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pathologicalreid · 1 year ago

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hello my new favorite tumblr writer 😇 i will b honest i have never requested anything before so!! bear with me. however the spencer reid brainrot is all too real SO would you be open to doing anything with a hotchner!fem!reader? bau or not for the reader! something something hotch is very hesitant about their relationship but maybe reader gets caught in the crossfire of something and hotch and prentiss see them together afterward and prentiss is like “that looks pretty real to me.” DOES THAT MAKE ANY SENSE OKAY I’M LEAVING NOW THANK YOUUUU 🫡

a father's daughter | S.R.

in which your father doesn't approve of your relationship, but who knows how he'll react when reid jumps into action after a threat against your life

who? spencer reid x hotchner!fem!bau!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, blood, stitches, hospitals, medical inaccuracy word count: 2.03k a/n: anon you are legendary. this is an incredible request and i am so honored to be your new favorite tumblr writer! i am an absolute sucker for anything hotchner!reader (or rossi!reader) so i absolutely ate this request up! (also if anyone wanted to drop a request in my inbox... it would be welcome)

Aaron Hotchner was the most professional person in the BAU, except when it came to you. You, like him, had gone to law school. You were a public defender for just a short time before being put into WITSEC, and when your mother died, you applied to the FBI Academy.

Plain and short, it was nepotism, but no one was going to argue with the man whose wife was murdered by a serial killer. Your dad wanted you in the BAU so he could keep an eye on you, and there was nothing Erin Strauss could do about it. What your father couldn’t control, was your relationship with Reid.

He could tell you that he didn’t approve, but so long as David Rossi, king of inter-bureau mingling, was around, he couldn’t actually do anything to stop you. “I’m just saying that I’ve never seen Reid be consistent with a relationship,” your dad said, having pulled you away from the team to, once again, try to warn you off of your relationship.

“He’s been pretty consistent for the last seven months,” you responded, rifling through the victims' files that were in your arms.

You started to make your way out of the empty office when your father spoke again, “And he’s too old for you.”

Stopping in your tracks, you pivoted and faced your father, “He’s three years older than I am, I’m twenty-six. That’s hardly an age gap to bat an eye at.” The two of you had always had a rocky relationship, he missed a large portion of your childhood due to this job and you always tried to not resent him for it.

Your parents’ marriage fell apart, neither of them handled it well, and you weren’t all that surprised. They had gotten married when your mom got pregnant with you because they thought that was what they were supposed to do, and when Jack couldn’t keep them together, everything fell apart.

“You have no right to lecture me on relationships, Agent Hotchner,” you snapped, staring him down. Daring him to challenge you.

He sighed, obviously trying not to lose his patience with you. “I’d just hate for you to find out you wasted your time on something that wasn’t real.”

The door behind you swung open, you spun on your heels to face Emily. “Sorry, uh, we have a location, Morgan’s coordinating with SWAT,” she said, looking between you and your father.

“Great, let’s go,” your father said, his parental demeanor falling away as his Unit Chief mask took its place.

You walked out the door to see the rest of the team, Rossi tossed you a Kevlar vest as you walked over to where Spencer was standing with the police chief, “Where are we headed?” You asked, undoing the Velcro on the vest and pulling it over your torso. The beige precinct was buzzing as agents and officers prepared to break into the UnSub’s home base. Hopefully to find his most recent victim still alive.

Reid reached over and adjusted the strap of your vest, making sure it was evenly tightened over your shoulders. “Garcia found a warehouse on the other side of town. It’s being rented out under an anagram of the first victim’s name,” he said, gently squeezing your arm before dropping his hands back to his side.

Nodding, you followed the rest of the team out the metal doors of the precinct and into the black SUVs. “Your UnSub’s name is Jonas Watts, he used a different name to rent the space but the account he uses to pay for it is under his name,” Garcia’s voice rang through the speaker as she told you about the perpetrator. “He checks every UnSub box we have, raised by a single father after his mother left, and… oh, multiple arrests for assault.”

You looked up to the driver’s seat, your dad was white-knuckling the steering wheel, entirely focused on driving as you listened to Garcia reciting the UnSub’s rap sheet.

When you arrived at the warehouse SWAT was already there and Morgan started organizing the tactical assault. Drawing your weapon, you nodded at your teammate when he instructed you to go around the back with himself and your father. Allowing Morgan to kick the door down, the three of you held your firearms up and began clearing the warehouse.

Further away, you heard Emily and Spencer clearing the front. “Clear, moving up,” you called into your radio as you approached the stairs, stepping on them carefully so they didn’t creak. On the landing, you looked at a trail of blood on the ground. “There’s a blood trail in the upper west wing,” you whispered.

“Move up, little Hotch, I’m right behind you,” Morgan responded.

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, one that you had begged him to stop using, you moved forward, keeping your firearm aimed right in front of you. Turning into the room that the blood trail led to, you immediately ducked when you saw a knife coming for you. Keeping your gun aimed, you faced down the UnSub, “Jonas Watts, FBI!” You announced yourself, scanning the room for the girl he took last night.

Watts shook his head, “You’re not supposed to be here! You can’t be here!” He shouted in distress.

“Where’s the girl, Jonas? Where did you take Isobel?” You asked him, not seeing her in the room the two of you were in. There was another entrance on the left of him.

He stepped toward you, and you cocked your gun, “I don’t have her now. I lost her, she’s lost,” he said, there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Unnerved, you decided to take a leap of faith, “Jonas, where’s your partner?” A partner hadn’t been part of the profile, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. The crimes were too complex, it didn’t match up with something as simple as using an anagram of a victim’s name for the warehouse rental.

Morgan filed in behind you, aiming his gun at Jonas, same as you. “Time’s running out, Jonas. If you tell us about your partner we can help you,” he said, slowly inching toward Watts.

“It’s too late,” Jonas wailed.

Someone knocked into you from behind, causing you to stumble forward before you were pulled to your feet. One arm was locked around your torso, and another was holding a knife to your throat. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll cut her fucking throat!” The unnamed man said from behind you, he was almost impossibly tall, easily overpowering you.

You didn’t dare move, not with that knife to your throat, one false move and you’d bleed out. Morgan shouted for him to let you go, but he just pressed the knife tighter to your neck, splitting the skin.

Shutting your eyes, you tried not to cry, fearing the damage it would do to your throat.

Your captor held you tightly to him, using your body to block Morgan from shooting. Something warm trickled down your collarbone, and you weren’t sure if it was blood or tears.

For a moment, you thought you could swing your foot back into his knee, but the fear of having your carotid cut outweighed your bravery.

Ever since you were a kid, you thought death would be quiet. Something you slipped into like sleep, but your death was loud, and it left your ears ringing.

The afterlife was the weirdest place you’ve ever been, someone was calling your name, and you heard your rights being read. Although, why you would need your Miranda Rights in the afterlife you had no idea.

“Angel, please open your eyes,” someone said.

Confused, you opened your eyes and saw familiar eyes staring down at you. Golden and bleary. Spencer, Spencer was here. You tried to sit up, but he held you down, keeping a hand on your throat.

Morgan was shouting for medical, saying there was an agent down. You turned your head to see the still unidentified UnSub on the ground, shot through the temple. Using his free hand to turn your chin, “Don’t look,” Spencer whispered. “You’re okay, I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, angel.”

If you weren’t still coming down from an adrenaline high, you might’ve smiled at the irony of the nickname. Being called ‘angel’ after having your neck cut felt like tempting fate.

Where was your dad? Of everyone here, you expected him to be here, barking orders at people.

As if summoned by your thoughts, your dad appeared, nearly hauling an EMT behind him, “Help her,” he said.

Yeah, that absolutely tracked.

The EMT’s packed your wound and assured everyone that your carotid had not been slit, against your protests, the ambulance brought you to the hospital for stitches. Emily had run to the hotel to get your go bag, allowing you to change out of your bloodied clothes.

Thankfully, the doctors said you didn’t need to stay overnight, meaning you and the team got to go home. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked while you were waiting to board the jet.

You hummed, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes, and leaning against a car, “Tired, but I’m alright.” Tired might have been underselling it, you felt like all of the energy had been physically drained from your body. “You worry too much,” you whispered, closing your eyes for just a moment. Your throat was a little raspy, but it should go back to normal after a couple of days.

“Your throat was cut about four hours ago, some might say I’m not worrying enough,” he responded, reaching down, and picking up your bag, carrying it over to the jet once they got the okay to board. On the jet, he gestured to the seat, “Lay down, get some rest.”

You furrowed your brows, “Isn’t it kind of frowned upon to take up a whole seat?” You asked, of course, sometimes it happened, but you didn’t want to take up too much space.

Spencer cocked his head at you, “I don’t think anyone is going to fight you on it, love.”

Taking a deep breath, you sat down on the seat, laying down and closing your eyes, falling asleep before you even left the tarmac.

Being the Unit Chief had its perks, surely, but the piles of paperwork sometimes felt never-ending. Aaron took a deep breath before he closed the file, Rossi sat across from him, nursing a glass of whiskey.

“Hey,” Prentiss whispered, taking the seat next to him and setting her glass of water down on the small table. “Do you see that?” She said, gesturing with her head toward where you were lying down, asleep.

Right next to you was Reid, who usually had his nose buried in a book at this point in a flight, but he was wide awake, and all of his focus seemed to be on you. Begrudgingly, Hotch watched as Spencer reached over and tucked a blanket around you as if he was afraid you’d freeze on the temperature-controlled jet. “What about it?” Hotch asked, reaching over for the next file.

His eyes flicked up again, Spencer was sitting on the floor of the jet. Everyone had elected to leave the couch seats for the two of you, but the one across the aisle from you was empty. Like Reid didn’t even want you to be any more than one foot away from him.

Leaning back in the chair, Emily shook her head, “That’s what we in the business call hypervigilance.”

Hotch didn’t respond, he just spared another glance over at the two of you. “’We in the business’?” He inquired, humoring Prentiss.

“I’m just saying… the hovering? The blanket? I don’t know about you, but that looks pretty real to me,” she said, leaning back in the leather seat.

Silently, he glared, it would seem his hopes of getting the team to stop eavesdropping on familial conversations were quashed.

“Just let the kids be, Aaron,” Rossi said, grinning into his glass.

He cleared his throat and flipped open the new file before he acquiesced, “Fine, for now.”

please reblog, like, and/or comment if you enjoyed 🩵

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #margot's asks #written by margot #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds angst

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everyonewooeverywhere · 4 months ago

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NSFW BLOG | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

COMING SOON: FRIDAY, OCTOBER 11th

summary: when you come into his shop to get your boyfriend's car fixed, yunho can help but wonder what a hardworking, pretty girl like you is doing with someone so...pathetic. and maybe, just maybe, he feels like he could treat you better.

pairing: cowboy mechanic!yunho x female!reader

genre: smut (not in teaser) | non-idol au | strangers to lovers

rating: 18+ (no smut in teaser)

word count: 1.1k in teaser (full fic will be ~8k)

content/warnings: pet names (sweetheart, doll), strangers to lovers

notes: this is in the same universe of assert your dominance! and you might even find the mc in that fic here 🤭 i'm really excited about this one! so i hope you like it 💗

and if you want to join the taglist you can do so here or you can let me know in my inbox!

Where the fuck was this place? You took another turn down another shaded alley. It was weirdly dark for being two in the afternoon.

The tapping of your fingers on the steering wheel was the only music because the stereo had gone out months ago and no one was able to get it fixed. Until now apparently.

Because after six wrong turns you finally pulled into the parking lot. Your friend had recommended it when you’d told her this car had been having all sorts of issues, and she told you this was the place to go. And then she pulled up the instagram of one of the mechanics and went on for several minutes about how hot he was. That may have been the only reason she requested this place.

It looked official enough. The brick building was large enough to house the two large garage doors that left the shop open. Peering inside you could see a mechanic checking the taillights of an old Chevy, before venturing back to his toolbox. There weren’t many people inside. From what you could see, there were only two mechanics in the garage, and you didn’t see any customers or other employees. Maybe they’re understaffed.

You shrugged before swinging the car door open and grabbing your purse out of the passenger’s seat, brushing off your pants before you made your way in. There wasn’t a front desk or a receptionist to talk to, and you got the feeling that this shop was solely run and staffed by the men inside.

No one noticed you for several seconds. Both men seemed entirely too caught up in their current tasks. You shuffled your feet a couple of times and tried to catch the eye of one of them, but no one seemed to notice your presence. They must not get very busy.

“Um…hello?” You spoke, trying not to startle either of them.

They both turned to you, and the man closest to you opened his mouth to speak. But he was cut off when the other man behind him jogged over, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder and muttering a quick, “I’ve got her, Min.”

“Min” chuckled and rolled his eyes, returning to his work.

Oh god. You felt a pit form in your gut at the prospect of him flirting with you.

“Hey doll, what can I do for ya?” Something about the way he sauntered up to you and smiled so gently immediately filled your stomach with butterflies, but ignored them for the sake of your own sanity.

Doll. That was a new one, and you felt deep in your soul that it would have disgusted you from anyone else. But something about this stranger was strangely comforting. Maybe it was the way he tilted his head as he waited for you to speak. Maybe it was the baseball cap strewn backwards on his head. Or maybe it was the strands of his taupe hair that fell in front of his face. Strands you imagined yourself brushing up into his hat.

Your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your purse, “I’m, uh, having some car issues.”

The laugh he let out, and the curve of his lips that accompanied it, made the tips of your ears burn, “Of course you are, sweetheart. Anything in particular, though?”

“Oh,” you chuckled softly along with him, “Well, he mentioned that the acceleration has been kinda weird, and I thought the engine was kinda loud when I drove it here today. Sorry, I don’t really know a ton about cars.”

He hummed and tapped his foot a couple of times, “Which one is it?”

You pointed across the lot.

“Alright, let me pull it into the garage,” he put his hand out in your direction.

You stared at it, confused, and when you looked back up at his face he was smiling at you again. Stupid smile. He made your heart flutter more than you would’ve liked to admit.

“Keys, sweetheart. Your keys.”

“Oh,” you scrambled around in your purse before handing him the keys, embarrassed.

Took them from you and pulled the car through the big garage doors. When he stepped out of the car he looked at you curiously, “This your car?”

You shook your head, “No it’s my boyfriend’s. He’s been…busy…lately, so he hasn’t been able to bring it in. He keeps complaining about it, though, so I just decided to do it for him, I guess.”

He raised his eyebrow at you and nodded slowly.

“What?” you asked, moderately offended.

Shaking his head, he waved a dismissive hand, “Nothing. Sorry. You just seemed a little unsure is all.”

“Yeah…I don’t know. I honestly think he just kept complaining so that I would get tired of his whining and just get it fixed,” You chuckled awkwardly. Why the fuck were you telling him this? You started to feel a little embarrassed.

And that feeling only got worse when you saw the mildly horrified look on his face.

You shook your head and ran a frustrated hand through your hair, “Can you just fix it?”

That pretty fucking smile came back. “Of course I can. Glad you brought this in when you did, honestly. Seems like your boy toy’s got a bit of an exhaust leak. Could be pretty dangerous, so it's good to get it off the road.”

“Ah, perfect.” You shifted on your feet, “How long will it take, do you think?”

He lifted his hat and ruffled his messy hair before readjusting it on his head. Why did every little movement he made drive you crazy? “Unfortunately, issues like this take a couple days. I can probably finish her up tomorrow, but I don’t think I can finish it up today.”

You nodded, “Okay. I’ll try to get a ride home.”

“Alright, doll. Let me write down your number real quick so I…so we can call ya when she’s ready.”

You wrote down your name and number for him on a pink sticky note that he stuck to the dash.

“Perfect!” He smiled at you, “We’ll call ya tomorrow, okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile back, “Awesome! Thank you…Oh. I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Yunho. My name is Yunho, sweetheart. It’s nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand for you to shake it.

And you couldn’t help the ramming of your heart in your chest when he took your hand into his own.

#yunho smut #yunho x reader smut #yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez x reader smut #kpop smut #kpop x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #yunho imagines #yunho scenarios #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dj's work #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ smut #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ yunho

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fizzywashere87 · 6 months ago

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OKAY OKAY SO I WAMNA REQUEST LIKE 2012 RAPH HAS A CRUSH

AND HIS CRUSH IS THE MOST DENSE MF EVER LIKE RAOH WILL FLIRT WITH EM AND THEY'LL BE LIKE "awe thanks!" Just really oblivious lol

notes: OMGIE YESSSSS THIS IS CUTE (it has been rotting in my inbox for a few weeks months and this i apologize for) also i didn't know if you wanted hc's or a fic so i js went with a fic for this one BUT I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS TYSM FOR REQUESTING ML I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! 🫶🫶

Warnings: Gn! Reader, Fluff? Slight crack ig, Rushed at the end kinda

M.List

Think Babes, Think!

Raphael and his brothers were training in the dojo, as usual. Nothing new, nothing to bat an eye for, though Raphael was somewhat distracted. This was not usual.

What was he thinking about that made him so distracted you ask me?

Them.

Who's them?

(Name)

He's gonna try and flirt with them today, that's why he's so worked up.

Raphael is put against Donatello today in their sparring matches, and while they circle each other just waiting for Master Splinter to give them the 'go,' Raphael can't seem to shut his thoughts up.

They probably don't even like you back.

You're an ugly, gross mutant, they're human and just perfect, no human wants to be with a mutant, nonetheless one like them.

Ugly green freak-

His anger was beginning to show on his face. Donatello noticed, raising a non-existent brow, he started, "Uh- Raph-"

"Haijime!"

Raph lunged at Donnie right away, which the taller turtle narrowly dodged, causing Raph to tuck and land on his knees for him to quickly get back up again. The rest of the sparring match was a blur, Raphael was just angry.

"Yame!"

He came back to his sense when he heard Donnie groan from the floor as he stood over him panting slightly. He wasn't as angry as he was a few seconds ago, but the feeling of anger definitely lingered. Donnie got up, Leo and Mikey were already seated on their knees, Leo having won that match. "Uh, Raph, you look, like extra angry dude-" Mikey spoke up prompting Raph to whip his head at his younger brother and send him a glare.

"I am not angry." He spoke through gritted teeth, Mikey put his hands up in mock defense as Donnie and Raph go to sit on their knees beside their two brothers. Master Splinter stands in front of his four sons his hands clasped behind his back, the boys wait to hear what he's about to say, Raph, with an angered look on his features.

"You boys did-"

"Casey! Cut it out!"

"I didn't do nothin' red!"

"Say on God, we both seen you Jones!"

Master Splinter sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose at the certain ruckus going on at the new arrivals if you'll call them that, Leo also seems to sigh, the rest of the brothers unphased.

At the sound of their voice, Raph's anger was immediately lifted a ton, and he thought about his plan to flirt with them today. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he was going to. His attention turned back to his sensei when he heard another sigh come from him. "You boys did well today, remember your strengths, hide and let go of your weaknesses. We will resume our training tomorrow."

"Hai sensei!" The boys say together, bowing slightly before getting up and meeting their human friends who're in the living room.

As the four boys walk in, April gives a warm smile and wave, (Name) flashes their usual grin, and Casey continues munching on popcorn. Donnie runs to April first much to Casey's dismay and he gets ready to pick a small fight. Mikey, as usual runs to grab a comic book and he plops on the couch next to Casey, giving (Name) a fist bump, Leo also walking over to greet and join his friends. (Name) looks to Raph who seems to be taking the soul out of that poor punching dummy.

(Name) walks over to him, smiling slightly. "Hey Raph, what 'cha up to?" They ask talking over his quieter grunts. He pauses for a moment, looking at them and sighing slightly, (Name) didn't pick up on it.

"Nothing, just punching." He replies, crossing his arms, they look at the dummy and back at him, nodding in understandment. He really wanted to say something sweet to them, something that would give them the hint. This was so, so, not like him. He's not supposed to care about this, the only thing he's supposed to care about is punching aliens and taking down Shredder. So why, why was he so persistent with this?

Although now that he thinks about it, he may have to be a bit more straightforward with (Name). There was that one time...

"Hey." Raph says as a greeting, seeing (Name) walk into the lair, they plop down on the couch next to him, and he sets his comic down.

"Hey Raph! What's up?" (Name) smiled and started idly tapping their foot on the ground. This was his chance, why was he doing this? Never mind that he's doing it, no matter how soft he comes off as.

"You," he clears his throat, "you look cute today." Raph says mentally cursing himself at the way he sounded and how they easily could've taken that as him implying they don't look cute everyday.

