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lovely-pedrito · 10 months

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Love In Real Time

ꕥWord count: 2.2k

ꕥWarnings: Afab!reader x Joel Miller, no outbreak!tlou, semi-modern era since smartphones exist, alcohol consumption, age gap (reader is mid 20s, Joel is mid 30s), sexual pining/allusions to smut but no actual smut, the smallest bit of angst, buncha fluff, no use of y/n, idk it’s a good time

ꕥA/N: I’ve had this done for several days but for whatever reason I didn’t feel confident enough to post it. I’ve changed a lot but if I keep sitting on it I’m afraid it’ll change entirely so here it goes lol. Also this is hella inspired by the song Love In Real Time by The Maine so if you wanna listen while reading please do ^^

You had no clue what the hell you were watching. It was some kids show, that was obvious, but in your slightly intoxicated and frankly exhausted state you were entirely perplexed. The last time you had checked the clock it was well past one in the morning and you were starting to think you might be glued to the couch watching various dancing shapes for all eternity.

Most of your weeknights were spent babysitting your neighbor’s daughter until her father came home, and tonight was no exception. Although, you were typically in your own home, in your own bed far earlier than tonight. You found out several hours ago; however, that tonight would be different.

You were sitting with Sarah around the dinner table, eating her favorite pizza and listening to her spill her elementary school drama when your phone rang. She gave you a confused look as her father’s name lit up your phone. You shrugged and answered the call.

“Hey Joel. What’s up?”

You heard a sigh on the end of the line. He cleared his throat before he began, “So I’m gonna be home a little late tonight.”

“Okay. How late?” You checked the time. The screen displayed 10pm.

Another sigh, “I don’t know. Tommy’s been drinking and long story short I gotta bail him out so it’s gonna be a while.”

“Tommy?” You were surprised at the mention of Joel’s younger brother, “But isn’t he in Kerrville?” You had known Joel for essentially all your life, and by extension, you’d known Tommy and Sarah for the same length of time, essentially becoming part of your own family. And so, of course, you were aware that Tommy was across Texas visiting some old friends for a few days.

“Yeah.” He was frustrated, understandably so. Joel had a habit of investing all of himself in his work, spending ungodly hours pouring himself into contracting and leaving little time for him to do much else besides spending time with his daughter. Most anything else? A distraction in his eyes.

He continued, “It’s two hours out so it’s gonna be a bit. Do you uh…do you have time to stay with Sarah tonight?”

You smiled and looked at the young girl across from you, “Of course. We’ll have a good time.”

Joel let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Bless you, sweetheart. I’ll keep you updated okay?”

The pet name didn’t go unnoticed by you, springing butterflies in your stomach. You’d had feelings for Joel for a while, but it’s not like you could actually do anything about it. He was roughly ten years your senior, not to mention you couldn’t even guarantee he felt the same--so there was no chance you were going to make that move first. There were too many variables. You were comfortable with what you had, even though you secretly wished for more.

“Sounds good. Be safe, okay?”

He let out a noise akin to agreement and hung up. A pair of big brown eyes blinked up at you expectantly.

“Your dad’s gonna be home a little late. What d’ya say about watching that new movie you’ve been dying to see?”

She let out a squeal of excitement and immediately dragged you to the living room, pizza now long forgotten. As you two sat down on the couch, she snuggled into you. You never gave much thought to having children, but damn did you love Sarah like she was your own. She was such a sweet girl it would be nearly impossible to not love her. You spent the next hour zoned out as some action movie played that you were only vaguely familiar with, running your hands through Sarah’s hair as her eyes were glued to the screen.

Sarah fell asleep an hour into the movie. She hardly ever stayed up late and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t surprised. Being careful not to wake her, you lifted her up and carried her to bed. You placed a quick kiss to her forehead before returning to the couch. You checked your phone absentmindedly.

Nothing from Joel.

With nothing else to do you walked to the fridge, pulling out the liquor that Joel graciously let you store at his house and sat in front of the TV mindlessly scrolling through channels and drinking far more alcohol than you had intended. And so, hours passed with you feeling a pleasant buzz, somehow landing on and watching a children’s television show.

You weren’t aware of the unanswered texts on your phone, nor were you aware of the sleep-deprived man that entered his home several feet away from you. Joel walked into the living room and immediately froze as he looked at the TV, his brows furrowing as he glanced from you to the screen. “What the hell are you watching?”

“I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely certain.” Your words were slightly slurred which you were only vaguely aware of, but he noticed and couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “But I’m kinda liking it. It’s calming.”

Joel emitted a hum, sitting down on the couch next to you. “Sarah in bed?”

“Yeah. She’s been asleep for a few hours.”

The man let out a grunt and you took a moment to turn to him, shamelessly looking him over. Joel was always attractive, but recently it seemed like he’d been putting more effort into his appearance. You couldn’t quite place what, but you could tell he was doing something different. Maybe it was his slightly more form-fitting clothing or the way that he started styling his hair. A part of you wondered if he was trying to impress anyone. You squashed the jealously forming in your chest before you could dwell on it long. It wasn’t like your place anyway. You had no right to be jealous, but damn you just couldn’t help it.

A loud ding from your phone rang throughout the room. You saw the old messages from Joel before you saw the new ones, briefly apologizing to him before groaning at who the more recent messages were from. You tossed your phone down, not bothering to look at them any further.

“Everything okay?”

You ran a hand over your face, “Yeah, just some guy I’ve been talking to recently.”

Joel went quiet. “Oh. Didn’t realize you were seein’ anybody.”

“Well we aren’t really seeing each other, just talking. I think I’m kinda over it though.”

“Oh yeah?” Joel chucked, relief internally washing over him, “How’s that?”

“I mean, he’s cute or whatever but something about him just seems kinda weird. Like, the first time we talked he told me I gave him virgin vibes. That’s weird, right?”

Joel tried to hide a smile but admittedly was losing the battle, “Yeah that’s a little weird.” He shook his head, “Can’t imagine saying that to a woman. Must be a younger man thing.”

You shrugged, a giggle leaving you, “Could be.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you. Amidst your buzz, you had no clue about the thousand different thoughts that were wracking Joel’s brain.

“Are you a virgin?” He didn’t even realize the words were coming out of his mouth until he said them, and he prayed to whatever being that might be listening that he didn’t overstep any boundaries.

Your brows furrow, a slight smile playing on your lips, “Why? Do I actually give off virgin vibes?” Before he could respond you started to giggle at how ridiculous it sounded. “Virgin Vibes is for sure like the name of some shitty scented candle.”

He borderline wheezed, equally amused and thankful he didn’t make things awkward between the two of you. Maybe he had the alcohol to thank for that.

“But no, I’m not, just so you know.” A smile graced your lips, “Interesting to know that’s how people perceive me.”

Joel awkwardly shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling hot. “Well I don’t know if I’d say that. People--I mean…y’never know.”

You chuckled, his awkward charm always somehow making your feelings for him intensify.

“Oh, shit I totally forgot to ask; how’s Tommy?”

He raised his eyebrows and shifted again. “He’s fine now. Went out with his friends and all got wasted. Got into some fight but he’s home now.” Joel shook his head, his jaw tense, “Third time this shit has happened now. Told him this was the last time I’m bailin’ him out, but I don’t think he believes me.”

You shifted your body to face him, your knees making contact with his in the process. “The breakup been that bad?”

Joel’s eyes fell to the floor, “Yeah. It has been. Know you never met her, but Tommy was crazy about her. Never saw him like that with anyone before.”

You really wished you had something more profound or comforting to say, but before your brain could veto the words they tumbled out of your mouth, “Damn. Breakups are rough, huh?”

He laughed, not expecting such a response from you either. His warm eyes found yours and made your stomach flutter. It was a beautiful sound and you were really hoping that you weren’t giving him the heart eyes you felt like you were giving him.

You were.

It had maybe been a year or so since Joel started noticed subtle changes in your behavior towards him. Nothing significant, but he became hyper aware of every lingering touch and longing look you sent his way. He wasn’t even fully sure you were aware you were doing it. Joel may not have been on the dating scene for a while, but he could read a woman. Especially you.

You didn’t know that he had been fighting with himself the entire time. You were gorgeous, witty, good with Sarah. In any other situation he would’ve made a move years ago. But god—did he not want to made things awkward. The more time that had passed, though, and now, with how beautiful you looked with a goofy smile on your face, his resolve began to break down.

Fuck it, he thought.

The man leaned closer, moving a strand of hair out of your face. He watched your breath hitch and smiled softly. Your eyes moved to his lips, biting your own as you shamelessly imagined how soft they would feel.

A sly smirk ghosted his lips, his voice gruff, “Hey.”

Your own voice was barely above a whisper, eyes snapping back up to his, “Hey.”

“You’re beautiful, sweetheart.” He watched your eyes soften and face blush, his confidence growing with your involuntary responses.

You opened and closed your mouth, trying to find anything to say but simply overwhelmed by Joel being so close to you. Your brain was short circuiting and you felt pretty confident he could tell. He chuckled, moving his hand to cup your face and press his lips against yours. Your eyes shut immediately, leaning into the kiss and placing your hands against his clothed chest, grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer.

The noise of satisfaction that Joel made was muffled by your lips. And he fucking loved it. In his mind, he was punching the air. All those years he had spent dreaming about you and what your lips could’ve felt like didn’t even come close to just how soft and warm they were. It made his brain immediately wonder how soft and warm the rest of you would be. He groaned into the kiss, trying to reel his thoughts back in but failing. He was only a man, after all.

Joel’s hand that wasn’t on your face tangled through your hair, dragging you closer to him still. He halfway didn’t believe it was happening, afraid that he would wake up any minute. But here you were, whimpering into his lips and letting him slip his tongue in your mouth. Letting him get to know you in all the ways he hadn’t had the privilege of yet.

His hands dropped to your thighs, lifting them and dragging you into his lap, giving you a quick kiss. He brushed his nose against yours, his touch trying to ground you. It flattered him; really, how much he could see he was affecting you, but he wanted you to feel safe and taken care of and, unfortunately, you did have alcohol in your system. He knew it wasn’t enough to inebriate you, nor nearly enough for you to make decisions you wouldn’t make sober, but he wanted you to remember all of him. To choose him.

“How ‘bout I take you home pretty girl?”

You whined, not wanting to move an inch away from Joel. You knew what he was getting at though, and although most of you was now sexually frustrated, a small part of you did thank him for wanting to wait. He took your hand and helped you gather your things before walking you to your house, lingering outside the doorway like shy teenagers experiencing young love for the first time.

The man held your hands, trying to find the right words to say as you yawned comically loud. He smiled and dismissed his thoughts. You smiled back at him when he gave you a kiss on the cheek and ushered your tired form inside. You both hated to say goodbye, but you’d be seeing each other the next day and were in desperate need of rest.

Joel had waited years for you. Now that he knew you shared his feelings? He could wait a little longer. And honestly? So could you.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel the last of us #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou joel #pedro pascal

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thepowerofhyperfixation · 2 years

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I Gave You All (Pt. 1)

Characters: Peter Parker x You

Summary: You weren’t supposed to remember him. And you didn’t. For three years. But you always remembered… something. Little things, every now and again. Now, you have a new neighbor, that honestly..? Doesn’t seem all that new to you.

(Post NWH, could technically be read for any Peters if your head-canon is that 2 & 3 were wiped from their universes memory too, but it is being written for adult Tom Holland Peter Parker)

Word Count: 956

Warnings: Like, one cuss word and mentions of alcohol/drunkenness

Author Note: Hi everyone! I’m a long-time reader, but haven’t ever posted my own content. This hasn’t been read by anyone other than myself, so the only editing that’s been done has been by Grammarly. Sorry for any mistakes, and sorry if it’s trash. Just thought it would be fun to give writing another shot after 10 years out of the fandom writing sphere. Hope you enjoy it, understand if you don’t! :) -Meg

You think you met him freshman year. In all honesty, you don’t think the two of you paid much attention to one another. As far as you knew? No one paid much attention to him… He disappeared halfway through the school year.

No, he didn’t.

Yes. He disappeared. You don’t even remember his name. Just… a blur. A dark silhouette in a flurry of otherwise clear memories. Some days, the silhouette became more focused, and along with it came a tightening in your chest. A brick in your stomach, a heat spreading across your cheeks. As soon as it came, it disappeared again. Like him. The nameless, faceless figure in the back of your head that no one else seemed to think ever even existed.

He existed.

It had been years since you had seen him in freshman biology. You were well out of high school now, living your life as a young adult. You had no reason to even think of him, yet here you were. Alone on your couch, vision swirling, the 24-hour news cycle spinning violently across your television. Spider-Man and Daredevil saved a bus full of middle schoolers on the George Washington Bridge this afternoon, from what you’re hoping isn’t actually an 8-foot-tall lizard.

Spider-Man.

The brick in your stomach grows as you stare at the rippling image of the masked vigilante. You blame it on the empty bottle of New Amsterdam sitting on the table in front of you, but your mind continues to wander to the student that you remember forgetting. Tonight, he isn’t just a silhouette. You see curly brown hair. This time though, a new image flashes across your eyelids. Chocolate brown eyes, smile lines obvious on an otherwise smooth face. You’ve never remembered that before. Three knocks. One, two, three, in quick succession.

This breaks you from your reverie. You slowly stand, making sure your drunken state won’t be too obvious to whoever decided to knock on your door at the ungodly hour of…

7:36pm

Shit.

You shuffle to the door and struggle with the locks before pulling it open, covertly using it as a crutch to keep yourself upright. You look up at the mystery knocker, and all at once, every ounce of oxygen in your body abandons you. Curly brown hair. Chocolate brown eyes. Smile lines on an otherwise smooth face…. It’s just a coincidence. Right? “Hey, so sorry to bother you, but I’m moving in next door and managed to-” The stranger stops for only a moment when he lays eyes on you, but recovers quickly. Too quickly for you to notice his own shock. “-to dump a gallon of water on my kitchen floor before buying a mop… Any chance I could borrow yours?” You stare at the man, who is donned in an oversized “I Survived My Trip to NYC” Tee and sweatpants. You don’t realize that you’re silent for longer than any normal neighbor would be before shaking out of your own state. “Oh- uh- right. Yeah, ‘fcourse. Come on in…” You step out of his way and immediately turn toward your own kitchen, trying with every ounce of your being to not drunkenly stumble and embarrass yourself in front of your handsome (familiar?) new neighbor.

“I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.” He states as you awkwardly search the crack between your fridge and wall for your mop. Your hand finds the cool metal and pulls it from the abyss, and you glance over your shoulder at him.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Peter Parker.” You then bury yourself under the sink, wrestling a bucket and a bottle of cleaner from under the poorly placed pipes.

“So... how’d you manage to dump a gallon of water on your floor?” Your voice is muffled by the cabinetry.

“Oh, you know… Had a bit of an incident with a fallen bar of soap. Classic cartoon slip and fall. Only I was lucky, and was carrying groceries to the fridge when it happened.” Your snort rings out through the small kitchen and you turn bright pink as you stand.

“Sounds like an unfortunate series of events.”

“I prefer to call it a comedy of errors.”

“Is it a comedy, or a tragedy? That is, considering no one else was there to see it.” You give him a small, sly smile as you pass him the mop and bucket. He gives you a cheeky grin in return, and you’re nearly knocked off your feet.

Identical.

You’ve seen that grin before. More times than you can count. But you don’t know where. Or when. Or why… It seems as though the smile belonged to a lover from a different lifetime. A smile that transcended universes and demons and death, only to find your eyes once more. You feel the color drain from your face, but your brain can’t force your eyes to look away. Peter notices. The grin falters, and so does your absent stare.

“I should, uh… I should get that water taken care of. Make sure it doesn’t cause any damage. I don’t want to lose my deposit on day one.” He gives a weak chuckle, but you can feel how hollow it is. You nod in agreement, and walk him to the front door, growing dizzy from the mere two-minute interaction. “I’ll get your mop back to you soon.” You nod, absolutely incapable of caring less about a mop.

“No rush. Hope to see you around, Peter Parker.” Your voice is hoarse and more confused than it ever should have been. “You too, Y/N Y/L/N.” And Peter Parker has disappeared into the next apartment before you can even process that you never told him your last name.

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #tom holland #andrew garfield #tobey maguire #tom!spiderman #tom!peter parker #tom!peter x reader #marvel #peter parker series #wip #fanfic

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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3 hearts broken

I did an angst thing again oops also not proof read double oops

summary: an argument between you and tom, except it takes him hurting someone else for you to loose it

warnings: alot of swearing (im British sorry not sorry) idk anything else except commitment issues?

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It was an argument you and your boyfriend regularly had. In fact, it was the only argument the two of you ever had. And especially recently, one that Tom seemed to want to have every day. It didn’t matter where you were on set; in the rental home; out for dinner. Or like now… in the airport lounge.

You were sitting across from each other in a semi-private booth. Tom in his joggers and a burgundy hoodie, you in your black leggings and an oversized tee that actually belonged to your boyfriend. The rest of the place was almost deserted, given the late-night time of the flight. It was probably why Tom felt so comfortable bringing up this touchy subject in a public place.

You were both way past overtired too, owing to the end of a gruelling shoot. All you wanted was to get back to London and get into your own bed. Without an unnecessary fight with Tom.

Unfortunately for you, when you had naively said those exact words, Tom’s overtired brain skipped straight to it being a personal attack.

