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dojunie · 2 years

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ITWD [CH 3]; Moonlight Rendezvous

[★]; TWO BOYS. TWO UNIVERSITIES. TWO RIVALING TEAMS. And then there’s you, stuck weightlessly in the middle of it. The time left on the clock is running out— and soon, you’re going to have to pick a side.

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sneak peek; “Have you eaten? You smell like sugar. You haven’t been only eating the vending machine food, right? You’ve gone home?” Jaemin does not respond as quickly as a non-guilty person would, rolling his dark, lying eyes around before muttering something rude under his breath. Before you can protest, the hand from his hoodie pocket returns, sleeve dabbing under your eyes with a softness you’d not thought possible. “Even like this, you’re so… Ah, C’mon. Lay down for me. Please?”

wc ; 11k

warnings; hospital talk/visit, mention of severe injury

a/n: (!!!) There is a flashback in this chapter, and holy bibliography batman, is it a Long Flashback. It's written as though Y/N is merely telling the story to Jeno, casually, however! I am writing the recollection as though it's a present event. Y/N is not actually telling him, word for word, what is happening in the italicized bits. It's like flashbacks in TV shows and movies: Character is telling story present day, but the viewer (that's u ;-}) is seeing the story as it actually unfolded. It will make sense when you get there, LOL.)

taglist;@aedreamzy @grassbutneo @sweetlyocs

TRUTH BE TOLD, YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL YOU WERE THINKING.

Jeno is a seasoned, trained, currently active superhuman athlete. You picked up a ball today for the first time in a half a year, and have only just barely kept up with your cardio and work out regime in the same amount of time. There is no doubt in your mind that you’re going to suck so severely that it might make history.

Even so, as you shed your jacket to the bleacher seats and search the moon-lit gym for a lost, forgotten ball— because every gym has at least one lost, forgotten ball— you still feel the most alive you have in months.

“And you’re sure we're not going to get caught?” Jeno murmurs from behind you for the 100th time. “I know you said it’s fine but seriously, you’re positive? 100% sure?”

“Would I get you in trouble, Jeno?”

“I’ve only known you for a little over twelve hours,” Jeno says immediately, voice a little incisive. He’s not wrong. You feel offended anyway.

“Well, for someone who is apparently so wary of my decisions, you followed me in here quite nicely, methinks.”

There has to be a ball around here somewhere, right? Jeno trails after you like a lost puppy as you traverse every inch of the practice gym before you finally find what you’re looking for half hidden under a discarded volleyball net: a nice, fully inflated but slightly dusty Gamdogja Timberwolves, Nike Branded Basketball.

Your heart thrums in your chest as you hold its familiar weight in your palm, balancing it between your fingers like a trophy on a pedestal.

Perfect.

You toss it to Jeno and he catches it instinctually, eyebrows knitted.

“Will you stop frowning at me, Lee? We’re not going to get—”

“I know,” he blurts. “Well, I don’t know that, but that’s not…”

You stream past him into center court, basking in how weird it feels to be in a gym at night again. It doesn't help that none of the gym’s stadium lights are on, only the ceiling skylights that allow just enough moonlight in, which makes it feel more significant. More… sneaky. (And god knows you really should be sneaking; because even if you rightfully had a copy of the gym keys from your 'coach' status, what you were doing was still a step removed from straight up breaking and entering.

You probably shouldn't tell him that, though.)

Jeno follows, ball held tight on his hip between his inner arm and side, continuing his frown brigade. Maybe it’s time you stop being so cryptic. He’s been more than a good sport already.

“For every point you make on me,” you tell him casually, “I’ll answer one of your questions.”

He waits silently for the rest of the terms and conditions that never come. After a second his dark eyes go wide.

“Eh? That’s it? You think that’s fair?”

“...Do you want me to answer two questions for one point or something?”

“No! What? I meant…” He shifts from foot to foot awkwardly, like he’s not sure how to phrase what he wants to say next. “You’ve seen me play. Shouldn’t you limit me to five points or something before I get an answer? I don’t think just one to one is… equal.”

Wow. The (oddly humble and honest?) cajones on this guy. He’s worried he’s going to blow you out of the water, but doesn’t want to just come out and say that. It’s cute, and a great change of pace from the guys who would just outright laugh at the idea when you wanted to play fairly.

The wild smile that streams across your face obviously confuses him, and the way you stalk up to him does even moreso.

"You want equal, huh?"

Before he can ask you what you’re doing you smack the ball out from under his arm and dart past his surprised yelp, dribbling upcourt and sinking an easy shot before he can even say, “Hey!”

Your excited laugh echoes around the whole gym. It’s not like anyone else besides the two of you are here anyway and you’re so giddy that any threat of being discovered simply doesn’t track right now.

“That was dirty and you know it,” Jeno says, shaking his head at the crazed grin on your face. Without another word he discards his own bomber jacket, tossing it listlessly near the bleachers— but he, interestingly enough, doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a second. In only a black T-Shirt and his previous blue jeans and sneakers, Jeno resituates himself over the center emblem of the court, crouched and ready, gaze almost daring you to try your little trick again. Your heart pounds a little harder at the sight.

So this is actually happening, then.

“Every two points you make, I answer one question. Every point I make, though? You lose one of yours. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like you’re going to be talking all night,” Jeno shrugs. “Your ball.”

You mirror his stance and bounce the ball a few times at your feet, lungs practically taking up your whole body as you stare into his eyes.

Jeno is a shooting guard. He’d told you that outright earlier, but you’d noticed his skill first hand on the court during Scramble Extreme. He could make a basket, under pressure, from just about anywhere around half-court— a rare, stupidly over-powered skill— which meant once Jeno got the ball it was over for you.

Another thing you’d noticed, though, was that the shooting guard also happened to lack aggression. Jeno rarely attempted to snatch or shoulder or fight for the ball if it wasn’t dangling in his face, which is probably why his teammates always fought so hard to get it for him. You had no idea why, considering his size and speed, because he could probably take on a whole team by himself with favorable conditions if he just bullied people more, but whatever. Lee Jeno’s niceties didn’t matter.

Because right now it’s a weakness— and you’re about to use it to your advantage.

You take a tentative step right. Jeno does the same.

Okay.

You take another, wider step to the left, and as soon as he starts to follow— you dart like lightning in the opposite direction, bouncing the ball between your legs before he has time to correct, and take off up the court again. You risk a longer shot this time, lobbing it from a little under half-court into the backboard and…

Swish!

“What the hell?”

You whoop. “And that is minus one for Gamdogja’s very own Lee Jeno! The crowd goes wild, and the scoreboard explodes! How will GDSC ever recover?”

Jeno stands there when you return from fetching the ball, eyes wide before he laughs to himself in disbelief. It’s one point. You’re definitely doing too much. But the exhilaration makes it feel like you’ve just dunked on Shaquille O’Neal.

“How did you do that?” he asks.

You shrug, not taking him or the awe in his voice seriously. He’s definitely just being nice.

“I’m faster than I look. My ball again…?”

“Hell no. Not after that. Give it here.”

Snickering, you toss Jeno the basketball. You’re only remembering it now, how often exactly this used to happen to you, people offering you the ball first because of your appearance (you were never sure exactly what it was; if it was the whole ‘girl’ thing if you were playing against guys, or if it was the fact that you were admittedly not the tallest, most athletic-looking person in the world if you were playing against anyone else) but one thing was always certain:

They never volunteered you the ball again after your first point.

Jeno, like you’d predicted, basically makes the basket from where he’s standing the moment you start. Spoil sport.

“And you say I play dirty,” you mutter, but he’s too busy eye-smiling at you to hear it.

“That’s a three-pointer,” he confirms with a nod, like you don’t already know. “Which means your one point is now nil, and I have two on the board. That gets me one question, right?”

“It sure does, Lee. Do your worst.”

Jeno crosses his arms over his chest. “How old were you when you started playing?”

Oh. What?

“That’s what you want to ask?” you blurt in surprise. "Not what you'd wanted to know in the car?"

“...I was under the impression I was allowed more than one question."

"You are! I'm not saying..." Okay. A man with patience. That's something you're going to have to get used to. "Well, alright. I started playing when as soon as I could stand, really, but my first competitive team was as early as they allow in those junior-leagues, you know?”

This seems to surprise him, but you don’t know why.

“Not really. I joined my first team in high school,” he says with a shrug, “So until ten seconds ago I didn’t even know there were ‘competitive junior teams’. But that's cool, that you—”

“You what?”

Jeno blinks. “I… started playing basketball in highschool?”

“Lying is a sin.”

“I’m not lying…? What? Why is that so unbelievable?”

“You’re telling me you’ve been playing for, like, only a few years, and you’re already this good?"

His face splits into a smile as he tries not to laugh, arms still folded as he looks down, bashful. “I don’t know what to tell you. I learn quickly.”

Once his first question is fulfilled, it's back to playtime. This time when you get the ball he’s ready for your ruse, so when you try to step off again he doesn’t even give you room to breathe. You have to put a little more effort in, but hell— that’s exactly what makes it so damn fun.

You use your knowledge of his anti-confrontational style to really push him, keeping the ball out of reach with behind the back dribbles because you know he won’t go for it unless it’s easy, never keeping it in one place for too long as you slowly but surely maneuver towards the basket… but Jeno catches on. Surprising you into a yelp, the shooting guard leaps at you, getting so close that it startles you into screwing up your handling— and he gets the ball from you.

Barely a second goes by before you hear the Swish! of his two-pointer catching nothing but net.

Damn.

“Why did Coach Moon tell us you didn’t play?”

And there it is. The real desire of his curiosity.

This isn’t going to be a short story; and when you sink into a sitting position on the hardwood after a moment of deliberation, Jeno mirrors you once more before you can even tell him this. The both of you probably look like cultists, sitting so perfectly in the center of the court in the almost-darkness like this, but you don't mind the atmosphere.

“Do you want the short version or the long version? I'd choose wisely if I were you.”

He sidesteps your warning with a shrug. “It’s not like I have a curfew.”

Stifling a laugh, you pull your knees to your chest and rest your elbows atop them. Of course.

“Alrighty then, Lee. When you want to tear your ears off in a few minutes just remember that you asked for this bibliography, right?”

SIX MONTHS AGO:

It’s the fourth quarter. Your coach has just called your third— and last— time-out of the game.

Hanyang University’s pep band blasts an energetic tune for their half of the gym, the music filling the space with ease, mixing with the chatter of the crowd that fill the packed bleachers. The turnout for women's games are usually never as much as the mens but tonight that’s not true; the stadium is nearly bursting at the seams.

Cheerleaders in black and burgundy outfits are dancing their little butts off on the other team's baseline, doing flips and chants and dances to hype up the audience that’s trickling back from their time-out bathroom breaks.

Burgundy and black seems to be the main theme tonight. It’s everywhere you look, smattered on fan-jerseys and foam fingers, on the banners on the walls, on the literal ground you stand on. A big, smug looking blackbear mascot looks up at you when you glance past your sneakers, to the slatted wood of the basketball court sideline beneath your feet— and it seems like he, like just about everyone else today, is questioning you too.

Will you really be able to pull this off?

“...Ace? Ace!”

Your gaze darts up. The rest of your team— what’s left of it, anyway— peers back at you in varying states of distress. The Yonsei Warriors are two points down and there’s only twenty four seconds left in the game. You’re so close to victory that you can practically already see the gleam of the trophy in your hands, but with the odds you’re fighting against right now?

The glint is seriously starting to waver.

“Y/N-ah, we can’t afford to lose you right now,” Jihyo, your captain, says firmly. “Eyes up, yeah? I know you’re hurting right now, but—”

“I’m fine,” you spit. It comes out a little harsher than you intended. Jihyo doesn’t even flinch, already having expected the temper, and only nods before turning back to the huddle at hand. You weren’t angry at her, and she knew that. You were all just angry.

“What they’re doing is criminal,” Guyeon mutters. At her lanky 6’1, she towers over you at your right, still taller than many of the team even as she slouches for the huddle. “These damn Hanyang girls are vicious, and they’re picking us off left and right. Four of us are injured. How is this fair?”

“It isn’t,” Jihyo says simply. “But the ref doesn’t see it that way, so we can’t fight with that right now. We need to strategize.”

Always the level head. You sure as hell don’t understand it— your blood has been boiling since the first quarter when one of those brutes tried to stomp on your ankle. Guyeon is right about the team you’re playing being vicious. It’s the championship game, so it’s not like you don’t understand the desperation to clean house, especially since they’re defending winners; but playing dirty by trying to physically take out the other team?

That’s where you draw the line.

Two girls in particular, numbers 9 and 10 coincidentally, have been on your ass since you got on the court. Every time you got the ball, they were there. It’s well known to your team and people who’ve played against you in the past that you’re quick. It’s your thing. While you may not be the tallest or the strongest, you’re definitely the fastest; it’s the reason why your team always tries so hard to get you the ball. You can be up and down the court before anyone even has time to realize you’ve got the ball and in a team as defense heavy as yours, an offensive player like you has to be mobile.

It, unfortunately, didn’t take 9 & 10 long to figure this out.

“And what’s your situation, Y/N?”

“9 and 10 are all over me,” you grumble. “Can’t do anything with those two hounding me like this. If I could just get past them we could figure it out, but right now I have no idea what to do.”

“If we weren’t down Heejin and Chulsoo we could try a more offensive play, but with just you and Guyeon on the floor right now…”

Jihyo shakes her head, looking up sharply and frowning when someone somewhere blows a whistle. Shit. The entire gym charges, the people in the bleachers gearing back up for the game to continue, and your jaw clenches in a stomach churning mix of anxiety and anticipation. Your captain doesn’t say anything much after that, simply nodding her chin towards the court to urge your team back on.

All you needed was one three pointer. One three pointer. But how?

You’re thinking about this, brain foggy with agitation, when someone from the visiting bleachers calls your name.

You blink. Only now remembering in your adrenaline fueled stupor that there are even other Yonsei students here to cheer you on, you turn, trying to find the source before your eyes dart to a humongous, all white wearing blob of people dead center of the stands. Where the opposing half of the gym is practically drenched in black and burgundy, the Hanyang Blackbear colors, your school’s side is a beacon of (almost literal) light in the blackbear-infested darkness.

The Yonsei men's basketball team. They’re the ones waving and calling your name.

Jaemin is the one yelling the loudest, of course. He’s standing up on the seat with one hand cupped around his mouth. The mere sight of him melts your tunnel vision instantly. He’s got a giant blue #13 crudely painted on his white t-shirt, your jersey number (though you’re not sure why he didn’t just wear his own jersey, considering that his number was 13 too), and he’s waving like a madman.

“Keep your head up, Ace! You’ve got this!”

Oh. Wow. That’s so—

“I’m taking back your congratulatory gift if you don’t dust these losers, by the way, so you’d better figure something out!”

Your appreciation sours instantly.

Yeah. There’s your best friend. Miraculously, like most of the poor patrons within the earshot of Na Jaemin are doing right now, you manage to laugh through your agitated mood. He seems to take this as his mission accomplished because he plops down proudly, grinning widely at your smile. The rest of his teammates all ruffle him up in good nature before the warning whistle blows and you snap out of it.

You jog back onto the court, feeling a little lighter. Without the cloud of irritation hazing your judgment (the one that coincidentally started when the Hanyang Blackbears started kicking your team's collective ass) you feel like you’re seeing things for the first time again. The court feels clearer. You notice things you wouldn’t have been paying attention to if you were still trying to figure out how to immediately get your hands on the ball.

Like, for example, the surprisingly defenseless hole to the left of center court, that leads right into Hanyang offense territory.

…Huh.

It gives you an idea. You take up your place, hands on your knees as you wait for the game whistle to blow, and when it does, you do something you’ve never done before: you don’t rush to center court like everyone else does.