(Name) pauses for a moment, taking in his words. A bright smile etches across their face and she gives him a thumbs up. "Thank you Raph! You look pretty good yourself!" They stay quiet for a moment before speaking up. "You okay? It's totally not like you to give out compliments like that!" (Name) tilts their head a wave of concern washing over their adorable human features.

Raph was dumbfounded, shocked even. He stayed quiet for a moment as he processes how his flirting just flew over your head. Were they playing dumb with him to avoid rejecting him? he wouldn't blame them... (Name) was a human and he was an ugly green freak!

"What do you mean?! I can't compliment people?!" He plays the angry and defensive card to get out of that one.

(Name) watches as he punches the dummy, looking over how his muscles flexed at certain points, taking it all in. They wished he seen them the way they do. Why can't he like them back?

Raph stops his punching and turns towards (Name), he took a deep breath and sighed. "(Name), can I ask you something?" He sounded almost nervous? What was wrong?

"Of course Raph! What's up?" (Name) asked slightly concerned, it could be anything at this point. (Name) was hoping he'd get it over quickly so they don't have to wait any longer in suspense.

"Would you," Raph clears his throat, "Would you want to go out sometime?" His tried not to wince as his voice took on a higher pitch at the end.

(Name) thought for a moment, was he asking them out? Probably not, either way they would love to go. "Sure!" They smile, "Any specific reason?" They ask curious as to why Raph of all people would want to go out with them.

Raph sighed audibly through his nose. Welp, this was going to be all or nothing. Time to rip the bandaid off for this one. "I was asking you out on a date." He crosses his arms he scoffs. "Forget it, you wouldn't want to go on a date with an ugly green mutant. Stop playing stupid with me." Raph walks off, angry and a little sad.

(Name) pauses for a moment, as if something wet had just hit them in the face. "What?" They mumble. "Raph wait!" They call out and Raph pauses.

"What do you want?" Raph turns around to face them again, although he didn't really want to. (Name) lightly jogs up to him. "I would love to go out with you, I just didn't think that you liked me like that..." (Name) says rubbing the back of their neck awkwardly.

Raph raises a brow, a small smirk on his face. "You really are that dense." He said crossing his arms, getting an eye roll from (Name)."Where were you thinking we go?" (Name) asks, referring to their up coming date, completely disregarding his (lighthearted) insult.

"Mr. Murakami's place, it's not like I can go anywhere else." Raph says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. (Name) shrugs and nods. "You do have a point there." They smile at him and plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Pick me up at 8 on Friday!" (Name) skips off to go hangout with April who was seated on the couch engrossed in her laptop for school. Raph was left there with pink cheeks and wide eyes, his jaw slightly agape.

Wow.

@fashionablysouly @serendipitous-girl

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wonderingpanda · 1 year ago

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Hallooo!

May I request reader catching the bayboys staring at them? Lovesick, maybe?

I just love the Eugene staring at Rapunzle scene.

Lovesick Stares

Bayverse!Turtles x Reader

Hi! Sorry for not posting in so long, I’ve been really busy the past month. I also want to apologise, there was another Bayverse request in my inbox but I must of accidentally deleted it since I can’t find it anymore. If the person who sent me it wants to re-request it feel free to do so. Now, I decided to not really do headcanons for this one but I wouldn’t call them oneshots either. They’re more like mini-scenarios. Anyway, with that all out the way please enjoy.

Leonardo

I was just in the lair sharpening my katanas when I noticed Y/N sit down next to me. “Mikey becoming too much for you?” “Nah, I’m just tired and don’t feel like skateboarding right now.” They pulled out their phone and began doing something on it but I couldn’t see what. I decided to just focus on my blades since I was losing concentration. After a moment or two I heard the sweet sound of Y/N laughing and turned to see them smiling at some video. I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger for a moment, they were so pretty and calm I couldn’t look away. Y/N must of realised that I had stopped sharpening my swords since they looked over to me curiously. I immediately fixed my eyes on something away from them but I knew it was too late and I’d already been caught. “You do realise you’re staring at mouldy pizza right?” Yup, caught red handed. “Well I mean mouldy pizza can be interesting. Anything can hold a story. You never know this pizza could’ve been through amazing things, lived an incredible life.” “Ah yes an incredible life of slowly dying on a sewer floor.” We laughed together for a moment before Y/N decided to lie their head on my arm and smiled with their eyes glued to their phone. “You know if want to stare at me you can. I do it to you all the time.” “Heh, thanks… wait what?”

Raphael

I swear sometimes my brothers piss me off too much! It was late in the evening and I was beating up a punching bag to let out my rage. I was so focused on hitting the thing that I didn’t realise Y/N had walked in. They leaned against the wall and just looked at me. I stopped what I was doing and turned to face them. “What is it?” “I was just waiting for you to finish up.” “Why? You want to use it?” “I’d appreciate it.” I smirked and stepped aside as Y/N walked up to the punching bag, this was going to be interesting. I was surprised when they began to land pretty tough punches on it. “Wow, who got you so riled up?” They leaned back and rolled their shoulders. “Just an annoying co-worker, don’t worry about it.” They then threw their jacket onto the floor and continued to beat up the punching bag. As they went at it I kept wanting to look at them, their face and arms, eyes, lips… I shook my head and blinked a bit when I saw Y/N staring right back at me. “Is there something you want to tell me or…?” “Uh I think I hear Donnie calling me, I gotta go.” With that, I ran off. All I could do was hope they didn’t read too much into it.

Donatello

I thought it would just be another long night in the lab. I had been spending the night working on a few adjustments to my computers. Some of them were glitching and one had stopped working completely so I was trying to fix them up asap. I figured I’d be alone the whole night since everyone seemed to have already gone to bed but I was proven wrong when I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Agh! Oh Y/N, it’s just you. Wait, Y/N! What are you doing here this late?” “Well I was spending the night studying alone but I got bored, and knowing you I knew you’d still be up and awake in your lab.” “I suppose that makes sense.” I slid my chair to the side slightly and gestured for them to grab the free one I had sitting in the corner. They pulled the chair up next to me and sat down. “Oh, and apologies for not knocking. You didn’t answer before and when I peeked through you seemed so involved in your work that I didn’t want to disturb you too much.” “Not a problem. So, were you wanting to study or join me in my computer repairs.” “I figured I could just study while you do your thing, I was just desperate for some company.” “Understandable. I’ll just get back to this and feel free to ask me if you need any help with your studies.” “Of course. Thank you Donnie.” I grabbed a few of my tools and got back to work as Y/N began researching stuff on their laptop, looking through books and writing notes down. I looked over to them and noticed the way their face scrunched up at certain things, how they seemed so hyper focused on whatever they were typing. They were simply a sight to behold. My thoughts were cut short when Y/N sent me a curious smile. “What?” I figured I must have been staring and gave an awkward laugh, looking away to the computer I was currently fidgeting with. “Nothing.” Soon enough I heard the sound of books closing and felt a heavy weight slump onto my shoulder. “I know I should be heading home right now but I think it’ll be ok if I’m a little late to class tomorrow.” “Goodnight, sleeping beauty.” “Night, turtle boy.”

Michelangelo

I was bored, and I mean really bored. Nothing was happening! Leo and Raph were training together and Donnie was locked up in his lab again. April was busy with Casey, Master Splinter was meditating. I was so close to giving up on everything when a voice filled the air. “Oh guys! Guess what I brought?” I snapped my head around only to find my gorgeous Y/N standing happily with a stack of pizza boxes in their hands. I ran over to them but before I could grab a box they pulled the pizza away from me. “Uh excuse me! You’ll be waiting for your brothers before laying a hand on this pizza.” “Ugh! But everyone else is already busy. I’ll just take a few boxes and be on my way, pretty please?” They gave me a deadpanned look. “Mmm no.” “Well then…” I stepped back and readied myself. “I’ll just have to take it by force.” I lunged at Y/N picking them up and pulling the pizza out of their grasp. “Mikey, put me down!” “Mmm no” “Michelangelo Hamato I swear to god!” They proceeded to grab my face and get close enough to the point their nose touched my snout. “If you don’t put me down safely and hand over that pizza this instant I will beat you up with your own weapons, understood?” I wanted to make some sort of witty comeback but as I looked into their eyes I found myself at a loss for words. I knew they couldn’t really beat me and they knew it too but the determined look on their face was so adorable I wanted to just let them. After a little while I felt something hard flick my forehead. “Ow! What!?” “You zoned out dummy.” “Hey I’m not a dummy! You’re the dummy.” “You sure?” “Uh huh.” “Turn around.” I twisted my head to the side and noticed that all the pizza was gone! I looked back to Y/N only to be met with a fist to the face. But to see their cute face up close it was totally worth it.

I hope this was okay. Again, sorry for not posting in a while. Please have an amazing day/night wherever you are!✨

#donnie x reader #leo x reader #mikey x reader #raph x reader #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt x reader #tmnt bayverse x reader

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cosmos-coma · 6 months ago

Note

Hi i was wondering if you can do a Bucky fluffy angst (modern/college au if possible) where basically him and reader are friends through steve and both have a crush on each other but don't do anything about it considering bucky is sort of a playboy and thinks reader is way out of his league and reader is sort of shy and quiet and thinks bucky is way out of here league but get together in the end

College Crushes

A/N: WOW, I'm so sorry, This has been in my inbox for like 2 months and I just didn't realize???? sorry!! So I tried to write this one out as quick as I could!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3011

Warnings: Little editing, Awkward goobers

Bucky Masterlist

Buy me a Coffee?

_________

“Y/n, did you hear what I said at all?” Your blond friend asked a small snort of laughter hidden in his voice.

“Hmm,” you hummed, in something akin to agreement as you lifted your mug to take a sip.

Steve smiled, but gave you a knowing look, even if you were too distracted to receive it. He knew your painting was due at the end of this week, hence why you had been spending so much time in the studio after class hours, getting lost in the smell of acrylic and the smallest brushstrokes.

“I said: ‘You know you’re drinking paint water, right…?’” He said, barely holding back his snicker.

“Uh huh…” You mumbled, “Yeah, I totally hear what you're saying….” you continued, taking a large sip from your mug, to which your face immediately soured, and quickly spit out the paint-clouded water back into your mug. “Oh, gross! Steve!!” you complained and wiped the dribble from your face, almost undoubtedly replacing it with yet another smear of paint.

Steve was fully laughing now, shaking his head at your accidental antics, “I tried to warn you…”

You punched his shoulder lightly, delving into your own laughter as you reached for your actual drinking mug now, “Don't laugh at me…. Punk.” you grinned and took a much-needed sip from your new mug. Steve always had a good way of putting your shyness at ease.

He only grinned and brushed off your ‘devastating assault’, “I really do think you’re just about done… I know you still think you have a lot left, but I’d hate to see you overwork something like this.” Steve nudges you, and he would know. The two of you met not long into your freshman year, the both of you being art majors and all. While Steve tended to focus on graphite and charcoal as his medium, you had your heart covered in paint splatters from the very start. Whether oil or acrylics you found your home smoothing them across a canvas even if they didn’t always end up how you liked.

You were thankful to have Steve, not only for his friendship which brought you out of your shell, but also for his artistic eye; Because of your difference in mediums, Steve was always one of the first to be able to tell you if you were beginning to lose your themes by doing too much and vice versa.

You sighed and leaned back from your painting, looking over the piece as a whole instead of its individual parts, “You’re probably right…” You scratched some of the old paint off your hand and tilted your head to the side as you continued thoughtfully, “and I can always add to it after it's graded…. Okay, you’re right… You’re right!” you held up your hands in surrender as you started packing your things away. You knew a break was for the best, and your rumbling stomach firmly agreed.

Steve snorted and stood up with his things, “Come on, let’s get lunch before our classes start. I’m buying.”

“Well, I’ll never say no to that,” you grinned and headed out as you finished packing up the last of your things.

You smiled as you two walked down the busy sidewalk and out of campus toward your favorite lunch spot. You finally spoke up, “Sooo, What’s the catch here?”

“No catch,” Steve smiled at you simply, “I’m just trying to be a friend worth their salt, you know?”

Steve was always a great friend, but today he was being awfully nice… maybe even too nice? As you glanced over you could see the smallest glint in the corner of his eyes. “I dunno…. “ you drawled out as you bumped him, “buying me lunch at my favorite spot when it's already so far out of our way..? Seems suspicious to me,” you observed casually with a quick shrug.

For a moment his perfect smile faltered and his far-too-honest and good-hearted nature got the best of him, “So… I know you’re not really a party person…”

“Steve…” You groaned.

He held his hands up, “But hear me out! It won't be too loud, and there’ll be plenty of people there…. Chances are you won't have to talk to anyone if you don't really want to, but I thought it would be a nice way to get out on a Saturday night…” Steve tried to argue.

Pursing your lips you gave him a long look, searching him for something else, “Why do you really want me to go, Steve?”

The blond man sighed as if he really thought he might’ve had you that time, “Bucky is gonna be there….”

You shook your head so quickly you thought you’d get whiplash, “Nope. No. I’m not doing it. Sorry Steve, I can’t. I think I would actually rather drink the paint water again.”

Bucky had been, hm- how do you put this lightly? From your very first meeting, Bucky had consumed your thoughts and shaken your heart. Steve had introduced the two of you a while back now, wanting the two of his closest friends to finally get to know each other. But once you two finally met you just clammed up. You didn't even mean to! But you saw those unbelievably blue eyes and you heard his full-bodied laugh and you haven’t caught your breath since. But of course, you weren't the only one who felt this way, and you'd be silly to think so. Everyone wanted a piece of Bucky, whether for just a night, a week, or something longer and you knew you had nothing on your competition. You were far too quiet, you always had paint somewhere on your face, and you were anything but a party person. You preferred to spend your evening in with whatever takeout you could afford that week- and maybe a small game night if you were feeling especially social. But You were leagues away from what Bucky deserved, let alone from the people he’d picked and chosen from before. Yet Steve still seemed relentless in his will to bring you two together since you’d confided your feelings in him.

He sighed and plucked out his wallet to pay for your food, “Y/n, please? I know you’re a little nervous when it comes to Buck, but there’ll be plenty of other people around to buffer and It's been a long time since we’ve all been together…” he said, looking over at you.

God, you shouldn’t have looked at those big blue golden retriever eyes…. And following a moment of hesitation, you nodded, “I… I guess I can- yeah, okay, I’ll go… just for 20 minutes,” you finally caved with a sigh, thinking only, “What am I getting myself into?”

—----

Taking a deep breath you stared at the house before you. The party wasn’t crazy or overflowing yet, but there was still a handful of people outside already trying to get a break from the noise and crowd.

“Just 20 minutes?” Steve asked beside you, his well-meaning smile giving you an iota of comfort.

You nodded, giving him a small reassuring smile and a thumbs up. You smoothed out your sweater beneath your hands, it was your favorite one- comfortable, didn't have any smudges on it, and you thought the color looked rather nice on you. It was just 20 minutes. You could go in and awkwardly talk about something for 20 minutes, right? And if not- Well, there’s always punch.

With a short breath of confidence, you headed through the doors. A small sea of people spread out about as far as you could see, with little gaps here and there for people to sneak through or join in the already existing conversations. You bobbed your head gently along with the music, searching the crowds as you made your way through the dimly lit rooms.

It was an achingly slow start to 20 minutes, most of your time being spent sipping punch while Steve talked to anybody and everybody as if he was personally running for mayor. So you stood quietly, nodding and smiling when people laughed and making expressions that seemed to match the conversation as you looked around for anyone you knew. The whole buzz of endless conversation seemed to get monotonous and verge on overwhelming as you listened in, until a particular laugh rang out, one that was hearty and familiar and made your heart rattle in its wake.

You turned to confirm your suspicions and lo and behold there he was. Across the room, through the sea of people, you could see Bucky standing there like a lighthouse promising safe harbor. His blue eyes squinted with laughter as he flashed the whitest smile and made some retort you hate that you couldn’t hear. Just the sight of him made your whole body heat up pleasantly, your lips splitting into a wide smile as your eyes just refused to leave him.

It was only when he happened to glance over that you realized you were still staring, but he didn’t seem bothered. No, he simply grinned and raised his hand above the crowd to get your attention, urging you to stay where you were while he made his way over.

Only his path got intercepted.

A bright, bubbly girl maneuvered up beside him with no problem from the crowd, her arms wrapping around his bicep as she pulled him in possessively close. If that didn’t make your stomach turn enough, the kiss she planted right on his cheek surely did.

You couldn’t even think enough hide the way your face fell, your whole posture deflating beneath you as your stomach dropped to the floor. “Hey, Steve…?” your voice squeaked out, your throat closed like a vice as you couldn’t pull your eyes away. “I’m gonna walk home, okay? I’ll see you later, I just- I need to go…” You managed to get out, not waiting around to hear out whatever argument he had to urge you to stay.

“Y/n? Y/n, wait-” The blond urged as he looked around, immediately spotting Bucky and the unfamiliar girl he was trying to shake off, “Wait- It’s dark out, don’t walk alone!” Steve called back to you, but his only answer was the click of the closing door over the murmurs of the crowd. He went to say his briefest goodbyes and run after you when he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder. “Buck?”

“I’ll go after her,” Bucky assured him, his face worried and serious as you ran off into the night by yourself, “You stay here, I’ll walk her home.” he finished before quickly making his own way out the front door and down the dark street.

----

You huffed an angry sigh and shoved your hands deep into your all-too-shallow pockets. “Why am I even upset?” you thought to yourself with a biting tone, “you’re the one who's out of his league! You’ve said so yourself! Shouldn’t you just be happy he has someone that will be better for him…?”

“I hate parties…” you mumbled as you passed beneath the streetlight, pulling your foot back to kick the small rock resting on the sidewalk. “Aaaand of course I missed…. ” you think bitterly as your foot whiffs right past the rock, not even a bit of movement to prove your effort.

“Hey…” A low familiar voice sounded out behind you, its owner coming closer as they jogged up to your side “What did that rock ever do to you?” Bucky grinned at you, half joking as he fell into step beside you.

“Bucky…?” you breathed, your mood already lightening at the mere presence of it, but you quickly tamped it down, “Oh, right well… The rock…uh, tried to mug me” you half-heartedly joked, “ Really put me between a rock and a hard place, if you know what I mean. But don't worry, I beat it off.” You said with an awkward laugh, internally kicking yourself for such a bad joke and with a pun to top it off at that.

But Bucky still snorted a laugh, his thumb jabbing back in the rock's direction as you both continued on, “You want me to go back there and kick it for you?”

You grinned and shook your head, “No, No, that's okay… I think it's learned its lesson…”

You two walked in comfortable silence for a moment, a small smile resting on your face, but inside your heart still weighed heavy upon you.

“Why did you leave...?” Bucky finally asked and for a moment you swore you heard something akin to hurt in his voice, “I had finally gotten a chance to see you again.” he said, quickly adding, “I just mean… it’s been a while since you, me, and Steve got to hang out. I, ah… guess I’ve sort of missed it with everything going on…”

You tried to ignore the way your heart squeezed in your chest and looked down at your wringing hands as you answered, “I just… It was getting too much for me,” you lied, thinking back to the confident kiss that girl planted on his cheek, “and I didn’t want to distract you from your time with… other people.”

Bucky furrowed his brow as he listened and stepped in closer to you as you hit a dark stretch of broken streetlamps. He was so close now, you could smell the faint scent of cologne coming up from his jacket. Your hands, both chilled by the late fall air, brushed together as you walked in time, though neither of you were brave enough to reach to the other.

“You mean that girl from before?” He motioned back to the now-distant party as he spoke, “I’m not even sure who that was.” He laughed a bit, “she said her friends dared her to kiss me, but I’m not sure….”

The weight of your heart eased significantly as you took in a quiet breath of relief, “that seems… huh…” you said as you frowned and rounded the corner, you could see the porchlight your house now and the keys jingled around your pocket as you tried to fish out the right one.

“I agree…” Bucky said, letting out an exaggerated shudder. Despite the lights now populating your last few steps home Bucky’s protective presence did not waver, his shoulders brushing against yours now and again as you stepped up onto the porch and took out your keys.

Despite fumbling with them you finally manage to open the front door and take half a step inside, “Thank you for walking me home, Buck,” you smiled, “and threatening to beat up a rock for me...”

That pearly white grin nearly blinded you despite the dark of night, “Of course, I’m always happy to rough up a pebble for you- but uh, I might draw the line at boulders, just so you know.”

