#he hear the story in the radio and i told him before couple years ago but he wasn't hearing me apparently
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J2 Main Panel SFCon 2023
Look at these cuties 💖
Would Jensen consider doing a musical? And would he ever tour with Radio Company?
He has done a musical. In high school, he was in West Side Story, he had never sung in front of anybody before and he played Tony who is singing all the time; he would definitely entertain the thought of doing something like that again but he does mention it's a lot of work. As far as touring with Radio Company they've talked about it, he's not sure about a regular tour like hopping in a van and cruising down the highway but maybe setting up a few dates in a few different cities. And it's so cute when he says this Jared goes fingers crossed.x
What's the wildest thing they've ever experienced?
Jared shares the story about how the last time he had been in France, a couple years ago, they had been staying at a hotel with a beautiful view, and he and his friend Josh were hanging out when their wives came running up to them and told them there was a guy outside who looked like he was about to beat a girl up. So Jared and his friend run out to intervene, and it seems to be a couple and they're yelling at each other, so his friend stands next to the girl and Jared stands in front of the guy. And the dude is aware of his presence but he's not looking at him, he and the girl keep screaming at each other in French until the girl storms off down the road. After the girl storms off, Jared tries to ask him if he's good and the man looks up at Jared, pauses, and goes, in French, 'Supernatural?' and Jared replies "oui", and the guy goes "bon" (meaning good) starts to walk away with his friends then stops, looks back at Jared and goes "merci, Sam Winchester."
The fan who asked this question said that originally they were going to ask something else that was mind-blowing but he forgot so Jensen jokes that's the wildest thing that has happened to him. That poor dude took a roasting 😆
Of all the places they've traveled to which has been their favorite? Excluding Italy and France. And what's one place they'd love to go to that they haven't been yet?
Jensen says Jared is just as good in Italy as he is in France, and he tells the story about how one time they were eating this amazing meal in Italy and the chef came out to ask how their food was, and Jared unknowingly did a rude hand gesture, which is basically the equivalent of flipping the bird in Italy (because in Texas this gesture means something else), to tell the chef the food was good! And Jensen was like 'that's not what you think it means', grabbed his hand, slowly put it down, and told the chef it was delicious thank you, and the chef walked away with a frown on his face. I highly recommend taking a look at this moment because it has heart eyes, some hand-holding, and they sound like such husbands! x
To answer the question, Jensen says Switzerland. Japan is also one of his favorites. A place he hasn't been to that he wouldn't mind checking out is the Maldives. Jared semi-echoes, saying he loves Switzerland, that he went there the first time because between s1 and 2 Jensen talked about going there so Jared and his brother went on route to China, and he's never been to Japan but he'd like to go. x
Is there a song that whenever they hear it it's ingrained that they associate it with SPN?
Brothers in Arms absolutely guts Jared. And Space Oddity will forever make him think about Dean chasing a fairy, basically, any David Bowie song will make him think of that.
Jensen mentions the Heat of the Moment by Asia and Jared tells him that at least he was dying instead of watching his brother die. Jensen also says his daughter found an older pop song and kept playing it on repeat in her room for like a week or so, so now he associates it with his daughter. The song in question is Sk8er Boy by Avril Lavigne. That kid has excellent taste 🎶
Out of any creature, existing, extinct, or mythical which would they like to saddle up and ride?
Without a second of hesitation, I think the fan hadn't even finished the question, Jared answers dodo bird and Jensen Liger. Then Jensen changes his mind and says Falkor.
And then, for some reason, he decides to basically serenade Jared by singing a little bit of Neverending Story which is very sweet and cute 🥰
Jared also says save a horse, ride a Winchester 😏 And the husbands continue husbanding cause the fan says they would want to ride a T-Rex and Jared does the little T-rex arms and is rubbing against Jensen (I don't know how else to word it okay) and Jensen just goes '15 years' and Jared replies '18'. They are so married, I can't deal with them. x
After years of Ken jokes on SPN were they disappointed to not be cast in the Barbie movie? And if they had gotten cast what Barbie would they have wanted their wife to be aka what career?
They are both so confused by this question, they don't know anything about Barbie. Jensen didn't even know Barbie had a career he thought she just shopped! And when I tell y'all I gasped literally gasped when I heard this man say that, Barbie has had over 200 jobs!
Anyways, Jensen does say that if can work with Margot Robbie he's happy. And Jared says he knows what career he wouldn't want his Barbie to have and it's deep sea exploration. I'm not explaining that joke but I had to pause I was laughing so hard I almost ended up in tears 🤣
What is their favorite department, or most important department when working on a film set?
Jensen replies that all departments are important, film and tv shows cannot be done without all departments every one is a link in a chain. That being said he would be very sad if the weakest link in the chain was catering cause there's nothing like breakfast coming off a truck like that and keep in mind breakfast is the first meal of the day, when you're filming a lot of times throughout the week the call times keep rolling later and later and later so by Friday you're not showing up to work sometimes until the sun's going down so like 7pm or whatever and then you're filming till 2, 3, or 4 in the morning but when you show up at 7'oclock they're serving breakfast out of the truck. In all seriousness, you can't do anything without the camera department, without the grips, the electrics, the props, everybody is integral, it takes an army of people to do what they get to do, and it's sad people don't get to see all of their faces because nothing gets done without them.
Jard says probably two of the most important but maybe get the least credit for what they do are the writers and the editors. It begins with the writers and it requires grips, electrics, actors, and wardrobe, and it ends with the editors.
Jensen says he knows Jared's favorite crew position: the onset carpenter. Because he breaks sets constantly it's like putting a real-life moose into a set he just breaks stuff all the time and Dave, their on-set carpenter, always had his belt ready to go and just follow Jared around putting more screws in things as needed; Jensen started noticing things were being much more greatly reinforced.
The person who asked this question is in film school and Jensen advises them to do as much as they can because the more cross-department they can work in, the greater their knowledge of how the whole thing works then they can really pick and choose where they want to be. x
What's their favorite gag reel that did not make it into the bloopers?
They think for a minute, then Jensen answers there were quite a few, that they've often said there could be a six-hour cut-together gag reel per season. They would have enough for a whole season of gag reels after two episodes.
Jared says that when SPN started back in '05 they were shooting on film so they would have to print the film, send it to get developed, then send it down to LA but in later seasons they were shooting digital so it was on a memory card and to save gags on the memory card is much easier and less expensive and time-consuming than on actual film to get processed so that's one of the reasons why they became longer.
Another thing is that when you're on set and they call action, they start rolling the camera, whether it be on digital or on film, and something goes sideways and it becomes a gag of some sort when they call cut unless the director says to print it meaning save it essentially then it's lost forever. And sometimes, directors, because they don't want to seem like they have no control on set just won't print it because they don't want to send down 30mins of the boys horsing around even with it coming under budget and under time and all that cause it makes it seem like they just let them fool around. And because they weren't producers on SPN they couldn't say when to print a gag so he thinks they lost a lot.
Jensen says there was a lot of trying to get each other to break out of character while the cameras were rolling, it was a game they did quite often and was so fun that a lot of the crew would join them, they wouldn't print that cause the crew could get into more trouble than the actors but there was one time where Dean was on the case (this makes Jared go "tell me more"- gentlemen what is with you this con) and he had to go down a basement. He opens the door and down the stairs in the basement were the camera operator, their focus puller, and their camera assistant all in their undies and there were sex toys in the basement that they adorned on themselves so he opened the door and what made him crack wasn't them doing that because he was used to them pulling that stuff it was that the guest star had no idea yet he didn't react.
Jared says MC and Alex were the easiest to break, Jensen is very difficult to break but there is one person who was undefeated: Jim Beaver. So much so that he's not sure if this made it into the gag reel but when Bobby is in the hospital and Sam and Dean are standing at the foot of the bed talking to him, Jared realized the camera was below the chest area and he reached under the sheet and started pinching Jim Beaver's toes but he didn't break so Jared grabbed his other hand to secure his right hand and pinched as hard as he could on Beaver's big toe but he still didn't react until they called cut and he called Jared a damn idiot 😂 After that Jared gave up on trying to make him break. x
Next fan volunteers at a non-profit dog rescue, called doggie protective services! And they use themes to come up with names for the puppies they rescue so could they come up with a creative theme and a handful of names for the puppies? Requirements they have to be G rated and no SPN because they've already done that theme.
Jared says Barbie professions like Astronaut the chihuahua 😂 I actually really like that name for a chihuahua not gonna lie.
He also suggests favorite amendments, and Jensen jokes 5 doesn't talk much, that's hilarious! Then Jared says but one won't shut up and Jensen replies one won't shut up so two shot him these men are on point today with the jokes 🤣
(For the international fans the fifth amendment is the right to not self-incriminate, the second is the right to bear arms, and the first is free speech)
Jared also suggests favorite vice presidents...from colonial France. Jensen suggests colors with a Mr. or Ms. in front of them, but they've done that already, and the same with breakfast foods. Jared says conspiracy theories, Jensen says James Bond villains but Jared reminds him that's not always G, and the jokes they make leave me in tears x
During the final question, the fan compliments both of them and Jared replies that Jensen is a handsome dude, and Jensen says staring at Jared is like looking into the sun awww Jensen! That's so sweet 💛
The last question is basically if Jensen's hair is longer than Jared's now, he says no but the fans are not so sure; he also comments that actors a lot of times don't cut their hair or shave until their next role cause then it's easier to cut it and do what's needed for the particular character. x
And with that, we wrap up this panel, and let me tell y'all I don't do justice to how married they were acting during this thing it was wonderful.
J2 Main Panel SFCon 2023
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@10yearsofblindchannel
Crew, friends, and family day! Word count 925, Joel&Samy.
TW mentions of past mental health crisis, briefly alluded to suicidal thoughts.
Joel looked at the time, they were all meeting at the studio to load up for tour, but he had a little while before he really had to be there. They always got the big stuff on first and that took a while...
So he just needed to wait for his ride.
It didn't take long until the familiar black sedan pulled up to the curb, metal music blasting through the window as it slid down.
"Taxi service for one dramatic blonde?" A laughing voice called.
Joel rolled his eyes and flipped him off, throwing his bags in the trunk before getting into the passenger seat, turning to look at the blue haired singer.
"Good morning sunshine!" Samy said as he pulled away from the curb.
"You're way too excited for this early in the morning." Joel grumbled.
"I'm ready for the tour man!" Samy told him, "aren't you excited?"
"Of course I am!" Joel rolled his eyes, "but I still need coffee first."
Samy chuckled but promised to stop at a cafe, drumming his tattooed fingers on the steering wheel in beat to the song playing on the radio.
"I really can't wait to tour all over with you guys," Samy told him, "it's going to be a blast."
"It is," Joel agreed, "i can't believe we're finally doing a big headline tour like this out of Finland."
"I can, I've been watching your stuff just go up the charts." Samy told him.
"Your stuff is going to too." Joel told him eagerly, he had been hanging out with Johnny and Samy a couple weeks ago and they had let him listen to Lost Society's upcoming album and it was awesome, even if he could hear all the pain Samy had been suffering through.
He knew a little of it, he had just started working with Johnny when he first met Samy and he had seen how he had been drinking too much, going down a bad way…
But a couple years ago he had gone sober and stayed sober; he always seemed happy. But there had been a few times even Joel had seen the cracks in his happy mask, getting more and more frequent, little things he had said here and there to indicate just how much he was hiding.
But he didn't realize how bad it was until he heard from Johnny that Samy had checked himself into the hospital. He had visited his friend as soon as Samy was ready to see people and he had gotten the whole story that night.
So Joel could admit Suffocating made him cry, knowing Samy had written that to be his last song ever; he had a couple extra sessions with his own therapist afterwards, processing everything as he had always thought he and Samy were a lot alike and he felt so guilty for missing the signs he needed help.
"Are you going to be good?" Joel asked quietly, "singing a couple of your new songs?"
Samy hummed, "I'm can guess which one you're worried about. A lot of singers excorsie their demons through song you know."
"And some it makes them think about it again and again and they can't escape it." Joel replied.
"I know, I'm ok man." Samy sighed, "you don't have to keep an eye on me or anything, I'm good. If I need it'll call my therapist, I'm still not going to be drinking… I'm excited for this."
Joel nodded, "alright, I'm excited too."
Samy grinned a little, "and besides, Taz, Mirko and Arttu will be there, they know how to pull me out of a bad mood, and you haven't lived until you've seen Taz in mother hen mode."
Joel laughed, trying to picture the drummer fussing over his bandmates. "I need to see that."
They talked the whole way to the cafe, getting coffee and pulla and sitting outside to enjoy the morning sunshine until Joel's phone started ringing; he looked at the name that flashed up on the screen-
Oh no.
Angry Tour Manager
Joel frantically gestured Samy to the car as he answered. "Good morning-"
"You have 20 minutes to get here and load your crap onto the bus." Santeri told him bluntly, "or we leave without you. And tell Samy that the Lost Society boys are saying the same."
"We're almost there," Joel promised, "it won't take us long to load up."
"Good." Santeri hung up.
Samy cackled as Joel told him the threat and made the last 10 minutes of their drive in 5, parking between an unfamiliar car and one Joel recognized as Aleksi's.
"Cutting it close Samy boy." Mirko called from one of the two parked buses.
"Hey, I've never been late to leave for tour!" Samy called back.
"Joel can't say the same!" Niko shouted.
"That was because of Porko!" Joel yelled back, running to thrown his bag on his bunk before stowing his equipment.
Within a few minutes they had gotten packed and the two bands and crews met outside the buses to talk before they departed for the first gig of the tour.
"We're really glad you guys are coming along." Joonas told them.
Arttu smiled, "we're glad too."
With the details for the day's drive discussed between their drivers and everything ready to, they all started to get settled on the buses; Samy hugging Joel tight before he got on their bus.
"I'm good," he reminded him, "you don't need to worry about me. And if that changes… I'll let you know."
Joel nodded and hugged him back before going to get on his own bus. He trusted Samy to ask for help if he needed it.
It was going to be a great tour.
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(A snowman comes to life in Ford Television Theatre, top, a machine that records every sound in history on Tales of Tomorrow, bottom left, and Grandpa explains why the world has gone to pot because not everyone is a real Christian like he is, from This is the Life, bottom right.)
Day 90- TV and Radio:
TV:
This is the Life, “The Greatest Gift,” late December, 1952.
The Ford Television Theatre, season 1, episode 13, “Heart of Gold,” December 26th, 1952.
Tales of Tomorrow, season 2, episode 13, “The Bitter Storm,” December 26th, 1952.
The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, season 1, episode 13, “Late Christmas Gift,” December 26th, 1952.
Radio:
This is Your FBI, episode 404, “The Sunshine Syndicate,” December 26th, 1952.
Space Patrol, “Last Voyage of the Lonesome Lena,” December 27th, 1952.
Bergen and McCarthy, “Rosemary Clooney at Camp Pendleton,” December 28th, 1952.
The Chase, “No Contact,” December 28th, 1952.
This is the Life was a religious show made by Lutherans. I thought it might be interesting (and scary?) to watch a religious show from 1952. This was a Christmas episode, and at first I was actually somewhat impressed with it. It was mostly the birth story of Jesus, but it wasn’t told in a pompous or overly sanctimonious way. That is, until the end. Then the narrator/Grandpa decided to chastise us all for not focusing on Jesus enough over the holidays. He almost verbatim said, “If everyone else were as good of a Christian as me, the world would be a most wonderful place indeed!” Blech.
The Ford Television Theatre was a Christmas special that was cute at times. It was also the kind of Christmas show the judgey Grandpa above would have hated. It was all about Santa and a snowman and the idea of letting children make-believe and be creative. Two kids built a snowman that came to life, and he taught them to embrace their imagination. The snowman looked a little creepy, but the actor who played him was the loveable Edmund Gwenn, who was Santa in Miracle on 34th Street!
Tales of Tomorrow was so frustrating! It’s been one of my favorite shows of 1952, but it really jumped the shark here. A cynical untrusting man invents a machine that can pick up soundwaves from anything and anywhere, including the past. Well, it’s Christmas time, right? What does it mean when he and his family start hearing people speaking Aramaic in a crowd from about 2000 years ago? Yeah, I knew it was coming long before the cards were played, and it was just as horrible as I feared.
I’ll quickly also say a word about The Chase. I listened to the final episode from 1952 today. It’s been one of my favorite shows, and I know I will listen to more episodes once this project ends. One of my favorite memories of the last 90 days was listening to the episode “Long Distance.” It was hands down the best episode of radio in the whole project- over 200 episodes!
...And now a word from today’s best sponsor: Masland Beauti-blend Broadloom carpets! Wouldn’t you love to add luxurious carpeting to your living room? Something of exceptional luscious color that you're just going to rip up in a couple of decades to replace with pea green and baby food gold when you put wood paneling on your walls? Well, we’ve got a perfect place for you to see our carpets- black and white television! See our gorgeous light grey! Or our beautiful darkish grey! Or our dark black that could be red for all you know! And you must see our new lightish medium grey with darkish medium grey accents! Visit your local Masland dealer tomorrow!
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My dad never remembers George Harrison's name. He doesn't remember his name but always to refer to him asks me: "Who was the guy that Eric Clapton stole his woman?"
#bugs#george harrison#eric clapton#pattie boyd#poor george why he remember that story and not that he was an awesome guy?#he's progressing btw the other day came to my room in the tv was a photo of geo he asks his name and he thinks a little bit and say harriso#he hear the story in the radio and i told him before couple years ago but he wasn't hearing me apparently#i know i'm annoying but i hate when i tell him something and after he comes with the same thing but he read it/hears in another place#he seems have the head in the moon but i don't really know how works he's head actually#also he sometimes forget eric clapton's name and ask me 'who wrote Layla?'#my thoughts
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Best Christmas Present [Sirius Black x Reader] - Heloise’s Christmas Calendar - Requested
December 18 - Best Christmas Present [Sirius Black x Reader]
Title: Best Christmas Present
Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader
Word count: 3.1k
Published: 18 December, 2020
Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore
Notes: This is part of Heloise’s Christmas Calendar.
Summary: Sirius goes back to you after he has escaped Azkaban. But when he finds you with a son, he wants nothing but to escape the heartbreak, not even listening to your explanation.
Request: [x] - Anonymous
“When you have time could you please do a Sirius X Reader, where he meets his Girlfriend again.Obviously He is afraid that she might have a new man in her Life,...At one day she arrives at Grimmauldplace with her son (Looks Like her) and Sirius Heart Breaks into pieces, while she has to explain that it is his son. #drama :)”
Heloise’s Christmas Calendar Masterlist
Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists
If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3
You were running up and down in the kitchen, from the stove to the fridge, from the cupboards to the table. You were preparing the dinner for Christmas Eve, a chaotic tension running through you as you tried to keep yourself organised. As Albert Einstein, a muggle scientist said in a book you’ve read; “Order is for idiots, genius can handle chaos”. You prided yourself in always getting things done, even in the midst of all the unfortunate events that could possibly occur.
Your mince pies were all done, still cooling down on the top of the counter with your Yorkshire puddings chilling beside them. Mulled wine brewed on one side of the stove, whilst the turkey slowly cooked in the oven. You chopped up your ingredients for the perfect roast potatoes and placed them in the oven, right above the turkey.
You always preferred cooking the old-fashioned, muggle way, no magical touch until the washing up. But at times, you found it calming and tossed your wand aside, thinking your day through whilst doing the dishes.
Christmas music blasted from the background, an old muggle radio playing the most popular Christmas songs. Traditional English Christmas dinner was cooking in the kitchen, traditional Christmas songs playing in your living room, traditional Christmas stocking hanging above the fireplace, traditional Christmas tree standing in the corner of the room decorated in red, gold and green.
You loved Christmas and since you haven’t been alone for a long time, it was always a special day for you to celebrate it to the best of your abilities, mixing old traditions with new traditions, muggle word with wizarding world.
You heard the knocker on your door, making you frown as you looked up at the giant antique clock above the entrance of the kitchen. You still had about two hours before the order members were supposed to arrive. The turkey and the potato were still in the oven, your mulled wine only halfway finished sitting on the stove.
You walked across the hall, peaking into the living room with a small smile on your face as you headed to the black, wooden entrance door of your flat. You looked through the peephole, but there was noone outside. You opened the door reluctantly, hand on your wand, tucked inside your back pocket as you peaked out of the tiny gap between the door and its frame.
Your eyes widened in surprise as you recognised the man in front of you. His hair grew longer, his face got skinnier, his body exposed under the white button up shirt, covered in tattoos you have not seen before. You loudly gasped at the sight of the man as you opened the door wider in your shocked state.
“Hey-” he greeted you with a shy smile, one that you were not used to from the proudest, most confident man you have ever met. But that was 13 years ago, before his incarceration in Azkaban.
“Sirius.” You breathed, your lips and tongue unable to cooperate with the hundreds of questions swirling around in your confused mind.
