#played it on repeat nonstop and did that for weeks and its still one of my all time fav songs ever... its so good... i think about that red | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

Text

Twisted 27 - When The War Comes [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, guns, knives, sharp objects, stabbing, hallucinations.

Word Count: 7500

Summary: Who will you become?

You had to control your anger. You had to control the fire in your veins until you were sure that your niece was safe, that your family was safe, then—

Then you would handle this situation. Until then, it had to wait.

All the training your father had given you was basically screaming at you to attack the threat, but you managed to keep yourself from doing so while you followed him through the woods, paying close attention to your surroundings.

The cabin. This was the way to your father’s cabin in the woods.

You had counted ten armed men on the way here but you had to assume there were more scattered along the woods. You stepped over a tree root before you looked up at the night sky and quickly found the stars that would help you. Thankfully it was a clear night, and your father had taught you long before how to read the sky for direction, in case you needed to-

Hunt.

A shudder went down your spine but you quickly shook your head, you had no time for that fear lurking in your head.

Fear could wait until you made sure you and everyone back home survived.

Considering how your family had no boundaries when it came to you, you were one hundred percent sure that by the time tonight was over, they would arrive at your apartment to see where you were.

“So what is your game here?” you moved your wrists that he had bound the moment you two had reached the end of the road and got off the car to walk into the woods, “You take me there and what? You’ll kill me?”

He looked over his shoulder, “How can you ask me that?” he said and you raised your brows.

“How can I not ask you that?”

At least you could leave a note. Lincoln was just that stupid.

“They’ll come looking for me,” you told him as he rolled his eyes, still pointing the gun at you.

“Who, your boyfriend?”

“He works in the FBI, you fu—“ you had to remember to stop yourself. He had access to Lily, so you knew you had to play it along, even if you barely felt anything other than anger. “Yeah. My boyfriend.”

“You broke up with him once, you can do it again,” he said and pointed at the pen and paper on the kitchen island, “Just write you need some time or whatever, he can see it when he gets here. Less suspicions.”

You grabbed the pen and paper, then clenched your teeth, your mind working nonstop.

“I’m waiting, Y/N.”

You stole a look at him, then leaned in to write on the paper;

Hamlet,

I need some time alone.

Ophelia.

Ophelia died in a lake, and you hoped that Spencer could make the connection between that and the time you had told him about Lincoln pushing you into the lake by the cabin.

He took a look at the note, then made a face.

“You call him Hamlet?” he said, shaking his head, “I never really liked that play. Let’s go.”

“Do you seriously think I would harm you, in any way?” he asked when you got to the stone stairs leading to the cabin, “I will explain everything once we sit down.”

“Will you untie me?”

“I’m not an idiot,” he answered as you climbed the stairs after him, his grip on your arm almost too tight and you gritted your teeth to stop yourself from coming up with a comeback. You looked up at the cabin, the memory of the last time you were there hitting you out of nowhere and churning your stomach, but you managed not to throw up as he slightly pushed you through the open door.

Don’t be scared, you commanded yourself in your head Fear is useless.

That was one of the things your father had taught you during those predator and prey games. Prey always got scared, which led them to panic, which led them to making mistakes that would cost them their lives.

You were a predator. You had always been a predator, since you were a child, and there was no fucking way Lincoln of all people could turn you into a prey.

He pulled a chair, then motioned at you to sit down.

“Remember, if you try anything…” he said, “If I don’t send the code to my friend—“

“Yeah, you’ll hurt my niece,” you spat, “Some man, aren’t you? Threatening a kid.”

He untied your hands, then pulled them behind the chair and started tying them again, and you raised your brows slightly.

Rather than wrapping the rope around your wrists separately then pulling them together, he was just tying them together, which was a terrible rookie mistake your father would never have done. Escaping from those, especially with a rope was almost easy with enough knowledge, and you slightly widened the gap between your wrists by pressing your thumbs together, not wide enough to make him suspicious but wide enough to give you enough space to move your wrists when you wanted to get rid of the ropes.

Almost everything was automatic at this point, you were following everything your father had made sure to engrave into your mind.

“There, that’s better,” he said and let out a breath, a small smile pulling at his lips, “Hi.”

You tilted your head, looking at him silently.

“That was a bluff by the way. I would never hurt anyone you love, I thought you knew that by now.”

That seemed to distract you from the fury, “What?”

“Everyone that I killed,” he pulled a seat for himself so that he could sit across from you and leaned in slightly, elbows on his knees, “Everyone, that was for you. I did it for you. Don’t you see that? From that childhood friend to your douchebag ex?”

Oh God you were going to be sick.

Spencer was right. You were sitting with the copycat killer back there, at the charity auction.

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” he ran a hand through his hair, “You told me what was happening, when we were kids. You told me a week before that night in the graveyard, that’s how your father let me come with you both. My parents had drunk too much at your parents’ party— you don’t remember any of that? I was the one who you shared that sacred secret with, no one else, not even your family. It was me.”

“Sacred?” you repeated, “My father was a monster, Lincoln.”

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, the glare in his eyes sharpening, “Never say that. He…he is way ahead of all of us, if he didn’t get caught he’d be an even bigger legend than he already is. He brought us together.”

“You brought me here by threatening me and you tied me to a chair. My father is a terrible person, but this right here is your choice you fucking asshole.”

“Because I need you to understand,” he nodded to himself, “You will understand.”

“I will understand what?”

“That I did this for us!” he snapped and he swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath, “That I love you.”

A hysterical laugh escaped from your lips and you gawked at him.

“You love me,” you repeated, “You— you have been terrorizing me for months, you killed people, you fucking destroyed my life because you love me?”

“I’ll set you free,” he said, “Free of all these bounds everyone else put you into. I’ve seen your potential back when we were still kids, then after your father was arrested they turned you into something else, some shadow of what you’re capable of. Then I came back and you…” he ran a hand over his face, “You decided to get into an agent’s bed.”

“Don’t even—“

“He would try to change you,” he cut you off, sniffling, “He would, Petal. He would smother you with these stupid ethical rules and all that bullshit, but I’ll— we’ll be free together.”

If your last encounter with your father had taught you anything, it was that delusional killers didn’t exactly react well to a reality check. You moved your hands under the ropes, pulling at them just a little.

You would just have to play along until you were free, then you could be out of there.

The more you know about your prey, your father’s voice echoed in your ears, The easier it will be to take them down.

“How about your girlfriend?”

His head shot up and he shrugged,

“I mean,” he trailed off, “She thinks she’s my girlfriend.”

You gritted your teeth. “Erica,” you said, “Right. My girlfriend doesn’t have the same financial status as we do, huh? My fucking assistant, Lincoln? What did you offer her?”

“Offer her?” he asked, “I didn’t have to offer her anything. Who did you think your father’s outside source was?”

You pulled back slightly and he scoffed a laugh.

“I know,” he said, “She wants to kill you, not that I would ever let her, but she can believe that for the time being. I know you feel betrayed honey—“

“Don’t call me that.”

“But we only need her until a point, after she makes a phone call to get your family off our backs, she will be my gift to you.”

You dug your fingernails into your palms to remind yourself to focus, “Your gift?”

“There’s nothing like killing someone you know,” he dragged the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, “It’s not like strangers, not at all. That shit’s special, Petal. You’ll see when the time comes.”

Before you could even think of an answer, you heard the footsteps coming closer and the door opened, making you turn your head to see Erica who almost looked intimidated for a moment upon seeing you, but she managed to pull herself together.

“You might want to check out the west team,” she told Lincoln and he paused.

“Can I trust you with this?”

Erica frowned, “You can trust me with anything, you know that,” she said softly and you closed your eyes for a moment, pulling at the ropes tight enough to hurt before you felt it get loose just a little. The rough material of the ropes almost burnt your skin the more you kept moving your hands, but you gritted your teeth, trying to ignore it.

You heard the door close and the lock sliding into its place as you opened your eyes, and saw Erica putting the key into her pocket.

“I like your dress,” she said as she sat down, “Too bad it’ll get bloody.”

“You were my father’s outside source?” you asked, trying to ignore her comment, “You?”

She gave you a bright smile, and rested her arm on the back of the chair, making herself comfortable.

“That’s right.”

“Whatever he’s paying you—“

“He’s not paying me,” she spat as if she was insulted at the implication, “You ungrateful little bitch. I’m doing this because I want to, because I respect him. I believe in what he stands for, not like you would understand.”

“Jesus, you’re one of those freaks,” you muttered to yourself, tugging at the ropes around your wrists, “Serial killer groupie huh?”

“I’m not a groupie,” she spat, “I respect your father, not just any serial killer. It’s him. No one in your family deserves him, much less you, and—“ she shook her head, “The way you disrespect him and his name…”

“Disrespect him?” you let out a laugh, “Oh that’s rich.”

“He was right, you know?” she said, “Only the smart and strong is supposed to survive in this world, not weak. And he tried to raise you to follow in his footsteps, but you were too weak to do so. He just doesn’t see that.”

You clicked your tongue, “But you see that?”

“If he were my father,” she leaned in, gritting her teeth, “It doesn’t matter. By the time this is over, after I get rid of you and prove myself, he will see me as a daughter. Not you. You’re not strong enough to survive in our world. Lincoln agrees—“

“Lincoln is using you,” you cut her off, “He’s going to get rid of you as soon as he’s done. Let me guess, he told you you could kill me?”

“We’ll make you regret disrespecting father’s name first, then I will kill you, yes.”

“Yeah that’s not gonna happen,” you said, “Face it, you fucking idiot. He’s using you, just like my father is using—“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence when she lunged from her seat and slapped you across the face, her ring splitting your lip. You made a face, and spat out the blood filling your mouth, trying to ignore the sting on your tongue upon biting it.

“You know what?” she asked, “Lincoln always said no for some reason, but if you keep going like that, I can make you hurt really bad.”

“Aw sweetheart, you don’t have enough training for that,” you cooed, “What, you did some google search, looked up my father’s methods and now you think you can torture people? You think that’s how it goes?”

“I didn’t say it’d be physical,” she curled her lips, “You wouldn’t want your family to get hurt, do you?”

Your eyes snapped up to hers, that fire awakening at the pit of your stomach. She tilted her head, obviously pleased with your reaction.

“I suggested Lily instead of your ex….Anthony, was it? I said we should kill her and put her in the middle of your living room back then, but Linc said no. He said it’d hurt your father too.”

A numbness spread over your forehead, then went to the back of your head, reaching your spine as you blinked a couple of times.

“You were going to kill my niece?” you heard yourself ask and Erica crossed her legs.

“I bet that would’ve made you think twice before you disrespected John.”

You could almost feel it. Feel the fury taking over, that anger your father had always insisted you possessed roaring through you until it reached your heart, wrapping itself around it tighter and tighter.

Let the predator come out Petal, your father used to say Let it come out.

You rolled your shoulder back and cracked your neck with your eyes closed, an exact copy of your father as you twisted your hands under the ropes before you opened your eyes again to look at Erica.

“You don’t deserve him,” she insisted, “You all—you all just locked him away and forgot about him until Linc came back, until we started this. He will see soon that blood means nothing, me and Linc are going to be his legacy, not you.”

You tugged a little harder around the knot, then turned your wrist and managed to pull it out of the tight rope even if it scratched the skin over your wrists, making the burn spread over your arm.

“He taught you some stuff, big fucking deal,” she said, “I learned by myself. Without anyone to help me. Without someone else holding my hand.”

You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the throbbing as you slowly pulled your other hand out of the knotted rope.

“Yeah you missed a rule though,” you asked, dragging the tip of your tongue over the dried blood on your lip, “You’re not supposed to make them bleed unless you can kill them.”

Erica pulled her brows together, then a shriek escaped from her lips as soon as you let the rope fall, raising your hands in a mocking manner so that she could see.

“You chose the wrong victim, baby,” you said and she kicked the chair at you, then darted for upstairs, screaming while you just raised your brows, rolling your eyes.

Panic always led to mistakes like these, like rushing to somewhere one couldn’t escape from.

Upstairs was always a bad idea.

You made your way to the kitchen and pulled open the second drawer where your mother used to keep the knives, then grabbed a huge knife before you flipped it in your hand.

“Erica,” you called out, “Get back here, you’re fucking fired!”

She slammed a door upstairs and you scoffed a laugh, adrenaline pulsing through you as you dragged the tip of the knife over the walls, climbing the stairs.

“You know, if you give me the key I might make it quick,” you flipped the knife again, playing with it before you ran it over the steel staircase finial, letting her hear the sharp noise, “No promises though.”

Silence.

“I know you’re in here,” you sang, looking into the dark. Your father had taught you this long ago, if you couldn’t see, you had to make sure how to listen in the dark to find the location of whoever you wanted to hunt.

You took a deep breath and held it, not even moving a muscle and sure enough, a very faint creak reached your ears and you turned your head.

Second door to the left.

It used to be Mina’s room.

You let out a whistle echoing in the otherwise silent hall, disappearing into the dark before you stood in front of the door and ran the tip of the knife over the wood, almost relishing the slight whimper coming from the other side of the room.

“You were going to go after my family?” your voice rose as you kicked at the door, and Erica let out another scream.

“Lincoln!”

“Oh come on, where’s that strong survivor you’ve been telling me so much about?” you taunted, kicking at the door again but it didn’t open. “Hm? I thought you were going to prove yourself?”

“I-I swallowed the key, I can’t give it to you!”

“Ah well, I guess I’ll have to cut you open!” you shouted and kicked at the door once again and at last, the lock broke with a click and the door swung open, hitting the wall. Erica grabbed the chair closest to her, holding it up.

“Don’t!”

You flipped the knife in your hand, the grinned and took a step to her, so focused on adrenaline pulsing through your system that you didn’t even notice her eyes focusing on something over your shoulder until it was too late. Before you could even turn around, someone pulled you back, expertly avoiding the knife by bending your arm back and pressed a cloth over your mouth and nose, that sharp scent making you gag.

Chloroform.

Lincoln.

A tingling reached your head and that fuzzy warmth reached the back of your head, then closed your eyes shut.

***

You had no idea how long it took you out, but when you opened your eyes, it was still night. You grabbed at the side of your head and sat up in the bed, the whole room spinning around you.

Your childhood bedroom. You were in your childhood bedroom in the cabin.

“Hey,” Lincoln’s voice reached you and you turned your head to see him leaning on the doorframe.

Shit.

That was a mistake. Of course that was a mistake, and you couldn’t even believe yourself just how stupid you had been to act so careless.

“Easy, chloroform messes you up,” Lincoln said, “I’d stay in the bed for a while if I were you. You can’t attack anyone like this, you know?”

You weren’t supposed to follow your dad’s example in a situation like this. There was a reason why he was locked away, a reason why people had caught up with what he was doing, he was way too impulsive, way too destructive in terms of physical means. You had been so focused on protecting your family and going after the nearest threat that you had forgotten who you were.

You weren’t just your father’s daughter, you were also your mother’s.

And this right here? It wasn’t your father’s expertise yet, his time would come when you would have to fight your way out.

It was your mother’s.

Manipulation.

It was time to channel her, not your father.

“What happened?” you asked and Lincoln heaved a sigh, then pushed himself off the doorframe.

“You went after Erica,” he said, “She’s pretty shaken, but I told you Petal. You need to be patient, we just need her up to a point. After that, she’s all yours.”

You narrowed your eyes and slowly swung your legs over the edge of the bed, running a hand through your hair.

“And how much longer will I be subjected to this humiliation of yours? Can you give me an exact time or should I just wait here?”

He stared at you for a moment, trying to understand what you meant and you just arched a brow, a look of completely nonchalant sneer flashing over your face, the exact same expression you had seen on your mother countless times.

“I’ll take this silence as a no.”

“Humiliation?” he repeated, “When- how did I humiliate you?”

“How did you humiliate me?” you scoffed a laugh, “Are you serious right now?”

Jesus, your head was absolutely killing you but you had to focus.

“I’d never humiliate you, I love you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you waved a dismissive hand in the air, “You love me, we’re supposed to be together. I guess I’ll have to take your word for it while ignoring your actions, is that it?”

“My actions? Y/N—“

“So you bring me in here,” you cut him off, glaring at him, “You give me this whole speech about how you’d do anything for me, how we’re—we’re meant to be, and then you leave me in the same room with your ex so that she can boast about you? How you two are in love, how you two are together?”

“I told you, we just need her until—“

“That’s your love?” you interrupted him again and pushed yourself to stand up, crossing your arms while looking him dead in the eye, “Is that the proof of your love? Rubbing your girlfriend on my face? All the while she talks about how you two are going to be my father’s legacy together, like I don’t exist?”

“She just thinks that, I made her think that so that we can use her—“

“And then,” you said through your teeth, “You stop me and knock me out while I’m going after her to get rid of her?” you clapped your hands slowly, “Yeah. Proclamation of love right there Linc, congratulations.”

He licked his lips, obviously taking aback. “Y/N, we need her for now.”

“Mm hm, exactly,” you shot him a sweet smile “Looks like you need her a lot.”

“Not like that,” he shook his head, “Not what you think, I swear. She’s nothing.”

“No, I think she’s not nothing,” you clicked your tongue, “I think you formed some sort of attachment to your prey—“

“I didn’t!”

“Because you grew soft for her, and now you’re confused whether you want me more or her.”

He strode to you in three steps and pulled you closer, tilting your head up, and you had to command yourself not to make a face.

“I want you,” he said, “I always have, you know that.”

“Bullshit.”

He groaned, “Y/N-“

“No, it’s fucking bullshit.” You pushed his hands away, and searched your mind for the final nail on the coffin.

“Did you sleep with her?”

The expression on Lincoln’s face shifted and he averted his eyes.

Bingo.

“Did you? While you were in love with me, while you knew that we were meant to be, did you or did you not sleep with her?”

“You slept with that agent,” he shot back and you shook your head.

“I didn’t know you would do anything for me,” you insisted, “I had no idea—you said you had a girlfriend, I barely remember anything from my childhood let alone sharing so much with you and you didn’t tell me. But you knew,” you dug your finger into his chest, “You knew everything and you kept it hidden from me, so answer me this, did you sleep with her? While you knew you were in love with me?”

He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, then closed it again, and you took a step back, trying to look heartbroken.

“Wow.”

“Y/N.”

“Wow. You actually did.”

“Listen to me, she doesn’t mean anything, I swear to you. It was just to manipulate—“

“Get out of my room.”

He frowned, “What?”

“Get the fuck out of my room and leave me alone until you’re ready to show me you actually love me.”

“You don’t mean that,” he started and took a step towards you, but you grabbed the nearest object which turned out to be one of your old dusty plushies and threw it to him.

“Get out!” you yelled and he took a step back, raising his hands.

“I’ll… I’ll come back when you’re calmer,” he said and closed the door behind him, and you lost your balance, falling on your knees.

People were just so easy to manipulate, thanks to your mother.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “Thanks mom, time for dad’s turn.”

Weapons.

You reached under your bed to take a look at the secret compartment that your dad used to make you put your knives, but it was of course empty. Lincoln was stupid when it came to you, but he wasn’t a complete idiot, apparently. You pushed yourself off your knees and stood up, then closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, trying to clear your mind.

Your father had taught you this long before, in every room, there was something you could use as a weapon or turn into one.

You took a deep breath, exhaled it and opened your eyes.

It would have to be something precise, Lincoln had a point, you were in no shape to get into an actual fight with him. So you would need something sharp, and something that you could hide in either your sleeve or somewhere easily reachable. Something that Lincoln wouldn’t see until the next time.

You could tear down the bed to get to the bed springs, but it would take a long time and there was the danger of him walking in on you.

There was a chair and your post-its, some tape, small notebooks by the corner, hair ties and a music box on the desk in front of the window—

The music box.

The music box had a mirror.

“There you are,” you muttered to yourself as you took the music box, then grabbed the tape and your hair ties. You checked the door, then sat down, covered the mirror with the long skirt of your dress, then pushed on it with your elbow until you heard the small noise of the mirror breaking. You pulled back and uncovered it, then grabbed the longest shard, ripped out a couple of pages from your notebook and started taping it around the shard before you wrapped your hair ties around it so as not to let it slip or hurt your hand.

By the time you heard Lincoln’s footsteps coming upstairs, you had spent almost an hour preparing your weapon. You looked up, then closed the music box and put it back before tucking your newly made weapon under the lacy sleeve of your dress, and got on the bed, leaned your back to the bedframe and crossed your arms.

“Petal?” Lincoln called out and you gritted your teeth and turned your head when he peeked his head in.

“Hey, do you want to join me for some food downstairs?”

You narrowed your eyes, “Depends. Will your girlfriend be joining us?”

“I knocked her out and put her in your dad’s basement,” Lincoln said, “She will stay there until you feel like getting rid of her, and I won’t stand in your way this time. Okay?”

He offered you his hand and you eyed it, then pushed it away and managed to stand up on your own.

“Still dizzy?”

“A little,” you confessed, “Still angry too.”

Lincoln chuckled and heaved a sigh, “We need to talk about this jealousy of yours babe.”

You managed to control your expression and ignored him as you went downstairs. The rug was pulled to the side so that you could see the hidden door to the basement, but it was closed. You looked at the table in the middle of the living room that was covered in food, and there was a vase of jasmine flowers between the lit candles. You were still sure that you couldn’t engage in an actual fight until the chloroform was completely out of your system, but you didn’t have to worry about it since Lincoln seemed not to put any knives on the table. Your dad’s old vinyl was playing by the corner, the soothing melody creating a complete contrast with what was happening.

“A dance before dinner?” he asked you, “Come on. That dress needs to be used in a dance, don’t you think?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders and took his hand, then wrapped your arms around his neck as he pressed his hands to the small of your back, pulling you closer before you started swaying with the melody.

You just needed an exact time for him to lower his defenses completely, because you only had one shot at this.

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

“You have no idea how much I waited for this,” he said, “When I was in Italy, I would….dream of this at night.”

You didn’t answer, you just made sure to keep your wrist at an angle so that the mirror shard wouldn’t slip.

“And when I came back and saw you for the first time in that red gown…” he murmured, “I thought I would drop dead. You were even more beautiful than I pictured.”

“Why didn’t you tell me back then?” you asked absentmindedly and he shrugged.

“I didn’t know how you would react.”

“And all those people who died?”

“Some of them were diversion,” he said, “Some of them were chosen. I promised myself no one could make you sad, ever. I would’ve killed that agent too if he was the one to break up with you, but then you said it was your choice, and… I don’t know. I thought it’d raise suspicions.”

Spencer.

He had considered killing Spencer.

Goosebumps rose on your skin but you reminded yourself to stay calm and focus, you had already slipped once because of your anger, you wouldn’t get a second chance.

“What about Anthony?” you asked, “You killed him… was it to frame me?”

“God no,” he said, shaking his head, “Of course not. Erica thought it was revenge for how you were treating John, but I wanted to make you remember how it felt to be in the scene of your father’s doing, how….how powerful it made you feel. I thought that would make you see how everyone around you was trying to make you into something you’re not. Deep down, Y/N, you’re just like me. That’s why we will be legends.”

A bitter taste appeared at the back of your throat and you swallowed thickly.

“And my father?”

“He knew we were supposed to be together,” he said, “He knew you would need a…companion in this. Us, free together. That’s why your father failed, because he couldn’t share who he was with your mother. It won’t happen with us, ever.”

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

You moved your wrist so that the shard could slip low enough for you to hold it and Lincoln leaned in slightly, his eyes closing.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips and you smiled.

“Oh Lincoln,” you murmured, your heart beating in your ears, “You should’ve known better.”

With that, you drove the shard right into his stomach, making him gasp and open his eyes. Betrayal was written all over his face, it was very clear he hadn’t expected it as you twisted the shard, making him lose his breath before you pulled it back, blood splashing over your face and your dress. You shoved him, making him lose his balance and fall down, taking the coffee table with him, causing some noise and as if on cue, Erica started screaming his name from the basement.

“Erica, shut up before I come down there and break your fucking neck!” you called out and the screaming stopped.

“Thank you,” you said and turned to grin at Lincoln who was breathing hard, his face pale.

“Y/N—“

“Oh don’t worry, you won’t die right away,” you said, “Dad taught me that one, ages ago. I stabbed you in the stomach, and it’s a pretty thin shard, so it’s not the blood loss that will kill you. It’ll be the toxic shock, because right now everything in your stomach including acid is contaminating your system. Should be fun, huh?”

“Why did you—“ he coughed, and you snapped your fingers.

“Hold that thought, I gotta get something from the kitchen,” you said and walked to the kitchen to open the drawers, then grabbed some knives and scissors before you want back to the living room, “Yeah, you were saying?”

“We’re meant to be,” he managed to say, trying to breathe and you hopped on the table before you cut the floor length skirt, ripping it out.

If you were going to run through the woods, you needed to be in something you could easily move and fight in.

“Nah we’re not,” you said, “You’re delusional, that’s it.”

“Petal—“

“See, I could’ve gone easy on you,” you said, wrapping the cloth around your injured wrist, “Really. I could’ve just escaped and handed you to the FBI and be done with it, but no. You two had to bring my family and Spencer into this so now,” you tut-tutted, “Now you get to suffer.”

“He doesn’t understand you,” he said, pressing on the wound and leaning his head back to the wall, “He never will, not like I do. We’re meant to get rid of every weak person in the world, everyone who deserves to die.”

You let out a laugh, now wrapping the cloth around your knuckles, “Uh huh.”

“You’re meant to be the legacy.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just meant to be a wedding planner,” you pointed at him with the knife and walked to him to grab the key from his pocket, then you pulled his boots off his feet, took off your heels and started getting into his boots.

“Petal, we’re supposed to be together.”

“Because my insane sadistic father said so?”

“Because I know you.”

You looked up from the boots you were tying as tight as possible, “Hm? You know me?”

“I do.”

