#this is written while sleepy and anxious about storms so. be warned | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

louhooo · 5 years ago

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If I Didn't Care

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky finally catches a break.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Like, a handful of swear words, SO MUCH FLUFF AND SO MANY FEELINGS

A/N: I’ve been on quarantine for the last week and I was in a 1940s Bucky mood 🤷‍♀️ This and this inspired me.

As always, feedback is a very much appreciated and welcomed!!! 💘💘💘

Tick… Tock… Tick… Tok…

The wooden clock, the last thing you had of your granddad’s, sat nestled atop the pink crocheted doily Becca made for you four years ago. She claimed crocheting took her mind off of “it”.

You wrote to him when Becca gave it to you, telling him all about how talented his sister was and how he needed to hurry home so he could boast her up, too.

That’s how you were in the early letters; lighthearted. Blithe. Unfettered that Bucky was thousands of miles away, acting as though he was still at camp in Indiana. Steadfast on the notion that he would be home soon, and you could have your fella back.

Bucky read that particular letter for a few weeks while he was stuck in a trench. Some soldiers ribbed him about the “lovesick look” he gave the pieces of paper. Others shared an understanding pat on his back, as they themselves had memorized every word their sweethearts back home had wrote for them.

He tried writing back to you a few times, tried coming up with something smart to say that he knew would make you laugh… but he couldn’t. He was tired. And scared. And wanted to be home more than he could truthfully tell you.

I’m sorry it’s takin’ me so long, honey. I keep tryin’ to tell ya about what’s going on here, but I can only tell you so much… and none of it is anything you’d want to hear, anyways.

I just miss you, sweetheart. More than you know.

All my love,

Bucky

Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes, 107th

Two weeks later he was captured.

You stirred beside him, pulling Bucky from long ago memories and into the present. He rolled to his side, gazing at you, memorizing the curve of your exposed back in the early morning light. You clutched the pillow under your arms, a soft hum coming from you.

You took a deep breath, stretching toes as you turned your head away from the window, not ready for the day to begin. Your face scrunched as you dared to open one eye, only to be met with a steely gaze and deep circles, and a warm smile that tried convincing you everything was perfect. You slid your hand across the bed until you met the warmth of his calloused hand and squeezed halfheartedly.

“Why’re you awake?” His smile deepened as he rubbed his thumb over your smooth skin.

“How can I sleep when there’s an angel next to me? If I sleep, I’ll miss it.” A sleepy grin spread on your face, and you huffed a laugh through your nose.

“You’re a real charmer, Barnes.”

“Only for you, sugar.” Bucky felt your hand tighten in his, and he moved your hands towards his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on the curve of your finger. You sighed contently and closed your eyes, sleep still fresh in your mind.

“What time is it?” You asked, your face half smushed against the pale blue linen. His other hand brushed the loose curls from your face, the tips of his fingers following the smoothness of your skin down your back.

“Almost six.” You hummed, in acknowledgement or pleasure, he wasn’t sure.

“Can we stay in bed forever?” He grinned and leaned over to kiss your shoulder.

“As long as you don’t hog the covers.” He laid on his back as he watched another lazy grin spread on your face.

“No promises.” Down below, the city was starting to stir, meaning the illusion of peace would be coming to an end for the time being. You groaned and pulled yourself closer to Bucky, seeking his warmth. “We hafta get up soon, don’t we?” Bucky chortled as you squinted up at him.

“’Fraid so, sweetheart.” You groaned softly and dropped your head onto the plains of his chest. He chuckled and rubbed his palm down the back of your head, smoothing your hair. You tilted your head and looked up at him, a tired pout on your face.

“Can you promise me now that we won’t make any plans for the weekend? I need 48 continuous hours with my husband.” An effortless chuckle vibrated in his chest and he stared at you with hearts in his eyes.

“Yes, ma’am.” Happy with his answer, you pushed yourself up, your lips landing on his, quieting the storm that lingered in Bucky’s thoughts. You started to pull away, but Bucky pulled you back in, cupping your face and kissing you like it was the first time. One hand stayed on the bed to keep your balance and the other laid on top of his hand, your fingers going over the metal band on his finger. You pulled back with a gasp, air filling your lungs.

You gazed at each other as you both worked to control your breathing, both forgetting that you needed to start getting ready for the day.

“If you keep kissin’ me like that, we’ll be late and—” Bucky pulled you back, swallowing your words before they had a chance to pass your lips. You moved so he could hover over you and he settled between your legs, rolling his hips.

The day could wait a little while longer.

“Buck?” Bucky blinked, subconsciously shaking his head as he turned to look at Steve.

“Yeah?” Steve studied the man beside him, fear visibly seeping through Bucky’s pores.

Silent fear.

Fear that would never be spoken about to anyone, not even Steve.

Bucky adjusted the hat on his lap and cleared his throat, hoping that distracting himself would make the situation easier.

Steve let out a tired sigh and settled in the spot beside his friend.

“Think your mom made her apple pie for us?” Bucky huffed a laugh, an easy grin spreading across his face.

“Hell… I don’t even remember what it tastes like anymore. Hope she made two, ‘cause I’m not sharing any with you.” They both laughed, loud and freely.

Steve continued before he could stop himself. “Do you think Y/N’s gonna be able to leave the hospital?” Bucky’s laughter quieted, his grin fading away into the frown he’d had the entirety of the boat ride home.

“Yeah. Her last letter said she would.” Bucky had written a letter to his mom, telling her to let you know you didn’t have to be there when they docked, that he’d understand if you were too busy. He shouldn’t have been surprised when just two and a half weeks later, he found a letter from you sitting on his bed.

Foolish.

Utterly stupid.

Completely moronic.

Those were just some of the things you called him in your seven page letter. And Bucky knew it. A part of him knew you’d show, and you had probably talked with the other nurses as soon as you heard his return date so that they’d help cover for you so that you’d be able to be there.

He knew that.

But the other, louder part of him feared that you wouldn’t be there. That, at some point in the years since you had last seen each other, you fell in love with someone new and just couldn’t tell him over writing.

You can’t break up with someone in writing, Bucky, you had told him his last night home, so if you wanna break up, you have to do it now. But save your breath because I won’t accept it anyways.

Or, maybe what he feared most would be how you looked at him. Would you still see him as the same kid he was when he left, or would you only see the shell of who was left?

Someone shouted about seeing the Statue of Liberty and the ship broke out in cheers.

They were home.

Cloudy, warm water sat in the basin as Bucky took long, steady strokes down his face. He hadn’t shaved in almost a week, much to his mother’s dismay. When she dropped off a casserole earlier in the week, she, in that way that mothers do, stared in quiet disappointment at his jaw, never saying a word, but getting her point across perfectly.

Bucky finished shaving and wiped his face with a fresh towel and stared at himself in the mirror, resting his hands on the cool porcelain, his fingers curling over the edge. The circles under his eyes seemed darker and more noticeable with no beard to take all the attention.

“Honey?” You knocked on the door twice as a courtesy, and pushed the bathroom door open, “I finished ironing your shirt.” You smiled and brought in a cup of coffee just how he liked it. “It’s hanging up on the door.” You hummed in subdued surprise and stepped into the small yellow bathroom and smiled at Bucky in the mirror, your free hand running across his lower back as you stood beside him. “You look nice.”

Bucky grinned as he took the mug from your hand and took a drink, the hot beverage instantly soothing his mind.

“Thanks, baby.” He set the coffee down on the shelf under the mirror and took the drain out of the sink, setting the stopper up to dry. Your fingers ghosted over his left shoulder and he tensed, inhaling sharply. His head turned quickly and he stared at you, an apologetic grimace on your face.

“Sorry… Are they botherin’ you?” You stared closely at the angry scars that littered his arm, looking for any sign of irritation that might be causing his discomfort.

He knew what you meant. Wanted to know if they were hurting him in any way, not just tangibly. After Switzerland, doctor’s had been able to save his arm, but the scars and pain that it left him made him wonder if it was worth it. They told him he suffered damage to his nerves, so he’d never be able to use his left arm the same way.

But when his arm started to heal a few weeks after his surgery, the doctors were bewildered.

Amazing, they’d told him.

It wasn’t. Not really. It was just another reminder of what he went through when he was captured.

“No… they’re fine.” Your eyes flashed to his, giving him chance to change his answer. “I’m just anxious about my interview.”

“Oh, Buck, you’re gonna knock it outta the park! I guarantee they don’t let you leave without hiring you on the spot!” You turned to face each, taking his hands in yours. He squeezed your hands and watched his thumb rub over your knuckles.

“What do I tell ‘em? ‘My wife thinks I’m great, so you hafta hire me?’” You chuckled and shook your head.

“No, just tell ‘em I make the best chocolate cake, so they be glad they hired you come the holidays.” Bucky chortled, skimming his thumb over the gold band on your finger. “Tell them you’re the best mechanic they’re ever going to find, and not hiring you would be the dumbest thing they could do,” you pulsed your hands, “I can go to lunch early if you want me to walk with you to the interview?” Bucky let out a long sigh and finally met your gaze.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. I wouldn’t want you to be late gettin’ back to the hospital.”

“’S not that big o’ deal. I’ll have one of the girls cover for me if I’m not back.” He gave you that soft smile, that smile that told you he wanted to tell you no, but didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You took a deep breath and studied him, reaching up to wipe the small bit of shaving cream that lingered by his ear. “Fine… I’ll stop, I’ll stop.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” a gentle kiss to your forehead and you separated, Bucky taking his coffee and going to the bedroom to get dressed. You stared at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you were simply making up the annoyance Bucky held for you, or if it was factual, and now he was stuck with someone who pestered him.

He’ll talk to you if he wants to, Y/N, your friends affirmed, don’t take it personally. My Johnny does the same thing. They all do it.

Not Bucky.

Your Bucky shared his soul with you years ago, and now he was hiding it from you, and nothing hurt you more.

Bucky left the apartment at the same time as you, not needing to, but not knowing what else to do with his time if he stayed at the apartment.

He showed up at the auto repair shop two hours early and settled on the bench just outside the front door, attempting to read the newspaper he bought on the way there.

It was going terribly.

He wasn’t able to get past the first paragraph without getting caught up in his thoughts and losing focus. He tried reading about the new player the Dodgers just bought thirty times before he gave up and watched the birds up in the trees.

The bell chimed above the door and an older man in grease covered denim coveralls, wiping his hands with a rag, stood in the doorway looking Bucky up and down.

“You here for the interview?” Bucky stood up quickly, smoothing out his brown suit and taking off his hat, holding it to his stomach.

“Yes, sir.” He raised a brow.

“You’ve been sittin’ out here for nearly an hour. Don’t have anything better to do?”

“My wife told me if I break her radio again, she’ll put me out on the street.” The man chuckled, still wiping grease and grime from his hands. He stuffed the rag into his back pocket and extended his right hand to Bucky.

“I’m Walter, but everyone calls me Walt.”

“James, but friends call me Bucky.”

“Ya got a strong grip. Well, Bucky, come with me, we’ll go to my office.” Bucky grabbed the newspaper and folded it quickly, following Walt through the front door. They took a short walk through the garage and went into Walt’s office that sat in the back corner of the shop, giving him the best view of everything in the garage. Walt motioned for Bucky to sit in one of the worn wooden chairs in his office and shut the door behind them.

“I didn’t mean to make ya change your schedule for me. I woulda waited until it was time.” Walt chuckled gruffly, waving Bucky off as he sat in his swivel chair, the wood creaking as he settled.

“I felt sorry for ya. Guys were makin’ bets on how long it’d take ya to come inside.” Bucky chuckled, shrugging off his embarrassment.

“Who won?”