You were both standing in the door awkwardly, none of you saying a word. You couldn’t make a coherent sentence and Sirius didn’t dare to interrupt you from processing the situation.
You felt your heartbeat in your throat, your palms sweating as you held onto the doorknob. You watched the man you once loved more than your own life, standing right in front of you and now you didn’t know what to say, what to do, you didn’t even know where to put your hands in your shocked state.
You knew he escaped Azkaban, it wasn’t a secret. You knew he was in hiding, Remus told you what happened in Hogwarts, but he never came looking for you and you thought you would never see him again. Noone knew where he was, only that he left Europe.
Thinking he forgot about you was easier than to face him and getting rejected after waiting for him for so long. So you stayed still. Deep down you wished your thoughts were simply a game your mind was playing against you, but now that he stood in front of you, you didn’t even dare to breathe, afraid of scaring the man away.
“I’m sorry, come in.” The words rolled off your tongue without your knowledge, your head was in a different space. Sirius smiled lightly as he stepped inside and waited for you to walk him wherever you could talk. You headed towards the kitchen, offering him a chair as you walked to the stove and stirred your mulled wine absentmindedly. “I knew you escaped, but you never showed.” You blurted it out as the spoon fell out of your hand, onto the stove. You didn’t care about the cutlery, you turned around, your gaze firmly fixed on his grey eyes, ones that you always found to be his unique trait.
“I wanted to, but-“ he cut himself off, trying to search for the right words. Both of you were afraid of saying something wrong, dancing on the edge of every word that left your lips.
“You were scared.” He nodded as you finished his sentence.
“I was scared that you had- someone else in your life. That- maybe you didn’t-“ his words didn’t seem to come easy and if anyone, you understood the best. You were struggling with what to say and even how to say it.
“-love you anymore?” You finished his sentence once again, making him smile lightly.
“Yes.” He breathed in a silent whisper, his words inaudible, but you could read the word of his lips.
“Mom.” A young teenage boy ran out of the living room with an envelope in his hands, a carbon copy of you. Same hair colour, same facial structure, even to the last little mole, he was a boyish version of you. “We got a letter from Uncle Remus.” He shouted as he ran up to you, his hand holding the envelope up, reaching towards you.
Your eyes widened as you looked at the boy, before your gaze wandered to the man seated across the table. A shaky breath left your lungs as you took the envelope from the boy and engulfed him in a hug, hinting a small kiss on the top of his head. “Mom!” He whined, trying to get out of your hold, making you chuckle. You let go of him as he turned around, his gaze meeting with Sirius’.
The man looked shocked beyond belief, his lips widely parted, his eyes dilated, his hands grabbing the side of the table, making his fingers paler by the second. He scoffed as his eyes grew even wider and stood up from the table ready to leave.
“James, can you please go to the living room?” You asked your son, although reluctantly but he headed to the other room.
“You named him James?” Sirius turned back with a dumbfounded expression.
“Yes, of course.” You replied with a deep frown, clear confusion sitting across your face. “Sirius, please sit back and let’s talk.”
“What else do you want to talk about?” He shook his head as he headed towards the door, his back hunched, his jaw clenched. “I never understood why Remus kept nagging me to see you. I knew it was a bad idea and I was right all along. I shouldn’t have listened to him, I shouldn’t have come here.” He stated weakly, his voice breaking.
“Sirius can you just stop for a second and listen to me?” You asked as he reached for the doorknob, but you took your wand out and as soon as he opened the door, you closed it right back. “I promise you, if you don’t like what you hear, I will let you go, and we will never ever search for you.” You replied as the tears started rushing down your reddened cheeks. “But let me tell you what’s going on before you come to any wrong conclusions.” You choked as you tried to keep your sobs down, before the only person you have ever loved disappeared from your life once again.
“What do you want to talk about?” He asked weakly, pulling on the doorknob, but it didn’t budge. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to wait for 13 years and even if I can’t show it at the moment, I am happy for you for moving on, for finding someone you love, for building a family, but please let me out.” He was pleading for you to let him go, but you didn’t give in.
“Sirius, can you please look at me?” You asked the man who stood with his back to you, his hands painfully holding the doorknob in his grasp. A deep, loud sigh left his lungs as he turned around, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes glistening of the unshed tears. You took a couple of steps forward to get closer to him but kept a safe distance in case he was ready to leave by the end of what you were about to reveal. “I haven’t had anyone since you.” You confessed, as you watched the man frown in confusion, before his eyes grew wide in surprise.
“What? But your son-“ he began, but his words stuck in him, his mouth agape.
“He is 12 years old.” You nodded in confirmation.
“He is my-“ Sirius started once again, but he was incapable of finishing a coherent sentence, his heart beating at a dangerous speed, his head a mess of confused thoughts.
“Yes, he is yours.” You nodded robotically, trying to refrain yourself from showing anymore emotions. You wanted to jump into his neck and kiss him, you wanted to bring out your son to introduce them to each other, but deep down you were terrified he would reject both his son and you.
You never talked about family back then and whilst you loved each other passionately, warmly, sweetly, you never knew how he would react if you announced that you were expecting his baby.
“I wanted to tell you, before all those horrible events happened, but I kept pushing it further and further, afraid of losing you, scared that you wouldn’t want the baby. By the time I felt ready to speak to you, everything came down crumbling and we lost Lily and James, whilst you were sent to Azkaban and Remus was struggling to even make enough money to live. It was- a terrible time.” You exhaled as you looked down on the dark carpet covering your hallway, reliving that horrible night and all the events that followed after. Your tears started again, rolling down your cheeks, soaking your skin in the salty liquid. Your breath hitched before you could continue.
“I knew you escaped, I knew you were hiding somewhere, noone knew where. Although even if I knew, I wouldn’t have gone to look for you. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me, that you forgot about me and whilst it breaks my heart to think about it, if that’s the case, I accept that. But I need you to tell me that you don’t want us, otherwise I will keep hoping.” Your voice broke as you finished your monologue, hoping for the man in front of you to say that he needed you, that he wanted his son, that he couldn’t be happier to be beside you.
“I thought you already had someone else. I never thought you’d be waiting.” He shook his head, stunned.
“I was. I was waiting for you, Sirius, even if at times I thought you would never leave that hellhole, even if at times it was terrifying to be a single mom, even if at times I thought I would never see your face again. I was waiting even when you escaped, even when I thought you didn’t think of me anymore.” You confessed with a small smile playing in the corner of your lips. The fact that he was still standing in front of you, instead of running away, made you feel hopeful.
“I never forgot about you, I was just scared to search for you and turn your life upside down, especially when I thought you have moved on already. There wasn’t a day I didn’t think of you, but I had to shove it into the back of my mind. I’m a fugitive, I’m wanted, the ministry is looking for me. I couldn’t just come to you.” He stepped closer, placing his hand on your cheek, caressing your skin with his slightly calloused thumb. He leaned closer, placing a small kiss on your forehead, not daring to make the next step just yet.
He heaved a deep sigh, leaning his forehead against yours. You enjoyed the silent breaths between you, the calm atmosphere. Noone of you dared to step over the boundaries, even if both of you needed to be closer to each other.
You took a deep breath, before you exhaled shakily. “You know, he knows who you are.” Sirius knew what you meant without another word. “I wanted him to know his father.” You couldn’t read Sirius’ expression, but you were hoping it wouldn’t be the moment he leaves. “Do you want to meet him? Properly?” You asked, but before you let him answer you continued. “I don’t want to pressure you. If you need time to think, that’s perfectly fine.” You added quickly.
“I want to meet him.” He smiled softly, a nerves knot sitting in the pit of his stomach. You got hold of his hand, the feeling of his long fingers folding around your hand making you nostalgic and somewhat giddy. You walked him towards the living room, both of you halting in the doorway, watching James seated in front of the Christmas tree with a photo of a younger Sirius in his hand.
“James?” You called your son, making him jump. He looked up at you, before his eyes wandered to Sirius, studying the man. “Can you come here, please?” You asked and the boy stood up, walking over to you. James faced Sirius, both of them studying each other with a curious gaze.
“He is my dad, isn’t he?” He asked, looking up at you with the identical grey eyes his father had, his gaze questioning. You nodded in a reply, watching as he reached his hand towards Sirius, who accepted it with a proud smile. “I’m James.” He introduced himself.
“I’m Sirius.” He replied with a nod.
“Is he staying?” James asked as he looked up at you waiting for a reply. Your stomach jumped at the thought, but you didn’t know how to reply. You turned to Sirius for an answer.
A wider smile started spreading across his face as he squeezed your hand, which you still didn’t let go of, completely forgetting about how natural it felt to be connected with him. “If you let me, that would be amazing.” Sirius replied confidently, making you let out a single laughter.
“I would love that.” You smiled happily. “Can I leave the two of you alone until I try to save the food from burning?” You asked with a silent chuckle. Both of the boys nodded confidently, waiting for you to leave. They watched you with eager eyes as you looked back at them, making sure that everything was going well.
You quickly headed to the kitchen, pulling out the roasted potatoes and turkey from the oven, slightly burned, but still edible enough. You placed the trays on top of the unoccupied part of the stove and removed the mulled wine from the fire, before turning it off. You tried to work as fast as you could, impatiently wanting to head back to your boys. Seeing them together was like a dream come true and you felt like you were still dreaming. You needed to see them again as soon as possible to be able to believe it was all happening to you.
You rushed back to the living room as soon as you finished and leaned against the doorframe watching as Sirius and James talked about quidditch, both with a childlike enthusiasm across their face. It was an idyllic moment you cherished dearly, the two most important men in your life bonding over their common interests. You never wanted to step out of that sweet reality you found yourself in.
“No, that’s not true. I will show you the best broomstick.” James exclaimed as he started off towards his room with a wide smile across his face, almost shoving you out of the way, before shouting a quick ‘sorry’ to you.
“He is an amazing kid.” Sirius stated with a cheerful grin across his face as he waved you over to the couch.
“I know, I tried to do my best.” You nodded in agreement as you took a seat beside Sirius.
“You did a fantastic job, love.” He beamed, his gaze warm and loving, just like all those years ago, capturing your complete focus, his pet name for you rolling off his tongue just as smoothly as all those years ago.
“Are you really staying?” You asked. “At least for a while?”
“I don’t ever want to leave you or James again.” He sighed deeply. “I still love you just as much as before, if not more and I want nothing more than to get to know my son. Our son.” He lifted his hand, caressing your face. “I want to be with you again. I want to support you and make up for the time we lost.” He leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, enjoying the moment with you.
You didn’t want to wait longer, nor could you do so. You closed the gap between you, attaching your lips to his, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands sneaked around your waist.
It was just as perfect and exciting as you remembered, if not better and you didn’t want to let go of him for as long as you could keep him in your arms. So many memories resurfaced whilst his lips moved against your, all the moments you have shared appearing to you like a happy little montage.
“Come on, Mom!” You heard James’ annoyed voice and you quickly parted from Sirius, both of you slightly panting from the passionate kiss.
“Sorry.” You chuckled as you watched his deformed expression, a disgusted grimace sitting across his face, before it slowly turned into a small smile.
“I’m glad we are all together, but keep that behind closed doors.” James whined, making you giggle as he sat down in front of the couch on the carpet, showing his broomstick to Sirius. He threw his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side, hinting a kiss on top of your head.
The food got cold and was slightly burned by the time the guests arrived, but you were the happiest person in that moment, and nothing could ruin it. Your family being together for the first time was the best Christmas present you could ever wish for.
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To Outlive the Devil
Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader
Summary: A good save and a case practically solved leads to intelligence almost losing one of their own. Can you get out before it’s too late?
Notes: Canon violence, nothing worse than a typically dark episode. This is a past and present cut together story and it’s just shy of 4k.
Now
Your bleary eyes open up to a cold and damp bedroom. An abandoned… apartment? The peeling wallpaper had given way to yellow stained drywall. From the small window on your left, it appeared as if you were several stories in the air, but there were no distinguishable landmarks that told you if you were even still in Chicago.
As you begin to come to your senses more, you feel the thick rope tied around your wrists and ankles. The rough material burns against you skin and you notice you already have sores.
How long have I been here?
Your memory is fuzzy and your head throbbed violently. It isn’t until you shift uncomfortably that you realize it’s a heavy metal chair you’re tied to.
Slowly your body begins to pick up on the danger your muddled brain had managed to identify and your pulse begins to quicken. As much as you try, your heartbeat continues to pound in your head as you try to twist your arms free.
The pain that responds is only a small price to pay for even the chance of freedom. Desperately, you continue to twist and pull until one of the knots manages to loosen up enough for you to squeeze your hand out. It’s just a short sprint to the front door in front of you.
You will your frozen fingers to work faster as you pinch and tear at each knot and then internally scream at your stiff muscles to carry you forward just a little bit more.
When your hand reaches the doorknob and it isn’t locked, relief floods your system. But when you’re able to wrench the door open, the person behind the door barely registers in your mind before everything goes black once again.
Then
Jay leans against his fist on his desk and tries to keep his frustration at bay. They’d been at this for two days straight and had been on the case for the last three months. “That’s two bodies in as many weeks. Is no one else starting to think…”
“That maybe hunting Chicago’s very own Criminal Minds level serial killer couple is out of our depth?” You interrupt, tilting your head towards him. “Doubt it.”
In fact, over the last two weeks, it’s the only thing you could think about. A younger woman named Madison roped, at least you were hoping she wasn’t a willing participant, into a horrific and violent life by a man you had yet to learn the identity of. You’d spent many nights pacing your bedroom, ranting and theorizing to Jay when all he wanted was just a bit of sleep.
The further you dove into it, however, the less hopeful you became for a quick arrest.
Voight had about ripped your head off when you suggested passing the case to the FBI and got to hear the ‘this is our city’ speech once again. But the truth was you were running out of ideas, running out of leads to chase down the rabbit hole, and running out of time.
“I hate to say it, but Voight’s right.” Antonio almost looks pained, but he continues on before you can question him. “The first time these two surfaced five years ago, CPD went full force. They shut it all down, had every uniform pulling overtime, and tried to smoke them out. Instead, it scared them into hiding.”
“Five girls in three months, Dawson, they’re escalating.” You take a breath before looking him in the eyes. “I can’t keep notifying parents.” There’s a certain pang in your voice only those who have had to watch a parent’s life crumble around them can hear. Jay reaches out to squeeze your forearm for just a bit of comfort and you run your fingers over his.
It’s enough.
“Then we end this.” Voight’s eyeing you, sympathetic to where you’re coming from, but not willing to give up yet. “Let’s find these monsters and make them pay.”
Pinching the bridge of your nose, you nod and turn to Adam. “Ok, let’s go over everything together, see if we can find something we missed.”
“Since it’s all we have, let’s revisit the address on Madison’s unemployment file.” Jay suggests.
Adam looks confused. “The house was condemned last year, torn down in the spring.”
“I know, but what about the name on the house, did anyone look into it?”
“Figured it was a stolen identity.” Kevin pipes up. “Clara Knight, died in 2012 of a heart attack at 66. No other properties in her name.”
“Knight?” Mouse perks up and starts shifting through his files. “I found a few erased emails from a Robert Knight, but I couldn’t find any relation or connection.”
Adam is already typing ferociously. “Got a death certificate for a Robert Knight, 68, died a few months ago. Seems like the guy barely existed.”
“Any children?”
“A daughter.” His face is grim. “Murdered in 99, she was 16.”
The hairs on the back of your neck prickle. “Pull up a picture of her.” You don’t need to see it to confirm what you already feared, but still the image of her face churns your stomach. A beautiful blonde girl with the hope of the whole world in her smile. “He’s been at this a lot longer than anyone thought.”
“Any property still in his name?” Voight asks.
Anxiety rippling through your chest, it feels like an eternity before Mouse nods. “His nephew Isaac put his house in Roseland on a tax form.”
Now
When you come to, the first thing you notice is that your restraints have been changed to zip ties and for a moment you’re concerned about your circulation. You’re worry is cut short by the cup of water on a table to your right, the plastic straw close enough for you to reach it.
The sudden realization of the searing pain in your throat and the cracked skin on your lips lets you know it’s probably been about two days. It’s the dryness of your tongue that overrides every single rational thought of concern that maybe the glass beside you isn’t safe to drink. But, fifteen minutes pass with no incident so whoever it is probably wants to keep you alive.
The thought sends ice down your back.
Alive for what?
“What do you want from me?” You scream into the empty apartment.
Then
“We need a vacation after this.” Jay declares as he leans the seat of the car back a little. “Somewhere warm with water so I can look at you in a tiny bathing suit all day.”
You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t miss the small smile you give before bringing the binoculars up again. “We’ll see what we can do about that.”
“Hey lovebirds.” Adam calls over the radio from the car down the street from yours. “Have you seen anything yet or are you too busy staring into each other’s eyes again?”
It’s Jay’s turn to roll his eyes. “Didn’t you just take your third piss break?”
“Hydration is very important.” He defends.
“I told him to wear the diapers.” Alvin adds. Adam tries to defend himself, but you can barely hear him over Kevin’s laughter next to him.
Just then, out of the corner of your eye, you see the movement of a curtain, the flash of blonde hair, and the air shifts. Jay immediately catches the tense set of your shoulders and starts asking questions.
“They’ve got a girl up there.” You tell him through gritted teeth.
“Are you sure? I didn’t see anything.”
You nod and get out of the car despite the hushed protests from Jay as he follows you. To do what? You weren’t sure yet but you had felt so powerless these last few months that maybe you weren’t being the most rational right now.
The curtain moves again and, rather than getting caught, you quickly spin around and push Jay against the car before crashing your lips to his. Other than a noise of shock sounding from the back of his throat, he doesn’t miss a beat.
“North corner window.” You mumble against his lips and slide your hands up his chest, tilting your head to the side to give him a better angle.
When he pulls away, he brings his phone up and looks you in the eye. “We’ve got confirmation on the nephew Isaac, but he’s got another girl up there. If we bust in, he might get spooked and hurt her.”
It’s quiet longer than either of you would like.
“What should we do, boss?” Adam asks for you.
“Do you think you can get in quietly?” Voight asks.
Jay waits for your nod. “We’re on it. Going silent.”
Picking the lock was nothing. Sneaking around a house you know nothing about except for a quick glance at a blueprint from 2005 was the difficult part. Jay splits the two of you up, sending you upstairs while he clears the lower level. Circumstance didn’t allow you the option to argue with him that splitting up in a situation like this is the worst thing to do.
He was your partner and it was your job to always have his back, as difficult as he makes it, but he’s rounded a corner into the living room before you get the chance to cuff him to you.
Your breath catches in your throat when a step on the stairs creak, but you keep moving until you find a girl in the second room you clear. She’s blind folded with on leg tied to the bed. She tenses when you approach, but relaxes once you’ve gotten close enough to whisper who you are.
“Tracey.” She says he name with a whimper and your heart breaks as you cut the rope and take off her blindfold.
When she sees you’re really who you say you are, she throws herself into your arms and begins to cry. There’s nothing more you want to do than to sit here and comfort her, but your ears picks up on a man’s voice you don’t recognize.
“Ok, Tracey, I know you’re so scared, and I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I need you to be brave a little longer.” You pull back and look her in the eyes. “My partner and I came in here alone. I need you to tell me where the man and woman who took you are.”
She nods. “I don’t know where she went, she left a while ago. He’s here, downstairs I think, in his office.”
There’s a crash downstairs, the sound of broken glass and your blood runs cold. Immediately, you look for any other way out, but there’s nothing. No balcony, no window, nothing. Voight’s on the radio already, but you silence him.
“Stay directly behind me.” There’s a kind of urgency in your voice that puts her even more on edge.
Creeping down the stairs, you can hear Jay struggling in the kitchen, but it sounds like he’s holding his own.
“Bringing the girl out.” You whisper into your radio and glance back at Tracey. “As soon as we get down, I want you to run to the door. Do not stop. When you get across the street there are people who will help you.” She nods but she looks terrified. “I swear I won’t let him get anywhere near you.”
It’s the door opening that alerts Isaac that something else is going on. You round the corner with your gun drawn and the scene before you makes your knees weak.
Jay is bruised and cut up, struggling against the man behind him, the arm around his neck, the gun pointed at his head.
“She said you were cops, but I told her she was paranoid.” Isaac snarls.
“Madison? Is she here?” You ask, your voice as level as your gun trained on his head. Voight is yelling over the radio, but you tune him out. “I’d love to meet her.”
He snickers and smiles wickedly. “Even if she could be caught, neither of you will be alive long enough to see it.”
He only manages a twitch before you pull the trigger and land a shot right between his eyes.
Jay falls forward, breathing heavy and you rush towards him. “Jay’s hurt!” You call out when the door is broken down. Adam kicks the gun away from the obviously dead suspect and you let them handle the scene.
“Where does it hurt? Did you get hit? I told you it was stupid to split us up! How’s your breathing?” Your hands are frantically searching every inch of his body. He has to grab your hand and grip it tight in his to stop the assault of questions rapid firing from your lips.
