#i feel like i have taken a million steps back sometimes

[cudlbunnyy]

i’ve been doing my makeup more just for funsies n it makes me feel like a pretty princess but i wish i was confident enough to actually wear it out

[barcaatthemoon]

happy birthday || alexia putellas x reader ||

alexia takes you out for your birthday.

you hated that the closer your birthday got, the more nervous you were. alexia had no obligation to take you out, but you hoped she would. dates with alexia were rare, especially ones outside of her apartment. she was a homebody, and a night in was absolutely perfect in your eyes. you liked a good night in, but sometimes, you just wanted to be a little more social.

in hindsight, there had been little hints that alexia was planning something big. your birthday fell right around the same time that she was due back from a business trip. alexia was going without her ibiza trip this year, and she had asked if you'd stay in with her for a couple of weeks.

alexia returned early from her trip. she had been a bit distant, but not enough to raise too many questions. your mind had been going haywire trying to figure out what could be going on. you were terrified of alexia breaking up with you, but when you woke up on your birthday, you realized how safe your relationship was.

"bon dia! i made you breakfast." alexia looked like a little kid as she stood in the doorway holding a tray of food. she looked so proud of herself, and your heart was swelling at the sight of her. "happy birthday bebita. i hope that today is perfect for you."

"thank you ale," you said as you leaned over to give her a kiss. alexia deepened it, slipping her tongue past your lips teasingly before she pulled away. alexia watched as you ate the breakfast that she had made for you. alexia didn't do a lot of the regular cooking in the house, often having to make her meals different from yours. you didn't mind, especially because more often than not, she was stealing bites of the food you had made yourself.

"i know that it's not as good as what you'd make, but i tried," alexia told you.

"it's delicious," you promised her. alexia's ego liked that more than anything, which was evident with the little pep in her step for the rest of the morning.

alexia seemed to have the whole day planned for the two of you. she let you call and text everybody that you needed to from the comort of her arms while a movie played in the background. you hadn't been paying much attention to it, nor had alexia. all of her focus was on you the entire time, which definitely had you feeling some kind of way.

"we can not skip lunch altogether, so i'll pick us up something quick in here. sandwich okay?" alexia asked. the two of you had gotten modesty dressed up to pick up a present that alexia had for you. there was a suitcase in the backseat, something that you didn't miss. however, alexia wasn't answering a single one of your questions.

"that sounds good. you know what i like." you pressed a quick kiss to alexia's lips, dismissing her to leave. alexia raced off to the store. you waited in the car for just a couple of minutes, alexia having sprinted back after getting the sandwich and some drinks. alexia ate her half quickly. the excitement was practically radiating off of her.

alexia didn't make you wear a blindfold, so you figured out the destination about halfway through the drive. there was a little resort on the coast about an hour and a half's drive away from your house that you absolutely loved. it wasn't nearly as fancy as some of the other places alexia had taken you, but you loved it a million times more. alexia was convinced that if you could pick that place to stay every year, you would.

"it's not ibiza or columbia, but i figured that since it was your birthday, i'd pick the place i knew you liked the most," alexia said as she parked the car. she looked a bit nervous, but all of that was pushed away when you launched yourself into her arms. you mumbled your gratitude in between kisses pressed all over her face and neck.

"i love you so much. you didn't have to do any of this, really," you told her. alexia rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, as if she hadn't expected this sort of praise.

"it's not over yet. there's a dress on the bed. dinner is in a couple of hours, so you have plenty of time to get ready," alexia told you. she placed her hands on your hips, which was when you knew exactly what she was thinking. smirking, you led her back into the bedroom.

…

"ale…" you were at a loss for words. whenever she said dinner, you had expected a restaurant. this was so much better than that. alexia had sectioned off a little part of the beach and set it up for the two of you to enjoy together. it felt like something out of a romance movie, and you were honestly too shocked to respond.

"come, sit down. it's not perfect, but i made you dinner," alexia said as she guided you into a seat. she brought a plate over, which was when you saw your favorite meal laid out on the plate. alexia had a bit of trouble making things from your home country, mainly out of the lack of available ingredients. some of these things you knew she would have had to get shipped here to really complete the experience.

"this is it," you said to yourself. alexia paused, fearful that you were upset. you didn't blame her, your voice was obviously overwhelmed with emotion, and alexia couldn't tell which way it swung. "this is what it's like to be loved by someone else. this is what it's like to feel important. i don't ever want to give this up."

"you won't have to, i promise," alexia told you. she leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. you needed the moment of reassurance from alexia. you had never shied away from your feelings for her, but you did tend to retreat into yourself when you got scared about her leaving. "i love you far too much to ever do something like that. football won't last me forever, but we will."

[captn-trex]

words in my mouth

Wolffe x F!Reader

word count: 3.7k

description: you never felt that your friendliness had made a positive impression on the ever elusive, always stern commander wolffe, but that all changes when he overhears a drunken game of truth or dare.

warnings: kinda grumpy/sunshine I suppose, a little fluff at the end, drinking, minor injury detail

a/n: was supposed to be working on my tech oneshot but... I got sidetracked. I also tried to make wolffe less toxic than how he's sometimes represented. grumpy king <3

“Hey Commander!” You chirp cheerily, passing the man in question in the hallway. You know you won’t receive any such a response from him, but you were nothing if not persistent. Sometimes, it was just fun to see his glare and the grinding of his jaw.

Truthfully, you didn’t do it to wind him up, you secretly hoped that one day he would relent and smile back at you. Though that was not in his nature, and perhaps you wouldn’t care to try if it was.

His eyes found yours at the mention of his title, and his teeth instantly ground together. You offered a sweet smile and a wave but his eyes held your gaze with a glare that was so equally lazy and irritated that you almost found it endearing. You were sure no one got under his skin like you did, and that's how you liked it.

“See you later!” You grinned as he walked past, clinging onto his glare so long that he was looking over his shoulder by the time you looked away.

You were stationed on Coruscant with the rest of the 104th for a few weeks at the moment. Usually, you worked aboard General Plo Koon's flagship as a strategist, which was how you got so many opportunities to irritate the broody Commander. You worked closely with him and the General before they were sent off on their missions.

The first time you had met Commander Wolffe, he was so taken aback by your friendliness and positive attitude that he had looked to his General, hoping for some kind of support. Seeing how confused it had made him, you just couldn't resist doing it every time you saw him outside of meetings.

Wolffe was thankful that you kept your overly-sweetened demeanour to outside of meetings, and it was when you became focused and as serious as he was during them, that he truly appreciated your role as a strategist. He wouldn't admit it to you, he hardly had to himself, but he secretly preferred your friendly off-duty persona.

He knew that you were friendly with everyone, but he got a certain thrill every time you went out of your way to say hi to him, to offer him that million-credit smile with the cutest spring in your step. He would be remiss to not realise how beautiful you were, everyone in his company had made at least one comment on it before, but again, he'd never let on.

Wolffe gave no indication of these thoughts and feelings that he kept close to his chest, in fact, he actively worked against them, glaring at you as he just had and not answering your questions that felt like they were meant to taunt him. You drove him up the wall, but in a way where he would lie awake at night and hope to run into you the next day.

Safe to say, you had no idea. No one did.

Though it wasn't long before your own affections came to light.

That night, you had been press-ganged into playing pazaak by Comet and Boost, both of them playing on the same side against you. You had groaned about how unfair it was, but by this point you were all drunk enough that it didn’t matter anymore. If anyone had walked in, they might not have even realised it was pazaak you were playing, you were all playing that poorly. Since you had lost all of your credits to the two clones - unfairly, as you kept reminding them - you were now playing for truth or dares. If they won, you picked truth or dare, and so on and so forth. Hilarity ensues, for them.

You lost another round, but you were past caring now.

“Alright. Truth this time” You sighed.

Comet grinned lazily, “I have a good one”

You rolled your eyes, “So, you mean, it’s actually bad”

“Shhhhh” Boost pressed a finger to your lips haphazardly, “Let the man speak”

You pushed him off, “Lay it on me”

“If you had to kiss one of us clones, who would it be?” Comet leaned forwards as he relayed the question.

“Ooh, that is a good one”

You laughed instinctively, “I’m not answering that”

“No. The rules dictate you must answer the question” Boost slurred.

“The rules?” You chuckled, “I think we lost our grip on rules a while ago”

“Cmon” Comet almost whined, pushing at your knee.

For a moment you placed a finger on your chin, pretending to think really hard, but then it was shortly over taken by a smirk as your brain brought forth exactly the clone to answer the question.

“So there is someone then!” Boost pointed at your borderline mischievous look.

“Keep your voice down!” You hissed at him, swatting his accusing finger away.

“You’ve got to tell us now” Comet insisted.

“No. I’m not saying”

“Okay well we’re just gonna start guessing and see how you react” Boost sat back in his chair, “Well there’s me, Comet…”

You rolled your eyes affectionately as they continued to list off people from their company. It was almost worth it to let them do it to see if they remembered everyone, but it was getting a little tiresome at the same time.

“Alright, alright. I'll kriffing tell you” You finally relented. Somehow they hadn’t guessed right yet.

The pair sat across from you leaned in with the biggest grins plastered across their faces, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes again.

“I guess I don't hate the idea of making out with the Commander” You said coyly, as if you didn’t know how insane that was going to make them.

They both let out a borderline scream, Boost even jumped up from his chair for a minute. Your laughter forced its way out of you from their reaction.

“So what you really mean is, you’ve already thought about making out with the Commander” Comet asked with a knowingly raised eyebrow.

“Alright, that wasn’t part of the game” You shook your head, sitting back.

“Come on” Boost whined, and it cracked you easily in your drunken state.

“Fine. Maybe I have. So what?”

If either of the clones grinned any wider their faces would surely have split in half.

“So that's why you're so friendly with him, you have a crush on him” Boost laughed loudly, and you jumped to cover his mouth, but just a little too late.

“Will you please be quiet!” You hissed, and they erupted into even louder laughter at your reaction.

You grumbled under your breath and moved back, picking up the bottle of spotchka and pouring them both another cup.

“I’m making sure the both of you don’t remember this tomorrow” You mumbled.

Regrettably, both Comet and Boost were fully operational with no hangover and a complete memory the next morning, unlike yourself. You didn’t have a particularly low alcohol tolerance but the sheer amount of straight liquor that you drank last night was catching up with you. You had an agonizing headache and felt so foggy that you didn’t even know you were walking past the Commander. He called out to you, and you realised you had been walking down the corridor with your head in your hand as you looked to the floor.

“Are you… Alright?” He asked hesitantly, the words feeling unfamiliar coming from him.

You cleared your throat and smoothed down your hair slightly, hyper-aware of your less-than-alive looking appearance. You had really hoped not to see him today. Your eyes found his, his one natural eye holding a certain level of concern that turned your stomach.

“Yes sir, just… Drank a bit too much last night is all” You spoke, and your voice was more hoarse than you were hoping.

“What were you drinking? You look awful” He crossed his arms, looking down at you with his usual frown.

“How kind of you to point out” You chuckled, “It was spotchka, Boost and Comet convinced me to play pazaak against both of them”

“Well that was a mistake” He said flatly, his eyes moving to something behind you.

“Yeah, I can see that no-”

You were cut off as someone shoved your back harshly, sending you flying towards the Commander’s chest. Luckily, he saw the incoming attack and grabbed your shoulders before you could make impact. It was the first time he had ever touched you, and if you weren’t so angry your brain might have lingered on the warmth you could feel through his gloves.

You whirled around, looking for the culprit, and as expected, there stood Boost and Comet, snickering with each other.

“You’re going to regret that” You seethed, and their eyes widened, running away as you leapt at them.

Wolffe watched you sprint after his men, and failed to suppress the small smile quirking his lips. He had a little idea of what that might have been about.

Over the next couple of days, you had to keep your wits about you, particularly when you spotted Wolffe in the vicinity. You were constantly looking over your shoulder, as you had now been shoved number of times, being sent careening into the Commander. You apologised profusely each time, then turned around to whack whichever one of the two menace clones had done it this time. Wolffe couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed by it, in fact, he almost looked forward to it.

He would grab your arms to steady you, and the wide-eyed look you gave him each time was enough to set his insides alive. One time, when you really hadn’t been expecting it, he had grabbed you by the waist, and somewhere in the altercation your hands ended up splayed against his chest plate. Your eyes went wide as always, and in addition, you cheeks flushed a deep red and your mouth hung agape. You couldn’t seem to move or say anything for a moment, only being snapped from your trance when Wolffe had raised an eyebrow at you. That interaction had only earned you an earful from Comet about how ‘down bad’ you were.

Even now as you walked into an important meeting, you couldn't get it out of your head, and the fact that Wolffe was stood waiting for you with the General was no help. The reality of your silly crush came crashing down on you. It wasn't just some fleeting fancy, this affection for Wolffe had been festering within you, and you had only been intensifying it each time you goaded him.

His eyes followed you as you walked inside, settling yourself at the central holotable and looking into it despondently. His eyebrows drew together in a frown as he walked towards you.

“Everything alright?” He asked as he rested on the holotable beside you. You jumped at the sound of his voice, looking up only briefly when realising who it was.

“Yeah, yeah” You replied non-commitally, causing Wolffe's frown to deepen.

“You sure?” He asked again, bringing his hand to your shoulder. You instinctively ducked away from it, stepping away from him, your body feeling like it had been struck by lightning.

“I'm fine” You managed to peep out.

Wolffe let his hand hang in the air for a moment, before he quickly brought it to his side again. What was he doing? He didn't touch people. He didn't double check if people were okay. But why had you moved away? Did he not overhear you right the other night? Was it someone else's name that you had said?

He could feel an embarrassed blush scorching his ears as General Plo Koon joined you both at the holotable, which he mostly did a good job of hiding. You, however, were doing a poor job of acting normal, and Plo Koon looked between the both of you suspiciously for a moment.

“Has something happened that I should be made aware of?” He spoke and you were pulled out of your mind that was purely filled by screaming thoughts.

“No sir” You shook your head, “Let's get to work”

Wolffe had always applauded your professionalism, and he was never more thankful for it than in that moment.

You had scampered from the command room as soon as the meeting was over. You didn't want to think for a while, so you had gone to your workstation in the hangar, hoping to rid the Commander from your mind.

Thus far, you had been unsuccessful.

You were trying to solder together two wires, but your hand kept slipping, your mind absolutely preoccupied by the few touches that Wolffe had allowed you in the past few days. Well, most of them had not been allowed, but the most recent one, the one you could still feel burning at your skin…

You grunted in frustration, just as Boost came strolling by with a wide grin.

“How’s it going?” He asked, spurred on by your glare.

“Not good. No thanks to you” You grumbled, looking back down to your work.

“Oh come on, it's just a bit of fun” He said, taking a seat on your workstation.

“For you. I can’t say I enjoy being pushed around all too much” You said pointedly, giving him a withering look.

He just shrugged with a grin, “I think you do really”

You huffed, continuing on with your work despite the distraction. At least your mind was off of Wolffe now. You weren't thinking about the feel of his hand on your shoulder, or your waist, the strength of his grip, this intensity of his gaze… oh kriff, who were you kidding.

“Boost I need you to-”

Before you could even register who's voice it was, Boost was pushing your side into the Commander. You cried out as the soldering tool stabbed and burned into your other hand suddenly, drawing blood and cauterising the wound all at once. It was a mess, and Boost immediately began apologising.

Wolffe sighed agressively, righting you again, “I'll patch her up, you best kriff off now Boost”

There was no room for objection in his tone, and Boost slinked off with another apology, and guilt weighing his shoulders.

“Do you have a medkit here?” Wolffe asked as you rested your back against the workstation, holding your hand closed with the other one.

“Bottom drawer” You said, unable to meet his gaze, unable to focus on anything but the searing pain in your palm.

He retrieved the medkit and opened it up, setting it down on the desk and taking off his gloves, “Alright, let's see it”

He took your hands in his, and that's when your breathing stopped. His hands were unexpectedly soft and gentle, pulling your hand away from the wounded one and opening it up. There was blood smeared all over your palm and fingers, but all you could focus on was Wolffe. The feeling of his hands as they cleaned you up, the gentleness of his grip and the lack of a scowl on his features.

“So are you going to tell me why the boys have been doing this all week?” He said, looking up to find you already looking into his eyes when he had wrapped your hand.

You huffed a bit, “I don't know, because they're idiots, mainly”

Wolffe hummed thoughtfully, “So it has nothing to do with the conversation I overheard the other night?”

You froze completely.

“What?” You managed to peep out, but it was barely above a whisper.

Wolffe’s lips curled into a small smirk, “Something about… not minding the idea of making out with me?” He jogged your memory teasingly.

You could feel your heart beating faster and faster, your insides constricting and your throat drying up. He had heard exactly what you had said.

“It was just a silly game we were playing” You tried to play it off but Wolffe wasn't having it.

“Mhm” He hummed amusedly, “A game which - if I'm not mistaken - has the word ‘truth’ somewhere in the title”

You had to rip your eyes from his at that point, it was becoming too uncomfortable, and you could feel the blush creeping up your neck. He stepped forwards so that his boots were touching yours, his chest almost against yours.

“So you're saying you haven't thought about it?” He asked, his voice in a slightly lower register, giving it a slightly gravelly tone.

You gulped. “No, I havent” You lied through your teeth, but you were never good at that, and it was given away by the quiver in your voice.

“That's a shame” Wolffe mumbled, and your eyes snapped back to his, slightly widened.

You were sweating at this point, your body feeling like it was on fire with his so close by. Wolffe just smirked knowingly.

“Ah, so it's true, you really do want me to kiss you?” He leaned forward a fraction more, his chest brushing against yours as he placed one hand on the bench behind you, the other finding your waist.

You were burning up under his gaze and now his touch, unable to think clearly.

“I feel like you're putting words in my mouth” You spoke breathlessly, clearly flustered as you looked between his eyes and anything around him in a panic. Wolffe just chuckled, gripping your waist tighter.

“I don't think I am darling”

By then, he was only a hairbreadth from your lips, and all the composure you still had was hanging by a thread.

“Commander, what…?” You trailed off, you couldn't make sense of the situation. You had assumed he found you completely irritating and just plain didn't like you, only holding it together in meetings because he had to. But now, with his breath mingling with yours, you were left confused.

“Do you not want me to kiss you?” He asked sincerly, his face moving back slightly and eyes flicking over your face for any sign that you didn't want this. Your eyes closed at the feel of his hot breath on your lips and you let out a shaky breath.

“I…” You couldn't muster up any words, your brain wasnt functioning as it should. The only thing you could get out, was “Why?”

He chuckled lowly, and your eyes opened to see the skin around his eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled fondly.

“Believe it or not, I don't find you anywhere near as annoying as I pretend I do. In fact…” He said quietly, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear before settling his palm against your cheek, “I might even like you, just a bit”

Wolffe could see your eyes sparkle at his words, “Really?”

“Really” He said resolutely.

You couldn't help but smile up at him, that winning smile that he so loved.

“See, how could I resist a smile like that”

You blushed and looked down shyly, unsure how to deal with this kind of attention from the Commander. You were used to him being cold, not necessarily ignoring you, but just not engaging with your friendly advances. That, you could deal with, but this, was something else entirely.

He tilted your head up again with a finger under your chin, “Not like you to be so quiet. Something on your mind darling?”

The pet name rolled so easily off his tongue despite how strange it was to hear from him, but the more you became intoxicated by his presence surrounding you, the more right it felt.

He's right, usually you had something to say. A quick joke, a quip, a small compliment at the very least, but nothing was coming to mind. You could only look at him and hope to convey everything that your mind wouldn't bring forth.

Your eyes naturally flicked down from his, trailing along his mouth that was so close to yours, and back up to his cybernetic one. He was so effortlessly handsome, in a way you didn't see with the other clones. Perhaps his eye set him apart, or perhaps it was his usual attitude. You didn't know, but with him pressing you into your workstation, there was no way that you'd figure it out right then and there.

“Wolffe” You whispered, the name causing his eyebrows to raise. You had never called him by his name, not once, and that was certainly not lost on him.

“What is it, Mesh'la?” He said lowly, his head tipping forwards to lightly press his forehead to yours. Your breathing evened out at the comforting gesture.

“Kiss me” You whispered, your lips almost grazing his.

He grinned, speaking almost as quietly, “I thought you'd never ask”

Then his lips were on yours.

He held your waist tightly as his lips moved in perfect harmony with yours, melding together in a dance of quiet passion. You had never been kissed with such reverence, such intensity and yet such sweetness. His lips captured yours as if they were made to fit together, and they had finally found their purpose in meeting. The kiss didn't last long, but all that needed to be confessed was laced within it's lingering aftertaste.

Wolffe pulled away, his grin no longer taunting in anyway, but just one of genuine contentment. His thumb stroked your cheek gently as he held you to him with his other arm.

“Was it everything you hoped it'd be?” He asked, rubbing his nose against yours slightly.

You chuckled softly, a smile parting your lips, “It was way better”

“Better?” Wolffe raised his eyebrows slightly, “So, in your wildest dreams I was a lousy kisser?”

“That's not what I meant” You frowned a little.

“What did you mean then?” He asked with a growing smirk.

“Just that it was really grea-” You paused, observing his amused expression, “You knew what I meant” You rolled your eyes affectionately, earning an amused huff from Wolffe.

“I did” He mumbled with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “I just wanted to hear you say it”

[djarinova]

candles and cuddles

spencer reid x gn reader

Spencer comes home from a day out in the city and finds you feeling overwhelmed and tired, so he helps you get the rest you need to recharge yourself. content - fluff, comfort, cuddles words - 2.2k

The keyrings rattling outside in the hallway stir you from your thoughts and you smile briefly, knowing that this means Spencer will be walking through the door any second now. You can hear him struggle to get the key separate from all the keyrings, and you can’t help but feel giddy. Despite the fact that you know he likes to keep his keys fairly free and accessible, he still uses all the keyrings that you’ve gotten him from the various trips you have taken, both with and without him.

“I bought this really cool book. Come and read it with me?” Spencer asks, his voice alerting you to his presence, now inside your shared apartment.

