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elliesbelle · 9 months

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nobody compares to you

chapter 13

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, dealer!ellie, mentions of marijuana and descriptions of its usage, descriptions of anaphylactic shock, brief mention of needles, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of death, descriptions of jealousy, mentions of breakups, several flashback scenes, mentions of LSD and its usage, descriptions of acid tripping, ellie's POV, minors do not interact

word count: 9k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-if if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

songs featured in this chapter (including a surprise audio AND drawing commission in the middle of the fic):

the aaron taylor song “i think i love you again”

the carpenters song “merry christmas darling”

palestine will be free

“Where the fuck even are you?”

“Not home.”

“Well, no shit. I’m literally sitting on your living room couch, dumbass.”

“Get out of my apartment, weirdo.”

“Stop procrastinating, asshole.”

Ellie rolls her eyes as a couple of bright yellow leaves slowly dance down on the pavement from the nearby trees on her path home. One hand holds her phone up in front of her with Dina’s face front and center on the screen through FaceTime.

Having just dropped off a rather large order to a couple of stoner sophomores living on campus, Ellie’d decided to take the longer, more scenic route home instead of the usual way she’d go every day. She had a “date” lined up with Daniela in about an hour or so, a meeting she wasn’t particularly looking forward to being present for. Having no real enthusiasm to actually be on time to meet up with her, Ellie was purposely and leisurely delaying her return home to get ready.

Dina, busy lounging on the couch in Jesse and Ellie’s living room, busies herself by finishing a bland, microwaveable box of mac and cheese she’d found shoved in the back of the duo’s full freezer. She was casually killing time talking to Ellie through video chat while she waited for Jesse to finish getting ready for their movie date night.

Jesse enjoyed dragging Dina along to a movie theater in the neighbouring downtown area that showed old and foreign films. Back home in Jackson throughout their childhood, he and Ellie would make Dina sit through old sci-fi pictures, cult horror films, martial arts movies in a completely different language and with no subtitles. Dina would sit in the middle of the two in complete boredom as she listened to them psychoanalyzing background characters who had two lines and spending hours explaining their personal interpretations of a single camera angle in some inconsequential scene.

When they all began attending university, Jesse was over the moon upon discovering the nearby theater and the kind of films they would show. Dina complained every single time, but she secretly enjoyed these date nights regardless, always arguing with Jesse on the way home with her own analyses of the movie they’d just seen. She was a little less enthusiastic this time, however, upon hearing that the film they were about to go see was an early 2000s Bollywood movie that had a running time of nearly four hours.

Jesse had just gotten home from working out at the gym and was busy showering, and Dina decided to preoccupy herself in the meantime by thoroughly berating Ellie for her disinterest and voluntary tardiness for her “date” later that evening.

“El, I really don’t understand why you’re even bothering with her,” Dina says after a huge, wet slurp of her mac and cheese. “Leave that poor freshman girl alone. You really don’t even seem to like her that much.”

“She’s still got Joel’s jacket and I want it back.” Ellie shrugs nonchalantly.

“Maybe if you didn’t pass that shabby old thing around to every new girl you see for a month…” Dina replies, not bothering to mutter under her breath.

“Oh, leave me the fuck alone, Woodward,” Ellie says, chuckling. “Slutshamer.”

Jesse jaunts into the living room, jet black hair damp from the shower and fully dressed, and spots Ellie’s face on Dina’s tiny screen. He waltzes towards the couch and, without any warning, stealthily snatches Dina’s phone right out of her hand.

“Hey!” Dina protests indignantly, trying to reach for it back.

Jesse ignores her as Ellie laughs.

“Yo, what the fuck, Williams.” Jesse scolds the auburn-haired girl.

“Wassup, Chang.”

“What the hell did you ditch me and the gym for earlier? Today’s our cardio day.”

“Had a huge delivery I needed to make,” Ellie shrugs. “Wanted two 40 bags on top of a few lavender pre-rolls. And they lived on the opposite side of campus.”

“A likely excuse,” Jesse scoffs. “I think you’ve been harbouring a secret, years-long grudge against me and actually hate me for some reason.”

“Oh, it’s not a secret. I do hate you.”

“Dickhead.” Jesse chuckles as Dina heartily laughs behind him with a mouthful of mac and cheese.

Before Jesse can continue to berate his best friend, his own phone rings noisily from the inside of one of his jeans pockets.

“Oh, look. Someone who actually loves and appreciates me.” He says indignantly, handing small-scale Ellie back to Dina.

Ellie playfully rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that Jesse’s phone is currently buzzing and blaring with the personalized ringtone he’d set for your contact years ago shortly after you’d all met for the first time.

Dina, recognizing the familiar sound as well and noticing Ellie’s tight lips and rigid expression, quickly attempts to change the subject.

“So where exactly are you gonna be meeting up with the Daniela girl?” Dina quickly asks Ellie at the same time that Jesse booms, “Good evening once again to my absolute favourite person in the whole world!”

Ellie hesitantly begins to reply to Dina but cuts off almost immediately when she hears Jesse’s tone turn serious and mutter a name she’d come to despise.

“Oh. Hey, Anderson. What’s up?” Jesse says blankly. “Where’s—”

“Oh, shit.” Dina inadvertently murmurs as Ellie’s face immediately goes red with fury.

“Why the fuck is Anderson calling Jesse on her phone?” Ellie demands quietly of Dina.

“I mean… she is on a date with her tonight…” Dina reluctantly admits, knowing that lying to Ellie about your current whereabouts is pointless after figuring Jesse would eventually blab it to her anyway.

“Are you fucking serious?” Ellie seethes.

“I don’t really know why she’d be calling Jesse, though. That doesn’t make any sense...” Dina says, setting down her fork and turning her head back towards her boyfriend as Ellie watches intently him from the corner of Dina’s phone screen.

Both girls stare Jesse down as he intently listens to the other end of the line, the two getting more and more nervous as his face gets stonier as each second passes. When he finally speaks, his voice is grave and urgent.

“Is she breathing?”

“What?” Both Dina and Ellie simultaneously say in distress, which Jesse ignores.

“What did she eat?” He asks Abby.

“What’s going on?” Dina implores of him fearfully, sitting up straighter in her seat and completely abandoning her partially eaten mac and cheese on the coffee table.

Jesse holds up a pointer finger as an indication that he needs to keep listening as Ellie hushes her sternly, fiercely trying to eavesdrop on Jesse’s conversation.

“Okay. What did you eat?” Jesse questions.

The way Jesse’s face falls elicits a sharply drawn breath from Dina and drains all the colour from Ellie’s face.

“Did she have any?” He asks.

While Jesse listens for Abby’s lengthy response, Ellie quickly averts her eyes back to Dina.

“Dina.” She says hastily. “Where did Anderson take her tonight?”

“Orchards. It’s that fancy restaurant that’s like, right by here.”

“I know. They serve a lot of seafood there, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think Anderson ordered any?”

“El, how am I supposed to know that?”

“Well, does Anderson know that she’s deadly fucking allergic to shellfish? That she can’t even fucking touch that shit?”

Dina’s terrified face suddenly goes completely pale before she responds.

“I-I don’t know...”

“Does she have any pockets or some kind of bag with her?” They hear Jesse say. “See if she has her EpiPen in there.”

“E-El… I don’t think she does.” Dina stammers.” I helped her get dressed tonight and I saw her before she left, and I-I don’t think—”

Ellie nearly drops her phone on the pavement from how clammy her hands have become from complete fear. When she hears Jesse fiercely mutter a furious “fuck,” she immediately breaks into a sprint.

“Dina!” Ellie demands. “Give me back to Jesse! Now!” Dina hastily hands her phone to her petrified boyfriend without question as he quickly asks Abby to stay calm and give him a quick second.

“Jess!” Ellie breathlessly yells, not bothering to keep her voice down and without any concern for the fellow students she was alarming as she ran by. “Go to my room right now and search in the bottom drawer of my desk!!!”

Promptly and silently, Jesse darts in the direction of Ellie’s bedroom with Dina following closely behind him.

“There’s an old EpiPen of hers somewhere in there! I think it’s probably a couple of months expired now, but grab it anyway!”

Jesse and Dina unceremoniously bust into Ellie’s bedroom and follow her instructions precisely. After forcibly yanking open the bottom-most drawer of her computer desk, they begin to desperately rifle through it. After a few seconds of frantic ransacking through its miscellaneous contents, Jesse pulls out a thick, plastic cylindrical object with tiny lettering embellished all over the translucent plastic.

“Look for the little slot on the side of it that shows you some liquid-y shit inside!” Ellie presses him. “Is it still completely clear and clean, or is it all brown and murky?”

“It’s clear.” Jesse replies after quickly inspecting the EpiPen.

“Okay, go!” Ellie orders. “Dina’s gonna call 911 right now! Orchards is right around the corner from our place, so run! Inject the needle on the outside of her thigh! And check her pulse and see if she’s breathing, ‘cause you’ll need to do CPR if she isn’t! Paramedics probably won’t get there for another five minutes or so, so you just gotta keep doing chest compressions until they can get there!”

Jesse nods and immediately sprints out of the room after handing Dina her phone, placing his own back to his ear and quickly informing Abby that he’d be there shortly, firmly asking her to check your pulse.

Dina sets her eyes on Ellie, pure terror engraved on her face.

“Ellie, s-shouldn’t we grab the EpiPen she has now in her apartment? I think I know where it is, probably. Isn’t that safer than—”

“Her apartment is fifteen minutes away from that restaurant and Jesse can get there in two! We can’t waste any more time!” Ellie clarifies quickly. “Now, I need you to hang up right away and call 911 and explain everything that’s just happened! Go!”

Ellie doesn’t bother waiting for Dina to end the call and roughly taps on the red button herself.

She shoves her phone into the pocket of her hoodie and quickens her pace.

Her lungs winded and her heart threatening to beat out of her chest, she couldn't seem to care any less about her own breathing at that very moment. She trusts nothing else but her own feet to get her exactly where she desperately needs to be. She sees nothing and no one else but the pavement directly in front of her, cutting across the university’s campus through the fastest route she can think of in the moment.

Despite never having been a religious person in any way, Ellie begins to plead a desperate prayer in her mind to whatever god or deity that could possibly exist that you were still breathing somehow and that Jesse had found you and gotten there in time.

She takes a moment to pull her phone out and check how long it’s been since she ended the FaceTime call with Dina, seeing that a little less than five minutes had just passed. She considers calling her once more for any updates; but not wanting to risk being a possible distraction in case Dina is needed in the moment, she ultimately decides against doing so and instead wills her feet to move faster.

Unwelcome thoughts begin to involuntarily flood Ellie’s mind as she sprints.

She thinks of the last time you’d seen each other: that night of your heart-to-heart dinner with Jesse at Sterling’s. It felt almost fated for her and Dina to walk into the same restaurant at the same time that the two of you had been meeting. Ellie recalls the identical look of dismay on both of your faces, equally overwhelmed at the sight of one another. She can still feel the angry yet doleful tears that fell down her red cheeks as she stormed away from the diner, threatening to expose endless repressed feelings of remorse and heartache.

She remembers the day she saw your sudden reunion with Abby Anderson, you dressed in that beautiful floral sundress and very obviously flirting with the tall, muscular blonde. Her nails were so angrily digging into her palms at the sight of you two that she can still feel the phantom marks that had nearly drawn blood. She’d nearly frightened Dina, who was lounging on the living room couch with a joint in hand, when she busted into her and Jesse’s apartment with immediate choice words that were aroused by her unbridled anger.

She recalls the last time you’d actually spoken to one other directly after that miserable, unfortunate night of the Sigma Eta party, how taken aback she was at how you were still so undeniably beautiful underneath the pale moonlight. Having been sitting on the hood of her Jeep while she watched in amusement at your futile attempts to keep yourself warm, she thinks of the way your eyes were furiously and desperately trying to avoid her piercing ocean green gaze. The memory of the angry, fleeting look you’d given Daniela when you’d obviously noticed Joel’s old motorcycle jacket resting on her shoulders is one she can never forget; nor could she the air of raw, bitter indignation that radiated off you at the sight of one of your signature lavender joints nestled in between Daniela’s lips.

She can still feel the visceral rage that sparked inside her from Frat Guy Adam’s casual cruelty towards you, followed by feelings of heartbreak at watching the way your face had fallen at his words. The sheer remorse from pathetically having done nothing right when it happened still weighs on her. Ellie can never forget the simultaneous feelings of shame and comfort she’d felt after your heated encounter with her in the bathroom of Sterling’s: shame from being forcibly confronted with a reminder of the deepest regret of her whole life; and comfort at finally being able to see with her own ocean green eyes, after so long, the face of a person she once adored more than she did anyone else in the world.

Maybe even still.

Ellie eventually finds herself at the intersection right where her shared apartment with Jesse is located. Her hasty pursuit is frustratingly impeded when she’s stopped by the angry, glowing red hand at the crosswalk she needs to get past to reach Orchards, cars endlessly coming one after the other. For a few moments, she’s at least able to catch a much-needed, painful breath.

While she bounces up and down on her feet in impatience, very seriously contemplating running across anyway and risking being hit by a speeding car, Ellie thinks of one thing and one thing only: the first moment her eyes met yours all those years ago. The moment when she knew, deep down and instinctively, that everything had changed.

She’s brutally broken out of her brief reverie by the blaring of sirens booming from around the corner. Her head immediately shoots towards the sound and she watches as two ambulances with flashing red and white lights speed down the road and towards what she believes is the direction of the nearest emergency room.

Ellie wastes no time bolting down the crosswalk the millisecond that the orange pedestrian signal finally blinks to white, sprinting down the street of Orchards. She’s somehow able to spot Dina’s figure in the middle of a small crowd of people gathered next to the restaurant and immediately sprints towards her. By the time Ellie is able to reach her, most of the unfamiliar bystanders have dispersed with whispers. Her heart races as she sees Dina’s cheeks wet and dripping endlessly with tears.

“Dina!” Ellie huffs, using the last of her breath and energy to dash to her side.

“Ellie!” Dina sighs in relief upon spotting her friend.

They envelop each other in a tight embrace, Dina hiccuping slightly into Ellie’s shoulder.

“What happened? Did you guys make it in time? Is she okay? Where is she? Where’s Jesse?” Ellie rambles.

“Sh-she’s okay, I think,” Dina stammers. “She was breathing when Jesse got here, but her pulse was really slow. The paramedics got here a few minutes after Jesse did.”

She sloppily wipes her eyes with the back of her hands before continuing.

“They said that the EpiPen probably saved her life, said that she would have had a lot less of a chance if we had just waited for them to arrive. Expired EpiPen was apparently better than nothing, as long as it wasn’t too far off from when it did expire.”

Ellie takes a relieved breath in at hearing this.

“Thank god. Thank fucking god. That’s what I thought, but I-I honestly wasn’t sure. I couldn’t remember clearly in the moment.”

“How did you even know that?” Dina asks her in genuine curiosity.

“I-I… wh-when we were, you know, t-together…” Ellie mutters awkwardly. “I made sure to know, j-just in case.”

“Oh, Ellie…”

Ellie wrings her hands together and clears her throat in embarrassment.

“So where’s Jess? Where’s Anderson?” She asks, changing the subject and voice dripping in disdain at the last word.

“Jesse rode in the ambulance with her and the paramedics, and Abby said that she’d follow behind in her car,” Dina replies. “I stayed behind ‘cause I figured you were on your way and I wanted to be able to tell you what happened in person.”

“Thank you, D, seriously.”

Dina stares at Ellie earnestly for a moment.

“You really do still love her.” Dina says, not as a question but as a statement.

Ellie doesn’t respond to this remark, her lips tight and her ocean green eyes unreadable.

“Come on. Let’s go see her.”

You had been brought to St. Peter’s Hospital, the closest one located to your university. When Ellie and Dina had gotten there, they found Jesse sitting alone in the mostly empty waiting room. He was staring up at the dreary off-white ceiling, his left leg nervously bouncing up and down as one of his hands gripped his right knee. When he spots the two girls enter the room, he immediately jumps out of his seat to meet them. He pulls his girlfriend into a tight embrace and gives her a tender kiss on the forehead, and then he places a firm and reassuring hand on his best friend’s shoulder.

“How is she?” Ellie asks nervously.

“Unconcious still, but she’s alive,” Jesse replies somberly. “The paramedics in the ambulance told me that they were pumping her full of adrenaline; and so now, they’re either still doing that or they’re just trying to get her heart rate back to normal. Apparently, her tongue was so swollen and her throat closed up completely, so they’ve got to reopen her airways ‘cause she’s having a hard time breathing.”

“Oh, god…” Dina chokes out.

“Don’t worry, D.” Jesse consoles. “She’s gonna be fine. She’s strong, and we know that. They’re taking care of her, and she’ll hopefully be awake soon.”

“I know, I know…” Dina sniffles. “It’s really not like me to fall apart like this. But she’s like a sister to me, you know. I mean, she basically is.”

“Me too, babe. Don’t worry. We all love her too. No need to explain.” Jesse says.

Dina gives him a soft smile as he gives her another tender forehead kiss. Watching such a small but affectionate scene between the two makes Ellie feel as if she’s intruding on a private moment she shouldn’t be witnessing. Jealousy in the form of a knife in the stomach twists inside her while her heart aches to feel that kind of intimacy.

“Oh, shit, I should call her uncle,” Dina suddenly realizes, pulling away from Jesse slightly. “I think I still have his number from freshman year. He should know what’s going on.”

“Good idea.” Jesse agrees. “He’s one of her emergency contacts, but I’m not sure if he knows just yet.”

“I’ll call the girls too,” She continues, referring to the other girls who lived in the Wilson Valley building with you and Dina during your freshman year. “I know that they’ll also want to know.”

She pulls her phone out of her pocket before muttering a quick “be right back” and exiting the waiting room.

Jesse and Ellie watch her walk out silently. After a moment or two, Jesse speaks up.

“Are you okay, El?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, man. Don’t do that. You know what I mean.”

“I’m fine, Jess.”

“Dude.”

“What?”