You put two of the knives in each boot and jumped down to rock on the balls of your feet, trying to see if you could move well.

“That’s your first mistake buddy,” you said, now wrapping the rope over your boots, “See if you knew me, you wouldn’t be so careless, would you? You took me here and what? You didn’t think I’d kill my way out? You didn’t think I’d turn you and your serial killer groupie partner into my prey?” You pulled at the rope, “Honestly, you two fucked with the wrong legacy.”

“I don’t—“

“My father raised me to be unstoppable,” you said, “And apparently you know that. So you should’ve considered that it’d take more than two copycats to take me down, and—“ a manic laughter escaped from your lips, “Did you seriously think you could beat me at my own fucking game?”

He coughed, making a face and closed his eyes.

“You have hours until you die, but if I make it out on time, maybe I’ll send some medics here. Maybe. Depends on if I feel merciful, who knows?” you grinned, “Your survival depends on my mood, isn’t that ironic?”

“There are ten men between here and your weekend house, you’d never make it out.”

“I’m not going north,” you said and Lincoln frowned.

“South? That’s just woods.”

“No, it’s a longer way than north, but there’s a road at the end. Dad once made me find my way through the woods.”

“You can’t leave me behind,” he coughed again, “We’re meant to be together. We’re meant to work together and kill together, that’s our love story.”

You pursed your lips, then grabbed a jasmine from the vase and walked towards him.

“Even if I wanted to follow in that monster’s footsteps,” you said, looking down at him, “Even if I wanted a companion, it wouldn’t be you. You’re fucking dead weight, Linc. You don’t have what it takes.”

With that, you let the flower drop on him, unlocked the door and stepped outside, the chill air filling your lungs. After looking around to see whether it was safe, you went to the back of the house, and looked up at the stars, calculating which way to go.

Then, you tied your hair up and started running.

***

As it turned out, Lincoln had fewer men on the south of the woods, but there were still people. You had gotten rid of two of them and tied them up with the rope you had taken with you, but it would take one mistake for them to drag you back to the cabin, so you couldn’t take any risks.

You heard the faint noise of a radio and looked over your shoulder, then climbed up to the nearest tree, keeping as silent as possible. The light of a flashlight soon lit up under you and a man came into your view.

“South number five is clear,” he said into the radio and as soon as he put it into his pocket, you jumped down silently, standing behind him for a moment before you smacked his head into the tree, making him pass out. You unwrapped a part of the rope and tied his hands and feet before you stuck the cloth around your arm into his mouth so that when he woke up he wouldn’t be able to ask for help. You let out a breath and walked deeper into the woods, but as soon as you jumped over a tree root, someone grabbed you by the hair and slammed you head first into the tree. A ringing echoed in your ears, getting louder and louder but you managed to pull the knife from your boot and drive it into his leg, making him grunt and you used your whole body weight to turn around with his arm around you, popping it out of its socket and he dropped you with a yelp, kicking you in the ribs and a fire spread from your ribs into your whole body, making you stop the scream at the last minute.

“You fucking bitch-“ he said but as soon as he grabbed you again, you managed to push yourself up and grab the rest of the rope you had left. You kicked him back and jumped on his back, wrapping the rope around his neck as he tried to get you off.

“I’m not killing you you fucking idiot!” you grit out as he slammed back into the tree to get you off, “I’m making you pass out, that’s all!”

Soon enough, he dropped to his knees and fell to the ground while you tried to catch your breath, but everything hurt. You wiped at the blood that was seeping from the cut on your forehead, drenching your face and your dress but managed to tie him up and get away from him.

It didn’t take you long though. It felt like the whole forest was spinning around you and you felt someone pulling the ground from under your feet before you fell back, your eyes closing.

You had no idea how long you stayed there unconscious but the unmistakable sound of a shot being fired made you open your eyes with a gasp as you winced at the pain pulsing through your whole body.

“It doesn’t sound so good.”

You slowly turned your head to see your father sitting by the tree, his arms crossed and you let out a groan.

“Is this hell?” you asked, “I just died and it’s hell, right? There’s no way I’m hallucinating about you.”

“You didn’t die yet,” your father said as he looked at the way the shot was fired. “I assume you didn’t search for Lincoln’s gun before you walked out of the cabin?”

“Lincoln can’t move,” you said and your father tut-tutted.

“Erica could move just fine the last you saw her though.”

“Shit.” You closed your eyes for a moment and your father heaved a sigh.

“So what do we have here?” he said, “Head injury, concussion, loss of blood, and that guy over there just broke a rib or two, right?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, you wouldn’t stand a chance against someone coming at you with a gun when you’re like this.”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes burning.

“I can’t move,” you managed to say through your teeth, “It hurts.”

“Does it hurt enough to kill you? Because that’s what will happen if she and her men find you here.”

You tried to blink back the tears, “What if it’s supposed to end this way?”

“Supposed to end this way?” your father stood up and glared down at you, “Petal, I didn’t spend years to train you just so that you could die in a forest in the middle of nowhere. Get up.”

“Dad, I tried to survive, okay?” you said, “I tried—”

“Well, that’s not enough right now, is it though?” he asked and snapped his fingers, “You’re a survivor, your mother and I made sure of that. Stop acting like a prey, get up.”

“Dad-“

“Get up!” his voice shot through your head and you opened your eyes again, coughing, that ringing in your ears due to the pain blocking out everything but the gunshot that sounded much closer than before. You dug your fingernails into your palms and pulled yourself up by grabbing at the nearest tree, then wiped the blood off your face again.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, “Okay, Stop acting like a prey. Which way to go?”

You looked up at the night sky and found the star you were looking for before you started making your way through the forest, even if it felt like you could pass out any second. You had no idea how long you had been walking when all of a sudden the brightness of flashlight entered your vision, making you hold your breath and grab the handle of your knife tighter, thinking that it was Lincoln and Erica’s men.

It was only when you saw a very familiar face wearing an FBI vest that you let out the breath you were holding, the knife slipping from your grip.

“Spencer?” you rasped out and he just stared at you before he started running to you.

“You’re alive,” he managed to say before he pulled you into a tight hug, making you wince in pain. He pulled back immediately, his hands cradling your head.

“Are you—“

He didn’t get to finish that sentence. It happened in less than a second, but the sound of a gunshot that rang through the forest echoed in your ears before blood splattered over his face, making you stumble as if someone pushed you from behind.

“Why is there blood?” you managed to ask before a fire spread through your chest, taking your breath away and Spencer’s eyes widened as he lowered them to the gunshot wound bleeding on your chest. Everyone ran past you, yelling something into the radio and shooting their guns at someone behind you while the fire made its way through your whole system, the ringing in your ears getting worse.

The last thing you remembered was Spencer catching you before you hit the ground but whatever he was saying to you got drowned out in the loud noise of the helicopter flying above you. The lights of it got brighter and brighter before a warmth pulled you out of the pain and surrounded you.

Then everything went black.

Chapter 28

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer #reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #twisted

1K notes · View notes

banigarubug · 3 years

Text

Boys (Corpse x MALE!Reader)

VERY excited for this prompt! here is where i acknowledge corpse irl is straight: (pause to acknowledge). and here is where i write a piece of fiction that corpse has expressed he’s ok with!

Please do a Corpse x male!reader - if you write for males but if not then GN will be okay ^^ - where reader is very edgy, wears techwear 24/7 and is taller than Corpse.

I’m not seeing enough male reader/GN fics where the reader is just as edgy if not edgier than Corpse—

you met corpse at a gas station, but he’s still cute. no corona ;)

warnings: minimal food talk, maybe swearing but i can’t remember lmao

The day you met Corpse had you both stopped in your tracks.

Well, admittedly, Corpse was more so. You pride yourself on being able to keep it together, but Corpse has always been a dweeb who just tries his best - and often fails - to play it cool. This was obvious from the moment you’d met him, literally bumping into him at a gas station as you were both on your phones walking towards each other.

Your phone survived the accident, but Corpse’s clattered to the floor. You tore your eyes away from your screen as soon as your bodies made contact and immediately picked up his phone from the floor. “I’m so sorry,” you said, inspecting his phone. It’s fine, save for one long crack across the top left, thankfully missing the front camera entirely. You handed it to him, and finally noticed him staring up at you with wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, confused.

He cleared his throat. “All good,” he replied, voice muffled just slightly by the fabric mask over his mouth. It’s deeper than you’d expected, and you startled a little at it, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Uh, it’s my fault too.”

“Well, you know,” you replied, shrugging. “There’s no place like twitter dot com.” You quirked a smile as you flashed your phone, displaying the Twitter timeline open on the screen.

He laughed, opening his phone to show that he’d been on Twitter too. “Uh, I’m Corpse,” he said.

You smiled at him, maybe more bashful than intended. “Y/N,” you replied, sticking out your hand to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he said, and as your hands met, a blush threatened the outer corner of your cheeks. His hands were… really nice. “Even if you broke my phone,” he teased.

You laughed, already feeling the tension between you two melt. “You’re just as much to blame here, Corpsie.”

As it turned out, your cars were parked next to one another’s at the pumping station, so you walked there together. You talked the whole way through picking up an armful of candy as he got a collection of energy drinks apparently for him and his friend Dave, and you kept talking while you finished putting gas in your car. And then you kept talking afterwards too, until Dave reached over and shouted out the open car window, “Dude, just ask for his number already!”

You grinned and Corpse blushed. “I’m sorry,” he said, turning to you, but you shook your head, still smiling at him happily. It was cute. “Look, if it’s too forward, I’m really sorry, but - I don’t usually get along with people this easily. Maybe we could… do this again?”

“Sure,” you agreed easily. You told yourself it’s only because you didn’t mind it, not that it was too hard to say no to that hopeful look in his eyes and that you didn’t want to forget how cute he sounded when he laughed. “Give me your phone.”

“You might crack it again,” Corpse replied, but he handed you the phone anyway. You rolled your eyes as you typed in your number, adding a heart next to your contact name.

A week later, after texting and calling and FaceTiming nonstop, finally he asked you out. He took you to get boba, and you had dinner at his place, and when he dropped you off at yours, he stood on the front porch, only a few inches between you.

“I had fun tonight,” you said. There was something exhilarating about it, how he craned his neck to look at you, eyes scanning over your face nonstop like he was trying to read something off of your skin. To break the tension, you softly added, “Even if you did keep making fun of my pants.”

Corpse laughed, a breathless thing. He reached out to pull at one of the straps hanging down, letting it fling back gently against your leg with a dull smacking noise. “I just don’t get why there’s so many straps. And pockets.”

You leaned in. You told yourself - and later, him - it was because you wanted him to shut up about your stupid pants, but you and Corpse both knew the truth.

When Corpse asked if you would be his boyfriend, you got the upgrade: access to the streamer room. You’d known, in your dating period, that he was an ‘internet personality’, as he very vaguely described it, but the lack of details he was willing to share discouraged you from sleuthing around on the internet. Of course, when he finally let you in a little more, thanks to his million followers, you blended in. Nobody knew that you, the random account simping in his replies, was the same guy whose hand made its way into Corpse’s Instagram stories more than once.

Your favorite thing maybe ever was seeing when Corpse posted pictures of him holding your hand. Most of the time, you didn’t even notice him taking the photos, but it was sweet, how your nails matched and he had sweater paws while you had tattoos. Even as a faceless YouTuber, it meant something to you that he was still proud of your relationship. His fans got a kick out of it too, nicknaming you Corpse Boyfriend.

But now, the real boyfriend test. He invited you to stream with him while he played Phasmophobia. You would talk to chat and ghosts as needed, and Corpse would do most of the heavy lifting. Of course you were nervous, but you never let on about it.

Well, Corpse knew you pretty well. When he asked if you were sure you were ready, and you said duh, bro, of course, he said, “Don’t bro me.” (He still kissed you though.)

“Corpse Husband, did you bring Corpse Boyfriend?” Corpse read aloud from the chat while they were waiting to get started with the game. “You guys have been hearing rumors? Well, lucky you, I did! I want you guys to meet N/N.”

“Hey,” you said, smiling at Corpse. “I wanna start my presence on this channel by telling all two hundred thousand of you that I’m taller than Corpse.”

“That’s the most important thing?” Corpse laughs at you. “You’re like, maybe two inches taller.”

“Don’t lie to your fans, Husband. You’re at least three inches shorter.”

“Two,” he insists playfully. “And that’s the hill I’ll die on. Boyfriend.”

A few days later, when Dave comes over to hang out, you make him measure the two of you and force Corpse to post the lines on the wall as evidence. Three inches, he captions. Boyfriend wins :(

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x male reader #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband imagine #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #food mentions #liz writes stuff

948 notes · View notes

ghosttotheparty · 3 years

Text

the concept of permanence and its effects on the heart

AO3 Annie sighs, placing her now empty cup on the counter beside the sink. It’s dark, and the glass shines and glistens.

I’ll wash it tomorrow.

She rests against the counter, tugging the hair tie from her ponytail before tying it up again. The television in the living room is on (the light from it, flashing and shining, lit her way to the kitchen from her bedroom), and she assumes Abed is asleep on the sofa in front of it. It’s playing Inspector Spacetime. Annie recognises the exaggerated English accents, the sound of lasers being shot at tin. The volume is low.

Annie sighs again, closing her eyes and crossing her arms in front of herself, dropping her head.

It’s been quieter since Troy left.

(Abed is quieter since Troy left.)

She rubs her face, standing up straight and turning to leave the kitchen and shut off the tv. But when she looks into the living room, Abed isn’t asleep. He’s sitting up on the sofa, cross-legged with a blanket pulled around his shoulders. He’s holding it tightly, his fingers rubbing the fabric, and his eyes are shining, glazed, like he’s looking through the screen instead of at it. He doesn’t even look like he’s watching it. He looks like he’s just thinking, thinking, thinking, thinking, with the television as background noise, as a distraction.

He looks lonely.

“Hey, Abed,” Annie says gently so she doesn’t startle him, but he startled anyway, looking at her. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Hi,” he responds, almost just whispering. “No, I uh… No.”

“It’s late,” she tells him. It was a little past midnight last she checked as she worked on her forensics essay. “Don’t you think you should go to bed?”

He stares at her, like he’s looking through her, like she’s another screen, before looking away.

“One more episode,” he says.

She pauses, watching as he turns back to the television.

“Hey,” she says after a few seconds. “I haven’t seen Rachel in a while, how’s she doing?”

“We broke up,” he says without hesitating, and she blinks, jerking her chin back in surprise.

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“But…” She shifts on her feet, wondering if she should sit next to him. “I thought you guys were really happy together, I thought you loved each other.”

“We did, it just… sort of fizzled.” He bites his lip, watching the Inspector pull a map out of his pocket, even though it looks too big too fit. “It just felt like we were going through the motions of a relationship. Going through tropes and dates because that’s what we were supposed to do. It didn’t feel like love love.”

“What… What does?”

He sighs, adjusting the blanket.

“It just feels different,” he says. His voice is stronger now. “Better.”

“Abed?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s it feel like to fall in love?”

After a second, he moves on the sofa, shifting closer to the armrest and gesturing subtly beside him. She sits, crossing her legs and facing him. Curious.

“It’s really nice,” he says softly. “It feels like coming home. They’re familiar. And comforting.”

Annie makes a mental note of Abed’s use of they’re, but stays quiet, listening intently.

“They’re safe. Like you can say or do anything and you know they won’t judge you or think you’re weird or want you to stop.” He speaks softly, like he’s forgotten he’s speaking to her, like he’s talking to himself.

“And you trust them,” he continues “Because you know they won’t hurt you. Because you know them and they know you.”

Annie doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t want to interrupt. So she looks away, letting him speak, listening and listening and thinking and thinking.

“And it doesn’t even matter if they don’t feel the same way, or if they don’t know how you feel, or if they could never feel the same way, or…” His voice breaks at never, trembling and snapping like a dry leaf. He shakes his head, furrowing his brows lightly. He’s looking through the screen again.

“Because just being with them is enough. Just being around them, just knowing that they’re there is enough. It’s okay if they don’t feel the same because just existing with them is enough. It’s like floating in the middle of the ocean.”

She looks back at him. His eyes are shinier than before. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“It’s so peaceful and welcoming and beautiful, but it… feels dangerous. Like at any second something might pull you under and drown you.”

He’s quiet.

She doesn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue, waiting for him to tell her something that will tell her yes, it’s exactly what you’re thinking, something that will confirm her suspicions about herself and him. But he doesn’t for a while, watching the screen.

“It sucks,” he says, and his voice cracks like he’s trying not to let it shatter. “It sucks, and I hate it.”

“Why?” she whispers. “It sounds beautiful.”

It does. It sounds amazing. And unfamiliar. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt it before, not with Jeff or Rich or Vaughn or any of the guys she liked in high school.

“It is,” he says. “It’s just… You can’t help it. When you fall there’s nothing you can do to catch yourself. You’re paralysed and you just have to hope for the best. Nothing hurts more than falling and just… crashing. Fucking face planting.”

Annie’s eyes widen. She doesn’t hear Abed talk like this often. He blinks and pulls the blanket tighter around himself.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he repeats softly. His voice becomes thick, softened with the tears flooding his eyes that won’t spill over. “Even when you try to ignore it and pretend it’s something different, something normal, it doesn’t change. And even though it sucks, it’s still beautiful and amazing, because you can just… You find them everywhere. They’re in everything that makes you happy, everything beautiful.”

Annie takes a deep breath, looking away, overwhelmed with realisations and realisations.

“And it sucks because it won’t leave you alone. They won’t leave you alone,” he says, and Annie wants to reach out and touch him. But she doesn’t. “Fucking everywhere. Everywhere I look,” he breathes, “he’s right there.”

Annie’s eyes swell, looking at the screen, and the colours blend and blur until her vision is a bleary mess of shifting blues and reds and shadows and light.

It makes sense.

The blanket from the fort, torn apart the day after Troy left, completely demolished while Annie was out, a pile of blankets and pillows and tape and ties and a melted Abed in the middle of it, curled into himself, clutching at the blue blanket, the same one that’s pulled around him right now.

The days and days Abed spent in the apartment, refusing to even get out of bed.

The red sweatshirt he wore for weeks until Annie convinced him to take it off long enough for her to wash it, and the way he cried when he got it back, murmuring that it smelled different.

The nonstop Inspector Spacetime on the television, playing and playing and playing even though it’s clear that Abed’s mind is miles and miles and miles away.

“Abed?” Annie asks softly, because he’s fallen silent and unmoving. He doesn’t respond, but his eyes shift from the television to the floor, still glassy and unfocused. He exhales, like he’s realised what he’s just told her. “Are you... Are you in love with Troy?”

It takes a few seconds, a few silent, empty seconds, and then he takes a deep, shuddering breath and nods so weakly he barely moves at all. And then he crumbles.

The tears finally fall and he leans toward Annie, turning his face into her when she wraps her arms around him, barely even noticing that she’s crying herself.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs when a sob breaks out of him, burying her face in his neck, against the blanket and his skin, trying not to let her voice shake. “That’s okay.”

“I don’t—” Abed chokes, and she shakes her head, hushing.

“It’s okay, Abed, it’s okay.”

He cries.

And cries.

She holds him, murmuring to him and doing her very very best to not let herself break. She’s never seen him like this, or heard him like this, sobbing, and whining and gasping, shivering, moaning, trembling, clutching at the blanket like it’s a lifeline.

When he calms down, he slumps, falling against Annie, between her arms, and she runs a hand through his hair, laying her cheek on his head, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as his shoulders rise and fall.

“It’s okay,” she whispers after a few minutes of quiet, because she doesn’t know if he’s fallen asleep or not. She’d let him fall asleep, right here in her arms.

He takes a shaky sigh, and then says, “I know.”

She relaxes, leaning against the back of the sofa and lifting her leg to rest it on top of his lap. He lays a hand on her leg, rubbing gently at the fabric of her pajama pants.

“Have you told him?” she asks, and he scoffs.

“How would I?” he says, more than asks. “How would I tell Troy Barnes I’m in love with him? Troy Barnes…” he says, almost wistfully. “Star quarterback and prom king.” His voice cracks.

“You mean Troy Barnes, supreme dork?” Annie says, frustrated. “The same Troy that built a blanket fort across the whole school with you just because? And that got a gluon photo with you at a Spacetime Convention so you guys could be bound together forever?” His hand grips her leg, holding onto her like he’s bracing himself. “That held your hand in the hallways so you wouldn’t have to look up and get overwhelmed or overstimulated? That got you your first stim toy in your favourite color?”

Abed sighs again, nuzzling his face into Annie’s shoulder, and she presses closer.

“He loves you, Abed,” she says gently. “Even if it’s not the same way you love him, it won’t change anything, I promise.”

He’s quiet, and she would think he’s fallen asleep if his fingers weren’t still fiddling with her pants. There’s a little indent in the fuzz, where there’s a smiley face, and he runs his fingertips over it, scratching and rubbing it.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he finally says, so softly she almost doesn’t hear him.

“Of course.”

“The uhm…” He takes a deep shaky breath. “The whole apartment smells like the ocean. Like sea salt. All the time.”

Annie’s heart crumbles like a sandcastle and she exhales.

“That’s beautiful,” she says, because it is. Even though it hurts even her, and she’s never even been in love with Troy.

“I guess.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispers after a quiet minute, because she isn’t sure how much longer she can hold this thing inside of her, this thing she didn’t even know was inside of her, pushed away on a shelf and covered in dust.

“Tell me.”

“I—” She cuts off, taking a sharp breath and biting her lip, wondering how to say it. It takes her longer than she’d like, thinking and thinking until her brows are drawn and her lips are pursed. Abed waits.

“I think I, uhm… I think I’m a lesbian.”

“...Okay.”

Annie squeezes her eyes shut, letting tears cascade down her cheeks.

Okay.

She takes a gasping breath, trying not to let a sob rack her body, and Abed squeezes her leg, pulling at it so she comes closer.

“That’s okay,” he says softly. “I love you, you know.”

The sob finally breaks free as she chokes out, “I know.”

He lets go of her leg and reaches up, holding her hand and then her wrist and just holding her so her arm presses against his neck harder. She tightens her arms around him, crying. Crying and crying.

“I love you too,” she whispers when she stops. “So much.”

He turns his head and presses a kiss to her shoulder.

“It’s been a very emotional night,” he says lightly, and she chuckles tearfully.

“Yeah.”

“Look, it’s us,” Abed says, lifting a hand and pointing at the television. She’d forgotten it was even on, and she looks over Abed’s head to where Geneva and the Inspector are embracing. Annie giggles, hugging Abed tighter and rocking slightly.

“Do you wanna watch with me?” Abed asks gently, like he’s nervous, and Annie almost says no, but fuck it, it’s a Saturday.

“Yeah,” she says.

They readjust, so Annie is laying on his lap, her hands grasping his leg lightly. He carefully places the end of his blanket over her and unties her ponytail so he can run his hands through her hair.

Annie giggles at the show, at the accents and effects, and she feels Abed’s belly move as he giggles with her. She even laughs as she drifts off, until she falls asleep, gripping Abed’s pajama pants.

She doesn’t see the blorgons get knocked over like Dominos (which Abed knows she would have laughed at), or at the way Geneva says “You're a liar!” that sounds more like “lawyer” on account of her over-exaggerated British accent that sounds Australian (which Abed knows she would have laughed at).

She doesn’t feel Abed move as he retracts his hands from her hair and reaches over the armrest to his laptop on the floor.

He opens it to a map, blackish-grey with little red, glowing dots. He looks, watching them.

Him and Annie, side by side. Jeff and Britta and Shirley at home. Pierce in the cemetery. (Almost a comfort really, despite not being able to get the tracker back. Part of him hates to think about what would happen if he saw it move one day, but another part of him thinks it would be quite the adventure. But, though he’d never say it out loud to anyone but Troy, he wouldn’t want to see if move. He’d honestly hate to find out that Pierce faked it (which he wouldn’t put beneath him). He’d hate to hear what Pierce would have to say about… anything, really.)

He zooms out on the map, scrolling until the world spins and he finds the last red dot, floating in the ocean, miles and miles and miles away.

He watches it, until the tv stops and asks if he’s still watching. He ignores it, forgets about it. Annie moves on his lap, turning her head so her face presses against his leg.

He watches the dot like he’s expecting it to travel around the world by the time the sun comes up, by the time he blinks. It doesn’t move.

He closes the tab.

And opens his email.

And a draft.

And then he types.

Troy,

#im gonna fucking ~CRY~#i miss troy #ive had this idea for so long and I fINALLY DID IT #yay #community #trobed #community nbc #community netflic #troy and abed #troy and abed in the morning #troy barnes #abed nadir #annie edison #trobedison #troy and abed and annie

80 notes · View notes

fukurodaze · 3 years

Text

five stars: part 2 | two hands

IT’S EMBARRASSING: a third year cheerleader!reader x second year athlete!suna au

wc: 3.7k warnings: cursing

prev | m.list | next

a/n: happy birthday to suna rintarou <3

"i’m just saying, the tail just has you dive into the good bits first.”

your close friend, nakamatsu honoka, replies to you in a serious manner. the two of you are in a highly solemn discussion regarding which part of fish bread is to be eaten first, all because you had purchased some fish bread right before your student council meeting and honoka had just happened to catch you on your first bite after practice. now, honoka argues for tail, and you argue for the head.

“yeah, but it just feels... wrong. i mean-”

you don’t finish your sentence, because there’s a high-pitched voice calling your name.

your head turns and the empty hallway reveals ueno momo, the student council’s treasurer, free of her usual budget papers in hand. she brisk walks in a little bit of a frenzy, and as she catches up with the two of you, she asks, “hey, you’re dating that second year right?”

suna? you want to answer.

