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thewinter-eden · 2 days ago

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Blink Twice if You Need Help

images are mine (except middle CB pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. ATE pcs are my inspo for this series.

part 3 of the skz crack!horror series.

pairing: Seo Changbin x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: stalker!Changbin has been following you for weeks. He’s looking for his next target, and he’s obsessed with you. While he’s watching you, however, he learns the secret you keep—you’re being routinely robbed by your addict brother. After watching this cycle of abuse end with you crying almost every night, Changbin takes pity.

warnings: Familial abuse, drug addict brother, satirical but definitive death of character, physical abuse, stalking, nonconsensual photographs, creepiness, fear, breakup, blood and injury, strangulation (brief, no death), automotive-related death, please for the love of god don’t take this seriously, Changbin’s kinda icky (I’m sorry babes I swear I love you), chai lattes

word count: 6k

Comment a request to be tagged.

series info

You’re radiant.

You always are, have been since the moment you first stepped foot in his café.

But today, you’re radiant in blue. It’s a sweater he’s seen a dozen times, but now as you tiptoe up to the counter, pushing your sleeves up to your elbows and baring half a dozen clinking bracelets of various metals and stones, he thinks he’s never seen anything so perfect.

He responds to your chirped good morning and waits for the next notes of your voice to tell him what you’re ordering, and he can’t help but trace the lines of your face with his eyes as you glance over the menu.

Startled out of his admiring trance by your sharp gaze pinning him with a smile, he forces his stare to stay above your lips as you give a half laugh and request, “A chai latte with oatmilk and extra cloves, please.”

You never try anything new.

Today it’s yellow.

The bell above the door rings an announcement of your arrival, and there you are; wearing a warm yellow dress with thick black tights that keep the chill off, your cheeks flushed from the cold.

He can’t say your smile lights up a room, because from his perspective, your smile blacks the room out. Everyone else disappears. No one and nothing exists except for you, right before his eyes, your windswept hair a halo around your brow.

He hands off the drink he’s just finished making for another regular customer, sending them out the door with a kind smile, and then turns to you just as your fingertips touch down on his counter top.

It’s almost procedural, the way he anticipates each move you make just before you make it. You slide your fingertips towards the register before laying your palms flat, cocking your hip against the counter as though you have to lean closer to see the menu.

Your eyes trace the words and pictures for a few long seconds, gifting him with the view of your throat curving up towards your jaw, and the contemplative bow of your lips. And then, finally, you’ll drop your eyes to his, smile like you’ve never been more excited to order a cup of coffee, and then you place your order.

Always a chai latte with oatmilk and extra cloves.

“Good morning,” He greets you when you appear in a pink jumpsuit. His eyes follow the sounds of your bracelets jingling, up to the clink of the two necklaces you always wear, up to the cheeky swish of the earrings that ornate all three of your lobe piercings.

Your eyes fall from the menu to his face like they’ve been physically pushed, surprised by his friendly voice, and he doesn’t think he imagines the sudden rush of heat that crawls up your throat with a wash of color. “Oh.”

He’s caught you off-guard; he knows, because you’ve never given him that upward tilt of your voice before.

“Good morning!” You sing back, that smile pulling your lips back.

“Chai latte with oatmilk?” He recalls, already lifting a cup and holding his marker at the ready.

“With extra cloves.” You confirm, slightly in awe that he’s remembered.

Of course he remembers.

He flashes you a wink just before he turns around to start on your drink, and sees you in his peripheral moving towards the pickup counter. You’re smiling down at the rings that clutter your fingers, and he can’t help the swarm in his chest that floods in as a result of the fact that this time, you’re the one flustered over him.

The day that you arrive at the café to find that your latte is already made and ready for you, you’re missing one of your earrings. He catches your eye as you enter, his gaze flickering over that blue sweater again as you approach the register.

Before you can order, he’s pushing your full, steaming cup towards you and the screen is already flashing your total. His eyes flick from yours to the empty piercing on your left lobe. “Good morning,” He says.

You’re staring down at the cup with a sort of delighted, half-confusion, before your gaze snaps back up to him. “Is this—”

“Chai latte with oatmilk and extra cloves.” He confirms with a grin. Then he falters, tilting his head at you. “Unless you want something different today?”

Your hands bring the cup closer to you, possessively. “No, this is perfect.” You argue, and then you’re digging for your billfold. “Thank you…” You drift off, eyebrows lifting hopefully as you hint around for his name.

“Changbin.” A pink tint covers his cheeks as his grin softens. “And you?”

You give him your name, and your money, and leave the café with butterflies in your stomach.

When he finds the missing earring a few feet from the entrance to his café, accidentally dropped on the sidewalk, he scoops it up and tucks it in his pocket with care.

On an unseasonably warm day, you appear at his register in a shorter black skirt and a slouchy gray sweater that hangs off all the protruding points of your body with teasing subtlety. He passes you your drink, with the addition of a new flavor of muffin that his baker is trying out in the form of mini pastries, and notices that your skirt is well above your knees, fluttering around your mid-thigh in a way that has his gut clenching.

The tights don’t distract at all from the musculature of your legs and the curve of your ass that suddenly seems dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

“Good morning, Changbin,” You greet cheerfully, and the sound of his name in your mouth brings his attention back to your bright features.

He makes sure no one follows you home. Your sweater is too flirty with your curves, your skirt too short, for him to rely on the strength and decency of lesser men.

You make it home, safe and sound, to your modest and tasteful townhouse. You live on the ground floor, surrounded by windows and bathed in soft fluorescent lighting.

You listen to pop music in the mornings, and early 2000s grunge rock in the afternoons. He takes note of the artists you listen to the most, and, soon enough, when you walk into the café in the mornings, there’s familiar music playing through the speakers.

He lives for the way it makes you smile when you notice.

As you get ready every morning, you put the same TV show on in the background, so he finds the station. It takes a few days for you to realize that he has it on one of the TVs mounted in the corners of his café, but when you do, you start lingering for a few extra moments every day to catch a couple seconds with fondness on your face.

He’s never watched an episode of the show in his life, but if it gets him two more sentences out of you every morning, consider him obsessed. He watches it all the time.

All of your snacks and meals are high protein and low sugar, because you go to the gym for two hours every other day and your one self indulgent treat is the sugary chai latte with oatmilk and extra cloves that he makes for you.

This fact warms him from the inside out, because he resonates with this lifestyle choice. Your gym is near his, and it’s almost as large, almost as nice. You’re a hard worker, your beautiful curves the product of self discipline and dedication. He stops offering you his baker’s pastries and starts giving you the rich and smoky cheesy egg bites instead, and starts to realize that the guilty smile you once accepted your freebies with is now replaced by weightless excitement.

There’s not a single inch of you that needs less sugar, of course. He’d give you every muffin in his shop if he thought that was what you wanted. But he understands the yen for the feeling of progress in the gym, and the burden of cheating yourself through bad nutrition, so if he can help you feel like you’re getting stronger, he will. Hell, he’d start serving steak in his café if he thought you had an iron deficiency.

“Changbin!” You keen one morning as you flounce to the register in a flattering red blouse that he watched you pick out this morning. You lean against the counter with a great heave, and past the rush of excitement he feels for the very deliberate interaction you’re giving him, he notices a trace of greenish blue wrapping around your throat.

Then you turn your head and the light shifts the shadows on your skin, and he’s not sure.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” He greets casually, despite the pink tinge to his cheeks. “What’s going on?”

You scrub your nails over your scalp with exasperation and then set your enormous pleading eyes on him. “Binnie…”

His gut swirls.

That’s a new nickname.

It’s in his head now, locked into his brain, the way your tongue forms the sweet sound of his name like that.

“Changbin,” you say again. “Changbinnie.”

Despite the absolute earthquake happening in his chest, he gives you the flattest expression of suspicion that he can manage, and hopes his skin tone isn’t currently tomato. “I’m not sure I like the sound of this.” It’s a lie.

A bald faced lie. He loves the sound of this. He wants you to keep repeating his name like that until it’s all he can hear.

Your bottom lip juts out in a pout, and he has to physically turn away to clean the milk steamer before he loses control in his place of business.

“Tell me you haven’t made my latte yet?” You plead, leaning further on the counter.

When he glances over his shoulder, he sees the way you’ve inadvertently showcased your breasts for him, and he spins around again, pinching his eyes shut. As though his apartment walls aren’t disappearing more and more by the day behind pictures of you.

As though he doesn’t know every single color in your underwear drawer.

“No, not yet. Why?” Another lie. The latte is sitting by his left hand, still steaming, just waiting for your manicured hands and perfectly lined lips.

“My blender broke this morning.” You whine, and dig in your purse for something. “I know you have smoothies on your menu, but I was wondering if you would add my protein powder to one? Is that legal, to take an ingredient from a customer?” You flap an admittedly suspicious looking ziplock bag at him. “I have a protein smoothie every morning for breakfast, and at this point it’s more of a crutch than my latte and I’ll just spiral for the rest of the day if I don’t start it with a strawberry shake, so please, Binnie—”

He cuts you off with one hand covering the one of yours that holds the ziplock, and the other pushing your latte towards you. “I have protein powder. You want vanilla or strawberry for your strawberry smoothie?”

Your mouth makes a beautiful “O” shape as your free hand cups the hot latte. “I thought you hadn’t made it?”

Changbin tosses a wink over his shoulder, already grabbing the vanilla protein powder. He already knows it’ll be vanilla. He already knows you want the whey powder and not the plant-based. He already knew about the blender.

Your morning may have started with an unexpected hiccup, but his is going exactly according to plan.

“Pull up a chair and drink while I make your smoothie. The latte is on the house.”

You immediately protest, but he won’t hear of it. He basks in your company as you sip down every bit of your comfort beverage, and then offers idle chatter between the scenes of your TV show as you spend ten minutes more than usual in his café, drinking your protein smoothie.

He got a full thirty minutes with you this morning, and it’s worth every second.

The morning that you wake up with another man steals the smile from his face. You must have brought him home with you last night, invited him to stay over, and are now foregoing your sacred protein smoothie in your new blender for a more traditional breakfast of eggs and toast, for the sake of your half-naked guest.

Changbin’s heels haven’t cooled even by the time you make it into the café for your latte, and he’s especially somber when you order an additional drink, a reeking pumpkin cappuccino that he’s forgotten to erase from the menu from a month ago.

He notices the extra warmth in your smile; your excitement is diminished, replaced with a satisfied contentment that makes his shoulders tense.

You’re falling in love with this new man, blushing down at your phone and walking home with your chin high, waking up in the mornings with a smile on your lips.

Changbin serves you every morning, your rich and creamy oatmilk chai latte with extra cloves, and the nauseating pumpkin cappuccino for your bedfellow. He doesn’t know why this man doesn’t come to the coffee shop with you, if he sends money or if he makes you pay for both of your drinks, if he even likes the autumn atrocity that Changbin makes with shaking hands every day.

The fire in his throat only heats when your drink order abruptly changes to two hot green teas. He watches you turn down his readily prepared chai latte with an awkward darting of your eyes, lifting your hand in refusal as though if he doesn’t take it away, you’ll reach out and snatch it from him.

“I’m actually getting some green teas this morning,” You say, and he knows he isn’t imagining the disappointed chuckle in your tone.

He takes your discarded usual away without hesitation, suddenly concerned that you may have developed an allergy or an intolerance for your favorite drink, but you just swipe a palm over your forehead and lean your elbow on the counter, settling into the comfort of your casual friendship with the attentive barista. “My boyfriend and I have decided to start eating healthier,”

Changbin can’t bring himself to believe you. You eat vegetables and chicken or fish for lunch, you snack on cheese and meat, you bake with honey instead of sugar, and he can’t remember the last time he’s seen you without a water bottle in hand, in various stages of emptiness.

“We’re opting away from the lattes and cappuccinos for a bit.” You give another awkward laugh that turns his stomach, and he raises his eyebrows at you.

“You like the green tea?” He’s surprised. You have tea at home, of course, but it’s all black teas—rich and spicy and meant to be topped with a swirl of milk and brown sugar.

The skin around your mouth tightens as you fight a shiver. “Oh, no, but my boyfriend does.”

“I can make you something different,” He offers. “I have a bunch of teas. I just got in a new chai spice blend—” He breaks off when you raise your hand again, a physical barrier between your weakening determination and his tempting offer.

“That’s okay, Binnie. I think it tastes like soap and grass, but I promised him I’d give it a chance. Just the two green teas, please.” And you give him a sweet smile, just to make sure he knows that you’re not frustrated with him so much as your new dietary commitments.

You know he’s about to argue again, so you toss an appreciative glance around his coffee bar. “You live around here? I can’t imagine working every day like you do.”

“The apartment upstairs is mine,” He explains. “This café is my life; it’s not really a job anymore.”

“Wow.” Your soft voice is awash with jealousy. “That sounds like a dream.”

He hums softly at you, pulling the tea from his shelf. “It only tastes like soap and grass if you brew it too hot,” He says, and flicks on the kettle, indicating the thermometer on the lid. “If it tastes fishy, or sudsy, it’s either steeped too long or brewed too hot. Brew it low, steep it briefly, add a drop of honey, I swear it tastes like summer. If you don’t like it, I’ll give it to you for free.”