You bit your lip as you chucked, feeling butterflies bounce around your stomach uncontrollably, “Noted…. I should probably let you go before Steve does something stupid and heroic… But I’ll see you soon?” you proposed as you leaned into the doorframe, “Goodnight, Buck…”

He couldn't restrain the grin that parted his lips at the prospect of seeing you again so soon, and seemed to stumble over himself as he backed down the short staircase, “Right… right, I should- Goodnight, y/n…” His grin never left as he finally turned to leave…

… But something stopped him at the bottom of the stairs, “Wait-” He interjected into the silence. His lips tightened as he seemed to fight with himself for a moment, before finally turning back to you with a look of nervous determination in his eyes.

“Y/n, I…” his words paused as he searched for the next ones, his whole demeanor had shifted, not quite the suave confident soul you had always seen, but an endearingly awkward version of him. “I don't know if I’ll ever have the guts to say this again, but I- Y/n, I really like you…” Bright blue eyes met yours as you continued.

“You’re thoughtful and genuine, and you always have paint on your face- even now-” He laughed softly, pointing to his ear.

“Oh, Shit-” you mumbled, rubbing it off quickly.

“But it’s what I love about you. You do what you love and you pour yourself into it every time. And even though you’re quiet, when you do speak your words say volumes. You're funny, and kind, and just… so far beyond me that I know I don’t have a chance, but I just had to try why I still had the nerve.” He rushed to finish, ending with a deep breath as he urged himself to wait for your answer.

Your face burned with the full heat of the sun as you tried to take in Bucky's words, He thought you were out of his league????

“You… I…. “ You had to laugh, your heart so unbelievably light as it all really hit you- he liked you! You!

“Bucky, are you serious..? I’ve had a crush on you from the moment I met you. You smiled and laughed and I haven’t been the same ever since.” You rubbed your blushing cheeks, trying to will away the embarrassing hue as you continued, softer, “But you could have anyone- there’s always people falling at your feet, I just figured I could never compete with the likes of them…”

Wait, you liked him too? You said you liked him too?? With newfound confidence Bucky took another step forward, his fingers reaching out to you in invitation, which you gladly accepted. “You’re right… You could never compete with them,” he started, “ It simply wouldn’t be fair to make them compete in something they could never dream of winning.”

Your cheeks hurt from the sheer force of your smile and as you looked down at your linked fingers you swore your heart would fly away.

“Um… Bucky, can I-”

“Please” He rushed, his own grin spanning from ear to ear as he leaned in for a kiss.

________________

General Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity @simpxinnie @goldylions @yeehawbrothers

If I missed or accidentally tagged you lmk! Wanna be added General Bucky taglist? Please ask/DM me!

#bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes x y/n #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #james bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine

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sirianasims · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 43.6

My mother taught me that sometimes it rains. Sometimes it pours, and you’re soaked through and miserable and it feels like it may never stop. But no matter how heavily the rain falls, no matter how drenched you get, you are not the rain.

Some day you will be dry again.

Things have been easier since I blocked Paul, the pain slowly fading to a dull ache, barely noticeable as long as I don’t dig too deep. I try to keep myself distracted, reading Lucky Girl for what must be the fifth time. It’s my comfort read, Evie reminds me a little of myself. I think we could have been friends, hanging out and agreeing that being in love is the absolute worst, actually, while we yearn for our respective idiots.

The memory of Paul is not the only thing I’m trying to escape. With all my channels inactive, even the haters have gone quiet and my views are dropping every week. I’ve toyed with the idea of simply abandoning everything and starting a new brand, but I don’t want to rebuild my follower count from scratch. I don’t have time for it. My bills are starting to pile up, and while I can still pay them for now, it won’t be long before I have to either crawl back to mom and dad and ask for help, or get one of those real jobs people keep talking about. I’m not even sure which option I would hate the most, so I hide in my book for now.

A sharp knock on the door jerks me away from Evie admiring Jude in an art gallery and back to reality.

I hesitate for a moment. I have no idea who it could be, and I don’t want to see anyone, especially not some smarmy salesperson – or worse, my landlord. With a sigh, I put my book face down on the armrest and shuffle to the door.

Miranda is leaning casually against the doorway, her high heels making her look almost as tall as Samara. At their feet, a couple of large shopping bags are threatening to fall over and spill their contents on my doormat.

“See, Samara? I told you she was still alive.”

“So you did. Then I sure hope she has a very good excuse for refusing to see her best friends for almost two months!“

I feel my cheeks get hot. “Uh, hi. I’m sorry I disappeared, I’ve just had a rough time since, you know. But I promise to call you, maybe we can make plans soon?”

“No need, we’re here now, so you won’t have to worry about that.” Samara’s smile is cheerful, but her tone is resolute. Even so, I try to object.

“Seriously, it’s not a good time, I haven’t even showered for like three days, and the place is a mess.”

“Girl, since when do we care about mess? We’re here because we love you – stinky or not.” She wrinkles her nose, making the freckles on her face dance.

“What is this, some sort of intervention?”

Miranda smirks. “Pretty much. Sorry, but someone’s gotta save you from yourself, and we’re not letting you waste any more time moping over a man who didn’t deserve you. We’ve got snacks and a box of rosé with your name on it, so you might as well get out of the way.”

“Fiiine, but no judging the absolute state of the place.” I roll my eyes and invite them in with a dramatic flourish of my arm, but I can’t help but smile. Samara bounces through the door despite the heavy shopping bags, and Miranda goes straight for my laptop.

“What’s your login?”

“It’s just my birthday, and before you come for me, yes, I know that’s bad.”

Miranda shakes her head as the laptop plays a jaunty tune and lets her in.

“You’ll get the full security lecture another day, right now it’s time to declare inbox bankruptcy. We’re getting rid of all this bullshit so you can get back to business.”

“Miranda, there are literally thousands of messages. It’ll take days to go through, maybe weeks.”

She doesn’t even look up, her perfectly manicured fingers a blur over the keyboard.

“Give me an hour. I’m going to delete anything that contains profanity, and then I’ll sort the rest into folders, so don’t worry, you won’t be losing anything permanently. But I’m going to mark everything as read and archive it so you can get a fresh start. If anyone wants something important from you, they’ll reach out again, trust me.”

I stop myself from protesting further. Miranda knows what she’s doing, and it really would be a relief not to worry about everything.

Behind me, Samara has stopped unpacking the groceries.

“Just let Miranda work her magic and get your smelly butt into a bath. And make it a nice one, soak for a bit and pretend you’re a mermaid or something. We’ll get everything set up in here while you scrub off the sadness.”

I feel a slight pang of embarrassment as I walk into the bathroom. The sunlight is creating little islands of warmth on the black tiles, but it also mercilessly illuminates the limescale in the shower and a couple of cotton swabs that missed the bin. The sink is decorated with a few dried clumps of toothpaste, each of them outlined in red from last time I dyed my hair.

How did I let it get this bad?

I turn on the taps and leave them running while I undress. Then, I lower myself awkwardly into the tub and let the water cascade through my fingers. It would be nice if it was this easy, washing away the sadness and frustration, the longing and the hurt.

The gentle sound of flowing water is mesmerising, and before I know it, the tub is full. I add a small handful of bath salts and swirl it around. A soothing scent of lavender rises with the steam.

When I lie down, the hot water envelops me like a hug. It feels like it’s thawing something in me that I didn’t even know was frozen. I close my eyes and listen to Samara and Miranda laughing about something. It’s almost like being home and hearing my parents talk softly in the other room. It always made me feel safe. Less alone.

As the water begins to cool, I scrub down, slowly, methodically, running soapy hands along every inch of my body. It feels good, like I’m massaging life back into my limbs. Tonight will be fun, I decide. We’re going to stuff our faces with junk food, get absolutely smashed on cheap wine, and pretend that my heart was never broken by some has-been actor from Tartosa.

I watch as the tub empties, imagining that all my sadness is flowing down the drain with the water and the tiny undissolved purple specks from the bath salt. Finally, I move to the shower to wash my hair and rinse off.

When I get out, I stop and examine myself in the mirror. I look a little tired and worn, like I’ve been sick. In a way, I guess I have. But the black tiles are radiating warmth under my feet and there are birds singing outside my window and I’m beginning to feel like everything is going to be fine.

Samara’s blue face glitters in the candlelight. The packaging from the masks we’ve applied is littered with adjectives like “rejuvenating” and “revitalising”, bold statements, but they do actually feel pretty good.

“Sorry, Julia, I know you love this crap, but I just can’t get over the cake tongue. Who decided cake would be the best bait for people? Are we really that obsessed with desserts?”

I look over my nails one last time and put down the file. “I’m actually more disturbed by the whole chin udder situation. I mean, who came up with that?”

Samara makes a disgusted face, but she’s not ready to change the subject. “Seriously though, even if you were absolutely starving and cake was your favourite thing in the whole world, would you really approach a plant shaped like a giant cow head with huge teeth? Really? And then try to grab what is obviously its tongue?”

Miranda giggles tipsily. “No, but can we talk about how Ned’s relationship with the cow plant is super toxic, though? I mean, it always starts out slow, right? Oh, so it eats meat, little bit of a red flag there, but it’s probably fine. And before you know it, you find yourself luring your neighbours to their deaths just to keep it happy.”

“Yeah, it’s classic, the way he keeps making excuses for her? She didn’t mean it, she’s just misunderstood! She only bites me because she loves me! I’m like, Ned, your girlfriend is eating people, you need professional help.”

Samara laughs. “I guess some men would literally rather feed their neighbours to a plant than go to therapy.”

My phone vibrates on the armrest behind me.

“Sorry, it’s Marten again, I better let him know I’ve got company. He’s been super busy with his exams so we haven’t had much time to play lately.”

Miranda raises an eyebrow.

“And he’s still fine just being your friend, is he?”

“Why wouldn’t he be? I mean, he was fine being my friend even though I was dating Paul. Besides, I haven’t even seen him in person since GeekCon, it’s been almost a year…”

I stop. Almost a year since I met Paul. It feels like a lifetime ago. I wonder what would have happened if I’d cosplayed as someone else, or if Paul hadn’t been there that day. Maybe I could have been dating Marten instead of having my heart trampled by some fickle celebrity. Nice, normal Marten with his mousy hair and his robot facts. I smile.

“Anyway, there’s nothing between me and Marten. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

Miranda sends me a mischievous grin. “That reminds me, you know that hot bartender from The Rooftop? Super flirty, cheekbones that could cut glass?”

“The one who gave us free refills on Samara’s birthday? Shane or something?”

“Yeah, him! He asked about you last time, wondered why you hadn’t come with us for like three weeks in a row.”

“How does he even know my name?”

“He didn’t, he just asked about our red-haired friend but you’ve clearly made an impression.” Miranda winks. “Maybe he’d be willing to help you get over Paul.”

I shake my head. “No thanks, I’m pretty sure he’s slept with like half the regulars. And I’m not looking for hook-ups, not now. I need to get my so-called career back on track, but I want to do something… different.”

I think of Paul, of late nights in hotel rooms, laughing at the most ridiculous b-movies before having amazing sex and falling asleep with his arms around me. “I don’t want to do cosplay again, absolutely nothing with movies or comics or superheroes.”

Miranda looks thoughtful. “What about just fashion stuff? I started out with just my shoe reviews and now it’s more general style advice and outfits to match your heels, but you have an eye for it and you know a lot about cuts and materials and design.”

“I guess? I don’t really know a lot about classic fashion, though, like couture and such. And it’s a really tough business to get into, plus I’d kinda like to keep the expenses down for now.”

“You could always just jump on one of the big trends. I bet you’d make bank as one of those clean girl aesthetic influencers or something.”

“That’s actually a good idea. I mean, I can probably get pretty far with just the makeup and clothes I already have. And I could move my sewing machine and rearrange the room, set up my camera and the lights…”

Miranda laughs. “We can start right now as long as it means we don’t have to watch any more terrible movies tonight.”

I reach for the remote. “Not a chance.”

beginning / previous / next

#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen5 #julia duchelli #samara davies #miranda villanueva

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homecomingvn · 1 year ago

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Hey everyone! It's, uh, it's certainly been a minute.

If my brief return a few months ago and then radio silence yet again is any indicator, I'm sure most of y'all probably know where this is going.

HOMECOMING, as of now (and for the indefinite future) is going to be on hiatus, and maybe discontinued.

This project initially started out as a silly idea, a culmination of my love for the yandere vn community and the wonderful games it has created, and my original plot and cast of characters. In the beginning, I was trucking along, working on scripts, planning out routes, spending hours of research on coding and how to get this thing up and running. Not to mention, the attention my silly lil project garnered was a lot. At least to me. I've had a semi popular writing blog before, and was no stranger to inbox asks, and how they pile up, or the notes that popular posts can get.

I was far too ambitious in all honesty, and once the glitz and glamor of a new project wore off, I hit a massive wall. Hard. It seemed that to actually work on HOCO was much like pulling teeth - whether it was writing, drawing, or even *thinking* about it, I found myself sinking further and further into a imposter syndrome of sorts.

And well, I guess making this announcement is sort of proving it right.

Even so, I've always known when to take a step back, when to settle down -- and now, I'm just making it official. I owe you all at least that much.

The blog will be staying up - I have no plans to delete it in the slightest. I'll just log out of it most likely - I'll still be around on my personal tumblr, where I'll hopefully start being more active there again.

Nothing could have prepared me for just how much care, how much love you guys have shown HOCO - so much so, it's still hard to believe. All the fanart, the fanfic, the memes - they're all saved to my phone, in their own album. Thank you to all who have made amazing creations for my silly characters, as well as the countless asks y'all have sent - maybe one day I'll be able to answer all of them.

I really hope one day I can return to this project with fresh eyes -- I'm hoping real, substantial time away from it will help that process. There are other, personal projects that I've been doing that have helped that creative spark again, as well as indulging in traditional fandom activities, mostly fanart. Unfortunately, I think it's safe to say that my time in the Yan VN community is over for the time being, at least until/if I start working on HOCO again. (Or whenever I play the latest updates of 14DWY - I am the Leon Fan Club President after all ^^).

I've been rambling too long, and I think it's time to close this chapter for now. Thank you all again - and one last Henry for the road. They were there since the beginning of HOCO in 2019, so it feels right for them to be here at the end.

#🪳 - roachie scatter #♥️ - abt hoco #if you made it to the end thank you :3 #sorry about all the rambling - this has been rattling around in my head for months - im sorry it took this long

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fablesrose · 6 months ago

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Season 3

Ch 19 - The Jailhouse Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: Nate is now in jail for the stunt he pulled last season saving the team. Despite this, he still finds a job in taking down his warden.

Words: 7.7k

A/n: Hey guys, sorry this took so long. This summer has been busier and more stressful than I had anticipated with work, trying to figure out my physical health, and a number of other factors in regards to my future. Unfortunately I am still under a lot of stress, so I'm unsure how regular updates will be, but I'm hoping to post once or twice a month for now. I've been so touched by the support coming through and the desire for this series to continue and I am so thankful for all of you, I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared at my laptop sitting on the coffee table in my living room. Over the past month that Nate has been in jail awaiting trial, I have been contemplating what my next steps should be. When I started working with the team full time, I had temporarily shut down my socials and suspended my website for freelancing. Still, I had a somewhat regular stream of repeat clients asking if I had any project openings. Thus far I had simply told them that no, I didn’t have any openings and possibly even pointing them to possible alternative freelancers that I had worked with previously and thought they did a good job.

Did I take it back up again? Was this last job with the mayor and Nate going to jail the sign that I needed that this was the time to walk away? If it was, could I really follow through? Or was I so deep into this already, in too deep with the team, too deep into crime, in too deep for Eliot, that I wouldn’t be able to get out until the whole world fell apart?

And so, I just started at my laptop. At my emails, sitting in my inbox. They might as well have been collecting dust. I sat, thinking about everything and nothing at all.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been there when a knock came to my door.

“It’s open,” I called, remembering that I hadn’t locked the door when Sophie came and went earlier today to check on me.

I didn’t move from my spot, staring at my laptop. It felt as if my eyes were glued to the spot, that pulling my gaze away would be painful, or at least physically difficult.

“Hey, sweetheart.” The deep voice floated to my ears, one that I wouldn’t forget. It somehow pulled my eyes from where they were nailed in front of me towards the door where Eliot stepped through carefully.

“Hey,” I said softly in reply.

“How’re you holding up?” He stepped around the furniture till he found a chair he liked near where I was sitting.

I sighed, “Okay. Those first two weeks I was so stressed that I don’t remember much, to be completely honest. Now I’m just tired and trying to figure out what to do next.”

He tilted his head a fraction, “Like what? What to cook for dinner in the next day or two or…”

I huffed, “More like what to do with my life.”

Eliot’s brow furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean? You’re gonna stay with us right? Help us break Nate out of prison?”

My lips curled into a small, but sad, smile, “Do you guys even still want me around when Nate’s not here?”

He scoffed, “Are you kidding? Of course we do. Didn’t you hear Nate on that boat? We’re family. To be honest sweetheart, I think we all like you better anyway.”

My smile cracked into a wider one, “Really?”

“Really.”

We just sat looking at each other for a few moments before my eyes dropped to my hands for a moment, “So, uh, where you just popping by to check on me or…”

He coughed, “Uh, actually I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, uh, remember the job we did in LA? With the two David statues?”

I raised an eyebrow in confusion, “Where I met you and helped with my first job? That happened well over a year ago? Yeah, what about it?”

He agreed that we were thinking of the same event and stuttered over his words a bit, trying to figure out how to articulate what he wanted. Eventually he said, “I just… I wanted to let you know that I’m glad I met you and inadvertently pulled you into the job.”

This conversation felt like it was getting deeper and more heartfelt with every exchange, and I wasn’t sure if I liked it. It was nice, in an uncomfortable kind of way and I knew he meant well, but I couldn’t stop myself from lightening the mood a bit with a more awkward angle. “You mean that you’re glad Maggie brought me along on your date?”

Blush rose across his face and scrunched in what seemed like disappointment, “It was Nate’s idea. For the record, I would have rather taken you out on a date, but Maggie had the museum access.”

That stopped me in my tracks and it was my turn for blush to spread across my face and surely my neck and ears. I wasn’t sure what to reply, so I didn’t even try.

Eliot seemed to register what he said, and quickly changed the subject, “Besides that, we kind of came up with a plan to break Nate out. Sophie is heading to the jail and is going to tell him. Do you wanna come over and listen in?”

I could still feel my heart racing, but this was a good excuse to get out and escape the hypnotizing gaze of my laptop. And if it got Nate out of prison and the team back to rockin’ and rollin’? Then it was a double or even triple win in my book.

We crossed the hall to Nate’s apartment where the team has continued to meet up and use as their - our? - headquarters. I had been unsure of how I felt being in there with Nate being in jail so I hadn’t come over very often. Hardison did make another upgrade to the room with a tall desk facing the screens placed behind the couch wide enough to fit all of us.

When we walked in Sophie had begun explaining the plan to break Nate out. Hardison was somehow channeling the conversation through the speakers like a phone call so everyone could hear and had the security footage on the screen so we could watch. Sophie and Nate were separated by some sort of plexiglass as they chatted from the prison phone booths. I had gone a couple of times to visit him so I was somewhat familiar with the room. It all seemed performative, the glass walls for some sort of privacy, the plastic phones to talk through even though you could still hear through the glass. All for the illusion of separation.

From what I gathered of the plan, we would have to break him out directly after his hearing at the courthouse. Eliot would take out any FBI agents and guards on the outside. Parker would be waiting in the elevator shaft to do the actual breaking out of the cuffs and his guards. The rest of us are on distraction and misdirection duty until we can all load up and drive away.

“No,” Nate said when he heard it.

“No!?” Sophie replied.

“Uh… no,” he repeated.

“What do you mean no?”

“It’s a horrible plan. None of it times out, and there’s no way you can get to the car that fast,” Nate explained.

“Ah, but you’d have to admit, it’d be a lot more dramatically satisfying if I’m the one driving the getaway car.”

I shrugged in partial agreement to the both of them. The way Sophie explained the plan was for her to meet Nate right when he came out of his courtroom, putting her behind him in getting out of the building. Nate was right, where it would be impossible for her to be driving the car to pick them up (the way she described it), but she was right that it would bring a full circle moment to the operation.

“You know they record these calls,” Nate whispered, as if it would help. Sophie raised a cellphone at him that was plugged into the wall next to the prison phone she was talking to him through.

“I created a carrier signal for our conversation,” Hardison explained, “But I’m dumping another conversation onto the prison recording system.”

“Spanish soap opera?” Eliot asked as he passed a beer to Hardison and my drink of choice to me.

