- oh my god you need a coffee. Right now.

So you decide to do that, any potential help arriving to get your door opened be damned. You have waited for them to show up for hours, they can wait for a few minutes for you. You make your way down the two flights of stairs and walk out of the building. There is a cafe on this block you haven’t had the time to check out yet and every time you walked past it on your daily morning commute, it was always closed. You make your way to the cafe, bracing yourself against the cool fall wind by pulling your coat closer.

As you approach the entrance of the cafe, it looks pretty standard. You see a beautiful wooden carved sign that indicates the cafe is open. You push open the door and the sweet aroma of roasted coffee beans and baked items engulfs you like a warm blanket. You look around to see the cafe looks much more posh on the inside than you expected it to be.

The walls are painted pink, some covered by ceiling-length artsy mirrors. There are a few round tables on the checkered tiled floor, with inviting plush chairs and a flower vase each as the centerpiece. From the ceiling hang off a few ambient lights and ceiling flowers in pink, white, and lilac, making the entire aesthetic of the interior pretty and bright. Some plants that look well taken care of and books on a few shelves, stacked neatly.

“Are you waiting for me to walk you in, beautiful?” a man’s voice spoke from beside you, pulling you out of your daze. You turn around and face the source of the voice with a stern gaze only to be met with the face of the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. You open your mouth and close it right back up again as you stare at him. He isn’t just pretty, this man is gorgeous… like ‘I should only exist on the pages of a fashion magazine’ gorgeous. He gives you a dazzling smile and extends his hand for yours, bowing slightly to you.

“Ah! I haven’t even introduced myself to you. That’s on me. I am Kim Seokjin. It would be my pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am the owner of this cafe.” Seokjin, as you’ve learned, looks at you expectantly, his smile not falling once.

You give him your name and manage to put your hand in front of you. He promptly takes it in his and raises it to his pillowy lips, brushing them on your knuckles with a soft brush. “You have such a sweet name,” he speaks against your knuckles, and looks up to meet your eyes to add, “I feel like I could say it all my life.”

This guy is throwing you for a loop. He is too good-looking and by the looks of what he is wearing, too expensive and- why can’t you seem to look away from his eyes? That thought is enough to bring you back to your surroundings as you feel heat rush up your face. “I wanted a coffee.” You sound dumb even in your head but Seokjin only smiles at you.

“Of course, pretty. Here, let me help with your coat.” Seokjin moves behind you, gently pulling your coat off of you with a hum. Your eyes wander towards the register area of the cafe and lock with the barista behind the counter. He gives you a smile and you can hear violins playing in the background.

“Feel free to walk in, I will just put your coat away and join you in no time.” Seokjin speaks from beside you, and you nod as you step in and towards the cute barista. His smile widens and it looks like the world’s worth of warmth is on his face.

“Hi there! What can I get for you?” he asks you, placing his palms on the counter and leaning in. “I am hoping you like sweets so that we can share some.” his giggles punctuate the end of his sentence as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Um, what do you recommend…?”

“Hoseok. It’s my name.” he looks at you through his lashes. You feel like you can see his eyes sparkling. A moment of silence passes between you before he is bouncing on his heels and snickering at you. “You are so cute! I am not saying I am the recommendation, silly! I am just giving you my name so I can have yours. We are going to be friends, right?”

You find yourself grinning and nodding as you tell him your name. His face lights up even further if that is even possible, and he recommends to you the name of a few drinks and even more sweet baked goods. He is giggling with you when he scribbles your order in his notepad and adds little doodles around the words. You spy little stars and smiley faces that fill the cover of his tiny notepad.

“You should go sit, I will send someone with the order to you. Then we can share something and play together!” Hoseok points you in the direction of a table as he is skipping toward a door behind him, which you assume is the kitchen. You turn and walk to the nearest table to take a seat.

You notice there is a little metallic card holder next to the flower vase on the table. You pick it up to inspect it. It's a tiny welcome menu for the cafe, which is not a card but a small flip book. When you turn it over on the front, it reads “Bangtan Host Club™”. Curiously, you flip through the contents of the pages and you notice there are pictures of Hoeseok and Seokjin on the inside along with a small paragraph about their interests.

That’s strange. Why are the employees’ personalities displayed in such a way? Sure, some places do ‘employee of the month’ type events but this seems like an exaggeration. Maybe this place just does them this way. Still, it feels pretty random to you.

“Do you like one of us?” A snicker breaks you out of your engrossment. You blink up as a chair quickly scrapes the floor next to you on your left.

“She doesn’t have to pick one of us. She can have more, right, pretty girl?” A voice from the seat chimes in. You whip your head towards it and come face to face with a man with the face of an angel but a smile that tells more about him than it should. You hear the chair on your right scraping the floor next and you turn your head just in time to see a second beautiful man sitting in it with his chest pressed to the back and his legs spread on either side of the chair. He looks into your eyes and a playful smile plays on his lips.

When your eyes linger on him too long, you are met with a complaint. “Stop hogging all of her attention, Hyung! I wanna talk to her too!” You turn your head back to your left and see the man from before, now leaning his elbow on the table and resting his temple on his knuckles. He smiles at you when you turn and he looks an awfully lot like a bunny. “I am Jungkook. He is Taehyung. Now you have to tell us your name.” He lifts an eyebrow at you, tilting his chin down with a grin.

Taehyung pushes a loose strand of your hair behind your ear when you tell them your name to get you to look at him. When you turn to face him you notice he is leaning in closer to you than before. He simply smiles at you as you feel goosebumps ignite on the back of your neck and arms. “Sensitive, huh?” Taehyung teases as his tongue peeks out of his mouth subtly but enough to pull your attention to his soft lips.

“She is! She is so shy too. Why don’t you talk to us…?” Jungkook draws out his sentence as you feel him leaning into your left side. If you keep turning your head between the both of them like this, you are surely going to get whiplash but you can’t help it when Jungkook is tracing a finger on your arm where the goosebumps are as if he can sense them under the material of your shirt.

“Wh-what is going on?” you ask, confused beyond belief at the stuttering of your heart in your chest.

“Tae, Jungkook, give the girl some room to breathe, please.” A soft voice breaks you out of whatever spell those two had you under. A new person walks around to sit across the table from you. He is so elegant in his movements that you are instantly captivated by him and then he gives you a soft smile that makes his eyes turn into little crescent moons. “Sorry about them, they get carried away sometimes. My name is Jimin. It’s so nice to meet you.”

You feel an air of relief flood your veins at his comforting smile and the way he looks at you so earnestly. You give him a shaky smile. “It's nothing. I am just a little confused.”

“Hyung, I can't believe that you, of all people, are doing this right now. You broke all of the tension we created with her and now she is just confused and not charmed like she is supposed to be.” Jungkook pouted at Jimin with Taehyung nodding vehemently in agreement.

“If she is confused, what are you charming her for? Just give her some space to be comfortable.” Jimin says with a sense of compassion for you and brings his warm gaze back to you. “Did you order a drink yet? Want me to get you the menu?”

As if right on cue, the door from the kitchen swings open, harder than probably necessary, and a man holding a tray of your order walks out. He is tall, well-built, has a strong gaze, and is absolutely beautiful. He places your order in front of you gently and gives you a nod.

“Thank you.” You smile at him and he returns yours with one of his own. You notice he has dimples. It makes your damn heart swoon. Then he turns his attention to Taehyung and Jungkook and reaches down to pull the chairs they are sitting on just a little bit away from you like it was nothing to him.

“Thanks, Namjoon Hyung. I would do that too if I could.” Jimin nods appreciatively at him which is returned in kind with a nod and a gentle smile.

“What we all should be grateful for is that Namjoon Hyung didn’t pull her whole chair up in the air like that one time with Hobi Hyung.” Taehyung chides which is instantly met with a stern gaze by both Namjoon and Jimin.

“Ugh, who cares about all of that.” Jungkook intervenes and focuses back on you. “I have never seen you before. What brings you here?” he adds and brings the attention of the other three back on you as well.

“I am locked out of my apartment and the locksmith won’t show up. I live on this block. Mr. Choi’s building?” You reply and it surprises you that you had forgotten all about the terrible day you had before you’d entered this cafe. You take a sip of your drink and it feels like heaven down your throat. You feel your muscles losing all the tension they held and you close your eyes for a moment and let the caffeine seep in your blood. “This is delicious.” you mutter mostly to yourself.

“So you are technically our neighbor.” Jimin says as he leans back in his chair. His unwavering gaze focused on you. “What did the locksmith say? How long will they take?”

“I don’t know. He keeps saying someone will be there soon, but I’ve waited for more than two hours outside my apartment and nobody came.” You know you are complaining to strangers but you're just so mentally and physically exhausted that it feels nice that someone is listening to you for once.

“I could fix that for you.” Namjoon speaks for the first time since being there and his voice is so deep yet gentle that you think this must be what listening to those online guided meditations your Dad listened to be like.

“Wait, are you serious?” you question him.

“Mhm,” he nods. His words soft and almost shy as they come out. “I can help.”

The sense of relief you feel might just be better than the drink you’ve been sipping. You could imagine the warmth of your fuzzy blankets and soft bed. You look up at Namjoon and nod eagerly. “Please, if you really can, I would be so grateful.”

Both Taehyung and Jungkook stand up, grinning ear to ear. “Lead the way, my lady.” Taehyung bows before you and is unceremoniously elbowed in his side by Jimin immediately for his offense. You walk out of the cafe, huddled between the warmth of four men you just met, the jacket you walked in with long forgotten.

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yelena-bellova · 10 months

Text

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: Movin’ On Up

Plot: Y/n receives some surprise visitors on moving day, and Richmond suffers a shocking blow to their lineup.

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: f!reader, language, (16+)

A/N: I really don’t know how I’m managing to crank these out so fast. Maybe shorter chapters? Anyway, this one was fun. We’re getting into the meat of the story, so hold onto your butts, and enjoy!!

(Forgive any typos, I wrote the bulk of this one at midnight 🌙)

——————

If there was a magical force at play in Richmond, it had made Y/n its latest target.

Not only had she found the perfect apartment, she’d toured it, signed the lease and booked movers in the same week. In all her post-university years, she’d never seen real estate move quicker.

Y/n wandered the flat, directing the men and whatever piece of furniture they were holding to its corresponding room.

A knock sounded from the stairs.

“Oh, the dresser can go to-“ Y/n spun around to help guide the mover she’d just seen downstairs, only to find the last person she expected.

“Hey, there, neighbor,” Ted greeted, standing at the top of the steps.

Y/n quickly plastered on her Monday-Friday grin, “Ted. What are you…how did you…?”

“Well, you said you were movin’ into your new place this weekend,” Ted hopped a step inside the apartment to let one of the movers pass by, “Took a guess that the van that came through this morning was probably yours.”

Y/n tried to laugh off the intrusion. The safety of living thirty minutes away was long gone…

“Brought you a little ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ gift,” Ted held up a little pink box and set it on Y/n’s kitchen counter. It was the same one that he dropped on Rebecca’s desk each morning.

“Thank you,” Y/n replied while pointing one of the movers in the direction of her bedroom.

Ted stuck his hands in his pockets and took a look around the living room. He let out a whistle, “I wish you’d’ve told us you were movin’ in sooner. Coaches and the boys coulda saved you some money, get you settled ourselves.”

That was exactly why she hadn’t told anyone she was moving until the day before. She knew Ted would have assembled the Greyhounds and she would have had 15+ footballers funneling in and out of her apartment, invading the little bubble she had left.

“Oh, I wasn’t gonna inconvenience you guys,” Y/n replied, watching Ted as he maneuvered around the boxes, “Especially with the match tomorrow.”

Ted made a raspberry, “Pish posh, Oshkosh. Woulda been happy to help. Hey,” Ted swirled a finger toward the ceiling, “This place got A/C?”

Y/n nodded.

“Whew,” Ted exhaled, “I gotta tell you, biggest surprise comin’ over here.”

“You get used to it,” Y/n replied, a deep double meaning to her words.

“What about you? What was the biggest shock for you, movin’ here?”

Y/n thought back to when she was eighteen, fresh out of high school and starting a brand new life in another country. Even if it had only been a few years, it felt like a decade ago.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “Probably the difference in English. Chips versus fries, that sort of thing.”

“Man, I still slip up,” Ted said, “Took me months to get the football lingo down.”

“I still call the pitch a field sometimes,” Y/n admitted, settling on one of her barstools.

“Well, now I don’t feel so bad,” Ted chuckled as he came to sit across from Y/n, “Hey, what’s the thing you miss most from home? Just a little thing, y’know?”

Y/n sighed, thinking about the region-specific foods she couldn’t find in the international section of the market or the channels missing from her television. Truth be told, there wasn’t anything she missed so much it could be considered missing.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “It’s been so long since I’ve been home.”

“When was the last time you went back?” Ted asked.

“Uh…” Y/n traced back the list of holidays, “My sister’s birthday…two years ago?”

Ted whistled once more, “That’s a long time. Bet your folks miss you.”

On cue, Y/n’s muscles tensed. Her smile returned to conceal her discomfort. “My sister visits,” she said, “Every year.”

“Aw, that’s nice,” Ted cooed, “For me, it’s gotta be good barbecue. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they do food dang well over here, but I miss a good southern BBQ, y’know?”

“I actually do,” Y/n admitted with a small laugh, “4th of July’s always weird.”

Ted smacked a hand against the counter. “Thank you,” he said loudly, “Last year, we had a game. Felt like Beard and I were betrayin’ our ancestors or somethin’.”

Y/n chuckled, Ted struck her as someone who went all out for Independence Day.

“Hey, truth time,” Ted continued, the humor draining from his face, “Yea or nay on tea?”

Y/n shrugged, “I like it.”

“Dang it,” Ted bobbed his head, “Beard, you…us ex-pats keep droppin’ like flies.”

“It takes some adjusting, I’ll admit that,” Y/n raised a finger, “Not exactly a frappachino.”

“Mm-mm,” Ted shook his head, “I have tried and tried with that tree piss. Warmth ain’t goin’ anywhere north on that one.”

Y/n snorted a little, imagining what that might look like, Ted sipping on earl grey.

One of the movers asked Y/n where she wanted a bookcase and she gave him directions. For once, Ted sensed the moment.

“Well, I’ll get outta your hair,” he held up his hands and hopped off the barstool, “But I’m just down the street so you ever need anything, don’t be a stranger.”

“Good to know,” Y/n watched Ted walk away, “Ted?”

He stopped at the top of the stairs, “Hmm?”

While Ted was still a lot, after all her years spent as the foreigner, it was almost…nice to talk to someone from home. Someone she didn’t need to explain her references to or rearrange her vocabulary for.

“Thank you,” Y/n said, quickly concealing the truth of her gratitude, “For the biscuits.”

“Anytime,” Ted saluted before heading on his way.

Y/n let out a loud sigh once she was sure he was gone. She wandered back over to the counter and opened the pink box, finding the signature biscuits Rebecca raved about. Out of curiosity, she broke off a bite and ate it.

“Shit,” she mumbled, they were better than anything she’d ever found in any of London’s cafés.

Despite his line-crossing, Ted was good-natured. He had a heart of gold and tried to make sure everyone he encountered felt like they had one too. Y/n could call it tolerance or simply learning to deal with him, but deep down, Ted’s efforts were starting to poke and prod a little harder at her walls.

—————————

That evening, after the movers had finished and Y/n had gotten the basics unpacked, she started on the non-essentials. She was stacking dishes when the doorbell rang.

Y/n was perturbed as she descended her stairs, there were exactly three people who had her new address, the absolute minimum. Lisa, who handled payroll at the club, Ted, who’d stumbled upon her apartment by sheer luck, and her sister.

Looking through the peephole, Y/n sighed. She’d forgotten there was a fourth on the list.

Jamie smiled smugly as Y/n opened the door, “You went with mine.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “I didn’t ‘go with yours.’ I was the one who found it, you just deemed it worthy.”

“And I was right,” Jamie stuck his neck out and lifted off his heels.

She’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing, but Jamie was completely right. The night of the West Ham match, the two of them had stayed at the Crown and Anchor till Mae kicked them out, pouring over each apartment until they’d eliminated 75% of the stack. The one Y/n had settled on was also the one that Jamie had decided was the best.

Jamie held up a plastic takeaway bag, “Come bearin’ sustenance.”

Not only was Y/n tired, she didn’t want to entertain anybody else from work. But, starving as she was, she was in no position to turn down free food.

“Entry permitted,” she snatched the bag from him, “Barely.”

Jamie took an exaggerated step over the seal and passed Y/n. They’d gotten to know each other better over the last few weeks, Jamie stopping Y/n anytime he saw her to ask about the apartment tours she was taking on the weekends. They’d gotten many laughs out of the stories of Y/n going against Jamie’s advice and visiting the properties that did indeed turn out to be crap.

In another world, they’d almost consider each other friends.

Upstairs, Jamie swung his arms as he took in the living room, “Not bad.”

“‘Not bad?’” Y/n turned around from where she stood in the adjoining kitchen, “You pick this place out and then it’s just ‘not bad?’”

Jamie cackled, spinning on his heel and pointing a finger at Y/n. “That’s an admission.”

Y/n internally cringed, her sharp edge was dulled by exhaustion. She could usually keep up with Jamie. “If you want any of this,” she unpacked the styrofoam container of kebabs, “You’ll stay on my good side.”

“Can’t have any,” Jamie replied, coming to lean on the bar, “Diet, ‘member?”

Y/n shook her head, popping a stray piece of chicken into her mouth. “I still don’t get why you’re doing this.”

“You know why,” Jamie crossed his arms on the counter, “Gotta get back to being the best.”

“Yeah, but is being better than Zava worth missing out on things like food and sleep?” Y/n asked. She could appreciate Jamie’s drive, but this dedication seemed overboard.

“It’ll be worth it,” Jamie stated.

Y/n decided to play the asshole, sliding across the kitchen to wave the kebab box under Jamie’s nose. She watched his willpower waver ever so fleetingly.

Jamie glared up at her, “You’re evil.”

Y/n snickered as she went back to her spot, stealing a bite before going back to unpacking. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with Roy?”

“Night before a match, I’m off,” Jamie swung around the bar to the kitchen.

“So shouldn’t you be resting?” Y/n asked as she un-bubble wrapped a stack of plates.

“I will,” Jamie shrugged, bending over to peel the tape off a box.

Y/n glanced over, watching as Jamie began to unpack various glasses. He didn’t offer, he didn’t ask, just went about it as if it were his business. It was slightly intrusive…and also kind.

Jamie Tartt, Y/n had come to learn, was nothing and everything like what she’d thought he’d be. He had more depth than he let onto and he’d shown a side of it by trying to help her find a place. And though she knew the Zava battle was a personal thing for him, she also knew how much Jamie cared about his team. He wanted to be at his best for them just as much as he did for himself.

Unlike Keeley, who announced her efforts to get Y/n to crack at every turn, or Ted, who went overboard, Jamie hadn’t tried to enter into Y/n’s life. He had simply occurred.

“Do you get nervous?” Y/n asked out of pure curiosity, “Before games?”

“Not really. I mean,” Jamie answered, lining up coffee mugs in a cupboard, “Sometimes. Depends.”

Y/n stretched on her toes to put away china she never used, “On?”

“I dunno,” Jamie replied, a particular trigger or two popping up, “Lots of things.”

“So what about tomorrow?” Y/n continued.

Any slip Jamie’s mind had made was caught with quick footing. “Nah,” he said confidently, “Nah, we got that.”

“Well, good,” Y/n exhaled, setting the empty box on the floor, “It’d be nice to get a win. And hey, if it doesn’t work out and you’re forced to retire after this season, I’m sure the reality tv world is still thriving with opportunities.”

Jamie managed to grimace while smiling, “How the fuck did you find out about that?”

“You thought the PR department wouldn’t know about that?” Y/n strode past him to get another box, “I also live in England.”

“You at least vote for me?” Jamie asked, a playful lilt to his tone.

Y/n hoisted another box of kitchenware into her arms and balanced it on her knee. “Yep, you caught me,” she sarcastically grunted, “I have a weakness for crap tv featuring mediocre footballers.”

Jamie set down the mug in his hand with a particular harshness. Mediocre footballer. “Now, hang on-“ he began.

“Less talking, more working,” Y/n cut him off, she stopped to check out the cupboard he was finishing. “That’s also not where they go.”

“What?”

“The mugs,” Y/n gestured to where her coffee maker was, “Disrupts the flow if they’re all the way over there.”

Jamie rolled his eyes, only playful annoyance accompanying. “God forbid we disturb the flow,” he lamented, grabbing a mug in each hand and heading to the correct cabinet.

They unpacked in comfortable silence a minute more before Y/n decided it didn’t matter if Jamie wasn’t nervous about the match. They needed all the encouragement they could get.

“It’ll happen tomorrow,” she said, referring to their recent losses.

Regardless of whether he was hiding any feelings or if they’d pop out the moment he stepped on the pitch, Jamie stopped what he was doing to absorb the kind words. Y/n was a recent addition to his life, certainly an unexpected one, but she felt…safe. Like even if they didn’t know anything about each other past their mutual taste in real estate, he didn’t have to act so much around her.

“Thanks,” he replied, making effort to meet her eyes.

Y/n gave a small smile, “It will.”

—————————

It didn’t.

Over the next month, Richmond’s lack of luck turned to a 7-game losing streak. Some weeks were better than others, but they all ended the same way: with the Greyhounds leaving the pitch with their heads hanging in defeat.

Luckily, Y/n was kept occupied on the eighth week. Jack Danvers was coming into the office for a meeting and Keeley had asked Y/n to be there as well.

“You’re all business-y,” she’d said, “You know way more than I do, plus, Jack really likes you.”

Y/n sat on one side of Jack, with Barbara on the other, as she and Keeley recounted the conversation and clash of opinions they’d had recently.

“I completely understand where Barbara’s coming from,” Keeley said, keeping a kind tone as she turned to her CFO, “But as I was explaining to you, I’m worried that by adding more clients that could mean less attention paid to the wonderful people we already represent.”

“And then,” Barbara chuckled, though she lacked any humor, “I reminded Keeley, as you’ve said so many times, Jack, that if it does get to the point where we feel we’re spreading ourselves thinly, then we’ll hire more people,” she grinned politely at Keeley, “It’s called ‘growth.’”

Y/n and Keeley glanced over at one another fleetingly, the tension was so poorly concealed, it was getting uncomfortable.

“I’m sure you can see that as well, Y/n,” Barbara gestured towards Y/n.

“Actually, Keeley’s absolutely right, in my opinion,” Y/n answered, spotting her boss a smile, “There’s big firms, there’s small firms. Both have their allure, but I think our personability is the biggest thing we have going for us.”

“Oh,” Barbara’s grin grew scarier, “Wonderful, wonderful…”

Jack looked sweetly towards Barbara, “Okay. Let me weight in here.

“Oh, please,” Barbara obliged.

“I agree with Keeley,” Jack finished.

“Oh, that’s great,” Barbara beamed.

“Being a small boutique firm is exactly what sets you apart, like Y/n said,” Jack went on, “You want a restaurant to look successful, you take out half the tables and you have a line out the door. I say, let’s go for it.”