He sits up with a groan and kisses your knuckles when he sees the panic on your face. “I’m okay. Because of you it’s just a few cuts and bruises.” He manages a smile and you almost cry right there.
Voight places a hand on your shoulder. “Tracey is on her way to Med. Medics said she’s going to be okay. We’ve got another bus on the way for you. Nice work you two.”
Now
The creak from the front door opening pulls you from a daze and you wince at the sunlight flooding the room. A blonde woman stands before you with a duffle in her left hand and a gun in her right.
She tilts her head to the side. “You’re still alive. What a shame.”
You struggle to focus your eyes from the concussion you’re assuming she must’ve given you. “Maddison.” You croak out. “What are you doing?”
She drops the duffle next to you and grips your hair to pull your head back, pushing the barrel of the gun into your temple.
“I’m going to make you suffer.” She hisses and roughly lets you go. “I tried to warn him that you were watching us, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Isaac?”
“Don’t say his name!” She screams and the sound cracks through your skull. “He told me to get some supplies, but when I cam back, I watched from the back window as you murdered him.”
You shake your head and try to reason with her. “Maddison, he was hurting people. He was going to kill my partner.”
“Partner.” She repeats sarcastically. “You mean Jay Halstead, your boyfriend of 3 years?” Maddison moves in front of you to revel in the fear that has filled your eyes and smiles sinisterly. “Yeah, I know who he is.”
You start quickly, the panic in your voice betraying the training you were struggling to hold onto. “If you want to kill me fine, do it. But don’t hurt him, Maddison. Please, he’s done nothing.”
She tsks as she opens the duffle and begins to pull out long metal pieces until finally, a long-barreled shot gun. “Why would I kill you when the alternative is so much better?”
You begin to struggle against the restraints as your mind starts to put together scenario after scenario of awful images. Maddison pays no mind to you begging and pleading to see reason. Instead, she pauses from building some contraption to walk over to you and jam a needle in your neck.
When you come too again, she’s sat casually in front of you. “I thought hitting you in the head again might actually kill you, and that’s not what I’m going for, so… you’re welcome.”
You glance around again and notice the barrel of the shotgun behind you just to the left of your shoulder. “Yeah, thanks.” You deadpan looking back at her. “What’s with the ‘Saw’ set up?”
She raises a brow. “Hold onto that strength while you can.” She points out the wires and hooks running along the floor and ceiling to trace it back to the door in front of you. “I used to be a STEM major. Did you know that?” She doesn’t stop long enough for you to respond. “Turns out I still remember a few things.”
You stare past her towards the door and then look quickly back to the gun, beginning to piece together her plan.
“Yes.” She coos. “It’s exactly what you’re thinking. The first person that opens that door, if he happens to be the right height, will get a life ending shot to the face. And I’d like to ask you what the chances are that anyone other than your boyfriend will be the first through the door.”
None.
For the first time you feel utterly defeated, hopeless. Madison watches closely, soaking in every moment of your anguish.
“Now you’ll know what it feels like.”
Then
You phone buzzes for the fourth time in the last hour. “Yes?”
“He’s actually insufferable, where are you?” Will speaks quickly, his tone seeping in irritation.
You laugh. “April already sent me out to get him food because he was whining so much. I am in route with a burger and some other stuff from his favorite place. Should be there in 15.”
“Thank god.” He says quietly. “Would you give it a rest? She’s 15 out with enough food to hopefully put you in a coma so I don’t have to.” You laugh as Will continues to yell at his brother.
“I almost died! Where’s your compassion?” You hear Jay yell back and only laugh harder
“You have ONE bruised rib and a concussion. I’ve seen high school football players handle worse with less complaining!”
“If it’s not so bad, why won’t you let me leave?!”
“I’m stepping up the pace, be there soon.” You laugh and hang up.
The Chicago night was chilly, but something else causes the hairs on the back of your neck begin to prickle. You don’t stop walking, don’t even pause a single step. Instead, you glance in a shop window and catch the reflection of a woman, a flash of blonde, not too far behind you.
Casually, you switch the bag of food to your other hand, but before you’re able to grab your gun, there’s a pinch in your neck and everything goes black.
Now
Jay had forced his way back to work sooner than anyone recommended. You’d been missing for 5 days. Disappeared with no trace other than your cell phone and a bag of cold diner food spilt on the sidewalk. If it were up to him, he would’ve been at his desk the moment 30 minutes hit and you weren’t there.
Alvin called two hours later telling him what they found and Adam and Antonio had to physically restrain him, Will almost sedated him. Voight promised him that they’d find you, and Jay knew they’d do everything they could, but he needed to be a part of the search.
“Did she have any enemies?” Alvin asks and he doesn’t flinch when Jay begins to laugh sarcastically.
“Any enemies? Do you hear yourself? She had tons. We all do. But let’s stop pretending like her being taken the day we closed that case isn’t connected.”
Alvin tries to sympathize with him. “We have to ask. You know the drill.”
He throws his hands up in exasperation. “Are you seriously going to treat this like any other missing person? It’s Y/N, Al! Y/N!”
“We know.” Voight says from his office door. “I made a few calls, Jay, we know where she is.” For a fraction of a second, Jay is frozen, but the thought of what you could be going through right now moves him. He’s grabbed his jacket and is in the car before anyone else has moved.
“I thought only the CIA had access to things like that.” Adam whispers lowly in the car into Kevin’s ear.
He shrugs. “Do think it’s out of the question that he’d break several constitutional laws to save any one of us?”
Adam sits back in his seat with pursed lips, nodding.
You struggle against the restraints long after Madison leaves you with only a gag in your mouth. The multiple cars pulling up and all the people shouting told you that you were running out of time. As of this very moment, you were locked into your fate of watching the man you loved die.
This was not an option.
The hard plastic digs into your ankles and wrists, your movements quickening with each door you hear them break down. You try to scream, to warn whoever was on this floor that there was a danger they couldn’t possibly see, but your muffled cries wouldn’t carry.
Tears soak the bandana shoved in in your mouth and you try to scream again.
No! Stop! It isn’t safe!
You hear Voight’s voice a few doors down and begin to try and rock the chair back and forth. It was considered heavy for a good day, and today was not that. Having not eaten or really moved in so long had left you weak and foggy. The adrenaline coursing through you veins only aiding a little in your efforts.
The sound of the front door breaking down sends a jolt of energy through you and you send yourself flying in front of the gun just as the bedroom door opens.
Jay raises his weapon at the sound before his brain can register what has happened. His wide eyes find yours just before you’ve hit the ground.
“Y/N!” He screams and rushes towards you. Frantic, shaky hands move quickly to remove the bandana and zip ties before applying pressure to your shoulder. “I need a medic!” He calls franticly over his shoulder, but when he turns back to you, he has to shut down the thought that you might not make it that long.
“You found me.” You try to say, but instead sputter blood onto your cheek.
“Oh, God.” He gasps. “You’re okay, you’re going to be fine.” But the more he says, the less you hear him.
“I love you.” You try to reach out to his face and graze his cheek, but your fingers won’t cooperate and only leave smudges of blood across his skin.
When your breathing starts to quicken and become more raged, he knows time is running out. So, in defiance of the orders and suggestions coming in through his ear piece, he lifts you up to cradle you to him and runs.
**
An annoying, incessant beeping is the only thing you can hear, but when you move to reach for it, a shooting pain stops you cold. You groan softly and pry your eyes open only to see both Will and Antonio hovering too close to your face.
Will starts to wave a flashlight in your eyes and you push him away. “When was the last time you guys brushed your teeth?”
Antonio chuckles softly and places his hand atop your head, his thumb brushing softly. “We got her.” He says quietly. “She couldn’t help herself. She stayed close to the scene to see the fallout and Kim caught her.”
Will nods his head towards Jay who was sleeping soundly in what you had to imagine was a very uncomfortable position. “We’ve been keeping an eye on him as well as you. Do you want me to wake him?”
You look back over at him and smile before turning back. “Better not. These are the last few moments of peace I’ll get for the next year at least. You would think someone would be a little more grateful towards you for saving their life, but I can already hear how mad he’s going to be.” Only a small part of you is joking.
“Well, I’ll get shot next time and we’ll see how you feel.” Jay’s sleep riddled voice carries from the corner, but he hasn’t opened his eyes yet. “I’ll give you an hour.” He adds before settling back in.
Now that’s the love of my life.
#jay halstead#jay halstead x reader#jay halstead imagine#Chicago PD#hank voight#antonio dawson#alvin olinsky#Adam Ruzek#kevin atwater
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Let’s take “birth day” literally and have pregnant Buck go into labor someplace really dumb and/or inconvenient.
It's the hormones, Buck would like to say in his defense, but honestly, the omega would have done it even if he weren't nearly nine months pregnant....
The doctor's told him some light exercise will help, even with his due date being so close now, and so after picking Christopher up from school they'd decided to take a nice stroll in the park.
And it would have been nice if some asshole hadn't put his hands on his kid on the goddamn playground of all places! One minute Buck had been struggling to get up off the bench to see why it looked as though Christopher was in a seemingly heated argument over something or the other, with another little boy around his age, and the next said boy's mother was shoving Christopher away with a sharply pointed nail, poking at his shoulder and shouting obscenities.
And Buck was there in a flash, putting himself between Christopher and the woman and telling her to back off. "You don't touch someone else's kid like that, lady. If you have a problem, you come find me."
The woman looks flustered for a moment before raising her voice again, yelling about how she had barely even touched the eight year old, and about how maybe he shouldn't bring his son around other kids if he couldn't learn to play nice. "If you taught that boy some manners we wouldn't even be here right now!"
Buck knows he should have let it go, knows they were causing a huge and unnecessary scene, and this? This next part he totally blames on the hormones. "If your parents had taught you some manners and common sense we wouldn't be here right now!"
And that had only served to escalate the situation to the point where police had actually been called and arrived on the scene--and apparently the woman had been very convincing when she'd burst into tears and told the cops that Buck had threatened her with violence.
Which is how Buck ends up in a jailcell on a sunny Friday afternoon, waiting for Eddie to come and bail him out and worrying frantically about Christopher, who last he saw, as they'd cuffed him and put him into the back of their vehicle, was currently in the custody of a child services worker.
Buck puts his head in his hands and groans, beyond stressed. Not only is this humiliating as all hell, but his alpha is probably going to kill him for letting this shit happen. He should have ignored the woman and walked away with Christopher in tow. Instead, he'd made it worse and gotten arrested for an assault he hadn't even committed. "Jesus Christ."
"Buckley? Evan Buckley?" An officer calls out; he's older, maybe mid fifties, with a faint Southern drawl.
Buck raises his head. He'd only called Eddie fifteen minutes ago, was he really here that quickly? "Uh, yeah, that's me." he says.
"You're free to go; luckily a bunch of witnesses came forward with the same story--you weren't the aggressor here, son. Now c'mon, your kid's waiting for you right outside."
"Oh thank God." he breaths out, immeasurably relieved. But when he attempts to stand up Buck lets out a hiss and doubles over, face contorting in pain.
The officers eyes go wide and he rushes to open the cell, which is nearly empty, thankfully, except for Buck and a slumbering man in the corner, arrested that morning for public intoxication. "Whoa, whoa," the man's eyes go even wider, if possible, when he realizes what's happening. "Shoot, I think your water just broke, young man."
Buck shakes his head, even though the proof is on the bench and soaking his jeans through and through. He whines as the contraction continues, huffing and puffing. "H-hospital. Please." He pleads.
There is no way he's having this baby while still technically in custody at a police station. Hell, they're in a jailcell, for shit's sake. He'd rather give birth like a total cliché and in the back of a yellow taxi!
"I'm gonna have 'em call you an ambulance, but let's get you outta here first." the officer tries to help Buck stand but another contraction hits, this one harder and more agonizing than the last and Buck cries out, his knees buckling under him.
The officer manages to hold him aloft just long enough to reposition him on the floor as Buck pants and tries not to lose it. The contractions are way too close...
The officer radios his men and calls for help. "Need help in the holding cell on floor 2B, we've got a custodial here who's gone into labor. Urgent request for help in holding cell 2B."
Buck can't help but let out a sob--it's even worse than he'd imagined--he's going to end up giving birth inside a jailcell five feet away from some guy who smells like tequila and regret. Alone.
"What the hell is going on in--Buck?!"
Buck sniffles as he turns his head towards the door, where Athena is standing, mouth agape at the chaotic scene before her. "Athena!" he cries, reaching out for her, needy as can be and not giving a damn.
Athena doesn't waste any time, dropping to her knees beside him, letting him rest his head on her lap. She sooths back his curly locks, now sweaty, and look at the officer, asking sharply, "What happened?"
"He was being released when he went into labor--must be from the stress of the situation. Tried to get him up, but that baby's comin' and soon." he informs her, grimacing when Buck whines in pain as another contraction follows his statement, as if to prove the mans words true.
"Eddie," Buck clenches his teeth, tries to stifle another groans. "Need Eddie."
"He's right outside," Athena tells him, reassuringly. She nods at the officer. "Reyes, get me Eddie Diaz, he's a medic and he should be waiting down on the first floor for us. Hurry!"
***************
Eddie's at the grocery store picking stuff up for dinner tonight when he gets the unexpected call. He almost doesn't answer it, when he sees it's from an unfamiliar number, thinking it's spam, but something nags at him to take the call.
"Hello?"
"Hey..."
It's Buck. And he sounds upset.
"Buck? What's going on? Everything alright? Who's phone are you using?"
He can hear Buck gulp from the other end of the line. "I've been arrested. I need you to come bail me out and get Christopher out of police custody." he says, all in one rushed statement, like he'd ripping off a band aid.
"Wha--I'm sorry, what? Did you say you're in jail? And Christopher's with the police? What the hell is going on?" Eddie's not proud of the way he raises his voice, especially not in the fruit aisle, where a mother with her toddler gives him a dirty look on her way past, but he's so shocked and panicked he can't stop himself from blurting out, "Buck, what the fuck happened? You were picking Christopher up from school today! Where does jail fit into this?!"
"Eddie, I'm sorry." Buck sighs. "I swear I'll explain everything when you get here, but I don't have a lot of time left on this call and I'm kind of freaking out right now. Please, can you just--"
"Of course, yeah, sorry, I'm on my way, give me like twenty minutes, ok? I'm across town."
"Thank you." the line cuts off abruptly and Eddie's left to ponder what could possibly have happened to have led up to his almost nine months pregnant husband being arrested as he abandons his cart and runs out into the parking lot.
****************
Eddie nearly gets arrested himself, with the way he's speeding down the highway before turning onto the main road and parking right in front of the station, where only police vehicles are allowed.
The alpha finds his kid with a social worker, happily munching on a donut. “Chris!?” Eddie runs over and engulfs his son in a suffocating hug. “Are you ok? What happened?”
Christopher pulls away slightly, nodding. “I’m ok. Bucky got in trouble ‘cause the lady at the park lied. Officer Reyes said he’s gonna bring him out soon.”
The social worker explains the whole story to Eddie, “Thankfully there were a lot of witnesses who corroborated the events. Your husband should be out in a few minutes; it was all just an awful misunderstanding. The woman at the park is in custody right now for giving the police a false accusation and wasting everybody’s time.”
Eddie’s shoulders slump in relief and he practically falls into a chair nearby, pulling Christopher onto his lap and holding him tight around the middle. “Is he ok? Buck is pregnant. He’s due in two weeks.”
The social worker gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure he’s in good hands. Officer Reyes will have him out here in a couple of minutes.”
****************
After a couple of minutes turns to five, turns to ten, Eddie starts to get angsty. Which is why it’s a good thing, when he happens to spot Athena rounding the corner and into the station. He calls over to her and she furrows her brows in concern before making her way across to them.
“Eddie? Christopher? What’s going on?”
“It’s a long story.” Eddie sighs, “But Buck is being held in a cell right now, they said an officer Reyes was supposed to bring him down here, that he was free to go, but that was forever ago,” he exaggerates. “Can you please find out what’s taking so long?”
“Of course.”
****************
Buck sobs openly when his alpha enters the room, “Eddie!” he calls out desperately.
Athena holds Buck close and looks up. “He’s in labor. Contractions are less than a minute apart. He needs to start pushing.”
Eddie doesn’t hesitate, though his brain feels like it’s about to short circuit if even one more insane thing happens within these twenty four hours. He drops between Buck’s knees and reaches out to squeeze his hand. “Hey, I’m here, I’m here, you’ve got this, ok? Cause I’ve got you.”
“I’m scared.” Buck admits, tears sliding down face, and he’s shaking like a leaf, terrified that something will go wrong. “I don’t--” he groans pitifully against another contraction. “Don’t wanna have her in here.”
“I know baby, I know, but she’s coming now, Buck. She’s not gonna wait for us to make it to a hospital. She’s impatient,” Eddie kisses his hand, squeezing again, comfortingly. “Just like you.”
Buck huffs. “No, like you. Y-you never wait for your soup to cool down.”
“My Tia’s sopa is worth the burnt tongue.” Eddie plays along, trying to distract him from the pain. “Baby, I need you to push, ok? I know this isn’t how we pictured any of this, but it’s time.”
Buck nods through the tears and steels himself.
“Good, good, now push, c’mon, you can do this. I’m right here.”
****************
“You look handsome in your mugshot.” Eddie tells Buck, staring at the photo he asked Athena to send him on his phone.
Buck glares at the alpha. “Funny.”
Eddie leans down to kiss the frown off his face. “Sorry, too soon?”
Buck turns the other way in bed with an annoyed huff. “You’re on baby night duty for the rest of the week.” he shuts the lamp light off and then the room is dim with just the moon peaking in through their blinds.
“Hey,” Eddie sits up, tilting his head. It’s been over a month since the incident, and sure, it hadn’t been pleasant, but Buck and their baby had made it through just fine, health intact, and in the hospital Buck hadn’t seemed too phased after the ordeal, mostly content with Christopher and the baby curled up against and on him. “That was a stupid joke, I’m sorry.”
Buck gulps. He’s being way too sensitive about this. Everything turned out alright and shortly after the whole thing had passed Chimney had even teased him that of course only Buck would have bad enough luck to end up giving birth in a holding cell. And Buck had laughed it off.
Mostly because he’d been relieved.
And then of course with the new baby the last month has been a whirlwind of constant activity, of making sure all her needs are met, of making sure Christopher’s not feeling neglected, of debating on when he should start thinking about going back to work and--
Eddie’s heart leaps when he hears Buck’s sharp intake of breath. “Buck?”
Buck sits up now, too, swiping miserably at the tears that suddenly won’t stop falling. “Sorry, I--ignore me. I didn’t--” he sniffles. “I haven’t really thought about that day since--everything’s been so busy with--you know?--and--” he cuts himself off with a choked off sob. “It’s the hormones.”
It’s been four weeks now and his hormones from the pregnancy are still driving him every which way and he feels ridiculous right now, crying over something he should have processed a month ago already.
Eddie wraps his arms around Buck and pulls him between his legs and against his chest. “Let it out.” he says. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Buck curls into Eddie and releases all emotion he hadn’t realized he’d been keeping all pent up inside. The fear, the anguish--Buck lets himself be held, coddled, loved.
It feels good.
After he’s cried for what feels like ages Buck rests the side of his head on Eddie’s shoulder and exhales. “You know Christopher wanted to name her Tuubee?” he murmurs.
Eddie, who’s rubbing up and down his husbands back, pauses a moment. “’Tuubee’?” he repeats.
Buck half smirks against his shoulder. “Two B. The cell where she was born.”
.
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Just a Thought Away | Owen Patrick Joyner
Request: Could you do a soulmate au with Charlie or Owen, whichever you're more comfortable with, where they can hear each other's thoughts or the music they listen to?
A/N: Made it an Owen one shot since I don’t have many requests for Owen! Hope this is what you expected and you like it! :)
Pairing: Owen Joyner x Fem!reader
Warnings: Very minor swearing
Words: 4,175
Another note: Anything in bold and italics is a thought!
Songs used: Pump It - Black Eyed Peas
Growing up, Y/N’s mother told her these stories about soulmates and how every person on this earth would be assigned a soulmate by their guardian angel at 16. People would be able to hear their thoughts and the songs they were listening to or singing would be playing in their head as though it was just stuck in their head.
Of course, as a child, Y/N used to believe her every word and would be clinging to those words. She’d fantasize about her soulmate and where she’d meet them or what music they’d be into. She’d keep her eyes on every person in Middle School and even High School, trying to see if she could just find them. Not like there would be any physical notabilities, but she liked fantasizing about it.
By the time Y/N turned 16, she had almost forgotten about the whole soulmate thing. Her birthday was months ago and nothing ever happened. She never heard a song play in her head she didn’t know or hadn’t had any thoughts that didn’t belong to her. She was pretty certain all of those soulmate stories her mother told her were fake.
Until July 19th 2016. That’s when she first starts noticing some things. To start off the day, the song ‘Happy Birthday’ is stuck in her mind and it’s not even her birthday or anyone else’s in the family or friend group that could’ve provided that song in her head.