The clock ticks down. Less than twenty seconds now. Luckily, the toss-up isn’t a clean break. While they scramble, blue and white jerseys tumbling with black and burgundy, you lock eyes with Jihyo. She’s hovering near the back, a brick wall of defense waiting to see how things turn, but when she sees you? Alone? For the first time in half the game as the currently occupied 9 and 10 fight with their team for the ball now that you’re not a threat?

Telepathy occurs and the captain immediately catches on.

Jihyo commits treachery all at once by jumping into the ball scramble and doing something no captain in the entire world would ever do on purpose: she shoves Guyeon, your only hope of winning the toss-up, out of the way.

Without the tallest player fighting for the ball, Hanyang devours it. Their side of the gym roars with cheers. They come closer and closer, fighting with the other players of your team to make ground towards the hoop, towards you…

And when they’re just about to break into shooting formation, spreading out, you move.

You run directly into the center of the fray, and since you’re coming from friendly territory most don’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late.

With a deafening ‘thwack!’ you bat the ball out of one of the Blackbears hands. Holy shit.

“Offense, move back!” Jihyo shouts.

Eight seconds left. In an instant, the play changes, and so does the atmosphere in the gym. On your side of the bleachers, a deafening cheer rings out (around the middle, where your boys are, you notice absently) but you barely hear it as you juke and tear around the opposing team faster than you’ve ever run before.

It worked. It worked.

Six seconds left. The clock continues to deplete and the Hanyang players are confused, but for much less time than you’d have liked, because you’re barely a half court away before thundering footfalls begin to chase after yours. But it worked. You have the ball.

Guyeon appears in your periphery on the other side of the court, using her long arms to block the Blackbears that are trying to cut you off. The footsteps behind you, however, only grow louder. The net is so close you can almost count the threads of the nylon.

Four seconds left.

At the millisecond you’re sure you can make the shot, you slow down without a moment to waste and let it fly. It happens in slow motion, next, how it leaves your fingertips; how everything goes silent, the players, the crowd, all drowned out by the blood in your ears as you watch it go, and go, and go…

Until something blindsides you and the whole world spins, and goes black.

Lee Jeno blinks. He’s sitting forward now, hanging onto your every word, eyes as big as oranges as he watches you talk without rest, and only comes out of his trance when you clear your throat.

Jesus. How long have you been talking? Your throat hurts. Though, you’re not sure if it’s from overuse, or because of the big lump sitting in it.

“What?” Jeno blurts belatedly. “That’s it? One of those reckless girls fouled you and then what? Did you make it? Did you get her back?”

“Okay there, Mr.Revenge,” you laugh. “I never said I was done, just… I’ve been talking for a hundred years now. You’re not bored, yet? I wouldn’t want to—”

“I’m not bored,” Jeno says, shaking his head. Somewhere during your life story he’d unfurled his legs from their crossed position and settled them flat out, his untied shoes now loosely placed between your own boots from how close he’d gotten— and if you wanted to, you could probably reach forward and tie them. You actually have to fight the urge once you notice.

This is already breaching odd territory as it is, you think. Definitely don’t need to go and start adding random touching to the mix.

“What happened after that? Please tell me this story has a good ending.”

He’s so invested. It’s adorable. His fists are even clenched in what you assume is vengeance in your stead, so you decide to quickly relieve him of his stress and get back to talking.

“Truthfully, I didn’t know what happened next until, like, a few days later. But I’ll fill you in from when I woke up.”

You come-to what feels like a few seconds later.

That can’t be right, though, because when you crack your eyes open, a myriad of things are different than you’d last remembered. You’re not laying on the ground of a basketball court, for one. The ceiling is white and much, much closer than the open venting of Hanyang’s stadium. The cheering is gone and so are the bright lights. You’re not overheating, sweaty and adrenaline pumped… you’re cold, and so deathly still and stiff that for a second you panic.

Where are you? What happened?

A sudden beeping sound to your right jolts into your consciousness. The sound is so sharp that you involuntarily flinch, shrinking into your shoulders in an attempt to escape it— but the movement instantly sends a blinding pain through your skull.

Against your better judgment, you try to force yourself into a sitting position (with possibly weakest, and yet most effort you’ve ever had to put into anything in your entire life) but don’t get very far before a flash of movement darts into your vision.

“You shouldn’t move!”

You freeze. “...Jaemin?”

Your aching muscles and pounding head applaud his instruction, but your morbid curiosity does not. In the next second, your best friend appears over your bed. (And, yes. From the few inches of visibility you’ve gained, you now catch onto the fact that you’re in a bed, along with a few other very interesting things:

The first is that Jaemin is here.

The second thing is that Jaemin is here and he looks absolutely ragged. His pale blue hair is half-bird nest, all pushed up out of his face (and it's not like it’s ever neat, if you’re being honest, but this is something different— something especially disheveled) and his eyes are red-rimmed like he hasn’t slept in years.

The last thing and most jarring thing you notice before your best friend descends upon you, is that you’re in a hospital room. Huh. That’s probably not a good sign.)

“What happened?” you murmur, voice as rough as stone. As the word leaves your lips your skull pulses once again, and you fight the urge to screw your eyes shut at the ache.

Do the lights have to be so bright in here?

“I— I didn’t mean to shout,” he apologizes quietly, staring. His eyes are huge and tracking over your face like he’s never seen you before, standing warily at your bedside like if he gets any closer you’ll explode into a hundred million pieces. “Sorry. I’m sorry, your head probably hurts, right? How do— how do you feel? You shouldn’t move too much. The doctors said you shouldn’t move too much.”

“What doctor? How long have I…?”

And then you remember. The championship. Your team, your hail-mary buzzer-beater, and then—

“The game!”

Foolishly, you spring up further, ignoring the bolt of brain torment that stems from it. Jaemin is at your side in an instant, panic overtaking his features as he watches you grit your teeth from the pain, but you ignore it as best you can and grab his arm to help leverage you into a sitting position.

“Y/N!” he hisses. He sounds horrified but helps you up anyway, already knowing you’re going to try and wriggle around with or without him. “Seriously, you shouldn’t—”

“Forget about that for a second, Jaemin, the game! Did we— Did I make the basket?!”

For a split-second, something unreadable storms over his face at your excitement. If you didn’t know any better you’d think it was something like disbelief, or anger, but that had to be far off base. Jaemin? Upset? And at you, no less? Not poss—

He curls his hand away from where it’s hovering by your side.

“You’re worrying about that right now,” Jaemin says to you slowly, apalled, “When you’re like this?”

“W—What? When I’m like what? I’m alright!”

“You’re alright?”

Remissively, it’s only now that you notice something weird. He’s wearing different clothes than you’d seen him in at the game. Gone is the all white ensemble and present is his infamous mint hoodie, wrinkled and sitting oversized over a pair of black Yonsei sweatpants that you think used to belong to you at one point. You look out of the hospital room window (slowly, so as to not agitate your monster of a headache) and see that it has to be around 7, maybe 8PM, judging by the purple tint of the horizon. It had to be only a few hours after the game, right?

“Y/N, it’s been two days. You’ve been out for two days.”

Your confused smile melts as his words settle in. As you begin to understand why he’s looking at you like a fragile, ticking time bomb of a person.

Two…days?

“The doctor told me to call her if— to call her when you woke up, so just… stay still while I go get her, okay? Please?”

He turns and exits the room without another word, only looking back once, worriedly, before he shuts the door behind him.

The doctor comes by a few minutes later. After the greetings and pleasantries and the other general health checklist things like checking your IV, taking your temperature and scribbling things on her clipboard, Dr. Sho gives you the explanation you’re so desperately waiting for:

What exactly happened to have you end up here like this.

“You arrived in the Sulim ER at 7:34PM two days ago, on March 23rd, about seven minutes after you sustained your initial injury,” Dr. Sho starts factually. “And the time is currently 8:01. You sustained a hairline fracture on the Occipital bone found on the back of your skull and a severe concussion, but the most pressing issue we dealt with upon your arrival was the small brain bleed we found near the Occipital.”

The words repeat themselves in your mind, but no matter how many times you hear it, it doesn’t make sense. Brain bleed. Brain bleed, brain bleed, brain bleed. Your brain was bleeding. What?

“You went into surgery at 9:09PM on the night of your arrival and came out three hours later, and were put into a medically induced coma for about 48 hours to keep your activity low while your brain began to heal. We feared for the worst when we were told you were unresponsive to light in the field, that your eyes wouldn’t focus, but judging from your state right now? I’d say you’ve definitely risen past all our immediate expectations, Miss L/N.”

You can’t think straight. It feels like all the air has been pulled from your lungs.

Dr. Sho looks down at her clipboard for a moment, pausing before she glances back up at you with one raised eyebrow and a small smile.

“You’re not out of the woods yet, but I have to say. You’re a very lucky girl, Y/N.”

You stare at her. “My head feels like it’s been stuffed with concrete,” you say roughly. “How is that lucky?”

“It’s going to be like that for a while, unfortunately. But what I mean is that in my tenure as a trauma neurologist, I’ve seen people your age never recover properly from head injuries half as intense as yours. You hit the ground hard enough to crack the thickest bone in your skull, and that is no common feat to accomplish without life-long ailments. Quite frankly, I’m surprised you’re even sitting up. You’re talking. Moving. Hearing, and comprehending my words. Many are not so… lucky.”

Jesus Christ. Almost as a threatening punctuation, your head begins to throb.

“Oh,” you say eloquently.

It’s at this moment Jaemin decides to make his reappearance. He knocks, which is a first for him, and peeks in sheepishly when your doctor calls him in.

“...Is this not a good time?”

“I’m not discussing anything private, Mr. Na. If Miss L/N doesn’t mind, you can come in.”

You waste no time ushering Jaemin into the room, patting the empty spot next to you on the hospital bed weakly. He glances between you and Dr. Sho, deliberating something before he purses his lips and gives in to your frown, slipping past the doctor to join you on the blanket, though he does sit a little further down than you’d have liked. Either way, his presence is surprisingly comforting and makes what Dr. Sho is telling you feel a little more tangible. You’d grab his hand if he wasn’t half a bed away.

“Um. Sorry. What were you saying?” you ask her.

“That was essentially it for your history. The cover letter of your injuries, if you will, and the pure miracle it is that you’re even awake right now. However,” Dr. Sho’s smile weakens.

“I wouldn’t celebrate just yet. You may feel better now but I can assure you that it is mostly, if not entirely because of the absurd amount of ibuprofen running through your system and the fact that your most strenuous activity of the hour has been merely sitting up. Your head is going to feel… pretty terrible for the next few months, not to mention the side-effects that have yet to rear themselves.”

Your stomach sinks even further, if that’s possible.

“The side-effects?” Jaemin reiterates, voice cracking. You glance at him. His eyes are as wide as saucers. You know your own expression isn’t any better, and how foolish it is to want to comfort him when you’re the one who’s apparently been ding-dong-ditching the grim reaper’s front door, but your heart aches anyway.

How hard this must have been on him, waiting for you to wake up. Wondering if you’d ever wake up.

Dr. Sho doesn’t respond to his inquiry quickly. She doesn’t really respond at all, actually, seemingly coming to a conclusion behind those round glasses of hers; one that doesn’t include unwittingly terrorizing you and Jaemin any further.

“I think the rest of the things I need to discuss will be better explained tomorrow, after we run a few more tests. I can tell you with 100% certainty though that you will recover, Miss L/N, but for now? Just try to get some rest.”

Your doctor bows lightly and leaves as easily as she’d appeared. The room seems to drop ten degrees when she does. The walls are glowing purple from the ending dregs of sunset, casting funny shadows over everything and only serving to further bring the mood down, down, down.

What do you say? What is there to say after something like this happens? After the dust settles and you’re sitting there, true, sinking realization becoming more and more oppressive with every passing second?

You could’ve died. How stupid and unreal that sounds, even in your own head. You could’ve died from playing fucking basketball? How lame. Who does that happen to?

You could’ve…

“Y/N?”

You look up, startled, blinking hard— and look down almost just as quickly when something wet drips onto your shaking hands. When did your hands start shaking?

“I guess asking why you’re crying is pretty stupid, huh?”

Jaemin laughs weakly, but it sounds dull. It is a pretty stupid question. Momentarily forgetting your situation, you tilt your head towards the ceiling to contain the tears and receive a jolt of pain from the movement in return. You feel the bed shift instantly when you gasp, palm flying to your temple in a useless attempt to quell the ache, and when you pry your eyes open when it finally subsides, Jaemin has materialized in front of you.

He smells nice. Like laundry detergent and icing sugar. Almost artificially vanilla sweet. Has he eaten? Or has he been here, worrying over you all day?

His face is practically torn with worry as he stares, hand hovering halfway between himself and you like he’d been reaching out before he caught himself, and when he sees you looking at his hand he slowly brings it back to his hoodie pocket.

“You should rest,” Jaemin murmurs at the same time you ask, hoarsely, “You’ve eaten, right?”

He scoffs. “The last thing you need to be doing right now is worrying about me, fool. Lay down.”

“No. Have you eaten? You smell like sugar. You haven’t been only eating the vending machine food, right? You’ve gone home?”

He does not respond as quickly as a non-guilty person would, rolling his dark, lying eyes around before muttering something rude under his breath. Before you can protest, the hand from his hoodie pocket returns, sleeve dabbing under your eyes with a softness you’d not thought possible.

“Even like this, you’re so… Ah, C’mon. Lay down for me. Please?”

“Answer me first.”

You know you’re testing his patience, but you don’t care. “Mark came and made me go back to our dorm the morning after you… after your surgery. He drove my car here from Hanyang and basically forced me to leave once I knew you were out, made me eat and shower and sleep for a few hours before I drove back here yesterday night. Is that good enough for you, detective?”

So he’s been here since last night without a proper meal? “Tell me you’ve eaten something in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Do four bags of spicy doritos, a sprite, and a few twinkies count…?”

What! You’d swat him if you weren’t sure your head would explode from the sudden movement.

“But I wanted— I really wanted to be here when you woke up, so I couldn’t go to the cafeteria. I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

All the fighting spirit drains out of your body, the motherly tongue-lashing you’d had prepared dissipating in your mouth like smoke. “…Oh.” Your insides swirl a little bit. It's the pain medication, probably, that's got your stomach flopping like this.

“Will you lay down now?” he adds after a second. “Or do I have to grovel some more?”

You finally allow him to help you settle back into the hospital bed, still a little stunned by the sincerity in his voice. He seems focused entirely on tucking you into the blanket as gingerly as possible and doesn't see your stare.

The general wear and tear of your extremely long few days seems to sink upon you all at once as you make yourself comfortable (slowly, of course), thanking your best friend softly when he pulls the blankets all the way up to your chin. Jaemin doesn’t sit back down though, which makes you frown. He looks pensive.

“I’m not going to die if you go get food.”

“Don’t joke about that.”

“I wasn’t joking. What are you staring at me like that for?”

“I wasn't going to tell you until tomorrow, ‘cause I thought all it would do was set you off, but… you did make the basket, Y/N-ah. You’re officially a state championship winner. I don’t know if I’d say it was worth it per say, considering where you ended up, but—”

You hazard a soft laugh, entirely happy you’d taken the risk of pain when you receive a genuine smile from Jaemin for the first time in what feels like ages. Your eyes are growing heavier with every passing second, and you think he can tell. “You’re just jealous you could never make a shot like that, Nana.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely jealous of you right now,” he murmurs. “Bed-ridden and all. Listen…”

“Hmm?”

“I should probably call everyone to let them know you're alright; half the team has been blowing up my phone about you and the other half is probably a few minutes away from breaking into this hospital. I’ll be back in a little, right, Ace? Try to sleep.”