You look up from your spot on the sofa, tilting your head to indicate your question. 

“Would you like me to explain what the book is about?” His voice is gentle; in the same way a hot bath can soothe achy muscles, his voice soothes the aches in your soul.

You nod your head in response, straightening your back and stretching your legs out in front of you. You had been sitting in the same spot for the last few hours, waiting for Spencer to get back from town. He had been out shopping and had stopped for lunch somewhere with Derek, leaving you to fend for yourself at home for the afternoon. You’d managed to get a couple of the chores done from the long list you’d given yourself, but for some reason once the dusting in the lounge was completed you had found yourself almost completely devoid of motivation.

“Are you sure?” He pauses before adding, “are you okay?”

He puts his bag down without looking at the floor, and steps towards you. His eyebrows knit in worry and confusion, your lack of words seemingly causing him to be concerned for you. 

You clear your throat before speaking. 

“Yes I'm sure. I'm okay, I promise.” You give a small half smile to try and back up your words, and to try and convince Spencer, but by the look on his face you know he doesn't believe you. Goddamn profilers. 

“Did you have a good afternoon?”

You hope that asking him a couple questions will help to ease you back into talking, but your voice is very small when you first speak, and you assume it's because you haven't spoken out loud since he left. 

“Yes, we did, thank you. Derek was unhappy about being dragged around to all the small, dingy bookstores, his words not mine, but I think he forgave me after I bought him lunch.”

You can't help but let out a small laugh at that, it does sound a lot like Derek, he loves to tease Spencer. Even more so when they’re both out shopping and Spencer is trying to buy new books, he’s said to you before that Derek finds his need for over checking and going back and forth a million times between stores a little excessive sometimes, all to ensure the perfect book is bought, but you know Derek only means it lovingly. He'd never say or do anything hurtful towards Spencer intentionally. 

“That sounds about right.” You answer with a laugh. 

Spencer is right in front of you now, having removed his scarf and coat, leaving them untidily thrown about on the nearest chair. 

You feel the sofa dip under Spencer’s weight, and you can tell by his short sigh that he wants to ask you if you're okay again, but you speak before he's able to. 

“It's okay Spence, I really am okay. Just tired I think.”

Spencer nods, willing himself not to keep prying. He knows if something was really wrong you would tell him, he just needs to give you some time first. He has come to know your ticks and quirks quite well now, the two of you had decided to move in together almost a year ago now, and you had been friends long before your romantic relationship started, so he is familiar with how your brain works. 

He watches you as you shut your laptop and place it on the table, his eyes following your hands as he shuffles back into the sofa to get comfortable. As you lean back Spencer puts his arm around you, bringing you closer to his side. You let out an audible breath of relief at the contact, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Spencer. 

“Do you want to take a nap with me?” Spencer asks, squeezing your shoulder with his hand. 

“Spence, you know I'm not good with na—”

“I know, but resting can help with feelings of exhaustion, even if you don't actually fall asleep. It's important to let yourself rest in order to help boost your mood, and resting can also help reduce stress and improve your creativity and motivation.” He pauses, tilting his head to look at you, before adding, “I don't want you to burn yourself out.”

Spencer punctuates the end of his sentence with a smile, and you can't help but smile back. The ways in which he wants to help and look after you never fail to make you happy. 

“Okay,” you agree, “let's go to bed for a bit.”

You can tell Spencer is happy you said yes by the way he jumps up almost immediately, extending his hand toward you and practically pulling you to your feet. You let out a laugh as he drags you to your shared bedroom, watching as he struggles to hold your hand and get the room organised enough for you both to relax on the bed comfortably at the same time. 

“Spence, it's okay, I'll sit.” 

He looks at you as if he'd forgotten you were still attached to his hand, almost as though he'd become so used to your presence beside him that he hadn't even thought to let your hand go, even if it meant he'd be able to organise the room better. 

Spencer had long considered you a part of him, almost since the very first moment he had met you. The way you seemed to light up the room as soon as you entered, your smile was warm and inviting, and your voice… He had never heard anything like it. He hadn't turned around upon your entrance on that first day, he knew that Emily had invited a friend to the bar, but he was focused on watching Derek play pool against Rossi. Although, more accurately, he was focused on telling Derek the precise ways in which he was bound to lose the game; the way his stance was wrong, the way his hold on the cue was wrong and how he was breathing at all the wrong times in order to make the perfect shot. But as soon as he heard you introduce yourself to JJ and Penelope his head had whipped around, his eyes falling on you immediately. There was no mistaking his feeling in that moment, he needed to know you. 

And he hasn't lost that feeling in all the years he'd known you, it had grown and changed as the two of you had become more and more familiar. What once was needing to know you, had then changed to needing to hear you, needing to see you, and now, needing to be near you.

Even as he gently let go of your hand and watched you quickly sit on the edge of your bed he wished he was nearer to you. He wished he could feel your soft skin against his, and feel your chest rise and fall with your breathing.

His longing made his organisation an entertaining thing to watch. His steps were hurried, his feet tumbling over each other and you were surprised he hadn't fallen head over heels yet. You placed your hands on the bed behind you, leaning back onto them slightly as your eyes followed Spencer around the room. He was caught in his own world and luckily didn’t notice your staring, although you could feel your face heat up at the thought of him catching you. He was focused on clearing the bed at first, he had moved the scattered papers and books left there from your morning in bed, and had moved them onto the chair beside you. Next he had ensured all the curtains were closed, only left open the tiniest crack to allow some of the air to flow in from the open window. He had then flicked off the main overhead light, choosing to turn on the warm bedside lamp on his side of the bed instead. And finally, he fluffed up your pillow, turning to you when he was done and extending his hand towards you, stretching it as far as you could in a bid to get closer to you.

Smiling, you accepted his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet and lead you towards your side of the bed. He had left your favourite green fleece blanket at the end of the bed, and as soon as you laid down he wasted no time before placing it over your body. You smiled, wiggling a little to get comfy. Spencer checked the room one last time, as though he needed everything to be perfect for you, and paused. You weren't sure what he was doing. At first all you could see was his back as he rummaged through a draw, but it didn't take long for you to realise his idea once he turned to face you. He was holding a matchbook.

“Which scent?” He asks simply.

“Hmmmm,” you tilt your head and purse your lips while you think. “I don’t know, there’s so many— Oh! How about the white jasmine and sandalwood candle you got me last week? I haven't had a chance to use it yet.”

Spencer nods, and wordlessly walks to your bedside to light the candle. He smiles as he watches you slowly close your eyes, happy that you’ve given yourself some time to rest.

“Spence? Are you going to continue watching me, or are you going to come and join me under this blanket?” 

His smile widens to a grin at your words.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m coming.”

And, true to his word, after barely a minute he is next to you. 

You curl your body towards his, lifting your neck so he can slot his arm underneath it. You can feel Spencer bouncing his foot ever so slightly underneath the blanket, and you smile, leaning further into his chest. You hadn't realised how tired you had been, but you feel it now. You take a deep breath, wanting to relax yourself even more. You can smell the outside on Spencer’s shirt, a fact that, although is not unsurprising, does make you a tad disappointed. Until you met Spencer you never realised how addicting it can be to be enveloped in a partner’s smell, you never realised that a smell could make you feel so relaxed and so calm. Draping your leg across Spencer’s body you take another not so subtle sniff, trying to smell that familiar mix of vanilla, coconut and coffee.

“Are you smelling me?”

You bury your face in his chest before answering, and you feel Spencer squeeze your arm.

“Yes.” You whisper.

“You like how I smell?” His question is genuine, but his voice is small—almost as though he was afraid of the answer.

You crane your neck upwards to look at Spencer.

“Yes.” You whisper again, with a smile on your lips.

You feel your cheeks warm as Spencer looks at you, you think he must be looking for a sign of teasing on your face. 

When he doesn't find one he pulls you even tighter against his chest.

“Thank you.” He breaths, the words barely perceptible. 

You smile, wrapping your arms around him as best as you can from this angle, and you feel his other arm lay on your side. His touch completely surrounds you, and you can hear his heart beating in his chest. The rhythm relaxes you, and coupled with the candle and the dim lit room, you find your eyes beginning to feel heavy. You know sleep is not far away now. 

“I love you Spence.” You whisper. “Thank you for looking after me.”

Spencer watches you as you finish speaking, he loves that he was able to help you this afternoon. And, despite your regular insistence that you can't nap, he feels your head go heavy and he can hear your breathing change. He knows you must be practically asleep now, but he doesn’t mind, he always has his thoughts to keep him company, and luckily when you’re in his arms he knows it will always be the good thoughts, and never the bad ones.

“I love you too, baby.” 

Spencer’s voice is quiet so as to not disturb your peaceful rest, but he hopes you hear him. He hopes you are able to hear what his actions say to you.

I love you, I love you, I love you

You mean everything to me

[inbloomwriting]

Everything to me - Chapter 2

Chapter two - Blueberry & Kidney Bean

Chapter 1

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: 5.6k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. I tagged everyone who asked me to do it when I posted part 1. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

The store smells like dust and cardboard and old carpet. It's not necessarily a bad smell, it just doesn't live up to her memories.

She remembers the perpetual scent of menthol cigarettes and some kind of cheap men's perfume wafting through the air. The store used to smell like her dad and now it doesn't. And that just makes it all even more real.

Boxes upon boxes litter the room, filled with records. Some older, some newer. Guitars adorn one wall while the others are covered in posters from tours that happened long ago, some even before she was born.

There is something comforting about being here. It’s like stepping back into the past. Long nights watching Dad and his friends play their guitars after store-closing. Discovering new bands whenever a new shipment of records came in. And yes - she is the first to admit that in her younger years, she mostly chose the records by how cool the cover looked. 

It’s also memories of Dad getting caught up in the after-hours jam sessions and forgetting about her dance recital and that one time he threw a guitar at the window out of anger that a shipment of records got lost. It took him months to get the window replaced. She could probably still trace exactly where the crack used to be. 

Being here is very reminiscent in all the good and bad ways. But it’s a warped version of the past. One that’s laced with all the knowledge she has now. Like a movie that you’ve seen a million times.

“I don’t think pregnant women are supposed to be doing that!” 

Jamie’s voice cuts through the nostalgia-induced fog like a sunbeam through the clouds. And it also gives her a little heart attack as the only sound filling the room up until now had been her moving around and the soft tunes of an Eric Clapton record playing in the background.

“Jesus fuck! You scared me. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to startle pregnant women either and give them heart attacks.” 

He looks at her with those big expressive eyes of his and a comically overdone pout on his lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But seriously give me that.” 

He’s so quick to take the box of records from her hands (Y/N) hardly has time to process what’s going on. 

Quite honestly, his worry is a bit misplaced here but she appreciates the sentiment even if he might be a little overly cautious at that moment. It feels nice to be cared for. 

“You know I’m pregnant, not sick, right? I can carry stuff.” 

“Yeah but why would you if you got me carrying it for you?” 

He has a point, she has to give him that. 

“Fair enough. Those go over there in the corner please.” 

Jamie follows her order without hesitation and, after setting the box down in its designated place, his eyes dart across the room and light up with childlike wonder and curiosity.

“This used to be your dad’s place, yeah? It looks really neat with all them posters and shit. Like stepping into an old person’s mind but like a cool old person that buys you alcohol when you’re 15 and lets you watch horror movies when your mum said no.” 

Of all the adjectives in the world, (Y/N) wouldn’t ever think of using the word “cool” to describe her dad. He was creative and fun and eccentric and stubborn — but cool? 

Then again he was her dad and no one ever likes to think of their own parents as cool. Oh god, will their kid think she’s uncool?! 

“Uh yeah, the shop and the apartment right above us. He owned it, now I do. I’m trying to get it all fixed up and ready to be sold.”

“What? Why?” 

There is something to be said about Jamie’s face and his absolute inability to mask his emotions. Everything he thinks and feels is mirrored twice as vividly on his face. He’s all furrowed brows and pouty lips. 

“I mean — it’s a record store. People don’t really buy records anymore. Be honest, when was the last time you bought one instead of just streaming the music?” 

“Like two weeks ago.” 

“Fuck off, no you didn’t!” 

“Uh — yeah, I did. Olivia Rodrigo if you must know.” 

A soft giggle falls from (Y/N)’s lips. How fitting for Jamie to buy an album full of teenage angst. 

“Well, you’re one of very few people though. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to sell. I’d keep it open. Instead of selling instruments, it’d turn that part of the shop into a little stage with a coffee counter or a bar. Host open mic nights and shine a spotlight on undiscovered artists. But the world isn’t perfect and there is no way I can afford to turn that vision into reality so really there’s no use in letting myself get too caught up in it.” 

There is pity in his eyes and she hates it. She doesn’t want pity, not his or anyone else’s. Has seen enough of it, especially lately. If she had received just one more “Sorry for your loss” card in the mail from relatives she hadn’t seen in decades, she probably would’ve stabbed a fork in her own eye. Pity does no good to no one. 

“Anyway, Jamie. Not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you, it’s kind of necessary if we want to get this whole beings-friends-thing right, but uh — what are you doing here?” 

“Jesus, can’t a guy just come around to say hi to his baby? “ 

She thinks the way he says the word “Baby” in his thick accent is surprisingly and undeniably adorable. As if it ends in an “eh” instead of a “y”.

“By the way, they’re as big as a blueberry now.” 

And the way he’s keeping track of the baby's growth gets her right in the heart. For some reason, this seems to come so naturally to him when it all still feels weird and foreign and surreal to her. As if it were happening to someone else and she’s just a mere spectator. The idea that something as small as a blueberry will one day turn into a proper baby, a child, a teenager … a whole ass adult - is so wild to her. Almost incomprehensible. A person with their own feelings and dreams and personality. (Y/N) wonders if at any point in this pregnancy, she'll wake up and it'll all just make sense or if that only comes once she's holding the baby in her arms.

“That's cute. Doesn't answer my question though. What brings you here?”

A shadow of something flickers across Jamie’s face. Something unreadable and unfamiliar. Something that makes (Y/N) feel a sense of dread bubbling up in her stomach.

“I uh — I can’t do this.”

And there it is. That unfamiliar shadow is now a metaphorical atom bomb, a mushroom cloud of all that could have been and won’t be.

“Oh okay. I mean no, not okay. This sucks actually. You said you wanted to be part of the baby’s life and now you’re bailing? That’s a shit move, Jamie. You’re a right prick for pulling that crap.” 

“What? Oh no!” his eyes widen as the realization sets in. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well then what did you mean? Cause you’re truly giving me a heart attack right now. Second one for today. You really need to start working on your conversation starters.” 

She had given him the chance to opt out of being a dad, to not be a part of the baby’s life. It seemed like the right thing to do and, foolishly, (Y/N) had believed that she’d be okay with him doing just that. In this very moment though, she feels everything but okay. The idea of Jamie changing his mind is terrifying. 

Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you need something — or someone until you’re faced with the possibility of losing them.

“I mean, I can’t do this alone. I need to tell someone. All I keep thinking about is the baby and I feel like I am going to explode any second now. I know we can’t tell everyone yet ‘cause of — well you know, things going wrong and stuff. But I need to tell someone. You got to tell Rebecca and your mum, I think it’s only fair I get to tell two people as well, yeah?”

A sense of relief floods her. Starts in her toes and fills her all the way to the top of her head. He wants this — wants the baby. It’s not just her in this. It’s nice to know you have someone in your corner. It’s also scary. Because he deserves to know just whose team he’s on. And being vulnerable fucking sucks. 

“Jamie, that’s fine. Absolutely you can tell your mum.” 

“And Simon? You got two people so — “

“I didn’t though.” 

“Uh yes, you did. I know you told Rebecca.” 

“That’s right.”

“And your mum too”.

The silence that follows his words is deafening. Being vulnerable means also admitting guilt. It means owning up to all of your mistakes. Though we are not the sum of our mistakes, they are what help shape the person we become. And (Y/N) really doesn’t think they make her a very good one.

“And your mum too?” 

More silence.

“You didn’t tell your mum? Why not? “

To his credit, Jamie looks truly surprised and confused. There is no judgment there, just absolute bewilderment and that signature softness that rounds out his features and settles in his eyes whenever Jamie talks to her about something serious. Granted they’ve not had that many conversations but she hopes that softness stays. She hopes that maybe their baby can have those soft, gentle eyes too.

“I’m not sure. I think I’m scared. My mum and I have a — complicated relationship. I disappoint her, she judges me. You know, the usual.” 

“You think she’ll be disappointed because we're having a baby? Is it because of me?”

(Y/N) shrugs, breaking eye contact and fixing her gaze on the old grey carpet with the ugly 90s pattern. What if those soft eyes can look straight through her, see all the ugly parts and the insecurities? That’s too scary for now. Too much too soon.

“No, it has nothing to do with you. Think she’ll just be disappointed I didn’t get pregnant according to the timeline she dreamed up for my life when I was like 2 years old. Had it all planned out for me and I never stuck to it.” 

Jamie is quiet for a moment but (Y/N) doesn’t dare to look back up at him. She can’t deal with any more pity.

“Well if you want to practice telling a mum, we can start with mine.”

“Huh?” 

“You can come to Manchester with me if you want. To tell my mum. We’ll have one mum down then, makes it easier to do it a second time. It’s science.” 

Jamie has the fascinating quality of making you believe in his words just by being so undeniably charming and because he believes in them himself. He makes it look easy when it is everything but.

“And if things don’t go well with your mum at least you’ll know you have at least one mum you can rely on, even if it’s not your own. She raised me pretty much by herself so she knows a thing or two about babies and parenting and stuff.” 

The mocking raise of (Y/N)’s right eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by Jamie who opens his lips to a silent gasp and clutches his chest with an overly dramatic gesture. 

“What? You saying I didn’t turn out perfectly?”

“No,” she laughs, a lightness festering in her chest. Like the first rays of sunshine after a cold winter that never seemed to end. Like a glass of wine after a long day at work. Like your favorite song on the radio at the exact moment you need it most. “I think you turned out exactly the way you were supposed to.” 

“Thanks,” Jamie says with that cheeky smile playing on his lips that makes him look a little younger than he actually is. Then he dares to wink at her and it’s a little annoying but also insanely charming. “Not sure you meant it as a compliment but I am taking it. Now when are you free for a trip up to Manchester?” 

(Y/N)’s been on a lot of road trips around the country when she was younger. She’s even spent a whole summer traveling Europe, partially by train but most of the time was spent stuffed in a Fiat Punto with 3 of her friends and all their luggage. It was stuffy, it was chaotic and it was immensely fun. None of those road trips ever involved a shiny black Aston Martin Rapide though. 

Or a famous footballer dressed in the ugliest lime green sweater (Y/N) has ever seen. 

“That’s all the luggage you got?” Jamie questions as he moves the black shades off of his eyes and sets them on the top of his head, holding back some of his hair. It shouldn’t work so well but it does. 

“I mean, we’re only staying for a night right? Why? Should I have brought more? How much did you pack?” 

He glances at her, then towards the car, and back at her. A sheepish look crosses his face before being replaced by his childlike cheekiness. “That’s confidential. Don’t worry about it, yeah?” 

“I got my ginger lollies, that’s all that matters really.” 

“You feeling alright?” 

“Mh, I’m good. Just pregnant.” 

His eyes drop down to her stomach for just a second before he nods his head in what (Y/N) can only describe as a mix of pride and satisfaction. “Yeah, you are.” 

That’s new. Well not new-new but it hasn’t happened since the day of the funeral. That tingly feeling in her stomach that has fuck all to do with the baby and everything with how the baby got there. Yes, Jamie is hot and (Y/N) is the first to admit as much but there has been so much stress and chaos and she hardly had time to think about anything but surviving and making sure not to completely lose herself in bad visions of what-ifs that her brain has had no time to process any feelings of arousal or lust. That look he just gave her though, that one made her remember it for just a second.

“You sure you’re alright?” 

Jamie’s voice shakes her from her daydream and brings her back to the real world, her eyes focusing back on the obscene car parked in front of her tiny apartment building looking so insanely out of place.

“Uh yes, I’m fine. I just — sometimes I forget that you’re famous.” 

Jamie regards her for a moment before shrugging his shoulder and grabbing the bag from her hands. “I don’t. It’s fun. Now come on, let’s goooooo.” 

His voice is dipped in excitement and there’s a bounce in his step. If this is how the prospect of seeing his mother makes him feel and behave, she must be one lovely woman. Whenever (Y/N) thinks of her own mother her chest fills with tiny metaphorical icicles. Sharp and rough and painful. It’s all regret and judgment and disapproval. It’s “You gained weight”, “you look tired”, and “You should really look into getting a new job”. Daggers disguised as roses. Stabs right to the heart in the name of being honest. “I just care about you, because I love you, because I am your mother!” 

If there is one thing (Y/N) knows for sure, it’s that she will never ever find the need to resort to criticism and thinly veiled malice in order to show her child that she cares. They will know. Every single day. Because she’ll make sure to show them. Every single day in all the big and tiny ways a person can show their love. 

“Kidney Bean?”

“Kidney Bean. And apparently, the baby is sprouting webbed fingers and toes right now. Oh, and it’s starting to move!” 

“Can you feel that?” 

“No, not yet.” 

“It’s mental. Last week she was the size of a blueberry and now she’s a kidney bean. Kid’s growing up too fast.” 

It’s true. There is so much happening all at once and it’s almost impossible to really process it all. Suddenly there is a tiny spark of a human inside her. Not really a baby yet but a baby to her. And it's moving and developing and changing every second of every day. Fucking insane.

“Wait … you said she. You think it’s a girl?”

Maybe it’s the sunlight casting a glow through the windshield but (Y/N) is almost certain she can just about make out a blush dusting Jamie’s cheeks. 

“Dunno.”

“Jamie Tartt, do you want to be a girl dad?” 

He glances at (Y/N) through the corner of his eyes for just a moment but it’s enough for her to see the sincerity in him. This is something he’s thought about before. Learning new things about Jamie is fascinating.

“Ah,  it’s stupid, really. It’s — It’s dumb or whatever.” 