“Oh yeah, check it out man. Look, it turns out Pepe’s twin brother Peppi is actually Guadalupe’s baby’s daddy.” Hardison explained the plot he was transmitting to the recording system.

“You seriously keep up with that?” I asked. I could vaguely hear it in the background of his systems.

Hardison shrugged at me.

“Is this thing two way?” I asked him.

“It can be, you wanna say hi?”

I casually nodded. Once he gave me the go ahead I said, “Hi Nate.”

He startled a bit on the camera feed when he heard my voice, “Hey Birdie.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing, “You didn’t have a hand in that plan, did you? Because I would expect better from you.”

Sophie looked a little offended in the camera feed.

I laughed, “No, I haven’t had any involvement in anything until just now.”

“What have you been doing the past couple of weeks, then?”

I rolled my eyes, “having an existential crisis over what to do with my life. Do I go back to boring normalness or risk following your footsteps and landing in prison with you? Any advice? How’s the food? And the beds?” I said the last half sarcastically, but the first statement was very much true and I tried not to show it. At least, not too much.

Nate chose not to answer me verbally, but I watched as he twisted around in his chair until he found the camera pointed at him and Sophie and gave it a pointed glare.

“Hey,” I said flippantly, “you chose this. Don’t kill me for asking.”

Behind me, Parker walked in with a large duffle.

“He don’t want to do it,” Eliot told her.

“Aw, but I love jumping down elevators,” she reacted.

“I know,” Hardison validated.

“This is my special elevator rig he got me for Christmas,” Parker said as he put down the large bag.

“Alright, look, Nate, you took the fall for us,” Eliot began.

“After you lied to us!” Hardison cut in, “He’s a liar.”

“You took the fall for us.” Eliot continued, “You went to jail so we wouldn’t have to. We get that, so we’re square. But now, you’ve got to let us get you out of prison.”

“But if we’re gonna do that…” Parker added.

“And not all of us are convinced that we should,” Hardison also added which earned an raised eyebrow from me.

“Then we have to hit you at your next hearing,” Parker finished her thought. “That prison’s escape-proof.”

“Okay, you know what? Fine, Nate,” Hardison said. “We’re still out here, we’re doing the job. We help people nobody else helps. That’s important. You want to stay around and miss out just because you gotta figure out your guilty conscience, that’s your loss.”

Nate began to respond with his nervous ‘I’m explaining’ laugh when Hardison turn

“Guys, no.” Nate said firmly. He then spoke slowly, as if spelling it out for us, “I committed a crime, I got caught, now I’m going to serve my time.”

“Boo,” I said as I took a sip of my drink. “Can’t we live by the spirit of the law, not the letter?”

“And what law would make this okay?” Eliot asked skeptically.

I shrugged, “I don’t know, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?”

“That sounds right,” Parker said, somewhat helpfully.

“Nate,” Sophie said pointedly. “What kind of world would it be if everyone who committed a silly little crime went to prison, huh? Complete madness!”

Those of us in the office shared a baffled look. While I was being somewhat contrary, it was clear that Sophie actually believed what she said. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

“Did you get the kielbasa?” Sophie asked.

Nate nodded and held up a packaged sausage with a bow on it, “yeah.”

“There’s an earbud inside,” she explained with a dramatic wink that I could see through the fuzzy camera.

“Now listen to me,” Nate doubled down, “in no way, shape, or form are you going to break me out of this prison. Understood?”ed his screens and programs off, cutting off the call.

“What a burn,” I said to the quiet room.

Eliot approached me, “Sorry about bringing you over here, that wasn’t how I thought that was gonna go.”

I shrugged, “I’ll admit, it stings a little, but that’s not your fault. You can never tell what Nate’s gonna do. Besides, you didn’t bring me very far and I got a drink out of it.” I raised my drink and Eliot tapped his beer against it.

“To whatever future you choose,” he said spontaneously.

“To whatever the future may bring,” I replied.

I stayed around and chatted for a little while, but eventually retreated to my own apartment. There were enough emotions for today.

A couple of days later Hardison invited me across the hall to help assemble or create a helicopter-esc gadget. The small talk didn’t last long and we slipped into a comfortable silence, the contraption alternating between us as we fiddled with pieces and screws.

“Were you serious, the other day?” Hardison finally asked, breaking the silence.

“About what?” I replied somewhat distractedly as I struggled to thread a screw correctly.

“About figuring out what you wanted to do now that Nate’s behind bars.”

“Oh.” I paused before answering, “I mean, kinda.” I kept my eyes on the pieces and focused on putting them together even though I could feel Hardison’s eyes on me. “I kind of wondered if him getting arrested was the universe’s way of telling me that this was the end of the line for me and this life. That the opportunity and path had reached a dead end and it was time to go back to where I belonged, with a quote on quote ‘normal’ life.” I could tell Hardison wanted to say something, but I continued before he had the chance. “But, I’ve mostly decided that I’ll stick around for as long as y’all let me, wherever it leaves me.”

“Y’all? Really? I think you’ve been spending too much time with Eliot,” Hardison teased at my unconscious choice of words.

I finally looked up at him, “Slip of the tongue from when I’ve said it ironically. I don’t know if I ever remember hearing Eliot say it.”

Hardison shrugged, “He’s some sort of southern, I’m sure he says it.” There was a lull between us before he continued, “But regardless, I’m glad you’ve decided to stick around.”

I smiled at him in appreciation when I heard Nate’s voice come out of his computer that was sitting next to us on the counter.

“Oh, no. Mnh–mnh,” Hardison replied immediately. “No, we extended our hand of forgiveness, and you slapped it away. Now go away.”

“Please, please, I just want you to check the records of inmate Billy Epping. Fast.”

It sounded like there was someone near him as a distant voice said, “Who are you talking to?!”

Hardison rolled his eyes and started typing on his laptop before pulling something up. “Whoa… Okay, uh, William Epping’s conviction was for transporting liquor across state lines, but his sentence was way longer than anyone’s received for that crime since, like, the Pilgrims, man.”

“That’s suspicious,” I commented.

“That’s weird,” Hardison continued, “Your warden was consulted on the sentencing.”

“That’s really suspicious,” I amended.

“It’s hinky,” Hardison agreed.

Nate then turned to who I assumed was Billy and assured him that we would check it out. He then apologized and there were some panicked sounds coming through his comm that wasn’t from Nate.

“Uh, Hardison, Y/n, why don’t you guys gather the team and get me a background check on the warden.”

“You stabbed me!” The other voice called.

“Oh, come on, just a little,” Nate minimized.

“Was that necessary, Nate?” I asked.

“Yes,” he responded without elaborating.

“Nate, did you find us a client in prison?” Hardison teased.

“Yes, we are going to help Billy Epping, and maybe take down a warden at the same time,” Nate said matter-of-factly.

Billy exasperatedly demanded who Nate was talking to and eventually came to the conclusion that he was going to pass out.

Hardison turned to me and muted us on the comm network, “What was that about signs of the universe?”

“I’m not sure what this sign is telling me other than that Nate, my uncle and the person who raised me, is insane. Which I already knew and am still figuring out how that reflects on me.”

“Fair.”

We gathered the team and started preparations to do some recon. Hardison did the background check on the warden, Adam Worth, and drew up some credentials for Eliot to go into the prison as a doctor. He would be there to keep Billy safe and give information to Nate. Parker and Sophie (she had told us her real name at this point, but wanted to be petty and not tell Nate, so it was easier to just call her Sophie) were going to be working the courthouse and judge, getting information on Billy and their relationship with Mr. Worth.

Hardison and I dressed up a bit to meet with Mr. Worth on the pretense of business.

“How I got started?” Mr. Worth repeated Hardison as he poured us some drinks, “Well, hedge funds, actually. And then a little bit of international finance. But then ten years ago, I hit on this – National prison properties. Get the government out of the justice business.” Everything that came out of his mouth sounded like a political slogan. This man seemed to be born a politician, and from what Hardison found on the background check, it seemed to run in his family. His grandfather, father, and brother were all in pretty powerful political positions, but the Mr. Worth that stood in front of us couldn’t seem to get elected in his campaigns.

When asked for our names, we introduced ourselves with the best English accents we could muster and maintain for this whole meeting.

“Brilliant,” Hardison remarked, “Corporate-run prisons, five facilities, thousands of inmates, it’s tremendous.”

“Indeed, it’s a marvel,” I added with a smile despite the fact that my thoughts and feelings on the matter were quite contrary.

Mr. Worth led us over to his sitting area of his office, Hardison came behind me as he took a step to Mr. Worth’s computer and planted a bug into his system.

“The U.S. has the fastest growing prison population in the world,” Mr. Worth explained. “Well, it’s like the real estate boom,” he laughed, “except of course, the problem with real estate, you eventually run out of land. You never run out of people to put in prison.”

“Hmm, we haven’t had much success in the private prison concept in England,” Hardison said. “Our investment firm has large real estate holdings for construction of facilities.”

“You see, any yahoo can lay some concrete and throw up some razor wire,” Worth countered. “The profit comes from proper management. For example, the big money for us is in prison labor.”

Hardison pulled out his phone to ensure that his bug was accessing the system, but this had him a bit distracted.

“Really?” I asked, pulling the attention to me and to keep the conversation going.

“Yes. Goods and services made by prisoners in America – two billion dollars a year. One out of every five office chairs and desks, made in America, made by convicts. And those jobs are not going to the Chinese,” he laughed and raised his glass in a cheers.

Around this time Eliot arrived at the prison infirmary and handed over his credentials. Before we left, Eliot was agitated.

“What’s up?” I had asked him.

“We tried to break him out, but now we’ve got to do this job. We shouldn’t just be at his beckon call after he ran a con on us,” he said through slightly gritted teeth.

“Well, when you see him, don’t rough him up too badly,” I commented, not denying his feelings. I was a bit peeved too, and I knew Eliot wouldn’t do something rash, I said it in a teasing way to try and lighten his mood.

He looked at me for a hard moment before he sighed, his shoulders dropping, “Fine, I won’t do anything.”

“I never said that,” I corrected, that teasing lilt still in my voice, “You can still scare him a little bit.”

His expression was a bit skeptical, but intrigued.

“Please? For me?”

His face broke into a smile, “Okay, I think I can do that, sweetheart.”

And he did once he and Nate were alone after he was introduced to Billy and assured he would be safe.

It sounded like they popped into a dental office to talk and with some rustling and clinking of buckles, it sounded like Eliot was physically strapping Nate in.

“Restraints,” Eliot said. “They’re in the infirmary manual.”

Then the sound of a dental drill came through the comms.

“That’s – uh – for the guards, right?” Nate asked with a bit of a nervous laugh.

“Do you know what I usually do, Nate, to the people that run a con on their own team?” Eliot asked seriously with a pause. “That almost get people killed, ‘cause they’re out of control?”

“Are we okay, Eliot?” Nate asked, that tone of nervous challenge shifting in his voice.

I smiled to myself behind my glass. Eliot knew what he was doing when it came to scaring people, even when trying to be subtle.

As an answer, Eliot turned the drill off and started relaying the information that we knew on Worth. He told him about his family’s political dynasty and his failure to get elected himself which led to him going the business route.

“Okay, first, we have to figure out how to nail the warden on whatever scam he’s running here,” Nate said. “Second, we’ve got to get Billy out of here in case things go bad.”

“Told ya, this place is escape-proof,” Eliot countered. “Twenty-first century prison, fewer guards, more tech. Infrared cameras, motion sensors, lockdown doors.”

“Okay, does Parker have any ideas?”

“She’s working with… Sophie.”

“What was that?”

“Sophie told us her real name. I’m not allowed to say it in front of you.”

“Seriously?”

“Her and Parker, they’re running the judge.”

At the courthouse, they were able to find a bunch of files of inmates and evidence of a safety deposit box. Hardison and I wrapped things up with Worth to go do some research and discuss what they found.

It turns out that the judge who sentenced Billy opened up a safety deposit box around the same time that he started sending civilians down for hard time. Four other judges seemed to do the same.

“I mean, there are hundreds of cases here,” Sophie said once she, Parker, Hardison, and I got back from our respective assignments. “And these are just the ones we found.”

“Records I pulled off of Worth’s computer show that each time an inmate checks in at Rockford, their judge gets an email. Now, it looks coded. I’m thinking, Cayman Islands bank account?” Hardison speculated.

“Hardison,” Nate said through comms, “private prisons have a contract with the state just like any company that provides a service. Now, do they have to maintain a head count?”

“Yeah, Rockford can’t drop below 70% occupancy. If they do, they lose their state funding. No state money, and they close. They came very close two years ago,” I answered.

“Hmm, so private prisons are like the hotel business. They live and die by occupancy, headcount. Now, Worth wasn’t gonna lose $100 million in profit just ‘cause he didn’t have enough hard-cases to fill the prison, so he puts a few judges on the arm to send him non-violent offenders, easy prisoners to supervise.”

“But why these people?” Parker asked.

“Because they’re citizens,” Eliot said as he walked in from the neighboring room. “‘Cause they’re honest, middle class citizens. These are the people, they don’t wanna cause any trouble. They can’t afford a lawyer, so if some judge sends them away, well, yes sir. They were taught to trust the courts.”

“They believe in the system,” I added, summing it up.

“So, Nate, whatcha got?” Sophie asked.

“Well, Worth makes money sending innocent people to prison.” Nate answered, “I have just the thing.”

To put it simply, Nate did have just the thing for Mr. Worth: make all of his ambitions come true and get him elected United States Senator.

Sophie got Worth on the hook for the election by posing as the current senator’s campaign coordinator, vying for reelection. Parker posed for pictures that got photoshopped to make it look like the current senator was having an affair. A scandal that could lose him his job. Hardison and I put together a campaign ad for Worth that Sophie also showed him and caught him hook, line, and sinker.

“Now, I’ve got to give it to you Nate,” Hardison said once Sophie got back. “Nobody can read a mark quite like you.”

“Oh, come on,” Nate replied, “he tried to run twice and failed. That had to have been eating at him. Now find me a way out of this place.”

“Oh, now he wants to get out,” I said sarcastically with the intent to tease, but Nate chose not to comment.

There was a pause before Eliot started speaking from inside the prison infirmary, “Billy showed me where he found the first dead gang member. Blind spot – no cameras.”

“Nice coincidence,” Nate acknowledged.

“Yeah, and Hardison checked the incident reports, all of them happened in camera blind spots – places convicts wouldn’t know existed.”

“Guards,” Nate concluded simply.

“They killed him, accident, whatever. They let Billy here find him, wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Can we use the blind spots?” Nate asked. “I really want a back door out of this place.”

“No, Nate, I can’t access those cameras from here,” Hardison said. “They’re dumb, they run straight to the server.”

“Yeah, and they could have upgraded the motion sensors and the infrareds since these plans,” Parker added. “You’re gonna have to map it out. Old-school.”

Nate and Eliot proceeded to map out the prison, finding every security camera, motion sensor, lock bolt, and heat sensor in the prison. Eliot marked it on his phone and Nate dictated it to us back at the office so we could map it both on a digital blueprint and a physical map taped to our clear erase board.

Once they had finished the rounds in finding everything Hardison said, “Nate, if you could see this, you would not be encouraged”

“Yeah, I see it,” Nate said a bit distractedly, telling me that he had it mapped out somehow and somewhere and he was looking at our predicament at that very moment. “I hope Sophie has more luck with the warden.”

“Who’s Sophie?” Parker asked.

“You remember, we’re not supposed to use her real name with, uh…” Hardison answered.

“Right, Nate hasn’t earned it yet.” Parker then started repeating Sophie over and over again in different pitches and tempos as if to remind herself.

It got to a point where I knew Nate must have been losing his mind and I was getting a bit irritated myself, so I took it upon myself to cut her off, asking her to show me the ranges of the security equipment we just mapped out to see if there were even slivers of blind spots. I already had an idea that there were very few if any, but it distracted Parker from saying Sophie over and over and helped me get a better idea of what we were working with. She happily redirected and started rattling off information at me and pointing at the map with Hardison piping up occasionally about a specific tech thing here or there.

Eventually Eliot came back and we started analyzing the digital blueprint we made of the security measures, trying to figure out how to get Nate an escape route.

“Alright, we cut that wire,” Eliot said, pointing at the screen.

“No, no.” Hardison said, “Look, once a lockdown is called, all these sensors go hot and all those door bolts drop into place.”

“I got it!” Parker said as she sat up from where she was lying down on the table desk. “The furnace room.” She then stood up and walked to the front of the room to face the rest of us who were extremely skeptical. “There’s no sensors because it’s too hot. They crawl straight down along the heating pipes until they reach the sewage system. Ha ha!”

“Now Parker, it’s a hundred and fifty degrees in there,” Nate pointed out through comms.

She paused before answering happily, “The average human can withstand that for 27 seconds.”

The boys rolled their eyes and turned away from her.

“Could they make that crawl in 27 seconds Parker?” I asked, trying to point out the problem.

She hummed and hawed for a couple of moments but before she answered, Sophie walked in.

“Worth is on the hook,” she said as she joined us in the living room, “But, with $250,000 of ours as a buy in.” She was referring to getting Worth to transfer a quarter million into a ‘campaign fund’ account, it seems he wanted us to match it.

“Ouch,” Nate commented flippantly.

“Oh, did I say ours? I meant, what’s left of your life savings. Yeah, we took it out of your account.”

I winced, but still had an amused smile since Sophie was trying to rub it in, but we had to use Nate’s money to make Worth look even more incriminating.

“Any luck here?” Sophie asked us, all of us answering in the negative, except for Nate.

“Yeah, yeah, got it,” he answered, convinced he was right. “B corridor, through to the kitchen, into the freezer, into the freezer air exchange, into the machine tunnels, which will lead me to the roof, or the parking lot.”

“You gotta beat the lockdown door to the corridor,” Hardison reminded him. “There’s a thousand pounds of pressure on that bolt.”

“There’s motion sensors in the kitchen,” Eliot said.

“And infrared in the machine corridor,” Parker added.

“All to get to the roof or the parking lot where you’ll be trapped and probably brutally gunned down,” Sophie pointed out. “Got a way out of that?”

“I’m working on it,” he replied, not as confidently, but still determined.

“Okay, you do that, I’m sure we have all the time in the world,” I responded a bit distractedly as I analyzed the blueprint in front of me, not seeing a possible way out, but there had to be one. There had to be.

Sophie and I were brainstorming with Nate on how to bypass the security measures and get out safely. We eventually got it mostly figured out with Nate taking the route he dictated. For the first door, he would need a wedge to keep it from latching. I proposed a folded up newspaper if he could get his hands on one. Parker said that if Nate could fog up the kitchen enough, he could bypass the motion sensors in the kitchen. If Nate could disguise his heat signature with materials in the freezer, he could get by that obstacle too. As for being trapped afterwards, we needed a distraction on the roof so Nate could get through the parking lot and into Worth’s car. He was the only one who could conceivably leave the prison in a lockdown.

Eliot, Hardison, and Parker went back to the prison to lay down some ground work and prepare for the escape. Hardison brought some clothes to switch with Worth’s drycleaning for Nate to change into afterwards. He was also going to tip Worth off that Sophie might be crooked. Eliot was there as physical backup and protection. Parker was going to be flying a remote controlled helicopter for the rooftop distraction.

I stayed behind with Sophie to make sure everything ran smoothly.

What we weren’t expecting was when Hardison was going to tip off Worth about Sophie, he got an urgent call that pulled him away from their meeting. Hardison checked Worth’s computer to find that all of the security cameras had been turned off, faking a system reboot.

“Eliot, get ready. They’re coming for Billy,” Nate said when Hardison told him what was going on. After a few moments of what sounded like Nate making preparations, he said, “Parker, please tell me you’re at Hardison’s new van.”

“Yeah, it’s really nice,” she answered nonchalantly.

“Did you bring it?” he asked, referring to the remote helicopter.

“Wait, are we doing that now?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna break out right now.”

I looked at Sophie. This was certainly unexpected, but hopefully we had prepared enough for it to pass.

“Sophie, y/n, I need you to help guide me through it.”

“We’re on the count,” Sophie immediately replied.

“Nate, when they call ‘lockdown’ every door in the prison seals tight,” I reminded him.

“Right, on it,” he answered.

There were a lot of thumps over the comms telling me that Eliot was keeping the guards at bay. I had to take a deep swallow when I heard him demand a guard look at him before he knocked him out.

“A little sloppy,” Nate told him when he arrived.

“New glasses,” Eliot explained.