“what second year?” is what you say.

honoka almost audibly rolls her eyes at your denial, knowing too well of your recent time spent with the second year middle blocker. he’s cute, honoka remembers assuring you, having seen you curled up into a ball at her house, repeating the phrases why and “uegrh” after the mention of suna’s name.

ueno lightly slaps your shoulder, “c’mon. you know what i mean.” she gives you the same smile she gives everyone.

“now, you’re going to the boys’ volleyball gym right?” ueno asks, keen.

“i mean i guess i could stop by, why?”

“i’ll come with you,” ueno adjusts her backpack, “it’s been a while.”

the gym is as loud as you remember it, even louder than the basketball team. it seemed like practice had just been at its peak intensity, and though you’re greeted with stoic eye contact from the coach and the sound of rubber balls hitting strong palms, there’s the unmistakably firm sound of a ball being spiked to the ground right in front of your face.

you would’ve shouted out a good “holy shit!” if it weren’t for ueno grabbing you by the hand and sitting you down on the bench near the coach.

you hear cheering next, and a bunch of glances towards you. it puzzles you how their faces, though smiling, seemed to possess a little glint in all their eyes at the spiker.

of course, when it came down to everything, suna rintarou had to be the one who spiked the ball.

you glance at ueno, who’s fixated on the court, on someone on court, but you’re not sure who. still, you’re curious, “are you the manager of the volleyball team, or something?”

ueno doesn’t take her eyes off the court, “oh, no, i’m just close to the players. i like watching them play.”

you’re pleasantly surprised at the revelation, having not really known any members of the volleyball club except for a handful of the third years and suna, the boy who had found you sleeping like a rooster two mornings ago. he had even walked you to class for that day, and you’re not sure how to feel.

safe to say he had “ran into you” the next morning, and had walked you to class again.

you almost refrain from looking, because every time your eyes are on the court they somehow trace his figure instead of anyone else’s. he’s fast, and clever, and flexible, and sometimes even frustrating to watch because of how successfully he blocks. still, his face stays nonchalant, and though he looks in your direction from time to time, he always seems so unfazed.

his hand runs through his hair, shirt lifting up to wipe some of the sweat on his face, voice deep and loud when he congratulates his teammates.

shit.

his voice rings with every spike from his side, whether it be him or someone else’s. it sends chills down your spine, when someone serves the ball with a nasty spin, or when someone receives it so well that it makes an echoing sound.

when the whistle blows and the players begin to run to the benches to retrieve their water bottles, you catch sight of ueno picking up a water bottle and coming back to her seat, watching as ojiro aran comes up to her and takes the bottle with a thank you, fingers brushing ever so slightly.

“are you two close?”

ueno only looks at you blankly, “i’m busy. i don’t date.”

suspicious, you furrow your eyebrows and lean back onto the wall of the gym, “the question wasn’t about dating.”

“what?” ueno defends, “ar- ojiro-kun is just a friend.”

“i never said anything about ojiro-san.”

“uh, yes you did. look, i’m not dating aran.”

you sigh in defeat, but pick up on the ‘aran’. it’s a matter of seconds before the coach calls the team over to the whiteboard rolling in from the storage room, numerous plays in hand for the interhigh. the coach’s and players’ voices are drowned out by your and ueno’s conversation, however, and it’s only when the coach gestures towards your bench with a shushing motion that you purse your lips and begin whispering to each other.

you hate to wish for a lingering pair of eyes on you.

when practice eventually ends, you and ueno keep sitting on the bench, talking idly as the boys get changed. just before the entire team goes back to the changing rooms, a solid glance from ojiro aran has ueno jump up and race herself to the entrance first. she tells you to stay “for a little bit”.

in the locker rooms, there is cheering.

“suna rintarou, everybody!” miya atsumu is the most entertained by seeing his friend, who is usually the one that makes fun of him, harbour something as small and harmless like a crush - on a third year, no less.

“dude, suna’s beast mode fucking sends.” ginjima adds.

“yeah, did you see how he lifted up his shirt there?”

a round of laughs, even from kita.

“and don’t forget the way he went,” atsumu bends his knees, mimicking suna’s posture in court, voice deepening, “nice one, oomimi!”

oomimi snorts, “didn’t know he had it in him.”

there is another round of laughter.

“ay, it works, though!” osamu chimes in, “if she comes to interhigh with us we might as well win with suna like this.”

atsumu, shirtless, has his arm around suna’s neck, still in his practice gear, voice so loud that it’s almost a direct scream to the ear. suna sees the first years giggling, the second years cheering, and the third years stifling their smirks.

this has been going nonstop for weeks.

“hey, have you even talked to her though?” ginjima comes up to suna as atsumu puts his uniform back on.

suna raises a finger, “why am i supposed to tell you everything that happens between me and her?”

“so you did talk to her?” his voice is loud, and half of the room pans to suna.

“we were just walking-”

“shit, you walked her home?” osamu slides himself back into the conversation.

“not home. we just walk and talk or whatever.”

atsumu has his backpack on already, “hey, progress is progress. don’t you wanna date her?”

suna groans. he finally opens his locker.

“are ya actually serious about dating y/n-san?” aran mutters to suna from the locker beside him, and he almost nods. aran takes it as a yes.

“oh shit. good luck with that. don’t take it personally if she’s too busy for you.” aran shrugs, buttoning up his uniform.

suna squints at the boy, “and how would you know?”

aran smirks, though it seems like he freezes for a split second, “nah. yer right. i wouldn’t.”

one by one, the boys exit the changing room. the twins had decided to go home together, aran by himself for unknown reasons, akagi with oomimi, kita back to the gym, and ginjima waiting for suna.

conversation unrelated to suna’s love life begins to fill the room, and suna is grateful for it. is it his fault for not wanting to talk about you? he’s eager towards you, yes, but that doesn’t help the fact that he’s practically always an internal hurricane whenever you’re near. it even surprises him how he’s gotten to walk you to school for two days now.

“our cheer team is fucking insane though. have you seen their basketball routines? sucks that they’re only on the bleachers for the interhigh.”

“yeah. the marching band doesn’t have as much time to play as well. and the cheer team can’t do any of those basic shoulder sits or basket tosses.”

ginjima raises an eyebrow, “right, and you would know what a basket toss is.”

“i don’t,” suna opens his mouth, before closing it again. you had told him about a basket toss.

“y’know, you should just ask her out.”

“why?” suna has his backpack on, hands gripping the straps.

“whaddya mean, ‘why’? suna, she’s known in school for all these things. what if someone asks her out before you get to?”

suna tsks, and the grip on the straps of his backpack tighten. there’s a tiny sinking feeling in his gut that tells him he’s not good enough - at least, not for you.

the two walk out of the locker rooms and into the now empty gym. ginjima spots you first, still on the benches, looking through your phone, and he elbows suna in the rib before running to the entrance of the gym.

suna is left confused, slightly surprised, and makes eye contact with you. he comes over.

“hey.” he has his hands - three fingers, actually - in his trouser pockets.

you look up from your phone and stand up, “hey.”

“were you waiting for someone?” suna hates how the question comes out.

“well-” you’re not sure what to say, so you pull up your phone, “i was scrolling through food menus and seeing which ones were the best ones to get delivery. nobody’s going to be home, so i figured delivery would be good.”

“there’s this obaa-san nearby that sells fish cake soup and rice balls. we could get that.” he leads you out of the gym, and the two of you walk together.

“we... yeah. we could.” you try to quicken your walking pace to keep up with him.

(he slows down for you.)

the obaa-san’s place is almost like a hut with a few benches and a table behind the school. suna orders the food with a wave and receives a ‘have a good meal, rin-chan’.

“how do you know the obaa-san?” you cross your legs as the two of you settle on the school’s entrance stairs.

“she works as my landlord. the school kind of pays her for me and other recruited athletes to stay there.” he unpacks the fish soup in high-quality plastic containers and passes one container to you along with two rice balls. you tell him thanks.

you chuckle when he takes a tiny bite into his rice balls, “so, rin-chan?”

suna almost chokes. it makes you laugh.

“it’s, like, such a cute name for...”

suna waits for your answer. you finish lowly, with a cheeky smile, “a person like you.”

“you saying i’m not cute?”

there’s a bright look on your face, teeth showing and eyes crinkled. you swat your hand that’s not holding your rice ball, “that’s not it!”

“i’m going this way,” you motion. suna waves his hand as he stops on the roundabout where you turn, watching as you bid him goodbye. your frame, even from the back, is pretty, suna thinks, and he stays on the corner to see you off until you disappear into the other street.

but you don’t - your phone buzzes and it’s a message from the cheer team’s vice captain, kouno yuki, reminding you that the new cheer uniforms are still in the principal’s office, and that the principal’s good for nothing preference for their hundred-thousands yen school band over the ten-thousands yen cheer team would only result in the uniforms being stored in some absurd corner of the large school - again.

you make a whole 180 degree spin back to the direction of the school, finding suna still in the same spot he was before. he asks you as you jog towards the school, “what’s going on?”

“i need to go to principal’s office.”

“is she even still at school at,” he checks his phone, “seven?”

“i’m going to cross my fingers and hope she is.” you walk past him, and he follows you.

“you don’t have to follow me, just go home. i know you’re tired and all after practice,” you protest.

suna only shakes his head. it’s true that he’s tired, yet he finds that energy is the last of his worries whenever he’s with you - rather, his problem is having too much energy around you.

suna stays behind you, brisk walking while you begin to jog with your backpack swaying up and down on your back. there’s one expression you make that burns itself in his mind; much like worry and concern, slight panic laced in your eyes and cheeks. he watches as you look at him once, and then straight ahead, because you never know how much an additional second might cost you.

you’re going fast. but you need faster.

so suna begins to run. he runs, and the gap between his previous fast walk and your light jog is enclosed because he holds your arm gently as he guides you faster along the school’s walkways. the principal’s office is in building A, first floor. ten minute walk, five minute jog, two minute sprint - he estimates (he actually doesn’t know). but right now, you need to be there as soon as possible.

and suna can definitely do as soon as possible.

it takes longer for you to realise that the boy has your wrist in his large hand, taking you along with his speed. you make a sound of exclamation, noting how fast he is, and he mumbles a sorry that drifts behind him through the air and into your ears. it’s funny.

the summer air is cool and warm, and the sky finally gets darker. you see the outline of the moon as you try not to trip on the speed, and you concentrate on how it reflects itself on the current view you have of his back profile, tracing the small breaks and lines of his figure. when he stops, your eyes still linger on him.

“y/n-senpai?”

suna glances up at the sign on the door, and you’re snapped out of your daze, “ah, we’re here.”

he lets go of your arm, and there’s a small emptiness that momentarily plagues the area.

“the principal’s still in there.”

you straighten up your posture, hand combing through hair as you use the front camera of your phone to fix yourself. you turn to suna, “how do i look?”

he gives you an awkward thumbs up and a ghost of a smile. “thanks,” you respond.

you give a knock on the door, and you hear a “come in!”. the door slides open.

you bow respectfully, and suna towers behind you, bowing as well. “just in time. i was about to throw away all these uniforms after they piled up in my room. there are lots of cheerleaders, it seems?”

you force a laugh, “yes, there’s around twenty. we usually split up for different routines with different teams throughout the year.”

“right. now that the badminton team is starting practice, where are you practicing again?” the principal is stern, yet her voice is high-pitched and gentle. it scares you sometimes.

“we’re alternating between the volleyball and basketball gyms, ma’am.”

“are you sure you’re not disturbing the teams? basketball and volleyball seasons are very close together. even the volleyball interhighs are,” she squints at her desk calendar, flipping from the july page to august, “about three weeks away. isn’t that right, suna-kun?”

your head turns when she mentions suna. he nods promptly, but then adds, “the cheerleaders bring lots of energy to the gyms, ma’am.”

the principal raises her eyebrows, “well, if you say so. i still think the band works just as fine. the band makes a rhythm. all cheerleaders do is follow it with their... pompoms, or whatever.”

there is a silence that you don’t know how to break. you freeze unresponsively.

“so, can we pick up the uniforms?” suna says, gathering his guts. you perk up, and so does the principal.

“right, the boxes are on that corner. the person told me you ordered ten medium, five large, five small?”

you nod, and before you know it, you’re carrying a box of ten medium-sized uniforms while suna carries the other ten. the two of you bow again to the principal and she gives an absentminded wave as the two of you exit the room, and eventually the building, in silence.

once out, you start, “what the fuck does she have against cheerleaders?”

suna lets out a laugh he’s been holding the second he heard the principal talk. he adds, “i wasn’t sure if she was joking when she said that thing about throwing the uniforms out.”

“did you hear what she said? the whole fucking, ‘their... pompoms, or whatever.’ or whatever? bitch doesn’t want to acknowledge that cheerleading is a sport and for what!”

you continue, “not only that, the way she went like, ‘are you sure you’re not disturbing’? um, excuse me? of course we’re goddamn sure because we’re on opposite sides of the gym! and all of us know how to focus at least!”

you go on and on about all the things that the principal had said, only fuelling your anger at the principal’s passive-aggressive distaste towards the cheerleading team. you’re thankful that suna supplies your thread of complaints with laughter and agreements at least.

when you finish your rant, you take a deep breath and turn to the boy, stopping just short of a few steps before the cheerleaders’ club room. “thank you for being there with me, suna.”

just suna? without honorifics? suna wants to ask. he brushes it off, “yeah. no problem.”

“oh, and just thank you again for saying that thing. you know, about us bringing energy,” you trail off, but then pick yourself back up, “do we, really?”

suna, of course, knows from past experience that having you around a five-meter radius does some interesting things to his plays, but he makes sure to tell you sincerely and genuinely that the teams - or, the volleyball team, at least - appreciates the added warmth every monday and friday.

the two of you put down the boxes of uniforms inside the club room. you open your box out of impulse and a wave of excitement washes by, “oh my god, do you want to see me in uniform?”

suna flushes bright red - and it’s really obvious.

“you don’t have to get like that! okay, now shoo, imma change.” you swat your hands out, motioning for him to get out of the clubroom to change. it makes his palms sweat just slightly.

outside, suna tries to conjure up the image of last year’s summer uniforms, remembering their short sleeves and skirts, mostly white appearance with maroon accents.

his own mental image was proven wrong when you step out of the club room wearing a completely different uniform. this time it’s black with white and maroon details, ‘inarizaki’ in capital letters plastered over the back and front of your top. you do a little twirl, letting the wind sway your pleated skirt and rush slightly underneath your sleeveless v-neck top, smiling, “how is it?”

“i like y- it.” suna’s eyes widen as soon as he hears himself say it, so he tries to rewrite his words loudly, “it’s- it’s really nice. you look really nice, y/n-senpai.”

“thank you,” you look at him, “and you can call me y/n.”

“right. i’m suna.”

you chuckle, “you know, i designed this myself- okay, not really myself, but yuki helped me with it too. i thought the white got a bit tiring, especially since it doesn’t match with the rest of the school.”

“that’s good,” suna begins, but he doesn’t know how to continue, “yeah, that’s really good.”

suna finds that the night shines in your eyes better than any mirror reflects light; and seeing you, standing before him, smiling wide and eager to show him something you’re proud of, he only feels his heart soften and his harsh demeanour falter. somehow, he feels the urge to keep you close.

when you come back with your school uniform on, the two of you walk again for what seems like the umpteenth time through school. still, neither of you complain - walking takes time, yet time spent with each other is always a good time spent.

“hey, suna,” you ask as the entrance gate comes near.

“yeah,” suna swallows, “y/n?”

“you live around here, right?”

he hums in reply, “just around the back.”

“oh. right.”

“why?”

his question catches you off-guard, “no, we just go in different directions. i’m at the bus stop.”

“my place passes the bus stop from here, so. i can keep walking.”

you glance at him to find his eyes on you first. “okay.”

suna’s mind comes back to earlier in the afternoon, when osamu had reacted with wide eyes at the concept of walking you home and atsumu edged on the idea of dating you. he remembers ginjima the most: ask her out, before anybody else does.

but suna knows he can’t do that - at least not yet.

for now, the back of his hand only hovers over yours, unsure and fleeting, wondering how it would feel like to have your hands intertwined.

taglist: @maitenight @natszoo @ssuna @erens-piss-cleaner @osamus-onigiri @volleybloop @etherealiwa @agaashesmilktea @bicchaan @anngelllla @tycrackculture @sins-over-tragedy @tsumuluv @daichibrainrot @underratedmage @sunasexual @kenmei (if your url is bolded, it means i couldn’t tag you)

send an ask to be added to the taglist!

special thanks to roo @yooroomi, as always, for beta reading this series!

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna x reader #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #hq scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #suna scenarios #suna imagines #suna rintarou #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu suna #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines

88 notes · View notes

weakzen · 3 years

Note

Left on the detective’s desk, a single red rose and a note written in precise handwriting:

Alex,

What happened to you - you didn’t deserve it. You can be loved, if you let yourself.

Happy Valentine’s Day

(yolo experimental style; alex/mason, early established relationship, angst and fluff; no direct mention of abuse, just oblique circling and fatalistic thoughts; rated m for mason; also on AO3~)

Even though I didn't finish reading it, even though I hid it from sight, imprisoned it in darkness, cast it to the depths of the bottom drawer until the end of shift, when it would be possible to smuggle the thing into the break room recycle bin without risking Tina's eyes or interrogation, that stupid fucking note has somehow still managed to reach up through all those heavy files and twist my stomach into knots.

For hours.

Plucking my nerves hard enough to make my hands fucking shake too. Typos in every report, backspace key pulling overtime without pay. Not helped by eyes that won't stop stinging. Armpits that haven't fully dried either, along with a weird chill, shivers that persist despite the sweater and the cranked-up thermostat.

At least the rose is gone. Snuck it into the arrangement on Tina's desk, the one I get her every year.

It looks better surrounded by friends.

It was nice to see it on the desk this morning

(Can still smell it perfuming the air.)

And if I could get rid of my thoughts as easily, I would. Because after half a day of chasing them in circles, I still can't figure out who the fuck sent that goddamn note, who the fuck would write something like that—say shit like that, to me—who could possibly fucking think or know or say anything about that, or that I-I, that I—

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckingfuck.

That sickly feeling wrenches again, hard enough to jerk me forward over the desk, face buried in my hands while my breathing shudders into something unsteady and vaguely gasping.

Fuck.

It can't be Tina.

It can't.

It should be, but it can't.

The writing's not loopy enough to be hers, and it's not slanted enough to be Verda's, and the damn thing isn't covered in nearly enough heart stickers to be from Felix. We all should know. Nate's been sighing nonstop for the past week, scraping them off every available surface in the Warehouse—except for the lacy pink one Felix managed to sneak right between Adam's shoulders.

And the glittery red one I pressed covertly to Mason's ass.

(Maybe not so covertly. Found a few hearts stuck to my underwear later when I slipped outta my jeans, and the secrets of how the fuck he pulled that off are still locked behind his smirk.)

A smile tries to pull at my lips, but the tightness in my gut warps it crooked.

Another shuddery breath.

It can't be from Adam either. If he had something to say to me, he'd just say it, preferably after he finished laying me out on the mats, all sweaty and sucking down air from another session of his gentle ass-kicking. Nate, however, would write a note to me. Has written a note to me. Has written many notes to me and still not made a dent in that stack of expensive stationary, and although the card stock was silk cream, the pigment obsidian night, and the calligraphy swooping in almost a dead ringer, I know it can't be from Nate because he would never leave a rose with his words, not the ones meant for me.

But there isn't anyone else.

There's Mason

And it can't be from him.

It's not his handwriting, to start. I think. I'm pretty sure. I've never actually seen his writing, but I can't imagine it would be anything resembling neat or careful. It's gotta be complete chicken scratch. All cramped and illegible. He's left handed too, barely patient enough to sit through a stoplight, much less give ink the time to dry, so there'd be definitely be smears, and there weren't any smears. At all. Can't be him.

Not to mention he'd never do anything like this.

Don't know why he keeps coming to mind anyway. Just because we're…

Together

—for now.

Doesn't mean he'd ever say anything like that—

He already has

(He did. He said I deserved better and I believe him, but I don't, I can't.)

—only because he'd say differently if he knew.

If he really knew.

He'd say different and I'm not gonna fucking tell him and it doesn't fucking matter anyway, it doesn't. Shine's gonna wear off soon enough. Novelty, satisfied. Boredom, returning. And at least the conversation won't be awkward, just… blunt. To the point. A first for us both, in topic, if not style.

I've never been dumped before, at least not in a romantic sense.

Another breath. Another shuddery breath.

Wonder how it's gonna feel.

(It's gonna suck.)

No fucking shit.

If it can't last, why agree to it at all?

I rub hard at my eyes, grinding palms into sockets.

If it can't last, why not tell him anyway?

Because I already fucking know! Don't need to hear it from him, don't wanna hear it from—

If it can't last, why does it matter what he thinks?

“…Stupid fucking note.”

It was nice to see it on the desk this morning

(Someone took the time, wrote it, left it in here. Someone cares.)

Someone's playing a sick fucking joke, more like.

What if it's genuine?

I scoff ragged, squeezing fingers around the back of my neck.

(Tina cares. So does Verda. The whole team, so many others, I know, and I believe them all but I don't. I can't.)

What if you didn't deserve it?

I did. I stayed and I did. My fault. Fucking stupid, like he always said.

(All Mason ever speaks is care. In a thousand different ways of touch, in silence, in lingering looks, he cares.)

What if you can be loved?

What if you can?

A brittle laugh wheezes past my lips and shoots toward something hysterical, boosted by acid burn and cloying petals and that churning, churning tightness. My shoulders hunch high around my ears while the sound pitches even higher, lungs immolated and screaming along, nails digging, cutting crescents as I shake and curl tighter, smaller, compacting into stiffness hard enough to rival diamonds, every muscle verging on a cramp and my throat is stinging and my eyes are on fire, hot, wet, and the door is closed, the blinds shut, and maybe I could just— this time— if I stayed quiet, I could—

I could—

But I don't.

I swallow once, twice, suck down, blink it away, then snap upright and get back to work. There's too much shit, not enough time.

Never enough time, not for that.

For you

(Remember to eat lunch.)

I don't.

I don't really remember talking to anyone either. Or finishing paperwork. Answering email. Clearing the inbox backlog, digital and otherwise, but the stack depletes, the numbers go down, Tina gives me shit from the doorway, and soon the peripheral lights tick off overhead in the foyer, a mop bucket rattles its rounds, darkness crept into my office at some point for a visit and now it's here to stay, just its quiet company along with the monitor blasting eye strain, clacking keys, tight shoulders, a headache, and then—

A familiar ass plops down on my desk and scares the shit out of me.

I jerk back in the chair, wheels rolling, hand over heart to keep it from pounding free and Mason looms above it all, bathed in harsh blues, deep shadows, a deeper frown, and eyes that refuse to obey the rules of any ambient illumination.

Right now? They're crinkled soft, even as they scrutinize.

He looks… worried.

When did he even open my door?

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“…Yeah,” I mutter. A lie, an obvious one, but I fight the urge to glance away and dare him to call me out anyway. “You need something, sunshine?”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “You're late.”

“For what?”

We didn't make plans.

“Getting home.”

Fuck.

I sigh, slumping in the seat, and now I'm looking away, now I'm backing down, running a hand through my hair, mussing and tangling, just like he always does when he's uncertain.

And when the hell did I start doing that?

“Yeah, I'm still behind on shit from my vacation. I was gonna stay late tonight, try and catch up…” I explain, because Tina and I also didn't make plans this year.

(Because she's been marinating in smugness ever since I sighed and told her about the relationship. Because she dropped that shit-eating smirk earlier—that I remember, at least—dripping suggestion all over my office as she waggled her brows and winked and made obnoxious kissy faces until I shoved her out the door, but not before she told me to 'have lots of fun tonight, Alexandra.')

Sure.

“Sorry I didn't text. I… forgot.”

That tightness in my stomach does another loop, and I huff a quiet breath.

Stupid fucking note.

Mason folds his arms. “…The fuck is going on with you?”

Concern blunts the teeth of his words, not that there's any real bite. There never is, not with him, but I tense up anyway, expecting it, expecting to be ripped open.

Blood and pain.

I'd tense up no matter how he asked.

It's okay

(He's not Bobby.)

“Nothing,” I reply, folding my arms, eyes down, “just…”

It's okay

(He's not looking to hurt.)

Probably will anyway, but fuck it. I already know his answer.

Let's just get it over with.

“You didn't leave me a valentine earlier, did you?” My gaze snaps to his. “On my desk?”

Mason scoffs. “Why the hell would I do that?”

This time, it stabs instead of twists, higher up, somewhere in my chest. Something sharp instead of dull.

Disappointment? …Relief? I'm not sure.

Just that it stings.

And it's nighttime, so maybe he feels it too, and maybe that's why he unfolds his arms and shifts toward me, boot heel dangling by the bottom drawer while his voice drops to a softness that matches his accent. “What it say?”

“Nothing,” I repeat, even quieter than him. “Just someone fucking with me. It doesn't matter.”

It does

(Shouldn't lie, not to him. Don't need to. Don't want to, don't like it.)

Mason doesn't like it either, but he doesn't push it. Neither do I.

We look away from each other.

The office swelters around us, too stuffy, too small. Too silent and uncomfortable now to stay. I roll forward to save my work, then turn the computer off and Mason's already waiting for me by the door, a dark silhouette framed by distant fluorescent, my coat and bag hanging off his arms. He pulls me in while I put it all on, yanking me by lapels before abandoning them for the sweater on my lower back, the loose hair at my nape. His lips brush against mine in slow movements, soft nibbling, and he's whispering something to me with it all, with the strokes of his fingers and the circle of our chins, but I can't quite hear.

So ask

(He'll answer—and he won't lie.)

I swallow, then I do.

“…What kind of kiss was that?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs beneath my hands, breath tickling my face. “I want you to feel better.”

“Oh.”

A shadow flits behind his eyes.