“No, come on, don't go shy on me now. Tell me.” 

He takes a deep breath. A moment passes then another. There is no rush. Sometimes silly thoughts are the result of harsh truths. 

“Told you my dad was a prick. Like the biggest piece of shit walking this earth, yeah? And I knew that all my life. Thing is I still tried to impress him. I just — I wanted him to like me so badly. Just felt wrong that me own dad didn’t care about me and that made me angry. And I kept that anger inside me for so long. Sometimes when I think about the baby and the future I am scared that if I have a son that anger will jump over to him. Like maybe all Tartt men are cursed or some shit like that. But if I had a little girl maybe that would make it easier for me to be a good dad. I don’t mind either way, obviously, but the idea of having a son scares me.” 

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been with her so far and by the way he clenches his jaw and grabs onto the steering wheel just a little tighter, (Y/N) can tell this isn’t easy on him. It means a lot that he shares this part of him with her anyway. It feels like they are actually becoming friends. So opening up to him in return is only half as horrifying. 

“When I was a kid, maybe 11 or 12, I wrote a short story for school and I won an award. They did this big ceremony thing where the 3 finalists got to read their stories out loud for an audience and then receive their prizes. My mum didn’t show up, not sure if it was because she stayed longer at the office and didn’t care enough to leave on time or if she just didn’t feel like getting out of the house. Point is, she wasn’t there. When I came home that night I was sad, obviously, and I was also pissed. Because why the fuck couldn’t she take one night off to come see me succeed at something even if it wasn’t something she deemed worthy of praise. 

So I yelled at her and I’m sure I said some hurtful things. But I was so devastated and angry and I needed an outlet for once. She called me ungrateful but I was used to that, she always called me ungrateful. Then she looked at me with that look of absolute resignation and malice and she said that she hopes I have a daughter like me one day and that she makes me realize how hard it is to love me. 

When I think of the baby, sometimes I see a little girl too. One that I will love so much she never has to doubt it for a single second. And I will also prove my mother wrong. Because it will be so easy to love my little girl and it would’ve been so easy to love me, her little girl.” 

It’s the first time she’s ever said those words out loud. Truly, (Y/N) had not expected for them to come out in an Aston Martin, on the way to meet her baby’s father’s mother but life doesn’t seem to care for plans very much these days.

Softly, as if to not startle her, Jamie places his hand on hers, squeezing gently.

“I think your mum is a right bitch.” 

“Thanks. I think your dad is a huge asshole.” 

“We’re gonna be better than them, right?” 

It’s not really a question. It’s more of a promise.

“We will. I know it.”

His hand doesn’t leave hers for a good long while. 

The nerves don’t hit her until they pull up to the quaint little house with the white front. There’s a rose bush to the side and some kids playing football just across the way. The nerves don’t hit her until Jamie puts the car in park but when they do, they hit her like a freight train.

“Woah, you alright?” 

“Huh?” 

“You look all pale and like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Do you have to puke?”

A chuckle falls from her lips at the absurdity of it all. In all honesty, she’s not met a lot of parents yet but the few she did meet were parents of actual partners. People she had been dating for a while. It was a natural progression of steps. This is all wrong and sideways and topsy-turvy. You’re supposed to meet the mum first and then get pregnant. 

Again with the life and the plans. 

“I’m fucking nervous.” 

“Hah,” Jamie laughs. The audacity of this guy. “You’re nervous to meet my mum? Why? She’s an angel.”

“Do you not know how intimidating that is? Like, if she was shit I wouldn’t care but she sounds wonderful and I want her to like me. No, I need her to like me. Desperately. And I can only imagine what she thinks of me already. Some floozy who gets knocked up and really just wants your money.” 

Before she even fully realizes what’s happening, (Y/N) feels Jamie’s hands on her cheeks, framing her face in warmth.

“Calm down, please. I promise it’ll be alright. My mum will love you, I know it. Probably more than she loves me. Actually no that’s a lie, but she will love you and she will love our baby. Promise.”

“She’s not gonna judge me for — you know. Getting pregnant even though we’re not dating or anything.” 

“My mum was married to my dad, worst person on planet Earth. Don’t think she’s in any position to judge you. It’ll be alright, trust me.” 

She hardly knows this man and yet she can’t help but do just that. Trust him.

The first thing (Y/N) notices about Georgie is her smile. A smile that is so familiar because it looks exactly like Jamie’s smile. Warm and radiant and true. A part of (Y/N) hopes that their baby inherits that same smile. Partially because it’s a really good smile and partially because maybe that could help Jamie realize that he is more than the sum of his father’s problems and mistakes. He is all his mother’s boy.

“Oh, I missed you, my baby.” 

Georgie wraps her arms around Jamie’s middle, getting swallowed by his frame for a moment. There’s no denying that part of (Y/N)’s heart breaks a little seeing how loving of a relationship these two have and wondering where she and her own mother went wrong.

And as it so happens with so many kids that have never been loved quite the way they deserved, (Y/N) can’t help but search for the problem in herself. 

“Yeah sorry for not visiting earlier. You know how it is with training and stuff.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I know my boy is busy being a star.” 

The words hold a slight mocking, never mean but in the way that only people who are close can tease each other. You know every word comes laced with deep affection, with pride, with love.

“And it’s so nice to meet you too. I’m Georgie.” 

It takes a second for (Y/N) to realize that Jamie’s mum is now talking to her directly.

“I uh — oh thank you. Nice to meet you too, I’m (Y/N).” 

Georgie smells like mint chewing gum and floral perfume as she pulls (Y/N) into a hug. She’s soft and gentle and it’s been the first hug from a mother (Y/N) has received in quite some time.

“Sorry, didn’t even ask if you’re a hugger.”

“Oh that’s alright, don’t worry about it.” 

She’s not a hugger, never really was, but there is something about Georgie granting her some affection that isn’t all that bad. Maybe their kid can have at least one grandmother who cares and who isn’t completely disgusted by the idea of showing any kind of positive emotions.

“Jamie never brings girlfriends around so I’m a bit out of my element here if I’m being honest.” 

“Mum we’re not — she’s not.” Jamie takes a big breath before starting again “(Y/N) and I are friends, yeah? Told you about it on the phone.” 

“Right, right. Well, you don’t bring around a lot of friends either so same difference, really. Now come inside will you, I’m sure we got a lot to catch up on.”

Oh if only she knew how true that sentiment really is.

There are pictures of Jamie staring back at (Y/N) from every corner of the house and Georgie leads them through the hallway and towards the kitchen. Every wall and every shelf holds a memory of him at one point in his life. Gap toothed with a football in hand smiling, surrounded by a field of tulips arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulder, his teenage self smoldering at the camera with an even more questionable haircut than the one he is sporting right now. Oh to be loved in a way that every past version of you is being remembered.

As they reach the kitchen a sweet scent fills the room when a man clad in an apron turns around and faces them with a huge smile playing on his face. He has a dorky kind of charm to him that immediately puts you at ease. Maybe it’s just the frilly apron, maybe it’s the big oven gloves, maybe it’s the smile. Either way, (Y/N) thinks that if they take the news well, her kid might have truly lucked out on one side of the grandparents department. 

“Jamie, welcome home.” 

“Hi Simon, thanks, mate. Glad to be back. This is (Y/N).” 

“The friend, right.” Simon says and shoots Georgie a look that neither of them misses. Subtlety doesn’t seem to be one of his best qualities. “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you too. It smells amazing in here.” 

“I found this new recipe for honey blondies. Not sure if they'll be any good but I guess we'll find out. If you guys want to go have a seat, I'll come bring them over.”

“Actually,” Jamie speaks up while nervously fiddling with his hands. “I was hoping we could have a talk before we do anything else. There’s something I need to tell you both.” 

Imagining the hypothetical scenario of telling your mum you’re having a baby and actually doing it really are two completely different things it seems. Gone is all of Jamie’s confidence and replaced with a whole lot of anxiety. 

“You're worrying me, Jamie. What has you acting so serious? Did you get someone pregnant or something?”

Georgie's words are followed by a thick awkward silence. It's heavy and suffocating and it makes (Y/N) feel uneasy in both her heart and her head.

It doesn't take long for Jamie’s parents to realize what his silence means. Everything communicated by not saying a single word.

“Oh, fuck.”

And there's nothing to add to Georgie's reaction. It's the exact same one (Y/N) had when she first saw those faint blue lines.

Of all the possible outcomes and ways this day could’ve gone, (Y/N) had not expected to find herself staring at not only a curly-haired Roy Kent but also come face to face with two very persuasive arguments belonging to no other than Keeley fucking Jones. 

“This is surreal.” 

The posters stare back at her all crinkled paper and bleached ink, as if to mock her silently. 

“Ah, well I told them to redecorate when I moved out, think they just haven’t gotten around to it yet.” 

A light dusting of pink settles on the apples of Jamie’s cheeks as well as the tips of his ears. This man can’t hide his emotions for the life of him. It’s quite adorable really. 

“Do they know?” 

“Does who know?” 

“Roy and Keeley. Do they know you have their pictures up in your room?”

“Well no and It’s not my room anymore, is it? ‘S not like I have ‘em hanging at home. Put these up ages ago.” 

A giggle slips through (Y/N)’s lips at his desperate attempt to talk himself out of this situation. 

“It’s okay, Jamie. I won’t tell.” 

“There’s nothing to tell, alright?” he responds in mock offense before sitting down on his childhood bed next to (Y/N). “Just liked boobs and football and those two were the best those fields had to offer, yeah? Can’t really blame me.” 

“Not much has changed has it?”

He shrugs his shoulders in response “Nah. Still like boobs and football but no way I’d put up a poster of granddad’s ugly mug nowadays.”

From the few times they talked about his job, including his teammates and coaches, (Y/N) was able to gather that Jamie’s relationship with Roy is something special. Odd, but special. Maybe that’s what happens when you end up working with your childhood idol. Either way, no matter how much shit he likes to talk about him, it’s clear that Jamie respects and admires Roy a great deal still.

“And uh — and Keeley?” 

“What about her?” 

“Is she — are you — how are things?” 

She still remembers that crestfallen look on his face on the day of the funeral. That infinite sadness in his eyes. She hadn’t put two and two together at that moment but later that night it all clicked. Keeley was the woman he was in love with, the woman who did not love him back. And while (Y/N) knows that she and Jamie are only bound together by happenstance and fate — if one chooses to believe in that, and that there is nothing romantic about their situation, it does sting a little to know that the man you’re having a baby with is in love with someone else.

“We’re good. We’re friends, think that’s all we’ll ever be. Her and Roy, they’re happy and I don’t want to ruin it for either of them. Keeley and I just were not right together.” 

“And you’re okay with that?” 

He nods his head, a small smile playing on his lips “Yeah, I’m alright with it. If I hadn’t made a fool of myself at the funeral then you and I wouldn’t have — you know, and then we wouldn’t be having a baby. Little Kidney Bean.” 

“That’s true. Your mum seemed excited.” 

“Hah, sorry about her. She can be intense.” 

Intense might be the understatement of the century. It took her approximately 2.3 seconds to get over the initial shock of the announcement and really process it before Georgie let out a scream of pure excitement and joy and wrapped both Jamie and (Y/N) up in her arms. She didn’t fully let go for a good 20 minutes. It was intense. It was also phenomenal.

“Don’t apologize. I am so glad she took it so well, Simon too. At least now I’ll have the certainty that my baby will have one set of loving grandparents at least.” 

“Hey,” Jamie says and nudges her shoulder with his “We’ll sort out telling your mum next, okay. I’m sure it’ll go better than you think. And if not we can always call up my mum for some more hugs and a pep talk. Whatever happens, you won’t have to do it alone. I promise.” 

For what is probably the first time in her life (Y/N) lets herself believe that there truly is someone else having her back, undisputedly and all the way. It’s unfamiliar. It’s a little scary. It’s also wonderful.

“Thanks, Jamie. I appreciate it, I really do. Think so far we’re doing alright, huh?” 

“I’d say so. Two sexy parents and a little Kidney Bean.” 

Their laughter echoes through Jamie’s childhood bedroom for quite a while longer until at some point it stills and gives room to soft breathing and quiet snores. The bed isn’t meant for two grown adults and really Jamie truly meant to sleep on the couch but somewhere between talks of baby clothes and childhood memories, eyes grew heavy and tired, and soon enough both of them are fast asleep.

Just them and their little Kidney Bean 

— and a curly-haired Roy Kent 

— and Keeley’s boobs.

taglist (@ me if you want to be taken off or added): @captainfrisbee - @scaramou - @mischiefmanaged71 - @rexorangecouny - @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog - @tweasley20 - @dreamtrydoforkinggood - @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo - @heletsmelovehim - @snubug - @katdahlali - @oldglitterstory - @lalla-04p - @aiyaiy

[hellfirecvnt]

It's Personal

Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

TW: Violence against Y/N (not via Billy), farfetched for the plot, Billy is mean, angst, possible cringe idk. We're all friends here. THE VIOLENCE IS DESCRIBED IN DETAIL FOR THE MOST PART. A little bit non-canon Billy, but if you're reading his dialogue as sassily and as dry as I'm writing it, it's not quite as jarring to his personality.

Notes: I literally just learned about the "Who did this to you?" Trope and now I'm giving it an angsty go. This is not smut, womp, womp. Also, I did the gifs like a picture book so you can kinda see the expression or energy I was going for. Summary: Billy's been an ongoing bully/ nuisance in your life since you met. He's acting a little different after finding out you've been hurt.

"Can you try not to take up half the lecture dick-riding the professor?" Billy catches you as you're making your way across campus. He's always been an issue for you, ever since he moved here your junior year in high school. Now you're both freshmen in college. He'd taken a year off to pursue other outlets, but sometimes you're convinced he did it just to be able to torment you in college, seeing as he was always a grade above.

"What are you talking about, Billy?" You ask with an exasperated sigh. Already too exhausted from studying late the night before to deal with his endless harassment.

"I'm saying every time we have this course, you ask a million fucking questions the whole time," his voice is low, but filled with a palpable hate. Why does he dislike you so much? You've never known. You've never asked. "Try to save your desperation for after class, cool? It's hard to watch," He jabs, speed-walking ahead of you.

Most days, you'd say something back. A quip just as hateful, if not worse. You were his rival in every sense of the word. The two of you even shared the same genre of fashion sense. You stole his spotlight, and he doesn't like it, so he notices when your venom is running low. You're silent the entire lecture, not because of what Billy said to you, but because you're tired.

Your study session only ran so late because you and your boyfriend spent most of the day arguing. The gaslighting is constant, and his moods have become more and more unstable and harder to navigate. You tell yourself over and over that you love him. You've loved him since you were young. He's your high school sweetheart. Andy was on the basketball team in high school and while that type usually didn't take to a hair-metal gal like you, he seemed so smitten when you met.

The room is dismissed and you try to file out long before Billy can make it to the door. He laughs at your desperate attempt to get away. Like a cockroach scurrying away from a suddenly illuminated bulb. You're not fast enough and as he passes you before you reach the exit to the building, he leans over and taunts you in your ear.

"It's about time you listened," he hisses and walks away laughing. You're indifferent. Nothing he says could hurt the way Andy's words do. You tune everything out to make room for your insecure thoughts to take over. You blame yourself for Andy's rapid change in personality. What could you have done to make him feel like this toward you? Your mind is far too occupied by these untrue concerns, that you barely feel the anxiety settle in until you get back to your dorm. It was a bit more pricey on your tuition, but your scholarship allowed you to have a dorm room for yourself. Instead of another bed, it has a small "living room" area.

With a deep, grounding sigh, you reach for the door handle and step inside. Things are fine. Andy greets you with a smile and kisses you sweetly as you set your things down by the door. You're pleasantly surprised, allowing all the toxic thoughts circling your mind to melt away under his gentle touch.

"How was class?" He asks.

"It was fine. Nothing spectacular," you giggle, smiling warmly, overtly relieved that he's not still upset with you. You can barely recall what he was angry about, to begin with. You snuggle into him as you both relax on the couch. He stares straight ahead as he opens his mouth to speak.

"One of my buddies said he saw you talking to that Steve guy," Andy's voice becomes colder, and you realize it was all a trap. You're wrapped in his arms, feeling his body go rigid as you hesitate to answer. "Y/N." He finally looks down at you, meeting your anxious gaze.

"Oh, uh," your throat goes dry. "I did talk to him. He was a little late and just needed the notes from the first section. I charged him five bucks." You begin to ramble, hoping to defuse the situation before he explodes. "He's still going steady with that Debra girl, too. She's in my journalism class. I bet those cookie-cutter losers end up married, honestly."

"You know I don't like you talking to other guys without me." Andy clenches his jaw.

"I know! I completely understand, too. You know I love how possessive you are, babe. It's hot," you're desperate and hopeful that stroking his ego will put this anger to bed. "There were so many people around, so I was thinking nothing could happen." You furrow your brow at your own words. "Your friend was even there to make sure!"

Andy's grip around you tightens, nearly cutting off your ability to fill your lungs just using one arm.

"I don't ask you for a lot, Y/N." His free hand reaches up to your face, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look into his eyes, though you weren't looking away to begin with. "Don't make me look like a fool." When he loosens his grip, your lungs inflate with a loud gasp and his shift in position slides you off the couch, into the floor with a small thud. Now you're angry. The two of you have screamed at each other plenty of times, but how dare he act so bold?

"Andy," you stand, hovering over him where he remains on the couch. His arched brows frame his bright eyes with anger. "Get out." He smirks, and it fills you with unease. Standing from the couch, he takes one step forward, nearly chest to chest with you, if it weren't for the dramatic height difference. He towers over you, stealing the feeling of power you thought you were cultivating.

"What'd you just say to me?" He asks with a sociopathic smile.

"I said," You swallow hard. "Get. The fuck. Out." You barely get a chance to speak the last word of your sentence before a fast, hard open hand meets your cheek, knocking you to the ground, and almost sending you across the room, it felt like.

"Do not ever talk to me like that just because you got caught," Andy's words are full of anger. You stare at him with wide eyes, arching your brow in an expression that asks him who the fuck he thinks he is. He storms out of the dorm, but you know he'll be back. And after these events, you're scared to try and stop him. His college teammates are at every corner, it seems. It's as if ever since Jason went out of state for college, they all bend to Andy's will. Losers. Andy doesn't come home until after you've fallen asleep. You stayed up as late as your body could take, but he wasn't back in bed until 5 AM. You have no idea where he's been.

The next day, it's your misfortune that you and Billy share yet another class. This one was early in the morning rather than yesterday's afternoon lecture. You're running on very little sleep, and the trauma of Andy snapping and putting his hands on you. It's just something you could never even fathom. The way he would kiss the ground you walked on when you first met, how could he? You're more than distracted, staring directly at the floor as you walk until you run flat into someone else in the hall.

"I stood here, completely still, to see if you'd notice. I guess other people don't exist to you, huh, princess?" He mocks you. It's not long before he notices the dark bags under your lifeless eyes and the speckles of red that have risen in the hazy shape on the side of your face. Assuming it's an allergic reaction like you had back in high school, he didn't hold back. "Jesus Christ, Y/N. You look like shit."

"Still look better than you could pull, pussy," you sneer, shoving past him. "Don't fucking make me late." He steps in front of you again, knowing neither of you is late because he's on the same schedule.

"What happened to your face? It looks like your boyfriend had to tell you twice," he bursts out laughing at his distasteful joke. You can feel your blood begin to boil. You no longer wish to exchange hateful comments. Now you want to hurt him. You want to hurt Billy the way Andy hurts you. You can't swing on him, so you take your next best shot.

"Yeah? How many times did your mom have to tell you before she just gave up and left?" You boldly stare Billy in the eyes, hoping so badly that none of Andy's henchmen see the two of you going at it. Billy's jaw is rigid, and you can see it tighten as he grinds his teeth, subduing his emotions. You've never come at him like that, it wasn't expected. His taunting smirk is long gone.

"Are you trying to get your fucking ass kicked, Y/L/N?" Billy's disgusted with himself the minute he says it. Of course, he doesn't mean that. He'll drive you into an early grave, but it's never been in his moral compass to hurt a woman the way his father hurt his mom. He wants to rescind the rhetorical threat, but his ego just clamps his lips shut. Your eye twitches as you wonder what else you've got to lose. Or would Andy hit you again for letting another man kick your ass? Your thoughts are exaggerated and full to the brim with frustration. You finally explode.

"Fucking do it then, Billy! Swing! Hit me, motherfucker!" You drop your belongings and stomp toward him and he's unsure how to react now that you've called him on his bluff/ intrusive thought.

"Calm the fuck down. You look ridiculous," Billy takes a cautious step back.

"No, let's go outside. Let's see how hard you can hit someone half your fucking height, pussy!" You're nearly causing a scene, but the building is empty for the hour. Tears well in your eyes and you refuse to let up, demanding he act on his "big, scary" threat. He won't. He stares at your watery, red eyes. Your face is flushed and only your cheeks, nose, and around your eyes hold any pigment. He essentially waits until you tire yourself out.

"You've gotta do something about that shit, Y/N. You're fucking losing it," he shakes his head.

"I'm not losing any-fucking-thing, Hargrove. Don't ever mistake me for a bitch you can scare off with an empty fucking threat," you spit, grabbing your things and taking off, leaving Billy standing confused in the empty hallway.

"What the fuck was that?" He questions aloud. He has no idea you've been drained with no way to recharge. You've been hurt with no way to heal. To him, you're losing your goddamn mind. After that, he's not even angry at your comment anymore. He's just, concerned? Maybe just curious, really. After all, he's supposed to be your burden. Anything else takes the attention off of him.

The class is long and just like yesterday, you're quiet when you usually never stop engaging. Even the professor notices, and she asks you to linger behind after the lecture is over.

"Hey, Y/N. What's up? You were so quiet today," the professor's soft voice is sweet to your ears.

"I've just been, um, tired." You shake your head, barely convincing yourself.