You protest, rolling your eyes nervously at his kindness, insisting that you’re not going to like it but you’re going to pay anyway. But when he hands you the drink—yours with honey and the boyfriend’s without—he urges you to take a delicate sip and watches your anticipating frown fade into pleasant surprise.

“Oh, it’s not bad.” You say, and beam at him.

He beams right back. “You want more honey?”

You shake your head. “No, this is fine. I’m still not sold on the flavor, but it’s not rancid like it’s always been from other shops. Thank you, Changbin!” And then you skip right out of his shop, on your way to deliver the drinks you don’t even like to your boyfriend.

But then, the morning that you arrive at his register with dark circles under your eyes and a downward slant to your lips doesn’t bring him the sense of relief that he thought it would. Your voice is low and unengaging as you order the teas, your smile unconvincing as you pay and leave without so much as a glance toward the TV.

Your boyfriend starts waking up earlier than you, leaving you to eat breakfast by yourself. It allows you to go back to your usual protein smoothies for breakfast, which seems to grant you at least a little bit of peace.

It seems that you’re still meeting him for lunch, because you still come in and order the two teas that you hate so much, but you hardly even talk to Changbin anymore. He watches your posture droop when you walk home, watches the way your muscles bunch and tense when your boyfriend looms behind you to greet you, hears the rising voices float across the street as you argue for the hundredth time.

Changbin hates the man who’s taken you from lovesick and floating on air to burdened and fearful. He hates the snippets of your life that he gets to see, the early morning sighs of disappointment as you realize you’re waking up alone again, the drag of your feet as you prepare to head in and grab the teas, your discouraged slump after lunch when your boyfriend comes home from work.

So when the morning comes that you arrive with your makeup sloppily done, tear tracks splitting the seamless layer of your foundation, and you order a single chai latte with oatmilk and extra cloves, Changbin smiles sympathetically at you and gives it to you for free.

He had watched you receive the breakup text over breakfast, his heart keening as you cried into your smoothie, his gut clenching as you sniffled your way through applying and reapplying your mascara, smiling proudly as you stared at yourself in your bedroom mirror and set your shoulders, determined to go about your day as you intended.

“His loss, gorgeous.” He says, unprompted, as your purple-tipped fingers curl around your cup of comfort.

Your eyes snap up to him, wide with surprise, and for a second his smile stalls. But then he reaches across the counter and presses a napkin into your hand, gesturing to where your eyeliner has fallen from your lower lid, and says, “I assume the tears, the single drink, and the lack of rancid green tea means your boyfriend isn’t in the picture anymore.”

Suspicion falls from your shoulders and you dab at your eyes brokenly. “Your tea was never rancid, Changbin.”

He reaches across the counter in a move that he, himself, wasn’t anticipating, and covers your hand with his own. “I know you’re having a bad day, gorgeous, but you can always talk to me.”

That brings a smile to your face. “Do you give all your customers such five star service?”

“Only the crying ones,” He winks, and then gives your hand a squeeze once he notices that you haven’t tried to pull it away.

You gather yourself with a bit of his offered strength, pushing your shoulders back and swallowing the next threatening round of tears, and flash him a smile that holds a trace of your old vibrancy.

He smiles proudly back at you. “Can I assume you’ll be taking your usual from now on?”

You nod, pulling a long drink from the beverage you’ve missed for so long, and give him the most beautiful sigh of contentment. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Binnie.”

“See you soon, gorgeous.”

It turns out, that ominous bruise on your throat from a couple months ago wasn’t a trick of the light.

You bounce into the café wearing a shade of green that makes your eyes pop, earrings jingling as you make your way to the register. When you take a habitual gander at the menu, as though you’ll ever order anything but your usual ever again, he sees it again.

Not greenish blue, like it was that time, but a bright red and darkening purple, freshly settling into the flesh of your smooth throat.

You’re chattering about something, his peripheral catching flashes of your teeth as you talk, and his ears catch the clatter of your bracelets when you gesture with a hand to punctuate whatever point you’re making, but Changbin’s eyes are on the faint handprint beneath your jaw.

A paper to-go cup, mercifully empty, crushes in his angry fist, and your words stop abruptly.

“Binnie?”

His mouth stutters open, mind searching for words to demand an explanation for the signs of violence against you, stare still stuck on the marring of your perfect skin and supple flesh, when a delicate blanket of warmth covers his shaking hand. His mouth clicks shut, gaze dropping to where your hand is wrapped around his.

“Binnie. It’s fine.” How you knew what is speeding through his mind escapes him, because all he can see is another handprint, this one wrapped around your wrist, barely concealed by the stacks of mismatched bracelets.

When he finally catches your eyes, you look embarrassed and ashamed, but not unwell. Your smile is weaker this time, and his fingers pinch around the crumpled cup when he notices your lips trembling. “Binnie, I swear it’s fine.”

He takes your hand on his as permission to reach for you, and he tosses the cup in the trash and leans against the counter, his hand sliding up your forearm to grip your elbow. “Is someone hurting you?” His eyes narrow and his head cocks to peer under your jaw at the large, obviously male handprint.

Now that he’s close enough, he sees redness on your scalp, thin spots in your hair, tiny specks of crusted blood. Someone’s been yanking you around by the hair, and he’s almost sure it’s not a consensual act.

His mind is made up then, certain that something bad is happening in your house after he’s gone, determined that he needs to stick around longer and make sure you’re okay. Some time between his afternoon watch and his early morning check in, you’re being harmed by someone much larger than you.

When he looks away from the bruise at last, feeling your perfectly painted nails dig into the muscle of his forearm, he finds tears in your eyes.

“I’m okay, Binnie, I swear.” You whisper, and your free hand reaches for the latte that he tried to give you right before he noticed your damaged throat.

He loosens his grasp on you—it wasn’t tight to begin with, but he doesn’t want you feeling trapped. Instead of helping you reach the latte, he brings his hand up and lifts some of the loose strands of your hair away from your throat.

Changbin hears your breath catch, sees the pulse racing beneath your ear, so he pulls back. He drops his palms on the counter and watches you with a frown, observing as you desperately try to collect yourself from the intimate touches he’s surprised you with.

He can’t do anything about it until he knows what’s going on, so he just matches your weak smile and clears his throat. “Don’t go letting someone hurt my best customer, alright? No, put that away, it’s on me today.” He makes a waving motion at you as you go for your billfold, and the tension escapes from your chest.

Your voice sings with light laughter. “How can I be your best customer if you keep giving me things for free?”

Changbin just nods towards your latte. “Get out of here, gorgeous. Enjoy your drink.”

“I always do, Binnie.”

It’s your brother.

There’s a definite family resemblance in the slope of your noses and the bends of your knuckles, but the similarities stop there.

It’s after dinner that he arrives—two, three times a week—bursting into your house with no regard for your privacy or boundaries, rifling through the wallet that you keep on the mail table. His voice booms through the house, calling for you, so loudly it travels across the street.

He’s the reason you start coming in with darker bruises, poorly concealed by makeup on your throat, on your wrists, under your eyes. He’s the reason more of your hair tangles in your shower drain in clumps bunched together by clotted blood. He’s the reason for the spattering of bruises across the smooth skin of your chest, the reason you’ve stopped wearing bras with underwire that press into your damaged ribs for the sake of soft and gentle sports bras.

Your brother is the reason you sit on your bed at night, pressing an ice pack to your naked thigh where a faint boot print has stiffened the flesh. He’s the reason two of your fingers are wrapped and splinted, and the reason that Changbin has watched you sell your family piano and your late father’s expensive stereo set.

All for drug money.

Threats and violence and theft from your own brother so he can meet with his dealer outside the fourth street McDonalds.

Your smiles grow heavier and Changbin’s heart pounds harder as he watches you tremble in front of him, holding your latte with both hands. The expensive stones from your jewelry collection are gone, as is the vintage watch that your grandmother gave you.

It’s getting worse.

Your brother comes by more often, he gets more desperate. He’s no longer just looking for drug money, now he’s in debt, and you don’t have the means to help him pay it back. Not that he can be convinced of that.

You stop coming to the café. Changbin knows why, he knows you don’t have the money to spend on a drink every morning—even though most times he gives it to you for free. You won’t take advantage of him, even though he tells you you don’t have to pay.

Instead, he sees you tenderly rise from bed, walking on stiff and pained legs to your closet, dragging loose clothes over your mottled skin. You haven’t stocked up on your protein powder; it’s an expensive supplement, and your bank account is drained from your brother’s latest visit. Your breakfast is the last of your frozen strawberries, blended with yogurt and honey, and you sag over your straw like you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

He sees you bend over your work with your water bottle next to you, not having the energy to take your usual gym break. Instead, you nap.

You’re drained of money, drained of strength, drained of hope.

He sees you lock your door, and then sweep up the splintered wood after your brother breaks it down. He sees you block the door with a bookshelf, and then collect all of your books off the floor after your brother shoves it aside anyway. You try everything, from nailing the door shut to setting a burglar alarm, but you just end up having to clean up shattered windows or stand silently while your brother explains to the police what a silly misunderstanding it all is.

And then one night, the one night that Changbin has to stay late to update his inventory after his weekly supply shipment at the café, there’s a knock on his apartment door. He’s fresh out of the shower, upper half bare and a towel draped over his shoulders, one end of it clutched in his hand and scrubbing the dampness from his hair, when he swings the door open and there you are.

You’re a tortured vision in white; white t-shirt and white sweatpants, your face streaked with tears and your left eye swollen from a fresh beating, and you throw yourself into his arms like you’ve known him forever.

He’s stunned, panicking, desperate to get you out of his apartment, but he’s a weak, weak man because you’re wrapped so tightly around him, your hands pressed into his back, your chest flush against his, your damp face curled into his neck, and his brain just blanks out.

The towel drops from his grasp and his arms find their way around you. Whether it’s his heart or yours that’s pounding like a jackhammer between you is unknowable, especially when he breathes in the scent of you. He knows the smell, knows it like his own home, but it’s different when it’s directly from you.

You’re weeping into his ear, trembling beneath his hands, and he’s forgotten everything he needs to hide.

“Slow down, gorgeous, I’m here.”

You crumble in his arms, sagging against his chest.

“I’m here.” His hands smooth delicately over your hair, mindful of the abrasions that you’ve suffered, and his strong arms keep you on your feet.

“I need help, Binnie.” You weep, pulling back ever so slightly. Your eyes flutter open and it’s like the entire ocean is inside them. “Please, Changbin, I—”

And then it’s too late.

Your gaze drifts over his shoulder, and there they are.

The walls are covered. Printouts, pictures, drawings. You sipping your smoothie in your kitchen, you working at your computer in your home office, you tugging a shirt over your head, the lace of his favorite red bra peeking out between the hem of the shirt and the skin of your stomach, you doing your hair in your bedroom mirror.

You.

It’s too late. He can’t get a word out before you bolt.

Gone in a second, terrified by the man you had run to for safety, disappearing into the night.

You pull all your curtains closed after that. The lights in your house are always off, a for sale sign goes up in your yard. You exist in the darkness, hiding in the shadows, suffering alone.

His heart breaks as he feels you slip further and further through his fingers.

You’re still hurting, still being hunted. Your brother keeps coming, keeps attacking you, keeps stealing from you. He’ll take the money from your house, too, Changbin already knows it.

It makes him angry.

He’s so angry, he hasn’t touched his camera in weeks. He’s so angry, he hasn’t swiped an article of clothing to hold onto the scent of you in ages. He’s so angry that your own brother has treated you so badly, that now all he does is watch.

Because you won’t be getting any more bruises.

You are so scared and tired of your brother’s treatment of you that you ran to Changbin’s apartment for the first time in your life, just to seek protection. You trusted him. You wanted his help. You knew he would protect you.

A million pictures of you aren’t worth that gift.

So he watches.

And waits.

And then, one night, just as the sun has disappeared beneath the neighborhood houses behind yours, your brother pulls up in the driveway. He stumbles out of his car, jerking with nerves, and pounds your door down, disappearing inside your home.

Each crash fills Changbin with rage. Each shatter, each groan of damaged belongings sets his blood on fire, until he’s across the street and on your porch. He finds the key where you’ve left it in the hanging pot and pushes the door open, skillfully dodging the creaky floor panels in the entryway.

The desperate grate of your brother’s voice worms into his ears like a venom, and the ensuing whimpers and cries from you settle in his stomach with painful weight. He rounds the corner and finds you there, your back pressed to the wall, your brother’s hands around your throat.

Your face is red from strangulation, your eyes wide and reddened from burst blood vessels, trails of crimson streaming from your scalp. Your brother is screaming about the money you owe him, money that he’s expected to find by some miracle after having already pilfered your paycheck earlier this week.

And then, just as your eyes begin to roll, you catch sight of Changbin. For a second, you freeze, and it’s fear in your expression as you behold the barista that you thought you knew, creeping through the shadows of your dark living room.

But then your brother’s other hand smacks against the split skin of your cheek, and your expression changes.

Changbin sees it.