You crack one eye open from where it had fallen shut to see Jaemin retreating towards the center of the room.

“Mhm… My team or yours?”

He snickers. “You should know the answer to that. Both.”

The door opens with a soft click.

You roll onto your side to watch him leave through lidded eyes. Hit with a sudden wave of appreciation, you call out for him before he can get too far. “Hey… I probably don’t show it very well because I’m always making fun of you and stuff, but I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you for staying with me, Jaem. I know waiting must’ve been burdensome.”

Once again, there's a look in his eyes you can't decipher when he smiles the tiniest smile and shakes his head before he opens the door to leave. It’s weird. You’ve always been able to tell exactly what he’s thinking. Yet, now, you don’t have a clue what’s going on in that blue head of his.

“It wasn't burdensome at all,” he says quietly. “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

Unbeknownst to you, as you drift off into dreams of championship trophies and vanilla twinkies, Jaemin closes the door behind him and his legs immediately give out.

He sits in the deserted hallway in front of your hospital room for what feels like hours, hands shaking, head between his knees to try and get his breathing under control before he heads downstairs to both eat something of substance and, like he’d said, report to the masses that their favorite forward was officially looking better. He’d kept it together for you as best he could in there. And now, as the crushing weight of your pain has finally lifted the tiniest bit off his shoulders, it’s all he can do to promise himself he’ll never let you get hurt again. He can’t let it happen.

He won’t.

“Wow,” Jeno breathes after a moment of silence. “You could’ve… died? Because some girl couldn’t take one loss?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Lame, right?”

He shakes his head vehemently. "Some of the guys here get pretty reckless too in the heat of the moment, but not that far. Never that far. That’s scary. I… I was wondering, though, since you didn’t mention him at all; How did your dad react?”

You avert your eyes from Jeno for the first time all night. That train of thought alone is enough to make you scowl, even half a year later.

“You said he was in an emergency with your uncle, which is why he wasn’t at the game initially, but he must’ve… I mean he’s only been my coach for a few months and I already feel like he’d lose his mind if one of us got injured like that. Much less his own kid.”

You hope your snort isn’t too blunt. "I wish he would have lost his mind. That probably would have been less painful than what he actually ended up doing."

FOUR MONTHS AGO:

To say the last two months of your life have been a ‘little rough’ is like saying the sinking of the Titanic was nothing but a ‘small boating mishap’.

Dr. Sho and her little pale green office in Sulim General has essentially become your second home. Pretty quickly, you’d found out firsthand that she wasn’t kidding about the side-effects. You didn’t think she was, of course; but only hearing them in passing the night after waking up from your coma (when you’re also hopped up on enough drugs to tranquilize a horse) is vastly different than experiencing them all set in at once in the middle of eating a jello-cup in the hospital cafeteria the next day. For the first three weeks after the championship game, if you weren’t popping ibuprofen the second that the bottle said you could, you were basically lying under every single blanket in your room at home with all the lights off waiting for the next time you could take another ibuprofen.

Dr. Sho was not joking about the side-effects. You know that now. You know it so, so well now. Traumatic brain injuries are, apparently, pretty bad in the grand scheme of things and take a while to heal from. Who would have guessed.

But the worst part about recovering from a serious injury isn’t even really the slow, slow progress, or the days where it feels like you’re going to feel terrible forever. That bit sucks, sure, but they pass. The worst part?

Or, should you say, the worst parts? Plural?

It has to be the people in your life that never really stop seeing you as the little, fragile, broken thing that they need to keep safe— even after you’ve started feeling leaps and bounds better.

Your dad was, obviously, offender number one. And for the first month, you let it slide. How couldn’t you? Even if he didn’t say it, you knew guilt was eating him up on the inside from not being able to be there for the one moment it mattered most. Hell, even the big, bad D-E-A-T-H word was on the table at one point; how could you expect him to not turn his overprotective gene to the max? To not treat you like you were ten years old again?

Yeah, the constant ‘pace yourself’ talks got pretty old after a while, but whatever right? It made sense! You almost died.

Slightly more confusing however, was offender number two in the short list of unfortunate changes— your previous partner in crime, Na Jaemin.

With him too, even though his sudden switch was much more out of character, you let it happen. He’d been there when you got hurt. He’d waited for you through a surgery he hadn’t been sure you’d awaken from. Of course he’d be a little more careful with you— of course his normal brotherly doting would practically take on a stricter edge, almost tiptoeing into helicopter hypochondriac territory— he was worried.

Mark had even told you a few days after whole debacle when he’d shown up to check on him the first night, that Jaemin had been shaking so badly in the lobby that he’d dropped the water bottle Mark had given him three times before he managed to unscrew the cap. Even then he could barely bring it to his lips without spilling it on himself.

And Jaemin, in the decade you'd known him, has never been shaken badly enough to react like that to something. Never. It had been that little secret Mark let slip that kept your mouth shut whenever Jaemin's concern got a little too overbearing.

Of course they’d be acting funny. Of course.

However… As the days went by and you slowly but surely started to get better, you began to notice that they weren’t keeping up with your progress. Well, they were keeping up with your progress on paper— Jaemin and your dad probably said the phrases ‘take your medicine’ and ‘slow down!’ and to ‘don’t do this!’, and ‘don’t do that!’, and ‘you’ll hurt yourself!’, more in the last 4 weeks than they’ve said in their whole lives— but they were absolutely lacking in the ‘give-Y/N-her-freedom’ department.

But you reiterate. Because, in the beginning, you were that fragile thing they’d grown to see you as; you let it slide.

You felt you owed it to them almost, for scaring them as such you did. It would go back to normal once you got better. Jaemin would screw around with you again. He’d stop getting that look on his face whenever you did anything more physically demanding than going up a flight of stairs. Your dad would stop pretending that the boys team needed to focus more and that the gym was closed when they were practicing. He’d stop snapping at you for attempting anything Dr. Sho didn’t officially, specifically say you were cleared to do.

Right? But it was on May 23rd, the evening after your weekly check-up— your final, weekly check-up— when you finally realized something had… shifted.

And that the two people you trusted most in the whole world had absolutely no intention of putting it back.

[Message to ‘Best Point Guardz In Da Whol Wide Univerze… and I’m here too I guess’ Group Chat] [You, 5:23PM] GUESS WHO’S OFFICIALLY DONE W WEEKLY CHECK-UUUUUPS!!!!!!!! [You, 5:23PM] TOTO, I’M A WHOLE GIRL AGAIN!!!! [You, 5:23PM] what do you say to some celebratory dinner, im omw back to campus right now!!! [Nana, 5:23] That’s awesome! :) [Nana, 5:24] What did Dr.Sho say tho? Any final update from her? [You, 5:25PM] she said the same thing she’s been saying ;-P that i’m on a really good track right now for like full recovery and what not. Says i should be good by the beginning of june WHICH MEANS I'M BASICALLY CLEARED FOR SUMMER BASKETBALL CAAAMMPP!!!!!!! [Nana, 5:25] You told her about your last migraine, right? From a few days ago? [You, 5:25PM] don’t call them that, it makes it sound worse than it is ;-/// [You, 5:25PM] they’re just headaches [Papa Point Guard, 5:26] Dinner sounds like a good idea, there’s something I want to talk about with you anyway. And answer Jaemin’s question, please. [You, 5:27PM] ugh, yes, obv i told her. she said it was normal for residual migraines and side effects like dizziness and all that other stuff to linger for a few months after a TBI, it’s not weird [You, 5:27PM] so….. where r we eating, i'm starving :-D

The three of you decide on Yuqi’s, a Japanese style restaurant, and it’s not too long after your final text that you pull up to the restaurant. You’re seated and scrolling through stupid posts on your twitter, liking a few from your favorite NBA players and sending them to Guyeon and Chulsoo), when your hair is suddenly being ruffled by a hand.

Jaemin is there when you turn around, grinning widely at your startled eyes, and you can’t help but smile a little bit when your dad is right behind him.

“What, are you an uber service now, Coach?”

“Hush,” your dad says, poking you between the eyes as he passes you to sit on the opposite side of the booth. You’re in such a good mood from Dr.Sho’s (mostly) clean bill of health that you don’t even care that he’s just jabbed you.

“We were both leaving the gym, so it was convenient. You know I don’t trust Na’s street hazard of a car to get us anywhere, so I drove.”

You whistle, feigning the sizzle of oil in a pan. Jaemin only grimaces.

“Yeah. Sure, rag on my ride. Whatever. At least mine is paid off,” Jaemin mutters at you playfully, plucking the menu from your hands. There’s another one literally an inch in front of him in the little menu basket, pretty and folded and untouched, but you just roll your eyes and let him have it.

You all decide on an everything platter for the whole table since you’re all but ravenous and can’t decide on what you want. You’re halfway through your plate, (Jaemin oddly only picking at his, even though he loves beef, and is usually even hungrier than you are after practice) when things start to turn a little… dour.

“What exactly did Dr. Sho say to you this time, Ace?” your father asks.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You probably heard Dr. Sho’s name more than you heard your own at this point. Right now, though, you can’t be mad at it. This is going to be the last time in a while that you do, and that thought alone cheers you up immensely.

“She said that I’ve been improving ‘rather impressively’, and that in about two months I should be seeing a drastic, if not complete drop in any side-effects at all,” you say proudly. Your father manages a smile at this, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “She also says that all the, uh… the dizziness and stuff is normal. And it’s not even that bad anymore. So you both can stop hounding me every time I close my eyes for longer than half a second.”

“Y/N,” he says warningly, and you immediately shrug your shoulders in defense.

“What! Am I lying? You guys still get so weird about it. I’m just saying.”

You glance at Jaemin to get a gauge on his reaction, only to find that his eyes are still trained on his food. Your dad clears his throat and you turn back to him, but not after nudging your best friend with your knee under the table. What’s his problem?

“You told Dr. Sho about next month’s training camp,” he says. It doesn’t sound like a question, but you nod anyway.

“And I assume you told her about how demanding it is for even fully fleshed athletes. What did she say about that?”

Oof. This question. You’re going to have to phrase the next words out of your mouth very carefully. You thought you would’ve had longer to think about this, not at all expecting the sudden interrogation; you thought they would’ve been just as excited as you were. You’re feeling better now. Isn’t that what they wanted? What’s with this atmosphere?

“She… she said that as long as I kept myself in check, and listened to my body and all that, then I should be… fine for—”

“Should be?” Jaemin echoes. They’re the first words he’s said in the entire conversation and yet, when your eyes dart to his, he’s still just staring at his stupid plate.

“Quite frankly, just ‘fine’ isn’t good enough for me, Y/N. And I’m a little disappointed that it’s good enough for you.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, glancing between the two of them like you’ve missed out on something incredibly important. What the hell? “What… is this? What are you trying to say?”

Your father puts his chopsticks down on the edge of his napkin.

“I don’t want you participating in the training camp.”

A very, very long silence stretches over the three of you. Ten million thoughts run through your mind. From the entire spectrum of them—’What?’ ‘Is this a joke?’ ‘This must be a joke’ ‘Did you hear him right?’ ‘Why isn’t he laughing yet?’ ‘No, no, you must’ve misheard,’— not one feels palpable enough to comprehend, none of them sound right.

“...I don’t understand,” you attempt, laughing awkwardly. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not ready for that type of physical activity. It’s too soon. You remember how intensive that camp was last year, how exhausting it was, how often you’d come home with scrapes and bruises from being worked so hard— and you think it’s going to be any different next month? Especially when you’re like this?”

Like a floundering fish, your mouth probably opens and closes a hundred times before you remember how to speak. “But… dad, you said once I got cleared—”

“What Dr. Sho told you was not a clearance for full activity, Y/N. You know that,” he chastises.

“And what I said was that once you were officially cleared, it would be alright for you to ease back into basketball— not jump right into a two week long conditioning intensive. You’re not ready.”

“Says who?” you spit. Your father furrows his eyebrows, not surprised by your tone but not quite accepting of it either. The warning on his face is as clear as day but hell if you care about that right now. “You’ve barely even let me look at a basketball in the last two months, much less seen with your own two eyes what I’m able or not able to do. How do you know that I’m not ready?”

He shakes his head, not saying anything, but you’re not done. The dam is flowing now.

“It was two months ago! You’re just going to sit and coddle me for the rest of the season because you’re worried for no reason, is that it? I haven’t had an episode in over two weeks, the dizziness barely affects me anymore! If you would’ve just asked instead of assumed that I’m still—”

“What happened in the gym two nights ago?”

Your raging train of thought vanishes into thin air at the sudden question.

At first you don’t even comprehend what he’s asking you, too angry to even remember. What? The gym…? And then Jaemin makes a funny sound next to you, like all the air has been squeezed out of his lungs at once, and you glance at him absently. You’d half forgotten he was even here. It’s here, now, as you stare stupidly at the very stiff boy beside you, that you finally understand.

The gym. A few days ago when you’d snuck into the Yonsei practice gym. But… but there’s no way he should know about that. Unless…

You want so badly to turn back to your father, to ask him what he’s talking about, but all at once you put the pieces together and you can't tear your eyes from your best friend.

Your dad continues. “If I’d just asked you would have told me, right? So I'm asking. Two nights ago, when you broke into the gym to mess around and you collapsed trying to run a phantom play—”

“I’m sorry,” Jaemin croaks suddenly. Your stomach rolls.

“You didn't.”

He looks up, looking panicked, shaking his head, but he doesn’t say no. “What was I supposed to do, Y/N? I found you there, practically curled into a ball on the basketball court like you’d been when— when—”

“You didn’t find me,” you cry, incensed. “You followed me there! You followed me because you didn’t trust me, and I still let it go! I let it go because I thought you understood, I thought you— you promised you’d keep your mouth shut!”

“Jaemin did the right thing,” your father says softly. “He was worried about you. Rightfully so. You don’t get to tell your body when it feels better, Ace. The fact that you didn’t tell me yourself that you almost fainted…” he shakes his head. “It just proves that you’re not ready. You’re not going to that camp. I’m sorry.”

Your hands ball into fists. There isn’t even any time for you to be embarrassed about being caught in a lie, or for you to be furious with Jaemin for ratting you out, because you’ve just remembered something. Something even more awful than both of those things.

“But… But this camp is mandatory for prospective Yonsei players. If I don’t attend then I can’t be on the team next season. Coach Myo is considering me for vice captain, you can’t…”

Neither of them say anything. Jaemin’s head hangs low. Your father doesn’t look even the tiniest bit surprised, but he does avert his eyes down to his folded hands as he nods.

He knew. They both knew.

They’d known how this dinner was going to go from the start.

“Y/N…” Jaemin starts weakly, “You have to understand—”

You laugh in disbelief and he shuts up immediately, big, dark eyes wide as he watches you rise from the table. You can’t even meet his eyes as you maneuver out of your seat. Wordlessly, you step out from the booth and with trembling fingers you pull out your wallet from your jacket pocket, placing the cost of the entire meal on the tabletop before you turn on your heel and make for the exit.

Somehow while you were talking, you and Jeno ended up laying side-by-side on the gym floor. There’s probably only enough room to fit a cone or two between you both but the proximity doesn’t bother you— and it doesn’t seem to bother him either, considering how comfortable he looks. Jeno only raises an eyebrow as you glance at him, head resting firmly on his palm, looking thoughtful.

“So Coach and your ‘friend’ basically ambushed you to break the news,” he simplifies slowly. “I… Man, I can’t even begin to think about what I’d do. It definitely wouldn’t have been as calm as just leaving. That must’ve sucked.”

“It did,” you nod. “Pretty severely. I mean, Jaemin and I didn’t talk for nearly a week, which is basically unheard of for us. But eventually I kind of…”

“Realized they were right?” Jeno supplies, and you frown at him.