"Is that a bruise on your cheek, honey?" The kind, older woman asks with two hands resting on her coffee mug. Just outside the open door, Billy waits for you to pass by before he realizes you're staying behind. He scoots as close to the door as he can, flat along the wall, listening.

"A bruise," he whispers to himself, recalling what he thought was a rash. His stomach almost attempts to simulate the feeling of guilt as he remembers the joke he made at you. The one that set you off.

"Oh, no. It's a reaction. New laundry detergent fucked me up," you stop yourself. "Messed me up, sorry."

"Y/N, you're an adult. I can't make you do anything you don't want to do, but it's very clearly not hives," the professor sighs, her eyes full of concern as she stares at the ever-developing bruise as it slowly takes the shape of a hand. "Is it another student at the University?"

"Ma'am, with all due respect, I'm dealing with a lot right now. I will see you on Wednesday. Goodbye." You snatch your things up and zip toward the door, holding your breath. The wind from your speed walking blows your hair back, giving Billy a perfect view of the hand-shaped bruise yellowing on the side of your face. You're too determined to get out of there to react to his eavesdropping, so the two of you just share a look, and you keep going.

Billy furrows his brow. He's unsure you even have a boyfriend, so who exactly is leaving bruises like that right, front and center on your face? After his last course of the day, Billy congregates with his friends at a nearby frat house belonging to a different college.

"Hey, Tommy," Billy calls his friend's attention. Tommy pulls himself away from the group of guys he was laughing with and sits across from Billy. "You know that Y/N girl? Lots of denim, nice ass?" It's not until the last two descriptors that Tommy recalls who you are. Figures.

"Yeah, what about her?"

"What's her deal? She dating anybody?" Billy asks, innocently enough.

"I don't know, man. Why do you always ask me about shit like that?" Tommy laughs.

"Because you gossip like a woman," Billy smirks, standing from his slouched position on the couch and grabbing a beer from the large, ice-filled cooler in the kitchen. "She's some annoying broad in a couple of classes with me. I thought I'd ask around and see if there's a reason she never shuts her goddamn mouth." Both of them laugh at his hateful remark, but it's true to him. You get on his nerves, but it's less what you say, and more so the fact that you do "him" better than him. The men drink irresponsibly and cause a ruckus until late, late at night where they then wander back to their campus/ dorms on foot.

You wake up in the morning finally feeling well-rested for the first time in a while, despite the sudden changes in your relationship. You look over to see Andy's side of the bed is empty. You assume he slept over at the frat house after getting too fucked up. You know he likes to party.

Sitting comfortably on your couch, watching an episode of your favorite show, though it's a rerun, you involuntarily flinch when you hear the door open. Andy slightly stumbles through, laughing with messy hair. His clothes seem disheveled, but you chalk it up to drunken hijinks.

"Hey, babe! Did you have fun?" You ask, smiling, beaming, really. Hoping the sound of his laughter is a sign he's in a good mood this morning.

"Huh?" He looks over at you as if he didn't notice your existence until you spoke.

"I was just asking if you had a good time. Sorry I couldn't go with you, I was just too tired," you laugh.

"Oh, no. It's cool. I like it when it's just me and the guys, actually." His confession makes you a little sad, but you try to understand.

"Got any plans for today?" You grin, letting your guard down.

"For the love of God, dude. Can I get in the door first?" He snaps.

"Okay... Sorry," you quieted yourself down at first, but then quickly realized that's not who your daddy raised. You're getting ready to confront him again despite the smack until you notice something that makes your stomach drop, a small trail of three faint hickeys along your long-term boyfriend's neck. "Babe. Where did those come from?"

"What are you talking about?" He groans, throwing himself on the couch next to you, gripping your thigh possessively.

"I'm talking about the hickeys on your neck, Andy. Where did they come from?" Your voice is low and shaky. "Just you and the guys, huh?"

"Don't start with this shit again, Y/N. I'm too hungover." He dismisses you entirely, and all the rage you'd been holding back to be the "cool girlfriend" comes pouring out.

"You knocked me to the floor for looking at Steve Harrington! You put your hands on me for some made-up story you formulated in your own head and now you're coming home with hickyes?!" The longer you scold him, the darker his expression becomes.

"I'm giving you one fucking chance to get on your fucking knees right now and apologize," Andy's unsettlingly calm. You're frozen. Too scared to be openly defiant, but too angry to fold at his command. "One... Two..." He stands, softly placing a hand on your cheek and sliding it up into your hair, gracefully scraping the tips of his fingers behind your ear. It's so soft and soothing, that the sensation causes goosebumps to rise on your skin. Your eyes flutter shut and just as they're about to open again, he closes his fist around a large portion of your hair and forces you to the ground.

"Andy!" You scream, both terrified and in pain.

"I'm so sick of this, Y/N. I'm sick of you," he growls through gritted teeth, holding you painfully at his side like a heeling dog.

"God damn it, stop! It's fucking over! Fuck whoever you want!" You cry, shifting your position against him in hopes of loosening the pull against your scalp.

"And let you whore yourself out to every other guy on campus? Fuck off. You're mine." He finally releases your hair, tossing you forward in front of him. He kneels down to get closer to your face, speaking lowly. "I heard Hargrove's been asking about you. Think you're safe with your playboy side-piece?"

"He's not my side-piece! Please, Andy. Why are you being like this?" You hold a hand up to defend yourself.

"You think I don't see you two whispering to each other? You think you're smart enough to hide anything from me?" Andy's voice is slowly rising in volume. You worry the other students will hear the commotion. You don't want to lose your solo dorm rights seeing as men aren't supposed to "live" with women in the dorms.

"He's a dick, dude! I fucking hate the guy, please stop!" Your makeup is trailing down your face as you continue to cry for mercy. He shakes his head at the scene.

"I tried warning you. I tried getting my point across to you, but you won't hear me," he sighs as he snatches your hair back into his fist in one, quick, snake-like action. You wail at the aching tug, squeezing your eyes shut from the pain. Just as you go to open them, you see his hand flying toward you. It starts with open-handed smacks, knocking the wind out of you from how bad they hurt, but he progresses until he's landing blow after blow, all over you. Anywhere he can reach as you try to block him.

Eventually, you're badly roughed up, and Andy stands to look at what he's done. The remaining alcohol seems to clear from his system as the reality of his actions sets in.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck," he mumbles, tearing his shirt off as it's stained with your blood. He shoves it deep into the trashcan and disappears to wash the evidence of the horrors against you off of his hands. He returns to where you lie in the living room. He's wearing a fresh shirt and his breath heaves as he stares at your seemingly unconscious body. You're awake though, barely. Holding your breath as long as possible, only allowing the shallowest of breaths, basking in the stillness after the abhorrent beating.

Andy bolts out the door and after a few moments of silence, loud sobs of relief and pain emit from your sore chest. You roll over into a ball, holding yourself close as you process everything. You mourn who you were before the person you trusted most betrayed you. You mourn your relationship, regardless of the last few days. You mourn your own face as you imagine the recovery process will be long and draining. You lie there for a while until night falls.

Once it's dark out, you sneak to the old gym building to use the showers there, hoping to avoid running into anyone and having to answer any questions about your battered appearance. No one uses the old gym because it's full of spiders and has a terrible draft, but it's still open to the students 24/7. It's your run-of-the-mill college basketball court with a weight room and showers.

You get inside the building and listen to the silence of the empty halls. Peace. You're numb now. You've cried all you can, and the pain has become a dull hum. Now you just want to shower and try to find yourself beneath all the blood. You scale the walls of the dark hallway, searching for a light switch. You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel what you can only imagine is human flesh.

"Oh fuck!" You and the mystery person exclaim in unison, startled by each other's presence. Still on edge, you duck down, covering your face. The light flips on and you recognize the sweaty figure who stands before you. Billy. He comes to this gym for privacy in the weight room and always has. Not as confident as his demeanor would lead you to believe.

"Had to be you, didn't it?" He rolls his eyes. "Did you come here to- Oh fuck, Y/N." His uncreative insult is cut short when you lower your arms, revealing the massacre of swollen features and bloody skin that used to be your face. His mouth hangs open for a moment. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up. Like you fucking care, Hargrove. Get out of my way," you're angry, and it feels like you'll be angry forever.

"Hey," he stops you from walking past him by stepping in your path. "I said what happened?" His voice sounds different. Like you've never heard before. Uncharacteristically concerned, but don't let that fool you. It's still not a lot of concern and it's quite monotoned. His eyes search yours for any kind of answer and it's the least arched his brow has ever been. He's being so... Quiet. You're silent too, stunned by his behavior.

"Thought you were gonna kick my ass too, Billy. You scared now?" Your remark is meant to be a bold taunt, but your voice cracks as you fight for your life to hold back tears.

"Y/N, I'm serious. Who did this to you?" He asks sternly, losing patience by the minute. You still can't seem to trust him enough to open up, so you look down at the ground in silence. "Fuck it. Come on." Billy's long legs float him swiftly down the hall and you hesitate to follow, ultimately deciding all these years arguing with Billy have at least felt better than the last three days with Andy. He leads you to the empty men's locker room where he retrieves an old first-aid kit and a bottle of water from the coach's office, then he makes his way to a locker and retrieves a clean shirt. It's soft and worn in and has the name of your university written across the front.

"Thanks," you mumble, taking the box and other supplies from him. You douse the shirt in water and begin to try to wipe your face clean. There's no mirror, so you can't quite tell what you're doing, causing you to scrape over your open wounds and flinch.

"Just fucking," Billy snatches the damp shirt from you. "Let me do it." He's careful and thorough as he gently works the soft, wet fabric across the new and old blood covering your identity. You can't help but stare at his eyes as they focus so intently on each section of your face that he wipes clean. Just as he's finishing up, his eyes meet yours for a moment. It's a short, little second, but it felt so drawn out. Billy breaks the eye contact when he sets the shirt to the side.

"That should be okay, for now." He reaches for the kit in your hands.

"I can do it, Billy," you remind him, yanking the box away, rejecting any more gentle touch. It doesn't feel like you deserve it right now.

"Let me help," he demands softly, popping the little tin box open and rummaging around for bandaids and antibiotic ointment. He patches you up and while he's working, you're watching his intense face. His brows are arched and his lips every so slightly pursed. You can't clock what emotion he's feeling. Obviously, he's expressing some sort of sympathy, but he hates you. He always has. So maybe he's just having a human moment.

"What's the matter with you, man? Are you fucking with me?" Your guard begins to rise again. You don't trust your own intuition anymore. You tighten your grip around a plastic pair of scissors from the first-aid kit. Billy notices and releases a laughing sigh.

"No, I'm not fucking with you." He places one final bandage. "You're insufferable as fuck, but I don't think you had this coming." He looks you up and down. That's as close as Billy can get to "comforting" anyone. "Don't stab me with those." He points to your hand and you blush, a little embarrassed by your overly-cautious behavior.

"Why do you hate me, Billy?" You ask, point blank as you release the scissors, catching him off guard.

"Because you're the worst. You're loud, you're egotistical, you're an ugly crier," he chuckles, all too quickly, being put on the spot.

"You're just describing yourself," you knit your brows, quickly wiping the tears from your eyes after his ugly cry comment. "I'm serious. You'd think we'd have so much in common. You hated me the second we met. Why?"

"I don't hate you, Y/N. I'm putting bandaids on your split fucking eyebrow. You're just fun to get a rise out of." Billy closes the kit and tosses it aside with the bloody shirt. It's not news to him that he torments you because of a mix of annoyance and attraction, but you have no idea. What started as his catty attempts to pick you up turned into an all-out rivalry when you were the first girl to tell him to shut the fuck up instead of batting your eyelashes at him. To you, he's just a mean dude. But right now, it's like he's someone else entirely. When he's acting like this, you're finally able to see what makes him so irresistible to every girl on campus. Your rivalry kept you blind to it, but now, you can see his brilliant teeth in his wide, warm smile. You can see his sunflower eyes, framed by long, thick, dark lashes. His jawline, his shoulders, everything about him seems so beautiful to you now.

"Thank you, Billy," you smile weakly. He scans your swollen features and something in him awakens. A possessiveness. Rage ensues. Every opinion of you he's ever had melts away except for his attraction to you. Your voice, your mannerisms, everything he's ever absolutely torn you to shreds for, suddenly he admits to himself that it never bothered him. In his eyes, you're his, even if you're just a target for his teasing, a bit of banter around the school, you're still his.

"You never said who did it," Billy chews his inner lip, trying to keep calm until he gets the information he needs from you.

"It doesn't matter-"

"It matters. Who was it?" His voice is stern and sharp. He's still knelt close to you even though he's done tending to your wounds.

"It just... Happened so fast..." You flinch as you recall opening your eyes to his incoming hand.

"Start from the beginning," the sternness in his voice softens. You give him the full run down. Billy's face remains stone, motionless, but his eyes twitch and flutter with each gruesome new detail dragging him further down to the point of no return.

"We've been together so long. I never thought..." You hold your hands up in confusion, dropping them hopelessly in your lap.

"A name. Now." Billy stares deep into your eyes as he makes his demands. You can almost feel a heat coming off his gaze as it bores into you. It's clear he will not relent until he gets the answer he's asking for.

"His name is Andy." That's all Billy needs before he's standing up and exiting the locker room without another word. "Billy?" You call after him, still sitting on the bench. You finally stand to follow when you don't hear a response from him. "Why do you care?" This stops him in his tracks. He turns around for a second as if he's going to explain, but he never does. He tilts his head with a small shrug and disappears. "Wait!" You call, but the exit door is already closing behind him and he stalks off into the dimly lit campus. He sparks up a cigarette on the way, exhaling a large cloud behind him. Andy better have life insurance.

Billy ponders your question as he makes his way across the courtyard. Regardless of any flirtatious feelings he has for you, this comes down to wishing he could've defended his mother in this same way. He was too small then, he's not now, and Andy's about to face the full extent of that rage extending all the way back to his childhood. For now, it's personal.

You take the time alone to have a quick shower to wash away the blood in your hair and hopefully make yourself feel a little better. You're careful not to get your face wet and ruin Billy's careful doctoring. Once your shower is finished, you grab your bag and head back to your dorm. It's still dark, so you keep close to the dim, yellow street lamps that lead to the student housing. There's a dull hum that vibrates from each light post, it's all you can hear, all you can focus on to make yourself stop thinking about Billy.

Back at your place, you lock the door as many times as possible before shakily taking a seat on the small couch. You flip the TV on, just to have something to fill the silence. Every time someone passes by your door, your heart rate leaps and you lose control of your breathing. After the third or fourth time it happens, you seem to desensitize. Billy's new demeanor he has toward you is all you can think about. The softness of his words, his touch. You didn't think he was capable of it. You curl up, pulling your legs to your chest as you snuggle into the plush cushions, nearly dozing off, trying to remember the way his shirt smelled when he was using it to clean you up.

Billy's hell-bent on getting his hands on Andy, tonight. Crossing the lot, he reaches his car and slides inside. His face is blank as he stares ahead, with only one objective in mind. He follows the sound of blaring house music to a nearby frat house and angrily tears the door open. Wasting no time, he walks right up to the first person he sees.

"Where's Andy?" He asks, yelling over the music. The first few people have no idea who he's looking for until he comes to Tommy. "Where's Andy?"

"Andy from Econ? He's upstairs. Dude's super stressed about something and took a bottle up there. Finals, man." Tommy laughs, but Billy's already walking away before he's even finished his sentence. The entire party becomes muffled beats in his ears as he climbs the stairs in pursuit of the man who made you look like a bad Halloween decoration.

First door, nothing. Second door, nothing. Third door, Billy slings it open and a stressed out, curly-haired brunette man jumps out of his skin.

"Fuck, dude! You fucking scared me!" He exclaims.

"You Andy?" Billy asks, already breathless with anticipation.

"I- yeah? Why?" Billy answers his question by crossing the room in the blink of an eye and scooping him up by his shirt. He slams Andy against the wall, eyes wide with unbound rage. "What the fuck are you doing, man?!" The commotion can't be heard over the party below. It's just the two of them.

"You know how much of a pussy you gotta be to beat up on someone half your height?" Billy strains through gritted teeth. This is a thin reference to what you said to him when he let his emotions cloud his judgment and threatened to kick your ass.

"Wait... Y/N? She's alive? Jesus Christ..." Andy's eyes nearly roll back with relief and Billy looks at him disgusted.

"What? You thought you beat her to death? Then, you just left her there and went to a party?" Billy raises his eyebrows, almost seeming to smile. "That's fucked up, man." He slams Andy against the wall again, harder, to accentuate his point.

"Come on, dude. Whatever she told you-"

"I'm not here to talk about her." Billy silences your cruel, long-time partner. "Right now, we're not gonna talk at all."

"Dude-" Billy tosses the guy to the floor, cutting off his futile begs.

"I think right now, I'm gonna beat the living shit out of you," Billy kneels at Andy's side. "And then I'm gonna go fuck your girlfriend."

Billy lands punch after punch, unintentionally mirroring the way Andy laid into you. The only difference is that Billy's got a lot more size, muscle, and strength training than Andy. He lays into him, pummeling in any way he can figure out to mimic all the bruises and blood he could see on you. Billy grips Andy's shirt by the shoulders and forcefully pulls him to his feet just to uppercut him in the stomach, over and over. Blood and saliva fly from Andy's mouth as Billy hooks his fist up against his stomach.

When he's finally done, Andy's no more than a gargling mess on the floor. Properly bloodied just like he left you. Once again, Billy kneels down to Andy, establishing dominance and reminding him who he's fucking with now.

"If you come near her again," Billy inhales and exhales a shuddering breath as adrenaline continues to surge through him. "I will hurt you. I will hurt your family. There is no hiding, I will fucking kill you." His threat is no more than a low whisper before he stands and leaves Andy to wallow in his filth.

Billy's drive back is short and sweet, but he doesn't trust Andy or his entourage of prissy jock boys, so he rolls his eyes and pulls into the lot in front of the women's dorms, and makes his way to yours. He's always known which one you stay in, though finding out was an accident while he was being snuck in by one of his one-night-stands. It was common practice, hence why Andy pretty much lived with you since he had a shared dorm on the men's side.

He raises his hand to bang on the door, but hesitates, knocking softly and even calling your name through the door so you'd know it was him.

"Y/N, it's Billy." You smile with relief, still steadying your anxiety from his initial knock.

"Billy? How did you know which dorm was mine?" You question as you pull the door open.

"I knocked on every single one. And asked for you by name. At 11 PM." He looks at you, straight-faced, annoyed that you think so little of him.

"Are you fucking serious? They'll crucify me," you sigh, unsure if you can even feel any more stress at this point.

"I'm fucking with you. I know where your dorm is because I pay attention."

"And here I thought I was so annoying," you chuckle. There's a short silence between you, something unheard of for you two. "Do you, um, wanna come in?" You step to the side, inviting him in. Nervous, but not sure why. He's never had that effect on you before.

"No, you're coming with me."

"I am?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I just stirred up a lot of shit, probably. I don't like the idea of you sleeping here alone." His words are compassionate, but the delivery is so blank, that you'd think he didn't actually care at all.

"Oh, alright. Let me grab some stuff." You gather your things and follow Billy to his light blue Camaro. He opens the door for you, but even he's wearing an expression that says this is a foreign act of kindness for him. He closes the door and takes his spot in the driver's seat. Billy glances over at you, but you're peering out the car window, searching the shadows for movement. The copper-colored light shining from the street lamp illuminates the high points of your face, exposing your expression as he watches the anxiety dissolve into comfort. Something about being the cause of it strokes his already inflated ego.

"You know what?" You break the silence, turning to meet Billy's gaze.

"What?"

"Contrary to the way my face and body look right now, he really can't hit that hard." You raise your eyebrows and nod, reassuring him that you mean that with your whole chest.

"I wouldn't know. I didn't give him a chance to swing." His grip around the steering wheel tightens, but he grins proudly.

"Don't worry, I took enough for the both of us," you joke, earning a shocked laugh from the curly-haired man you positively loathed just a day or so ago.

"I dunno. I think you could've taken him if the circumstances were different," he smirks at you, chin up.

"Oh, absolutely. If the emotional ties weren't there, we'd at least have gone a round or two," you mimic boxing the dashboard. It's obvious to both of you that this is not the case, but making a joke of a bad situation is a lot easier than crying. Billy's relieved, as he would have zero idea how to even approach you if you were crying. He's the "tell you you're not a pretty crier and then wonder why you cry harder" type of guy.

"Matter of fact, put me back in coach," you chuckle, accidentally reopening the split on your lip. "Oh, fuck," you mumble, pressing a finger to the wound, worsening the mess.

"Shit," Billy grabs a napkin from his glove box. "Don't touch it," he snaps. You quickly pull your hand away from your face and for just a moment, your breath hitches in your chest. You don't mean to react this way, you're not scared of him, you hope he knows that. He gives a small smile and a nod, almost like a silent apology for scaring you. He holds the napkin to your lip for you as he pulls into the Men's dorm parking lot. His family, much like yours, paid the extra fees to have a large dorm room all to himself. It was sort of a necessity for Billy considering his short temper and inability to compromise.

"How's your lip?" He asks as you set your overnight bag on his small futon in the tiny living area the solo dorms come with.

"It's fine. I think the bleeding stopped and everything," you smile, keeping it small so as not to pop open another split.

"You can take my bed. I got the futon," once again, his words are so kind and generous, but his tone is flat and bare.

"Don't be stupid. I'm your guest. You've..." You sneer at yourself in disgust as you prepare your next sentence. "You've done a lot for me already."

"God," he stares at you with wide eyes.

"What?"

"It looked like you were gonna be sick from saying that out loud."

"Came pretty close, bud." You squint your eyes. It's clear to both of you that this is weird. It's awkward and even a little uncomfortable. He's done so much for you, yes, and you do feel it outweighs all the innocent hell you gave each other, but where do you go from here?

"So, now what? I sleep here. We go to tomorrow's lectures. Then, I just go back to normal?" You don't want to insinuate that you expect him to play bodyguard forever, but it would be kind of nice. You lie the futon into its flat, bed position as you ask.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. 'Night." Billy climbs into his bed.