Keeley and Jack shared a smile.

“No, that’s wonderful. Yeah,” Barbara forced out as she rose, “And instead of salaries, we can give away the tables we threw out.”

“Don’t worry, Barbara,” Jack called, “It’ll be great.”

Barbara mumbled some dishonest agreement as she left the room, leaving it open on her way out.

Jack turned to Keeley and Y/n, “Do you ever think sunshine gets jealous of her?”

The women shared a laugh just before a knock at the door revealed Shandy. “Knock, knock.”

“Hi, babe,” Keeley greeted her friend.

“Now that your little cool girls meeting’s done,” Shandy leaned on the empty chair, very visibly unhappy, “Just wanted to share the exciting news that I’ve started an app.”

“Oh,” Keeley replied.

“It’s like Bantr, but it’s better and cooler,” Shandy’s tone was even and icy, “And actually cares about helping people have sex with celebrities.”

Y/n kept her head down, sharing an awkward glance with Jack. This was strictly Keeley’s business to handle.

“What? Shandy-“ Keeley began.

“It’s called ‘Star Fuckr,’” she announced before looking to Jack, “And yeah, we are looking for investors.”

When Jack didn’t offer to write a multi-zero check right then and there, Shandy stood tall, shot daggers at Keeley and strutted her way out of the room.

“I take it she’s still angry about the whole Bantr thing?” Jack asked.

“Oh, yes,” Keeley nodded, “Shandy does not have a good relationship with rejection, or her ex, or with her workplace, or most nouns, really.”

“‘You are so passionate, but I have to let you go,” Jack said, pulling Y/n and Keeley’s attention, “‘I’m sorry, but I know someone as brilliant as you will land on their feet.”

Keeley struggled momentarily, “What did I do?”

“No, no, no, no,” Jack reached out across the desk, “Keeley, sorry. That’s what you say when you fire Shandy.”

Y/n and Keeley both exhaled forcefully, laughing after.

“Sorry,” Jack apologized.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Y/n’s hand was pressed to her chest, “I just saw my lease flash before my eyes.”

“It’s called a compliment sandwich,” Jack explained, “You give someone bad news, but to soften the blow, you slap it between two delicious slices of compliments.”

Keeley nodded, “But I can’t fire Shandy. She’ll hate me. And she really thinks she’s killing it.”

“I am sure she does,” Jack exhaled, “The worst people often think they’re the best. My dad calls it ‘talent dysmorphia.’”

Keeley laughed while Y/n stayed silent, knowing what was coming next.

“What do you think?” Keeley turned to her hardest worker, “Do you think it’s the right decision?”

Y/n looked down at her notebook, taking a deep breath to see if it would help the force of what she wanted to say dissipate. Jack was waiting on her too, and she couldn’t lie to her or Keeley.

“I think…” she started slow before shutting her eyes and letting it fly, “Keeley, if you don’t fire her, she will literally run the company into the ground and strut over its mangled corpse.”

When she opened her eyes, Jack and Keeley were leant back an inch or two as if to avoid the splash of her opinion. Before she could try and explain it more eloquently, the two women started laughing.

“No, no,” Jack chuckled, “Don’t hold back.”

Y/n exhaled with a small smile, turning to Keeley, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Keeley reached a hand over and poked the back of Y/n’s, “That’s why you’re my best. You don’t hold back.”

It was ironic, they both knew, considering how withdrawn Y/n kept herself. But with Keeley, it seemed to be a bit of a joke between the two of them.

“You two wanna get some lunch?” Jack asked when the giggles had died down, “My meeting just got pushed.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Keeley smiled, “Yeah, my stomach started grumbling when you said ‘compliment sandwich.’”

“You guys enjoy,” Y/n rose with them and collected her purse, “I’ve gotta get back to the office.”

“Oh,” Keeley reached back over her desk and handed Y/n a sheet of paper, “Give this to Zava. A couple more people called requesting interviews.”

Y/n glanced over the list she’d originally made, it seemed like the Zava craze still hadn’t died down. In fact, the more Richmond lost, the more people wanted to hear what he had to say. “Are we sure it’s a good idea to do so many interviews on a seven-game streak?”

“That’s the thing,” Keeley grabbed her coat, “The press eat up whatever Zava says. Can’t get enough.”

Quirking an eyebrow in understanding, Y/n tucked the list in her book and tried to imagine the ridiculous headlines that would be tied to Richmond this week.

—————————

Returning to the office after having taken lunch by herself, Y/n rapped two knuckles on the open locker room door. She still knew to wait for the all-clear.

“Everybody decent?”

A chorus of various ‘yeses’ were her key in.

“Zava,” Y/n turned to the star player, “Here’s your interview schedule. The press is really eager this weekend in particular. Let me know if there’s any changes you want to make.”

Zava pressed a hand to his heart and touched Y/n’s arm with the other. “Thank you,” he said softly, before looking to his teammates, “Men.”

Taking hold of both her shoulders, Zava guided Y/n to stand in front of him. “Okay,” Y/n stuttered as she was stood in front of the entire team. Seated in the middle of the room with Isaac, Jamie matched her confused gaze.

“This is what your hearts should be seeking,” Zava began to wax his odd form of poetry, “Brains, talent, warmth-“

Y/n’s brow creased, what the fuck had she walked into?

“Outer beauty will fade,” he continued, “But a smudge like this,” Zava smiled down on Y/n, “It will last forever.”

Zava patted her shoulders once more before throwing his towel over his shoulder and exiting the room. Not only was Y/n left with every Greyhound staring at her, contemplating Zava’s words, but with his schedule still clutched in her hand.

“Can someone make sure he gets this?” Y/n asked, failing to keep her tone even.

“Oh,” Dani raised his hand and climbed over Jamie’s leg to get to Y/n, “I will.”

Y/n willingly handed it off, “Thank you, Dani.” Not caring to spend another second in the room, she turned on her heel and left. She backtracked her steps quickly, “Is a smudge a good or a bad thing?”

Colin scrunched his face up, “It’s not…not…a good thing.”

Pressing a hand to her temple, Y/n decided she didn’t need to know any more about whatever conversation she’d interrupted and left the locker room.

—————————

The Man City match came about like every other one, but the air of anticipation heightened with each week. Would this be the day Richmond finally broke their streak? Or would they take another step towards double digits?

Not more than a second after Y/n had parked in the car lot, her phone rang with a call from Higgins.

“Hi,” she answered, “What’s going on?”

“Are you here yet?” Higgins asked, his tone nervous.

Y/n shut the door to her car, striding towards the back entrance to the stadium. “I just pulled in.”

“Could you pop into the coach’s office?”

“Yeah,” Y/n hung on the syllable suspiciously, turning in the other direction and swinging the door to the office building open. “Be right there.”

Y/n took long steps down the hall, passing by the locker room and heading straight for Ted’s office.

“Hey,” she said as she entered. Coach Beard, Roy and Higgins were standing around the desk clump, huddled together in conversation. Ted was already on the pitch. “What’s wrong?”

Beard kept his hand pressed to his mouth, Roy scowled at the air.

“It seems that Zava hasn’t showed up yet,” Higgins answered, “No one knows where he is.”

Y/n’s lips parted in confusion, “He’s just…not here?”

“Apparently so.”

Setting aside her annoyance, Y/n snapped into work mode and pulled her phone from her coat pocket. “Alright,” she scanned her contacts, “Let me get on the phone with some people. See if I can track him down.”

“He’d better fucking be here,” Roy growled at no one in particular.

Y/n raised her phone to her ear and pointed to Roy and Trent’s office, the former nodding for her to take it. She started at the top of the list of Zava’s personal team he’d given to her, Keeley and Higgins. Why a fecalist needed to be considered an emergency contact, Y/n would never understand, but she’d try whoever she had to…

Except the fecalist hadn’t heard from him.

Or his agent.

Or anyone Y/n dialed.

Defeatedly, and beginning to grow anxious, Y/n rejoined Beard, Roy and Higgins. “No one knows where the fuck he is,” she answered.

“Fuck,” Roy muttered.

“We got three minutes,” Beard shrugged, “What the fuck do we do?”

“Start Colin,” Roy resolved before looking to Y/n, “If you track that prick down, I don’t care, you fucking get on the pitch and tell us.”

Y/n gave a definitive nod, “You got it.”

With not so much a plan as a temporary fix, Roy and Beard left for the locker room while Y/n and Higgins headed for the hall.

“I told everyone to call me if they hear from him,” Y/n reported as they walked.

“What could be so important to make him miss a match?” Higgins pondered as they made their way to the stadium.

“I don’t know, but so long as his wife and kids are breathing and in possession of all their limbs,” Y/n practically growled, the cheering of packed house of Greyhounds growing louder with each step, “I’ll drag him onto the field myself.”

—————————

Rebecca took to the news…as expected.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?”

Y/n sat on one side of her boss, raising two fingers of the hand rubbing at her temple, in agreement.

“So just, no one’s heard from him?” Rebecca asked.

“No one,” Higgins grimaced.

“Well,” Rebecca let her palms fall against her legs, “There goes any chance of a win.”

“Let’s pray otherwise,” Y/n scanned her phone for the fifth time since she’d sat down. It was then that she realized there was a very vocal presence missing. “Where’s Keeley?”

Snapping out of her most likely violent thoughts, Rebecca unlocked her phone and held it up to Y/n. She found a text thread from Keeley including a message that said she’d be missing the game. Below it was a picture of a baby lamb standing on the table of the KJPR conference room, surrounded by its own feces.

Three months ago, Y/n might have had a question or twelve. Now, she simply nodded and sat back in her seat. “So Shandy’s gone,” she mumbled to herself.

The game went as well as the last ones had. Colin, though talented, couldn’t rival Zava’s skill. Jamie’s extra training wasn’t the solution either, and Man City walked away with a 4-0 win against the Greyhounds.

Rebecca retired to her office while Higgins and Y/n headed to touch base with the coaches. Trent met them along the way.

“No one heard from him?” Trent asked Y/n on their way.

“Not a single text or call during the game,” Y/n scrolled her phone as they walked, an Instagram notification popping up, “Shit.”

Higgins looked over, “What?”

Y/n stopped midway to their destination, hitting play on the video.

“Hello, how are you?” Zava spoke, dressed in casual wear, “I’m just - I have to share something with you, my friends. You are not my followers. You are my believers.”

Trent and Higgins came to stand beside Y/n, expectantly waiting for an answer.

“And so it— I have to tell you,” the man paused, “Zava has played his last match. I will now dedicate all of my time and all of my energy to my family and my avocado farm.”

The rest of whatever utter nonsense Zava had to spew, Y/n didn’t listen. She was infuriated, partially because of his actions, and partially because they’d all allowed themselves to think it was ever a good idea to hire him. He’d fed the Greyhounds to the wolves with no regret and it affected all of AFC Richmond.

When the video ended, Trent, Y/n and Higgins shared a hopeless look.

“We’ve got to tell the boys,” Higgins finally spoke, shrugging slightly.

The three of them made their way down the rest of the hall where the locker room door hung open. The scene inside was dismal, each of the men sat on the benches with their heads hung.

“Hey, guys,” Higgins greeted in an attempt to stay positive, “Good effort today.”

“Mr. Higgins,” Colin spoke up from his seat, “Is it true about Zava?”

Y/n cast her gaze downwards, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

“I’m afraid so,” Higgins replied.

Dani, cradling a towel to his face, began to weep into the fabric.

“Maybe some tissues for Dani,” Higgins muttered quietly.

“Hey, hey, guys,” Sam stood with his phone in hand, “Zava just posted a video.”

“Oh gosh,” Y/n grumbled under her breath as the Greyhounds circled up. Everyone except Jamie, who remained sat on the floor.

The boys watched the video, clinging to every last word at the start, and walking away with mumbled curses and shakes of the head. Any love or respect they had for their former teammate had been lost within thirty virtual seconds.

Y/n snuck a glance over at Jamie, expecting to see him struggle to keep his joy under wraps. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Even he was in shock.

“Gentlemen,” Ted said as he entered, quickly noticing Y/n’s presence, “And lady. That was a tough one tonight. Okay? Man City has still got our number. That’s all right. We gonna get another crack at ‘em later in the season. Uh-huh,” Ted looked to Beard, “Coach? No practice tomorrow.”

Beard nodded, “That’s right.”

“Okay,” Ted looked back to the team, “Well, I’ll see y’all on Monday.”

While the rest of the team began to talk amongst themselves, Sam looked up confusedly at Ted. “Hey, hey. Hey, Coach,” he called till the manager stopped in his tracks, “What about Zava?”

Ted glanced over at Zava’s multiple lockers, his empty chair.

“He quit the team,” Sam stated, as if it unheard news.

“I mean, technically he retired from the whole sport,” Ted clarified, “Which makes it feel a little less personal, yeah? You know, like if your girlfriend runs off with some dude and it turns out they were soulmates.”

The Greyhounds replied quietly in agreement.

“But look, look, look, look,” Ted redirected their focus back, “I hear you, okay? Zava is gone. And you know what? I think it’s a good thing.”

The boys began to argue back in shock.

“Well, I do. Okay, look,” Ted spoke over his players, “Do I wanna win? Heck yeah. But I also wanna do it with folks that wanna be here. It’s not like we could handcuff him to his locker and make him love us.”

“We could have tried,” a desperate Dani replied.

As the initial surprised faded, Y/n was beginning to match Ted’s opinion. Zava may have taken them for a temporary ride to the top, but this ultimate insult had shown that his heart was next in Richmond.

“Hey, guys. Guys, look,” Ted held up a hand, “We got a good thing going here. All right?” Ted’s eyes fell to his left, meeting Jamie’s, “We didn’t need Zava. Yeah?”

No one dared disturb the silence as the truth washed over each of them, including those who weren’t players.

“Yeah,” Ted said quietly, “All we need to win are the fellas in this room, right now,” he pointed to the men on the benches, “And all you fellas need to do is believe it.”

No sooner than when Ted had uttered the last two words did the bright yellow ‘Believe’ sign hanging over his head split itself down the middle. The Greyhounds jumped to their feet and cried out to various degrees. Even Y/n gasped a little, having learned of its significance.

“It’s a sign,” Bumbercatch called out.

“That’s it,” Colin held up his hands, accepting fate, “We’re doomed.”

As the locker room grew louder, Ted held up his hands and attempted to settle things down.

“Now hold on. Hey, knock it off, okay? We’re not doomed. No one is doomed. But Bumbercatch, yes, you’re right. It is a sign. I agree, Yeah.”

Ted turned around and removed both halves of his handiwork, folding them together. “In fact this, it’s just a sign.”

Without any hesitation, Ted tore the paper into four pieces, sending the locker room into chaos again.

“All right, guys, listen to me,” Ted commanded the room, “Belief doesn’t just happen ‘cause you hang something up on a wall. All right? It comes from in here,” he touched his chest, “You know? And up here,” he touched his temple before hitting his stomach, “Down here. Only problem is, we all got so much junk floating through us, a lot of times, we end up getting in our own way.”

Y/n had yet to be present for any of Ted’s locker room speeches, as she had no reason to be. But immediately, like some spiritual presence moving through the room, she felt his words take hold of her.

“You know, crap like envy or fear, shame,” Ted continued, seemingly speaking to himself as well, “I don’t wanna mess around with that shit anymore. You know what I mean? Do you?”

He wasn’t speaking to her, but the question still penetrated Y/n all the same. She could feel a familiar ball of anxiety beginning to build in her stomach.

“No, me neither,” Ted shook his head after the boys answered back, “Hell no. Well, you know what I wanna mess around with? The belief that I matter, you know? Regardless of what I do or don’t achieve.”

One blade inserted itself into Y/n’s gut, the omnipresent pain causing her heart rate to speed up.

“Or the belief that we all deserve to be loved,” Ted went on, “Whether we’ve been hurt or maybe we’ve hurt somebody else.”

A second blade settled in Y/n’s chest, this one causing the muscles to contract. She closed her eyes in an attempt to keep the rising emotions at bay.

“Or what about the belief of hope?” Ted asked, “Yeah? That’s what I wanna mess with. Believing that things can get better. That I can get better. That we will get better.”

Better, Y/n thought on the word. Better. Did things ever get better? Or did ‘bad’ just shapeshift into something else? Did it just wait along the road in the shadows, waiting for ‘better’ to come merrily on its way?

“Oh, man,” Ted sighed, “To believe in yourself. To believe in one another. Man, that’s fundamental to being alive. And look. Yo, hey. If you can do that,” he pointed to each player in the room, “If each of your can truly do that-“

Ted made one more rip down the sign’s tatters, walking to the center of the room. “Can’t nobody rip that apart.”

As the remains of the sign slapped against the metal bench, Y/n’s anxiety reached its brim. She placed a near shaking hand on Higgins’ shoulder to signal she was leaving before slipping out the back door. Blearily, she made it down the hall and outside, the fresh air of the parking lot slamming into her.

Once in the safety of her car, she allowed herself to weep.

Zava was the furthest thing from her mind. The incoming headlines, another loss on the scoreboard…all of it. She couldn’t have cared less if she’d tried. All she could feel was the crippling ache in her chest, the sting of her tears, the overwhelming feeling that came with being utterly alone. When a person became aware of just how much bigger the world around them was and how infinitely small they really were. The pain that could be remedied with a simple hug or a comforting word.

Y/n let out a silent sob, the familiar ache of all she wanted having taken a new form, once again. It would certainly kill her to allow herself her basic needs, to walk back in and hurt with the people inside. And it would break her all the same to continue hiding.

————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities

#ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso x reader #keeley jones x reader #rebecca welton x reader #heartfirst

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the-oblivious-writer · 11 months

Text

Pretty Girl |3|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Three: Unspoken Words

Summary: You and Tara have been avoiding each other for a while now until you decide enough is enough

Warning(s): Swearing, R can be just as confusing as Tara sometimes and oh so stupid & avoiding confrontation

Notes: Chad's the best wingman out there and that's canon, I hope this doesn't feel rushed. Past few days have been a bit busy but I'm glad I was able to get this out for you all! This series isn't over just yet

Previous Part|Next Part

It. Had. Been. Fucking. Weeks. You and Tara were still not talking. Geez you two were so stubborn. It was frustrating. At least it was for her friends. Tara would talk about you constantly which would make it even more frustrating for the people around her.

Buying a drink? Y/N would like that

Watching a movie? Y/N loves this part

They needed you two to talk or else it was going to be the death of them. You were still not sure how to approach the whole thing. You definitely didn’t want to be the first to give in but you also couldn’t stand the distance. You missed her but no way could you admit that.

Either she was going to give in or neither of you would ever talk again it seems. That was until you found yourself knocking on the younger Carpenter’s window.

Tara hadn’t gotten a message from you in weeks so you best believe when she saw your contact name appear on her phone she scrambled to get it.

‘open your window’

Tara furrowed her eyebrows before turning to her window and seeing you outside. You gave a slight wave and gestured for her to open the window. She took out her headphones and did as asked. When you climbed in she stared you down. It was confusing, part of her knew exactly what to say and the other didn’t.

“What are you doing here?” Was all she managed to get out. This caused you to let out a frustrated huff. She was acting as if you weren't totally ignoring each other for weeks!

“Just popping by. Was in the neighborhood so why not, right? Oh and while I’m here just wondering..what the actual fuck, Carpenter?” You catch Tara off guard, she definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“Excuse me?” You let out a laugh to her response before replying, you couldn’t believe her right now.

“You heard me. How about we start off with that blow up from three weeks ago. What was that? Cause I’d really like to know” You cross your arms waiting for a response from the shorter girl.

She fiddled with her hands while trying to find her words. “I’m- sorry” Tara irritatedly sighed, being the first to give in. Her gaze met the floor so she didn’t see your amused smile. Tara took a seat on her bed and crossed her legs, still avoiding your stare.

“Still doesn’t answer my question but I’ll take it. And uh I guess I’m sorry too” You take a seat next to Tara, your hand lands in a spot that’s less than an inch away from hers.

“You weren’t the only one being a stubborn ass. The phone works both ways” She gives a small smile and finally looks up at you.

“How about a truce?” You propose. “A truce?” Tara repeats.

“Correct, a truce. Next time we get into an argument-”

“I don’t want there to be a next time..” Tara interrupts, saying it so low as if she was scared for you to hear you.

“We’re human Tara, it’s bound to happen again” Your hand lays on Tara’s in an attempt to comfort her. “But how about when it does, next time we won’t just ignore each other for weeks at a time. We can give each other room but..” You look down,”That was too much room, Tar.”

She looks at you in understanding and nods followed by an “ok.” Tara rubs your hand, signaling for you to look back at her. The Carpenter smiled when you finally met her gaze.

You both stared at each other, her eyes fell to your lips as yours did the same to her. “I never told you why I lashed out that night” Tara started as you both slowly leaned closer.

“Oh yeah? And what about it” Tara tilted her head and leaned in closer, your lips were so close to touching. All you had to do was-

The door slammed wide open. “Tara! Check it ou- Oh sorry did I interrupt something?” Chad asked genuinely with a Nintendo switch in his hand. He had no idea you were even here. He thought Tara was just in here studying with her headphones in.

You and Tara had pulled away from each other quickly and shook your heads. “Nope we were just talking, what’s up?” Chad had finally finished the level he and Ethan have been trying to beat for months! You liked Chad. He was a cool dude and you even hung out with him sometimes.

You talked about a few things, Mario kart, football, Spider-man and the occasional random shit. He was also a pretty good wingman. But unfortunately he was as oblivious as you could be sometimes. A girl was flirting with you? Sure, go for it dude. A guy wanted to get to know you? That’s awesome!

He’s the hype man everybody needs in life but he’d get so caught up in it that he didn’t notice the glares Tara sent him. Still confused as to why Mindy hit him in the shoulder when things like this happened. What’s wrong with being a supportive wingman?

Mindy and Anika really need to sit him down and have him filled in on the two love birds. Even Ethan knew!

—

A couple days have passed and you end up hanging out with Tara and her friends. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little nervous. You mostly just talked with Chad and sometimes Ethan since they were a package deal. Anika seemed nice but you were still nervous because you haven’t really talked much so you weren��t sure what she thought of you.

Then there was her girlfriend, Mindy. Twin sister of Chad and much more intimidating. On the outside it should’ve been the opposite of that but for some reason you just got the hunch she didn’t like you. You knew she was a protective friend but you couldn’t help but wonder how that persuaded her thoughts of you.

You were all sitting comfortably in the living room with a show playing, Tara on the couch while you laid between her legs. Your back faced her as you laid against her chest, her legs wrapped around you as she gently played with your hair. Pretty cozy for a couple of friends.

“So,” Mindy spoke up. “You two made up?” Anika gave Mindy a look but the twin just shrugged.

“Yeah. We’re good now” Tara answered so you wouldn’t have to. Mindy hummed in response. You and Tara weren’t one hundred percent sure where she was going with this but you knew she wasn’t done.

Before Mindy could interrogate any further your phone rang. “Who is it?” Tara asked curiously, you lifted it slightly to see who it was before turning off the ringer. “No one important. Just going to let it ring.” Tara replied with an unconvinced hum but didn’t press any further.