Jesse turns his whole body to face Ellie straight on, crossing his arms against his chest and frowning.

“You’re completely red in the face, you look the most stressed out than I’ve ever seen you, and you’re here.”

“So?” Ellie replies stubbornly.

“Williams.” Jesse stresses sternly. “You know Dina and I saw everything you had in that desk drawer.”

Ellie says nothing in reply and Jesse continues.

“You literally still had her old EpiPen from like, two years ago. That entire drawer was full of her shit.”

Ellie clenches her jaw and balls up her fists.

“You still have all those old letters she used to write you all the time, all these mementos and knickknacks from when you two were together. You even have Barbie Bear.” Jesse points out. “Do you know that she’s been chewing Dina out nonstop about her for years because she thinks Dina stole her?”

“Look, she and I just stopped talking to each other all of a sudden before sophomore year. I never had an actual chance to give her all of her shit back—”

“You literally could have given them to me or Dina or even any of the Wilson girls so we could return them.”

“Look—”

“And what about the rest of it? Shit that you didn’t have to actually give back to her? It’s been years. You could have easily thrown it all out.”

“You don’t understa—”

“You didn’t even bother leaving all that shit back home in Jackson. You brought it all here with you to keep in our apartment.”

“I… I—”

“She could have fucking died tonight, El. And you’re still bullshitting me.”

“Jesse.” Ellie croaks out through quivering lips and watery eyes.

“You saved her life. She could have very well been in a worse state right now if it weren’t for you. You told me and Dina what to do. Nobody told you to do any of that. And by the sorry state of you, it looks like you just ran three marathons in a row just to get here and make sure she was okay in person.”

Tears threaten to flow down from Ellie’s ocean green eyes, and it takes every ounce of strength that she has left in her to will them not to fall.

“She means so, so much to me and Dina. And to a whole bunch of other people too. When she gets hurt, we feel that shit too.” Jesse says. “I need you to get your motherfucking shit together, Williams. Now.”

Before Ellie can even form some kind of thought in response to his declaration, Dina suddenly reenters the waiting room.

“Called her uncle and told him everything I know. He’s currently looking up the first flight out and he’ll hopefully be here sometime tomorrow.” Dina informs the pair as she walks over. “Just got off the phone with Astrid too. Most of the girls are either busy or asleep by now, but she said she’ll let them know too as soon as possible. If she’s awake tomorrow, they’ll try to come by to pay her a visit.”

“Okay, good.” Jesse nods in response. “Thanks for doing that, D. I was so focused on what’s been going on, and none of that even crossed my mind.”

“They deserved to know.” Dina smiles sadly before suddenly frowning. “But why did she even go into anaphylactic shock in the first place? They both asked me, but I realized that you never actually told either of us and I didn’t really know what to tell them.”

“She and Anderson were making out, and Anderson had eaten some seafood bouillabaisse for dinner. Apparently, it had a bunch of chopped-up shrimp in it that she couldn’t see.” Jesse says plainly.

Dina inadvertently glances at Ellie in slight sympathy, but Jesse looks at her with zero remorse on his face.

“She didn’t tell Abby that she was really allergic?” Dina asks.

“Anderson apparently had no idea, said that she wouldn’t have ordered it if she knew in the first place.” Jesse clarified.

“Anderson should have fucking double-checked re-fucking-gardless.” Ellie angrily interjects.

“It’s not Abby’s fault, Ellie. There’s no way she could have just known instinctively.” Dina reasons.

“Doesn’t matter. Isn’t she studying to be a fucking doctor? Isn’t that some basic shit that they teach at med school or whatever? She should have known better.” Ellie seethes. “Where the fuck is she, anyway? I thought she came along.”

“She went down to the food court for a breather.” Jesse says.

“Oh, she needs a breather?” Ellie sneers. “Yeah, go ahead and catch your breath when the person you almost killed tonight can’t even fucking breathe—”

“Ellie!” Dina scolds.

“Whatever.” Ellie scoffs.

“El,” Dina suddenly brings up. “Have you talked to Daniela yet?”

“What about her?” Ellie asks.

“Weren’t you supposed to meet up with her…” Dina checks the time on her phone. “... almost an hour ago?”

“So?”

“Ellie.”

Ellie clicks her tongue.

“Fine, let me text her right now that I won’t make it—” She begins to say begrudgingly, but she cuts herself off as someone else enters the waiting room.

Abby Anderson quietly walks through the door, sipping a plain black coffee from a styrofoam cup. She looks up from her drink and gives Jesse an awkward but polite smile which he respectfully returns along with a nod.

Ellie’s entire body goes cold with frigid, icy hatred, exacerbated when her furious ocean green eyes suddenly meet with Abby Anderson’s tired sky blue ones.

“Actually,” Ellie suddenly says. “I’m gonna give her a call and see if she’s still free to meet up tonight. I still want my jacket back.”

Both Dina and Jesse look as if they’re each about to interject with a response, but Ellie is too quick for either of them to say a word.

Ellie storms out of the waiting room, not giving a second look at Abby Anderson.

Ellie throws Joel’s old leather jacket onto her bed, sighing softly. She sheds her sweaty grey hoodie and throws it down next to the jacket before pulling her phone out. She proceeds to call Jesse, but she’s greeted with ten, empty-sounding buzzes before being redirected to his voicemail. She then attempts to call Dina but is greeted with an immediate automated message stating that the call could not be completed.

Groaning in exasperation, Ellie collapses into her desk chair and roughly kicks off her Converse. After a moment or two, she notices the bottom-most drawer of her desk and the way it’s hanging off the frame precariously. Sighing, she crouches down on the floor and begins to rearrange its previous contents.

At first, she shoves items back into the drawer at random, but she immediately pauses once her hand grazes across the fur of a pink stuffed animal.

Barbie Bear.

She picks up the stuffed animal and stares sadly into its plastic eyes. Noticing that the light pink ribbon around its neck has gotten loose, Ellie delicately attempts to retie it back into a bow. After a couple of lopsided tries, she’s eventually satisfied once she’s able to center the ribbon correctly. She carefully places Barbie Bear back into the drawer before returning to restore its contents with more consideration.

After replacing a few pairs of old earrings of yours into a small box, she picks up a stack of old letters that she’d tied together with a piece of brown twine. Ellie resists the urge to go through each of them, but when she notices that one had fallen out of the stack and is now lying on the floor, her willpower dwindles almost instantly.

Ellie picks up the envelope gingerly, almost as if she’s afraid that her touch will cause it to burst into flames. She reads her name on the front written with green ink and flips it over to where the flap of the envelope is torn open. She runs her fingers over the wax seal that had secured the letter inside: the design of Saturn amongst several stars. Nervously, she slips the card out from inside and unfolds it to reveal your handwriting.

Dear Ellie,

It is currently 4:27 A.M. and I can’t sleep, and for some reason, I can’t stop watching that story you posted on Instagram earlier over and over. The one of you singing and playing your electric guitar to that Aaron Taylor song. Not to be gay as fuck, but it is so easy to get lost in the sound of your voice. Also, I really like your lips. And your hands.

I know I said this yesterday already, but you’ve been overworking yourself way too much lately. I’m glad that you’ve been putting a lot of effort into your schoolwork, but have you eaten? When was the last time you had a full meal (microwaveable ramen does not count)? Have you been taking any time for yourself? It’s really sweet that you still make time to come hang out with me most days, but you need some you time too, you know.

Not that I don’t love seeing your goofy face all the time. I don’t know, I think me writing all that out is me casually acknowledging that I have attachment issues and attempting to work on it. Oh, well. I’m pretty attached to you, fucking dork.

Okay, heading to bed now. Hopefully, I’ll actually be able to fall asleep this time. But hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow (I know I just said that you need to take more time for yourself, but shut up). You’re always the best part of my day.

Ellie can’t seem to let herself read the final piece of the letter, the part where you’d signed your name.

She delicately folds the card once more and places it back into its envelope. Turning it over in her hand and tenderly running her fingers over where you’d addressed her name, she wonders if your handwriting is still the same as it was all those years ago.

Reluctantly, Ellie tucks the letter back into the stack before tying them all securely together once more.

Earlier That Evening

Ellie was fifty-two minutes late to her supposed “date” with Daniela. This was Ellie’s third failed attempt at reacquiring Joel’s old motorcycle jacket, and they had previously decided to meet up outside the coffee shop on campus where Daniela recently started working after the end of her shift.

But after Ellie’s unexplained absence from their meeting, Daniela bitterly stormed back home to her dorm. She had half a mind to say no when Ellie called her with a half-assed explanation and asked if she could come over to retrieve her jacket. But after giving in, Ellie arrived at her dorm room within half an hour.

It wasn’t a total shock to Ellie when she was greeted with a look of annoyance when Daniela opened the door for her. Ellie attempted to feign a guilty expression, but all that she could muster was an indifferent grimace. Daniela said nothing as she silently beckoned Ellie to follow her and come in, an AirPod playing music loudly in one ear.

Ellie took a quick glance around the place, never having actually been inside Daniela’s room before. The twin-size beds, old wooden dressers, and scuffed-up desks were an all-too-familiar sight for Ellie, having gone through the same torturous experience herself only a couple of years back in her freshman year. But a few things were different as Daniela and her roommate had attempted to really personalize their living area. Ellie tried not to make a face of repulsion when spotting a few Taylor Swift concert posters above one of the desks.

Daniela plopped onto, what Ellie had assumed was, her bed but made no gesture that welcomed Ellie to do the same. She merely stared at her passively as Ellie tried to avoid looking her directly in the eye.

“You’re an hour late.” Daniela pointed out.

“Only fifty-two minutes late.” Ellie attempted to joke.

Daniela only hummed in response, unsmiling. She picked up a faded brown jacket that was sitting on top of her pillow by the collar and handed it over to Ellie.

“Thanks,” Ellie muttered, tucking the jacket under her arm. “Uh, thanks a lot for looking after it. Needed it back ‘cause it’s really my dad’s old jacket.”

“Oh, sorry. I would have given it back sooner if I knew that.” Daniela replied, not sounding the least bit sorry.

“It’s okay.” Ellie mumbled awkwardly.

There was an uncomfortable moment or two of complete silence where Daniela continued to merely gaze at Ellie, unwavering and unapologetic, while Ellie focused her eyes on her Converse as she wrung her hands together.

“Hey, look…” Ellie eventually spoke up. “I really am sorry about being late. I just had a really important emergency that I had to deal with.”

“It’s fine,” Daniela replied remorselessly. “Tara told me that you suddenly had to deal with some shit.”

“Wait, what?”

“Tara. Tara Maclay. She works with me at Ruston.”

“Oh, right.”

Another awkward moment of silence.

“Your ex-girlfriend, right?” Daniela asks unexpectedly.

“What?”

“Your ex-girlfriend. The shit you had to deal with tonight.”

“Oh, uh…”

“No point in lying, Ellie.” Daniela shrugged. “Tara already told me the gist.”

“Oh. What did she say exactly?”

“Not much. Said that you needed to help deal with something for someone you both know. She didn’t tell me exactly that it was your ex-girlfriend, but it was pretty obvious. I read between the lines.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“She really shouldn’t have told you all that.”

“She was ranting to another co-worker and I overheard your name and I was curious.” Daniela shrugged again, unabashed.

Another awkward moment of silence.

“So you still into your ex or something, Ellie?” Daniela spoke up again.

“She’s not really my ex-girlfriend.”

“Whatever.”

Another awkward moment of silence.

“Well?” Daniela asked.

“It’s kind of complicated.”

“That’s just the bullshit way of saying yes,” Daniela rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t matter if she’s your ‘ex’ or whatever.”

“Look, Daniela—”

“I know we aren’t serious or whatever, but I don’t really feel like dealing with someone else’s ex drama.”

“There’s no drama. I don’t even speak to her anymore.”

“And yet you ditched me to go and help her out with something earlier.”

“It’s not like that. And it was also an emergency.”

“So you said.”

Ellie wasn’t sure why she felt the need to explain herself to a girl she barely knew. Part of her felt compelled to do so as if she could continue to actively ignore her feelings by saying these things out loud.

Another awkward moment of silence.

“God, you’re such an asshole fuckboy, Ellie.”

“Hey, what the fuck—”

“You know that you can get girls and do, but you just like to fuck around with them and play with their feelings.”

“Alright, first of all, you said yourself that we’re nothing serious. We’ve barely even done anything.” Ellie said defensively. “Second, I literally just said that I don’t even talk to her anymore! Not even tonight!”

Ellie scoffed as Daniela rolled her eyes once more.

“Look,” Ellie continued through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry that I was late tonight. And I get it if your feelings are hurt. But nothing’s happening between me and my ex.”

“You just said that she wasn’t your ex.”

“Sh-she’s— she’s not, she’s—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daniela muttered as stood up from her bed. “At this point, I’m over it, and I really don’t give a fuck anymore. You’re hot and all, Ellie. But this is not worth it.”

She popped an AirPod in her ear once more and sauntered over to the door.

“Word of advice. Figure out your feelings for this ‘ex’ of yours and decide if you actually wanna be with her or not before getting involved with anyone else. Nobody deserves that hanging over their head, especially when you’re so clearly still in love with her.”

And with that, Daniela opened the door and peered at her expectantly. Ellie took the hint and walked towards her direction and through the doorway. Before Ellie could fully turn around and give any parting words, Daniela shut the door in her face.

Present

Ellie collapses onto her bed next to Joel’s old motorcycle jacket. She pulls her phone out again, contemplating calling Jesse and Dina once more. But realizing they’ll probably call her if they have anything important that they feel she needs to know, she drops the phone down to her side in defeat.

She continues to lay in her bed for a while, stewing in her unresolved feelings with nobody to confide in. Closing her eyes, her mind begins to race against her will with reminders of the path life led her down after you.

First was Marisol. Less than two months into sophomore year of college, Jesse and Dina were completely aghast to see Ellie walking around campus with a girl they’d never seen her with before. She was in Ellie’s Aerospace Engineering class, and Ellie had claimed to have had an eye on her since last year. Jesse and Dina watched helplessly as their friend flaunted her new girlfriend around everywhere for the next couple of months.

Ellie wasn’t initially sure what it was that attracted her to Marisol in the first place. She was naturally beautiful with her long, black hair and slender figure, and she was the textbook definition of a perfect girlfriend. It took two and a half months of overly extravagant dates and bouquets of Marisol’s favourite flowers and late nights spent at her dorm room for Ellie to understand what it was about Marisol that she was drawn to: it was her eyes. Down to the specks in her irises and how her eyelids curved, Marisol’s eyes resembled yours far too well. After coming to this harrowing realization, Ellie quickly broke things off with her tactlessly and with a half-assed, mostly untrue justification.

The next was Luz who she had met during her near-daily workouts at the gym with Jesse. Ellie spent several autumn weeks with them, allowing Luz to whisk her about to different parties with different groups of friends every weekend. But one fateful night when they had dragged Ellie to a party at the same Sigma Eta frat house where you’d both first met, a bad acid trip cemented the end of her time with Luz.

As Ellie’s dilated pupils focused intensely on Luz’s black boots, a pair very similar to your favourites, she felt a sensation begin to roughly tug at something inside her. From her spot on the living room couch, her eyes darted up to a spot by the wall where a small group of partygoers were congregating. She zeroed in on a random girl she’d never seen before whose multi-coloured features, as a result of LSD brain fog, began to morph into those of someone she was desperately trying to forget.

Once the last parts of the stranger’s face had fully formed to impersonate yours, she abruptly stood up from her slouched position on the couch, muttered an excuse to Luz about using the bathroom, and desperately begged Jesse to come pick her up immediately. After Jesse helped her click on her seatbelt in the passenger seat with a tight-lipped expression where he fought the urge to remind her of the significance of this house, Ellie never looked back and swore never to trip on acid again, subsequently ghosting Luz after that night.

A couple of weeks before winter break, she met a sweet and quiet girl named Simi. They met through a dating app during one of Ellie’s crossfaded swiping sprees at 2 in the morning. Ellie’s affair with her was extremely short-lived, ending things with her a day before everyone left campus to head home for the holidays. While spending the day hanging out at Simi’s dorm room as her new girlfriend packed for her trip home, Ellie suddenly and unfairly started a fight with her after Simi had begun to mindlessly sing the song “Merry Christmas Darling” under her breath.

Ellie had unkindly demanded for her to “shut up” immediately, understandably hurting Simi’s feelings. The fight was short and confusing, as Ellie had refused to elaborate on her sudden explosion. As she unceremoniously marched out of the dorm room, Ellie aggressively tried to suppress memories of you singing that same Carpenters song on a loop all of December of the previous year. You’d claimed you couldn’t get it out of your head and needed to sing it out loud at least fifty times a day so you could stop thinking about it. Though Ellie had playfully cussed you out and thrown several pillows at you on multiple occasions, that song now belonged to you forever and nobody else.

After Simi were strings of countless others, some who had used Ellie as their brief college lesbian experience and many whose names Ellie would never be able to recall. She never hooked up with the same person more than twice, never actually took another one out for an actual date until Daniela.

Ellie had found Daniela incredibly pretty when she’d first laid eyes on her on a warm September afternoon earlier in the year. She was lounging on the quad as Dina did her homework and Jesse lazily strummed his guitar when a group of freshmen walked by. Ellie hadn’t spared them a glance until one of the girls approached her, all shy and giggly, and said that one of her friends found Ellie very cute. After pointing Daniela out and asking for her number, Ellie shrugged and relented. She ignored Dina and Jesse’s identical judgmental looks and eye-rolls in her peripheral vision.

Ellie enjoyed the undivided attention of someone completely enamoured by her. Daniela was constantly responsive, did whatever Ellie wanted to do, and was always so eager to please her. Ellie’d bring her to the movies, go on long drives with her in her Jeep, take her to whatever restaurants she’d want to eat at.

To anyone who keenly observed when they were together, it was quite obvious who was far more invested between the two. Despite spending an ample amount of time with her in the past month or so, Ellie continued to keep Daniela at arm’s length. On multiple occasions when Ellie’d convinced Jesse and Dina to allow Daniela to accompany them, the long-time couple would watch how disconnected their friend was from this new girl she’d been seeing.