“Okay. At least try to sound a little more on my side?”

“Why should I?” Jeno says with a raised eyebrow. “They definitely could’ve done it a little better but they were right. You were being blinded by your hot, burning passion for… getting sweaty and throwing a ball into a circle—”

You shove him, laughing, and he snickers as he rolls over to catch himself. Of course he’d say that. You’d learned during dinner at DDeumi’s that if Jeno didn’t get an offer for a full-ride basketball scholarship here, he would’ve stopped playing basketball in highschool. He obviously didn’t care for the sport as much as you or some of the others did. (And yet he was still so good. God really did have favorites.)

“—And, if you really did get sick whenever you moved too much, maybe… Well, maybe it wasn’t the worst idea in the world, you know? Health comes first.”

You fall quiet for a moment, taking in his words.

You know that now. Deep down, you think you even knew it back when the whole big kerfuffle happened in the first place. You weren’t going to disregard your feelings back then though, simply because you stood by the fact that many things about that conversation could have been done better— but with six months of hindsight, you knew now that they’d just been looking out for you.

“And… the migraines and side-effects and stuff,” Jeno continues, getting a little more serious. “All that is done now? Like you’re not going to drop dead on me or anything if we keep playing, right?”

“Nah,” you say easily. “Coach just gets worried, you know? He tells everyone I don’t play so they don’t roughhouse with me, but I’m perfectly fine now.”

The artificial sweetness in your voice sounds honest even in your own ears.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice what you said, Lee. ‘Keep playing’? You haven’t had your ego bruised enough for one night?”

“Bruised?” Jeno asks. He eyes you warily, sitting up fully when you maneuver to your feet. “Let's not get too overzealous. We’re only tied right now because I was going easy on you.”

“You were going easy on me. Like, five points ago. There was sweat on your forehead when I sank my last basket.”

“It’s hot in here.”

Before Jeno even has a chance to stretch after he stands as well, you’re lobbing the basketball at him. His eyebrows raise but he doesn’t look surprised. Good. He’s starting to understand you.

“The AC is blasting, 01. Try again.”

The hollow thud of the basketball against the wood, a noise you think he’s exaggerating just to intimidate you, only makes you grin. You’ve missed this. You think he can tell.

“And here I was thinking the new co-coach would be a breeze,” he sighs playfully, crouching. “Where’s the girl that was worrying about my calves earlier? You know, because I have a game next week, and I shouldn’t overwork myself?”

“You’re pretty bad at offense, so I’m not really worried about you overworking yourself right now.”

You shrug, trying to keep your face neutral as his eyebrows furrow at your back-handed reassurance. Where’s that competitive spirit you were tugging at earlier? “Oh! No offense though, of course. At least this game will be quick, right?”

“Try to be a little less obvious,” Jeno says, rolling his eyes, but you don’t miss how his tongue rolls across his cheek. “You know, you talk a lot of shit for someone who hasn’t played a proper game in like, half a year.”

“I agree wholeheartedly. Prove me wrong?”

The shooting guard only rolls his shoulders in response, a small, knowing smile on his lips. For the next however long he proceeds to do just that: prove you wrong.

You get a few baskets in, of course, as your pride would allow for nothing else. As you push your defense to brick-wall levels of impassibility, Jeno actually has to start employing stronger tactics to get the ball— which the coach side of you is ecstatic about, even if you pout after he inevitably makes his shots— and the game pretty much ends at a very convenient 7-7 when he accidentally blocks too hard and sends the both of you, tangled, tripping over his two feet.

He suggests calling it a night after this, which you second.

It’s hot. You’re definitely going to be sore tomorrow. And you’re sweatier than what is probably very sightly, but at least he is too. Jeno’s sleeves are rolled up and he’s fanning the hem of his shirt wildly to cool himself down as he follows you to the bleachers to collect your things, black hair clumped together in front of his eyes as he tracks over his phone screen.

“Hope you don’t have an early class tomorrow,” he says absently. His collar is pulled up around his nose, presumably wiping the sweat from his face, but the first thing you notice when you turn to face him is the pale, flat expanse of his stomach.

It’s nothing you’re not used to since you’re around half naked basketball players practically all the time, but your eyes dart away anyway. Decency and all. Yeah… decency. That’s it.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s midnight.”

“Mid—Holy shit. Really?” You snatch your own phone from the bleacher bench, temporarily ignoring the myriad of notifications on the lockscreen. “Jeez, I didn’t think it had gotten that late— it feels like we just got here.”

“I know. Hey— What direction are you headed from here?”

“B-Block dorms, near the cafeteria. Not too far. You too?”

Jeno shakes his head. “G-Block. Other side of campus.”

The two of you wordlessly shuck back on your jackets, which is probably pretty stupid since it’s early August and you’re both still sweating from your little excursion, but you find that the night is surprisingly breezy when he holds the door open for you to slip through.

“Wait— where are you going? I thought you said you didn’t live on this side?”

He snorts like you’ve just said something funny. “I don’t. But I’m not letting you walk to your dorm by yourself at midnight. Come on.”

Oh. You blink at him, and all he does is continue down the path towards B-Block without you.

“You don’t have to do that. And you’re going to have to walk all the way back,” you attempt, picking up your speed to reach an equal pace. Isn’t he tired? You’ve basically monopolized his entire day. “It’s really not that far.”

“Then it shouldn’t take very long.”

“Lee.”

“Y/N.”

“Ugh. From how docile you were this morning, I thought you would’ve been a good listener. Why are you going around messing up all of my expectations?”

Jeno only turns to smile down at you, and for the first time, you get to see the trademarked 'Samoyed Smile', as Donghyuck called it in DDeumi’s, full force. His eyes practically disappear into two tilted crescents, coincidentally a spitting image of the waxing moon hovering in the sky above you at this exact moment. You’re so drawn in by how sweet he looks that you trip on a crack in the asphalt, nearly eating shit before Jeno’s strong grip snatches you by your arm.

He corrects you without even slowing down in his stride.

“It’s funny you say that,” Jeno says casually. “Because I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

[itwd masterlist] [previous part] [next part]

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sallyf4ce · 3 years

Text

wolves

chapter IV

-> sally face x f!reader

-> enemies? to lovers

-> previous | next

cw: drugs, cigarettes, violence, homophobia

*does not follow original plot of sally face*

summary: (y/n) and travis make up (ish), (y/n) gets hurt again (you really shouldn’t be surprised), larry gets a little moody (i don’t think he likes (y/n) very much), sal makes a move on (y/n) (although he doesn’t know he did)

“You’re (y/n), right? New kid?” Travis looks at you as you press the wet cloth to your nose. You nod.

“How’d you know?”

“Sal said it. he muttered. The disgusted look on his face was proven a facade by the blush on his cheeks.

“You’re in love, buddy.” you laugh.

“No i’m fucking not! You’re so fucking stupid, what the fuck? Who could love a faggot like Sally f-” you cut him off my shoving his head into the wall roughly. You don’t know what came over you, but being homophobic is still homophobic even if you’re in denial. You convinced yourself that it wasn’t about sally, it was just you being an ally. Way to kill the mood, travis.

“You pull that shit one more time and I'll leave you without teeth, blondie. Or would you rather i tell your dad that you hit girls?”

He squirms underneath your palm. “Sorry.” he looks at you with a pleading face.

You sigh and let him go. “S’fine. You need to learn how to control your anger, though, fuckface. You’re not gonna get anywhere with that attitude.” stuffing the bloody towel in your bag, you lead him out the door.

“I hate you.” Travis scoffs.

“What did i say?”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

“Larry, she’s already closer to travis than she is to us and they just met. Travis is a full-on dick, and they’re being all friendly! I didnt even know that was possible!” Sal chucks his bag in his locker. He hasn’t known you for long, but longer than travis! Plus he’s way nicer, too! Why’d you have to go and get all friendly with his bully?

“I don’t fucking like it either, sally face. Maybe we should just stay away from them.” Larry crossed his arms and leaned against the lockers.

Sal didn’t want to stay away from you, though. You were sweet, he was sure, just a little distant. Plus you just sort of intrigued him. He wanted to know why you were like this, what happened to you, why you had a prosthetic. Maybe it was hypocritical of him, though. He's only told Larry and Ashley about what happened to him, so he shouldn’t be picking at your trauma. you’ll tell him when you feel comfortable with it, but you’d need to be comfortable with him for that. and right now, it seems like you’re pretty comfortable with his bully.

“let’s go, dude. class starts in 5.”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

After grabbing your schedule with Travis, you set your stuff in your new locker (which smelled pretty good, surprisingly.) and began walking to your first class, math. Travis laughed at you when you read your schedule outloud and you gave him a whack on the head. What an idiot. He headed off to his first class, english.

you opened the door to the classroom and coughed to get the attention of the teacher, Mrs. Packerton.

“Ah, lovely! Class, say hi to (y/n) (l/n)!” she smiles as you awkwardly wave.

“You’ll be sitting in the back, right beside Sal.” an inaudible groan leaves your cracked lips as you make your way towards him, trying not to make eye contact.

“uh, here.” he moves over. you plop yourself down next to him and open your notebook.

“we’re doing a test right now. i’m pretty sure you won’t have to do it, since it’s your first day and all.” his blue hair bounces as he looks over to you again. it looks fluffy.

“you wanna touch it?” he chuckles. you don’t want to come off creepy, but he’s offering, right?

you reach out your prosthetic hand but quickly pull it back and switch it, realizing you can’t actually feel with it. he chuckles at your mistake and leans in to your touch.

you were right. it felt like clouds, puffy but still silky. it wasn’t combed properly, though.

“Mr. Fisher and Mrs. (L/n), you little lovebirds. hands to yourselves, please.” Mrs. Packerton laughs a little. “Ah, young love.”

you quickly pull your hand back and flush.

“stupid old lady.” you mutter.

“Mrs. P’s nice, she’s just a little… enamoured in her students’ love lives.” sal laughs.

“stop, you’re making her sound like a pedophile!” you cover your mouth to suppress your laugh and sal’s face heats up even more. He made you laugh!

You both quieted down as Sal continued his test and you doodled in your sketchbook.

“are you okay? after travis, you know.” he hummed, a mix of concern and jealousy swirling in his eyes.

“uh, yeah. i’m fine.”

“You sure? Your lips look pretty busted.”

“It’s all good.”

“why do you hang out with him, anyway?” he turned his test upside down and faced you again.

“what do you mean?” you’re confused.

“he hit you in the face first thing in the morning. If i was you, i wouldn't really like him.” sal gripped his pencil.

“are you jealous?” you question, a smirk on your face.

“No.” his expression is hidden behind his mask. you look into his eyes, trying to make him blush.

the blue is a different blue than the one you saw yesterday. it’s lighter, almost like a porcelain blue.

“whatever you say, porcelain face.”

“porcelain face?”

“your mask, and your eyes, i guess. they’re like a porcelain doll’s.”

he hums.

“what are you then? metal hand? cyborg? fist of steel?”

“you forgot iron fist.”

“iron fist?”

“sure.” you grin. sal’s heart flutters again.

“Alright children, please hand in your tests and nicely file out the class. The bell will ring any moment.” Mrs. Packerton smiles sweetly and starts collecting tests. You grab your bag and leave the class.

Sal looked around the room for a bit, looking for you. A flash of (h/c) hair leaving the room catches his eyes. He tries running after you, but you’re already heading towards your next class.

•Lunch time•

“Shut the fuck up, Trav. I said she was stupid, not stupid hot. I don't know where you got hot from! I literally never said it.” You shoved his shoulder. He just snickered and continued teasing you.

“Hey, (y/n)! Come have lunch with us!” Sal saw you walking with travis. He waved you over from the cafeteria. Travis immediately stopped laughing and sneered. He quickly began walking over to sal, raising his fist.

“Leave us alone, fucking fag-” travis swung at sal but you stepped in front of them, raising your arm to cover sal’s face since he was taller.

Travis throws punches like a wrestler, You already knew that. Maybe you shouldn't have used your real hand to catch it.

His fist slammed into your forearm roughly and you flinched.

“Fuck- travis, go cool off. Now. Leave.” you hold onto your arm. It stings, but it's not broken. You’ll be fine.

“You’re all a bunch of-” he stops mid sentence as you give him a glare. It sort of said ‘you’re gay too, dumbass.’ he scrunched his eyebrows and walked off.

“Oh my fucking god!” a girl with brown hair ran over to you and lightly grabbed your arm.

“This her, sal? Are you (Y/n)?” she looked at you. She seemed very sweet. Kind of reminded you of your cousin.

“Uh- yeah- can you let go?”

She smiles in apology and lets go.

“You didn't have to do that, (y/n).” sal scratches the back of his head. You’ve gotten hurt twice because of him. How are you supposed to be friends if the only thing sal does is hurt you?

“I think maple might have an ice pack in her lunch. Can you come sit with us?” He hopes you say yes.

“Yeah, okay.” you needed the ice pack and travis was nowhere to be seen, so you didn’t really have a choice.

“Hey, (y/n).” Larry grumbles as you walk to their table. It seems he’s upset with you.

“I just saved your buddy from travis. Not to your liking or something?” you look up to him. If something’s wrong, he should just fucking say it. Not beat around the bush like a pussy.

“Yeah. you and travis seem to be getting along well.” he finally makes eye contact with you. Sal and the girl seem uncomfortable.

“We all got our issues, asshole. Some of us just know how to deal with them better than others.” You sneer. He’s allowed not to like Travis, but he’s not allowed to be a bitch to you because you actually understand his actions and choose to help him instead of ignoring him.

“Whatever.” he spits. You turn to sal.

“I’ll get my own ice.” you begin walking away. “Also, watch your dog.” you hear sal chuckle as larry groans. He walks up to you before you can leave, Larry throwing his arms up in the air in disbelief.

“Hey, uh, (y/n)? I’m sorry you got hurt. Could- could i make it up to you somehow?” his hand is on yours. It’s warm, he’s probably blushing hard under his mask.

“Sure, sally. How would you do that?” you spin around to face him. You can see his mask rise a little and his smile peaks through.

“Do you have a phone?” he pulls his cell out. It’s just a simple black flip-phone with a few paint splatters.

“I do, it’s in my locker. I dont have my number memorized, though. Stupid area codes.” you mumble. “You wanna come get it with me?”

Sal looks back to his friends. Ash is nodding frantically while Larry twirls a cigarette through his fingers, still mad.

“Alright.”

taglist: @purelydarling @deadpoetsandhoney @ghostfacefricker6969 @percyyzz @whatsurgamertag @kiillian @potatochic2003 @beingaweebishell @glitterydonutangel @izzydrawsandwrites @angellicbitch @elebeleb @dream-of-eros @mr-bombastic

#sally face x reader #ashley campbell #larry johnson #sal fisher x reader #sally face #sally face smut

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rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

Text

YOU DRIVE ME MAD

Summary: Fred's and Y/n's silly rivalry may have more to do with love than with hate; after a fatal incident, some confessions are made.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa

Warnings: brief mention of violence, blood, language (this seems a lot darker than it is lmao)

A/N: idk man I just love this idiot so here it comes another oneshot. The reader's house is not specified btw. Enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Fred spotted me and walked to stand near me before asking jokingly "On your way to kill a man, Y/n?" Oh, little did he know.

"what is that?!" I exclaimed at the sight of my friend's bruised arm.

"uhm... Nothing."

"who did that to you?" I knew the answer before I even got it. My friend had gone to break up with that Cormac McLaggen the previous night; she had finally listened to us and ended that toxic relationship they had, but apparently she got a souvenir from it.

"It's fine- he didn't mean to- Y/n don't do anything stupid." Too late, I saw red.