Sam entered the apartment with take out in hand, “Hey guys.” Everybody responded with ‘Heys’ and ‘Hi’s’ before she sat the food down. “Got some food on my way home so eat up. I’m gonna head out in a few” Sam said before walking to her room. Okay..that was strange. She only sent a single glare and no snarky comment about you being over.

Must be warming up to me or just really tired you thought. Tara looked down to you, not wanting to move out of her current position. Oh how the turned tables. “Are you going to eat something?” She eventually asked. You only shook your head and continued to stare at the TV. She could wait to eat, she didn’t mind. Tara had gotten too used to you being in her arms. It gave her a feeling of warmth that was too good to let go of just yet.

The two of you made up and you were finally back in her arms. Everything was back to the way it was before. Nothing could ruin this.

An hour had passed and you fell asleep on Tara, not that she was complaining. She held onto you and enjoyed having you there in her arms. Suddenly you start to open your eyes as you slowly start waking up.

“What time is it?” You ask tiredly while rubbing your eyes. “Eight forty-two” Ethan responded, causing you to scramble out of Tara’s arms. The action caused the younger Carpenter to furrow her eyebrows in confusion. “What’s wrong?” Tara asked, her tone laced with a bit of worry.

“I’m late for a date but we’ll do a rain check!” You reply before rushing out the door leaving Tara to process what you just said.

“What the actual fu-”

You had a what?!

-----------

#jenna ortega #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #scream

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hp-hcs · 5 months

Note

Am I requesting again because I love your fics? Yes yes I am AND IM NOT SORRY. Theo x ftm Reader (but like reader is Pansy’s brother ^3^) I feel like this HAS POTENTIAL but if you want to completely make ur own storyline be my guest because I trust you more than I trust my brain ٩( ᐛ )و

oHOHOHOH YIPPEE DW BABE I GOTCHU

also i’m on a yandere fix rn (if you couldn’t tell by the literally everything i’ve written these last few weeks) so uh, sorry if that was not what you were envisioning 🥲

requests. please. i beg of you. 🙏

Pansy’s Brother (Chapter One) — yandere! theodore nott x ftm! parkinson! reader

WARNINGS: aggression, stalking, possessive behavior, overprotective behavior, enzo berkshire bashing (done by theo)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You bite your nails nervously, rocking back and forth on your feet. Your sister must notice, because she gently pulls your hand away from your mouth, smoothing down your hair, and kissing the top of your head.

“They’ll love you, Y/N. Don’t worry.”

“Enz’ll be there?” You ask softly.

A faint blush settles along her cheeks. “Y-yes. Lorenzo will be there,” she says in an oddly formal tone, clearing her throat in a very inconspicuous manner. “Ahem. But that’s not important. Um. Anyways. Stop laughing. Put your tie on, we’re going to be late.”

You snicker once more. “Sure, not important.”

She swats your arm lightly. “Dickhead. Hurry up.”

“Oi, Panz, chill out. I dunno how to tie a bow tie.”

She watches you fumble for a minute before rolling her eyes and smacking your hands away. “Stop, this is painful to watch.”

You pout as she takes over, deftly tying the perfect knot. “How do you know how to tie a bowtie?”

“Because I dated Draco for three months. Stop moving.”

You fake gag. “Ew. How was that as an experience?”

“Awful. It was like dating my honorary older brother,” she dramatically shudders, looping her arm through yours as you two begin your long walk to the Great Hall where the Yule Ball is being held.

“Hey, I thought I was the only brother you were allowed to have!” You gasp, mock-offended. “Besides, it couldn’t have been that bad. He’s… uh, conventionally attractive, I guess..?”

“No way, it was terrible. It’d be like if you started dating Enzo.”

“Ew!”

“Exactly.”

~~~

Honestly, Theodore Nott had no idea what to expect when Pansy said that her little brother would be coming to the Ball and that she’d like to introduce him to everyone.

But he certainly wasn’t expecting the most gorgeous guy he’d ever seen, holy Circe?

The Parkinson siblings stepped through the doors of the Great Hall, Pansy dressed to kill in a green satin dress with a risqué slit that went a little too high, in Theo’s opinion. The boys next to him were all but drooling.

“Who’s going to tell Crabbe and Goyle that Panz doesn’t even know they exist?” Mattheo leans in to whisper with a sly grin.

“Not it,” Theo snickered, observing Pansy with respectful, but distant, interest.

She really was stunning—but it was in the same way that sunsets and fireworks are stunning. Beautiful, but purely in an aesthetic way.

Following a half step behind her, a rather timid figure followed. Pansy navigated her way through the crowd, presumably her brother trailing along behind her.

She stopped in front of the boys, waving with a friendly grin. “Hey, guys! This is Y/N. Y/N, these losers are Theodore and Mattheo, and obviously you already know Enzo,” Pansy introduced, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her brother, Y/N, straightened when his sister said his name, an odd gleam in his eye and look of relief on his face that Theodore couldn’t quite figure out. He held out his hand with a rather charming grin, the meek boy from before now exuding confidence as he shook each of their hands.

Theodore shook his hand when Y/N reached him, surprised by how dainty Y/N’s hand felt in his. Y/N made up for it, however, with a firm grip and a charismatic smile that made Theo’s stomach flip.

The Parkinson boy wore a well-tailored three piece suit that accentuated his build. It was the same shade of green as his sister’s dress, but the vest was a nice tawny tartan tweed, with shiny brown shoes to match. His expensive cufflinks sparkled under the candlelight, and his dark gray bow tie brought out his eyes.

Y/N Parkinson looked fucking hot.

Theo’s reverie was interrupted by laughter and Enzo’s voice saying, “You look handsome as hell, Y/N.”

Y/N grinned, a faint blush on his cheeks. Enzo laughed and slung his arm over the younger boy’s shoulders in a friendlier-than-‘we-just-met’ way.

Theo’s gaze broke away from where he was ogling the boy, snapping over to his friend.

How the fuck did Enzo Berkshire already know this hot guy?

A lick of white-hot jealousy flared through him. Enzo wasn’t even that cute! And he was dumb! Theo was way smarter!

He saw the way the youngest Parkinson smiled at Enzo, all teeth, and felt his blood practically boil with rage. One word kept floating about his head, from the second he lay eyes on his friend’s little brother.

Mine.

~~~

“So…Theo was looking at you a lot.”

“He was?” Your head snapped upwards and your eyes lit up as you thought about the pretty brunette with the dead eyes and the overall talk-to-me-and-they’ll-never-find-your-body demeanor from last night.

“Yep. He also kinda like, threatened my life once you left,” Enzo shrugged, splitting off half of his licorice wand and handing it to you. “Dunno why.”

“He didn’t say?”

“Nope. Although I kinda sort of maybe got the impression that he’s got a… oh, what’s the word? big fat humongous crush on you. Not that it’s obvious or anything.”

“Ah. Not a man of subtlety, I take it?”

“He’s been watching us since we sat down,” Enzo said through a his teeth behind a fake smile.

“Wh-”

“Don’t turn around. Bitch, what are you doing- I just said- fuck it. I give up,” he throws his hands up in exasperation and sits back in his chair.

You scan the occupants of The Three Broomsticks, seeing no one acting out of the ordinary. You sigh and turn back to your irked friend.

Enzo rolls his eyes at you. “Dumbass.”

“Dipshit.”

You both grin at each other.

On the other side of the room, tucked underneath the deep hood of a thick winter cloak, Theodore Nott simmered with rage.

~~~

“Thanks for walking me back. I’m pretty sure Pansy would kill me, and then you, if I got lost or something,” you take another sip of your butterbeer as the two of you trek back to the castle, the dusky sky bathing you both in a faint glow and making the biting snowflakes in the air shine like tiny crystals.

“Yeah. Speaking of Pansy…” Enzo trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yes, you can date her. No, I won’t go but-she’s-my-sister-and-I’m-her-brother apeshit on you.”

He gapes at you. “You knew?”

“Enz. Love. Sweetie pie. Anyone with eyes could tell that you like her, and she likes you right back. Go ask her out, coward.”

“Fuckhead,” Enzo retorted, giving you a tiny grateful smile.

~~~

Theo watched from afar with barely-contained jealousy. The pair was too far away to clearly hear, and the snow underfoot crunched too loudly for him to move closer, so Theo was stuck.

A sudden gust of wind sent a flurry of snowflakes into his face, and he made a face at the unpleasant chill. With the wind, however, carried a voice.

Your voice.

“Enz. Love. Sweetie pie. A…” your voice trailed off as the wind died down, becoming indistinct again.

Theo snapped.

No. No. No. No, you weren’t allowed to say things like that to other boys. You weren’t even allowed out with other boys. You were his, and Theodore had waited far long enough.

It was time for him to take back what was rightfully his.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chapter Two

#harry potter #fuck jkr #hp #hp x male reader #x male reader #gay #x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott #yandere theodore nott #male reader #trans reader

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selfindulgentpixies · 10 months

Text

Part one

Okay here's part two for my Suguru x reader fic i did earlier. It's going to evolve into a Satoru x reader x Suguru fic. This one admittedly has ended up feeling very uh meandering I guess? I'm trying to establish the dynamic between the three of them

Important notes: GN!reader, reader is referred to with chan attached to their name, reader is a year younger than Suguru and Satoru. Suguru and Satoru are absolute menaces. Reader's cursed technique is mentioned. Said CT involves absorbing curses through their hands and converting them into weapons though it's not super important to to this chapter.

Fun fact: the japanese school year apparently begins in in april! So this takes place a bit before hidden inventory shortly after Suguru and Satoru start their second year.

Edit: I've made some revisions to this chapter to bring it up to my current standards! Nothing big just things that make it flow better and some extra details.

Chapter 2: Movie night

Things are different after the mission with Geto, he's softer with you than he’d been in the past. Before the mission he'd almost seemed a little resentful of you behind his smile though you couldn't figure out why. It didn't feel like that now. You aren't dumb, you can pinpoint the moment things felt like they'd begun to shift with him. When he'd held your arm after you absorbed that curse, the way his eyes had looked over darkly bruising flesh with the ink black lines crawling up your arm like an infection. When he'd asked if it was always like this you thought you'd find pity in his dark gaze when you raised your eyes to his, instead you saw something you weren't expecting. Understanding.

You were admittedly thrown off balance by this, plastering what you hoped was a reassuring smile on your face as you answered him. You doubted you fooled his keen eyes as you tried to disguise your discomfort but he didn't push you or even ask if it hurt. Probably because he thought the question would be pointless. Only an idiot wouldn't have been able to see you were in pain. Instead he'd gently examined the limb, his fingers sliding over your arm before letting go when he was satisfied.

He'd also begun going out of his way since that day to help you train as well, though you're not sure how much getting tossed around the training field like a rag doll is helping you. You've gotten very good at breaking your falls. You can at least say that. He said you were improving but you're not sure how true that is, though it probably should have tipped you off he was being honest when Gojo who was sitting on the sidelines more often than not to watch didn't interject to say otherwise. Especially since he was more than willing to point out where you had messed up. Perhaps you just hadn't known them long enough to realize that Geto was soft for you and Gojo was becoming so in turn. Again it's kind of hard to realize someone is soft for you when they regularly send you flying like you weigh nothing. Both older boys could appreciate that you kept dusting yourself off and getting right back to it though.

These last few weeks play back in your mind on repeat. Especially how gently he'd held your arm on that mission and the look in his eyes. You're broken from these thoughts when you notice the three second years making their way back to the dorms, Shoko splitting off from the boys presumably to head toward her own dorm. Probably to get cleaned up after a mission if you had to guess. You watch Geto and Gojo, watch as their hands brush against each other as they walk. They start to lean in close to each other and you watch as Gojo brushes his lips over Geto’s ear. You’ve apparently been caught staring though as suddenly Gojo is unmistakably looking directly at you as you noisily watch the intimate moment playing out between the older boys. Gojo’s sudden shift in attention of course causes Geto to look toward your window as well.

You let out a squeak and instead of maybe rolling with it and just waving or something to make yourself not seem nosy you flail and pull your curtain closed. "Stupid stupid stupid,” you grumble to yourself feeling your ears burn.

Down below you don’t see the two older boys share knowing and amused grins. You’re also far too consumed by your own embarrassment at having been caught staring at their intimate moment to hear their laughter as you internally berate yourself.

You also don't hear the ensuing conversation.

You get maybe a half hour of peace after that, able to mostly stop cringing at yourself and get back to studying. The peace is shattered when there's a knock on your door. You jolt in your seat, taken off guard since you hadn't expected anyone to stop by your room this late in the day. You turn in your chair and give the door a questioning look, unsure if you want to be bothered. Then he speaks. "Oi, ___-chan, come on don't ignore me." It's Gojo. All your embarrassment at being caught staring earlier floods back.

Reluctantly you get up and open your door a little to stare up at the older boy. He's got his arms full of snacks and he's grinning down at you, eyes obscured by those dark glasses he always wears. "I was almost worried you went to bed early. Come on, we don't want to keep the others waiting."

If an expression could be a question mark that's what your face was now. "Who's waiting and why?"

"You'll see it's a surprise~" he sing songs.

"Senpai, I" You're cut off when he adjusts his hold on the snacks and reaches out to grab your arm, tugging you out of your room since you were apparently taking too long to convince.

You flail, taken off balance and your voice involuntarily raises an octave "Gojo-senpai i-i'm not dressed to go anywhere i'm in my pajamas!"

"Pajamas are perfect for this, don't worry about it." He ignores your sputtering and goes to close your door.

"At least let me grab my phone." You huff.

He glances down at you with a triumphant smile knowing he's gotten his way. He opens your door fully and gestures with a flourish for you to go ahead. You contemplate slamming the door behind you but felt wrong being so disrespectful to an upperclassman, especially as your mind so helpfully reminded you of how you'd been caught rudely staring at him and Geto-senpai only half an hour ago.

You follow Gojo closely, having to take three steps for every one of his. "So you're really not gonna tell me?"

"Stop being impatient, you'll literally see the surprise in less than two minutes."

You pout but go quiet.

He wasn't wrong, soon enough you're standing in front of another dorm room. "Suguru, Shoko, I got the snacks and grabbed ___ along the way. "

You blink a little owlishly, realizing the dorm room you're at is likely Geto's. It's neat, at least by teenage boy standards. There's a biggish bean bag couch set up at the end of the bed facing a tv that's been set up with what looks like a shiny new dvd player along with several stacks of dvd's. Shoko and Geto are both by an open window, blowing smoke outside.

Shoko smiles warmly. "Ahh glad you could make it, ___-chan. When they told me they were inviting you too I wasn't sure you'd actually come."

You glance away for a moment and play with the hem of your sleep shirt. "Gojo-senpai was very... insistent."

Geto laughs lowly. "Satoru always is once he's decided something."

Your eyes are drawn toward the dark haired boy as he stubs out his cigarette and tosses it into the ashtray. He's smiling at you, his head tilted to the side. You can't help but take in how his hair is down and wet, clinging to his neck. It makes your mouth feel dry in a way you're not really familiar with. Gojo nudges you into the room before going to set out the snacks.

For some reason the idea that your three senpai had decided to invite you to their movie night left you feeling intimidated. "Is uh... anyone else gonna show up?" you ask hoping you don't sound nervous. "Nope-” Gojo pops the ‘P’, ”just the four of us," he throws over his shoulder at you as he continues his task. Your stomach swoops a little. At least Shoko is here otherwise you're pretty sure you would have run away. Being alone in such a casual setting with Gojo and Geto would have been overwhelming right now.

You finally move to go sit on the far end of the beanbag couch only to be jerked toward the middle of it by Gojo as he sits on your left, before you can protest or move back Geto sits on the right side of you, effectively trapping you between the two of them unless you wanted to outright get up and find a different spot to sit, though your options would be the literal floor or Geto's bed since Shoko seems to have claimed Geto's desk chair.

Shoko catches you looking her way and she eyes her peers suspiciously. "___, we can switch places if you'd like." She states already starting to stand. You scoot just slightly forward ready to accept only to feel a strong hand pull back on your shoulder and then feel Suguru's arm pressing along the back of your shoulder's once you've been pulled back to sit snugly in the honestly too small bean bag couch with the two long limbed boys.

"Aww they're fine right here aren't you, ___?" Geto asks as he tilts his head at you, a smile curling his lips and pretty brown eyes turning into crescents.

You're pretty sure your brain is as fried as it could ever be in that moment only for it to get even worse when Gojo's arm presses against Geto's and he too somehow manages to get further into your personal space. "Yeah this is the best place to watch movies from," Gojo's breath fans over your ear and you swear you can feel the barest hint of his lips brush the skin there.

Your face is so hot that you're surprised you haven't burst into flames and your heart is so rabbit quick you’re wondering how it hasn’t burst out of your chest. You’ve never been subjected to attention like this before. Especially not by a pair of pretty boys like your senpai.

Shoko breaks the moment by tossing two precisely aimed pillows into the faces of the two biggest menaces she knows. "If the two of you don't stop that I'll take ___-chan with me and go have a movie night just the two of us." There’s a clear threat in her voice and they know she means it.

Both boys sputter at the pillows in their faces before grumbling. Geto tosses his on the ground while Gojo holds his on his lap with a pout, he then sticks his tongue out at her. "You're no fun."

"And you're going to send ___ running if you keep it up," She shoots back and goes over to the dvd player to pick a movie. Neither Gojo nor Geto had taken the time to put one in, more focused on getting you trapped between them.

After selecting a movie and putting it in she glances back at you. "So would you like to trade seats?" You keep your eyes firmly on her but you can swear you can feel the two boys looking at you. You don't fully trust your voice but squeak out a small reply anyway. "Y-yeah actually." there was no way you were gonna be able to focus on the movie if they kept doing whatever it was they were doing. You feel Geto squeeze your shoulder briefly before letting go and both boys scoot slightly to allow you the minimal space needed to get up from the squishy death trap that is the bean bag couch. Shoko ends up helping you up before plopping herself in between menace one and two who are both definitely pouting.

The desk chair gives you the space needed to get your bearings for the first time since Gojo showed up at your door. Was this all some weird game to get back at you for staring at them from your window? As the movie plays you're sure you can feel them glancing your way but try to ignore it. Ignore it until Gojo tosses a candy bar directly into your lap startling you during a tense scene and making you squeak. When you realize what had touched you was a candy bar and not a serial killer you look over toward the three on the couch to catch Gojo flashing a grin your way. Geto reaches over shoko to playfully shove his shoulder.

Even now in the mostly dark room you can see it's your favorite. Which probably isn't that strange given that you normally eat one after training with Geto, and since one boy was never far from the other Gojo probably just picked up on it. That or it's all coincidence and your nerves from the evening thus far are making you over analyze a chocolate bar.

You're not sure when you dozed off in the uncomfortable chair but when you're woken up it's by Gojo poking you in the cheek and there are credits rolling on screen. He goes to poke your cheek again but you pull back with a slurred " 'm awake..." You blink blearily at the room, trying to get your brain to catch up with the situation. Gojo pokes you again deliberately on the nose this time. Without thinking and with sleepy irritation overriding all good sense you bite at him, surprising you both when you actually manage to catch his finger.

You immediately release his finger that now has a neat little ring of your teeth dented into it.

"You bit me! What the hell!?"

Embarrassed you yell back, "I only bit you because you kept shoving your finger in my face!"

Distantly through your embarrassment you register Geto laughing at the two of you. Honestly more at Gojo than you though you don’t realize that.

"Will you all shut up," an angry lump on the beanbag couch growls out. You realize it's Shoko. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Ah but Shoko, if you want to sleep you can go back to your own room. Satoru and I aren't going to bed for a while yet." Geto's tone is light as he sits up more in bed, drawing your gaze. From what you can gather it seems both he and Gojo must have moved to the bed at some point during the movie.

It's while you're occupied with this thought that the white haired menace grabs both arms of the chair you're sitting in. You blink. "Wha-" He spins the chair and you let out a little yell. When he finally stops the chair you slide out of it dazed. The world is still spinning a little. "W-what was that for..?"

"For biting me of course."

"Satoru, don't pick on them too much, you were asking for a reaction poking them like that," Geto admonishes him, though even dazed as you are you can hear the amusement in his voice.

There's an annoyed grunt from the beanbag couch and the lump that is Shoko wrapped in a blanket stands up and heads for the door after tossing the blanket over Gojo. "Guess I will go back to my own room if the three of you can't be quiet."

From your spot you wonder what you did to get lumped in with the two of them.

Gojo pulls the blanket off his head and sticks his tongue out at Geto. "Yeah yeah." Standing he grabs your arm unprompted to pull you off the floor and you stumble into him because the world is still spinning a little from how fast he spun the chair.

You push most of the way off his chest in embarrassment though your hands remain to keep you steady as the world slows back down. You look up at him from beneath your lashes with an unintentional pout and mumble out an apology.

"Oh and what are you sorry for?" He tilts his head to the side and it suddenly strikes you that in the mostly dark room he'd removed his glasses. The full force of his pretty eyes focused directly on you. That is until Geto Speaks up. "That's enough teasing, Satoru." He sits up fully in the bed crossing his legs as he turns his full attention to you.

Geto blessedly gives you an out. "___-chan, do you want to stay with us and watch another movie or do you think you're done?" Honestly you think you could hug him for giving you a clear choice. The thought makes your cheeks flush.

"uh... I should probably go back to my room, it's late yeah? I have to be up early to train." Your hands drop from Gojo's chest now that the world has stopped spinning.

The raven haired boy nods. "I'll walk you back to your room then."

"You don't gotta do that, senpai, i don't even have to go outside."

"I know, but I want to." He smiles at you so prettily.

Geto is bounced on the bed when Gojo flops down on the mattress.

You shift a little looking between the two of them for a moment. "Alright then.." your hand comes up to rub the back of your neck.

With that Geto is out of bed and walking you through the short halls to your room.

"Thanks for inviting me to watch movies with you guys tonight, or was that just Gojo-senpai?"

He hums. "No we both wanted you to join."

"Can I ask why?"

"What do you mean why?" He raises an eyebrow as he peers down at you. "We like your company, that's reason enough." You were skeptical and your expression must have told him as much as he sighs. "Do you think I spend my time between missions and classes training someone whose company I don't like? And do you think Satoru would stick around to add input if he didn't? Our time is too valuable for that."

"O-oh," you utter lamely before swallowing and speaking again. "Well, thank you, Geto-senpai." You weren't exactly used to people wanting your company. Before Jujutsu tech you were often viewed as being strange by your peers.

He messes up your hair. "Ack!" and when you glance up at him even while his hand is still on your head the smile he's giving you makes your heart thunder in your chest.

"You should call me Suguru."

"Isn't that a bit rude though? You're older than me and-"

"It's not rude if I've told you you can."

You're quiet for a moment as you reach your dorm room. He lets you be, giving you time to process your conversation. He leans against the wall by your door. "Well uh.. thank you again Ge- Suguru-senpai. It was nice at least until I fell asleep." You rock back on your heels before opening your bedroom door.

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow then for training?"

You nod eagerly. "Yeah I'll see you then. Goodnight." You give him a little wave.