“I don’t see why you can’t commit to moving in Y/n! We practically live together for filming anyway so-“

“I love you Tom, more than I could ever express. I just… I can’t do this yet. I need… more-“

“More time, I know.” He grumbled, already standing and slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder - as the flight’s gate was announced by the intercom. Had he not already turned his back and started heading along the hallway, you would’ve tried to protest and calm him down. But thanks to his urgency to get away from you… all you could do was sigh. Slumping back against the seat before hauling yourself up and grabbing the bags - that he had helped you with on the way in.

No doubt this would be a long flight.

That it was. Tom had been maturely giving you the silent treatment at the gate, as you were boarding, and finding you seats. You were both in first class, so you had adjacent little pods with a little partition in the middle. It’s standard position was to be lowered however, before you’d even been able to settle into your window seat, Tom had already switched to button to have it slowly slide up.

Real fucking mature.

Thinking he just needed some time to cool off, you rolled your eyes but let him be. Even though you were such a frequent flier, you were terrible at getting any sleep on them. Tom knew this, knew how much you disliked the idea of being hurtling through the air in a tin can. Usually, he’d be holding your hand, entertaining you by watching a movie and providing a shit commentary over the top. Sometimes, when you were both as exhausted as right now, he’d even slide into your chair, having you perch on top of him so you could fall asleep listening to his heartbeat in his chest. Now though? He refused to acknowledge your existence.

Tom never had such issues flying, he was like a switch that could just choose to fall asleep at any and every point. Which is perhaps why it shocked you to see him still wide awake, staring angrily at the corner of his pod when you went to the loo, hours later. Thinking it was time for a peace offering, on the return to your seat you made eye contact and began to smile softly at him. However, that plan lasted for all of two seconds, since as soon as he realised you had seen him staring, Tom instantly shut his eyes - playing asleep.

He really was being particularly stubborn tonight.

By the time the plane landed, he’d still refused to say anything - and it was starting to really piss you off too. You’d tried to be mature, tried to offer the metaphorical olive branch and he had quite literally thrown it back in your face. So by the time you were being escorted off the plane (first because you were first class), you hung back from your boyfriend, wanting to have your own space.

Which was exactly why you didn’t want to give up your own apartment yet!

The two of you walked across the bridge into the terminal with a good 8 metres between each other. Tom didn’t bother to turn round and check on you, taking purposeful steps as though he wanted to get away.

Thankfully the terminal was quiet, probably due to the ungodly hour in the morning you’d landed at. The halls echoed only with your and Toms footsteps, the echo exaggerating just how far away you felt from him at this point. Still, Tom hadn’t acknowledged your existence, or anyone elses for that matter - the pair of you almost got to baggage reclaim before seeing any other humans.

And that is where it all went wrong.

It was typical, an otherwise empty airport except for you, Tom and a family with 2 girls. 2 teenage girls. 2 teen girls whose eyes widened to almost comical levels at the sight of your boyfriend. You’d seen them from a mile away, but from Tom’s reaction to them - he clearly hadn’t.

In fact, you were such a distance away you couldn’t exactly hear the exchange. But what you saw, had your heart in your mouth.

The girls ran over from the seats their whole family were sitting in, squealing at Tom with that overcited little jump you’d seen so often. Instead of Tom turning to them and entertaining them with small talk and a photo or two - he did the opposite. If anything, he quickened his cadence, looked as though he waved the girls off without muttering two words.

And maybe there was a reason. Maybe they had shouted something really rude at him - but fuck, the chances were slim. One looked ten, and one looked a couple of years older - as you approached, you saw the dejected and shocked faces melt into ones of intense disappointment. The eldest turned and hugged the younger, whose chest appeared to be shaking in a way that meant only one thing. Tom had made her cry.

Just as both the mother and father stood up to rush to the girls, you matched their hurried steps - getting their first.

“Hi, excuse me… “

You felt really awkward but knew you had to do something for these poor girls. And quite possibly for Toms career too. “Are you guys okay?” It took a second or two, but the girls clearly both recognised you too (thank god), throwing nervous looks at each other.

“Are yo-you Y/n?” The younger one asked, bright eyes glazed in tears which broke your heart to see.

“Yeh-yeh I am, what are your names?” You knelt, smiling warmly at the girls, who seemed to chirp up a bit.

“I’m Tima” The eldest spoke first before nudging the other to speak. You waited patiently till the little girl had wiped her eyes before replying.

“I’m Azara.”

“Wow, you’ve both got very beautiful names. Where are you both headin-“

“Can I ask you a question!?” Litte Azara burst out, interrupting you, but in the cutest and sweetest way. You just laughed and said of course, as she twiddled with her thumbs nervously.

“How big is the biggest T-rex?” Her little eyes were so curious and you had to suppress a giggle, seeing how serious it was.

Of course, the T-Rexs in Jurassic world (one of your movies) were all CGI. But Azara didn’t have to know that.

“Oh, they are bigger thanthan the tallest trees you’ve ever seen!”

You carried on your little chat with the girls for five or so minutes, laughing with them and exchanging soft nods with their parents too - who seemed appreciative of your time. Eventually, though, it was the dad who pulled time on the exchange, signalling that the girls had taken up enough of your time. As you stood up, Tima spoke up - after being relatively withdrawn from the conversation.

“You’re friends with Tom Holland right?” You nodded, subconsciously biting your lip to see what she would say. “Can you tell him sorry for bothering him, it’s just Azara was excited, we only wanted to say hi.”

Yeh, there was absolutely no way these incredibly sweet girls did anything to Tom. He was just being a knob.

“Hey, it’s not your fault at all. We’ve just had a really, really long flight, and he’s in a bit of a mood at me - I’m so sorry that he let it out on you.”

That explanation seemed to satisfy Tima with a nod, and with some final hugs you bid the girls both farewell. By this point, the rest of your plane had caught up along the corridors, so it was busier, and you had to fight against the small crowd to get through the airport as quickly as possible. Because you were seething with rage for Tom and could not wait to tell him exactly what those poor girls thought of him.

Unsurprisingly Tom had chosen not to wait for you in the airport at all, instead already hiding inside the blacked-out windows of the 4x4 waiting at the collection point. You marched up to that car angry to the point you thought the whole airport would notice. Yanking the door so hard you were surprised you did no damage to it, you threw your bags in - momentarily ignoring the sight of Tom huddled into a corner, staring at his phone with AirPods in.

But once you slammed the door shut and the driver started the car, you let yourself go.

“Who the fuck do you think you are!”

“Y/n can we just leave it for- “

“You made 2 girls cry!!! You were so self-absorbed in your temper tantrum that you made 2 teenage girls cry. You proud of yourself?”

This time he did look at you, eyes wide and confused - clearly not understanding. So you continued - laying it out for him.

“Those two girls you waved off because you were so busy running away from me? Well the youngest one cried and then the eldest didn’t speak and when she did it was only to ask me to apologise to you. You’re a fucking dickhead!”

“I didn’t mean-“

“Oh god, that makes it all better. You didn’t mean to make them cry on purpose, so it’s fine! God if you’d only said I’d-“

“Fuck off Y/n you’re not being fair, cut the sarcasm.”

“I’m not being fair?!? Because I’m the bad person in this situation, right? I just saved you from a very, very bad headline tomorrow morning because you were too busy giving me the silent treatment.”

“Yeah, well, your the one who doesn’t seem to give a damn about me!”

You scoffed hard at his words, air trapped in your throat that now felt completely stuck. How could he say that? How could he even think that?

As much as you hated showing it, you felt your eyes well up with tears. Because who the fuck did he think he was.

“Now that, that is so unfair. You know exactly my history and why I don’t want to move in yet AND you know just how much I fucking love you. So don’t you dare.”

“You're not convincing anyone.” He spoke quieter, but the venom behind his tone was still there. As the first tear escaped over your bottom lashes, you knocked on the partition to the driver and asked him, in no uncertain terms, to pull over.

“Congrats Tom. That’s three women you’ve broken the hearts of in 20 minutes. Must be some sort of a record.”

And with that you slammed the door shut, abandoned on the side of the road somewhere within Heathrow.

?a part 2? idk where id go from here aha

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala

#tom x reader #tom holland fic #tomholland #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #famous!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x actress!reader

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bubupop · 2 years

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MC can’t play the flute): (obey me)

It is me again posting at ungodly hours mua ha ha. As always i’m sorry for any grammatical mistake i am only human, ok?? Also forgive me for i am a lover of soft Lucifer w MC, HE IS SOFT WITH THEM I JUST KNOW IT, OK??? Only God can judge me u_u

Whose idea was to give MC a flute and tell them they could play???

1st.

➙ Poor man can’t take a break. If it isn’t Mammon it’s Satan and Belphie, if it isn't them it’s Diavolo or Mephisto. If it’s not one of the mentioned above it’s you. It had to be you. He has already come to terms and has surrendered to his destiny surrounded by morons, some more lovely than others but morons at the end of the day. You’re part of the black list. ➙ Anyways, he couldn’t care less about who bought you what. He only mildly cares because he’s in charge of the house finances (or so he tells himself that). One day, a bill arrived at his desk. It was a small purchase, harmless even.

➙ A flute. A human instrument. Well this could be good for a cultural exchange, no? Poor thing had no idea you couldn’t play at all but he discovered it soon enough. He was busy, as always. But then the faintest sound made his way to his office. It was almost a shy, far away sound but soon enough it grew louder. What was it? Was it Beel’s stomach rumbling again? No, his stomach couldn’t have made such a flakey sound. Then it went to a piercing high pitched hellish sound. Now that is torture if he ever knew one. ➙ He can’t concentrate now. The sound comes and goes but it bothers him so, so much. He can’t bear it so he stands up and looks for the culprit. Spoiler alert. It 's you, MC. Playing the flute, now that he hears it closely it’s even worse. ➙ He comes and before he can say anything you hit him with the deer eyes. You’re gushing about the gift and how you want to learn how to play it. You’re beaming.The man doesn’t have the heart to tell Solomon his cooking sucks, why would he have the heart to tell you the sounds you call music are killing his sanity? He can’t. It’s a parent trying to take away their child's favorite toy, an annoying loud toy that was a gift from an uncle. ➙ He can’t, so he gives up the weakest thumbs up and leaves. He might as well invest in a pair of noise canceling ear plugs. Ah, yes. Peace and quiet. ➙ Just because you weren’t punished means that someone in the house won’t be. Now there’s a manhunt for the one who bought you the flute. Beware, whoever you are, you’ll feel all of Lucifer’s wrath.

2nd.

➙ “WHO THE HELL IS MAKING THAT AWFUL SOU– Oh, hey, it’s you MC.” He, like the gorgeous dumbass he is, was walking towards the sound. You see, the flute kind of sounds like one of his little devilish crows. ➙ But this one sounded hurt. He was really worried, you see. Judging by the sound the poor thing cried in a tune of pain! Well, guess what, it’s a flute Mams! ➙ Mister man can’t tell Solomon his cooking sucks, do you think he is going to tell YOU something? No, he is going to endure it yes or yes. He is your fist man after all! He should be able to endure something small like this, no? ➙ You may notice Mammon is missing whenever it’s time to practice): when you ask him about it he gets nervous and dances around the topic. Mc he doesn’t have that great of a musical ear you know? ➙ Anyways he ends up coming to your practices a lot more. ➙ Also gets questioned by everyone. For some reason a lot of his siblings think HE is the one who bought you the flute but Mammon didn’t even know what a flute sounded like, dawg. He doesn’t go scold free because, obviously, Lucifer doesn’t believe him for some reason. ➙ He likes to spoil you, he really does, it’s his love language. But he would know if he bought you the flute, no? That’s when everyone realizes he isn’t the perpetrator, he isn’t nervous at all or trying to hide it. ➙ The manhunt continues.

4th.

➙ He may have popped a vein. ➙ Picture this, he was reading all calmly. About to dive into the climax of the book, a mystery book. He was so sure he had solved the mystery. He just knew it. He was reading the paragraph that was to confirm or deny his hypothesis. Then it hit him. Just in the middle of it. ➙ Needless to say it ruined the experience for him a little bit. Don’t get him wrong, he is used to his brother's nuisance and noises but that thing was for somewhere deeper in hell. Partially mad, partially curious, he went on to investigate. He, just like the cats he likes so much, is very curious. ➙ It’s you. He deadpans. ➙ Well, it’s not like he was particularly mad about it. He paces a little in the hallway before approaching you. Just letting the steam blow off of him. Curiosity overpowering him. Was this a new form of torture? Have you discovered you have sadistic tendencies? Could you perhaps lend him the instrument to torture someone? ➙ Then the expression in your face changes. Ah, MC! He was joking, sorry! ➙ After talking it out he does confess you kind of suck, sorry… Ah, you are aware? Well aren’t you a little cheeky thing. He’ll keep the secret but you’ve got to practice more around Lucifer, you know? ➙ In the end he researches some books to give you in music theory and along those lines. He even learns a little himself to teach you. ➙ He is now part of your secret club that know you are kind of torturing his brothers in purpose (no complains, they deserve it). ➙ Also doesn’t involve himself in the manhunt, he doesn’t care which makes him a suspect and after getting into a fight he is a free man.

5th.

➙ He walks into the house, beaming. Shopping bags in toe and DDD in his hand. Gossip’s hot and interesting. He then does a full stop and looks around. ➙ Wow, somebody is being naughty in this house and nobody is doing anything about it? Well, they do sound like they’re in pain so maybe it’s one of his brothers being annoying? He carries on his day, deciding to ignore it. ➙ It’s been going for a while… Is this torture? All this frowning is going to give him wrinkles! But why doesn’t anybody else react? Is he going crazy? Is this gaslighting? Well, it’s working and the beautiful man is going insane! He can’t ignore it any more! ➙ On his way to complain to either Satan or Lucifer whoever is available at the moment. Find Lucifer first. Then the eldest brother just looks at him, Lucifer are you even sleeping? Those eyebags! Your face, noo! That’s it, mysterious sound, you can’t just come in and destroy his attractive but not attractive as his brother's faces! That’s going too far! Before Lucifer can even warn him who is making the sound he runs off, not before grumbling about some skincare he has to follow now and the promise he’ll get him the products. ➙ Debates if he should call Solomon. Maybe it’s a ghost and an exorcism needs to be done. ➙ Then something sparkles in him. Is his dear MC alright? Oh no, the poor thing must be terrified! Worry not Asmo’s in his way! ➙ It’s you. He almost… no, he cries. Cries and whines. MC, how could you?! Do you know his face could break out from the stress? Of course you didn’t! ➙ Can’t really get mad at you. It’s your little toy): and you're happy. (if you were down beforehand his heart wouldn’t allow him to actually complain complain). ➙ Well, you should repay him with cuddles and love and attention! It’s only fair, you know? If he hears the flute he will try to give you love, compliments, gossip, anything to distract you until you forget about practicing. The House of Lamentation is very grateful for his contribution.

6th.

➙ He was eating in the kitchen when the noise began. At first he thought it was an insect buzzing near his ear or something along those lines, you know. Maybe the sound will go away on his own. He's got more important things going on like gulping down his food. ➙ Then he focuses in the sound. Doesn’t it sound dangerously close to your room? So with half a burger still in his mouth he goes to assess the situation, a little nervous. ➙ Ah, the sound it’s you MC! He thought it was a new kind of hell insect that was dangerous, phew. He’s glad it’s only that weird whistle coming out of that thing you’re holding. ➙ Mammon, who was with you, stares at Beel, horrified. Then you laugh at that. Well, yeah you kind of really sound bad but that’s the point of learning, no? ➙ Le gasp from Mammon. ➙ Beel just sits down and stares at you. Well, yeah, the sound isn’t pleasing but it isn’t the worst he’s heard. You just need practice and he can just accompany you, something he enjoys doing. Cue Mammon leaving you, for this instance only and strictly only when you’re practicing. ➙ You reveal the secret and that Satan has been teaching you. You change the tune and while it isn’t perfect it’s an improvement. Beel is now part of the secret club of torturing his brothers. Ngl, he does enjoy it and feels special.

7th.

➙ Who’s screeching? Is this Asmo again? Or is it Levi? *They both are famous in the house for their screeches and whines after all). ➙ He is pissed, he was sound asleep but he eventually pick up on the sound. A constant and irritable whine that sounds like it’s right in his ear. He just lays in bed, doing nothing. Debating if he should go to the source or wait for someone to do something about it. ➙ Spoiler, no one does anything. Then he hears Mammon half-heartedly complimenting you. ➙ Going to the source it is then. Walking to where you are proves a difficult task as he’s exhausted but he keeps going out of pure spite. He gets to your hideout and just s t a r e s. ➙ You see him, he sees you. He stares at you and you stare back. Then you apologize, did you wake him up? Yes, indeed, and now he’s all cranky, MC. Mammon tries to give a half assed apology and tries to hush him out of the room. Belphie is not having it and straight up ignores him. ➙ Lays his head right in your lap. Punishment is all he says. You can choose here, be a meanie and keep playing with the flute. Or two, just give in and take a break. Choosing the former can make grumpy Belphie but he will refuse to leave your lap, out of spite, again. The latter is the pacifist route and the one where you get to nap, yeah. ➙ Now he hides the flute from time to time to get a moment of quiet and peace.

3rd.