Dina would constantly give Jesse a raised eyebrow look that silently would ask, “Is she really serious?” to which Jesse would give her a tight-lipped, wordless grimace that replied with “We both know she’s a fucking dumbass.” They both placed bets on when exactly Ellie would eventually ditch this new girlfriend.

Unbeknownst to them, it’s Ellie who was so easily discarded this time around. Feeling so unmoved and unaffected about the split with Daniela, Ellie tries to feel some kind of guilt over her lack of reciprocation. It’s her own actions, after all, that landed her dumped in the first place. She’s never fully seen Daniela as an actual girlfriend, and she knows full well that she shouldn’t have strung her along.

But as she continues to lay in her bed, ocean green eyes shut and a hand woven through her auburn locks, she thinks of only you.

Ellie can’t remember a single moment in her life when she’s felt more in need of another person’s company than she does at this very moment. Unable to trouble Dina to be her listening ear as she always is or bother Jesse to bluntly set her straight as usual, she feels the loneliness of the gloomy, dark room creep into her guilty conscience.

Her fingers begin to mindlessly search her bedsheets as she continues to stare at her decrepit bedroom ceiling, seeking for her silver joint box that had fallen out of her pocket when she’d collapsed on her bed. Instead of the feel of cold metal, her hand comes across something smooth and warm. Pulling the brown leather jacket up to her face, Ellie’s mind murmurs a single word.

Joel.

She pulls her phone out to search for her father’s face within her favourite contacts. She hesitates for a moment but pushes herself to call.

Joel picks up after only two rings.

“Ellie? Jesus, kiddo, what the hell time is it?”

“Hello to you too, old man.” Ellie chuckles.

“Everythin’ alright?” Joel’s voice asks, tired but urgent.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

Ellie can almost hear her father sitting up straight in bed.

“What’s wrong, Ellie?”

“I-I…” She stutters. “Joel…”

With a whimpering tone, she suddenly recounts the night’s events in complete detail. Joel listens attentively, only ever interrupting with sharp intakes of breath and hushed, imperceptible asides. After listening to his daughter’s sorrowful spiel, he finally speaks.

“Oh, baby girl…” Joel utters. “I truly am sorry. It’s been a real rough night for all of y’all.”

“Yeah…”

“That poor kid… I’m glad she had you three lookin’ out for her tonight.”

Ellie says nothing to this, pursing her lips.

“How about you, Ellie?” Joel continues. “How are you feelin’ after everythin’ that’s happened?”

“I-I’m not really sure. I’m not sure I know how to feel.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to just yet. It just happened and all.”

“All I feel is so much fucking guilt, Joel. It feels like my mind is empty but overflowing all at the same time. I feel so motherfucking powerless and I don’t know what to do.”

There’s a moment of silence before her father speaks again.

“You given any thought to the conversation we had before you left for school, kiddo?”

Last August: Jackson

Ellie’s bedroom was full of boxes and bags packed with everything she planned to bring to college for her junior year. The space was slightly more barren, closet mostly empty and trinkets missing from her shelves. It was only a couple more days before she, Dina, and Jesse would be making their journey back to their university, and she was uncharacteristically ahead of schedule.

Leaning against her desk with a box full of comic books on the floor next to her, she was casually perusing an old graphic novel when Joel appeared in her open doorway.

“Knock, knock.”

“The door’s open, old man. Also, you can literally just walk in, you know.”

“Who raised you to have so much cheek against your elders, kid?”

“You, dude.”

The pair smirked at each other’s smart-mouthed retorts.

“Need any help packin’ up?”

“Nah. It’s pretty much done except for a handful of essentials.”

“Including that book you’re holdin’ right now?”

“Like I said: essentials.”

Joel chuckled.

“Well, the Changs sent over some dinner for us, if you want some. Wisa made K-kaw… Khao Tom Pa… no, Plah…” Joel stuttered, making an effort to pronounce the Thai dish correctly. “Khao Tom Plah, that’s it. She brought some over earlier, thought we might want some. She even made it without the prawns, just the way you like it.”

“Sick. She’s the best. I’ll text Jesse later to thank her.”

“Good.”

Joel lingered as Ellie went back to reading her comic, wistfully looking around his daughter’s nearly vacated bedroom. His eyes fell on a small box sitting at the foot of Ellie’s bed. It was an ordinary, cardboard box just as the others were, except it was heavily sealed with multiple layers of silver duct tape. He frowned.

“Still plannin’ on bringin’ that box?”

“What do you mean?” Ellie asked, knowing exactly what her father was referring to without looking up.

“You know you can just leave it here at home, right? It ain’t like I go through your doohickeys when you ain’t here.”

“So you do go through my shit when I am here?”

“Ellie.”

“What?”

“Why the hell are you doing this to yourself, kid?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We’ve been having this same conversation for the past year now.”

Ellie finally peeled her eyes away from her graphic novel, tossing it on the desk behind her and crossing her arms.

“You’re the one who keeps bringing it up, Joel.”

“I bring it up because I know that you ain’t been talkin’ about these feelings with anyone. Not me or Jesse or Dina. It’s been a year since you ditched that poor girl, and you’re still sulkin’ over it.”

“She ditched me.”

“Hold your horses; we both know that ain’t true.”

“What do you want from me, old man?”

“I want you to be happy, kiddo.”

“What makes you think I’m not happy?”

“Now, don’t try to bullshit me. You can grumble and deny it ‘til the cows come home, but even after all this time, all you ever do is brood and pine after that girl. Plain as day to anyone. You ain’t been the same since y’all broke up.”

“We weren’t together.”

“Yes, you were.”

Joel ignored his daughter’s subsequent eye-roll before continuing.

“You still have the box, Ellie.”

“I just forgot I even had it.”

“And yet, you’re bringin’ it to school with you, just like you did last year. Why?”

“It was just in my closet stuffed in with all this other shit I don’t touch. Had to take it out while I was packing.”

“That ain’t amount to a hill o’ beans. And you still ain’t answer my question.”

“Sorry, dude.”

“Ellie. You and I would down to Beacon Run all the damn time back when you were growin’ up. You used to beg me to go for dinner whenever you had a hankerin’ to order that cheesy crab dip with all those chips and jalapeños and such.”

Ellie raised her eyebrow, unsure where her father was going with this.

“Then all of a sudden, a few years ago, you seemed to hate the place. You’ll maybe get a plate of fries and nothin’ else. Matter of fact, I can’t, for the life of me, recall the last time I’ve seen you eat a plate of seafood with any kind of shellfish in it.”

Joel’s greying eyes pierced Ellie’s ocean green.

“Two years.” He continued. “It’s been two years. You almost never eat any kind of seafood no more, and even the Changs never cook us anythin’ that has shrimps or scallops or anythin’ of the like.”

Joel watched as his daughter stubbornly struggled to justify herself. He sighed sadly.

“I wish you’d let yourself be happy, Ellie. You could be.”

“That so? How do you figure that?”

“First step is admitting exactly what is clear as day to everyone around you.”

“Oh, yeah? And what is that?”

Present Day

“J-Joel… I-I…” Ellie sobs. “I love her.”

“I know, baby girl.”

Joel helplessly listens to his daughter’s desperate weeping from the other end of the line.

“So,” He eventually asks in between her snivels. “What now?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She sniffs.

“Kiddo, why do you think your feelings don’t matter?”

“Because relationships do not work for me. Love doesn’t work for me.”

“Your relationship with her didn’t work. Past tense. It’s been years. It was a tough situation. You’re a different person now.” Joel clarifies. “And there’s plenty love ‘round you, kiddo. You got a lotta love in your life. I need you t’realize that.”

“Except I-I’m not a different person, Joel. I-I am just an older, slightly more experienced version of myself. I-I…” Ellie stutters. “I’m afraid.”

“Of course you are, kid. It’s only natural.” Joel replies. “But you can’t live your whole life closed off from the rest of the world. You need and deserve love, Ellie.”

“Except I don’t, Joel! I fucking don’t!” She cries. “God, y-you just, you just don’t understand!”

“What don’t I understand?”

“She almost fucking died!” Ellie nearly screams.

A silence falls between the two, only broken by Ellie’s hot and angry tears noisily dropping onto the old leather jacket. She grips it tightly in one hand before continuing.

“I-if… if none of it happened… if I d-didn’t do all that to h-her all those years ago…” She stutters between shaky lips. “M-maybe she wouldn’t be where she is now. She wouldn’t have gone on a date w-with someone who didn’t know about…”

Ellie chokes back a sob.

“I-I… I would have known. I would have t-taken care of her. I would never have—”

“Ellie.”

“She needed me, and I… I let her down. Not just tonight. All those years ago. I couldn’t be what she needed. I fucking failed her.”

“It’s not that simple, kid.”

“Yes, it is! Her cousin fucking died! He was her whole fucking world, and she loved him more than anything, and he fucking died and I… I ran. I abandoned her.”

The blurry memory of your sleeping figure in the passenger seat of Ellie’s Jeep appears in front of her, wrapped up cozily in her flannel as she drives you home from Jackson and naive to what lies ahead.

“I know… I know what I’m capable of, Joel. I loved her so much all those years ago and… I still hurt her. I hurt her so fucking badly.”

Your image transforms to one of you awake and livid, Ellie’s flannel torn off and tears streaming down your face. Anger and betrayal are etched all over your face, just like they were all those years ago. The shame she’d felt back then is incomparable to what she feels now.

“I don’t ever want to do that to her again, ever. I just can’t. I won’t.”

Joel sighs deeply before finally speaking.

“Ellie. That fear is always gonna be there. But you’re young, and we make plenty of mistakes in our youth. God knows how much of my past I used to regret.”

Ellie takes deep breaths as her father continues to speak.

“Everythin’ that happened tonight? None of it was your fault. In fact, I reckon you’re the reason she’s still livin’ and breathin’ right now. I’m proud of you for that.”

“All I did was—”

“All you did was save her life.”

Ellie sniffles but doesn’t respond.

“Look, kiddo,” Joel continues. “As someone who has known you for a very long time, I know how much of a good heart you got. You’re a lovin’ person who deserves love. I wish you could believe that.”

The sound of people entering through the front door echoes all around the empty apartment, but Ellie hears nothing else but the sound of her own agonized sobs.

author’s notes:

belle posting TWO chapters of ncty within less than two weeks of each other??? what is this, may 2023???

saury for not posting this right away like promised yesterday, like i said, going thru some shit rn! but i hope y'all enjoyed regardless ♥︎

i'll give you a kiss on the mouth if you guess the bollywood movie i vaguely reference at the beginning of the chapter :)

the idea of reader being allergic to shellfish and going into anaphylactic shock came to me one day a while back when i was eating something with shrimp and randomly remembered that i am very allergic to shellfish and instead of being like, "i should go take some medicine immediately", i thought, "hmm this would be a wild plot point for ncty" LMFAOOOO

anyway, this is your reminder that if you have an epipen, don't be stupid, bring that shit with you wherever you go sldkfjsdl

the more of jesse that i include in this series, the more i enjoy writing him. he's such a fun character to write hehe

i thought having abby sipping on some hot, black coffee when ellie fucking canonically hates coffee was so hilarious, i pat myself on the fucking back for that one

yes i also pat myself on the back for the line regarding ellie's ocean green eyes and abby's sky blue ones. i fucking love parallels and symbolism. i'm a whore for them, in fact.

btw dina doesn't respond to ellie's phone call bc her phone died (prob from facetiming ellie for that long earlier in the night) and idk, jesse's either not paying attention or being petty LMFAO

the reappearance of barbie bearrrrr, my babyyyy. idk if y'all remember, but yes, barbie bear is a reference to the actual stuffed pink bear i sleep with every night named barbie. i had planned since chapter 4 (which is the chapter barbie bear is first mentioned) for ellie to have had her this whole time because i'm a fucking lunatic LOL

i mentioned in the author's notes section of the last chapter how reader's letterwriting hobby is inspired by me irl cause i do that all the time for friends, but reader's letter in this chapter is actually loosely based on a letter that soulmate ex wrote me, it's not word for word exactly, i altered it a bit to fit the story better, but it's very close because i'm INSANE, anyway

yes "i think i love you again" is on my playlist about my ex-girlfriend and "merry christmas darling" is on his playlist for me, go away

ellie's clear aversion to taylor swift is both a reference to a previous chapter where jesse subtly mentions her dislike for her and also to my personal belief that ellie really would not like her as a person or an artist at all irl lmfao

the names of all of ellie's ex gfs or whatever are inspired by something very specific but that's another heehee secret trivia that nobody else but me will ever know about (let's be real, i'll prob tell star later LOL)

i named jesse's mom after one of my fave co-workers hehe (and the dish she makes for them is thai bc my co-worker is from thailand)

ellie's declaration of love about reader that she makes to joel has also been a long time planned now, idk why i knew it was gonna be chapter 13 when i did it, but i just knew it was. it was always the plan for her to confess it out loud to joel first, above anyone else

the final conversation between ellie and joel is heavily inspired by a scene from one of my fave tv shows, crazy ex-girlfriend. the scene makes me bawl every time i watch it. please watch crazy ex-girlfriend. so good.

we really are thirteen chapters into this series, huh? crazy. anyway, love y'all. <3

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cherriegyuu · 1 year

Text

Way Back Home | jww

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader genre: angst, fluff towards the end word count: 6.3k summary: after twelve years apart, you finally meet wonwoo again

warnings: this fic is set in the early 2000's (around 2003) so that's why communication is a little complicated

requests are open

“So, did the two of you have fun playing this stupid game?” you said as you finally took the call.

The phone in your hotel room had been ringing for hours now. You were sure that the receptionist hated you. They knew you were in the room but still refused to pick up the call, so Jeonghan had been calling nonstop.

“What are we talking about exactly? You know I’m not a great player at anything really,” Jeonghan said, the humor in his voice evident. The fact that he treated the whole situation as a joke angered you even further.

You and Jeonghan met while you were still in college, during your final internship before graduation. He was the one you were supposed to report to, and you were his first intern. All of it was a mess from the start, but not too much apparently, as they hired you as a full-time employee and he was in charge of training all the new interns.

Eventually, Jeonghan got tired of being bossed around and decided to leave. He asked you to work for him and you said yes. That was two years before. Jeonghan was your best friend, the one person you trusted with most aspects of your life. So the fact that he did that, that he send you there without letting you know what you’d find waiting for you, hurt more than you could put into words.

“You know that coming here meant seeing Wonwoo again,” you murmured, the pain in your voice evident.

You couldn’t get the look on Wonwoo’s face out of your mind. As if it had been engraved in your brain, it played back again and again. He looked at you with pure anger, nothing more. While you felt hopeful and happy, all you felt coming from Wonwoo was hatred.

The last time you saw him, the two of you were sixteen years old. The worse part of your teenage life and probably the worse year of high school for both of you, until that moment. You often found solace in each other’s arms, in the whispered words spoken in the darkest hours of the night. You were each other’s only friend, the only comfort in those years. He was your best friend, the entire reason you found any strength to get out of bed. He was your lifeline, your safe haven.

And then you had to leave him behind and go to a place that could have been a paradise for you, but you hated it with every fiber of your being. Because sure, that life was a living hell, but at least you had him. And then you didn’t have him anymore, and it didn’t matter how many times you tried to contact him. Phone calls, letters, driving to him. All of it. Everything you could think of. The same way you vanished, so did him.

But there he was, looking so much like the boy you remembered, but at the same time completely different. He was taller than the boy in your memory, the sprout years of a boy really hitting him hard after you left. You couldn’t help but wonder if that happened the summer your parents took you away, or if it was the year after that.

Did he make it to college like he wanted, an architecture degree like yours, or he went for something else? Did he even make it to college at all? Judging by the fact that he stood in front of you, the answer was yes to both questions.

But all the while you were happy, thrilled even, to see him, Wonwoo didn’t seem to share the same feeling. His eyes seemed warm and welcoming once he opened the door, but when he realized that it was you, his entire posture changed. His eyes turned cold and avoided yours.

“I thought it was something you wanted,” Jeonghan said softly, quickly realizing that the issue was much bigger than he anticipated.

You sighed again, watching the bright pink socks on your feet.

Seeing Wonwoo again, after so many years, was something you had dreamed of and desired, but not without any sort of preparation. You needed time to think of something to say, how to approach him. Truthfully, you had thought about it so many times, had even thought about it the night you boarded the plane to go to him. But once he was in front of you, you froze in place and everything happened in the exact opposite way of what you expected and wished for.

“It was, but I don’t think it’s something he wanted, Jeonghan. A relationship, in whichever shape or form, needs two people. Although I wanted something like this, to reconnect and maybe even try to be friends again, he needs to want it too”

Jeonghan wanted to say something but chose to stay quiet. He understood what you meant. Even if he had gotten the impression from Mingyu that seeing you again was something Wonwoo wanted, Jeonghan wasn’t about to defend the guy.

“Do you want to come home?” you shook your head, knowing that Jeonghan couldn’t see you but sure that your silence would be enough of an answer “It’s your call, you say the word and I’ll get you on the next flight out”

“You know I don’t quit jobs, Jeonghan, so I’ll finish this”

And then you’d go home, to the memories you kept.

Walking inside the office Wonwoo shared with Mingyu was like leaving the warmth of a blanket and facing the raging snowstorm outside with nothing more than a t-shirt. Where Mingyu was bright and talkative, Wonwoo was cold and silent.

Not once did he talk to you, or even looked your way. In fact, on most days, the second you walked in, Wonwoo closed his door and wouldn’t leave his office — not even for a bathroom break — while you were there.

“I’m sorry about him. He’s usually quiet but never really like this”

Your entire body shuddered at the loud sound of the door closing. Every day, since you arrived, Mingyu tried to find ways to make excuses for Wonwoo’s behavior. “he’s just shy”, “Wonwoo’s stressed out because of a different project, the client is giving him hell”, “he got drunk last night”.