Eliot was wearing glasses when I met him, though I didn’t know his name was Eliot or that he was the world’s best retrieval specialist at the time. Whenever his glasses are mentioned, my mind seems to slip back to then. How he brought me champagne, complimented me, listened to me. How warm his hands were when they brushed against mine. How I’ve come to learn that they are always that warm. And how gentle they can be when they held my fingers when he said goodbye with a slight bow. How as he stood back up the lights of the party glinted off his silver frames and made his eyes sparkle.

I had always wondered if they were real, but mostly assumed they were fake. Him using new glasses as a reason for him being sloppy made me think that they actually were prescription. I should ask him about that.

Nate grabbed Billy and they made a dash to the doors while ‘Lockdown’ got called over the intercom along with an alarm and a countdown. Billy lamented that they weren’t going to make it before the door closed and it sounded like he was right.

After a moment, I heard a door open and Nate say, “Newspaper folded eight times can hold a ton of weight.”

I smiled to myself as it sounded like he took my suggestion.

Sophie’s phone began to ring. She looked at it and tossed it to me, “It’s Worth calling the bank, stall him please.

I instantly answered the phone, thickening my voice to have a more pronounced Boston accent along with my customer service voice, “First Boston Independent Bank. How can I help you?”

“This is Adam Worth. I want to close an account. Move money out of it right now,” he said, somewhat out of breath and anxious.

“And what account is it?”

“$250,000, the Worth campaign fund.”

“I’m sorry, sir, for a transfer that large, we require an in-person request to verify identity.”

He sighed and immediately hung up.

“Well, that should stall him. He’s heading to the bank now,” I told the group even though I’m sure they heard already.

Nate and Billy got to the kitchen where they separated, Billy going further into the prison, and Nate starting his route out of it.

“Nate, the motion sensor,” Sophie reminded him.

“Steam’s filling up now,” he answered. I started gently chewing the tip of my thumb when he told us that he beat the motion sensor.

I sighed and released a bit of tension, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet. I could tell Sophie was feeling the same as I was as she continually told herself to breathe.

Soon enough he told us that he made it through the maze of security measures and made it to the parking lot where he was home free in Worth’s car, who was on his way to the bank.

Sophie and I let out a breath of relief. Now all that was left was to send some helpful anonymous tips to the State police, specifically, the newly promoted Detective Captain Bonanno, who was on the mend.

With Hardison switching Worth’s dry cleaning with some of Nate’s clothes, making them fit better than anything Worth owned for himself, it made Worth look like even more of an accomplice of his escape when Nate exited Worth’s car at the bank. Nate made sure to catch himself clearly on a security camera. Worth took all of the money out of the campaign account, including the $250,000 of Nate’s money, making it look like a bribe. It seemed like the judges that Worth had on his payroll would also be on the receiving end of an investigation since the police found a list of them in Worth’s car.

Now that that was out of the way, we all had to exit the city. Quickly. Hardison was getting flights and I had most of my essentials gathered so that we could all head to the airport as soon as Nate walked in the door. I had prepared to be a fugitive when we took down the mayor, but now it was actually happening with Nate escaping from prison. I had stepped across the hall to my own apartment to grab a couple more things. Just when I was zipping up my bag, I heard Nate open up his door across the hall. I exited my apartment just as the door closed behind him.

I crossed the hall and was about to open the door again when there was a very distinctive click of a gun, right behind my ear.

“Don’t move,” a voice said behind me. Based on my experience with Sophie, I should have been able to guess the accent, but I was a bit too preoccupied to really think about it.

I turned my head slightly to see that there were five men standing behind me. I wasn’t sure where they came from to get behind me so fast, but they were all armed and pointed their firearms at me and the door in front of me.

I did what he said and didn’t move. I knew that the rest of the team was going to be opening the door any second, so I willed myself not to cry. I took a deep swallow, but could feel my eyes start to sting. There was always something when it came to this team, wasn’t there.

I could hear Hardison through the door mentioning rendezvousing in Paris when the door swung open to reveal the team. He immediately paused and the moment I made eye contact with Eliot, he took a forceful step towards me, ready to fight. Nate stopped him, grabbing his arm, but Eliot still tugged a bit before halting. They both gave me reassuring looks with a fire behind their eyes when a woman walking down Nate’s stairs pulled everyone’s attention to her. The thought crossed my mind wondering how she got up there when there has always been at least one of us in the apartment. These guys seemed to move like ghosts.

“Buono sera, signor Ford,” she said, definitely Italian.

Nate stared her down, but his body language seemed relaxed considering there were still several guns pointed at the back of my head and through me to the rest of the team.

“Why don’t you have your boys here put their guns down and we’ll head downstairs to talk?” He phrased it as a question, but his tone made it sound like there was no room for argument. This was still a bit confusing to me as it seemed she had all of the leverage here, again, since I had several guns right behind me.

Luckily, she nodded. The men lowered their guns and I quickly walked through the door. The Italian woman gracefully followed Nate as he exited the apartment past me and walked down the stairs, closing the door behind them, keeping her goons in the hallway. I let out a shuttered breath, and Sophie comfortingly stroked my shoulder and arm. My bag slipped through my fingers and fell to the floor with a thump that startled me as I had forgotten I was even holding it.

It seemed to snap the rest of them out of it as well. Eliot stepped up to me, hands gently on both of my arms and looked me over, making sure I was okay. I just nodded at him to say that I was. Hardison and Parker were discussing who they were, why they were here, and where they came from.

“They came out of nowhere,” I said a bit distantly. “I blinked and they were behind me.”

“Highly trained,” Eliot said. “But you’re okay, you did good. You didn’t lose your head.”

“If you say so,” I let out another deep breath that made me feel a lot better. I walked over to a chair and flopped myself on it. “So, guess we aren’t going to Paris?”

Hardison looked at me, “Probably not anymore.”

“We have to figure out what that woman wants first,” Sophie said, sitting more gracefully in one of the chairs than I did.

Parker started spitting out theories which Hardison seemed to encourage with a couple of his own. The rest of us just sat in silence, knowing that this was more of a waiting game to see what Nate came back with.

It didn’t take long before Nate came back into the apartment, a full glass in his hand. We all sat around the table, anxiously waiting for what was in store for us. Nate didn’t leave us waiting as he told us who exactly the Italian wanted us to target.

“Are you out of your mind?” Sophie exclaimed. “Nobody touches Damien Moreau!”

“Nate, Moreau finances the Sicilians, the Russian mafia, the Colombian cartels,” Hardison rattled off.

“Yeah, he moves money for the North Koreans,” Eliot added, “stolen artifacts for Iraq, nuclear materials for Iran.”

“Moreau is the big bad,” Hardison emphasized. “He is the central bank for international crime.”

Parker was flipping through the files that the Italian had given to Nate and just barely spoke up, “Nate, these files are CIA, FBI, Mossad, Japanese security.”

I peeked over her shoulder to see that she was correct, these files came from every major government and security agency. I didn’t know who this guy was, but I could tell that we were in a real deep shit from both sides it seemed. Two parties, both very powerful and very connected.

“So… who is this woman?” Sophie asked.

Nate told us that while she confirmed she wasn’t police, she didn’t expand much into who she was. He also added that she gave us a six month timeline.

“She wants to hire us to go after Moreau? Absolutely not,” Sophie said, the others quickly following with similar sentiments.

It got to the point where the one sided argument started to get out of control so Nate had to stop them.

“Guys! Just wait a second. This is not a job.” He then proceeded to tell us that if we did it, we would be free of Nate’s… legal troubles, in so many words. If we failed, on the other hand, Nate would be imprisoned in an absolutely horrible way and the rest of the team would be killed. Nate wouldn’t even repeat what she said they would do to me.

“She’s blackmailing us?” I asked, both parts in disbelief and resignation.

Nate stuttered, trying to find a way to deny it, but eventually just agreed that yes, she was blackmailing us.

“Sucks to be on the wrong side of that, finally,” Parker said.

“You don’t have to say ‘finally’ as if it was inevitable, Parker,” I said with a sigh.

“Right now, they have the leverage, so what we have to do is we have to get it back,” Nate tried to say reassuringly.

I could tell I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t quite convinced.

“We can’t go straight at a guy like Moreau,” Eliot said. “They’ll vaporize us.”

“Right, so what we do, is we do like we’ve always done in the past: we do jobs that help people. Only this time, some of them are gonna lead us right to Moreau.”

“Okay,” Hardison said, but he didn’t sound skeptical, it almost sounded like he was on board. “I mean, I do have a pretty big client list waiting for us to check out.” Yup he was on board. Hardison pointed at Parker and she gave a shy smile that said that she was in too. “Oh, we back in business,” Hardison said with a smile.

Nate nodded and tapped an uneven rhythm on the table to somewhat signal that there was nothing else to discuss.

We all stood, walking away from the heavy conversation.

I eyed the glass of whiskey that Nate had been holding this whole time, made eye contact with Nate and then Sophie before deciding that I was going to make the choice to not worry about it. It wasn’t my problem.

“Well, I’m gonna head to bed and dream about the horrible life of servitude and death that I’m going to experience if we don’t pull this off in the next six months. Hope you all sleep better than me, and I will see you in the morning!” I called with faux cheerfulness as I walked out of Nate’s apartment to cross the hall to my own. I snatched my bag that I had dropped when I was released from the line of fire and dragged it to my apartment where I left it in a similar position, not wanting to deal with it at the moment.

I really just wanted to sleep.

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @instantdinosaurtidalwave @kniselle @technikerin23 @kiwikitty13 @plasticbottleholder @mushycore @who-actually-cares-anymore

#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer #leverage #rewrite #slow burn #multichapter #nate ford #sophie devereaux #alec hardison #parker #ford!reader

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mvltisstuff · 2 years ago

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Hi! I accidentally stumbled upon your account and I really liked your fics especially on 911 characters. I actually requested a story before but posted it anonymously. It was a lengthy requested where Buck (911) and reader has to go abroad so they got separated and reader didn't know she was pregnant, etc.

And I think I wasn't able to say thank you in advance to that request so this is my thank you. Hope you'll pick it and make the idea worthy. And your stories are great! I love them! More ideas to you! ❤❤

come back, be here - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif from @marjansmateo

a/n: thank you for the request!! i don’t remember seeing it before, but i’ve been having problems w my inbox but it should be fixed now! hope you enjoy :))

every last second of bucks free time was with y/n before she went away. she was going to spain to study abroad for college, and buck couldn’t go with her. he had a life, and he’s happily settled in los angeles. she has a life too, though, one that she’s heavily planned out to give more to buck and her.

buck never wanted her to go. he knew it was her life’s dream to study abroad, but he would miss her like hell. he’s heard all the nightmares about long distance, and they don’t even know if they’re talking about it. y/n was supposed to leave in a week, so buck invited her over for dinner so they could discuss their future. he wishes he didn’t have to say goodbye to the one woman he’s loved more than anyone.

the air in his apartment was uncomfortable, trying to savor the days they had but the upsetting thoughts just kept returning to their mind. it’s been so long that they’ve been dating, they barely remember a life without each other, and that scared buck more than anything. he never wants to go back to his old ways, and y/n helped him.

“so, what should we do this week?” y/n asks, breaking the silence first.

“oh, uh,” buck stutters. “i wasn’t sure, i have work like every day but sunday.”

“that’s when i leave,” she reminds.

“i know, i’m sorry,” he says, breaking eye contact and turning around.

“what’s wrong, buck?” she questions his confusing state. she feels like she may as well just leave, as he’s not attempting to spend a good night together or start a conversation. “i know you’re upset but i didn’t expect you to not want to be with me.”

“i do want to be with you! it’s just-“ buck pauses, thinking about what’s really going through his mind.

bucks been with a handful of women who just up and left. abby was someone he truly cared about. not as much as y/n, but when she left, he was destroyed. he had to pick himself up, piece by piece. y/n was there every time he got hurt, had a bad day, or even had a good day. he doesn’t know how he’s going to go about his day with her being in another country.

“it’s just what, buck?” y/n sighs.

“i’m just thinking about abby and-“

“we’ve been over this, love. i don’t want anyone but you. this is just for me to get experience for work!”

“yeah, i get that,” buck complains. “but what about me? you’re leaving, and im just supposed to stay here? y/n, you are leaving the country. it’s a different time and it’s not as simple as a long drive.”

“buck, i understand what you’re saying, but i am coming back. and i need you to understand me,” her hands are playing with each other anxiously. they haven’t discussed this as much as now, and she has no idea what he might say.

“that’s what abby said.”

“will you stop with the abby shit?” y/n snaps. “i am not her, and i’ll never be her. listen, i don’t know what your deal is about this all of a sudden, but all i want is to be with you.”

“you know i love you,” he nods. “but i don’t know if i can stay here and wait for you to come back.”

“you’re serious?” she scoffs, completely taken aback by his statement. “so you want to break up? you’re going to sacrifice four years for a few months?”

“i’m sorry, y/n-“

“save it, if that’s what you want, then fine,” she gathers her stuff, letting the tears well up and bucks heart stings as he sees them. “i really believed you were the one but clearly, it was one-sided.”

“baby, please, i don’t want this to end like this-“ he tries to speak, but he can’t unsay the words he previously said.

“stop it, you told me what you wanted and you can’t just mess around with that,” she cries, trying to step away from him, placing a hand on his chest as he moves closer. “this is,” she lets out a sarcastic laugh. “this is so mean.”

it was an innocent dream that she’s had since childhood to go to spain. now, it’s finally an option and something she is certain she wants. she never, ever wanted to hurt buck but all of it backfired on her. she couldn’t say the situation was fucked up, disgusting, terrible. she could only muster up the word mean because she never, ever wanted to hurt him.

she whips around, speed-walking toward the front door before he grabs her wrist. she connects with his watery eyes, full of regret and pure sadness, maybe even a dash of loneliness. “i’m sorry,” he whispers.

“me too,” she nods, grabbing the door and walking out. she wipes her face when moving down the hallway, and wishes she could never look back.

on that friday, she got no calls, no messages, or anything from buck. she wanted to at least say goodbye, but the way their connection ended, the one that was so deep and true. she tried to take her mind on him, instead thinking of spain. she wanted to be excited to go, but it felt like everything changed knowing that buck doesn’t want her enough as she does.

the truth is that buck would drop everything in the world to run to her side. he’s so desperate to save himself from the agony of her leaving. bucks had people leave all his life. buck knows he can’t live without her. the only thing on his mind is how much he fucked up. he could handle some months, but he can’t handle her being out of his life for the rest of their lives. the spur of the moment tried to force his feelings into words, the wrong was. realistically, buck would wait forever if it meant she was at the end.

he thought he messed it up forever, that there was no reversing it. she deserved more than what she got from their ending. buck decided to pick up his phone, having no idea if she had left or not.

y/n walked up to the gates of the airport, taking any last attempts to gain the excitement. she wishes buck were right here next to her, to tell her it would all be ok in the end. now, she had to comfort herself with more doubt than she’s ever felt.

she zones out when walking in, looking at the flying airplanes and excited families. she watched them all, wondering where they were traveling. maybe a family vacation, maybe a wedding, maybe a funeral. she wondered if there was anyone in her position in this airport, trying to feel less lonely. her thoughts were interrupted by the vibration in her pocket, snaking her phone out to read the text.

1 new text : buck

have fun in spain!

her heart ached at the sight of the message. it all felt so small, a text that would’ve been appreciated from anyone else. from buck, it leaves a pit in her stomach as the plane takes off.

the lonesome weeks passed slowly, exhausting hours of working their minds on each other. y/n never planned for her stay to be this distant. she had everything right in front of her, but her mind was still in los angeles with buck. the thrills of a new country became minute grins after that night.

she eventually became so engrossed in her relationship with buck that she missed the fact that she was too many days past her period. at one attempt to distract herself, y/n slowly realized. she deep cleaned her whole room, throwing away all the food she had previously bought, wanting to gag at the thought of it. she was displeased because of the waste, but then she took a break.

she scrolled on her phone, getting a notification from her calendar app. she’s like clockwork, she’s always regular. when she spots the little reminder, her heart sinks. the amount of days she was late was certainly cause for concern. maybe she was having another medical problem? she tries to ease her worries but fails.

then she remembers buck. they definitely weren’t not active before she left. so, she does the walk of shame to the pharmacy and buys a test.

the forbidden stick sits on the counter, holding the most complicated thing in the world. there was no way she wasn’t pregnant, there are way too many signs comfort. her fingers shake and fidget on her knees, not even being able to look at it without having to chew at her nails and lips.

the distress and panic really starts turning it’s gears at the sight of the second line. it upgraded at the several other positive results. y/n was just staring at it for minutes straight before it finally kicked in. she was pregnant and the dad was in america.

she knows buck has to know, trying to think of her options while battling tears. he’s the only option to be the dad, and y/n has mixed feelings. she doesn’t know if she should be pissed, sad, or even a little happy. it sounds bad, but maybe it’s an excuse to see buck.

she’s known forever that she wants the rest of their lives together. every last part of him she wants to cherish. this makes it so real, so fast, and while they’re not even speaking. in the mix of all the emotions, y/n still knows exactly what she has to do and what she needs.

buck sat down with a beer in his hand, sitting next to eddie on the balcony. “i just, i wish it happened differently and i feel terrible.”

“buck, it’s not ending here,” eddie reassures. “you guys are meant to be. i didn’t believe in soulmates, until i saw you two.”

“she’s my entire world,” buck says. “i don’t know what i was thinking.”

“you were scared. she was scared. you’re confused, and it’s ok to feel that way,” buck felt like he was back in therapy.

“thanks, eddie,” buck smiles, sipping at the beer bottle and letting the alcohol settle.

the three hard knocks on his door make him sigh, having to force himself up to open the door. his grip on the bottle greatly improved when he saw y/n’s beloved face.

“hi,” she croaks.

“hi,” buck mutters. “w-what are you doing here?”

“i needed to see you, and we need to talk,” she sounds alarmed, scaring buck and making any other worries seem scarce.

“yeah, of course,” he moves. “i don’t want to bother you, so if you want to j-“

“i’m pregnant,” she speaks, her voice shaking and lowering at the words.

buck thinks he might need a hearing aid. there is no way he heard her correctly. buck loves kids, and it’s his life goal to have a family of his own to. he hopes he heard her right, because the only person in those dreams is y/n. he wants to marry her, to get old together, for her to be the mother of his kids.

“s-sorry, what?” he asks, clearly but with his eyes shot open.

“i’m pregnant, buck,” the look in his face could haunt her, the emotionless glance into her eyes makes her feel like she’s stone, and just because of his look.

“uh- ok! come sit down, please?”

she nods, stepping into the apartment as buck reads over every single test, shining lights and using a magnifying glass that he pulled out of nowhere. “you deserve to know.”

“i-im really happy, actually,” he smiles, looking at her nervous hands. he knows she’s scared from her body language, and by her face. he’s able to read her like the back of his hand. “how do you feel?”

“im pretty good,” she shrugs, releasing a sharp breath. “im scared shitless, but…”

“y/n, i cant hold it in anymore,” buck interrupts. “i love you more than anyone in the world. we’re written into forever, and i need you. i only want to spend the rest of my life with you and i know there is no one else out there for me. i don’t know why o said any of what i did, because i want to wait for you, wherever you are.”

as he inches closer to her, the pieces of her broken heart start to glue back together. “i missed you so much, and i only want you, ever.”

“i know,” she falls into his arms, wrapping his around her. “i’m so sorry.”

“i was so scared,” she sobs. “i only want you, buck. i’m never leaving you.”

“i’m here now, it’s all going to be ok,” he shushes, rubbing the back of her head. the entire fright from the whole day starts to disintegrate away, the other feeling nothing but security in the others arms.

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lfghughes · 2 years ago

Text

Mess In The Kitchen

a/n: i got this cute request that has been sitting in my inbox and i think the timing is perfect now to post it after my jamie and trevor fic

Flipping through the different recipes online, you finally found one for some pasta you figured Trevor and Jamie would like. For the past month at least once a week you would cook for Trevor. It was really the first time you cooked for anyone and Trevor seemed to really like the nights you cooked so you made it a thing. After a few times of you going over to cook though Jamie pointed out that you had yet to make him food too so the three of you picked today to have dinner all together.

You picked baked ziti because you figured it would be the easiest dish that everyone would like and you had gone over extra early to cook for the boys. You were excited to have Jamie finally try your food. “Alright, dinner is served.” You told the boys as you set the hot dish on the table for the three of you. Immediately Trevor dug into the food and Jamie followed behind.

When it was your turn you put a few scoop fulls on your own plate. You gave the boys a few minutes to really dig and you couldn’t help but beam up at them, waiting to see what they would say. “So what do you think?” You asked and Trevor gave you a thumbs, a smile on his lips. “This is amazing.” You immediately caught the look of confusion on Jamies face as he turned his attention to Trevor.