“…And if he's still bothering you, I'm gonna break his fucking jaw again.”

I chuckle softly. “Pretty sure it wasn't him this time.”

“Good.” Mason nibbles another kiss, then smirks. “Might still do it anyway.”

That gets a laugh from both of us, one that sprawls into a pause, grey eyes locked to mine while our grins fade out and our breath catches on everything unspoken and nameless rushing in to take the space.

Honesty. It's what I try to speak. Trailing up from the emotional ooze, raw and sticky.

I hope he can fucking see it, hear it cry, but I wipe it off and whisper the words into shape anyway, cheeks flaming, just to be sure—

“I'm sorry, I just… I don't wanna talk about it now.”

—and he answers me with a brush of his mouth, with his tongue parting my lips, with the way he teases into me before licking deeper, the way he jerks our hips together then shoves, a knee between my thighs, my back into a wall, a door frame, a sharp corner, a low groan rumbling up his chest directly into mine and I hear it all this time, in his breathy panting at the edge of our kiss, the firmness in his fingers angling my face to his, the solid heat of his cock pressed hard against me, grinding slow while I cling tight and moan, I hear it all, but he sucks my lip in with a sharp inhale, rolls me around his mouth before releasing with a drag of teeth, and he murmurs it aloud anyway, just to be sure—

“I know, sweetheart. It's fine.”

—then he nips down hard, and it's hard not to smile, hard not to laugh, harder still not to nip that asshole right back, so I don't.

Hold back, that is.

Our lips are swollen and sore by the time the station door swings shut behind us.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc m #twc mason #mason x detective #mason #the detective #zfic #alex/mason #alexandra black

31 notes · View notes

domesticblisss · 3 years

Text

Näher | PT.06

Walter x Female Reader (Nicknamed ‘Hase’) Mob AU! Rating: Mature (Minors DNI) Word Count: 2186 Warnings: Angst, smut and fluff, the holy trinity. Alcohol mention, annoying dude at a bar. Oral (female receiving), fingering, PiV. Summary: Hase and Walter has to stay away from each other for over a year. A/N: Blame Walter’s appearances on NXT and NXT UK this week. Pt.01 | Pt.02 | Pt.03 | Pt.04 | Pt.05

I haven’t seen Walter in over a year. Shit went down with Bobby Gunns’ gang and he made Axel, Fabian and Alex flee with me to the US, to Florida of all places. It has been the worst 483 days of my life. I haven’t spoken to him since he made me leave, no “goodbyes”, no “I see you laters”, no “I love yous”, only a “You’ve got 30 minutes to pack your stuff. Axel is going to help you and Fabian and Alex will be waiting for you in the car.” It was the most silent and nerve wrecking car ride ever. Alex’s knuckles were whiter than usual from how tight his grip on the steering wheel was, Axel’s legs bounced nonstop, and I am pretty sure Fabian was saying a prayer in italian under his breath. My nerves got the best of me and my incessant questioning started. “What is going on?” Silence “Where are we going?” Silence “Why isn’t Walter with us?” Silence “Is everything ok?” “Will you shut the fuck up?” Fabian yelled from the front seat, earning a smack on the head from Axel, who sat by my side in the back. “There’s no need to talk to her like that, Fabian.” Alex, always the voice of reason, started. “Hase, I’m sorry about peanut head over here and everything that’s going on. Do you remember Jurn?” I nodded. “He turned on us. He works for Gunns and somehow made his way into our business. Walter found out but he was still able attack the office by the docks and we lost a few men. Gunns was planning on going after you to get to Walter.” “Oh.” I couldn’t say anything else and I felt Axel’s hands in mine, squeezing it tightly. A few minutes passed before I was able to open my mouth again. “Is Walter okay?” “Yeah, he’s fine. He has some stuff to solve but he’s fine. Don’t worry about him.” it was Axel’s turn to answer me. “Where are we going?” “Florida.” “Why?” “We’ve got business there too and it’s safer.” I could fell the tiredness coming from Axel’s voice. “Hm, okay. Is Walter going to meet us there?” “I don’t know. At least not right now, he’s going back to Austria for a little while.” “What about Tim?” “You know how loyal Tim is to Walter. He’ll just go wherever Walter goes.” I could only nod. The last 10 minutes of the car ride and the 14+ hour plane trip were made in complete silence. ------ It has been 483 days since I have last seen Walter or even heard his voice. In the beginning, I would bombard the boys with questions daily, asking if I could call him – which the answer was always no – asking if he was ok, asking when he was coming to meet us or how was the businesses. My constant running around to only be met with dismissiveness from his side and vague answers from the boys started to get tiring and I lost my will by the fourth month. The three of them were kind enough to not force me to talk about him anymore and were always finding a way to slip a little info here and there during conversations for me to catch on. Tim came to be with us around the six-month mark and brought with him the copy of The Rolling Stones’ Aftermath vinyl Walter and I would always listen to after a hard day, me either sitting on his lap or us dancing around his library when “Under My Thumb” came on. Inside the vinyl case was a letter handwritten by him, ever the man of few words, the letter was as short as I would imagine a letter written by Walter would be.

“Hase,

I am deeply sorry about how fast everything happened and that I couldn’t even say a proper goodbye.

I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you got hurt because of me and I am sorry for not calling you, but this is for the best as of right now.

Things are getting better around here, and we will see each other again someday.

I hope this record brings you good memories and makes your days a little better like it used to when we had each other.

Love, yours forever,

Walter.”

“Someday”. What the fuck was “someday” supposed to mean?

------

I left the house a couple of weeks after Tim arrived, all their presences and Walter not being there was getting to be unbearable, as they were acting as if I was this fragile object that would break at any given point. So, for the sake of my mental health, I decided to leave the house and rent a place for me in downtown Miami and opened a record store to keep my mind occupied since the boys already had people running their businesses around here, only calling me in when they needed a second opinion.

It wasn’t like I stopped seeing them, at least one of them would go everyday to the store and Fridays were the days where we would get together to drink, eat and talk all night long. Besides that, my days simply consisted of yoga, working out when I felt like, looking out for the store, and going out for drinks at night to the bar on the street corner of the store.

The Bar is owned by Gus and Angela, a couple in their fifties that have known each other since high school. The nicest people I have ever met, they took me under their wings on the first night I went there. They saw how down I was and started talking to me, asking about “what is making a sweet angel like you hurt like this?” and I told them everything. I probably shouldn’t but I am sure Walter isn’t the most dangerous and “issues with the law heavy” person they got to know. Every night since then, they made sure my favourite spot on the counter was free for whenever I arrived, that my favourite drink was on stock and, of course, that I didn’t drink too much, that no assholes got into funny business with me and that I arrived home safe.

Today was supposed to be another one of those nights. It was way busier than usual, but my seat was still free, and my drink was there waiting for me, being super crowded, they couldn’t give me the attention they always did.

I barely sat on the stool and I could feel eyes staring at me from my left side. I turned around to be met with blue blood shot eyes, messy, bleached, and drier than the Sahara Desert blonde hair.

“Hey, peach. What is a sweet thing like you doing here?” the man asked.

“Drinking.”

“Yeah? Me too! I’m Dolph, what can I get you?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“C’mon sweetheart,” he got up to stand closer to me, his hands touching my hair as he spoke up again “order something, it’s on me. Let’s have some fun.”

“I’m good, dude. Thanks again.” I told him and as I turned to face my right side, I felt his hand grab my left arm.

“I said, let’s have some fun you little b–“ he was cut off by a too familiar voice.

“I think she said no, weichei.”

“Walter?”

“Geht es dir gut, Hase?” he said as he came to my side and I could only nod.

“Oh, I see. So, this is your type, huh? You little sl-“ Walter cut the Dolph guy off once again, this time by punching his nose. The whole bar stopped, and Angela came to me to know what was going on.

“Is everything ok, dear?”

“Yes, I’m so sorry, Angie. This dude was bothering me but it’s fine now. This is Walter by the way.” I look behind me to see him greeting her with a wave and that stupid childish grin he gets on.

“Oh, now I understand you, darling. Go, just go and leave it to us to take care of this loser.”

Luckily, Walter’s car was parked right out of the bar so the walk to it wasn’t long. I could feel him right behind me, his hand finding its way to the small of my back, only to have me walking a little faster so I can get away of his touch.

The air inside the car felt thick with tension that seemed one sided when Walter slowly typed my address on the navigation system.

“How do you know my address? Wait, that’s a stupid question. Of course you know it. Axel gave it to you, right?”

“Yes.”

The 10-minute ride felt like an hour long. I couldn’t say anything, and Walter knew better than to try and strike a conversation like nothing happened. Both of my legs were bouncing nonstop, and Walter gave in to his default reaction to when I got like this: he put his hand on my knee and squeezed it, knowing that it usually calmed me down.

“Please don’t touch me.”

He was quick to comply.

It didn’t take us too long to get to the apartment and I wordlessly told him to get in.

“This is a nice place.”

“Yeah.”

“Feels like you.”

“God, Walter. Cut the fucking small talk.” I snapped.

“What do you want me to say?”

“What do I want you to say?! I had to fucking flee Germany and leave you behind. I stayed one year and three months with no contact with you whatsoever. One year and three months without hearing your voice, without seeing you, having to beg to one of the guys to give me any sort of information on you and you are asking me what I want you to say? Are you really that out of touch?”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s it? You’re sorry? Fuck! I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” I kept repeating those words while slapping his chest only to be stopped by having him hold my wrists and bring me closer to him.

“Again, I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be this way.” I didn’t let him continue and kissed him.

His hands immediately left my wrists, one of them grabbing me by the back of my hair and the other going straight to my waist, bringing me even closer to him, as if that was possible.

He backed me up on the kitchen doorway, his hands working quickly to take all the layers of fabric that got in our way and as soon as my pants hit the floor, he got on his knees and started eating me out.

It is like he had a map of my body memorised on his head. He knew exactly where to bite on my thighs, the exact pressure to apply on my clit when he was sucking it and how I liked my nipples to be played with. I broke down when he got two thick fingers inside of me. He got up and held me after I stopped spasming, the high too big after one year getting by with my trusty vibrator. He held me tight, as if, if he let me go, I would disappear.

“Are you ok?”

“Mhm” I nodded and let out a shaky laugh.

“Wanna keep going?”

“Please!”

He guided us to my couch, sitting down and pulling me to his lap.

“Go on, use me as your will.” He offered.

I sank down onto his shaft slowly, getting used to the thickness of it once again.

“You used to be faster at this.” He mocked me.

“I haven’t fucked anyone in a year, give me a break.”

“Don’t you have a vibrator?”

“I do and he’s not as big and thick as you.”

“Good.”

I started riding him slowly, each up and down motion bringing me closer to bottoming him out. I held on to his hand, which he brought to his lips and started kissing each fingertip, murmuring “I love you” after every kiss.

His breathing got uneven as my movements became more erratic, his thrusts got faster, meeting mine halfway. It wasn’t long before we came together.

I got off from his lap and laid down on the couch, panting. He took this as an opportunity to grab us some water in the kitchen, and when he came back, he laid on top of me.

We stayed quiet for a few minutes, only staring at each other. He had the same look of adoration he gave me the first time I ran into him with Axel on the grocery store.

“What?” I broke the silence.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I am truly sorry that everything happened like this. I never meant to stay away from you this long, but you know Bobby was a dangerous guy and I had to take precautions. I promise you this will never happen again and that I will never leave you again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Never again. I’m all yours.”

------

Translations

Weichei: Wimp

Geht es dir gut, Hase?: Are you ok, Hase?

→

#walter #walter wwe #walter imagine #walter x reader #wrestling imagine #nxt imagine #DB Writes

22 notes · View notes

wheresmynaya · 3 years

Text

Lost in the Lights Ch.2 | Brittana

Okay so I’m breaking routine here by posting another chapter so soon but I’m just blown away by the response so far and I got excited. LIKE WOAH, I really thought I wasn’t going to reach many people with this bc like...sports. Guess we all just really love Brittana, huh?

Also, 9-0 baby! 😘

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x)

No one is more surprised by the discovery of the Titans’ new quarterback than Santana. Actually, surprised doesn’t even begin to cover it. Santana’s flat out dumbfounded by the news.

Is it the fact that they’ve never had a female Titan, let alone a female QB? Is it the fact that she’s actually really good? Is it the fact that it’s Brittany?

Santana’s at a loss.

The blonde just didn’t strike her as the type to play such a rough sport. She’s like this walking ray of sunshine that irks Santana to no end and she’s only had to deal with her for like a week! No one would’ve ever guessed that Brittany was the one to lead the Titans to their first win but maybe that’s because there’s apparently this side of her that Santana just hadn’t seen yet?

Judging by the way Brittany dominated on the field, Santana had her all wrong.

Santana spends her entire weekend trying to stay on top of her tan before the Autumn chill sets in, but in between sips of cold sweet tea and scrolling through her social media feeds there’s Brittany. Again, she doesn’t know why the quarterback keeps disrupting her thoughts, but it seems like she can’t outrun the girl.

At the moment, Brittany’s everywhere Santana looks! Mainly on social media; one minute Santana’s liking a picture Quinn posted of them before the game on Friday and the next she’s being bombarded by shots of Brittany posing with her teammates. Mike and Sam basically make the same exact post with the whole New Year New QB, but what surprises her is that even Puck is on her feed doing the same thing!

To think that the guys would even allow having a female quarterback is beyond her, because the last time she checked they were all a bunch of sexist pigs. Then again, maybe Coach Beiste has finally taught them all a thing or two about respecting women enough to be okay with playing alongside them?

Santana has no idea.

It’s just crazy how this girl seems to have popped up out of nowhere and now Santana can’t get away even when she’s not at school. The weekends are sacred to her, it’s her time to relax and reset before having to deal with all the McKinley High imbeciles but seeing so much of Brittany has her thoughts running nonstop.

What’s worse is that Santana can’t describe why she’s so annoyed by it all!

It isn’t until Monday rolls around that things finally start to come to a head.

The Titans’ recent win still seems to be the only thing anyone at McKinley wants to talk about, but Santana manages to evade all those conversations. She doesn’t know anything about the game other than the Titans have sucked for most of her high school career but she’s still obligated to cheer for them.

It’s a small price to pay when you’re a real winner. The Cheerios have way more titles and that’s really the only thing Santana cares about.

It’s all apart of her master plan to get the hell out of Lima once she graduates. With several National Championship wins under her belt, along with being Co-Captain since Sophomore year, Santana’s hoping it’ll help to expand her university options.

Although, she knows her future is practically mapped out for her – deep down she still has hope for a miracle. Until then, she just wants to make sure she’s well-prepared for anything which means retaining her position on the squad and making good grades.

Santana goes through the motions of the school day as usual, and as usual she fights the inescapable feeling of giddiness as she makes her way towards her final class of the day. She doesn’t actually mind the class – Miss Holliday is secretly one of her favorite teachers at McKinley – but she’s not the blonde that’s making her stomach fill with fluttery things.

She’s barely taken two steps into the room when she spots Brittany already sitting at their shared desk. She had been resting her chin in her palm looking bored as ever until Santana walked in. That’s when Brittany perked up and turned on her signature mega-watt smile.

It was getting harder and harder for Santana to scowl at the sight of it.

“Hi!” Brittany greeted happily as Santana took a seat next to her, “How was your weekend?”

It was always the same with Brittany, no matter what kind of look Santana threw her way. Brittany never seemed to be fazed by her grumpiness. She just took it in stride and continued to try and make conversation even if Santana never gave her much to work with.

Maybe that’s why Santana’s drawn to the blonde? She doesn’t scare easily unlike most at the school who wouldn’t dare be so persistent.

“Fine,” Santana answered with a sigh of indifference while she got settled and took out her binder and pen.

“Awesome,” Brittany nodded and picked up her own pen to start doodling, “I had good weekend too. I went to the park, did some chores around the house, hung out with some guys from the team and – “

The team caused a crack in Santana’s façade.

She looked to Brittany, trying to figure out how the girl sitting next to her was the same fierce player she saw Friday night. With the confusion and curiosity that’s been building ever since, the words just came tumbling out of her before she could catch them.

“You’re our new QB,” Santana stated but it sounded more like an accusation than an observation.

Brittany’s brows rose and a coy smile began to spread across her lips, “So you can say more than two words?”

Santana rolled her eyes at the sarcasm but even more so at how that smile made her stomach flip. She really needed to get her shit together.

“But yeah,” Brittany added coolly, “Seems like I am.”

Santana looked down at her binder, “You didn’t say.”

“You didn’t ask,” Brittany replied just as quickly.

Before Santana could get wrapped up in that giddy feeling again, she hardened herself. She was starting to see how Brittany could keep up with the guys on the team, the girl was quick and she had confidence.

Santana liked that…or whatever.

“Sup dudes!” Miss Holliday greeted the class as she strolled in just after the bell, “Is this Monday dragging or what?”

Some kids grunted in agreement. Brittany chuckled away and Miss Holliday smirked up at her.

“Awesome game, Chica!” Miss Holliday complimented as she walked down their row closest to Brittany. She held out her fist for Brittany to bump, “You kicked butt out there.”

“Thanks,” Brittany replied sweetly as their fists connected, “It was a team effort.”

“Spoken like a true leader. About time we got a little girl power in this school,” Miss Holliday nodded approvingly before moving down the row.

Santana watched Brittany giggle then get swept up in listening to Miss Holliday’s instructions for the warm-up activity. Again, Santana found herself in awe of how Brittany was the same girl who could break tackles and fire a football downfield. Brittany was friendly and soft and diplomatic, nothing like any of the guys on the team.

“You’re staring,” Brittany pointed out although her gaze remained on Miss Holliday now standing at the front of the class setting up the projector.

Santana doesn’t know why, but Brittany’s comment makes her cheeks burn.

She was glad when one of the kids closest to the door was asked to turn off the lights. In the darkness, she found some comfort and a little confidence. She was able to get a grip and act like a normal person.

“We’ve never had a female QB before,” Santana whispered. She had her pen in hand, trying to follow along with everyone else by doing the activity but her focus was elsewhere.

“So I’ve heard,” Brittany replied just as softly.

Santana didn’t know what to say next; this was the most they’ve spoken to each other thus far and she really didn’t know where the conversation was going.

What she didn’t anticipate though was fucking it all up with one sentence.

“Girls,” Santana breathed out and for some reason the word made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She didn’t realize she hadn’t said it in awhile, maybe not since seeing…

Santana swallows hard at the memory trying to worm its way in. She pushes it to the back of her mind; now isn’t the time for it.

“Girls,” She repeats herself with a steadier voice, “They aren’t supposed to play football.”

When Brittany looks at her, the friendly smile is gone and her pretty blue eyes are darker and fill with disbelief.

Santana knows she said the wrong thing the second the words leave her lips. It’s not exactly what she meant, but it’s too late to take it back now. Her words have already done the damage.

“Huh,” Brittany scoffs and averts her eyes back to her work, “Didn’t expect to hear that coming from you.”

Santana frowns – mostly out of guilt – but her instincts have her on the defense, “What’s that suppose to mean?”

She watches Brittany’s jaw tighten before she’s turning to look at Santana again. Her brows knit together, “It means I didn’t think you were the small-minded type.”

Santana feels winded.

She’s been called many things in her life and has heard some creative insults aimed at her, but never has she ever been called small-minded. She’s surprised by how much that one actually hurts. After everything she went through last year, after all the backlash, after having to deal with real small-minded people she feels a little offended. She can’t be lumped in with them. It’s not possible, because she’s…

The word gets trapped her throat and Santana has to swallow hard again to steady herself.

She isn’t like everyone else.

On second thought, maybe she is if she’s still saying something like that?

“I’ve always been told that those who can play the game well should,” Brittany tells her firmly, “I think I’m someone that can and judging by your team’s standings for the past three years, you could use someone like me on that field.”

Santana gulps. She can’t remember the last time someone at this school spoke to her the way Brittany is. It’s not a tone she’s familiar with, but she knows she deserves it.

“I don’t know you very well, but I thought – I don’t know – I thought you’d at least be a little more accepting than the hicks I’ve come across in this town,” Brittany continues, “I guess I was wrong.”

Santana’s lips part to defend herself, but nothing comes out.

Brittany doesn’t notice, “It shouldn’t matter if I’m a girl or a boy or a damn alien from outer space. If you can play – if you want to play – then you should, no matter what the sport is. Anyone that thinks otherwise is just…well, they’re stupid.”

The last word has Brittany’s voice cracking and the sound finally has Santana sputtering for an explanations, “I – I didn’t mean to – “

“You should probably just pay attention to the board, Santana.”

Santana bites her lip at Brittany’s clipped tone – that might’ve been the first time she’s ever heard Brittany say her name. She does as she’s told though. It’s best if she doesn’t dig herself a deeper hole.

Santana spends the rest of the day mulling over Brittany's words. Even through Cheerios practice after school, Santana can’t seem to get her head on right.

Maybe she really has become a product of her environment? Maybe all the small-minded people she's surrounded by have somehow managed to rub off on her after all of these years?

That can’t be the case, can it?

She hates that she has to ask herself that. Usually, Santana’s not one to have any regrets or remorse once she spits out her vicious words but this time she finds herself backpedaling when it comes to Brittany. She wasn’t trying to be a bitch, it just sort of happened and for once in her life she feels kind of horrible about it.

“You okay?” Quinn asks hesitantly after she dismissed the squad for a water break. Santana was meant to lead warm-ups today but Quinn seemed more eager to take over and Santana didn’t mind considering she’s so distracted.

“Yeah,” Santana shrugs, “I’m fine.”

“You’re quiet today,” Quinn notes, “You didn’t even laugh when Bec accidentally called Coach Sylvester sir.”

Santana tries to mask her worries and shrugs again, “She’s not that far off, have you seen Coach lately? Very mannish.”

Quinn smirks, pleased to seemingly have her best friend back, “So true.”

Just then Coach Sylvester blows her whistle and barks orders at the squad. Santana’s reluctant to move, but she pushes herself up anyway.

“God,” She groans as they walk over to the others, “I’m over this year and it hasn’t even started.”

“Same,” Quinn chuckles, “Let’s go make fun of the JV squad later? I hear they need a ton of work and their practices runs longer than ours because they suck so much.”

If it were any other day, that suggestion would have Santana eager to get a front row seat but even that doesn’t help. Still, she has to retain some sort of normalcy even if thoughts of Brittany are trying their hardest to disrupt that.

“I can’t wait to see that train wreck,” Santana quips and together, she and her best friend fall in line with the rest of the squad.

The remainder of the week is more of the same: class, Cheerios practice, homework then repeat. The only thing that’s out of the ordinary for Santana is the icy, cold shoulder Brittany’s giving her now.

Or maybe Santana’s the one avoiding her?

It’s all minor details. What’s important is that they aren’t speaking to each other anymore and Santana’s starting to miss Brittany’s usual cheerful greetings.

She knows what she needs to do to fix this. It doesn’t make it any easier for her to actually do it though. To admit that she was wrong, to apologize for her words, to accept responsibility for her actions? Santana’s not use to most of that!

It’s a weird kind of tension though between her and Brittany, so Santana’s not sure how much more she can take. Instead, she steals sideways glances in the dark and hopes Brittany takes pity on her and makes the first move.

Brittany doesn’t and soon one week’s worth of silence ends up turning into two.

Santana had every intention of making amends by last Friday’s game, but things just kept coming up. There’s class and Cheerios practice, but now she actually has to study for upcoming quizzes and assignments. She can’t fall behind again so once practice ends, Santana usually gets changed right away and heads straight for her car without even glancing in the Titans’ direction.

Is she using schoolwork as a lame excuse to avoid dealing with her shit? Of course, she’s a teenager. Procrastination comes naturally to her!

Later that night, Santana sits with both of her parents at the table for dinner. It’s a rare occasion to have Maribel and Hector home at the same time, but that quickly loses its novelty when Hector starts to grill Santana on her studies.

“Papi, it’s only the third week,” Santana gently reasons.

“And?” Hector gives her a stern look, “You need to stay on top of things, Santana.”

It’s a simple sentence, but Santana feels like there’s way more beneath the surface. Sometimes it’s hard being the daughter of a successful doctor whose father was also a doctor and his father before him. There is a long line of them in the Lopez legacy and that looms over Santana like a dark cloud, especially now that she’s in her Senior year.

It’s gone without saying whose footsteps Santana will follow, but it’s still a lot of pressure for her. It’s only a matter of time before her dad begins to lecture her again about college and the importance of good grades and extracurriculars while her mom tries to elevate some of that stress.

She’s never met two people who show their love for someone so differently.

“Don’t put too much pressure on her,” Maribel says and squeezes Santana’s hand from across the table lovingly, “You’re doing fine, mija.”

Hector frowns at his wife, “Fine isn’t enough. You think any of these Ivy League schools care about fine? Of course not. They’re going through thousands of applicants a year and fine doesn’t stand out. Fine doesn’t get into Harvard.”

Maribel narrows her eyes at his rambling.

“Don’t give me that look,” Hector huffs but his voice softens as he looks to Santana, “You know what I’m talking about.”

Santana can already guess what he’s about to say. She’s heard it so many times before.

“You can’t get complacent, Santana. You have a lot to make up for,” Hector adds just as Santana knew he would, “Especially after the year you’ve had.”

“That’s an understatement,” Santana mumbles as she pushes food around on her plate.

“What was that?” Hector raises a challenging brow.

“It’s nothing,” Santana dismisses and smiles reassuringly at her dad, “I’m on top of everything this year, Papi. I promise, you don’t have to worry. I won’t disappoint you.”

When Hector matches her smile, Santana feels a little relief even if it only lasts for a moment.

It isn’t until they’re nearing the end of the third week of school when things on the Brittany-front begin to shift for Santana. They still aren’t speaking to each other, but the blonde practically pops up everywhere she goes – if not physically, then someone’s bound to be talking about her.