You just nodded and pretend to hear whatever it was that Mingyu came up with. All of those were valid reasons to be in a bad mood. You had gone through those emotions more than once. But never had you used those situations as ways to be rude to other people.

And truthfully, you couldn’t even understand why Wonwoo was acting like that. In the twelve years since you last saw each other, it has been your dream to see him again. You never expected to pick up your friendship, but you hoped that you could at least be friendly. Clearly, Wonwoo didn’t feel the same way.

“You should have talked to him about it, before bringing me here,” you said as you rolled up the design in front of you “Jeonghan knew my feelings, but I’m guessing that you didn’t know about Wonwoo’s as well as you thought”

Mingyu sighed and looked at his friend’s closed office door.

“I thought I knew him, that this was something that he wanted”

It didn’t take long for you to discover that Jeonghan and Mingyu worked together on the plan to make you and Wonwoo work together on the same project. It would have been an okay plan if the two of you could stay in the same room for more than twenty seconds. But the moment Wonwoo found out that you would be in the project, he stepped back and Mingyu was doing all the work in his place.

It wasn’t like Wonwoo didn’t do anything at all while you were there. He worked on other projects. Or just about anything that made him stay as far away as possible from you.

“I’m going to work on these at the hotel, okay?” you raised the tube in your hands and smiled “He probably needs to pee or eat at this point”

Mingyu watched as you grabbed your purse and waved goodbye once you reached the door. Less than a minute later, the door to Wonwoo’s office opened and he walked out, after quickly making sure that you were nowhere to be seen. He stretched his arms to the sides and then slowly above his head before heading to the bathroom.

“Until when exactly will you keep doing this?” Mingyu asked once Wonwoo left the bathroom. He watched as his friend sat in the same spot you were just a few minutes before and went through the blueprints you worked on. His fingers traced the words you had written, slightly smudging them

“Why are you over here longing over a drawing when you could be talking to her, understanding what actually happened back then?”

Wonwoo shook his head.

“You brought her here, you deal with her. If we talk, it won’t be pretty”

Twelve years' worth of hurt and anger that had been carefully tucked away had been brought back to the surface the second he saw you. He had seen you before you saw him. He was at the window looking at the people moving across the street, hurrying here and there when he saw you. Your face briefly glanced at the notebook in your hands before looking around, as if you were looking for something or someone. It didn’t take him long to realize that you were looking for a place, and that place was exactly where he was.

Shock, dread, and something else he hadn’t felt in years crept into his body as he watched in absolute horror as you greeted Mingyu, a bright smile on your face. A smile that dropped when you saw him.

Even from across the room, Wonwoo could tell that your eyes filled with tears, your lips forming his name without ever making a sound. The tears gave room to hope as you smiled at him. Mingyu, who was in front of you talking excitedly, was completely forgotten for a moment.

Still, Wonwoo couldn’t share that happiness with you.

“So you’re going to hold over her head something that happened when the two of you were sixteen?”

“Yeah” was all Wonwoo said.

By the end of week two, you were exhausted and had had enough of Wonwoo pretending that you didn’t exist and Mingyu making excuses on his behalf.

You made excuses for him as well.

Wonwoo, as a teenager, was someone who needed time to understand certain situations and come up with a plan. When talking to Mingyu about him, you understood that part of his personality hadn’t changed. So you gave him time, plenty of it. Tried to not feel hurt over it, all the ways he avoided you, how Mingyu was the one working with you when Wonwoo should be the one doing it.

But enough was, eventually, enough, and you handled it as best as you could, for as long as you could. The project was far from being done. If you were optimistic and everything went according to plan, there was still a month of work to be done.

“Is that door locked?” you asked Mingyu once you walked inside the office.

Mingyu looked over his shoulder at Wonwoo’s door and at his friend through the glass door. Although he looked focused on whatever it was that he was doing, he was way more concerned about everything that was happening outside.

“Go crazy,” he answered with a smile.

Setting your bag where you usually sat, you marched to Wonwoo’s office. He merely looked at you over his glasses before looking back at his computer.

“I’m busy right now”

“I don’t actually give a fuck” you pushed the screen of his computer until it was closed in front of him “I’ve given you two weeks, allowed you to treat me like shit but I’ve had enough of that”

He leaned back in his chair, a condescending smile on his lips, and he had never quite looked so handsome before.

You tried your best not to stare at him too much, but he was all man now. Every time you looked at him, your heart did the same thing it did when you were a teenager. You tingled everywhere, but you still held yourself back from reaching for him. Just for a second, you wanted to hold his hand and feel his skin against yours.

However, the wall Wonwoo built in front of you was so high that you felt like you were wrong just from breathing in the same room as him.

“I know it’s been twelve years, and I don’t expect things to be how they used to be, but I thought that if this day ever happened, we would at least be friendly. Why are you treating me like this?”

“You left, you couldn’t possibly expect things to be different from what they are now”

Wonwoo was right. You left, but even after twelve years, it was still the hardest thing you ever did. And it was the one thing you had absolutely no control over. You were sixteen and your dad hated Wonwoo so much that he found a job in a different city, so you would move somewhere else.

You found out about it a couple of days before it actually happened. You and Wonwoo came up with a plan to keep in touch until you were eighteen and finally free to do whatever you wanted.

Phone calls are just for emergencies, you and Wonwoo agreed, so let’s communicate through letters, I’ll send the first one because I still don’t know exactly where they’re taking me but we can go back and forth after that.

For months you wrote letters that were never answered, but you thought that delivery was bad and nothing more. Only realizing that something was off once when you started to get the letters back. There was no hint of them being ever opened and the stamp recipient refused correspondence in bright red.

Then the phone calls started. She asked Jihoon, a friend from school, to make the call, afraid that if whoever answered heard her voice, they would call her dad. The calls were always made in the specific hours Wonwoo instructed you but he was never there to answer.

“You’re right, I left. But what I can’t understand is why you’re acting like this when you were the one who never answered”

An incredulous laugh left Wonwoo’s mouth as he got up. He was still taller than you, the different bigger than in your memory. His shoulders got broader too. Your hands shook as you pushed them inside the pockets of your jacket.

“I never answered because you never wrote or called”

You shook your head, stepping back and hitting the glass wall behind you. You looked over your shoulder for a second to find Mingyu staring at you, probably listening to every word you said.

“For two years I wrote to you, every week as we planned, and every single time the letters were returned to me. I had a guy from school call your house every other week but you never once picked up the call. We had to stop when your brother started to think that you were in trouble”

The same condescending smile was still on his lips. Wonwoo didn’t believe you, not for a second. There were no letters, no phone calls. You had never tried to reach him in any way.

“You never really cared, y/n. Be honest with me, I was just the guy who gave you some attention when you lacked it from your parents. I’m sure the guy from school you mentioned was happy to fill in for me”

Your entire body shook, out of hurt and anger. You wanted to lash out at him, scream or something, anything at all, that would make him understand. But he was convinced and if he was still anything like the boy you knew, there was no chance of convincing him.

You turned your back to him, your shaky fingers reaching for the door handle. You rested your head on the door for a second, trying your best to push the air back into your lungs.

“You were my best friend” you whispered, so low that Wonwoo almost missed it “You were the most important person in the world to me. There was only you”

You pulled the door open and stepped outside. You were never one to cry in front of people, even if that was all you wanted but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop once Mingyu was in sight again. Or at least a very blurry version of him.

“y/n…” Mingyu reached for you, his hand on your shoulder. And then he felt it, your body shaking so violently that it surprised him that he couldn’t see it happening “Let me drive you back”

You shook your head, stepping away from his touch. Mingyu was nice and kind, his presence was the only source of comfort amidst Wonwoo’s coldness. He did his best to make you feel welcomed but he couldn’t do anything for you anymore.

“I can just call a taxi” you pushed away the tears away and tried to smile at him, trying to assure him, “I’m fine, don’t worry”

Only when you were on the other side of the street, you allowed yourself to let out the sobs that were stuck in your throat. Everything hurt, but most of all, your heart was shattering into a million different pieces once again.

Throughout the entire weekend Wonwoo felt uncomfortable in his own skin, something that hadn’t happened to him in many years.

He didn’t expect the way you left his office to affect him so much, or at all, to be honest. What he said to you was part of the little speech he practiced over the years, in case he ever saw you again. What he didn’t practice was the part where you cried and said that you tried to contact him for years.

He realized he was wrong when he saw the shock on your face. He started to think that maybe the things he believed for years were lies

So he did the only thing that he could think of. He stayed inside his car, outside the hotel you were staying at, building up the courage to get out and talk to you.

It was awfully hard, Wonwoo realized, to admit that he was wrong for so many years. And it was even a little embarrassing to think that he didn’t need any convincing at all. When Mingyu barged into his office, Wonwoo was already fully convinced that he was, in fact, wrong.

He watched as you left the building with nothing but a wallet and your phone and went to the coffee shop on the other side of the street.

“She used to hate coffee,” he said to himself.

He felt like a stalker, watching you in secret. But that feeling wasn’t enough to shake him. He was okay with being a creep for a little while if it meant making sure that you were alright.

Your eyes seemed a little puffy and you looked down at your phone for a second before pressing it to your ear. You were quiet for a moment before you spoke to whoever was on the line. You were on the phone the entire time you waited for your drink.

Wonwoo felt a sharp pain in his chest as the frown on your face eased and a small smile appeared on your lips.

It had never occurred to him that you could have been in a relationship, that there was someone in your life. He was so focused on the memory of you, that he let go of the person in front of him.

“We’ll talk on Monday” he promised himself “Let’s calm down for now”

Weekends usually went by quickly for Wonwoo, much to his disappointment. He used to love to be by himself, in his apartment, watching TV, or sleeping.

But that one weekend, in specific, dragged on and on. Never before was he so desperately waiting for Sunday to end. He purposely got to the office later than usual. Wonwoo wanted to make sure that you were already there. He wanted to apologize and maybe have a decent conversation with you for a change, one that didn’t end with you crying.

Wonwoo felt a tingle of disappointment when he noticed that you weren’t anywhere to be seen. Instead, going over the blueprints you were working on friday was a man he had never seen before.

“Ah, Wonwoo” Mingyu said “This is Jeonghan, y/n works for him”

Jeonghan stood up and reached out to shake Wonwoo’s hand.

“It may be my name on the door, but she’s the soul of the firm, so I’d say that I work for her”

His smile looked innocent enough, but Wonwoo knew better and it was obvious why Jeonghan was there. You had left.

“Can we talk?” Jeonghan asked from the door.

He didn’t wait for Wonwoo’s answer and walked in without an invitation.

Wonwoo watched him quietly all morning. The way he interacted with Mingyu, how he moved around the office. It was easy to see personality traits being shared by the two of you, from the way the two of you used the same wording in a sentence to how he even moved around the office.

Wonwoo wondered if he was the person you had been talking with on the phone on Saturday.

“Sure”

Jeonghan moved to sit on the chair in front of Wonwoo. The box in his hand never felt heavier.

“I don’t appreciate y/n calling me, in the middle of the night, in panic, begging me to let her go home” he did his best to keep his voice leveled but it was hard to “I’ve known her years and something like this never happened before”

Wonwoo’s heart felt tight inside his chest as if someone was squeezing it. He didn’t mean it, he didn’t want to hurt you at all he realized. He was filled with regret the moment he spoke. Jeonghan’s words explained why Mingyu said that you had a family emergency and that’s why you left in a hurry because that’s probably what you told him. Needless to say, neither of them believed it. Wonwoo much less, considering your past relationship with your parents.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things to her”

Sighing, Jeonghan put the box in front of Wonwoo.

“These are letters she wrote. She kept them for the past twelve years. I told her many times to throw them away but I was the one who stopped her this time around”

Jeonghan knew that he was going to regret his decision. Once Wonwoo went through them, there was no way he wouldn’t want to talk to you. Wonwoo stayed quiet as Jeonghan flexed his fingers on the edges of the shoe box, one that Wonwoo remembered all too well.

“You like her”

“From the moment I saw her” Jeonghan answered with a nod, finally pushing the box away from him “But there was never really a place for me, not like that”

He stood, pushing the chair back, putting his hands deep inside his pockets.

“If you hurt her, even if you don’t mean to, I’ll be sure to make you regret that decision every single day for the rest of your life”

Hi Wonwoo,

On my way here I kept thinking about how I would write that this place sucks, that the school is awful and absolutely no one here talks to me. It was a plan, you know? But if I did that, I would be lying and sounding like a bratty teenager. So I won’t.

The house Dad found is so cool, there’s a swing set in the back and my room is also nice. School doesn’t seem too bad either and I’ve made friends. There’s this boy, our age, who I share classes with, Jihoon, who I think you’d like. I’m thinking about asking him to call you when I can’t deal with not hearing your voice anymore. Not now, of course, but at some point in the future.

I’ve been gone for three weeks, and I already miss you like crazy. I started to miss you once we were on the road. Not seeing you or talking to you for three weeks is torture. In a way, I guess, my parents are succeeding. I miss the feeling I had waking up, knowing that I would get to see you, that we would go to the woods behind the school and just talk. About anything and everything.

Sorry this first letter isn’t long, there isn’t much going on and I still don’t know what to say. Also, I’m sorry it took me so long to write. Dad has been paying attention to what I do, so I’ve been trying to keep quiet so he’ll leave me alone.

I miss you a lot,

Hi Wonwoo,

So, something weird happened today. All the letters I’ve sent so far, six, came back as if you had refused to receive them. Did something happen? I’m sure it’s just a mistake, but I just want to make sure.

Either way, I’ll keep writing, but I’ll ask Jihoon to make the call tomorrow. We’ll come up with a plan so that no one finds out that I’m the one calling.

Please be there when we call, and please pick up the phone.

I miss you

Hi Wonwoo,

It’s been months now and I can’t get a hold of you, the letters are still being rejected and the calls too. You’re never there, not even once.

I keep holding out the hope that your life just changed, for the better. Now you have new friends and a girlfriend so you’re busy with the new life. If that’s the case and that’s why you pushed me away, then it’s fine. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy and if me not being part of your life helps that happiness then I’ll gladly stay away.

But you’re happy, right?

Please find happiness, Wonwoo. In whatever shape or form that you can find. There’s no one else in this world that deserves it more than you.

I think I’ll keep writing to you, maybe not as often, but I’ll keep writing either way. Even if you don’t think of me as a friend anymore, you’re still that someone for me.

I hope your college plans didn’t change. I really want to see you again.

I miss you so much. I think I’m going crazy.

Wonwoo,

I just got back home. It was such a long drive, and it only made me realize that I hate driving more than anything else. I’d just rather either walk or take the bus. But that’s not really important right now.

For the past few years, I’ve written you letters. A lot at first and then fewer as time went by. It’s not that nice to write letters that will be sent back, never read. But still, I wrote, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this one would be the one you’d accept. You never did, though.

So I made a promise to myself that the second I turned eighteen, when my parents couldn’t hold their power of legal guardians over me, I would get inside my car and drive all the way back to you. If he’s going to reject me, then he has to do it in my face. I think I just like being hurt or something, but honestly, you’re the only one that I’d go this far for.

Anyway.

Four days ago it was my eighteenth birthday so I got in my car at two in the morning and drove back to our hometown. I kept thinking about what I would say to you and not a whole lot came to mind. I just wanted to hug you. That’s the only thought that crossed my mind. Even if he rejects me, I’m going to hug him for 5 entire seconds. I’m sort of pathetic, right?

It’s okay, only you get to see this version of me. Ever.

So I got there and went straight to your house. Your brother, he’s so tall now, was the only one there and he said that you were gone. Left the week before and he didn’t know where you went.

Obviously, I didn’t believe him. If I had a brother and he left, I’d want to know where he went. So I stayed in town for 3 days. I went to the places you’d usually go to, but mostly to the lake. I parked my car as close as possible and slept inside it. Careless, I know. It was also terrifying. But nothing bad happened, so please give me a pass on the lecture.

As expected, I didn’t find you there either. You know, one would think that you’re dead, considering that there’s no way to find you at all. But I also asked if you were alive and the answer was yes and an incredulous laugh so…

After sitting alone in my car for an hour, crying, I came back home. And I made a decision.

I don’t know what you’ll do with your life, if you’re going to the college we agreed on or if you’re going to college at all. Either way, I won’t look for you. I will do my best to never search for your name anywhere (which I have and there was no Jeon Wonwoo anywhere)

This is also the last letter that I ever write to you. There’s no point in writing to someone who will never read what you want to say to them. There’s no point in loving someone who doesn’t love you back.

Because I do, Wonwoo. I really do love you. Not as just a friend, as in love with you. I remember thinking that you weren’t accepting my letters because you had a girlfriend and nothing hurt more than that. Because I would have chosen you, even if we were to remain just friends. It was always you for me. Or maybe an idolized version of you.

Because now you are forever the love that never was, one that I just never got to live to the fullest.

I’m sorry if my love for you was suffocating.

I’ll stop loving you now and live the college life to the best of my abilities.

If we see each other by chance, let’s just smile and move on. Let us be a good memory of our teenage years.

You felt apologetic towards Jeonghan. He was a friend and also your boss, but he was out there covering for you because you couldn’t bring yourself to not care anymore.

Twelve years since you last saw Wonwoo, ten since the last letter you wrote to him. Three different relationships, with people that were wildly different from him, and at every single turn the guy was compared to him. Without a fault, no one was as good as him.

And being honest, it was so stupid to compare grown men to the memory of a teenage boy. For all you knew, Wonwoo could have turned into a completely different person. And he did. It just wasn’t a version of him you liked very much.

So maybe, who Wonwoo had grown to be wasn’t someone you would have loved. Maybe him treating you like that was what you needed to finally get him out of your mind.

The love that never was, you remember writing. Perhaps now you could change that thought to the love that never was because it turns out that Wonwoo is a complete asshole.