He bids you goodnight as well and goes to return to his room, likely to watch more movies with Gojo if you had to guess. After carefully closing the door you take a deep breath before throwing yourself onto your bed to squeal into your pillow and flail your legs to get out all your feelings from the night, especially the exchange you'd just had with Suguru.

Back in Suguru's room you miss when he sits in the desk chair Gojo had aggressively spun you in earlier and how it breaks dramatically beneath him. What you don’t miss is Gojo's cackling in the hall and the sounds of thudding footsteps outside your room as Suguru chases him. When you peek out your door into the hall to see what's going on they're already long gone.

AHHHH part 2 is officially finished! I hope everyone enjoys it. This is the longest thing i've written i a long while. Keep an eye out for part 3. Upcoming parts will have spoilers for season 2 and the manga.

Tag list! @icy-spicy @strawberrystepmom @nanamikentoseyebags @gojoest

Please let me know if you like it! I put a lot of work into this so far.

Part 3

#gn!reader #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x gn!reader #rossi writes

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jadededge · 5 months

Text

Siren | Christian Yu - Ch. 2

Pairing: Christian x You

Genre: Demon AU, Romance, Smut, slight Horror

Rating: M

Summary: That voice. It started calling me during the darkest moments of the night, like a siren luring me further into the deep and it has continued for weeks.

Wattpad | AO3 (will likely always update these 2 places first)

Navigation: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

I'm awake. "I'm awake. What was that?" My heart was racing as I tried to cling to the details of what I'm sure was just a dream. A very vivid dream. But it felt so real. As I tried to sit up, I wince. My body is sore all over but I can't remember what happened to me.

After laying for what felt like hours, I got up to get ready for work. I slowly make my way to the mirror and take a look at myself. "What is that?!" I zero in on a strange bruise just below my right breast. It's got a funny shape, but I cant remember exactly how it got there.

In the distance of my mind I vaguely recall bits of what happened in the dream but with every passing moment I forget more and more, including his name. I can only see clearly his eye, his eyes. And that voice.

Shrugging off the unease that crept up my spine, I continued my routine, inspecting my body for anymore abnormalities. I wasn't looking forward to going to sleep that night but I told myself, just get through today and worry about that later.

Though, since that day, I stopped hearing the voice. The first couple of nights, I was afraid to fall asleep. I was afraid I would be lured back into his or its lair. But nothing. I slept peacefully for quite a few days. On the sixth day, I chalked it up to my imagination. The bruise disappeared, and I slowly began to go back to normal. His eye, his eyes, and that voice were the only memories of the dream that remained.

On the 7th day, however, my literal world turned upside down.

"I'm exhausted. How much longer must we carry this load." My coworker Kira laments as we chat during lunch at a café near the office. "It's been 3 weeks since Jason got fired and we're still carrying these extra assignments."

"I know. I didn't think he was the type to steal. He's honestly the best director I've worked for. You know, other than the stealing thing." I add.

She nods, "Same! I heard they may be close to finding someone. They need to hurry it along. We've got a deadline and a butt load to go."

I nod in agreement.

Once we arrived back at the office, we noticed quite a few people up and gathering around one of the manager's door. Another coworker Andrew is hanging back and looking on.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"Boss found a replacement for Jason. Guess they finalized everything over lunch." He whispers to Kira and I.

"Oh wow! I wonder if he's cute." Kira says excitedly causing Jason to roll his eyes.

I can't clearly see the new person from where we're standing. But just as the crowd parts slightly, I get a clear view, and my heart stops.

I gasp and freeze in place. "You okay?" Kira asks.

I can't answer and my vision tunnels. As if he sensed me, he turns to me and stares directly into my eyes and smiles slowly, a bright devious smile. I start to panic.

"I'm uh. I'm okay. I just need to sit down for a second." I retreat to my office quickly and shut the door.

"It's him. I- I can't remember what he did but it's him. How?" I start panicking. I really wanted to go home. I can't think straight and there's no way I'm going to get any work done. "Let me at least email Kira and let her know I'm working from home the rest of the day." And tomorrow.

As I'm packing my things to go, a knock at my door broke me out of my thoughts. "Come in."

I don't know why I didn't expect him to walk in, because of course.

"Hi." He steps in smiling brightly at me. Something about it was sinister. "You must be..."

"You." It slips out before I'm able to contain myself.

He tilts his head to the side, still smiling. "Me?"

"Yes. Y- you" I'm stuttering I never stutter. I realized I'm scared, but I cant scream. I can't ask for help. His voice sounds similar but not the same. It's not as deep. Am I imagining things?

"Yes I'm Christian. Your new supervisor." He steps further into my office, not closing the door completely. That does little to comfort me. "You must be..." he extends his hand to shake mine.

The way he sounds when he says my name makes my head spin. It was much deeper. Guttural. Just like that voice. Deep down, I know it's him. But he shows no signs of skipping a beat. I feel like I'm losing it again. I quickly stand trying to grasp my sanity. I place my hand in his and it all comes back to me. The dream I had mostly forgotten. I've got to get away from him. I pull my hand back quickly.

"I'm uh-sorry, I was leaving early for the day. I'm not feeling well and I really need to leave."

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you get some rest." He's just smiling.

#dpr ian #DPR #dpr ian smut #dpr ian fanfic #kpop fanfic #krnb fanfic #Smut #eventual smut #romance #christian yu fanfic #christian yu smut

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

Text

My Future in You | 1.7 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, will be smut so 18+, enemies to lovers kinda thing

…

“So, did you and Bradley kiss and make up yet?” Jake asks it almost absent-mindedly as he picks an old trinket off of the shelf and examines it. Luckily, his attention is piqued by the old toy so he doesn’t notice the way your head whips around.

“Ki — uh. No,” You answer quickly, giving your head a small shake. “No, we haven’t spoken.”

“Really? – I thought he was headed over to your place to apologize yesterday,” Jake muses, shaking his head disappointedly without turning to look at you. If yesterday was Bradley’s idea of an apology, you can understand why he is the way that he is. “Guess he changed his mind.”

You hum in agreement as you turn and look around the old thrift shop, pushing your hands into the pockets of your jeans.

It’s best that Jake doesn’t know about yesterday. Bradley’s angry at you again already, so it doesn’t make any difference. It was just a mistake. A really good mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.

You think back to the hurt in his eyes as you had mentioned Ryan. As he realized that your plan doesn’t involve him —- you’re not willing to choose him.

Remembering how he had gotten dressed whilst you had tried to explain yourself, so angry that he had fallen silent. The cold look in those warm, brown eyes as he had said, “You’re fucking unbelievable.” and left your apartment late last night.

You had needed a distraction this morning, a reason to tell Ryan you were busy and a reason to get Bradley off of your mind. So, you’re standing in a thrift store off of the UVA campus with Jake. He’s a bad shopping partner — he just keeps picking up the most random things that he can find and coming over to show you.

Still, this is better than sitting in your room and thinking about what a mess you’ve gotten yourself into. Even if Jake’s bored out of his mind and grabbing increasingly random objects to show you.

“So, how’s my nephew this week?” Jake asks, crouching down and lifting up a ceramic dinosaur wearing a cowboy hat. His brows furrow slightly as he examines the ornament.

You glance down and brush your hand over your bump, then shrug.

“Active,” You answer as you walk past Jake and run your fingers over the clothes on the rail. “Moving all the time since we left the hospital.”

Jake looks up in intrigue, his lips quirk slightly. He likes hearing about this stuff, it makes it all the more real. You’re almost twenty-one weeks now, a little over halfway there. Your stomach’s rounded out and visible through every item of clothing that isn’t two sizes too big. Each time he sees you, he asks more and more about the baby.

Jake’s excited to meet his nephew. Silently, he wishes that you and Bradley would figure your shit out. He knows better than to say it, he has involved himself enough and it’s not his problem to fix. He just wants your baby to have a better childhood than the two of you and your sisters had, and a better one than Bradley had. He wants it to be perfect.

“What does it feel like?” There’s a smile on your brother’s face as he ditches the ceramic dinosaur and stands upright, adjusting the longhorns cap on his head. He leans against the shelves as you browse.

It’s hard to describe the feeling of the baby moving, especially since it’s so new. It doesn’t feel like you had expected it to. There aren’t strong kicks just yet, nothing like that. You pause for a moment, trying to think of how to put it into words.

“Kind of like butterflies.” You decide eventually, that’s as close as you can get to describing the feeling.

Jake smiles softly. He nods his head, that makes sense. He turns back, resuming his search for more odd ornaments, “You and Bradley need to hurry up and make up. Need you to convince him to name the kid Jake.”

You laugh at the idea, rolling your eyes playfully. Jake Bradshaw. Bradley would hate the idea.

After a couple of hours of shopping, lunch and then stopping by the house to watch a movie on the big TV downstairs, you’re exhausted. Jake offers up his room for you to go and take a nap.

Halfway up the stairs, you change your mind.

Bradley’s sitting at his desk, elbows resting on the wood and his palm over his mouth, squinting slightly as he reads through some political theory that he’ll have to reference in his essay.

The sound of his door opening would be a welcome distraction, but it isn’t. He frowns slightly, sitting back in his desk chair silently as his eyes meet yours.

You shift slightly under the scrutiny of his gaze, biting the inside of your cheek as you step inside and close the door behind you. He watches as you swallow sheepishly. Giving you a quick look up and down, the thought crosses his mind that you’re dressed up more than you were yesterday. He wonders if it’s because you were coming to see him.

You’re wearing a fitted dress that stretches over your bump and a pretty, knit-patterned cardigan over that. You cross your arms in front of you and bite your lip, trying to figure out what to say to him.

He leans back further in the chair, parting his knees, resting his forearms on the armrests. He’s sitting in a pair of gym shorts and a hoodie, staring at you calmly.

“Hi.” You aren’t sure what else to say, how else to begin. Bradley scoffs. The two of you are well past hi by now. You bite your cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

Again, he makes a noise of disbelief. He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. He needs a haircut soon. His eyes meet yours. “For which part?”

“Asking you not to tell him,” You say quietly, your voice small as you shift your weight on your feet. You shake your head softly, “I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t fair to you.”

Bradley shrugs his shoulders, “If you want to keep it from him, that’s your decision. But if he asks me, I’m going to tell him.”

You don’t like that answer. Bradley can see it on your face, the immediate disapproval. Regardless, that’s his answer and he’s not going to change it because it’s not what you want to hear.

“There nothing to tell him. We just… we…”

He pushes his chair back and stands up. Your back bumps into the door as he crosses the room to you. He stands in front of you, eyes focused on yours.

“We just what?”

Fucked. Had sex. Made lo — no, you definitely didn’t do that. Nothing’s the right answer. Bradley can practically see the wheels in your head turning as you scramble for an answer that justifies what you’re trying to do. Which is cheat on Ryan.

“If you want to cheat on your boyfriend, Seresin, that’s your problem,” Bradley shrugs his stupid broad shoulders and looks down at you. His curls are messy from studying, he needs a haircut soon but you like it at this length. He’s freshly shaved, that mustache still decorating his top lip. He’s standing so close. “Don’t come crying to me when it backfi—“

You rest your hand against his stomach over his shirt and step forwards, catching the back of his neck. He kisses you back without hesitation, hands finding your hips and tugging your body forwards into his.

He’s single, you want him — he doesn’t see an issue in this. Plus, he thinks your boyfriend is an asshole, so what does he care if his heart gets broken?

Slipping your fingers under his shirt, your tongue into his mouth — everything that happens next is all your doing. Even once you’re out of your clothes, on your back on his bed with him between your legs, it’s your hand in his curls keeping him there.

The scratch of his mustache as his mouth works along your thigh, sending goosebumps across your skin. Brown eyes flicker upwards, catching your gaze. When his lips kiss against your clit and then suck, you start to come undone all together.

He experiments a little. Your fingers curl into his hair as he tries out different levels of pressure, different patterns of moving his tongue. He takes mental notes, the way you sigh contentedly with the reprieve of light contact and whimper at firmer force.

You cum shuddering against his mouth, the burn of his mustache against your skin. He gives you no time to recover through the aftershocks, mouth working through your release.

Your tug softly at his hair as you come to the realization. He’s such an asshole. He’s been holding out on you — he has been able to make you cum this hard the entire time, he just hadn’t been trying.

But he is now, and your body is trembling before he’s even inside of you. You whimper softly as he fills you, sitting on his knees with your legs over his hips. He fucks into you in short, soft thrusts until he’s buried completely.

He leans his head back and groans softly, giving you a moment to adjust. Then, his gaze is on your body again. His hands start on either side of your ribs, cupping your tits. He lets out a soft breath as his hands trail down, taking his time and letting his gaze follow just as slowly.

You squirm under him, impatient and nervous under his gaze. He brushes a hand over your developing stomach and shakes his head softly, “Don’t think I’m ever gonna get tired of seeing this.” He admits.

“Really?” The question leaves your mouth before you plan to ask it. He swallows and nods, leaning forwards to cover your body with his.

“Uh-huh,” He murmurs, kissing your lips tenderly. His hand slides up to cup your jaw, keeping your mouth on his as he begins to rock his hips forwards. “So perfect like this.”

You press your lips to his shoulder, trailing kisses up and onto his neck. He groans softly at the feeling.

This time isn’t like yesterday. This house isn’t empty. Jake will come looking for you if you’re gone too long. But Bradley knows your body better today than he did yesterday, his fingers work figure eights on your clit as he fucks into you hurriedly.

His hand hooks under the back of your knee and pushes it up out of his way, wrapping your leg around his waist. You moan into the crook of his neck.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Bradley hums into your hair, guiding your leg up higher around his waist, rocking himself deeper into you. He kisses your lips to quieten you. He’s burning hot, like always, but he shivers at the feeling of your fingers brushing along the back of his bicep, digging into the flesh in search of leverage.

He grunts loudly, snapping his hips forwards, then reminding himself that your brother is right across the hall. He presses his palm over your mouth as another gasping whimper leaves your mouth, catching the sound in his hand.

You press your hand over his and hold it there, eyes rolling back into your head as he fucks you. You dig your heels into the mattress, squirming against him as he brings you to your orgasm and pounds you through it.

You’re a mess, crying his name into his palm, writhing under him, trembling. He’s never seen you look so beautiful. Your walls clench around him, making his hips stutter.

He groans, pulling his hand away from your mouth and replacing it with his lips. His hands find your hips, pulling you taught against him. He drives himself as deep into you as he can, letting his forehead fall to rest against yours.

Once he’s spent, he rolls off of you and lays on his back at your side, trying to catch his breath. He grabs your arm and pulls you closer to him haphazardly, wrapping his arms around your torso, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

You should be filled with guilt, but you aren’t. In fact, you’re so not guilty about how good that was, that you don’t even bat an eyelid at getting dressed and going back downstairs to keep hanging out with your brother like nothing had happened.

It’s okay, it’s the last time. You got it out of your system. At least, you think you did. Until the next day when he brings by some books that you let him borrow — they don’t really need to be returned.

They remain where they were dropped, right by the door, when you’re unbuckling Bradley’s belt and tugging him into your bed again.

Right after that — in your shower — that’s supposed to be the last time too. But the way his hands feel on your skin, his lips on your neck. The way that he looks at you now. You both know it’s not the last time.

Even after Ryan comes over that night and you watch a movie together, you’re still in Bradley’s arms the next day. In the backseat of his bronco. His bed again. The couch in the loft at the frat house — that one was risky. Your bed again.

Him coming over innocently to study the day after that. Both of you agreeing that this has to stop, that the day before was the last time. Then, him going down on you as you’re trying to study for an exam.

You lose count of how many ‘last times’ the two of you have over the course of that week. Bradley doesn’t. Nine times in seven days. Now, he’s sitting on the bench at football practice, texting you about a potential last time number ten under the guise of you coming over to talk about his navy application.

“Bradshaw!”

He recognises the voice, but it’s purposefully deeper, the boy behind it is furious and trying to let everyone know it. Bradley’s brows raise. Jake’s too. From Bradley’s side, Jake looks up from his phone and follows the noise, frowning.

Ryan’s storming towards them, red in the face, his fists balled at his sides. He looks like he’s going to cry. Jake shoots a look at Bradley, noticing his teammate’s lips quirk up amusedly.

Your boyfriend looks ridiculous when he’s angry, storming towards them like a toddler. Bradley sets his phone down on the bench and scrunches his nose. He tries not to, but a quiet chuckle leaves his lips.

“Oh, shit.” Bradley breathes out amusedly, trying to stop himself from laughing as aryan grows closer. Jake looks between your boyfriend and Bradley, his face drops as he finally catches up on what has happened.

His eyes widen slightly as Bradley watches him figure it out.

Bradley takes a second to wonder how Ryan found out, he knows that you didn’t tell him — you’re too busy texting Bradley, planning to come over later.

“Oh, tell me you fucking didn’t.” Jake groans, knowing that he’s going to be dragged into the middle of this whether he likes it or not. Bradley’s lips quirk up as he pushes himself to stand.

…

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x reader

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imtrashraccoon · 3 months

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This chapter turned out much different than I planned but it's a good change. I have learned that my biggest writing weakness is impulse. I usually only struggle when I impulsively decide to change or write something else.

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Nightmare - PJs

Word Count: 2,153

You were thinking about going to bed soon when a gentle knock sounded on your front door. You were already in your pajamas and it was rather late, so who could be at your door?

You retrieved your brass knuckles and slipped them on just in case. Taking a peek through the peephole, you were relieved to see that it was only Nightmare standing outside. Then the absurdity of this situation set in and you did a double take, looking again.

What was he doing outside your door?

Setting the weapons aside, you unlocked the door and opened it. "Hi, uh... I wasn't expecting you..." You chuckled and rubbed the back of your neck before adding, "What's the occasion?"

His permanent smile widened and he let out a soft chuckle. "I just wanted to come see you in person, my dear. I hope I'm not intruding?" His tentacles slowly undulated behind him as he spoke.

You shrugged your shoulders and stood back from the door to let him in. "Nah, I don't mind," you answered.

Once he'd come inside, you shut the door again and turned to him. "It's a bit late to really do anything together. So, unless you wanted to do something, is this like...a sleepover?" You couldn't help teasing him a little bit as you still weren't sure what he thought of you.

He seemed kind of confused and he studied you quietly for a moment. "Did you want me to stay over?" he asked in a soft voice.

You hadn't expected him to seem actually interested but you nodded. "Yeah, if you're able to I wouldn't mind. I've been a bit lonely lately, you know?"

His bonebrows furrowed with concern but he said nothing. He didn't need to anyways as you both knew what the reason for that was. You hadn't heard from any of your skeleton friends all week, and while spending time with Nightmare in the dream world was nice, you couldn't help missing your other friends too.

You decided to focus on something else rather than spoil a potentially fun evening. So, you started to pull out a bunch of extra blankets and pillows from your closet. Nightmare just sort of watched while you set about arranging them into a comfy nest of sorts on the floor in the living room.

You'd experienced very few actual sleepovers growing up, but thanks to the magic of tv and movies, you knew approximately what to do. It helped that you were already in your pajamas, even if they weren't cute ones and literally just a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt. While you didn't feel like making snacks, you could watch some random television together if Nightmare wanted to join you.

He was still just quietly watching you and it was making you wonder if he was alright. So, you decided to try and distract him.

"Do you have like...a favorite pair of pajamas, like something that's really warm and comfy? Or do you not care for that sort of thing?" You glanced over at him once you were satisfied with the blanket nest and tilted your head curiously for his response.

He got a bit of an amused look and shook his skull. "I do have pajamas but I don't actually require sleep, with the whole being a god situation." He hummed in a thoughtful way and added, "I can sleep I suppose but it doesn't give any real benefits whether I do or not."

"Huh... I guess that makes sense." You pursed your lips thoughtfully. "I didn't even consider you may not have to deal with fatigue like the rest of us."

He chuckled, "That's not entirely correct... Using too much magic is still tiring of course but that's not usually an issue." He glanced around before adding, "Give me a minute and I'll be back."

You nodded and watched as his body seemed to liquify before sinking into the floorboards and completely disappearing. You guessed that was his way of teleporting? Of course, he had to be much more dramatic than the boys were, who all just sort of disappeared with no melting involved.

He reappeared about a minute later just as he'd said but he was dressed differently this time. He wore gray plaid button up pajamas with a black silk bathrobe and fuzzy slippers. Honestly, it was kind of basic considering his usual penchant for finery, but pajamas were supposed to be comfortable to make sleep come easier.

"It's a little over the top for sleeping, isn't it?" you joked. You kind of felt out done right now in all honesty.

Nightmare sat down next to you with a huff. "I very rarely even try to sleep, okay?" His voice had a slight growl to it and there was the faintest hint of a cyan glow over his zygomatic bones. While he was quick to mask how you'd managed to fluster him, you knew what you saw.

"I think they suit you though," you said with a hum and leaned back against the couch. "You wanna just hang out and watch tv for a bit until one of us passes out?"

"Maybe until you pass out, my dear," he teased and lightly ruffled your hair.

You shot him an annoyed look but there wasn't any malice in it. You both sat there for a while just enjoying being close and watching some random reality tv show.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" you asked after a couple minutes.

He turned, giving you his full attention. "Of course, what's on your mind?"

"I've been thinking about what you said last night and I think I would like you to draw me into an Encounter. I want to know what my soul looks like."

He studied you for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Why do you really want to know?" he asked. His voice had taken on a much more serious tone now and his eye socket was narrowed as he continued watching you.

You were a bit taken aback by his question. You were just curious as it wasn't something society had allowed you to know. There wasn't anything wrong with that, right...?

Nightmare clicked his non-existent tongue and tilted your chin up so you'd look at him again. "I don't need to be a god to know that there's another reason you want this. However, I can feel the turmoil in your soul and you really should be honest with yourself."

You sighed and fiddled with your nails. "I guess... I just want to know what all four of you see in me that's so special... Why else would any of you continue to hang around?"

You felt his tentacles slither around you and he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your body as well. He held you close and gently leaned his skull against your forehead.

"You've been worrying about this for a while, haven't you?" he murmured.

"Yeah... It's only gotten worse lately..."

He ran his claws through your hair in a soothing way. "I'm sorry, I certainly didn't help with matters either I'm sure. Your soul is what makes you...you. None of us would have gotten so close with you if there wasn't something special."

You sighed, "That's the thing though... I just want to know what that is."

"It's your ability to be kind, dear." His tone sounded so confident and sure of himself that you found yourself speechless. He gave your body a light squeeze and continued, "Or rather, your ability to be kind despite everything you've been through and how you put yourself into other's perspectives."

You hummed quietly as you thought over what he'd said. Anyone could be kind though. You still didn't understand why you were different from anyone else. Surely other humans weren't so heartless like the boys had sometimes hinted at...

"That being said, would it help you feel better if I showed you?" Nightmare asked in that familiar velvety voice.

"I don't know. I want to believe it will but what if my soul doesn't look right? I don't know if it would convince me."

He gently chided you. "Your overall appearance and personality are greatly influenced by your soul. I highly doubt it will...not look right."

You sighed and wiggled in his grip until he released your body. "Okay, then I'd like to see my soul. I trust you, Nightmare."

He studied you for a moment before nodding. "Very well. I'm honoured to know that you can say that with such conviction as not many people would."