“Jamie?” You asked and he pushed his food around the plate a little. “Uh, you know I love you, right?” He asked and a nervous laugh left his lips. “Yes…” You started slowly as you waited for him to continue on. “What Jamie is trying to say is, he fell more in love with you because this food is amazing.” Again a look of confusion crossed Jamies face as he looked at Trevor again. “Well no…I mean, it’s not horrible it’s just..The pasta isn’t really cooked all the way through and it’s kind of…bland.” He winced a little at the last word and you could tell he was trying to not hurt your feelings.

Your cheeks flashed red at his words “I am so sorry.” You immediately started and Jamie shook his head “It’s fine really, I mean you said you’re still learning.” He tried to cover up his criticism and you appreciated that but a bigger question came to mind as you turned to Trevor. “Wait have you been telling me it’s good this whole time to not hurt my feelings?” You asked and his jaw dropped slightly. “I mean…yes?” He said quietly and your own jaw fell open. “Trevor why would you do that?”

“I can think of a few reasons why he does that.” Jamie teased with a small laugh and Trevor pushed him in warning. “Uh…Do you think maybe we could talk for a minute.” He paused looking over at Jamie “Privately.” At the last word Jamie held his hands up in surrender. “I’ll be in my room.” And with those words he retreated into the house. Your attention turned back towards Trevor. “I’m not really sure how to say this but uh..you see. I’ve kind of have had this big crush on you.”

His words had caught you by surprise but there was still confusion there. “Wait so because of your feelings for me…You didn’t tell me my food sucks?” You asked and he shrugged sheepishly. “I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings but I can see why it’s important that I wasn’t honest.” He admitted to you and you nodded your head. “Well yeah because if you’re wanting to be my boyfriend you’re going to have to be honest even if my food is the worst ever.”

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 17 days ago

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Finally, I’m copying this idea from someone else in your inbox, because I thought it was fun! You pick the stories! And I’m sure these prompts could apply to any/all your stories at different points, so just choose whatever fits the most right now

🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁 (the story whose current chapter you’re most excited to share)

🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁 (the story with your current favorite buck plot)

🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁 (the story with your current favorite eddie plot)

Have fun! Thanks as always for sharing your fabulous work!

- PCA <3

AHHH so glad this is taking off. Have to do this now sorry I keep thinking about it.

Chapter I am most excited to share would be ⚡️ because it's an emotional one and it's ALMOST READY.

21 for ⚡️:

---

“Most people never get more than that.”

“You’re right,” Eddie chuckles. “Are we crazy?”

Bobby shakes his head. “No. This is the right thing to do. For both of us.”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods.

He looks over his shoulder, having the sudden feeling he’s being watched. He sees Buck, standing across the firehouse loft, looking at them. He’s not looking for Eddie.

“Hey, uh… Bobby, I think there’s someone else who wants to talk,” Eddie says.

Bobby follows Eddie’s gaze. “Ah, yeah. Was expecting that one.”

“I’ll, uh… I’ll give you two some space,” Eddie says.

“Okay,” Bobby says. “And Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

---

Story with my favourite Buck plot... Hmm. 🌲. Probably for both of them actually, but we will say for Buck for this one.

21 for 🌲:

---

"If this is happening it doesn’t matter,” Eddie presses, breathing becoming increasingly erratic. “Buck-”

“Eddie, it does matter. You matter.”

“Buck, turn your hearing aids off. You have to turn them off. I’m-”

Buck shakes his head. “No. No, I trust you.”

“Buck-”

“We will get through this,” Buck promises.

“This has been my nightmare my whole life,” Eddie reminds him. “I know how this goes. This happens, and nobody loves… And I end up alone. Alone forever. I know it.”

“No,” Buck shakes his head. “No fucking way.”

“You don’t know.”

---

And then, because I actually cannot share my other favourite Eddie plot (It's a SECRET) here is 21 for 🔼:

---

“Another one. I… I did everything right. I did everything to be a better parent to Jane than I was to Chris at her age, and none of it matter. I will still end up a stranger to her.”

“No, Eddie. No,” Buck says. “Jane loves you. You’re her favorite, you-”

“She won’t remember me,” he cries. “We don’t know how long this will go on for. How long until I can hold my kids again…”

Buck finds himself tearing up as well. He’s not sure if it’s sympathy or selfishness. If he’s wondering how long it’ll be until he sees those kids again.

“We are going to do everything we can,” Buck promises. “We won’t… She won’t forget you, Eddie. You’re such a good dad. She feels that.”

“She’s four months old!”

“She still knows,” Buck promises.

#daisies and briars writes #things we're all too young to know fic #firelight fic #buddie shannon throuple fic

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starlightkun · 1 year ago

Text

much mistletoeing about nothing ❧ teaser [kun]

❧ teaser word count: 732 | full fic: 7.6k ❧ warnings: none for the teaser! ❧ genre: exes to lovers, angst with a happy ending (look at what blog ur on rn), christmas-themed (if the title wasn’t apparent enough), getting snowed in trope, cuddling to share warmth trope, just a fun, cheesy, time ❧ extra info: i wrote this in a 24-ish hour fever. it’s moderately proof-read. beware. ❧ estimated release: wednesday, december 20, 2023 7:00 p.m. eastern time

There was light pouring out from Dr. Oh’s office at the end of the hall, the only one on. You poked your head in through the open door, greeted by the sight of a seemingly empty office. Must have stepped out.

Just as you had dropped the papers into his inbox on his desk, you heard footsteps at the doorway and whipped around to greet the older man, breathless smile already on your face.

Except it wasn’t Dr. Oh standing there. Your greeting died in your throat as you stared at the newcomer with blatant shock.

“Oh, Y/N,” Qian Kun rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. His hair was a bit longer than before, a shaggy length that covered most of his ears and neck, and he’d forgone his contacts in favor of a pair of silver wire-rimmed glasses, but there was nothing that time could do to conceal his identity from you. The way your heart dropped to your stomach as soon as he said your name was undeniable. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” You sputtered back harshly. His PhD program was at a completely different university in the area and should have ended in the spring. What business did he have here of all places?

“I started assisting Dr. Oh last month. Uhm, sorry, I sort of thought you graduated already, or I wouldn’t have interviewed for the job.”

“I did graduate.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Two years ago. I’m a research fellow now.”

“Of course. Well, congrats.”

You let out a small noise of acknowledgement that could’ve also been interpreted as a cynical chuckle.

“So, did you need to see Dr. Oh? He’s left the office for the year, I’m just finishing up a couple things here.”

“Oh, no,” you shook your head, vaguely gesturing to the inbox over your shoulder. “My research head asked me to drop something off.”

Kun nodded. “Right. I’ll make sure he looks it over first thing when he gets back.”

“Thank you.” There was a pause of tense silence, and you looked around the office uncomfortably. “So, can I go, or…?”

“Yeah, of course, sorry.” He moved out of the doorway, stepping aside to clear the exit for you. “It uhm, it was nice to see you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You’d just brushed past him when he called your name out again. Against your better judgment, you stopped just short of leaving the office and turned to look at him.

“What, Kun?”

“What uh, what are you doing for the holidays? Are you going back home? Or, celebrating here with… someone?”

You weren’t sure what compelled you to answer other than basic social niceties. “No. Airline tickets were crazy, couldn’t find anything that would get me back in the lab in time that wasn’t ridiculously expensive. All my friends are traveling, so I’ll be eating ramen by myself on the couch, presumably.”

You had answered his half-asked question. No, you didn’t have a significant other to spend the holiday with. Just your family back home that you couldn’t afford to go see, and friends who had all left town.

“Oh…” He looked down at his feet.

“What about you?” You asked pettily, fully expecting him to be visiting a significant other’s family in town, flying home to see his family, something much merrier than the picture you had just painted.

“Same for me,” he admitted quietly. “Plane tickets back home were so expensive… and I just left my old job and haven’t really made new friends here yet. At least not ones that are on the level of them inviting me to their family Christmas.”

While you wanted to be bitterly vindicated by Kun making himself as alone on Christmas as he had made you, it somehow just weighed twice as heavy on your heart. All that came out of this was two lonely people, far away from home.

“Do you… maybe want to come over? For Christmas?” Kun’s hesitant proposition knocked the wind out of you.

“Why?”

“Well, neither of us have any other plans. And, I don’t know, I thought it might be nice… to be with someone you know. Better than being alone on Christmas eating instant ramen, maybe?”

You took a couple deep breaths, gnawing on your bottom lip as you thought over his offer. “Fine. Christmas dinner. No presents.”

⤷ blog masterlist

#kun #qian kun #wayv #kun x reader #nct #kun imagine #wayv imagine #qian kun x reader #wayv x reader #nct imagine #nct x reader #kunkun #i: kun #f: much mistletoeing about nothing #bias tag #writing #text #mine

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lettucebee17 · 2 years ago

Note

For the writing request: both Idia and Azul seem to have self esteem issues in the very least in the game. Maybe something exploring that, if you don't mind? Doesn't have to be shipped, friends can support friends too:D

I've had this request in my inbox for over a month and I decide to finish it today when ao3 is down... :(

I wanted to get it to you anyway so I'll just post it on ao3 when it comes back.

Thank you for the request! I hope it is satisfactory!! It can be read romantically or platonically depending on your preference!

Requests are still open: the details are linked in my pinned post

Fic under the cut:

Idia Shroud was, definitively, not the kind of person who worried about other people. Then again, Azul Ashengrotto was not the kind of person to skip out on board game club without so much as a text. The latest Azul had ever been to a club meeting was three minutes, and that had been after texting Idia the exact details of why he’d be late (possibly even more details than Idia had wanted or needed). So, after waiting fifteen minutes for the other housewarden to show up, Idia started to pack up his own things. Of course, there were other members of the club that he could play games with, but he knew from prior experience that that was usually just more annoying than it was worth - not that he’d ever let Azul hear that.

It was most definitely not because he was worried that he took a more roundabout path toward the hall of mirrors as he left the clubroom. What reason would he even have to go looking for Azul? It wasn’t as if something would have happened. Besides, Azul could take care of himself even if something had.

Idia almost didn’t hear the talking coming from a nearby classroom over his own internal monologue. However, it was generally pretty easy to hear Kalim’s voice over anything. Although, Kalim’s voice on its own wouldn’t have stopped him - Floyd’s did that.

“C’mon Azul! Sea Otter just wants to see~!” Azul? Following the voices, Idia found himself standing at the open door of a classroom. Inside, he could see Kalim, Floyd, Riddle, and Ruggie gathered around Azul. His clubmate was leaning against a desk, clearly trying to look casual and composed, though his arms were wrapped tightly around his abdomen. Idia knew that stance - he’d practically invented it - but seeing it on Azul was foreign.

“I explicitly told you not to bring this up, Floyd.” Azul’s voice presented itself as confident and threatening, but Idia could hear it waver even from his place at the door. It was a wonder no one else could tell how uncomfortable he seemed - or maybe they just didn’t care.

“I have to admit, I’m curious to see your true form as well.” The arms around Azul’s middle tightened at Riddle’s comment.

Idia Shroud was also, definitively, the kind of person who thought before he spoke. Unfortunately, he seemed to have thrown that fact out the window as he stepped further into the room, alerting the others of his presence.

“Um… Azul? Sry to interrupt… uh, could I er- could we talk about something?” He paused in his quiet stuttering as all five of them stared at him. “Not in here?”

Idia had to refrain himself from mirroring Azul’s uncomfortable stance as the octopus raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. He tried to smile, immediately regretting the grimace that graced his face instead. Azul tilted his head, speculatively, though his arms didn’t loosen from their protective spot around him. “Alright.”

Despite the mild protests from the other sophomores in the room, Azul extracted himself from his spot on the desk to follow after Idia as he left the classroom. As they walked, Idia dimly noted in the back of his head that Azul’s arms didn’t loosen from his abdomen. Azul quietly followed Idia into a different empty classroom at the end of the hall. Idia’s racing thoughts drowned out the uncomfortable silence that fell over them as they stood in the room.

“What did you need to talk about?” Idia startled out of his mind at the question, turning back to look at Azul again, who had resumed the exact same position he’d had in the other classroom, leaning against a desk. The tremor in his voice was more noticeable now without anyone louder to cover it up.

“Wut?” A wave of embarrassment washed over the older boy when he remembered the ruse he’d used to get Azul here in the first place, not even two minutes ago. “Oh. Nothing. You just looked like you’d wandered into a boss battle you were about ten levels too low for and I didn’t want you to get ganked…” Idia trailed off as Azul’s eyes narrowed further with each word he said. “You looked uncomfortable,” he amended.

Azul’s eyes widened minutely and his mouth fell slightly open before returning to their default settings just as quickly. The silence regained its grip on the room when Azul didn’t respond. Idia’s mouth skewed a bit further each time he glanced at Azul only to find the arms tightening more. Gathering all the determination he could muster within himself with a sigh, Idia unzipped the hoodie he wore over his uniform. He opened his mouth to say something, but it seemed that was where his determination ran out and he ended up staring at the floor while wordlessly holding the hoodie toward Azul. It wasn’t until he felt the weight lifting from his hand that he looked back up to find Azul’s confused face staring back at him from a tilted head.

“It helps with the…” He trailed off, raising one hand in a gesture that was indecipherable to anyone else except maybe Ortho. Luckily, Azul gave him a small nod and an affirmative hum before slipping his arms into Idia’s hoodie.

With another uncomfortable sigh, Idia dropped his own arms heavily to his sides and spun around to lean against the desk next to Azul, perfectly content to let the silence linger over them. He felt bare in only his uniform dress shirt, but Azul’s arms had finally untangled him as he, instead, started rubbing at the material of the sleeves that fell down too far over his hands. Idia felt a small smile wash over his face at the sight of the oversized sweatshirt on his smaller friend. They stood there for a few minutes and Idia listened to Azul’s breath even out and watched his posture return to its usual state.

“Thanks.” There was still an uneasy vulnerability in Azul’s eyes as they locked onto Idia’s, but the softness of his voice put Idia’s own uneasiness to rest.

“Yeah, I mean… um, you’re welcome?” It wasn’t supposed to be a question, but Idia would take what he could get. And what he got was a tiny chuckle from Azul so he supposed that was fine. “I get it. I mean–! I don’t get it, get it. I obviously don’t know exactly what’s up with you… Not that there’s anything up with you, I just mean—” He cut himself off with a frustrated noise. “Why aren’t there dialogue options irl?”

“You’re doing fine.” Azul punctuated his statement by leaning over and bumping his shoulder gently into Idia’s with a soft smile, threatening to knock the taller boy to the floor. Regaining his balance, Idia let out a small, self-pitying laugh and returned Azul’s smile.

“You know, since we’re missing board game club…” Idia paused, briefly remembering that he usually liked to think before he spoke, especially when he was about to say things like the thing he was about to say. Azul’s head tilt reminded him why he was about to say it in the first place. “I have some games in my room if you wanted to…” The implication was all he could manage to get out before self-consciousness grasped his vocal chords again.

“Alright.” Golden eyes widened at the easy agreement as Azul straightened up, adjusting his glasses before tucking his hands in the pockets of Idia’s hoodie and heading toward the door, confident demeanor returning in full force, though he used his hands in the pockets to wrap the sweatshirt tighter around him. Idia briefly wished he could do the same, having given his precious self-esteem buff to Azul. But, he had plenty of sweatshirts back in his room, he could tough it out for fifteen minutes or so if it meant Azul wasn’t shrinking in on himself anymore.

“Alright.” The older boy repeated Azul’s statement to himself as he followed the octopus out the door again, not mentioning when Azul took a longer path to the hall of mirrors to avoid the classroom Idia had found him in.

As they walked, Idia’s thoughts took the opportunity to run rampant once again. Floyd had been one of the people causing Azul to feel that way. Idia had thought Floyd was one of Azul’s closest friends. If Floyd caused the problem, did that mean Azul didn’t have anyone to talk to when he got like that? Idia couldn’t imagine either of the twins being any sort of comfort to anxiety. He knew he wasn’t one to talk, but at least he had Ortho when things got too bad. What did Azul do? Hide in his room until it went away?

“Idia.” He must have gotten too lost in his thoughts. When had they arrived at the Ignihyde mirror and why was Azul looking at him with that much concern? “I’m okay.”

“I know that. But, if you ever…” He paused. “If you ever need someone to, I don’t know, talk to? I’m… here, I guess.”

Azul chuckled. “I could say the same thing to you, you know?”

“Fair enough.” Idia Shroud was, definitely, not the kind of person who worried about other people. Then again, he also wasn’t the kind of person to give his hoodie to someone else, so he supposed he was throwing a lot of facts out the window today.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #fanfiction requests #requests open #requests wanted #idia shroud #azul ashengrotto #idia x azul #azul x idia #idiazu #idiazul

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magicshopaholic · 1 year ago

Text

Aphrodite (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: You and Namjoon consider all the reasons you shouldn’t be together.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Fluff, some angst, some smut

Word count: 7.1 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, alcohol, making out, fingering, allusions to sex

A/N: Wrote this in a word coma. Set over a period of three months, beginning a week after Voice of an Angel. Can be read standalone.

Special thanks to this anon who casually dropped this idea in my inbox and bounced, leaving me to be plagued with heart-stoppingly beautiful scenarios that I wrote on my phone in a full-day seminar because I was incapable of thinking about anything else. Well played, anon.

(The song rec is also one I've been waiting to use and one of Daniel Ricciardo's biggest contributions to my life; apropos in these turbulent times)

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: “wake up with you” by emerson leif

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

The first reason is brought up on the last night.

Seoul shouldn’t be this empty this time of night, thinks Namjoon. But they’re near the suburbs now, the apartment building mostly with families, so maybe it’s always like this? Either way, he should count himself lucky, for if Kaya’s last night here was punctuated with camera phones being secretly pointed at him and his manager hissing at him to be careful, he might have thrown something.

As it is, it’s peaceful. Their fingers linger next to each other as they walk back to her aunt’s house; Namjoon doesn’t know if she expects him to take her hand. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous, but after what they’ve just done at his penthouse, is this really where the line needs to be drawn?

“Good call to walk.” Kaya turns to him slightly and raises her eyebrows. “Instead of taking a car.”

“The weather’s too nice for it,” he lies, noting how his shirt is already sticking to his shoulders slightly and how she’s swept her long hair off her neck and tied it up, despite the light sundress she’s wearing.

It’s embarrassing to think that the reason he’d proposed to walk was so he’d have a little more time with her before she left forever. He feels ridiculous for even thinking this way - when did he become so dramatic?

“It is,” she agrees. “It's nicer than Amsterdam.”

Namjoon’s stomach settles slightly. At least he’s not the only one lying through his teeth.

“Do you need to pack tonight?” he asks hopefully, wondering if they can take another detour before he drops her back.

“A little,” she admits, “but mostly I just need to close out some stuff for work that’s due the day after tomorrow.”

Namjoon frowns. “Because… you’re preparing for jet lag?”

“Yeah, exactly. It’s a really long flight,” she adds, groaning softly in anticipation.

The sound makes his stomach flip and he tries not to think about the same sounds an hour ago, in his bed, against his skin.

“Tell me about it.” It occurs to Namjoon that unlike him, she won’t be flying business class. “Can’t blame you for not visiting more often. Jieun, I mean,” he adds quickly.

“Uh-huh.” Kaya gives him a small, knowing smile as they reach the building. “It’s also really expensive,” she says, turning around to face him.

“It is.” He swallows and puts his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground. He hadn’t realised how much he’d been dreading this moment; nothing he wants to say would be appropriate for saying goodbye to a week-long summer fling.

She touches his elbow, holding the newspaper-wrapped package in the same hand. Whatever it is, it’s definitely not a book, she’d joked when he’d given it to her and asked her not to open it until he left.

“Namjoon.” Her voice is soft, the foreign accent making his name sound so special. “It’s probably a good thing I can’t visit that often.”

He presses his tongue into his chin and nods, hating that she’s right. It’s too far and it’s too expensive, so maybe a week-long summer fling was already the bonus that fate had given them. It takes him a moment but he takes a deep breath and looks up at her, thinking once again that she has such Disney princess eyes.

He silently steps forward to hug her for the last time.

—

The second reason is brought up nearly a month later, in the middle of the night in Amsterdam.

Kaya groans at the sound of her alarm, feeling distinctly as though she just fell asleep. She reaches for her phone and frowns when she sees the time: she did just fall asleep. It’s also not her alarm, but her phone ringing.