"Goodnight, Billy," you say, lowering the tough-gal front you attempt to keep up, usually when you aren't dealing with shit like this. Your voice sounds different when you let your walls down. It's sweeter. And the sound of it makes Billy's chest light.

In the safety of Billy's dorm, sleep finds you swiftly. You're out like a light, but Billy can't say the same. He lies with his eyes plastered to the ceiling. His mind is incoherent, bouncing all over from the possibility of the entire college sports program jumping him to the thought of you and him going back to "normal." It all started when he saw you, thought you were hot, but learned pretty quickly how self-assured you are. You would never be the easy catch he was used to and it pissed him off, igniting a multi-year feud between you. What if that feud were to end?

Billy lies on his back, his two muscular arms propped beneath the back of his head. He glances diagonally in the direction where you sleep. You're peacefully out, features slowly healing from the damage. He could stare at you all night, and that pisses him off too. He rolls his eyes and expels an exasperated sigh before rolling over, hoping that keeping his back faced in your direction will help shield him from the ambiguous thoughts invading his mind.

The next day, you're awake long before him, and to avoid overstepping, you rush through your morning hygiene routine and begin to reset the futon. You're as quiet as possible, but the second your fingertips graze the doorknob, Billy stirs.

"No," he says, wiping a hand over his face to rub the sleep away. "Just give me a minute. We'll go together." He sounds annoyed. You shake your head, dropping yourself down onto the futon while you wait for him to wake up.

"It's really no rush. I gotta get back across campus to get ready anyways." You call to him as he brushes his teeth in the small bathroom.

"I know you do. I'll drive you, just give me a minute," he waves away your excuses to leave without him, his voice becoming a little harsh as he repeats his request for more time. You know walking across campus isn't a treacherous walk. It's long, sure, but not unmanageable. What's really at stake is you running into anyone from the basketball team. And while that's your main concern, Billy has his own selfish reasons for wanting to keep you around. She's nice to look at, he tells himself, but it's more than that.

He walks from one end of the dorm to the other, wearing nothing but a dark grey pair of boxers. He's so lean and huge with well-toned muscles. He must spend a lot of time in the old weight room. You begin to wonder if Andy's in the hospital or not. Your eyes travel from his broad shoulders down to the V shape at his waist. You're unsure if it's your newfound ability to see him as a person, or maybe a trauma bond, but this man has you feeling out of character.

"Alright, car." He points out the door, using his primitive two-word command to instruct you to get into his car. He's still waking up.

"Billy, you know I could've just come back by myself, right? You didn't have to get up so early." You're the first to break the sleepy morning silence in the car. He looks at you like you've suggested possibly the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.

"I know that. That's stupid. You're too trusting." Billy stares straight ahead through his black sunglasses.

"I guess," you shrug, not taking anything he says too seriously. How could you after all these years? He pulls into the Women's dorm lot and the two of you approach your personally decorated dorm room door. To your horror, the doorknob opens with ease. You forgot to lock it. A wary breath falls down your chest as you squeeze your eyes shut, grounding yourself before opening the door. Billy's confused until he finally sees inside. It's just as you suspected. The entire room, top to bottom, is trashed- thoroughly.

"What the fuck?" Billy inserts himself in front of you, taking a few steps inside to further assess the damage. His eyes narrow in anger as he catalogs every broken picture frame and demolished knick-knack. You seemed to have had a lot of curiosities and oddities, all of which were destroyed on your equally ruined floor.

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, I'm gonna lose it," you whisper, exasperated. You place your fingers on your temples and apply gentle pressure in hopes that it'll do any fucking thing for the way you're about to break the fuck down right now. "They want me to fuckin' lose it." Your voice is nearly inaudible.

"Hey, okay. Don't... Lose it. Let's go find 'em and beat the fuck out of 'em." Billy grins, still bloodthirsty. It's as if defending you almost feels like having you.

"I'm gonna get dressed. I'm gonna fix my fucking hair and makeup. And we're gonna go to our goddamn morning classes. This afternoon, we will figure out which one of them is getting their mom's severed middle finger in the mail."

"Sure thing, Killer Klown. That's not at all an overreaction." Billy shakes his head, laughing at your misfortune, though he does feel for you. You disappear into your restroom. It's miraculously, for the most part, untouched. You do a quick version of your usual big, glamour hair and slap on your makeup. It feels good to look like you again, even with the scabs and colorful bruises threatening to peek through the foundation. When you return to the common area, looking and feeling more like yourself, you radiate a type of glow. Billy catches himself in the very initial stage of staring but quickly nips that in the bud. You hardly notice.

"I guess I'm ready. You walking me to class, big guy?" You ask, teasingly.

"I am."

"Listen, I really appreciate everything you've done for me, but this isn't nes-"

"Y/N, have you looked at your dorm? Do you see how every single thing you own is destroyed? Stop being an idiot." His harsh words carry an air of motivation with them as he scolds you.

"Fine. But you're gonna have to pick up the pace or something," you snap your fingers repeatedly, in a circle to show him it's time to leave, now. He sighs, standing and leading the way out the door.

He walks you to your first lecture and waits outside for the entire hour. You don't know, but he actually doesn't have any classes today. He just knew you'd make a big deal out of it if you knew he was going any more out of his way than he already is. All 60 minutes drag by painfully slow, but all the while, Billy notices a few familiar faces casting passing glances into the building, only to suddenly change direction when their eyes meet his. He huffs out a satisfied sigh.

"Don't even think about it," he whispers, staring out the small door window. He glances at the clock, and just a moment before the lecture hall dismisses, he steps outside and waits for the crowd. After a handful of peers pass by, he then walks inside, keeping up his ruse.

"Oh, just in time, I guess," you say, meeting him in the middle of the breezeway as if he'd come from the other end of the college.

"As always," Billy sighs, unbothered, indifferent. You don't mind. It's a peaceful shift from his usual behavior before everything went down. The two of you step out the door and immediately, your eyes meet Andy's. He is standing around his car with his goons. They're all staring, not at Billy, at you. An intimidation tactic that might've worked before, had you not been walking next to a brick wall of a man. As the two of you strut past the bitter sportsmen, you hear Andy decide to pipe up.

"Told you she was a slut. It's already happening," he laughs and his teammates join in. You are unfazed by this sort of insult. Before the trauma at the hands of Andy that you'll now have to work through, you've always been a confident, self-assured person. At least that's all you'd allow anyone to believe. You shake your head at the insult, but when you look beside you, Billy's nowhere to be seen.

"That's pretty bold Andy. How're you healing? Doctor already tell you it's safe to get your shit rocked again?" Billy smiles sadistically as he stalks up to Andy. His crew of bench warmers seems to tighten up, taking a few steps closer, surrounding Andy. Billy can't hold back his laughter.

"Are you guys gonna jump me?" He asks, taunting, grinning as he does. "You think it's gonna be easy because there are so many of you?" Billy's only getting closer by the second, and the confidence of most of the players begins to waver. "Do you think I'll stop if I get my hands on you a second time?" Billy's icy blue eyes are dark with rage, almost black in the right lighting. They bore into Andy's and the two men fall silent.

Eventually, Andy's the one to back down. As expected, of course. And from the look on his face, you'd think he'd just been mugged and told his mom died. Billy smiles, tongue between his teeth as he watches the team climb into their cars. They have a visitors game, so you won't have to deal with them for the next 48 hours at least. As Billy returns to where you wait for him on the sidewalk, he wraps a protective arm around your shoulder. You're visibly jarred by this action, but Billy just stares straight ahead, leading you back to your dorm. He's wearing a self-satisfied grin as each and every busybody on campus whispers when they see the two of you.

Billy's a known bachelor and you're a known bitch. Even his more reoccurring hookups never got the public treatment. And you, fuck you're mean sometimes. Andy liked that about you. You'd be mean to anyone but him, but you guess it just stopped being enough. Even you and Andy weren't exactly "public" with your opposing schedules. You'd only ever been seen together at parties.

You finally reach your room and Billy leans against your counter, silently smiling at you as if he expects you to say something.

"What?" You ask, already starting the clean-up process.

"Just thought a 'thank you' would be in order." He shrugs.

"Thank you, Billy. Please hand me the broom," you groan, pointing to the tiny closet in the kitchen area. He rolls his eyes and carries the broom over to you. You're picking up the larger pieces of shattered glass and placing them into a small trashcan, hoping to make sweeping easier.

"Careful," Billy says as he notices a crack in the shard you're holding. His warning didn't reach you in time though, and the piece snapped, catching the upper part of your palm, slicing it open. "Jesus fucking-" Billy drops the broom and you follow him to the counter where he tears a wad of paper towels off the roll and shoves them into your hand. He stares at you with a straight face, almost like a disappointed parent. You stare back, blinking.

"What?" You ask, daring him to give you a hard time or risk being kicked out of your domicile.

"Nothing. Just getting tired of having to play doctor for you all the time." You release a huff and he smiles, a little sweeter than before.

(Do we want a part 2? Do we still read angst or are we all into smut rn? Maybe sex next chapter. idk.)

[lixie-phoria]

[10.0 americano fiasco] BETTER THAN REVENGE !

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you would have thought that the campus walk ways would be empty considering the match that was about to start in less than fifteen minutes, everyone eager to get a good seat, but it's surprisingly crowded as you and hyunjin walk down the old, cobbled path.

"-and then changbin fell down smack on his ass. funniest thing that's ever happened during practice," hyunjin finishes his story, throwing his head back to laugh. "i wish we got that on camera."

the wind is cold, kissing your skin as it pushes back your hair, and you're slightly concerned at your friend's insistence to drink his iced americano despite the weather.

"you will never let him live it down, will you?"

"of course not!"

hyunjin's excitement is contagious, because you find yourself laughing along as he skips ahead, forcing you to take bigger steps too.

"sometimes i feel bad for him. but then i remember how he keeps stealing my protein powder!"

right. of course. every few days you are reminded your best friend is only a man whose brain is hard wired into thinking about two things - the gym and girls. specifically in that order.

"and-" here hyunjin stumbles over a crack on the ground, squealing a bit.

"careful or you're going to be the one falling on your ass."

he rolls his eyes playfully at your poke, correcting himself and removing the skip from his step before falling into line with you.

"anyways so-"

"hyunjin!"

you halt, turning back to see jeongin jogging down the path towards the pair of you.

"chan hyung said you should come back for some final strategy discussions!"

you hear your best friend groan beside you.

"we've discussed our plan a million times before!" he all but whines, stomping his leg like a toddler. "why does he want to go over it again?"

"not our choice, is it? the coach said we have to."

you pat hyunjin's arm as he slouches in defeat.

"it's fine hyune. i should probably go get a seat too or all the good ones will be taken."

"sure," he mumbles, spinning on one foot to sharply turn towards you. "bye-"

you see it happen in slow motion - hyunjin's mouth opening to finish his sentence when a large body collides into him from the back, sending the boy stumbling into you.

but you feel it before you see it - ice cold americano splashing all across the front of your white top, soaking the fabric and diffusing through it in a few seconds.

"sorry!"

you faintly hear a foreign voice apologize, their figure walking ahead without stopping to clearly notice the damage they had just caused.

"holy shit," jeongin whispers, wide eyes looking between you and hyunjin, who is also frozen in his spot, hand slapped across his mouth.

"that bitch."

the culprit is long gone, melting into the sea of people ahead, and you're still too scared to look down and see exactly how much of the drink had landed on you. but you can see hyunjin's now empty cup that had been filled nearly to the brim only a few seconds ago.

"yn-" hyunjin's voice is only a whisper, and from the horror painting his face you would have thought he had seen a ghost. "shit, i'm so sorry-"

"no time for that," jeongin interrupts, recovering first, and you turn to look at him. "hyunjin did you carry an extra t-shirt or sweatshirt with you?"

the boy shakes his head.

"just your luck," jeongin mutters as he shakes his head. "i have my spare jersey from last year. yn you can borrow that."

it's like a switch goes off in hyunjin's head as he stands straight, his horror slowly morphing into annoyance.

"that won't be necessary-"

"do you want her to freeze to death?"

"well obviously not-"

"then there's no time to waste."

"why can't we ask chan hyung or someone for their jersey? maybe-"

"i have my bag with me right now. do you want to go back to the lockers and explain to hyung what you were doing drinking an ice cold americano ten minutes before a match?"

hyunjin's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, searching for something to say before he slumps in defeat.

"yn are you fine with this?"

you shrug. you really didn't have a choice.

you didn't want to agree seeing the miserable look on your best friend's face, but the drink was really starting to soak through the cloth and the cold it brought was not welcomed by your bones. you could feel the goose bumps lining your skin.

and so you find yourself accepting the jersey from jeongin, trying to reassure hyunjin it wasn't his fault. but the boy wouldn't even meet your eyes.

"thanks jeongin."

he flashes you a reassuring smile before pulling hyunjin and the two are on their way, leaving you to walk to the washrooms alone.

and it isn't until you're in one of the stalls that you really realize it's jeongin's jersey, and it has his name printed on it in big bold letters.

oh.

it's jeongin's jersey, and it smells like him - the same pepper and vanilla mix you had caught on to the at the party.

it's jeongin's jersey, and it falls around you perfectly, but it's nowhere near as nice as it would look on him - highlighting all those muscles you had felt that night.

it's jeongin's jersey, and you're wearing it at his game, something you once used to do for yeonjun.

it's jeongin's jersey, and-

shut up!

you have to physically slap yourself, shaking your head as the sting spreads across your skin.

something was wrong with you. this wasn't that big of a deal. he was just helping you out. he probably doesn't even care.

yeah. he doesn't even care. that's right. it's okay, you shouldn't be flustered about it either, you think, shoving your own top into your bag and marching out determinedly. you were not going to let yang jeongin and his nice smelling jersey cloud your thoughts.

you were here for hyunjin today. he would have your full attention. you were going to support him and then go for lunch without thinking about-

"for fucks sake watch where you're going!"

you yelp in surprise as you face plant into a hard body, stumbling back in shock. it really wasn't a good day for you.

"i'm so sorr-"

"yn?"

you freeze.

no way.

"what are you doing here?"

no fucking way.

"...yeonjun?"

he's right there. in front of you. hair slightly tousled from when you crashed into him and eyes wide as he stares at you.

"yeonjun what-"

he saves you from your rambling by stepping closer, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"what are you doing?"

"is that yang jeongin's jersey?"

of course he noticed.

you want to turn right back around, dig your grave, and bury yourself alive.

"yn. are you fucking wearing jeongin's jersey right now?"

"no?"

you wish you were six feet under the ground.

"stop lying-"

"bye! gotta go!"

you push him aside, running down to occupy the first empty seat you see in the crowd of spectators, losing the boy somewhere at the back.

fuck. your. life.

taglist 1 - @thisisnotjacinta @jiisungllvr @hanjsquokka @abbiestearsricochet @adestayskz @thisrandombitch @adr1an4 @alnex05 @cheesemonky @endlessheadache @tiapatito202278ok @queen-in-the-shadows @heeee24 @chanceonceli @amesification @conwunder @weareapackofstrays @taejun-sunlix @lofasofabread @untilthesunrises @jinnie-ret @darlingz99 @kibs-and-bits @143lix @simp4myself @thisrandomgoofy15 @vixensss @luvkpopp @skz-streamer @luvenus702 @syds-dead

©lixie-phoria, 2024

[ryuzakemo128]

Mary on a Cross

Pairing: Ghost x Gaz x Female Siberian Tiger Hybrid

Genre: Smut + Fluff

Words: 2475

Masterlist

Credit for dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: "Your beauty never ever scared me"

“Go away,” said the young mistress of the vale. A simple request. A simple demand coming from a woman who did not wish for them to remain in her home.

How could she? No. How dare she demand such a thing. With her pretty waist, her plush thighs are juicy enough for his hands. He could have taken her without delay. Regardless of how her husband would have felt about it.

“They say you are a mistress. But I do not see how you could even be one if you have a husband waiting for you back at home.”

You left your audiobook on by accident. An erotic tale you have been listening to since the night before. Hooked on it before you heard the two men saunter into your bedroom like they owned the place.

You were too focused on your lewd pornographic audiobook and the pornographic drawing you were doing at your desk. Your drawings ranged from monochrome to colourful.

Sketches, Outlines, Rough drafts and final ‘masterpieces.’ Ghost looked at the ones framed on your bedroom wall; Gaz sat on the side of your bed as you continued to sketch. Swapping to different coloured pencils, completely unaware of the two men inside your bedroom.

Drawings of people in various locations, places, and situations. Each one raunchier than the previous. Each subsequent, successive stroke of your pencils, adding layers of erotic desire to the drawing.

Ghost stepped closer to you, his shadow cast over your desk as you drew, the light from the setting sun giving him an ominous presence. “What’s this?” he whispered, his breath hot on your neck, a finger tracing the outline of a particularly explicit scene. You felt your cheeks flush as your hand faltered.

“Nothing for you to worry about. I assure you. It is just harmless drawings, no more, no less.” You stammered, your hand shaking slightly. Without looking up into his deep brown eyes.

You knew all the willpower built up inside you would dissipate and fritter away the moment you looked up at him.

“Is that so?” Gaz’s voice was low and thick with amusement. You felt his gaze burning into the side of your face as he leaned in to get a closer look. “You’ve got quite the imagination, haven’t you?”

“When you have as much free time as me, you get plenty of time to practice.” You swallowed the intense arousal, the intense feeling of excitement you felt building up inside the depths of your core. “It’s not like I can walk around the base willy-nilly now, can I?”

You hoped they would get bored with you and plough into one of those bunny hybrids everyone loves so much. Or even a puppy. Either way, you just wanted them out. But no, they remained steadfast in their mission to ruin your afternoon.

Ghost leaned closer, his eyes scanning your artwork with a predatory gaze. The tension grew thick in the air as his finger hovered over one of your favourite pieces—a depiction of a Siberian tigress in the throes of passion with a human soldier. “This looks... familiar.”

“I doubt it. There could be a million things it looks like. You could be thinking of one of them.” You simply shrugged, hoping the curiosity burning inside them both would die out. Now rather than sometime later.

“No, no, no. This...this is different. This tigress... she has a look in her eyes. A hunger, a passion that I have seen before.”

“I’m sure your bunny girls have given you that look in particular many times before, Ghost.” You mused as you kept your eyes on the picture you continued to put together.

Ghost smirks at the remark, “Those rabbits don’t have half the fire you do.” He said as he reached for the picture and pulled it closer to him. You felt a sudden urge to snatch it away, but you had to play it cool.

“Says you, I’ve had to hear it multiple times in the past. And I say differently.” You quipped. “Nevertheless, I have been hit on by various of them previously, I, for one, are sure they're ashamed about it now. At least I reckon they would be.”

How you remembered the bunny hybrids reacting to you was far, far different from how Ghost or Gaz remembered it. You presumed it was done to get you to back off or something.

However, from the perspective of both Ghost and Gaz, it is more or less etched into their mind. How the bunny hybrids would look at you. A mix of both envy and lust. You were oblivious to it. Always were when it came to it sometimes. Painfully so now and then.

It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t pick up the hints of sexual interest if your mind is preoccupied with something else. Whether it was food, a nap, or even a nice warm shower.

Not hard to assume you never were one to pick up on someone else’s interest in you. Especially in that manner.

“Oh- I haven’t done anything like that with another person” You stammered, your face flushed. “I’ve mostly done it by myself at 2 in the morning while everyone else is fast asleep.”

Gaz saw your six-inch pink tentacle glass dildo in your bedside table’s third drawer on the left-hand side of your bed.

He smirks and pulls it out with a flourish, “Looks like you’ve been practising without us, huh?” He says with a knowing look in his eye.

“Is it really practising when you’re alone in your bed at two o’clock in the morning?” you mused with a raised eyebrow. “Is it really practising if you don’t aim for experiencing the real thing? Riddle me that, Sherlock. Also, I don’t have a husband. The woman in the audiobook does. I don’t. Don’t get that bit confused.”

Ghost chuckled, his eyes never leaving the picture, “I think she’s got a point, Gaz. Maybe we should leave the poor girl to her fantasies.”

You sighed, only somewhat relieved, somewhat excited to masturbate as soon as they head out the door. Well, not immediately after they leave. But sometime after they leave, when your mind is still working in overdrive.

The moment they left you alone in your bedroom, you steadily walked back into your regular routine.

What?

Did they think you’d pause your routine for their sake?

It would be like asking the pope for the recipe for a good ol’ fashioned meatloaf. Sure, he could do it.

But why would he?

But your mind was racing with the images they had planted in your head. You hadn’t even had a chance to react to Gaz’s proposition. Did they actually expect you to put on a show for them? The audacity. You didn't know what that even entailed. Why would they assume you knew how to please another person?

‘Virgin. Virgin. Virgin. Virgin. Virgin. Virgin. Virgin. Virgin. Virgin.’  You kept forcing yourself to remember. You had never had sexual interactions with another individual.

How do you even begin with that sort of thing?

You've seen people do it in the porn you secretly watched in your barracks when no one was around. But that's not the same as doing it with actual people.

That's like watching Gordon Ramsey cook and then trying to whip up a soufflé for the first time. Sure, you know the ingredients and steps, but it's never going to come out perfect.

But as you sit down, you can't help but feel a tingling in your loins. The way Gaz's hand felt on your hip, the way Ghost's breath tickled your neck.

You shake your head, trying to dispel the thoughts. But they linger like a stubborn fog in the morning.

The glass dildo in your bedside table beckoned you, the itch you wanted to scratch harder than you had before loomed in the back of your mind. Like an untamed beast. Urging you to give into it further.

While you masturbated later that night, as the door creaked upon as you were about to orgasm a second time, and you were met with the sight of Ghost standing in the doorway, watching you with a knowing smirk on his face.

Your body froze as your mind raced.

You weren't sure if you should be embarrassed or if this was a common occurrence around here.

“Couldn’t help but hear your little… solo performance from down the hall.” He said with a smugness that could cut glass. “You really have been practising, haven’t you?”

“I don't practice, remember?” you quipped.