"I don't have time for your bullshit, Weasley." I curtly replied bumping his shoulder while I walked past him, making his smile drop in confusion. I never missed the opportunity to start a playful argument with him, but, as I had said, I didn't have time for that.

With the corner of my eye, I saw him joining my friends in the task of trailing after me.

I spotted the bastard chatting with his friends in the middle of the hallway that led to the Great Hall. "Oi, McLaggen!"

"Evening, Y/l/n." That filthy grin vanished from his face when I kicked him in the balls, triggering some gasps from our peers and a grunt of pain from him.

"Listen carefully, you loathsome pig." I leaned over to be eye to eye with him. "If you dare to lay a finger on my friend again— if you even think about it— I'll become your personal nightmare." I stood upright again, his eyes full of hate and rage following my movements. "You don't deserve a bloody warning, but I'm a generous woman." Poison dripped off my tongue, my eyes throwing daggers at him as I stepped back and turned around.

My eyes met Fred's worried ones while I made my way to my friends; they surely had told him enough for the ginger to know this was no time for joking and teasing.

His gaze then flickered behind me with panic and I realized a tad too late I shouldn't have turned my back to McLaggen; at the end of the day, pride overpowered honour in a lot of Gryffindors.

I spun around, grabbing my wand from my pocket, but I wasn't fast enough; before I knew what was happening, Fred was in front of me, serving as a human shield from the jinx.

The unknown spell hit his back and propelled us in my friends' direction. I was quickly on my knees, sitting Fred up and earning a grunt in the process, which I initially thought was caused by the fall. "Are you mental?!" My friend casted an Expelliarmus at the younger Gryffindor, long forgotten due to Fred's actions.

"My back— AH!" He yelped when I tried to pull him up.

"OI!" A first year who had made his way to the first row of students frantically gestured at Fred's back. "He's bleeding!!"

"What?!" I made him lean on me to take a look at his white shirt, now stained with blood. What I thought to be a harmless jinx turned out to be fatal.

"He's not supposed to be bleeding!" Cormac shouted, as panicked as I was.

One of my friends said something about going to look for George while the others shoot off to look for Madam Pomfrey.

"I'm gonna kill him..." Fred mumbled through gritted teeth, his voice shaky and weak. He felt so fragile in my arms, and I couldn't help the tears stinging my eyes.

"Fred—" his hands, which had been gripping my forearms, lost strength as the boy's body relaxed. "For fuck's sake don't fall asleep."

"... 'm trying..."

"FREDDIE!" His twin brother rushed to us, falling on his knees by his brother's side.

"I'm sorry." McLaggen had walked to us, keeping a safe distance.

"YOU'RE DEAD MCLAGGEN!" George stood up before I could stop him. Luckily for everyone, Madam Pomfrey showed up.

"Oh Lord! Mister Weasley, quick! Help me with your brother!" The Healer commanded, and soon they were pulling Fred off my grasp and rushing to the infirmary.

I was left in the middle of the hallway with my friends showering me with worried questions and reassurance.

What the fuck had just happened?

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

During dinner, several girls and a couple of boys came to congratulate me for kicking McLaggen's balls, and it would have been a lot more satisfactory if Fred Weasley hadn't stepped in the middle.

As soon as I finished my meal, I headed to the infirmary through the now quiet halls, only to find there were too many people visiting.

Of course, George was there, along with their younger siblings and Lee Jordan, but in front of them stood Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall and none other than Cormac McLaggen himself.

"—already told you it wasn't for you!"

"How is that an apology, Mister McLaggen?" McGonagall scolded him, refraining herself from hitting the boy herself.

"You better fucking run, McLaggen, because the moment I can step out of this bed I swear on Godric I will—"

"Enough, Mister Weasley!" I almost pitied the poor woman. Her House was probably the most problematic. "All of you must go to your dormitories, Mister Weasley needs to rest." I stood on the entrance of the room, unsure of whether I should leave or enter, until Flitwick's eyes landed on my form. He redirected McGonagall's attention to me, and I felt the need of shying away. "Miss Y/l/n," I didn't miss the failed attempt of Fred to move; luckily, he was stopped by his sister. "I suppose you wanted to pay a visit?"

"Uhm... I did, Professor." I confessed, fidgeting with the sleeves of my robe. "I know it's late—"

"Don't take too long." She spoke, motioning everyone to follow her. "Curfew is still at 10." She reminded me in a warning tone, passing by.

As soon as they were out, I made my way to Fred, who lay on his stomach in one of the beds, the sheets only covering his legs an hips in order to avoid the clothing chaffing his damaged skin.

"You have a heart after all, huh?" He teased once I stood in front of him.

"How are you?" He frowned at my genuine question; the ginger surely expected me to make a witty comeback, but again, it didn't seem the time.

"A tad better." He gave me a reassuring half smile, deciding to drop our banter for a night. "Flitwick said he used a stinging jinx but casted it wrong." Fred huffed. "A bloody tosser."

He motioned at the chair behind me and I sat down, scooting closer to the bed. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that he had jumped in front of me. It had hit his back, but I knew it was meant to hit my face —what a mess that would have been—, and I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"It's not on you." I felt my face flaring up at the ease with which he saw through me. I wasn't the first time he did that, but it was the first time he didn't use it to tease me.

"I know, I just—" I sighed. "I don't know." Though my sight was casted down, I still felt his worried gaze on me. "I'm gonna murder him."

"I reckon George will overtake us both on that." He tried to laugh but ended up in a since instead. "Or Gin. Maybe they'll team up with Ron and we'll find a corpse in the Gryffindor common room tomorrow." This time it was me who laughed. "How's your friend?"

"She'll be alright." I informed, distracting myself with a loose string at the hem of my skirt.

"And you?" I met his eyes with a hum leaving my mouth. "How are you?"

"Been better." I confessed.

Silence.

"Can you pass me the water?" I nodded, holding the glass in front of him and putting the straw in his mouth so he could take a couple of sips. "Thanks."

"No worries."

Silence again.

"Did you eat something?"

He scrunched his nose. "Not really."

"I'll go grab something from the kitchens." I didn't get far before his long fingers wrapped around my wrist.

"I'd rather have you here keeping my company." I then sat down again, his fingers only leaving my wrist to intertwin with mines. "I'm not hungry anyway."

More silence.

"Your hand is really soft." I reckon those words involuntarily escaped his lips by the way his eyes widened. "I don't know why I said that."

"Yours is too, surprisingly."

"Surprisingly?" He quirked an eyebrow at me, and I didn't quite realise what his grin was about until I spoke again.

"I imagined they'd be more rough." Oh no. "That came out wrong— I meant—"

"That you've imagined what my hands would feel like?" He was trying to bite back a laugh at the way my face turned red.

"No!"

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Liar."

There we went again; the white flag was out.

"Fuck you."

"Please." My cheeks turned even redder, and I wanted to think it was because of the anger. "You look really cute when you blush."

"You look really cute when you keep your mouth shut."

"Then shut me, love." He wiggled his brows at me.

"I would, but I don't wanna punch you in this state."

"You're very agressive." He pointed out, shocked that I didn't get what he was implying. "I meant with a kiss."

"Ew-" I pretended to gag. "no!"

He tugged on my hand and pulled me to my knees falling right in front of his eyes with our faces inches away. "C'mon Y/l/n, we're dragging this on now." His eyes kept falling on my mouth after I had unconsciously chewed on my lower lip.

"We're... We're not dragging on anything." I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince him or myself.

"Do you want me to start? Alright, you drive me mad." He forced his gaze to be fixed on mine. "You're annoying, rude and a pain in the arse." I huffed. "But you're also quick-witted and caring and brave." Gosh I hated how easily he made me blush. "Sometimes I want to punch you in that pretty face of yours but other times— most of the times— all I wanna do is kiss you." His thumb caressed the back of my hand. "Hell, I threw myself between you and that blonker without thinking twice!"

He raised his eyebrows, silently prompting me to say something, but I just didn't know what to say.

"Miss Y/l/n," Madam Pomfrey called, making me let go of Fred's hand an stood up. "It's almost ten o'clock! Let Mister Weasley rest." I nodded, not even looking in Fred's direction as I exited the infirmary.

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

FRED'S P. O. V.

The morning after the incident, Dean and Neville dragged in an unrecognisable McLaggen; they were probably the only ones who cared about that bloke enough to take him to Madam Pomfrey, though they did it half-heartedly.

I was discharged after three days in, right before lunch, and obviously, I was received as a hero; several people came to praise my bravery or ask how I was feeling, but I just wanted to see one person.

That night in the infirmary I was sure she felt the same way —hell, I had been sure for a couple of months— but after seeing her reaction, I didn't really know anymore.

I could always tell her it was a prank, and we would go back to our usual bickering. "Weasley!" Shit. "Fred!" She specified when the four of us turned at the call of our surname, almost jogging in my direction. "Can we talk?"

"Go ahead, darling." I prompted her without moving from my seat.

"In private?"

"Nah," I begged Godric for her not to see behind my grin the panic that produced me the mere thought of being left alone with her.

"Are you joking?" She huffed and, after taking a deep breath, she spoke. I wasn't expecting her to speak. "So you see, you're cheeky and stupid and not nearly as funny as you think." Ginny spit her pumpkin juice due to Y/n's harsh words. "but I... ugh! Okay— I want to kiss you too."

This time it was Ron who choked on his drink. "What's going on?"

"I feel like we missed an important part of this conversation." George commented.

This time it was Y/n who awaited for an answer. "This is literally the most embarrassing thing ever, so at least say something." She commanded in a rather rude tone, tapping her shoe against the floor.

I winced ever so slightly at the effort of getting up, but it was worth it when I saw her expression as I towered her; I reckon I had never seen her that sheepish before.

"That's a really mean way of saying you're attracted to me." I observed, quirking a brow at her. "Dunno why I fancy you so much."

"Well that makes the two of us." I couldn't help but chuckle at her attitude before cupping her cheeks and bring her lips to mine.

Finally.

Despite being a short, innocent kiss, was enough to make us both blush and grin like idiots.

"Awww" I rolled my eyes at my twin's mockery, knowing damn well I wouldn't hear the end of it.

"Why do I feel like I'm gonna miss you two being at each other's throat?" I couldn't care less about Ron's question as Y/n pulled me down for another kiss.

Almost bleeding to death seemed worth it in that moment.

#fred weasley x reader #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #harry potter #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasly x reader #gred and forge #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #fred weasley x gryffindor!reader #fred weasley fanfics #fred weasley fluff #fred Weasley hurt comfort #fred x you #fred x slytherin reader #fred weasley au

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koukamisstuff · 3 years

Text

Ready to Love

Chapter Two - First Meeting

◇Written Content◇

After finally reaching the gym, without as much trouble as you orginally thought you might have had. Immediately, you know you're in the right place once you can hear the screeching of shoes against the floor and the sounds of balls being hit and whistles blowing.

You suddenly think back to how you've never really seen the twins and Suna practice. You've made it to a handful of games but usually when it's over. Your sense of timing is completely off and should never be trusted but even when you missed their games you're there to greet them with cookies or cake the next day at school.

You check your phone to see if Atsumu texted you anything after telling him you were almost there. You decide to peek in, you see a few people practicing inside but didn't find your blonde haired friend anywhere. You slowly walk in, in the hopes that you don't disrupt the guys at the opposite end of the gym tossing a volleyball back and forth.

"Can I help you?" You hear a voice from behind you say.

You turn back and see a familiar face. Standing before you is the very own Inarizaki High Volleyball Club Captain Kita-san. Seeing him up close you can't help but notice how tall he is, granted that the twins alone already tower over you, yet here was a guy who was shorter than them but still you stood just about as high as his shoulders. He was also more handsome than you realized. Kita has light gray hair with black tips, it made you want to touch his hair to see if it was as soft as it looked. It also crossed your mind wondering how his conversation went, when you remembered yours on trying to prove that your raven purple hair was natural. His eyes were also breathtaking you didn't know how or why but you were mesmerized by them... it was as if you could look at him all day.

Wait... how long have you been staring?

"Hello? I asked how could I help you." He repeated looking a little annoyed now.

Shaking your head you snap back to reality.

"Ah yes sorry... umm senpai I was just looking for Atsumu. Is he around?" You asked as you looked around the gym.

"He's at the back right now."

"Ohh I was wondering if you could call him out?" You asked kindly.

He whispered quietly, "Didn't they just tell you girls earlier to go."

"Excuse me?"

He looked back at you, "He's busy right now."

"Oh... I know but he's expecting me." You said with a softer smile.

*Sigh* Kita exhaled and it was a tone that you knew seemed irritated, "Listen don't you think you have better things to do then to chase around boys. You don't look like a third year so I'm assuming you're a second year. You know this is a time for you too focus solely on studying and thinking about your responsibilities for when you enter the adult world. And as I've said before, you fangirls need to stop coming here when it's a closed gym. Its impolite to keep popping up every day bringing food that gets left behind for the hard working staff and my team to clean up."

"Wait, wait - this is a misunderstanding. I'm a friend of Atsumu and I'm suppose to drop him this." You say holding up your bento box and also standing there confused by his sudden scolding.

"Listen if Atsumu said hello or smiled to you in the hallway it was just a way of him giving you a nice greeting, you shouldn't take it as a sign of immediate friendship. I'm sure he appreciates the thought of you bringing him food but don't you think that after the incident a few days ago you'd stop doing this. I apologize for being rude but as captain I can't allow you girls to distract this team so if you could just leave now. And as Atsumu said he doesn't want to have squealing pigs around during his practice."

He gently guided you out the door and closed it behind you. Left standing there facing a closed door, you suddenly tune into the murmurs of other students passing by making comments and guessing about what happen.

"Ohh god is she another fangirl? She must have been desperate to show off."

"Probably, thought that the incident with the volleyball club blew over and tried to stalk them again."

"Wow I've never seen Kita-san throw anyone out before."

After turning to them the look on your face, immediately shuts them up as they carry on with their business.

"What the hell was that."

Masterlist - Previous / Next

Side Notes

Y/N sent straight back to her class to angrily finish her lunch. When Atsumu returned to class she unintentionally ignored him the whole day.

Y/n left immediately after the bell rang and went home to stress bake.

Y/N always leaves school with either the twins or Suna. They've made it a habit that since they live in the same general direction, someone needs to always walk her home.

TAGLIST: @onelostgirl @justsomenobodygirl @luna-vitae-suae @neologyro

Taglist is still open :) and I hope you all enjoyed the second chapter!! 😊

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johnsamericano · 3 years

Text

𝓓𝓪𝔂 2:

мσσи тαєιℓ

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @whathamelon @unknown5tar @curieouscapt

warnings: dilf!taeil, breeding kink, age gap, just the usual.

“Hey, dad. I’m going out with y/n.”

“You should bring her home sometime.” Mr. Moon answered, eyes fixed to the documents between his hands. “I haven't seen her in a while.” And he perfectly knew the reason for that.

You'd been avoiding him since last summer when Jeno and his father took you on their family vacation. A few drinks were all it took for Mr. Moon to spill the tea, telling you how pretty you were, how much he craved to be with you. Things moved on pretty quickly from that moment, a few kisses and empty promises were exchanged while Jeno passed out in the hotel room you shared.

The next day, you woke up hungover and regretful. Mr. Moon thought things between you would finally take a different direction, but you started ignoring him. You avoided any kind of contact with him, trying to erase the memories from that night.

It was an understatement to say that he missed you, not only romantically, but your cheerful presence would always lighten up his mood, no matter how stressful the situation was.

“She’s outside, I'll call her in, just wait a second.” His son sprinted out, a string of cursing becoming louder and louder as your friend dragged you into the house.

“I’ll cut your hand off, Jeno!” You slapped the hand he was holding you with repeatedly.

“Long time no see, y/n.” God, how much you hated the effect his voice had on you. It was like he deliberately talked in that tone to allure you.