He moved his hand so that it was hovering just above your chest but he hesitated for moment and glanced up at you. When you didn't change your mind, his cyan eyelight began to burn brighter and he focused intently for a moment.

You felt a sort of pressure in your chest just below your collarbone before a small teal heart slowly emerged from your body. It glowed softly and the living room seemed to get even darker than before, even though you hadn't turned the tv off.

You knew now why Nightmare had been hesitant to actually draw you into an Encounter in the beginning. Not only did you suddenly feel incredibly exposed, but you could also see several hairline fractures criss crossing along the surface of your soul. You didn't know what they meant but you could sense that the fractures couldn't be a good thing.

Nightmare was silent and when you finally tore your gaze away from your soul, you saw the expression of contemplation that graced his skull. He seemed to sense that you were staring and his eyelight flicked up to your face again.

"Do you still doubt that you're special now?" he whispered and brushed his knuckles against your cheek.

"I..." You found yourself at a loss for words and struggled to articulate exactly what you were feeling at the moment. "I...didn't know souls were this beautiful..."

He let out a quiet chuckle. "Indeed. Not all are as beautiful as yours though."

His eyelight briefly glanced down at your soul before he looked back into your eyes again. "Your primary trait is in fact Kindness and your secondary is called Empathy. Incredibly fitting, wouldn't you say?" His tone sounded kind of like he was teasing but there was still a genuineness in his gaze at the same time.

"Yeah, it is..." You could feel yourself tearing up a little and desperately tried to keep yourself from actually crying. "What do the cracks mean?"

His eye socket narrowed and he pulled you a bit closer against himself before answering. "That's something only you can truly know. Everyone goes through events in life that can affect them in various ways. Cracks usually signify moments of hardship or negative experiences that affected you so deeply that they left a mark."

"I see..." you muttered. "It's still beautiful. Thank you for showing me, Nightmare."

He nodded and carefully guided your soul back into your body. You couldn't help letting out an inadvertent sigh of relief as the room became brighter again. He wrapped your body up in his tentacles, giving you a gentle hug.

"You're very welcome, my dear," he purred against your hair.

It was hard to focus on anything but what you'd just experienced. You felt like you should feel freaked out or at the very least embarrassed, but you didn't. Maybe it would set in at some point, but for now you had a lot to digest.

You knew what your soul trait was and yet your life seemingly hadn't changed. You were grateful that Nightmare had been willing to show you, but you weren't sure if he'd had his own reasons for doing so. It probably didn't even matter at this point anyways. If he was going to hurt you, he would have already or he could've done it while you were so vulnerable moments ago.

You were rapidly becoming more tired the longer he continued to hold you. You felt oddly safe with him though and so you didn't even question it when you inevitably fell asleep leaning against him. While you had a dreamless sleep for the first night this week, you weren't too surprised when you woke up tucked into your own bed again.

There was a note taped to your alarm clock in very intricate cursive writing, like the writer had used either a calligraphy pen or maybe an actual quill. While you had to squint and adjust how close it was to your face for a bit like a nearsighted person, you eventually were able to read it.

"Good morning dear, I am sorry that I had to leave before you woke up but please know that I enjoyed our little impromptu sleepover. I will see you soon and I hope you slept well after everything. Yours truly, Nightmare."

#badsansuary #raccoons drabbles #undertale #dreamtale #nightmare sans #nightmare #nightmare x reader #reader #female reader #have some empathy dear #oneshot

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sluttywonwoo · 1 year

Text

instead of you [part two] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (18+ mdni)

word count: 3.8k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

“What the hell is this?” you demanded as you burst into Jisung’s room, holding your phone out to him.

He jumped when he saw you, tripped over the pants he was putting on, and fell backwards onto his bed all at once in a blur of flailing limbs.

“Jesus Christ, how’d you get in here?”

“Seungmin let me in,” you said off-handedly. “You guys never lock your door anyway.” You waved the phone in his face again to get his attention. “Dude, what the fuck is this?”

He squinted at the screen. “I don’t know- stop moving!”

You sighed and relinquished the phone to him, thrusting it accusingly into his hands before flopping down on the bed next to him. He read over the email you had pulled up once, then again.

“Y/n, what are you talking about?” Jisung asked. “It’s just an email from my mom about the trip?”

You jabbed a finger at one of the bolded lines. “Sleeping arrangements for Jisung and his girlfriend?”

The color drained from his face, telling you everything you needed to know. You bolted upright, confronted with the reality of your best friend’s stupidity.

“So that’s not a mistake? That- you told them-“

“I can explain.”

You raised your eyebrows and stared expectantly. “I sure fucking hope so.”

“So, um, a few months ago when my parents were planning the trip they kept bugging me about bringing someone because I’d never dated anyone long enough for them to meet… I don’t know, it was typical parent stuff. They were probably just giving me a hard time, but I guess their nagging kind of stuck with me or something because…” Jisung trailed off and looked down at the carpeted floor beneath him, unable to meet your eyes.

“Because what?”

“Do you remember Reagan?”

You blinked in surprise. You hadn’t heard that name since last semester. “Yeah, you dated for like two weeks… what about her?”

“I got it in my head that I was in love with her. I don’t know why, but I thought she was the one and-”

“You were stoned ninety percent of the time you were with her,” you reminded him. “That could have something to do with it.”

He glared at you. “You wanna let me finish explaining or?”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, I thought I was in love with her and one night when I was, uh, a little crossed, I guess I called my mom and told her I’d met someone. I don’t remember doing that, but the next day I woke up with a bunch of excited texts from her and my dad about asking her to go on our summer trip so they could meet her. I told them I’d ask her, but we broke up the next weekend.”

“And you didn’t tell your parents, did you?” you asked with a sigh.

“No I didn’t.”

Han gave you a sheepish grin. His face was flushed red with embarrassment and you could tell he felt guilty about lying to his family. As frustrated as you were with your best friend you also couldn’t help but feel at least a little bad for him. You knew his parents could be a little pushy, especially since he was their only child in college. He always felt pressured to be the picture perfect son, so you could understand why he wouldn’t be eager to tell his parents that the girl he thought he was in love with was actually just a half-month fling.

“So what did you tell them?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “I only talked about my ‘girlfriend’ when they asked. And I just made stuff up, like when they wanted to know what she was like. Reagan’s personality wasn’t very… family friendly.”

You snorted, thinking back to when she offered you coke within an hour of meeting you. “That’s putting it nicely.”

“Hey, she wasn’t that bad,” he argued defensively.

“Han, she cheated on you.”

“Fine, maybe you have a point.”

“Remember, this is why we never trust people named after republican presidents?” you asked in a sing-song voice, touseling his hair playfully.

He swatted you away and ran a hand through his hair, trying to fix the damage you’d done with little success. You backed off, but nudged his shoulder gently to get his attention.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? I thought we told each other everything.”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, “I thought I could fix it I guess, like maybe I’d get into another relationship and I could just pretend like nothing ever happened… and when I didn’t I just tried to forget about it, honestly.”

You let his explanation sink in as you sat there and tried to sort out your own feelings. The situation he’d gotten you both into was pretty fucking stupid and could’ve easily been avoided, but at the same time you understood why he felt backed into a corner. And he’d gotten you out of so much shit throughout the years, you owed him this much didn’t you? And you’d only have to pretend to date in front of his family… and how bad could spending the summer with your best friend be anyway?

“Wait, am I supposed to be Reagan? Like is that who I am in this scenario?”

A spark of hope ignited in Jisung’s eyes at what your question was implying. “No, no,” he assured you. “I don’t think I ever mentioned her name, so we’re good.”

“You don’t think you did?”

“I didn’t.”

He said it more confidently, but you weren’t sure you believed him. Even so, there wasn’t anything you could do beside trust him and hope for the best.

“Wait, so when were you going to tell me that I’m supposed to be your girlfriend?” you asked. “Were you just gonna drop that on me as we were standing on your parents’ doorstep?”

“I mean… no?”

You smacked the same shoulder you’d nudged seconds earlier. “Asshole.”

“Repeat it back to me again.”

You took a deep breath, running over the details in your head before reciting them back. “We met in our World Perspectives class freshman year and were put in a study group together. We became fast friends, but before we knew it, it turned into something more. All of our friends could see there was something between us, but we were in denial for the longest time until finally you told me you had feelings for me this year and I said I felt the same,” you paused and rolled your eyes for good measure. “And the rest was history.”

“What a beautiful story. You sound so in love,” Jisung deadpanned.

“Watch it, Han,” you mumbled. “It’s not too late for me to back out of this thing.”

“Y/n, we’re literally on a plane to Seoul, mid-flight right now.”

“I said what I said.”

“Fine, fine, sorry. It was an Oscar worthy performance.”

You relaxed back into the leather seat smugly. “Thank you.”

“Quiz me now?”

You nodded and leaned down to unzip your backpack, rifling through its contents for the rubber banded index cards buried somewhere at the bottom. You and Jisung had spent a couple nights in the library creating and studying “your story”. It lowkey felt like you were preparing to be interrogated for murder with the way you had constructed a timeline of events and memorized every single detail so that your accounts matched.

Jisung called you ridiculous when you started making flashcards late into one of your study sessions, but even he had to admit they were pretty damn helpful once you both started using them.

“What was our first date?” you asked, squinting at your messy handwriting on the card.

“The state fair,” he answered back. “We shared a cinnamon pretzel and had our first kiss in the house of mirrors.”

“Damn, you’re good- the next one was ‘where was our first kiss’.”

“What can I say, I’ve always been an overachiever.”

“Shut up. When’s our anniversary?”

He shut his eyes for a moment to think. “Um…”

“C’mon, Mr. Overachiever, when is it?”

“Give me a second,” he muttered. “November… twenty-first.”

“Good job. But if it takes you that long to remember in front of your parents I’m dumping you right then and there.”

“Brutal.”

You gave him a fake smile and shuffled to the next card. “Love hurts.”

“Noted.”

“What’s our favorite thing to do together?”

“Try new bars and coffee shops and give them really specific ratings on Yelp afterwards.”

“Who said I love you first?”

“You did.”

“Who ‘wears the pants’ in our relationship?”

“Neither of us, preferably,” Jisung quipped with a wink.

“Oh my god. Don’t- don’t say that in front of your parents. Or do the wink. Just stick to the script.”

“You know I’m kidding, y/n, don’t worry,” he assured you.

“I know, I’m just… feeling kind of nervous.”

“What do you mean?”

You set the index cards down in your lap and forced yourself to look your best friend in the eyes. “It’s just, uh, I’ve never met your family before. Like I dunno, I know we’re not actually a couple, but you’re really important to me so I still really want them to like me. Like, I want to make a good impression.”

“Oh,” his expression softened as he spoke, lines of worry fading back behind his freckles. “You don’t have anything to worry about. Trust me, they’ll love you.”

Trusting Jisung had never led you wrong before, at least not severely, but you still felt an uneasiness pulling at your chest that you couldn’t explain.

“I mean, my parents have wanted for me to bring someone home to meet them for years, so you already have a huge advantage. They just want to see me happy in a relationship- which reminds me, if we’re going to make this convincing and pull it off, we should set some rules.”

“What kind of rules?”

“No sex?”

“Y/n!” Jisung hissed through his teeth. “You think you could lower your fucking voice a little?” His tone was even, but his eyes betrayed the thinly veiled panic you were all too familiar with.

Pushing your best friend’s buttons was something you usually enjoyed, but in that moment you were feeling a similar sense of panic.

“Sorry, how was I supposed to react to you telling me I can’t sleep with anyone this summer?” you snapped in a whisper.

“How were you expecting to pull that off without making it look like you were cheating on me?” he countered.

“I- I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t thinking about it…”

Jisung had been typing the list of “rules” for the summer in the notes app of his phone for the better half of an hour as you brainstormed together, and you had been on board with everything that it consisted of so far:

No gross pet names (babe, baby, and darling are acceptable)

No kissing with tongue

No telling embarrassing stories!! (yes that includes that one time i got a condom stuck in my nose and we had to go to the emergency room- that’s literally only funny to you)

Share a bed together for the whole trip

ACT LIKE WE’RE IN LOVE (@ y/n)

Spend at least an hour with family per day

Take “coupley” pictures together when my parents as- bc they WILL ask

Wear the matching shirts my mother made

Buy y/n all the alcohol she wants

It was a pretty decent list, all things considered, until he got to rule number ten.

“I mean it’s not like it’s going to be easy for me either,” Jisung reasoned.

You rolled your eyes. “Am I supposed to thank you for your service or something? Applaud you for keeping it in your pants for two whole months?”

“You’re literally complaining about the exact same thing.”

“Yeah, but I’m only doing it to save your ass,” you huffed.

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” he said, sighing. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

You gave him a soft smile. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“You don’t want to be. You’ve mentioned that several times.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love you.”

Jisung smiled at that. “Thanks, I love you too.”

“Alright that’s enough sincerity between us for a lifetime,” you said and chuckled uneasily. “We can go back to being assholes to each other now.”

“Good, that took a lot out of me.”

You glared at him, but refrained from making a comment. “What’s next on the list then, lover boy?”

“Already breaking the first rule-”

“Fine, what’s next on the list, fuckface?” you asked with a smirk.

Jisung clenched his jaw and scrolled on his phone. “Okay, number eleven, no flirting with my brothers.”

“Do you really need to write that one down?” You watched as he typed it out without acknowledging you. “Like isn’t that kind of implied? You know I don’t see Felix like that.”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” he muttered.

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, awaiting an explanation, but he offered none. Instead, he moved on to the next rule and left you sitting alone in your confusion.

The majority of the rest of the flight was spent bickering with Jisung over the list, undoubtedly annoying the hell out of everyone seated around you. The other passengers finally got some reprieve from the sound of your hushed voices when Jisung put his earbuds in to listen to music. You knew he was only doing it to tune you out because whenever he was really listening to something he always shared one of his earbuds with you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. If he was going to be like that then… god, this was going to be a long summer.

You shifted in your seat so that you could comfortably rest your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. Even though he was frustrated with you, you knew he wouldn’t push you away. It was just like that with you guys. He’d get over it by the time you landed.

When you opened your eyes again, Jisung had fallen asleep too. He was slumped against you with his head resting on top of yours like something out of a movie. It struck you as ironic. To passers by you already looked like a couple. Game on.

Jisung led the way through the busy airport terminal to baggage claim, apparently trusting you were right on his heels. But it was almost like he was trying to lose you with the way he was weaving through the crowd like a wanted fugitive. You could barely keep up. Some fake boyfriend he was.

You’d never seen your best friend like this before. Usually he was so calm and collected, the one who was always talking you off the ledge, but you could tell he was the one climbing stairs right now.

“Fuck, there’s no way this’ll work.”

It had been another one of those late nights in the library when Jisung had thrown the stack of index cards onto the table in surrender and buried his face in his hands. You were both teetering on the edge of a caffeine crash. The words on the pages had started to blur together in a way that was almost illegible and neither of you could keep the important dates of your relationship straight.

“Yes it will,” you insisted as you gathered up the cards and handed them back to him. “We’re just burnt out. That’s why we keep getting things wrong.” He knit his eyebrows together in a way that told you he didn’t believe you, but didn’t say anything in return. You sighed and took a sip of your coffee, giving him a measured look over the lenses of your glasses. “It’s four am., Ji. We just need some sleep and then we’ll come back fresh tomorrow, you’ll see.”

He pushed his hair back from his forehead and nodded reluctantly. “Thanks for doing this with me… it’s, uh, really important to me.”

“I know.”

But you didn’t know why. Jisung didn’t even study this hard for midterms, but here he was night after night with you mapping out every single detail of your fake relationship. A small part of you wondered if there was something more, something that he was keeping from you, but you pushed the thought down. You told each other everything…

As you watched him wait for your suitcases at the carousel, arms crossed, left foot tapping the tile impatiently, it dawned on you just how nervous he was. You wished there was something you could say to ease his mind, but the right words were escaping you. To be fair, you weren’t having any luck shaking your jitters either. You’d never been in a relationship long enough to meet your significant other’s parents. Somehow the fact that you weren’t even dating made it even more daunting. You desperately needed the Hans to like you- for both you and Jisung’s sakes.

“This one’s yours, right?” Jisung asked and pointed to one of the bags he’d rolled over.

“Yeah, thanks for grabbing it.”

“Don’t mention it, babe.” You fought the urge to make a face- “you’re making a face.”

“Sorry, knee-jerk reaction. Still adjusting to hearing that.”

“Well adjust quicker because my brother will be here to pick us up any minute.”

“Wait, what?”

“How else did you think we were going to get home?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.”

You followed Jisung outside through the automatic doors to the car loop to wait for Felix. It was warm out, but there was a light breeze that lifted some of the heat from the pavement. The sun had set mere minutes ago, and dusk was lazily settling over the horizon. You were too close to the city to see any stars, but the moon glowed dimly behind the clouds, like a performer waiting in the wings.

Jisung scrolled through Spotify as you both sat there, carefully balanced on your suitcases, and offered you one of his AirPods. You took it wordlessly and put it in your ear. The gesture was comforting, almost intimate, a reminder that nothing had changed between you. At least not yet.

He was playing something you hadn’t heard before, a classical piece. It sounded old and European which didn’t narrow it down at all. A glance at the title scrolling across his screen suggested that it was French, but he put his phone in his pocket and stood up before you could fully read it.

Before you could ask what was happening a black Audi pulled up to the curb, parked, and a boy who was… not Felix stepped out of it. It was then that you realized Jisung had never specified which brother was picking you up.

You knew Jisung had an older brother, but he didn’t talk about him much. You had just assumed they weren’t close, but as you watched them hug and laugh together you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Y/n, this is Minho,” Jisung said as he introduced you to his brother. “Jisung, this is my girlfriend, y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.” You held out your hand and he shook it tentatively.

“Likewise,” he replied, sounding unconvinced. “Can I help you guys with your bags?”

“Um, sure. That’d be great.”

You handed over your suitcase and backpack to him and joined Jisung back over on the sidewalk while Minho lifted the luggage into the trunk with surprising ease.

Minho was about Jisung’s height, slender like Jisung too. But he was wearing a baseball cap so you couldn’t make out the features of his face very well.

“Do you want to sit in the front, baby?” Jisung asked, pulling you back into the moment.

“No thanks, you catch up with your brother. I’ll be fine in the back.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. Minho didn’t seem too thrilled to meet you in the first place so sitting in the back seemed like the safer way to play it. Jisung just shrugged and climbed into the passenger seat while you slid into the middle seat in the back.

“Did you tell mom we’re running a few minutes late?” Jisung asked Minho once he’d merged onto the road.

“Yeah, she said she expects it from Incheon anyway since they’re always so busy.”

“It was fucking packed.”

“I know. Traffic was awful getting here. Everyone’s going on vacation.” Minho turned to glance at you, then back at his brother. “Are you guys hungry? Dinner should be ready when we get there.”

“When we get where?” you piped up in confusion, wondering who would’ve cooked at the boys’ flat.

“Our parents’ place.”

You grabbed Jisung by the shoulder. “Wait, we’re going straight to your parents’ house? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What do you mean? Why does it matter?”

You stared at him, eyes wide. “I can’t meet your parents like this!”

“Like what?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m wearing sweatpants!”

“And you look fine!” he argued. “Minho, tell her she looks fine.”

“Uh, you look fine.”

Why were men so fucking dense? You rolled your eyes and unbuckled your seatbelt. Your suitcase was just out of reach in the trunk so you hoisted yourself up over the seatback and grabbed one of the straps on the bag to pull it closer to you.

With your limited access it was hard to find what you were looking for, but you managed to randomly pull out a nice pair of jeans and a floral print blouse you’d thrifted last semester to change into.

Before either of the boys up front could register what was happening you pulled your t-shirt off over your head and started shimmying out of your sweats.

“What the fuck are you doing, y/n?” Jisung hissed as the car swerved.

To be fair, you were just straight up taking your pants off in his brother’s car, but in your defense he’d really left you no choice.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You snapped and looked back up at him, catching Minho’s eye in the rearview mirror as you did.

“Keep your eyes on the fucking road, Minho.” Jisung grumbled, shooting daggers back at you.

You blew him a kiss in return followed by the middle finger as you buttoned your jeans with your other hand.

Minho laughed and turned to his brother. “I like her.”

tags: @phobia0325 @fwess @hipsdofangirl @galaxleeknow @urmomma0324 @bangmechanpls @102598s @farfromsugafanfic @ritzy-roo @dimpledsatan @bvselines

add yourself to the taglist here

#instead of you skz #iou skz #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #stray kids series #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x bi!reader #lee know x female reader #lee know x bi!reader

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moeyynorris · 6 months

Text

I Feel My Shadow Dissolving

Let’s Make Trouble in the Dream World - Part 3

Max Verstappen x F!Reader, Charles Leclerc x F!Reader

Warnings: Emotions related to a break-up/end of relationship, cheating (kind of?), fluff (kissing).

A/N: This chapter is a bit longer, sorry. I hope you like it!

Master List

You sat at the cramped make-up desk in your dressing room, eager to get the caked-on make-up off your face. Sure, it still looked great, but it felt like a concrete mask. Yuck.

Just as you reached for a make-up wipe, you heard a knock on the door. You shrugged in your seat, anticipating Max and his empty congratulations. After your show, and the feelings that plagued you as you sang your heart out, you realized that he was no longer the man for you. The three time F1 champion of the world was no longer the man you loved.

With a deep sigh, you checked your phone, spotting a text from Max. You swiped to reveal the message just as another knock sounded.

“Coming! Just a sec!” you blurted. Then, you narrowed your eyes on the screen.

Max:

I will see you at the hotel. I know Craig was going to give you a ride. I want to get enough sleep for the race tomorrow. Be safe.

Your brow furrowed at the tone of the message. It wasn’t unlike Max lately to have you find your way back, so you weren’t super surprised. But, if Max wasn’t the one knocking on your door, then who…

The door slowly creaked open and a light voice called out as you turned. “Y/N?” It was Charles. Honestly, he was the last person you expected to come see you after the show, but it was definitely not unwelcome.

“Oh, hey Charles. Uh, Thanks for coming to the show. How did you like it?” You stood from your seat and face the Ferrari driver. He smiled and chuckled ever so lightly.

God, if you thought he looked good under the stage lights, he looked even better in the dimmed fluorescent glow of your dressing room. The jeans he was sporting fit every hint of a curve perfectly, and his very fitted shirt was short of obscene. His hair was tousled in the most delicious way, and the best part was that you knew he didn’t mean for it to fall that way.

In this moment, he was a Greek statue. He was perfection.

Charles licked his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest. “The show was spectacular. I have to admit I had never really listened to your music. I didn’t think it was my style, and I just didn’t know you were so talented.” He took a step forward as he continued. “The fact that I got to hear it live first made it so much more… special.” He smiled at you, obviously realizing he was ranting. “I loved it, Y/N. I really did.”

You nodded and smiled, touched by the honestly in his words.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I hope the others weren’t too rowdy for you,” you chuckled. She shook his head.

“Oh, no. I actually got a few payback pictures if I ever need them.” You both laughed as you leaned against the counter.

Charles let out a humorous sigh, then peered around the room. He furrowed his brow.