Ghost leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “It's a shame, really. With talent like that, you'd think you'd want to share it.”

You snort, “I mastered the solo dance, not the duet, darling” You continue stroking yourself, not missing a beat, watching his reaction closely. His smirk grew wider as his eyes remained glued to your movements. “Besides, how would I even ask about that?”

“Well, you could always just ask.” He stepped into the room, his boots thudding against the wooden floorboards, his eyes never leaving yours. “We're not that hard to approach, you know.”

“But that sounds so weird.” you mused with a frown taking the glass dildo out of your wet cunt.

Ghost chuckled darkly, “You think what we do is any less weird?” He saunters closer, his movements as graceful as a panther stalking its prey. “We've seen worse, trust me.”

“For me its just another day. I don't see how weird it is. Sexual things with another person however? Different ballgame, a different tune I don't recognise and an entire song I don't know lyrics to.” you stated.

Ghost's smirk grew more prominent. “You're telling me you've never thought about it?”

“Thought about it? Odd occasion. Never followed through with it though. Always chickened out after thinking about it enough to remember, 'I don't know what I'm supposed to say.' And I never went through with it again afterwards.” You answered.

The room was silent, except for the sound of your hand moving against the glass toy. The anticipation was palpable, thick like the heat that clung to your skin. You could feel your cheeks flush as you met Ghost's gaze.

“I see,” he said, his voice low and rumbling. “Well, maybe it's time to learn a new tune, then.” He stepped closer to the bed, his boots coming into view as you sat there, exposed and vulnerable.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest, the thump-thump echoing in your ears like a drumline at a football match. You set the dildo aside and leaned back against the pillows, crossing your arms over your breasts. “What are you suggesting?”

“I'm suggesting,” Ghost began, his voice a low murmur that seemed to vibrate through the air, “that we help you... overcome your shyness.” He took another step closer, his hand reaching out to touch the silk of your robe. “We're all friends here, after all.”

You felt a mix of fear and excitement as Gaz’s hand slid under the fabric, his rough fingers grazing against your soft skin. You gasped as he pushed the robe aside, revealing your naked body to both men. Their gazes roved over you like predators eyeing a fresh meal, making you feel more exposed than you ever had in your life.

“Beautiful,” Gaz murmured, his hand moving to cup your cheek, turning your face towards him. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, and you couldn’t help but part them slightly, feeling the heat of his touch. Ghost’s hand had already found its way to your other thigh, his thumb tracing small circles that made you squirm.

"Your beauty never ever scared me" Ghost whispered into your ear. His finger traced your jawline back and forth, like you were going to slip right through his fingers again.

Capturing lips with his own, your soft, plump, delicious lips right onto his. A right recipe for disaster, some might say. A tornado of intense desire wrapped in flesh. His hand gripping your plush thigh, pulling you closer to his warmth.

Taking one leg aside to slide his index and ring finger to your moist depths between your thighs.

Kyle whined, wanting to have a taste of you for himself. Nudging Simon a few times before he finally relented. Kyle pressed his lips against yours as Simon continued to finger your warm, tight, pussy.

Selfishly, Simon grabs your chin to force you to look into his eyes as Kyle's cock continues to fill up your moist pussy.

The warmth of Simon's breath sends shivers down your spine as his eyes bore into yours, filled with a fiery passion that could only come from a man who's seen the darkest corners of the world.

His hand, now coated with your slickness, slides up to your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your eyes roll back in your head.

His hand, now coated with your slickness, slides up to your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your eyes roll back in your head.

The dual sensation of his digits inside you and Kyle's thick shaft pumping in and out is a symphony of pleasure you never knew existed.

You've never felt so alive, so in tune with your body, as if it's been waiting for this very moment to come alive. The way they touch you, the way they kiss you, it's like nothing you've ever experienced before.

The two men knew they'd want to do this again, and soon. They could feel the electricity in the room as they pulled away from your lips, panting. You lay there, stunned, your heart racing as you felt their hands roam over your body. They weren’t rough, but firm and confident. They knew what they were doing. And it was driving you wild.

You were seeing stars, and you know you now have a source of artistic inspiration you didn't think you'd like so much.

You three collapsed into your bed nook by the end of the night. All too eager to have you sleep there instead of Price's bed.

Price wouldn't mind if you were with Simon and Gaz right?

Ghost whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his breath warm and comforting.

His hand found its way under the blanket, tracing patterns on your bare skin.

You felt your heart flutter at his gentle touch, a stark contrast to the roughness of earlier.

Sandwiched between two men. And you didn't particularly mind it at all. You were going to be a tad more vocal about what you want from this point forward.

Which to these two?

You felt a strange sense of comfort between the two men, their bodies warm and solid against yours. It was a stark contrast to the lonely nights you'd spent with just your dildo and your imagination for company.

And.

You knew they were right.

You liked it.

Tagged: @simons-bambi

[jamiesfootball]

Season two of the Ted Lasso rewatch and I am having some string feelings. Some strong feelers. Some shrimp about Ted and Jamie and how Ted really, really struggles between being Coach Shaped and being Dad Shaped when it comes to Jamie, and how Jamie is horrible at discerning either.

(Buckle up this is gonna be a long one)

Because what we start off with in season one is very much a man who is used to being Coach Shaped. He wants the boys to be inspired and to learn about life and to become the best versions of themselves that they can be. All of which could be very Dad Shaped, but in execution they’re not.

He steps back to let people grow, and sometimes that involves letting bullies be bullies so that the true leaders of the group can step up. Sometimes it’s letting Nate roast the other players- quite cuttingly at that - to get the team motivated. He’s directing the orchestra sure, but he’s not in the pit telling people how better to get along. He’s warm and welcoming, and he tries to foster good rapport and encourage people to talk to him and open up. He, dare I say it, actually has boundaries with people. He asked Rebecca in the first episode how she was holding up with the divorce, and when she seemed upset he noted it, offered a little commiseration, and moved right along without making a fuss.

And then he calls Jamie Tartt into his office to give him a compliment sandwich (“you’re a great athlete now pass the fucking ball and then you’ll be a super great athlete okay thanks”) and I think that’s where Ted’s boundary with Jamie first starts to erode. Because Jamie unintentionally ruins his whole fucking script. Jamie’s disaffected act crumbles at the first compliment. He’s sincerely taken aback by Ted’s praise, a little nervous and a little pleading. He breaks the rules of compliment sandwiching by demurring “well I work really hard”, which forces Ted to agree which is in a way TWO compliments, and when Ted tries to push through with his critique, Jamie ends up critiquing himself first about something completely different (“my left cross”), and then Ted has to wrestle them back to the actual critique, and the whole thing is just. Definitely not the ordeal Ted thought it would be.

So from early on we have these two working at cross purposes - because Ted thinks he’s being Coach Shaped, but the Shape he is doesn’t fit any Coach Jamie has ever had.

“what’s he like?”

“Great”

“…….”

“Well great at football”

“Yeah, I’ve know guys like that.”

And in return, Ted has known ‘guys like that’, competent athletes who are a necessary part of the game, but have such egos (“I’m not sure you realize how mentally healthy that is”) that Ted thinks he has to go to his players girlfriend for insight on how to motivate Jamie in the way that Ted needs for team cohesion.

So this is Ted trying to be Coach Shaped and give this kid a wake up call and this kid is so receptive that Ted barely had to lift a finger. But it doesn’t stick.

Ok. So next he attempts to give Jamie a book that he thinks will wake him up to the reality he’s living. He gave them to everyone. He’s still being Coach Shaped. He makes Roy and Jamie sit at the same table and tries to orchestrate a truce. He kinda gets there, but the next episode they’re still at each other’s throats. Jamie listened to Ted about the one in a million / one in eleven thing, but then Jamie ignored it. So he benched him. He’s Coach Shaped; it wasn’t personal.

Except Ted is not has not been anything Coach Shaped that Jamie could recognize, and football really is his life too. So it was very fucking personal. And here’s the first wrinkle in the narrative both of them have been telling themselves, because what does Jamie do? He fakes an injury and benches himself.

If Ted doesn’t think he should play, or doesn’t think that the way he’s playing is correct, then fine- he’ll make them both miserable. He just won’t fucking play. It’s kid logic at its finest. It’s cutting your nose to spite your face. ‘Well you said I wasn’t doing it right, so I won’t do it at all.’

It’s the same shit Jamie pulls on his dad when he leaves Man City to go be a reality tv star.

And it’s the first crack in the veneer between them, because the way Ted loses his shit at Jamie for it is not very Coach Shaped, but it is very very Dad Shaped. And unfortunately it was the sort of Dad Shaped that Jamie did recognize.

It’s the first loss of control Ted has in general, and it’s circling this player that Ted can’t seem to get a grip on.

And then there’s Jamie going to Keeley, and he’s got Manchester on his mind. It’s the first time we’ve heard him talk about the council estate he grew up in, and Keeley is telling him to stop battling people who want to help him. So he goes to the bonfire. And he talks about the fucking footprint his dad left in his wake. And he talks wistfully about his mom being proud. And this isn’t just about opening up to the team, it’s also about Jamie Tartt not battling Ted. Taking a risk that even if Ted isn’t very Coach Shaped, even if he appears closer to Dad Shaped than Jamie would like, whatever Ted is - Jamie is probably safe to be a little honest.

It’s not very Star Athlete With An Ego of him; but it’s very very Son Shaped.

“I was just starting to get through to him.”

Ted’s anger with Rebecca could be Coach Shaped. It could be. But it sure hurt him enough that it’s the first time he’s actually angry with Rebecca. Meanwhile Jamie was so hurt he had to tell everyone who would listen about it. Had to iterate that it was good riddance on being rid of Ted Lasso, because at least Pep was a proper Coach Shaped Coach. Someone who’d drill Jamie on the technicals. Someone who probably never once cared enough to pull him aside and tell him if he did a good job. Someone who probably assumed that’s what Jamie’s dad was for, showing up after matches.

“Good luck out there, Jamie!”

“Fucking mind games.”

Whatever Jamie already thought of Ted as a coach must’ve been rolling in the pit Jamie tried to bury it in, because Coach Shaped men don’t cheer you on when you’re playing for the other team. Pep wouldn’t do it if he still played for Richmond.

And maybe Coach Lasso does it for everyone he coaches. Probably. But it’s a very Dad Shaped thing. And fuck, Jamie’s actual fucking dad doesn’t cheer for him at all when Jamie isn’t playing for Manchester, so how’s Jamie supposed to know what it means?

Then there’s Ted, who just can’t help himself. Who can’t help but see potential in Jamie. And when he sees Jamie after the match, it’s a quick war on whether he should speak to him because in that instance Coach mode and Dad mode are in alignment.

Except reality hits as hard as a boot against the wall, because Jamie has a dad. And it’s not Ted. It’s not someone who’s come to tell him well done, or that he’s proud of the baby steps Jamie has taken, even though he’s been left to walk them alone. It is the opposite of what a father should be, but it’s taken up the mantle. Father Shaped. A thing of fury. A role fulfilled, not looking for new applicants.

Coach wins in that moment. Ted turns and walks away, and Jamie can finally see now in Ted Lasso the Coach Shape he’s familiar with.

Except even that can’t stick around and be familiar can it? Because while no one was looking, the Dad Shape in Ted scribbled him a little message. Left a note in his absence to let him know he was proud. Sent Beard with an army man, someone to lookout for Jamie and keep him safe. I’d say at this point a Ted Lasso couldn’t’ve drawn a line between Coach Shaped and Dad Shaped - this was a matter of pure human empathy, and decency, and an apology in its own way. I’m sorry for the roles we’ve been given. I’m sorry, but please know I care.

He walked away from Jamie and his dad. He didn’t have any obligation to Jamie. There was no more match to be won. Any involvement of Jamie Tartt in Ted’s life coulda woulda should’ve ended there.

“There’s something out there worse than being sad, and that’s being sad and alone. And ain’t nobody in this room alone.”

The look on Jamie’s face in that scene says it all. Because he is alone, but Ted clearly (desperately) doesn’t want him to be.

But being alone is better than being stuck in a room with James Tartt Sr.

Jamie doesn’t go to Ted first after Lust Conquers All. Why would he (think he had the right to)?

The first thing Jamie does do (after Keeley tells him it’s ok to go to Ted) when he meets Ted again is show him the Ted (Danson) Soldier. Ted may have made the gesture, and Jamie may have understood the meaning of it, but he does Not understand Ted. Not this Coach-but-Not-a-Coach. Still Jamie thinks he has the distinction down - what soft underbelly he thinks he needs to bare for this type of Coach to believe him when asks for a chance to come home.

“You were getting good minutes up at City.”

Ted redirects Jamie here in a very Coach Shaped way. He guides Jamie into admitting the real reason why he quit. He hears Jamie out, makes observations about how Jamie coming back would work from a team perspective, and makes only occasional eye contact. This is Ted clinging to a role that he’s used to, the one that comforts him in its ability to help other people.

(If there is something Dad Shaped in that scene, it’s an awful, haunting one. Not the one that Jamie grew up with, but the one that Ted grew up with. The one who took his son to play darts every Sunday for six years, who probably sat next to him and drank beer the way Ted does)

But Ted never set out to be anyone’s dad. He’s their Coach, and he has a responsibility to everyone on his team. It’s nothing personal; he’s just being a Coach.

They clink glasses. Cheers, and best of luck to your future endeavors.

There is something very tired about the way Jamie puts down his beer without taking a sip. He looks lost. He does not look surprised. (How could you have expectations for something you’ve never known? And how come that doesn’t make him feel any better about it?)

We don’t see Jamie after that.

We see Ted at training, worrying about Dr Sharon watching the team he’s made. He worries that she’s getting closer (metaphor). When Sam storms off the field, Ted is startled but relieved to follow. He doesn’t want self examination. He wants to be Coach. He wants to embrace the parts of coaching he’s always loved- helping other people improve and be better.

Sam tells him that he doesn’t want Jamie back on the team, and there’s a split second of relief from Ted because he made the right call.

Then Sam talks about his father, and how his father is grateful for Ted because with Ted around, he knows his son is safe. Because this has nothing to do with being Coach Shaped. Coach Shaped he may be in Sam’s life, but here’s Sam, who is very Son Shaped himself, and his father agreeing that Coach Lasso serves a greater purpose in Sam’s life than just being a supportive motivator. In their mind, in the absence of a father, Ted Lasso will do just fine. He will keep Sam safer than any little green army man.

That’s the final inexorable blurring of the lines for Ted, where the coach finally drops the ball to pay attention to the scraped knees that have been left behind.

Ted calls the Diamond Dogs meeting. Coach Beard and Coach Nate are very Coach Shaped indeed. What about the teamwork, Ted? “He’s the poop in the punch bowl.” Leslie is for bringing him back, but it’s for football reasons. It makes managerial sense.

But none of it means anything to Ted because at that moment he can not find it in himself to be Coach Shaped.

“I thought it was settled, but Sam went and unsettled it.���

“He reminded me that not everyone is lucky enough to have a good dad.”

“In sports aren’t we always on about second chances? Shouldn’t that apply to people too?”

This is not Coach Shaped. In some ways it’s not even Dad Shaped. But it is caring, and empathy, and wanting an excuse, any excuse, to try again. It is Love Shaped.

Ted Lasso is a coach to his team and a dad to a great little boy down in Kansas, and for Jamie Tartt he can try to fit on a third extra thing. Whatever that thing is called. Neither of them know what that thing is called. They’re too familiar with Coaches and too unfamiliar with Dads to know the difference.

[c0smoshit]

Do you want me or do you not?

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 ≫ Cloud Strife/Reader

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕝𝕠𝕥 ≫ Cloud saw a letter with his name written on it, inside your diary

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ angst!, reader not being present, guilt, not proofread!!

⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ I'm back again!! I don't like this drabble really much but I've spent sm time writing it that I thought I'd post it lol. Sorry if it's a bit shitty 🤧

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 ≫ 1718

"Do you want me or do you not?"

His hands held the once hated paper as if it was worth millions of gils.

Cold fairies travelled up his spine, reminding him of the future he will never have with you.

A part of him was still attached to the past, a great part. That was his way to cope with everything that had happened in his life, swimming in a deep, deep pool of sorrow and unreached dreams.

Maybe he shouldn't have taken that path a long time ago.

Maybe he shouldn't have fallen deeply from your silk hands, following people he knew didn't speak to him like you did.

Or maybe his destiny was to end up like this, alone again.

His steps were curiously more careful, his inner voice telling him ( shouting at him ) that he should've been more careful.

But who could really blame him?

. . .

"Hey there"

Sometimes you would greet him with a smile, which he didn't return. Or some whispered out "hi", but this wasn't your usual greeting.

Your arms enveloped him for an instant, your cheek against his chest as you pressed further into him.

He could smell you and he liked it, he always liked clean ambiences. Something weird as he constantly had to smell Midgar's dirty air, but he didn't mind smelling sweet, fruity shampoos.

You parted from him as his hands stayed still against his sides, afraid of moving them too much.

As soon as he sat on a stool in the bar, you had a drink already waiting for him.

And he hated it.

He knew that he was being such a dick, but his mind couldn't help but feel somewhat uncomfortable by your warm and so pleasant touches.

He wanted to be happy just for once, god you were giving him his favourite drink!

But weighs and weighs of stress and unsolved problems occupied more volume than his own welfare.

"Do you not like it?"

His gaze then looked at your confused eyes.

"I'm sorry I thought you did, I can always ch-"

"It's alright"

That's it?

You got nothing more to say than that?

His eyes looked at your ... he wasn't going to lie, he really did not know how to read the emotions you had hiding between those gorgerous orbs.

And he wished he did

So as your hands quickly retrieved themselves from changing the liquid, you were back to the chores Tifa probably told you to please do.

He wanted to go, not because you were there but because he was suddenly so nervous he needed "fresh" air.

So that's what he did, not before muttering a low "thanks" and wishing you a good night before stepping outside the bar once again.

He surely didn't want to go home, he didn't want the sun to come up, but on top of all of those wishes, he didn't know what he wanted to truly do.

So his feet, followed by a loud metallic "clank!" that quieted down the louder rumble of the city, dragged him through alleys.

His eyes looked everywhere, dimly lighted appartaments, people that were still returning home from work.

Would they visit their kids?

Their cats? Dogs?

Their partnerts?

He wouldn't wish anyone to be him.

And he ceirtanly day-dreamed about becoming some stranger on the streets.

He often recieved comments from some boys about how handsome he was, that he surely had a long pile of women on his palm.

But was it really worth it?

He didn't need women to love him, he didn't need nobody to love him.

Nobody but someone to hold at night, someone to lull him back to sleep after a rough night.

( he needed you )

. . .

And yet he was here, waiting for you to walk back into your room as he stared into the blank wall.

He remembers the day he moved in next door to you in Midgar, both of your rooms were so different you made him self-concious about his own decisions of decoration.

The way you would lit up the darkness of his empty room the moment you placed your feet inside of it.

But now they all remained just as memories

Memories that soon would dissapear into the void of his enigmatic mind.

He knew there was going to be a time that his brain, naturally, would forget how your face looked like.

How your voice sounded like.

The warmth of your shy touches against his skin.

And he didn't want that time to come, not ever.

But he was far, far away from where it all had started. The nostalgia of your steps as you guided him through Midgar, Nibelheim ( although he knew it like the back of his hand ) Gold saucer. . .

And finally, your room

Which was the place he was standing on right now, trying to read a note you wrote who knows when.

He knows he shouldn't be doing this, rumaging through your personal belongings. But once he had opened your diary and saw his name written on it, he had to take a look.

. . .

" He feels like a ray of sun after a storm, warm and welcoming you back to the sweet and beautiful world you once knew "

" Today I walked with him all through sector 5, he was so cute waiting for me while I asked him which clothes he liked most "

" I don't want to lose him ever again, not after what happened today "

" Maybe he likes Aerith, I see the way his eyes linger on her smile for quite a while "

" Maybe I'm being annoying but I don't get why he doesn't want me to take him home! We live right next to eachother >:( "

" Yesterday I laughed a lot when Tifa called him an angry chocobo, he sure looks like one of those big birds "

" I wonder what he thinks of me. .

. . .

And then he saw it, a ruffled up small paper smashed against the last two pages of the little book. But when he grabbed it, he wished he didn't.

At first he found it quite hard to read as he got used to how you would normally write, but it was clear that you were upset in this one.

There were also some harsh drawn lines on top of your words, a mess of your thoughts and anger. All of the slurred out words came to the same conclusion.

Did he want you or did he not?!?

It is all so confusing, first he speaks to me kindly, he even cracks a few jokes! But then he comes back to this... cold and closed personality. Maybe I'm being dumb about this, maybe he just sees me as a friend just like he would with Barret or Tifa. Well, Tifa... Why am I being jealous of her? I don't want to feel like this, she has all the rights to be close to him. Hell, she was her bestfriend ever since they were little kids. But then again, why does he speak to me like he isn't interested in me??

Why does he talk to me like that if so?

He turned his eyes out of those last words, now understanding why you acted like that whenever he was around you.

Why you were gone now.

The first feeling that flooded his entire organism was guilt, that familiar clench inside his lower stomach. Then he went over 10 different ways he could have had you with him right now.

And they all ended up talking

Just that simple, right?

But the way his mind would automatically go blank whenever you spoke to him about something serious, the innability to express his real feelings without letting out lies instead.

And to add up to how deeply dumb he felt, it was a surprise for him to have just discovered that you actually felt the same for him ever since.

. . .

Going inside a cave wasn't really a good idea thanks to all the cons it has, confusing as a maze, bad lighting and of course, how cold they usually are.

So he wasn't really surprised that after the group had divided itself, you all ended up kind of lost. Next to Barret, he tried to stay calm as he tried to search Tifa, Red and, of course, you.

"Where the hell are we?"

Barret's loud voice echoed through the hard walls, making Cloud flinch as he tried to guide themselves into the exit.

After walking for quite a while, he found a strange section inside the cave that was way colder than the other ones. And when he was about to step into the other section next to it, he heard you.