You’re staring at him in relief, your mouth forming desperate pleas for help, tears spilling down your face in a sudden moment of vulnerability.

His chest clenches.

At your next whimper, he has your brother by the collar, hurling him backwards. At the thump of your feet hitting the floor, the rest of your body falling in a heap, his hands are fisted in your brother’s shirt, shoving him out of the house.

Your brother is spluttering and shouting in confusion and protest, while you’re coughing and gagging behind them.

There’s only a few seconds where your brother attempts to fight back, his wired muscles throwing stabbing punches into the dark at Changbin’s face, but he doesn’t land a single one. Instead, a deliberate blow strikes his jaw, knocking him back. Another hammers against his eye, and he sprawls in the grass, gasping for air.

You’re on your feet then, following them out of the house, standing on your porch as you watch through stinging eyes.

While your brother is stunned, Changbin turns and sees you, and he freezes. He knows he’s scared you. He knows he’s crossed every line of acceptable social interaction, and that you caught him red handed. He says your name, a whisper into the night, and your gaze shifts to him.

You’re thinking, panicking, mind no doubt tracing back through the evidence of his intrusion plastered all over his walls, the sanctity of your home utterly violated by his undetected presence.

While you try to make up your mind about it, Changbin can’t breathe.

But at this point, your brother can. “What the hell?” He gasps, breath clouding above his face. “This is none of your business, asshole.” He’s up on one knee then, cupping his face and getting his wits back.

Changbin whips around to face him, his fists once more clenched in fury. “Touch her again and I swear to god—”

“Binnie.”

Your voice is a song in his ears and his head snaps back around to you. Your hands wrap around his still tight fist, your eyes peering up at him in earnest. You’re leaning into his arm, begging for safety, and he sees the blood that spills over your lips.

You’re hurt, you need medical attention, and you’d rather be with him than with your brother.

“I’m gonna take you to the hospital, okay?” Changbin whispers, and when you nod weakly, he brings his hand to your temple. You’re hot, feverish, under his touch. “Will you let me do that, gorgeous?”

“You’re not taking her anywhere.” The voice is an inch away, and your hands grip Changbin’s bicep.

He reacts on impulse, shoving your brother away from himself, away from you, and can only watch as the larger man stumbles out onto the street, illuminated by the yellowish glow of headlights. And then it’s like that scene from Mall Cop—one minute he’s there, the next he’s been plowed out of sight like a sliding transition in a Star Wars movie.

You don’t scream.

You don’t cry.

Both of you gasping in shock at the completely unintentional turn of events, Changbin feels you press yourself into his side, your weak and bleeding arms winding around his back. He can’t believe you’re there, trusting him, clinging to him, but he holds you like you’ll disappear if he lets go.

He needs to take you to the hospital, let them figure out why you’re coughing up blood, check your bones for new breaks, but right now your face is nestled against his throat and he can’t move.

“You’re still such a creep.” Your broken voice whimpers, but your hand tightens in his shirt.

He could cry with relief. You’re not letting go. “I know,”

He gets a grumble in response. “You stole my favorite sweater.”

Not even the flashing red and blue lights speeding around the corner can take this moment from him. “I’m sorry, gorgeous. I’ll give it back.”

“Promise me you’ll burn the pictures.”

“All except the ones that incriminate your brother.”

“You swear?”

“I swear.”

Comment a request to be tagged for Hyunjin's next week!

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motorsportbarbie13 · 2 days ago

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Track Limits - Part One

(author's note: this is a fully original series that I wrote this summer, with fully original characters. I will be posting every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I won't be using my tag list for my F1 Fanfics, so if you want to be added to this one, please leave a comment! As always, my inbox is always open for suggestions, comments, questions, etc. I love love love hearing from you guys!!)

Warnings: brief talk about cheating boyfriend and panic attacks, but nothing serious on page Word Count: 3.1k

Intro Post Series Main Navigation Page Master List

Celine

CelineStG posted

CelineStG Siri, play 'Home' by Good Neighbors RealMollyGrace bitch, what? >>>CelineStG oops? AlexStGerard I’m sorry, since when are you home? >>>CelineStG Hi big brother, consider this my official notification that a sister visit in imminent. Hope you’re prepared! >>>AlexStGerard When am I ever prepared for a sister visit? >>>CelineStG Never. >>>AlexStGerard Exactly SebSimonet STG C if I don’t see you before quali I’m running you over with my car >>>CelineStG What an awful thing to say to your bestie. User123 Are you in town for the race? User34 Of course she is, her family literally owns a team. Idiot.

“Ms. Saint Gerard, what a pleasant surprise to see you today! Your father didn’t say anything about you visiting this week. Would you like me to take you to the estate then?” George Fishburn asks as he holds the car door open for me.

“No, no.” Waving him off, I slide into the back seat of the SUV. “I’m staying at the Hermitage this week.” I ignore the man’s raised eyebrows, choosing to pretend like he isn't giving me the opportunity to give him a little bit of gossip like I always tend to do. I’m certain he’s dying to ask why I won’t be staying with my father and on a normal day, I would have been happy to answer his questions. George has been my father’s driver and all around errand man for as long as I can remember and normally I would have gladly chatted with him about why I was suddenly home.

Today though? Today I was glad he was giving me the quiet distance that my melancholy mood craved.

“Could you take me to Alex’s condo and then drop my bags off at the hotel though? If it’s not too much trouble.” I ask once George has loaded my bags in the trunk and settled himself in the drivers seat.

He chuckles and rolled his eyes, “Of course it’s not too much trouble, you know that. I’ll leave you with your brother and take them up to your room myself.”

“Thank you.” I sigh as he starts the engine, sinking into the supple leather seats that are a sharp contrast to the turmoil rolling through me.

Moments later, he’s smoothly navigating the car out of the parking lot and is making his way towards the highway that leads from Nice to Monaco. My clenched jaw softens as I watch the French country side slip by, a wash of relief unknotting the constant stomachache I’ve been living with for weeks. Kilometer by kilometer, the tension that I’ve become quite acquainted with seems to melt away. I had woken up that morning in my townhome in London but this afternoon, I found myself home again.

Technically, Monaco isn’t really home, in the strictest sense of the word. I had lived in New York City until I was 14 but the tiny principality had always felt more like home than any apartment in the city or home in the country I had ever shared with my mother. My father had always brought my brother, Alex and I here during our summer visits after my parents had divorced when I was three. Sometimes I still wake up in the middle of a London rainstorm swearing I can smell the salty air of the Mediterranean and perfume of the wealthy residents.

So it really wasn’t quite a surprise that the only place I thought might be able to fix me after what I’d been through in the last six months was Monaco.

Slipping my phone out of the pocked of my bag, I check the notifications on my Instagram post earlier. It had been such a last minute trip to come home this week that I hadn’t even told my best friend, which she was apparently not very pleased about.

Moments after the I send the last text, my phone vibrates, interrupting the quiet tranquility that I had been soaking in.

“Are you okay?” Guilt sits at the edges of Molly’s tone when the call connects.

Glancing out the window, I tip my head back against the soft leather head rest as I ruminate over my answer.

“I’m...alive?” A dark chuckle escapes before I can stop it while I stare out the window as we begin to pass through the outskirts of Monte Carlo. I briefly catch a glimpse of the glittering sea that sits at the edge of the city. Even just the briefest of looks at the water chases a bit more of the anxiety that sits heavy in my chest away.

On the other end of the phone, I hear Molly shuffling about and the muffled voice of someone that sounded a lot like Bev, Molly’s PR manager. Checking my watch I suck in a breath, “Molly! You have a show in like 45 minutes, shouldn’t you be warming up?”

While Molly might be my best friend, she is also multi-Grammy award winning singer Molly Sharpe. We met five years ago when she had nearly thrown a punch at a drunk guy that was getting a bit too handsy with me at a party during the Cannes Film Festival. We had never said a single word to each other before she came to my rescue, somehow picking up on my panic from just a glance, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. Even when we were on opposite sides of the globe, which happened more often than not now that she was on tour, we try to FaceTime at least once a day.

“Nah, this is more important. I’m already warmed up anyway, so stop trying to deflect. What happened that made you literally flee the country?”

I barely fight the urge to groan. “I ran into William at a coffee shop thi-.” I stop mid-thought to correct myself. “No, no! I saw my cheating ex-boyfriend at MY coffee shop this morning, Molly! In MY neighborhood. On MY side of London!” I cry, my molars grinding together. “With whatever the fuck her names is, that stupid red head that he cheated on me with.”

Heat rises in my cheeks as I remember the scene from this morning. I had just left my pilates class and had been planning on making a quick run to the barn to exercise my horses even though that was the last place I wanted to be. But all of my plans came to a screeching halt when I saw William arm in arm with the girl he had cheated on me with walk straight into my favorite coffee shop.

“Coming from anyone else, I’d say you claiming it was ‘your’ side of London was simple hyperbole but I genuinely don’t doubt you and your family actually own a significant portion of the city.” Molly teases.

A smile tugs reluctantly at my lips, “Shut up.” I scoff. She was right, of course. My family had been the founding investor into the Formula One team that all these years later, still bares our last name. We had a luxury road car division that was the first bit of our business, the racing coming second after my great-grandfather fell in love with the sport. Simply put, St. Gerard was as synonymous with luxury car production as Chanel was with haute couture.

“So anyway, I saw him with her and I couldn’t breathe. I completely panicked. Between that and,” I pause, my breath catching in my lungs. “What happened last month, I just lost it. So, I did the most mature thing I could think of at the time.”

“And what was that?” Her tone held an edge of a laugh, like she knew this was going to be ridiculous.

“I called an Uber right there on the street corner, packed a bag, and chartered a flight home.”

“Céline Cristelle St. Gérard! That is the most out of touch way to deal with your problems.”

I let out a chuckle. “Thats rich coming from a girl who quite literally chartered a jet to fly her favorite chef from New Orleans to Portugal just to make her chicken noodle soup when she was sick last year.”

“That was a medical emergency.” She pouts.

“So you’re telling me that you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing?”

Molly cackles and I could just imagine her throwing her head back laughing in the green room at whatever stadium she was performing in tonight, “Oh no, I would. We’re both equally insane and privileged. It’s a dangerous combination. Go on.”

“That’s it. I flew home. I don’t even have any luggage packed. We were 20 minutes off the ground when I remembered that the race was in Monaco this weekend and panicked that I wasn’t going to be able to find a place to stay but I somehow managed to find a room at the Hermitage.”

“You’re not staying with your father?”

“Ha! Absolutely not. He’ll be furious with me when he hears about what I did yesterday.”

In addition to a cheating ex-boyfriend that had just broken my heart recently, I'd also decided a few days ago that I was done with show jumping for the season. There had only been a few competitions but after what had happened six weeks ago to my heart horse, I just didn't have the competitive drive in me anymore. For as long as I could remember, show jumping had been my 'thing'. Alex had racing and the team but I had always had my horses.

Until I didn't.

On the other end of the phone, my best friend gasps. “You haven’t told him yet?” She shrieks.

“I was kind of hoping the press would do it for me, to be honest.” I wince, nibbling at a cuticle my manicurist missed at my nail appointment yesterday.

“Céline!” Molly hisses.

Rubbing my free hand over my face, I groan into the phone. “I know! I know! I’m a coward. I’m actually on my way to see Alex to try to figure out how the hell to break it to the old man. He’s going to be so mad.”

Molly’s tone softens at the guilt that I know fills my voice. “He won’t be if you’re honest with him.”

I stay silent for a moment, considering Molly’s words. I know my father is going to lose his mind when he finds out that I had made this huge, life altering decision without even so much as consulting him. Not because he’d tell me that I wasn’t allowed to but because show jumping is such a big part of my life and making such a big decision like pulling out of competition for the year without even so much as consulting him was going to set him off. My father was solidly of the 'the St. Gerard family is not a family of quitters' belief and this was going to break his heart.

“Listen. We just pulled up to Alex’s place so I’m going to let you go. Say a little prayer that I survive the first firing squad?”

“Alex will be on your side, he always is. Text me later and I’ll call you after the show if it’s not too late.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too Cece.”

Theo

TheoJHighgate Posted

TheoJHighgate Rolling into Monaco race week like... user918 the curls are curling evansracing so excited!! user0199 does this man know what he does to us??? >>>user029 oh 100%

The Evans Racing garage thrums with the kind of energy that only happens during race week. Mechanics scurry around my car making any last minute adjustments before the first of three rounds of practice tomorrow, the sounds their tools make a familiar grind in my ear. I lean against one of the many sleek orange and black toolboxes that line one side of the garage, taking it all in.

Monaco is my favorite track on the entire circuit. I have so many good memories here that every time this weekend rolls around, I try to soak in as much of the energy I can. The team has been really consistent so far this season but we’re still winless and this weekend feels like the perfect time to remedy that situation.

“Theo.” A sharp voice yanks me out of my podium day dreams. “My office. Now.” Scott Hayes, Evans Racing’s team principal stands just outside his office door, his expression all storm clouds threatening a downpour. Fuck, he does not look happy.