During the afternoon of that day, Y/N suddenly hears a humming in her mind that quickly changes into a full-on made-up song that no one close to her would ever sing.
“Mmh, Cake, cake, I like cake
Cake, cake, I like cake.”
She can’t help but laugh, though. She’d been studying for many hours without taking a break, it’s starting to mess with her brain a little. Y/N’s teachers have been giving so much work lately, she’s nearly drowning in it and it’s far from done. Sophomore year is possibly one of the hardest, in her opinion, and having the need to maintain a social life really doesn’t help with that. She hasn’t been to a party for weeks. She’s starting to crave human contact and dancing and having fun with friends and not sleeping until the sun rises.
Though that last part sounds very appealing when you’re at a party, it doesn’t when you’re in bed and trying to sleep. She’s woken up by loud music thumping in her ears. It sounds almost as though the neighbors are having a party next door, but when she gets up and walks outside the house, she realizes the house next door is completely dark. There’s no movement whatsoever. She must’ve hallucinated, but then why is she still hearing this loud music?
That’s when it dawned on her that the soulmate stories her mother used to tell are real. As a matter of fact, the songs she’d been hearing all day long were the songs her soulmate was listening to or singing. It must’ve been their 16th birthday, which they are now celebrating at a party. She always thought it’d be more fun and romantic to have a soulmate and hear them sing and think, but it’s actually pretty annoying. And it’s only the first day. This is going to be fun.
“Morning, sweetie,” Y/N’s mother greets when she stumbles into the kitchen the next morning. She hasn’t slept one bit. Her soulmate has been partying all night and only got home by 6am, which was two hours ago. “Oh, you look rough! Are you feeling okay?”
“I haven’t slept all night because my stupid soulmate was out partying all night.” Her eyes widen at this, as does her smile. “They turned 16 yesterday, so I guess that’s why I never heard anything yet on my birthday.”
“Oh, yeah! You both need to be 16 before the whole soulmate-thing starts to work,” she informs her daughter and hands a cup of fresh, steaming-hot coffee. “Do you know anything about them yet?” She shakes her head before taking a careful sip from the goddess liquid --as she and her siblings call it.
“No, I kinda thought it was my brain hallucinating from studying so much, so I couldn’t really think of a way to converse with them.” Her head snaps up as an idea crosses her mind. “How do you converse with your soulmate, mom?” She shoots her a tender, relieved smile, happy she can finally properly inform Y/N about it instead of those folklore stories.
“You just think what you wanna ask them and they hear it,” she replies.
“So, if I let my inside voice just yell ‘shut up!’, they’ll hear too?” Her mother chuckles, nodding her head in response. “Good! I ought to try that whenever they’re singing about their cake again.” Her mother laughs at that before leaving her in the kitchen, so she can get ready for work. Her soulmate is seemingly still asleep, which she would’ve been too if it wasn’t for work. Y/N works at a coffee shop on the weekends, just to get some experience and earn a little bit of money for her shopping addiction.
Maybe right now would be a perfect moment to avenge her soulmate for keeping her up all night last night. So, while getting ready, she puts on some music on her laptop. With the volume on maximum, she starts belting the One Direction song along at the top of her lungs.
“You and me got a whole lotta history!” It takes a while before a loud ‘SHUT UP!’ echoes through her mind. A teasing smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she stops singing.
“That’s what you get for keeping me up all night, sweetie” she thinks, hoping it’ll come through. For a moment, she thinks it might not work like that until a boy’s voice floats through her brain.
“Who’s this?” She chuckles, pausing the music and taking a seat at her desk.
“Y/N Y/L/N. Ever heard of those soulmate folklore stories?” She starts doing her make-up whilst waiting for his response.
“Yea, my father used to tell me those. I thought they were fairy tales?”
“So did I. Turns out they’re real!” This feels so weird. “You just turned 16, right?”
“Yeah, yesterday! How’d you know?!” he asks, and it makes her realize he might not be the brightest tool in the shed.
“Because I turned 16 in January and I didn’t hear anything until yesterday…” A silence falls over the conversation. Either it’s not working anymore or he’s digesting all this information.
“You heard me singing to my cake, didn’t you?” he finally asks instead, and Y/N can even hear him chuckle.
“Yep! I thought I was hallucinating because I was studying so hard,” she lets out a chuckle too. “Happy belated birthday, by the way.”
“Oh, thanks! I’m Owen, by the way. Owen Joyner.” She has heard that name before, but she’s got no clue where, though.
Making a mental note to Google it later, she grabs the mascara and adds the finishing touches to her makeup.
“Nice to meet you, Owen. I gotta get going though. Have to be at work in about…” She glances at the clock on her wall, her eyes widening when she sees the time. “Five minutes. See ya! Or… Hear ya?!” She hears Owen chuckle in her mind.
“Yeah, I’ll hear ya,” he says, then a yawn-like sound buzzes through her, giving her the urge to yawn too.
“Sorry for waking you up,” she quickly adds before running out of the house. Her mind’s going over a million excuses as to why she would be late to work, but none of them sound quite plausible. Especially not the truth.
“Go with ‘the neighbors had a party last night and I overslept’-excuse, Y/N,” she hears Owen’s voice again, “Now stop thinking, I wanna sleep!” She chuckles, shaking her head.
“Thanks, Owen. And I wanna sleep too, but I can’t, now can I? Me awake means you awake. Deal with it.” She can even hear a disgruntled groan, meaning he’s probably getting up because her thoughts won’t stop running through his mind.
That night, she figures out he's the Owen Joyner, aka Crispo Powers from “100 things to do before High School”, a TV-show she’d watched almost daily in the last two years. She asks him about that too, and he explains the whole auditioning and filming process and how much fun it was for a first acting gig. He asks about her life too, and the two of them bond over thoughts. This whole soulmate-thing is still very whack. But, to be completely honest, she kind of loves it. It’s like having an angel on your shoulder, telling you what the best option for your dilemma is. Though, most times, Owen is more likely the devil. Which is what Y/N needs most times.
The most fun thing about this whole Soulmate-connection thing, have to be the dance parties the two of them hold at night, unless she has to get to work the following day and Owen won’t stop singing at the top of his lungs. One night, he was singing Pump It by the Black Eyed Piece at 3am. She’d groaned at first, hoping that’ll subtly tell him to shut up, but it didn’t work at all. He just kept rapping the verses, keeping Y/N awake and annoyed.
“Come on, baby, do it”
She decides to finally give in, knowing he’s not going to stop until she starts singing along. So, she sits up straight in her bed, and belts the lyrics at the very top of her lungs, not even caring about anyone in the house hearing.
“La-da-di-dup-dup die dy
On the stereo
Let those speakers blow your mind”
“Blow my mind, baby”
She chuckles at his interruption.
“To let it go, let it go
Here we go
La-da-di-dup-dup die dy”
“C'mon, we're there”
“On the radio
The system is gonna feel so fine”
He stops singing then and a silence falls over the both of them. Y/N can’t lie, in the past couple of years as she’d grown closer to him, spending every waking -- and sleeping -- moment together, she’d started developing some feelings for Owen Patrick Joyner too. It’s ridiculous because she’d never seen him in real life. She knows everything about him and she knows what he looks like, but she doesn’t know what his hugs feel like, or what his cologne smells like.
“You’re a great singer, Y/N,” he finally breaks the silence, “I’m gonna let you sleep now, kay? Good night, baby girl.” Of all the pet names he’d given her so far, Baby Girl, Princess and Gorgeous were her favorites. All of them with a platonic tendency, though, much to her dismay.
“Good night, O-bear,” she whispers back before tucking herself into bed again.
Then finally, in 2019, Owen and a couple of people from the cast and crew of Julie and The Phantoms, his latest project Y/N was most excited about, decided to make a trip to New York City, her hometown. To say she’s excited would be the understatement of the year. She’d finally be able to hug him and talk to him properly and show him around her hometown and get to know the rest of the cast she’d heard so much about.
But among the excitement also hides a little bit of nerves. After years of talking to him by just thinking, she’d finally see him in real life. What if things get awkward? What if it’s not what she expects? What if he’s only so beautiful in her mind?
Y/N is walking around the coffee shop, wiping down tables and jumping up every time a new customer enters, thinking it’s Owen. He knows where she works on the weekends, and promised to find her there the minute he’d gotten settled in his hotelroom.
“Ooh, pretty girl over there.” Her stomach churns as she hears his thoughts. He forgets about the whole soulmate-connection thing sometimes and just lets it out unfiltered. She knows he doesn’t like her the same way she likes him, and he’s allowed to look at other girls and think they’re pretty, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. “All around the world pretty girls,” he sings the famous Britney Song. “Mostly at coffee shops, yeah I’m talking about you, pretty girl.” A soft rap on the window next to Y/N makes her snap out of her focus on Owen’s voice. When she looks up, there’s a tall, blonde man waving at her through the glass with the biggest smile on his face. A flutter erupts in her stomach whilst her mouth involuntarily curls up into the widest smile she’d ever managed.
She gestures at him to come in and hastily makes her way to the door herself. The second he walks inside, she launches herself into his arms. Wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, she holds him tight and inhales the smell of his cologne. He smells of the most divine combination of spearmint and musk. Just as she’d imagined him smelling like.
“I can’t believe this,” she hears him think, which makes her chuckle.
“You know you can actually talk to me right now, right?” she tells him, pulling away slightly so she can look at his face. There’s a slight stubble growing on his cheeks and chin, and his eyes look even prettier in real life than on a phone screen.
“Right, yeah,” he chuckles, Y/N’s new favorite sound in the world. “Old habits die hard.” She smiles down at him whilst the two of them just stare at each other, basking in the fact they’re finally meeting. “She’s even prettier up close.” YN/ blushes at the compliment, and combes her fingers through his hair. “Oh, fuck, you heard that. Sorry!”
“It’s cool. You’re pretty up close too.” This makes him chuckle. The whole thing is still bat-shit crazy. Both of them have gotten weird commentary whenever they told friends and family how they communicate with their soulmate. Most people just start texting and calling when they find their soulmate, but they didn’t. This whole new way of conversing was way too much fun, though a little annoying at times. And especially now that they’re in the same place together, it’s even more fun because no one else knows they’re talking to each other.
A soft cough behind Owen causes Y/N to snap back into reality. Peeking behind the boy’s head, there are three other guys, staring at the scene with wide smiles playing at their lips. Two of them are about the same age as them, but the other one is older. Older but very, very famous. Y/N herself is a big fan of his work. The legend, Kenny Ortega himself.
“You might wanna introduce me to your friends over there,” she tells her best friend. Owen takes a quick peek behind him, realizing he’d forgotten about his friends that had come along with him to meet the infamous Y/N. He puts the girl down on her feet again before turning to the three men.
“Guys, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Gorgeous, these are Jeremy, Charlie, and Kenny.” He points to each of them when their respective names are called. Y/N offers them a wave and smile, not sure if she should go straight in for the hug like she’d done with Owen.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N,” says Kenny as he opens his arms and embraces the girl. Said girl is now completely starstruck in a way she’d never been before, and she’d met a few of her favorite actors or artists. None of them made her feel this way.
“You too, Kenny,” she manages to bring out when they pull apart, “Big fan of your work!” All she’s hoping right now is that she doesn’t sound too creepy.
“You’re all good, Princess. Breathe.” Owen’s voice calms her down just in time for Charlie to engulf her into a hug too, and then Jeremy does the same.
“Why don’t you guys take a seat, and I’ll make you some coffee before I’m off for today?” she suggests, and after hums of assent, the girl takes their orders and gets back to work. “There you go,” she mumbles as she places the coffees on the table and then distributes them correctly before sliding into the booth next to Owen. “So, what are your plans for today?” she asks.
“Just some touristy bits,” Charlie replies with a shrug, “Any recommendations for us?” Y/N thinks about it for a while, knowing Owen can hear her thoughts.
“Why don’t you come along?” Owen’s voice echoes through your brain.
“Why don’t I take you guys around to the best spots no tourist will ever find?” she suggests, earning a thankful smile from Owen. “I think I knew a few places I could take you to?” All three other men agree to your suggestion. So, after you all finish your coffees and you’ve given them your employer’s discount, the five of you leave the coffee shop and hit the streets of New York City.
“This is where I proposed to Care!” Jeremy exclaims excitedly as you’re sharing a couple stories from your childhood in Central Park. The guys have told a little more about their own lives, too, so Y/N felt comfortable enough to talk so freely and unfiltered about her own childhood, not noticing the way Owen melts at how adorable she looks being so excited about her childhood memories.
“Re-enact it, Jer!” Owen exclaims excitedly as he scurries away from Y/N’s side and jumps down the small flight of stairs in one swift hop. Jeremy follows his best buddy and kneels down in front of him as if really proposing. Y/N takes her phone out of her back pocket and snaps a picture of the beautiful scene, giggling as she does, along with Kenny and Charlie.
“The cutest couple!” the girl compliments, jamming her phone back into her pocket.
“When’s the wedding?” Kenny adds, his laugh thundering. Owen lets out an airy laugh while Jeremy gets up again, the two of them rejoining the rest of the group. Y/N just knows this day will forever be the best day of her life. She just knows it’s going to be her favorite day ever for so many reasons; the laughs, the jokes, the friendship that’s building between all five of you, but mostly Owen.
That night, Y/N goes back to the hotel with them too as Owen had asked her to hang out a little while longer and watch some movies with him. He’d asked the others too, but they were ‘too tired’. That’s an excuse Y/N could see from a mile away. They just wanted to give the two of them some quality time, which she appreciated very much.
“I had the best day,Bubba,” she mumbles as she snuggles closer to him. She has her head on his chest whilst his arm is draped around her shoulders. It almost feels as though they’ve been doing this for years.
“Me too, Baby Girl. Thanks for showing us around.” He presses a kiss to her hair, inhaling the luscious scent of peach, and deciding that’s his new favorite scent from now on. “Sucks we’re leaving tomorrow night,” he mumbles sadly.
“Yeah… I know…” The words come out of her mouth in a whisper. “Wonder when we’ll see each other again.” She’d forgotten for a split second about him being able to hear her thoughts until he answers the half-statement with another question.
“Will you come visit Norman Oklahoma soon?” She looks up at him, her nose grazing his stubbled chin, causing him to look down. “I really don’t wanna go another three years without seeing you, Gorgeous. I don’t think I can handle that, especially now that I’ve learned you’re a great cuddler.” Y/N chuckles at that before resettling on his chest properly.
“I think I can make something work next month?” She starts tracing the patterns of his shirt, sending shivers down Owen’s spine at the sheer touch of her delicate fingers. “I think I can miss a few classes.” The chuckle that escapes past his lips, makes his chest vibrate and zooms into her ears, making her mouth curl up. This is the best feeling in the world; cuddling up with Owen and hearing him laugh. It’s a feeling Y/N wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. She wishes she could just stay like this forever.
Or at least until the next day. Y/N has classes to get to, but promises Owen to come and say goodbye to him and the others at JFK airport around 8pm that night. And she does, though dreading it entirely.
“You made it,” Owen whispers when he sees her walk up to the group.
“Of course, I couldn’t just let you go back to Van City without saying goodbye, could I?” A tender smile plays at his lips as he takes her into a tight hug. “Have a safe flight, yeah? And talk to me on the plane if you’re bored.” She tells him and then turns to the three other men she’d just met yesterday. “Take good care of him and each other,” she tells them before taking each into a hug. Owen then offers her a nervous smile when she makes it back to his side. “Hey, you okay?” she asks, grabbing his hand in hers.
“No,” her eyebrows furrow at his unspoken confession. “Yes, I mean yes. I’m fine. I’m okay… I just--” he cuts himself off, not knowing what to tell the girl now. “I’m just gonna miss you, is all.”
“Oh…” is all she brings out, wanting something else to come out of his mouth. “I’m gonna miss you too, Big O.” She playfully punches his shoulder, smiling up at him with that smile that’s only ever reserved for Owen. It’s a tender one where her eyes sparkle as much as her smile.
Owen then grabs her other hand too, pulling her a little closer as though he wants to say something serious. Y/N isn’t used to a serious Owen. He’d always be the one to pull pranks or make stupid jokes that’d make her laugh until her belly ached.
He stutters and stumbles over a couple of words, then sighs frustratedly as he can’t seem to find the right words to tell her what he’s feeling. He can’t even find the right words to think.
“Just kiss her, you dork!” Charlie shouts from the sidelines. Y/N turns her head to look at the boy confusedly, but Owen’s hands quickly cup her face and brings her up to press his lips on hers. She’s a little startled at first, unsure about what’s happening. But then she melts into his lips and into him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long!” his thought comes through in her mind, making her smile against his lips.
“Shut up, I’m kissing you.” He chuckles at her words, and pulls away but keeps his forehead pressed to hers. “I’ll see you in a month, Bubba,” Y/N whispers and pecks his lips once more.
Though she hates to see him go, she has to let him leave. She has to let him get back to Vancouver and Oklahoma, and then she can see him again in about a month. It’s just how this must go. For now.
“I’d rather stay, actually,” he tells her as he pulls away slowly.
“Owen…” Y/N whispers, shaking her head, “Don’t make this harder than it already is. They need you in Vancouver…” she nods at Kenny and the guys. “I want you to stay, I do. But they need you.” A single tear rolls down her cheek. Owen reaches up and wipes it away as quickly as it came whilst shaking his head.
“I’m gonna stay, Y/N. Just two more days.” He sounds too determined for her to convince him to go.
“We don’t actually need him for two more days anyway, so he’s free to stay if he wants to,” Kenny chimes in. Y/N looks at the man talking, a surprised look on her face. The legend himself shoots her a smile. “Stay, Owen. Spend some more time together. You both need it.”
“Thanks, Kenny,” Owen takes the guy in for a quick hug, and then turns to his buddies to give each of them one too. “I’ll see you in two days, then.” The couple watches as the three men walk away, their arms wrapped tightly around each other.
“You really had to be dramatic, did you?” Y/N jokes once they’re out of earshot, which earns her an eye roll from Owen, though he can’t hide a smile either.
“You know me, Baby Girl,” he winks before grabbing his bag.
“Yes, I do,” she says, “And I’m glad I do.”
“Me too, Gorgeous, me too.”
Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg
@thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13 @calamitykaty @wiselight
#julie and the phantoms#julie and the himbos#jatp#owen patrick joyner#owen joyner#owen x reader#alex jatp#charlie gillespie#luke patterson#jeremy shada#reggie jatp#kenny ortega#soulmate au#jatp fandom#jatp au#jatp imagine
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hi! i love your writing and would like to request season 4 reiner & fake dating w/ a female reader, if that’s ok. 🥺👉👈 maybe porco’s her ex & she wants to make him jealous?? thanks!
Thank you so much, anon! ❤️ I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this request, which is probably why this oneshot ended up being 2.8K... 😂
Warnings: alcohol, swearing, physical affection, bed-sharing, mention of depression and parental neglect, slight angst, brief recollection of coercive behavior (not Reiner)
A/N: This story takes place in a modern AU.
And thank you to @clovertitan, @wasabito, @bricktheprettiestsiren, @darkcloakedinfinitevoid, and @bundleofyarrow for encouraging this. I love you all! 🤗
• • •
Reiner + Fake Dating
Every summer, you and your high school friends spend a weekend at a cabin on the lake close to where you grew up. With all of you now living in different cities, it’s an opportunity to get together, catch up, and relax. You’ve always looked forward to it... until now.
“Is it too late to say I can’t go?” You’re sitting on the couch with Reiner, trying to ignore your suitcase, already packed and sitting beside the front door.
“Yes,” he replies, draining the last of his beer. “Come on, it won’t be that bad.”
“Porco’s going to be there. With his new girlfriend. You know he’s going to be a little shit about it.”
You’re not sure if you can handle teasing jabs from your ex-boyfriend and watching him shove his tongue down a stranger’s throat. It’s not because you still have feelings for him. That ship sailed months ago. The idea of it just feels somewhat nauseating.
Reiner frowns. “Yeah, I know. But I’ll be there with you. Just do what I do and ignore him.”
It might be the alcohol, or something in his words, that inspires the idea. But regardless, you turn and look at him. “This is crazy, but... what if you... pretend to be my boyfriend?” When Reiner’s eyes widen, you quickly assure him, “Just for the weekend! I know, it’s stupid, I know. But I...”
“You want to make him jealous?”
“Maybe? Or prove that I’m not still single and pathetic, almost a year after breaking up...” You groan and flop back onto the pillows. “I’m horrible, aren’t I?”
“You’re not pathetic, and you’re not horrible.” He hesitates. “But I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“It’s definitely not,” you admit. “Pieck would probably believe it. She’s been wanting us to date for years now. Same with Bert and Annie.” You miss the slight flush in Reiner’s cheeks as he stands, heading to the kitchen for another drink.
“Zeke would know,” he counters. “He’s like a human lie detector.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think he’d say anything.” You sit up and lean over the back of the couch, resting your head on your arms. “If you really don’t want to, it’s okay. But it might be fun.”