After securing a second win for the Titans, Brittany has quickly climbed the ranks on the popularity ladder. The buzz around her grows, but what’s odd is that despite her obvious talents and annoyingly charming smile the students of McKinley have mixed feelings about her.

More importantly, about having a female quarterback.

On her walks to class, Santana has overheard the murmurs of doubt in Brittany’s abilities. Some are frustrated at how a new kid was able to dethrone Finn Hudson who has been leading the team all of her high school career. Some think Coach Beiste is getting soft. Some think it’s all a hoax, but Santana doesn’t really understand that one.

Regardless of how they feel about her though, Brittany’s still able to part crowds any time she walks down the hall. It doesn’t look like she pays them any mind, but Santana’s been wrong about her before.

But with popularity comes the irritating gossip mongers and Santana happens to overhear Brittany’s first encounter with McKinley’s most annoying: Jacob Ben Israel.

\\\\\

Between her morning runs, class, football practice, weight training, homework and helping out with Pete, Brittany’s having a hard time finding a moment to relax. She should be use to the hectic schedule by now, but making the change from her old school’s system to Lima’s is throwing her off a little. The school days start earlier, football practices run later and the work is a little harder than she use to.

Then there’s everything going on with Santana and that might be the most frustrating.

For nearly two weeks, they’ve kept this thing between them going. Did Brittany overreact by saying what she said? She doesn’t think so. Maybe Santana didn’t think what she said to her was a big deal, but to Brittany it was. The things people say to her in Lima aren’t anything knew, but that doesn’t mean she’s immune to their sting.

Most times, she’s able to ignore them but it just hits differently when she hears the utter disbelief coming from a fellow female. It’s like, whatever happened to empowering and uplifting each other? Did Santana not grow up listening to the Spice Girls? Has she never watched She’s the Man? Bend it like Beckham? A League of their own?

It’s so irritating because she can’t even ask Santana, the girl avoids her like the plague! The only time they’re ever close enough is in English class and that’s only because they have to share a table.

Brittany’s tired and achy and she’s so wrapped up in her thoughts as shuffles through her locker for her textbook for next class that she doesn’t notice she is no longer alone.

“Brittany Pierce!” Brittany hears someone say and the sound makes her flinch, “You’ve become quite the celebrity.”

She leans back slowly and peeks around her locker door to find a rather dorky looking guy with a huge cloud of hair. She notices the mic in his hand next and is instantly confused.

Is she on tv?

“Who are you?” She asks and glances around unsurely for a camera.

“Jacob Ben Israel,” He says and holds out his hand for her to shake, “Some call me JBI for short. I’m McKinley’s #1 source for news and the hottest gossip.”

Brittany shakes his hand; it’s grossly warm and sweaty as hell but she’s not surprised judging by the look of him. He certainty isn’t dressed like a journalist or one of those news reporters she has seen on tv.

She can hear her dad’s voice in her head chastising her for judging a book by its cover so she gives JBI a polite smile, “Oh okay. Nice to meet you.”

She goes to turn back to her locker, but JBI is quick to start the questions.

“So you’re the first female QB here at McKinley High. You’re new to the school and you’re the first to ever bench Finn Hudson and you’ve already led the Titans to their second victory this year. Hoping for a third this Friday?” JBI pauses and holds out the mic for Brittany.

She clears her throat, she’s not sure where the camera is so she just looks at him, “Of course. There are a lot of really great players on the team and I’m confident we can win a lot more games this season.”

“Awesome,” JBI replies enthusiastically, “A winning streak isn’t something a lot of the students here have experienced. You’re off to a great start this year. You’re bound to be nominated for Homecoming Court!”

Brittany almost laughs at that.

She’s been nominated at her old school before – even won a couple times – but that’s because she was voted for by her peers, peers who have known her for years. She doesn’t expect any nomination this year, the only reason anyone knows her is because she plays football. If she were to be nominated, it wouldn’t be because she’s well-liked or something like that. It would be because she sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Sounds cool,” Brittany replies despite disagreeing with him.

“So tell us,” JBI’s voice takes a dip. It’s sneaky, almost mischievous, “Would you rather be crowned the King or the Queen?”

Brittany’s stomach flips. She doesn’t like this interview thing anymore.

“What?” She asks because the question confuses her but she finds him wearing this sly grin like he’s just found her weak spot.

He hasn’t, but Brittany’s guard instantly goes up.

“Don’t be shy,” He coaxes with the wag of his brow, “You know what I’m talking about. You’re a female QB, no way you’re strai – “

“Hey!” Suddenly Santana’s there, of all people, and there’s fury in her eyes as she shoves JBI’s mic to his chest, “Fuck off.”

Brittany blinks like she’s caught in a daydream. Her eyes shift from Santana to JBI whose grin widens upon seeing the Co-Captain.

“Now this is a pairing I’m sure everyone would love to see,” He says as he talks into the mic again like nothing’s happened, like Santana isn’t about to beat him over the head with it. He looks to the camera – the kid’s been lingering over Brittany’s right shoulder thus far – and says, “It’s the infamous Santana Lopez, gracing us with her presence.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “I’m not gracing you with shit. Your little show sucks.”

“That’s not what my viewer count says. I’m sure you remember,” JBI quips as he turns back to the pair, “So Brittany, you didn’t answer the question.”

Brittany feels like a deer caught in the headlights; she can’t even remember what the question was, but thankfully Santana interrupts again.

“I said beat it, loser, before I shove that camera so far up your dumb ass you’ll be spitting out polaroids,” Santana snaps.

To Brittany’s surprise though, JBI doesn’t move right away.

“That doesn’t make sense, we’re not even using that kind of cam – “

Santana grits her jaw and takes a threatening step forward. Her voice dips low and gravely, “Try me, Jewfro. Please. I’ve been itching to kick you square in the nuts.”

That threat has JBI reaching to protect his crotch before he turns and runs down the hall with his camera-friend following him.

Brittany watches Santana smirk like she’s so proud of herself for being able to instill the fear of God in someone before she’s averting her gaze. When her stormy brown eyes land on Brittany, the blonde feels a cold chill.

The smirk’s gone and in it’s place is a familiar scowl. Brick by brick, her wall goes up.

“I know you’re new here, Pierce, so a little word of advice,” Santana warns as she turns to the lockers, “Don’t talk to him. He’s a wannabe journalist that reports nothing but bullshit. He’ll twist your words if you let him, trust me. I’ve seen it happen many times and I don’t want you to get caught up in his shit.”

Brittany’s at a loss for words.

Santana hasn’t spoken to her all this time and now all of sudden this? Why would it matter to Santana what she did or said or who she spoke to? Why would she care, she doesn’t even know Brittany?

There’s so many questions beginning to swarm her, but none make it out of her head.

“Thanks,” Is the only word Brittany ends up saying around a shy grin.

There’s a hint of smile on Santana’s lips when their eyes catch for a quick second, but it disappears just as fast.

“It’s whatever,” She says and Brittany hears a locker door slam, “I’ll see you in class.”

It isn’t until Santana’s halfway down the hall that Brittany finally realizes that their lockers are right next to each other’s. She can do nothing but laugh at the small coincidence.

The second time Santana speaks to her, it’s because Brittany accidentally scared the crap out of her.

It’s Thursday now – the last day of practice before the Week 3 game – so Brittany wants to get a jump on warm-ups. She knows there’s a thirty minute buffer between Cheerios and Titans practice, but she has to account for the extra time it takes to pick up her gear from Coach Beiste’s office first since everything’s stored in the boys’ locker room.

Usually, she gets the whole room to herself and plays a little music from her phone to get amped up. This time though, there’s one Cheerio that’s already there and this particular Cheerio surprisingly has a beautiful singing voice.

Brittany feels like she’s being lured in by one of those sirens she has read about in Greek mythology. She thinks she should probably make her presence known because creeping around a locker room is kind of weird, but she’s so in awe of the girl’s voice.

More importantly, the owner of that voice.

“Jesus!” Santana gasps when she rounds the corner to find Brittany lingering by the hampers. Her hand flies to chest to steady her beating heart, “What the hell are you doing, Pierce? Trying to give a girl a heart attack?”

Brittany thanks the heavens when she finds that Santana’s fully clothed already.

“I’m sorry!” Brittany blushes, “I didn’t think anyone would be here.”

Santana just shakes her head before eyeing Brittany again. There’s a flash of concern when Santana says, “You look like shit, worse than yesterday when I saw you with JBI.”

Brittany’s not sure how to take that. She hasn’t been sleeping well, that’s for sure, but it worries her that her tiredness is beginning to show. At least, that’s what she hopes Santana is talking about.

“I’ve been super busy lately. Guess I’m just ready for the weekend,” She says instead as she fumbles with the shoulder pads in her hands, “Sorry for interrupting you.”

“Interrupting me?”

“Yeah, you were singing. It sounded really pretty.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Santana brushes off before crossing her arms over her chest, “Why are you in here so early? Doesn’t your practice start at 4?”

“Why are you in here so late?” Brittany challenges, “Didn’t your practice start at 3:30?”

Santana cocks her head to the side, “I had to talk to Ms. Pillsbury about something.”

“Who?”

“She’s the guidance counselor. You’ll probably meet her soon, she’s on all the Seniors about their college application due dates. Figures, she’d want to start off with me.”

Brittany wants to know more. Afterall, she’s naturally curious when it comes to getting to know new people so the questions build but she doesn’t voice any of them. Not that Santana would give her any answers anyway.

Santana’s looking at all the gear Brittany’s toting along with her duffle bag and her brows furrow, “Did you carry all of that here?”

Brittany looks down at her gear and nods.

“Why?” Santana scrunches her nose, “Don’t you have a locker or something?”

Brittany shakes her head, “I was never given one. Coach Beiste said Coach Sylvester is meant to assign one to me, but I guess she’s been busy.”

“Doubt it. She hates Coach Beiste so in turn, she hates you.”

Brittany frowns; what’d she do?

“She’s probably just giving you a hard time because you’re a Titan instead of a Cheerio,” Santana answers then walks off. She goes to grab the clipboard that hangs above the hampers, dangling from it is a key, “I can assign you one, it’s part of my Co-Captain privileges. This side is reserved for the squad, obviously, but the set by the showers are all free. You can leave your football stuff there too, doubt anyone in here is going to want to steal it.”

Brittany’s taken aback by Santana’s random act of kindness for a second time that week. She let’s her smile shine, “Thanks. It really helps having everyting in one place. I don’t have to waste so much time walking back and forth.”

Santana nods and there’s that hint of a smile again before she’s leading the way over to the section of lockers that’s now become Brittany’s.

“Top or bottom?” Santana asks as she scans the list attached to the clipboard. Brittany smirks and notices the moment Santana realizes what she has said, “As in locker preference.”

“Duh,” Brittany jokes with a straight face, “What else would you mean?”

Santana’s face is flushed now and Brittany tries her hardest not to laugh. She’s kind of cute when she’s flustered like that.

“I’ll put you down for top,” Santana answers stiffly. Now her eyes are solely glued to the clipboard in her hands, “I guess I can unlock the bottom one too though so you can have the entire segment. You can – uh – decide which you want to use or whatever.”

“That works for me,” Brittany replies casually before she starts to undress.

Santana practically runs into a wall when she sees Brittany pull her top up over her head and let it drop onto her open duffle bag.

“I’ll just leave you to it then,” Santana calls over her shoulder as she scurries off.

Brittany watches the whole thing curiously. Has Santana never changed in front of other girls before or something? That’s the only explanation she comes to for how awkward she’s being.

Brittany doesn’t dwell on it, just continues getting dressed.

By the time Brittany’s got her practice gear on, Santana appears again. She looks a little shier than before and she’s fiddling with her hands.

Brittany just smiles and reaches down for her helmet, “You going now?”

“Yeah,” Santana answers, “Just trying to enjoy the last bit of A.C.”

“It’s not that hot out,” Brittany chuckles and motions to her pads, “At least you don’t have to wear all this.”

“True,” Santana smirks, “Now that would suck.”

Brittany chuckles again. She likes this version of Santana, she hopes she can see her more often but there’s still a giant pink elephant in the room so Brittany doesn’t get too excited.

“I’ll see you out there I guess,” Brittany says.

Santana nods and turns to leave, but then stops and turns back to face Brittany again.

“Actually, I just wanted to say,” Santana starts.

Brittany wonders if this is it. If she’s finally going to get an apology after what Santana said to her the other week, or at least the start of a conversation about her opinion? Anything would suffice by this point.

Brittany waits.

“I just wanted to say,” Santana repeats and her voice is so shaky. It’s completely unlike the confidence she possessed when she told off JBI, “Have a good practice.”

It’s not what Brittany was anticipating her to say – and judging by the uncertainty on Santana’s face, it wasn’t what she was anticipating to say either – but she’ll take it.

“Thanks,” Brittany grins as she walks by her to leave, “You too.”

By Friday night, Brittany’s feeling better than she has all week. Although they’ve yet to acknowledge Santana’s misjudgments, baby steps in the right direction have been taken.

Kind of.

First Santana defended her against JBI then on Thursday she assigned Brittany a locker and today? Today Santana brought her a drink from the Cheerios special lounge while Brittany was getting ready for the game.

“What is it?” Brittany asked hesitantly as she eyed the color of it. She’s sitting on the benches in the locker room completely dressed now in her uniform. All that’s left are the final touches like a quick dance party to get her pumped and applying a little Game Day eye make up.

“It’s a bunch of healthy stuff like fruits and veggies. All fresh so that explains the color, no preservatives. There’s some vitamin supplements in there too,” Santana explains like it’s all a bother.

Brittany’s beginning to see through that though.

“I don’t take drugs,” Brittany replies and tries to give the bottle back.

Santana rolls her eyes and there’s that hint of a smile again, “Does Vitamin D count as a drug? If so, then Puckerman is definitely on something stronger.”

Brittany frowns at the accusation, “Wait, seriously? The team can get in a lot of troub – “

“Easy, Pierce, I’m sure he’s just all-talk,” Santana amends, “I wouldn’t open an investigation on him or anything.” Then there’s a pause and for a second she looks a little shy as she motions to the bottle in Brittany’s hands. Her voice comes out softer, “Drink that. It’ll help with the tiredness and it’s good for your immune system too incase you’re about to come down with something.”

“You think I’m getting sick?” Brittany chuckles and turns back to apply thick black stripes to the apples of her cheeks.

Santana lifts a shoulder casually before standing, “You almost fell asleep in class today.”

Brittany blushes. Did she really? She’s so tired, she can’t even remember.

“What does that have to do with getting sick?” Brittany wonders.

“It’s almost that time of the year and bugs move quick,” Santana explains, “A lot quicker if you’re not taking care of yourself…for example, not getting enough sleep.”

That takes Brittany by surprise. Santana caring about her? Why? But despite the surprise, Brittany feels warm and fuzzy all over.

“Alright Doc, I’ll drink it,” Brittany jokes as she finishes up drawing on the left stripe. She turns to Santana as she twists off the lid and makes a show of taking a long drink.

Santana actually laughs this time before she shakes her head.

“I feel better already,” Brittany beams as she stands. They’re close now and it’s then that Brittany really notices the height difference, “Thanks for this. What do I owe you? Pressed juices like these probably cost an arm and a leg here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Santana dismisses and takes a step back to put some distance between them, “Just bring home another win.”

“You got it,” Brittany winks and goes to take another swig while she watches Santana leave the locker room.

Unfortunately, it’s a rocky start this time for the Titans. It’s not that Brittany isn’t playing at her best because she always brings 110% to the field no matter how she’s feeling. It’s actually her teammates who aren’t as focused as she is for some reason. There’s still a lot of work to be done when it comes to being a cohesive unit, but today they’ve really taken a step back.

They’re down by 17 points when the half is called.

“Alright, what’s going on out there?” Coach Beiste questions. She’s fuming as she eyes everyone for an answer, “What I’m seeing is that Pierce is the only one here that’s come to play.”

Karofsky scoffs and folds up his arms, “I’m so over hearing about her!”

“Me too!” Azimio chimes in, “First we let in Hummel and now her? What’s next? She gonna join the Puck Heads in the off season and change the game for them too? The rest of us are chopped liver now. It’s not good for my reputation!”

“Your reputation? You were a loser just like the rest of us before Brittany came,” Mike replies but the two don’t take kindly to being called a loser and start shoving at him.

“Cut it out!” Sam tries to breaking it up.

Brittany looks over at them and grimaces. Dave and Azimio both have been a pain in her ass since she’s joined the team, but she thought they were past this by now? They’ve got a winning record, they’re actually improving on being a better team, so what’s the issue all of a sudden?

Coach Beiste shakes her head at them, “Give me a break! One person doesn’t win games. You don’t have to like Pierce but you’re going to give her your respect if you want to play on my field. It’s as simple as that. You work together, you listen and respect each other. That’s what it means to be a team, is it not?”

Brittany eyes her teammates. Aside from the select handful that actually like her, the guys look at her like she’s the enemy. It makes Brittany feel really unsettled.

“Is it not?” Coach Beiste presses.

There are mumbles amongst the squad but it’s not enough for Coach Beiste.

“Louder!”

“Yes, Coach!” They say in unison.

“Okay then, let’s starting acting like a team out there and win this game!” She says with the clap of her hands.

They’re in the fourth quarter now and the Titans have managed to make it a close game despite their rough start. Coach Beiste’s pep talk must’ve worked because the team is playing harder than the first half, but Brittany still senses the undertones of resentment.

She packs it away for now and just focuses on making plays. Afterall, she’s meant to be winning this one for Santana. Well not for Santana; it’s more like paying her back for the drink earlier.

Brittany nods resolutely and looks to the sidelines to see the Co-Captain shaking her pompoms. She does a high kick and yells out a cheer in time with the others, but the smile she’s wearing is what catches Brittany’s eye.

She shakes her head and focuses on the snap.

“Down!” Brittany calls out. She catches the other team’s Line Backer’s movement from the corner of her eye. The defense looks hungry, but so are they. She smirks and braces herself, “Hut!”

The ball is snapped and Brittany quickly hands it off to Puckerman. So far their run game has been pretty weak tonight, but Puckerman surprises everyone and kicks into gear. He plows through the defense at full speed, breaking tackle after tackle, until he crosses over for a first down and steps out of bounds.

He spikes down the ball and makes a sawing motion with his arm while the crowd goes wild. Matt runs up to congratulate him with a hard pat on the back.

“Yes!” Brittany jumps up and down as she cheers.

Over on the sidelines, the Cheerios are just as excited as they chant:

“First and ten, first and ten! First and ten, let’s do it again!”

Brittany sees Santana watching her with a huge grin and it makes her feel warm all over again. She knows it’s silly to think that Santana’s cheers are just for her – same goes for that smile – but she can’t help but dream.

Yeah, she’s decided. She’s really going to win this game just for her.

Brittany quickly runs up to their new line of scrimmage and everyone starts to take their position. She smacks Puckerman on the back when he jogs up next to her to get in formation.

“Nice carry, Puckerman!” She compliments.

“Sawed right through them!” Puckerman shouted excitedly back.

“Let’s keep up that energy,” Brittany praised and called out another play. They were in field goal range now, but like always – Brittany wasn’t here to play it safe especially with the new set of downs.

This time she wanted to try another play-action route since it worked pretty well in the pre-season game. Mike and Sam have proved to her that they have great hands, but they needed to work on their speed and timing. Now was a perfect time to test that. With Puckerman on a roll, the defense was sure to up their coverage on him rather than the receivers which would work perfectly in Brittany’s favor.

“Blue 82!” Brittany repeats and looks to her sides for confirmation that they’ve picked up the slight change.

Mike and Sam give her the barest nod before they’re glaring at their defenders. Brittany kicks up her foot and Mike quickly changes position so that he’s next to Sam now on the right side of the field.

“Blue 82!” Brittany calls out again and readies herself for the snap, “Down…Hut!”

The ball is hiked and she fakes the hand off to Puckerman so smoothly that the defense follows after him just as planned. While they chase him down to the left side of the field, Mike and Same cut up the right. Brittany holds onto the ball longer than she likes, making sure she gives her receivers enough time to breakaway from their defenders.

The other team’s Line Backer is trying his hardest to break through her O-Line though. Thankfully, Matt ends up making a key block for Mike and Brittany’s able to step up in the pocket and fire down a quick pass. It’s a little lower than Brittany wanted, but Mike makes the catch and pushes past a defender for another first down!

Everyone went wild, but the play clock was still going since Mike hadn’t made it out of bounds.

Brittany motioned for everyone to hurry into position – this time she was going for a slant route with Matt being the intended receiver. She kept her eye on the seconds ticking away, but the team was able to make it in time to get set.

“OG 30!” She called out. She was really starting to feel that adrenaline kick in but she kept her cool and held out her hands, “Down…Hut!”

Again, Brittany caught the ball and dropped back as everyone began to move. Despite the grumpiness during half time, the guys that made up her O-Line – mostly Dave and Azimio – did their jobs correctly and held the line. Brittany looked to her right and faked a throw before turning to her left and firing at Matt.

He juggled the ball in the air, but ultimately was able to secure possession of it and ran up the side of the field for an easy touchdown!

“Let’s go!” Brittany pumped her fist in the air. That was their best drive all game and now with the new points on the board, they’re finally up by 6! With just a little over ten minutes left in the final quarter, Brittany’s feeling good about their odds in coming away with another win.

She was right to feel confident; Titans end up winning the game 27 – 21. When the final whistle was blown, everyone was cheering and some of her teammates rushed to congratulate her efforts. She happily returned the sentiments, but she couldn’t help but glance over at the sidelines to see if Santana was watching her again too.

And she was, alongside Quinn and the rest of the Cheerios.

Brittany just grinned as she pulled off her helmet and let down her hair, happy that she was able to make good on her promise to Santana.

Despite how great she felt after Friday’s win, Monday morning was a different story.

Everything hurts and she was so exhausted that she didn’t even go for her usual morning run which is telling because she’s one of those rare people that actually works well with routine exercising. She guesses all those late nights studying combined with her patchy sleep schedule have finally taken its toll on her body.

She thinks back to what Santana said Friday about getting enough rest. God, she hopes she isn’t coming down with anything. Getting sick is just not what she needs right now.

“Hey mom?” Brittany taps on Whitney’s bedroom door. The curtains are already drawn and welcome in the morning sun so she knows her mom’s awake already. Whitney appears in the doorway of the master bath in her work uniform and instantly looks worried.

“You feeling okay, kiddo?” She asks as she crosses the room to press at Brittany’s forehead.

“I don’t think I’m sick, but I feel horrible,” Brittany explains.

“Yeah, you don’t have a fever. Have you been getting enough sleep?” Whitney asks.

Brittany shakes her head. Whitney eyes her with concern.

“It’s not the dreams again, is it?”

Brittany shakes her head again, “No. I haven’t had one since the last time I told you. I think I’m just worn out.”

“You’re a busy girl,” Whitney nods.

“Is it okay if I stay home today?” Brittany asks hesitantly, “It’s the only day of the week that I don’t really need to be at practice. I think I can access most of my schoolwork online so – “

“It’s okay, Britt. Just rest today,” Whitney says, “Missing a day isn’t going to break you and I know you’ll catch up when you’re feeling better.”

Brittany fills with relief and gives her mom a weak smile. She’s so happy that Whitney’s so understanding, but she guesses that’s come from experience with everything that happened at the beginning of the year with her dad’s passing. Many mental health days were taken, but Whitney never made her feel bad for it. If anything, she always encouraged them.

“Thanks mom,” Brittany says before taking herself back to bed. She’s able to fall asleep fast for once and she doesn’t wake again until she has to use the bathroom.

When she wakes up the third time, it’s just after three. She sees a text from her mom saying that Gran has Pete and she’ll pick him up once she gets off of work so that Brittany can continue resting.

She smiles and sends a text back to thank her before getting up. After a quick snack and a big glass of OJ, Brittany heads to the couch for another nap.

This time, sleep doesn’t find her as easily as it did the other times so she turns on the tv and tries to find something to watch. She decides to put on something she considers boring in hopes that maybe it’ll bore her right to sleep.

Miraculously, her plan works and she settles in for another nap.

An hour or so goes by when Brittany begins to stir because Pete’s trying to squeeze onto the couch next to her. His cold feel touch her bare ankles beneath her blanket and she flinches at the feel.

“Honey, what did I say in the car?” Whitney whispers, “Let your sister rest.”

“I am,” Pete pouts, “I just wanted to sit with her.”

“How about you come help me with – “

“It’s okay, mom,” Brittany pushes to sit up. Pete instantly beams at her, “I’ve slept enough I think.”

“Feeling better?” Whitney asks and brushes her hand over Brittany’s wild hair.

She nods and does a little stretch, “Much better.”

“Good to hear,” Whitney says and bends down to press kisses to Brittany and Pete’s head, “I’m going to make dinner then. Just leftovers so it shouldn’t take long.”

When she heads off for the kitchen, Pete snuggles in closer to Brittany.

“Did you get to watch cartoons all day?” He asks curiously.

Brittany shakes her head, “Nope, but I did take many naps.”

“Nice!”

“Totally.”

Brittany and Pete are watching tv together a moment later when Brittany hears a knock at the front door. Pete jumps up at the sound and rushes to see who it is.

“Don’t open that door, Peter!” Whitney calls out from the kitchen, “Let your sister get it.”

Pete pouts and hangs back as Brittany moves to get up. She chuckles and ruffles up his hair as she passes by. When Brittany takes a peek, she’s shocked by what she sees and quickly opens the door.

“Santana?” Brittany greets. She’s both confused and pleasantly surprised.

“Who are you?” Pete asks curiously with his head tilted up at the Co-Captain.

“Hi,” Santana smiles kind of nervously as she glances between the two. She’s dressed in her Cheerios warm-up gear – she must’ve just finished practice – and has her binder tucked under her arm.