I straighten, ignoring the stares from the mechanics who are trying to look busy while hoping to overhear the verbal undressing I feel like I’m about to get. I shuffle through my memory quickly as I push off the tool box. While I have somewhat (read: huge) of a reputation in the paddock of being the driver that gives the PR team the most headaches before race weekends, I don’t think I’ve done anything recently to bring the wrath of Scott Hayes down on me lately.

“Sounds like I’m about to be on the receiving end of one of your inspiring pep talks boss.” I flash him my most disarming smile, trying to hide the pit that has suddenly formed in my stomach.

Scott simply rolls his eyes and steps back into his office without another word, leaving me no choice but to follow.

Fantastic.

“Good luck in there.” My performance coach Levi McAllen claps me on the back when I walk past him. “Find me after and we’ll go through what he says, okay?”

What he means is ‘I’ll talk you down off the ledge Scott is about to put you on’. While Scott Hayes is a legend in Formula One, he’s also one of the scariest mother fuckers I’ve ever worked for. I hate being on his bad side, which seems to happen on a regular basis more and more lately. Thankfully, my driving makes up for it. Most of the time.

“Yeah, yeah.” I sigh dramatically, running a hand through my mess of dark brown curls that are in desperate need of a haircut. I make a mental note to get to my barber before tonight’s charity gala, knowing our PR manager Loraine will have my head if I don’t. If I can show up with a clean cut mullet, she usually doesn't give me shit. The way that woman had almost buzzed off my entire head of hair when I showed up one day a few months ago with said mullet was almost scary. There might have been tears.

Weaving my way through the labyrinth of the garage easily, I manage to pretend I'm ignoring the engineers who keep tossing what look like sympathetic glances my way.

This is not going to be good.

I shut the door behind me, the snick of the latch the only sound in the quiet office.

Scott waves a hand towards one of the two white plastic chairs in front of his desk.

“Theo.” He begins, his voice softening a fraction. “We’ve invested a lot in you. You’re our number one driver, the face of Evans Racing in F1.”

I nod, a flicker of pride settling the anxiety still churning in my stomach a bit. Being a Formula 1 driver has been my dream since the first time my dad plopped me down behind the wheel of a go kart. It’s exactly where I want to be. Fast cars, pretty girls, the roar of the crowd dressed in your team colors - it’s a life I’ve dreamt of since I was a scrappy little kid fighting for the podium on dusty, back woods karting tracks.

“Frankly, Theo,” Scott continues, his voice turning rough again, “The results haven’t been there. A few podiums, yeah, but no wins. We’ve poured resources into this car and it’s showing. We need you to step it up, to translate that speed into wins.”

I lean back in my chair, shoulders dropping. He’s not wrong. We certainly had the fastest car on the grid most weekends but I hadn’t capitalized on it yet. The media was starting to chatter about how I might not have the skill or mentality to handle a fast car and championship fight. Here I was, my sixth season in F1 and only one win to my name. And that singular win had taken me four and a half seasons to get. Sure, I was consistent enough, I hold the record for the most podiums before winning a race in all of F1 history. Second and third place finishes will only get you so far in this sport though, especially when your team has made huge leaps in technology in the last half dozen years.

The responsibility of translating that speed and those improvements into wins sat squarely on my shoulders.

“I know, Scott.” I say. “Believe me, I want to win just as much as you guys do. Probably even more.”

It was true. My entire career I’ve been the ‘solid, consistent, well performing driver’. Good enough to gain the attention of Evans back when I was just 16 years old driving in F3 but never quite good enough to be considered one of the greats. And the reputation of being ‘almost good enough’ starts to grate on your ego after a while.

Scott studies me a moment, a hint of doubt lingering in his eyes. “Theo,” He says finally, “you have the talent we want here at Evans. We wouldn’t have signed you otherwise. You’re a natural behind the wheel, your race craft impeccable. But sometimes…” He trails off, the silence of his unfinished words hanging heavy in the air.

I know exactly what he’s trying to say. The late nights, the tabloid headlines, the reputation for being a player that follows me like a shadow. It’s a tightrope I usually walk a little better than I have been lately. Balancing the bad boy image with the laser focus I need on the track was something I’m usually good at. Or at least I thought I was.

Maybe I’m not as good at the balancing act as I thought I once was.

“I’ll do better.” I promise, meeting his heated gaze head-on. “This race, this whole season? It’s mine. No more distractions, just wins.”

A flicker of something that might have qualified as a smile crosses his lips. “We’ll see.” He says, a hint of steel still in his voice. “We’ll see. Your contract is coming to an end this year and we want you to be in this seat next year. You are the heart and soul of this team but we need you to start winning.”

We both knew my word is only as good as my last race. The pressure was on. I had to get serious about my driving. I know I have it in me to be a better driver, that I haven’t hit the peak of my career yet. I was just running out of time to finally find the missing piece to the puzzle that was my career. I had to find it and I had to find it fast.

Tag List (reminder, this is 100% different from my normal tag list!)

@ahgase99

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pinkskiessss · 2 days ago

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LACY - chapter 5

Paige Bueckers x oc

Warnings: internalized homophobia, mature content

A/N: I feel like alot of the last few chapters have been about Layla really struggling with coming to terms with identity/sexuality. Which I wanted to write because I wanted to show the process of really coming to terms with being queer and how it isn’t just something you immediately accept in one night, based on my own experiences personally ofc. So with that being said, I hope someone else can find comfort in her character or relates. (Also forgot to write this in, but for anyone wondering, Layla has been involved “romantically” with guys in the past, but I think it’s just a realization now for her that it was like a cover up for who she actually is, because she’s feeling emotions she’s never felt towards a man, towards a woman if that makes sense. Basically she’s gay lol hope this helps! Which like same girl) Anywayssss sorry for the rant, enjoy loves!

—

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the folded note on my bedside table.

I hope you feel better. Text me when you get up.

I exhaled slowly, the events of last night still swirling in my mind. Her low voice, her subtle touches—it made my skin crawl, the way I feel when she touches me. Even if it’s only for a second. The way it made something stir inside me that I couldn’t ignore, but couldn’t accept either.

I grabbed my phone and texted her, my fingers shaking slightly.

Me: Hey, I just woke up. Thanks for taking care of me last night. I’m sorry for being such a mess.

Her reply came quickly, almost like she’d been waiting for me.

Paige: Don’t trip. You’re good. Seriously.

Paige: You feeling better?

Me: Yeah, a little. Thanks again.

There was a short pause before her next message came through.

Paige: Can we talk? In person, if you’re not busy?

I hesitated, biting my lip. I didn’t want to see her, not right now. I’d rather save myself the embarrassment. But I couldn’t avoid it forever.

Me: Sure. You can come over if you want. I’m heading to the gym soon to practice, though.

Paige: Volleyball grind? Big game coming up, right?

Me: Yeah, it’s the regional final this weekend. If we win, we’re in the Final Four.

Paige: No pressure or anything

Me: Tell me about it lol

Paige: Can I come practice with you for fun cause why not? I won’t distract you to much I swear.

I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her trying to play volleyball.

Me: Ok sure, if you insistttt

When Paige arrived, she was dressed in basketball shorts and a black tee, her hair pulled into a messy bun. Somehow she always looks perfect like all the time. It’s crazy actually.

—

We set up the net, and Paige was already messing around with the volleyball like she had no idea what she was doing. I tossed her the ball.

“Alright, ready?” I asked.

She caught it but didn’t seem to know what to do next. “Uh, sure. Can’t be too hard.”

Her first attempt was… not great to say the least. The ball went flying across the gym, and she just stood there, looking at it like it had betrayed her.

“Okay, so let’s just act like you didn’t see that,” she said, laughing at herself.

I couldn’t help but laugh too, the tension easing just a little. “Maybe try not to hit it like you’re dunking a basketball.”

“Yo I didn’t sign up for this kind of slander, not to much on me,” she said with a grin. “But fine, I’ll try again.”

We kept going, and she got a little better—or at least, less terrible. But I couldn’t focus. My mind kept drifting back to last night, what I asked her in a drunken haze. How awkward it feels that I got drunk and slipped into a vulnerable state where I felt comfortable enough to ask her how she knew she was gay. Like come on Layla, why do you always have to make shit weird.

I tried to push it out of my mind, but when she stood beside me, her shoulder brushing mine as we took a break, I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. The kind of knot that made me want to run. To escape this feeling.

“Layla,” Paige said softly, breaking the silence. “You okay?”

I glanced at her, swallowing hard. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She didn’t seem convinced. She took a step closer, her eyes searching mine. “You sure? You don’t have to pretend everything’s fine if it’s not, you know this.”

I shook my head, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Paige. I don’t even know why I asked you what I did. It just… felt like something I needed to say. I was really drunk and confused I guess. But now, I just feel… weird.”

Paige’s expression shifted, a flicker of something defensive in her eyes. “Weird how?”

I was silent, except for the sound of my breath, heavy and uneven. I could feel the weight of Paige’s words pressing down on me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside me was breaking. I didn’t know how to fix it.

“I just don’t get it, Layla,” Paige said, her voice a little shaky but firm. “Why are choosing to continuously hurt yourself by denying the facts.”

“I’m not. I just—” I paused, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want people to look at me like it’s all they see when I play. I don’t want to be judged. People already say enough disgusting stuff online about queer people. Imagine what they would say if they found out an athlete they looked up to secretly liked the same gender. It would hurt my career so much if people found out Paige, you don’t get it.”

Paige’s face tightened, her blue eyes flashing with anger. “What the hell, Layla? Are you seriously forgetting that I’m gay myself? I would get it. People speculate about my sexuality all the time, and yeah, it’s obvious. Everyone knows it. Sure, there’s a small percentage of people who hate on me for it, and I see it. But if I let that control my life, I’d be a pretty shitty person. People always have their opinions, and most of them are garbage, but you can’t let them define how you see yourself. You’re letting people on the internet make you think you’re wrong for feeling how you feel. It’s fucking ridiculous.”

I flinched at her words, the anger in her voice cutting deeper than I expected. I didn’t answer, my heart pounding in my chest. She was right. She knew exactly what it was like to feel out of place. But I couldn’t help the way I felt.

“I’m sorry,” Paige says quietly, her voice suddenly soft, regret seeping into her tone. “I shouldn’t have said that the way I did at all. I shouldn’t have gotten that mad, I just hate hearing you talk about yourself like that.”

My hands were shaking now, and I wiped at my eyes, feeling the tears I’d been holding back start to fall. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t stop any of it.

Paige saw me crying, and her expression softened instantly. She stepped forward, reaching out to gently grab my arms, pulling them away from my face. “Layla, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let it get that far. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I looked up at her, my chest tight. “It’s not you, I just don’t know what to do, Paige. I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know how to make this go away.”

Paige’s eyes softened as she held my arms. “You don’t have to make it go away, Layla. You don’t have to figure it out right now. But please, don’t hate yourself for it. You’re not disgusting, or weird. You’re… you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Her words hit me like a wave, and for the first time, I felt like I could breathe. Like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t as lost as I thought.

“I really care for you,” Paige continued, her voice low and sincere. Hearing you talk about yourself like that—it hurts me. It hurts to see you think you’re not worth it. You are. You really are.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I felt a surge of warmth in my chest. I stepped closer to her, not sure what I was doing but knowing I needed to be near her. “I’m sorry, too,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

She smiled softly, her hand brushing against my cheek. “You don’t need to apologize. I just want you to know you’re not alone in this. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

I felt a pull in my chest, an undeniable connection that I couldn’t ignore. I leaned in slightly, my breath catching in my throat. I was close enough to feel the warmth of her skin, to see the way her blue eyes softened, the way her pink lips parted just slightly. My heart raced, the air thick with unspoken words, with everything we hadn’t said yet.

For a moment, everything seemed to stop. The world around us faded, leaving just the two of us in this fragile, suspended moment. I could hear the soft sound of her breathing, the way it matched mine, both of us caught in the tension that had been building between us.

I barely registered that I was moving closer until our noses were almost touching, the smallest breath between us. I could feel the heat of her body against mine, the way her cologne lingered in the air, intoxicating and all-consuming. I could feel the pull, stronger now, undeniable, and it was like something inside me snapped.

I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned in, closing the space between us, and my lips brushed against hers in the softest kiss. It was tentative at first, a question, a hesitation, but it felt right. Her lips were warm and inviting, soft as velvet, and I couldn’t help but press into her, deepening the kiss just slightly, my hands finding their way to her neck, pulling her closer.

Her lips moved against mine with a gentle pressure, and I responded instinctively, my body leaning into hers, craving more. There was no fear, no doubt. Just the rush of the moment, the way her touch made everything else fade away. It felt right.

But then, just as quickly as it started, I pulled away, breathless, my chest heaving. I looked at her, my heart pounding in my ears, and I saw the same intensity reflected in her eyes.

“Paige,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “I—”

She didn’t give me a chance to finish. Before I could say another word, she pulled me back to her, her lips crashing against mine with a hunger that took me by surprise. This time, there was no hesitation, no softness. Her hands were on my waist, pulling me even closer, and I could feel the urgency in her kiss, the way she needed me as much as I needed her.

I kissed her back with everything I had, my hands threading through her hair, pulling her even closer, if that was even possible. I could feel the heat between us, the way our bodies pressed together, desperate to feel more. It was a kiss that left no room for doubt, no space for anything but the raw, overwhelming undeniable connection between us.