➙ It was him. He’s the guilty one. Somebody come and get this guilty man. ➙ But you can’t really blame him! You were watching a human world anime together and you were beaming when the instrument was on the screen! He was being nice, you know. ➙ It was a mistake, oopsie? He is very supportive, tho. He even buys himself a flute too and practices in the corner of his room to surprise you. You often practice together, too. His room is perfect for that as it’s soundproof! ➙ He wasn’t expecting for shit to hit the fan): MC why. ➙ He was hanged from the ceiling with Mammon, why was Mammon there? He doesn’t know. What he does know it’s that he won’t get you any other instrument. He also found out you were cheating on him with Satan and Beel! You meanie! I mean, he was practicing behind your back too but he was trying to impress you!): ➙ Will do again though.

As for you. Why did you do it? Answer is why the hell not?! It was about time you got them back>:( It’s their fault for thinking you were harmless, you were just waiting in the shadows for an opportunity to arise to torture them back.

BONUS: Diavolo caught wind of this situation and decided to give the flute a try too! Now you too practice together! Barbatos isn’t very happy but oh well. Luke also joins you two from time to time and Simeon only watches. This may or may not end up as material for his writing.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me x reader #obey me mammon #obey me levi hc #obey me belphie #obey me beel

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egcdeath · 3 years

Text

ways to say i love you without saying “i love you”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: you and steve explore love languages

word count: 5.1k

warnings: fluff, a little angst because of miscommunications, reader & steve being idiots, good intentions but terrible delivery, mentions of other characters

author’s note: this fic has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for so long. this fic is like, ancient. this fic was almost destroyed because it was briefly in the library of alexandria. when i reopened the document with this fic, there were mold spores growing on it. (p.s. steve’s love langauge is acts of service, and the reader’s is quality time)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Prologue

Steve was a multitasker. You knew this well. Perhaps too well.

That never seemed to bother you before, but if the man who was supposed to be taking a serene nature walk with you checked his goddamn flip phone one more time, you were completely sure that you’d lose it.

You paused your story about your obnoxious coworkers for a moment, stopping in the middle of the gravelly trail you two were making your way down.

“Steve, seriously, are you even listening?” you griped, ushering him towards the side of the pavement as a man on a bike flew by.

He guffawed a bit at this, “of course I am. You just said something about…” he paused, and you gestured with your hands for him to continue. “Okay, sorry,” the blush on his face was becoming more and more apparent.

You involuntarily scoffed, rolling your eyes as you did so, “I’m glad to know that whatever you’re waiting for on there,” you gestured to his pocket, “is more important than spending quality time with your girlfriend, who, must I remind you, took time off to be here with you.”

“Nothing is more important to me than you, I’m just on call. I’m probably going to get called to go on a mission any moment now.”

“Steve!” you huffed, “you literally just got back, like, two hours ago. Can’t someone else go? Tony? Vision? Anyone?”

“I might’ve volunteered myself-“

“You’re unbelievable, Steve. Are you getting tired of me or something? You’ve been avoiding me like the plague ever since I moved in with you. If I upset you, or you’re gonna propose to me or something, can you just tell me?”

“I promise you it’s not personal at all,” he reached for your hand and gently held it. “Everything’s just been crazy. I mean, these Hydra bases have been popping up left and right. Just give me a little grace, okay? I don’t get upset with you when SHIELD starts making you work those ungodly hours.”

You opened your mouth to debate him, but surely enough, the canny and familiar ringtone of Steve’s work phone interrupted you before you could even begin.

“Okay… Yeah. I’ll be there in thirty.”

You frowned at Steve as he spoke on the phone and shook your head disapprovingly, “unbelievable,” you muttered, storming in the direction of your home.

——

Steve was no fool, he knew when he messed up, and he was more than willing to take responsibility for such. Now was one of those times. He knew that he should’ve been making more time for you. He was well aware that he shouldn’t have gotten defensive when you pointed this out.

He just had no idea how to apologize.

You weren’t exactly making it easy for him either, taking much longer hours in an attempt to avoid him. While he could understand your frustrations, it became a little more difficult everyday for him to properly apologize to you in a way he felt was meaningful.

Eventually figuring to use your avoidance as a tool, Steve devised a plot to make an apology for you so considerate, so superb, that you could never be angry with him again. A plot that included a several course meal, all concocted by himself.

He could imagine the look on your face as you came home from work, shocked, but the good kind of shock. Pleasantly surprised that your sweet boyfriend had put in such a huge amount of effort to say sorry.

He couldn’t help but imagine the scenario: you would relax into your seat at the table after Steve pulled out the chair for you, hum in content as he poured your favorite wine. Moan happily at the taste of a homemade and rarely prepared salad dressing, before complimenting the melt-in-your-mouth entree he had spent an unknown amount of time laboring over. Finally, you’d gush over the dessert that Steve hadn’t had the chance to cook in years, tell him that he worked far too hard putting everything together, especially for a little argument. Steve would scoff, tell you you’re being too kind, and you would pull him in for a red wine and dark chocolate flavored kiss.

The thought of you, your genuine and warm smile after a long day at work, and an even longer week worth of unspoken tension between you both, was enough to keep Steve motivated through the hours he spent preparing your meal.

He greeted you at the door like an excited puppy as soon as he heard your keys jingle. Sure, work had kept you a bit longer than he’d expected, and your food was likely a little cool by now, but he was excited to make amends.

However, you did not seem to share the same enthusiasm as Steve.

“Welcome home, gorgeous. Come sit,” Steve nudged you into the dining area, and you sluggishly followed, exhausted from a tiring day of training new agents.

“What’s wrong?” he inquired, pulling out a chair that you didn’t even attempt to sit down on.

“I had a really long day. I kinda just wanna get to bed,” you shrugged before rubbing your creased temple.

Steve internally cringed at the thought of all of his hard work going to waste. For some reason, he’d not envisioned this less pleasant outcome before. “Sweetheart,” he began in a nearly whiny tone, but you weren’t in much of a mood to be persuaded.

“I’m sorry. Weird things were happening at work that I don’t care to get into now, and honestly, I’m not even that hungry,” you reached out and gave Steve’s hand a little squeeze. “But it all looks and smells so good! I Promise I’ll warm some up tomorrow for lunch.”

“I-,” he paused, “please. Maybe you could just take a few bites of everything. It took me a really long time to get everything prepped and ready.”

You frowned at the plea, feeling a bit guilty but almost… satisfied at the same time. Steve struggled to make time for you because of his work, and now he was getting a little taste of his own medicine.

“I really am sorry. But hey, now we’re even?” you offered with a playful wink, slipping away before you gave your partner a chance to respond. You truly didn’t have the energy for a four course meal that night, let alone another argument.

——

Wanda was silent for a moment as she sipped from a mug of coffee, watching you with a suspiciously focused look on her face.

“Wanda?” you prompted, seemingly snapping her out of whatever trance she had found herself in.

“Oh my God, I know exactly what you guys need,” she just about blurted, reaching across the café table to grab your hand.

“Were you reading my mind?”

Your friend didn’t respond, but the devious smirk on her face was enough of an answer.

“What happened to telling me before reading me?”

“You just looked like there was a lot on your mind. And absolutely no way that you’d tell me,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“Of course I was gonna tell you! Why else would I ask my friend in a cute relationship to meet me for coffee?”

“Because you like me?”

“No, never that. I just needed advice,” the two of you shared a laugh for a moment.

“Well don’t waste your breath. When Vis and I had a rough patch, we just had to learn each other’s love languages. You’d be surprised just how much that synthezoid values those acts of services.”

“And you?”

“I’m a words of affirmation girl myself,” she shrugged. “You should find out yours, and try to figure out Steve’s. I guarantee it’ll be helpful in the long run. I can send you guys a test, if you want?”

“Oh god no, please don’t tell him that I told you about us. Actually, I didn’t even tell you! You were digging around in my brain, and I don’t appreciate that. Just do me a favor, and don’t share this with anyone, okay?” You paused dramatically, then leaned in to speak to your friend in a whisper, “but send me that test when you get the chance.”

Gift Giving

“A little reality-warping birdie told me you’ve been having some relationship problems,” Tony said teasingly once Bruce left the conference room, leaving him and Steve alone.

Steve paused for a moment, trying to decide whether he should lie or fess up to the allegation. “How did she know?” Steve finally responded, standing up and pushing the chair he was sitting on behind him.

Tony shrugged dismissively, “I don’t ask these kinds of things. I just hear in passing that the geriatric is having a hard time and tune in.”

Steve shook his head slightly, rolling his eyes to mask his clear embarrassment.

“Well, is it true?”

“We’ve just been having the occasional… rift. A little more than occasionally.”

Tony nodded, fake pondering the situation, “well, I always know what I do for Pep, at least after I tell her I’m getting rid of the suit. Go buy her something nice. Really nice, like jewelry, or a purse if she’s into that kind of thing. I would say a car, but I know that Social Security check isn’t getting you too far. You know what? Put it on the company card. My treat.”

Steve wanted to scoff, turn his nose up at the offer like it was a terrible idea, but it really wasn’t. Maybe a material surprise was the way to win you back. He made a soft ‘hmph,’ noise as he mulled it over. “That’s definitely not your worst idea. Thanks,” he gave his teammate a soft smile before collecting himself and heading out of the conference room.

His first stop after work was some local jeweler. Steve threw on a (not very) inconspicuous outfit before entering the building, where he browsed for a good hour, searching for something that he believed you’d like. After looking at more jewelry than he had ever cared to see in his life, he decided on a necklace with a thin golden chain with a decent sized diamond hanging off of it. It was a little pricier, and you’d be able to tell— but he hoped it would help the gift mean more to you.

——

When you arrived home late that night, Steve was sitting in the living room waiting for you. It was almost daunting, the sight of him sitting alone on the couch mostly in the dark, only the television illuminating his face. He kind of reminded you of a parent waiting to confront their child who just snuck out, or a concerned friend seconds away from staging an intervention with you.

Walking past the room, you peeked your head through the doorway, and observed the flat, small box in front of him on the coffee table.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he greeted, standing up so he could greet you with a hug and grabbing the little box as he did so.

“Is everything okay?” you probed, speaking into Steve’s shoulder.

“Of course. I just wanted you to know how much I love you, and that I’m sorry for not having as much time for you as I should,” he pulled away before holding the box out for you.

You hesitantly took the box and opened it, letting out a gasp when you viewed the delicate looking gold necklace.

You were having mixed emotions, because it was clearly beautiful and you were grateful to the gesture. But you knew that this must’ve been expensive, and that it was so unlike Steve to have done something like this. Your frugal, Great Depression era guy wasn’t exactly the most material.

“I love it,” you gushed, admiring the jewelry.

“Can I put it on you?” Steve asked, and received a nod in return.

Steve set the box down on the table and lifted up the necklace, bringing it up to your neck and focusing on clasping it in the back.

“Babe, how much was this?” you blurted, not even being able to filter the words before they left your mouth.

“Hmm? That doesn’t matter,” he dismissed, then stepped away from you to admire your clavicle.

“It just feels weird letting you spend so much on me.”

“It’s a gift, though. You’re not supposed to think about those things,” he hummed, pressing a chaste peck to your nose.

“Steve, I got you a Nespresso for Christmas and you wouldn’t stop complaining about how expensive it was. I love it, I really do. It’s beautiful and I’ll always think of you when I wear it. I just think that maybe we should have the same standards for each other,” you stood up from your seat and sidestepped him. “I need a shower.”

Steve watched you walk off, letting your words simmer in his thoughts.

That was the last time he would take relationship advice from Tony.

Words of Affirmation

This conclusion probably shouldn’t have taken you this long, but you were almost completely sure that this would be the love language to win Steve back over. You felt bad for some of the occurrences between the two of you lately, with sour exchanges and sweet moments that turned bitter on a whim.

In all honesty, you were concerned that Steve doubted your love for him. And if his love language really was words of affirmation, this would certainly convince him otherwise.

You sat at your desk the night before Steve departed for a two-week mission, trying to write a nice message for him. You tapped your pen on the stock paper in deep thought as you tried to figure out the best thing to say.

I’m sorry for arguing so much with you lately. You and everything that you do mean the world to me, even when you get on my nerves. I love you more than anything and that will never change.

The words looked cramped and unkempt on the little note. Your handwriting got messier as you went. You groaned at it, crumpled the paper, and tossed it in your trash bin. Time to start over again.

I’m sorry for arguing with you. I love you a lot. Can you stop picking up your phone when we’re spending time together?

You groaned at the passive aggressive tone of your message. That certainly wasn’t going to get you anywhere. Straight to the bin it goes.

I love you so much so don’t die on your mission or I’ll be pretty upset. Be safe out there xx.

The tone was even more off now. You needed to think of something that would really make Steve remember you while he was gone. For a second, you considered snapping a nude with a polaroid and attaching it to the letter.

I’m sorry that things have been so bad nasty for us lately. I promise that I love you, despite our ups and downs. Nothing will ever change that. I’ll miss you more than you know while you’re gone. Make sure you call me every day, my love.

A little cheesy, but you signed off with your name regardless, and contentedly looked at your work. The spacing looked correct, the tone wasn’t harsh, and you knew for a fact that Steve would appreciate it.

You stayed up a little later than normal, waiting for Steve to get home and change out of his ‘work clothes’ so that you could slip the note into his utility belt.

You folded the note to a small little square and set it beside an granola bar in a pocket you’d assumed he frequently used. Content with your work, you laid back in bed until your partner slipped in bed beside you, and sleepily cuddled into you until you were both unconscious.

—

Around two weeks had passed since Steve had seen you last, and he had decided to stop by the office and finish up paperwork before coming to see you. It had been radio silence on his end, despite the note in his clothing that clearly requested daily contact. Part of you wondered if Steve had seen it at all.

Steve had just finished signing the documents when he finally noticed it, reaching into a sparsely used part of his belt to have a quick snack. His hand landed on a folded piece of paper, and he cringed as he unfolded it, the letter becoming clearer and clearer as he did so. He wondered just how long the message had been waiting for him.

He read your sweet words with a frown on his face, the guilt from not opening it sooner overriding the sweet feelings that he would otherwise have. He grabbed his phone and considered texting you, but abandoned that thought altogether.

“FRIDAY, any idea where Y/N is right now?”

“I was told not to share any information about Ms. L/N, Captain Rogers.”

“Whose orders?” Steve pressed.

“Hers,” the bot quipped back.

Steve groaned aloud. He was really in for it tonight.

Physical Touch

“Have you tried touching her more?” Thor casually queried. The water that Steve had just consumed nearly flew out of his nose, and his cheeks reddened instantly.

“Pardon?” he asked, looking away from his friend instantly.

“I understand that you and Y/N have been having troubles lately. Perhaps she does not feel held by you. Maybe she wants you to show her off in public, to hold her hand, hug her,” he suggested.

Could Steve even be blamed for going there? He was having a chat with a god of fertility. Who wouldn’t think the same?

“Stark’s gala tonight. Show the world that she’s yours, and I guarantee that she’ll love every moment of it.”

——

You were confused. Really confused.

The night began with some simple touches, hand holding as you entered the building, a casual arm around your waist as you chatted with donors and politicians you hadn’t seen in months, a playful match of footsie under the table while waiting for food. But it came to a head when Steve had decided to rest his hand on your ass and grope you in the midst of a conversation.

Now, in any other situation, you would welcome this affection. But both you and Steve had never been a fan of PDA, and this was a bit too far.

As subtle as you could manage, you pushed his hand away, offering him a sour look as you did so.

“Excuse us,” you told some rich old man in an artificially sweet tone before ushering Steve off to his office for a bit more privacy.

“What was that about?” you questioned, sitting down in the padded chair behind Steve’s desk, and running your fingers over your necklace in a bit of a nervous tick.

“What do you mean?” he retorted, standing across from you at the desk and setting his hands on top of the clear table.

“Why were you groping me in front of people? That’s really... unlike you. And it made me uncomfortable.”

Steve frowned genuinely, looking down at the table in embarrassment. “I’m really sorry. For making you uncomfortable. It sounds ridiculous but I was just trying something new.”

“Apology accepted, but are you sure? You weren’t like, jealous of those guys or something? You know you’re the only hundred year old I have eyes for,” you set your hands atop of his and squeezed.

Steve chuckled at this, the flush of his cheeks only highlighted more by the laughter, “it’s just that, uh, Thor told me I should try showing you off more. Or something like that.”

“So you groped me in front of our guests? That’s silly. And a little unprofessional,” you glanced over at the cork board on his desk sitting next to his desktop, and amongst the neatly arranged scratched out to-do lists and random reminders, you couldn’t help but notice the creased paper of the note you’d left for his mission. Your chest warmed when your eyes fell upon it.

“When did you find this thing?” you asked, pointing to the note.

“I meant to say something, but when I found it, FRIDAY said you didn’t want to talk to me. SO I was going to bring it up when I got home, but you were still working. After that, I kinda… you know-”

“Forgot?” you finished with a hearty laugh, “It’s fine. You’re such a dork. C’mere so I can get my own groping in,” you chided, grinning to yourself when Steve wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace.

Acts of Service

Steve was quietly folding your laundry in your bedroom when it finally occurred to you, but when it did, it hit like a ton of bricks.

Steve’s love language was acts of service!

Things suddenly began to make sense to you, the way that he initially attempted to apologize by spending hours cooking one meal, how he consistently worked to make your life as comfortable as possible, and his great insistence to do house chores, despite you being more than capable.

Steve set down a stack of folded sweatshirts by your calf, snapping you away from your brief retrospective daze. If that really was the case, and Steve’s love language truly was acts of kindness, you had to come up with some sort of plan to communicate to him just how much you cared about him in a way that he really appreciated.