“Me. They’re out gettin’ me a Coke as we speak!” Bucky laughed and relaxed in his chair, his nerves not consuming him for the moment. “So, tell me about yourself, Bucky.” Bucky rattled off facts about himself: where he served, what he did overseas, how long he was overseas, and where he got his training when he got back home. Walt raised his hand, cutting Bucky off. Bucky stopped talking and Walt lowered his hand, resting it on the arm of his chair. “You said you had a wife?”

“Yeah. Her name’s Y/N.”

“How long you been married?”

“Got married last May when I got back from vocational school.”

“Any kids?” Bucky shook his head.

“Not yet.”

“Did you meet her when you got home?” An easy grin made its way to Bucky’s face and shook his head.

“No, I’ve known her since we were kids.” Walt’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

“She must really like you if she let you make her wait that long.” Bucky chuckled.

“I’ll tell ya Walt, I’ve had pretty stubborn women around me all my life, but she takes the cake.” Walt laughed, the deep sound echoing in the small office. “I lost count how many times I asked her to marry me, and I almost had her convinced, but then the war happened,” he shrugged his hands, “and then there were other things to do. She told me we could get married when I got home. Said it’d give me somethin’ to look forward to.” Bucky huffed, “She still made me wait until after I was done with training.”

“She work?”

“She’s a nurse at Kings County up on Clarkson.” Walt hummed. “You married?”

Walt took a deep breath, holding the edge of his desk as though he was steadying himself. “Lucy and I have been married for about twenty five years. We have ten kids, six sons, four girls.” Bucky couldn’t stop his eyes from going wide.

“Doesn’t sound very quiet at your house.” Walt chuckled and leaned back in his chair, resting his ankle on his knee.

“Some days are better than others… I still wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world, though.” Bucky grinned, heartened by the sentiment. Walt let out a sigh, “Well, Bucky… you’ve got the training I’m lookin’ for, so, tell me, why should I hire you?” Bucky took a deep breath.

Tell them you’re the best mechanic they’re ever going to find, and not hiring you would be the dumbest thing they could do.

“Truthfully, you’re not gonna find a better mechanic.” Walt raised his brows. “I’m hardworking and someone you can count on to show up and get the job done. I’m the best there is.” Walt blinked.

“So…” Walt started, “let me get this right…. You’re tellin’ me, that you’re a better mechanic than myself, someone who’s been a mechanic for over twenty years?” White, hot fear started coursing through Bucky’s body.

He swallowed thickly, his stomach dropping, “Uh… yes, sir?”

The men continued to stare at one another, Bucky preparing himself to be thrown out on his face, if he wasn’t pummeled first.

Could Walt see the sweat on his lip?

What were you going to say when he came home with a broken nose and no job?

Would you finally regret marrying him?

You were nervous.

You had expected that Bucky would call the hospital after his interview and tell you how it went, good or bad. You knew what time his interview was, and the more and more time that passed without hearing anything from him was starting to worry you. You finished up your charts for the night nurse and as soon as the last ‘i’ was dotted and ‘t’ crossed, you grabbed your bag and said your goodbyes for the weekend.

You walked down the stairwell and out of the staff exit, coming to a halt as soon as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the door shutting behind you. There was Bucky, still in his brown suit, leaning against the wall with that boyish smile you’d fallen in love with.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He stepped closer, pulling a bouquet of red roses from behind his back. You gasped softly and took the flowers as he handed them to you. “How are you?” He kissed your cheek and you stared at him, trying to decipher his mood.

“Hi, honey,” he held his arm out for you and your suspicions quieted, a bashful grin forming on your face. You took his arm and you both fell into a leisurely pace as you walked home. “This is a nice surprise.” You smiled at him, adjusting the grip on the bouquet. Bucky, without being asked, reached for the flowers and held them in his left hand, freeing your hand.

“I just missed you,” he turned his head and grinned, “and I realized it’s been a while since I walked you home from work.” Your hold tightened around his arm and you could feel the hearts grow in your eyes.

“It’s not my birthday, is it? Our anniversary maybe?” Bucky smirked at you out of the corner of his eye, knowing what you were hinting at.

“No, ma’am. It’s just an ordinary Friday.” You hummed, forcing your eyes ahead.

“Strange.” He hummed in agreement and you shook your head good naturedly and walked in silence with all of the city noise. You came to a stop after a few minutes, waiting for traffic to pass. You looked at him, “I’m gonna hafta ask, aren’t I?” Bucky looked at you nonchalantly.

“Ask about what?” You gave him an exacerbated look, a laugh escaping his mouth.

You laughed with him, “Tell me! The suspense has been getting’ to me all day!” Bucky laughed more, the creases by his eyes deepening.

“We’ll hafta stop at the grocery store before we go home.” He led you across the street, ignoring your expectant glances.

“James Buchanan Barnes, if you don’t tell me—”

“Ask me what we needta get at the store.” He raised his brows at you keenly. You stared back at him, blinking a few times before you sighed and gave in.

“What do we need to buy at the store, honey?”

“Flour. We’re almost out.” Your face twisted, visibly confused by what Bucky was talking about.

“We don’t needta get flour? I’m not makin’ anything.”

“Well, I kinda already told the guys at the shop you make the best chocolate cake, so I really don’t wanna show up empty handed on Monday morning.” You came to a standstill just in front of the grocery store, pulling Bucky to a stop as well. You stared at him with big eyes.

“You got the job?” Your voice was soft, barely audible over the commotion of rush hour. Bucky simply smiled, and you knew. You squealed and threw your arms around his neck, the shock of which made Bucky drop the flowers on the ground so he could catch you. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight, unaffected by the stares of everyone around them.

How could he be bothered with you in his arms?

As soon as you were home from the store, and everything had been put away and the roses put into a vase, you and Bucky sat at the kitchen table and he recounted his day. You listened attentively, a permanent grin fixed on your face. When he was done, you stood leaning over to kiss his lips.

“I’m so happy for you, baby.” Bucky smiled and gingerly pulled your hand until you settled on his lap. You sat contently with your legs crossed, and combed back his hair with your nails adoringly.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You continued to scratch his scalp tenderly as he rubbed his hand over your lower back. He chuckled to himself, “Ya know, I was half worried you’d leave if I didn’t get the job.” Bucky watched the smile on your face slowly fall, his own grin disappearing at the loss of yours. You stopped pushing your fingers through his hair and sat back so as to see him clearer.

“What?” Bucky started to stammer.

“Well, I-I just mean that, ya know… I’m your husband. I’m supposed to take care of you, a-and I can’t treat ya how I’m supposed to when the jobs I find barely pay enough to put food on the table or a roof over your head.” When Bucky got home from overseas, he was less than willing to take any stipends the government was giving to veterans. Every dime Bucky received went directly into savings, even when everyone tried convincing him he should use it. He wasn’t going to use that money unless he absolutely had to.

I’m not gonna need it, he’d told everyone, I’ll just go back to the factory and pick up my old job.

When he’d gone to the factory, he realized that wasn’t the only guy in Brooklyn looking for work. Steve and the other Commandoes tried helping him, telling Bucky to stay with the S.S.R like them, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t when he finally had you back. He couldn’t risk it, even if the pay would have been able to give you the life you deserved.

After he finished training, he started calling every auto repair shop in the phone book, asking if they needed a new mechanic. After eleven phone calls that ended in rejection, Bucky was defeated. Slowly, when the small jobs he found on construction yards weren’t enough, the savings started to go, and you subtly started working a few more hours every week.

Bucky was beginning to wonder if the crease between your eyes was going to be permanent.

“Honey?” You blinked and took a long, steadying breath.

“Have I ever told you that I don’t feel like you treat me right, or that you don’t take care of me?”

“Well, I—” You gave him a firm look and he stopped himself.

“Yes or no.” Bucky let out a deep sigh.

“No, ma’am.”

You nodded your head. “No, I haven’t, you’re right. Because I have never once thought that about you, Bucky. Not once. And I think you know full well that I would have told if I had.” Bucky stared glumly at the ground, taking the reprimand in silence.

“I just wanna be able to buy you new dresses if you want them, or finally get you a real ring. I’m gonna be able to do that now with what they’ll pay me at the shop.”

“Bucky, I know you think I’m embarrassed to ask my friends for hand-me-downs, or that I’m upset that I never got a flashy engagement ring like my friends or the other nurses… but I’m not. I’ve been wearing hand-me-downs since I was ten years old, Buck. Why on earth would I start getting embarrassed now? And, as far as I’m concerned, the ring on my hand is just right, because you gave it to me, and that’s all I wanted.” You cupped his jaw tenderly, lifting it until he was looking at you. “You will always be what I want, James.”

You felt Bucky melt in your hand, and he sighed, resting his head on your chest. He breathed you in, and you continued to sit in each other’s quiet embrace, the sounds of your heart beat steady and strong in his ear.

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes x You #Bucky Barnes x Y/N #Bucky x Reader #Bucky x Y/N #Bucky x You #1940s Bucky #Bucky Barnes

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triptychexe · 4 years ago

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TITLE: Escalation SUMMARY: Jin finds out that obsession is a scary thing. GENRE: Angst (?) Slight creepiness. PAIRING: None WORD COUNT: 2.7k WARNINGS: Mentions of stalking, leaking information, leaking nudes, idk of anything else but please let me know if I should warn anything else!

WINTER 2018

Soojin’s thumbs twiddled over her game controller, her eyes glued on the television screen in front of her. If she could just find that stupid item, then she could progress to the next part in the story and-

Ring Ring.

Soojin inhaled deeply, preparing herself to call for one of the other girls to answer the phone. Her breathing turned into a groan, realizing that no one was in the dorm with her. She almost forgot that the girls were all out tonight, taking some time off between promotions. Jin glanced towards the direction of the dorm telephone, still ringing madly. Jin was so comfortable on her couch… Surely whoever was calling wasn’t going to say anything important. It was probably some sort of telemarketer. If it was one of the girls, they would have called her cell. Just in case, Soojin checked her voicemail for any missed calls. Nothing. The ringing stopped and went to voicemail, shrouding the apartment with the peaceful ambient sounds coming from Soojin’s game. Soojin smiled to herself. It was so nice to have the dorm to herself. Even though the other Generation 2 girls were lovely, it was nice to have a night free from the chaos. She didn’t have to fight anyone for the TV, or tell anyone that their music was too loud, or--

Ring Ring.

The phone started going off again. Soojin groaned, the moment of peace lost. She paused her game and rose from the couch. Before she hadn’t cared, but now she was agitated. The caller was interrupting her evening. A hand ran through her hair in aggravation as she approached the landline, prepared to be as blunt as possible with whoever was on the other line. She picked up the receiver, annoyance radiating off her.

“Hello?” Soojin snipped, crossing her arms.

“Hello.” A smooth voice responded. “What took you so long?”

The hairs on Soojin’s arms stood up and her heartbeat quickened. “Sojinnie, are you avoiding me?” The voice asked in a mocking coo. “You haven’t responded to any of my letters, and now you’re avoiding my calls?”

Instantly, Soojin realized who it was. The letters. This was the author of the letters. The realization only spiked Soojin’s adrenaline, her mouth growing dry with panic.

The last week of Trois’ debut promotions, Soojin started getting cryptic and creepy letters delivered to her. They followed her everywhere. The first one appeared on her dressing room vanity after Trois’ goodbye stage with a single red rose. The message was written using a typewriter. The letter wasn’t threatening, it was just a letter from a fan telling her that they will miss her between performances and that they couldn’t wait to see her again. Jin received sentiments like that all the time. It wasn’t anything peculiar.

The second letter was a request to meet up for a romantic dinner date on the Han River at night. The letter detailed what they wanted Soojin to wear to the date in detail, and requested that she didn’t tell anyone where she was going. Jin was unsettled by the letter, but her managers assured her that it was nothing. It was just a fan that took Jin’s fanservice a little too seriously. For a while, Jin believed that too. She was just being dramatic.