—

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@unadulteratedcyclepaper

#paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x oc

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naughtyneganjdm · 2 days ago

Text

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 20

Summary: After denying Negan's proposal, Y/N is miserable alone. Negan shows up in attempts to fix things and later Joel shows up hoping to stop her from considering marrying Negan.

Characters: Joel Miller, the reader (OC), Negan Smith, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/158662978 Warnings: Swearing, Angst, etc.

Notes: I've had this story done, I just haven't taken the time to edit it. I'm sorry about that. I'll work to get it up as soon as I can edit the chapters.

Standing before her bathroom mirror, Y/N realized she looked terrible. Last night she couldn’t sleep after what she had done to Negan. Instead of talking to him, she took off on him and had someone else pick her up at the skating rink. Hell, she wouldn’t even answer any of his texts or his phone calls. At one point during the night, she was pretty sure that he showed up at her door knocking, but she didn’t answer. Honestly? She didn’t know why she was avoiding him. Maybe it was because she was embarrassed? Or she felt guilty. Regardless, she felt weird about the whole thing. She loved Negan and she knew that Negan loved her. Most people would have loved getting a proposal like she did with Negan. It was romantic, it was sweet and it was a story that people would have loved to tell their friends because they would have been jealous. Yet she denied him. It made her feel like a horrible person.

By now? She was sure that her daughter knew that she had turned Negan down. It seemed like her and Negan were closer than she expected them to be. Especially since Elizabeth was so willing to go and help Negan set up his proposal. Elizabeth loved her father and she knew deep down that Elizabeth had always expected her parents to get back together. So to accept Negan into her life? That was a pretty big deal.

All night she thought about the things that Negan offered her. A job, a life of travel. Something she always wanted. A source for her to get her word out there. A way to finally live after not being able to for years. Yet, she immediately told him no because of the other factors in her life. Her children and Joel. There was no way for her to do what Negan wanted because she had Elizabeth, Peter and Joel in her life.

Dragging her hand down over her face, she realized that she felt miserable about everything. All she could think about was Negan. About the face that he made when she turned him down and the way he just about begged her to get married to him. She wouldn’t blame him if he hated her now for that. After everything, she threw away their relationship like it was nothing.

Getting ready this morning was hard. Depression was eating away at her and she knew that. Everything hurt, especially her head and her chest. She regretted the way that she ran off on Negan last night. They should have at least talked about things, but she was emotional. Both about him and mad at herself for having the reaction that she did.

Tonight the children were supposed to be with Joel for something with Tommy so she would be left alone to herself. That meant she got up late, even though she didn’t sleep. It meant that she was walking around in comfortable clothes and she looked like shit. This was supposed to be the happiest time of the year. It was Christmas Eve after all. Yet, she wasn’t happy.

Today was just going to be spent watching Christmas movies on the television alone. Because that’s what she felt like she deserved today. To be left alone.

Not even thirty minutes into the watch, she noticed her phone starting to vibrate on the coffee table. Looking to it, she saw that it was Negan and exhaled loudly. Ignoring the call, she kept watching television, but she should have expected Negan to be more stubborn. There was no way that Negan would just give up. That wasn’t who Negan was. It never was.

After a few more calls, things went silent. That was until there were knocks at her door. No question that was Negan. And she was left to wonder how long she would let it keep going. This time he didn’t seem to be giving up.

Lazily getting up from the couch, she headed across the living room and opened the door. Standing before her with a bouquet of her favorite flowers was Negan. Hell, he looked as bad as she did. Sad with dark circles under his eyes. His hair was messy and it looked like he hadn’t slept either.

“I didn’t think you were going to answer,” Negan admitted, his voice raspier than normal. It had her looking down at the ground and he could tell that she wasn’t comfortable with him.

“Well, at least you’re better than Joel. When he wants to come in, he just grabs the spare key and comes in,” she informed Negan with an extended sigh, appreciating that he wasn’t like Joel in that aspect. “So I appreciate you waiting.”

Nodding, they both went quiet. Neither one of them was really looking at the other and it was awkward. Swallowing down hard, Negan shrugged his shoulders and held the flowers out to her, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” she blurt out, her heart hammering away in her chest with Negan apologizing to her. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I just…” Negan stuttered, his hazel eyes incredibly confused with her response to his apology. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. I thought you were upset with me so I came here with this big apology and you’re telling me that you aren’t mad at me?”

“It’s complicated,” she accepted the flowers from Negan, pushing the door open far enough for Negan to join her in the house. Going into the kitchen she added the flowers that Negan had given her to the previous ones that were already in a vase. By the time she came back in, Negan was sitting down on the couch. He was at the edge of it showing that he wasn’t exactly relaxed in the moment. “I’m the one that needs to apologize. What you did last night? It was beautiful and I made it seem like I hated it.”

His lips parted, his hands waving about, but he reconsidered talking and he simply just dropped his head down in a moment of defeat, “I should have talked things out with you instead of running off on you. That was wrong and I’m sorry.”

There was that muscle in Negan’s jaw that would flex every time that he was upset and it broke her heart, “I imagine you hate me now.”

“Come on,” Negan’s broken breath filled the air, his hazel eyes lifting to show they were burning over with tears. Shrugging his shoulders, Negan lifted his hand to swipe at his eyes with his thumbs to collect the dampness. “I could never hate you. I fucking love you. You mean everything to me.”

Hearing those words had an involuntary whimper falling from her throat. Moving in beside Negan, she sat down slowly having his breathing growing louder, “I just wish you would have talked to me. You running off made me think that you were angry with me and I didn’t know what to do with myself. And then you wouldn’t answer me.”

“I’m a terrible person,” she suggested eliciting an eye roll from Negan who scoffed. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Yeah, I’m hurt, but I would appreciate if you could stop attacking the woman that I love the most,” Negan snorted, still trying to avoid showing her that he was so upset with things because he didn’t want to guilt her into feeling a certain way. “Something just happened yesterday and you were very emotional about it. Which I understand. I just don’t know why.”

By now she should have been unloading to him all of her thoughts, but she hated seeing him so upset, “Please don’t do that to me again Y/N. I want the two of us to be close. If something is going on, please just talk to me. I want us to be close and open with one another.”

“Okay,” she outstretched her hand to place it in over Negan’s. Caressing her thumb over the back of Negan’s hand, she was thankful that his fingers hooked with hers.

“Can I take you somewhere to show you something?” Negan sniffled, his thick eyebrows bouncing up with him turning to her.

“I look like shit,” she pointed out with his nose wrinkling in disappointment since she was attacking herself again. “I haven’t taken care of myself yet.”

“You’re beautiful, always,” Negan corrected her, hooking his fingers tighter with hers. Bringing her hand up, he deposited a kiss over the back of her hand. “Where we’re going, I don’t think it matters how you are dressed. I’ve just been thinking about things all night and I did something this morning that I want you to see.”

“Alright. Let me get my shoes on,” she agreed to going with him. She at least owed him that. Gathering her things, she followed Negan out of her home. Like before, Negan still helped her into the car and was as sweet to her as he normally would be. Wherever Negan was driving her, she had no idea. What surprised her was how short the drive actually was. By the time that Negan pulled into the driveway of a massive home on the outskirts of town, she didn’t know what to say. Staring out at the home, it made her smirk when she realized what it was. “What are we doing here Negan?”

“Do you remember this place?” Negan leaned back in his seat after turning off the car. Rubbing his hands on his thighs, Negan waited for her answer.

“Of course I do,” she looked up at the home seeing that it was a little bit more worn down than from what she remembered. “We used to ride our bikes by here all the time when we were children. Talk about how one day when we were older and famous, we’d come back, buy this house and live here. So that way we could remember where we started, but still know that we succeeded. Make people jealous.”

“Right,” Negan winked, getting out of the car. Moving around the car, Negan opened the door and she gave him an odd expression. Helping her out, Negan led her up to the house. Looking around, Negan kicked aside the welcome mat where there was a key underneath it. Picking up the key, Negan opened the door and it had her panicked. “Come on.”

“What are you doing?” she was appalled with Negan just walking into the home, turning to face her. Waving his hands at her, Negan urged her to follow him, but she was still nervous. “Are you breaking into this home?”

“Follow me,” Negan outstretched his hand to curl his fingers around her wrist to pull her into the home. Once they were inside, she let out a surprised breath at how nice it actually was. When they were younger and they chose this house, they picked it based on how it looked on the outside. They never knew what the inside looked like. Yet it was just as nice, if not nicer. It surprised her that someone who could afford something like this actually lived in their town. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re insane for breaking into this home,” she noted following Negan throughout the place. It was like they were in a museum getting to look at everything. It looked like something out of a magazine, but one thing she noticed is that it didn’t look like someone was living there. “Your celebrity status won’t stop us from getting arrested, you know that right?”

“I’m not going to get arrested,” Negan stopped in front of a pair of large doors that led outside. It brought in a hefty amount of light that brought attention to how impressive the home actually was. “This house is mine now.”

“It’s yours?” she stammered, still not sure what was going on. “How?”

“When you didn’t answer the door last night or the phone I went for a drive. And I drove past this place,” Negan kept one of her hands in his, waving his free hand about in the air. “It brought back so many memories for me and I realized that you were right. Your home is here. You need a place where you belong. And we always wanted this home when we were kids. I got in contact with some people and all I have to do is sign some paperwork and this house is ours.”

“So you’re saying that you bought yourself another home?” she was shocked to hear that and Negan cleared his throat.

“I’m probably going to get rid of the farm or the beach house because I don’t need those. The farm brings back too many Lucille memories for me…” Negan explained, his thick brows full of emotion talking about how he wanted to give up some of the places he owned. “It doesn’t matter to me. I can get rid of both of them. Because at the end of the day? You’re my home. You are what is home for me. I want to be with you. And I remembered our dreams of having this home one day.”

Surprise flooded her veins with Negan shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t think you realize, I don’t care about money or jobs, I just care about you. I want to make your dreams come true and I realize that I made a mistake with what I did.”

“I just wish we would have talked about it,” she stressed to Negan, using her free hand to place it in over the center of her chest to defend herself. “It was a lot of things to put in front of me without thinking about it.”

“You could have said no about the contract. Work means nothing to me. I just want to marry you,” Negan declared, his big hazel eyes hooked on hers. “I thought you wanted that life still when I heard you talking to Joel in New York. When both of you were standing in front of that window. So I made this deal thinking that’s where you wanted to be. I should have talked to you about it first. I heard what you said and I misunderstood what it was you wanted. I just more than anything want you to be happy. I want to be with you.”

Should she have said something here? Yes. She should have, but she didn’t. Rather she just felt her eyes tearing over and her chest aching, “Here, you’ll never be too far away from the children or Joel. You can start your life here with me and still be with them. Instead of having you travel, maybe I can help you start a local newspaper or site to focus on this part of town. Whatever subject you want to focus on. I just want you to be so fucking happy.”

Lowering her head, she knew that this was the most that someone had ever worked to make her happy, “I still want to marry you. I want you to be my wife more than anything. I want to share the rest of my life with you. I’ll finish off my year with the team and then I will retire all together. I’ll turn the coaching job down so we can live here. Start our life together in this town.”

“You shouldn’t give up this job opportunity in order to make me content,” she stressed to Negan, her eyes tearing over when Negan started to get very emotional. “I don’t want you to give up this incredible opportunity so you can just be with me.”

“You don’t understand, I don’t want this job more than I want to be with you,” Negan claimed with a whimper, his Adam’s apple bouncing in this throat. “I would easily give up the opportunity of being the coach if it means that I get to be with you. Because you are more important than any money or baseball team for me. When I look at my future, the thing I want to see more than anything is you. Not this job. It’s just something fun to have on the side. It’s something I’m used to. But I don’t care about baseball, I care about you because I love you.”

“I don’t want you to give up your life for me,” she felt her tears burning at her cheeks when Negan expressively shook his head. “Please, Negan…I don’t want to be known as the woman that forced you to give up your life. A life that so many people love you for.”

“But I don’t care about those people, I care about you,” Negan interrupted her, his bottom lip quivering as he spoke. “I already bought this home. Regardless of things with us, I will make sure that I’m here so that way we’ll never be far apart. I love you Y/N. You’re all I think about. You’re all I see when I close my eyes. Every breath, every thought…my heart…” reaching for her hand, he placed it in over the center of his chest and tipped his head to the side. “It belongs to you. I love you so fucking much.”

A moment later, Negan was lowering down to capture her lips in a tender sweep that took her breath away. The one thing about Negan? Every word he said, she believed it. She didn’t have to question it because she saw it in the way he talked to her. He was willing to give up everything for her.

“I love you,” she breathed against his lips, stroking her fingers through Negan’s dark hair. Cuddling her face in next to his, she knew that when she was with Negan, she was joyful. After last night? She knew that she was a miserable mess. There was no doubting how she felt about Negan and what he meant to her, but it still confused her why Joel was one of the first things that came to her mind when Negan asked her to marry him.