Luckily for you, you were a quick thinker. Before you even knew it, a week filled with random acts of kindness before he was off on yet another mission was quickly hatched.

——

You were up at the ass-crack of dawn. Really. Steve liked to get up earlier than the sun in order to run, or train, or whatever the hell it was that superheroes did. You were seriously regretting your decision to wake up around the same time as him in order to do some favors for him in the morning.

By the time Steve was back from his run, his favorite coffee was brewed and cooling, and you were in the laundry room at the dryer, preparing to give Steve a warm towel after his shower.

Despite the three mugs of coffee you’d just downed, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep your eyes open. It didn’t help that your eyelids felt like they weighed fifty pounds each, and the warmth of the dryer next to you was providing you with just enough comfort to drift off.

And drift you did. In fact, half an hour later, you’d missed the frantic calling out for you from your boyfriend as he searched for you around the apartment.

You finally awoke when he shook your shoulders, his amused voice bringing you back to consciousness.

“What’s going on here?” Steve grinned, pushing some hair out of your face.

“Mmm,” you began, “Iwantedtogetawarmtowel,” you slurred sleepily and incoherently.

“Even with super hearing I couldn’t decipher that. Let’s get you a mattress, okay?” Steve hoisted you up like you were nothing, and carried your half asleep body all the way up to your bedroom.

The next thing you knew, you were buried under your favorite comforter and propped against a mountain of feathery pillows. A gentle forehead kiss and an incomprehensible sentence about calling off of work for you later, you were back in a deep sleep.

So much for warm towels.

—

You were going to do better this time. That’s what you told yourself as you strolled through the grocery store, the same store that you hadn’t shopped in since moving in with Steve, as he preferred to do the shopping himself.

Equipped with a short paper list and sheer determination to make the trip as short and accurate as possible, you gathered all of the groceries that you believed were necessary— just enough to restock the fridge, and fill some gaps left in the cupboard.

Your time at the store was indeed brief, as you found yourself in the checkout lane after just twenty minutes (you definitely weren’t going to brag about that to Steve later. Definitely not), and back home with just enough time to unload the groceries, and further prep yourself to go to work.

You’d honestly forgotten about your trip to the store by the time that you arrived home, up until you found your boyfriend arm deep in your pantry, hellbent on finding… something.

“Can I help you?” you poked with a laugh, coming up beside Steve and peeking over his shoulder.

“I’m just… Did you happen to grab any protein bars while you were at the store?” he asked, pausing his search to look back at you.

“I don’t think so. Why? It’s not like you need any more protein,” you teased, squeezing a bicep to demonstrate your words.

“They’re pretty convenient when I’m out in the field. Don’t worry about it, though. I’ll just swing by the store and grab some before my mission tomorrow. Actually, I should probably go now. Y’know, before I forget,” Steve was already grabbing his car keys from the counter by the time his sentence was finished, leaving you to fight off your disappointment at your minor grocery store failure.

You looked at what you now knew was an insufficiently filled pantry and pinched the bridge of your nose. You had seriously underestimated the ins and outs of shopping for a super soldier.

Well, third time’s the charm?

—

After this week, you would never complain about waking up early again. You were now up at an absolutely ungodly hour, scrambling eggs, flipping pancakes, and spreading jam on toast for a sleeping, unsuspecting Steve.

You placed the plate on a sturdy wooden tray, poured orange juice and an extra glass of water, and set a nicely folded napkin, along with utensils, next to the items.

You hoped that the scent of bacon wafting up to your bedroom would eventually pull him out of his slumber, and seeing how bacon was the only thing left to finish cooking, you took a little break.

A round of Candy Crush turned into two, then three, and goddamnit, why can’t you beat this fourth level! You got so wrapped up in your mobile game that you didn’t even notice when the scent from your kitchen became slightly rancid, and when you rushed over to the oven to check on your now extremely burnt bacon, the smoke detector wailed.

You grabbed a kitchen towel and waved your arms like a madwoman near the smoke detector, the shrieking eventually stopping, but not before Steve was halfway down the stairs.

“Y/N, where are you? Is everything okay?” he nearly shouted, racing down the stairs and barreling through the smoky kitchen to find you. When he reached you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and began to pull you out of the kitchen.

“Steve, relax. Everything is okay. Except those pieces of bacon,” you rubbed your now sweaty palms on your pajama pants before breaking away from him to crack open the kitchen window.

“Christ, what happened? And why are you up so early?”

“I was trying to make you breakfast in bed,” you admitted, rather embarrassed by the dramatic scene you’d accidentally created. “Sorry,” you muttered.

Steve wrapped his arms around you once more, this time in a reassuring bear hug that left your cheeks pressed to his chest. “Don’t be. I really appreciate this, and everything else you’ve done this week. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

“I guess,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Besides, everything else looks delicious. And you tried your best for me while trying something new. I think that’s really sweet of you.”

“Really?” you pried, looking up at him.

“Really,” Steve confirmed.

“Well, I think it would be really sweet of you if you went back to bed and got all cozy so I can take care of you.”

Steve chuckled softly, pressed a little kiss to your nose, then nodded, “yes ma’am.”

Quality Time

Steve had been in a bubbly mood since getting back from his mission, and for no particular reason. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy that your partner was happy, but feeling like you were out of the loop was slightly concerning.

Before you could let your thoughts run too wild, you decided to pop the question during one of your evening walks.

“Okay Steve, what is going on with you?” you asked, veering to the side of the trail when a biker rode past you.

“Nothing big. Nothing too important. I’m just out of service for the next three months,” Steve said casually, playing it cool.

“What?!” you paused, your brows raising and eyes widening in surprise as you searched his face for sincerity. “You’re serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

“Steve!” you gasped happily, nearly roaring out his name in excitement. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I was going to tell you before wining and dining you, but you beat me to it. So…?”

“…So I’m happy to have you back. I may need you to negotiate some time away from work for me in the next few months, then. I don’t wanna miss this preview of stay-at-home-dad-Steve.”

“Hey, don’t push it.”

“Oh, I’m planning on pushing it.”

Epilogue

The sun was beating down on you, but the soothing breeze that flowed past your checked blanket every so often provided a pleasant antidote to the summer heat.

You’d truly picked the best day for a picnic.

Despite spending a good amount of time with your partner, the last month and a half had truly felt like a whirlwind. You casually started looking for a forever home, found yourselves making plans for an early retirement, and you had a new, sneaking suspicion that a proposal was on the horizon.

In the midst of it all, Steve had suggested that the two of you take a midday tryst at your local park and throw yourselves a little picnic. Of course you obliged, because when your greek god of a boyfriend suggests going on a spur of the moment date, you agree.

You now watched the nearly cloudless sky with pure, unadulterated feelings of content and joy while Steve set a slice of cheese on a cracker, leaning over your body to feed you. As you opened your mouth, Steve paused abruptly at the soft vibration coming from his pocket.

Steve resumed as if nothing had changed, popping the cracker into your open mouth and letting his phone continue to ring.

“Don’t you wanna get that?” you questioned.

“It can wait,” Steve stated nonchalantly, slipping his phone out of his pocket and pressing decline with absolutely no hesitation before tossing the device to the edge of your blanket.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been waiting to hear those three words.

-------

a/n: this could’ve been solved in like 20 minutes by sitting down and taking a love language quiz together

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you

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btsxmalereaders · 3 years

Text

☆ Even in zero gravity, I would still fall for you!

♡ pairing — bang chan x male reader

> genre — fluff | f2l

> word count — 4.3k I don't know how this happened

> summary — chan realises he likes you by not being able to use pickup lines on you

> a/n — i saw a tiktok where chan says he's gonna use a pickup line on felix and my love-deprived self ended up writing this lol i hope you all like it

| 05282021

| Please keep making more whosfan accounts and keep streaming WOLFGANG on the correct platforms!

"Hey, how you doin'?" Chan casually says as he enters the kitchen, trying not to grin and start giggling right away. He even places his hands over the table and tilts his head a little in an attempt to look confident. Felix takes his attention away from the food he is cooking and turns on his feet to look at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Good?" He answers with an air of suspicion. "Why?"

Chan finally lets out a small giggle, "Oh nothing, I was just thinking that... I am not a photographer, but I can picture me and you together."

And Felix thinks it's a creative pickup line, funny even, but what ends up making him laugh is the way his best friend bends over to start laughing louder and the way his cheeks turn reddish at the embarrassment he's probably feeling.

"That was a good one, I must say," He chuckles. "Not as great as the Optimus Fine one, though. Even if it made you laugh for ten minutes after you said it."

And Chan can only laugh harder at the remembrance, placing his hands over his slightly aching abdomen and gasp for air when he can't handle it anymore. Felix giggles as well and denies with his head, going back to stir what's on the pot.

"Stays keep getting creative when it comes to flirting with you," He speaks again as the laughter finally dies down. "They probably think you might use it on someone you like, and you're here almost crying because you use them on us."

Chan hums, "Well, I don't really like anyone right now."

Felix turns off the stove and makes a -dramatic- pause, turning again to face Chan as he gets closer and squints his eyes. "I don't believe it."

"What?" Chan laughs. "Why would I lie?"

"I don't know, but I don't buy it. Maybe it's the love songs you have as drafts in your laptop."

"Ah, that doesn't mean I'm in love," He explains and takes a seat in front of him, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "That's why they're still drafts, though. They don't convey the feeling of being in love because I am not in love, you know?"

"Good point, but it still doesn't convince me."

"Why?" He asks again with a chuckle, a little embarrassed by the sudden interest in his - nonexistent - love life. "You know our activities barely give us time for ourselves, so it's almost impossible to have a relationship with someone. At least a formal one."

"You can still like someone and not be with them." Felix shrugs. "So spill it. Who is it?"

And Chan knows he's just messing around with him, but he can't help but feel flustered. "No one! I think so." He almost says it in a whisper; however, Felix doesn't comment on it.

"I still want to listen to those drafts," He stands up and smiles. "Why don't you show me?"

This was not the way Chan expected the conversation to go, so he hesitates a bit about his friend's request. Well, it wasn't unusual anyway, at least Changbin had heard a couple and also helped in the composition of the songs, so having someone else hear them wouldn't hurt. He might even listen to ideas on his part to improve them.

"Okay, I can do that. Next week Y/N will come to the studio and work on something, why don't you pop-up at some point and I can show you?"

Felix nods, "Sounds good! Y/N asked for help for his new album?"

"Yeah, he wants me to listen to some tracks he has been working on." He casually comments, taking his phone from his pocket and leading his attention to the device, so now Felix can't see the slight blush on his cheeks.

"Hm, I haven't seen him in a while. Why hasn't he come to the dorm lately? We should invite him."

"He has been busy with his album, that's why. If you think I leave late from the studio, that's nothing compared to him, he truly spends an ungodly amount of time there."

"So you see him often?" Felix asks with sudden interest, now being aware of how Chan's ears are tinted pink.

"You could say that, yeah. He also spends time on my studio whenever he has the chance. And vice-versa." He shrugs, not finding it odd. You two were really good friends, so it was a normal thing for you to do. "Why?"

"Nothing, I was just curious." He mischievously laughs. "So, next week, you said?"

After a quick glance at the time on your phone, you decide to stand up and stretch your body. It's been a long time since you started working, and you still have a lot to do; and on top of it all, the progress you've made tonight doesn't totally convince you, and that just meant you'd be spending more time in the studio.

As you take your phone again to read your notes, a notification pops up on the top. You weren't supposed to meet up with Chan until later, but in the new message you just received, he tells you that he's free from working on his stuff and you could go earlier if you wanted.

You decide to go; after all, it was nearly impossible for you to concentrate again, and you truly needed to know what does he think about the tracks you sent him a few days ago to finally make an advance. So you grab your laptop after making sure you've saved the changes and the cup of half-drunk coffee, walking out to the long hall and taking the elevator to an upper floor.

The soles of your shoes are dragged across the floor all the way to the studio's door, where you softly knock a couple of times before remembering you already know the password to enter. Your fingers press the buttons, entering code you know by heart at this point, and the door quickly unlocks, making Chan to look your way and greet you with a smile.

"Hey, how have you been?" He sweetly says, seeing you entering the room and placing your belongings on top of the big desk in front of you and taking a seat on the couch behind him.

"Busy. And tired." You murmur and let out a sigh. Chan immediately plays a song at a low volume and takes seat next to you.

"You're still struggling with the track you told me about?"

You nod as an answer and pout, "I am desperate. It's like, no matter how many times I rewrite the lyrics or change the beats, it still doesn't convince me at all and I hate it."

"I get it," He sighs. "But don't worry about it, I'm here to help you out."

And Chan isn't someone who breaks his promises, so the following hours are spent listening to your music, carefully reading everything you've written so far, listening to your ideas and giving you advice.

In between work, he tells you every other joke to make you laugh and feel at least a bit less stressed; and it works wonderfully since he has a long list of dad jokes that take you off guard, plus his laughter is contagious, so not laughing with him is impossible.

It's no surprise that his advice and opinions are so accurate to the point of clearing your mind and helping you out of your creative block. Chan has always been hard-working and so good with words that every time you engage him in conversations, you feel more relaxed and less burdened. No matter what situation you had a problem with, Chan would always help you find the best solution for it. Maybe that's why you admire him so much, maybe it was one of the many reasons why you didn't hesitate for a second to go to him and find security in his presence and words... Maybe it was one of the thousands of reasons why you had romantic feelings towards him...

"Is it better now?" His voice takes you out of your thoughts. He's sweetly smiling at you; he probably realized you got lost on the way his lips were moving as he told you his thoughts on the recent draft of your song.

"Yeah, yes, honestly, you've helped me so much. I don't know what I'd do without you." You smile and go for a quick hug, taking the opportunity to ruffle his hair. Your fingers sliding between his soft and messy curls and making him fondly smile in the process. "You're my hero. I mean it."

Chan chuckles and can't keep his eyes off you as you type something on your laptop and hum. He recalls the conversation he had last week with Felix, and that ambiguous feeling settling on his chest makes him wonder if, after all, his friend was right. He doesn't remember when was the last time he felt the urge to hold someone in between his arms and dearly appreciate, and he wants to know why he smiles and feels his stomach tickling when he sees you.

Maybe it's because you spend a lot of time with him, a voice inside his head says. But he doesn't feel this way with any other friend.

Maybe it's because you have known him for a long time and you just appreciate him a lot, the voice tries again. Maybe. He finally gives in at the last thought. He'd have to figure it out.

His phone buzzes inside the pocket of his jeans and he takes it, knowing for sure it's a message from Felix.

"Felix is arriving in a few minutes." He murmurs, making you take your eyes off the screen. "He wants to listen to some songs I have, is that okay?"

"Of course, it's your studio, silly." You giggle. "I am almost done with this, so if you're gonna be busy I can go back to m-"

"You can stay, if you want to." He quickly adds. "Plus, he says he wants to see you, you know... He misses you." Chan laughs. He wasn't lying, but that wasn't the only reason he wanted you to stay.

"Okay! Sure, I haven't heard from him in a while, either." You nod and keep making changes on the file you have open.

Just as he said, Felix enters the room just a few minutes later, smiling brightly and immediately running to give you a big hug once he sees you.

Soon, the room was filled with laughter and long conversations to catch up on everything around your lives. Felix tells you about the new pastries he baked last week and that he was waiting for you to come around and bake with him, the new video game Jeongin bought and has been playing with Hyunjin, the new songs Changbin and Jisung have been working on and how Seungmin was learning to play piano, playing songs at night for everyone at the dorm.

"And you know? Chan hyung has gotten better at flirting." He laughs as the latter gives him a threatening glare. "He can't stop saying pickup lines whenever he has the chance."

"Ah, really?" You chortle. "You haven't said one in all the time we've been here."

"Well, we've been working, and I've told you many other jokes... Besides, it's not like I come up with them out of nowhere."

"Yes, you do!" Felix says. "You do that all the time, what are you talking about?"

You glance at Chan, who's currently blushing and at the loss of words. Felix, on the other hand, seems to be happy to see what he just provoked. And he'd definitely enjoy every part of it.

"I want to hear one! C'mooon!" You laugh. "Please?"

Chan rolls his eyes and tries to look confident as he would normally do. He clears his throat and thinks of a good pickup line he hasn't used yet.

"Alright," He says and smiles, he even thinks it's gonna start laughing before even opening his mouth, but the very moment he looks into your eyes, it's like he forgot every single word on his vocabulary. "Uhm, are you, no. Did you-? Wait! I forgot what I was gonna say-"

Felix can't help but burst into laughter, and you only look at him, as if you couldn't believe it. Was he nervous or was it because of the fact that Felix was in the same room? Would it have been any different if he weren't there?

You end up laughing at Felix's loud laughter, as well as seeing Chan blushing up to his ears and hiding his face behind his hands, probably also in an attempt to cover the huge grin he now has.

"Wow, that was an epic failure. And I thought you were the biggest flirt on earth." Felix teases him, to which Chan ends up groaning.

He continues talking about other stuff while Chan stops feeling embarrassed, even though he's not able to look in your eyes for the entire time until you have to go back to work.

You close your laptop and stand up, throwing the now empty cup of coffee on the trash bin. After thanking Chan for his help and promising Felix you'd drop by their dorm soon, you walk out of the studio with a smile and feeling your heart beating fast. There was no way you didn't have feelings for him.