You watch as Reiner walks back in, seeming deep in thought. He’s been your closest friend for as long as you can remember. But some small part of you is curious to know what it might be like, to be something more than that, even just for a few days...
He sits down beside you, and you give him a pleading look. “One weekend. I promise. Then everyone will go home, and things will go back to normal.”
Reiner sighs but then offers you a half-smile. “Alright, you win. One weekend. Let’s do it.”
• • •
When you and Reiner arrive at the lake the next morning, you enter what you call “Couple Mode.” But you very quickly come to a startling realization: Even as your fake boyfriend, he’s acting pretty much the same as he always has.
He rubs your shoulders when you grumble about the long drive, carries your luggage without asking, and holds the cabin door open for you, placing a hand at the small of your back when he joins you inside.
Pieck immediately notices your increased closeness and smiles warmly, asking how you’ve both been — and how long “this” has been going on. Bertholdt seems excited, in his own quiet way, and even Annie eyes the two of you, her lips curled up at the corners.
As Reiner suspected, Zeke seems to know better, shooting you a smirk as he walks past, carrying bottles of whiskey and vodka to the kitchen.
And then there’s Porco, sprawled on the sofa with his new girlfriend, staring at you so hard, you’re surprised his gaze hasn’t punched a hole straight through you.
You’re distracted when Zeke walks back in and says, “Your room’s at the end of the hall upstairs.”
“Our room? One room?” You blink at him. Neither you nor Reiner had told any of them ahead of time that you were now a couple. There should have been enough rooms for both of you to have one to yourselves.
“Eren and his friends decided to tag along, do some hiking, boring teenager shit.” Zeke grins. “What’s the problem? Don’t want to share a bed with your boyfriend?”
Before you can respond, Reiner interjects. “Sounds great. Come on, Y/N.” You trail behind him up the stairs, mouthing “I hate you” at Zeke as you walk past. He merely winks.
“He did that on purpose,” you hiss, walking down the hall. “If things were different, he probably would’ve had me share a room with Pieck.”
“You still can, if you want.”
Reiner sounds strangely distant, and you notice his grip tighten on the handles of your bags.
“No,” you say, touching his shoulder gently. “It’ll be like our sleepovers when we were kids. Remember?”
He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah... Just like that...”
• • •
The rest of the day passes quickly. Zeke rents a pontoon boat at the nearby docks, and you all pile onto it, carrying beach towels, a radio, snacks, and several coolers full of water and contraband booze poured into plastic juice bottles.
After cruising around the lake, you pick a spot to stop for a while. Porco makes a show of stripping off his shirt and then tossing his shrieking, bikini-clad girlfriend into the water. The way he shoots you a look over his shoulder — somehow both cocky and pouting — causes Reiner’s arm to tighten around your waist.
Bertholdt and Annie join them, keeping their distance from the excited splashing, and Pieck lies on one of the padded benches, stretched out in the sun like a lazy cat. Zeke reclines at the wheel, a worn-out paperback held open in one hand.
And you and Reiner sit together at the front of the boat, gazing out at the lake. He seems more relaxed now, leaning back, his face tipped up towards the sky. He’s wearing dark green swim trunks and an unbuttoned shirt, revealing lean, sculpted muscles.
Sometimes you think he hasn’t changed all that much since high school. But looking at him now, you know he has. He’s taller, his softer edges more finely honed, and he always has a bit of scruff on his cheeks, unlike the clean-shaven boy you remember.
As if sensing your eyes on him, he turns to you and smiles. “You okay? Want to get in the water?”
“Not really.” You snuggle into the warmth of his shoulder, seeking out that slip of bare skin between his collar and neck. “I’m fine right here.”
He kisses the top of your head, the softest brush of lips against hair. “Me, too.”
It’s been less than a day, and already, the lines between you are starting to blur. Maybe it’s because it all feels so familiar. There’s very little exaggeration in his actions, his boyfriend persona almost entirely overlapping with the real Reiner Braun. It’s unexpected and terrifying and exciting all at once, and you have to remind yourself that this isn’t real. One weekend. I promise.
• • •
That evening, you step away from the bonfire, where Pieck is reminiscing about a senior prank gone horribly wrong — something involving spray paint, super glue, and Principal Magath’s portrait that hung in the school library. Closing the patio door behind you, you quietly pad through the living room, heading for the kitchen. But then you hear two voices.
You peer around the corner to find Reiner and Porco standing in front of the fridge. It’s clear that this isn’t a pleasant conversation, but before you can do anything, Reiner says, “You’re here with someone else, Pock. Why do you even care?”
Porco bristles at the nickname. “Because of course it’s you. I always knew it would be, what with the sappy way you look at her.”
Reiner ignores his taunt. “If I remember correctly, you broke up with her. She’s free to date whoever she wants.”
“Yeah, well...” Porco scoffs. You can tell from his posture, and the way he jabs a finger into Reiner’s chest, that he’s drunk. “If you want my sloppy seconds, she’s all yours, buddy.”
It happens so fast, you have to stifle a gasp. One minute, Reiner’s standing there, and the next, he has Porco shoved against the wall. His face is contorted with anger as he warns, voice low, “Watch your fucking mouth.”
Porco blinks up at him, mouth agape. When Reiner pulls back, he stumbles out of his reach, running a shaky hand through his hair. Without a word, he turns on his heel, headed straight toward you. But you manage to duck into the nearby bathroom just in time, watching as he walks past. He looks upset, dazed, and more than a little embarrassed. You hear the patio door open and close, and then Reiner, someplace close by, heaves a sigh. “Shit...”
He exits the cabin a few minutes later, and you lean against the bathroom wall, trying to process what the hell just happened.
• • •
It’s two in the morning by the time you brush your teeth and change into pajamas. When you walk into your shared bedroom, you find Reiner, wearing boxers and an old football t-shirt, retrieving some blankets from the tiny closet.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ll sleep on the floor. You take the bed.”
“Reiner, no.” You reach out and still his hands. “We can both sleep in the bed. It’s fine. It’ll be warmer, too.”
He gives you a strange look, seeming almost nervous. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
You offer him a reassuring smile. “With you? Never. Besides, is it really that different from when we fall asleep on your couch while watching a movie?”
His laugh sounds strained. “I guess not...”
But when you’re both lying beneath the covers, you realize it is different — especially when it’s a twin-sized bed rather than a large, comfy sectional.
Reiner is lying on his side, as close to the edge as possible. It’s almost comical, watching him try to find a position that accommodates his large frame and still gives you space.
“This is weird, isn’t it?” you ask, breaking the silence.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, half-sitting up. “I’ll —”
“No, stop.” You reach out and grab his shoulder. It’s warm and firm beneath your hand, and you feel a jolt of something in the pit of your stomach. “Just... come over here.”
You pat the bed next to you, and he lies down, posture still stiff. With a huff, you grab his arm and pull it around you, hesitating once to ask, “Is this okay?” He nods, and you tug him closer, until his chest is pressed against your back.
“Now I don’t have to worry about you falling out of bed and cracking your skull open,” you mutter, trying to ignore the heat spreading across your face.
When he chuckles, you can feel it, and the sensation is both comforting and thrilling. “Like I said, just like a sleepover...” you say. At this point, you’re mostly trying to convince yourself.
“We’re not kids anymore,” Reiner replies softly, making your insides feel as if they’re doing a somersault.
You lightly kick back against his leg. “I know that. This does feel... different.”
He hums, and his head inches forward, tucking yours beneath his chin.
His steady breathing begins to lull you to sleep. He’s big and warm and safe, and he feels like home, more than anything or anyone ever has. The realization is fuzzy amidst your growing exhaustion, but it fills you with a peculiar kind of joy.
You almost miss his words as you drift off. They’re quiet and soft, like an exhale of breath.
“I love you.”
• • •
When you wake up the next morning, you’re alone. You push away your disappointment and get dressed, following the smell of pancakes downstairs to the kitchen. Bertholdt turns from the stove, and you can’t help but smile, noticing the “Hot Stuff Coming Through” apron he’s wearing.
“Pancakes?” he asks, and you nod. As you busy yourself with pouring a cup of coffee, Annie comes up beside you, leaning in to murmur, “Porco and Hanna left an hour ago.”
“What?” You look up at her, surprised. “They’re not coming back?”
“He said she had a work thing that came up.” Annie tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I think he and Reiner got into it last night, and he was feeling weird about it.”
“You know how he gets,” Bertholdt says, holding up a bag of chocolate chips. You nod, and he sprinkles some into the batter. “He’d rather run away than apologize.”
You nod absently, sipping your coffee. When you sit down at the dining room table a few minutes later, Zeke nods at you over his book, Pieck waves cheerfully, and Reiner looks up at you, concern etched across his face. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” You sit down beside him and poke at your food. “Annie told me Porco left.”
“Oh... Yeah, he did.”
You’re quiet all the way through breakfast, listening to the others talk about going kayaking or playing beach volleyball. When the time comes to clean up, you offer to handle the dishes, and Reiner silently joins you, washing while you dry.
You’re sure there’s a better way to bring it up, but you’re so preoccupied, those three little words running on repeat through your head, that you simply blurt out, “Did you mean it?”
Reiner glances at you, his brow furrowed. “What?”
Your grip on the mug you’re drying tightens. “What you said last night.”
Instantly, his expression shifts to one of shock. He nearly drops the sponge in his hand and stammers, “Uh, I... I thought you were asleep...”
“Is that why you said it?”
He stares at you for a long moment. “Yeah... It sort of... slipped out. After yesterday. Being so close to you, it felt...” A dark flush colors his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“Because you didn’t want something real.” He grabs a nearby towel and dries his hands, leaning against the sink. “But I did — I do. It’s why I tried to say no, at first, to doing this. I didn’t think I’d be able to fake what’s already real for me, and then just... pretend like it never happened. I have a hard time saying no to you, though, so...”
You set the mug down and realize you’re trembling, your heart beating a mile a minute. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugs, and the sadness in his face pierces right through you. “I thought you deserved someone better than me.”
You know he’s talking about his struggles with depression and self-confidence, the lingering pain of his childhood, growing up with a mother who never made him feel like he was enough and a father who never wanted him.
Without thinking, you reach up, hands gently cradling his face. “Hey... Look at me.” He does, and you murmur, “There’s no one better than you.”
Your thumb strokes along his cheek, and he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. It’s so sweet and endearing — so perfectly him.
Even in high school, beneath his wise-cracking, popular jock façade, he was soft and kind. He was the one who cried with you when your grandmother died, never letting go of your hand throughout the whole funeral. He was the one who made mix CDs of songs you both loved and belted in the car on the way home from movie nights at Bertholdt’s house. He was the one who punched your prom date when he tried to force you into the backseat of his car, knocking out two of his teeth. He was the one who wrote you notes in college, tucking them into your jacket pocket or bag whenever you met up for coffee at the campus library.
He’s always been there for you — always. The realization feels stupidly simple and long overdue. How could what you feel for him, what you’ve felt for him since high school, be anything other than love?
“You’re more than enough. And I don’t want to pretend.” He opens his eyes, and you smile up at him. “Say it again?”
His arms slide around you, pulling you close. “Say what?” he asks quietly, kissing your forehead. “You’ll have to be more specific...”
You rest your hands on his chest, tracing the faint letters on his t-shirt. “Mm... I think it went a little something like this.” Standing on your tiptoes, you angle your lips toward his ear, brushing against his stubble. “I love you.”
He squeezes you so tight, you gasp, and as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, he whispers back, “I love you, too.”
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Outro: Love is Not Over (5)
Pairing: Daycare Teacher! Hoseok x Single Mom! Reader.
Genre: Single Parent! AU, Teacher! AU, Hybrid! AU, Fluff, Angst, Adorable Kids,
Warnings: Oh boy, self doubt, A LOT of it. angsty, momma y/n isn’t doing too good, mentions of anxiety, allusions to worthlessness, just a lot of bad intrusive thoughts that are very degrading (and not in the smexy way)
Word Count: 1.1k
Note: I have a website that calculates my word count for stories, but it also tells me the most used word. 1.4% of this chapter is the word “Yunho” lol
Summary: Years after a relationship goes south. You are the single mother of a beautiful 6-year-old golden retriever hybrid who you named Yunho. He is the light of your life. Yunho is everything to you, and you’d do anything for him. But you’re a human. Yunho doesn’t care, he will tell you he doesn’t. “You’re still my Eomma. No matter what.” He says. But you can’t help but feel like you will never be enough for him. You can’t be the mother he deserves. You can’t show him the ropes of being a hybrid, and you can’t teach him things the other moms can. But you try. You try your damn hardest. So, when a handsome German Shepard hybrid comes into your life, helping you and guiding Yunho in a way you can’t, you can’t help the cozy home he sets up in your heart.
Chapter Guide:
Previous / Next (Coming Soon)
Tag List: @kurochan3 @mrcleanheichou @anonymous-armys-blog @alanasfashion @purelyecstacy Blogs highlighted in bold could not be tagged. Please message me privately so we can resolve the problem and I can tag you next time ^^
Being an adult was exhausting. Especially the part where you pretend that you're listening when the bank teller states you should’ve cashed in your paycheck 2 days ago to get a lesser fee. Thanks Pat, I’ll think of that next time I’m working my ass off and talking care of a six-year-old, lovely advice, you are so helpful.
But it was enough to distract me from the underlying inferiority I felt every time I saw a dog hybrid in passing, even if it was just for a bit. I understood that the trend today was short fur and undercuts, but what if their fur was short for a bigger reason? Was it just their style or was it practical? Is long fur bad for your health?
These questions never left my head as I got some time to myself. I was on my way to pick up Yunho from his little daycare adventure. Hyejin texted me occasionally throughout the day, giving me updates about how Yunho was doing. Every picture she sent had a smiling golden retriever boy who looked more than okay, perfectly happy and healthy.
However, it pained me that seeing him sport his long fur stirred up insecurity in me. It was like a taunt. Words playing in the back of my head, telling me I was an incapable mother, that Yunho deserved better, that when he grows up and sees these pictures, he’ll resent you.
Like the laughter of a jester, I was calling myself stupid, unworthy. Every single thing I’ve done imperfectly played in my head like a twisted movie from hell. Look, look, look. Look how incapable you are. Look how badly you're raising your son. Look at your failures.
Even if I turned on the radio, I could still hear my subconscious toying with me. Like a fly in a tarantula’s nest. Why has one person's observation affected me so much? A couple words and my resolve suddenly came crashing down? Maybe it was the one spark that needed to set off the explosion. All the TNT, lined up from previous nights consumed by irrational thoughts, now finally igniting. “You’re failing”
Rationally, I knew that wasn’t the case.
But it’s never that easy, is it?
“Eomma!”
“Hi, bub!” I giggled.
Yunho ran into my arms, tackling me onto the hard, concrete sidewalk. But I didn’t mind. Yunho squeezes me tight, scenting me with upmost enthusiasm, his tail whipping around rapidly. “I missed you,” Yunho sighed, fisting his hands into my shirt. “I missed you too baby,” I whispered, holding him just a tad bit closer, and I meant it.
No matter how bad I felt, I’d always be okay with him around.
“Did you have fun?” I asked. He nodded frantically, face painted with excitement. “Yes! I got to play with legos!” He raised his arms up, expressing just how much he loved playing with the legos. “You did? That’s awesome!” I gasped, kissing my son on the forehead.
I stood back up on my feet, taking Yunho in my arms to carry him back to the daycare. I still had to thank Hyejin, and no doubt was she still in the office, giving me a moment with Yunho. but to my surprise, it wasn’t Hyejin that let Yunho bolt out the door and tackle me to the ground. It was Hoseok.
He gave me a shy wave and smile as Yunho and I entered the front office. I gave him a genuine one back. I may be fighting with myself in my head, but it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know, so why be cold? “Hello Hoseok,” I said, and Yunho also gives him an excited wave.
“Hello Y/n, how was your day?” He asked, but his words were still tight, still cautious. “It was okay... Thank you for watching over Yunho for me, you and Hyejin both.” Hoseok seemed to light up a bit at my words as his smile grew wider. “It’s nothing really, Yunho is an amazing kid,” I felt my heart swell at those words, Yunho was definitely an amazing kid. I must’ve done something right. Right?
“Yeah, he is,” I teased the boy who blushed and hid his face in the crook of my neck. I cooed at his cuteness before Hoseok spoke up again. “I-I’m sorry for earlier, I really didn’t mean to upset you.” He curved into himself a bit.
His apology was sincere, I knew that. From what Hyejin had told me and from what I observed, Hoseok was a good guy. He didn’t know the impact his words had, besides; it was my problem anyway. Why burden someone else?
“I’d like to take you for a coffee sometime, as an apology” Hoseok added on after I didn’t say anything for a minute or two. I chuckled, “That sounds nice, but you don’t have to. It’s okay, really,” but Hoseok shook his head, insisting that this was the way to apologize for something that obviously struck a deep nerve.
“Alright, I give in. Do you have a date in mind?” I asked.
“Ah... I didn’t get that far... Here, I’ll give you my number so I can text you!” Hoseok exclaimed, having an eureka moment.
“Smooth, Hoseok, very smooth.” I giggled.
“Wha? Oh no! I didn’t- I mean...” Hoseok stuttered on, a flush of pink on his face. “I’m joking,” I smiled. Hoseok sighed in relief, chuckling to himself. “Here you go,” Hoseok handed me his phone, and I entered my number in his contacts with one hand, expertly. People don’t mention that one of the mom powers is being able to do things one handed.
“I’ll text you as soon as I can,” Hoseok promised. “I’ll be waiting,” I said, forgetting all about my worries and fears for a moment. The air felt calm, my brain relaxed, it was easier to breathe. I was thankful for that, even if the moment was short.
Yunho looked out the car window at the trees that lined the road. He was swinging his feet back and forth. The ears on the top of his head twitched a bit every time a new song started on the radio. The sun hit his face like a Picasso painting that screamed innocence. A portrait that slipped off the canvas, given to me, even if I wasn’t deserving of such beauty.
“Hey bub?” I called, glancing in the rear-view mirror to look at my son. “Yea?” He answered back, looking towards me even if he couldn’t look at my face. “Are your ears and tail okay?”
“Yep!”
“Your fur doesn’t bother you?”
“Nope!”
“Are you sure? We can cut it if it’s bothering you,”
“I don’t wanna cut it!”
Yunho doesn’t lie. He can’t. He always gives himself away by either avoiding my gaze or mumbling to himself. But he was confident in those words. That helped. “Okay bub, I love you.”
“I love you too Eomma,”
#bts#bts fic#hoseok#jung hoseok#jhope#hobi#bts hoseok#jhope x reader#hoseok x reader#bts hybrid au#hybrid#hoseok fic#jhope fic
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Cardigan - Rafe Cameron
Request: heyy for the ts anthology, can u do one for cardigan with rafe? love ur writing🤍
TS Anthology Series | Outer Banks Masterlist
_ . ◦ ⭐︎:*.☾.*:⭐︎◦∙._
The summer you turned thirteen was the same summer your dad showed up again. Driving the same lemon of a car that he’d pulled out of the driveway in when you were six, he looked like he hadn’t aged. Or maybe you just didn’t remember him all that well because his face felt the same but you were different. When you missed your best friend’s birthday, a trip to the gymnastics gym on the mainland and a towering cake with fondant replicas of all her favorite things, she was rightly pissed.
Thirteen felt monumental, like the movie the two of you had snuck onto your mom’s Verizon bill, and you had both made a pact that you would be there for each other no matter what. That promise included birthdays and, more seriously, dads who showed up after seven years of radio silence because they didn’t want to “miss anything else”. But you didn’t mention your dad because hers was so great and you felt a little like you were floating on an island and no one could understand you enough to reach it. But then you missed her birthday and she swore not to speak to you and that felt more crushing than the dad thing until her brother stepped in. Always the one playing referee in when you fought, Rafe was a few years older and, in your mind, a lot smarter.
It felt pretty important that an older boy would make the time to talk to you, especially when he had to know that his sister was avoiding you at all costs. He’d just gotten his permit and, like any good brother, showed up in the car he wasn’t supposed to drive with a minor in the passenger seat, to take you around the island for the afternoon.
“My mom said she thinks we’re gonna move.” You mentioned, less casually than you would’ve hoped. The windows in the truck were rolled down and you had your legs up, feet placed precariously on the window ledge. There was a particularly nasty bruise on your knee from falling off your skateboard three days ago and a few short hairs you’d missed shaving. You were relatively new to both shaving and skateboarding so there were bound to be mistakes, you just wished they were less visible.
“Off the island?” Rafe asked, concern etched into his tone. You assumed the concern was for his sister, what would Sarah do if you moved? Who would put up with all her antics?
You shook your head, “to the cut.”
“Why?”
“She can’t afford the house on her own anymore and my dad has been lousy with child support.” You repeated back all the things she had said to you. Why she didn’t take him to court like the other kid in your grade with divorced parents was beyond you. Rose told her that it was the only way to ensure he paid what he was supposed to but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to hold him accountable.