She should have recognized that she could have told him yes about the marriage and no about the contract, but she didn’t. And that bothered her. It confused her. Negan made her happier than anything, so she didn’t understand why she was still having these feelings.

Tipping back, she swept her thumb in over Negan’s bottom lip and gave him a nod, “I just need some time to think over things. This is amazing and I know you so desperately want to do everything in your power to make my life better, but I can’t even understand the feelings I’m having right now. So I can’t give you an official answer. Not right now.”

“Okay,” Negan responded, disappointment flooding his features, but he didn’t fight her on it. That wasn’t the answer he wanted. She knew that, but this was the best thing she could give him right now. It was a lot to think about. There was a lot on the line for him and her. More so him and she had to make a choice that would affect them for many years to come.

Trying to ignore the uneasiness that lingered between them both, Negan continued to show her around the home. It was a short trip before they were both headed back to her home. They had something quick to eat together and some hot chocolate. They talked about random things, but it wasn’t like before. They both still had everything hovering in their minds, but they were trying to make the most out of the day.

By the end of the night, Negan was laying in her lap fast asleep. Since he hadn’t slept, he was exhausted. For a long time he tried to fight falling asleep while they watched Christmas movies together with the fire on in the background. But by the time she had him resting in her lap and she was stroking at his scalp, there was no way he couldn’t have fallen asleep. Heavy breaths were surrounding her and she looked down to watch Negan while he slept.

Love did flood her veins when she looked at him and there was an undeniable happiness too. This felt good and that should have been a good thing. Tracing over Negan’s features, she didn’t know how to respond to all of this. She should have eagerly accepted Negan’s proposal. She was an idiot in her mind that she didn’t. Negan was perfect. And even if he wasn’t perfect in general, he was perfect for her. No one had ever gone above and beyond for her like this. It was hard not to love him with how much he truly loved her.

So her doubts didn’t make sense to her. Not one bit.

A rustling filled the room and she lifted her head to see that the front door was pushing open. Once her eyes fell upon the familiar brown eyed expression, a sense of frustration overwhelmed her, “Joel, you’re supposed to call or knock.”

“You haven’t been answering to me or your daughter. She got scared,” Joel expressed his worry, carefully tip toeing into the house and closing the door behind him. That was his way of trying not to wake up Negan because he noticed that Negan was sleeping in her lap. “I was worried what I might find here since you never do that to us.”

“It’s been a hard day,” she whispered, looking down to see that Negan was still deep in sleep breathing heavily. Adjusting her position carefully, she managed to slide out from underneath Negan and helped him lower his head down onto the couch. Being quiet, she motioned Joel to follow her into the kitchen so Negan could continue to sleep.

“I guess this is where I should congratulate you,” Joel stammered and by the expression over his face she knew that he wasn’t happy. Pointing toward the living room, Joel had a hard time looking at her with his face scrunching up. “Your daughter told me what happened last night. I assume that you two were celebrating about being engaged.”

“Your daughter?” she repeated, her head tipping to the side. Curiosity flooded her veins with jealousy becoming fairly obvious in Joel’s dark eyes.

“Our daughter,” Joel fixed what he had said, dramatically shaking his head as if what he had said was no big deal.

“I told him no,” she alerted Joel with a loud swallow. Almost immediately his head bounced about and he was visibly shocked. Instead of saying anything, he just nodded, but his dramatic expression said everything. “Nice reaction.”

“I just can’t believe you said no,” Joel looked toward the living room knowing that Negan was sleeping on the couch still and he didn’t want to wake him. Even though it was wrong, Joel was excited to hear that. “Why?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she was quick to shut down his question. It wasn’t his business. Truth be told? She really didn’t know why either. She told herself it was because of the children, but she honestly just panicked.

“It kind of matters,” Joel retorted, snorting as she turned away from him. It looked like she was trying to distract herself which led to her getting a drink. “I’d like to know.”

“It’s none of your business,” she stressed feeling overwhelmed with him just asking her.

“Is it no forever or…?” Joel continued on still finding himself wanting to know more. It was involuntary and he knew that she didn’t want to talk about it, but he needed her to. His heart was racing when she downed her drink incredibly fast.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, stroking her thumb over the glass. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, you can talk to me,” Joel offered and she made an amused sound that almost offended him. Stepping in closer to her, Joel braced his hands on the counter and stared out at her. Lowering his head, he tried to get her to lock eyes with him, but she was definitely avoiding doing that.

“Negan is in there,” she reminded him looking beyond him toward the living room where they left Negan sleeping on the couch.

“So he’s okay with you saying no?” Joel’s eyebrow arched in curiosity, biting at his bottom lip.

“No,” she responded, guilt eating away at her with what Negan had done today alone. Offering to quit his job and buying their childhood dream home was his way of proving how much she meant to him. “He wants me to reconsider because of…things.”

“Why are you being stingy with the information?” Joel grumbled irritated with her lack of being open with him.

“You’ve been weird about this whole Negan thing,” she blurt out, finally looking at him after pouring herself another drink. “Half the time you like him and then the other half of the time it seems like you hate him. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“It’s hard to explain,” Joel huffed, shrugging his shoulders at the thought of his feelings on Negan. “I like him, I just don’t know if I like the idea of him being married to you. If you were engaged to him, I was going to ask you to think about it first before you do it.”

“That’s a lot to ask,” she shot back, her eyes narrowing when she downed the second drink faster than the first. “You really have no right to ask me to do anything. Especially after the things I found the other day. You haven’t even bothered to show up and talk to me since. So…”

“You say that you know I’m a different man, yet you’re upset about it still,” Joel expressed that he was uneasy with what she was saying. “Plus, you did say you wanted some space from me. I just was trying to prove that I could give you that.”

“Yeah, and you went right to Negan and fucked him, so…” she pointed out what he had done and it made Joel tense up. “And you even told him about the thing I told you to keep your mouth shut about. You’re lucky he handled it so well.”

“He broke my nose,” Joel retorted, pointing toward his face to show that there was some bruising under his eyes.

“You deserved it,” she voiced her opinion on the matter, knowing that she desperately wanted to hit him herself that night. By Joel’s face she knew that what she said irritated him, but she didn’t care. “I wanted to kick you in the balls, so I’d say you got off easy.”

“You want to kick me in the balls for something I did over four years ago?” Joel sneered folding his arms in front of his chest. There was color pressing in over her face and he knew that she was trying to keep her temper from growing. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I never hit you our entire marriage. Or after. When you certainly deserved a few slaps,” she declared getting a scoff from Joel. “Let’s see…you kept sex videos without my consent. You trash talked me to Lucille and said horrible things. You cheated on me.”

“I didn’t cheat on you,” Joel interrupted her, his face scrunching up in anger. “Cheating on you means I stuck my dick into someone else and I never did. I was loyal our entire marriage. I never slept with another person until we were separated.”

“We were still married when we were separated,” she reminded him how he was incorrect with what he had said in defense of himself.

“You know what I mean,” Joel rolled his eyes and leaned back against the counter having a fire flood her veins at how stubborn he was being. “I never cheated on you when we were together.”

“You would have been furious if I was having an online relationship with another man where I was sharing nude photos with him and role playing sex scenarios with him” she claimed, her throat tensing up and her eyes narrowing showing just how pissed off she really was at him. Joel’s face softened and he dropped his head to stare down at the ground. “You were mine when you were doing that. I was yours. And you would have been so angry with me if you thought I was doing that. And the things you said about me…”

“Those were personal,” Joel cleared his throat, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. Really Joel was right. And the other night Negan proved to her that this was not something that she should have been holding against Joel. But she was emotional in the moment. “You went looking for trouble when you read my e-mails. What you did in reading them was wrong. They weren’t yours to go through. You hurt yourself doing that because those were just me venting my feelings. Which I’ve already told you a million times that I was wrong. As I’ve stressed many times, the man I was then, I’m not now.”

“So I’m just supposed to forgive you?” she wondered, her eyes burning over at the thought of what she saw. “Suddenly, I’m just supposed to say you’re right Joel? You are a different man and you’re the man I want to be with? You’re the man that I want to re-marry?”

Instead of answering, Joel swallowed down hard and his brown eyes lifted to meet her stare, “That’s what I thought. You don’t want me getting married to Negan because you think I still belong to you. Even after everything.”

Stroking at the side of his face, Joel didn’t know what to say when she laughed and shook her head, “Negan never talked about me the way that you did.”

“Yeah, I know Negan is fucking perfect,” Joel growled in frustration, rolling his eyes again that it was going to this. “Even if I wanted you to marry me again, you would always be comparing me to Negan. Then again, you always did.”

“In your head I did,” she whispered, looking down in disappointment. “You always forget how much you meant to me. Let’s see…I was so fucking annoying with how clingy I was. With how I constantly needed attention. It wasn’t enough that you were paying the bills or working hard, I needed you to bend over backwards to show you loved me. You didn’t want to show me the affection I wanted because it was overwhelming you that I wanted you to be someone that you weren’t.”

“How many times have you read those e-mails?” Joel questioned, his head tipping to the side and his eyes narrowing. These were things that he assumed that he told Lucille in the e-mails. Hell, he didn’t even know, but since she seemed to be quoting them off, he assumed she read them a lot. “You can quote them now?”

“Once,” she answered, reaching up to try to wipe at her eyes because the last thing she wanted was to cry in front of him again. Yet, she knew that she was failing. “All I needed was once.”

“You still had no right to read those,” Joel countered, his voice growing deeper with his southern drawl filling the air. “It was wrong.”

“You’re right. It was wrong,” she agreed with him, which surprised him that she gave in so easily. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. Watching your videos, reading your e-mails…it was wrong. I just got emotional and what I did was immoral.”

Nodding, Joel just lowered his head and sighed loudly, “At least I know what you think of me. It’s better to know than have some kind of twisted, warped thought of us in my head.”

“Jesus,” Joel growled, rolling his eyes even more dramatically this time. “I think you’re being mature and then you go and say something like that.”

“You’re going to judge me on maturity?” she snapped back at him with a frown.

“I don’t think those things about you,” Joel reasoned with her, throwing his hands about while he spoke trying to get her focused on him when a single tear slid down her face. “What are you doing to Negan, Y/N?”

“Excuse me?” she didn’t get what he was hinting.

“You are so visibly still in love with me,” Joel suggested with a firm shake of his head. It made her scoff and look down toward the ground. “You cry all the time when you think about the thought of me not loving you. If you didn’t love me, it wouldn’t hurt you so fucking much. So why are you dragging Negan along when it’s obvious that it should be the two of us together? Yeah, we have a fucked up history, but the two of us are meant to be together and you know it.”

“I love Negan,” she corrected Joel who snickered. “I do.”

“Of course you do, I didn’t say you didn’t,” Joel countered, stepping in closer to her to get her to tip her head back to look up at him. Even though she was crying, there was still anger that resigned behind her eyes. “We’re the soulmates. Not you and him. Yes, you love him. But you love me more.”

“Don’t…” she warned with him stepping forward, pressing her hand into the center of his broad chest. Right now there were tears sliding down her face with Joel staring down at her. “Don’t!”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Joel begged of her, nodding over toward the living room where Negan was. “Tell me that I’m not the one you long to be with. It’s the reason you told Negan no. There was no logical reason for you to tell him no.”

“It wasn’t about you,” she claimed, her eyes getting angrier with him going off about the two of them. “You don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Bullshit,” Joel snarled, closing the distance between the two of them and it had her breathing loudly. “You’re enamored with Negan. He makes you feel good. He’s everything you wanted me to be. But he’s not what you want. It’s me that you want. You want me to be like him. That’s why you told him no. That’s why you gave me that chance in New York. That’s why you are open to me having a poly relationship with you two. You can’t let me go.”

“You’re very arrogant,” she huffed, her body visibly shaking with Joel so close to her. Hovering his lips in over hers had her sucking in a sharp breath of air. “Just because I still love you doesn’t mean that I love you more than Negan nor does it mean that I want to be married to you.”

“My arrogance was something you were originally very attracted to,” Joel reminded her of their youth, his eyelids heavy with want. The urge to kiss her was there, but he didn’t know how she would handle it with Negan in the other room. “Does Negan know that you gave me the opportunity to win you back in New York?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she responded with a long exhale dropping her head down to break the idea that they could kiss in that moment. “I knew that you wouldn’t say the right thing. That’s why I made the offer. And I was right. How you think you are better for me than Negan is mind blowing because all you do is hurt me.”

“You know,” Joel reached for her wrist to stop her from walking away from him. “You think that you want me to be a certain way, but the truth is that you don’t. You love me the way I am. I can try to be a little more like Negan. Be honest. Be more open and truthful. But you have always been wildly attracted to me. You like that I’m less affectionate because when I do give you affection, it makes you feel special. You like the rough sex because you’re a freak. And you like fighting because it proves that we’re passionate. That’s what this is right now. What you and Negan have? It’s nice, but it’s unrealistic. No one is perfect. And you don’t want perfect. You want me.”

Lowering down, Joel’s lips hovered in over hers just enough so that his bottom lip dragged across hers. Going to bring their lips together, Joel felt the pressure of her fingers pressing in over the center of his chest to stop him, “I deserve perfect.”