“Uh…I’m Santana,” She answers softly, “And you are?”

“I’m Peter!” Brittany’s brother holds out his hand to shake, “Everyone calls me Pete though, so you can too if you want.”

Santana quirks a brow at him but smiles as she shakes his hand anyway, “Nice to meet you, Pete.”

“Pete, can you go help mom?” Brittany instructs. She waits until he’s run off then asks Santana out of disbelief, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t in class today,” She says.

“Yeah…I didn’t feel well.”

“Didn’t I say you were going to get sick?” Santana smirks.

“I’m not sick,” Brittany sighs, “I was just tired.”

“Right,” Santana keeps the smirk and motions to her binder, “Well, I brought you the work you missed. It’s kind of important for the paper due in a few weeks.”

Brittany just blinks. Maybe she’s still asleep and this is all a dream?

“Here,” Santana offers and goes to flip through her binder for a couple handouts to give to Brittany.

The blonde accepts them although she’s still trying to grasp the fact that Santana’s standing on her doorstep, “Thanks.”

“Sure,” Santana nods and it looks like she’s about to turn away.

“Wait. How’d you know where I lived?” Brittany quickly asks before she can run off.

“Mike told me,” Santana shrugs, “Actually, Mike told Quinn and Quinn told me. Apparently you two are neighbors?”

“Yeah, he likes to tell everyone that,” Brittany chuckles before she gets a sudden burst of confidence and asks, “Did you…want to come in?”

“Uhhh,” Santana looks unsure but then she gives Brittany a small smile, “Okay.”

Brittany opens the door a little wider and leads Santana into the living room. She pushes the blanket she brought down from her room to the side so they can both sit on the couch. Brittany starts to flip through the packet Santana gave her and she’s already dreading the assignment.

“Woah,” Brittany gasps, “This is a lot.”

“Yeah,” Santana nods, “I can help you with it though if you want? Miss Holliday said we can work in groups if we wanted, but we’ll be graded individually.”

Brittany blinks blankly again, “Huh, that’s funny.”

“What?”

Brittany just shakes her head and shrugs, “Just the other week you were insulting me then you stopped talking to me for awhile and now you’re being super helpful. I just can’t get a read on you.”

Brittany wasn’t trying to make Santana feel cornered, she just wanted to open up the conversation. She was over ignoring the obvious, so she went straight for the kill and brought it up head on.

Santana’s shoulders dropped, “Look, I’m…I’m really sorry about that. I was so out of line.”

“Yeah, you really were,” Brittany replies but she isn’t trying to rile Santana up by being argumentative, “You know how many times I’ve heard something similar over the years? Ever since I started playing sports it’s always been: you run like a girl, you throw like a girl, you’re pretty good…for a girl.”

Santana looks apologetically at Brittany and goes to fiddle with her hands in her lap. Brittany notes the familiar motion and decides its something she does when she’s nervous.

Brittany adds, “Like being a girl that plays sports is somehow less than, like it’s a bad thing. I’ve never understood it. I’m just as good as they are.”

Santana shakes her head, “No. I’ve seen you play. You’re so much better.”

“Thanks,” Brittany chuckles weakly, “You know, when I first started I wasn't trying to make some big statement. I didn't want the pressure of being the first female whatever, I just wanted to play. And my family, they've always been super supportive no matter the sport, especially my dad.”

Brittany feels the lump in her throat slowly start to form at his mention and takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“He use to come to every game. But people are so stuck on how I've disrupted their precious norms and it makes things harder than they need to be. No matter where I go, the people will either love me or hate me for this. It's crazy. I'm just a girl who loves playing football, why's that so odd?”

“It’s not,” Santana reasons, “You’re a good different, a kind of different a place like this needs.”

Brittany smiles fondly at Santana’s kind words, “Then why did you say what you did?”

Santana pauses for awhile trying to find the right words but in the end she just shakes her head and sighs, “Probably because I’m a bitch?”

Brittany flinches, she doesn’t think that’s the case.

“You’re just…you’re not what I imagined. I thought football players were rough and you’re not like that at all. You’re soft, delicate. You treat with kindness.”

“So does Kurt,” Brittany offers kindly, “And Mike, Sam too.”

“You know what I mean,” Santana replies.

“Yeah, I do. It’s called a stereotype,” Brittany smirks, “Football players happen to come in all shapes and sizes though. Some are soft and delicate like you say I am and some aren’t, but out on the field we’re all the same. We’re one team.”

Santana nods, “I’m sorry about what I said. You have every right to be on that field, same as the guys. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise. I guess I’m still trying to adjust too. It’s not really something you see here…”

“I accept your apology,” Brittany grins.

Santana lets out a deep sigh, “This town can be so old school sometimes and it sucks how there are younger generations out here that don’t know any different. They don’t see how wrong it is to have such a shit mentality. I guess I forgot what progression looks like until you came.”

Brittany knows Santana’s being genuine now and it makes the wait for this conversation worth it. She goes to joke, “Well it’s a learning process. Now you know for the next time you come across someone who doesn’t fit the status quo.”

“Yeah,” Santana matches Brittany’s grin, “I really do.”

“Well hello,” Whitney greets as she enters the living room. She glances between Brittany and Santana as Santana rises to her feet. She stands up straight and proper, “You going to introduce me to your friend, Britt?”

Brittany gulps at the label. She doesn’t know if she’d call Santana a friend just yet.

“This is my mom Whitney. Mom, this is Santana,” Brittany says while Santana gives a polite smile, “We have class together. She was just bringing me some work I missed today.”

“That’s so kind of you,” Whitney compliments Santana.

“It was nothing,” Santana replied and glanced to Brittany, “I tried to warn her about the risks of over-doing it. I can’t imagine having a schedule like hers.”

Brittany’s brow rises at the overly polite tone. Who knew Santana was a little suck up when it came to parents. She smirks as she watches it unfold.

“Stubbornness, she gets that from her dad’s side,” Whitney jokes, “Would you like to stay for dinner? We’re just having leftovers but there’s plenty to go around.”

“Lasagna!” Pete cheers as he runs in from the kitchen.

Santana chuckles but shakes her head, “Thank you, but I should probably get home before my mom starts to worry.”

Whitney nods, “Of course. Well, it was lovely meeting you. Come on Petey, let’s make our plates.”

When they both wander off, Brittany’s again standing alone with Santana in the living room.

“So you’re a kiss-ass,” Brittany jokes, “Never would’ve guessed it.”

Santana rolls her eyes despite smiling, “I have a thing with parents. They love me, okay?”

“Sure, sure,” Brittany giggles, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone that you’re secretly kind. Wouldn’t want to ruin your rep.”

“I appreciate it,” Santana quips playfully before gathering her things, “Well, I really should head off before my mom starts blowing up my phone.”

“Cool,” Brittany nods and leads the way over to the front door to walk Santana out, “Well. Thanks again for bringing over the work I missed.”

“No biggie,” Santana waved off as she turned to leave, “Glad you’re feeling better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Brittany waved and watched Santana make her way over to her little red Mazda with a pleased smile.

Maybe they weren’t exactly friends yet, but compared to the downward spiral they’ve been experiencing…they weren’t enemies either.

And in football terms, that’s called forward progress.

#Lost in the Lights #Brittana #Brittana fanfiction #QB!Britt

16 notes · View notes

winunk · 3 years

Text

Under A Peach Tree | iv | Akaashi Keiji x fem!OC

Chapter Four: Can I Call You Tonight?

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x fem!OC

Summary: Akaashi isn’t sure why but he wants to spend more time with Sasaki. He’s struggling to figure out his feelings and doesn’t want to push Sasaki’s boundaries.

Genre: romance, angst, humor if you squint and think I'm funny

Warnings: cursing, incompetent author who literally does not know how to update regularly, cringe anxious teens, broken caps lock key

Word Count: 1.8k

Check out the series playlist here!

I fucked up.

I watched her walk away from me.

I fucked up.

The train was shaking me, but I couldn’t feel it.

I fucked up.

I hung my bag on a hook next to my desk.

Why couldn’t you just tell her that you wanted her around?

I dried my hair with my towel, staring back at the boy in the mirror.

Why do you even want her around?

I sunk into my bed, wrapping myself in the covers.

Tomorrow came too soon. Before I knew what was happening, I was unlocking the club room and getting all the equipment ready in the gym.

Focus, Keiji. You’ve got to get this team to the Spring Tournament again.

I began warming up as the rest of the team trickled in. I set the volleyball off the wall, and it came back perfectly to my hands.

This isn’t enough.

I started going faster, running back and forth, bouncing the ball of the wall from different angles.

Just hit that same spot.

I kept going, sweat dripping down the side of my face. The cold air of the morning pricked my skin.

Just--

I slipped. My shoes screeched against the gym floor, stopping my feet as my body flung too far to the left. I landed on the hard ground, a sharp pain in my ankle.

I fucked up.

“Akaashi-san,” Onaga called out, rushing to my side. “Are you alright?”

I rolled over onto my back, sprawling out on the floor. “I’m sure I’ll be okay,” I reassured him.

I’m definitely not okay.

I accepted his help up, and my knees almost automatically buckled. Pain flared up in my ankle.

Well, shit.

“Yeah, you’re going home.”

Onaga called Yuka and Coach Yamiji over to help me to my feet. He explained the situation to them, and Coach gave me a pointed look before telling Yuka to wrap my ankle and lock me out of the gym.

“You’re not going to actually lock me out of the gym, are you?” I asked Yuka.

She slid the door shut with a slam.

So much for being her favorite senpai.

I started on my way home.

Where did I go wrong?

I grabbed a bag of ice on my way to my room.

I’ve never been kicked out of practice like that before.

I set the ice bag against the part of my foot that hurt the most and sat down at my desk. I started to do some work written on my to-do list, but I kept glancing at my phone. I wasn’t sure why, but I kept checking to see if Sasaki had messaged me.

Yu-chan must have told her about my injury. She had to have given Sasaki my number for managerial reasons.

I picked up my phone and started looking through my social media apps for any missed notifications.

Why do I want her to message me so badly?

I opened the video calling app on my phone and called the first person on my recents list. Really, he was the only person on my recents list.

Maybe I just want attention right now.

“AGAASHE!” Bokuto’s hair filled up most of the screen. His eyebrows filled the rest. “How are you? You never call this early in the day.”

Do I want his advice or do I just want to catch up with him like normal?

“I finished my homework early, so I thought I would call you, Bokuto-san,” I replied, rubbing the nape of my neck. “How have you been?”

“I’m doing GREAT!”

I turned down the volume.

“I took Coach’s advice and stopped practicing on our days off!” he bragged. “I’ve been spending so much time just WALKING AROUND! THERE’S SO MANY FOOD STALLS HERE!!! I’LL JUST STOP ON MY WALK AND PICK UP SOMETHING TO EAT AND BE ON MY WAY!!!”

I smiled. “That’s good for you, Bokuto-san,” I said. “You always seemed a little more tense during those week-long training camps. Training nonstop didn’t do you well.”

“BUT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, AGAASH!!!” he exclaimed. “THE FOOD HERE IS SO GOOOOD!!!!!!”

“I’m sure it is, Bokuto-san.”

He continued talking about how much he was enjoying Osaka. Bokuto rambled on and on about the food. He had been upset that he wasn’t on the official roster for the team at first, but he was in the pool for the team to pick players from.

“It’s actually a lot nicer than I thought it would be, Akaash!” he shouted. “I’m getting to play a lot of games without feeling the pressure weigh down on me.

“I mean sure, I have to be good enough for them to put me on their team, but everyone here is good. Not that the guys at Fukurodani aren’t good. These guys are just so good. I don’t feel like I’m being pushed into a corner though. They’re pushing for me to be better in a good way.”

I nodded along. He gave me the opportunity for me to talk about what universities I was applying to. As always, he tried to convince me to go to a school with a good volleyball team so i could play.

“Hey, why are you upset?”

I blinked rapidly, his question washing over me like cold water.

How did he know?

“I’m not upset, Bokuto-san,” I responded, trying to slow my breathing.

My heart was beating faster as my mind scrambled for something, anything, to say to shake Bokuto’s interrogation.

When was he able to read me this well?

“How was your game with Nekoma yesterday?” Bokuto asked instead. He was narrowing down on everything that could have gone wrong in the last 24 hours.

I nodded my head, looking at the stack of books on my desk. “It went well,” I said. “We lost, but only barely. They have a pretty solid team while we’re still trying to get the first-years working in sync.”

Bokuto scratched his head. “Didn’t you say there was a really good first-year hitter?”

“Mamoru-kun.”

“Mamoru-kun! How is he doing?” Bokuto asked, light flashing in his eyes. “Is he giving you as much trouble as I gave you?”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Bokuto-san, you weren’t as troublesome as you thought you were,” I reassured him. “But, uh, Mamoru-kun is shaping up very well. Anahori-kun actually got to play quite a bit in the last set of the game as well.”

His eyes narrowed and a wide grin graced his face.

Ah, so he’s caught on.

“I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING WRONG!” he shouted. “What’s got you so wound up?”

“You seem awfully happy that I’m upset, Bokuto-san.”

“AGAASHEE!!!”

I sighed. “So there’s this,” I hesitated, “person that I’ve gotten close with. I asked them to help Yuka-chan with her manager duties--”

“Haha! You said duties!”

“--but yesterday they quit out of nowhere,” I finished, ignoring Bokuto’s comment. “I don’t know if it was something that I did wrong, or if the team was actually stressing them out.”

My mind flashed back to Onaga’s arm around Sasaki’s shoulders. I felt my blood boil thinking about how uncomfortable she looked.

Bokuto scratched his chin. “What does this have to do with you losing to Nekoma?” he asked. Didn’t you guys just play them last weekend at the training camp?”

“I think I just got nervous with them watching,” I admitted, not realizing that it was the truth until I said it. “It’s the first game that they’ve watched, and I really wanted to impress them.”

“Oh?”

I sighed. The storm that had been brewing in my mind for the past couple days was finally settling down into a soft drizzle.

“They’ve been really distant from me, but I can see the intelligence behind their eyes. I want to spend hours talking to them about literature and school. I want to ask them a million questions about how they think the universe works.”

Bokuto laughed heartily at me.

“Why are you calling me then?”

“Wha--”

“Bye Akaashi!” he shouted. “I think you know what to do!!!”

He hung up on me. I couldn’t believe he just hung up on me. My own face looked back at me in shock.

Bokuto’s voice echoed through my room, through my mind. The phrase repeated itself over and over again.

I know what to do.

I messaged Yuka-chan.

“Took you long enough,” she sent back before sending me what I asked for.

I didn’t ask her what she meant by that.

How did Yuka-chan and Bokuto-san catch onto my feelings before I did? I’m still not even sure just how I feel.

“Hi, it’s Akaashi Keiji,” I typed out.

The blinking cursor mocked me. My thumb rapidly deleted the message and tapped out a new one.

“Hey, it’s Akaashi.”

I sent the message, my stomach uneasy with nerves.

“Can I call you tonight?”

The bubble indicating that Sasaki was typing popped up almost immediately. I felt like I was going to throw up.

Throwing my phone on my desk, I wrung my hands.

My phone buzzed, and I scrambled to pick it up. I couldn’t have her thinking I left her on read.

“I’m about to shower, but you can call me in an hour.”

I sighed in relief.

She doesn��t think I’m weird.

My phone vibrated again. “Are you alright? Did you need something?” she asked.

“I’ll call you at 19:30,” I texted back.

I’ll just explain to her what I need when i call her. Perfect. I get to talk to her.

Why do I want to talk to her?

I spent most of the next hour killing time. I cleaned my room, though it didn’t need much cleaning. I walked to the kitchen and stared at the contents of my fridge. I sat on my bed, staring at my closet in contemplation before deciding that I didn’t need to change my shirt.

By 19:28 I was lying on the ground, staring at the clock on my phone.

Should I call her exactly at 19:30? What if she thinks that’s creepy? Should I call her a little bit sooner? What if she’s busy and misses the call? Should I call her a little bit later? What if she thinks I forgot to call?

I groaned in frustration, slamming my thumb down on the screen. I quickly put my phone on speaker and laid it down next to my head.

With each ring, the pounding in my chest felt louder. My stomach felt like it was trying to dig its way into the ground.

Why is this so nerve-wracking?

“Hello?” a voice called out from the speaker on my phone. “Akaashi-san?”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Hi, Sasaki-chan,” I replied.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Taglist: [Open]

a/n: Most of this playlist/fic will be Dayglow songs. I love his music so much and they just vibe.

fun facts:

**I 100% made up Bokuto’s situation (I don’t know how pro sports works in Japan)

**Bokuto is Akaashi’s BEST FRIEND!!! just because he’s loud doesn’t mean he isn’t emotionally intelligent and knows what Akaashi needs!!!!

#akaashi keiji #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#volleyball #akaashi keiji x oc #akaashi keiji x fem!oc #oc #original character #krites #hq #fukurodani #fukurodani gakuen #fanfic #fanfiction #uapt #under a peach tree #can i call you tonight #dayglow #can I call you tonight?

4 notes · View notes

ariannjs · 4 years

Text

ROLE PLAY | A SasuSaku FanFic One Shot

Late for these! But here’s my fic for SasuSakuSara Weekend 2020 Day 2 (In Another World/Connected Feelings) and #SasuSakuTwitFest2020 Day 6 (Marriage / "Idiot! We're married.") | @sasusakusara2020

Here's a maaaajor revision of one of my first fictions back in 2009 for a different ship. Ya gurl cringed on her old way of writing, HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Hope you enjoy this!

-A

–––

“Come on, dear. Please stop..."

She just wouldn't.

"Papa! P-papa!" She would just repeat that all over again.

Sakura paced towards Sarada’s crib, planning to carry her with the hopes that her tantrum would subside. But the moment she reached out to her—

“I want Papa now! Please, Mama!" She croaked with her tiny voice. "I miss Papa!"

The Uchiha matriarch almost fell on her knees as her daughter continued to cry out.

She sat on the bed beside her crib and leaned near her. If only an explanation of many words would be understood by a three year old. "Sarada, sweetie...Papa isn't coming home."

"Why, Mama? Why?" Little Sarada paused, but her tears were nonstop.

Sakura looked away. She struggled to find the right words, trying to think of an excuse about the rash decisions that led to their current situation now. She pinched the bridge of her nose. It shouldn’t have come to this, to the point that their daughter would be affected.

“Sweetie, just...calm down, please."

Sarada stared at her with glassy charcoal eyes, tears still streaming down her cheeks, and then she cried, “Mama, I want Papa here! Here! Here!"

Her heart clenched at the sight, she had never seen her baby this hurt. And what pains her the most was the fact that it was because of her and Sasuke.

Then, the idea finally settled in...

“Okay, okay. Calm down."

Sakura got her phone from the table on the other side of the bed. Her hands were shaking; her tears almost coming out. I didn't have to do this...

She didn't have to go to her list of contacts anymore just to look at his number, besides she memorized it, just like how she memorized every single detail about him.

She took a deep breath before pressing the call button. One ring, two rings, three rings...no answer. She cancelled, and then called again, with much conviction this time. It was actually difficult for her to concentrate as Sarada's muffled cry continued to fill the room.

"Ssh..." She told her, as if that would make sense.

"Hello?" Oh, gosh. What am I going to say? Sasuke finally answered his cell phone. It was apparent that his voice was serious, angry even, because who in their right mind would call someone at 2AM?

"Uhmm...good morning, Sasuke. Sorry." She paused. "But this is...this is about Sarada."

"Huh? What happened to her?" There was a noticeable change in his voice, from an angry husband to a concerned father. And it was enough to calm Sakura's nerves as she continued to speak with him.

"She just wouldn't stop. She—"

"P-papa!" Sarada screamed.

Sakura’s head fell on her hand. There was no point hesitating now. "She wants you to be here, Sasuke." Tears trickled down her face, but she kept her composure for she didn't want to sound like she’s crying. I didn't want to see him yet...

There was silence on both lines aside from the ringing cries of their daughter. Sakura didn't know if Sasuke's still on the phone. Every tick of the clock increased her anxiety about what Sasuke might be thinking at the moment, for she didn’t want him to think that she was using their child to force him to come back. They both needed this space after all.

She heard him sigh after a moment, "Okay. I'm coming over."

"T-thanks," she muttered, and then hung up.

A sigh escaped her lips as she turned to check on Sarada again, whose cries have finally subsided into hiccups. "I'm sorry, baby. Just wait a little longer."

Sakura stared at her, realizing for the millionth time that she and Sasuke were able to create such a beautiful human being. Sarada’s face resembles hers, but her hair and her eyes were the same as Sasuke’s, making her the spitting image of her handsome father. There was no question to that. Never will she be able to forget her husband after all, whatever the circumstances would be. Besides, she didn’t want to forget.

Moments later, she then heard a familiar sound of an engine stopping in front of their house.

"Wait here, Honey," she said as she made sure Sarada’s crib was locked. The kid was still in tears, but she had high hopes that it would change in a little while.

Sakura went downstairs to open the door, but before that, she glanced at the mini monitor of the CCTV camera for their front porch, just to make sure it was Sasuke.

"Thanks for coming," she said, avoiding his face as she opened the door. There was no response. "She's in the bedroom."

Sasuke went straight to their bedroom with her following suit. It didn't matter anymore if her anxiety about what Sasuke might be thinking was reaching its peak right now, as long as her baby would finally be happy after crying her heart out for hours.

"Sarada?"

"Papa? It's you! Papa, it's you!" Sakura finally felt relief at the sight of the apparent joy on her daughter's face. Sarada was standing on her crib now, with her arms raised expectantly towards her approaching father.

"Aa. It’s me." Sasuke instantly carried and embraced her tightly. "I missed you, Sarada." Well, it's been more than a week.

Tears streamed down Sakura's face once more, but much thanks to Sarada's bib that she was holding, she was able to wipe it away before Sasuke even noticed. Ever since Sarada was born, it always warms her heart seeing Sasuke with their child. There was no doubt that Sarada was precious to him, that’s why it hit differently seeing him with her again after what transpired weeks ago.

Sarada has completely stopped crying now, but her face was still wet with tears so she went near her, with her face towards Sakura as she wrapped her small arms around Sasuke’s neck. Her father soothingly patted her back.

With the bib on her hand, Sakura wiped her face and smiled at her, relieved that her baby is now relaxed in her father’s secure arms.

The young Uchiha returned the smile before slightly pulling away to face Sasuke, she said, "Papa, please stay..."

Stunned, Sakura took a step back and waited for her husband’s response. She couldn’t see Sasuke’s reaction for his back was towards her, but she did notice the halt of his hand’s movements.

Sasuke remained silent, causing Sarada to start tearing up again as she stared at him. "I don't want you to go again, Papa."

"Sssh. Don’t make that face." He wiped Sarada’s tears through his thumb. "Your mama's here, there's no need for you to worry."

Sakura almost scoffed. There is, Sasuke! If I were the baby, I would really tell you that I need you for you are my father!

Then the hissy fit began again. "But...but papa...I want Papa here! I want Mama here! I need papa and mama here!" She exclaimed, catching both her parents off guard.

Sakura noticed that Sasuke tilted his head to glance at her. But her gaze fell to the floor, knowing that it’s still up to Sasuke if he would finally decide to go back home. He already got the space that he needed, but Sakura wasn’t sure if the kind of space he really wanted was long term. Her heart constricted at that thought.

Sasuke sighed after a moment. "Ssh. Okay, okay, don’t cry, Sarada...we'll be here for you," he whispered.

Whether that was true or it was just a trick, it was thankfully effective in calming Sarada.

Sakura went outside the room and proceeded downstairs to give the father and daughter their time with each other; when suddenly – Oh, God. Thank God Sasuke is here! – she saw from the bottom of the staircase that the knob of their front door was visibly shaking.

She silently walked towards the locked door and glanced at the mini monitor by the wall which she has left turned on when Sasuke came. She then gasped. A guy in black was on the other side of the door, with his face covered with black cloth too. As he continued to try opening the door with whatever tool in his hand, Sakura darted to the bedroom, totally terrified.

She took a deep breath before she spoke, "Sasuke..."

The head of the family glanced at her with confusion written on his face. When he noticed how Sakura's face turned even paler while she pointed downstairs, he gave Sarada to her and instantly went to their first floor.

Sakura then talked to Sarada, "Honey, I need you to keep quiet now, okay?" The little girl nodded as she embraced her much tightly. "Mama and Papa's gonna be here."

With Sarada secure in her arms, she followed her husband downstairs. "I-is he still there, Sasuke? I'll call the police now."

She received a nod. "Are the windows all locked?"

"Yeah."

"How about the back door?"

Did I lock it? Oh my, did I? There was a moment of silence until—

"Sakura!" Sasuke grabbed her hand in an instant and pulled her beside him.

Gasping, Sakura breathed heavily upon realizing that there were already three men inside their house, one of them was able to go through the front door. Thank God Sasuke's here!

"M-mama…" Sarada was already noticing the commotion. She then buried her face onto her mother's chest as the Uchiha matriarch hugged her tighter.

"It's fine, baby. It's fine."

"Papa's here, Sarada," Sasuke whispered. That statement assured even Sakura that she almost forgot that they were not exactly in good terms with each other.

Clearing his throat, Sasuke then spoke to the three strangers, "What do you want?" He paused. "Please...not my family. Not them, please," he added, now standing protectively in front of his wife and daughter.

"I asked you, what do you want?" Sasuke asked more firmly this time. And yet again, he only received silence from the other party.

Sakura's eyes softened as she stared at his back. To hear that he cares so much about them despite the tensions they've had made her heart full, as if it's been waiting to hear those words after a long time. But it wasn't the right time to be sentimental with the situation they're in now.

Only then did she notice that the invaders were carrying weapons. One of them was holding a long piece of wood, the other one had a big knife, and the last guy who was from the front door had none; maybe his primary job was to open its lock.