"Oh my god, so I was right!" Felix says a few seconds after you left. Chan's first instinct is to cover his face again. "Look who got nervous so suddenly."

"Stop, I- I don't even want to talk about it." He murmurs, feeling flustered and avoiding Felix's gaze. He types something on his laptop and presses the play button, hoping that this way, his friend would forget about what just happened and could focus solely on the music.

And Felix doesn't talk about it anymore. The next few minutes are set by the music coming out of the speakers; the room filling with Chan's voice, singing the love songs that probably no one else would listen to. Felix seems to be concentrating on the lyrics, but Chan's thoughts are solely about you. As he listens to the songs, he is aware of how his skin bristles every time his hands accidentally touch you, the times when your eyes connect with his and you give him smiles every time it happens, all those times when his heart would race when he hugged you.... It's as if all those songs that professed a love he said he didn't feel, started to make sense.

He feels overwhelmed. Maybe if he was aware of it before, maybe if he listened to his heart instead of his head, this wouldn't be a big revelation to him.

Chan pauses the music, and before Felix can ask what's going on, he speaks up: "Why- why did I do that?"

"Did... what, exactly?" Felix asks, confused.

"The pickup line thing!" He blurts out. "I mean, I do that all the time, right? Why did I just forget how to even talk?"

Felix giggles, "Well, have you considered it's because when you use those pickup lines on us you just do it for laughing? To joke around with us, and with Y/N it's because... I don't know, you have feelings for him and it gets real? Like you're flirting with him."

Makes sense, he thinks. He remains in silence for a moment, processing everything that just happened and finally connecting the dots.

"Wait, you just had your epiphany?" Felix jokes. "It took you too, too long."

"I can barely fall asleep, how was I supposed to know I was falling in love?"

"Fair enough." He says, comprehensive. "Are you telling him?"

"Should I?" Chan's eyes sparkle, but he still feels confused. Should he even try? It's been so long since he last felt this way about someone, and given the circumstances of his life as an idol, he felt more reluctant to take the next step. Even more, considering he had just taken the first one by accepting his feelings a few minutes ago.

"I was right all this time by you being in love," He says. "And I am also sure that it's mutual. I've seen you two for a while, you know? I am surprised you didn't come the realization way earlier than this."

Chan giggles. "Alright, I get it."

"But it's up to you now, I guess. All I know is that you deserve to be happy, and you deserve good things... And Y/N is a great person. You should give yourself an opportunity on love."

Chan feels chills as he hears those words. Tonight's even have been too much for him to process, so he'll think deeply about it later.

"Okay," He nods. "Thanks, Lix. You've been really helpful."

"I know, what would you do without me?" Felix laughs. "Now let's keep listening to the songs, I am loving all of them."

Fortunately, the help Chan gave you really made it possible for you to finish the songs in no time. You are just now walking out of a meeting with your managers and the people in charge of the release of the album to set the final details, and you quickly send a message to Chan to let him know the news.

In the meantime, you drop by your studio to clean up a little and maybe write down some ideas for new songs that have been in your mind for a while. After a few minutes, you hear a knock on the door, snapping you out of your thoughts and then feeling confused. You weren't expecting anyone to come. So you slowly open the door, and a smile spreads across your face the moment you realize it's Chan.

"Oh, hi!" You greet him with a hug, immediately letting him in afterwards. He shyly gets inside, taking a seat on a chair and placing a bag on the small table behind him. "What brings you here? I thought you were still busy with you guys upcoming album."

"It's okay, Changbin is working on his stuff now at the studio, so I took the chance to come here and celebrate with you!" He grins. "Congratulations on making your first self-produced album!"

He starts clapping, making you smile; he truly was the sweetest person you've ever met.

As soon as he read your message he went to the nearby cafeteria and bought your favorite drink and pastries, claiming that it was a special occasion and should be celebrated.

"For all your hard work and the success of this album!" He makes a toast as he raises his cup of tea.

Soon you find yourselves immersed in a long conversation about everything that went into creating this album; from when you had the first idea for the concept, to those sleepless nights when he helped you without hesitation. Chan was definitely an essential part of this whole process, so to be celebrating with him right now felt right. It was how it should be.

"You know," Chan clears his throat as another song starts playing. "These past days I've had this thought in my head, and after talking it out with Felix... I am certain about it. And I want to tell you about it. I know I have to."

You frown, feeling curiosity, especially since his semblance has changed to be a bit more serious. He still has a small smile that gives you some kind of tranquility, but another part of you can't help but feel nervous as he gets a little bit closer.

"Of course, what is it?"

"So, uhm" He starts. "Some weeks ago, when Felix came to the studio and we were talking with you... Well, the reason he came was because he wanted to listen to some love songs I've worked on. And, after listening to all of them I figured out why I didn’t like them. I was sure I wasn't in love. That's why, to me, they all sounded plain and didn’t convey the feeling of love... But then..."

He makes a pause, catching his breath as he feels more and more nervous. He knows for sure his ears and cheeks are red right now, and it's impossible that you haven't noticed it. His hands slightly shake behind the table, anxiously looking for yours, but refraining from doing it because he doesn't know how this was going to end. You don't want to interrupt him, so you give him his time to clear his head and talk again.

"While listening to those songs, the only thought I had in mind was you." He finally confesses, with his gaze now fixed on his lap. "I guess that for a while I didn’t realise that I started to, uhm, catch feelings for you. And, it's okay if you don't feel the same way about me. I just really wanted to let you know because the thought has been on my mind for so long and I needed to let it out."

For a moment, the only thing that can be heard in the room is your voice coming from the speakers along with a sigh from Chan, who still didn’t dare to look up and face you.

"So... what you're saying is..." You speak up, feeling incredibly shy, trying to process the words addressed to you.

"What I am trying to say is that I am in love with you."

And you swear you could start screaming to the top of your lungs right now, but you try your very best to stay calm and finally grab Chan's hands. With that, he looks at you again.

"Channie," You softly say, looking at him in his precious eyes and dearly smiling. You don't even know where to begin, but a voice inside you begs for you to give him a hug. So you open your arms and embrace him tightly, feeling instant comfort and love. "I am so glad you feel this way too. I love you too."

Chan sighs in relief, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer; his nose pressed against the crook of your neck and closes his eyes, melting between your arms and enjoying every single second of that gesture.

"Wait a minute," You say out of nowhere, so he separates a bit from you and tilts his head. "That's why you couldn't even say a sentence when you tried to say a pickup line?"

You laugh when his expression changes to look ashamed, his lips frowned in a pout and his gaze avoiding your eyes again.

"Try again, I'm sure you're good at this." And Chan's head only comes up with the dozens of lines he has read, but seeing you smiling right in front of him and your arms over his shoulders, he can only think how lucky he is. He can't possibly say anything to you. "Alright, let me try instead."

You hum and recall all the pickup lines you've read and have been told before, "Hm, can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll return it."

And you expected Chan to start laughing out loud, instead he starts blushing again and giggling, covering his face as he feels nervous.

"C'mon! Seriously?" You laugh and wait for him to stop being shy.

"You make me nervous, give me time." He excuses himself and laughs some more. "That was a good one, and you know what? You can borrow all the kisses you want, as long as you keep your word and return them."

"See? That's what I'm talking about!"

Chan fondly smiles at you, placing his hand on your head to pet your hair for a moment. You close your eyes as he does it, feeling his soft touch traveling all the way down to your chin. He rests his thumb on your cheek and after a few seconds you decide to open your eyes.

"Can I?" He murmurs as his gaze shifts from your eyes to your lips.

"You don't even have to ask."

And just as you give him permission, he breaks the distance between you two. He starts carefully, placing his lips against yours in a tender, chaste way, barely there pressure that makes you exhale through your nose as if you had been holding your breath all along. One of his hands still holds you by the waist, so he takes the opportunity to slide it to your lower back, carefully holding you and sending you shivers to your entire body.

You lean forward barely a few millimeters, but it's enough to feel more pressure over your lips. Chan angles his head and traps your bottom lip, tongue trying to dart out of his mouth to taste more of the sweetness of yours. He, however, contains himself and smiles in between the kiss, instead. He was probably gonna be the death of you.

The deep kiss loses intensity as a minute passes by, so you two end up giving smaller kisses and share smiles, your noses constantly touching in skimo kisses. And you think it's perfect; it's way better than what you one day imagined.

Chan can't miss the chance to make you sit on his lap, so now your head rests over his chest. Your fingers fidgeting the hem of his hoodie and shyly longing to intertwine your hands.

"Hey, Y/N?" He grabs your attention and smiles. "Are you a parking ticket?"

You raise an eyebrow, "Why?"

"Because you've got fine written all over you." He ends up with a muffled laughter.

"Oh no, what did I just get myself into?" You joke around, this time finally making him burst into a louder laughter. "You just declared war on me about pickup lines, you know?"

"Oh, so you got some lines, too? Can't wait to hear all of them, then."

And for the rest of the day you let yourself be held in between the arms of the person you loved the most. Later you'd find the way to flirt with him and make him feel flustered when he least expects it.

#kpop x male reader #skz x male reader #stray kids x m!reader #stray kids x male reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids male reader #bang chan x male reader #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #bang chan x reader #stray kids imagines

386 notes · View notes

violette-hue · 3 years

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Secrets

Summary: Daichi, your best friend, invites you to hang with the boys. You’ve love him for the longest time, but kept it a secret. What will happen with Asahi and Sugawara know your secret and threaten to expose it?

Trigger Warning(s): love, bottling up emotions, anxiety, exploiting secrets, alcohol, forehead kissing, crying, fluff, no proof reading

Word Count: 1,094

The brisk winter hair burned as it enveloped your face, the scarf around your neck barely doing its job. You had received a text from Daichi days ago asking to meet up at a local bar with his friends--well your friends too you supposed. You just hadn’t seen them in years. Since high school, in fact. Was it wrong you were nervous?

Your hand shook as you reached for the door to the bar. In truth, you weren’t nervous about meeting the other boys, just that boy. Well, man, you supposed. He had surely grown in the years, as you had. Just as your feelings had, too. Your heart yearned for him since high school, your school girl crush blossoming into love. His friends knew, of course, and you hoped they hadn’t said anything in the years of distance. Perhaps that’s why you were so nervous.

You had seen Daichi many times throughout the years and spent time together on numerous occasions. You saw him grow into the man he is, saw him work at his career and his life. Yet, you never expressed yourself to him--not during those long hours on the phone, not during those druken nights spent together, and most certainly not when he met other women. You suffered in silence, as any best friend would. You told yourself it was good enough if he was just in your life, no matter what role he played. But as time went by, your opinion on the matter faded away and now you weren’t so sure if you could love him so much and only remain his best friend.

You took a deep breath and opened the door. The warmth from inside immediately embraced you, your lips tugging into a small smile at the comfort. After placing your coat and good-for-nothing scarf on the rack, you sought to find your party. There they were, in the far corner of the bar sitting cozily at a kotatsu. Asahi threw his head back and laughed, Sugawara following suit. Daichi smiled fondly at his friends and trailed his finger along the rim of his beer glass. Your heart swelled at the sight of him, and suddenly you weren’t too sure you could go through with this.

“Hey! Over here!” Sugawara called, waiving his hand.

Damnit. It was too late to turn back. You walked towards them and waived back slowly. “Hey guys,” you said softly.

You looked for a seat, but of course the only empty spot was right next to Daichi. You gave a peek to the other boys, your heart dropping when you saw their subtle smirks. They did this on purpose. Of course they did. You begrudgingly sat down next to Daichi, your knees brushing against each other.

“How have you guys been?” you asked, voice wavering. You cleared your throat and cursed yourself for being so nervous.

“Are you asking us, or Daichi?” Sugawara coyly asked, emphasizing Daichi’s name.

You blushed softly. “All of you guys. Though I guess more you two since Daichi and I saw each other not too long ago...”

“Oh ho! On a date? Finally you guys have been driving me crazy--” Sugawara started.

“No, not a date,” you interrupted firmly, not daring to look at Daichi.

“What?” Daichi asked. He furrowed his brows and looked at his friends.

Was he blushing? No, he couldn’t be. He was drinking, it must be the alcohol. And who knew how many drinks he’s indulged in since before your arrival. You worked your bottom lip between your teeth, worry making your heart hammer in your chest.

“Oh...I just thought you asked for this ‘hang out’ to tell us you guys were dating,” Asahi said cautiously.

Sugawara nodded, adopting the same argument. This had to have been some lame, poorly thought out plan and final attempt of them trying to get you and Daichi together. There was no other reason for the poorly structured comment. They knew this was a normal meeting, Daichi was their best friend, and if he was dating someone new he wouldn’t have told them over a dinner. That’s something he would do with his parents.

“Why would you think that?” Daichi questioned, arching his brows. He glanced at you quickly, the blush on his cheeks deepening.

You mustered all the malice and warning you could into your stare as you glanced between Asahi and Sugawara. You prayed they heard your inner voice threatening them.

“Because you guys have been in love with each other since high school?” Sugawara said, his statement more of an obvious question everyone should have known.

Everyone was silent, the cat now out of the bag. Your coveted secret you had tried to keep buried now exposed. Tears stung your eyes and threatened to pour. The embarrassment weighed heavily on your chest, and before a tear could slip out, you stood and quickly made way to the exit. You ignored the guys’ calls for you and grabbed your coat and stupid scarf. You hadn’t even bothered to put them on before running out the door. Tears now trailed down your cheeks. You had lost your best friend--they had made you lose your best friend.

You had made it halfway down the block when someone grabbed your wrist and forced you to turn towards them. Thankfully, you had seen Daichi’s face before throwing your fist, and instead stared up at him blankly, stunned.

“Why did you leave?” Daichi asked, examining your face. He brushed your tears away with his thumbs, his lips turning into a frown.

You shivered both at his touch and the ungodly temperature outside. “They had no right-- I -I didn’t want you to--” you took a deep breath and shut your mouth. What was the good in explaining yourself? They had done that for you. You shook your head and turned to leave.

“Didn’t you hear them...?” he trailed off. “We’ve been in love since high school.”

We. The word echoed in your head. We, as in both. As in he also shared the same feelings. You looked to Daichi with wide eyes.

“You...?”

He nodded his head, smiling softly. He grabbed your coat and helped you slide it over your arms. He lovingly buttoned up the garment and reached for your good-for-nothing scarf. He wrapped the material around your neck and lightly used it to pull you close to him.

“Yes,” he breathed. He kissed your forehead, his hands moving from your scarf to your waist.

Maybe this scarf wasn’t so stupid after all.

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shadyteacup · 3 years

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I.. wanted to write fluff... it ended up being angst... sorry

Dazai x gn!reader

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High

Your phone buzzed, alerting you of a new message. You ignored the constant buzzing, focusing your attention on the screen of your laptop. You had a worksheet to fill and submit tomorrow. Well, technically today, as it was already 2 am. You sighed, rubbing your temple with your fingers. You had been at it for over five hours now. God, you hated your past self for procrastinating on this project. You were given a whole week, but your lazy ass decided to fool around and work on it on the last day.

'I'm such a bloody idiot.', you thought.

You only had two more pages to fill, then you'll be free. Hopefully, you can sneak in some power naps during your breaks today, because considering the amount of time you might take to complete this, you'll only be getting two hours of sleep.

Stretching your arms and neck, you continue typing.

A little while later, your phone began ringing. Looking over to read the contact, you realized just who it was.

This is it.

You've had enough. You need to stop this bullshit.

Angrily snatching your phone, you answered.

"What is it?! Can't you get a bloody hint?! I don't want to talk to you!"

You scream into the phone. For a minute all you hear are small sniffles. Was he crying?

"Hello? Dazai?", you ask, much softer now.

You hear shuffling on the other end.

"Hey, b-bella"

A slurred, slightly cracked voice speaks.

"Are you drunk?", you ask, worried.

"No.... maybe... well, yeah..."

He mumbles.

"Where are you?"

You can hear more sniffles and some shuffling. He was probably squinting at his surroundings, trying to make sense of where exactly he was. He's probably way too far gone.

"It looks familiar... like... you.."

You furrowed your brows.

"Think again. Tell me where you are."

You bit your lip, chewing on the delicate skin.

"Ok, how about you tell me what you see?"

"I.. I see you.. no, wait.. no it is you... you're smiling... *sniff* I want to hug you.. *sniff*.. what did I do wrong?? *sniff* please come back.."

You sighed. So he was at home. He was probably staring at the framed photo that you had gifted him some time ago. It was a picture of the two of you, smiling widely at the camera. You remember where it was taken, and the occasion, too. You both were celebrating your one year anniversary at an adventure park. Both of you had completed their obstacle-race in record time, and were being gifted some hamper for breaking their fastest record.

Things were so good back then.

"You broke up with me, so why don't you ask yourself that?", you say, trying to ignore the onslaught of memories and the impending feeling of sadness.

"But... I.. I love you!"

You sighed again, holding your head in your palm. He always did this. He'd call you at ungodly hours when he was drunk, and tell you that he loved you. It would get your hopes up, and you'd try to soothe him into going to sleep. In the morning he would message you something along the lines of,

'I accidentally called you, it was supposed to be someone else.' Or 'I didn't mean to dial your number.'

It broke your heart, shattering it to a billion pieces. But you were used to it by now. Besides, you had no reason to believe that he still kept your photo in his house. He probably threw it away or something, and remade all those memories with someone else. It pained to think that he was so in love with someone else.