Can’t believe you’re gonna be a pogue.” He said it like it meant something worse than you moving to the mainland.
“It’s not forever. My grandma’s house is there, we’re gonna stay with her until we can get back up on our feet.” You shrugged, “at least my dad’ll stay away then.”
But you dad wasn’t the only one who kept their distance. It felt like the distinction over your mother’s life choices held a greater impact on your friends than they had let on. A year into pogue life and Rafe seemed to disappear almost completely. It had always been an odd kind of friendship in the first place but you’d thought that it could’ve withstood a change in address.
Sarah kept in touch, unbothered by labels or mailing addresses. She’d been to your grandma’s a hundred times before you moved and she continued to go there to see you after. The two of you played in the backyard, doing tricks on the trampoline until gossiping about kids at school became more important than cartwheels. You’d lay there whispering as if someone might overhear, telling each other stories from the week that you were separated. Rafe always came to pick her up, staying in the car and honking the horn for her but never coming over to see you.
It felt a little lonely even though you technically retained most of your friends.
-
In tenth grade you got the role of Eponine in the teen camp production of Les Miserables that the local theatre was putting on. You were technically sharing the role with another girl your age but you couldn’t help being excited nonetheless. The boy playing Marius was in two of your classes, a senior who had lofty city dreams and a nice smile. He flirted almost constantly with you, brushing your hair back, telling you how pretty you were, inviting you out after practice. You told Sarah you were “pretty sure” you were on your way to having your first real boyfriend.
But maybe the ominous casting of Eponine over your life should’ve been hint enough that things weren’t destined to work out that way. The boy who played Marius had an actual girlfriend, home from vacationing with her family in time to watch her boyfriend on stage, and you were supposed to accept that he was just “connecting to the character” when he was with you. Either way, your On My Own struck a different chord in you and after the show was over you didn’t join the other cast members in the lobby to greet people.
“So when you get to New York...do I get to leak all those videos of you and Sarah doing your Genie in a Bottle routine?” Rafe asked, pulling a chair next to you at the makeup table. Yours was halfway off but you’d stopped scrubbing at your face to stare at yourself in the mirror. Self-pity was a powerful procrastinator.
“You’re supposed to be in the lobby.” You pointed out, ignoring his comment, “I look like a ghost raccoon that just climbed out of a dumpster.
“Now there’s an analogy.” He laughed and picked up the cotton pads you had sitting on the counter, soaking one in micellar water and turning your head to face him.
You bit your bottom lip as you tried to keep your composure. It’d been a while since you and Rafe had been alone and last time he was just your best friend’s cute older brother. Too old for you and way out of your league but you were fifteen now and seventeen didn’t feel so far away.
But Sarah was your best friend and she would be mortified if she found out that you had even entertained the idea of her brother, let alone had serious thoughts about it.
“I’m sorry,” you said as he swiped the cotton pad over your cheek.
“What for?”
“I know we’re all supposed to go out tonight for dinner but I kinda just wanna go home.” You replied.
“Sarah might’ve let it slip about-”
You groaned, “don’t even say his name.” You weren’t sure if it was embarrassment at having let yourself totally believe he liked you but hearing Rafe bring it up made you feel even worse.
“Hey, you’re so much better than that loser,” He insisted, “I’ll beat the crap outta him though, just say the word.”
-
It was that same year, just as school was ending, that you turned sixteen. A short stay in the cut at your grandma’s house had helped your mom get back on her feet. A new job, better than the one that let her go, afforded a moderately sized house back on Figure Eight and a birthday with all the friends that had left the two of you behind.
Sixteen felt a little more important than thirteen had, especially because, for two whole weeks, time suspended and you were technically only a year younger than Rafe. You still hadn’t told Sarah that you liked her brother, though she did seem a little suspicious when the crush on your co-star dissipated almost overnight. The boys of the past had no hold over your growing infatuation with Rafe. Maybe it was foolish but you couldn’t help thinking that maybe it wasn’t.
Especially not when he showed up at your house the same way he had when you were thirteen, though this time he had his actual license and not just a permit. He told you it was birthday drive around the island, that he was in charge of stalling you while Sarah set up a surprise party at your house.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to tell me that it’s a surprise.” You teased, sipping at the iced coffee that Rafe had brought you when he picked you up. You swished the ice around once before sipping again.
“It’s a party either way.” Rafe replied, shrugging his shoulder.
“So, we’re just driving around until she texts you?” You asked. Rafe turned into the Island Club, circling the parking lot once and then turning back around.
“I’m yours until Sarah says otherwise.” He said, the words erupting butterflies in your stomach. You could practically feel yourself heat up thinking about what those words could mean if he wasn’t just your best friend’s brother.
“Well...then do you wanna go to the beach?” You suggested, “Jaxon showed me this really cool spot on the south side that’s practically hidden.”
“Jaxon?” Rafe sounded judgmental when he said the other boy’s name, whether he meant to or not.
“Yea, we’ve been on a couple dates. You know him, he took me to prom,” you supplied, thinking of the way Rafe had sulked on the staircase while you and Sarah had gotten your pictures taken on the front lawn of Tanney Hill. The last picture in the bunch, despite his sulkiness, was of you and Rafe. You’d asked and he had obliged, coming down onto the porch to take a picture with you before everyone left for the dance.
It was your favorite picture, even more than the countless ones of you and Sarah or the few of you and Jaxon. He was just a place holder anyway, someone to take your mind off the thing you couldn’t have. Not that it was working, especially when you were driving around with Rafe at the moment.
“I remember him.” Rafe replied, “so this special part of the beach?”
“It’s so pretty.” You confirmed, “Sarah and I went there a couple weeks ago but she only ever wants to sunbathe.”
“Don’t say it like you’re surprised.” He said, pulling his car off to the side of the road when you told him to.
You were out of the car first, letting the door fall shut behind you as you headed up the wooden ramp to the beach. The drop off at the top was a little steeper here than anywhere else, the beach mostly desolate. You stopped at the top of the walkway, turning back to wait for Rafe. He was standing at the bottom of the ramp staring up at you.
“Are you coming up or what?” You called.
“Yeah,” he nodded, walking up the path to you.
“I know Sarah’s planning a big birthday for me, but I’d much rather have this...” you admitted, “just like, coming out to the beach with you...”
“Oh yeah?” He asked, grinning down at you.
“Don’t tell Sarah,” you joked, “she’ll be mad-”
“Why, cause I’m your favorite Cameron?”
Maybe it was being sixteen or maybe it was that you were feeling particularly bold, out here on the beach with just Rafe, no threat of prying eyes to interrupt you. Either way, you had been thinking about telling him for a while now and it felt like the time...even if getting rejected ran the risk of ruining your birthday.
“I know I’m just Sarah’s best friend but...I really like you Rafe.” You said, “and I know it’s like a million to one that you like me back but I just felt like I would explode if I didn’t tell you.” You waited a beat for him to say something and when he didn’t you kept talking, “Sorry, I know this is so weird-”
“It’s not weird.” Rafe cut you off, “I’m just shocked that you seriously think I only see you as Sarah’s best friend.” His tone was teasing as he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear and cupped your cheek. “You’re so much more than that.”
-
It was Sarah who told you, days before your eighteenth birthday. She’d seen Rafe with someone else when her family took a weekend trip out to Chapel Hill to see a game. There was a girl there, hanging all over her brother. He swore she was just a friend, told Sarah not to tell you, but Sarah wasn’t dumb and she wouldn’t help her brother cover up an indiscretion. So she told you flat out that her brother was cheating on you.
When Sarah first found out that you and Rafe were dating, she had been as mad as her thirteenth birthday. How could you go behind her back and date her brother? The anger dissipated slowly, over the course of the summer it became clear that were not going to leave her in the dust for Rafe. She wasn’t wholly supportive of the relationship but she was supportive of you and if Rafe was who you wanted to be with than she’d be happy for you.
But if she had to choose, it would always be you over Rafe.
“I didn’t want to tell you, I really thought about not saying anything but...you deserve to know.” It was the justification she used as your face fell, all the giddiness from planning your eighteenth birthday fading in the blink of an eye.
“He cheated?” And it felt like a punch to the gut. “Are you sure?”
“He said she was just a friend but...I don’t hang on my friends like that.” Sarah remarked.
You fiddled with the phone in your lap, Sarah’s comments turning over in your head. You could refute them, tell her that you’d just talked to him the night before and he told you how excited he was to see you, how much he loved you. He’d used the word love...that had to mean something right? You could call him, ask him straight away if he was actually cheating, but you suspected that he would only lie to you. And if he wasn’t cheating, if he did tell the truth, would you believe him? Sarah was your best friend and once she had planted the seeds of doubt in you, they seemed to flourish there.
You didn’t say anything else about it to Sarah that night and when Rafe called to talk, like he always did, you pretended that everything was fine. But that could only last for so long. A week before your party, on the same special part of the beach that Rafe had first kissed you, things ended. Rafe had sworn to Sarah that the girl at school was just a friend but he couldn’t lie to you, and he didn’t try to either.
“It was a mistake,” he insisted, as if it was the type of thing you could brush off.
“But you still made it.” You replied.
“I didn’t mean to.” Rafe didn’t have any good reasons for why he had cheated on, only that he had and that, since you now knew, he was apologetic. “I don’t even talk to that girl anymore. She meant nothing to me.”
“Obviously she meant more than we did.”
Rafe had been it for you for a long time. He seemed so out of your league and you had thought a million times that you would’ve done anything for him. He was the ideal for everything that you wanted and for a while, when you had it, had him, it had felt like a dream. But now you were waking up to reality and it wasn’t a sunset on the beach.
“I love you.” He said it like it was something you were neglecting to remember.
“Not enough.”
#rafe fic#rafe imagine#rafe fanfic#rafe fanfiction#rafe x reader#rafe x you#rafe x y/n#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks imagine#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks fanfic#outer banks fic#obx fic#obx fanfic#obx fanfiction#obx imagine#ts anthology series#collecting stories
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you have (1) new voicemail
pairing: jimin x reader (though what their relationship is is unclear)
genre: mystery, angst (? as always), fluff (like a wee bit), epistolary fic!
warning: mentions of a ballet accident (nothing detailed, just that something happened), jimin is missing, implied!depression
beta reader: hana! @cutechim this story would not have happened without you and i absolutely adore you. also thank you to noor @papillonsgf because you were the first person i talked to about this story and uhhhhh well let’s just say this story may be different than what you were expecting
word count: 4.9k (this used to be drabble series lmao)
things you said series: things you said through the phone
summary: “Hi, Jimin. It’s me.” (alt. you leave voicemails for jimin when taehyung asks you if you’ve heard from him recently.)
A/N: this is all dialogue, which is ironic—to say the least—because i find dialogue painfully difficult to write (it doesn’t come naturally to me, it conflicts with my writing style, and it’s just difficult to write it in a way that feels real.) nonetheless, i hope it comes across the way i wanted it to, and i hope it makes you feel something.
December 5th at 14:30
Hi, Jimin. It’s me.
I know we haven’t talked in a while, but-uhm-I saw Taehyung a couple days ago? I happened to be near where that cafe is—what’s it called—Moodspresso! Do you remember it? We wanted to go when it was new, back when you were taking that coffee-making class with Yoongi. You were such a dork: you wanted to go all around the city to judge cafes by their espressos, even though you weren’t a fan of the bitterness.
We never did get around to trying it together: I think we tried to make plans, but it was out of the way of where we were, and then life happened, and then, well...it happened.
When I saw it, it felt strange, as if a fragment of my past found its way into my present? It was kind of funny how I went in there thinking about you, only to see Taehyung. Weirdly fitting, considering how the two of you were always together, joined at the hip in college.
Anyway, he asked me if I had heard from you recently? Told me you haven’t texted him in a while, that you weren’t answering your phone, so I just wanted to check in! You know, say hi! I—uhm—tried to text you, but it wouldn’t deliver, so I figured I would just leave a voice message. I hope that’s okay. I hope you’re doing okay. If you hear this, you should probably text Taehyung; it seems like he’s worried. Said you usually respond within the day, but you haven’t been lately.
I-uhm-hope you’re doing okay. Text me back and let me know?
Bye, Jimin.
*beep*
December 12th at 15:21
Uh, hey Jimin. I didn’t hear from you, so I thought I would check back in.
I saw on facebook that Jeongguk’s dating. Isn’t that strange? I mean, it’s not strange that he’s dating; it’s just strange that it’s Jeongguk who’s dating. You know, our Jeonggukkie, the one who could barely talk to his crushes without getting tongue tied.
It seems like not too long ago he was the scrawny high schooler stressing about college applications, but he’s dating now. We used to help him with his personal statements and here he is. Dating. That’s just—wow. Time flies, I guess.
I don’t know if you’ve kept in touch with him lately, so i just wanted to let you know. You know, in case you didn’t see it.
I-
This is so stupid; I’m so sorry.
Uhm, let me know if you get this?
Bye, Jimin.
*beep*
December 14th at 19:42
I went to the bookstore today and I saw that your favourite manga released its final volume. That’s so...wild.
I remember you were reading it when I first met you in high school and to think that it’s over? That’s like Supernatural coming to an end, you know? Something that has gone on for so long that it feels weird that it’s ending. That it’s no longer a part of our lives that grows with us. It’s something that has an ending.
Speaking of endings, I don’t know if you’ve seen the ending of Supernatural, but don’t do it. It just-wow.
Anyways, I haven’t kept up with the manga, but when I saw that they released the final volume, I felt the need to buy it? I went in to buy something else and came out with all of the volumes that I hadn’t read.
I could have just read them online, I know, but I figured, if I see you again, I'd give you the final volume? Unless you already have it. Then I’d just keep it, but...you know. I just-
It made me think of you. How you transferred in late in the school year with crutches, and even though you were new, you weren’t paying attention in math class. I remember my first impression of you being “he must not care about school.” I think I later learned you had just started reading the manga a couple days ago and wanted to catch up because you couldn’t think about anything else.
It didn’t even matter that you didn’t pay attention that week or that you came in mid-school semester because you aced every class. I thought it was because you were smart without trying, which irked me because I always felt like I was trying and not accomplishing—though I suppose that still applies now—but I later learned how much effort you put in. You always tried so hard that you made things seem easy. School work. Your happiness. Your feelings to a certain extent.
I just-
I wish-
Nevermind.
I hope you’re doing okay.
*beep*
December 17th at 13:21.
Hey, Jimin.
I tried to make pasta today, and I don’t know how, but I managed to get the sauce everywhere. Everywhere but in the pan. So now, my kitchen looks like a bloody crime scene with red everywhere. I don’t even know how I’m going to clean all of this up, but I should do it before it dries, right?
I should, but I’ve just been sitting on the floor looking at it for the past few minutes.
Do you remember when we made pasta for our fakesgiving potluck at your place, and I got sauce all over your shirt?
I was wearing your white shirt—why I thought wearing a white shirt while making red sauce was a good idea, I don’t know—and I was trying to get the jar to open, but it wouldn’t work. I don’t think i’ve ever told you about this, but I remember that day was particularly awful for me. Just one unlucky event after another—I don’t quite remember what exactly they were, just that they were enough to make me feel like I wasn’t enough—and even though I was so excited for the fakesgiving potluck the night prior, even though I loved our friends, I just wanted to be alone. To not do anything and settle under the covers. Pretend everything could be forgotten if I just went to sleep.
But I saw you, and you were so excited. I didn’t have the heart to tell you I didn't want to go, so I sucked it up and helped you prep. I tried to pretend that everything was okay, but when that stupid jar wouldn’t open, I took my frustration out on it. You tried to take it from me, but I pushed you away, told you I could do it.
And I did, only I also managed to spill the jar on your white shirt as I watched the jar fall to the ground and shatter. That spill was the tipping point, not because I spilled the only jar of tomato sauce in your apartment, but because I spilled it all over your new, brand name, white shirt.
I remember berating you for spending so much money on a shirt when you bought it—for fuck’s sake, it was a plain white shirt—but I know how much you adored it. I didn’t need to look at your face to know that I had fucked up, that I should have just let you open the jar instead of being stubborn. I started to cry, in anticipation of your anger, but you just held me instead, got pasta sauce on your shirt too as you let me cry on your shoulder, whispering “There, there. It’s okay. We can just make something else!”
You never even mentioned the white shirt, told me not to worry about it when I apologised, that it was the least of your concerns. That you could get another shirt.
Looking at my kitchen reminded me of that. So, I figured I’d give you another call, but it went straight to voicemail again.
I hope you’re doing okay.
I don’t know if you want to talk to me, but I’m just worried.
Call me if you get this?
Or just send me a text.
Bye, Jimin.
*beep*
December 19th at 21:45.
Hey. There’s a full moon today. And I thought about you.
I—uhm—think about you from time to time when the moon is bright. I don’t know why—it probably sounds stupid—but I have a lot of memories of you and the moon? Like that time we went to visit Jeongguk by the sea during winter break because all of us didn’t want to go home but didn’t want to be alone. So we made a road trip of it—well, it was kind of a road trip—and drove to San Diego to see him.
When we got to the sea, it was dark and so cold out, and the wind was fucking freezing, but we rolled up our pants and started walking along the shore, dipping our toes in the water and screaming about the temperature. Our teeth were chattering and the water was so so cold, but we did it anyways.
It was a nice beach, from what I remember. One of the nicest I’ve ever seen.
I stuck my hand into your jacket pocket and told you my hand warmer was dying, but to be honest, I just wanted to hold your hand. I think you knew, or maybe we had known each other for so long that you knew what I needed without having to express it in words, so you took my hand and held it tight. And even though the water was freezing and the wind was cold, in that moment, I felt so warm.
I think you and I have always communicated well, like how I saw the way your eyes glinted in the moonlight and, somehow, knew what you wanted to do. Sneaked up behind him and pushed Jeongguk into the ocean together and laughed as he shrieked.
It was fun, that day. I-
I miss those days sometimes. The earlier days. When there was less to worry about.
When you were happier.
Anyway, the moon is really bright today. The radio called it a supermoon, or something like that. I took a picture and tried to send it to you, but your phone still won’t let me send you messages. So if you hear this, just, go outside and take a look at the night sky.
Call me back? Or send me a text.
I just want to know you’re okay.
Bye Jimin.
*beep*
December 21st at 16:28
I went to see The Nutcracker today. It felt like I haven’t seen a ballet in forever. It’s been—what—one year since I saw one? Which, I guess, in the grand scheme of things hasn’t been that long. But you were the one who would take me and I haven’t seen one since...yeah. I know it’s your favourite ballet. Or was. I’m not sure if it’s changed, haha.
The American Ballet Theatre was putting on a performance, and there were still nosebleed seats available, so I bought one. It kind of felt like fate, like it was a sign that I was meant to be there, because I remember we used to get our tickets months in advance.
I remembered some of the terms? I recognised the pa-pas de deux—god, my high school french is so fucking rusty—between the Sugar Plum Fairy and the Prince. I know that part is your favourite, but I still think “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” is mine. All those turns? I don’t remember the technicalities, but I know it requires a lot of skill to pull off while looking graceful. I still find it strange that the Sugar Plum Fairy is the prima ballerina though, considering she barely appears.
I-uhm-kind of was hoping to see you.
I know you don’t dance anymore, but—maybe it was just my stupid desire but—I was hoping that you would be dancing with the company. That perhaps you were dancing again and that was why you weren’t answering any of the calls. I kept looking at everyone, trying to see if it was you. I even paid extra attention to the curtain call and looked at every single person, kept trying to find your physique in the line. But you weren’t there.
You weren’t in the audience either. I stayed in my seat until the very end, until after the end, and scanned the crowd for anyone who was lingering and soaking in the energy, like you would do every time we went to see a ballet together. But there wasn’t. It was just me.
I stayed in my seat anyways, until the ushers told me I had to leave. Because that’s what you would have done.
I guess I was hoping you would show up. That trying to do what you would do would somehow unlock your presence. Or give me some kind of clue.
But it didn’t.
Where are you?
*beep*
December 23rd at 17:19.
I saw Taehyung again today.
He wanted to know if I'd heard from you. I don’t know why he thought you would contact me. I mean, I know I call you and leave you these messages, but you know. I haven’t talked to you since...since, yeah.
He looked awful, like he’s running himself thin. I don’t know if he’s been sleeping well, Jimin. The two of you have been friends forever, and I don't know if you’d recognise him. He seems so tired, and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
He thought it was going to be like last time. That you would show up soon. But you haven’t yet, and it’s been so long, Jimin.
He called the hospital and they told him you quit a few weeks back, which I don’t understand. I thought you needed residency to get your physiotherapy license. Tae doesn’t get it either.
He’s been going to your apartment, trying to see if anyone is in there. But there hasn’t been. He’s contacted your apartment manager several times, telling them he’s worried about you, but they won’t let him have the keys. Safety reasons. It’s understandable and frustrating all at once because he—we just want to make sure you’re okay.