"Mam–"

"Yes, Sarada…" There was a crack in Sakura’s voice but she wanted to be firm in front of her daughter. "Everything will be fine."

One of the strangers stepped forward, the one carrying a piece of wood.

Sasuke tensed at this, mentally blaming himself for not having his phone with him. He also saw Sakura's phone on their bed, so they couldn't contact the police right now. As he calculated possible scenarios, he noted that it was too risky to move or attack, especially with the fact that the strangers could harm his wife and daughter. He clutched his fists as he turned to Sakura, eyes telling him things that he knew his wife would understand.

And indeed, she did. A stray tear escaped from her eyes as she shut them and shook her head. No. This won't be the end. This won't be the—

"Sasuke!" Sakura flashed her eyes open upon hearing a loud groan. Gasping at the sight, she was frozen in place as she watched her husband writhe in pain after being hit with the long piece of wood by one of the invaders. She didn't know what to do now.

"Pa–pa!" Sarada squirmed and began crying in her arms but she held her in place.

This time, Sakura faced the men. "What do you want from us?!" She forced her voice to not waver. "If you wanted to take something, you didn't have to hurt my husband like that! We don't even have much here! And you are scaring our baby!"

Sarada cried even harder despite not understanding what was going on.

Then, to her utter surprise, she heard them laugh…

The three invaders suddenly guffawed as they one by one removed their black masks.

With widened green eyes, Sakura felt as if a vein popped in her head when she finally realized who the men were. "What the—How dare the three of you!"

Sarada stopped crying when she saw what made her mother shout. "Uncles!"

Sakura put her down and minded herself for a while, recalling the past few minutes that made her feel like her heart was going to explode. She was sure these three were their friends, but she wasn't quite sure now.

"Hey, Sara-chan!"

Gleefully, Sarada ran with her tiny feet. "Uncle Naruto!"

Naruto carried his niece as if nothing had happened. "You okay now?"

The little girl bounced in his arms.

Confused and still in pain, Sasuke tried to stand and welcomed Sakura's assistance to him. "What?! What's going on here?"

"Oops...by the way, sorry, Teme. I think that was pretty hard."

"Naruto Uzumaki! That did hurt!" He groaned.

The three idiot visitors – invaders – continued laughing.

"Anyway, maybe you should change your door knob now," Sai said as he laughed, "and choose a better one, huh? I think that one is way too easy to open."

"This is not funny, Sai!" Sasuke exclaimed as he gave them a glare, trying his best to not punch anyone in the face tonight.

"Calm down, children," Kakashi instructed, still chuckling with a shake of his head.

"Stop it! You scared us!"

"Too bad I did nothing, though," their former sensei added, not minding what the Uchiha matriarch said.

"Haha! But you did well in holding the knife, Kakashi-san!" Now Sai, who was usually emotionless, was losing control.

"What is this damn role play all about, huh? Didn't you even think that you might scare Sarada?" Sasuke interrogated, feeling a bit better but still assisting his lower back.

"Hmm...I think it's just that I want you to get out of my house already. A week with a married guy felt irritating." Naruto grinned and then turned to Sarada, "You want Papa here, right?"

"Yep, yep, Uncle!" She chuckled. And Sakura couldn't help but smile as she saw the corners of Sasuke's lips twitch upwards.

"This is actually for her, Sasuke, Sakura-chan," Naruto explained as he embraced his adorable niece.

"So what's the plan now?" Sai asked.

Then the three of them stared at the couple, grinning like Cheshire cats.

Sakura met Sasuke's confused gaze.

"Remember your daughter, you're not kids anymore. Go, talk," Kakashi uttered seriously this time, pointing upstairs as if grounding Sasuke and Sakura due to an offense.

The husband and wife were frozen in place upon realizing that everything was planned behind their backs.

"Oh, come on. We're giving Mr. and Mrs. Uchiha their time of privacy. Go!" Sai nudged them to go upstairs. There was no escape now.

To her surprise, Sasuke began walking upstairs before looking at her with a smile. "I think they're right."

She smiled back after a few moments and followed suit, unsure of what was going to happen now that they were finally going to confront their situation.

They proceeded to their bedroom, leaving Sarada with her uncles so they didn't mind closing the door. They were finally on their own after a week. And for a moment, they were tacit as they drank each other's presence, uncertain about how to begin settling what they should have decided to settle on the same day their argument sparked.

It was rather awkward until they met each other's gazes, and then, they both laughed.

"Silly, right?" Sasuke commented while chuckling.

"Yeah. That whole thing was a mess!"

When their laughter subsided, Sakura was finally at ease. Knowing that Sasuke was there all along was relieving. He never left them as he stood his ground to protect their family, that's all that stuck into her mind.

"Sakura," Sasuke soon paused and then held her hand, making her realize that she missed him so much more than she thought. "I'm...I'm so sorry."

Tears began brimming Sakura's eyes as she stared at her husband.

"I've been selfish. I knew I hurt you with my words but all that mattered to me was my own frustrations at work that day, to the point that I chose to have my space and leave the two most important persons to me." His dark orbs now focused on her seafoam ones. "Please forgive me, Sakura. I've been a stupid husband and father."

"No, Sasuke." Sakura squeezed his hand and smiled. "I had my own mistakes too. I shouldn't have nagged you and blamed everything to you knowing that you were already feeling so low about yourself that day. I should've been your number one supporter, but I failed in becoming that. I'm sorry. And I forgive you." She beamed once more.

"Thank you, Sakura, for everything. I forgive you as well." The corners of his lips moved upwards. "This would never happen again. Should we have another argument, I'm not going to let a long time pass and we'll deal with it immediately. Because damn it, I missed you." He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "I missed you and Sarada. I'm really sorry."

Sakura's hand moved to his cheek, she blushed when he leaned into her touch and slowly opened his eyes. "You're here now, Sasuke...that's all that matters."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course."

"Will you take me back?" He then pouted, causing Sakura to chuckle. Seeing that made him feel accomplished and gave his heart the warmth that he hadn't felt for a week.

"Idiot! We're married." She pinched his cheek this time, making him grin despite wincing slightly. "We just needed some space to cool down but that didn't change the fact that you're my husband and I'm your wife."

"Hn. Say that again."

"Eh? What?"

"That you're my wife." He now pulled her closer to him.

"I-i'm your wife…" Sakura bit her lip as a tinge of pink appeared on her cheeks.

Sasuke smirked at the sight. "This is what I missed the most." And then he closed the distance between them to meet her lips with his.

Moments later, they heard footsteps from the stairs.

"Whoa......" Three people, including their baby, were now in front of their room.

"Don't mind them," Sasuke whispered and then slammed the door of their bedroom as he kissed his wife again, making Sakura chuckle against his lips.

"Yay! Mama and Papa will both be here again!" Their Sarada shouted for joy on the other side of the door.

Her parents felt the gladness as much as she did.

So the role play was effective after all.

–––

Sorry for the mess, lol. But your reviews would be appreciated! Check out my other fics also and let me know what you think :) Hope the SSS Weekend and SS Twit Fest are helping you cope better during this tough time! SS is here for you, and so am I!❤️

-A

#sssw20d2 #SasuSakuTwitFest2020 #SasuSaku #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #uchiha sarada #naruto #ariannjfics

70 notes · View notes

ukiyoly · 4 years

Text

Unspoken Words [MysMe - 707/Saeyoung]

Hi! This is the very first fic I ever wrote, and it’s a Mystic Messenger one as well! Am I super stressed about it? You can bet I am! :D

Special thanks to @saeyoungs-sunflower for proof-reading it for me! You're such an angel!! ♡

This was actually inspired by a song, “After Dark - Aimer - words”. I couldn’t help falling in love with it, and this little story is what popped to my mind when I read its touching lyrics. Definitely give it a try!^^

[Saeyoung x MC]

Genre: Angst (?)

Word Count: 1.3k

Synopsis: As time goes by, we learn to move on from the past. But leaving behind the person you once considered your soulmate can prove to be one of the most painful choices you ever had to make.

Notes: This is based on the Reset/Sentient 707 Theory.

“I love you.”

Those words that echoed within your very soul.

Those letters you had grown so fond of.

...Did they really have any meaning anymore?

Getting out of the shower, you checked your phone for any new notifications, switching among countless apps and social medias, without any real purpose. You just felt empty staring at your lock screen, as a twinge of sadness within your chest reminded you once again of the people you had decided to leave behind.

It had been almost a month since you had last opened the messenger app. You had already completed everyone’s route after all, and there was no need for you to go back. You gave everyone their happy ending, and the game just reset as it should. You never dared to achieve a bad ending, afraid of hurting those people you had grown to care so much for.

That was it. You had made it. You had completed the game.

You had given Yoosung the courage he needed to move on.

You offered Zen the reassurance and care he needed so much.

You helped Jaehee to finally live up her dreams.

You allowed Jumin to open up and managed to heal him.

You gifted Saeyoung the happy ending he always deserved.

“…It was supposed to be over.” That’s what you told yourself, at least.

The resets were bound to happen after all. It was all programmed. No matter how many times you started it all over again, you could feel the pain in your chest getting stronger each and every time they occurred, knowing that in the end… you would never be truly happy with them. You were ready to leave everything as it was; ready to move on. Leaving behind the RFA in the ‘happily-ever-after’ you gave them, and finally going somewhere where you hoped you could at least find the solace you longed for.

But that last glance you gave the messenger icon was when everything unfolded once again. His now so-familiar words echoed through your ears, almost numbing your whole body and mind.

“Aww, yeah! You’re the best!”

“Your voice has been playing inside my head nonstop today.”

“I really like that you’re so bright. I feel like I’m under the sun when I talk to you.”

“Do you think... it’s possible? Can we really overcome all obstacles and smile in the end? And one day… have a happy family?”

“What can I do to protect you?”

“I don’t want you to be in danger ever again.”

“I love you. I want you to look at me and love me too. We’ve come too far to turn back. I’m already too deep into you…”

“I love you, my one and only love.”

And that’s where you gave in. You felt the floor collapse under your feet as tears began gathering up in your eyes.

“He loves you”, you thought, “he really does.”

Your mind was flooded with thoughts of the person you once considered your true love, the one your heart had been seeking for so long. You tried so hard to contain the downpour of emotions inside of you, afraid of breaking down like shattered glass if your mind went too deep into those words of his.

~“Let’s Marry In The Space Station!”~

That was your breaking point. As silly as that promise was… it meant something.

God, you had heard it so many times now, as a simple, mere joke, more often than not.

But your mind still couldn’t help flashing back at the bright and cheerful images of the 707 you laughed so much with, of the Luciel who suffered and still kept on fighting, and of the Saeyoung who had opened his heart and offered it to you.

For so many years, you wondered what “Love” really meant. It wasn’t until he came into your life that you started seeing the monochrome world burst into a myriad of vivid colours. He had made you happy… It was the very first time you had felt someone genuinely care about you. With his heart and soul, he would be ready to offer his life for you.

…And you loved him, too.

You weren’t lying when you screamed those words at him at the top of your lungs while on the verge of death. You promised him you would take care of Saeran together, and that you would always be there for each other. But now, you couldn’t face Saeyoung anymore, afraid of him hating you for being a liar.

Your mind was still filled with the memories of your soulmate. Your whole body missed his gentle touch, his caresses and the comfort he gave you whenever he held you in his arms. His tender voice, paired with his unique outfits which never failed to either make you burst out laughing, or made you look at him with admiration; You missed him. So much…

There was nothing more you could do for him, before everything would reset. You grew tired of that endless cycle of pain, guilt and regrets for your never-fullfilling promise, and, for as much as it pained you, you deciced to distance yourself and leave everything in what you thought was “The best possible outcome”.

Slumped over on the floor, a few words left your quivering lips, holding the weight of a thousand regrets.

“Forgive me… Sae, please…”

You had once again disappeared from the messenger. He always waited for a reset; to be able to see your gentle smile, to feel your soft lips on top of his, and to tell you how much you fulfilled his entire being once again. But that day never came. Soon enough, he started fearing that you might have gotten bored out of it all and left everything behind you. There was a linger of hope which kept him wondering if you’d at least come back to say ‘Farewell”, or just send him a small text through the RFA chatroom. But days turned into weeks, and there was still no response.

“I should have known this day was about to come. …I don’t deserve to be happy with you, after all. I never truly did.”

A single tear rolled down Saeyoung’s cheek, as he stared up at the sky, and the pain in his voice, becoming more apparent with every word he uttered.

He knew he was your favourite. You had repeated it, over and over. You promised him that no matter whose route you would chose, you’d always come back for him in the end. And the single thought of you breaking that promise shattered his heart in a thousand pieces.

“…You’re so mean. You left without a single word. And I had faith that you would come back… But look at me now. I fell for the sweetest angel that ever existed, and not having you here is so damn painful. Why did you leave without a goodbye…? We had made a promise to each other… I… can’t go on without you…”

A long silence ensued as the red headed boy closed his eyes and mustered the courage to finally say those words which pained him to the core. This time, no one was there to see the pain in his face. Yet, there was a hint softness in his voice, and a spark of hope which ignited his golden eyes once again. His right hand digging into the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out little kitty-like gadget, its white fur and icy blue eyes mirroring Jumin's beloved cat. A sigh left Saeyoung's mouth, as he stared at the object endearingly...

“...I love you. And I always will. You might forget about me, but I never will. I’ll wait for your return… always. Even if the stars don’t want us to meet again,” he said as a smile graced his lips and tears streamed down his face.

“We had promised to go to the space station together, after all…”

~ 💕~

#Mystic Messenger #Mystic Messenger 707 #Saeyoung Choi #Fic #Unspoken Words #My Writing #(I'm so glad I managed to write this!)#I hope you liked it... qwq #Thank you for reading this far! Here for you! ^-^)/🍪#Have an amazing day/night!! ♡

22 notes · View notes

lilwenney · 4 years

Text

BUT WE WERE HAPPY

pairing: will x female!reader warning(s): alcohol, & so much fluff it hurts my heart word count: 2.2k a/n: i needed will fluff. so i wrote will fluff. based off me & you together song by the 1975 enjoy <3

“Hey, do you need anything from the shops?” She asked Will, propping a foot up on a chair to tie the laces of her trainers.

Will hummed, jogging down the remaining stairs and into the kitchen. “Don’t think so. I went yesterday and got everything we needed.”

“But not bin bags?”

“Alright, so almost everything we needed.”

She laughed and nodded, dropping her foot back to the floor. “It’s okay,” She walked over to the kitchen table and grabbed her phone, her keys to the door, tucking them in the pocket of her jacket. She made sure to grab her mask too, holding it in her hands. “I’ll be the responsible one then. Since it’s definitely not going to be you.”

“Gee is just as bad!” He whined, motioning to the living room where Gee was lying on the sofa. “Last time she went to the shop, she spent most of her money on a new mirror for her room and left like ten quid for food.”

In the living room just off the kitchen, Gee paused her show and tilted her head over the back of the sofa. “Excuse me, do not drag me and my LED mirror into this.”

“It’s alright, I’m off then.” (Y/N) laughed. She walked around the edge of the kitchen table to Will, crossing the space between them and pressing a swift kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

(Y/N) hadn’t been in Canary Wharf for long, a little over two weeks at the most, but she knew the pavement like the back of her hand. In the last few days, she had taken many trips to the nearby shops for necessities, or anything just to get some fresh air, proving to both Will and Gee that she could go and come back in one piece.

While her and Will’s relationship was still relatively new, in its early stages, the sudden events of quarantine happened to speed things up quite a bit. One weekend spent in London with him turned into almost three weeks of sleeping in the same bed and spending every single today together. It was a happy accident, or at least that was how they saw it. In all fairness, they would rather spend however long it would be together than the undisclosed amount of time apart.

She stepped out of the lobby doors, into the warmer Spring weather. London had its moments when it came to weather, it could be bright and sunny at noon, but cloudy and rainy at 12:05, however since events and social life came to a complete halt, the weather had been at its best for the first time in months.

Turning the corner on the side of her trainers, she tucked the straps of her mask behind her ears and strolled into the nearest shop. It wasn’t as packed as she imagined it would be, so she took another second after grabbing the bin bags to look at the miscellaneous things around her. She tossed snacks and other necessities like hygiene products and light bulbs into the basket, and at the last second, tossed in Will’s favorite candy bar on top of everything else before she checked out.

It was a quick trip, there and back in fifteen minutes, she counted when she stepped foot onto the lift. She pressed the button for their floor and then quickly pulled the mask from her face while palming her keys and phone. It was a quick ride up, the lift shooting up the lower and arriving at their floor no less than a minute later.

Walking down the length of the corridor, she could hear music leading her straight to the door of the flat. It was a song she could recognize anywhere, mostly because she played it nonstop for a week after it dropped just months before. She raised a brow before shoving the key into the door and turning the lock, pushing it open to see Will standing behind the sofa, greeting her with a bright smile. She laughed and pulled the key out of the lock, letting the door shut behind her.

“What’s that smile about?” She finally asked, crossing the flat to the kitchen table where she sat the bags down. Will, still with a smile, just shrugged, and she raised a brow. “Oh, I don’t trust you at all right now.

“That makes me feel lovely.”

“The last time you did something without telling me, you accidentally nailed my hairdryer to the holder.” It was supposed to be a cute gesture, and it was in Will’s mind as he screwed the holder into her vanity, but what he also did was drive the nail through the end of her hairdryer, pinning it to where she could no longer pull it out. He bought her a new one to make up for it, but she still brought it up every chance she could to tease him.

“Oh that was so long ago!” He called out.

“It was two months ago,” she said with a playful eye roll.

Opening the bags from the shop, she reached in and pulled out the handful of things she bought, and then she pulled out the last thing, which was a candy bar. She turned her body back to Will and held it up with a smile.

“I thought of you.”

Will’s eyes lit up at the sight of his favorite sweet and he smiled, eyes crinkled. It was her favorite smile of his, admiring how it lit up his whole face. “Thank you, love,” he said as she stepped forward and handed it to him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, taking it from her hand. “And while you were gone, I managed to be a semi-decent boyfriend.”

“Please tell me you didn’t nail my hair straight-”

“I didn’t touch anything of yours.” He cut her off and they laughed under their breath. “But I know you hate feeling cramped up in here since we can’t go out all that often except to the shops, so,” her curious eyes followed him as he stepped over to the balcony doors. She had been so caught up in his smile and their playful bickering that she didn’t even notice what was on the balcony.

Across from their table and chairs, right in the sun laid a blanket across the balcony, pillows cushioning a spot against the glass doors, and a picnic basket sat on the corner accompanied by a bottle of pink wine and flowers.

“Will,” she breathed out, taking a step further. When she looked back up to meet Will’s eyes, she felt her heart swell ten times its size. “You did this while I was gone for ten minutes?”

“Gee helped, but it was mostly me.” He said, stepping out into the sunshine. “I know how much you like going out and having dates at the park and stuff like that. Since you can’t have that, I figured that I could, you know, bring it to you.”

She followed behind him, walking on to the balcony and lowering down onto the blanket. She tipped open the top of the basket to see containers of food and even more flowers. Sitting back on her calves, she shook her head, hands brought to her cheeks as she drank it all in. It was a simple gesture that for her, was so much. It was really the small things.

Will pointed to the basket. “I ordered it off Amazon. That’s why that parcel was so big the other day.”

“Thought that was for your lobster costume.”

“And that too,” he chuckled, “but the basket came in too, and I bought everything else while I was at the shops yesterday.”

“Is that why you forgot everything else? Because you were distracted trying to pick up all of this stuff?”

“Yes,” he nodded firmly with a chuckle, “buying it and hiding it from you was more of a chore than anything else.”

Will squatted down next to her when she reached for the small bouquet of white tulips he had bought. She took them in her hand, feeling the soft petals against her fingertips, and then turning to him with a smile that matched the warmth of the sun beating down on their shoulders.

“This is beautiful, William, seriously.” She said, motioning to everything around her. “Thank you so much. I love it.”

He reached up and grabbed the brim of his hat, turning it around and tilting his head down to kiss her. So overcome with joy, she laughed into the kiss, causing him to smile, and she grabbed his chin to kiss him again.

“I love it,” she repeated, staring into his eyes. They were filled with adoration and another emotion she couldn’t quite decipher, but it was as soft and sweet as the springtime around them. She smiled, her thumb grazing across his bottom lip. “I love you,”

The same smile she loved spread across his face at the realization of her words, the corners of his lips meeting his eyes. Both of Will’s hands shot out, grabbing her cheeks, and kissing her so wildly it knocked them both down onto the blanket. They laughed between kisses as he held his weight above her, peppering her lips, her cheeks with love.

“Can’t believe I waited you out so long you said it before me.”

She paused, looking up at him with eyes like saucers. “You love me?”

“Have for the longest time.” He said kissing her cheek and then moving over, dropping onto his side next to her. She moved her head and looked at him.

“And you waited until I told you to say anything?”

“I mean,” Will paused and looked at the scenery around him, “I tried to show it, you know. I didn’t bloody nail your hairdryer to the vanity on purpose.” He said and she laughed, shaking her head at the memory once again flashing in her mind. “I was trying to do all these things to show you that I love you without… you know, saying it. ‘Cause I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same.”

“Well, if I had known your awful handy work in my flat was a sign of love, I would have definitely told you sooner.” She leaned over and kissed him once more before sitting up. “Okay, can we eat the sandwiches you made now?”

He chuckled, sitting up and opening the top of the basket. “I thought you would go for the wine first.”

“And that too,”

Stripping of her jacket and toeing off her trainers, she sat with her legs crossed and pulled out sandwiches wrapped in red and white checkered paper for her and Will, and then the bags of crisps he had tossed in as well.

Spring time had always been her favorite time of the year, the perfect mix of cool mornings with warm afternoons, and it was a sentiment that she shared with Will. And she thought he was as gorgeous as the season itself when she glanced up at him, clutching one of the sandwiches he had made just minutes prior to arrival back from the shops. He wasn’t looking at her, instead his eyes glazed over the wide expanse of the Canary Wharf and the river below them, the balcony becoming a haven of the seclusion and privacy they both yearned for. It was nice feeling like they were the only ones in their little world, but now that the word has come to a standstill, and they were trying to take advantage of the it as much as possible.

After the sandwiches and crisps, and a series of taking photos of each other, they sat back in the shade, enjoying the music, the view, and the company of the other.

Leaning back, the cool glass of the door pierced against her hot skin and she smiled in relief, her head tilting over and meeting Will’s shoulder in the middle. They sat in the shade of the balcony above them, listening to the river, to the wind, to the music playing from inside, while sipping on pink wine in crystal wine glasses with wide smiles.

But it's true Yeah it's you, you're the one that makes me feel right

She turned and pressed a kiss to his shoulder through the material of his shirt.

We went to Winter Wonderland And it was shit but we were happy

(Y/N) let out a laugh and Will glanced down at her, his cheek meeting the top of her head. “What you laughin’ about down there?”

“The song, it describes us right now,” she said and then repeated the lyrics, “and it was shit but we were happy.”

Will laughed too. “Yeah, sounds about like us.”

“But we make the best of it.” She reached down and grabbed his hand, slowly interlocking her fingers with his. Will smiled and kissed her forehead again before the conversation slowed and the song continued.

Overlooking the view of the river, the O2, the outskirts of London in the distance, she smiled. The last few weeks had been particularly rough from a change of life to a change of pace, and for a while, it felt like things were only going downhill. But Will… the glorious son of a bitch did everything in his power to make her feel a bit more in tune with her old life, which included breaking out the picnic blanket. And it made her happy. It made her realize that while she was in love with him, she was also falling in love with her life with him.

I've been in love with you for ages And ages, and ages I've been in love with you for ages

#AHHHHHHHH #will #one shot

33 notes · View notes

marveloussupernerd · 3 years

Text

Halloween Bash - Jaehee Kang

Hello and welcome to spooky season! For the next week I’m going to post a Halloween one shot every night. I random number generated the post order, prompts, and other little details about it, so I’ll be including those at the beginning of the story

Prompts: RFA party, bobbing for apples, stay all night

Summary: the RFA is throwing a little Halloween bash for its members. You and Jaehee dress to impress

You and Jaehee had put a lot of thought and effort into the RFA Halloween party. Rika had done it once before in the past and you wanted to bring it back and hopefully make it a fun tradition. You planned to have a costume contest, bobbing for apples, and the Monster Mash on repeat.

Jaehee had left the costumes up to you. It took you a while to find good costumes (there were a zillion Hetero couples costumes but you really struggled to find something creative for the two of you), but when you saw it you knew it was perfect. Of course, you couldn’t both win the costume contest, but you definitely wanted to match.

You walked into the coffee shop where Jaehee was hanging a streamers, and plopped the costumes onto the table next to her. “Are those the Scooby Doo characters?” She asked, glancing down at the costumes then focusing her energy back to the task at hand.

“Velma and Daphne! Jaehee, don’t tell me you didn’t know their names,” you sighed, plopping onto the chair next to her.

“I actually did watch Scooby Doo as a kid, but it’s been a while,” she smiled. She stuck one more piece of tape then carefully got off the chair she was standing on to sit next to you. “I think it’ll be quite cute.”

“Oo! I also got this hairspray stuff for you that temporarily dyes it orange. It might be kind of unnatural but-“

“You want me to be Daphne?” She cut you off, her eyebrows raised skeptically.

“Duh! I think you’d look really nice as her. Why? Would you rather be Velma?” You glanced down at the costumes. Fortunately you two were nearly the same size.

“No, I just. I don’t know... I assumed you’d want me to be Velma. I did look a lot like her...”

“Yeah, because Jumin made you. You look so beautiful now and I want you to embrace those changes! Putting on a short wig and glasses would do the exact opposite.”

She leaned across the table to grab your hand. “Thank you. I don’t think you understand how much that means to me.