Then the letters started arriving at personal locations. She found letters taped to the practice room mirrors, in the women’s bathroom at the company, tucked in the creases of her locker. The apartment building even called her one morning to tell her that her mailbox was getting full. When she checked her mail, she had at least ten letters from this anonymous sasaeng. That’s when Jin realized the power of the word ‘obsessed’, and just how dangerous this obsession was.

Jin tried to think quickly. The first thing she thought of was to contact her manager, tell her that it happened again. But what could her manager do? Yell at the person on the other end of the call? Tell them to cut it out? The sasaeng would probably just call again once the manager left.

“Soojinie, why so quiet?” The voice asked. Soojin tried to focus on the voice. It definitely belonged to a man. Based on the pitch, the man was probably not a teenager. It was probably someone still young enough to know who she was, maybe a man in his twenties or early thirties.

“How did you get this number?” Soojin asked, her voice uneven with fear despite her efforts to appear bold.

“It’s easy to find things these days. Don’t worry. I did this so we can talk instead of waiting for each other to write.” The voice said innocently, as if the person didn’t see anything wrong or unsettling about calling a personal number. “I didn’t scare you too bad, right?”

“I don’t want you calling this number. This isn’t right.” Jin shook her head. She realized how weak her words were. Whatever bravado she had put on before picking up the phone had melted completely, now turning to ice in her veins.

“Then we can meet up in person. It wouldn’t be too hard to arrange.” The voice drawled, clearly amused in the panic and chaos that he was inflicting. “I’m closer than you think.”

Soojin’s heart leapt into her throat. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she suddenly felt as if someone was watching her. An even more horrifying thought seized her mind. What if the call happened inside her apartment. The new theory sent another wave of panic and fear through her body, the ability to think clearly fleeing her brain. She instantly ran to her door, only having enough time to slip on some sandals before bolting down the hallway of her apartment building, knocking on the door of the person she knew could make her feel better.

A sleepy looking Soonyoung answered the door, rubbing sleep out of his eyes when he realized who it was.

“Hey, Soojin. Everything good?” Soonyoung closed his eyes as a yawn emerged from his mouth. Jin felt like a child would run to their parents after a nightmare, guilt blanketing over the fear that was still causing her hands to shake.

“Um, actually, no.” Soojin said, trying not to sound too hysterical. “Can I come in?”

The words woke Soonyoung up, his eyes suddenly alert. He stepped aside quickly, ushering his fellow member into his dorm. The minute the door closed behind her, Soojin’s tears started to fall.

“Woah, hey,” Soonyoung furrowed his eyebrows, placing a hand on Soojin’s shoulder. “What’s happened, huh? Are you hurt?”

“No.” Soojin shook her head, keeping her focus down. She was scared and angry, unable to stop the nagging voice in her head that told her that this could have been avoided if she just spoke up.

“Okay, okay.” Soonyoung said soothingly, pressing his hand on the crown of Soojin’s head in a brotherly gesture. “How about we sit down?”

Soonyoung made Soojin a cup of tea, waiting patiently for Soojin to calm down enough to speak. The lavender tea in Soojin’s cup was nearly drained before she finally found the air to speak.

Soojin explained everything. From the first letters to the phone call she just experienced to the sudden fear that the sasaeng might be in her apartment.

“Did you hear him in there?” Soonyoung asked in a low tone, a flicker of anger crossed his face.

“No. But… I figured it might be a possibility.” Soojin explained, suddenly feeling dramatic for thinking that might be a reality. She would have heard a door open, or a window creak. “I feel bad for waking you up, I’m sorry.”

Soonyoung shook his head and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It very well could be a possibility. You reacted how you felt you should. I’m glad you came here and I’m glad you’re safe.”

Jin just nodded appreciatively, thankful for his comforting words. “We should call the police.” Soonyoung suggested in the same tone a nurse suggests for a child to close their eyes before a shot. Soojin nodded, pulling out her cellphone. Just as she was about to dial the local police, a notification from kakao popped up on her screen.

If you don’t want me, I’ll make sure no one wants you. Not any other guy or any of your ‘fans’. I only liked you because you’re hot. You can’t sing, you can’t dance. There will be nothing for you after I’ve had my turn to humiliate you. You fucked up, Min Soojin. You fucked up so bad. Fuck you, whore.

Soojin and Soonyoung blinked at the message, both of them unable to make a comment.

“Call the police.” Soonyoung’s voice got steely. “Now.”

Ame held the door open for Jin as they exited the coffee shop with a wide smile on her face. Jin couldn’t help but smile back despite her nerves. The younger girl had been apologizing for not being home during the situation last weekend for the past two days and was putting extra effort into making Jin feel safe and supported.

After the police questioned Jin, they said that they’d keep the report on file, but there wasn’t much evidence that they could collect. They still advised Jin to be careful of her surroundings and not go anywhere alone. Ame stepped up to the job, becoming Jin’s personal shadow. Today, Ame would be walking Jin to HBH headquarters for an important meeting with Hak Bonghwa and HBH’s lawyer team to discuss the next steps to take. Jin was concerned about the meeting. It’s been two full days since the phone call and text, and she hasn’t heard anything back from her stalker. What if they thought Soojin was just getting pranked? What if they couldn’t help her?

“Soojinnie.” Ame gave a pout, reaching over to squeeze one of Soojin’s cheeks with her thumb. “Don’t frown so much. You’re gonna get premature wrinkles.”

Soojin tried to relax her face, but she couldn’t help but feel more and more anxious. Something about today seemed off, as if the world was holding its breath.

“Sorry… I’m just… I feel like it’s the calm before the storm, you know?” Jin frowned.

Ame pursed her lips sympathetically. “Hey, at least you’ve got HBH looking into it. I’m sure no matter what happens today, you’re going to at least have support.”

Jin gave a small smile at the sentiment. The two girls made their way to the location they told their driver to meet them at. On the way, Jin pulled out her phone, scrolling through social media for a brief distraction.

The headline that greeted her upon opening up Naver chilled her blood.

“HACKER LEAKS TRIPTYCH’S JIN’S KAKAO TALK MESSAGES.”

She felt her heart seize. She dropped the freshly-made coffee cup in her hand, it’s contents pooling on the sidewalk at her feet.

“What is it, Jinnie?” Ame asked in shock, slowing down her pace beside her leader, taking a sip of the pink beverage she just purchased.

“I…” Soojin was at a loss of words, unable to speak properly from the shock. Ame looked at the phone screen and let out a gasp. “Oh my God, Jin…” Ame looked between the cellphone and the other girl, an equal look of panic crossing over her expression. “Do you know if it’s legit?” Soojin didn’t answer. She tapped on the article link, scrolling through the details.

‘This morning, Triptych’s Jin’s old messages were revealed…’

‘Containing several messages from what appears to be ex-lovers…’

‘Including some explicit photos…’

Soojin thought she was going to pass out. She expanded the attached photos of the screen shots, but she didn’t need to look deeply to see that they were the real thing. She vaguely remembers the boys she used to be in contact with during her trainee years, the conversations suddenly resurfacing in her memory.

Before Soojin could truly react, a black SUV pulled up to the curb next to the idols. The passenger’s side window rolled down, revealing their manager, Hyunjung.

“Get in the car.” Hyunjung demanded. “We have an emergency meeting at the company.”

The idol opened the doors to the scheduled meeting room. Sat at the long oak table was Hak Bonghwa, a publicist, and few men in suits that Soojin had never met before. As if the ensemble couldn’t be any more intimidating, Yerin was also seated, a severe look on her face.

Soojin bowed politely as she entered, taking a seat next to her leader for what she assumed would be the last time. While in the car on their way to the company, she could only come to one conclusion: she was going to be kicked out of Triptych. No way would HBH want to keep around an idol who had broken the trainee dating-ban as well as cause this much drama only a month into her debut. The only logical result would be expulsion from the group and company.

“Well, now that we are all present, I think it’s time to discuss what has occurred this morning and weekend.” Hak Bonghwa stated, folding his hands on top of the manila folder infront of him.

“As we are aware, Soojin’s incident has gotten more serious than we anticipated. This morning, personal information was leaked to the public.” Hak Bonghwa summarized. “We also have received,” The man opened the folder, placing a typed out note. Soojin’s blood chilled and goosebumps rose on her arm at the familiar sight.

“A threatening letter from the stalker addressed to both HBH and Jin. Considering the… passion… behind this letter, we have no choice but to take these threats seriously.”

“I think it’s important that we discuss the next steps in our plan to keep Soojin protected at all costs. We know that this stalker has more private information than we realized. I think our first step is to change Soojin’s phone number and erase any old messaging apps to prevent further exploitation.”

The other people at the table nodded in agreement.

“Following that, I suggest we put Soojin on a hiatus from public activities until the stalker is caught.” Hak Bonghwa recommended.

“What about security at the dorms?” Yerin wondered. The protectiveness in her voice surprised Jin. The vocalist always assumed the leader had a mild dislike for her and the prospect of Nia and Jin finally getting past their tension gave Soojin a rush of hope.

“This stalker knows where Soojin and the rest of us live. Keeping her safe at home should be an even bigger priority than pulling her from promotions.” Yerin argued. “Plus, pulling her from promotions now would mean putting all of Trois on hiatus. They can’t perform without their leader.”

“We can arrange extra security.” Hak Bonghwa nodded. “But I still believe that a hiatus is appropriate, regardless of the circumstances.”

Yerin didn’t look pleased with this answer, but she didn’t object. Soojin felt a wave of appreciation for Yerin so strong that it momentarily made her forget about the issues at hand.

The rest of the meeting carried on. Only once did Hak Bonghwa address Soojin, and that was to go over the contents of the kakao messages. Hak Bonghwa suggested that for safety reasons, they claim that the messages were photoshopped.

“I don’t care if they are real or fake, and honestly I do not wish to know.” Hak Bonghwa had stated with a sense of finality. “As far as we are concerned, they are manipulated.”

The rest of the meeting seemed easier to get through. They discussed legal actions, pressing charges, hiatus rules, the works. Then the meeting was adjourned, and everyone rose to their seats.

Before Yerin could get away, Soojin held onto her elbow, tethering the other girl to her.

“Yerin,” Soojin said. “Thank you.”

The leader gave Soojin a skeptical glance. “You’re welcome?”

“You didn’t have to stand up for me, but you did, and I appreciate it.” Soojin clarified.

Yerin looked a little uncomfortable. “I mean… I only said what would make the most sense. Putting you on hiatus only makes you look even more guilty, but I guess I can’t argue with Hak Bonghwa.”

Soojin’s smile faded a little, suddenly embarrassed that she thought Yerin was finally coming around to her.

“Oh. Well. Thank you, regardless.” “Sure. Stay safe.” Yerin gave a thin-lipped smile before breaking away and exiting the meeting room.