“Hello, Mr. Moon.” Your head was slightly bent, avoiding his eyes.

“What is it with you two?” Jeno frowned, aware of the slight change in the atmosphere.

“We need to leave if we don't want to miss the movie.” You tugged his sleeve. “See you around, Mr. Moon.”

“I hope we can see each other again soon.”

And you did, well, more like Jeno tricked you into it. He noticed things weren't the same between you and his father, and as your brother from another mother, he wanted you to be close to his family.

“Jeno?”

“Y/n?” Mr. Moon asked from the highest step of the stairs. “What are you doing here? Jeno isn't home.”

“That motherfucker.” You pulled out your phone, a couple of texts from Jeno illuminating your screen.

‘Sorry, something came up. Please wait for me.’

“Wait.” Mr. Moon rushed down the stairs, pulling your wrist before you reached for the front door. “Can I have a word with you?”

“I d-don’t think that's a good idea.”

“Why are you avoiding me? Have I done something that made you uneasy?” His thumb rubbed the skin of your hand. “Talk to me.”

“It's nothing!” You tried lying, but he could see right through you.

“Y/n, please. I miss you.” He pleaded.

“I'm terrified, alright?” He felt a hint of guilt as tears started rolling down your beautiful cheeks. “I want to be with you, I really do! But I'm scared of what people might say, or what Jeno might think. I can't expect him to be happy with the whole situation between you and me.” He wanted to hold you, to dry your tears. “It hurts not being able to be with the one that you love.”

Love. That's how you truly felt about him.

“No one has to know.” He whispered, face inches away from your own. “We can keep this a secret until you're ready.”

“And who's gonna tell my parents? You?” Their reaction was the one that troubled you the most, to be honest. They'd been friends with Mr. Moon since their college years, your father would probably murder him if he found out.

“Yes.” For you, he was willing to lose his dearest friends. “As long as I get to be with you.” His hand slid from your wrist to your waist, the scene oddly familiar. “Our first kiss was just like this.”

“We shouldn't...” Yet, you closed your eyes, letting his lips taste yours.

It wasn't long until his hands were holding the back of your head, fervently kissing you. Your hands were positioned above his forearms, your lips trying to keep up with his.

“Shall we go upstairs, darling?” You nodded, allowing him to lift and carry you all the way to his room. He lowered you gently on his bed, moving his laptop and notebook to his desk.

“Were you working on something?” Your chest rose and fell rapidly, body extremely hot from the previous make-out session.

“It can wait.” He slowly unbuttoned his black dressing shirt, curiously looking at you as your legs rubbed against each other. “Needy much, huh?”

“Stop it.” Mr. Moon grinned, obliging to your commands. He placed himself on top of you, both hands on each side of your head.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.” You answered with no hesitation. You trusted him with your life, you knew he would never do anything to harm you.

Your lips touched again, this time his hands slowly undressing you, stroking your tender skin. He kissed every single uncovered spot, loving the small noises you'd make.

“Is this your first time?”

“No.” He was disappointed, but quickly disposed of the negative emotions. You were there with him, and that's all that mattered.

As soon as his clothes were off, he penetrated you, throwing his head back at the feeling of your walls hugging him. Your nails carved into his back as the sound of skin slapping became louder.

“Mr. Moon.”

“Yes, darling?” His nose was scrunched from the pleasure, thrusts becoming sloppy as his high approached embarrassingly fast.

“Can you come inside?” He looked at you with wide eyes. “I’m on the pill! I just...I just like the feeling.” He leaned down to peck your eyelids, the simple action had your stomach doing a flip.

“Breeding kink?” Well, if you had to label it, that would probably be the official name. “Whatever you want, little one.”

Just as you thought his pace was finally slowing down, he increased it again, repeatedly hitting your G-spot. How could a 40-year-old man have such stamina?

“A-ah, Taeil.”

“My name sounds so pretty when you say it.” One final thrust was all it took for him to spill his load inside your whole, regardless, he kept moving, trying to trigger your orgasm. “Come on, darling, let go for me.” One of his hands came down to your core, thumb drawing circles over the sensitive nub.

Needless to say, it only took a few more seconds for you to release. Your body was limp and sweaty, legs feeling slightly numb. Taeil groaned as he pulled out, his length was coated with yours, and his essence.

You cleaned yourselves up, giggling at each other’s fucked out faces. After confirming Jeno was staying over at a friend's, Mr. Moon lent you one of his pajamas, letting you sit between his limbs as he worked on his laptop.

“That looks complicated.” You pointed out, looking at the sales reports.

“Would you like for me to explain it?”

His voice was ever so soothing that you were snoring two minutes into his explanation. But he didn't mind, it was more than clear you were exhausted. He let you rest again in his chest, oddly focusing more than usual on his work.

#nct smut #nct angst #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios

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hitozy · 3 years

Text

all you who sleep tonight ‹ masterlist › he and i

𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬

Sharing a bedroom had proven to be of no bother for either parties. Iwaizumi had feared it would be a bit awkward given that they weren't romantically involved, but his worries were a bit useless, YN had made it easy and comfortable for the both of them.

Cohabitating and sharing was starting to make him feel different as well. He couldn't really put a name on it, but it started when he began to see the little things around him.

Going into the bathroom and finding his toothbrush beside yn's. Her towel hanging beside his, the shower containing his and yn's products, he accidentally tried yn's body wash and ended up liking the smell and exfoliating that he mentioned to yn if she could buy more. She had giggled but agreed, mentioning the different types that there were which ended up in both of them starting to shop together after work and school.

He found himself staring at her as she looked over the products, making sure they are the right ones. Or when she pouts for Iwaizumi to have a heart and let her buy junk food (which he always does). Or when he opens the closet door to find his clothes beside hers, the contrast of variety and color always making him smile.

Or when he wakes up earlier than his alarm, turning his head to find her beside him. His eyes travelling from her hair sprawled around her pillow, her hands clutching said pillow up to her shoulders, watching the goosebumps appearing on her skin. Eyes travelling down to always find the bedsheet pooling under her waist and he never knows why or how. He would pull the sheet up, cover you as he watches you let out a soft sigh and a content smile that never fails to make his heart flutter.

It makes him wonder if he's always felt this way, and if not, since when?

―

Jae hasn't stopped calling him.

He thought that after the discussion they had at yn's parents last week would be enough to get her off his back, but it proved to be pointless and he was beginning to think that she did not leave the house by her own assessment.

Mr. and Mrs. LN must have sent her home after listening to her horrible criticism of their daughter. Something she had done in the past and never failed to sour his mood. He didn't know what her problem was, but he knew she was lying about everything concerning you, learning it was best to ignore her comments than correct her.

It was on the third day that he felt his patience snap. She had been calling him relentlessly to the point that the coach had asked him to take the call, 'It could be an emergency.' He disregarded it as spam calls and was left alone once he placed his cell the profile in vibration, so even though it was vibrating non-stop, at least everyone else couldn't hear it.

Once it was lunch break I pulled out my phone.

53 missed calls from Jae

15 voicemails probably from Jae

27 texts from Jae

He ignored Jae's attempts in communicating with him, deleting everything in one go and focusing on a little one who had also been trying to get in touch with him a while ago.

1 missed call from mochi mochi

3 texts from mochi mochi

mochi mochi: omg sorry! I forgot that you're in training rn mochi mochi: I was calling to let you know that I'm heading to the library for school work D: mochi mochi: letting you know because you wanted to pick me up today, i'll go home later dw! have a lovely day hajime♥

His little mochi was a bit selfless sometimes. He was going to text you back, but his irritation from Jae's insistency was rubbing him wrong all over his body so he thought best to call you and let your voice sooth his nerves.

"Hajime! Good morning, is anything wrong?" Just like that, he felt his frustrations be washed away at the sound of your voice, like cold water running all over him.

"Morning mochi, I saw your text, everything all right?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the athletes and the coaches acting as if they weren't listening but the way their bodies were leaning towards him gave it away.

He had half a mind at telling them to mind their own business.

"Ah, well, we got a request from the film majors to help out with their project scripts and we weren't actually going to do it, since we already have enough stuff as is," he recalls the nights he would come in late, watching you giving it your all even if you finished at 3am, he was worried about your health during that time and after your breakdown, he had a reason to be worried now, "luckily we are working in large teams, sadly I'm doing the rough draft."

"Sounds rough, mochi. Anything I can do to help?"

In an almost timid manner, she asked softly "Keep me company?"

How could he reject?

―

Once he hung up, one of the senior coaches passed behind him and smack his hand on his back with a grin, "The ol' ball 'n chain, huh? You should go and buy her something to eat today, having to tolerate your ass. Now come on, we have a team to train for a win."

―

11:45 pm

He had brought her favorite food and drink to the school library, sneaking to the back to eat and not get caught by anyone there. It look familiar yet very different from the one back in California, when he would stay until early morning studying on the weekends, with you doing the same in the video call in front of him.

Now your right in front of him, physically and mentally in his presence. He had been working on some stuff from work as you continued your studies and felt relived and in peace in the comfortable silence but, it had been a while since he had finished it all and he soon found himself staring at you.

The shape of your eyes, your soft hair, your nose, your soft lips, the curve of neck, the way your shirt shaped your breasts...

He mentally slapped himself at that thought, why- why the hell is he thinking of your breasts? Since when is he thinking about it? Why-

"Ah! I didn't even notice the time, let's go Hajime... are you okay?"

"Yeah, um why?"

"Your face is all red", she came to stand in front of him, touching his forehead, "hmm, you don't have a fever... maybe you're just tired? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you to stay for so long." Her soft cold hand felt nice against his face as she rubbed her thumb up and down his forehead.

He remembered that she used to do this when she was younger, "You have to stop doing that Hajime!," she would exclaim as she rubbed his forehead in a similar matter as now, "You'll get wrinkles too young!"

The old memory made him laugh, your expression back then mirrored to present day. "What so funny?"

He smiled and took all of your stuff from the table, taking your hand in his, "Nothing, lets just go home, mochi."

Can you hear my heart? Oh, but I can tell! We are twin starts With different births. My caring shadow ― It has your face. The voice of my soul Knows well your name.

Tell me, Can you hear my heart? Oh! how I love you, My best friend.

Twin Stars ― Clairel Estevez

taglist ! @daphnxy @zukoslosthishonor @i-am-a-hoe-for-shinya @mrsdoradominguez-barnes @anejuuuuoy

a/n! i beat the system so here's a chapter guys ♥ also... since i couldn't post one last week, there will be a double post this one!

#iwaizumi hajime fic #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi fic #iwaizumi x reader #owwaw #owwaw💔

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desertofsnowflakes · 3 years

Text

Incorrect Order Chapter 6 (Nessian AU)

A/N: I'm sooo sorry I haven't been updated in more than two weeks. I had exams :/ Also, do inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: Language

1572 words | Incorrect Order Masterlist | Read on AO3 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The smile Cassian plastered on his face didn’t reach his eyes. His brothers saw that. Feyre and Elain saw that. Mor and Amren knew that. He himself did. But they didn’t say anything. If it weren’t Feyre’s anniversary, he would’ve even gone home. He couldn’t though. He wouldn’t do anything that would hurt his family. So he stayed. Smiled. Joked. Laughed. Did everything he could to keep his mind from straying to a grey-eyed masterpiece.

Az and Rhys saw, he knew. They always seemed to realise everything about each other. Even if one of them had a minor headache, the other two would know. Tonight, however, none of them pushed him. They probably thought he wanted to be alone. But did he? Truly?

He wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to be alone. That would make memories of their lunch rise. Of her shirt splattered with coffee on one day and blood on another. Of her pale form laying on his bed. Of her, enjoying his food. Of their shared jokes. He didn’t think he could take that.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to be around people either. He didn’t know if he could stay around people who laughed and teased. He didn’t know if he could laugh with them and actually mean it. He didn’t know if he could anytime soon.

Cass glanced at the clock. 3.00 a.m. He smiled. Whenever they gathered around in the living room, retiring early was totally off the table. The earliest they dispersed was four in the morning.

To his right, Rhys sighed. “It’s late,” he said, tucking Feyre close to his side. “Gotta go to bed.”

He smirked, but held back the joke on the tip of his tongue. After a chorus of goodnights, Rhys and Feyre told them they could stay here tonight if they wanted to and rose to go upstairs. Feyre laughed at something Rhys said and Cass felt a pang of sadness hit him.

Sadness… and something else. He knew he shouldn’t, but he envied the both of them. How easily they bantered and teased. How smooth their relationship was. He remembered how Feyre locked herself in the cabin after Rhys proposed. He remembered how she asked Mor not to let anyone in, especially Rhys. He sighed. He felt an amount of the jealousy dissipate. Probably Nesta would get together with him after their slight misunderstanding passed. If it did.

He got up to leave when Az stopped him. “You sure you’re going back?” Cass didn’t remember telling Az that he was going back. Then again he didn't need to. Az always saw everything. “You're not that… somber.”

Ah. Cass smiled. “I'll be fine, ” he reassured. Az still didn't let him go. “I'll send you a text once I'm home,” he tried. Az sighed.

“I'll be waiting for it.”

Cass looked at Mor, drunk and blabbering before stepping out of the house. He kept replaying that memory till he reached home, keeping his mind occupied. He was scared of what would happen if he kept his thoughts idle.

He informed Az that he reached home. He didn't know why going back home felt like preparing for a battle. It probably was a battle. Between her and his self-restraint. What was at stake here was his sanity. Cass sighed. He stepped in through the threshold and welcomed the darkness that enveloped him.

***

Stop crying like a baby, Nesta repeatedly reminded herself. Why should she cry? Nothing here was her fault. Nothing.

Not the fact that she let his charmed smiles bring her guards down. Not the fact that she felt alive when he said something stupidly funny. Certainly not the fact that she was slowly falling for him.

None of it was her fault. So why should she cry? Why should she stop herself from attending her own sister's anniversary? When it was all his fault.

She shouldn't be crying. She should be thinking about ways of exploiting his weaknesses. She should think about how she would portray him as the weak one. She should think about how she was going to make him regret everything.

But how could she make him regret it when she never regretted a second of it? She hated that this was where her thoughts went first. To scheming and plotting. She thought she changed. Did she regret her wish to be good? No. She reveled in it. No, she vowed herself, I would not scheme to make him beg. I'm not that Nesta anymore. I'll never be.

She was proud of herself. She never realised her self restraint was this good.

But apparently not good enough. Her thoughts drifted back to him. No, not him. Cassian. Cauldron, it'll take some time to get used to calling him Cassian. Or maybe Cass. Feyre and Rhysand called him that. Probably she would too. She thought about what he called her. Nes. She flushed. That stupid name did stupid things to her. She pretended she didn't like it. In fact, she loved it. Somehow, she wasn't ready to tell him that yet.

***

Nesta blinked open her eyes against the morning light. Her eyes were closed? It was morning already? Huh.

It took her some time for her eyes to adjust. She screamed at what she saw. Nesta scrambled back from the looming figure of Tomas, leering at her face.

“Nesta, Nesta, ” he said in his eerie voice. It became scarier with his sing-song tone. “My Nesta.” He paused. “Though I suppose you aren't mine anymore. You were still mine last time, you know. When you handed me over to the police. ”

She bared her teeth, opened her mouth to say something when his hand closed around her throat.

“But now, I suppose I can't call you mine anymore, can I? That reminds me. Where is your bodyguard? Or is that brute your boyfriend?” He spat the last word. His hand tightened around her neck.

“Do you know what he did to me? Your bastard. Did you know how he threatened me? Did you know that he smashed my bones, that it took me this long to heal?”