A sharp exhale fell from his throat, surprise flooding his handsome features that she turned him down, “Even talking to you, I realize just how much we don’t belong together. All we do is fight. And you just confirmed to me that you have no intentions of changing.”

There was a sense of disappointment in her eyes after he said what he did, “I don’t want to feel lonely again, hoping that tonight is the night that you think I’m deserving of you holding me in your arms. I deserve someone who tells me how much they love me all the time. I deserve to be made love to sometimes and feel like the center of someone’s universe. I shouldn’t be made to feel like I’m overwhelming just because I want to touch you, hold your hand or cuddle with you. You’re right Joel, I wish you were a little more like Negan, but most of all? I wish you were the Joel that I married at eighteen years old. I wish you were the man that made me fall in love with him every single day. The man that was so proud of his children and me. The man that made the rest of the town jealous because they knew that our relationship was perfect. The man that would sing to me all the time not because he was in trouble or trying to win my heart, but just because he wanted to. The man that told me every single day how lucky he was to have me. The man that wrapped me up in his arms at night and made me feel safer than I ever have in my life because I knew that no matter what, in his arms I would be taken care of and loved. We could have nothing and it would be okay because we loved each other and that’s all that mattered.”

By now she was sobbing and there was red flooding into Joel’s cheeks at her breaking down about the way things used to be, “I know that you thought you drove me crazy because you didn’t do the dishes or you left your dirty clothes all over the room instead of putting them in the hamper, but those were little things Joel. They were worth it because I never once questioned your love. That man was the love of my life. And that Joel? He’ll never exist again.”

“Why not?” Joel stammered, trying to reach for her again but she made it clear that she didn’t want him to touch her. “You won’t even give me a chance to try.”

“You just told me that you wouldn’t,” she recalled what he had said to her not long before. “And we may have passion Joel, but I can’t take this fighting all the time. And truth be told…”

There was a silence between them when she let out a whimper, “You ruined that Joel for me. Over and over again. You can only break a plate so many times before you can no longer glue the pieces back together.”

“Then let me be a different Joel,” he grabbed her hands to stop her from leaving because he wouldn’t take that answer. “Let me be a Joel that you learn to fall in love with again. I don’t care if we have Negan in our relationship. I like him, you like him, he makes us better. I want him around and I think you know that. I may have not told you how I feel about him, but you know how I feel. He knows how I feel. We can have Negan. But if you’re going to marry one of us while you’re with both of us, then marry me. Yes you deserve both me and him. He gives you what I can’t and I give you what he can’t. But marry me, not him.”

“Stop it,” she reached for his arms to pull him up when he went to lower down to his knee. Frustration flooded her body when Joel scoffed. “You don’t even have a ring.”

“We didn’t have a ring when I asked you to marry me the first time either. Well…it was my class ring, but…” Joel stuttered through, his eyebrows furrowing with her shaking her head. “Come on, Y/N. Anyone in their right mind would have told Negan yes, but you didn’t. Because you know you’re meant to be with me.”

“Knock it off,” she warned Joel who rolled his eyes, but wouldn’t let go of her wrists. “You don’t want to be married to me Joel. You divorced me.”

“I was wrong,” Joel repeated what he had so many times. “I wish I never did it. And I think it happened so we could bring Negan into our relationship. But you shouldn’t be married to him. You should be married to me.”

Capturing her lips in a forceful kiss had her hitting at the center of his chest at first, but the longer he kissed her, the softer the hits were until she finally started kissing him back. Cupping her face in his palms, Joel’s tongue brushed out against hers leading her to fall in against his chest. Their breathing grew louder until Joel picked her up and led her over toward the table. Dropping her carefully on top of it, he urged her back to lay down. Working open his belt, Joel’s fingers fumbled to get it open. Once he did, he was quick to get his pants apart. Pushing his pants down to the bottom of his hips, he reached for her and pulled her down to the edge of the table. Turning her over roughly had her gasping out. Firmly pushing at her pants, Joel got them down to her thighs before pulling her to him.

“Joel,” she stammered his name, her hand reaching out to press in over his naked hip. Stroking firmly at his body, Joel pushed her legs apart with one of his feet. Lining himself up, he went to press forward, but felt the firm shove of her hand with her pulling up and away from him. “Stop!”

“I just…” Joel was breathless with her sliding out from under him and working her pants back over her hips. Realizing that she was upset, Joel unhurriedly pulled his pants back up over his hips with a disappointed breath. “I’m sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”

“You make loving you hard,” she confessed to him with a broken sound, her eyes lifting to his in a moment of sadness. “The fact you think I want to be face down on the table with you fucking me after everything…”

“Then I will take you upstairs and we’ll do it the right way,” Joel offered pointing his hand toward the stair area. “We’ll be quiet, go to the attic. We can have sex under the stars on the nook area that I made. Turn the lights on…”

“I don’t want to have sex with you Joel,” she announced eliciting a frown from him. “All you’ve done is confused me more tonight. Please just go home.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Joel reminded her and she gave him a shrug like she didn’t know what he was hinting. “We should be together.”

“Tomorrow I’m still having everyone over. So just bring the children, Tommy and Maria,” she responded, not even looking at him and he felt guilty. He hated it. “Negan and his mom will be here. Rosita and her family too. I’ll just pretend this never happened.”

Trying to strum up the strength to say something just to get her to see him in a positive light, Joel cleared his throat and she shook her head, “Just leave. Please.”

“Listen,” Joel tried to stammer, his eyelids growing heavy. “I got too heated at the idea of you telling Negan no. I thought that meant you still wanted to be with me and only me. You have to understand where I’m coming from here. I love you, very fucking much.”

“Joel,” she looked like she was going to yell at him, but then stopped and nodded her head about. “I love you too. And I know you love me. But I know that you care about him too. I don’t know why either one of you want to be married to me. Being married makes things complicated. Do you understand that?”

“Why wouldn’t we want to be married to you?” Joel reasoned with her, stepping forward trying to get her to focus on him and what he was saying. “You’re the thing that makes us the happiest in the world. Yeah, we don’t mind sharing, but having you? Being married to you? That means that you love that one more.”

“You were the one pushing for the poly relationship the hardest,” she reminded him, getting Joel’s Adam’s apple to bounce in this throat. “You know that, right?”

“Because I like Negan more than I should,” Joel explained, having a warmth flooding into his face. “I like being around Negan. He makes me feel good. I mean he makes me also feel like a piece of shit, but I reckon I understand how he can make someone feel like the most important person in the world. So I understand why you feel the way you do about him.”

“I feel like the two of you just want me to marry you over the other so you can have one up over the other one,” she thought aloud, the lump growing in her throat when she rest against the corner of the cabinets. “Can’t I just love you both equally? Why does one need to be better than the other?”

“It’s complicated,” Joel admitted, not sure if he understood it himself when he folded his arms out in front of his chest. “You’re everything right in the world Y/N. And being married to you? That proves that something is right in our lives.”

“But I’m not. I’m not everything right in the world. I’m not perfect and hearing you two say that all the time? I’ve never felt more imperfect in my life. I’m a fucking mess. I break your heart, I break his heart,” she threw her hand about in the air showing that she was getting emotional. “I love the both of you so fucking much, but I hate hurting you both. You both accept that I love both of you. But you both want me to marry you. And when I say no to both of you? I hurt you both. It’s destroying me because I love you both so fucking much. And for vastly different reasons. But I do. I can’t lie about it. Yes. I’m head over heels in love with you, but I am him too. And I feel fucking stupid for telling him no. But I also feel stupid for telling you no too. But being married to either one of you? It just makes things hard. You understand that, right?”

“I get that we’re both putting you in a hard spot,” Joel admitted, a frown tugging at his tired features. “But you have to realize it’s just because the two of us love you so much. We like each other and we’re getting more relaxed with one another. And I’ll admit the reason that we were ill at ease at first is because of me. It’s just I was going through some things. I was angry because the last time…”

Biting down on his cheek, Joel sighed loudly and moved over toward the table to sit down. Dropping down into the seat, he didn’t want to look at Y/N when he spoke, “I’m uneasy being attracted to Negan or doing things with Negan because my father…”

Joel lifted his hands hearing the sound of Y/N pulling the chair that was beside him out so she could sit near him and give him her attention, “Before you and I were together, before I realized how I felt about you…I liked Negan. A lot.”

“I assumed so originally,” she knew that she was upset, but she could tell that he was working himself up to something by talking to her. “And I don’t care that you liked him. I’m okay with it.”

“But I wasn’t okay with it because…Negan and I used to do things together before he started doing…sexual things with you. Just touching. Never anything really extensive. He’d come over and we’d watch some porn and jerk off together. Occasionally we’d start to jerk each other off. One day my dad came home early and he found us doing that. Kicked Negan out and then he beat the shit out of me for it. I’m sorry I’m not telling this story well, but I’ve had to think about it several times and talk about it a few which never gets easier,” Joel admitted to her, his dark eyes locking with hers when he opened up about his past long before she had ever gotten with him or Negan. “My dad was a lot of things that were positive, I guess, but he was homophobic. And he beat it into me that I couldn’t have those feelings.”

“When did he do that?” she seemed upset hearing Joel tell her that story and it had Joel shrugging his shoulders.

“When I lied and said the person from our rival team attacked me when I had my back turned,” Joel was honest with her causing her lips to part. A disappointed breath escaped her with learning about Joel’s father. It was a big deal to her back then so he knew that she would remember the time he was talking about. “He beat me so bad that I probably should have gone to the hospital, but he wouldn’t let me. My mom never knew. My mom died thinking my dad was a fucking saint, but he beat the hell out of me for being attracted to another guy. So anytime I felt something positive about Negan? Or something happened with Negan? I was hearing my dad. So you’ll have to excuse me when I get tense about things because twenty plus years of listening to that man’s voice inside my head is hard.”

Joel swallowed down hard with her dropping her hand to squeezed her fingers around his, “You were and remain to be the only person that I have more feelings for than I do Negan. No one else ever made me feel normal or so in love like I do when I’m with you.”

“Joel, I love you,” she grabbed his hands squeezing them firmly. “But you are normal. You were normal. Don’t say that. I wish you would have told me.”

“What would it have done?” Joel slurred, pain visible in his face. “You were just a kid. You were a hot head but you weren’t about to take down my father.”

“But I could have been telling you all along that you were, you are perfect just the way you are,” she muttered, lifting her hand up to press it in over the side of his face. Slowly his eyes fluttered to a close with him leaning into the warmth of her touch. “Both of us didn’t win the lottery with our parents. We’re both broken because of what they did to us. What they continue to do to us, even if they aren’t here anymore.”

Closing the distance between them she pressed a loving kiss against his cheek and brushed her fingers throughout his hair, “Regardless of what you think Joel, I wouldn’t have picked someone else to be the father of my children. I think because we both went through what we did, we knew what it took to be loving parents. I don’t regret one bit having the life that I did with you. You’re a good father and your children will always know what unconditional love is because you’re an amazing father. That’s what you have to think about. How what happened to you impacted you in a positive way. Stop beating yourself up over something that you can’t control.”

A broken breath fell from his throat and he turned toward her palm to place a loving kiss against the center of her hand, “Come with me.”

“Where?” Joel muttered with her standing up holding her hand out for him. Accepting it, she led him toward the living room causing him to panic when they stepped before Negan. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to include Negan in any of their discussions. Especially since he just tried to convince her to marry him and not Negan.

“Honey,” she lowered down, still holding onto Joel’s hand while the other caressed over the side of Negan’s face. Stirring on the couch, Negan’s long eyelashes fluttered to an open and it took a minute for him to realize where he was. Exhaustion had set in and when he pushed himself up into a seated position, he seemed confused to see Joel there. Holding her hand out for Negan, he tipped his head to the side and took her hand in his. “Follow me.”

Instead of questioning things, Negan got up from the couch with a wince. Neither of them said anything as she led them up the stairs stopping at the attic. Getting the ladder down, she pointed up getting confused expressions from both of them.

“Up,” she spoke with Negan licking his lips and giving her a nod. Moving up the ladder to the attic, she had followed him up with him helping her up. When Joel reached the top of the ladder, Negan helped him up into the attic as well. Moving over toward the nook area, she took a seat on the edge of it and motioned them to follow her. There was tension between both Negan and Joel as they did as she asked of them. “We need to talk or we’re never going to be okay.”

“What does that mean?” Joel stammered with Negan sitting at one side of her and him at the other. Reaching for both of their hands, she held onto them and she looked deep in contemplation. “Y/N?”

“Joel,” she looked to Joel, her throat tensing up when she gazed upon her first love. “I love you. I will always love you. And nothing will ever change that. But I need you to stop overthinking things. I need to forgive you for the things that happened, but most of all you need to forgive yourself. Because you’ve been hurting yourself for far too long. And that’s kept you from truly being happy.”

A tremoring breath escaped his lips, with his brown eyes locked on hers. Giving him a nod, she then turned her attention to Negan who looked upon her with his big hazel eyes, “Negan, I love you so fucking much. You’re fun, you make me smile and every moment I spend with you is special. But with you? You have to realize that you just being in my life is enough. You don’t have to give me the world because I have it. With you. With Joel. And with my children.”