He said he used to have a key to your apartment. Said you gave him your spare, but you took it back? Something about you needing your spare because you locked yourself out. He said that was the last time he saw you.
I’m not trying to jump to conclusions, but you’re okay right? I know this time of year is when—uhm, the accident happened and you-uh-left the Royal Ballet School. I know this isn’t your favourite time of year, but if you need to talk, I’m here.
He’s worried, Jimin. We all are.
Call me back? Or call Tae? We’re just worried and Tae wants to file for a missing person’s report. So just, let us know you’re okay.
Call me soon, yeah?
*beep*
December 27th at 22:48.
I saw Yoongi today.
I don’t think he likes me very much, but then again, I wouldn’t like my cousin’s ex either, so I can’t really blame him. He was still as civil as ever. Very polite. He and Seokjin are still dating, but I’m sure you knew that.
Tae had contacted Yoongi a couple days ago? Asking about you. So we all met up in person today.
I forgot how much food Seokjin makes when he’s stressed. Do you remember when he was waiting to hear back from his job, and Yoongi invited us over for dinner? We were excited because we were college students and living off of the shitty cafeteria food and, also, because it was Seokjin’s food. You thought it was because they wanted to feed us—Seokjin always wanted to feed you—but when we went over, it was obvious they just needed help getting rid of the food. There was so much food. To this day, I don’t think I've ever seen so much food in one place, even during our potlucks, and Seokjin always brought a lot of food to our potlucks.
I remember stepping in to their apartment, and the heat radiating from the kitchen was too much to bear. The walls were sweating because he had been cooking for seven hours, trying to displace his anxiety into food. We came back to the dorms with tupperwares full of food. I didn’t have to visit the cafeteria for a week.
God, I’ll never forget the first time we met Seokjin, and he made us fried rice: you couldn’t stuff your face fast enough and choked because it went down the wrong pipe, coughed out fried rice all over their brand new dining table and all over Yoongi. Seokjin and I laughed so hard. I was trying to be polite, kept looking at Yoongi's face and tried to swallow my giggles, but Seokjin's laughter was so boisterous and lively that I couldn't not laugh.
You laughed too, kept choking on your laughter in between your apologies, and Yoongi just kept glowering at you. But it was full of affection. He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you and back at the table and huffed, but it would have been obvious to anyone that he wasn’t really annoyed with you.
He went back to our hometown a couple days ago, tried to see if you were there. But you weren’t.
He went to see your parents, but they still think you’re living here too. Yoongi said he went to all the places you used to go to, like your old ballet school and that comic book store you used to go to after school. I even asked him to visit the arcade. You know, where we first met outside of school? Where we would hang out after school with Jeongguk and spend too much money on House of the Dead. Where we had our first date.
But nothing.
There are traces of you everywhere, but you? You’re not anywhere.
Where’d you go, Jimin?
*beep*
December 28th at 2:19
Fuck you.
You don’t get to do this to me. I spent so long trying to forget and trying to move on and you come back in, except—do you know what the most fucked up part of this is? It’s that you’re not even here. You’re not here, and somehow you’re everywhere. No matter what I do, all I can do is think about you because no one knows where you are. Everyone is worried because you’re missing and I-I don’t know what to do.
I thought this was over a year ago.
So why, why are you back in my life? Why are you reawakening the things I've tried so hard to bury?
Fuck you.
*beep*
--
December 28th at 2:23
Hey Jimin. Just ignore that previous voicemail. I’m just--I’m just frustrated. Worried. Everyone is.
Just call me back if you get this?
*beep*
--
December 28th at 2:25
You don’t even need to call. Just give me a sign? Let me know you’re okay. Please.
I just want to know you’re safe.
*beep*
December 30th at 1:13
Jeongguk flew in from New York today. Tae called him yesterday, and he took the first flight here.
I realised I’ve never seen Jeongguk mad.
I guess I’ve kind of seen him grow up, but I’ve never seen Jeongguk angry until today. I mean, I've seen him upset and angry, but I’ve never seen him mad. Like mad mad. I’ve never been on the receiving end of it because he’s always had his emotions in check when it comes to the negative ones. We’ve seen him sad, but you know how he is. He seems like he doesn’t care, but he cares so much when it comes to the people he loves. He’s always trying to only share the good things because he doesn’t want to bring everyone down. And even when he’s upset with us, he tries to communicate. He’s always been emotionally mature in that sense.
A lot like you. I think he gets that from you. You are his brother after all.
But when we told him none of us had heard from you? That you were missing?
I realised we’ve ever really seen Jeongguk angry.
I’ve never seen Tae look so despondent or Yoongi so guilty than when we saw Jeongguk at the airport. They didn’t want to worry him because he had just moved for his new job—I’m sure you know about that—and he’s been so stressed out that they didn’t want to add more on to his plate.
They thought you would show up by now, that you would come back. Because you always do. Or did. You used to.
I remember the first time you disappeared. It was a year after you came back, the anniversary of the...the accident. You were a little distant a couple days prior, but still you. Still vibrant and happy and beau-I mean, bright. And then on the day of, you were just gone. Didn’t show up to school. Weren’t at the arcade. Weren’t at your apartment. Just gone. Vanished into thin air.
I remember asking Jeongguk if you were sick, but he had no idea what I was talking about, and when we couldn’t get a hold of you, he burst into tears. I held him as he told me about your fight last night, how you got your xbox taken away because the two of you didn’t know how to share. He thought you had left because you didn’t love him, because he was your step brother and not your real brother.
And as we were panicking about what to do, if we should tell your parents when they came back from work, you stepped through the front door with sand in your hair and your backpack over your shoulder, smiling as if you hadn’t been missing for half the day. As if your phone wasn’t turned off all day.
I remember feeling relieved and exhausted all at once, as if someone had drained all the worry and energy out of me. I remember Jeongguk crying as he ran to hug you. I remember you crying and promising not to go anywhere without telling him again.
And you didn’t. Sometimes you would disappear when something hit too close or when you felt like everything was too much, but we could always turn to Jeongguk for a breadcrumb, for the small hint that you were okay.
But you didn’t leave him a hint this time. When we called him, let him know you were missing, asked him if he knew anything about your whereabouts, he didn’t say anything. He went so quiet, we thought the line went dead, until he actually did hang up. He sent us a text message a few minutes later, letting us know he’ll be arriving on the next flight there.
Jeongguk-he’s so cold when he’s angry. He’s so quiet. But that quiet is so loud. It speaks volumes.
I’ve seen Jeongguk loud with laughter and quiet in contemplation. But this? This was something different.
I guess the two of you are alike in that sense too. Both of your silences are never just quiet.
*beep*
December 30th at 15:37
So we-uhm-broke into your apartment.
Or well, Jeongguk did. But I guess all of us are accomplices because we kind of-well, we stood there as he did it. I don’t know why Jeongguk even knows how to pick locks, but I didn’t really have the chance to ask.
Your apartment looks normal. Still spotless. It looks like you. Like how it used to. Or how it used to before we lived together, at least.
I’m not going to lie, I-I’m a little surprised you didn’t move out. I couldn’t even go to the places we used to go to after you told me you wanted to break up.
I guess it didn’t bother you as much.
We scoured your apartment for clues as to where you could have gone, which may sound very Paper Towns of us, but—I don’t know—we were just looking for any sign as to where you might be. If you were okay. There weren’t any notes or anything that could give us a hint though, and Tae said it doesn’t look any different than when he last visited.
Jeongguk also called your credit card company to see what your last purchases were. To see if it would give us any clues. But you haven’t used it since you left. Everything is just blank.
Blank. Like you don’t want to be found.
Jeongguk is still upset that none of us told him—I can’t blame him for that—but I think he’s mostly upset at himself that he didn’t know. That you two stopped talking for a bit, and he didn’t notice anything was wrong.
I think he feels like he’s been drifting away from you too, ever since his job got busy and he moved for work. Or maybe it’s before that. I think he’s always felt like you don’t tell him everything, even though he pours everything out to you, looks up to you. I know you’d give him the world, Jimin, but Jeongguk would give up everything for you if you ask.
But you don’t ask. You never do. You don’t let people in when you’re hurting. Maybe it’s the ballet training instilled in you to smile through the pain. Cover up the flaws. Put on a performance all the time. You pretend it doesn’t exist and push people out.
No, you just disappear instead.
*beep*
December 30th at 21:02
Tae and I are staying over at your apartment. I hope you don’t mind. We just decided we would rather not risk having anyone in your apartment see us try and break down your door and call the police on us, haha. It makes it easier if we’re in your apartment so we can open the door in case we need anything. Or find something that we missed.
It’s-uhm. It’s weird being here. Feels like I've been displaced from the present and back into the past, only you’re not here.
I noticed you took down all the photos of London.You used to have that big photograph wall next to your bed, filled with pictures from when you lived there, from when you used to dance. But all your ballet photos are gone too. Tae told me you took them down a while ago, a little after the break up. Said you stopped dancing for fun too, after a while.
I just-
I hope-
Ah, fuck it. Nevermind.
It’s so weird to be back here.
*beep*
December 30th at 22:14
I found my sweater under your pillow. The white one with the moon on it?
I thought I had lost it after we broke up. I wanted to ask you if you had it, if i forgot to take it with me when I moved out, but by then we had already been one month in and-
And it hurt. To think about you. Even though that was all I was doing.
It kind of felt like it does right now. How you permeate my every thought and every moment, even though you weren’t there. The quiet was-is-so loud with your absence.
It smells like you. The sweater.
I just-
I don’t know what that means.
I don’t know what any of this means.
I just don’t understand why my sweater would be under your pillow because it was you. You’re the one who told me you wanted to break up.
You told me you didn’t want to do this anymore, didn’t have the energy to try. You were so sad, and I wanted to argue, wanted to beg you to let me stay until you were better, but you were so sad. So sad and exhausted and defeated and certain in your decision that I knew there was no use fighting it.
How could I hold on to someone who’s not there anymore, right?
I’ve been telling myself that we can’t understand break ups or feelings. There’s no understanding them. We feel what we feel and sometimes there are no explanations for it. So I knew. I got it. I understood there was no point in asking to stay, but I regretted not asking you for a reason.
I still do.
I didn’t have the chance to ask you why because I was too busy staggering from the weight of I don't love you anymore. Too busy struggling to piece together what those words mean.
Love is a two way street; it goes both ways. But you made the decision, and all of a sudden, that two way street morphed into a dead end, and I had no choice but to walk away from it, back out the way I came from.
I wish I could say that I didn’t see it coming. That it came out of left field, out of the blue. But I can’t because I had been bracing myself for the impact for weeks. For months.
Would it have changed things if I hadn’t known? Would it have hurt less?
I don’t know.
I don’t know. But I wish I did.
I wish I knew, Jimin.
*beep*
Message deleted. You have no new voicemails. Main menu.
A/N: come talk to me! let me know your thoughts!
once again, thank you to hana and noor. this story wouldn’t exist without the two of you.
#jimin fanfic#jimin x reader#jimin x oc#jimin fic#jimin angst#bts fic#jimin scenario#bts scenario#bts imagine#jimin imagine#bangtanuniversity#thebtswritersclub#btswritingcafe#heartsforbts
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The Next Chapter (c.h)
Pairing: Calum Hood X Reader
Requested: yes!
Summary: A family gathering has you and Calum thinking about the future
Warnings: Fluff. I used the word vagina once. Maybe some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, sorry)
Word Count: 1.7K
Author’s Note: Loving these request 🥺❤️ a little fluffy piece for my favorite boy ✨ Remember that Reblogs, comments, feedback and likes are very important and appreciated ❤️ I love to hear from you guys and you don’t know how much that helps me and motivates me! Hope you like it and Happy Reading🦋✨🌻
My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?
Anon: omg can you do one ab asking if cal wants to start a family
“Babe! Hurry we are going to be late!”
You were standing at the front door, looking inside of your bag in case you have forgotten anything.
“Y/N, you do know I went to the bathroom five minutes before you were done getting ready, right?” Your husband, Calum, said as he walked up to you.
You had to admit, you married the hottest guy on the planet. How can someone make a pair of jeans with a simple white shirt look so good?!
“But I still beat you at the door, didn’t I?” You asked with a grin that Calum easily reciprocated.
“That you did” He smiled, placing one hand at your side, kissing your template, and whispering in your ear “But that doesn’t mean you can beat me at the car” And with that, he started sprinting towards the driver’s seat.
It amazes you how after almost 7 years of relationship you never got over the honeymoon phase. You have met Calum when both of you were young, reckless, and stupid; and not looking for a relationship. But it only took one look at those brown eyes and you were hooked.
You still remember how he came to you with a lame excuse to talk to you at one of the many parties you used to crash with your best friends.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” He said, and you almost thought he discovered you and was going to call security “I’m pretty sure god will wonder where all of their angels went”
He quickly apologized once he realized the words that fell out of his mouth, but you just stood there giggling at this cute attempt of flirting. And, as they say, the rest was history.
The next couple of years came and went and it almost seemed like you were in some kind of an alternate reality where everything played out as it was supposed to. Yes, of course, there were rocky times, especially when distance came to play, but all those times just made your relationship stronger.
Neither of you knew why, but being together just felt right. Which ultimately came to him proposing one eventful night in August after visiting his parents in Australia. And that then leads to your wedding just a few months later, you still recall that as one of the happiest moments of your life.
That was 3 years ago, and you were proud to say that you got to marry your best friend. Every day felt like a never-ending slumber party with new adventures and dreams to fulfill. And you wouldn’t change it for the world.
You were thinking about it as of now, looking at Calum with a smile as he drove to your cousin’s place to celebrate the birthday of the newest addition to the family: your baby niece.
Going to these kinds of parties became pretty regular for you, given that you came from a really big family and all your cousins were almost the same age as you, so they started popping babies out like it was nothing! And you were so thankful Calum was always happy to come along “I love your family, Angel!” He said “And you have to give it to them, they know how to throw a party”
It was true. If there is something your family doesn’t take lightly is parties. You still get a headache every time you remember the stress of convincing them to do something lowkey for your wedding. And as you parked outside your cousin’s house you wonder how you actually did it.
“Wow,” Said Calum as he looked at all the balloons decorating the front door “They really went all out on this one” He laughed.
“Sabrina is one year old!” You laughed, unbuckling your seatbelt as Calum opened the door for you “She won’t even remember this!”
“Yeah.. but at least Aunt Bridget will get to brag about having real mariachis playing at the party”
“Real maria-?” You asked, but Calum was already trying to hold his laughter as he pointed to a mariachi band getting out of their van “Okay, that is new… We are not even from Mexico!”
“No… but mom went to the wedding of Mr. Gómez’s son and she insisted we hired the same band for little Sab’s birthday” Your cousin answered as she opened the door.
You and Calum hugged your cousin before making your way inside the house. You stood in awe as you walked up the backyard and everything was decorated in different shades of pink and purple. Even the family dog had some sort of ribbon around his collar.
“This looks…” You began
“Like if a vagina exploded?” Calum finished for you. You slapped him in the arm playfully, trying so hard not to laugh along with him and be serious.
Your cousin came back a few moments later to hand each of you a drink and inviting you outside to join the party.
*
The mariachis were actually really good, especially when they made Calum have a dance-off with one of your uncles to the chicken dance song. And the rest of the party was also really fun for kids and adults alike.
Now the sun was starting to set and most of your family members decided it was time to call it a day after so many games and dancing. You and Calum, however, decided to stay a little longer since most of your cousins unofficially agreed to have a ‘family-friendly after-party’
You were sitting next to your cousin as you held her baby in your lap, making her dance along with the music.
“You are good at this,” Your cousin said, looking at you and baby Sabrina.
You laughed “It’s not too hard of a job to entertain a baby” And to prove your point, you started making faces at your niece, who started laughing right away.
“It’s not that! You, my dear, have the touch”
“The touch?” She nodded.
“You have that motherly essence, it’s easy for you to engage with the children - they all love you by the way, which is a fact I’m extremely jealous of - And you just have that capacity of love only a parent can understand. C’mon, don’t tell me you and Calum haven’t thought about having a family?”
You drifted your eyes to find Calum amongst the crowd of adults and children.
He was playing soccer with your older nieces and nephews, laughing as he threw himself to the ground on exaggerated acting as the kids scored goal after goal, laughing at your husband’s antics.
And just like that, it was like an image of your future passing by You and Calum sitting in the backyard with Duke running around with your child, playing all sorts of games with you, swimming in the pool, and eating ice cream. Reading bedtime stories as Calum sang them to sleep, him teaching them how to play different instruments and sports, always encouraging them to follow their dreams and passions… Yes, you could get used to that.
“I- I haven’t thought about it” You finally said with a light blush on your cheeks. You didn’t know if it was because of the question, your daydream, or the way Calum was looking and smiling at you.
*
You couldn’t stop thinking about what your cousin said even when you were already in the car and on your way home with Calum humming along with the songs on the radio.
Once you reached your home you started looking around, thinking of all the places you could share with your potential future family; cooking dinner together at night or watching frozen one thousand times on movie night or creating a playroom just for them so they could have their own space to create whatever comes into their minds and-
“You are really quiet, Angel,” Your husband said, interrupting your train of thought “Is everything alright?”
You pressed your lips together in a tight smile and nodded as he came to hug you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder “Did you have fun with the kids today?” You asked cautiously.
Calum chuckled “Yeah… Matthew almost threw me off at one point, he’s getting good at soccer”
“I hope so! His dad told me he started going to practice cause he wants to be a soccer player and a musician like his uncle Cal” You said, pecking your lips in Calum’s red cheek. You could see that he was slightly embarrassed but in a good way. You wonder if your future children will be like that as well.
Maybe they’ll have his cheeks, or your eyes… oh, please let them have Calum’s curly hair.
You smiled to yourself at the thought of little chubby-cheeked curly-haired heads running around your house. They will be perfect and they will be so loved…
Calum hummed next to your ear, placing a little kiss to the shell of it “I know what’s got you all wrapped up in daydream land” He said, hugging you tighter.
You turned your face to look at him “You do?” He nodded and placed his head on your shoulder again.
“Knew it since I saw you looking at me when I was playing with the kids” He placed a kiss on your cheek and made you turn around completely while still holding you by your waist. You swore you could hear the beating of your heart thundering louder and louder.
“And to be honest, I’ve been thinking about it since the first time I saw you hold a baby”
You blinked at him, confusion written all over your face “What?”
“Well… I knew from the moment I saw you that I wanted to start a family with you. I just confirmed it the day you took me to Matthew’s birthday party to meet your family” He said as a matter-of-factly.
“Yo-you want to start a family with me?” You asked with a flash of hope in your eyes.
Calum smiled at you, his eyes filled with pure adoration “I want to start everything with you, Angel. As long as you let me”
“Do you think we’re ready?”
“I love you, you love me” He said and you nodded with a smile “We’ve been together for 7 years, married for 3; we both have steady jobs, I’m not leaving for tour anytime soon so I’ll be home through every step of the way, we live in a nice house and Duke is more than ready to have a new partner in crime, so… what do you say, love?” Calum said with a cheeky smile.
You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer into a kiss.
“Let’s do it”
Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @theshyspy @talksoprettyjjx @sarcasticallywitty15 @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @Yeah-and69 @mystic-232
*if Your @ is crossed it means I can’t tag you for some reason, please send me a message so we can fix this ✨
#calum hood#5 seconds of summer#5sos#calum hood fanfiction#calum hood imagine#calum fic#suchalonelysunflower#fanfic#calum fanfic#calum imagine#calum hood 5sos#calum hood fluff#calum 5 seconds of summer#calum 5sos#5 seconds of summer fanfiction#5sos fic#5 seconds of summer imagine#CALM#calum x you#calum x reader#calum thomas hood#calum rec
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the fire ferret of fate
bolin x f!reader
summary: the story of a girl who manifested her soulmate as a child and a guy just looking for his ferret
prompt: the red strings of fate
a/n: this is for the second prompt of an avatar/tlok writing collaboration that @twilight-toph is doing! the masterlists for the collab can be found here :)
a/n again: also i totally didn’t get the idea off of practical magic aka the best witch movie ever to grace this world
When Y/N was eight years old, she dreamed of finding her prince charming.
She would have her parents read love stories to her every night. She remembered one myth that her mother once told her called the Red Strings of Fate, which entailed an invisible thread that connected one to their soulmate. She believed it to be true until she took the idea too literally, and was frustrated to find there was no red string attaching her parents together.
One night, Y/N had to the crazy idea to create her own soulmate. Her perfect match. She grabbed a glass jar and her mother’s herbs and spices. She collected everything and brought it into the dining room and stood on chair. She thought for a while, what her perfect match be like?
“His favorite color will be green,” Y/N manifested, picking up a random green leaf for her parents’ tea, dropping it into the jar. “And very handsome.” Another leaf went into the jar.
“Y/N? What are you doing in there?” Her father asked from the sitting area. He was listening to the radio, and she could faintly hear a Pro-Bending Tournament happening.