“Where is Max? Surely he would want to be here to congratulate you on a performance like that?” Your gut sank at his words. And before you could hide your reaction, the expression was already painted across your face. You sighed deeply and shrugged.

“He wanted to get sleep for the race tomorrow.” You nibbled on your bottom lip, a nervous habit you had never been able to kick.

“Well, it is an afternoon race, but I guess he is someone who needs a lot of sleep?” You could tell he was trying to make you feel better. It’s not like the fact that Max wasn’t there really bothered you. If anything, it solidified the weird feelings you had towards him over the last few… weeks? You sucked in a breath thinking about how long it had actually been.

It didn’t fucking matter. What mattered was where you were at that moment.

You offered Charles a smile and huffed a laugh.

“He hasn’t been here the last, geez, I don’t even know how many times now. He’s usually at the show, but after, it’s hit or miss.” You shrugged again. “I mean, there will be a million more shows.” Desperate to change the subject, you nodded towards the door and grinned.

“So, was that your first concert?” Charles’ cheeks reddened a little.

“My first one like that! The music I usually like is a little, well, calmer than that. Not that there was anything wrong with—“

“I know what you mean. I’ve heard a few of the songs you’ve shared on posts. It’s mellow, not anything like this. That’s why I’m even more thrilled that you liked this show.” You played air guitar for a second and chuckled.

Charles shrugged his shoulders and met your gaze. “Well, the fact that it was you made it even better.” Your stomach nearly flipped at his words.

‘What—“

“I just mean that it was special to see someone I know and care about on that stage.” His cheeks reddened as he peered off to his left. “Honestly, Y/N, you’re an important person in my life. Sure, you’re the partner of a fellow driver, but—“

“That’s debatable.” You didn’t realize you had said the words aloud until Charles reacted. His eyes widened as they locked on you. His whole body tensed for moment, is what almost seemed like a mixture of anger and… maybe relief?

“What are you saying?” Charles’ voice was soft, soothing. You sighed as you plopped back down on your stool.

“Max and I haven’t been right for a while. I mean, the intention is there, but the actual feelings behind it aren’t anymore. I really hit me on that stage tonight, when I was singing. Those words were written about him when I first wrote them, but now, they aren’t. It’s almost like they are meant for someone else now.” You stiffened at your lack of a filter. “I don’t even know why the fuck I’m telling you this.”

Charles sat on the make-up stand in front of you and sighed. He was closer than you expected, his legs almost brushing yours. You peered up at him as he reach out for your arm.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this, Y/N. But, sometimes our gut tries to tell our brain what is really best for us. And, now, I think that is what yours is trying to do.” His hand gently grazed down your arm, making its way to your hand. He curled his fingers around your palm as he rubbed circles on the back if your hand with his thumb.

“Well, I guess you’re right. I’ve been feeling it for a while, but pushing it off, not wanting to believe it.” You crossed your legs and nibbled nervously on your bottom lip.

Charles nodded ever so slightly as he listened, still holding your hand in his. He squeezed it gently, as if trying to soothe you. But, the weird part was that you didn’t really need to be soothed. You weren’t upset by the love lost between you and Max. He had his busy life, you and yours, and there wasn’t much in between. Sure, when you first started seeing each other, there was something there. Max was sweet and romantic for the first year or so. But, then everything just crumbled. You couldn’t remember a specific instance when it started. But, tonight was the affirmation that there was nothing between you anymore.

Charles tugged on your hand gently, waking you from your thoughts. You sighed and looked up at him, unable to hold back a smile as his eyes met yours.

“Y/N, you mentioned that your song seemed like it was meant for someone else now.” You heart nearly punched out of your chest. “Is there someone in particular?”

You slowly nodded, trying to calm your heart rate. “Yeah, Charles. You.”

Charles leaned back slightly, as if he wasn’t expecting the words that left your mouth. You knew better, by how he was holding your hand. No, he knew what you were going to say. What surprised him was the fact that you actually said it. Honestly, you were just as surprised.

You gasped lightly as Charles quickly stood, pulling you up with him. You rose to your feet, and found yourself pressed lightly against Charles’ chest. He was warm, the scent of cologne filling your senses.

Charles quickly took a step back and sucked in a shallow breath, still staring at you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to react like that—“

You cut him off with a kiss. You had no idea what had compelled you to do it, but it just happened.

Your heart pounded again as Charles kissed you back, his arm snaking around the small of your back as he pulled you against him. His warm lips encased yours gently, yet passionately, while his free hand found the back of your neck. You melted into his touch, taking in the comfort and passion heating in your chest.

Charles’ fingers snaked through your hair, coaxing a breathy whimper from the back of your throat. His lips curled into a smirk against yours, making your stomach flip.

There was something natural about bring held by Charles. It felt like something you had experienced for years, like it was something you were meant to do. Sure, that could just be your brain getting all sappy, but you couldn’t dismiss your feelings now. After all, they got you here in the first place.

Charles’ phone pinged loudly in his pocket. He slowly pulled his lips from yours, smiling as he gazed down at you.

“That would be Carlos. He is driving me back.” You froze for a moment, furrowing your brow.

“He’s been waiting for you all this time?” Charles chuckled.

“I told him I was going to find the restroom, and say goodbye if I can find you.” Charles winked, or at least attempted to. “For all he knows, I’ve been in the bathroom.”

You huffed a chuckle. “I don’t think he would believe that.” Charles laughed with you, just shaking his head.

“What he doesn’t know right now won’t hurt, right?” You nodded in agreement, then leaned back in one more time for a quick kiss.

“You should go meet up with him. I’ll see you tomorrow at the race.” The grin on your face wasn’t leaving anytime soon. “Craig is going to drive me back.”

Charles nodded, matching your grin. “You have my phone number right?” You nodded. “Please let me know that you are back safe. It’s late.” Your stomach swirled at his words.

“I will.”

After one more nod from the Ferrari driver, you watched him walk out of your dressing room. A few moments after he left, you plopped yourself down on your stool, wondering what the hell came next. You turned and looked at yourself in the mirror. Whatever your next move was, it was going to happen after your got all of that make-up off.

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #Charles Leclerc fluff #f1 #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 9 days

Text

Surprise Visit Pt 2 (Thor X Son!Reader)

Characters: Thor Odinson X Son!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: None

Pt 1

Request: Hi, I'm just finish Poco's udon world, and right of the batch I thought what if Poco is Thor's son, Poco has some of his feature too and I remember your fic Surprise Visit. Can you please do a Part 2 of it?🥺 reader is like Thor but he quite shy and always bring with books that his mother read before bed they bonding by activities together Thor bring him to Asgard to meet his grandparents Loki read them books, tell them stories, show and teach them magic (Harry Potter) with Freyaa and all fluff❤

The first few days after finally meeting your dad had been awkward to say the least. You were spending almost every waking moment either with him, or your uncle. You had expected that Loki would be a lot more awkward with you- or straight up wouldn’t like you from the get go, but it ended up being kind of the opposite. Thor had been a bit too eager from the get go to play the fatherly role, and you found it unnerving, and when Thor realised that (with help from Clint and Steve pointing it out for him) he backed up and started to just try and get to know you, your interests, your dislikes, and take things a little slower. Loki, on the other hand, was nowhere near as pushy, gave you space, and didn’t force conversation on to you. Eventually though, you ended up finding something to bond with Loki over; Books.

You had been interested in the books he read, even if you couldn’t read the language, and worked up the courage to ask him about it, and after an explanation, he asked what kind of books you liked, and it was a start of an actual long and meaningful conversation. Loki took that, and hinted that Thor should look into those books. The next day, Thor showed up to your room with a pile of books in his arms and a grin on his face.

Things since then had got a lot better between you and your dad. Instead of forcing it, or acting the part for the sake of it, Thor had naturally fallen into the father role that made it a comfortable change for you. Thor had little interest in books, but you had the ritual with him now of him buying a book for you, you read it, and after every chapter, you give him a rundown of what happened in detail, and you’d discuss it. You’d opened up a bit with him over the weeks, about what your life was like growing up with mum, holidays, key memories for you, and the rituals you two had- including reading books before bed together, which was where your love for books came from. Thor soon got you some of the books you mentioned, so you could do it with him. You got into a nice rhythm of living with and being around your dad and uncle, to the point where you were expecting it when an advancement was suggested.

“How do you feel about going to Asgard with Loki and I, tomorrow?” Thor asked, as you were tidying up after another late night discussion about a book you had been reading- this one actually a recommendation from your Uncle Loki. You stopped what you were doing, and looked over at Thor, who waited patiently.

“Uh… sure. Okay.” You agreed hesitantly, and immediately his face lit up. You had long guessed this conversation would happen, so you had time to prepare for it, though you knew that was actually impossible. What could prepare you for going to the land of gods- where you know you didn’t belong, even if Thor was your father? “Do… Do they know about me?” You asked cautiously.

“Of course!” He immediately answered. “As soon as I returned to Agard after we met, I told mother and father about you, and my friends! I wanted to tell the entire kingdom, but mother- your grandmother, insisted we wait till you met them all first before telling the rest of Asgard. Freya, your grandmother, is the most eager to meet you.” He gushed to you. You’d heard a lot about your grandparents through both Thor and Loki. Admittedly, Thor was the only one who talked about Odin, and while Loki didn’t talk much about them, when he did, it was always about Freya, about how she was also a bit of a bookworm, and how she taught him magic.

You got up early the next morning, mostly due to struggling to sleep from the anticipation, and you didn’t have to wait for either your dad or uncle to be ready either, though you couldn’t tell if it was due to excitement or nerves, or maybe they were both feeling those things- your dad the excitement, and Loki the nerves. It didn’t help that your dad was a raving optimist, and your uncle was a pessimist, so you couldn’t tell who was feeling the right way, so you just adopted a bit of each of their emotions. Cautiously excited.

You honestly wasn’t sure what to expect when you actually got there, or even the process of getting there in the first place, but as soon as you left the Bifrost, you were in awe. Sure, they had told you all about Asguard- the rainbow path that led to it, the great kingdom, the beauty of it all, but none of that was in comparison to what you were actually seeing. You remained in stunned silence the entire walk up the bridge, actually entering into Asguard, past the several hundred people who came to welcome them back and ask about you, up until your father actually called for you, after seeing you distracted by something else further away. You turned, seeing several people stood with your father and uncle, looking at you smiling. “Y/N, these are my friends, Fandrall, Hogun, Volstagg, and Sif.” Your father introduced you.

“So this is the little prince?” Sif questioned with a smile.

“Little? Thor, you said he was a boy! Give it a few years and he’ll be ready to be king!” Volstagg laughed, though the mention of such a role made you look at Loki quickly, and then your dad.

“He is a boy! The very idea of being king is still a long way away- you make it sound like he’ll outlive me.” Thor defended.

“Speaking of Kings.” Loki spoke up, placing hand on Thor’s shoulder.

“Right! Haven’t had the chance to introduce him to the rest of his family. We’ll pick this up later, promise.” Thor told them motioning you over, and guiding you deeper into the kingdom, down several expansive corridors, before you turned a corner, and spotted a group of women talking in the hallway ahead, and your father and uncle stopped. “Loki, stay here with Y/N.” Thor requested, before going towards the group, and you looked up at Loki confused, who patted you on the shoulder. You watched as your father approached the group, made some small talk, before all the women except one left down another hallway, and Thor stepped to the side, motioning the woman towards you and Loki, and you realised who she must be. Freya. Your grandmother.

As soon as she saw you properly, she smiled warmly, hands clasped and pressed against her chest with excitement, and any fear you had- fear of not being liked, or not meeting their standards, of being a disappointment, being looked down on for being half human- it all faded. You could feel the love and acceptance radiating off the woman as she reached out her hands, and took your own. “Y/N, words cannot describe the absolute joy I feel to finally be in your presence finally after all of Thor’s descriptions.” Freya told you, gently squeezing your hands, and you couldn’t help but smile too.

“I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you too from dad and uncle Loki.” You told her, and her smile grew, before she pulled you closer and wrapped an arm around you.

“Thor- Loki, go tell your father that you’re here with Y/N- I’ll give Y/N a tour of the palace- we’ll be in the library when you’re done. We have a lot to talk about.” Freya decided, already walking away with you, and you didn’t fight it, leaving with her.

Thor and Loki did as ordered, finding their father, letting them know they’d also brought you, and after a bit of back and forth questioning where exactly you were, and Loki explaining their mother had already stolen you away herself, and Odin simply sighed, and got up to follow his sons to head to the Library.

By the time they met back up with you and Freya, you and her were already getting along like a house on fire- she’d asked about your mother, her health, your childhood, her own expieriences that related when raising Thor and Loki, and when she heard about your little tradition with Thor with books, she picked out a book for you to take home to read, and to keep. You felt comfortable enough with her to ask about Loki and Odin’s relationship, the comment Thor’s friends made about being King one day and how you weren’t big on the idea, and also how according to how your dad and Loki talked about Odin, you were much more worried about meeting him than her. Freya had answers your questions, reassured you of your worries, and promised Odin would be on his best behaviour, and she helped your first meeting with Odin a lot from the get go.

As soon as Freya saw her husband, she stood first, smiling. “Odin, thank you for joining us. I was just about to ask Y/N if they’d like a private family dinner. What do you think?” Freya asked him, wrapping an arm around you again, and you smiled nervously at your grandfather, who was a lot more intimidating than you had anticipated. Odin didn’t talk at first, stepping a little closer, and you panicked internally, not knowing what to do, if you were supposed to do something- but Freya had kept her arm around you, gently rubbing your arm in reassurance.

“That can certainly be arranged. It’ll let us get to know our grandson. Thor, will you come with me to make the arrangements?” He asked, of his oldest, who nodded. “See you at dinner, Y/N.” He told you, before making his leave, Thor smiling at you, before following after him.

“In the meantime.” Freya spoke up once the two were quite a distance away. “Y/N, want to learn some magic?” She asked.

“Mother, I don’t know about that…” Loki fussed.

“Just beginning spells, nothing serious… we’ll save that for later. Maybe you could mentor Y/N as well when back on Midgard.” She suggested, and you realised that maybe, just maybe… Loki got some of his mischief from his mother.

“Am I able to do magic? Since I’m half human?” You questioned.

“I believe so, it’s worth a try. You coming Loki?” Freya questioned her son, who simply sighed, and followed after, deciding to be apart of his mother’s antics, knowing that Thor might lose his mind when he finds out about this.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my Gif

TAGS: @insanityismysanity12345 @klanceiscannon14 @marvelhoeingismyhobby @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort @freyathehuntress @abbybills22-blog @mutantjediavenger @theoraekensnotsosecretlover @alicedanganh @sleutherclaw @sleepy-coffee-bean @stawwpp @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic @courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

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torukmaktoskxawng · 1 year

Text

tsamsiyu ta'em - old names, new faces

Masterlist - part two

Summary: Jake is preparing for war while also learning about the arrival of someone he thought he'd never see again

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

Word Count: 4k+

posted on ao3

Taglist: @mooniequeen (Thank you for requesting to be tagged! The fic is up now both on here and on ao3. First chapter was already posted but I went ahead and tagged you there as well!)

Warnings: canon-compliant, canon-typical violence, mature language, adult content, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, alien/human (technically avatar), jake sully sister agenda, time skips, I'm trying to hurry up and get to the good parts so bear with me, fluff, angst, adopted spider, tags to be added

PANDORA, 2169

Jake didn't want to waste a second of time. After General Frances Ardmore sent out a transmission to the natives of Pandora, warning the Na'vi and humans occupying Hell's Gate to surrender the former RDA facility before her arrival, he made sure to abandon it... but not before planting a few bugs.

Listening devices and motion alarms were placed, then Toruk Makto ordered the Na'vi and all humans who live among them to retreat to the forests, and just in time, too. A week later, one of the motion alarms pings and Norm informs Jake immediately. The two launch a small war party and swarm their former headquarters, attacking the RDA retrieval team Ardmore had sent out to inspect Hell's Gate. The foot soldiers were overwhelmed within minutes, and Jake covers Norm -who was using his human form- and Max while the two go through the new bit of technology provided while the other Na'vi and human warriors keep the RDA hostages contained.

Jake crouches until he can fit into the doorway of the control room, assault rifle nestled in his arms, "Think you can do this?"

"Of course not!" Norm snapped, his attitude spiking as he and Max frantically look through the database, "I told you I'm not a hacker, Jake--"

"Alright--"

"--Do you think every scientist has to go through a Hacker Course in the Academy of Code in the Land of Computers just to get into Yale?" Spellman asked sarcastically.

"Got it," Max exclaims without looking away from the screen, "And yes, Norm, that's exactly what happens."

"Dick," Norm muttered, running over to hover over one of Max's shoulders while Jake hovers over both of them in size.

"I'm impressed," Max mentions while looking through the database, "Everything is neat, tidy, brand new--"

"Don't be getting any bright ideas," Jake muttered, one of his dreadlocks moving down his shoulder.

"I'm just saying, though I can easily tell they weren't expecting someone on this moon to be capable of hacking into their data files. I guess we should consider ourselves lucky that they underestimate us. No firewall, no password, not even cookies. Should be easy to download as much intel as we want, but only within that small window before the RDA react and come running when they realize what we're doing."

"Let's start with an inventory count," Jake takes a breath into his oxygen mask, "How many guns and ships are we looking at?"

"Ten shuttles, easily. No telling what each of them carries. Let's see. Missile batteries, gun emplacements. Armed to the teeth. Uh..." Before he could look further, the computer screen freezes and reboots, "Shit."

"What was that?" Norm asked.

"They caught us in their systems. They shut me out."

Jake grits his teeth and his gun, "Max, get back in there."

"I can't!"

"Try! And when you get back in, try and at least download any information they got on Ardmore and what she's planning before the system shuts down again. Forget the weaponry."

Max huffs, anxiously blinking away the sweat dripping down his forehead and fogging up his glasses. He furiously works as the three men start shuffling nervously, man and Na'vi alike. The computer makes a new sound and Max smiles brightly, "I got it, I got it! 'System is back up and running!"

Jake huffs out a bit of air before pressing into his throat microphone, "Alright, people, we got five minutes before the RDA realizes Hell's Gate is back online and responds. Let's go, let's go!"

Max begins to download files under titles he thinks are important. He catches names like Ardmore, Na'vi, Bridgehead, and Avatar. Out of curiosity, he clicks the last one and a name pops up, one that Max has to read over and over again before he grasps it, "Jake... does the name Makayla Sully ring a bell?"

Jake felt as though someone had just punched him in the gut, spinning back toward Max and the computer, "What did you just say?"

Max transfers the information from the computer screen and onto his datapad with just his hand motion and a flick of the wrist. He reads the name out loud again before Jake crotches over his and snatches the tablet from his hands, "Gimme that."

The former human now olo'eykan nearly stood to full height, forgetting he was too big for a human-made compound, and bonked his head. He grimaced and his eyes trail over the data file, reading it once, twice, the name sticking to the forefront of his mind for the first time in years. A picture attached to the file draws out his reaction, his breath was nearly taken away, "Holy shit."

"Relative?" Max asked.

Norm looked at the name from the original computer screen and noticed the picture attached to it, eyes growing comically wide, "Oh, shit. That's his sister."

Max looked between Jake and Norm, eyes wide in shock and sympathy while Norm read the file out loud, "'Corporal Makayla Sully. Avatar driver.' You know, Tom mentioned something about his sister showing interest in joining the Marine Corps. She might be here because of you."

He says this last part to Jake and immediately begins to sputter and backtrack when Jake's ears lowered, "I-I-I mean-! Not that it's your fault or anything--"

"Gunships inbound!" A voice is heard over the radio, warning the three men in the control room.

"Shit, they're early!" Max proclaims while grabbing the datapad from Jake along with the rest of their things.

His shock now shattered, the marine part of Jake takes over and he grabs his assault rifle again, "Go, get outta here!"

He lets Norm and Max run out in front of him while they frantically pull their exo-masks and packs on. Jake takes up the rear and together they run out of the Hell's Gate facility. Outside, other Na'vi and humans await them, calling and whooping out in warning at the sounds of gunship blades coming from a distance. Jake hears the familiar echo of Neytiri's call and he runs in that direction, finding his ikran waiting for him alongside his mate and her mount. Jake forms the tsaheylu and jumps up onto Bob's back, waiting until he's sure Max and Norm have jumped into their respective gunship before shouting the order to leave and scatter, instructing his people in the radio to rendevous to make sure no one was followed before returning home. The entire way back, his mind was troubled, clouded, and angry, the name and picture still haunting the forefront of his mind.

~~~~~~~~~

BRIDGEHEAD CITY, RDA STRONGHOLD

She woke up that morning with a headache, feeling uncomfortable pressure behind her eyes and forcing her to close them again.

But Makayla didn't want to close them. She didn't want to go back to her dream, the one she had been having for a while now, even in her cryosleep. After waking from that hibernation, they had told her that it wasn't possible. You can't dream in cryosleep. She decided not to question it further, afraid that some doctor would find her mentally unwell and send her back to Earth when she had only just arrived on Pandora. So Kayla kept her mouth shut, never mentioning the ocean waves she remembered flying over in her dream, bluer and cleaner than she had ever seen back home.

The woman stood up and got ready for the day, alone and basking in the silence of her one-bedroom quarters stationed in Bridgehead City. Gelling her hair back to fit into a bun and donning her uniform, she tucks her tank top into her standard-issue army-style pants and combat boots before throwing over her jacket. Grabbing her exopack and spare, she headed out into this new world, reporting to the control room of this vastly growing city.

No one looked up from their duties when she entered the control room, but she looked on and made a beeline for the person she was meant to report to, keeping her posture stiff and back straight when she stood behind another woman in uniform, saluting her in respect, "General Ardmore."

An older, blonde-haired woman, hiding said hair under a hat turned at her name, hands behind her back while nodding down to the younger woman, "Corporal Sully. How was your beauty sleep?"

"Well rested and ready to go, ma'am."

"Excellent. Right this way."

Moving from the control room, Ardmore leads her new recruit into the bio-lab, crossing over to an amino tank, tapping the glass, and turning back to address the corporal, "So this is your vehicle here."

Makayla stepped forward, staring into the tank and inspecting her new ride. She paused, nearly stunned at the floating Na'vi-looking woman in the tank. The creature's eyes were closed, frowning, curled around herself like a fetus in the womb, but still obviously much taller than her human counterpart. She twitched occasionally, but otherwise never acknowledged her avatar driver's presence. Makayla refrained from touching the glass but stood in awe while inspecting the avatar's face. Pale blue skin with darker blue stripes, thin, dark eyebrows, a small flat nose, and long ears pinned to her skull. Makayla had the urge to touch her own cheekbones and small lips when looking at what was essentially a reflection. She recognized certain features on the avatar that was definitely hers whenever she looked into a mirror, astonished at how well-designed her Na'vi body looked to mirror her human self.

Ardmore didn't appear to notice Makayla's amazement, droning on while slowly swarming the tank, inspecting the creature inside with an upturned nose, "She's not much but it'll be passable. You've read up on avatar training, have you?"

Kayla's spell is broken and she straightens her posture, looking dutifully ahead and not at her avatar, "Yes, ma'am. Enough to know the controls."

"Good. Have you logged in time on the simulator?"

"Yes, though not as much as I wish I could. I still get nauseous."

Ardmore nods, "Time and gravity are different here, Corporal. From what I hear, it'll help with the brain link. Now I know I said when I first recruited you that this would be a simple in-and-out extraction, but things have changed and now the real test is whether or not you can adapt to that."

Kayla keeps her eyes forward despite wanting to show the general her determination, "I can adapt to anything you throw at me, General."

"I like to hear it." Ardmore moves her hand to pat Makayla's arm almost robotically, but the corporal took the hint and followed the general back outside, never daring to look back at her avatar. After instructing her recruit to follow suit and throw on an exopack, the two women step outside, casually strolling together on the catwalk standing high above the city. Ardmore points out to the jungle far beyond the dry landscape circling around the city, "Now, with the plan to bring the majority of humanity here, I need soldiers out there learning to adapt and become experts in this new world we intend to call home. Unfortunately, this atmosphere and environment aren't really friendly to our kind, hence why we formed the Kill Zone."

"The Kill Zone?"

"It's what that barren two-mile-wide field is. It surrounds the city to keep the native lifeforms at a safe distance. Everything here-- the plants, the animals, they want to kill us. So for now, we use the Kill Zone to keep them away and regularly treat it with herbicides to keep anything from growing."

"And to keep anything from attacking?"

"That's what the automated weapons surrounding the city wall are for, Corporal. We're not taking any chances, but we can't be in the defensive position forever. Eventually, we'll have to fight back. With the entire flora and fauna of this moon wanting to attack us, we need to compromise it. Hence why we brought back the Avatar Program. We need avatar soldiers whose DNA will not trigger this moon's immune response. With new soldiers trained for the most hostile environments, we believe that if we link them with these avatars, we can assess and observe whether or not it will be easy for normal civilians to take on avatars."

Kayla's stone expression slips temporarily, eyes widening for a fraction of a second, "You want everyone to have an avatar eventually?"

Ardmore shrugs while tapping on the glass of her mask, "Humanity can't adapt overnight. If we want this place to be our new home, we'll need to be able to breathe the air and hunt and gather resources safely. Unfortunately, it is unclear how long a human could possibly link to their avatar before they have to disconnect. That is where you come in. We'll be testing this experiment through you. Any questions?"

"Just one, General." She hesitates as Ardmore turns to her, but Kayla blinks, rolls her lips, and says it anyway, "My brother's remains. When will I be able to go and search for them?"

A shadow passes the older woman's eyes before it retreats to the corners of her whites. Kayla knew it was a stupid question to ask, but Ardmore's usual stone voice changed to ice cold and she answered it anyway, "Once the labcoats are confident you can withstand longer link periods, we'll fly you out and drop you off at your brother's last known whereabouts before he was deemed killed in action. Understand that we can't waste a ton of manpower on this impossible body retrieval, but a deal's a deal. I'll send you out and send you a ride home once you call it in, but that's it. Otherwise, you're on your own, Corporal."

"Yes, ma'am. I understand."