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deacied · 6 years ago

Text

evening sun . // one .

summary: messaging stupid things to your celebrity crush on instagram has no repercussions because it’s not like they’re going to read it anyway! obviously this doesn’t entail sexual harassment or general creepiness, but sending a meme they’d like or a picture or maybe something actually stupid like your phone number seems irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

or the one where you dm joe on instagram and your life actually changes

warnings: none other than like fluff

word count: 1.7k

she sends the stupidest message she has possibly ever typed in her entire life (eighth grade, angsty teen posts on myspace included) to him in the second week of march. the chances were low that he would open her dm, but he had been known to ever so often answer a handful at a time, and what did she have to lose if he did answer the message? she had sent him other things before as if he were her best friend, memes that reminded her of him or funny t-shirt ads, whatever it had been that she thought might have him grinning to himself--- however, clearly the response never-received wasn’t with this particular “friend”. she didn’t really know him, and he, blissfully unaware of her existence, yet she tried weakly to get the attention of him while he received thousands of others flooding his messages doing just the same. it was just a bit of fun really. a shirt that showed a t-rex wearing mickey ears, “wrong park!“ written across it had her laughing manically to herself before sending the post over to joe. she hoped she would see him in that shirt soon.

it was a hopeless cause that, well, wouldn’t crush her if the odds weren’t in her favor. nearly a month after she had sent the stupidest message, a notification of a new text pings through her phone. a glance over to it only to be met with an unknown number loses her attention as quick as it held it. she yawns. the action comes of mainly boredom though sleepiness threatens to claw its way into dominance as the summer rain continues to pummel unto the roof, warm florida air shifting through the porch, and the novel in her hand losing focus. a nap would be good-- perfect actually.

the crackle of lightning followed by a gargle of thunder shook her out of her sleep only an hour later and back into reality. every afternoon without fail, the casual shower of rain would pass over her family home just after three as if mother nature were taking her time with her garden. florida often promised hurricanes so the thunderstorms weren’t uncommon, but this particular one wasn’t supposed to hit until thursday, and with it being only tuesday, she knew this storm would last forever now: the earlier they came, the longer and harder they reined apparently. notifications sound off at a quick rate, though she easily dismisses it as something extraordinary going on in the group chat. trekking back into the house with book and phone in hand, her free fingers pass over her dogs’ heads as she passes them to head to her room. the thought of a shower to wash away the dampness from outside was the most ideal option she possessed, however, the implied doom her mother promised of a shower during a thunderstorm was the least. more notifications go off in time before she turns off the ringer entirely and plugs it into the charger. sixty-four (jesus) messages in the group chat on discord, another twenty-one from the same group on instagram, and god knows how many more on snapchat, but the one, singular cluster of notifications tucked at the bottom that held her interest had her pausing with head tipping in interest: another message from the unknown number.

lower lip curls between teeth as brows furrow an inch together. finally clicking on the messages, she feels like she might throw up as her eyes follow the pixels. holy. fucking. shit.

FROM unknown 11:18 am: It’s super dangerous giving your phone number to strangers on the internet you know? FROM unknown 11:20 am: I tried to call and kind of chickened out. I got nervous and I’m sorry. FROM unknown 11:43 am: Oh my god, did you really shoot your shot and just leave the court?

she has to read the messages at least eight times, take a screenshot, send it to her brother, and have him confirm she’s not having a stroke before she can go back to the originals with an intent to reply. thumbs hover over keys making absentminded shapes as she breathes deeply, loudly, anxiously trying not to have a whole mental breakdown. the message directly referenced her messages to none other than the boy from jurassic park, the bassist of bohemian rhapsody, the very angry baseball player of undrafted. there was absolutely no way that this was actually, truly, literally joseph francis mazzello iii. couldn’t be. nope. not happening. she doesn’t know what to reply back with for a good long moment, taking a second to collect herself and open up instagram to confirm for the hundredth time now that this is who she thinks it is.

the dm’s screen welcomes her, exhale escaping lowly as she clicks on joe_mazzello’s chat. he hadn’t replied -clearly, she most definitely would have received a notification for that or else instagram would have a very angry woman on their hands- but he had opened it. the time read 3:56am two weeks ago when he read them. her head falls backwards as the mental math floods hurriedly through her brain, trying to understand: so he had called a week after reading them apparently, and then waited another week before engaging contact again. he... he had been thinking about this for a while; it wasn’t just a spur-of-the-moment ploy to entertain a fan. god, she might throw up actually this time. thumbs navigate to open the texts from the unknown number again just to make sure they hadn’t magically dissolved into thin air. a slow exhale. one more final time she moves over the keys.

TO unknown 12:56 pm: who is this? TO unknown 12:57 pm: if this is who i think it is i’m gonna Lose My McFreakin Mind

she nods to herself as they send--- vague enough that whomever was on the other side wouldn’t think something strange was going on no matter what the outcome turned out to be. it had happened once where a friend texted the wrong number instead of her, asking if “mc fuckhead” was there. (that was an incredibly fun inside joke to explain.) head tips to the side slightly, hopping her train of thought from joe mazzello and him genuinely thinking of you to how strange every inside joke must sound to people outside of the inside. another vibration of the device jerks her back to the matter at hand, unable to help her heart thumping uneasily.

FROM unknown 1:26 pm: Hi, I’m Joe Mazzello from Jurassic- I mean, Bohemian Rhapsody and you’re watching Disney Channel! FROM unknown 1:26 pm: Thank God you’re a multiple text person too FROM unknown 1:27 pm: Please don’t Lose Your McFreakin Mind! FROM unknown 1:27 pm: Wait. FROM unknown 1:27 pm: .....Is this (@ y/ig)? Did I just fuck everything up with an actual wrong number?

suspicions couldn’t get more confirmed than that. her next set of texts goes out rapidly and without much second thought, a stupidly huge smile graced on her face that probably made her look like a maniac--- but really, if any person’s celebrity crush had texted them wouldn’t they have the exact same reaction? actually, now that y/n thinks about it, she’s being really, really calm. the internal screaming stays internal -thank the lord- though her cheeks already ache from the face-splitting grin she currently wears.

TO unknown 1:33pm: if i’m (@ y/ig) then wouldn’t you be @joe_mazzello? no? just me? ok TO unknown 1:33 pm: but hi yes i’m y/n ??? holy shit ??? what the fuck ??? TO unknown 1:34 pm: definitely losing my mind rn TO unknown 1:34 pm: but also 👀 real talk i was 👀 actually asking you 👀 out TO unknown 1:34 pm: like if you wanted to hang out 👀 haha

as soon as the last one sends, her heart drops with fear. fuck, what if the actor just wanted to do a fan a favor and answer her dm just for shits and giggles, or, best (worst?) case scenario he wanted to online-befriend her. she can very easily lose the one single chance she’s gotten and--- god, yes, definitely going to throw up. she sends another message in a haste, praying to whomever was up above that her last text actually saved her ass. he responds in actual record time, the girl tucked up on her bed unable to help the excited and very, very, very ugly squeal she let out as she starts reading the messages.

FROM joe omg 1:36 pm: Interesting.... I’ll have to accept your proposal. We meet at dawn! FROM joe omg 1:36 pm: But you’re in Florida right? I think I read that on your account, I hope I didn’t just pull that out of my ass. FROM joe omg 1:36 pm: I haven’t been to Universal down there in God knows how long and I was planning to go at the end of the month funnily enough FROM joe omg 1:36 pm: If dinosaurs and King Kong and Harry Potter and whateva are your thaaaang

an anxious groan soon follows-- of course this was the alternating year she had gotten a disney annual pass instead of a universal one like last year, and upon further inspection of prices, her bills due, and her bank account, it was a couple hundred dollars she definitely didn’t have to spend. she sets her phone down to calm her now raging anxiety, skin heating up and palms sweating profusely until she fists her comforter in hopes to dry them. asking an actual rich and famous person for financial help just to hang out with them was forcing her eyes to prick with tears-- she had to find something else, right? they could work something else out and she was just overreacting. it takes her verbally saying “you’re crying over universal, chill the heck out” before she comprehends and truly relaxes, tension melting out of her back as a slow breath falls from anxiety ridden lungs.

TO joe omg 1:42 pm: i actually love universal but i have a disney pass right now if maybe that was something you wanted to do TO joe omg 1:43 pm: idk if you’ve ever been to disney world but its so much better than disneyland if i’m honest lmao i’ve gone to california once and i went and i wasn’t super impressed TO joe omg 1:43 pm: i mean it was really cool cause it was the original disney but rides and attractions wise you know what i mean??? anyway im rambling wtf

the conversation rolls with no further lulls in topics to talk about, one in the afternoon soon turning to one in the morning and her eyes threatening to droop closed. with a final goodnight text the pair decide to resume conversation in the morning, and lord, did she have something to excitedly scream about then.

#okay uhhhh heres the actual first chapter #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello #joe mazzello fanfic #john deacon x reader

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tonicandjins · 7 years ago

Note

Falling for u + Jeonghan HEH

stupid butterflies + 1.6k words + fluffwarnings: none

Jeonghan is, for sure, going insane.

It’s been six minutes, his mind reminds him. It’s time to leave.

He looks around, eyes wandering from the glass doors of the coffee shop where his best friend Joshua works at. And it doesn’t take him a nanosecond to recognize your hair—despite it being a mess compared to all the other times he’s ever seen you—when you enter the place, the bell chiming above you.

This is going to come off as creepy but Jeonghan doesn’t know you, all right. Neither do you. But you sort of know each other. You and Jeonghan have been coming to this coffee shop at the same time for seven weeks now—not that he’s really counting the days since he’s laid his eyes on you. Jeonghan doesn’t drink coffee. Joshua thinks it’s weird he keeps coming to the café when he could buy a decaffeinated drink literally anywhere and he calls it bullshit when Jeonghan claims he’s here to check out on his best friend.

When Joshua started working at Zen Café seven weeks ago, Jeonghan thought it was a good idea to visit his best friend’s first morning shift before he went to his 8:15 a.m. class. Yeah, no big deal. Jeonghan thought he could order a milkshake or something and tease Joshua.

He sat by the glass window of the café, a couple of meters from the counter where he could see his best friend screw up the drinks he’s making. He didn’t see you at first; maybe he did, but he didn’t notice you. Jeonghan learned that you’re not the kind of girl who turns everyone’s head when you walk in the room. With your hair cascading down your chest, a pair of earphones plugged on your ears and a book in hand, you don’t quite get the attention of the crowd. You are the kind the blended in by sitting alone, far from the crowd, and you liked your peace. You basked in it for as long as you can, reading a book, sipping your large cup of caffe americano, and keeping your earphones on, until you leave at exact 7:55 a.m. And you always order a hot, large cup of caffe americano no matter the day.

He noticed you because you had your earphones on and Joshua had to serve your drink on your table because you didn’t hear when he called out your name. A, is what’s always written on your cup and Jeonghan wonders if your name starts with A. He comes up with a million names and tries to match it with your face, but nothing comes close, so he continues to call you Ain his head.

For the past weeks, Jeonghan has memorized your pattern and habits. He goes to the café at 7:30 a.m. and you arrive earlier than him. One time, he decided he’d tag along with Joshua at 6:45 a.m, so he learned that you’re one of the first few costumers who come and take their daily caffeine needs. When the clock struck 7:15, Jeonghan awakens from his sleepy trance when you enter the café, one earphone plugged in one ear, the other dangling on your stomach. He learned that you always have a book in hand, and surprisingly, he has memorized all the books you’ve gone through for the past seven weeks.

While Jeonghan doesn’t really come on weekends, he learned from Joshua that neither did you, but on some Saturdays, you drop by to get your large caffee americano.

Your routine goes unbreakable. That is until today.

Jeonghan thinks he’s going crazy waiting for you. He’s strangely anxious and he cannot stop fidgeting as though he’s had a few cups on caffeine.

It’s 8:01 when you enter the café, and Jeonghan needs to leave at exactly four minutes if he doesn’t want to be late for his first morning class.

Your hair is a mess and you look like you just cried. Jeonghan indistinctively hears you approach Joshua and pay for your usual drink. He looks at his second cup of hot chocolate and wonders why you arrived late. You’re never late—not that it’s scheduled like a rendezvous with him—but it was unusual to see you like this. Your hair is tied up in a scruffy bun, earphones peeking out messily in the pocket of your coat, a book nowhere to be seen. Jeonghan recalls which David Levithan book you were reading the day before and wonders why you didn’t bring it with you today.