"No, you don't. And don't call me again."

You cut the call, slamming the phone on the table and trying your best to keep your tears in.

Meanwhile, Dazai was heartbroken. He was sobbing while lying on his futon, clutching your shirt in his hands. It was one of the few items he had accidentally forgotten to give you when you moved out. He was an idiot. He knew that he was capable of protecting you, but he was also a coward. He had already witnessed the death of his best friend, he couldn't bear to have his lover fall to a similar fate. So he broke up with you. To keep you away from this dangerous life.

But he loved you, and missed you. He was so torn. He wanted to barge into your house and hug you, beg you to forgive him and ask you to be his again. But he also feared the consequences and wanted to spit rude words at you to keep you away from him. He wanted to make you hate him, because he knew if he were to see you again, he wouldn't be able to control the urge to embrace you. So it would be much easier for him if you were to look at him with disgust and hatred, push him away and reject him, so he doesn't have to reject you. Because he doesn't have the self control to reject you. He can't do that to you. So he'll bank on your hatred towards him to make things right. But he can't do this anymore, damnit!

But he didn't have any other option. He had to do this. For you. To keep you safe. All he can do is cry, and that's what he did. He cried himself to sleep.

...

The next morning, you had finally submitted your project, and were ready to relax, when your phone buzzed.

Reading the text, you felt your heart clench.

[10:35 am]

Dazai: Hey, sorry for calling you last night, I had meant to call someone else. 😅

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neonacity · 3 years

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HYACINTHE | CHAPTER 3: JAEMIN X READER

SUMMARY:

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones. Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

TW: illegal activities, gunshot wound, mentions of blood

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

"Another bank was looted last night around 11PM, this time in the Geumchon district. This is the second bank that was broken into in the past week and the fourth that is rumored to be the doing of one of Seoul's organized criminal…."

I sighed and put down the pen that I have been using to scribble on a piece of napkin. A frown creased my forehead before I grabbed the offending piece of flimsy paper and crumpled it with my hand. Jeno, who was silently watching the news, looked up and shot me a curious look. He was leaning over the counter lazily, his cup of half finished hot cocoa beside him.

"You okay?"

I winced. "Yeah... Actually. Actually, no. I am not okay," I said finally as I threw the used napkin to the closest thrash. I have been scribbling all the things I have to pay for the coming month there and couldn't bear to take another look at it. Jeno grabbed his drink and silently took a sip of it, obviously waiting for me to elaborate.

After my initial 'unplanned' meeting with Jaemin's friends, it has become more or less of their routine to drop by the cafe to hangout. Jaemin was initially against it at first, always scowling whenever he would see one of them already in the shop, though it seems like he has gotten used to it lately—or rather, he didn't have any other choice but to simply accept it. They would often sometimes come in groups—Jisung and Chenle are big fans of the pastries—but other times it's just one of them who would drop by to visit like Jeno now. My favorite is when all of them drops by to visit, not only because I've started getting closer to them too, but because customers would automatically flock into the shop whenever the "handsome gang" is there. Honestly, I couldn't blame them.

"I'm a little bit short on money this month. I was supposed to get my monthly allowance from my scholarship but something happened so it will be delayed. I have lab things to buy and well—everything sucks."

Jeno nodded slowly, though I have a feeling he doesn't really understand my plight with money. Spending time with the seven of them has given me a better understanding of each boys' personalities. Jeno, for example, is definitely the calmer one of the bunch. While the others would cause chaos every now and then—Jaemin included, he would be on the side watching them usually with that adorable eye smile of his. He is different from Mark who would mostly jump in to join the fun before calming everyone once things get overboard, though both seem to share the same responsibility over the group. He also seems to be the closest to Jaemin, so by extension, I am also most comfortable around him.

"How much money do you need?"

I gave him a look as I reached out for a paper cup to make myself my own hot cocoa.

"I heard the same question from your best friend before. Are you also going to offer to be my sugar daddy?"

Jeno choked on his drink and hid his laughter behind his raised cup.

"Do you want Jaemin to kill me?"

That made me inappropriately blush.

"Sometimes I just want to bust out a bank like that group everyone is talking about."

Jeno didn't say anything and continued watching me from the brim of his drink.

"You think you can do it?"

"Do what?" I asked as I poured hot cocoa on my cup. I said that off-handedly, I almost forgot my words the moment they left my lips.

"Rob a bank. You know, do something illegal."

I leaned back against the counter and craned my head a little sideways as I thought the question over. I didn't actually think of that before so I had to listen to my moral compass a little bit before answering.

"It depends on the reason."

Jeno looked surprised by my reply. He was probably expecting a goody two shoes answer from me, which I don’t blame him for, to be honest. Even I am mildly shocked by what I said.

"The reason?"

"Yes. I mean, if the only reason I would steal is because I don't have money to support my studies, then no, I wouldn't do it. I have other options. I can work extra jobs or I can just drop out from uni. But if I didn't really have any other choice, if I had to do it for someone really close to me, for example, then I would do it."

"That is very…"

"Cliche, right? I know. But that's how it works, at least for me," I said with a laugh. "I do know what's good and bad, but I'm willing to jump the gun if I have to."

I didn't know if it was my imagination, but I thought I heard Jeno murmur something under his breath as I turned to get back to work.

"I bet Jaemin wouldn't like that."

-----

PRESENT DAY, a little over one month after the happenings in the first chapter.

They disappeared like bubbles. No, he disappeared in thin air, like smoke that was blown over by a strong gust of wind. After that night when Jaemin bust through my cafe door, hiding god knows what and asking for temporary shelter, he hasn't shown himself again, apparently leaving while I slipped into a light sleep. Even his friends stopped visiting the cafe which, for a few days, made me genuinely feel scared. Are they okay? What happened to him? Who was he running away from?

That worry slowly and gradually morphed into anger as the days lengthened. I know it was my way of coping with my emotions, but I couldn't help myself. I tried calling him, but the line was cut. It even came to the point that I had to call each of his friends, but it seems like the numbers they gave me were all temporary ones, too. I felt frustrated. I felt...abandoned.

Was it really easy for him to just cut off all contact with me?

Was it foolish of me to think that there is...something deeper here than just friendship?

It was the start of winter when the loud ringing of my phone woke me up from my nap. Eyes still heavy with sleep, my first instinct was to look at the clock by my table which registered 1:19AM. I frowned. I was in the middle of finishing a paper before I decided to take a nap but who could be calling me at such an ungodly hour?

I blearily reached out for my phone and barely looked at the unregistered number before hitting the answer button.

"Hello?"

"Noona?"

I froze. Just like that, I felt the sleepiness slowly melt away from my consciousness. I know that voice.

"Jisung?"

"Noona, we need your help."

I sat up on my seat after registering the panic in his voice. I heard another tone suddenly hiss at him from the background before a rustling sound overtook the speakers. It sounded like someone grabbed the phone from his grasp before he could even react.

"Jisung. What's happening—"

"Hello?" The new voice that spoke on the other line made my heart stop. I stared at my wall, wide-eyed.

"Jaemin."

"I'm sorry. We didn't mean to—"

"Jaemin, we don’t really have any other choice but her, give me the phone," another one jumped in. It was Mark.

"No. Hyung—"

"We're losing him," my lips parted in shock at what I heard. His voice sounded clearer now and I could very much pick up the iciness on it. Mark has always been so friendly and warm that it threw me off guard.

"Give me the phone."

The authority he held made me assume that Jaemin did as he was told. Next thing I know, he was calling out my name from the speaker.

"Mark, yes, I'm listening."

"Hey. I'm really sorry about this, but we need your help. We really have no other choice, Haechan is in such a bad state—"

That made me stand up and push away from my desk.

"What the hell is going on? What do you mean about Haechan?"

"I'll explain later. We're on our way to you now."

"Wait, what? You don't know my address."

"We'll be there in seven minutes."

That was all he said before he cut off the call, leaving me standing shell-shocked in the middle of my room.

---

They banged on my door not even five minutes after. I had barely pulled on a cardigan when loud knocks rang through my small one bedroom unit causing me to quickly run and grab my knob open.

I stood frozen at the sight of the seven boys crowding my doorway. Everyone was covered in some sort of soot, leaving them almost unrecognizable in their black outfits. Mark and Jeno were in the middle of the group, carrying a half-conscious Haechan between them. Jisung, Chenle, and Renjun brought the rear, their eyes moving wildly as if checking for eavesdroppers. Jaemin stood closest to me, his jaw tense and his eyes apologetic. My gaze snapped back to the center of the group when Mark called out my name.

That's when I saw it for the first time. I didn't notice it at first because of its dark color, but Jeno was holding a towel against Haechan's stomach. Except it isn't black, it was a deep dark red.

Blood.

"Oh my god."

"Please help us."

Maybe it was the shock, but I quickly stepped aside to let everyone in. I had barely slammed the door shut when I heard a crashing sound from my small dining area. Jeno pushed everything on top of my table to the ground as Mark and Jaemin gently guided Haechan on it.

"What—what is going on—"

"He's been shot. Thrice. We're not sure but I think two of the bullets are still there," Renjun answered me as he grabbed the soaked towel from Mark's hand and replaced it with a new one. Jisung and Chenle worked on closing all the shutters of my windows while Jaemin tore off a lamp from my living room to move it close to Haechan. He closed all other lights other than the ones on the dining area and the small lamp.

It was then when my training finally kicked in. I ran towards the table to peer at the wound, my shaking hands gently moving the new towel that is quickly getting soaked by blood again. Haechan gave a soft grunt of pain before slipping to unconsciousness again.

"I think there are still foreign objects there. It's what causing the severe bleeding."

"Can you take it out?"

My eyes shot to Jeno. The harsh lights from the lamp threw strong shadows on his stressed features.

"I'm not a licensed doctor."

"We don't need a licensed doctor right now, we need someone who can patch the hole in his stomach. Please."

I gritted my teeth. I have a ton of questions running through my head right now, but he's right. We need to act fast or else we will lose him. I rolled up my sleeves then and called out to whoever can act fast to my orders.

"Somebody get the black box under my bed. I have all my surgery practice tools there. I need hot water and lots of towels. Everyone move. Now."

As soon as I said my orders, each of the boys were moving in a flurry to get everything that I asked for. I was adjusting the small lamp directly over the wound to peer at it better when I felt a gentle hand circle around my arm. I looked up to see Jaemin staring at me.

"Thank you."

I didn't say anything at first. I don't know if it was the shadows playing over his features, but he looked different from the Jaemin I knew in that brief moment.

"Don't thank me yet. Say that once we're sure he survives."

---

I was stirred from my sleep by the light snoring of someone to my right. Turning my head, I was greeted by the sight of Jisung who was currently sprawled on my sofa, his legs so long that they were dangling on one end. Chenle was on the floor below him, his face covered by one of the pillows he probably fished from one of my love seats cradling Renjun's curled up form. Mark and Jeno were both sitting upright, the former close to Haechan and the other by the door like a sentinel. They seemed to be in deep sleep too, they're heads hanging low. Jaemin was on the floor next to my seat, his breathing slow and relaxed.

I blinked slowly as my gaze moved from boy to boy. It took me a painful two hours to do the impromptu surgery, first working on taking the bullets out before sewing everything back together. Haechan was lucky enough that the bullets didn't hit any vital organs or important vessels, and that the extreme bleeding was only caused by the wrong muscle being hit by the impact. He slipped from being conscious to unconscious throughout, and everyone had to work together to help me while I did my thing.

I couldn’t really blame any of them from crashing the moment we made sure that Haechan’s safe—for now.

After rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I tried to silently move from where I was curled on, careful not to stir anyone. I still have a ton of questions, but those can be taken care of later. I padded as carefully as I could towards the table where Haechan was still resting and peered at the IV that I had hooked on his arm to make sure everything was moving well.

They even have spare blood bags with them for emergency transfusions.

...As if this kind of thing normally happens.

"He's going to be okay, right?"

I hastily turned to see Jaemin staring at me. His voice was low and was only loud enough for me to hear.

I stared at him for a bit before looking away.

"Yes. He'll survive."

"Thank you so much."

I didn't answer. He also didn't say anything else, though I could still feel his gaze heavily on me. I braced myself before speaking again.

"We need to talk."

I didn't wait for him to reply. I simply walked towards my room, leaving my door open for him to follow. I only turned back to look at him when I finally heard it close softly behind him.

"Who are you?" I asked, before he could even say anything else. I watched as his jaw tightened and released, his eyes full of indecisiveness. I didn't waver. Not this time.

"You said…"

"That I will never ask questions? I did. But I can't do it anymore, Jaemin. You disappeared for a month without even saying goodbye then showed up on my door with your friends, one of them with a hole in their stomach. You have blood bags—freaking blood bags. What the hell is going on?"

I tried my hardest to control my voice, not wanting any part of this conversation to be heard outside. My legs felt weak at the moment but I tried my best to continue standing so I could hold his gaze.

The look in Jaemin's eyes, however, almost made me want to give up. I knew from the pain and hesitation there that I wouldn't like whatever it is he is about to say.

"I'm a criminal."

My stomach dropped.

I was expecting it, but hearing it straight from him didn't soften the impact and the shock.

"A…"

"We steal. We do illegal things. There is absolutely no good way for me to describe this, but yes, I am a runaway who was stupid enough to bring you into this mess," Jaemin said through gritted teeth as he tore his eyes away from me. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to take a deep breath to steady himself.

"I was stupid and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone back and tried to befriend you after that order of coffee. I'm sorry I ran to you that night a month ago. I seriously thought I was going to die and I wanted you to be the one that I see for the last time. I'm sorry for today, or that I couldn't answer any of your questions back then. It was selfish of me to keep you in my life without giving you anything back," he stopped and forced himself to look at me again. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest when our gazes met.

"I'm sorry."

I didn't… couldn't say anything. One part of me had already expected this because it is the only reason that makes sense. Those vague answers, his detachment from normal society, the money, every clue seems to point to one direction, but that didn't spare me from my moral dilemma now. Because while I knew, I didn't exactly consider how it relates to me.

I was afraid to.

Because the truth is, I like Na Jaemin to the extent that I'm afraid of what I can do for him.

"Do you kill…" I asked in a whisper, my voice shaky. A frown passed his already stressed features before he answered.

"No. None of us do," he answered, and I knew then that he was telling the truth. Regardless of what he is or what he didn't tell me, I trust him to not lie to me.

"Am I—am I in danger?" I asked next. He firmly shook his head.

"No. I made sure of that. No one would dare—" he stopped, as if gauging what words he can use to not scare me even more. "You have always been under protection."

That’s when it clicked. The cafe visits from his friends. The random strangers who seem to spring out from nowhere every time I was out and about and needed sudden help.

My legs finally gave way and I collapsed on my bed behind me. My mind was trying its best to wrap around the situation, leaving my thoughts in a jumble. There are a million things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t get a single one out at the moment.

Jaemin seemed to know what I was feeling at the very least because he simply stood there, silently watching me. I'm not sure how long the two of us stayed in that bubble of silence, but it was also him who brought me back to reality when I felt warmth cover my hands.

I looked up to see him kneeling in front of me, both his hands gently enveloping my clasped ones. The look in his eyes made my heart lurch, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything still.

"I'm sorry if I was selfish… I promise, after this, you won't have to worry about anything else."

No.

"When I met you, I saw something that's so different from the life that I have. Believe me, I tried my best to leave you alone, but I wanted more of it—more of —you, so I kept coming back."

Are you going to leave me again?

"But you'll be safe now. I promise. You can go back to how it used to be before I… almost ruined it."

Please don't leave me.

Jaemin gave my hands one last squeeze and I felt him move to straighten himself. Before he let them go, however, another gentle warmth pressed against my forehead as he grazed it with his lips.

"Thank you."

My tears dropped the same time the doors closed behind him.

---

Chapter 4

120 notes · View notes

in-superbloom · 3 years

Text

did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? (a.i.)

right where you left me: prologue

pairing: ashton irwin x olivia jones (oc)

warnings: uhh a kinda grieving theme i guess? but no deaths. it has a sad tone overall, but nothing major (in this chapter hehe). foul language because i can't help myself. the tiniest mention of alcohol, but as a memory. think i should probably warn you that this contains a very sad ash. also not much dialogues. this is mainly for explanation and introduction, but very important for the story. if you find anything else that might be triggering, please let me know so i can add it here !!

author's note: oof okay. so. this is the prologue of a series very very dear to my heart that i've been working on for what it feels like my whole life but really it's been just a few months. but i'm in love with the story (which rarely happens with my own writing) so i hope you can enjoy it too !! this is also my very first time posting a fic since 2013 so pls keep that in mind <3 no i am not shaking as type this ofc not also: although i have the full story ready in my head, this is the only chapter that's written. i wanted to wait until i had at least a few ready before posting this but i'm too anxious for that lmao just saying this bc it will take a good while until i have any more chapters, so <3 (p.s.: i went over this thing a million times since may so if you find any errors pls look away, i'm not fixing this thing anymore. thanks <3)

another note: anna from the future here to say that i completely forgot about the playlist i made for the story lmao here it is in case you're interested k thanks bye <3

credits: title is from taylor swift's song right where you left me. model in the picture: paola locatelli. banner by me.

i also wanted to take a minute to thank some really nice friends that i've made here over these past few months & that i'm extremely grateful for @wastelandcth @suchalonelysunflower @littledrummerangie i cannot thank you babes enough for inspiring me the way that you do & for letting me yell about this to you && for encouraging me so much 🥺 i'll never be able to explain just how much this means to me, so i'll have to settle for saying thank you at any change that i can get <3 i love you all 💜 also gem my baby, thank you for the inspo with the banner 💚

@bluesdelis look babe i did it 😌 you know how grateful i am for you & for you letting me have a breakdown every week about my writing for the past 8 years so let's not dive into that or else i will write something bigger than this prologue jsjsjdjd love you 🖤

i hope you all have a good reading and a nice day ♡

let me know what are your thoughts about the fic ! ♡

word count: 4.1k

☆☆☆

Cold. That was the first thing that Olivia’s brain processed.