“Of course. Now if you’re done with the decorations can I help you do the hair?”

“I set one banner up...”

You looked around. Huh. She was right. “Whoops. Got so excited I didn’t even notice that. Let me help you set things up first then.”

The two of you were an excellent team, obviously, and made quick work of setting up the decorations. Jaehee had splurged on some nice decorations. Lots and lots of pumpkins and pumpkin banners (to go with your pumpkin treats you had made ahead of time) and even a very realistic cauldron for the bobbing for apples game. Granted, her decor was very mild and not scary, spare one thing she splurged on. She set up one of those spiders that jump out at you when you walked past it, then put it by the entry.

“Jaehee... I didn’t know you were so diabolical...” you chuckled, putting batteries in the machine to get it running.

“I just want to see Mr. H- I mean Jumin, jump. He has a fear of spiders you know.”

“I’ll be sure to get it on camera,” you winked at her.

The next step was getting all dressed up. You started with the hair dye, which blended surprisingly well with her now-long hair. It wasn’t too neon, but enough that you could tell she was now a redhead. You helped her with some winged eyeliner, as she had never done a wing herself, and some sparkly pink lipgloss. Once she was all dressed, you took a step back to admire your handiwork. “Jaehee, you look kinda hot,” you complimented, suddenly feeling extremely embarrassed.

Her cheeks shot red from the compliment as she worked hard to look anywhere but your eyes. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

“No, I think you look exactly like her. Now will you help me get this wig on?”

Turns out getting a wig on is a two, probably three honestly, person task. Especially with your baby hairs that kept falling out of place. Luckily, Jaehee helped you fix it until it was absolutely perfect. You got all dressed next. “What do you think?” You asked, doing a little spin.

“They really didn’t include the glasses with the costume?” She asked, turning the bag upside-down to ensure you hadn’t missed anything. “Huh. Well, luckily for us I think I still have my old pair.”

Jaehee disappeared to the back. You heard a lot of rustling through drawers before she came back victorious. “No prescription or anything, just regular frames.” She carefully put them on your face. “Perfect. Now you look the part.”

You opened your phone camera to check your outfit. “We look GOOD! Best couples costume ever.” You glanced at the time. “And just in time too. We’ve gotta get to the front so we can see everyone get scared by the spider.

Jumin and Yoosung arrived together, no surprise since Yoosung was still his acting assistant. Jumin jumped slightly at the spider, but it was nowhere close to Yoosung, who backed into Jumin so quickly that he knocked the both of them over. You and Jaehee couldn’t contain your laughter, not making any movement to help them up.

Luckily there were no injuries, as the two got up relatively fast and made their way over to you. “Oh Assistant K- I mean, Jaehee,” Jumin said to you, “Some days I miss you more than others. And this is definitely one of those days.” He obviously did and didn’t mean it at the same time; he was teasing Yoosung. But oh! More pressing matters at hand.

“I’m not Jaehee,” you giggled. Jumin’s mouth fell open in shock. Obviously you were right; your voices were quite different, but you really pulled a fast one on him.

“Forgive me. I just thought... well, what are you two anyways?”

“You don’t know? They’re from Scooby Doo!” Yoosung yelled, very surprised that Jumin didn’t recognize it.

“Scooby huh?”

“Scooby Doo! It’s a kids show. You’re... more hopeless than I thought,” he said sadly.

“You two look nice! Frankenstein and his monster. Very creative.” You complimented them.

The conversation was halted when Zen walked in the room, bumping into the glass door as he jumped away from the spider. You all laughed this time.

Zen was quickly followed by Seven and V, who were not shocked by the spider at all. Figures. Zen was a vampire, V was dressed as a pirate, and Seven was... oh god why was he in his maid costume.

“You all look nice!” Jaehee complimented. “Let me get some music on and then we’ll start everything up.”

“Jaehee, that’s you!?” Zen exclaimed. “You look great!”

“Thanks!” She called. The Monsrer Mash started playing. She made her way back to the group. “Although it wasn’t exactly my idea.”

“I am a genius, I know.” You commented, accepting your praise. Jaehee hit your shoulder playfully and you got the party started.

The activity of the night was bobbing for apples. Was this a good idea? Probably not. But it’d be fun. You got to man the station and time how long it took everyone to get their apples. Jumin took the longest... literally over three minutes because he didn’t want to hurt his teeth. Zen was the quickest, trying to make sure he beat Jumin, which was not challenging to do.

Jaehee finished her turn and got right in the middle of the times. Her lipgloss was smeared down her face. “You know, maybe this idea had a few flaws,” you giggled, grabbing a paper towel to help her dry her face off. You very gently patted her face dry, using your finger to gently wipe the lipgloss away. It was strangely intimate and the two of you were both flushing messes, despite the fact that you were literally dating. No makeup problems for you though! The only issue was that the glasses fell off in the water, traditional Velma style, and the game became bobbing for glasses.

Zen’s prize for winning was a caramel apple designed to look like a pumpkin. Pretty creative from you and Jaehee to be honest. He rubbed it in Jumin’s face nonstop, and you figured he would for the next year until the next contest.

When it came down to voting for the best costume, it was no surprise to read out the results. Everyone had voted for Jaehee. There was one vote for you of course, because Jaehee was a supportive girlfriend and would NEVER vote for herself. Even Seven didn’t vote for himself which was, honestly, quite a relief. You were proud that her costume was so good Seven considered it better than his “Mary Vanderwood III” getup, whatever that meant.

Jaehee’s very special prize was homemade chocolate and pretzel bark the two of you had made the other night. Honestly, you were glad she won because it was so good and she would share it with you.

The two of you stayed all night. You sort of had to, considering it was taking place at your coffee shop. But you had a great time dishing out (non alcoholic) drinks and pumpkin cookies and candy.

You played pin the stem on the pumpkin (which V actually won, which honestly should not surprise anyone) and spent most of the time hearing everyone complaining about the Monster Mash playing for the fiftieth time. It wasn’t your fault. There weren’t that many Halloween songs and this one was Jaehee’s absolute favorite.

Once everyone left, the two of you plopped down on the sofa in the corner of the shop. “I’m so tired,” Jaehee groaned, resting her head on your shoulder and propping her feet up. “You sure we can’t just sleep here tonight?”

You laughed, chest shaking as you giggled, causing Jaehee to shift slightly. “We still have to open tomorrow at 6. And as much fun as it sounds to stay the night here, I’m worried your hair will become permanently orange if we don’t wash it out.”

She let out an exhasperated sigh, standing up and taking your hands to help pull you up. “Okay, but only if you help me wash it out. I’m too tired, and I don’t think I’ll be able to get the back.”

You winked at her. “Sure, whatever you say, Jaehee.”

#mystic messenger #mysme #jaehee Kang #Halloween

10 notes · View notes

hyungwonmyheart · 4 years

Text

Of the Sun - Six

Group: ATEEZ Pairing: Seonghwa / Female Reader Genre: Fantasy!AU (D&D inspired) Words: 3,915 Tags: dungeons & dragons, fantasy!au, high-elf!Seonghwa, human!reader, dragon!Yunho, secrets unfolding, fluff towards the end Summary: This part of your journey finally leads you to Yvemoore, the very place where you and your companion, Seonghwa, had business to attend to. Little did you know, the person you were both looking to find...was one in the same. A/N: I know it’s been months since I updated this, and anything for that matter, I’ve just been trying not to rush myself anymore. Anyway, I had fun with this and I really enjoyed bringing in a new character! And there are more adventures to come!

It was late. Dusk had quickly approached in the mountains, and the cold weather was setting in. In the last town, Seonghwa had bought you a new coat, one fit for the temperature as you traveled further north. Being a sun elf, Seonghwa wasn’t partial to the cold, but this was where Yvemoore was located and the place holding the business you both had to attend to.

You trudged along the road, but soon you saw looming silhouettes of large buildings through the trees. Your heart was pounding as Yvemoore grew closer. You readjusted the bag on your shoulders and pushed through your weariness, walking even faster than Seonghwa.

Seonghwa noticed your determination now that the city was in your sights. You had been traveling nonstop for two weeks, only resting in the evenings.

You would have been there sooner, if not for the ten days you spent mentally recovering from the shock of your bandit incident. It had taken some time to feel normal again. Yeosang helped with that, as he became a fast friend during your stay. Seonghwa had been your rock, of course, and you had accepted reality with their help. It was hard to say goodbye to your new friend, but Yvemoore was waiting for you.

When you entered through the city gates, your eyes lit up at the sights. The street lamps were glowing brightly, town guards were stationed on various corners, and the nightlife was bustling. You came upon a street full of bars and hotels lined up, with entertaining melodies and savory scents filling the air. A small group of young ladies, dressed warmly and stylishly, passed by a bar only to attract some hoops from a few men standing outside. The women rolled their eyes and continued on their way.

You had never been to such a large city; it put the last one to shame. You really felt like a small town human. You clutched the hilt of your sword. It gave you strength, and a reminder of why you came here. He said he could be found on Marigold Lane. You searched the street signs as you strolled through, fascinated the more you walked. Seonghwa seemed to know where he was going, though. His steadfast pace was heading in a particular direction. That’s when you saw it.

MARIGOLD LANE.

Peering down the rather wide road, it looked like a row of businesses, each with two floors above them that seemed to be where some people lived. But where will I find him here? He didn’t specify...That’s so like him, you thought haplessly as your eyes roamed around. You noticed a tall figure walking out of a shop and locking its door.

Everything felt as if it were moving slowly around you as your eyes honed in on the person’s face.

If you were paying attention, you would have seen Seonghwa open his mouth to say something along the lines of, “Yun--”

Within seconds and without regard to your lover, you were bolting down the cobblestone street and screaming, “YUNHOOO!” You tackled them into a tight hug, causing them to drop their keys.

The figure seemed stunned for a moment, as was Seonghwa. He was frozen in his tracks a few yards away as he watched you pull back from the person and grin up at them.

A young-looking man with stark white hair was smiling down at you once he got a good look at whomever had approached him so...rambunctiously. He said your name in surprise before bringing you back into another hug. “It’s so good to see you,” he cooed before his eyes drifted to the elf. He tensed in your arms. Suddenly putting you at arms’ length, Yunho moved away and held out a friendly hand towards the other male. “Seonghwa! You came!”

You turned your head as you were left alone to watch the two greet each other. You blinked in confusion. “You two know each other?!” You gaped.

“I should be saying the same,” Seonghwa said, voice lower than usual.

Yunho let out a nervous laugh at the situation. “Wait, were you two traveling together?”

“Yes…” You both answered in sync before sharing a glance.

“I was just going out for a drink...Care to join me?” Yunho asked.

You went to accept until Seonghwa cut you off.

“I’d prefer to speak privately,” he demanded in that stern voice you’d grown to love.

Yunho fetched his keys from the ground and went back to the door he had just exited. “By all means.” He glanced over your face and reached up, caressing your cheek with his knuckles. “You’re freezing! Hurry, come inside.” He shot a smile over to Seonghwa as he began to unlock and open the door. “I know how much you hate being cold, too. Let’s get you both warmed up.”

You bounced inside and followed Yunho upstairs as Seonghwa relocked the door behind him. You didn’t notice the uncomfortable expression on his face; you were too excited to finally be reunited with Yunho. All you had endured had been for this moment.

Once up the stairs and into an ornately decorated living room, you shrugged off your hefty backpack and coat while taking a curious look around.

“I would have never expected the two of you to arrive at the same time...Together! How interesting!” Yunho exclaimed, going over to a fireplace to start warming the room up even more.

“Yes, this is very interesting, indeed,” Seonghwa commented, removing his own bag and trenchcoat.

You sat down in a chair near the fireplace. It was only then when you realized how cold you actually were. Your teeth chattered, and you fervidly rubbed your hands to warm them.

Yunho heard the noise and suddenly insisted, “You need a hot bath. How does that sound?”

You would have thought someone offered you a treasure chest of gold. “That would be lovely!” Bathing in cold streams grew old after such a long journey. Your eyes met Seonghwa’s gaze, and you were struck with a strange feeling. You couldn’t put your finger on it as he looked away to the fire. You felt bad for taking advantage of Yunho’s hospitality, and… “But I just got here. I don’t want to--”

“Hush,” Yunho said with a smile. “You’re not imposing in the least. After all, you traveled all the way here to see me. We’ll have plenty of time to talk once you’re done.”

You looked to Seonghwa again. “Is that okay?”

The elf shook his head, still staring at the flames. “It’s no problem for me. Go ahead.”

You gave a half-hearted smile, grabbed your bag, and followed Yunho to the bathroom. Then came the sound of water running before a door shutting. Yunho strolled back into the living room and gave Seonghwa a grin. “My dear, old comrade! It has been years since I last saw you...” He did a once-over of the elf and boasted, “and the years have been good to you!”

“Come now, you’re just saying that,” Seonghwa teased sarcastically. He sat down in the chair you vacated.

“I’m not! Trust me, a dragon knows beauty when it sees it,” Yunho said, pulling another chair over to the fire. He sighed in relaxation, yet couldn’t resist asking the question, “How did you meet her?”

“I saved her life,” came the monotonous response.

Yunho burst into laughter. “Why am I not surprised?!”

Seonghwa crossed one leg over the other and clasped his hands in his lap. “You two seemed chummy. I mean, she’s always been a chipper one...I’ve never seen her quite this enthralled, though. It’s strange.”

“‘Strange’? Well, we haven’t seen each other in almost four years. She was obviously looking forward to seeing me.”

“Really? It’s only strange because she never mentioned you.”

Yunho shifted in his chair. “How long have you been traveling together?”

“A few months,” Seonghwa told him.

A smirk came to play on Yunho’s lips, “I’m assuming you also didn’t tell her about me by her reaction. It goes both ways.”

Seonghwa wanted to tell him off, but held his tongue. He had a point. Nevermind that, he had to move on. “She said she was returning a sword to someone in Yvemoore. Why?”

“Why?” Yunho repeated.

“Yes. Why exactly did you leave your sword with her?”

“Hm? She didn’t tell you that either?”

Seonghwa shifted slightly, clearly peeved that you didn’t. He obviously wanted Yunho to get to the point and answer his damn question.

A smug look came to Yunho’s expression. He figured he might as well tell his former companion the truth. “When we first met about four years ago, she was living with a blacksmith and his wife. From what I understood, they took her in after losing her parents when she was too young to care for herself. I came to commission the blacksmith for a new sword.” He stared off into the distance, fondly recalling his memories. “She was a spitfire from the get-go. The weapon I wanted was to be made of a specific metal that could be found in a mountain nearby her town. She accompanied me to mine the ore; showed me where it was and the best way to get it. She knew a lot about the area, so we spent most of our time together while the blacksmith crafted my sword. I was there for six months.”

“That’s quite a long time to forge a sword.”

Yunho chuckled. “If I am to be honest, I stuck around longer than I should have. We had grown so close, and I didn’t want to leave her. She couldn’t come with me...you know that. Alas, the time came for me to continue on my travels, and I left my prior sword with her. I told her it could be a keepsake.”

“She said she wanted to give the sword back to you.” Seonghwa then inquired, “And how did she know she would find you in Yvemoore?”

“I learned of an illness spreading throughout her town. Her guardians succumbed to it. When I heard of this, I sent a message to her saying that I would be here for a while, if she didn’t get sick first.”

“I’m looking for a friend. They’re the closest thing I have to family now.” Your words from the day Seonghwa met you rang through his head. You had lost so much. Oh, how happy he was to be by your side, never to leave you lonely again. “Well, she’s not ill,” he reassured Yunho. “She made it here safely.”

“Thanks to you, old friend,” Yunho exclaimed, clapping a hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder. “Now. I have business with you that doesn’t include our little human.” He smiled kindly. Too kindly.

Seonghwa tensed, suspicious of his tone. “Why did you call me here?”

“Your parents have been trying to find you. They get quite upset when you go off on your excursions without having a way of contacting you besides through me.”

The elf rolled his eyes. “I do that on purpose.”

“They know you do,” Yunho laughed. “They wanted you to know your younger sister is to be married in four months' time.”

Scoffing at this news, Seonghwa moved to tap his fingers repeatedly on the arm of the chair. “You couldn’t have told me that in the letter?!”

“You wouldn’t have gone! That’s why I’m here to escort you!” Yunho chortled. He grabbed a nearby messenger bag and dug around to retrieve an envelope. He tossed it towards Seonghwa. “Here's the invitation I've been waiting to give to you for three months. Your presence would be appreciated.”

Yunho was a friend, but he was also an excellent swordsman amongst other things, as in being a mythical creature...Seonghwa would hate to have to fight him all to avoid his family. Letting out a huff of annoyance, he leaned back in his chair and frumped down a bit. “Appreciated? All I’ll be hearing is their nagging about how I need to find my own spouse.”

“They just want to see you settle down and carry on the family legacy. Besides, wouldn’t it be nice to find your own sweet, elven bride?”

Seonghwa tensed, but figured now would be the best time to tell Yunho. “I don’t need an elven bride when I have a human one,” he bravely asserted.

As the seconds passed and those words sank in, Yunho’s eyes grew wider and wider. “Excuse me?!” The shadows cast on his face by the fire turned ominous.

“You heard me. ‘Our little human’ is ‘my little human.’”

“This better not be some game to you, Seonghwa, or else I swear to the Heavens that I will send you there,” Yunho said lowly, his demeanor suddenly dangerous.

“I assure you that she is the love of my life, and I want nothing more than to spend my days with her. She is in good hands,” Seonghwa informed him, earnest and true.

Yunho narrowed his eyes on the elf.

Seonghwa was left exasperated. Out of nowhere, all of his jealousy bubbled over. “I. Love. Her. How do I spell that out to you? Besides, you two were acting more like lovers than we were! How do I know you’re not going to take her from me?!”

There was a long pause. Yunho tilted his head. “What? Are you serious?”

“Yes! Tell me right now! What are your feelings towards her?!”

Yunho grew quiet, merely watching Seonghwa with dancing eyes. He’d never seen him so flustered before. He eventually stood from his seat and crossed the room, heading to a cabinet. Fetching two glasses and a bottle from within, he filled them with a dark liquor. "She merely intrigues me," he eventually said, coming back to offer Seonghwa a glass.

Seonghwa hesitantly took it, but watched Yunho carefully as he spoke.

"She's a resilient human. Strong, amusing, all around lovely. I fancy her, Seonghwa, but not in the way you seem to. And I would never dare take her from you if you love her as much as you claim." He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped slowly.

"...But you called her here."

"For her safety. It was the only way I could think to save her. She would be alone otherwise." Yunho lifted the glass to his lips before pausing to chuckle, “It’s not me you should be worried about, though. Wait until your family hears the grand news.” He sipped the drink.

A clear look of disgruntlement settled on Seonghwa’s features. “The expectations they have for my life are suffocating,” he grumbled. “Why do you think I practically disappear for months on end?”

“I’ve known your family long before your birth, and I know they have little restraint when it comes to voicing their opinions,” the humanoid dragon spoke, meeting Seonghwa’s gaze. “I feel I may understand you better than they do. You long for freedom, and yet you still do their bidding in the end.”

“Not always…”

“Oh? Tell me, when was the last time you defied them?”

Seonghwa shifted uncomfortably.

Yunho smiled knowingly. “Will you attend the wedding?”

“Seonghwa,” your voice fraily called from down the hall.

The elf leapt from his chair, gladly avoiding the rest of that conversation. When he appeared in the door of the bathroom, his face was ridden with concern. “What’s wrong?!”

You were clinging to the door frame with one hand while the other kept your body covered with a towel. “I’m lightheaded,” you murmured. “I think the water was too hot.”

Seonghwa kissed your forehead, bringing you into his arms. He glanced behind him where he knew Yunho was now standing. “Is the spare room upstairs all right for us?” He asked his friend.

“Of course,” Yunho answered. “Take her up while I’ll get an extra blanket.”

Helping you out of the bathroom, Seonghwa led you up the staircase to the third floor. On the left, there was a guest room with a large bed, wardrobe, and a few extravagant decorations. You laid down and immediately wrapped yourself in the linens already on the bed.

When Yunho had returned with another oversized blanket, he handed it to Seonghwa who in turn covered you from your neck to your toes. “Is that better?” Seonghwa asked.

You nodded. “Thank you both,” you whimpered, curling up into a ball on your side. The room had finally stopped spinning.

Seonghwa smiled in response, though his eyes were still troubled by your sudden frailty. Going from being so cold to overly hot could mess with a person’s body.

“Of course,” Yunho said, standing in the doorway. “If there’s anything else you need, just let me know.”

Seonghwa went to stand from leaning against the bedside when your hand shot out from the blankets and grasped onto his wrist. He looked at you in alarm.

Your bottom lip pouted. “Please don’t leave me,” you begged.

The chuckle that came from Seonghwa’s lips was involuntary and harmless. “I’m going to get your things and I’ll be right back, silly girl,” he cooed.

“I’ll grab all your things and bring them up. That way you won’t have to leave her side,” Yunho reassured him, immediately trotting downstairs.

Seonghwa sat down on the mattress and gently moved your hand from his wrist to interlock your fingers together. “Yunho must really care for you because he’d never do that for me,” he joked.

“Yunho’s like my big brother,” you mumbled. “He’s always had a soft spot for me.”

“Ahh, so you know that.”

“But yours is bigger, right?”

Seonghwa’s breath nearly hitched in his throat. Just what were you asking? “What?!”

“Your soft spot for me. It’s bigger than Yunho’s?” You opened your eyes and glanced up at him.

He now realized what he thought you were asking and what you were actually asking were two totally different things. “It is,” he said tenderly as Yunho walked back into the room.

Yunho set everything down at the foot of the bed with a heavy ‘thud.’ Going to the other side of the bed, he patted the top of your head and said, “We’ll talk in the morning. For now, get your rest.”

“Okay,” you answered. You squeezed tighter onto Seonghwa’s hand.

After excusing himself from the guest room, Yunho closed the door and his footsteps descended down the staircase.

You sat in silence for a while with your lover, but then it came time for Seonghwa to pull away. Before you could protest, he said, “I’m going to get you clean clothes to sleep in and change out of my own, okay?”

As much as you didn’t want him to move, you told yourself he wasn’t even leaving the room. He would be back in no time. “Nn,” you approved, retracting your arm back into the blankets.

Once he had disrobed and redressed both of you for sleeping, Seonghwa turned off the light and approached the bed. He buried his way into the covers and held you close. Your head rested on his shoulder while his arm was wrapped around you.

You had almost lulled off when he began humming softly. You thought back to the days following the bandit incident, when you were at your lowest point, and how he used to cradle you and hum this tune. You had been in such a strange state of mind that you never really paid much attention to it besides how soothing his smooth voice was. “You hum that tune a lot,” you uttered into the darkness.

Seonghwa twirled some of your hair with his fingertips. “It’s my favorite lullaby,” he informed you. A few seconds passed. You felt his chest swell with air before he began to sing in elvish. It was the same tune he would hum. It almost felt haunting, yet oddly calming, and you forced yourself to stay awake as it went on. This was your first time hearing his voice singing the words, and you knew that you were falling in love with him all over again.

You fidgeted with the blanket hem to stay conscious. When he finished and the silence filled the room again, you glanced up at him. “What does it mean...if you don’t mind me asking?”

He shook his head, as if it was absurd for you to insist he would mind. “In your language, it would translate to:

Quiet now, my darling child, For the time of slumber is upon you. Dream of fields with wildflowers, Trickling rivers, and the beaming sun. Run amongst the foliage of memories, Holding wisdom outweighing your years. Grow to be wise and cunning, Live with strength in your heart, As those have before you. Sleep well, my darling child, For your ancestors watch over you.”

You smiled as he explained the meaning. “It’s lovely,” you replied. “I never knew you could sing like that.”

Seonghwa shrugged. “I was formally trained in music growing up. It’s just not something needed for adventuring.”

“Singing always livens up an adventure!” You exclaimed. “How many times did you let me sing as we traveled, and yet you never told me you had such a great voice?!”

“You weren’t singing songs I knew!” He defended. “Besides, I’m not that good.”

“Oh, hush, you are!”

Seonghwa embraced you closer to his side, bringing your lips firmly against his.

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest as you felt the passion behind the kiss. You felt yourself growing dizzy again and forced your mouths apart before you got carried away. “Teach me the song?” You asked breathlessly. “In your language.”

A soft laugh escaped him as he abided by your wish to end the kiss. “I can do that,” he agreed.

Almost an hour had passed when Seonghwa finally told you enough singing for that night. You had learned most of the song, including what each word and phrase was, as well as the inflections you should use. You were actually picking up on it quite quickly, but he felt you growing tired again.

“But I want to finish it,” you whined through a yawn.

“Tomorrow, sweet-love.” When you lifted your chin for one last kiss for the night, he gladly obliged.

Your body grew heavy with sleep while Seonghwa stared at the ceiling for a long time. He couldn’t stop thinking about his discussion with Yunho. He hardly cared what his family had to say about him, but what he didn’t think he could handle was anything they had to say about you. You were the one he wanted to protect. And then, the thought of his younger sister’s face when he didn’t show up for the wedding--well, that also wore on his heart. He could put up with his family long enough to make an appearance, and then he would whisk you away to live happily ever after somewhere.

The more he thought of it, the more it was what he wanted.

Seonghwa knew the right thing was to introduce you to his family as his lover, as the woman he wanted to spend his life with. Hiding you would only show his cowardice. No, he was going to take you to his hometown to meet his family, and to have you on his arm at the wedding. He loved you more than anything he’d ever loved in his life.

You were going to meet his family, and they were going to love you, too.

#ateez fanfiction #ateez fic #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa fic #yunho fanfiction #yunho fic #kpop #kpop fanfiction #d&d fanfiction #dungeons and dragons fanfiction #of the sun

11 notes · View notes