You looked at your computer screen, reading the e-mail Jeonghan sent you earlier.

you| If there’s anything I can help you with, please tell me. Also, apologize to Mingyu for me. I was so desperate to leave that I didn’t say bye to him

jeonghan| He says ‘I heard what Wonwoo said, there’s nothing to apologize for’ and you should focus on the projects there. There’s enough to do on your end as well, now that you’re me for the time being

You smiled lightly, closing your laptop and finally pulling the blankets over your legs. Although you were offering to help, you hoped that Jeonghan would tell you not to do anything for now. You felt bad and working was always a coping mechanism for you but the situation somehow felt like a breakup, the worst kind. So all you wanted to do was lay on your couch, watching a romcom, wondering where it had gone so wrong for you.

How stupid it was that you had gotten your heart broken twice, by the same guy, without ever being in a relationship with him? Without ever kissing him?

“Jeon Wonwoo, always making me look like a fool”

Somewhere in the middle of the second movie you had fallen asleep but it wasn’t the light from the TV that woke you. It was the never-ending knocking on your door.

With legs that were yet to wake up, you walked to the door, standing on your tiptoes to reach the peephole. You took a step back, the door suddenly on fire under your palms.

Wonwoo.

You didn’t want to answer the door, didn’t want to fight with him once again because you knew you’d lose. You’d just let him scream, say whatever acid words he had saved for you.

“Please, y/n, open the door. I know you’re in there, I can hear the TV and I see your shadow from under the door”

You leaned your head against the door, the tears already running freely down your cheeks. You did such a good job of not crying. The six hours of crying sessions, that led to the worst migraine ever known to man, had been enough. You decided that you had no more tears left to cry for Wonwoo. And yet there you were, crying over his voice, over the fact that he was at your door, somehow.

“Go away, Wonwoo, please”

“Can you, at least hear me out? You don’t have to open the door at all. Just please, please, hear me out. You can tell me to fuck off later. OK?”

He took your silence as a positive answer. Wonwoo took a deep breath before he started.

“I never got your letters, not one of them. I didn’t reject them as you said, I would have never done that. If there was anything I wanted when I was sixteen was to hear from you. I didn’t know about the phone calls either. If I can be honest, there was once a brief mention of a call to me but nothing other than that and by that point, I was already angry enough to not care. I thought that your parents were holding you back, somehow, from contacting me. So I kept waiting and waiting. I asked at school if they had gotten letters under my name. I thought that maybe you were scared to send the letters to my house but there was nothing there either.

“And with time, I got hurt and angrier and then hurt some more. That silence was like a confirmation of what everyone used to think, but it came from you. And that hurt more than anything else because you were the one person who ever saw me as someone who mattered too. I’m sorry I said those things to you, I really am, you don’t know how sorry I am. I regretted saying them the second the words left my mouth. The last thing I ever want is to hurt you”

There was a pause and a soft knock on the door and, somehow you just know that Wonwoo was crying too. A quiet sob a second later was all the confirmation you needed. You had never seen him cry before. Even back then, while talking about things that obviously hurt him, Wonwoo would still keep that serene and peaceful look in his eyes. Hearing him cry was breaking your heart all over again, in ways that you weren’t even aware were possible. Your fingers moved to the door handle, and you unlocked it, pulling it open.

Wonwoo’s eyes and nose were red, tear paths running down his cheeks.

Without thinking about it, you stepped outside and wrapped your arms around his waist, your head pressed against his chest. The sound of his heart beating wildly brought some sort of comfort, like listening to this one song you’ve been waiting for your entire life, the one that was always in the back of your mind and you could never quite find it. Until you did.

It was right there, the sound of his beating heart.

It felt like home.

He was home.

“Look at me,” Wonwoo asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You looked up at him, your chin on his chest. You refused to take a step back.

The small smile that overtook your lips was unstoppable once you saw the look in Wonwoo’s eyes. Long gone was the look of pure hatred that he had on that first day. He was suddenly the Wonwoo you knew again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his fingertips brushing against your cheeks, pushing away the last of your tears, and then his lips were on your cheeks, then your forehead “I’m sorry we lost eleven years, I would do anything to get them back”

You brought his hand to your lips, placing a soft kiss on his knuckles.

“Let’s do our best to not lose the next twelve then”

a/n: thank you for reading! reblogs, comments and likes are always welcomed

#klabels #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #seventeen angst #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst

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llovelymoonn · 1 year

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favourite poems of august

marge piercy circles on the water: selected poems of marge piercy: "for the young who want to"

marilyn chin fruit études

lisa olstein radio crackling, radio gone: "the hypnotist's daughter"

elizabeth willis address: "the witch"

jana prikryl the after party: "to tell of bodies changed"

diane seuss backyard song

alison c. rollings original [sin]

gerard malanga cornelius...cornelius gurlitt

todd boss rocket

beyza ozer to summarise a galaxy

john foy night vision: "woods"

clodagh beresford dunne ford galaxy

dorianne laux smoke: "heart"

anthony madrid like a cloud above the ravine

pascale petit swamp deer

frank o'hara maurice ravel

adonis selected poems: "desert" (tr. khaled mattawa)

sonja johanson three deer in oquossoc

melissa stein terrible blooms: "lemon and cedar"

w. s. di piero having my cards read

thomas hoagland bible study

peter campion big avalanche ravine

alberto ríos the smallest muscle in the human body: "rabbits and fire"

lena khalaf tuffaha water & salt: "mountain, stone"

josephine miles desert

jeanne murray walker invocation to convince a baby already more than twelve days overdue to come out of the womb

andrew hudgins the imagined copperhead

robert carr stargazing while sedated

mary ruefle among the musk ox people: poems: "blood soup"

jack collom red car goes by: selected poems 1955-2000: "bald eagle count"

mahmoud darwish to a young poet (tr. fady joudah)

kofi

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psiroller · 1 month

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My Boy (We Don't See Each Other Much)

a third fic request from unkat has reached me for some gamer au shenanigans. cool, i thought, nice low stakes goofin off fun time au. lets put some military industrial complex in there

cw: institutionalized homophobia, vague references to USAmerican military operations in the 2000's, gamer lingo

The raid was a resounding success by their guild's lax standards. Chilchuck managed to pull a rare light armor piece he'd been looking for, finally catching him up to the modern game; he was surprised by how much damage the standard grinding mobs were doing to him now, even if his defense was always going to be lower than the tanks and fighters he partied with. Laios landed the biggest critical hit he'd ever seen; the broadsword Chilchuck nabbed for him off the Auction House was working well for him. He was clearly still riding the high, humming the victory fanfare under his breath as he took inventory and milled about with Senshi, comparing the ingredients they’d collected, trading amongst themselves. It was late, though, close to Senshi’s prep hours. Marcille was fighting against the cozy lethargy that followed a glass of wine and swiftly losing. Falin had already logged out to take a shower and head to bed, stopping by Laios’ door for a hug goodnight.

Laios went right back to the desktop after he shut the door. He pulled his headset back on and heard the familiar sound of Chilchuck’s raspy inhale and then a long, satisfied exhale.

“Chilchuck!” Laios said, too eagerly. “You’re still up?”

“No, I’m fast asleep,” Chilchuck drawled. Laios snorted and threw a rock at Chilchuck��s head. It passed through harmlessly; neither of them wanted the hassle of dedicated PVP. Maybe Laios wasn’t as keen on roleplaying as Marcille and Falin were, but the roleplaying server had been a lot kinder to him than the standard ones he usually played on.

“You were right about the sword,” Laios tittered. “I really have to start doing the math instead of just looking at bigger numbers—uh, focusing on how sharp the blade is, I mean.”

Chilchuck coughed through a laugh, leaning away from the mic so that it didn’t blow Laios’ eardrums out. “I think some of the guides are a little out of date,” Chilchuck said, relaxed enough to drop character. Marcille was still nearby, though the AFK symbol appeared under her name; the elf she played nodded off, ears drooping. “Critical chance used to be calculated with this really convoluted system that also included timers, so there were only so many crits you could get in the span of a few minutes,” he went on. “They updated it recently so that you roll for a critical every hit.”

“Oh, thank God,” Laios said. “On a timer? How long did raids use to take?”

“Oh, upwards of four hours.” Chilchuck said casually. Laios sputtered. “I know, I know. I guess people had more free time back then… though with how people run multiple raids a night now, I guess it’s down to how committed you are.”

“So critical hit percentage is the thing I should focus on, then.”

“For your build, yeah.”

“Why does everyone recommend focusing on damage per second?”

“It’s a recent change, I think it got pushed out just before you signed up. They’ve tweaked it a lot, so people tend to get confused on how it works now, as it gets buffed and nerfed. Attack and attack speed used to be connected to the same value, so there are other ways you can focus on dealing damage instead of just right clicking the dragon and watching one of twelve timers tick down.” Chilchuck smiled and took another drag. “I think they’re trying to freshen things up a little. I like the changes.”

“Really? Everyone in the forums talks about how much they hate it.”

“If they’re old enough to be using the forums, they’re old enough to hate their favorite thing changing,” Chilchuck laughed.

“But not you,” said Laios. There was a warmth there that Chilchuck didn’t see a reason for.

“Eh.” Chilchuck’s ears burned under his headset. “Maybe a little bit. They don’t make shooters like they used to.” There was a pause. “Oh, right, you don’t like those.”

“Just the super hoo-rah military ones,” Laios breathed. “I can do Team Fortress 2. That one’s pretty fun.”

“Oh! I play that with—a friend, sometimes,” Chilchuck stammered. “Do you… I’m still kind of wired. I got a day off tomorrow. Do you—”

“Yeah!” His mic clipped. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

“Wait, you don’t have a test tomorrow or anything, do you?”

“… No.”

“I don’t like that hesitation.”

Laios huffed and puffed and logged out of Dungeon Divers with little warning, but usernames were exchanged and soon Laios’ avatar (a dragon, what else) popped up in Chilchuck’s scant friend list, nestled between Dan and May.

“I didn’t think you’d be cool enough to play TF2,” Laios teased.

“Cool people play TF2? I thought it was all screaming toddlers.”

“There are a few of those, yeah,” Laios admitted.

“I played the original game. It was a lot different. I don’t really keep up with it these days, but…”

“No worries,” Laios chirped. “I’ll take care of you.”

Chilchuck felt something zip down his spine. “I’m not that bad.”

They played three matches with the usual late night crowd, and it was a miracle if Chilchuck could stay alive for longer than a minute or two, let alone get a kill. Laios, on the other hand, clawed up every scoreboard and sat at the top. He started with Sniper; Chilchuck followed him while waiting for his respawn timer to run out, flicking between first and third person views. He watched as opponents’ heads would pop like grapes the moment they touched Laios’ reticle, faster than Chilchuck’s eyes could tell his brain to move his fingers.

“Okay, maybe I’m pretty bad,” Chilchuck admitted. “Compared to you.”

Laios missed a shot and sputtered. “I’m concentrating…!” A Spy knifed him, and Chilchuck could hear Laios whack his mouse against the table in frustration. Chilchuck laughed.

“Relax, that’s your first one this round,” he teased. “Your reflexes are crazy. Maybe I’m getting too old for twitchy games like this.”

“The mechanics have changed a lot and all the tryhards are on,” Laios conceded, breathing out the annoyance. “I’ll switch to Heavy. Wanna be my Medic? I can keep more of an eye on you.”

Chilchuck sniffed at his demotion to pocket healer, but then at least he’d be getting assist kills. “Alright, fine.”

Many assist kills were had, and all was well. It was fun to watch Laios’ brain work, bobbing and weaving and jumping around. He played like May did, hyperfocused on the movement mechanics; Chuck’s wrists weren’t any good for that anymore, so he usually hung back to support anyway.

“So why TF2 and not Call of Duty?” Chilchuck asked between matches, lighting another cigarette in search of the now-elusive nicotine buzz. “Seems like you’re really good. You could probably go pro if you wanted.”

Chuck heard a rustling against the mic. Sounded like Laios fiddling with the thing, maybe rubbing his face. He heard a scratch of stubble.

“Eh. I just—don’t like the military aesthetic very much, or something,” Laios mumbled. “I, uh. I served, and it’s a little…”

Chilchuck coughed. “You served? As in, served in the army?”

“Yeah.” There was a chuckle from the other line. “What? Is it that surprising?”

“Well, you just never…” Chuck scratched at the nape of his neck. “You never said anything that made me think… I don’t know what I thought. You didn’t seem like the type.”

“That’s because I’m not,” Laios snorted. “I was a good shot, but not a good soldier, if that makes any sense?”

Chuck wet his dry lips and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t lock into the next game, and the queue dumped them out. Laios didn’t reset it.

“So you objected? Conscientious objection? Is that what it’s called?”

“That’s what it’s called, but uh… it takes a while to get that done if you enlisted voluntarily. You have to plead your case for it. I thought about it, but I didn’t get the chance.”

Chilchuck swallowed dryly, then tapped some ash out into the ceramic tray Patty made for him many Father’s Days ago. “So you were kicked out?”

“Discharged, yeah,” Laios sighed. His chair creaked as he leaned back, too. “Other than honorable.”

Chuck winced. “What did you do?”

There was that rustling again. “I, um. If you don’t ask, I don’t have to tell you.”

“Oh, uh. Sorry, I”—Chilchuck’s eyes went wide—"ohhh.”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously? They booted you over a thing like that?”

Laios laughed weakly. “It’s in the regulations.”

“Still? When there’s, like, five wars going on?”

“Yep. I got a little pamphlet about it and everything. It’s rarer these days, and most people now get let off with an honorable, but…” Laios sighed. “My case was a whole thing. I didn’t fit in great with the rest of my platoon to begin with, and I maybe… I maybe misread some signals. You get bored out there, you know. Lonely. Got a little too close to my bunky…” Laios cleared his throat. “He let me down easy, but I guess he said something to somebody. I don’t think he’d go straight to the brass, he told me he wouldn’t, but someone must have overheard and that counts as credible evidence, so…”

Laios popped his lips with a click of his tongue. Chilchuck was frozen, ashes falling from the end of his cigarette into the crevices of his already dirty keyboard. The cigarette had almost burned down to the filter; money burning up in unsmoked nicotine. “I was probably going to leave anyway,” Laios said, to fill the silence. “I didn’t like being out there. If anything it kept me from being stupid and going AWOL. But if you talk to the VA—or my dad, heh—I might as well have.”

Laios wheezed. Chilchuck blinked some smoke out of his eyes and stubbed out his cigarette.

“Hang on, you were on active duty and they’re hassling you at the VA over healthcare?”

“Oh yeah. Anything less than a general discharge is going to get you some hassle. I’m still on general health insurance, lowest tier. I’m not on TRICARE.”

Chilchuck pinched the pressure point between his eyebrows. “There’s gotta be a way to appeal that.”

“There might be. But I’ve spent about 40 hours of my life on the phone with them since I got back, and I’m not keen on spending anymore.” Laios made a blech sort of noise, disgusted, a little childish. “I hate phone calls. Besides, they gave me some money for college, so it wasn’t a complete wash.”

“Small miracles,” Chilchuck mumbled.

“Yup,” Laios breathed. He drummed his fingers on his desk, loud enough to reach the mic. Then there were a couple rhythmic bongo slaps against the table, nervous. “Ready for another game?”

Chuck looked at his watch. It was 4:32 AM.

“Sure. Night’s still young,” he said, for lack of anything comforting to say. “Play Heavy again.”

“Okay,” Laios said, and there was a smile in his voice. So that was something.

#dungeon meshi #ficroller #fic preview #dunmesh gamer au #chilaios #laichil

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rosencrantzsguildenstern · 7 months

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Viola is a gifted soccer player who's school has just cut girl's sports. When her twin brother Sebastian decides to go to London to chase a gig, Viola decides to enroll in his new school as her brother. "His" roommate Duke is both a complete hottie and the captain of the soccer team. In order to score a place on the team "Sebastian" agrees to help Duke get with his crush Olivia. However Olivia is totally gone for "Sebastian"! Shenanigans ensue as the difference between girls and guys in both love and sports is explored.

This is a hilarious and irreverent take on Twelfth Night starring Amanda Bynes and Channing Tatum. It's incredibly quotable, tons of fun, and a great modern adaptation.

Shirtless Channing Tatum. Positive messages about masculinity! Very quotable. Random acting part for Vinnie Jones. Amanda Bynes at her comedy peak! The shoehorning in of a Shakespeare quote at the end from a play that isn't twelfth night! Peak 2000s romcom

A high school take on the Malvolio Gulling subplot. Sixteen-year-old Marshall Gardner is 1) straight-laced, 2) exacting, 3) judgemental, and 4) perfectionistic. And below the surface, kept hidden from the rest of the world, he’s 5) controlled by his obsessions and compulsions, 6) fixated on the number twelve, 7) hopelessly in love with his best (only) friend, and 8) horrendously imperfect. He’s also 9) universally disliked, 10) the self-made enemy of the former GSA president, 11) just a little too easy to trick, and 12) in trouble.

This book is sooooo fucking good it’s my comfort read!!! Max asks the brave brave question of what if twelfth night was about a high schooler who i want to squeeze like a stress ball and it makes me feel insane. 12/10 book of all fucking time please read it

THIS STORY FUCKS. extremely hard. i read it before i even read twelfth night and let me tell you it works just as well as a stand-alone story as a retelling. it uses the subplot of twelfth night revolving around the servants (which deserves more attention, as a side note) to explore gender and neurodivergence and the inherent horror of being sixteen and it executes every theme extremely well. if you have maybe half an hour to spare honestly sit down and read the whole thing right now. it's so good. sir toby is a lesbian. what more could you want

read the whole thing here

#sorry for killing the paragraphing on the official duodecimal summary its how ive been formatting these...#duodecimal #she's the man #tournament

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aquietwritingcorner · 17 days

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Unexpected Patient

For @tmnt-write-fight for @dandylovesturtles

Title: Unexpected Patient Prompt: Outsider POV of anyone getting rescued by the turtles Fandom: TMNT 2003 Word Count: 2855 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: T Characters: OC (Samantha Craik, Peter Craik), Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo, Casey Jones Warning: NA Summary: Samantha Craik did not expect for a stop at a corner store on her way home from her shift at the hospital to put her in life-threatening danger, but it did. She also didn’t expect for the life-threatening danger to put a new patient in her lap, but, well, it was, apparently, a night of unexpected things. Notes: Sam is a character I’ve had around in some form since I was 13, and Peter since my early 20s. I have fun sticking her in fics here and there. This isn’t their first appearance in TMNT fics, as I lent the both of them out to some friends in the late 2000s for their Fast Forward fics. Unfortunately, those are long lost, which is a shame, really. Back up your favorite fics, y’all! ff.net || AO3

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Unexpected Patient

Samantha Craik cursed in her head. She’d have cursed out loud, except she was positive that saying anything out loud right now was not a good idea. Normally this wouldn’t have stopped the fiery red-head, but there were children in this store and the last thing she wanted was for anyone to get hurt on account of her temper. Her blood boiled as these punks pushed through the store, demanding money from people and stealing from the shelves. Stars, Peter was gonna kill her. She should have just gone on to the subway station after her shift at the hospital ended and made do with whatever food they had there instead of stopping for a quick snack.