The call is from Namjoon, though; it makes her slightly less annoyed at being woken up. She clears her throat and answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” He sounds hurried, as though he’s on his way somewhere. “I’m so glad you answered.”

“Okay?” Kaya can hear her voice sound thick with sleep. “Uh… why?”

“Because of last night. Because - wait, were you asleep?”

“Was,” she can’t resist saying, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to hold onto some remaining sleep. Tomorrow’s schedule is chock-full of classes. “It’s two am, Namjoon.”

“It’s -” There’s a shuffle. “Did I calculate the time difference wrong? Why did I think I was ten hours ahead?”

“I dunno,” she mumbles into her pillow. “What’s wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologise,” he says, sounding incredibly guilty. “For last night. I… I kind of fell asleep.”

Nothing he’s said makes any sense to Kaya. Sighing, she turns over slightly and frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“Earlier,” he clarifies. “In the evening for you, I guess. We were talking and I…”

“You fell asleep.” She remembers now.

Despite parting in Seoul on a bittersweet note, with the mutual but unsaid knowledge of their dalliance ending, they hadn’t been able to cut ties fully. Namjoon had messaged her late the next day asking if she’d landed safely, she’d sent him a picture from her cab in response, and the conversation never ended.

It was still restrained, for the most part. Kaya, at least, was aware that an emotional connect had been built in Seoul - but they’d said goodbye and gone back to their lives. Anything further should be nothing more than friendly, like pen pals who kept each other updated on their lives.

Earlier this evening, they’d been talking on the phone about something extremely mundane. Kaya was in a pub with her friends, but knowing that Namjoon probably didn’t have a lot of time, she excused herself for a few minutes and went to a spot away from the music, near the washrooms. She was leaning back against the wooden wall and talking about her thesis but every time she tried to change the topic to something less boring, he asked her to continue, sounding genuinely interested in a very operational aspect of her work.

He was tired - that much she could hear. He still kept the conversation going, at first with questions and eventually progressing to occasional exclamations, until suddenly, he went completely silent. Kaya guessed he may have fallen asleep; a quick calculation reminded her it was three am in Seoul, so on some level she was actually glad he was finally resting.

“Yeah,” he says, sounding apologetic. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” she murmurs, brushing her hair off her face. “It was really late for you.”

“Yeah, but I could’ve said good night,” he points out. “Sorry about that. And… I’m sorry about waking you up right now,” he adds, audibly wincing. “For some reason I thought I was ten hours ahead.”

She chuckles sleepily. “Happens to the best of us. Timezones are always a pain.”

“Not something we need to worry about, right?” Namjoon says after a moment, and she thinks his half-chuckle sounds a little forced.

“Nope. Good thing we quit while we were ahead.”

There’s silence on the line for a few seconds while Kaya, in her half-asleep state, imagines what it might be like to fall asleep with him in person. She’d almost considered it on her last night in Seoul; they’d been under the covers, naked and talking about nothing in particular when he’d softly offered for her to stay the night.

Had she been a more impulsive person, she may have said yes, but it seemed too intimate to do with a person she’d technically known for a little more than a week. Now, she wonders idly if she’d been too hasty with her decision.

“You should sleep,” he says after a moment, still sounding a bit guilty.

“You woke me up, you put me back to sleep,” she retorts softly.

“Yeah? You want a bedtime story?”

“Sure, why not?”

Namjoon laughs, and the sound makes her toes curl inside her blanket. “Wait, are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” She pulls her covers up to her chin and curls up into a comfortable position. “Hit it, music producer.”

He chuckles a little disbelievingly. “Um, okay? Here goes nothing.” He takes a deep breath and starts, barely getting four words out before she interrupts him.

“Wait. Joon… you know I don’t understand Korean, right?”

The nickname is a first for her, and it sounds as though he’s picked up on it, too. “Yeah, I know. But you want to be put to sleep and I thought it might actually help.”

It’s genius. Kaya grins to herself, knowing somewhere deep down that she’s just setting herself up for heartbreak someday. She should stop this, quit while they’re ahead.

Instead, she hears herself tell him to continue.

—

The next reason comes up the day Namjoon learns about Damien Herjavec.

He’d made the executive decision to give Kaya his private Instagram handle a few days after she’d left Seoul. She’d never brought up following each other on social media until he did because despite how much he liked her, giving her access to something this personal required thought. It wasn’t until he went back to the bookstore where they’d bumped into each other for the first time, and he realised he wanted her to know that without him having to actually tell her, that he decided to do it.

He searched her name on Instagram and followed her, trying to restrain himself from checking if she’d followed him back. She did eventually, a couple of hours later, and to a genuinely embarrassing amount of delight, she commented on his picture: Careful in the English section.

Kaya didn’t seem to use Instagram very often other than to put up very random pictures on her story of ordinary city shots: a street outside her campus, her own legs in faded jeans, a unicycle in the park in the distance. It was whimsical and cute, but also highlighted the few times she did post something else - such as a picture of her and three other people, sitting at a table with name cards in front of them and smiling into the camera.

Namjoon doesn’t immediately register the male in the picture. His focus is on Kaya, in a blazer and slinky black trousers and beige heels, her long hair straight and framing her face as she smiles. His heart skips a beat at the thought of her like this earlier today, in real-time, and he suddenly feels closer to her than he has in weeks. It stays all day, the lingering feeling, as though she’s finally in reach and he hasn’t been imagining her all this time, that he realises it's longing. He’s missing her, and the discovery immediately terrifies him.

He decides it’s officially time to end this transatlantic pseudo-fling and resolves not to call her or text her anymore, knowing they need to phase this out of their lives for both their good. It lasts a whole five hours until she texts him, with nothing more than a Hey.

Namjoon swallows and closes his eyes, knowing he’s in so much trouble. Hey, his fingers type out, as though of their own accord.

I think God sent me an angel today.

Yeah? Wings and everything?

Chinos and Vans, but I’ll take it. As long as he gives me an extra set of hands on this research project, I’ll worship whoever sent him to me.

Oh, your professor finally brought in someone else? That’s great!

Yess, it is. Maybe now I’ll remember to eat a meal and get more than a couple hours of sleep. Oh, and focus on my actual job.

I get that. I’m happy for you. You should be getting more sleep.

I know, right? Damien might just be the answer to my problems. Even staying up late in the conference room and checking survey results is better now because at least I’m not alone. I shouldn’t be complaining to you though - I know you have a worse workload.

Not true. I was in the studio till dawn but at least it has a comfortable couch.

You’re right. I have it worse.

Not now that you have Damien. The reply is out and sent before Namjoon can stop himself and he immediately cringes.

Yeah, well. I don’t know how long he’s going to be around for. Once this project is over, maybe I’ll refer him to Professor Llyod so he doesn’t keep tapping me to grade his papers.

Sounds like a plan. I’m sure Professor Lloyd will be happy.

His happiness isn’t really my concern, if I’m being honest. I wouldn’t mind if Damien stays. He actually has more than a few braincells and - get this - showers.

Namjoon stares at his phone for a second. He sounds like the complete package.

You joke, but it’s a serious epidemic on a college campus. Having a colleague who smells good is a bigger bonus than you think.

How long do you think this project will be?

A couple of months? Hopefully? I don’t know - the professor heading it keeps adding problem statements constantly so it feels endless. I’m just really really tired.

Namjoon wants to offer words of comfort but he can’t think of any. In fact, all he can think about is how he, too, has a ridiculously long day ahead of photoshoots ahead of him tomorrow, where he won’t be allowed to eat much or drink any water, followed by filming.

He remembers about how he’s been thinking about her all day and knows he needs to at least try to nip this in the bud.

You know the worst thing about being a workaholic?

What?

Dating somebody who’s also a workaholic.

Kaya’s reply takes a few moments. Haha, point taken. Good thing that’s not a problem for us.

—

The next few reasons come up around the same time, and some of them are just downright silly.

Despite his best intentions to keep a distance, the moment he finds out he’s needed in Amsterdam for a collaboration, Namjoon not only says yes instantly but he also works his schedule to plan leaves and invent meetings around the same time, eventually extending his total trip to ten days.

He knows he’ll be working for some of that time; it’s the only reason he doesn’t feel desperate and clingy when he informs Kaya of the trip, asking as calmly as possible if she’d like to meet.

Kaya, for her part, feels like her heart might explode. It takes every bit of her willpower to suppress the smile on her face during the mid-term she’s invigilating; the undergrads, barely younger than her, don’t need to know anything about her personal life.

Oh, that’s great. Sure, we should catch up.

He’s coming for work and she already has a lot of it on her plate, but somehow it still feels as though every moment that can be squeezed out from their schedules is spent with each other. A lot of the deliberate distance that they tried to maintain while apart seems to have also gradually evaporated.

It starts on his first night with dinner at a riverside cafe, where they greet each other with a casual hug like they’re classmates from high school. They walk back to her apartment with a respectful distance between them where she invites him for a cup of horrid instant coffee, like it’s the end of a blind date.

It’s only when they’re actually indoors and alone and it’s dark because Kaya hasn’t even switched on the light yet that some of the pretence is dropped. She sees his tall silhouette come closer and smells his cologne; her hands go up automatically to rest on his shoulders as he kisses her, his hands large around her waist as he gently backs her up against the door.

They hang out in her apartment when they’re not outside; Namjoon says he’s sick of hotels and she can imagine (and she secretly doesn’t want him to leave), so she doesn’t mind much. Her apartment is small but the location is convenient and the sight of him in it, casual and comfortable, is something she feels she can’t get enough of.

“It’s an amazing view,” he says one morning, sitting sideways on the bench in her balcony. He’s got his glasses on and is sitting with a book, having woken up almost an hour before her. “I can even see the river from here.”

“It’s pretty great,” she admits, coming over and sitting next to him, leaning back against his legs. “The rent also takes a decent chunk out of my paycheck,” she adds dryly, shrugging, “but it’s worth it.”

“Don’t you get a place on campus? I thought all students do.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“So why didn’t you take it? Wouldn’t you save a lot?” he asks curiously.

Kaya bites her lip, still looking at the view. “I don’t like living on campus.”

“Really? You’d live right there - you’d probably save a ton of time on commute and everything, no? Plus, it would be safer than returning in the middle of the -”

“It’s not really my thing,” she interrupts him. “Do you want to go to Stedelijk today? If you do, we should leave soon.”

Namjoon nods and she smiles, patting his leg and going back inside. They leave in an hour; it’s a Sunday and it’s beautiful outside. The museum is just as incredible as she remembers from the first time she visited it, except now Namjoon is here, too, his fingers lingering right next to hers and brushing them every few seconds.

They’ve had sex several times, they’ve fallen asleep together, they’ve even showered together once, but this - holding hands - still feels too soon. It feels like admitting something, something she knows by now that they’re both trying to deny because it just makes more sense that way. They can’t hold hands, for that’s the beginning of a very slippery slope.

“Hey, your view is so much better than mine,” says Kaya after a while, when they’re having lunch at a cafe near the museum. She’s looking at a picture on his phone of his gigantic window, the Han river flowing majestically outside it. “The river from my balcony is a speck in the distance.”

“I do have a good view,” he says fairly, taking back the phone. “But I mostly use my balcony for company. It feels too depressing otherwise. But yours honestly just feels like a bedroom with no roof,” he points out, something she’d never considered. “It has the mattress, the lights, the coasters. It’s like a haven in the middle of the city.”

“Really?” She’s both proud and slightly confused. “My mum’s been pestering me to get some plants in there but I just know I’m going to make a mess and forget about them and then they’ll eventually die. But, hey, who needs plants when I’ve got a whole haven?”

Namjoon grins. “You want me to help you pick out some plants? I have a ton.”

She pauses mid-bite, a little disbelieving at how he continues to surprise her. “Seriously? You - you plant stuff?”

“Yeah. Why is that surprising?”

“Oh, it’s not -” She doesn’t know how to say that she can’t quite reconcile the posters of him that Jae-lin has shown her and the music videos she’s watched here and there of him rapping in oversized clothes, with someone who could tend to a garden. “It’s just… unexpected.”

“I plant a lot of things,” he informs her, cutting his steak and dipping it in the sauce. “For example, right now, I’ve just planted an idea in your head.” He smiles, his dimple popping. “So? Want to go plant shopping with me?”

Kaya watches him wince as the piece of steak breaks and falls in the bowl of sauce and he fishes it out, swearing under his breath. This is about the plants, she decides, trying to subtly place her hand over her mouth and cover her smile. He’s perfect but he’s not hers, and that’s the way it should be.

“Sure. I’ll go plant shopping with you.”

They look up the closest nursery and head there after lunch, pulling their caps over their heads in the afternoon sun. The desire to slip her hand into his is getting stronger; she imagines how big it would be around her own, the pressure both comforting and playful. To save herself from the temptation, she hooks her fingers around the strap of her sling bag and settles for just feeling his bicep brush against her shoulder.

The nursery is quaint and unbelievably colourful, looking like a kaleidoscope on the side of the road. They step into the shade and begin examining the small pots, reading the description underneath each.

“Definitely the tabebuia, if I may suggest it,” says Namjoon, pointing to a pretty pink plant. “It blossoms in the summer and it’s just gorgeous. It’ll be the highlight of your balcony.”

“Duly noted. What about its support acts?”

“Well -” He walks slowly towards her and points at another sapling. “The poppy is always nice. And - oh, dude, they have orchids here,” he adds in wonder, peering at the card underneath it. “I have one just like it - hang on -” He pulls out his phone and begins tapping on it.

Kaya surveys a few more saplings and turns to him slightly. “What about this one? It says it’s conducive to warm weather and grows even in harsh conditions such as -” She sees a movement out of the corner of her eye and looks to see Namjoon turning around and walking away. For a moment she thinks he’s going towards another plant but he just keeps walking until he’s passed the nursery, head still bent low over his phone.

Something stings in her heart, insulted at being cut off mid-sentence and ignored. She’s about to call his name when she hears the gasps.

“It’s RM!”

There are two or three voices, accents foreign. Kaya freezes and turns away slightly, her mind working out why he abruptly walked away the way he did.

“I think it was him!”

“RM? Are you sure?”

“We can check…”

There’s some scuffling and words in a language Kaya can’t place in the moment, taken too off guard by the sudden interruption. She tries to breathe, willing the annoyance in her chest to go away. From a little way away, she spots what looks like a family with two teenage girls and a third one slightly older, gravitating towards the direction in which Namjoon left.

She tries to look casually; he’s much further away by now, ducking into a coffee shop. The girls, in their minor confusion, seem to have lost sight of him. As they trudge away, disappointment evident in their voices, Kaya begins walking in the same direction, passing by the coffee shop as well. She texts him and continues down the path, stopping after a few minutes and waiting for him in a less crowded area.

She spots him sooner than expected. Even from a distance, she can see his lips pursed and his forehead creased, looking apologetic.

“Oh, my God,” she gasps softly when he’s within earshot. “It’s RM.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, coming over and wrapping his arms around her waist before kissing her softly.

“M-hm.”

“I didn’t want them to see you. That’s all.” He takes a small step back and tilts his head. “All it takes is one picture on the internet and then…”

“I know,” she says finally, patting his arm comfortingly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah?”

Kaya nods. “It’s not your fault. Besides, I’m sure it would be way worse for your girlfriend. You know, if… whenever…”

It’s his turn to nod knowingly, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah. So you don’t need to worry.”

“I’m not worrying. Not about you, not about your fans,” she lists as they resume walking. “Not about your girlfriend… none of it.”

“Good.” Namjoon bumps her shoulder gently.

She doesn’t say anything. After a moment, she slips her hand into his.

Later that night, Kaya’s forgotten all about it, the only coherent thoughts in her mind being the feel of her sheets underneath her, Namjoon’s lips at her neck and his fingers inside her, moving right at her g-spot.

“F-fuck,” she stutters, knowing she’s close. Namjoon is a wizard with his fingers, she’s discovered. They are long, slender and move with a grace she hadn’t expected, and his hands find ways to elicit pleasure that even she hasn’t been able to unearth yet.

“Your pussy is so pretty,” he murmurs in her ear, his deep voice making her moan softly. He nips gently at her earlobe. “Open your legs wider for me, baby?”

Kaya obeys; she can’t imagine not doing so. Her head is starting to spin. “I - I can’t,” she breathes, panting. “Oh, my God…”

“You want me to stop?” he asks, slowing down slightly.

“No!” she exclaims, eyes snapping open. “I just - oh, God - I can’t take this on a regular basis,” she explains tightly, fists clenching around the sheets. “I think I might die…” She flashes a dreamy smile, eyes fluttering shut. “Good thing you’re not my boyfriend, huh?”

Namjoon nods, coming up slightly and moving his fingers slightly faster. “Uh-huh. Lucky you,” he says, brushing his lips lightly over her nipple.

Kaya moans loudly at that; she’s got seconds before she probably passes out from the intensity of what he’s doing. At this very inopportune moment where it’s just her, him and their clammy, naked bodies against each other, her phone pings.

Namjoon swears softly in Korean but thankfully doesn’t stop. “Ignore it,” she mutters, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t care what it is.”

“What if it’s something important?” he murmurs calmly, pressing kisses down her jaw. “You sure you don’t want to answer it?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, biting down on her lip now. “It’s probably just - just Damien texting to confirm if - oh, God!” Her mind goes blank the moment he flattens his hand and rubs his palm over her clit. “Oh, God, baby - don’t stop, don’t - oh, my -”

Unable to form words any longer, Kaya drops her head back on the pillow and moans loudly as her orgasm hits her, her back arching on the bed as Namjoon whispers low words of praise, voice so deep she can feel it in her stomach.

His fingers slide out slowly, her ears still ringing slightly. Her heart is going a mile a minute and she drops her head to the side into his neck as she tries to breathe normally before she opens her eyes and looks up at him.

Namjoon brushes her bangs off her face affectionately, his dimple appearing faintly. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “You were saying?”

But she shakes her head. “I don’t remember,” she mutters, heart skipping a beat at his satisfied grin.

—

The next day, three days before Namjoon is to leave, they decide to plant her saplings.

“Somehow, I expected this to be more technical.” Kaya steps back and tilts her head, observing her handiwork. She’s still potting the tabebuia, while Namjoon seems to have already finished two and is working on his third.

“What do you mean?” he asks, gently picking up the poppy plant and lowering it into the pot. He steadies it on the low ledge where five newly purchased pots sit, soil littered around them.

“Just.” She tosses a loose lock of hair out of her face, her hands muddy with dark soil. “You always see people with a ton of gardening tools and gloves and… you know. Outfits,” she adds.

“We’re just potting plants,” he points out. “Your outfit is cute.”

“It’s pajamas.”

“What’s your point?”

Kaya smiles but then groans. “I suck at this, though. All your plants look perfect and mine looks like something that got trampled by a herd of cows.”

Namjoon snickers, neatly finishing with his plant. “It’s always messy at first, but it’s worth it at the end.” He gathers the spilt soil into a small mound and moves it to the corner before coming up to her. “Alright, what’s wrong?”

“I think I’m holding the plant wrong or something because it keeps falling over,” she mutters, bending slightly to examine it. “Look, I think it’s - oh.” She breaks off when she suddenly feels his torso against her back and sees his arms come up in front of her, reaching for the tabebuia plant.

“Okay, so you need to hold it here,” he says calmly, as though the casual intimacy of their position isn’t causing explosions in his stomach like it is for her. “And then -” He pours a handful of soil into the pot. “- it stays still. Here, try it.”

If he notices her hands shaking, he doesn’t say anything. He takes them in his and places them in the correct position and they quietly pot the plant, the pale pink buds peeking through the leaves. Once they’re done, they stay there, and Kaya feels her chest start to contract, like she might suddenly cry.

She’s falling for him.

From behind her, Namjoon rests his hands on the ledge, encasing her. He gently bumps her head with his chin. “Should we name them?”

She nods like this was obvious, exhaling. “That one’s Fitzwilliam,” she declares, pointing to the one at the end.

“I’m sorry - what?”

“Fitzwilliam,” she repeats. “Like Fitzwilliam Darcy. Look at him - he’s right in the corner, not even on the same ledge as the others.”

“Yeah… because there’s no more space on this one.”

“It’s also the only plant that’s not a flower.” She folds her arms across her chest. “Fitzwilliam.”

“Fine. You freak,” he mutters, bumping her head again. “What about that one?”

They name the next three together, teasing each other with each one. Finally, they get to the tabebuia.

Kaya strokes one of the leaves. “This one’s easy. She’s Aphrodite.”

Namjoon nods. “I get that. A heavy name to live up to, though.”