Your eyes set on your table, but someone has already occupied it. Jeonghan sees the frustration on your face when you look around to find another table where you could be comfortable. You sigh deeply when you see that the only available tables are at the center of the café and turn to Joshua and ask him for a to-go.

Jeonghan doesn’t know where it comes from but he stands and speaks up.

“You can take this table,” he calls out loudly, making a few people look at him. Joshua chuckles because finally.

With wide eyes, you point to yourself. “M-me?”

“Y-yeah,” Jeonghan stutters. “I’m about to leave anyway. You can take my table.”

You slowly walk towards him. “I-I… Thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” he says with a smile.

“But you’re not yet finished with your drink?” you ask when you sit. “It’s, uh, okay, you can stay here until you’re done with your drink.”

I have to go to class, is what Jeonghan wants to say but he doesn’t. Instead, he nervously nods and sits directly across you, only the table between you. This is the closest he’s ever been to you.

And you’re much more beautiful up close, even without the peaceful aura you always had that he likes about you so much—not that he knew enough about you.

When Jeonghan said you aren’t the kind of girl that turns everyone’s head, he doesn’t mean you’re not appealing. Jeonghan likes you because of the peace you bring. There is something ethereal and simply alluring with the way your eyes drift from page to page, words after words, and how unbothered you seem like despite the inescapable noise inside the café. He doesn’t know how you do it, but you calm the storm in Jeonghan’s mind just by sitting two tables across him every day.

But it’s getting contradicting because it’s not quite peaceful right now. His head is a mess and his feelings are all over the place and he kind of wishes that he hadn’t done this because his stomach is mixing up the one and a half cup of hot chocolate and he’s sort of about to vomit when you look at him the eyes and he wonders if Joshua is seeing him sweat profusely due to stupid butterflies��right now. His mind is blabbering while his chest is thump, thump, thumping like crazy.

This is his chance though. This is his chance to finally call you your name rather than Ain his head. This is his chance to ask if you go to the same university two blocks from the café and what program you’re studying. This is his chance to tell you that he worships Harper Lee like she made the universe. This is his chance to finally talk to you, so he’s not going to let the stupid butterflie ruin this for him.

“Y-you’re,” he starts, clearing his throat before continuing. “You’re a little late today.”

You turn to him again. “A little?” you chuckle and Jeonghan thinks he’s going to combust. “I missed my 8:15 class.”

“Oh,” he replies. “My class starts at 8:15 as well.”

Your eyes widen and you glance at your wristwatch. “It’s 8:09! You’re gonna be late!”

“It’s f-fine,” he lies. “My prof isn’t attending class today.”

“I hope mine didn’t too,” you sigh. “It’s the first time I’ve ever overslept. And I’m was too embarrassed to enter the class while my prof’s discussing.”

“You study here, too?” he asks, gesturing to the direction of the campus.

“More like suffering but yes, I do,” you answer. “You?”

“Yeah,” he answers, feeling a little more comfortable despite the butterflies still flying around his stomach. “Political Science.”

“T-that was unexpected,” you say. “I was thinking more like… pre-med. Biology or something.”

“Do I look smart?” he asks, chuckling.

“Stressed is more like it,” you joke.

Joshua decides to serve your drink instead of calling out A when he realizes how much fun his best friend is having while talking to you. He sends Jeonghan a not-so-subtle wink when he says the pleasure is all mine after you thank him.

Jeonghan misses his first class of the day and is in it for an endless string of teasing by Joshua for the next two weeks, but he doesn’t think about any of it. He doesn’t talk to you about Harper Lee yet, nor does he ask what kind of music you always listen to when you’re reading. He doesn’t ask why you always drink americano and why you’re late this morning. Instead, he basks in the peace that you brought him today, despite the chaos in his head and—he dares to say—heart earlier.

And when it was time for you to leave for your next class, he wonders if you’d sit across him tomorrow.

“It was nice talking to you, Jeonghan,” you say. Jeonghan’s eyes widen.

“Y-you know my name?” he asks in disbelief.

“A large hot chocolate for Jeonghan The Fool because he can’t take caffeine,” you recite. Jeonghan laughs. It’s what Joshua always says when he serves his drink. “I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll see you here,” Jeonghan corrects.”

You stand and collect your belongings. Jeonghan smiles.

“Y/N,” you finally say. “I’ll see you here.”

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veesworldofpureimagines · 8 years ago

Text

Our Boys pt. 3 (Washington x Reader x Smol!Hamilsquad)

“Your story Our Boys is my absolute favorite! I was wondering if you could do a scene from it where one of the boys has a nightmare or something that startles them (i.e.-sick) and goes and is comforted by the reader and Washington and maybe stays and sleeps with them that night?”

“I hope you're not tired of this story, but there's nothing I'd love more than an "Our Boys" Part 3 (hopefully not too far in the future)! The story is just so amazing and it makes me so happy, I've lost count of the number of times I've re-read it! Also, it's still up to you, but I'd just really be interested to see a bit of angst thrown into the mix - maybe the reader gets into an accident? Nonetheless, I just wanna thank you for the amazing stories you've written, and keep being brilliant! =D”

A/N: I’m so glad to hear that you guys are enjoying my writing and the story of Our Boys. I’m slightly surprised that it was able to get this much hype, but I’m super thankful either way!

For Our Boys pt. 1, click HERE

For Our Boys pt. 2, click HERE

Once again, I’m proud to present another installment of Our Boys! Please enjoy!

Warnings: Thunderstorms, hospitals, surgery, panic attacks, car accidents

Words: 8,730

Alexander was afraid of thunderstorms. (Name) found that out only a little over a week after her talk with Hercules on the front porch. Specifically, she found out one night when she was up late creating a lesson plan for her students.

The city had been plagued with rain for the past few days, but that night was predicted to be the worst of it all. Tropical storms were moving in from the coast and battering down the surrounding areas. (Name) had noticed that Alexander seemed a more twitchy and anxious than usual, but she could see that Hercules was taking care of it. The elder of the boys would be next to Alexander throughout the rainy evenings, keeping close to his youngest brother.

There was one evening, however, that Hercules was not there for Alexander.

(Name) had pulled a binder and several outlines from years past out of her desk drawer to start planning for the week ahead. A knock on her office door caused her to look up. There stood her husband, giving (Name) a tired smile.

“You should come to bed.” He advised, leaning against the door frame.

The wife smiled thankfully at her husband, stepping over to him and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I know… I just need to at least start a lesson plan. My kids are finishing The Little Prince soon, they’ll need to do something afterward.” She explained, her hands finding his.

George chuckled softly, looking out the window in (Name)’s office. “The rain’s really coming down hard now, huh?”

(Name) nodded in agreement. “Yes… But you should go on, love. You’ve been working the football team all week.”

The coach gave a hoarse laugh, his voice overworked from yelling at the high schoolers. “You aren’t wrong.”

“I know I’m not,” (Name) hummed proudly. “Now, go to bed. You need the rest. I’ll be there soon, promise.”

“Okay… Only if I can get one more good night kiss.”

(Name) rolled her eyes at the retired general’s behavior, pressing a longer kiss to his lips as she cupped his cheeks. George reciprocated the kiss, his hands going to rest on his wife’s waist. She could feel his lips turn up slightly in the kiss before pulling away. “Alright, you got your kiss. Now march, that’s an order.”

George chuckled at his wife, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Yes, ma’am.” He said softly before slowly turning away from (Name) and walking down the hall to the shared bedroom. She watched as her husband stepped out of sight before turning back to her office and her work.

She could remember even after they had only recently been married, (Name) was still working towards her teaching degree and there would often be nights where George actually had to carry his new wife to bed. It never ceased to make (Name) laugh, however.

Shaking her head to focus on the task at hand, (Name) went to her desk and sat down. Laying out her papers and pulling a pen from her desk, the woman began to work as a brisk pace as to not have to stay up all night. She looked up for just a moment to see light flash out in the night sky from outside her window.

“And after lightning comes the-”

A loud clap of thunder boomed outside, joining the sound of rain beating against the house in a chorus of Mother Nature’s wrath. (Name) let out a tired sigh as she went back to her work. She had to get it done...

“Um… Mom?”

Looking up from her plan again, (Name)’s gaze settled on Alexander as he peeked into her office. He was stood huddled against the doorframe, his brown eyes shifting nervously around the room before meeting (Name)’s own eyes. The woman gave the youngest of the boys a smile and motioned for him to come in. “What’s got you up, Alexander?”

Alexander warily made his way over to his foster mother, flinching at the sound of thunder. “C-couldn’t sleep.” He mumbled quietly, looking up at (Name). “What about you?”

“Just some planning for classes coming up.” The woman replied with a tired sigh. “Work that needs to be done.”

The boy only gave (Name) a silent nod, looking over at the papers scattered over the desk. His brow furrowed slightly as he pointed at one of the late papers that the french teacher had taken to grade. “The answer for that is wrong.”

(Name) picked up the paper, intrigued to see what Alexander had found. “Oh? How so?”

“There, the word la mélodie. The person put it down as masculine.”

“But it’s actually feminine.” (Name) agreed with a nod. She smiled at Alexander, gently ruffling his short hair. “Nicely done, Alexander. I still forget that you’re fluent in French sometimes.”

Alexander laughed quietly. “Well, I try.” He replied before jumping at the sound of thunder.

(Name) quirked a brow at Alexander’s reaction. “Scared of thunderstorms, Alexander?”

He nodded stiffly, looking out at the window as the rain hit the glass in a steady pitter-patter. “More nervous than scared… Back home before I met the guys… We had hurricanes pretty often.”

(Name) nodded in understanding. “I get where you’re coming from.” She murmured softly, watching as Alexander anxiously glanced from the window to the shelves that lined (Name)’s office wall. “I used to be scared of thunderstorms too.”

Alexander’s brows rose in surprise. “You did?”

She nodded. “I did. And I’ll show you how I was able to get control of it.” She offered, holding a hand out to Alexander. “First, though. We need to get something from the kitchen.”

Looking at his foster mother’s hand, Alexander meekly took hold of it. “O… Okay.”

Smiling, (Name) led Alexander from her office and down the dark hallway. When the two reached the kitchen, Alexander went ahead and sat on one of the barstools next to the counter while (Name) went to the fridge. She pulled out the jug of milk… She had to remind George they needed more. She walked to the stove and pulled out a small pot.

“What are you making?” Alexander asked as he watched (Name) poor the milk into the pot.

“Something that my mom used to make for me. When it was raining at night and I couldn’t sleep, she would make me some warm milk with honey.” The woman explained as she put the pot on the stove eye, then turned up the heat.

“And that would help?” Asked the young teen with a quirked brow.

(Name) nodded. “Yeah, it helped me relax… While we waited for the milk to warm up, we would just talk about things… I remember this one time I had just got in a fight with my best friend and my mom wanted to know what happened.”

“What happened?” Alexander inquired.

The woman chuckled. “Well… We had gotten in a fight over this one boy who we both had a crush on… Thing is, we were only in the third grade.”

Alexander snickered quietly. “What was the boy like?”

“Oh, every third-grader’s dream. He was good at kickball, he shared his snacks, and he was polite.” (Name) laughed, shaking her head. “My best friend wanted him so bad that she started telling stories that I still wet the bed.”

Alexander’s brows rose in surprise. “What happened after that?”

(Name) sighed, thinking back to the evening where she sat in the kitchen with her mother all those years ago. “Well, I told my mom how I thought I couldn’t ever forgive my friend, but my mom told me that boys were confusing creatures and that I shouldn’t invest time in them until I found the right one… So I let it go, I told my friend later that she could have the boy and that I wanted to stay friends with her.”

The young man nodded in understanding, looking at (Name) as she went on. “And you did, when you met Dad.”