One of the gang members brandished a knife at her. “Hey—gimmie your money.”

Sam glared at him, but reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. He swiped it from her, opening it, and then frowning. “This is it?” he said.

“If you think I had money, do you think I’d be working at this hospital?” she shot back at him jabbing a finger towards the hospital’s crest that was on her lab coat. “I’m barely out of residency! I’ve still got loans to pay off!”

“Tch.” The punk looked at her disdainfully. “I’ll make more money hocking this wallet then what you have in it.”

“Well pardon me for being poor!”

The punk gestured with his knife. “Get over there with the others!”

Sam made her way over to the other customers, one of the punks taking a moment to look at her. Sam narrowed her eyes at him. Yeah, she recognized him. He was a Purple Dragon, and he’d been in and out of her ER a few times. Several of these guys had. And yet, here they were, doing the same crap that got them in her ER to begin with.

“Hey—you got that money yet?” the guy called out, clearly their leader.

“Yeah. Getting the last of it now,” a green-haired punk called out.

The leader nodded and turned back to look at them. There weren’t many people in the store. Sam hadn’t expected there to be, not this late. There was the cashier, a teenager who looked far too stoned to properly see the danger everyone was in; a man who appeared to be in his late sixties, leaning heavily on a cane in a way that told Sam he probably was going to need a knee replacement soon; a young immigrant woman and her two children, none of which seemed to understand much English, but clearly understood the gestures with the guns and knives; and her, a thirty-year-old doctor, straight off of what was supposed to be a twelve hour shift that had turned into a fifteen hour one instead, because sometimes that’s just how it was.

Maybe her mother was right, and she should see about transferring to one of the hospitals in the richer areas of the city.

“Hey!” a punk from outside came running in the door. “The nut with the hockey mask is coming! And you know what that means.”

The leader cursed, and Sam found herself really hoping that the kids didn’t understand English.

“I was hoping not to deal with any green freaks tonight. Alright—bag up what we’ve got and let’s get out of here.” He looked at the group. “And just for good measure—”

He leveled the gun at the old man, and Sam realized just what he was about to do. She moved, shoving his arm up. Was it the smartest thing she could have done? No. Was it what she did anyway? Yeah.

“Leave him alone, you fracking jerk!”

The shot missed, pinging on the light fixture instead, and the man growled and tried to shake her off. In for a penny, in for a pound, she figured. Sam threw herself into fighting him, something that she wasn’t completely useless in. But she was no fighter, and it didn’t take long for the punks to have her pinned to the ground, the gun on her.

“Let go of me you fricking punk!” she snarled, still fighting.

“Since you’re so eager,” the leader said, and she could see him aiming the gun at her out of the corner of her eye, “then you can be the example.”

Oh yeah. If she made it through this, her husband was definitely going to kill her.

Still, she growled and struggled, not willing to just give up and give in.

And then the door slammed open, and something burst in.

“It’s the freaks!” someone shouted, and the gun was suddenly off of her and fixated on something else, going off as a fight broke out.

Sam wasn’t a stupid woman, and she knew an opportunity when she saw it. Despite the grip the man that was still holding her had on her long hair, Sam twisted in his grasp, kicked him right in his junk, and then twisted her head to bite the hand that still had her shoulder. The man let out a gasp, and Sam rolled, not getting to her feet, but scrambling back and away from things.

The woman with her children were cowering, and Sam looked them over, trying to find any sort of cultural distinguisher on them. She knew a few words in different languages, and she hoped she guessed the right one.

“Go!” she said, her accent terrible, and pointed towards the storeroom door. The woman’s eyes lit up in understanding, and she grabbed her kids’ hands, speaking rapidly to them and tugging them with her. They all moved like they had escaped violent situations before, but Sam didn’t have time to spare more than an observation about that.

The stoned teenager must have had more sense than she thought, because he was gone, and the old man, seeing where the woman had gone, was already following along. Good. Then it was just her.

And then, suddenly she found herself being yanked backwards by her hair, a strong hand pulling her by her long braid. She had the presence of mind to try to twist around, her hair long enough to give her that freedom, but it didn’t work, and she realized that the leader of the punks had her as he pulled her to him, wrapping an arm around her neck. She struggled, insults pouring from her lips as she did, but she stopped when the gun was put to her head once more.

“No one move, or the lady doctor here gets it,” he said.

Sam twitched in his arms and growled. “Glad to know me saving your scummy life means something. Next time I’ll give it the attention it’s worth!”

“You,” he said, “don’t say nothing either.”

Sam growled again but switched her attention to looking at who else the punk was addressing. Her eyes widened as she took in who—or what—was in front of her. Four green figures, turtles, all wielding some sort of weapons, and a tall, dark-haired man in a hockey mask with a hockey stick in his hands.

Somehow, he looked the most out of place out of all of them.

Sam had heard rumors of the turtle men before. She’d not put much stock into the stories at first. All sorts of crazies came into the ER, especially at night, and some strung out druggie or beat up punk talking about karate turtles just made her double check their toxicology report. You never knew when there was a bad batch on the street.

But the stories persisted, and she heard them from other places as well. She still hadn’t quite put her faith in those stories. It all seemed like some sort of gimmick to her. But now that the proof was in front of her, well, she couldn’t help but conclude that maybe she should have paid a bit more attention to those rumors.

“Let her go,” the one with the blue mask said. “She’s an innocent.”

“If she hadn’t of interfered, we’d have been gone before you four freaks got—wait, why are there only three of you,” the leader snarled.

And that was when everything went even more wrong than it had so far.

The Dragon went to move his gun from her head to point at one of the turtle men. Sam took the opportunity to jerk her head forward to bite the arm that held her in place and reached back to grab him in a very personal way and twist. At the same time, something came flying out of the air and embedded itself in the Dragon’s hand. A turtle-man leapt forward and tackled her down and out of the way. And at the same time, the gun went off.

The Dragon howled in pain, there was a shout of pain from the opposite direction, and someone screaming “Donnie!” A thud came from the direction of the Dragon, a clack from the direction of the turtle men, and the turtle man that had tackled her out of the way and had somehow kept from squishing her, came up on his feet, setting her on hers before he rushed over towards the turtle Sam could now see being supported by the man, his red mask tails streaking out behind him.

“What the he—” Sam said, mostly to herself as she took in the scenes in front of her.

The turtle with the blue mask stood over the downed Dragon. The man was clearly bleeding out, and Sam was more than a little certain that there was nothing do to save him. A turtle man with an orange mask was hurrying from the direction of the counter towards the other two turtles and the man. The man was lowering a purple-masked turtle to the ground, clearly supporting him.

Well, it seemed pretty clear what she needed to do.

Shaking off her shock and falling back into her professional mindset, Sam hurried forward.

“Move,” she said bluntly, watching as they settled the purple-masked one—Donnie, she presumed—on the ground, the orange-masked one using his lap as a pillow for the other. She could hear the blue-masked one’s footsteps behind her.

The red-masked one whirled on her, clearly upset, his strange, pronged weapons held in his hands. “Look, sister—” he started.

Sam was having none of it. “I said, move!” she snapped at him. “I’m a doctor, I can help! Unless you’ve got a better idea?”

“Let her see Don, Raph,” Leo said. “She might can help him where we can’t.”

Raph seemed to want to resist for a moment, but he stepped back and Sam moved next to the injured turtle.

“It’s not too bad,” Donnie was saying through grit teeth. His hands were already at his thigh, trying to tie a tourniquet around it.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, reaching into her scrub pockets and pulling out a pair of gloves. She pushed her long braid behind her shoulders, pulled the gloves on, and got to work.

“Donnie, right?” said as she worked.

“Y-yeah.”

“Alright. And the rest of you?”

“I’m Mikey,” the orange-masked one said.

“Leo,” the blue-masked one offered.

“Raph,” the one with the red mask said.

“Casey,” the only other human said.

“Alright. I’m Dr. Samantha Craik. I work in the hospital down the road,” she said. She looked up at Donnie. “I’m going to take good care of you, alright? But I’m gonna need some information. I’m not familiar with turtles, much less whatever you are.”

Don chuckled a little, but then stopped when it hurt. “I’ll see what I can do, Doc,” he said, clearly trying to breathe through the pain.

Sam just nodded. “I’m assuming you don’t want to go to the hospital?” she said.

“No.” The answer came quick and sure from Leo, and Sam nodded.

“Alright. In that case, here’s what I need.”

The store had the most of the things she needed and Donnie’s bag helpfully provided the rest. Donnie had gotten lucky. The bullet hadn’t hit anything important, and it was fairly clean in-and-out wound. Ideally, she’s have hopped him up on painkillers, taken some scans, put him on a broad-spectrum antibiotic, and gotten him some blood, but none of that was possible at the moment.

Instead, she snapped out orders to the other turtle-men, sterilized things as best she could, and got to work, cursing the Purple Dragons with every spare breath she had.

“Idiotic low-life—hold his leg still—punks who can’t figure out that—keep that pressure!—that all they’re gonna have is a short and—this is gonna hurt, Donnie—violent life where no one will ever want to remember them—you’re doing good—and they’ll either—almost done with this side—die young or rot in prison—”

“I kinda like you,” Raph said to her.

“I’ll add that to my resume,” she shot back immediately, not even thinking about it. Mikey laughed, but it seemed to ease the turtles and their human friend a bit.

Finally, she sat back, putting things away and stripping off her gloves. “There,” she said. She looked over at Leo, as he seemed the most responsible of the bunch. “He needs to stay off of it. I don’t know if you have access to antibiotics, but those can’t hurt. Keep it clean and wrapped. Those stitches will have to be taken out, so—”

“We can handle that,” Leo said. “We’ve done it before.”

“Although it’s usually Donnie doing this kind of stuff,” Mikey said.

“I’ll… be able to do it… by then…” Donnie said, his face still pinched in pain.

Sam nodded. “Fine.” She hesitated. “If you need anything, come find me. Something tells me you don’t have a lot of medical access.” She looked around and picked up a discarded piece of cardboard and pulled a pen out of her pocket. “Here. That’s my number. Call me. Or come to the hospital and ask for me, or Peter Craik—my husband,” she said at Leo’s look.

He took the number and tucked it into his belt, even as Raph was kneeling in front of Donnie, shell to him as Mikey and Casey helped Don sit up. In the distance sirens sounded.

“We will,” he said. “Thank you, Dr. Craik. But for now, we have to go. Raph?”

“Good to go,” Raph said, standing up with Donnie clinging to his shell.

“See ya, doc!” Mikey said with a wave.

The four of them headed out the back, but Casey hesitated for a moment. “Ya good, Doc?”

Sam sighed. “Well, someone has to stay behind and explain this—and something tells me that you shouldn’t be here anymore than them.”

“Heh. Maybe,” Casey said. “Seriously, though, thanks Doc.” He headed out the back as well, following behind, leaving Sam standing in the middle of the store with a dead Purple Dragon and several that were tied up—although she had no idea when that had happened.

She sighed and sat down on the floor as the sirens got closer. This was going to be a mess.

Sam was right. It was a mess. She had to explain over and over again that some vigilantes had come in and saved them, that one had gotten wounded, and that she had done her best to treat him, as per her oath, but that, no, she didn’t know what they looked like under their masks and that, no, she had no idea who they were or where they had gone. By the time it was all over with and the police accepted her statement, the sun was up, and her husband was waiting on her.

“Sam!” he said, rushing towards her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m tired, my hair is a mess, I had my life threatened, I had to do field medicine, and I’ve not slept in nearly twenty-four hours,” she snapped. “What do you think?”

Peter just grinned at her. “I think that, if you’re snapping like that at me, that you’re probably alright. Let’s get out of here.”

The two left the police station, and headed home, Peter holding Sam’s hand. They were quiet for a moment, and then, softly, Peter murmured to her.

“So, are you going to tell me what really happened?”

Sam didn’t answer for a moment. “…when we get home,” she said.

“Why didn’t you tell the police?” he asked, not condemning, but clearly curious.

“Because sometimes, ‘do no harm’ is more than just the patient’s body,” Sam said irritably.

Peter laughed. “And that’s why I love you,” he said.

“Because I take my oath seriously?” Sam demanded, shooting him a look.

Peter grinned at her. “Because when you’ve decided something’s your duty, nothing can stop you—especially if it’s for the good of your patients.”

Sam harumphed, but he wasn’t wrong, she reflected. And as they walked down the street and down into the subway station she should have entered into last night, Sam wondered if she’d ever see those particular patients again.

After all, a good doctor always followed up.

#tmntwritefight #tmntwritefight fic #tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #outsider POV #OC

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tgmsunmontue · 7 days

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Saga of Solitude 12/21

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version). (Side Hangster, which is ALSO angsty).

PROLOGUE (He remembers)

HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

ONE (2000) TWO (2001) THREE (2002) FOUR (2003) FIVE (2004) SIX (2005) SEVEN (2006) EIGHT (2007) NINE (2008) TEN (2009) ELEVEN (2010)

CHAPTER TWELVE (2011) - Jake Seresin Interlude (OUCH)

He’s got his wings.

He can’t be kicked out of the Navy for being gay.

Life is good.

It could be better of course, and he’s not sure if being deployed for the first time as a naval aviator on the same carrier as Bradley Bradshaw is a good or bad thing. Bradley has been here since before Christmas and Jake had done a little double take when he’d caught sight of him, wishing he’d paid a little more attention to the ship manifest. Lesson learnt for next time and every time after that.

Annoyingly everyone seems to fucking love him, he’s friendly and gregarious, not seemingly caring about duty or rank all while looking fucking gorgeous. Jake knows what he looks like naked, when he comes, what he looks like when he’s fucking Jake and what he looks like when Jake’s fucking him. He knows his fixation probably isn’t healthy but he can’t help it. He wonders if maybe things have changed, now that DADT has been repealed. If the short and sharp non-conversation they’d exchanged at Corpus Christi would have a different outcome now, with the changes that are coming. A part of him is desperate to know and the same part is terrified that the answer will be the same.

No.

Not interested.

Not interested in a repeat.

Not interested in friendship.

Not interested in, heaven forbid, a relationship.

Shut down before he could even raise the subject in the briefest of moments when Bradley had even acknowledged Jake’s existence.

Fuck him.

… … …

“They make a cute couple huh?”

“Who?” Jake asks, because he’d just been watching Bradley. Again.

“Bradshaw and Trace. They deny it of course, but they spend their leaves together when they align, don’t hold back posting photos together, and know each other’s families, what there is of it anyway. Been tight since USNA and then they went through flight school together.”

Jake clenches his jaw, because he’d put money on Bradley and Trace being nothing more than friends, but Sandy is holding out his phone and then he’s looking at Natasha Trace’s private Facebook page. Photos of her with Bradley, them dressed in what is clearly a couples outfit for Halloween from last year, Woody and Jesse from Toy Story and that’s what he looks like with no moustache. Huh. He swallows down the anger and pain, forces himself to smile and nod. Okay, he’d still put money on it, but not a lot of money. He passes the phone back.

“Cute, yeah.”

… … …

“Class of 2010, you’ve been invited to dinner with a special guest. He is here simply as a guest, however please try and remember to be on your best behavior. Your actions do reflect the US Navy.”

Jake isn’t sure why his year has been singled out, there are only three of them on the carrier who are fresh out of flight school, but maybe that’s the whole point. He sits at the table for the evening meal and makes small talk with the others as well as Admiral Kazansky, whose eyes are sharp and assessing. Jake feels a little like he’s on trial but the same questions are also directed at the others and Kazansky always offers up little amusing anecdotes from his own days and it’s nice, for all that it’s a meal with the brass.

“Lieutenant Seresin, it was nice to meet you. Take care of yourself.”

“Of course sir. Nice to meet you too.”

He’s then asked to take Admiral Kazansky to the rec room, which he dutifully does. Fortunately he doesn’t seem to want to grill Jake further, almost making a beeline to where Bradshaw is sitting, although Bradshaw for once is looking pissed about something, and it seems more aimed at the Admiral than at Jake, which makes a nice change. Jake sidles around the side of the room to where Sandy is working out, knows Sandy was at flight school with both Bradshaw and Trace, so might actually know the answer to his question.

“What’s with Admiral Kazansky and Bradshaw?”

“Oh. I think his dad flew with him? Or… there was something. Family friends maybe? You know how the Navy can get.”

Yeah. Jake does know and he’s also heard rumors linking Bradshaw to Maverick Mitchell, which somehow seems even more ridiculous than him somehow calling Admiral Kazansky a family friend. God, he has no idea what is true and what isn’t about him anymore. Every part of their weekend together had felt… real. Genuine. It had been so good and it had given him so much hope that maybe he’d find someone like that to spend the rest of his life with. And then he’d been introduced to the other side of Bradley Bradshaw.

It still hurts.

… … …

He gets put on a training exercise with Bradley and god he can fly. They’re all good, you don’t become an aviator by being mediocre but Bradley is… he flies easy as breathing and just watching him gets Jake hard. It’s kind of embarrassing and he takes his time doing post-flight checks, talks with the crew on deck about maintenance and hopes to avoid seeing Bradley in person, which shouldn’t be hard to do considering Bradley seems to assist by also actively avoiding him.