“Nothing!” She shouted to him as she picked up a random white powder from a bowl. “And he’ll be famous.”
She picked up a few red flakes from a tiny jar. “He’ll always have something red on him. Like the strings of fate.”
Y/N thought of what else he would like, scanning around the room. She noticed her cat owl, Mittens, looking up at her from under the table.
“He’ll have the cutest pet in the whole wide world,” The young girl manifested as she picked some sugar between her index finger and thumb, sprinkling it into the glass jar. “And he’ll love noodles!” She ran to the kitchen and grabbed a noodle from a large bowl that was meant for supper. She hurried back into the dining room and dropped the noodle into the jar.
“It’s perfect!” Y/N exclaimed. She closed the jar and shook up the ingredients. “Wait. I’m missing something.”
Y/N made her way back to the kitchen, leaving a mess on the table. She found a pitcher of water and opened the jar again. She catiously poured some of the liquid into the jar, trying not to drip it onto the floor, but failing. She set the pitcher down and closed the jar before shaking her love potion again.
“Mama, I made a magic potion!” She announced as her mother entered the kitchen, unaware that she was about to get in trouble for making a massive mess.
Ten years later, Y/N still remembered that night fondly. She kept the jar under her bed despite mold beginning to grow.
One chilly autumn day, she was dressed warmly. Her mother sent to the markets to grab a few things for dinner that night. She made her way through the streets of Republic City, smiling politely at the passing strangers. Eventually, Y/N found herself at the markets. She gently picked up a large, red tomato, inspecting it carefully. As she rotated it, she felt something on her leg, like tiny claws poking her through her pants. She looked down and saw a...rodent with red fur? She shrieked, nearly jumping out of her skin and accidentally dropping the tomato onto the pavement. The rodent flinched but continued to cling onto her clothes, and began climbing up her leg and into her coat pocket. Y/N froze, not knowing what to do. She saw it poke its head out, and look up at her curiously. The more she looked at it, it looked pretty cute. Actually, extremely cute.
“Hey! You’re gonna have to pay for that tomato!” The merchant suddenly yelled at her, pointing down to the tomato guts spread across the street.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am!” Y/N apologized, reaching into her pocket to where the thing was. She gently pulled it out, realizing it was fire ferret, before set it on her shoulder. It held one of her coins in its paws, which Y/N snatched and handed to the angry woman. The woman flared her nostrils at her and turned away. Y/N turned her head to look at the fire ferret.
“You’re in big trouble, sir,” She said sternly, but not being able to hold any seriousness. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”
Y/N stepped away from the tomato stand and continued down the street.
“Do you have an owner, buddy?” She asked the ferret, who simply squeaked in response. “I’ll take that as a maybe.”
She made her to the next stand full of cabbages. She picked up two, paid for them, and the merchant for that stand thanked her before handing them back in a brown paper bag. The fire ferret chirped, sniffing down at the bag.
“No, mister, that’s not for you,” Y/N scolded quietly.
“Pabu!” A voice behind her shouted. The fire ferret on Y/N’s shoulder perked up before quickly climbing down her body, running in the direction behind her. She turned around and saw a guy who looks frantic and out of breath.
“Oh, is that little guy yours?” She asked as the man approached her. She instantly noticed his piercing green eyes.
“Yes! Thank you so much for finding him and taking care of him!” The guy said as the red fire ferret, she assumed who was named Pabu, jumped into his arms.
“He’s a mischievous little guy. He made me drop a tomato and then tried to rob me!” Y/N explained, breathing out a laugh.
“I don’t even know what got into him! We were reading today’s paper and he just took off! I spent, like, forever looking for him!” The guy said, giving really dramatic arm gestures. “And bad Pabu! We don’t steal from strangers!”
Pabu’s ears tucked back in response, seemingly ashamed of himself.
“I thought he was massive rat at first! He scared the hell out me,” She said, gaining a laugh from the guy.
“I’m Bolin, by the way,” He introduced himself. “You might’ve heard of me and my brother, Mako. We play for the Pro-Bending Fire Ferrets Team!”
“Oh, yeah! My father and I have listened to many of your matches!” Y/N said, smiling, and feeling a little starstruck. “And I’m Y/N.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” Bolin replied while grinning, his emerald eyes sparkling. He held out his hand, which she took, and shook it firmly. “And you’ve already met Pabu.”
She smiled, reaching her hand out to pet Pabu’s red fur, who was planted firmly on Bolin’s shoulder.
“I have to repay you somehow! Would you like to accompany Pabu and I to Narook’s Seaweed Noodlery? They have the best seaweed noodles in Republic City!” He offered. Y/N felt her stomach grumble.
“Oh, wow. That sounds great actually,” She replied. “I just need to finish getting a couple things for my mother.”
“Of course, of course. We’ll tag along with you!” Bolin insisted. Y/N nodded eagerly, sending him a warm smile. He lifted his arm, offering it to her. She didn’t hesitate to wrap hers around it, and they began their walk down the pavement.
Pabu jumped over to Bolin’s other shoulder closest to Y/N’s and settled in between. As they made their to next food stand, her mind began to wander to the potion she made years ago.
#atla#avatar the last airbender#bolin#bolin x reader#bolin x you#bolin x y/n#bolin fanfic#bolin fic#bolin fluff#pabu#fire ferrets#fire ferret#tlok#lok#the legend of korra#legend of korra fic#legend of korra#lok fanfic#tlok fanfic#lok bolin#tlok bolin#republic city#practical magic#legend of korra bolin#mako and bolin#mako#pro bending#bolin imagine
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Habanero
You're a good girl, well behaved.
Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.
Until you are.
Fandom: BNHA
Pairing: Polyamorous Erasermic x Reader
Rating: Some references to explicitness towards the end
Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter.
AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi
Chapter: 16/16 (all chapters)
You were proud of your home.
You had painted the walls yourself, built cupboards and shelves and painted those too. You’d crocheted your own throw blanket and stuffed every single cushion you owned.
You had made room in one corner for a moses basket and built a wine rack for when you had adult guests over.
It was warm and cosy and you often found yourself dozing off on the couch.
Today, in fact, was such an occasion. You opened your eyes to soft light, snuggled up in the same position as when you returned from work. You had taken off your coat and shoes and set aside your purse, meaning to take a couple of minutes before getting up to make dinner.
Clearly, that had not gone according to plan. You sat up with a wince and rubbed the spots of your back that had grown stiff. How long had you been asleep?
You moved to get up from the chair but that was easier said than done. You were, after all, extremely pregnant and even if your center of gravity wasn’t completely displaced, navigating your swollen belly was getting increasingly difficult.
This was your last week at work before you left for maternity leave and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t glad. Your nesting instincts had hit you hard within the past month or so and you’d reshuffled the furniture more times than you could count.
Nezu had been more than accommodating when he brought staff members into the dorms on site. Your dormitories were more like apartment complexes than the shared halls the students lived in. Your apartment was built to very specific requirements, namely that it was sound proofed and made from two apartments merged into one larger one, with doors connecting them together. There was enough room for Hizashi to do his radio show, for a home office, a bedroom for Eri and, more recently, a nursery.
Eri had a room to the left of yours, specifically chosen for easy access when she had nightmares and needed reassurance. You chose the room on the right of yours for the baby. Eri had offered to share her room, though you got the feeling she didn’t understand much about babies in general, let alone night time feeds and diaper changes.
You could hear three sets of voices coming from the nursery and you waddled towards it, clasping one hand over your belly and the other on your hip for balance.
Hizashi, Shouta and Eri were in the middle of building a crib, Hizashi leaning over the half finished frame, Shouta holding out tools and Eri sitting cross legged in the nursing chair, squinting at an upside down set of instructions.
“Are you sure that’s the right screw?”
“Positive.”
“It’s just that...I need five of them. How many do you have there?”
“One.”
Hizashi was a lot better at DIY projects than Shouta, thanks in part to how much of his time he spent building sound rigs and fixing his equipment. You could have lingered in the doorway forever, just watching them, though your back and ankles were already beginning to protest.
“Having fun?”
Eri gasped in happiness at the sight of you standing there, launching herself out of the nursing chair and reaching for your hand.
“We’re building the baby’s bed,” she said, hopping on the spot as you lowered yourself into the chair. “They’re following my instructions!”
“So I see,” you said. “Looks like you’re being very helpful!”
“We couldn’t do it without ya, Eri,” said Hizashi, before turning back to Shouta. “How many do you have now?”
“ One .”
“That can’t be right.”
Hizashi sat up and shuffled across to Shouta, counting out the screws and other materials.
“One,” he said, turning the screw over in his hand. “Why would they only give us one ?"
“Probably so we’d have to go back and spend more money,” said Shouta.
You sat back in your chair and rubbed your hand over your belly, glancing round at the near complete nursery. Everyone had contributed something; all four of you (and several others) had made your mark on this room.
Hizashi had assembled just about everything, from the changing station to the bookcase to the nursing chair you were currently sitting in. The very same day you told him you were pregnant, he came home with an armful of toys, almost all of which were sound related and certainly far too advanced for a newborn, though he refused to hear it. He’d also bought a music player and specialised headphones so that he could play music or voice recordings through your belly. It had become his favourite thing to do ever since your bump got noticeable, mostly because it almost never failed to make the baby kick.
Eri (under supervision, of course) had painted rainbows, clouds and kitties on the walls, as well as a picture of her and the baby enjoying a basket of apples. She didn’t know much about babies, much less what this one would look like, so her painting looked a little like a potato. She’d been something of a bad influence on Shouta, too, who couldn’t refuse her at the best of times, much less when she was pointing out cute onesies.
Shouta supplied almost all of the stuffed animals in the room, as well as the mobile you planned to hang above the cot. You hadn’t realised just how many baby toys, clothes and equipment were cat themed until Shouta bought almost all of them.
Nemuri’s gift lurked in the corner; an enormous teddy bear with glass eyes and a tartan scarf. It was almost as tall as you were and possibly the most hideous thing you had ever seen, but she and Hizashi had both smiled so widely when she brought it over that you had had little choice but to put it next to the bookshelf.
Your colleagues at UA (with the exception of Shouta and Hizashi for obvious reasons) had gifted you a storybook, with buttons at the side. They had recorded themselves speaking the lines and sometimes, when you wanted a giggle, you pulled it off the shelf and pressed the buttons yourself.
You had overseen everything without picking up quite as many individual items, though in your defense you were contributing the baby.
“That reminds me,” you said aloud without meaning to, “just a second…”
You had done something a little special, something you had been working on for weeks and couldn’t wait to hand over.
You climbed up out of the chair and waddled into the bedroom, coming back with a box you’d gone so far as to wrap with a ribbon.
“What is it, doll?”
“I got the test results back a few weeks ago,” you said with a grin, holding the box out towards them. “I was wondering how to tell you...so I made this.”
Due to your somewhat unique circumstances, you had gone through much of your pregnancy without knowing the identity of the father. You knew it was either Shouta or Hizashi, but couldn’t put that on the birth certificate.
You’d sent samples of your blood and Hizashi and Shouta’s saliva to be tested, though as far as they knew, that was where the story ended.
Both of them eyed the box in your arms, knowing that whatever was inside it would change the course of your futures. One of them was about to become a father, biologically speaking.
Eri didn’t fully understand the situation, but she did understand the concept of presents.
“Can I see?” she cried out.
“Sure, sweetie, why don’t you open it?”
You handed the box to Eri and sat back down in your nursing chair, watching in anticipation as she unfastened the ribbon and lifted the lid.
Maybe it was the hormones, but you’d been thinking about Ego a lot lately. You remembered glasses shattering against the floor, remembered your heart shattering into just as many pieces.
“It’s a onesie,” Eri cried out, dragging the black fabric out of the box.
“Sure is, honeybun,” said Hizashi. “What else is in there?”
It had been years since that night at the bar that changed everything and up until then you hadn’t been the biggest believer in destiny.
“Look,” said Eri, dragging out a small, grey strip of fabric, “it’s a scarf! Oooh, and there’s goggles!”
“That’s right! It’s a hero costume.”
You remembered how long you had shivered inside of a toilet stall, scrubbing away a stranger’s cum. You’d panicked, the reality of what you had done sinking in. You had never been so happy as when you got your next period; you didn’t even complain about the breakout and hellish cramps that came along with it.
You planted a hand on your belly, unable to stroke your son’s hair and so settling for his general vicinity.
Needless to say, you were a believer now.
#erasermic x reader#poly!erasermic#aizawa shouta x reader#hizashi yamada x reader#present mic x reader#habanero
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driver’s license | b. boeser
a/n: so i was listening to driver’s license on repeat and this happened out of the blue in the last 2 hours. @brockadoodles, hope you like this surprise!
word count: 2,027
wine pairing recommendation: an old favorite, something you love and trust.
warnings: a couple swear words.
You let out a long breath that lingered in the winter air inhabiting your car and cranked it slowly. The engine turned over a couple of times and you cursed a little under your breath. Your brother was supposed to have driven it while you were away, but he always said he forgot which was just his way of saying he hated your car. But she was Old Faithful for a reason and the engine turned on anyway. You breathed out a sigh of relief that turned into a groan as a familiar sound floated through your car of a voice you knew all too well saying your name softly. You slammed the button on the sound system to switch to the radio as your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t need to hear that today. You weren’t sure you ever needed to hear that CD again.
You didn’t even consider ejecting it from its permanent home in the otherwise unused CD slot. It lived there in your car that felt like a relic from a past life, a life in which the voice on that CD had a starring role in. That life wasn’t yours anymore, but we all keep tokens from the past, even from our lowest of years, because we can’t bear to part with things that once were our most prized possessions.
You really should have paid attention to the radio station you had last played, but you didn’t and you paid the price for that decision.
“Brock Boeser and the Vancouver Canucks were in town tonight and absolutely destroyed the Wild in a 3-0 shutout, with two goals from local Minnesotan Boeser. Remember his draft year? The Wild passed on him and I don’t think he’s ever forgotten it. He really feels like the one that got away for Minnesota, doesn’t he?”
You switched radio stations, but the damage was already done and tears were clouding your vision. His name, just his name, was enough to do it sitting in this godforsaken car, the car he’d named, the car whose flat tires he’d changed at least five times, the car he’d jumped into the second after you’d gotten your license, the car you had driven aimlessly around his neighborhood once he left. But they had to say the one that got away, didn’t they? The radio show hosts had to be in cahoots with The Universe, who really wanted to pull the old scars over your heart apart with careless word choices and reminders of days that were so infinitely happier than the ones you were living now.
Some dull pop song was flowing through your speakers now and you tried to focus on the entirely mediocre lyrics that matched the dull beat to center yourself in the mediocrity of it all. The opposite of your pain wasn’t happiness; it was the absolute middle between the two, the void where emotions didn’t inhabit. The problem was Brock Boeser hung over every inch of this car, every inch of this town, every inch of who you used to be. That emotionless void was entirely inaccessible to you in this moment. All you had was the ache in your chest with the terrible option to bury it under artificial joy. The pain you felt when you thought about him bled through your forced smile. It was too real, too raw still years later, the wound still somehow made fresh again by being back here to be covered.
All you had was your pain, shitty pop music, and a passenger seat that somehow still belonged to Brock and it fucking sucked.
You put the car in drive and turned right out of your driveway even though all your problems came with you anyway. The chill of the Minnesota winter was slowly dissipating as you drove mindlessly. Except no one ever really drove mindlessly. You made a series of lefts and rights without thinking, which meant your mind was really driving a path it knew so well you didn’t need to think about it as you did it. Minds, even when people thought they were being thoughtless, really weren’t all that random at all. You found yourself in Brock’s old neighborhood and you let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob that shook your aching chest. Of course your mind would bring you here when he was the only thing on it.
The first time you drove through these suburban streets on your own was so long ago now, but you took the same path you were taking now. This was the first place you’d gone after getting your license, freshy and shiny and new, burning a hole in your wallet and the only place you’d wanted to go was to Brock’s. It hadn’t surprised your mother when you’d pulled up at your house fresh off your driver’s test and hadn’t even reached for the keys. She knew with one look where you wanted to go, and she waved you off as she got out. You’d had the biggest smile on your face as you drove these streets for the first time alone, heading straight for the person who had been the most excited for you to get your license. You had barely remembered to put the car in park before running to hug him and kiss him as words of pride spilled from his lips. He climbed into your passenger seat, where he practically lived that whole summer, where he told you he wanted to be with you forever, forever be in your passenger seat watching you achieve your dreams.
Forever for Brock Boeser didn’t last past October of that year when he was in North Dakota and you were still here, driving the same goddamn streets you were driving now, driving through memories of your time together in your mind as you rolled through familiar intersections from your past. Years had gone by, and still a piece of Brock lived in a part of your heart like his voice lived on the mixtape still living in the CD slot of your car. You could go weeks, months even, without knowing he was there, especially when you weren’t in town, but something would always remind you of him. You’d see his face in a crowd, hear his name on the radio, drive past a road with the same name as one in his familiar neighborhood and you’d be reminded of him and the love for him that was embedded in your heart. That piece of him was so deep in your heart it couldn’t be surgically removed. There weren’t enough dates to go on, alcohol bottles to find the bottom of, enough love to try to create with other people, that would expel that piece of him you still carried in your heart. You hadn’t found anything that had even come close to him and the love you had for him. So your love for him stayed exactly where he’d left it in your heart and on a poorly burned CD in your car.
Your friends had to hate you for him now, how you always compared everyone to him. They didn’t understand why you did and honestly, neither did you. You and Brock were young and reckless and stupid, but the love you shared was real and raw and clumsy and fucking beautiful. You knew what a sunset made of blood reds, vibrant oranges, sharp yellows and deep purples looked like; one that was just shades of yellow wouldn’t do. You couldn’t forget what loving him felt like, but as far as you could tell, he had forgotten what loving you was like. Maybe he just never felt about you like you’d felt out him, otherwise, how could he have moved on like he had? He had this whole life, this whole other world, in Vancouver you’d only heard about in poorly remembered stories from people with several degrees of separation between them and him. He sounded like he was doing fucking swell without you and all you could think was that forever apparently left you driving through his streets alone with only memories of him and red lights to keep you company.
You hesitated before doing it because you knew what it would do, but you were already starting to cry again. All you wanted was to hear his voice again, hear the way it used to sound like when he talked about you sitting in this car, driving through these streets. You switched back to the CD and pressed play.
“Hey baby, I hope this works? I don’t really know what I’m doing, but you got your license and I’m so proud of you. I can’t always be bugging you in your passenger seat, being the best DJ ever, so I figured I’d make you a little CD so you can have my amazing DJ talents with you wherever and whenever you go. I love you!”
The tears were flowing now. Hearing the way he told you he loved you, the way the words were somehow heard directly in your heart and made it twist in your chest, made you remember why it hadn’t worked out with anyone else. The way Brock told you he loved you was better than how anyone else had ever tried. You walked down sidewalks holding other people’s hands and remembered the way his hand used to feel in yours when you walked down the same sidewalks in this neighborhood you were in now, past the same front yards you were passing now. The way he loved you clouded every moment you had ever tried to deny that he wasn’t your one great love. He was the person you had envisioned your future with, a future that included buying the blue house at the end of the street you were on now and pulling into that very driveway every night, sliding into bed with him, living with him, loving him forever.
Instead of that ideal forever, you were turning onto his street alone in the waning sunlight with tear-stained cheeks, remembering how much simpler and better everything was with him. The street was practically empty but as you got close to the house you knew as well as your own, your breath hitched in your throat with worry that someone would be there. Of all the empty houses, someone being in the driveway at Brock’s would be your luck. You came over the hill and exhaled upon seeing the driveway empty, before checking your rearview mirror and letting your car slow to a crawl. You could practically see him there, all the times he’d run out that front door and into the passenger seat, off to the lake, to your favorite dinner, to the fourth best but still your favorite park around, to even just driving around these same neighborhood streets when he needed to breathe and forget the weight he carried in that house.
You slowed to almost a stop in front of his house, letting your car roll forward as you tried to will the memories to sit more comfortably on your mind and in your chest to no avail. You didn’t notice someone appear in the driveway until it was too late, until they had already seen you. Blonde hair peaked out the back of a blue hat that sat backwards on his head. An old beat up North Dakota sweatshirt covered his broad chest, broader now that it had been when he had been yours, gray sweatpants, and sneakers he had thrown on to do some mundane task, probably to get the mail for his dad. There he was, standing in the driveway, looking at you and for a second, you thought he was thinking the same things you were, longing for them in the same way you were.
He mouthed your name, disbelief written on his face, and started walking toward your car. You shifted it into park, because after all this time, all the pain, all the broken promises of forever, he was still Brock Boeser and you couldn’t leave him hanging when he called your name.
#brock boeser#brock boeser imagine#brock boeser fic#brock boeser fanfic#nhl fanfiction#nhl fic#nhl fanfic#nhl imagine#Hockey Fanfiction#hockey fanfic#hockey writing#hockey imagine
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