But he didn't hear the chatting he had thought he would have listened, instead he heard a loud gasp, followed by some shoes ruffling.

And by the time his eyes were searching for you, he looked up to see you almost crushing him down into the ground. But of course, he was fast enough to catch you.

A blur of voices surrounded his mind, but the only thing that it was paying attetion to was the way your cool body fit in between his arms.

Your arms curled up against his chest as your mouth moved, probably surprised to had fallen into his arms instead of hard rocks.

. . .

He never will forget how you felt on his arms.

Reminiscing about past events had became his usual routine whenever he thought about you, he couldn't do anything more either way.

But it was pointless now, no matter how hard he tried to imagine yourself again, you weren't there.

And it was now when he finally had figured out why his words seemed not to seep out of his mouth as smoothly as usual with you.

Right after the group had started to live normal lifes again after the meteor, you were gone, far away from his reach. Or maybe you were right beside him, who knows.

He often wondered if you still dreamt about what happened in Midgar, Nibelheim, Junon...

He needed to find you.

But where shall he start?

[carbon-dated-gal]

My personal HCs of Jeaneil bestfriendism

Tws: mentions of human trafficking, sh, injuries, parent death (Mary).

(Also set in Raven!Neil AU)

•Nathaniel willingly participates in human trafficking after Mary's death, b'cuz fuck you. Living without any real destination had killed Mary's humanity and identity and he's not going to end up like her.

•Belonging to someone, meant having their brand on your back (literally) and that was going to be his saving.

•But for better for worse, ichirou was the one to pay millions of dollars for someone something like him

•ofc, this meant Nathan couldn't touch him but it also meant he would end up in the exact same place that his mum had died for

•but that was when she doubted his capabilities in exy but now that variable was taken out, no?

•By the time abram arrives at Evermore, Jean already had been living there for an year

•anyway, jean and Nathaniel meet when they were both 15 yrs old. And due them both being in hard rebellious phase, they take swings and jabs at each other cuz well...

•they were about the only ones who saw each other as equal instead being something either above or below them

•he Goes by his middle name w both Jean and kev

•Jean picks out all the bell peppers from his meal and Neil sneaks them onto Kev's plate who begrudgingly eats them

•Codependency, man. So much codependency. You'll never see one w/o the other

•sometimes when Nathaniel/abram (ur pick) sneaks them out, it starts raining and jean immediately hates it. But his partner catches a couple droplets into his hand and he flicks them onto jean, smiling like he had no demons waiting for him back home

•and jean thinks the rain might not be so bad.

•post-game interview and reporters are onto jean asking him one intrusive question after and jean just glares at them. Flat eyes and all.

•'Ram jumps in, and asks the reporter why their mum doesn't love them and maybe that's the reason they turned out like this in life— Kev pulls him away by his collar, apologising to the reporter

•they get into trouble for that ofc

•when Kevin begs jean to help him after riko breaks his hand, abram tries to stop him. He knows they'll have to pay the price but the look jean gives him is absolutely heartbreaking, "it's Kevin, abram. We have to help him."

•Nathaniel doesn't help. But hours later, when riko asks about Kev's whereabouts, he steals himself and refuses to answer.

•stitching each other while trying to make the other one keep their head down. With, Nathaniel's presence in the nest, jean finds keeping his opinion to himself... A bit harder than in canon.

•"why the actual fuck is that man wearing fucking jorts here?"

"I dunno, jean. They look kinda cool"

"I'm sorry, cool?"

•abram: "yk, that one time when you took a step towards the right with riko, you'd have reached him faster if you skipped on ahead to him—"

Jean, dead tired and barely even listening: "jfc, it's 2.30 in the morning go tf to sleep."

•abram was the one to snatch away the blades from jean. He hides them and cradles Jean's face in his hands, avoiding the bruises. That was the first time Nathaniel had seen a man that vulnerable and comfortable around him

•after kev leaves, Nathaniel tries to take over his job by swallowing the vegetables from Jean's plate. He promptly spat out that piece of broccoli.

I have more ofc, but I feel this post is becoming a bit too long so.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 154 }

the ghost of you.

lies of p

romeo x fem.reader

memories of the boy you once loved continue to haunt you, filling you with a strange sense of yearning as you searched for him throughout the now dilapidated city of krat.

with your hood drawn, you step into the foggy city and continue your search for the boy with cornsilk hair.

along with carlo, you grew up together with romeo at the monad charity house. your memories were filled with a fondness and light as you recalled a more peaceful time with your best friends. carlo and romeo had high hopes of becoming stalkers, training and learning diligently, and you were there to support them every step of the way-

yet that all went to hell the moment the petrification disease began its spread across krat- taking carlo's life as romeo went missing.

all you had left of romeo was a simple letter he had given you, placing it on top of your desk sometime in the middle of the night before his sudden disappearance. the creases made from the millions of times you have read the letter turned it into something frayed and fragile-

yet still, you hung on to the letter, since it was the final connection you had to romeo.

while you explored the city, you bask in the sudden wave of nostalgia that hits you. your footsteps stop, with you taking a glance at your surroundings before reaching into the inner pocket of your coat.

with the folded letter in hand, you carefully open it, smoothing out the creases to the best of your abilities as you read:

to my beloved,

i'm sorry for leaving you at the time when you have needed me the most.

but fear not!

i will return to you shortly... i'll become stronger and will save both you and carlo.

just know that i have always loved you... ever since the day we first met.

wait for me,

[ lampwick ]

you continue to read his words over and over again, your fingertips gently tracing at his messy scrawl while giggling softly to yourself. feeling motivated to truly find him once more, you place his letter back within the confines of your coat.

shivering slightly from the wind, you continue your exploration across krat, your eyes squinting when you saw what looked like a giant circus tent. as you approach the tent, you are hit with another memory...

romeo had taken you and carlo out of class the moment the circus announces its arrival into the city. his brown eyes were alight with joy as he raced with you and carlo across the city. you could still recall the scent of caramel apples and popcorn vividly filling your senses as you followed the two boys while laughing.

being so caught up in your reveries, you walk into the tent without a second thought. as your feet kicked at the dirt settled on the ground, you saw a large figure remaining utterly still. you froze, not daring to move when the large mass reveals itself to you.

it stands to his full height, towering over you. it takes on an appearance of a large man with a top hat, his mustache painting his smile in a more menacing light as he quickly approaches you. a scream escapes from you, and you quickly back away from the automaton as he reaches his clawed hand towards you-

"STOP! NOT HER!"

as if a switch had been turned off, the large puppet immediately stops in its tracks. several twitches courses through the automaton before he slumps back to the ground, his collapse causing the ground to shift when you felt powerful vibrations coursing through you. your mind was racing, recognizing the voice that had made the puppet stop it attack on you.

you trail your eyes upward, seeing a tall automaton looking at you from the balcony. he had a slender yet powerful frame, his metallic body seeming to shine brightly from beneath the light of the circus. but what truly made you choke up were his features-

dark brown eyes-

pale, cornsilk strands of hair-

"romeo..."

his name comes from your parted lips in broken sobs, and a strange expression crosses his features when he turns away from you.

"no, wait!"

you quickly run out of the tent, trying to find romeo.

despite how his body had been significantly altered-

you knew that it was him.

as your feet pounds against the cobblestone streets, you kept calling out to him with a desperation-

in your distracted state, you hadn't been paying attention to where you were going as your feet got caught on a stray piece of rubble settled in the midst of the streets. with a gasp, you felt your body quickly plummeting forward-

only to be stopped by a cold, metallic hand.

"you shouldn't be here..." a tranquil voice calls out your name before bringing you back up. as you were held by him, you saw the hint of sadness within romeo's eyes.

"i... i looked for you... i searched the entirety of krat for you!" you manage to tell him with a gasp, not minding his cold body as you practically cling to him. you listen when romeo gives you a sigh before gently hugging you to his chest.

"i didn't want to be found; at least... not like this..."

you pull away from his embrace, eyes still shimmering with tears when you call out to him. he looks down at you, allowing you to take a hold of romeo's face within your two hands, forcing him to lean back down to your height. your eyes continue to fill with tears momentarily before you lean up to press a kiss against his lips. the young man was left frozen in shock, but still, you cling to him like your life depended on it.

even with his metallic arms wrapped loosely around you, you kept your arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace. only when your emotions began to heighten significantly did you finally pull away from him.

"we already lost carlo... and i don't want to lose you, too. please romeo, take me with you."

romeo closes his eyes, his body twitching ever so slightly in response. after debating with himself for a few minutes, he lets out a sigh before tightening his arms around you.

"i'm assuming you're never going back to safety now?"

you immediately shake your head in response.

he leans closer to you, softly calling you an idiot before wrapping his arms around you, "let's go."

the boy you have always loved proceeds to carry you in his arms, and while you were basking in his embrace, you knew that as long as you were by his side, then you would have nothing to fear ever again.

a.n. - it has been far too long since i wrote a story for romeo! this isn't much but... it is really fluffy and sweet... 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[mockerycrow]

I SEE YOU EVERYWHERE (Soap x GN!Reader)

soap masterlist

a/n: i wrote this after listening to this song. not proofread LOL enjoy. 984 words! also i’m sorry about how i’m basically non existent. i’m trying, y’all </3

[WARNINGS: MWIII spoilers, major character death, grief, mentions of catholicism. pure angst, hurt/little comfort.]

Sixty-seven days ago. Two months it’s been, approximately nine whole weeks. Estimating around ninety-five thousand minutes and over five million seconds. 

It’s been sixty-seven days since.. You know. You always wake up feeling like it happened sixty-seven seconds ago instead. Your eyes flutter open and you take a breath, inhaling a certain kind of heavy and thick into your lungs. Your chest expands uncomfortably in the morning, your ribs squeezing your lungs a bit tighter than before. Accompanied with the tightness of your chest is this tingling feeling, so slight it’s almost like background noise, just like how the past few weeks have felt. They’ve flown by in a flash, but at the same time, are oh so slow. 

Sometimes, you wake up expecting to see him standing over your sleeping form to wake you up after staying up a tad bit too late because he insisted you do so. So he wasn’t lonely because ‘The LT denied me’, in his words. Sometimes, your eyes are sick and twisted towards you. Your eyes are faster than your brain and you see him. You see his shadow so thick you’re convinced until you reach upwards, your fingers pushing through the dark smoke that enters your lungs after you’ve blinked. 

You’re sure the others have noticed the toll it’s taken, despite your efforts to hide. You know they’re hurting in their ways, too. Being in a tightly packed task force like this, you’re bound to know each other's tells. Part of you wonders who is hurting the most. Is it Gaz? The man who’s been the most logical out of all five four of you. Is it Ghost? The enigma of your group? He’s always been quiet, hard to read. Harder since.. Everything. Maybe it’s Price. He’s the one who actually saw, really. The one who watched him…

…

You feel something in your throat bubble, so you push the thought away. 

Then you come back to it. Maybe it’s you who’s hurting most, being his lover. The person he insisted that was his other half he had been looking for. Maybe that’s you being hopeful and cheesy; maybe it’s you being selfish. You aren’t sure. Honestly, you aren’t sure what you should be feeling, nor are you sure how your teammates should be reacting. There’s five stages of grief and everyone’s path looks different. 

Denial – you aren’t sure who you think denial is at first. Symptoms are fear, avoidance. What happened, you can’t avoid it. Not really when he was so integral to the team. Is. He never stopped being. After a few days of people watching, you’ve decided it’s you. You wanted to put it onto someone else at first, maybe Gaz—perhaps Ghost. They’re still.. Living. Going through the motions, at least. But you had to look at yourself late at night, around two forty-five am to ask, “are they the one’s waking up thinking he’s standing over them?”

No. They are not. It’s you. Of course it’s you.

Next—anger. You debated this one, of course it was tied between Ghost and Price but after Shepherd died, of course the Captain took that title with no question. There is a major difference between peaking into the gym, watching Ghost gasp for air after a night full of boxing and then hearing through Laswell the General has been killed. Major difference, indeed. It’s not often your Captain loses his cool and when he does, it’s for good reason. He deserved it, you only wish Price was more cruel.

Bargaining? It’s a no brainer, you decided as soon as you thought of it. Gaz. None of the men cry much, but it wasn’t a surprise when you found Gaz sitting on the steps outside of the temporary base, smoking a cigarette with misty eyes paired with a lost look. A look where he wasn’t completely there; lost somewhere, maybe in thought, maybe back in that moment. In the moment where he had to ignore his mutilated body to focus on the bomb. On the fact that Makarov was getting away. He lit a second cigarette.

Maybe it doesn’t quite fit him, but Ghost was the last one to decide for. Depression is what you ended up assigning him. There’s not many words for how you could describe him. Ghost’s been flighty, quiet yet hostile. He never means to snap at any of you of course, you all know it. You can tell from the heavy, long look he gives you after snarling at you like a cornered dog. He’s just sad and scared, something you can understand on a deeper level. With him, it feels like beckoning a wolf with bits of meat—a wolf who isn’t afraid to bare his teeth. You’re willing to get bit.

Then… what’s left?

Oh, yeah. 

Acceptance. Left for the one who is forever missing.

In a way, it feels wrong. You know he’ll never be able to move on like the rest of the world can. It feels even worse when you realize only a select amount of people will know about his death—the world won’t know who he is. Work in the dark to serve the light, hm? What a fucked world. After spreading his ashes across the hills, it feels like he’s become one with the Earth. Maybe that’s his form of acceptance; going back to what housed him. The green roots and blue skies. The rain that pours down over the ruined cities you’re crawling through, the beautiful stars and planets above you during a late night in God knows where. You see him everywhere.

You hope God is taking care of him, as you rub your fingers over his cross necklace. The last thing you have left of him; his dog tags sitting in a memorial on base. You may or may not believe, but Johnny sure did. And you know, somewhere deep down, he’s alright.

🏷️; @kivino @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheetos @frazie99 @narcolepticduck @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @indefenseofkara @mushr00mf00d @lieutenantlashfaz @fiveshotsofjager @queen-leviathan @specter319 @theunplannedvariable @spacelia @1117sblog @snoowply @dumb-fawkin-bitch @abigatorchomp

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[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

The Bird And The Man

Chapter Nine

Rated: Explicit | Warnings: Heheheh oops

Ao3

Chapter Eight | Chapter Ten

Orpheus had planned this out and wrote it a million times.

Like a detective, he laid out, notes upon notes and the red strings with his mind mapping out the multiple paths a conversation can go with you.

Everything the Novelist extrapolates, every possible outcome based on both Nightmare's dreams and his personal interactions with you.

Yet, at this moment in time, he finds himself lost.

Seeing you, being in the same room, in your presence with your attention on him; it is just like in dreams Nightmare's emotions bleed into clouding the Novelist's judgment. To yearn, he only yearned for one thing in all his life but here you are adding to his list.

“What does he have that I do not?”

When you love the darkness of a person, the flaws and parts people hide from the world, when the facade is taken away… He is laid bare to you.

Nightmare is every twisted sin and dark thought personified as a hunter. Yet, you draw out the light in him, that spark of Orpheus within the monster.

Orpheus… Felt that love.

This strange connection to his hunter counterpart and he shares unwillingly on both sides.

The love Nightmare has for you is bleeding into him, you are becoming important to Orpheus— Which is dangerous, far more dangerous than you realize.

You stand there unsure what to say, but your face says it all: you pity him. “I'm sorry.” Apologizing as if you did something wrong is a knee-jerk reaction.

“No, don't be,” Orpheus says, “My question was inappropriate. I should be the one apologizing.”

“Orpheus,” Placing the cue on the pool table to hold his hand.

“Please, Hypnos, it would be best if you do not touch me.”

“Have I offended you?” Stopping your hand just above his hand.

“No, not at all. You have been a light in my life these days and I fear I selfishly want to hold that light as my other has.”

Some romance novels have the third person who creates the plot of drama between the couple. Sometimes, it is brief or part of the whole book until the end where the main character has to make a choice. It always ends in heartbreak on one side, a minor thought of regret before being tossed aside to look forward to the happiness the main character chose.

In this case, how do you choose?

If one were to love Mr. Hide, would they love also Dr. Jekyll? They are the same person, a representation of the duality of humanity. Orpheus and Nightmare are these: two separate beings meant to be opposites but the same as well.

“I want to know why.” You tell him as you take your hand away, placing them by your side, “Do you feel what he feels?”

“Of sorts.” Turned and leaned against the pool table with both hands behind him to hold himself up. There is a pause before he talks, long-winded at first with flowery words as if writing a novel. Then it changes, simple and half sentences, his eyes on you the same way you imagine Nightmare's eyes are behind his mask.

“When I see you, all I feel is his love in my heart.”

You stand there, heart yearning for both men who share these emotions because they are the same person connected by this cursed manor.

You love one currently, while you had adored the other from afar.

Yet, it is the flawed man you choose and the perfection you were fascinated by because it was unattainable. You had a goal to reach, to become as well-known as the Novelist Orpheus… He is the moon, you were just a human on Earth looking up at him.

“Permit me to show you.”

“Show me?”

“Yes, I do not wish to steal you away… If you allow me to have a part of your heart.” A step closer, you step back, he moves around in front of you; your butt hits the edge of the pool. His arms caging you in, hands planted on the pool table. “Hypnos.” The way he sounds is dangerously close to Nightmare, or maybe it is the other way around. It pulls at your heart, that confusion both with his confession and reasoning (explained like a detective solving the great case of his love life), and now this.

The way he looks at you is the way you know how Nightmare looks upon you every time you are around him, kissing his mask and telling him— Your heart races as if scared and curious, not thrilled.

“Orpheus…” You feel your breathing quickening, chest tight, hands on his chest unsure what to do.

Do you love the monster more than the man? Or man who is the monster?

To deny him, would that mean you are denying Nightmare?

His lips take yours, not the sort of way you have read in romance novels. Your hands grip his vest as he leans forward forcing you to tip back, his kiss with tongue leaving you helpless and lost. Having no idea what to do but be taken and he takes a lot. His body is completely on top of you and both of you are lying on the pool table. You gasp, hands pinned down as he is above you. His leg hooks and drags your leg upward and his crotch is flush against yours. 

Your heart is racing as his lips are on your neck, it is like you unlocked something within him that you fear will consume you. You cannot keep up with his skill and a moan that escapes your mouth is loud in this quiet space.

Orpheus hovers above you, “Hypnos.” A darkness falls over part of his face, only one brown seen in the light. 

“Orpheus,” A bit dizzy as you are lost and confused, “Stop.”

And he does. Pulling away and wiping his mouth with his thumb then licking the pad of his thumb, “That… Was my fault.”

You sit up on the pool table still in a bit of a daze but aware enough to not look at the man, “I should go.”

“Of course.” Moving out of your way, “I hope you consider this.” He speaks while you pass by him.

Orpheus stands there, his eyes closing as he sighs in disappointment. The mundane task of cleaning up the game of billiards is not helping him relax.

You sent him a letter urgently asking for this meeting, the penmanship frantic and quick. You had to send it by Lady Nightingale who had Lucky Guy deliver the letter.

Within an hour, you get a reply sent by a raven with a letter detailing where to meet. Nightmare waits for you under the moonlight in a different meeting spot. Outside the estate in the old Kreiburg Race Course, he is in the middle with his arm out for you to hold. It is a cold winter night, you wear proper winter clothes and speak with him about what happened a few hours ago.

Frantic and over-explaining while apologizing a ton.

Nightmare will not tell you how much pride he feels that despite you being with his counterpart, you still thought of him. To know he equally plagues your thoughts, to know you yearn for him too, he is smiling though you are freaking out.

“Do you hate me? I should have said no…” He stops to catch your tears, “You must think me a hussy.”

With a shake of his head, as he stops you from walking and stands in front of you, he pulls out the notebook from inside his coat and starts writing.

Two pages worth of writing.

“Oh.” Reacting when he lets you read it, a quick read then a detailed read, “But… Isn't that unseemly?”

Another shake of his head and he takes the notebook back to write a few more words.

“I… I need to think about it, Orpheus. This is… Very new to say the least to me.”

His beak rubs your cheek affectionately, his hands pulling and holding you close to his chest. you gladly and clingy hug him back.

You inhale his scent, rubbing your puffy face into his chest.

“Touch. You?”

You nod, “I wish you could touch me every day.” Gripping the fabric of the coat as if it is a lifeline and the safest place in the world, “The New Year celebration,” Lifting your head to look at him, “Will you spend it with me?”

His beck touches your lip, a kiss, and he nods his head, “Yes but away.”

“We can find a spot for ourselves.” Smiling that beautiful smile he prefers over the tears you were shedding. Agh, he knows Orpheus is better than that but they both are too eager when with you. Fiend-ing for someone they do not need to wear a mask around (not completely). You laugh when he picks you cradling you in his arms like a bride, his mask once more covered in your kisses.

The others saw the blue lipstick when he returned from your room, the whispers and glances. None of them ever truly interact with him given his isolationist behavior. To see the blue lipstick all over him must have been a sight, and again he is prideful about it.

To be marked, he likes it.

[lonelywhalien22]

constant

pairing: sangyeon x reader

rating/genre: fluff + comfort <3

summary: after a long week of work, you and sangyeon barely have anything left in you to give, but what you do have you give to each other. selflessly.

warnings: none, just people choosing to love each other even when they’re exhausted <3

word count: 2.2k

song(s) to listen to while reading: good for you by eric nam, constant by jesse barrera ft. jeremy passion <3

note: back at it again with another comfort fic that i polished up from my old drafts. probably tmi but a while back i was listening to an episode of a podcast that was all about long-term partnership and this one idea of each partner rating their current level of capacity in a given moment was just fascinating to me. and then i wrote this wishing i had someone in my life like that. if that barely makes sense just read and you’ll get what im describing hopefully hehe. i'm in love with this type of relationship so i hope you enjoy <3

————

Sangyeon stepped through the door of your shared apartment that Friday evening to find that you were sitting comfortably in the living room with the television on, the sun having already set and the noise of commuters driving home having finally died down outside. It was quiet and peaceful, and his shoulders instantly relaxed as he finally shook off some of his work worries and thought ahead to the weekend - to finally getting to wind down with you and sleep in for the first time in too long.