“I’m confused,” Negan was the first to say something, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. “What is this?”

“I need to hear this from both of you,” she began, looking between the both of them. “Do you or do you not want to have this poly relationship? Because if we are going to do this, I need to know that you both want it. If you do, we have to work together and include each other in things. Make sure that it’s something we really want because otherwise, it will never work.”

“Are you okay with it?” Joel was the first to speak up, his southern drawl raspy with his free hand reaching up to urge her to look at him. “I need to know that it’s something you want because sometimes I feel like you’re going above and beyond to make us happy. Because you don’t want to hurt either one of us.”

“I love the both of you,” she was honest, gazing back at Negan who was still seemingly confused with where this was going. “And that’s the thing. I love both of you so much that my heart can’t choose who it wants to be with. Which makes me greedy, but I know I love the both of you so much. But I can’t have you just accepting this because you want to be with me.”

“I love you so fucking much,” Negan finally spoke, palming in over the side of her face. Sliding in closer to her, he gave her a weak smile and nodded his head. “And you know I care very much about Joel.”

“I think I care about you more than you care about me,” Joel surprised both of them when they looked to him and he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m okay with the poly relationship because you were the first person I think I felt anything for and she’s the love of my life. She’s okay with the poly relationship because she loves the both of us and can’t decide. I think even though it feels like I’m the odd one out, it’s actually you.”

“That’s not true,” Negan tried to defend himself having her tip her head back to look him over. “I’ve always been very supportive of both of you. I want the both of you happy and more than anything I’ve been trying to make you both happy.”

“This is what I mean,” she pointed between the both of them, “We have to know that the feelings are real and this is something you both want.”

“I am okay with this poly relationship,” Negan insisted with a shake of his head, “but if you want me to be honest, no, I don’t love you Joel like I do her. And I know you don’t love me like you do her either. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not willing to learn to love you too. We obviously both like each other. We’re both attracted to each other and I know that maybe you do feel stronger feelings for me than I do you, but it doesn’t negate that I care about you. I’ve just been in love with her from the moment I laid eyes on her. It takes time to build that kind of fucking love. Y’know?”

Something in Joel’s face showed that he didn’t exactly believe that, but he just nodded because he didn’t want to be the one to push it any further, “We’re just going to have to tell Ellie and Peter in a way that makes sense because I don’t want to hide anything from them.”

“That’s something to worry about when we figure everything out here first,” she agreed with Joel, swallowing down hard. Dropping back dramatically on the oversized cushion that Joel put in the nook area of the attic had both men looking to her. “I could really just use a night of relaxing. Especially with it being Christmas tomorrow.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan slurred, leaning back to lay down onto the cushion with her. Sliding in beside her, his nose nuzzled in against the side of her neck and his hand pressed in over her abdomen. Realizing what she was asking for, Joel was careful in the way that he lowered down beside her as well. Mirroring what Negan had done, Joel pressed a kiss over her cheek. “You mean everything to me.”

Knowing that she wanted silence, Joel knew that it was going to take a whole lot more than just this simple talk, but he was going to give her what she asked for right now and hold her close. For him? Sharing her with Negan and getting to explore what he felt for Negan when he was younger was the best option. One he hoped that they could figure out altogether.

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost @dead-of-niight @dilfsandmartinis @jennydehavilland

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fruitmilkshake · 2 days ago

Text

"Learning to 'See'"

Avatar x COD MWII headcanons

Request by; @defodisturbed

Pairing; just random headcanons of how the Task Force 141 f.t Laswell, Rudy, Ale, Val and Graves would act in pandora (with a na'vi! Reader to orient them 😌👍)

Characters; Task force 141 f.t Rudy, Ale, Val, Graves (I feel weird if i don't add him to the equation), A Mention of Farah visiting HQ.

Warnings: swearing (a lot of it, actually), the reader being called "blue" as a nickname and them acting like a quiet emo sometimes, Price being the father of the group, Ghost being a bitter mf, a small headcanon of Valeria being the reader's crush (platonic wuh luh wuh since Y/N is 19 and Val is like 40 🛐🏳️‍🌈), some Mentions of the reader's past and traumas, Ale and Rudy speaking in spanish, Soap swearing in scottish, Gaz being too curious sometimes, Graves jut being texan and egocentric, Farah becoming friends with Y/N, Mentions of dangerous situations Incluring pandoran predators, slighty injures and new flavors of food ^ ^ (I'm saying this because they're probably going to have stomach ache after tasting Pandora's fruits and food).

Inspired in; this thought that I had a long time ago.

My native lenguage isn't English, so i'm sorry if i make a mistake at writing this, and i'm sorry if this has Spelling mistakes or if the pronunciation is wrong

Note;

The Task Force and the other characters are Part of the resistance (HQ), and the whole situation happends in frontiers of pandora (AFOP)

Also, this is how the reader looks like;

The reader is called; Y/n in this fic and it's referred to them as "She/her".

Origins;

(How everything started and Y/N's backstory)

ꕤ So... Pandora... A beautiful but also dangerous place... You know what they say; "The worst dangerous thing about pandora, is that you may grow to love her too much"..... Well, that's kinda of true, but to before loving you need to get used to its dangerousness... And that's what these "sky people" need after spending too much time with the enemy...

ꕤ After betreying and Getting away from the RDA facility They used to work on, a small team of four soldiers called "The Task Force 141", a female CEO, A soldier from a team called "The shadows" and two soldiers, one of them being an ex colonel that came from an Elite Unit called "Los vaqueros", found comfort on helping the na'vis and saving the environment of this beautiful planet with the rebel resistance of HQ.

ꕤ even if they barely knew the language (exept for the CEO female, better known as "Laswell") and the uncomfortable feeling of the exopack everytime they had to go outside, the feeling of doing something right after all those years of causing suffering was everything they were willing to fight for..

ꕤ And then... There was this native... A "Child from two world", Kidnapped at the age of 9 with some other na'vi children by the RDA (she was the oldest of the children) and trained to be the a good soldier, never stopped protecting and teaching their old traditions (or at least the ones she remembered) to the youngest children in the facility trapped with her, never following orders from the TAP teachers and getting in trouble all the time...

ꕤ After a few years of trying to protect the children who she called her "tsmukan and tsmuke" (Brothers and sisters"), the worst and unstoppable end waited for them...

ꕤ After finding out of Jake Sully's betreyal against the humanity race, the RDA decided that best they could do was to get rid of the na'vi students on their territory. Of course, if that avatar driver was now with the na'vis, then would the RDA would trust these "creatures" now?...

ꕤ After the massacre who only ended with the oldest being the only survivor, the RDA decided to take her hostage, they didn't knew if They could trust her, better to keep an eye on her, specially if she was the most rebel one, who knows what she could too them...

How everything started;

(How Y/N meeted the "trusting humans")

ꕤ two soldiers of the before mentioned team "Task force 141", a tall, pale and blonde soldier who wore a skull mask under a balaclava, better known as Simon "Ghost" Riley, and a slightly tan and more short soldier with Dark brown mohawk, better known as John "Soap" Mactavish, were sended to explore an old and abandoned RDA facility on a quiet and foggy place in the plains of the "Clouded forest".

ꕤ After exploring the base for a few hours and thinking there not much left to use in this facility, they heard a noise coming from one of the hostage room inside, that's where they found the native (She was taken hostage when she was 19 and she was thrown into a crió capsule, remaining the same age until now), who tried to attack them and kill them with everything she got on hand, after both soldiers calming her down, they explained that they didn't wanted to hurt her, they wanted to help her and her kind, that they were there to look for supplies to help some clans in need of them, she didn't trusted them, not at all actually, but she didn't had another option, she didn't wanted to encounter any other humans from the RDA and this people seemed to be speaking the truth.... Maybe she can try to trust them, worst they could do is be lying, and even then, she would probably kill them there....

ꕤ After thinking and realizing there wasn't really many much other options left, she was finally taken to the HQ base, where she was received warmly for the other members, not really knowing her deeply but guessing that she has been through a lot for her to think of humans like that, which; was true.

(yey, new character added to the team :D)

Coexistence;

(How Y/N gets to know human things and she teachs the humans what she knows)

ꕤ Getting used to a new ambience and wearing something that wasn't the TAP uniform after all those years wearing it was difficult for now known as "Y/N" (who has now gotten the courage to tell the humans her name), but that's why she had "The Task Force 141", the ex soldier of "The shadows", the female ex RDA CEO and the two "Los vaqueros" soldiers to help her adapt to her new form of life in the HQ resistance, and maybe she could help these people to adapt to the life in pandora..

(This is now where i can start with the short but kinda interesting headcanons ;))

ꕤ Since Y/N doesn't trust humans very much, Laswell dedided to give her a tablet where she could record Audio log of what she's feeling in the moment.

ꕤ The Task Force 141 and the others have a crafting time where they make small accessories for their weapons, like trinkets, feathers, small pieces of woods and even they had made a songcord for themselfs (A headcanon from @defodisturbed)

ꕤ Y/N has tried to teach the members of the squad (The Cod characters in one word ;_;) to speak the na'vi lenguage, but their pronunciation is really bad (at least they understand a little bit of the lenguage tho)... Exept for Laswell, since she had to interact with other native, she has learned the lenguage pretty well(am i the only one who wants to see Laswell as an avatar 🛐?).

ꕤ One time, she visited the Zeswa clan and bringed a plate back to the base, since Gaz is so curious, he asked for a bite of the food just to taste it, after a few hours, he got intoxicated (Poor guy, he didn't knew that Pandora's food was toxic for humans), Thankfully, he got cured 👍.

ꕤ The squad has showed Y/N movies, shows, music, books, every human possesion they have traveled with from Earth to pandora and have stolen from the RDA facilities they have shut down (i can't stop imagining Rudy and Ale showing Y/N corridos and she's just sitting there, not knowing what's she listening to ;_;).

ꕤ After Y/N bonded with her ikran, the base always has ikrans growls and squeals on top of the roof, since Y/N always lefts her ikran there.

ꕤ Sometimes; Y/N helps Soap with some face paint everytime they have to fight with the RDA Troops.

ꕤ Graves likes to call Y/N "Blue" as a nickname, since they're 'friends' (no, They're not, actually, Y/N doesn't really like him since he's an egocentric mf.... She doesn't really understand his texan accent 👍)

ꕤ The others think that Y/N, Soap, Ale and Rudy have their own dialect, since they all speak in a total different lenguage.

ꕤ Since Laswell is like the mom of the group, Y/N gets usually comforted by her everytime she has nightmares of her past.

ꕤ The same happens with Price, since he's like the dad of the group, Y/N usually follows his lead and feels safe/protected by him everytime they're in combat (also, Price always tells his dad-jokes to her and she never understand them)

ꕤ everytime they have to go out to explore RDA facilities or just to explore their surroundings, Y/N is the first one on bringing her bow and her poison arrows since she knows that every predator could be waiting for them in the next corner of every place (specially the RDA experimented ones).

ꕤ Both Y/N And Ghost are the cold and quiet ones of the group.

ꕤ Everytime Ale and Rudy speak in spanish or Soap speaks/swears in Scottish, she tries to listen to see if she can understand at least a little bit (she can't XD).

ꕤ Since Soap, Gaz and Price are the only ones who use folded sleeves, they always get bug bites and plants/flowers allergies.

ꕤ Sometimes it's funny to see Y/N towering the rest of the squad, specially since the others are full grown men and Y/N is only a teenage.

ꕤ Y/N likes when Laswell style and brushes her hair with accessories and feathers she has acquired during her visits to the other clans around pandora.

ꕤ Soap, Gaz and Ale likes to make competences with Y/N of who has a better aiming with a shutgun or a knife (she wins, obviously 👍)

ꕤ Y/N carries a lot trinkets in her clothes and weapons that the others have made at crafting time ^^.

ꕤ I think that Farah and Y/N would be good friends :D, like... Imagine them speaking of their cultures and their long lost families, Farah teaching Y/N to have a better aim with the shutgun, Y/N styling Farah's hair with different types of feathers and accesories and-AND ALODOEIRKNDNDMD.

ꕤ After Ale and Rudy ambushed a few RDA soldiers, They captured a female human soldier, called Valeria "El sin nombre" Garza, she was captured by the HQ soldiers and taken to their base to interrogate her about the RDA tracking activities. During her lounge in the HQ base, Y/N couldn't help but be amazed by this human female's beauty, who was this woman? Why was she beautiful?, even if she knew she couldn't be together, specially since this human was older than her, but it was just a small crush after (no, seriously, just a small crush 👍)

ꕤ Valeria teached Y/N a little bit of spanish and teached her to have self confidence, after all, she has lost it all after spending almost all of her life in that RDA base as a hostage..... Eventually; Valeria joined the resistance, ready to fight for pandora after seeing what the RDA has done to this planet.

Extra;

A moodboard for @defodisturbed based on this post ^ ^ I hope you like it!

I'm sorry i couldn't have this ready for yesterday as i promised 😓

Well, that's all! This was so fun to make, but also difficult, my mind has so much ideas that are so difficult to describe them, but whatever!

I hope you guys liked reading this and that this helps you with any story you want! Byee!

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