He finally lets his guard down, the locker room deserted and quiet, he’s got his boots off and flight suit around his waist when he hears footsteps. Then there are hands on him, Bradley’s hands, his eye darker than usual and fixated on Jake’s face, on his lips. He can feel his hands pushing at his flight suit, a hand slipping inside to rub his cock, which never went down fully and Jake groans into the pressure, the confidence of Bradley’s grip on him.

“Jesus Jake… you look so good out there.”

He doesn’t know what to say, what to do, this complete three-sixty in his attitude is dizzying and then Bradley is on his knees in front of him, sucking him down and Jake doesn’t even have time to react before there’s tight-hot-sucking-pressure and he shoves his hand into his mouth and bites down on the fleshy part of his thumb muscle hard. He has no idea if there is anyone else in the locker room, it had been empty when he arrived. Or how close they are to being interrupted, this is the most reckless and stupid thing he’s ever done, and he wasn’t even trying or angling for it. Doesn’t even know if this changes anything. Suspects it doesn’t but he isn’t strong enough to raise any objection, not when it feels so good and exactly what he needs right now.

Bradley doesn’t seem to want to draw it out at all, and it’s not a problem, he just lets himself come as quickly as possible, without any teasing or prolonged buildup, doesn’t need it when it’s so risky and also it’s Bradley’s hands and mouth on him. Asshole. He comes so fucking hard it’s almost painful, and he refuses to think about how the last time he had an orgasm with someone else it was also fucking Bradley Bradshaw. Then Bradley is kissing him, Jake can taste himself and tries not to pull a face, although Bradley is clearly not paying attention, his hand rapidly moving on his own cock and Jake doesn’t have the wherewithal to gather the energy or motivation to help, just watches with half-lidded eyes as Bradley comes all over his stomach.

For the briefest of moments the only sound is their breathing, hard and rasping, then Bradley kisses him again, short and sharp and then mutters about needing a shower and leaves him standing there until he shakes himself out of the stupor of shock and also goes to have a shower. He chooses the cubicle the furthest away and stays under the water until his skin goes wrinkly.

As he suspected would be the case when he gets to the mess hall, Bradley is back to ignoring him.

… … …

His next shore leave he finds someone to take to bed, doesn’t care that it’s not Bradley, just needs to replace the memory of his hands and mouth on him with someone else’s.

It doesn’t work.

… … …

Bradley leaves the carrier and it’s like a weight has lifted but he also finds he still thinks about him too often. Wants to know if he’s safe and wishes he didn’t care so damned much. Javy is there instead though, which is far better and that at least helps ease some of his general unease. Of course the rumors start that he and Javy are more than friends, finally unafraid of showing their love or whatever bullshit the rumor mill is churning out. Javy just rolls his eyes and jokes, says they’re going to get married for the benefits and Jake forces himself to laugh and play along and not wonder how his life could be different.

#Saga of Solitude #IceMav #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction #Hangster

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toasttt11 · 8 months

Text

introducing grey

Grey Olive Elizabeth Thompson was born September 6, 2004 to her parents Carter Thompson and Charlotte Moreau. Grey had a older brother Elijah Liam Benjamin Thompson, who went first overall to the New Jersey Devils in the 2018 NHL draft.

Charlotte Moreau never wanted children and by the time Grey was six she left and never looked back, did not contact her kids for years and completely ignored the fact she had children for her modeling career.

Carter Thompson was devastated when he noticed his wife didn’t enjoy having kids after their eldest Elijah was born, she seemed equally as disinterested in Grey was she born, Carter raised his two kids wonderfully and have always been extremely close with them.

Carter Thompson was a legendary Hockey player, playing twelve seasons with the New Jersey Devils, He was drafted in 1988 and won two stanley cups with the Devils, he retired in 2000 after his second Stanley cup as his first kid was going to be born in a few months.

Carter Thompson had met Ellen Hughes during a world championship, they became fast friends and Carter watched her fall in love with Jim. The three had become a great group of friends and has always been very close. Carter ended up deciding to move to Toronto with his family and then found out the Hughes were going to as well, they lived next door to each other for twelve years feeling more like one family than two.

The Hughes and The Thompson’s were really like one family rather than one, most nights they had dinners together, the kids all went to the same schools. They spend most holidays together and going on family vacations, or going to the boys hockey games and Grey’s karting races.

Elijah and Grey had always been extremely close, they were each other’s best friends, Elijah had always been the protective brother especially when their mother left Elijah became more protective of his sister. Which is why when the suddenly death of Elijah broke Grey. She woke up on July 24, 2018 and walked into his room to wake him but he wasn’t moving, he was dead. He passed away in his sleep that night.

After the death of Elijah, Carter and Grey couldn’t stand living in the house anymore, Ellen and Jim had bought a house in Michigan and Carter decided to follow them thinking it would do Grey and him some good to get out of the old house.

Quinn and Elijah were the best of friends growing up, they were similar in personality and really close in age. They always dreamed of playing in the NHL together and when they got drafted together it was the best day for the two. Elijah pasted a month after the NHl draft. Quinn first game in the NHL was a very hard day for him.

Quinn has always loved Grey, loving the girl who he got to have as a sister, and they have always been very close. The two got extremely more close after the death of Elijah, Quinn wanting to protect and care for Grey like Elijah did, and Grey wanting to be there and be a good friend for Quinn like Elijah did.

Jack had always looked up to Elijah and Quinn growing up and they had always been extremely close family as they all grew up. Jack picked playing the center position in hockey from wanting to be more like Elijah. Jack was very proud to have been picked the same as Elijah in the draft and going to the Devils as well, he wanted to make Elijah proud. He picked the number 86 for Elijah’s birthday August 6, a piece or him always with Jack as Jack plays for both of their dreams.

Jack and Grey have always been very close, especially with Grey moving to New jersey a little after Jack and her being so young, Jack took care of his little sister. Jack always ask Grey for her opinion on his outfits and hair knowing she will be honest.

Luke always adored Elijah growing up and thought he was so cool, Luke always loved Elijah. Luke secretly has always wanted to go to the Devils to play where Elijah should have played and it was emotional when he realized he got on the team and could make Elijah proud of him.

When Luke learned why Jack chose the number 86, he decided to do 43 as a tribute to Elijah. Quinn knew Elijah’s favorite number was always 43 so Quinn picked that for his NHL number. Elijah use to play with the number 6 a lot so that was the number Grey picked for her Formula one number.

Luke and Grey have always been best friends for being close in age and growing up together they have always been the closet. Anyone in the family could tell the two would end up together eventually and they did in 2021 and Luke’s draft the two confessed their feelings for each other and have been together since.

Grey had joined the Red Bull Junior team 2019 and met Max Verstappen then, Max took Grey under his wing and always has been protective of her. Grey had absolutely adored meeting Daniel Riccado and always enjoys hanging out how him.

Grey had met Oscar and Logan when they were young and in karting, all three of them away from their family in a new contry, they became very close very fast and have always stayed very close, the boys have always been protective of Grey as she is younger than them.

Grey met Ollie Bearman and the two are only a year apart so they understand each other extremely well and became fast friends. Grey is waiting till Ollie joins her in Formula One so they can race each other.

Grey and Carter have always had an extremely close father daughter relationship, one that only got closer as her mother left and Carter had become even closer to his kids. The two were heartbroken losing Elijah and they have stayed very close never knowing what might happen.

Carter owns a share of the Devils after playing with the team and sometimes will be there for certain events or games but he mostly enjoys being able to travel most of the time with his daughter watching her race.

Ellen had always treated Grey more of her daughter than Charlotte treated Grey. Ellen has always adored Grey and was very happy when Luke and Grey finally got together.

Jim has always adored having Grey around and has considered her family always, she spent a lot of time with watching the boys play hockey as they sat together on the bench.

Jim and Ellen are the godparents to Elijah and Grey as Carter knew if anything ever happen the two would always take care of his kids.

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txtmetonight · 4 months

Text

Camille 2000 ✆

call summary ⋆ ★ You're going to have a midnight dance with your lover

pairing *. * Park Sunghoon x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Fluff, Angst (Forbidden Lovers)

warnings *. Blood, Violence

call duration⋆ ★ 1.8k

a/n*. * This is a repost!! Also, this is inspired by one of my favorite songs by Piero Piccioni

You weren’t really sure of yourself right now.

Breathing hard, your hands find purchase on a random suitor, who took your hand without your consent, twirling you around, as a way to welcome you into a dance.

Repeating dance steps; glide, spin, turn, and lean continued on and on as you dance with this stranger, or more so truthfully, many more strangers that night.

You were starting to feel light-headed and out of breath, remembering the promise you gave to your parents; you were to find a boy by one to wed. Your vision spun as each ‘lucky’ man tried his part to win your heart, win the place you as the future ruling queen once your parents passed away from old age.

Other young women also looked for their future husband-to-be, pretty girls of high status, strutting around with a multitude of colors showering down on them. It’s an ugly–despising sight.

Excusing yourself messily from the confused boy, you take long strides to the garden that awaits outside through the long maze of marble hallways.

Pillars upon pillars came into sight as you messily wiped away salty droplets, ruining the mascara you put on earlier, not that you cared when all your mind spun around was about your midnight lover.

The clock struck twelve, alarming surrounding crows and causing them to belch their loudest caws as you ran down the impending steps of pure rock, hands clutching the spring green and pastel pink ball gown, so you didn’t tumble down.

The pearly crown on your head was hanging on barely, and the strands of your hair came undone with every step you took, only slowing down as the bushy green walls came into view, making you sob even more, dizzily taking light steps towards the entrance, stumbling in your heels proceeding you take them off.

The air was perfumed with champagne and the lightest touch of sweet candy. At the same time, the fluttering butterflies flapped their beautiful wings, around a certain man who stood behind the white marble fountain, obviously pondering the deep thoughts of the unknown.

But god he was so alluring, as the pale moonlight cast a dewy look on his softened features, that reflected off his silver suit, and if you let your eyes stray a little farther, a sharp-ended sword lain across the green grass, collecting dewdrops.

“Sunghoon!” You sob, as you let yourself out, the joints in your knees unable to hold up your deep-rooted sorrows, falling right into a metal suit, head rolled against his arm as the worried boy sits you up, wiping away your salty tears.

“Love...” He whispers, mouth close to your flushed ears, hugging you close. He knows exactly what you’re feeling–the pure heartbreak that aches your insides up. The pain of love and the deadly dagger it holds upon its clutches.

“This isn’t fair! I don’t want anyone else!” You wail, looking up at his frown, delicate hands reaching up his face to smear his lips, thumb stroking the side of his mouth. You whine like a petulant child and it’s horribly sickening to see. Yet Sunghoon doesn’t mind as he wipes away the moonlight of streaks down your cheeks.

“Me too darling.” He rubs his hands up your opened back, his warmth sending shockwaves down your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your cheeks, relishing in the bittersweet moment.

“Let’s just run away” you mumble without a doubt, shoving your palm down his armor to feel his erratic heartbeat, leaning your head on the cold metal once you did.

He stays silent for a moment, eyes closed as he slithers his fingers across your palms and up the stomach of your dress, drawing a small ‘I love you’ onto the cloth before he breathes awake, adams apple, gulping when he doesn’t break eye-contact with your curious eyes.

“Let’s have one last dance, shall we then?”

Sunghoon brings your hand close to his lips, pressing a long kiss to your ring finger before lifting you up, rubbing his forehead against yours in affection. You nod with his words, and he pulls you up into a hug.

Ball songs echoed onto the nightly daze, letting the creatures that roamed the area have a chance to flow with the heavenly music. The crickets chirped along as the owls perched and ruffled their feathers to the soothing beat, watching two young adolescents clumsily place each other in the other’s hands, lips and eyes unable to flicker away for a second, drunk in love.

Placing his hand on your waist just in time for a new tune to drift in, your heart skips a beat once you notice what was playing, a hint of surprise and fluster on Sunghoon’s cheeks as he pulls you closer, nodding his head into the crook of your shoulder, slowly swaying in the presence of a full moon, lips melting in with each other.

Memories cascade down the lingering touches that you leave and the heavy hearts that you both heave in your chests. Yet the cavity that you used to dwindle was filled with the keys to each other.

“You’re so beautiful, so pretty” He sighs, slightly tickling your waist, pulling back a little so he can meet your gaze. “I love you.”

You smile as an answer, using two hands to pull him as close as possible, manageable to suffocate.

“I love you too,” you softly reply, before pulling him back into another longing kiss, eyes closed, blindfolding your surroundings, too caught up in the moment, feeling as though if you let go, it would warp into a dream.

Too bad that it was too late to realize the sword of your lover, was now punctured through your gut. Eyes widening open in shock, you catch Sunghoon weeping hard, his fingers massaging the aching wound in your lower abdomen, body shaking in guilt and sadness.

“I’m so sorry love. God I’m so sorry, please forgive me. I promised–I promised your mother!” He breaks down, slowly catching you onto the ground, lungs unable to catch the air that you needed as you try to comprehend what he meant.

“Huh?” You cough, tugging on the straps of his armor, and you knew that you were supposed to feel anger and betrayal at the situation, but you couldn’t help but relax him, splotching his tears around his streaked face.

Intertwining your hand with his, you shakily let out an exhale, staring at him through your lashes, trying to preserve the last moments of your life. You grunt as he watches you incredulously before pulling out the dagger from your soaked body, pointing the metal blade towards his gut, ripping off his armor.

Using his slender fingers, he stabs himself quickly, penetrating deep enough to choke on rising blood.

“I love you so much, I’m sorry darling” he quietly sobs, reaching for your arms which you let him take, flipping you over his blood-covered chest, hugging you tightly.

Taking your last breaths, you leave a chaste kiss on his neck, where his heartbeat slows down into a rhythmic song, two heartbeats steadily dying out.

#enhypen x reader #enhypen #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon #sunghoon #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen sunghoon #kpop x reader #kpop ff #kpop fanfic #kpop #enhypen x you

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jolapeno · 1 year

Text

xii. just say yes, just say there's nothing holding you back

javier peña x f!reader | chapter twelve of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: the last chapter (before the epilogue), feel that needs to be a warning. two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love ✨ wordcount: 4.2k. (i did try to cut it down but she kept growing)

an: here we are. i have been a mess since finishing the draft of this and i hope it means as much to you, as it does to me. this marks the end of the current timeline for this pair (the epilogue will span snippets from their future, some of which i'd love to expand on later when i'm less emotional).

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Javi’s day begins like so many others.

Light bleeding into his room, the wind’s whispers pulling him from sleep, gently gesturing for him to wake and be one with them.

It does so in soft yellows and splashes of orange as his curtains puffed up and danced—casting playful shadows over the furniture and the clutter that make up his room.

If he could, he’d rather roll over—abandon responsibility and return to his dreams.

He doesn’t, and never will. A silent promise he’d made to himself when he returned—having opened his eyes to see how much slower his Pop was—to do the heavy lifting.

It’s why he slides his hand across his bedside table, fingers finding the edge of his phone—pinching the bridge of his nose. The soft glow makes his eyes sting as they squint. Usually, there’s nothing new, but he likes to read back on a few of your messages—it helping to start his day right.

Today, though, he finds something already waiting for him.

Morning baby, dreamt of you last night.

He doesn’t mean to, but he closes his eyes.

Allows his hand to glide up over his face. Palm flat, the part where it meets his wrist running over the curve of his nose, before resting lower, hiding the stupid, foolish grin you somehow manage to pull from him. The one you conjure without even being here.

The effect you have on him makes him want to pinch himself. Almost does. Just a little one. A need to check he wasn’t dreaming—wasn’t lost somewhere in the most prolonged fantasy he’s ever experienced.

He knows he isn’t from the way his alarm chirps, turning it off with a slam of his hand—returning his fingers to his face, sliding through the front of his hair. Quickly urging his brain to kick into gear, enough to respond at least.

But, the only conscious thought he has is: What good have you done to even deserve her?

It’s a continuous thought. One which runs on a loop in some distant corner of his brain. It there hiding in the shadows since Houston, since he had the chance to hold you, hear you whisper his name as he made you sing.

The thought had been louder since you’d told him you wanted to come to the ranch. It stands in the forefront, prominent, bold. It’s even made a home for itself at the foot of his bed this morning, holding a sign in the same writing your note to him was in:

Do not fuck this up, Javier.

As if he has any control over it.

Fucking up follows him, gravitates and slams into him. He knows he can count the times and run out of fingers when ‘fucking up’ has messed up his plans. His life. His future. A brief population of them arising in cloudy bubbles behind his eyes—ghostly faces of people he’s failed, the scenes from things he’s done, the hand he’s been dealt by choosing wrong—

Blinking them away, he swallows. Taking a breath, loosening the tightness of his chest. Returning his fingers to the keys, he focuses his attention back to you.

morning baby what you doing awake

In truth, he already knows. Knew before he’d managed to rub the sleep from his eyes with his thumb and index—but he asks all the same.

For the confirmation; the routine of it all. Because, even if it has always been hard for him to keep, he likes that the two of you have that. That you both have fallen into this dance so easily, so normally.

When he’d been in Colombia, invited to dinners with Connie and Steve, he’d wondered how they did it. How they understood one another, moved in fluidity around one another. Spoke the same language, even without spilling any words. His mouth chewing his cheek, hand scraping across his chin—attempting to crack the puzzle in front of him.

Now he has the answer. It simple, more than he thought it could be. That it’s natural, not forced, not something you can make happen or choose.

It’s not even that early. Going over my notes, keep feeling like I’ve missed something.

He snorts because he knows you.

There’s not a thing you’d have missed. Too clever for that, too aware.

Closing his eyes for another second, Javi steals a second of the quiet, until he hears Pop moving around, sparking to life squeaky floorboards and groaning walls.

It's rare that he has the chance to text you over his morning coffee.

The hour is usually not one where he finds you awake. Today, he likes that you are. A feeling swarming through his insides, doubling at the realisation that tomorrow you’ll be here in person.