Some sort of savage satisfaction filled her. The fact that Cassian did all this… she smirked. It didn't go unnoticed by Tomas. He growled, the sound sending icy fingers ghosting down her spine. She hoped she didn't have to hear it again.

His hand around her throat pushed her farther back on the bed. He drew back, she let loose a relieved breath. A mistake.

His hand cracked on her cheek. He came infinitely closer to her, his hot, rancid breath glancing off her cheeks. His hand kept tightening around her throat and she wondered how she wasn’t dead yet. It was certainly bruised now.

“Look at you. So vulnerable. So killable. I’ve imagined how I would slit your throat. So many ideas. If only I could kill you in all the ways I imagined. But do you know what is the best way I could kill you?”

Nesta let him talk. He loved to hear himself talk. She subtly looked around her room, searching for anything she could use as a weapon. She looked back at Tomas. He wasn’t talking. Did he ask her a question?

“Tell me, Nesta. Do you know what is the best way to kill you?” Nesta shook her head, his hand pressed around her throat. Tomas smiled. She cringed mentally.

“I think the best way to kill you and make it hurt is to kill you slowly. You know what makes it better? Having that bastard watch you die. Let him watch the life seep out of you. And then I’ll kill him too.” he said and she felt the room closing in. Panic was slowly rising in her.

“Now, now,” he said. She supposed he meant to be cajoling but the effect his voice gave was the exact opposite. “There’s no need to panic. I told you I’ll kill you only when your bodyguard is there.”

He pulled out a knife. She gasped and pain erupted around her throat. Her lungs were burning.

“But darling,” he said. She whimpered. She hated this. She hated that she was vulnerable here. She hated that she couldn’t do anything when her death was slowly nearing. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Then his knife struck. Nothing hurt at first. Then, fiery pain whipped through her, beginning at her arm. She screamed. Pain. There was so much pain. She screamed so loud she pondered how the whole neighborhood didn’t hear anything.

***

Nesta gasped. Her eyes darted through her room. Nothing. No one. She looked at her arm. No pain. No scars. No blood. She touched her throat. It wasn’t sore. It wasn’t swollen. She got out of bed and looked at her mirror. No bruises. She let out a frustrated sound. It was a dream. A fucking dream. Or she supposed it was a nightmare. Still. It wasn’t real.

It was still five in the morning. Still quite early. She released a breath. She wouldn’t find a cab now but she could walk. It wasn’t that far. She fixed her hair and changed her clothes. She wasn’t going because she missed him. She just didn’t want to be vulnerable again. That’s all. She just wanted to know how to defend herself. Nothing else. So Nesta went to Cassian’s house, hoping that she’s making the right choice.

taglist: @shadowsinger07 @im-someone-i-guess @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @nehemikkele @angelic-voice-1997 @heartless--aromantic @sv0430 @irenethaleia @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @sjm-things @dontgetsalmonella @ganseys-jane

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arhvste · 4 years

Text

☼just until i win☼

WRITTEN CHAPTER

an - everyone say thank you atsumu <3

y/n shuffled reluctantly over to her door and slowly opened it to reveal a concerned looking atsumu with a plastic bag in one of his hands.

nothing was said between the pair as y/n moved out the way to let him in. he placed the bag down on the coffee table nearby and turned to the girl. still nothing said between the two, atsumu pulled her into his chest as y/n sobbed quietly into his t-shirt.

after 2 minutes of y/n quietly hiccuping and allowing her tears to fall, atsumu pulled away and looked down at her sighing.

“ya know, ya really worry me sometimes.”

y/n could only nod slightly as she wiped away the tears remaining on her cheeks as she finally registered the plastic bag on the table.

“what's that?” she mumbled gesturing towards the coffee table.

atsumu smiled slightly and picked it up to bring to the larger dining table.

“samu couldn't sleep till he felt like he did somethin for ya. believe it or not, he’s just as worried as me and everyone else. i had to force shouyo and bokkun not to follow me.”

guilt strung through y/n’s chest as she apologised quietly before sitting down opposite the pro player.

“don't apologise, its understandable, i’m just glad ya even opened the door for me.”

“i know you would've stood there all night if i didn't.”

atsumu smiled towards the athletics trainer and began to take out the contents inside. osamu had cooked multiple types of onigiri. ones he knew atsumu liked and ones he knew y/n liked.

the two ate in a comfortable silence as atsumu allowed the girl to gather her thoughts. the last thing he wanted to do was pressure her into talking to him about what she was thinking and feeling. he knew she would eventually tell him anyway he had all the time in the world for her to tell him.

10 minutes of a slightly warmer atmosphere between them, y/n sniffled and turned away.

“y/n?” atsumu reached over softly.

“no -shit. i-i’m sorry. this is so pathetic i shouldn't even be crying over this, i should've seen it coming from the start.”

ah so she was in the stage of self blame.

“y/n, none of this was your fault okay?”

the girl didn't care at this point and let her tears flow down her cheeks freely as she turned back to face the artificial blonde.

“yeah b-but if i’d just maybe gotten through to him better or maybe just i don't know -broken up with him, none of this would've happened!”

the setter watched as he let y/n let her emotions out. he didn't plan on riling her up. he needed her to get out whatever she was holding in so he could get through to her on a clearer mind.

“y/n, listen to me.”

stopping her quiet sobs for a moment, y/n looked up at a very genuine looking atsumu.

“i get yer a people pleaser and you’d rather take responsibility when somethins not even yer fault but, none of this was yer fault.” atsumu watched as y/n visibly relaxed at the sound go his voice.

this was a start.

he sighed and took her hands into his one and gave them a light squeeze.

“but, i don't believe this was oikawa’s either.”

y/n’s eyes widened slightly as she opened her mouth to object but atsumu didn't give her the chance.

“ah- i know ya probably think i’m just sayin that to stop you from arguing anymore but listen to me.”

the girl relaxed back into her chair, and nodded slightly for atsumu to continue.

“i know ya don't want to look at the picture, in fact its probably the last thing yer gonna wanna look at, but from what it looks to me, its one-sided. ya can tell he’s clearly uncomfortable and in shock.’

y/n frowned slightly trying to remember the awful photo but her memory was so blurred from the strong emotion and endless tears she couldn't actually remember oikawa’s expression in the photo.

“he still met up with her though.”

atsumu sighed and ran a hand through his slightly messy hair.

“yeah but personally i think he did the right thing. i know its gonna be hard to see things from his point of view but, he handled this well. sure, he wasn't flawless when it came to communication with ya but ya gotta give him some credit for going out his way. he has a lot going on right now and the last thing he probably wanted was a twitter war between his fans, reporters, her fans and herself. seeing her in person was probably one of the best ways to make it clear he wanted nothin to do with her.”

y/n didnt speak for a few moments as she registered what the boy in front of her had just said. yeah it was easy to get angry at how the situation had turned out but was that really all oikawa’s fault.

“atsumu-” y/n began with a shaky breath.

“i get that you’re trying to help me but what you don't know is that he tried to turn this on us. he accused me of cheating with you even though his only source of evidence was fake tabloids that have obviously reached for any material they can to feed off our names. like i said to him, how can he accuse me of cheating when he has no evidence but there’s actual evidence of him with another girl and he’s insistent i believe that he’s been faithful to me.”

atsumu raised an eyebrow to this. oikawa really read those stupid tabloids? they were obviously fake, hell, the same reporters had even written a few tabloids linking him to sakusa much to the latters disgust.

“but is that picture really evidence? i mean, from what it looks like he’s not into it and she’s the one initiating it. i’m not sayin what he said was fair but he’s probably frustrated and panickin. i’m not tellin ya to forgive him right now, but try to talk to him again when you've got yer thoughts together a bit more. it’s not fair to argue with him while yer both under a lot of pressure and emotions. i know for a fact that boy loves ya and ya know it too, ive never seen such a sappy and gross couple before whether yer like it or not this isn’t somethin yer gonna break up over.”

y/n hated to admit it but atsumu was right. maybe she had been a little unfair to pounce at oikawa straight away and hardly give him the chance to explain fully what had happened. had she been stupid enough to forget that oikawa struggles with stress and pressure and was prone to breaking down when things got to much.

a new wave of guilt washed over the girl as she closed her eyes and brought her head down to her knees.

“i feel awful now, oh my- i don't even want to imagine how he’s feeling right now fuck.”

atsumu stood up and crouched down in front of the now panicking y/n.

“look at me.”

glassy eyes stared into atsumu’s.

“we’ll try and get ya to meet him tomorrow, even if ya talk over the phone or somethin, but not tonight, it’s late and yer both need to rest yeah? i’ll stay on yer couch tonight but ya should get ready for bed and try to sleep.”

y/n thanked her lucky stars that she’d been blessed enough to have someone like miya atsumu storm into her life.

she nodded and shuffled to her room to get ready as atsumu wandered over to the couch with a satisfied smile.

after 5 minutes, y/n came back to bid the setter a goodnight and an offer to return back to his room.

“nah, don't wanna leave ya just in case ya wake up stressed or somethin, i’ll be here i’m not going anywhere just call me if ya need me.”

y/n smiled and gave the setter a tight hug.

“thanks tsumu. you’re a lifesaver.”

“i know.”

the girl laughed slightly and pulled away before muttering one last good night to the boy who nodded and waved back smiling.

things had been rough today sure, but atsumu had managed to force her to see things from oikawa’s point of view and even take majority of the balme off of him. she was still angry sure, but things were different now. the anger totally directed towards oikawa had been redirected to herself and sakai but y/n could live with that.

the same way oikawa promised to fix things, y/n made a silent promise to herself that she too would fix things. she just had to wait for a new day to do it properly, the worst had passed all she could do now was move forward and the girl decided to take her first step that very second as she grabbed her phone.

just until i win

oikawa tooru x reader

masterlist

part 22 - empty promises

part 23 - atsumu

part 24 - online critic

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barnesandrogersfanfics · 4 years

Text

Ocean Eyes - Part 7

When we finally arrived at Sue's house Chris walked with me to the front door... i nearly tripped at one point but luckily he managed to grab my arm and keep me upright! I had whispered a quiet 'thanks' before knocking lightly on her front door. Sue opened the door ushering us inside and leading the way to the living room where i saw Mason curled up on the sofa. He was asleep but he looked white and sweaty, there was a bowl on the floor beside his head incase he was sick again.

"He hasn't been asleep long, i think he wore himself out crying"

"Chris can you get Mason please? I can't carry him like this...."

"Yeah sure, i got him" he quickly moved forward and scooped Mason up into him arms.

"Mama...." Mason moaned looking around for me.

"Im right here baby, your dads gonna carry you out to the car".

"God you weren't kidding bout that fever" Chris added looking down at Mason in concern.

"Im gonna get him home, thanks for watching him Sue"

"Sure thing hon, hope he feels better soon. Here, take the bowl incase he gets sick on the drive home" she smiled passing me the plastic bowl that had been next to Mason.

The drive home i had Mason cradled against me as he slept, the seat belt going around the both of us being as we had no car seat in Chris's car!!

God i felt like a crappy mom tonight!

When we got home i sat with Mason on the sofa and stripped him down to his underwear to try and cool him down.

"Chris could you get me a cold washcloth please, there should be some in the pile of laundry on the table"

"Sure" he rushed off to grab the cloth, Mason was just laying against my chest, whimpering slightly.

"Here you go" Chris passed me the cloth and sat beside us "i got him some water too, he should be drinking plenty of fluids"

"Thanks" i smiled before folding the cloth and laying it over Mason's forehead. He moaned at the coldness but soon settled again clinging onto me, it didn't take long until he was asleep. I sighed in relief and carefully moved forward in my seat so i could lay him down.... i was desperate for the bathroom!! Mason stirred and held on tighter, for such a little thing he had a grip on him.

"Can you try taking him i really need to pee!" I looked at Chris with desperate eyes. He chuckled and managed to pry Mason off of me and into his arms.

While i was in the bathroom i wiped off my make up and tied my hair up before getting changed into my pyjama's.... it was gonna be a long night. Once i was done i headed to the kitchen and made coffee, hopefully it would help sober me up a bit more.

"Ah fuck!" I cursed as i sloshed the coffee onto the floor while making my way back to the living room "i made coffee, you might still have some left if you're lucky"

"Thanks" Chris looked up and smiled, i didn't miss the way he looked me up and down either.

"Does he still feel hot? If his temperature doesn't start to go down soon we'll have to try a lukewarm bath maybe give him some Tylenol...."

"Yeah his still hot, but it doesn't seem to be getting worse"

"This is so unlike him, Mason never gets sick. I can literally count on one hand the amount of times his been sick" i shook my head "i'm so close to freaking out right now you have no idea...."

"Calm down sweetheart, he'll be fine"

"Thank you for staying with us, i probably would've been calling my mom in hysterics if you hadn't been here"

"There's no where else id rather be" he said looking down at Mason lovingly.

"Right.... i should probably text Scott let him know we're home" i got up to grab my phone from my purse and started a text to Scott. We had dropped him at his place on the way to collect Mason.

There was a message from Derek on my phone too which i quickly skimmed, he was saying how much he enjoyed meeting me and wanted to know if i wanted to get dinner with him sometime!! I decided i'd reply to him in the morning and put my phone on the table, Mason was the only thing i could deal with right now.

I applied a fresh cloth to Masons forehead and checked his temperature, slowly but surely it was going down. I sat beside him and Chris on the sofa and sighed in relief.

"Looks like his fever is easing off finally" i said yawning and letting my head fall back against the sofa, we'd been up for hours now keeping watch on Mason.

"Yeah, thank god" Chris mumbled as he carefully tried to move Mason in his arms.

"You want me to take him?"

"No no, i'm good, my arm has fallen asleep is all" he smiled.

"You sure? i don't mind...."

"We're all good".

We sat in silence with the TV on low for some background noise and i couldn't help but look at Chris and how natural he was at being a dad.

"You should get some sleep, you look exhausted" Chris suddenly said interrupting my internal thoughts!

"You trying to tell me i look like shit Chris?" I asked raising my eyebrows at him.

"What?? No!! I didn't mean that..."

"Im fucking with you relax" i chuckled shaking my head.

"You looked beautiful tonight" i heard him say quietly, maybe i wasn't supposed to hear him but i did.

"Its amazing what you can do with some make up and clothes that aren't sweats and t-shirts"

"You look beautiful without make up even wearing your sweats and a t-shirt, i just meant that you looked good. I personally prefer this version of you"

"Haha, now i know your just trying to make me feel better....i'm a mess!"

"Prettiest girl i know" he said giving me that smirk of his.... my god damn weakness!!

"Are you just saying this because you think i'm drunk and wont remember?? Because i'll have you know i have mostly sobered up by this point"

"Im well aware, i just..... never mind. You should try and get some sleep".

I nodded agreeing with him, the conversation was about to turn awkward and i wasn't ready for that!

"Wake me up if Mason needs me...?"

"Of course".

When i woke up again i had somehow ended up cuddled up against Chris! He had his arm around me, my head resting on his chest, Mason still sleeping on his other side. To anyone who saw us and didn't know better we looked like the perfect little family. I felt myself start to panic..... i shouldn't have let myself get this close to him! It was too easy to fall back into that comfortable routine we always had..... but we didn't have that anymore, at least i didn't think we did. I carefully eased away from him making sure he was still sleeping and made a quick exit to the kitchen, he didn't need to know about this!

As i started making some coffee and toast i heard the soft voice of my baby boy. As i stuck my head round the door i saw he was sitting up talking with Chris, he looked so much better this morning thank god.

"Where's mom?" I heard him ask and i stepped into the living room giving him a smile.

"Im right here bud, how you feeling?" I asked as i sat in front of them on the coffee table, i reached over to hold the back of my hand against his forehead "looks like your fever is almost gone"

"Im hungry"

"I bet! But its dry toast for you buddy. You've gotta go easy for a little while.... are you still feeling sick?"