~~~~~~~~~

HIGH CAMP, OMATIKAYA STRONGHOLD

The war party returns to their stronghold in the Hallelujah Mountains, and Jake's mind is still far away from him. After landing his ikran and breaking the bond, he felt his feet moving over to Max after the scientist hopped off the gunship with the same war paint Trudy's ship bore as a tribute. Jake easily towers over Max, asking him if he could have a look at the datapad he carried with their newly acquired information. Max flashed a look of understanding before handing the tablet over and walking away without another word.

Jake turned to leave as well, only he did so in the direction of his mate. Neytiri broke away from her ikran when she noticed Toruk Makto approaching her with a troubled look on his face, her ears stiffening at the sense of something being wrong.

"Ma Jake--"

"I have something to tell you," he gently cuts her off, and something in Neytiri's stomach drops, "Something I never told you before."

Subtly and easing into conversation had never been her husband's strongest suit. Neytiri felt cold and slightly fearful while staring down her mate, conflicted, trying to figure out what he could've hidden from her. It wasn't the first time he lied to her, earning her trust and betraying her, even when he had the best intentions. Over the years, Neytiri learned to forgive her mate for his past mistakes, including the one that concluded the death of her father and the destruction of her home. Still, hearing Jake admit that he hasn't told her everything made her heart sink with worry.

Nodding off to the side, she moves away from the campsite and Jake dutifully follows. Once they were out of earshot, she silently turned to him and folds her arms, waiting for him to spill, and he does, "I have a sister. Her name is Makayla."

Her tail curls in attention, lips parting in a silent gasp as she stares at him in disbelief, "You... you told me you had a twin brother."

"Yeah, I did. Tommy," Jake indicated toward himself, "This body was meant to be his avatar before he died and I took his place."

"And your sister?" The words felt strange on her tongue, her mind not yet convinced that Jake even has another sibling, much less a sister, "Why tell me now?"

His eyes swam with guilt, an emotion he knows better than to hide from his wife. Neytiri hadn't seen guilt like that on his face ever since he accidentally stepped on Little Kiri's tail and made her scream bloody murder. His eyes were wide and sad as if he had just accidentally killed the most beautiful, innocent creature in the world most sacred to Eywa. He looked as though he had betrayed Neytiri's trust all over again after telling her the truth behind the Sky People wanting the Omatikaya to leave Hometree. Decades worth of sadness and regret were evident in his eyes and aged him beyond his years, "Because she's here, with the Sky People."

He swipes across the screen of the datapad and offers the tablet to her. Neytiri stepped closer and caught sight of a picture on the screen. It was the picture of a human woman, with a blank expression as she stared directly into the camera head-on. She was middle-aged at most, likely more around Neytiri's age than Jake's, but she carried her shoulders and eyes to appear much older, kind of like how Jake looked now when examining the picture.

Neytiri is not sure what the Sky People deemed 'pretty' among their own species, so she didn't bother complimenting the picture, especially since she wouldn't have meant it. "That is her?"

"Yeah."

"Why is she here?"

Jake scrolls down the screen as he read, "This file mentions that she was recruited for the next step in the avatar program. Which means she'll most likely have a Na'vi body of her own."

Her eyes narrow but she doesn't say a word against the statement. 'Na'vi' is a loose term when it comes to the Sky People creating avatar bodies to walk among Neytiri's people. They never got certain features right, such as their hands and eyes. However, Neytiri can't find it within herself to be disgusted by those features anymore, not like she used to. Not when the man she fell in love with had those same features. Not when one of her sons and adopted daughter bore those same features. It was hard for Neytiri to imagine what an avatar would look like for Jake's sister and part of her didn't want to find out.

"What is the plan?" She sternly asked her husband, carefully watching his eyes, "Hm? What do you want to do?"

His ears are still lowered, definitely sensing the distrust in Neytiri's voice while he carefully answered, "I want to grab her and pull her out of there."

"Jake." She pitied her husband, detecting the hope in his eyes and she hated the fact that she must be the one to squash it, "Your sister is of the Sky People."

"So was I. Once," he tucked the datapad under his arm and placed both of his hands on her shoulders, keeping their eyes locked as he gently spoke, "But everything changed when I met you. If I can meet with her, I'm sure I can convince her to stay with us."

"... Older or younger than you?"

"Younger." He knew by then, he had won his wife over. Her tail flicked with curiosity at his answer along with her eyes before she tried her best to mask it. Both of them knew what the other was thinking, and the Na'vi woman was currently thinking about how much she missed her own sister. "Neytiri... I let her down once. I can't do it again."