He’ll get the chance to see you smile—the one that both warms a room and makes him feel like he’s arrived in heaven, all at once. A smile that makes it hard for him not to kiss it, savour the taste of it—feel you muffle out his name against it as you both will him to stop and clutch him closer.

you excited to be reunited with your jacket Mi chaqueta favorita y mi persona favorita. look at you learning quickly It’s easy when your professor promises you things if you do well. what does he promise hermosa Filthy things, Javi. sounds like hes rather inappropriate Oh he is. Asks me what underwear I'm wearing all the time. But he does have a great tongue, so it's worth i.

It’s hard to muffle his laugh.

A sound that he thinks the radio will have to compete with when you’re here, at the table—enjoying toast and coffee.

He’ll be lost in it, even if no one else is. Watching how your laugh shimmers across your face, witnessing the explosion of light that it brings. Like a firework, illuminating everything in its path.

Running his hand over his chin, he bites back a grin. One spawned from knowing he’ll have that in the next few days. You, in his home, laughing. It able to radiate and dance around his things and the things he’s always known.

Javi would have the chance to be able to touch you, pull you close by the legs of the chair, and bury his nose into your hair, smelling the sweetness of your shampoo, as he enjoys the feel of your giggle vibrating through your bones to his—the bass of it making his heart skip in his chest.

Fuck. He misses you.

It crawling up him, having softened him—scraped down and smoother over the hardened edges that the years of corruption and failure had created.

Licking his lips, he’s about to reply when he spots his Pop glancing at him over the top of the newspaper. Brow arched, half his face hidden, but Javi isn’t fucking stupid, he knows he’s grinning at him.

“What?”

“You okay, Javi? You’ve usually started by now?”

“Sí, lo sé. I’m going, Pop. Alright.”

One of the earliest things Javi learnt was that you’re a planner, an organiser.

He was able to witness it in small doses in Houston. Even if you had tried to squirrel it away, hide 85 from him.

He supposed, from the thing you’ve told him, you had to be. Plus, he imagined—like his former profession—it was almost a requirement. A need for a roadmap always there, a backup plan just in case of extremes.

So, for how much planning the two of you (you, mainly) had done the first time, the second time, in comparison, seemed to be chaos. You mumbled dates, times. There was a rough, outlined plan that made even Javi feel unorganised. If anything, it would be better to call it a loose, barely even well-organised idea, never mind a plan.

He had asked—numerous times during your phone calls.

Rather than helping him, your voice crooned down, begging for a clue instead, claiming, "We have days to talk about this, baby", but not many days to "Finish this crossword".

And fuck was he a slave to the way you whined his name when he interrupted the puzzle to ask something about dates, length of stay, and airport pick-up times.

Now, though, days is tomorrow—and Javi hasn’t got a fucking clue what he’s doing.

He’s aware he’s picking you up from somewhere, at an unknown time, with you on an unannounced flight.

But, the stress is mounting, beginning to grow, prickling and wrapping itself around his back.

He supposes the lack of a concrete plan is why it’s so easy for it to come apart. It fraying, all toyed and played with by his fingers and avoided by your own.

Because it was never much to begin with.

In your defence, you couldn’t have banked on Pop finally being able to book in his truck at the stop. The one which hadn’t sounded the same in a while, never mind acted like it—the one very much needing to be fixed if Javi was going to continue to have a good relationship with his father.

It’s why he knew it needed to be done. He just couldn’t wrap his head around why the universe would decide now was the time it would align it to be fixed.

Selfishly, he had wanted to tell his Pop no when he’d interrupted him to tell him. Wanting to say they’d sort it once you’d gone back—because he needed his vehicle.

Because Javi knows the people in this town, and knows how the universe works when it involves him. The truck wouldn’t be in the shop 'just for today'—it would be days. It would bleed out and ruin his plans of showing you all the places he loves in his hometown. His Pop needing to run ‘small errands’—ones that never remained as such when they involved Chucho Peña.

He knows this because if they actually needed something urgently, he’d be the one sent. Just like when he was a kid, and his bike wheels cut through dirt and fields.

But he bit his tongue all the same, placing the keys in his Pop’s hand so he can do what it is he needs to do. His arms crossed over, gripping his biceps' backs as he watches the tow take away the truck.

Knowing deep down, once he had you here, he wouldn’t care if the truck was even in the state, as long as he had you.

“How many errands you runnin’ anyway?”

Adjusting his hat, his Pop gives him that look. The one which tells him he hasn’t got a clue and not to stress. A look he finds he despises more now, post-Colombia, than before. “Don’t worry, mijo. I’ll fill her up for you.”

Except he won’t.

His Pop always forgets something. Usually, the thing most essential. It's why, naturally, Javi had factored it into his new plan, the one he’d been scrambling together when he mucked out the stable.

What he had yet to bank on was that someone above was laughing at each plan he made. His fresh, newly organised one came apart again, before he'd even begun to head back to the stables.

This time, in text form. Your message arriving, punching into the gentle breeze and sunny mid-morning.

Okay, I’m leaving the motel now, wish me more than luck because I need this.

His feet come to a standstill. Dust kicked up, swirling around his calves as he read your message once, twice—

Then, his stomach drops, not just to the floor, but out of his body. Exiting out of him so quickly, he’s sure the rest of his organs have whiplash from it vanishing so quickly.

Heat spreading, sweat building, his body suddenly being consumed by panic—its tendrils sliding around his ribs, pecking at his lungs and heart as he tries to steady his breath.

I thought it was tomorrow No, today, silly. when did you fly in Yesterday, I told you this. The interview is today.

He’s unsure if his fingers have ever typed so fast, sweat beading on his brow—damp on his palms. Because no, you didn’t. Which meant—

“Fuck.”

It rips from his throat and flutters over the field, his eyes squinting, head turned in the direction of his truck—the one being sparked to life. Tyres sounding in the gravel. His feet not quick enough, not enough to outrun a vehicle—

“Fuckin’ fuck.”

youre gonna do amazing baby

I think I’m going to be sick. Which is normal right?

just try to breathe and remember that no one can do this job like you

I think the other people up for it would beg to differ, but I like how you support me.

tonight we’ll be celebrating

How are we planning on doing that?

i think i’ll buy you wine and then i’ll make your toes curl

Have to get the job first, Javi.

you will

And you’d need to know what time I’m arriving since you forgot it was today.

didnt forget baby

You handsome liar. I have to go, so we will resume this after I’ve gone and wowed them.

just be you. its how you wowed me

Javi is panicking.

His hand almost dropped the house phone on the last call, a cramp forming from ringing every place he suspected his Pop would visit.

And, because this was him, none of them had seen him in days—never mind today. They all sweetly asked if he was okay, like he had time to kill—had the time to catch up and hear how their son wanted to be a detective or their daughter was single.

He knew he could have been more polite, could have been nicer to some of them. Imagining your face when he tells you, that soft way you say his name, almost full of judgement and disappointment, but not quite able to embrace it fully.

When he replaces the handset, he swears. Fingers massaging the side of his temple, outwardly silent—but inwardly loudly—ticking, his feet taking him outside before he begins to pace.

Usually, listening to the sounds of the wind in the trees helps.

Today, he's not sure anything can. Thoughts of you standing at the airport, sad, abandoned, feeling forgotten hammer against his skull. His chest tightens at the thought, guilt eating away at his insides as each little sound makes his head lift and his ears turn.

But, Javi isn't able to move when he hears the noticeable sound of wheels in the gravel and dirt. Almost worried he'd made it up, dreamt it, until he hears the horn.

His horn.

Wiping his arm across his forehead, Javi takes strides out of the distance—it takes all of his willpower not to check his phone. Not repeatedly check it, anyway.

Because you’re being quiet. Again.

Have been for the last two and a bit hours.

Admittedly, he’s not sure how long these things take, but the gap between your last message and now has expanded to the point that worry has begun to set in. What if you’re waiting for him? His mind pulls at the doubts he's forced into the darkness. What if you’ve changed your mind? His thoughts attempting to run away from themselves. His fingers and muscles, tendons and bones flexing as he turns the corner of the back of the house.

The stress, panic and worry merge inside of him, all beginning to knot. Clumping. Mashing with the earlier excitement to create a concoction that makes want to vomit.

Mad at himself that he should have known something would happen. His gut instinct off, having been tricked by how lovely the morning was, future days lulling him into a false sense of security.

He should know better. Javi had become well acquainted with things going explosively wrong in Colombia. He’d just hoped he could have spared it from touching you, from tainting what the two of you have.

The dismay flickers down his legs as the soles of his boots crunch loudly against the ground, steps all heavy, weighted. Trying to focus on the usual dread he feels at whatever the fuck his Pop has brought back with him this time. Discount slabs, sacks of tomatoes, new fence pillars—Javi has even seen him come back with more wooden slats to fix something he hadn’t even known was broken. Rather than paying attention to the longing and sadness he’s secretly feeling.

When he turns the final corner of the house, he sees it—his vehicle. His eyes spot the lights cutting out and then that the bed of his vehicle is empty—a thank fuck falling from his lips in a whisper.

Relief barely has a chance to soak in when Javi spots that his Pop isn’t alone. Annoyance flares, shooting through him as his jaw tightens. Until he narrows his eyes, attempts to look closer through the dirt-stained window, seeing what looks like a woman. Their head turned—a side profile that looks—

Swallowing, he blinks.

Must be a trick of the light, he thinks, shaking his head, wiping the sweat, sun and dirt from his eyes.

It has to be a mis-sight. His brain addled from worry, it now making him lose his mind.

Purposefully blinking it away, wincing at the brightness when he hears the noise of a door opening, then another—trying to stop his heart from getting away from itself, hammering and thumping as he watches his Pop step out, hoisting the back of his jeans up as he nods at him.

“Mijo.”

There's a smirk. It scratched into his Pop’s face—yet, his voice is so normal, all forced, a pretence. It not matching the look on his face. The one all mischievous and devious. A devilish smirk outlined by white hair and a twinkle in his eye that Javi cannot remember the last time he’s seen.

It’s why his attention drifts and slides, watching the other person—you—move around the back of the truck.

He’d spot you anywhere.

His body comes to the conclusion, before his brain. His shoulders drop—all of the stress melting—taking worry and annoyance with it. Something hooks in the corner of his lips, dragging them up to his cheek as he watches you glance at his Pop with a smile. That same one he hasn’t stopped picturing, dreaming of—before you land it back on him.

You’re here.

You.

Today.

Your chin dips, but he sees how high your cheeks are on your face as you watch him through your lashes. The two of you move, crossing the ground, cutting through the path to meet somewhere in the middle. Gravel crunching, dirt swirling like smoke at both of your feet.

“Surprise, charmer.”

He snorts, not stopping until his arms wrap around you, colliding with you. It doesn’t hurt. If anything, he realises how much he’s been hurting since he let you get on the plane to begin with. Pieces of him sliding back into place—healing, fixing.

“How?” he asks, whispering it against your face.

Unwrapping his arms, he watches you stare up at him before he glances at his Pop—grin smothered by wiry white all over again, paused at the bottom of the stairs to the house, tipping his hat:

“She made me promise, mijo.”

Shrugging, you wipe your thumb across your bottom lip. “I did. Don’t be mad.”

“Mad?” he asks, cupping your cheek and tilting your head. “I’m not… not even a little bit. I’m just…”

“I know I didn’t get the Houston job.”

His heart breaks a fraction, hand rubbing your arm, hearing the door to the ranch open and close in the distance. “I know, baby. You’ll—“

“But I did get offered the one from today.” Nodding, you smile before your teeth bite down on your bottom lip. “Apparently, I am very impressive—was going to be poached, anyway. Seems my skills are transferable enough to work for imports. A job that, I'm not sure if you know, wouldn't be in Houston. Like I let you believe.”

He feels a frown beginning to appear—attempting to weave itself through the joy already etched into his face. The rest of him trying to catch up, trying to piece together the nuts and bolts, the corners and edge pieces of the puzzle from the statements you’ve drip-fed him since you first told him about it.

“The job, Javi, would be here. At the World Trade Bridge.”

He feels it, the way his face smooths as he processes it. Acknowledges it. A bubble, a flutter of wings, appears in his chest, a new one arriving with every nugget he manages to process.

“He asked me if I fancied relocating—when he offered me the interview. It wasn’t quite Houston, something he apologised for. But, here, in Laredo. I had the interview this morning. If I accept, I’d be here, Javi. in Laredo. Which I know is a lot closer than Houston, so…”

“Baby.”

You press your palm to his chest. “I rang for you—to tell you. I had wanted to keep it to myself initially, just in case. Then, when I was helping Aish pack, she said it would be a nice surprise. Then, the guilt got too much. But I was a bit too excited to see who it was on the phone… and your Dad says hello in the same way, and by the time I’d told you—him—everything, your Dad was offering to pick me up, to bring me here.”

His face softens, a smile widening. Practically engulfing every other thing his face could even show, one that hurts it's so large.

“I can completely understand if you’d rather us keep some miles between us,” you smile. “Thought, though, if you’re as serious about me as I am about you, we could make the decision together.”

His hand cups both cheeks, brushing his thumb over your skin. “I want you.”

“I want you too.”

“Take the job, move here—move in—“

“Your dad already offered that,” you laugh, tipping your head forward, forehead pressing to his chest.

And, it's likely you can hear how his heart is hammering—maybe even feel it through his shirt. All loud and heavy. It doing it all for you.

“And, as lovely as the offer is, I get a nice relocation package—and I think, don’t be upset, that I’d want my own place. Just for a bit.”

Dragging his thumbs across your cheek. He stares into your eyes, aiming to burn the words he’s about to say into them. “How could I be upset when I’d have you here, cariño?”

Your lips slide into your cheek, a shy smile forming. “We could do those dates you talked about? I know I would see you all the time anyway, but I think I’ve been reckless enough lately. I’d like to be a tiny bit sensible, and do the proper dating thing where I cook for you at mine, and you invite me to sleep over at yours. Y'know? Just for a short time.”

“So, are you…”

“I haven’t accepted, not yet. Like I said, I wanted us to make that decision. As a couple. I… I guess I also wanted to check I still wasn’t too much?”

He lets out a breath, fingers sliding further up your cheek.

Unsure how he can even find words enough to explain how not too much you are. But he doesn’t try. Instead, he closes the gap, pressing his nose to yours, hoping his lips tell you instead.

Feeling you grasp at him, pulling him close. Feeling warmth, fire and adoration erupting in his chest when your mouth moves against his, soft, all perfect. Utter fucking bliss. A kiss he's longed for and missed so much, he's sure he's floating.

Only stopping when you pull back, hand sliding round to his chest—grinning, all teeth and sparkling eyes.

“I should go accept, right?”

He kisses you again, shorter, more chaste, but with the same abundance of emotions. “Lemme show you where the phone is.”

“The infamous one?”

His hand rises to take yours, looping his fingers, finding you fall into place beside him—just as easily as the two of you had done in Houston. “The very one. Can show you where I hit my knee that time.”

“Oh, when you almost cried?”

“Ay, cariño. None of that.” His head shakes.

Fuck is it something to hear you laugh. How it leaves your lips, your other hand wrapping around his arm, head burying against him as he tilts his head to watch. Knowing he’s grinning, knowing he’s never been happier.

He’s also pretty sure the entire ranch just began smiling, too.

Since the first time he heard your voice, his dreams have all been so similar.

They are full of white sheets—soft-yellow sun rays dancing in from the outside through his blinds. They’d illuminate the bed, showcasing the outline of a person that he always knew was you.

This morning, Javi woke to find it wasn’t a dream.

You're curled up close to him, thigh over his. His off-white sheets tucked around your body—face bare, stunning and pretty, lashes resting against your cheeks.

“Why’re you watching me sleep?”

Smirking, he traces his hand over your hip, giving you a pinch. “Jus’ admiring.”

“Can you do that at a sensible hour?”

He places a kiss on your nose, feeling your sigh against his skin before your hips move under his palm as you try to get closer. The barest of gaps between the two of you—as there had been since your arrival yesterday.

“For me, this is a sensible hour.”

You groan, deep—almost playful. “Shh, baby. Someone kept me awake late.”

“Some else didn’t seem to mind. I have teeth marks on my hand to prove it.”

He feels you hum, turning your head to look up at him before pressing a soft kiss to his chin. One that makes his throat dry, forces his hand to tighten its hold on you. The usual knot inside him smoothing out, everything in his veins calming. A feeling he had in Houston, which is now humming just as prominent here.

The logistics for your move were glazed over last night, once you’d accepted, once his Pop had handed him a bottle of wine with a wink before 'heading out'. The two of you on the porch, wine in your hand and beer in his head. Tomorrow, Javi? We can plan it all tomorrow. Hand sliding over his. Just want to enjoy being with you right now, especially when we have forever.

Tracing a circle on your hip, he traces his eyes over your face. “I’m so glad you mistyped that number, cariño.”

His words make your eyes open, watching your pupils swallow the colour—seeing how you focus, how your eyes begin to shine, and your smile begins to widen.

Hand rising to his cheek, your fingers delicately strumming his skin. “So glad you were intrigued about my bad date.” Your fingers pause, stopping at the side of his lip. “And that you were bored and lonely.”

Your eyes slide from his eyes to his lips and back again. “I’m even more glad to be yours, baby.”

Groaning, he slides his hand to your thigh, hooking it over his leg. “Say that again.”

“I’m yours.”

His nose slides against yours, lips lazily capturing yours. “Again.”

“Yours,” you whisper, mouth brushing his. “All yours.”

“Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Sliding your fingers into his hair, you ghost a smile across his lips. “I am, aren’t I?”

AN: there are so many people to thank, but I'll save that for next week. for now, thank you for reading. for trusting me. for trusting that i was going to give them the ending they deserved. i know we have moments from their future next week, but for now, i love you, i love them, and i love that i had the chance to tell a story i really wanted to tell. this story made me feel like I was a part of the fandom for the first time since I really joined, and I hope you’ll all continue to be as loving and wonderful for the next thing I write.

anon inbox is now open for anyone who wants to scream love (hopefully) but I won't post anything with spoilers until Thursday 7pm BST.

#javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #mm: late night texts #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

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