"No, not anymore"

"Okay thats good!".

"Dad are you staying for breakfast?" Mason asked.

"Um...."

"Pleaseeee" Mason begged looking at him with those eyes that were exactly like his dads, Chris looked at me waiting for my say so.

"Its fine with me, if you have time..."

"I do! Yeah of course!" He said quickly nodding his head with a huge smile.

After we had all eaten Chris took Mason for his bath after Mason insisted he go with his dad. While they were gone i sent a text to Scott with an update and saw a missed call from Hannah, i sat at the kitchen table and quickly called her back.

"Hey! Hows Mace?? My mom said you had to come get him last night"

"Yeah it was eventful, he had a fever and was being sick" i sighed "Chris stayed to help out with Mason... i had had so much to drink Han"

"You let him stay..."

"To help with Mason yeah"

"Hmmm of you say so" she laughed

"Shut up, what happened to you last night, huh?? You disappeared with Troy"

"I know, im sorry but did you see him?? I knew you were okay with Scott. So what about you and Derek?? He seemed very interested"

"He was nice" i nodded "he texted me last night but i haven't had a chance to reply yet"

"But your gonna right??"

"Yeah...."

"Y/N text him back!! That man was gorgeous!!"

"I will"

"Don't make me come round there"

"Oh god Han, your so pushy" i laughed.

"Only because i love you"

"I love you too, i gotta go though i'll speak to you later".

When i walked into the living room Mason was sat on the sofa watching cartoons and Chris was gathering his things.

"Your leaving already?"

"Yeah i've got a meeting at 11:00am..."

"Okay, well thanks for last night"

"Sure, anytime" he smiled "hey, i was wondering if next weekend i could take Mason to meet my mom? She's been asking when she can meet him...."

"Um.... yeah sure"

"You can come too if you want? I know my mom would be happy to see you" he said with a smile.

"Okay" i nodded "it'll just be us though right? I don't want Mason getting overwhelmed with too many new people"

"Yeah of course, maybe Scott too if he finds out you know what his like"

"Thats fine" i nodded with a smile knowing exactly what Scott was like.

"Thank you, i should go.... can i come by later though? Id like to check in on Mason"

"Sure, i'm sure he'd like that"

"I'll see you later then" he smiled before heading over to Mason "bye buddy i gotta go to work for a bit but i'll come see you later"

"Okay, bye dad".

Everything taglist: @jesseswartzwelder @dumblani @barnesandrogersworld @patzammit @rynabarnesrogers-reading @rainbowkisses31 @rororo06 @supernaturalwintersoldier

Ocean eyes: @supraveng @michelehansel @melissaglenn5 @denisemarieangelina @mrsjeffwittek @mery-be @marvelfansworld @cmalass @capstopavenger @fallenoutofrose @kelbabyblue @biebsmylife95 @loser-alert @traceyaudette @w3lissax @jennmurawski13 @ford66steal @saiyanprincessswanie @christocrave

#chris evans #chris x reader #chris evans x reader #reader insert #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #ocean eyes

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80s-roger · 4 years

Text

Not On My Watch - part 3

Pairing: dad!roger x mum!reader

note: I'm so excited for this specific part, bet you're too. As I said, pardon my poor English, i don't speak them like a native :( there will be part 4! Thanks for your feedback!

summary: you’re divorced with queen’s roger taylor due to constant cheating and irrational behaviour towards you. but u have one person in common: your daughter, Laura aka your favourite human on earth. Your marriage with roger had its ups and downs but laura was the happiness in it. Now that she’s 8 and starts to realise how your terms with roger are, you finally tell her that you’re seeing another man except her father and she took it really warmly. She seemed excited to meet the new man unlikely your ex husband who accidentally learns about it by Laura, the weekend you would leave her at his place: on weekends you had some cute getaways with R/N because court decided that Laura could stay or visit her dad on weekends and stay with him for five days each Christmas and easter vacations. On summers he has the right to be with her for two weeks.

warnings: penetrating sex [dom!roger, sub!reader], angst, violence, fluff

words: 2,600

dialogue prompts // masterlist //

part one // part two

taglist: @madeinheavxn @stacymaytaylor @namelesslosers

Roger laid on top of you, his hand resting next to your head and his eyes focused on yours. His eye colour got darker and his irises dilated. Your hands unbuttoned his white suit, the second your lips found his and by now his suit was lying on the floor.

His hands attempted taking off your tiny nighty, revealing your curves, your pretty thighs, your breasts and your underwear. His knee was gently rubbing your private area while staring at your soul. With fast moves, you removed his belt and finally unzipped his jeans in which his boner was trying to hide.

His lips found yours again, asking for a deeper entrance. His tongue fighting yours, feeling every inch of his oral cavity. His palm was placed on your cheek, moving to your neck, later to your breast, massaging it slowly and later it found your hip, squeezing it hard, showing how much he loves your curves.

There was no guilt in you, neither shame. You were giving your heart and your body to the man who broke your heart the most. But there's still love in it. You loved him to pieces, you dated another man trying to replace his presence but nothing was working. You wanted him and only him. It's a fact you slept with R/N but you didn't feel the same way you feel with Roger. He makes it all about you. He makes sure you feel comfortable, safe and able to come. Well, R/Y would only do it to satisfy himself. You do call Roger a selfish man but on sex, he's not.

"Should we go on?" He tried to make sure you wouldn't regret it. You didn't answer, you just nodded allowing him to continue. "We just have to be quiet. If Laura hears a noise we're fucked." He leaned in your face, to give you a gentle kiss on the lips.

"Literally." You giggled.

You could see his cock's silhouette around his tight underwear. You were so ready and excited to feel it again inside you. "Babe, don't move. I'll make it all about you." He gently whispered and by then he took it off, staying naked in front of you. You rushed taking yours off but he stopped you. "I'll do it." He stated and laid between your legs playing around after removing the fabric.

"Ah Roger you better start or I'll come before we even-" it was pretty obvious you were rushing for the good one.

"Shh... Spread your legs wider baby." He was at his earlier position now, waiting for you to follow his order. "Are you okay?" He asked as if it's your first time ever and that's cute. "Can I continue?"

"Yeah." You nodded again because your voice couldn't be heard due to your heart beating fast. There was a moment you laughed and he noticed that.

"What is it, love?" He questioned and smiled at your cute reaction.

"Nothing, I'm just nervous." You laughed again. How can you be nervous to him? He knows your body, you know his. You have had sex with him in the past.

"Calm down, I've got this." His hand rested on your palm and he prepared himself for the best. His penis was slowly inserting into your vagina, his moves were smooth and steady. It was all so romantic. You both never lost eye contact. Meanwhile, there were soft gentle kisses and quiet moans. "You're so tight for me, just what I want." He said between his moans and his hand moved a few of your hair behind your ear.

"Roger I love you." You whined between his thrusts which got harder and deeper, filling you up entirely.

"I love you too Y/N." He whispered to your ear before biting your lobe.

You were about to reach your climax. Your free hand attempted going down at your area but Roger lifted it up, now holding both of your hands. "But, Rog, I'm going to -" you tried to speak but he stopped you.

"Same. Let me do it." He answered and his hand travelled to your folds, rubbing your clit at the rhythm he was moving. His thrusts got sudden and deep. He was coming too. Your soft moans sounded like a whimper and he enjoyed listening to that sound. Opposed to you, his voice was deep and raspy and each final thrust was coming with a sudden moan of him. "Ah fuck. Oh, God." He got out of you and laid next to you trying to catch his breath.

You didn't say a word after coming with him. You needed some energy to gather to talk again. You turned around, facing your nightstand where the frame is displayed until your eyes closed. There wasn't talking after sex, not even a cigarette, but his arm wrapped around your waist and his head resting on your collarbone. "Goodnight..." you heard him whisper in your ear.

"Night..." you said back.

Next morning

It was 7:00. You were supposed to wake up and prepare Laura for school but a sleepy Roger moved his muscles next to you, placing his hand on your arm giving a soft kiss at your neck. "I'll do it. Go back to sleep." You groaned and closed your eyes again.

A couple of hours had passed until you fully opened your eyes. It took you a while to realise what really happened last night. You slept with your ex-husband and the worst is you liked it more than ever. R/N could never be as caring as him. He wouldn't make it all about you. It was just for satisfying his and your needs. There was no emotion in the meanwhile.

Without any other morning thoughts, you got out of bed, entirely naked. Fuck you thought. He left some marks at your neck probably trying to mark his territory. The problem is how are you going to keep it a secret. If R/N sees it, you'll be out of false excuses.

You got dressed up, wearing your jeans and a simple shirt. As you opened the door you walked through the bathroom to wash your teeth and your face.

It took you a while to get out of there. A strange feeling of shame and regret took over. You suddenly felt it shouldn't have happened. What about R/N? What's going to happen now? You didn't know if Roger was in the house or not until you heard footsteps coming closer to the bathroom.

"Y/N, are you still in there?" Roger's voice was gentle and smooth as he knocked on the door.

"Y-yes, I'm not ready." You lied. You were just sitting at the toilet's cap waiting for him to leave.

"Okay, I'll be in the living room." He answered knowing already that something was wrong.

You said nothing until he vanished from the hall so you could finally let your tears fall. A weird sensation of throwing up immediately found you at the toilet. You felt dizzy, nervous and scared. Unfortunately, your sounds could be heard outside so Roger rushed in the bathroom. "Y/N, what's happening?"

"Fucking get out!" You shouted, hiding your face.

"Are you alright? Can I help you?" He offered his help but you refused.

"I said get out!" You pushed him back at his attempt trying to approach you.

He didn't say a word and left you alone. He knew something was going wrong. He was scared you'd regret it and somehow you're trying to avoid him. Ten minutes later, you got yourself together and got out. "Roger?" You asked searching for his figure in the room. At your surprise, you found him nowhere. You felt relieved of his absence. You needed to be alone. You walked through your kitchen to drink some water. But Roger left you a note at the counter: "When you feel better, come at my place. We need to talk. I'll go pick Laura up from school. Rog"

You felt bad for not telling him a word. It's not that you didn't want it last night, but it was guilt that made you believe it shouldn't have happened. However, it should have happened. You just didn't know.

A little later, your bell was ringing. You thought it was Roger but the vibe was so negative, it wouldn't be him. "Who's this?" You questioned.

"Y/N open up!" It was R/N. He sounded angry. You were scared, you've been feeling terrible all day. You didn't know what to do. You panicked. You didn't know what to do. To not seem weird and guilty like you have been feeling all day you made the mistake to open the door.

"R/N what's wr-" you didn't finish your line and his huge palm found your cheek, turning it to burning red. "What the fuck are you doing? Are you serious?" You screamed, feeling your cheek burning. He closed the door behind him, approaching you dangerously. You stood on your feet again trying to defend yourself.

"You're a whore, this is what you are!" He yelled pointing at you as you were slowly moving backwards to the kitchen.

"What are you talking about! What has gotten into you!?" You shouted again but he slapped you at the other cheek, "FUCK OFF." You were probably heard to the next block as he threw you to the floor.

"You have no excuses, I know he stayed here last night!" This time he tried to kick you at your stomach but your legs prevented him from it. You were in pain you had to get the hell out of there.

"He stayed with Laura! I was alone, I swear!" You lied. You felt unhelpful at that moment, you thought he could kill you at any moment. You had to guess last night that he would spy you but he never showed signs of pathetic dependency.

"He stayed in your house! That's what matters! This is why you didn't let me stay here yesterday!" He picked you up from the floor to face you. Or to beat you. But it helped you to find any possible kitchen item to hit him.

"He's her father and he had every right to stay here!" You made no sense after everything you have told him. You used to customize Roger with every negative adjective but now, after doing what you did with him, here you are defending him. He would never raise a hand on you. Never. Period.

"You fucking fucked him! I don't believe shit from you! I'm about to give you a lesson!" He shouted again. This time he was about to slap you for good but your reflexes noticed to the back a washed pan. Without a second thought, you hit him with that on his head, leaving him barely unconscious on the floor. "Bitch... I'll come at you.." he tried to gain his senses but a possible concussion kept him right there.

You immediately grabbed your keys and left your apartment. You didn't give a damn if he finds any proof you had sex with Roger, it's obvious now he's so pathetic to find any possible clue. Even the sheets will be suspicious to him. He will even find the photo album you scrolled through at your parlour. "Fuck fuck fuck. What was I thinking?" You told yourself as you were driving to Roger's place.

It didn't take long, you arrived fastly at his place, wandering for a place to hide. His hug

"Roger!" You screamed as you rushed to his mansion's stairs, so he'd quickly open the door. "Roger, open up!!" You were scared that R/N would appear from any corner. The worst is that he knows where you're hiding now.

Roger opened the door in a hurry, staring at you shocked and frightened by your voice. "Y/N what happened!?" He asked concerned.

You didn't say a word, you just got into his arms, pushing him inside his house and closing the door behind you. You both sat on the floor, you were in his arms, crying and trembling from terror but you felt safe. His hands were rubbing your back with affection. "H- he hit me." You finally said after sobbing. His eyes tried to track any visible sign but the palm marks on your cheek said enough to him, driving him mad.

"He what?" He narrowed his eyebrows.

"He knows about us. He spied me last night. He saw you coming upstairs and you not leaving proved him right. I'm such an idiot." You cried out to his shoulder but he was too focused on you being physically healed.

"Did he do anything else?" He asked scared you could be sexually abused.

"No, I hit him and left like a thief... I don't know, he might still be at home!" You sputtered.

"You're at my home now. He won't do anything to you now. You'll sue him, that's what you're gonna do. Come with me now..." he gently picked you up and slowly walked upstairs. "I'll take care of you, like the old times." He smiled at you and your sobbing immediately vanished.

He was so protective of you, he was carefully taking your clothes off while the bath was filled with hot water, soap, and whatever you needed. Anything to calm you down. "You can get in now, babe." He kissed your shoulder and helped you place yourself in the bath. You closed your eyes, enjoying the warm water and his eyes on you.

"Do you want me to leave or stay?" He asked.

"Stay." You said with your eyes closed and your hand trying to find his. "Roger, I'm sorry for acting weird earlier. I was just feeling overwhelmed by the situation.." you apologised.

"Save it baby, I understand. I'm glad you're here now, even under those circumstances." He acknowledged the situation.

"This is such a butterfly effect, Rog." You jested.

"Our entire marriage was a butterfly effect. Where do I start?" He joked and kissed your hand.

"If I talked to you in the morning you would probably come back and R/N wouldn't appear and at the end, he wouldn't have beat me." Well, as you said it, you thought that everything does happen for a reason. Even that. Maybe a situation such as made you choose faster. Either him or Roger. It was always Roger.

"I'll beat his ass, remind me that the next time I see him." He exaggerated but you don't blame him.

"He doesn't worth your time." You refused and looked at him.

"Neither your tears." Oh god, that was deep. That got seriously your attention. "I mean you cried enough for me and I didn't deserve your tears too but you were supposed to be with a man who makes you happy." He explained and by now you knew how lucky you were to be with him again.

"Roger, did you memorize that?" You laughed in awe and stared at him like the first time.

"Of course not. I love you." He leaned in closer to you, probably asking for a kiss. You gave it to him, feeling calm after what happened earlier.

"I love you too." You answered. "But I think it's time to pick Laura up." You added and he checked the time.

"Oh you're right, I should get going. I'll be back!" He stood up, kissed you and left you on your own to enjoy the rest of your bath.

He's now trying the best to gain you back. He deserves it, doesn't he?

#roger taylor #Roger Meddows Taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x Y/N #roger taylor x female reader #queen band #freddie mercury #john deacon #brian may #smut-prompts #roger taylor smut #queen

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