The woman chuckled, nodding in agreement. “That I did… And he’s all I could ever ask for in a husband.” She turned to the milk that was now steaming and bubbling. Moving to get a couple of mugs from the cabinet, she turned off the stove and smiled at Alexander. “But enough about me… What about you? How’s school going for you at the moment?”

Alexander shrugged, watching as his mom worked. “Okay I guess…”

“You’re making all A’s right now, so I hear.” (Name) remarked. It helped to be part of the staff when you wanted to look in on your kids.

The boy nodded, a bashful smile making its way to his lips. “I like school… It’s one of the nicer ones I’ve been to in a while… Getting to go to the same school with my brothers didn’t happen often.”

“I’m sure you’re glad to have the chance to do so.” (Name) spoke, pouring the warm milk into a mug and mixing in the honey. She handed the young teen the mug before making one herself. “Alright. Drink up, Alex.”

Conversation flowed easily between the two as they drank the warm milk. (Name) was pleased to see how Alexander grew more drowsy as they went on. That was exactly how her mother would get her to forget about the storm outside. Just give him something to focus on, make him sleepy, and soon the storm won’t matter.

Alexander gave a yawn before setting down his empty mug on the counter. “Thanks for the milk, mom… It really helped.” He mumbled.

Smiling kindly at the boy, (Name) ruffled his hair lightly. “You’re very welcome, Alexander. I’m more than glad to help out.”

The boy met his foster mother’s gaze for a moment before shyly fixing onto the tiled floor. “Mom?”

“Yes?” Responded (Name) as she put the two empty mugs in the sink.

“Could I… Would it be possible…” Alexander blushed as he tried to get his point across. “W-Would it be too much to ask if I could sleep with you and Dad tonight? Just this once?”

(Name) processed the question for a moment before smiling at Alexander. “I think that can be arranged.” She agreed, holding her hand out again for Alexander to take.

Taking the woman’s hand, Alexander was walked through the house once more until the two reached (Name)’s and George’s bedroom. The retired general was asleep, but his bedside lamp was still on, much to (Name)’s disliking.

“I swear, he’s gonna go through all of our lightbulbs.” (Name) grumbled quietly, causing Alexander to snicker. She smiled down at Alexander, leading him to her side of the bed before she walked around to turn off George’s lamp. Such an action caused the general to stir ever so slightly.

“(Name)?” He spoke sleepily.

“I’m here, love.” She answered quietly, kissing his forehead. “We have a little guest with us tonight.”

George’s eyes opened slightly as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head as he watched his wife walk back over to her side. His eyes followed her form and landed on a timid looking Alexander, but he still gave the boy a reassuring smile. “Storm getting to you, Alexander?”

The boy gave a nod. “It’ll just be for tonight, sir… I promise.”

George watched Alexander as he shifted nervously next to his wife. Giving a quiet chuckle, he moved the covers as to open spots for his youngest foster son and his wife. “Come on in, then. You aren’t going to get any sleep standing around.”

Alexander gave a thankful smile to his foster father before climbing onto the bed, (Name) following just behind him. The young boy made himself comfortable between his foster parents, letting out a tired yawn before he shut his eyes. “G’night Mom… Dad…” He mumbled.

(Name) pressed a kiss to Alexander’s forehead. “Goodnight, Alexander.”

“Sleep well, son.” George added quietly.

Within a matter of moments, Alexander had fallen asleep, his form rising and falling in a steady rhythm of his breathing. George chuckled softly, looking at his wife as she pulled her covers up. “What about that work you had to finish?”

“My boys come first, George. Alex, John, Lafayette, Hercules, they’re going to take priority.” (Name) replied, smiling down at Alexander’s sleeping face.

George smiled at his wife. “I hope I’m included in that as well.”

“You know you are.” (Name) answered with a small grin before a yawn escaped her lips.

“Okay. Time for you to get some rest too.” George told her gently, reaching over Alexander and rubbing (Name)’s cheek with his thumb.

The woman nodded, taking hold of George’s hand and pressing a kiss to his palm. “I know. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He whispered in reply as he watched his wife close her eyes, soon falling asleep as well.

Apparently, John was the nervous type when it came to hospitals and surgery. The foster mother wouldn't learn of this until she noticed his unwillingness to sleep the night prior to his operation.

(Name) bit her lip nervously as she watched the doctor walk away. She looked towards her husband, but George seemed just as lost for words as she was.

“I can’t believe this…” She murmured quietly, leaning on George’s shoulder.

“I’m just glad that Lee is getting expelled for this. And I’ll be damned if his family isn’t paying some portion of the medical bill.” George sighed, rubbing (Name)’s back comfortingly.

“It's hard to believe that Lee has had it out for John since the day he started school… After a year and a half you'd think he'd be over it by now…” The wife murmured in agreement as she focused on her husband’s soothing gestures.

Everything had been going smoothly that day. (Name) had been teaching one of her classes when she got the call from her husband that Charles Lee had gotten into it with John once again. This time, however, was much more serious than the last time.

Charles and John had gotten into a fight while the two were setting up the gym for playing a game of volleyball. George had his back turned long enough for Lee to shove John into the net, causing one of the collapsible poles holding the net to fall, breaking the upper part of his humerus and scapula, dislocating both the joint of the humerus and something call the “Acromioclavicular” joint, and fracturing his clavicle.

According to the doctor, John would need surgery to repair what damage had been done. While it wasn’t a major surgery, (Name) was still worried about her son.

George took (Name)’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Come on… We should tell the boys what’s going on.”

Nodding at her husband’s suggestion, (Name) walked with George to the examination room where they had left their sons. John sat up on the cushioned table, his arm in a splint and a sling. Alexander sat on his left, Lafayette on his right, and Hercules had pulled the chair from the corner so he could be closer to his brothers. Upon seeing their parents enter the room, John paled with worry, Hercules stood from his seat, and Alexander and Lafayette shared quizzical and concerning looks.

“Well, according to the doctor, he says that once you're healed, you'll be just fine.” (Name) began, walking closer to her sons. John must have noticed something was off, because he was the only one of the boys who didn't find some relief in her statement.

“But…” George sighed, joining his family. “He says that you'll need surgery for that to happen.”

John let out a quiet whimper, bowing his head. (Name) let out a sympathetic coo as she went to kneel in front of John. She gently cupped his cheek, trying to give him an encouraging smile in hopes of keeping his spirits up.

“Will John really be okay?” Alexander asked, his gaze shifting from his mother and father.

“The doctor says it isn't a difficult surgery. He needs to set the break and put the joints back in place correctly.” George explained, relaying what the doctor had explained just minutes prior.

(Name) nodded, moving John’s curls away from his face. She was still amazed at how long his hair was growing. “You'll be just fine, John. I'll even stay with you tonight.”

His eyes brightened slightly, but (Name) could tell that John was still anxious.

“You sure you don't want us to stay?” Hercules asked his mother, his hands in his pockets as he stood at the hospital entrance with his two younger brothers and father.

(Name) nodded. “I'm sure. You all need to go home and rest. I'm sure that Aaron and the girls will want to know how you guys are doing.”

George stepped forward to his wife, taking her hands and giving them a squeeze. “You're sure that you're okay here?”

“George, we got him admitted, we have the surgery time scheduled, and John’s a nervous wreck. He needs someone to stay here with him.”

“I could-”

“You need to go home and rest. You've have a long enough day as it is having to take care of all that Lee business. The boys need it too.” (Name) told the veteran, giving his hands a squeeze to emphasize her point. “I got this.”

Finally agreeing, George let out a sigh before he kissed his wife’s forehead and gave her a hug. “Alright… Call if something comes up.”

“I will.” (Name) promised before turning to her other three sons. She gave each of them a hug, each saying their farewell and words to pass along to John. After watching her sons and husband walk to the car and leave, the mother let out a sigh before turning to walk back into the hospital.

Upon returning to John’s room, she found her son absent-mindedly flipping through the channels of the T.V. hung on the wall. He was in the hospital bed and changed into the hospital gown. When the boy took notice of his mom, he put the remote down with a sigh and looked over at her. “The guys gone?”

(Name) nodded, walking over to the chair next to her son’s bed and sitting down. “They are, so it’s just you and me until tomorrow.” She gave John a sympathetic smile, moving a hand to cup John’s freckled cheek.

The boy leaned into his mother’s touch, letting out another sigh. His eyes moving to meet (Name)’s. “Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Should I be worried about the surgery tomorrow?” He asked.

The woman shook her head, giving her son an encouraging smile. “No, baby. You shouldn’t be worried at all. Your father and I talked with the doctor and the surgeon that will be taking care of you, you’re going to be just fine.” She told the young teen. “I promise.”

John nodded, but he still didn’t look convinced. He opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped when a nurse came in to talk with (Name) and ask John what he wanted to eat for dinner that night.

The rest of the evening was much like that, the mother and son would watch T.V., have broken conversations that mostly consisted of reassuring comments, and eventually (Name) dozed off in the chair that sat next to John’s bed.

When (Name) woke up, it was dark outside the hospital room window, and John was still awake. Her movement caused John to look up from his lap, and she could tell that he hadn’t slept at all. His eyes looked red and his skin was paler than usual.

“John, why haven’t you gone to sleep?” (Name) asked quietly as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

He shrugged his good shoulder. “Couldn’t, I guess…” He mumbled. “Still worried about tomorrow.”

“Oh John, I promise you, there’s nothing to be worried about. You’re going to be okay.”

The young teen met his foster mother’s gaze for a moment before averting his eyes from hers once again.

Noticing John’s prolonging reluctance, (Name) thought of what she could say to her son to help ease him to sleep. “You know… Let me tell you a story about something that happened before George and I met you boys.”

John perked up and looked over to (Name). The boys seemed to be interested whenever (Name) and George spoke about their past. George had spoken about his past tours, and (Name) would tell stories about her relationship with George before they married, or stories before the boys had come to live with them.

“This was probably… The second tour George had to go on after we got married. He had two more weeks before he had leave time to come home. Well, we were planning on donating some of the things in the attic that we didn’t need anymore, so I decided it was best to go ahead to get some of the stuff down.” (Name) began, sitting back in the chair. “And you’ve seen the attic door, you have to open it carefully and make sure that it’s down all the way before climbing up them just so that the door won’t close up on you.”

John nodded. “Yeah, Dad and Herc had to get the Christmas ornaments from the attic when we were getting ready last year”

(Name) nodded. “Well… When I had pulled down the attic door and put the steps down, they weren’t down all the way.”

John’s brows rose, and his mother went on.

“And you know the glass light fixture on the ceiling a little ways away from the attic door?”

“Mom, you didn’t…”

(Name) laughed. “The spring went back, pulling the door back up with the stairs unfolded, and the stairs hit the light fixture.”

“Mom!” John gasped, surprised.

“It wasn’t pretty either, there was glass all in the hallway, and a shard even cut me on my side bad enough to where I needed stitches.” (Name) shook her head, covering her face with her hand as a blush came to her cheeks. “When I told George about it, he was less worried about the light fixture being replaced and more worried about the fact that I needed ten stitches.”

John listened to his mother tell numerous stories, and she could tell that he was steadily getting tired. She was in the middle of recounting the time when she and George had gone to New Orleans when she noticed that John’s eyes had closed and his breathing had steadied to an easy pace. She smiled and moved to gently pull the hospital blanket up to keep him warm while he slept. (Name) pressed a kiss to John’s forehead and hoped that he would sleep easy the rest of the night.

And sleep he did. When (Name) woke up the next morning, John was still asleep, and he stayed that way until George came by in the morning to see him before their son went to surgery.

“Don’t worry, son. You’ll be just fine.” George promised John, giving his good shoulder a pat.

(Name) nodded in agreement. “And we’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Thanks Mom, Dad… That means a lot.” John murmured before he was wheeled out of his room.