“It makes complete sense. She’s the prettiest one here.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “It’s probably a good thing we’re not together,” he says finally. “I don’t think I could handle not seeing her every day.”

Kaya swallows. Despite her heart feeling heavy again, she leans back against him, memorising his strong chest behind her. She wonders if she’s imagining his heartbeat. “You’re talking about…”

“Aphrodite,” he murmurs, partly against her hair. “Who else?”

She can feel his nose press against the side of her head. Don’t do it, she thinks desperately. Don’t do it, don’t do it. It would open up a pit of emotions she doesn’t want to face.

“Maybe we can share custody,” she suggests half-heartedly.

She can feel him smile slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. Don’t do it. But it doesn’t work; he takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to her hair, and the dread settles deep in her stomach.

—

Kaya knew this day would come. After all, the only reason they even got this week was because Namjoon had work in Amsterdam. If it weren’t for that, this would’ve ended in Seoul.

The last two days were spent largely apart; Namjoon had to fulfil his actual professional obligations and despite wanting to make the best of his time here, Kaya was glad to have some space for she wasn’t sure she was doing a good job hiding how she felt about his impending departure.

But the morning of his flight, she’s finally forced to face it.

It’s early, and Kaya has a class in two hours. She can’t think about that, though - which is worrying, because she always thinks about work. She sits on one of the dining chairs, the same one she sat on the first night he’d spent here, feet up and hugging her knees as she watches him speak to someone on the phone. In his hand is a shopping bag, half-filled with stuff he’s left here over the week.

“Yeah, okay,” he says vaguely, nodding. The phone is tucked between his shoulder and his ear as he ties his shoelaces. He replies in Korean before hanging up and slipping the phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“My cab will be at the hotel in an hour,” he tells her.

“Okay.” Now that his attention is on her, she finds she can’t look at him. It occurs to her that she might be sulking; it’s just another embarrassment on top of the stupidity at feeling this horrible about Namjoon leaving. “Sure you have everything?”

“Yeah.” When she still doesn’t look at him, focusing intently on a pattern on her tablecloth, he sighs. “Kaya? Are you okay?”

No. But she’d rather die than admit that.

“Yeah.” She swallows and forces herself to look at him. “This just… really sucks. That’s all.”

Namjoon nods, and she wonders if he really knows how much. It would be too good to be true if they actually ever see each other again. The reasons not to are plenty and they’ve been laid out, several times, but all that’s needed is a single distraction in one of their lives, and they will be strangers again. Her heart shouldn’t hurt this much over someone who’s going to be a stranger.

He clears his throat. “Imagine if we were -”

“Yeah. I know.” She holds his gaze this time until he looks away. “Good thing we’re not.”

His phone pings then and they’re snapped out of the moment. “I need to go,” says Namjoon in a low voice. “Can I…”

Kaya nods, because of course he can, and gets up from the chair to walk over to him. He looks a little relieved that she came at all and gives her a small smile.

One kiss. That’s all. She steels herself, determined not to go beyond a quick, nice kiss that would be appropriate for a one-week fling that turned into two weeks. Namjoon tilts her chin up slightly and presses his lips to hers, their mouths opening together for a simple last kiss.

But then her hand goes up to his face and his arm comes around her waist and before they know it, they’re locked together in her living room, desperate to keep the moment going a little longer.

—

Namjoon loves London. It reminds him of his favourite weather in Seoul; the rain, the grey tint, the cloudy sky. It’s thoughtful, inspiring and romantic, and he honestly doesn’t understand why everyone complains about it so much.

Today, however, the weather has been worrying him. Throughout their interview, the radio show, the live performance and the retakes, he’s had one eye on the window, hoping the rain will ease up so Kaya’s flight can finally land.

It feels like a miracle that she even said yes to coming. Ever since he’d left Amsterdam, he thought he could feel her becoming a bit distant. He wasn’t sure what it was; they still spoke, but topics stayed neutral and casual. She texted more than she called and one of their few common timeslots - her night and his morning - no longer worked because she said she was working late more often now. He tried not to think about it as Damien Herjavec stealing his time with Kaya away from him.

Maybe Namjoon was imagining it, or maybe it was everything he’d been dreading and they were finally, finally drifting apart. It hurt more than he expected it to and he was surprised at his reluctance to accept the fact, persevering in his efforts to stay in touch.

She didn’t even confirm this trip immediately, citing her calendar and other conflicts, the entire time leaving Namjoon to imagine every possible reason on earth that she wouldn’t want to meet him. Finally, after nearly a week, she agreed out of the blue.

Let’s do it, had been her message, curt and to the point.

“For God’s sake,” says Yoongi dryly, his eyes not leaving the television in their shared hotel room, “just call her and ask her where she is.”

It’s a thought and an obvious one at that, but Namjoon has his reasons for not doing so. Her shortened replies and guarded conversations continued even after she accepted his invite; it’s confusing and worrying all at once, for now he has no idea what to expect when she finally arrives.

Kaya’s been texting him en route, though, so he knows her plane landed a couple of hours late, after which it took her a long time to get a cab, followed by a ridiculous amount of traffic throughout London. Namjoon taps his foot impatiently on the floor until Hoseok stares at him from across the room, and he relents.

Not bothering to change or tell his manager where he’s going, Namjoon takes the elevator downstairs and jogs out of the lobby and outside the hotel. It’s almost ten pm and this particular street seems to be largely empty. He’s glad; he’s still in the suit he was wearing all day and the last thing he needs right now is to worry about being recognised.

Kaya hasn’t responded to his last message; he tries not to worry, for she’d told him that her phone would probably die soon. It’s cold - freezing, actually - but the anxiety is superseding it to the point where his hands are actually feeling clammy.

Namjoon doesn’t want to think about the other reason she could be pulling away. Ever since Amsterdam, their conversations have started including more and more mentions of Damien, Kaya’s research partner. They’re random and harmless on the surface, but the name jumps out at Namjoon each time.

He doesn’t know if it’s just that she’s working more with Damien now or if she’s doing it on purpose, trying to hint at a development and giving him a kind way out of this. Or maybe he’s overthinking it; from all accounts, Damien seems to have made her life easier and is a good colleague, so it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for her to bring him up.

Then again, the possibility of it being something more is enormous. Kaya is beautiful and intelligent and thoughtful; Namjoon can’t imagine that if she were to send even the smallest signal, that she would remain single for long.

One night, with his self-respect somewhere around his ankles, Namjoon resorted to looking up Damien on Facebook (he wasn’t on Instagram), huddled in the dark under his blanket. Damien seemed to be in his late twenties at best, with reddish blond hair and a tall, lanky frame. The stalking exercise didn’t result in anything conclusive, except that Namjoon now had a face to put to the name of this individual who seemed likely to steal his girl.

His stomach twists. He hates how much he cares, hates how much mind space it’s taking up for him. But mostly, he hates that it might be true.

When Kaya had agreed to come to London, his nerves had eased slightly. But the curtness of her response still stayed in his mind, as though she had suddenly decided to do something. It’s occurred to him more than once that she might be coming just to end this in person. It doesn’t seem like something she would do, but he’s also been forced to admit that he doesn’t know her well enough to be sure of that.

The traffic is crazy.

Namjoon exhales shakily at her text and is about to reply when another message pops up.

Should be about twenty minutes now.

Damn there’s a road closure.

Might be quicker to walk.

Okay, I’m walking.

See you in a few.

The messages appear in rapid succession and Namjoon scans them quickly, realising that she’d probably lost signal somewhere along the way. Based on the time stamps, she should be arriving any minute now.

His head snaps up to look in both directions in front of the hotel. It’s started to drizzle now; Namjoon runs a hand through his hair and feels the hairspray having faded away, leaving damp strands of hair to fall on his forehead. He exhales; if she’s coming to end this, he’s not ready. If she isn’t, then he knows, finally, what he’s going to do.

It’s only about two minutes later, but it feels like a lifetime that he’s been waiting to see Kaya again. He spots her at the end of the street, dressed in jeans and a slim, grey blazer. Her boots splash softly in the tiny puddles as she walks and her head is tilted up at the buildings across the street, as though looking for a landmark. Behind her is a compact suitcase being pulled on wheels, rolling smoothly on the concrete.

Namjoon’s heart leaps at the sight of her. She’s frowning, though; he hopes it’s out of concentration and tiredness. As she gets closer, he notices her long hair slightly wavy, as though wet in the drizzle. She must be cold; he makes a mental note to offer a hot shower as soon as they go inside.

Kaya looks straight ahead then - and her face breaks into a smile. It lights up and Namjoon knows he isn’t imagining it. He tries to ignore the hope igniting inside of him and tugs at his tie to loosen it. It’s now or never; he can’t risk feeling like this for a moment longer or he’s afraid it might kill him.

Four feet away from him, she pauses momentarily to straighten her suitcase and let go of it, continuing her stride towards him. The smile has faded and her expression is blazing, Disney princess eyes locking onto his. She looks more determined than ever and all other thoughts leave Namjoon’s mind.

“Please tell me you’re not dating this Damien person,” he blurts out desperately, noting how she flashes him a breathless smile.

“No,” she answers, a moment before she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him. Namjoon’s arms go around her automatically, memorising her exact shape and feel against him. It takes him a moment to remember to be relieved; it’s just her lips and her hair and her beautiful, familiar, incredible form back in his arms and in his life.

Kaya pulls away first, panting a bit and tossing her long hair out of her eyes, her arms still around him. “Why? You want to date me instead?”

“Yes,” he says instantly. His heart skips a beat at that smile again, almost blinding him, and he takes it. “Yes,” he repeats, bringing one hand to her face and kissing her again, murmuring the same word against her lips. “Yes, yes, yes…”

—

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#namjoon x oc #namjoon fanfic #rm fanfic #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #bangtantheatrenet #bangtanbathhouse #micdropnet #k-vanity #houseofddaeng #wkcnet #hyunglinenetwork

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mimiatmidnight · 2 years ago

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Hey! How are you? Would like to say that I LOVE your blog, and I was wondering if you would like to update your top 5 H&M moments, maybe add another 5??

Folks, if you've ever wondered what is the oldest message sitting in my inbox, it's this one. (Well, I'm pretty sure there are a couple others that are a touch older but every time I try to scroll back that far, my inbox just glitches. There are . . . a lot of messages sitting in there. Sorry about that 😬). So I just want to say thank you to this anon and everyone else who has sent me tens of messages over the years asking for this updated post (unless the messages were all from the same one person all this time, in which case, my god I'd feel even GUILTIER).

It's been two years since the original, but an even wilder FIVE years since Harry and Meghan wed in one of the most consequential events in modern cultural history. What a wonderful, special day to look back on their relationship, with even more of my favorite moments between these two unlikely lovers. While writing this post, I laughed, I swooned, I cried. And I, uh, REALLY went off the rails at the end. Content warning for just the sickest, sappiest philosophizing you've ever seen. I'd apologize, but I just can't help it. Harry and Meg just have that effect on me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So, with one more thank you to everyone who has been so patient and kind and loving to me these past few years, let's get into it! Five(-ish, lol) more of my favorite Harry and Meghan moments:

5. WE will not look a mess

I'd be remiss not to start this list of my personal favorite H&M moments with what is, judging by the numbers, arguably the entire WORLD'S favorite H&M moment. This iconic video by twitter user @/ddarveyy is perhaps the Sussex Squad's most viral fan tweet of all time? And if qualitative evidence is more convincing to you than quantitative, this video has been blessed with the mark of being liked by none other than Madame Rhianna herself. That's certified social media Diamond. The tweet also spawned some great jokes, ranging from Virgo Harry always making sure to keep his wife looking on point, to some people speculating about certain other, ah, intimate contexts where H might have developed this habit of putting his hands in her hair.

Ahem, either way, I've always seen this touching practice of his as being in the same vein of all those times he watches out for her footing on stairs or treacherous terrain. He's always on standby, always keeping an eye on her, never 100% focused on something else when she's near. You know, just in case she needs help. Or (more likely) just in case he has an excuse to fuss over her 😏 And you know what? Harry strikes me as the kind of man who has waited a long time to have someone to fuss over, someone to worry about and take care of outside of himself. And now that he has that someone . . . well, Captain Wales reporting for motherfucking duty 🫡

BONUS MAINTENANCE FASCINATION:

Yes we're doing bonus content again -- I did say "five(-ish)" moments! The "ish" was forewarned!!!

Anyways, while we're on the topic of sentimentally rhapsodizing about Harry keeping an eye on Meg and her hair, I want to sneak in a reboot of a discussion I had with an anon a few months ago after the Netflix documentary came out. These quiet, behind-the-scenes moments where Meg is getting her dress fitted or painting her nails, and there is Harry happily watching from behind. It's a small thing, I know, but it speaks volumes to me. The intimacy that comes with watching your partner prepare herself to face the world, the peaceful trust and unspoken support. And if you think THAT is me reading too much into it, scroll back to that original discussion and watch me make myself cry over picturing Harry as a kid watching his mom go through her similar glam routine. Y'all don't even KNOW the kinds of crazy parasocial assumptions I can lose my mind over!!!!!

And while we're here barely on topic talking about the intimacy of behind-the-scenes, let's move now from the "before" preparation, to the "after" unwinding (and undressing??). One of the most bittersweet moments from the doc for me was this picture, taken after one of Harry and Meg's final royal duty events. Away from the cameras, and the press, and the people, alone in their kitchen at last. I can think of no better representation of "Leaving the world behind."

4. Meghan "My Husband" Markle

There has been much discussion over Harry being the ultimate "wife guy," and deservedly so. If I tried to put in this post every moment the man has practically glowed with the pleasure of saying "my WIFE," I'm afraid this website would crash from server overload. But a less-discussed, yet equally sweet through line is Meghan being the ultimate "husband girl." And I think no single moment is a better demonstration of this phenomenon than her opening speech last year at Invictus 2022.

Introducing her husband to the crowd of his Invictus family, Meghan said, "I could not love and respect him more, and I know that all of you feel the same. He is your fellow veteran, he's the founder of the Invictus Games, and the father to our two little ones, Archie and Lili. Please welcome my incredible husband, Prince Harry, the Duke of Sussex." And then the crowd roared, and Harry and Meghan kissed, and we got all these ooey-gooey heart eyes.

And then as Harry took the stage, overwhelmed by the love of his wife and his community, he choked up.

"Thank you my love."

And I was never the same :')

BONUS "HUSBAND GIRL" SIMPING:

At the 2021 Salute to Freedom Gala, a reporter asking, "Meghan are you proud of your husband?" And Meghan bashfully turning back to answer, "I'm always proud of him." 🫠

And one even blushier, from the African tour documentary. Somebody come pick our girl up off the FLOOR!!!!

3. BAY. BEES.

Ok so I am REALLY gonna have to restrain myself for this section, cause if I put every single heart-bursting baby moment (especially after the FEAST we were delivered through the Netflix doc), I would never be able to finish this post. So I'm just gonna highlight a select few and keep my baby fever in check (and then mayhaps rewatch the entire documentary tonight lol whoops).

Our first real baby moment ever was Harry being so delirious with joy and nerves and just like, raw energy, after the birth of his first child (and then turning around after the big birthday media announcement to thank the horses in the stable behind him 😅).

A few days later, there was a particularly famous photo of Baby King Archie meeting some regal relatives or whatever, but in THIS photo, the two irrelevant old geezers are instead replaced by the new little prince's noble steeds, Guy and Pula. An iconic family photo. Outsold the original, if you ask me 😌

The news of their pregnancy with Lili was world-stopping for many reasons, but most famously it held a powerfully touching connection with the past. Apparently accidentally, Harry and Meghan announced they were expecting their second child exactly 37 years to the day after his mother, Diana, announced she was expecting him. Two extra-special Valentine's Days to remember.

And once again, as I said at the time, I am NOT someone who is particularly occupied with imagining the spirits of the departed watching over us, nor am I crazy about inserting the memory of Diana into discussions in which she has no agency. HOWEVER . . . who could stop the wave of emotions looking at this moment, as the grandbaby she never got to meet reaches out to her photo, through glass and time, trying to hold her hand. Bruv . . . 🥲 Even a motherfucking atheist can occasionally feel God in this Chili's tonight.

I don't even have anything to say about these next two, except to wonder with awe at the universal panacea that is baby snuggles. My absolute favorites:

And lastly, to wrap up this unbearably melty baby section, I have a moment that isn't really about the babies at all. In this video you can watch here, Easter 2021, we have Mama Doria, Meg (bursting at the seams with soon-to-be Lili), the little king himself, Sir Archie, his ever-loyal canine companions, and Harry -- who stands there, on the other side of surviving so, so much, and says almost under his breath, "Come on, family, let's go." And . . . yeah. That pretty much says it all 🥹

2. My Sussex Squad Origin Story

I'm going to keep this one short, cause I know what #1 is about to be and it's a doozy. But I wanted to briefly mention a moment in Harry and Meghan lore that will forever be the most special to me, because it is the one that sucked me into this here community I still haunt to this day.

October 2018. I have just recently managed to recover my old Tumblr password and logged into this site for the first time since middle school. I am scrolling the trending pages and see "Meghan Markle" listed among the top current tags. It says she's recently announced her first pregnancy. "Huh," I think. "I kinda remember hearing she got married." I've never willingly read or watched a single solitary piece of information about the royal family ever in my life. I don't even really know who's who, outside of the members immediately surrounding Diana. But I scroll through the Meghan tag, and I see she and her new prince are on tour. I see a photo. I read the headline attached.

Is that an actual tear spilling out from the corner of my eye? I stare at the tag for a few minutes more. What is wrong with me? Maybe I'll check this page again tomorrow, just to see what else they get up to on this tour. Couldn't hurt to learn a little bit more about this couple that literally stopped me in my tracks. I wipe the back of my hand across my burning eyes. "Well," I think as I try to bring myself back to what I was doing before. "That was weird."

Ha. Little did I freaking know :')

1. A Modern Fairy Tale

And now, to end this long-winded (and -awaited, sorry again >_<) journey, if you will allow me to get a little unbearably sappy.

When I set out to write this Part 2 post in 2023, I was doubtful. Could I even muster up that same enthusiasm, that same untrampled hope with which I beamed when I wrote the original? Harry, Meghan, the world, and I have all lived a thousand lives in these brief five years. There has been so, so, so much unspeakable pain. More than anyone has a right to suffer in a lifetime, let alone half a decade. "And for what?" I've sometimes asked myself. "What is the point in trying to love when there's all this pain that follows?"

This June, we will be coming up on the 10 year anniversary of my absolute favorite Internet meme of all time: Tim Kreider's legendary New York Times Op-Ed "I Know What You Think Of Me," which gifted human history with his startlingly sincere declaration, "If we want the rewards of being loved, we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known."

Well, there is perhaps no one on the planet who has submitted herself to a more painful ordeal of being known than Meghan. She has bared to the world her vulnerabilities, her quirks, her flaws, her losses, her pains. To think of the life she has lived thus far, and the life that she walked away from to be here . . . I can't pretend that I've always been certain of the righteousness of her choice. But as I was working through writing this post, I reached a point in my research where I landed back on the speech Meghan delivered on the night of her wedding, shared in their Netflix documentary. And she told, as she called it, "a modern fairy tale."

“Once upon a time, there was a girl from LA (some people called her an actress) and there was a guy from London (some people called him a prince). All those people didn’t fully get it. Because this is a love story of a boy and a girl who were meant to be together.

“Amidst whatever momentary worries that creep in, they look at each other and think, ‘Whatever world, we’re in.’

“They would love, and garden, and travel, and laugh, and rack up more air miles than any couple could have.

“And when the tides were rough, they squeezed each other tighter. ‘Nothing can break us,’ they’d say, ‘For this love, she was a fighter.’

“I appreciate, respect, and honor you, my treasure, for the family we will create . . .

“ . . . And our love story that will last forever.

“So I ask you to raise a glass to the astounding assurance that now life begins, and the everlasting knowing that, above all, love wins.”

And so, here I am once again, with real actual tears streaming down my face, listening to a woman who has crossed so many oceans and lost so much of herself to get to where she's sitting today, and yet still, STILL, speaks with the same determination and conviction in love that she had all the way back at the beginning. They have taken so much from that woman, but they have not taken this. And so if Meghan, of all people, can still believe that love is worth it all . . . well, then, how could I possibly disagree?

Happy 5th anniversary to the lovebirds, and my heartfelt wish to you all that you may find victory in joy, love, and peace, just like them.

L'chaim 🥂

#meghan markle #prince harry #harry and meghan #anniversaries #see you all again for year 10?#and to many many more 💞

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