Still with her eyes closed, she buried herself more into the duvet, while her arm blindly reached for the furnace in human form that she calls boyfriend. However, as soon as her arm was only met with cold sheets, her eyes shot open.

Blinking the sleep away, she sat up on the bed, searching for the infamous red clock resting on Ashton’s bedside table that was supposed to look like a vintage alarm clock. Olivia had ordered it online at an auction website a couple of years back, as a gift for his 23rd birthday, since it was something he had mentioned multiple times prior that he was looking for, but still hadn't found. But when it finally came in (two weeks after the due date), it looked nothing like the picture she saw on the website. Feeling beyond frustrated, she wanted to send it back immediately and ask for a refund and maybe leave a not so polite review on the seller's page. But Ashton stopped her right away, laughing like the situation was absolutely hilarious to him, while saying, 'I like it, it’s quirky'. So, the clock stayed and found a home right next to him in their room.

Some days, however, she would wake up at some ungodly hour because of the blaring noise of the only ringtone the clock had. But whatever annoyance she could feel towards the object, it always vanished as soon as she felt Ashton's lips gently touching her face in a good morning kiss before he would get up to start his day, leaving her to catch some more hours of well deserved sleep.

As the furthest from a morning person as a touring musician could possibly be, Olivia had always feared that living under the same roof as Ashton would turn her into an early bird like him, but she's thankful that it never happened (not that he needs to know about that).

When she sees the red clock, she smiles at the sudden but welcome memories of them flooding her foggy brain, but frowns slightly when she realizes it reads 12:13 pm. Ashton rarely lets her sleep past 10 am.

Gathering all her strength and will, she rises up from the bed, smoothly picking up a grey wool sweatshirt from the chair (way too baggy on her slim body, but it smells like him), pulling it over her head and relishing on the soft material warming up her body. Making her way to the door and calmly going down the stairs, she can’t help but stop for a minute to admire the picture frames on their walls, one in particular catches her attention – probably one of the most prized pictures and memories they had. It felt older than it actually is, but it was around 4 years ago, she's sure – a little while after the two of them met. The picture was of their group of friends that still remains the same: Ashton and his best friend, Luke; Olivia, her best friend, Calum and their old hometown friend, turned into Calum’s new friend at college, turned into everyone’s friend, Michael; and her then newly band members, Suki, Eli and Ravi. Together, their group was the life of the party through all their college years, and it showed by the big smiles and drinks in hands they all had in the picture. It was a very special night, the first time Olivia’s little band played for the public – for a small audience sure, but it was a wonderful night nonetheless. What a long road it had been since that night.

Her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a shiver that went through her whole body, and it made her realize how oddly cold the whole house was, not only their bedroom. Which, granted, it was November in New York and the weather was just getting colder, but that’s exactly why Ashton always made sure to keep the house warm enough. As much as she loved the chilly season, the warm weather always reminded him of his hometown, and who was she to deny him that?

The smell of fresh made coffee could be sensed even before she reached the kitchen. Arriving there, the curly haired woman still found no signs of her boyfriend, so she went straight after the coffee maker pot sitting on the far left corner of the cream marble counter. Smiling softly at the tons of memories of Ashton's sleepy figure making their favorite beverage, she reached for a coffee mug on the cupboard on top of the counter and poured the remainder of the hot liquid on it (it's her favorite mug, if she must choose – it was a gift from a fan, and it had printed on it a collage of the pictures of her and Ashton that were posted on social media through their first year of relationship).

Moving to the glass doors that lead to the mini garden they cultivate, she didn't have to open them to spot the 6-feet-tall man sitting on a bench outside, looking oddly small in his oversized clothes, coffee mug tightly held between strong hands. Something about his figure made Olivia frown, however: he was staring with an unwavering look at her small but eye-catching pot of yellow daffodils that were almost as much of a pet to them as Stitch at this point. Sensing that there’s something definitely off about his semblance, she made a mental note to talk to him and find out what’s wrong later. So she goes back to the kitchen, knowing that he might need this quiet and private moment for himself.

She lost count of the minutes that went by (couldn't have been more than five) before she hears the garden's door opening and closing, and then his bare feet are dragging his brawny body to her. Except, he goes over to the sink, walking right through her, not showing any sign that he even saw her hunched figure over the counter table in the middle of the room.

Alright, someone's in a mood.

Olivia tries to swallow the annoyance already bubbling inside her – he knows how much she hates to be ignored, no matter how mad he might be – by trying to think of what she can say that won't piss him off. This is always a hard feat to accomplish when Ashton gets in these moods, but there’s a reason for them to work so well together.

“I missed my favorite body heater when I woke up,” she says in her best sweet voice, knowing how quickly his resolve crumbles when he hears that voice.

Still, no reaction.

That settles a worry at the pit of her stomach, because Ashton is never like this. Even when he's not in the mood to talk, he always gives some kind of reaction to her words; it doesn't matter how small, just enough to make her feel acknowledged.

When he's finished washing his mug and the few scattered dishes across the sink – she noticed that he already had lunch, if the lone plate in the drying rack is anything to go by –, he dries his hand in a towel, turns around and throws it on top of the same counter Olivia was leaning up against. Once again, he walks away not even sparing her a look.

Indignant, she leaves the now empty coffee mug on top of the table and follows him as he walks up the stairs, any determination to not aggravate his mood now well gone.

“Hey! In case you didn't notice, I'm right here. Whatever got you in this sour mood, I'm certainly not to blame, so can you stop being a child now and talk to me?!”

Ashton just keeps walking – more like sluggishly dragging his body – until he reaches their bedroom and suddenly stops just merely two feet inside the room, looking around with vacant eyes; like he was expecting to see something that wasn't there.

“Okay, that's really mature of you. Are you planning on ignoring me all day then?” Olivia questions exasperated, staring angrily at the back of his neck, where the condor tattoo lives – her favorite of his, but that sight doesn't bring her any peace today like it usually does.

Her glare only breaks when she hears the familiar sound of dog tags swaying on her right side. Shifting her gaze to the direction of the sound, Olivia notices Stitch, their small, black & white French bulldog – who she thought was outside in the garden – slowly trudging his way from around the bed until he stops at Ashton's feet, looking up at one of his humans with sad eyes. That realization only makes the worry in her stomach grow uncomfortably.

“Hi buddy,” Ashton's voice cracks a bit from the lack of use, but he smiles softly at the sweet dog, and crouches down to pet him.

Olivia can't help but gasp as she notices three things all at once that leave her overwhelmed: first, how she didn't even notice Stitch was in the room when she woke up – which never ever happens, in fact, most days he wakes her up whenever he deems her bedtime as finished and can't ever contain his excitement when she finally gets up; second, how the windows blinds are closed, which, again, rarely occurs under their roof, not if Ashton can help it. And third, how sad and melancholic the whole scene in front of her is – how sad and melancholic Ashton is. Pointless to say by now – that's also a very rare occasion.

A chill creeps up Olivia's spine, putting her body into high alert and also serving as a reminder of how everything looks out of place today. Trying to keep her head from spiraling down way too soon, she wraps her arms around herself and crouches down beside her two favorite boys, trying once more.

“Ash? Can you hear me?” even with her throat closing, she softly asks, purposefully putting her face in Ashton's point of view. Her only answer is the low whispers he's letting out to Stitch, while cradling the tiny dog in his arms, spreading gentle kisses on his head.

“I know, bud, I know. I miss her too,” is the only whisper she could understand and immediately wishes she hadn't. The weak wail that comes from Stitch's throat seems to fit perfectly with how the three of them feel.

Ashton then looks up and for a couple of seconds, and Olivia can swear he’s staring right into her eyes. But when he shows no reaction, she knows he’s just staring ahead and not at her, with that look that says there’s too much going on inside his head. She feels the urge to embrace him and get him to talk about whatever is on his mind, so they can share that weight like they always do, but when Ashton gets up from the ground and settles on the bed with Stitch, Olivia can physically feel the crack in her heart caused by the feeling she’s left with.

While Ashton is pulling the duvet over him and the dog, with clearly no intentions of getting up anytime soon, Olivia stands up on her feet with a new-found determination – she needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

This nightmare had to be just that, right? Nothing but a very vivid dream – she's had those before. Scary sure, but they always go away, and soon enough she's back into Ashton's arms, with Stitch jumping on the bed ready to lick their faces off. She just needs to wake herself up from whatever fucked up dream this is – right?

She's running down the stairs this time, frantically in search of something, of what exactly, she doesn’t know – but she knows she needs an answer. The more she looks for something, the more desperate she gets, not knowing what to look for. Then suddenly, something catches her eyes.

The white and blue calendar that's held up by magnets on the side of the fridge. She knows their calendar is red and yellow. They got it from their favorite flower market. Slowly, as if scared of what it might be there – “It's just a calendar, for fucks sake” – she approaches the damn thing. Upon inspection, she deems it as a normal calendar – she really doesn't know what she was expecting – until.

She knows what's wrong with it now.

It's November. She knows it, because the Asian and last leg of her first world tour is about to begin November 21st, eleven days from today. Right after Mike's birthday, she knows this.

Then why does the calendar say today is January 14th?

☆ ☆ ☆

Ashton woke up with a jolt. He quickly sat up, frightening the little Frenchie that was asleep right next to him on the bed. Trying to make sense of his surroundings, he roughly rubbed his face to get some sleep off of it and soon reached for the dog that was staring at him with sleepy but sad eyes. Ashton is sure Stitch understands far more than a dog is supposed to understand about their current situation.

The room is covered in shadows, almost pitch black, but he can see the sunlight even through the thick dark grey blinds covering up the windows. Ashton knows he won't be able to sleep again at that moment, so he gets up from the bed – much slower than he used to. His heartbeat is still out of control because of the nightmare that woke him up, but he can't bother to pay attention to it when Stitch is softly wailing beside him. Ashton lets out a ghost of a smile when the dog rests his head on his right upper thigh, looking up at him with an expression Ashton knows all too well.

“C'mon you little ravenous creature, let's feed you,” the bulldog excitedly jumps to the ground, already running his way down the stairs, not even waiting for Ashton to get up.

That gets a real smile out of him, but it vanishes as soon as he glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It reads 5:13 am, nothing out of the ordinary for him. But that small and inoffensive clock, with its red paint peeling off, holds a lot of memories for him. Memories that two months ago would bring joy to his heart, but now he almost wants to throw the object across the room.

It was a stupid thing, really. He had been wanting a vintage alarm clock and Olivia got one for his birthday. But the product they received was definitely not the one she bought, and if he's being honest, he didn't like it as much as he made out to. But seeing her so excited in the weeks before it arrived, and how disappointed she was when it did, he couldn't help but try his best to make her smile that luminous smile again. It's part of his nature by now.

That's also the reason why he lets her think that he doesn't notice when she wakes up at some ungodly hour (her words, not his) along with him, because of the annoying and only sound the alarm clock is able to produce. He always leaves soft kisses in every inch of bare skin he can find on her sleeping figure, so she goes back to the dream land and doesn't wake up before 10 am. No one wants to deal with that kind of bad humor, not even him.

As much as he likes being a morning person and absolutely enjoys her company in the mornings, he knows she'll take any and every extra hour of sleep she can get before starting the day. And that's why he loves that she's so stubborn that his early bird tendencies never got to her – he knows she feared that this would happen when they moved in together, but he met her like this, fell for her like this. He wouldn't change a single thing about her.

Ashton drags himself out of the bed, wincing slightly at how cold the wooden floors are under his bare feet. He doesn't bother putting some socks on, or a sweater – the cold weather in the house is uncharacteristically comforting to him. Nothing feels warm without her anyway.

While descending the stairs, he mentally curses himself for not being strong enough to look past the picture frames on the wall. One in particular catches his eyes – a picture from the night of Olivia's first concert with her band. The memories of that night are still painfully vivid in his mind: the laughter among their group that eventually infected everyone at the pub, Suki and Luke's first kiss and the silly smile that didn't leave his best friend's face all night, the standing ovation Olivia got after her three-songs set, and her captivating and breathtaking smile that made him realize right then and there, while watching her sway to the music, that he was definitely falling in love with her and there was nothing he could do to stop it – not that he wanted to.

So many memories held up on that wall, in the relatively short time since they met, that he can't help but wonder if that's all they'll get in this lifetime.

Ashton is abruptly taken out of his thoughts by Stitch's barks coming from the bottom of the stairs. He quickly jogs down the few steps left and goes straight after the dog's food in the kitchen's cabinet. After Stitch starts to happily devour his breakfast, Ashton goes to make his coffee, doing enough for two people like he always does, since Calum drops by most days for a chat or to drop Duke before going to work. Although all three of them know he just can't bother to make food for himself in the morning, while Ashton is the group's elected chef. Ashton always says he just needs a boyfriend – Olivia says Calum already has one who makes him breakfast every day.

He grabs an apple from the fridge and makes his way outside to their garden. Even though a lot of their memories took place there, the garden is the only space in the house where he doesn't feel like suffocating all the time. At least here, he can breathe some fresh air and look at the sky when he's feeling overwhelmed – which is basically all he's been doing for about a month now.

Yet, a lot of the garden has Olivia's name written all over.

He remembers vividly the day she came home after spending two weeks in LA doing some pocket shows, with a pack of daffodil seeds and the largest smile. She excitedly told him that a friend gifted it to her when she mentioned the little garden they were planning to build together at their new house. The friend told Olivia that daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, so as the good lover of symbolism that she is, Olivia loved the idea of having those flowers to symbolize their new beginning.

Ashton, on the other hand, wasn't a fan of the flowers at first – he just didn't see the appeal to them. But nonetheless, he indulged her, letting Olivia plant the seeds near the bench they used to sit during the quiet and unrushed afternoons, so they could admire the sunset, and she could happily look at the daffodils.

Pointless to say – the damn flowers grew on him.

Now, however, looking at them without Olivia and her contagious joy next to him, they were back to be as dull as they were before, if not more so.

Still lost inside his head without any sense of how much time went by since he sat down, Ashton doesn't hear the front door closing, and doesn't notice that he's no longer the only person inside the house until someone sits next to him on the bench. Yet, he doesn't show any sign of acknowledgement to them.

A few minutes go by before either of them speaks up.

“Luke said you didn't go to see her yesterday,” Calum starts softly, not wanting to disturb the calmness of the morning.

Ashton takes a few seconds to respond, “No point in doing that.” The black haired man licks his lips while thinking carefully about his next words.

“You know staying inside this house all day by yourself won't help either,” Calum turns his head to his left and takes a good look at Ashton's uncharacteristically hunched over figure, and immediately thinks that anyone can tell this man is not himself anymore. His second thought is that Olivia would hate seeing him like this.

“And what exactly do you expect me to do? Move on with my life like nothing happened? Like I'm not slowly and painfully losing the love of my life? Just because it’s easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for me.”

Calum closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows Ashton doesn't mean it, it's the anger and frustration talking. He knows it. Doesn't make it sting any less.

“I'm not telling you to move on with your life, because that's far from what I'm doing, and I certainly don't expect you to do it. I'm just saying you need to occupy your mind or else–”

“I'll go insane? Think it's a bit too late for that,” Ashton interrupts with a bitter tone that doesn't belong to his usual chirpy voice.

“You know it's not,” Calum sighs and drinks the rest of his coffee, moving his body slightly, so he's facing the blonde man, “I got a job interview for you at that school you talked about so much last summer, the principal said you can go any day this week. I went ahead and sent her your resume as well as explained everything that she needs to know about Olivia, so you don't have to. You just gotta put on some decent clothes and show up.” he sees Ashton's face softening a little and takes it as a victory. A few beats go by and then, “Maybe take a shower too. That's gonna make you feel better.” Calum leans in closer to his friend's personal space and takes a sniff, causing Ashton to deflect from him slightly, but not to push him away – another small win.

“Definitely take a shower, you stink. When was the last time your hair saw shampoo?”

“Fuck off,” is Ashton's only reply to the younger man's inquest. But Calum can see a smile creeping up on the blonde's face, which brings out a smile of his own.

“I'll send you all the details later today,” he checks the hour on the watch on his wrist and gets up, “Just please, Ash, go. I can't lose you too.”

Calum gently lays a hand on Ashton's shoulder and squeezes a little. The man doesn't look up, but gives a curt nod to his friend, who's satisfied enough. Calum stops on the threshold of the garden glass doors to give some kisses to Stitch – who came to make Ashton company as soon as he finished his food –, and then he puts the coffee mug on the dishwater. And soon enough, he's on his way out of the door. But not before snatching a tangerine from the fridge.

Ashton is left by himself once again. As he hears the sound of the front door closing, he thinks that this might be his life from now on. Just him and Stitch, trying their hardest to make it through another miserable day without the love of their lives. While everyone else comes by just to make sure he's still breathing. Breathing, maybe, but alive?