George and (Name) watched as the doors closed behind John and the nurses that wheeled away their son away. George gave (Name)’s waist a squeeze as he pressed a kiss to her head. “He’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

~~~

“And you really didn’t feel anything?” Alexander asked as he sat at the edge of John’s hospital bed.

“Nothing at all!” John replied smiling now that his brothers were with him.

(Name) and George watched as their boys spoke with John as he explained to them his new experience when it comes to surgery and living in the hospital.

“So, how’d John do through the night?” George asked his wife.

“Well… I might have told him a few of our stories.” (Name) answered, resting her head on her husband’s shoulder.

George quirked a brow. “Which ones?”

“Well, now John knows that we’ve had to replace the light fixture in the hall, that you rushed home when you misheard me on the phone thinking that I had burned the house down.”

The retired general let out a laugh. “To be fair, the connection was bad, and it did not sound like you said ‘roast’.”

Lafayette had trouble with nightmares, and very bad ones at that. (Name) would learn that when she was alone with him while George had taken his brothers out shopping one day.

The house was unusually tense. It was one of those rare occasions where George and (Name) had gotten into a disagreement, and a loud one at that.

“All I’m saying, you could spend a little less time at the school and the field to spend more time at home, resting!” (Name) sighed as her argument with her husband ran through her head like a song on repeat.

“Stop acting like I’m so delicate!! Just because I’m retired from the army does not mean that I’ve become as fragile as a china doll!” George retorted.

“I’m saying that all this strenuous work is going to catch up to you one day, George!”

“No it won’t, (Name)! I’m stronger than I look!”

“But you’re not getting any younger!”

(Name) shook her head to shake the feelings of guilt that still hung with her. The argument was almost a week ago, and since both (Name) and George were as stubborn as brick walls, neither one could apologize first. The boys could feel that the house was thick with tension, and they were walking on eggshells to insure that they don’t spark another argument.

It was late one evening when (Name) was in her office, grading papers. The evening had been quiet, (Name) had been giving George his space, and the boys had long since retired to their room for the night. She looked up when she heard a muffled thump, but figured that it was something outside the house. When she heard it again, her brows furrowed in confusion. Standing from her desk and going to the living room, (Name) found her husband sitting on the couch and reading a newspaper.

“Hey, did you hear something a second ago?” (Name) asked as George turned to her, his brows furrowed.

“No… What did it sound like?” George questioned.

“I don’t know, a thump or-” She stopped when she heard a muffled shout come from the boy’s room.

Both (Name) and George rushed out of the living room and to the closed door of their son’s room. George yanked the door open to reveal something that stopped both parents in their tracks.

Lafayette was crouched on the floor, clutching his head and wheezing, Hercules was kneeled in front of his brother, and Alexander and John were watching their brother with worried gazes.

“What’s wrong?” George asked quickly.

“Laf, h-he…” John began.

“He’s having a panic attack.” Alexander answered, looking over at his parents before looking back at Lafayette.

(Name) stepped around John and kneeled beside Hercules, her son noticing that his mother was now beside him as he rubbed Lafayette’s back. “How long has he been like this?” She asked Hercules quietly.

“It just started, maybe two minutes ago.” Hercules murmured and he continued speaking in hushed tones in hopes of calming down his younger brother. “Laf, it’s okay… Mom and Dad are here.”

The boy flinched, letting out a whimper. “N-Non… Ils découvriront…” He muttered through his wheezing.

“Find out… Find out what, Lafayette?” (Name) questioned quietly as she placed a hand on his shaking shoulder.

“Mom…” Hercules sighed, looking at his mother and glancing back at his father. “Lafayette has been having panic attacks since you two fought.”

(Name)’s brows furrowed in worry and concern, she turned to her husband who looked just as confused as she did. Knowing it wouldn’t do any good to ask right now, (Name) glanced up at George as he walked to the other side of Hercules to murmur quiet words to Lafayette in hopes of calming him down. She noticed that her other three sons were looking in between her and George with worried glances, but the mother simply shook her head.

“Lafayette, I promise you, no one is mad or upset… We’re here.” (Name) promised as she rubbed her son’s back.

“Just take your time, son.” George added, keeping a hand on Lafayette’s shoulder.

There everyone sat for the next fifteen minutes. (Name) and George sat by Lafayette as his breathing steadied and his shaking eased, murmuring quiet words of encouragement and comfort. Cautiously, Lafayette looked up, his cheeks were wet will fallen tears, and his eyes were red. “Maman… Papa… I’m so sorry…” He muttered, sniffling.

“It’s okay, Lafayette.” (Name) quietly told her son, moving her hand from his shoulder to cup his cheek. “Come on… You’re okay.” She said quietly, her thumb wiping away the moisture from his cheek.

The boy nodded, glancing up from his mother to his father who gave him a reassuring smile.

“Boys, your mother and I are going to speak with Lafayette in the living room.” George said to their other sons as (Name) took Lafayette’s hands and helped him to his feet.

“Dad…” Alexander said worriedly.

George shook his head, placing a hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “It’s okay. No one’s in trouble. Just give us some time.” With that, he helped (Name) and Lafayette out of the room and down the hall.

When the three made it to the living room, Lafayette sat on the couch, bringing his knees up to his chest and keeping his gaze fixed to the floor.

“Lafayette.” George began, sitting in his armchair to the right of the couch. “What’s been going on with you?” He asked cautiously.

“We’re asking because we’re worried about you, Lafayette.” (Name) murmured, sitting next to her son and wrapping an arm around his back. “This isn’t like you.”

“Je suis désolé, maman.” Lafayette murmured. “I’ve just been… Having a lot of nightmares recently and this last one… It was just really bad.” He hid his face in his knees, letting out a shaky sigh.

George’s brows furrowed. “It’s better to talk about this kind of thing, son. Instead of keeping it bottled up like this, you should be able to tell us what’s going on.”

Lafayette glanced back up at his father and turned to his mother. “Well… It was before I met the guys… The foster homes I was placed in, the parents obviously weren’t like you two. They always fought and would sometimes get violent… I was in three homes like that before I met the guys, and two others with them before we met you both.” He explained, letting out a sigh and resting his chin on his knees. “When you two fought, it brought up memories that I had hoped to forget… And it brought back the panic attacks.”

(Name)’s brows knit in worry and concern for her son. He and his brothers had been keeping this from her and George because of their argument, probably in fear of sparking another fight between the husband and wife.

“Lafayette… I’m sorry that we make you think that you couldn’t come to us about this, and I’m sorry that we caused this.” George spoke, standing from his seat and sitting on the other side of Lafayette on the couch.

“Your father is right, Laf.” (Name) murmured, wrapping her arms around her son and hugging him. “I’m so sorry…” She could feel her son’s arms wrap around her and his hands clutch onto her shirt.

“It’s okay.” Lafayette mumbled, his voice muffled as he buried his face close to his mother. “I’m sorry for keeping this from you two… And for making the others promise not to tell you.”

(Name) chuckled, shaking her head and pressing a kiss to Lafayette’s head. “Don’t worry about that too much… This just needs to pass. We’re all okay… Right?” She asked, peeking up at her husband.

George’s eyes softened, moving a hand to Lafayette’s shoulder and his other ontop of his wife’s hand. “Right.” The retired general let out a quiet sigh, giving his wife’s hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry… You’re right about me needing to take a break for often. I’m not any younger, and overworking myself isn’t doing me any favors.”

The woman nodded in understanding. “And I probably worry about you too much, but it’s hard not to…”

“I know.” George replied, moving his hand from hers to cup his wife’s cheek. “I know.”

Just as (Name) was about to respond, a quiet snore came from Lafayette who was still clinging onto his mother as he slept. The mother let out a chuckle before looking up at her husband. “We should get him to bed.”

“Agreed.” George answered, helping his wife pull their son off of her so he could carry him to his shared room.

(Name) followed her husband down the hall and opened the door, noticing that her other three sons had been waiting nervously for Lafayette’s return. “Shh… He’s asleep.” (Name) whispered as she stepped aside for George to come in.

Hercules got up from his bed to help his father get Lafayette into a bed while John and Alexander went to (Name).

“Is Laf okay?” Alexander asked, his brows raised in concern for his brother.

“Just tired, Alex.” (Name) replied, putting a hand on his shoulder. “He’ll be fine.”

“Mom?... You and Dad… Are you two okay?” John asked cautiously.

(Name) looked from her two sons to George, who had looked up from Hercules. “What’d you say, love? We okay?”

George noticed the eyes of his sons having turned to him, and a chuckle left his lips. “Yeah. We’re okay.” He replied, pulling Lafayette’s blanket up before he stood and went to join his wife. “And boys… Next time something like this happens, please come to your mom and I. We’re here to help you and take care of you… If you hide things from us we can’t do that.”

“Yes sir.” Hercules answered as he stood by John and Alexander. “We won’t let this happen again.”

(Name) nodded. “Good… Well you three should get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay, Mom.” Alexander answered.

“Good night, boys.” George said to his sons, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist. “Sleep well.”

“We will.” John promised, turning to head to his bunk.

(Name) and George took their leave from their son’s room and walked to their own.

“I’m sorry, (Name).” George murmured under his breath as the husband and wife tuned into their room.

“George, I know… And I accept your apology.” She replied, looking at her husband. “Not every couple is perfect. We’d be strange if we didn’t fight from time to time… We just need to be careful, considering how touchy a subject arguments are for the boys.”

“Agreed.” He said, pressing his forehead to his wife’s. “I love you, (Name)... And I’m lucky to have you.”

“And I, you.” She answered, closing the space between them with a chaste kiss.

Hercules couldn’t sleep when he was sick, especially when it came to keeping his brothers from catching whatever he had. Of course, that meant that he couldn’t share a room with Alexander, John, and Lafayette. He had told his parents that in order to remedy this, he had planned on sleeping in the living room until his fever broke. When that would happen, he didn’t know.

That evening it was just (Name) and the boys. George was out on a trip to an away game and he wouldn’t be home for quite some time. Not that the mother minded, she loved spending time with her sons.

(Name) was cleaning up after dinner as she heard her eldest son break into another of his recent coughing fits. She peeked into the living room where Hercules was splayed out on the couch, his face buried in one of the couch’s pillows. She made a sound of sympathy and walked over to her son, sitting on the arm of the couch. “You okay there, Herc?”

“Miserable.” He croaked. “Why does strep throat exist?”

“Because there’s someone who enjoys seeing humans suffer with sickness.” (Name) replied, rubbing Hercules’ back. “I’m almost done in the kitchen. Is there something you would like me to get for you?”

“Um… Some water would be nice.” He muttered, looking up from the pillow.

“Of course, Hercules.” (Name) replied with a smile, standing from her seat before returning to the kitchen. She finished with her own chores before getting a glass of water to give to her eldest son. When she returned, Hercules was sitting up, a blanket pulled up to his chin and a box of tissues in his lap. (Name) returned to her seat and gave Hercules the glass. He mumbled his thanks before turning his attention back to whatever was on TV. Which, just so happened had to be a Disney movie.

“Frozen, Herc? Of all the Disney movies you could choose from?” (Name) chuckled as Elsa belted out Let it Go.

“It’s what was on.” Hercules defended, a small smile making its way onto his lips. “Besides, it gives a good message to kids.”

“Yeah, don’t let love blind you, and you don’t need a man to be awesome.” (Name) spoke, leaning back against the couch.

Hercules rolled his eyes. “Please, we learned that you don’t need a man from Mulan. Sure, she liked Shang, but she was able to be a hero without too much of his help.”

(Name) nodded in agreement. “Very true.” She looked back towards the screen and sighed quietly. “You know, as magical as some of the Disney movies are, the stories that they’re based off of don’t always get a happy ending, especially when it came to being historically accurate.”