"... And you won't."

~~~~~~~~~

Over the next few weeks, Makayla had been syncing with her avatar and learning how to move in her new body before heading out of the safety of the city. She kept close at first, not wanting to push it, and went one day at a time. Eventually, one mile became two, and after the first couple of weeks, she had branched out to a couple of hundred leagues. Thankfully, there weren't any mirrors out in the wilds of Pandora. She still had difficulty looking at her reflection, not expecting blue skin, big ears, and yellow eyes. However, she appreciated the new body in other ways, such as speed and agility. Kayla managed to pull stunts that she could have never done back home, least of all in her own body.

With the speedy progress she was making, Ardmore and the RDA scientists granted her permission to venture out days at a time, entrusting her with a radio and food rations but not much else per Ardmore's warning of little supplies available to be wasted. Makayla didn't mind. She had plenty of training to prepare her for survival, and although those survival tips were meant to help her thrive in climates unfamiliar to Pandora, she considered this as a challenge.

There were well-known sites of Pandora in the RDA database, stretched around familiar areas and marked as 'forbidden'. Kayla found herself at some of these sites, thinking of the possibility of finding her brother's body in these marked places. She had gone to Hell's Gate but found nothing other than whatever was left abandoned there. RDA had already cleared out what had been left by Na'vi and their human sympathizers that Ardmore warned Kayla about... though they took heavy losses because Hell's Gate had been rigged before their arrival. Unbeknownst to Kayla, she herself had set off an alarm when scavenging through the old military base, but she never saw or heard anything. The alarm had gone off elsewhere, far out into the floating mountains hundreds of miles away.

Taking her time around the abandoned base, Kayla kept her rifle under her arm and her newly-acquired, sensitive ears on high alert, turning this way and that at even the slightest of sounds. So of course, she immediately hears the sounds of bird screeches, only... they sound bigger, coming closer with multiples echoing off each other, along with the heavy sounds of large wings.

Kayla immediately takes cover, hiding in a large hangar meant to store gunships during those violent electrical storms she was warned about. Trying to make herself small by pressing against the wall as tight she could, she tried to calm her breath and slow down her heartbeat as she hears the thunderous sounds of dozens of large animals landing on the ground. Kayla could feel the stomps with her own two feet, not liking the idea of the danger being so close, she made sure her weapon was loaded, trying to stay quiet.

"Fan out! No lethals. We capture alive."

A loud voice booms and it's echoed by several yips and calls of acknowledgment. Makayla tried counting but lost count after six. Multiple footsteps can be heard scattering around the entire facility, and to her horror, a handful was coming in Kayla's direction. She takes a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. Slowly, carefully, she turns on her heels until she's fully facing the open hangar door, hoisting her rifle up until she's able to peek into the sights. She was ready to take out whoever came through that door, her eyes flickering down at the long shadows slowly approaching the doorway.

Too bad she had no one to cover her six because, with one flick of her ear, she realized her mistake. Spinning around, she's met with a swift kick of someone's leg, throwing her back and forcing her hands to let go of her gun, letting the weapon skitter across the floor. Kayla grunts at the impact, trying to quickly scurry to her feet as loud war cries echo all around her, bouncing off the walls of the empty hangar. Standing up and unsheathing her knife, she's completely surrounded by Na'vi, snarls and hisses being spat at her feet while having dozens of weaponry pointed at her. Spears, arrows, knives... even heavy artillery of human-make, like a shoulder-held grenade launcher. Kayla had to admit, that made her pause and stare oddly at the Na'vi warrior holding a weapon she was more familiar with before the sound of more people running into the hangar drew her attention away.

Kayla spun around at all the people surrounding her, pointing her knife at each of them as she screamed, "Stay back!"

They only hiss or ululate in response, glaring sharply at the female marine with bright yellow eyes that now match hers. They begin to close in around her, tightening up their formation, and she could feel her heart beginning to sink to her stomach as she gripped her knife tighter.

"Waitwaitwait! Hold your fire!"

The Na'vi all pause, slowly calming down and some break out of the circle to make way for their leader. Or, at least, that's who Kayla figured this particular male Na'vi was. He looked like the leader, with his war paint and many feather and beads adorning the braids of his hair and loincloth. However, there was something about his attire that made him stand out and that was the army-green vest, clearly of human fashion. Kayla fully turned to face the Na'vi male, her eyes briefly shifting to the side when a Na'vi female walked close behind him, otherwise, Kayla kept her eyes forward and focused on the leader.

The leader appeared hesitant, even hopeful, his ears flicking curiously to the side while closely inspecting her, "What's your name?"

She clocks in on the accent, recognizing the clear words to be something from her home world. And... oddly, it sounded familiar, though she couldn't place it. Lookely closely, she realized that this Na'vi was different from the others, apart from the fashion. This leader bore five digits on each hand and bore eyebrow hairs, much like herself. This wasn't a Na'vi at all. This was an avatar.

"... You sound American. You know English."

He flashed a brief smirk of amusement, "I know a lot more than that. Your name?"

She shifts her gaze around at all the Na'vi people staring menacingly at her. What harm could her first name be? "Makayla."

Something deflates in the leader's posture and expression. Shock and relief mix together in his eyes, "Jesus. It really is you."

Her eyebrows furrow, head tilting ever so slightly with curiosity, "Do I know you?"

"Kayla, it's me. It's Jake."

Her entire posture stiffens, face freezing in the expression of curiosity. She didn't move a muscle let alone remember to breathe, eyes only ever staring at the leader ahead of her, now calling himself Jake. Slowly, she takes a careful step forward, growing nervous, inspecting the man's face every time she stepped closer to get a better look. Jake's posture continued to soften, trying not to appear intimidating so that she would bravely step up to him. As she got closer, Jake clearly recognized her in certain features her avatar inherited, but he didn't voice it. Instead, he remained patient, letting his sister take her time.

What he wasn't expecting, however, was when she got close enough, Kayla quickly reached out and grabbed him, roughly spinning him around and holding him in front of her body like a shield while yelps and hollers of distress sound out all around the pair. The Na'vi all cry out in warning as they raise their weapons once more, becoming infuriated when Kayla remembered her knife and pressed the blade against Jake's neck, snarling into his ear, "How the hell do you know my brother's name?!"

"Kayla--"

"Tell me!"

Neytiri's bow was raised, an arrow aimed directly at Kayla's head, but she appeared hesitant, "Ma Jake--"

Jake lifted his arms out to his people, trying to block Kayla from their weapons, "Hold! Hold! Don't hurt her."

When none of them moved, Jake tried his best to talk down to the woman currently holding him hostage. Height wise she was a couple of inches shorter than him, but the knife pressed into his skin told Jake that height clearly didn't matter, "Kayla... calm down. It's me, I swear."

Her voice cracked, but in rage or distress, Jake wasn't sure of, "No, you're lying. My brother was killed in action!"

He grimaced, "That's likely a lie the RDA came up with for insurance reasons. There's a lot you don't know but if you--" her knife knocked his skin in warning, but he forced his words out, this time louder and less calm, "if you would just let me explain!"

"You're not him!" She screamed in his ear, her breaths becoming irregular, "You're not-- you can't be--"

"I can prove it," he spoke sternly, confidently, getting right down to the point, "You tried wine for the first time when you were sixteen, stealing a small glass from Mom. Instead of spitting it out, you tried finishing the glass like an idiot because Tommy told you not to. Mom and Dad locked you in the bathroom the next day because you were so sick and they made him clean it up because he didn't stop you."

The whole world felt as though it paused mid-rotation, the ground, and sky beneath them holding their breath, awaiting a response. He couldn't see her face, but Jake noticed the grip around her knife had loosened a fraction, and it was slowly moving away from his neck. Slowly, he slipped out of her hold by his own accord, slowly turning around so as not to spook her. Kayla's knife clatters to the ground and Neytiri forces herself to relax, lowering her bow and nodding for the others to follow suit.

Makayla studies Jake's face more closely this time, depicting certain features that she recognized to belong to a Sully, in some way shape or form. She couldn't explain how she knew... but it was the same reason why she was able to identify her avatar as her own, knowing certain features stem from both avatar and human form.

"Jake..." She exhaled under her breath, her voice quieter than before. Kayla took a step closer and the Na'vi people shuffled nervously. Jake kept perfectly still, remaining under her observation until something clicked behind her eyes like the gears had just suddenly shifted into place. Her eyes widen in shock, relief, and above all, joy, "Jake!"

She jumps into his arms, her full body shaking being the only sign of the woman ever crying.

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged, lemme know!

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hold-him-down · 5 months

Text

Welcome to Belleview - Chapter 1

Notes: ~11 years after the beginning of The Fighter, this is not a Luke/Leo story but is in-universe.

TW: Institutionalized slavery, nonsexual nudity, starvation mention, human euthanasia mention, degrading language, all the things.

✥ ✥ ✥

From the outside, it is a beautiful campus. Elegant in its simplicity, with three brick buildings forming a crescent at the mouth of a long, rose-bush lined drive that intersects wrought iron gates.

Today, police swarm it, more for the optics than anything else. They’re not here to enact change, or to start building moral credit, but they are here, and so he smiles, shakes hands, introduces himself.

He opens the double-paned glass door, which sits just in front of a set of reinforced steel bars, and he’s immediately met with the silence of a reception area from which all of its workforce has been escorted out.

Almost all.

“Lincoln Prescott?” says a singular man, in his mid-twenties on his best day, peeking around the corner. He’s nervous, skittish even. Fidgeting palms run down his sweater and he smiles, but it’s not the smile of someone who’s happy, welcoming, comfortable, warm.

Lincoln returns the gesture and nods. He doesn’t extend his hand. Instead, he turns over the key he’s just been handed, and he reads the man’s name-tag.

Jared Fisher, Handler. Level Two.

Jared smiles sheepishly and takes off the name-badge. “I wasn’t sure if I should wear it. I guess… I guess it’s not really needed anymore.” He holds it out to Lincoln, who stares at it for several seconds, before he sets it on the counter behind him.

“Uh,” Jared says, cutting through the silence of the massive waiting area. “I’m sorry. I know, I’m sure, that you’re not– I get it, I mean. I know I’m the enemy here.”

Lincoln narrows his eyes, shaking his head once.

“They said if I– Uhh, they said they’ll take it into c– consideration, I guess. When the trials start. When… whatever is going to happen, happens.” He swallows, and Lincoln feels something that is related to sympathy, but not quite it. He lets that feeling fizzle quickly. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” Jared says quietly.

There’s silence again. Lincoln lets it settle over him, watching the ex-handler’s fidgeting intensify, before he says, “Oh. You’re waiting for me to speak.”

Jared shrinks.

When the final nail in the coffin of support for the trade and consumption of government-sanctioned slavery had been hammered in, there wasn’t the type of frenzy that anyone expected. That morning, people, by and large, woke up, had their coffee, showered. They caught their trains to work, they read their news and they watched, closely, but there wasn’t an uproar. They stole glances at their phones and monitors for updates, for news, for what happens next.

Truth be told, it had been heading this way for a while. Within the last ten years, Individual states had begun passing legislation that, in hindsight, paved the path for widespread challenges to the system, led by a few congresspeople who finally woke the fuck up. Things turned violent early, with protests, rallies, boycotts, demonstrations… everything imaginable.

Videos of workers being tortured, followed by videos of workers recounting their own stories, began making national headlines. Consumers of workers’ labor fought hard to sway public opinion back to the positive outcomes the system had brought the country, but with each passing week, with each new video of a worker strapped to a table being violated in unimaginable ways, it was a losing battle.

As local legislation was passed, certain states became a kind of safe-haven for runaways. And eventually, things started going federal.

The most significant bill, the one that fully outlawed the use of worker labor and reinstated the ‘freedom’ of current workers, was going to be codified that morning. It wasn’t unexpected, at that point, but still, the infrastructure, the plan, was… well, it had holes, to say the least.

The workers who were deemed functional, by some arbitrary metric, would be relocated to massive government-owned housing units. They would share rooms by the half dozen, be fed, given medical attention, and slowly be reintegrated into society. No one knew exactly how that would work, but it had been successful in the states that had already outlawed worker labor (with some notable exceptions), so the plan, half-assed as it was, was set into motion.

Former safehouses were repurposed as halfway houses for those who were less “independent.”

Individual volunteers were gathered who would open their homes to those who were unable to care for themselves but didn't pose any significant safety or medical risk.

In the days leading up to the vote for reinstatement of worker rights, when it was clear how things were going to go, people did go into a frenzy. Hospitals scrambled to hire, doctor’s offices scrambled to modify policy, the call for volunteers to offer shelter, food, medical assistance, jobs… it was madness.

But that morning, the morning the final nail landed, it was quiet.

Jared leads Lincoln down a narrow hallway, spouting off information as he does. The linoleum tiled floor is clean, but peels around the edges. The walls are white, chipped along the corners and where the doorframes meet the drywall. The ceiling is white, but there’s a yellow cast. The fluorescent lights that line the halls give it a sort of eerie post-apocalyptic vibe, and it’s fitting.

The building, Belleview, is eerily quiet. There’s no obvious screaming coming from within, so it’s already better than he expected.

Jared slaps his keycard against a box outside a set of double doors, and Lincoln takes a breath. The volunteers are gathering outside by now. His group of nurses, doctors, caretakers. They could be with him, but he wanted this run-through alone. To give him time to make sure the plan that he spent the last week finessing would work.

Jared stops at the first door, and pushes a button outside of it, bringing to life a screen. There’s a name on the top, and Lincoln glances through the information he’s shown. Jared presses another button, and the door unlocks audibly, the light above it turning from red to green.

Inside is a man, with nothing else. Brown hair, blue eyes. He doesn’t look at them.

“This one can get aggressive.” Jared’s voice is matter of fact, as he points out the information on the tablet. “They come here to… you know, to be of whatever use they can be until they…” he whispers, and Lincoln offers him the briefest of glances. He regrets it immediately. “Expire.”

Lincoln turns his attention back to the screen, and so Jared continues. “We have 21, uh… residents, right now. I think that’s what we’re supposed to call them now. They were… well, you know. They were workers, but the rejects, I guess. They’re in… they’re in various states of um…”

Lincoln clears his throat tersely, throwing a warning glance to the ex-handler.

“Well, okay. I’m sure you’ve been briefed, and if not, I’m sure you will be.” He begins walking again, letting the last door close without another glance, as he approaches the next. “We tried to take as good of care of them as we could. They’re fed and watered and we tried to... whenever we could, some of us tried to offer them some comfort.”

He stops at the door. “Obviously, they’re here for a reason, so they don’t tend to be super… uh, super cooperative or trainable or anything. They’re usually just… they’re here for a short time, and then–” He stops himself this time, without the warning glance.

“We call this guy Tank, but I think his real name is Tyler, if that means anything to you.”

Lincoln nods. “Does it say here? Anywhere on here? What his name is?”

Jared fiddles with the screen for several seconds before it comes to a demographic page. It lists 20 inhabitants, and presumably, their room numbers.

“Look at that,” Jared says then, interrupting Lincoln’s review. “Looks like I was right, it is Tyler. That was a guess.”

Lincoln takes a breath, because there’s no benefit to causing a scene here. If Jared was offered leniency, then he was a handler who, at least on the surface, wasn’t as bad as he could have been.

“Anyway, this one used to be aggressive, too." The door opens and Jared gestures to the man who lays on his stomach, bandages across his back. "But now? Nothing going on in there.” He points to his own temples, and lets the door swing shut. He switches to the video feed, where Tyler stares into the camera.

Jared continues along to the next room, and Lincoln follows behind him, his thoughts racing.

Lincoln Prescott was already in his car on his way to the site he’d been assigned to oversee before they even finalized things in the White House. It’s a temporary solution to a very serious problem, they said. It would take ten to fifteen days to get those who were in no shape to get to a halfway house the medical attention they needed and find suitable placements for them.

In the meantime, they were safest where they were. He was needed to help organize the volunteers and medical personnel, and to act as a sort of director of the temporary housing facility.

So he drove. He knew it would be bad, maybe the worst of the worst. He had been briefed. He was given a stack of files of the inhabitants that he would be overseeing. He looked it over that night, and every night since then. He spent the last six days memorizing every face, every backstory.

It was a site to house those that the government had deemed unable to be placed, for one reason or another. Too violent, too unpredictable, too difficult to be trained. From what Lincoln could gather, these workers served any and all purposes. Their primary reason for existence was, it seemed, to trial training techniques, to trial drugs, to motivate the workers who were difficult, to show that there were worse fates.

They ranged in ages from 19-26. None survived longer.

“Doctor Prescott?” Jared asks, from somewhere far away. Lincoln looks up from the tablet, and Jared is already down the hall at the next door. Lincoln takes a breath, biding his time. They’ve gone through eighteen of the men, with Jared's special commentary on each of them. Twice, Jared had promised that he wasn't a bad person, and that the culture had been one thing, but now it was another, and he was ready to pivot.

Only once had Lincoln felt himself snap, and had to excuse himself before serious harm was done.

Some of the men were given the accommodation of a bed, some of them were given clothing, some had rotten food in their cells, some had broken bones, open wounds. Some slept fitfully, and some slept so completely still that Lincoln thought that they might not be alive at all. Jared had assured him, in those moments, that they probably were.

Jared opens the door to the twentieth room, with a small, “We call this one ‘Felix.’ I think you’ll like him,” as he does. The man, short blonde hair and dark brown eyes and at least forty pounds less than his frame should support, blinks himself awake. He sits in the corner of the tiny room and stares at Lincoln. He tries to smile, but the tremors that rock his body make it hard to buy. He doesn't wear any clothes, and has one of the DLS-issued shock collars affixed to his neck. His ribs shake when he breathes too deep, but again, he tries to smile, even as he backs further into the corner.

Jared is speaking to him, but Lincoln doesn’t clock exactly what’s being said. The man looks so afraid, but still, he lifts his fingers in a sort of wave, shaking as he does. Lincoln waves back, offering him a small smile in return.

“We’re not allowed to euthanize them,” Jared is saying.

“What?”

“When they hit the end, I mean. We have to give them enough food, give them enough water. If they choose to stop eating or drinking or… whatever, that’s on them. We can’t assist them. Once they’re too far gone, sometimes we’ll just stop trying to get them to eat, and let them go.”

He thought, by now, that he’d heard it all. His eyes widen. “Is that where we’re at with him?”

Jared shrugs. “He’s sick. The director said he’s gonna go any day now, but it’s better if we don’t directly cause that.”

Lincoln doesn’t attempt to keep the hatred out of his eyes.

“He knows,” Jared says. “They all do. Once we stop pulling them for testing, it’s only a matter of time. He wants you to pull him, though,” he continues. “He wants to know it’s not his time yet. He wants to show you he can still be of use. He doesn’t really speak anymore, but he tries to be sweet, so we will keep him in rotation.”

“Stop talking,” Lincoln says then, his fist in a tight ball but, remarkably, not around the man’s throat. Jared’s mouth snaps shut.

“Show me the last one, and then you’re finished here.”

As they retreat away from the man’s cell, the door closes behind them, and Lincoln watches the hope leave his eyes.

They make quick work of the last door, and the weasley man leads Lincoln back through the main wing, mumbling about how there were several wings they didn’t tour, but he at least got to see all the residents, and how if he has questions, he is more than happy to take a call, day or night, and how…

✥ ✥ ✥

The volunteers stand in a haphazard group, each with a color coded name-badge to at least give Lincoln a starting point as to their role. He begins by directing the doctors and nurses to rooms, providing instructions on how to access the rooms, providing instructions on how to access the medical files, providing whatever information he can.

They’re working on finding placements for each of these boys, he tells them. But they all require intensive, specific treatment. As they find placements, they’ll be housed, and once they’ve placed the last boy, the volunteers will be reassigned.

As the last of the volunteers heads inside to get their own bearings, Lincoln takes a step back, regarding the innocuous building.

“I guess that’s that,” Jared says from behind him, taking a step forward and extending his hand out once more. Lincoln looks down at it, shoving his hands into his pockets, as Jared mumbles, “Welcome to Belleview.”

UNTITLED SYSTEM COLLAPSE STORY TAGLIST: @pigeonwhumps @peachy-panic @whump-cravings

#belleview #institutionalized slavery #this is going somewhere #its going places #maybe not to the pulitzer prize people #but places #nonsexual nudity #torture mention #government stuff #it's a set up ok #they'll be sweet soft guys eventually

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hearts-hunger · 1 year

Text

four weddings and a funeral — part one

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Series Playlist ♫

Series Summary: You and Danny haven't spoken in years. When the two of you stumble upon a week of weddings, funerals, and the hotel rooms in between, will fate rekindle your friendship or put the old flames out altogether?

Chapter Summary: The last place you ever expected to see him again was a funeral.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Reader | Genres: friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, mutual pining | Word Count: 3.6k | Chapter Warnings: smoking, drinking, funerals

A/N: Danny's cabin fic! The real one! I'm hoping this one goes better than Wild and Blue - I'm sorry again for abandoning it, but I hope this one makes up for it. Also, this fic has nothing to do with the movie of the same title; I haven't seen it, and I just liked the idea of social events pushing a couple together. I hope you like it, my loves! ♡

Of all the places to be without a lighter, you decided this was one of the worst.

You fished around in your little crossbody bag, already knowing you didn’t have one but hoping you’d get lucky. The American Spirit between your lips was stained with the most neutral lipstick you could find; you figured there was no use looking glamorous for a funeral, and you’d gone for an understated look when dressing in your plain black cocktail dress earlier.

You gave a frustrated huff. You hated funerals, and you’d only gone to this one because your mom hadn’t wanted to make the drive alone. The visitation service was for the relative of a friend of hers from years ago; you didn’t even know her name. You’d made sure your mom was settled talking about the good old times with a few of her friends before you’d stepped out to get a little nicotine in your system.

But, no lighter, no luck. You abandoned your search, leaning on the railing of the gazebo that stood on a hill out behind the funeral home.

You hadn’t been standing there two seconds before cigarette smoke wafted past you, and you frowned in confusion. Looking down, you saw someone standing at the foot of the gazebo, leaning back against the post. He held a lit cigarette in his hand.

“Hey!” you called.

He tilted his head back and looked up at you from under a mop of curly brown hair.

“Hey yourself.”

“Can I borrow your lighter?” you asked. You came down the stairs and around to the side where he stood without waiting for an answer, and he held his lighter out for you without protest.

“Thank you,” you said, returning it to him and taking a drag. You felt a brief sensation of butterflies when your hand brushed his; he was young, about your age, and almost too pretty to be somewhere so ordinary.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said.

He chuckled. “No problem.” He took a long drag and exhaled through his nose. “Needed a break from all the fun inside, huh?”

You gave a wry smile. “Yeah, I guess. I’m not a huge fan of funerals.”

He raised a brow. “No? That’s strange. Most people love them.”

“Okay,” you conceded, and you couldn’t help but smile when he gave a soft laugh. There was something oddly familiar about him, though you didn’t have the faintest idea where you could have seen him before.

“Were you close with... uh, the deceased?” you asked. You felt bad that you couldn’t remember her name and felt heat rise to your face. “My mom was friends with the family years ago, so I’m kinda just here for moral support.”

He brushed a wayward curl back from his face.

“Her name was Janet Baker,” he said. “She was a really old lady who lived a good, long life, so it’s not so terrible to see her go. She was ready.”

“Did you know her well?” you asked.

He shrugged. “She was a friend of my grandparents’. My mom spent a lot of time with her. I didn’t really know her, I guess, but it’s nice to see how many people loved her.”

You hummed in agreement. “That is nice.” You finished your cigarette and looked around for a place to throw it out. Your mystery friend held out his hand.

“There’s an ashtray up by the back door,” he said. “I’ll take yours when I take mine.”

“Oh,” you said, putting it in the palm of his hand. “Thank you.”

You looked up at him. “I didn’t even introduce myself before I accosted you for a lighter,” you said with a nervous smile. “I’m — ”

“I know who you are, sunshine.”

You blinked. You couldn’t remember the last time somebody had called you that. It had been over a decade, certainly, and in fact the only person who ever had called you that was a skinny thirteen year old boy who lived down the street from you when you were in eighth grade.

“Danny?” you asked, incredulous.

He grinned, flashing that millionaire smile he’d had even when you were kids. “Yep.”

You stepped back and shamelessly looked him over head to toe, all six-and-some-odd feet of him. He spread his arms and did a twirl for you.

“Not too bad, huh?” he asked.

You almost didn’t know what to say. You’d always figured he’d be a good looking boy, but seeing him now — he’d grown into that lankiness, all broad and strong and lean. His curls were bouncy and healthy, streaked with blonde highlights; his features were dark, defined, and beautiful.

“Uh, no,” you said stupidly. “You look... great.”

His smile was a little crooked. “You’re not too bad yourself, sunshine.”

You were surprised at the flood of butterflies you felt. You’d had a crush on him all those years ago, and it seemed that it had grown up with you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you,” you said. Granted, it was kind of bizarre to run into him again after all these years, especially at a funeral.

He shrugged. “That’s okay. I’ve actually been trying to look as different from middle-school me as possible, so I’m glad it’s working.”

You laughed. “I can understand that.”

He shook his head. “No way. You were always going to be beautiful, sunshine. Even back then.”

You blushed vividly, a surprised and nervous giggle escaping you. “Oh, well, I don’t know about that. But thank you.”

His smile was too genuine and warm for him to be teasing you, and you allowed yourself to enjoy his compliment. You couldn’t let yourself get too far down the rabbit hole, though; you were in a place in your life where you’d be likely to take any attention that was offered, even if it wasn’t in your best interest.

You smoothed your hands over your skirt and tried to think of something intelligent to say. You’d almost settled on something when you felt a drop of rain on your shoulder; you looked up towards the darkening sky and felt a few more drops on your face.

“It’s raining,” you said.

You looked back at Danny to see him watching you with a gentle, decidedly interested gaze.

“Do you want to go back inside?” he asked.

You were a little lost in his pretty hazel eyes. Had they always been that dreamy?

“No,” you said. “I...”

All of a sudden, the heavens opened; rain came fast and heavy, and you would have been drenched if Danny hadn’t grabbed your hand and ran with you around the side of the gazebo and up the stairs. You stopped, a little breathless and damp, under the shelter of the roof while rain poured down around you.

You brushed your wet hair from your face. “It sure is a gullywasher, huh?”

He laughed, and the sound was sweet and musical. “A what?”

You smiled. “A gullywasher,” you said. “A heavy rain that usually doesn’t last that long.”

“I’ve never heard that before,” he said, amused. “But I’m filing it away for future use.”

“I’m pleased to be of service,” you said. The two of you made your way to a bench on the opposite side of the gazebo. “I teach vocabulary for a living, though, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to charge you for that information.”

He raised a brow. “Is that so?” He angled himself towards you on the bench. “And just how much does that word cost, sunshine?”

You smirked. “Give me a swig of whatever’s in that flask you’re hiding, and we’ll call it even.”

“Me, hiding alcohol at a funeral?” he said, aghast. He pulled the flask you’d noticed earlier out of his inside jacket pocket as he spoke. “Do you always assume the worst about people, or am I just special?”

“Whichever one makes you feel better,” you said, taking a drink when he offered it to you. The oaky sweet taste of bourbon spread a pleasant warmth through you that warded off the chill of the rain.

“So, you said you teach vocabulary for a living,” he said, taking the flask when you handed it back and having a drink of his own. “Does that mean you’re a teacher? Or some kind of weird freelance vocabulary tutor?”

You smiled. “I’m a teacher. Elementary school.”

“That’s great,” he said sincerely. “I bet your students love you. How long have you been teaching?”

The two of you talked for a long while as the rain continued unabated, passing the flask back and forth occasionally. He was eager to hear about your life since you’d parted on the cusp of high school, and you found him a more attentive and interested listener than most of the guys you’d ever tried to tell your life story to.

“Enough about me, though,” you said, when you couldn’t think of one more interesting thing to say about your job or your tiny apartment or your failed and infrequent attempts at dating. “I want to know what you’ve been up to, Danny.”

He looked a little bashful, then, and it endeared him to you.

“Well, you remember how I was always messing around with my garage band?” he asked.

You smiled. “Yeah. The neighbors loved you guys, turning your speakers up as loud as possible when you were playing.” You’d always liked the rock n’ roll they played, but you’d never been brave enough to ask if you could sit and watch them practice.

“Your bandmates were brothers, weren’t they?” you asked. “What was their last name again?”

“Kiszka,” he said. “The twins, Josh and Jake, and their brother Sam who’s my age.”

“Oh, right,” you said, remembering well the matched trio that had taken up all of Danny’s time that wasn’t spent with you. “Are you still in touch with them?”

“I am,” he said. “We actually play professionally now.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” you said, sincere and polite, figuring playing professionally meant they had a semi-regular gig somewhere local.

His smile was knowing. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Sure I do,” you protested. You shivered a little as a cool breeze started to cut through the rain.

“We’re bigger than you think we are,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he was trying to stroke his ego so much as he was trying to convince you of the fact. He shrugged his suit jacket off and draped it over your shoulders.

“What band would you guess we’re kind of in the same popularity bracket as?” he asked.

You were a little embarrassed at being caught out with what he thought was fake enthusiasm, not wanting to hurt his feelings but still unsure he could be as famous as he claimed to be. Wouldn’t you have known if your childhood friend had made it big?

“I don’t know,” you hedged. You burrowed into his jacket, his warmth and the smell of his cologne a heady mix. “I don’t really listen to the stuff on the radio these days.”

“But you know popular songs,” he pressed. “You don’t live under a rock.”

You shrugged. “I guess.”

“Can I play you one of our songs?” he asked. “Just to see if you’ve ever heard of us?”

You smiled. “Go for it.” You were curious to see if you had ever heard it, but you still held your doubts. His band might have been big in the indie scene or something you had no knowledge of, but that wouldn’t do you much good.

He pulled out his phone, hiding the screen from you so you couldn’t see what he was searching. After a moment, the first few notes of a guitar lick started to play, and you recognized it immediately.

“Ha ha, very funny,” you said, giving him a dry smile. “Now show me your song.”

“This is my song,” he said, looking for all the world to be absolutely serious.

“That’s not your song,” you scoffed. “That’s Greta Van Fleet.” You decided to tease him if he was so intent on teasing you. “And if you don’t show me your song, I’ll just assume you were making the whole thing up to impress me.”

He only laughed. “I hope it did impress you, but I’m not making it up. This is my song. I’m the drummer for Greta Van Fleet.”

You have him a fondly exasperated look, over the joke by now. “Sure. And I’m the lead singer.”

Danny grinned. “That’d be something, wouldn’t it?” He gestured to your bag. “Humor me. Get out your phone and look it up.”

You gave a dramatic sigh and pulled your phone out, googling “Greta Van Fleet members”. The page took a moment to load.

“So?” he asked.

“It’s loading,” you told him.

When the page finally popped up, you had to read it more than once to believe what you saw. There it was, in black and white: Daniel Wagner, dum kit.

“You’re not...” You looked up at Danny. “You’re — you’re really the drummer for fucking... Greta Van Fleet?”

“Minus the ‘fucking’ part,” he said. “We tried to pitch it to the label, but they shot us down.”

You could only laugh.

“How can you — Danny, how the hell can you be so nonchalant about this? You’re, like, famous famous.”

He chuckled. “I told you. Do you like our music?”

“Yeah,” you said sincerely. “I mean, I’m obviously not a mega fangirl for them, uh, for you, if I didn’t even know your names, but...” You grinned up at him, too charmed by his down-to-earth warmth to feel very starstruck. “I think your music’s some of the coolest stuff to come out since they invented classic rock.”

He smiled. “Thank you, sunshine. That’s sweet of you to say. I’m glad you like it.”

You shivered again, and he reached over and buttoned his jacket around you.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything else to give you,” he said. “We can go in if you’re too cold.”

“No,” you said, a little too quickly. You blushed. “I mean... I like sitting out here with you.”

He gave a soft laugh. “I like sitting out here with you, too.” He lit another cigarette, leaning his arm on the railing. “So, sunshine, I gotta know... what’s your favorite Greta song?”

“Hm... I’ll have to think about that one,” you said with a teasing smile. “I really like that one everybody says is a Zeppelin rip-off.”

He rolled his eyes with a long-suffering smile. “Which one?”

You laughed. “I think it’s called ‘Flower Power’. It’s very romantic.”

“I wrote the guitar solo for that one, actually.”

Your smile was delighted and surprised. “Did you really? I thought you said you played the drums.”

“I do,” he agreed. “But I know enough about guitar to write some stuff here and there.” He shook his head. “Jake’s an incredible guitarist. He took what I wrote and made it fantastic when we recorded the song.”

You liked the way affection and admiration softened his features. “What do the others play?”

“Sam plays bass and keys,” he said. “He plays piano like nobody I’ve ever seen. Josh — ” He laughed, like he’d remembered an inside joke. “Josh likes to say he plays the vocals.”

You smiled. “So he’s the Robert Plant devotee.”

Danny chuckled. “You should hear his vocals now. It’s really amazing to hear his growth as a vocalist.” He angled his exhale of smoke away from you. “We did mimic a lot of Zeppelin’s style on our first album, and I wouldn’t change it, but I think we’re starting to come into our own sound. It’s exciting to be experimenting with different stuff and figuring out what we like. Our last album went a different direction to what we’d been doing before, that classic rock kind of thing, and I think it turned out really cool.”

“Sure,” you said, a little dreamy. There was something so alluring about the sound of his voice, the interest in his expression when he spoke. You felt that he could be reading a phone book and you’d be invested in it.

“You’re very polite to listen to me go on and on about it,” he said, sincerity and warmth in his tone. “I must be boring you to tears.”

“Not at all,” you said, shaking yourself out of your dreaminess. You felt your cheeks warm. “I’m sorry. I’m just... still reeling from the fact that we bumped into each other after so long, and that you turned into a rock star since I last saw you.” That was partially true, anyway. You wouldn’t spill that you’d been daydreaming about what it would feel like to kiss him for longer than was strictly appropriate.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Maybe it’s fate that we met again,” he said. “What do you think?”

You didn’t say that it would be just the kind of cruel trick fate would play on you to bring you back the guy you’d always crushed on and have him turn out to be a rock n’ roll god that women threw themselves at in every city.

“Maybe it is,” you said with a smile.

“We should keep in touch after this, so we can stay up to date on major life changes.”

You breathed a laugh. “Yeah. I’ll give you a call when I play Madison Square Garden.”

Danny put out his cigarette and looked out towards the funeral home where people were starting to gather out on the porch. The rain was beginning to taper off; ladies in their shiny black shoes were starting to brave the wet grass to get to their cars.

“Looks like people are starting to leave,” he said, a hint of regret in his voice. He looked back to you. “I was serious about getting your number, if you’d like to share it with me. I’ve had a great time catching up with you.”

“Me too,” you said. You put your number in his phone when he handed it to you, and your fingers brushed again when you handed his phone back.

You stood, and you had the strangest feeling of something slipping through your fingers.

“Hey, Danny,” you said, hesitant. He watched your face with patience and interest and waited for you to continue.

“I don’t know how long you’re in town,” you said, nervously fidgeting with a pull in the skirt of your dress. “You probably have somewhere to jet off to, thousands of adoring fans to see...”

He gave a soft laugh, and it gave you a little spark of bravery as you looked up and met his eyes.

“Do you want to get coffee or something this week?” you asked. “I’m off on spring break, and... well, I don’t know. It might be nice. Maybe.”

He smiled, but there was something less than happy in it that made your spirits sink.

“I’d love to,” he said, and you almost thought he meant it. “But I do have kind of a busy week — I'm trying to cram as much into this break as possible, you know?”

You nodded. “Right, of course,” you said quickly, trying not to let it show how much you’d really, really wanted him to say yes or of course or let me move around my entire rock-god schedule just to have coffee with you. Something along those lines.

He fidgeted a little, like he was upset he’d hurt your feelings.

“Let me take a look, okay?” he said, and you hated the thought that he was saying it out of pity instead of any real desire to see you again. “I’ll text you.”

You smiled, but it was a little strained. “Sure.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course the drummer for Greta Van Fleet wasn’t going to get coffee with you.

“Can I walk you back inside?” he asked.

“Um...” You saw your mom among the people on the porch. She waved at you, and you waved back.

“I should probably just go meet her by the car,” you said to Danny, feeling shy around him for the first time. Shooting your shot and getting let down gently would do that to you. “Thank you, though.”

“Of course,” he said. He walked with you as far as the gazebo steps. “Thanks for talking to me, sunshine. I’m glad you didn’t have a lighter.”

You couldn’t help a soft laugh. “Me too.”

You didn’t look back as you made your way over to the porch, and your mom was excited to see you when you came up to her.

“I see you found Danny,” she said, a beaming smile on her face. “His mom and I talked for a long time inside.”

“Did you know they were going to be here?” you asked, walking with her to your car.

She shook her head. “I had no idea. But it was nice to see them again, wasn’t it?”

You got in the passenger seat and leaned your head against the window. “Yeah, it was nice.”

You were halfway home before you realized you were still wearing Danny’s jacket. You felt terrible; you reached for your phone to text him and saw he’d already texted you.

Hey, you stole my jacket! I guess we’ll just have to meet up so I can get it back ;)

You bit the inside of your cheek, willing yourself not to feel that fluttery warmth that was sneaking its way into your chest at the thought of seeing him again.

Read part two!

danny taglist: @tearsofbri @busybeingtrash @myway-late @gotavansleep

fic taglist: @mydarlingdanny @streamsofstardust

gvf taglist: @malany-gvf @spark-my-nature

@gvfrry @ohhey1293 @the-chaotic-cow @mountain-in-springtime @xserenax-13 @stardustjtk @brooke-gvf @weightofdreams-gvf @jakeydoesit @gretasmokerising @hayley1623 @doodle417 @finestoflines @brokenbellz @bowievanfleet @s0livagant @strugglingtodoshit @s-u-t @kay-jordan @gretavanfleas @jakeyboiiiiiii @gretavansteph @gretavanbitches @myownparadise96 @luverleaver @weightofdreamz @greatervanfleet @maedesculpaeusoubi @jakekiszkasbestie @pineapple-photographer @baguettejuliette @alexxavicry @levi-wants-ur-bones @carlybubs @cowboysamkiszka @dannyandthekiszkas @jordierama

sorry if tumblr didn’t tag you — it’s stupid sometimes. but i’m real thankful for you, sweet peaches! and if you’re a new bestie and would like to be added to my taglist, check out the form right here!

#i hope you like this one besties!! let me know what you think <3 #danny wagner x reader #danny wagner fluff #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fluff #gvf fanfiction #danny wagner fanfiction #danny wagner #four weddings and a funeral fic #maddie writes stuff!

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