“Hey babe,” you heard him say softly as you finally turned to look at him from your spot on the couch. You could see the tiredness radiating from his body, a large hand raking through his hair to push it out of his face as he gave you a little smile before hanging his jacket on one of the hooks you’d put up by the door.

You wished you could smile back but you’d had a rough day yourself - tired from work and getting stuck in traffic as you’d worried about a million little things on the way home.

He groaned as he noticed your expression, finally making his way over to you as he rubbed a hand over the back of your hair softly and gave you a peck on the forehead before plopping down on the couch. You couldn’t help but soften your expression when you felt his calming touches. That was Sangyeon – he was nothing if not instantly calming.

“Tell me where you’re at right now,” he asked of you softly, voice low as if he didn’t want to disturb your quiet. You turned to look at him, your eyes completely drained, and you could see the instant concern that radiated from him as you responded, even through his own tired eyes.

“I’m at like a 3 right now.”

Sometime after the two of you started dating you came up with a system to rate your emotional capacity at any given moment on a scale of 1 to 10. It seemed weird but it was really just a way for you both to quickly gauge how the other was feeling and know whether one of you was able to carry more of the load on any given day. The higher the number, the higher your capacity.

“I’m at a 4,” Sangyeon said immediately, and you gave him a pout.

It seemed like recently whenever you both happened to have bad days he always tried to be just a little higher than you so he could be the one to take care of things – take care of you. He didn’t like for you to worry about him even though you knew he needed to be taken care of too sometimes, just like anyone else. You made a mental note that from now on, you’d say your numbers at the same time.

“Sangyeon. Be honest with me.”

“I’ve had worse days,” he brushed your concerns away, easing around the subject.

You noticed how he didn’t try to insist he was telling you the truth about how he was feeling. Sangyeon always took his words seriously, treating them with a carefulness that almost rivaled how he treated you. He never was one to outright lie, and so after one too many times of buried feelings in the past, you’d learned how to read between the lines of his words. Sure, he may have had worse days, but that didn’t mean today wasn’t a particularly bad one.

You rubbed his arm a few times before shifting closer to him on the couch and resting your head against his chest. He wrapped an arm across your waist and pulled you in even closer, giving you another kiss in your hair as the two of you held each other. His movements comforted you, but you also knew that this was what he did to comfort himself after a long day. Doting on you was how he released his frustration sometimes.

He smelled like the laundry you two did together last weekend mixed with the day’s efforts and a hint of something that you could only describe as uniquely him, and if you were being honest you probably could have fallen asleep right there in his arms. But instead you kept rubbing your hand against his back in that way you knew he liked, hoping he’d relax some more and finally let go of whatever it was he’d been carrying all day like you wanted him to.

Eventually he released a deep sigh at your ministrations, and you felt his muscles relax underneath your palm. You hid the tiny smile that appeared on your lips, burying your head closer into his chest as he finally spoke up.

“Work was just a lot. Has been all week, but especially today.”

You hummed at his words gently.

“Did rehearsal go into overtime again?” And in response you felt him nod against your skin, the crook of his head now pressed into your neck.

“There was this one part we just really struggled to get in sync. And I kept worrying that I was messing up everyone else.” Sangyeon sighed again and you tried to hold onto him even tighter at those words. You knew how much he hated feeling like he wasn’t being a good leader to his group. How much he tended to carry that weight on his shoulders without a single complaint.

“I’m sorry babe. I can tell you’ve had a long day. You must be tired.”

“I’m sure you’re just as tired as me,” he said then, refusing to let you dismiss your own worries in your attempts to comfort him. Your mind drifted back to all the stuff you’d dealt with today.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he mumbled into your neck, breaking you out of your train of thought as he kissed the spot gently. You couldn’t help but smile a little at that despite your stress, combing your fingers through the strands at the back of his head as you thought about it for moment before finally responding.

“Not yet,” you answered. “What I really need right now is you. Holding me. Just like this. I missed you so much today.”

Sangyeon didn’t stress it, simply giving you what you asked for. After years of being together, he knew this was just how you were – you kept the complexities of your mind to yourself until you could really articulate what it was you wanted to say. And he was always there when you were finally ready to lay it all on him, even at the most random of times. He was always waiting for you with open arms, and you loved him for that.

“I missed you too. Did you eat?”

He separated himself from your hold just enough to look at you directly then, and you pursed your lips guiltily.

“No…but I did pick up some takeout.”

You had a bad habit of waiting to eat dinner until Sangyeon got home so the two of you could eat together - especially on Fridays, when he had the highest chances of getting back at a decent hour. That meant that sometimes you went without food for longer than was acceptable to him. Not to mention you’d toss and turn all night from the lack of digestion before bed. When you couldn’t sleep he couldn’t either, no matter how tired he was.

You looked up at him sheepishly then and you could tell he was about to scold you, but before he could, the two of you heard the loud rumble of his stomach.

“Uh…” Sangyeon started with his own guilty look.

You giggled, a smirk forming on your lips. The blush on his face was unmistakable as he averted his eyes from yours, rubbing the back of his reddening neck.

“Let’s eat,” you said, taking charge then.

You got up before he could hold you back with those tempting hands of his and began filling up two plates, grabbing water for the both of you as well and making your way back to the couch. He looked at you gratefully as he took a plate from your hands, eager to dig in. The two of you ate in silence, you spooning yourself up servings of kimchi fried rice while Sangyeon dove into a container of noodles and some egg rolls, his favorite from this spot a few blocks away from your place. He finished his food first, like he always did, sipping on his water as he stared over at you reverently.

“What?” You asked as you swallowed another mouthful of rice, a rare moment of self-consciousness bubbling up inside of you.

“I just like seeing you eat well. That’s all.”

He leaned in then and gave you a peck on your lips. It tasted faintly sweet like the sauce from his egg rolls and even though you knew he was trying to be quick you still got lost in it like you did every time he kissed you, closing your eyes for a moment before he pulled away.

“Uh uh, finish eating first and then let’s get ready for bed,” he chided, and you rolled your eyes, trying to finish the rest of your food as quickly as possible.

You’d already showered so once you were done eating you worked on brushing your teeth and cleaning your face as Sangyeon hopped into the shower. The two of you were so used to sharing space by now that you didn’t even blink twice as he took his shirt off before he even reached the bathroom. He finished undressing and slipped into the stream of warm water while you focused on yourself in the mirror, proud that you only peaked at his silhouette through the shower curtains once while he was cleaning up.

You were in bed laying under the sheets with a book in your hands when he finally got out of the bathroom, a look of pure bliss on his face as he put his towel away and made his way over to your shared bed. You could tell that, just as usual, he was feeling much better after a good shower.

He rolled under the sheets before leaning over towards you, his head craning towards your neck as he gave you another kiss there, this one slightly longer. You could feel the softness of his lips and smell the lavender scent of his shampoo, even noticing how smooth and soft the little bits of his skin that touched yours were from the lotion you always urged him to use.

You closed your book immediately and set it on the nightstand because you knew you wouldn’t be able to read a single word with him right beside you like this. Sangyeon shuffled even closer to you then, your shoulders touching as he raised his head to be at eye level again. His large hand landed on your thigh, the rough calluses of his palm contrasting with how gently he touched you and making goosebumps rise on your skin. You knew he was only touching you in a comfort sort of way but somehow it still made butterflies appear in your stomach - just like the first time the two of you ever laid together.

“Thank you,” you said softly as you looked over at him, not wanting to disrupt such a precious moment.

“For what?” he asked, a genuine curiosity lighting up his face.

You just tilted your head and shook it serenely, a tiny sigh leaving your lips.

“For taking care of me. Even when you’re exhausted.”

‘’Of course. I should be thanking you too, you know. I love you.”

He always said those three words so easily, like he was just breathing in air or blinking. They came out on instinct because at this point it was just a fact - he’d known for a while now that you were forever a part of him, simple as that.

You didn’t respond with words, instead leaning in with hooded eyes and cupping the side of his face with your hand. You kissed him softly, trying to tell him how you were feeling with your lips. Words had never come that easily to you.

He tilted his head and intensified the kiss, nipping at your lips a few times but keeping the pace slow and his kisses deep. You could feel his hair pressed against your forehead from how close he was and after a while it just felt like you were melting into each other somehow.

When you finally parted, he finished with another quick peck before quickly turning out the lamp on his side and pulling you into his arms, the two of you making yourselves comfortable as you laid down in bed.

“Come here,” Sangyeon mumbled in playful stubbornness, pulling you impossibly closer as you giggled.

Your head laid on his chest with an arm draped across his waist while his arm was securely wrapped around yours. The pairs of your legs tangled together seamlessly under the sheets as he laid on his back and you on your side, nestled into him.

As your eyes finally drifted closed, a whisper of “I love you too,” slipped from between your lips while your fingers rubbed back and forth across his wide chest, luring you to sleep.

“I know baby. I know.”

[wexhappyxfew]

I am braving the anxiety and sending in a prompt without anon 😊

How about wrapping arms around the others neck when standing behind for Annie and Brady? I am so down for angst and hurt/comfort so whatever point in their journey you feel would fit best!

And then maybe for Kennedy and Bucky a protective prompt for the camps? Either “I’ll never stop hugging you” or the “don’t leave my sight”. Literally every protective prompt was so good 😭

I love all the couples in Silver Bullets but Annie and Brady, and Kennedy and Bucky are so special to me right now. Let me know if I should’ve sent them in two different asks!! Sorry if I did this wrong. Can’t wait🫶🏼

HELLO FRIEND!!!! massive apology that it has taken me this long to get back to you with these two prompts!!! and sorry that it is JULYYYYY like WHAT. anyway!!! massive congrats and mega proud of you for braving the anxiety - sometimes all it takes is those baby steps so please know i am proud of you!!! <3 and it means so much that you did it to send THESE FANTASTIC PROMPTS TOO!!!! thank you thank you! THESE TWO WERE FANTASTIC LET ME TELL YOU (again)! SO -- i am putting the Kennedy x Bucky prompt here and will be posting the Annie x Brady one in the coming days. they were both too good to just only do one. so. YEP HERE WE ARE!!! can confirm i was losing my mind over these two when writing so please enjoy <3333 THANK YOU AGAIN!!!! :D

a little imagination

(a/n): kennedy and bucky (pre-kiss/confession mess they are) in a situation after kennedy's nightmare and well. this speaks for itself. let's just say -- pre-marital cuddling? OH THAT IS ABSOLUTELY ON THE DOCKET !!!!!! these two are just. totally adorable. soft. witty. funny. i-

When Kennedy had blinked her eyes open, she was face to face with the wall of the bunk room.

And everything was a bit hazy, her vision fuzzy like she wasn't fully awake yet.

And there was a quiet hum in the room, that vaguely reminded her of waking up in her aunt's shore house in the summer when her and her cousins would crash on the couches that overlooked the bay. A drip of nostalgia hit her insides in a way that made her rapidly blink her eyes to wake up and figure out where she was.

The blank, darkened wall of the bunk room though was enough to strip away any thought of home and remind her that she was right here.

In the Stalag.

Though for the first time in weeks, she was warm.

Considerably warm.

And there was an annoying huffing and snoring in her ear.

Kennedy narrowed her gaze, before slowly widening her eyes. Realization hit her like a slap in the face and suddenly she was aware of everything touching her body. The blanket tucked up under her chin as she curled the edge of her thin pillow against her cheek, the sudden weight around her chest and the warmth from that weight, certainly what she could consider a presence. She wasn't entirely even complaining though about the current position she was in - if anything, she was comfortable and well-rested and had never felt more protected and held in her life.

And she had been with multiple boys from the country club that her mother had sworn up and down were 'as sweet as blueberry pie'.

Blueberry pie sucked anyway if she was being honest.

As her senses came to her more, she could hear a few voices from somewhere behind her - behind her, repeat, there were voices past the person currently wrapping their arms around her form and pulling her into them.

A million thoughts raced through Kennedy's mind at what was about to occur - she was going to have to first off, wake up Bucky Egan of all people, who was laid curled around her like an unmoving excuse of a rock.

Second, once he does wake up, he would start talking and not stop and somewhere in that string of words, he would say her name.

Third, people would start looking their way, and Bucky would slide out of the bunk and she would follow, and have to explain herself in some poor fashion because she was never great with words like Annie or Bessie were. It wasn't that she was embarrassed, it was far from that if she were honest - the embarrassment would sneak in - but it was more of the fact that she let herself get so vulnerable and open and emotional. She didn't want to put that pressure on anyone, especially someone like Bucky.

Kennedy slowly shifted the slightest bit, hoping it would get Bucky to move himself awake. When she did so, she felt his grip tighten on her and a small sigh to escape his lips into her ear. Goosebumps raced over her skin and she couldn't help but feel the tops of her cheeks warm.

"You grip me any tighter and I'm going to burst a lung," Kennedy whispered quietly over her shoulder the best she could, feeling his grip loosen and a small chuckling huff escape his lips - oh, he was absolutely awake, "thanks." Bucky mumbled something unintelligible, before she felt the pressure of his head against the back of her neck again. She raised her brow.

"What?"

"I wouldn't allow that to happen." he mumbled, a bit louder this time, still sounding as if he was half-asleep, "I swear, Kenny."

"Well, it's about to and you'll be the reason." she muttered back and she heard a small laugh escape his lips as he cuddled closer to her and let out another sigh of evident comfort and content.

"You know, Kenny, one might say thank you for allowing someone else in their bunk for a night," he muttered out quietly, a light-hearted tone to his voice, "offering up this tiny little space for two people. Squished in like we're sardines. Really sticking my neck out, ya know?"

Kennedy shifted and glanced towards Bucky as she readjusted onto her back. She found him sat up a bit, one arm still lazily wrapped around her chest, as he pulled her close to him, his tired eyes looking down at her. In the morning, those walls came up, those terrors and fears that slipped from her lips were yet again buried - and she was determined to act like it had almost never happened.

Last night.

Her telling him her fears, why she couldn't sleep.

The plane.

"Thank you." she said quietly, hoping her voice was still low enough for only him to hear, "Seriously, Bucky, I mean it." Bucky grinned at her without so much so as a need for words.

"It's alright, I was just teasing, you silly goose," he said, a small laugh escaping his lips, before he caught her gaze and his eye softened, nodding to her, "how'd you sleep?"

Kennedy watched him for a moment. The window that was nearby was bright enough with enough sun to illuminate half his face, making it appear honey-gold, making his eyes seem more alive than they ever have before. His gaze was subdue, his eyes soft as they watched her, and the corner of his lip was perked upwards - and if she was being honest with herself it did make her heart race.

Something about this entire situation made her heart race, it made her entire being feel a little crazy. Something in the back of her head dumbed it down though - she was just here because she'd woken in the middle of the night and Bucky was looking out for her.

Looking out. For her. That was it. That's all it was. Sure - it didn't explain him cuddled against her or her enjoying it, but she shoved it out of her brain when she noticed him still looking at her with that quiet look. If this were another time, and somehow she was waking up beside Bucky Egan, she would wish that somehow she got to do this all the time. It beat waking up to a pillow.

"Hm?" she asked quietly, feeling Bucky shift beside her and grin.

"How'd you sleep?" Bucky asked quietly, "You look relaxed, you know." Kennedy grinned a bit, blushing suddenly knowing he'd seemed to notice exactly how she felt.

"Really well," Kennedy said, suddenly almost shy at the words that slipped from her lips, suddenly turning her eyes towards Bucky's shoulder instead of you know, his face, "better than the past few weeks, if I'm being honest."

"Good." Bucky said with a nod, a genuine one at that, before smiling at her, "Something we can finally agree on." Her eyes darted to his in mild surprise, but instead he was peeling away from her and pulling himself out of the bunk, his fingertips dragging over her jacketed stomach, his warmth following.

Kennedy watched as he stood to his feet, receiving nods from Brady, Buck and DeMarco who were stood and sat about, the likes of Annie in a chair beside Bessie who were most likely looking at a map spread out in front of them.

Kennedy reached up to rub at her eyes and then, with what will she had left in her body, turned to slide out of the bunk as well as was almost more grateful than anything when people barely seemed to bat an eye. Annie did glance upwards though - only to send a small smile her way, in a notion of a morning greeting, if anything - she was always doing that, checking in, nodding, grinning.

That was Annie Bradshaw for you.

"Coffee, Farley?" Benny asked her, standing by the mini stove, lifting up a tin cup, "It ain't much, but still tastes a bit like coffee."

"With some imagination." Brady muttered as he sipped at his own cup of 'coffee'. Kennedy stood still for a moment, vaguely feeling Bucky's eyes on her, much more incredibly aware of the fact that sometimes he'd watch her without her even noticing. He'd probably done that before and she didn't even take a second to put it in her mind. Now, she could feel his eyes right on her as she walked over to Benny with a nod.

"Sure," she said, watching as he poured the cup of coffee and handed it over.

"Imagine there's cream and sugar in there." he told her with a smile.

"Whole lotta imagination this morning, huh?" Kennedy asked him with a chuckle as she gratefully took the cup and sipped some of it down, cringing a bit at the watery bitterness but relishing it none the less. It was liquid, caffeine and something to put in her stomach. She wasn't complaining.

Turning, Kennedy picked her way towards a spot at the table and looked across at Annie and Bessie who had Buck and Bucky crowded behind them, pouring over that map again.

"What's all that about?" Kennedy asked quietly, catching Annie's gaze as she looked up from the map.

"Bessie's been taking 'walks' with Hambone." Annie offered with a slight smile, "Has the entire camp mapped out - down to the detail. Gates, entrances, barracks, washing halls, the works."

"If we ever need…." Bessie started before dropping her voice, "some sort of means of escape." Kennedy glanced over at Brady who had stood and was now standing behind the two women, sipping his watery coffee and looking down at the map.

"Where are we putting it?" Brady asked her with a low voice - ideally Kennedy's own question.

"In my shirt," Bessie said, looking back up at him with a grin, "I don't need them doing what they did to us when they found Buck's radio, alright?" Brady met Annie's eyes it seemed for a split second before nodding at Bessie.

"We could also trade off - keep it hidden, they wouldn't guess," Brady offered settling beside Annie with a smile, "better to play a bit back at them with their own game."

"Yeah, well, that's if we can even find a way outta this shit hole." Bucky said settling down beside Kennedy, which undoubtedly made her heart pound a bit as she noticed Annie's watchful eyes on her, and Bessie's rather profound staring. The boys didn't appear to care nor were that observant to mind, but it was evident that Annie and Bessie had clued in.

"You think we could even get past those guys - weapons and all? Barbed wire? Their watch dogs, huh?" Bucky said, "I don't know if there's a shot even a mile away. Plus, where the hell would we go?"

"Just start moving west - towards France then." Annie supplied, her calming voice usually one that helped them all the breath a bit easier - its steady presence and calm confidence, "We do what we can. Not saying this is happening anytime soon, but….if the opportunity were to appear….." Brady glanced at Annie before looking at the group.

"We'll keep a plan set in place." Brady said quietly and Bucky seemed to agree with that.

"We'll keep it on the low-low," Buck said softly from his bunk, "there's no telling who is hearing what or what others are saying or thinking, alright?" A few whispered agreements of 'yes' wrung about.

People seemed to dissolve into their own conversations again, a few people stepping out for air, a walk about the place. Bucky turned to Kennedy and leaned up against the table with a wide grin her way. She watched him, unflinching and raised a brow.

"What's that look for?" she asked, taking a sip again of the watery coffee, before dropping her voice, "You were cuddled up to me all night, Bucky, you could keep the staring like that to a minimum." Bucky looked flustered for a second, caught off guard by her words, before smirking.

"Correction: you were the one cuddled up to me."

"You had your arms wrapped around me like I'd run away." she countered back.

"You weren't complaining."

"Your snoring wasn't making up for it." He stared at her as she said that and smiled wider.

"I know that look, Kenny," he said quietly, reaching up a finger to lightly tap under her chin, "don't tell me you didn't feel better protected from those nightmares, huh?" Kennedy's cheeks warmed and she shrugged her shoulders. She was quiet. She wouldn't lie.

"Gotcha there." he said quietly beside her with a chuckle, "Thanks for not punching me by the way." Kennedy looked at him and then gently gave a punch to his shoulder.

"Don't start doing things then that make you ask for it, got it?" she said, holding his gaze for a second longer than she should've, but there was something about that morning sleepiness still in his eyes that made her want to stare at him. In that quiet moment, she found herself smiling a bit. "You're still tired, you should lay down."

"Nah, I'm good." he said quietly, watching her back, with a nod, "I'm good just right here. You and me." Kennedy let out a small chuckle and nodded her head.

"Really?" she asked him with a growing smirk, "Seriously, go hit the hay for a bit."

"You wanna join me?" Kennedy gave him a punch to the shoulder.

"Bucky, be serious for a minute." she said, but couldn't hold back her bit of laughter as he smiled at her again.

"I am." he said with a wide smile, before leaning forward again, "You think this could be us? Back at Thorpe Abbotts? Drinking coffee together? Maybe back in the States?"

"Are you asking me out?" she said, almost half-jokingly, sipping the watery coffee again with a confident look his way - where that boldness had come from, she blamed the will of standing up against her brothers. But Bucky stared at her, face drawn into a serious look, before clearing his throat and letting out a laugh with a smile.

"If you put it that way…." he started and she shoved his shoulder again with a sigh, ignoring the fluttering in her chest and that look in his eye.

"I'm kidding, silly," she said and sipped the coffee again, something mindless to get her distracted, "seriously, go lie down. If they make us stand out there for hours again, you'll be dead on two feet."

"I already am." Bucky murmured with a chuckle and Kennedy sent him a look. He shrugged her off as he stood.

"If you ever wanna join, you know where to find me-"

"Bucky." muttered Kennedy, shoving his arm as he stood and he only laughed, before moving a few feet to pull himself onto the bunk and look at her. She stared at him and he smirked, before flipping over and letting out a sigh. Only then, did she sit there for a few moments and backtrack that entire conversation.

God help her.