“Geez, don’t remind me.” Hercules laughed before clearing his throat. “The Little Mermaid, especially the Grimm’s version, talk about sad.”

“Well turning into sea foam isn’t exactly a happy ending. Snow White certainly had some parts left out of that when it was adapted into a movie.”

Hercules quirked a brow. “Yeah? How so?”

“Well…” (Name) got off the arm of the couch and settled on the cushion next to her oldest son. “When the Evil Queen sent the Huntsman out to kill Snow White, he didn’t bring back the heart of the boar, but the boar’s liver and lungs. The Queen actually ate the organs with the thought that she was actually eating Snow White’s organs, instead of the boar’s.”

“Gross…” Hercules shuddered.

“Then there’s how the Queen dies. In the Disney version, she’s chased off a cliff.” (Name) explained, folding her legs under her. “In Grimm’s version, the Queen is forced to dance on hot coals until she drops dead.”

Hercules’ brows rose. “Huh… Certainly doesn’t sound pleasant either way.” He mumbled.

(Name) shook her head. “And don’t even get me started on one movie that is so incorrect that I wouldn’t be able to watch it if it wasn’t for the music.”

Her eldest son looked at his mother in question. “Which one?”

“Hercules.”

George let out a quiet huff as he unlocked the door and made his way inside his house. He closed the door behind him and locked it tight. He turned and looked into the living room to find his wife and his eldest son asleep on the couch. On the TV was the DVD menu for Disney’s Hercules, and on the coffee table in front of the couch was one of (Name)’s mythology books. It was opened to a section about Hercules.

The retired general chuckled quietly as he turned the TV off. He walked to the hall closet and pulled out an extra blanket. Returning to the living room, he draped the blanket over his wife and pressed a kiss to her head. “Good night, (Name).” He whispered to her before leaving the room to get ready for bed himself.

“(Name), please be careful driving in this weather.” George cautioned his wife, helping her put on her coat and grabbing her keys. He looked out the window as rain pounded against the glass. He let out a sigh ad he looked back to his wife who was gathering her belongings.

“George, I’ve driven in the rain before.” (Name) told her husband, keeping her bag close to her. “I’ll be fine.” She looked into the living room where her five sons were debating over what to watch on TV. She chuckled softly as she noticed how much they had grown in these last couple years. Hercules had been such a wonderful older brother to Aaron since he had been adopted into the family, and for that she was thankful. Her other sons had also been great for Aaron, despite his and Alexander’s bickering from time to time.

“Boys, I’m heading out. I’ll be back tonight.” She spoke, gaining the attention of her sons.

Alexander looked up from his conversation with John to look at his mother. “Where are you going?”

“Just some shopping, Alex.” (Name) replied, looking at her other sons. “Do you boys need anything while I’m out.”

No one voiced a request, so Hercules spoke. “I think we’re all good, Mom.”

(Name) nodded in understanding. “Alright. I’ll see you boys later.”

“Love you, mom!” John called.

“See you when you come back!” Lafayette added.

“Drive safe!” Aaron finished.

(Name) chuckled before turning back to her husband, who still looked reluctant as to letting his wife leave the house. The wife gave George a small, reassuring smile before giving her husband a kiss. “I’ll be back soon, and safe. I promise.” She told her husband, her hands finding his and giving them a squeeze. “I love you.”

“I love you too, (Name).” He answered, pressing another kiss to his wife’s forehead. “Drive safe.”

“I will.” She replied, letting go of her husband’s hands and making her way to the door. She opened it, and then left, closing the front door behind her.

George glanced down at his watched as he began to fry the steaks that he was cooking for his family that evening. It had been several hours since his wife had left, and the weather had only gotten worse. He shook his head to push away his nagging worry, then turned his attention back to his cooking.

The four boys had stayed in the living room and had settled on the local news to see if there was anything interesting happening in town. He would glance up when he heard something that sounded slightly interesting, but there was nothing much being covered.

“Yikes…” He heard Alexander breathe.

George looked up from the skillet to the living room where a story played on about a nasty wreck on the nearest highway. His brows furrowed when the news girl standing in front of several police cars spoke.

“... Thankfully, there have been no casualties so far in this six-car pileup, but there are several drivers who are in critical condition. Everyone that has been injured in the wreck has already been transported to the nearest hospital, St. Andrews Medical, for treatment.” She spoke, her monotonous tone unchanging as the view cut from her to a panning shot of the cars involved in the wreck.

“Oh shit.” Hercules grabbed the remote and paused the TV, leaning forward from his seat.

George removed the skillet from the heat, turned off the stove, and walked into the living room to see what Hercules had paused the program for. Of course, once he saw it, he stopped in his tracks.

A car that very much resembled (Name)’s was seen in the wreckage. The back was crumpled in on itself, the front driver’s side window was shattered, the windshield was cracked, the front of the car seemed smashed, the hood crumpled up and the front bumper missing. The only way to ensure that it really was (Name)’s car, was the bumper sticker that acted as a parking pass for the school’s parking lot.

“Boys, in the car. Now.” George ordered, his voice raising in both concern and anger.

Within minutes, the five were out of the house and flying down the highway to get to St. Andrews, the same hospital where John had his surgery those few years ago.

“Where are the people who came in from the six-car wreck?” George asked quickly as he led his five sons into the Emergency check-in desk.

“Can I have a name, sir?” Asked the elderly nurse as she looked up from her computer screen.

“Washington.”

She typed something and paused, looking up at George once more and his five sons behind him. “And these are…?”

“My sons.” He answered quickly, growing impatient. “Can I see my wife, please?” He pressed.

The nurse looked over her shoulder and called to one of the other younger nurses behind the counter. “Mrs. Washington, one of the women from the wreck, can you take her family to see her?”

The younger nurse’s brows furrowed. “She’s being transported to a room, the doctor gave a preliminary check-up and is assigning her to a room now… Dr. Lester should be out shortly, sir.” She explained, walking to the counter and giving George a sympathetic smile. “You’re wife is lucky… She wasn’t hurt as badly as the others.”

“How is she? What’s wrong with her?” Aaron asked quickly, his eyes wide with worry.

The nurse was reluctant to reply, but the gazes of George and his sons convinced her. “She had to get stitches, about fifteen on her forehead because of the window shattering next to her. She has a concussion, and her wrist is fractured. She may have minor whiplash, but she should be okay with time to heal.”

George visibly relaxed, as did his sons. Aaron, however, still didn’t look as convinced as the rest of his family… For obvious reasons. He wasn’t ready to lose someone else to a car accident.

“Dr. Lester should be out soon, and as soon as he gives the okay, I’ll take you back to see Mrs. Washington.” The nurse explained with a reassuring smile.

The retired general nodded, looking over to his sons before motioning them to sit down in the nearby chairs.

As the boys sat, they couldn’t relax. Alexander was nervously fidgeting, John couldn’t stop bouncing his knee, Lafayette tapped on the arm of the chair, Hercules looked up every time someone walked by, and Aaron held his head in his hands as he waited for some news of his adoptive mother. George noticed this behavior from all of his sons and sighed. He was just as worried as them, and would give anything to just see his wife.

Minutes that felt like hours passed, and a man in a white lab coat and scrubs came out, approaching George and his sons. George stood up, his sons following in suit.

“You must be Mr. Washington, and your sons.” The man spoke, nodding to the young teens. He held his hand out to George, which he took. “I’m Dr. Lester, I just finished treating your wife.”

“Is she okay?” George questioned.

Dr. Lester nodded. “She’s on some painkillers, but she’ll be fine. She got some stitches because of a cut on her head, and her arm is in a cast… While I was stitching her up, she asked for you and your sons.”

George let out a sigh, shaking his head. Of course his wife was asking about her family instead of herself. That’s just the kind of woman (Name) was. “Can we see her, please? We’re just really worried about her.”

The doctor nodded. “Right this way, Mr. Washington.” He spoke before leading George and his sons down a hallway. The Washington boys were led quickly, weaving past nurses and carts as they followed Dr. Lester. Soon enough, the doctor stopped at a closed door, turning to George and his sons as they caught up. “Now she might have fallen asleep since I left. You can still be in with her, you'll just have to be quiet.” He explained.

“Of course, thank you very much, Dr. Lester.” George said, giving a thankful nod as he heard his sons murmur their own thanks to the doctor.

As Dr. Lester left, George carefully opened the door, making note of the darkened room. He walked in, and his sons followed in behind him.

There in the darkened room laid an unconscious (Name) Washington. Despite her peaceful look of sleep, (Name)’s injuries didn’t look any less painful. She looked battered and bruised, a rather substantial cut on her head that had been stitched closed, her right arm had been wrapped in a white cast, and all the while she looked so peaceful.

George approached his wife while his sons were more reluctant to move forward, taking her good hand and giving it a squeeze, his fingers finding her wedding band and lightly tracing it. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, freezing when (Name) shifted slightly.

The woman opened her eyes to see her husband leaning over her, and she gave the retired general a small smile. “Morning, commander.” She chuckled quietly.

Her husband let out a huff, shaking his head at his wife. “Honestly… You get into a car wreck and that’s all you say?”

“Well, I can say that it wasn’t my fault.” (Name) replied, giving George’s hand a squeeze before spotting her sons standing back. “Hey. Don’t any of you want to say hi to your mom?”

Hercules was the first to step forward, walking to (Name)’s other side and giving her a forced smile. “Hey, Mom… You look great, all things considered…”

(Name) chuckled, meeting Hercules’ gaze. “Thanks for lying for my sake, Herc.”

Alexander came up after Hercules, standing by George. “How are you feeling, Mom?”

“I’ve felt better, Alex. But thanks to the meds they have me on, it’s hard to feel any pain right now.” (Name) replied, letting out a sigh. “But just thinking about how I’ll feel after they wear off will be a different story.”

John and Lafayette went to stand by Hercules. The eldest brother gave both his younger brothers reassuring pats on their shoulders.

“Glad to see that you’re okay, Mom.” John said to (Name), trying to give her a small smile.

“Oui, we were worried about you.” Lafayette agreed with a nod.

(Name) gave her sons a sympathetic smile. “Well, I’m glad that I’m okay too… I’m sorry that you all worried about me.” She looked over Alexander’s shoulder to see that Aaron had still remained close to the door. Carefully, (Name) shifted in bed and brought her legs over the side, letting them dangle over the edge.

“Easy, (Name)...” George warned his wife, putting a careful hand on her back.

“I’m fine, George.” (Name) looked up at her husband before turning her gaze back to Aaron. She gave the boy a smile before holding her arms open to him. “C’ome on, Aaron. You’re the only one who hasn’t said a word.”

The young teen hesitated but he walked forward into (Name)’s opened arms, gingerly hugging (Name)’s battered body. He let out a quiet grunt as he was surprised by the strength of (Name)’s hug, even in her state. Still, Aaron hid his face in his adoptive mother’s neck, clutching her hospital gown. “I was so scared… I didn’t want to lose someone else in an accident…” He whispered quietly to (Name).

“I know, Aaron… But I’m here. I promise I will be.” She murmured, pressing a ginger kiss to the boy’s head.

George smiled at his wife, resting a hand on her shoulder. “How about I go ask when you can be discharged?” He suggested.

“That’d be great.” (Name) replied, pulling away from the hug with Aaron and giving her husband a meek smile. “I doubt that I’d be able to sleep in a hospital, especially if it meant my boys couldn’t be nearby.”

The retired general chuckled, pressing a kiss to her head. “I think the same could be said for our boys.” He murmured to her before walking out of the room.

#reader insert #hamilton imagine #george washington #washington x reader #george washingdad #smolhamilton #smollaurens #smollafayette #smolhercules #smolhamilsquad #hamilsquad #hamilsquad x reader

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