Swallowing the tears, he looks up at the sky. It's a deep, beautiful mix of orange, pink and blue, but he knows that it won't last long and soon the rain will be pouring down. He thinks about how much Olivia loves the rain.

God, he needs to pull himself together. She would hate to see him like this. Maybe he should take Calum's offer after all, he really needs to occupy his mind.

Making a mental note to thank Calum later, and also to apologize for how rude he was to him this morning, Ashton slowly gets up from the bench to put his mug on the sink and makes his way to the living room, with the small dog loyally following his every step. He puts on some cartoon that for once doesn't remind him of her (she always lovingly made fun of him for still watching those) and cuddles with Stitch on the couch. He can take a shower later.

Not half an hour goes by, he falls asleep and has a good dream for a change. He dreams of the days he spent with Olivia in the Philippines last February, right before her first world tour started. Some of the most magical days of their lives – surrounded by delicious food, a whole new culture to learn about and the warmth of the sun. Infinite counted days full of love and passion, where they were the only people in the world.

Even his subconscious knows to hold on to that brief moment of happiness, because he might never live that again.

#anna writes #perhaps she does write after all #alright i'm gonna go hide somewhere now bye #ashton irwin fanfiction #ashton irwin fic #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin x oc #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #ashton irwin imagine #5 seconds of summer #5sos imagine #anna writes: rwylm

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certified-dumbass02 · 3 years

Text

Alright yall, this is my first crack at an xreader or second person ficlet. I never actually felt the desire to read any until I saw Black Widow and fell in love at first sight with Yelena (self-explanatory). I don’t think I ever would have tried this but I was inspired by the lovely @peachbear88 and the song Clouds by Borns.

Let me know what y’all think

~*~

Clouds

“Lena! Let’s go watch clouds!” You shout excitedly, bouncing up and down on your toes as you poke at the lump under the covers. A soft groan emanates as a blonde head pops out from her cocoon, blankets clinging to the top of her wild bed head like a nun’s habit.

Bleary green eyes squint at you as her face pinches up in an adorable yawn, and for an instant, you almost feel bad for waking her early on a weekend when she usually sleeps in. Almost.

You know Yelena, when she’s fully alert, has an active imagination that relishes its chances to run wild. Her mind works a mile a minute, and her watchful eyes catch everything with the excitement of a child and the experience of a worldly woman. It’s one of the many things you love about her. This activity is right up her alley, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

“Clouds? Is that a show?” Her accent is thicker and her voice rougher from sleep, so you grin at her and pat her head fondly as you sit on the bed next to her. She grunts, mumbles something about not being a cat, but leans into your hand as you smooth her hair down anyways.

“Not a show. It’s where you lay in the grass, look at the clouds, and try to see if you can interpret any shapes out of them.”

She frowns slightly. “Isn’t it supposed to rain today?”

“No! It’s the perfect day to go to the park. So sunny.”

A delicate blond brow quirks up, and you find yourself wondering how someone with sleep crust still in her eyes can look so devastatingly beautiful. “If it’s sunny, there won’t be clouds to watch, no?”

Yelena’s long eyelashes flutter against the back of your hand as you wipe the crust away adoringly. “Partly cloudy. But still sunny, so no rain.”

She smiles at you, soft in the light streaming through the window, and nods. “Alright, let’s go watch the clouds.”

~*~

The blanket beneath you is soft beneath your back, the sun warm on your face, and the smell of fresh cut grass fills the air as you lie in the park with Yelena, watching clouds.

As predicted, she’s taken to it like a duck to water.

“That one! That one right there!” She points excitedly, hand jutting up in the air in front of you. “It’s clearly a grenade launcher!”

You open your mouth to protest, but no sound comes at as you squint further at the cloud, because hey that actually does kind of look like that grenade launcher Yelena brought home that one time and giddily mounted on the-

“And that one is most definitely a ladybug,” she points at a different one, closer to her side.

Your face breaks into a smile. Yelena’s imagination is stretched so far to accommodate all she is and all she’s learned in her life; the way her mind works has you looking fondly at her in wonder and awe.

You recover yourself and your bearings before she notices you staring. “That one is a swan.”

She cocks her head slightly at you and frowns. “It can’t be a swan. Look at that spot of cloud up near its head - it doesn’t belong.”

“Ahh but my dear,” you tut, bopping her nose lightly as she giggles. “That spot is a trumpet for our dear bird.”

She grins in delight as she understands. “Like the Trumpet and the Swan!”

You nod at her with an answering smile and hum you agreement. Yelena had found that book on one of your bookstore adventures and had, perhaps surprisingly, adored it. Her copy is still proudly on the nightstand beside the bed at home.

After the swan cloud, the two of you continue gazing, with the suggestions becoming progressively more ridiculous as the afternoon wears on.

A juggling clown. An exact imitation of the country of Vietnam. An elephant on a unicycle. A World War 2 tank. A sickle and hammer, as you eye her with a smirk and she shoves you playfully with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

Maybe, it is that shove that knocks your sense out of you.

Maybe it’s the way the sun glances off her golden hair and lights up her blazing green eyes. Maybe it’s the fact that her smile fills your chest with air at the same time it knocks it out of you. Or maybe, it’s because it’s been on the tip of your tongue for months now and you just don’t see the point in shutting your mouth any longer - was there ever really a point?

Whatever the reason, it comes bubbling out of you, and you open your mouth anxious and eager and praying you don’t stutter or trip over your words because you want it to be right. Yelena deserves right.

“Hmm,” you hum, looking at her from the side of your eye. “I think that one looks like my future.”

She frowns slightly, brow furrowing in confusion as she turns her head to squint at you. “What?”

You grin, feeling more confident now, because of course this is exactly what you want to be doing, who you want to be doing it with. “That one looks like my future.”

“The dark, shapeless blob is your future? Doesn’t seem very promising.” She tuts in that blunt, sarcastic way of hers.

You’re turned fully on you side now, facing her as she turns to face you, and her smart mouth has you burst out in raucous laughter, like it always does.

“You’re not even looking at the clouds! How can you say one looks like your future? What does a future even look like?!” She splutters in indignation as you start sucking in breaths in between cackles. Yelena tries to glare sternly at you, to no avail. She is a deadly, dangerous woman, but she couldn’t intimidate you if she wanted to - and she would never, ever want to.

Deciding to abandon her half-hearted glower, she proceeds to sulk cutely.

It’s this pout finally calms you, and you smile. It’s maybe the softest smile you’ve ever done, and this is definitely the softest you’ve ever been, but somehow it feels like you’ve done this before. It doesn’t feel scary, or overwhelming even if this is new to you, because it feels like you’ve loved Yelena your whole life.

“You’re right. I wasn’t looking at the clouds,” you say, letting it hang suspended in the air for a moment so you can fully relish the second it clicks for her. You see exactly when it does; her green eyes widen and her cheeks bloom a pretty, dusty pink as your smile grows impossibly larger and softer. “You. You look like my future, Yelena Belova.”

For an instant, it seems like she truly believes you - she flushes deeper than you’ve ever seen. The next instant it changes, like she wants to believe you, but a battle rages in her eyes between the faithful and the skeptical. The instant after that, she shakes her head almost imperceptibly, mouth pursing and she scoffs, laughing you off.

You see it for what it is. Her sound is dismissive, not out of apathy, but out of fear. Her eyes roll, but snap back to you, practically begging you to be sincere - to mean it, because for some ungodly reason no one else has. Cagey as she is, she will never ask for it aloud.

Yelena very carefully gives you an out; it’s as much to protect her as it is to protect you. You could join her, laugh it off as a corny joke and avoid this, probably forever, or you could stay and embrace it.

As if you could ever do anything but stay.

You reach out a hand, setting it down in the grass half the distance to her stiff, rigid body. Almost automatically, Yelena reaches out with her own, and as you twine your fingers together, you see the tension melt from her form.

“I mean it, Lena. Anytime I try to think about my future, all I see is your face over and over. It’s like I was sleepwalking before I met you, but then you woke me up,” you whisper gently, because these kinds of soul-bearing words are made for quiet, intimate murmurs, not loud, boisterous declarations. “A life without you would be no life at all.”

The blonde beauty you’ve found yourself enamored with inhales sharply, like you’ve hit her in the gut. The green eyes you associate with warmth, with laughter, with home, flicker with hope, but still, she seems conflicted.

Hoping to finally put her mind at ease, you squeeze her hand and smile again. “I love you, Yelena. I don’t want anything, or anyone, but you. I want to go wherever you go, then come home together to a closet full of pocketed vests and flannel and a whole pack of dogs. Nothing else could compare.”

Immediately, it’s like a damn breaks. She swiftly launches herself at you, burying her face in your neck and nuzzling the pulse there. If you feel wetness on your skin as she mumbles out an “I love you too,” you don’t mention it. Instead, you grip her tighter, warmth from her body and her words seeping into your bones like molasses.

You two lie there for sometime, love admissions pouring from you both like free-flowing wine. Eventually, she settles her head over your heart as you rest your chin on blonde hair.

“So what do you say, Lena? Will you be my future for forever?” You ask, running the pads of your fingers lightly over her knuckles.

She grabs your hand, kisses your palm simply. “Yes.”

You can feel the ghost of her smiling lips still on your palm, so you bring your twined hands up to your own grin and buss her wrist and the knuckles you’d mapped out earlier. “Even if it means being dragged out to watch clouds with me?”

Yelena turns then, humming in faux consideration. “The activity could grow on me in time. Not unlike you,” she pauses for a moment and then smirks devilishly. “Or a rash.”

You bark out a laugh. “Wow, comparing me to a rash? We’re off to a great start.”

You watch as green eyes roll, knowing and happily expecting to see as much for the rest of your life. “Well, you proposed by comparing me to a fat rain cloud,” she shrugs. “I think we’re even.”

“It’s not a rain cloud! It’s a perfectly normal cloud - and hey! I wasn’t even looking at that cloud, remember?”

“It absolutely is a rain cloud. You implied I was large, amorphous, and filled with liquid, liable to ruin outdoor sporting events and the days of small children by pissing all over them.”

“I so did not! And it isn’t going to rain!”

“Yes it is.”

~*~

It rained.

Smiling into your kisses with Yelena’s warm hands on your neck, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

#yelena belova #yelena x reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena x you #yelena my beloved #black widow #i tried i guess #i think I have a thing for chaotic blonde Russian assassins

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rouiyan · 3 years

Text

𝘖𝘍𝘍 𝘐𝘊𝘌 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ jeno's installment of the keep your cool collective ⧐

synopsis: he likes to think it's romantic how he always finishes your sentences for you. you think it's annoying that he keeps interrupting you.

✧ ice hockey player!lee jeno x (fem.) tutor!reader ✧ college au

✧ genres : fluff, angst, slightly suggestive ✧ word count : 4.4k ✧ disclaimers : mentions of sexual activities, swearing

✧ author’s note — same universe as my puck in your goal which does not need to be read first but can be. also, hi @crownily i did it :)

let's just say jeno sucks at school and that the one thing he doesn't suck at is hockey, ice hockey. and let's just say that you're his tutor, strictly for tutoring purposes. yet, here you find yourself at his doorstep at 3:47 in the morning, or so your phone says.

he opens up to see you clad dressed down, different from the neat tee and skirt he's so used to. to be completely honest, jeno has never felt anything towards you and even he himself finds that hard to believe since you're everything he could ever ask for in a girl. pretty and cute, snappy but sweet, the most perfect curve of lips and above all, you're an intellectual. he finds it attractive but he isn't attracted to you, per se.

jeno wished he would though, especially now that he's suffering from what he called you here for in the first place: an extreme case of breakup.

one hand leaning your weight on the doorframe, the right of your shit rides up. jeno bites down on his lip, retracting his eyes to your face. "let me get this straight, you called me here, at this time of night, to get me to help you with what exactly?" so what if he thought fucking you would be a good way to keep his mind off things? too bad he didn't think any further than that. the words come to his as he speaks, "i just thought that- that...you- you would be awake at this time! because you know- you like to study…did i interrupt anything?"

donning a dreary expression, you nod in clarification, "yeah, you interrupted my studying."

"right, okay, i'll let you get back to that," he turns in haste as if to close the door behind him but you catch it with your heel, a scowl making its way across your face at what you were about to say, "forget it, jen, i'm already here. what do you need help with?" you stare into his back, his widening eyes unbeknownst to you. he turns again, now deliberate in motion, just to give him as much time to get his bearings together. lifting one shoulder in suggestion, and truthfully confusion, his voice is a pitch higher when he responds, "...studying?"

and that's how he finds himself staring into the crack between the wall and the far end of his desk, your figure hovering above him but not in the way he'd planned for, planned poorly for. jeno is on edge and frankly, he feels incredibly bad because he doesn't understand anything that comes from your mouth and the words you jot down on his paper before him all seem to collide and blur into each other. that's when he realizes he's started crying.

and that's when you're rendered speechless as the boy sits there, the little tracks running down his face wetting the paper you were teaching off of. "jeno, oh my god. fuck, you good?" you don't want to come off as prying so you avoid the whole 'why' notion but you're not that socially inept to miss that he didn't call you here at such an ungodly hour of morning just to get some unpaid tutor hours in and he certainly isn't crying because he doesn't understand shit.

a hand of his is sifting through his hair while another rubs harshly down the side of his face. "i don't think you should- i'm just gonna go get you some tissues, i'll- i'll go get that." you turn on your heel and navigate your way from his room to the kitchen you'd passed on the way in. it's dark and you know he has roommates, you were less than willing to make your presence known. to your dismay, the kitchen was currently being occupied by a man whom you've yet to identify, being only two steps in when you stop in your tracks.

he identifies you first, "y/n, what are you doing here?" and you pick up from the voice that it's donghyuck. your foot hits a cabinet before your eyes get a chance to adjust to the lighting, "fuck, yeah i'm here with jeno, well i'm not- not like that, we're just studying."

"just studying?" there's no way to see it but you swear the cock of his brows is apparent as it would be at day. you hum in response, fingers trying to make out the paper towel dispenser you were sure you caught a glimpse of on the way in. "so you're saying," he pulls out his phone and the light that emits from the screen is enough to guide you in the right direction before he shoves is back in his pocket. "that you booked a tutoring session with him at 4:19 a.m.?"

tearing one, then two, from the dispenser, you distractedly let a disbelieving, "yup," past your lips. hyuck scrutinizes you in the dark and his next words nearly shock you out of your skin, "is he fucking you because he just got dumped? is that why?"

you swivel at lightning speed, "he what?" hand over his mouth, donghyuck seems genuinely apologetic, though you wouldn't put it past him if he was not, "shit, you didn't know?" folding the paper towels two times over in your hands, you gingerly across the room to where the boy is seated, "i mean, i know that he didn't call me here just to study but that's legitimately what we ended up doing." he doesn't answer for awhile so you follow up with a question, "you think he wants to fuck me?"

hyuck looks you straight in the eye, "yeah, yeah i do." it hangs unsaid in the air between the two of you, but it's within both of your knowledge that jeno only wanted you here for sexual relief from his frustrations, that whatever else could be denoted by the deed was simply inapplicable for this situation. you shake your head of the thoughts, "so, what are you doing up this early?" you know that there is a weary and weeping jeno you have to get back to but you also know that your presence is somewhat unwelcome there, uncomfortable even, while he wades in his fit of tears.

hyuck replies with a heavy tone, "he gave me some things to think about too."

and you jump to conclusions all too quickly, "he wants to fuck you too?"

"god, y/n, no."

a weak laugh lining your demeanor after the last of the interaction, you reenter jeno's room to find him sprawled wide, his back to the bed. "hey," you preface as you round upon his bed, setting the paper towels on his nightstand. it seemed his tears had run their race and his eyes were now staring lethargically into the ceiling. perching yourself on the edge, you reach to place a hand atop one of his, giving two reassuring squeezes. "need anything?"

only now does jeno seem to take note of your arrival, his eyes hooded eyes flit to you for half a second before resolutely tugging you by the hand you had clasped within his. "what-" your breath is stolen from you as your back hits his chest. jeno drapes his arms across you front, "jeno, what-"

"i need a pillow, that's what i need."

you blink, trying to make sense of your thoughts, "did you ask me here to fuck you numb?" his body goes rigid underneath yours and you're right to assume that you've pinpointed the answer. "i'm right, huh?" eyeing downwards, his fingers are fiddling for you to see. after a few moments laid in bated breath, he lets weakly, "sorry about that, it's not gonna happen."

"yeah no shit," is said dulcetly despite the denotation. you feel his chuckles reverberate beneath you. "i'm really sorry, i swear i don't think of you that way." a smile upon your own face, you turn in his arms to place an expression to his voice. propping your head up on your folded arms, your arms atop his chest, you peer into his eyes sincerely. there is much that needs to be said, the reasonings behind his unexpected breakdown and the closeness you suddenly feel with still have to be addressed. but at this hour in the morning, you can't bring yourself to.

instead you query, "should i stay the night?" he peers into your eyes with equal sincerity when he responds, "it's already early morning, you'd probably be off better sleeping here." giving a soft nod and a few moments to rearrange your thoughts, you perk up again just as he's about to fall asleep. he isn't annoyed in the slightest, rather he smiles at that, your voice, "do you have practice tomorrow?"

it's his turn to give a nod in response. "wanna come watch?" your arms move around his chest, encasing him like how he's encased you. hiding your smile in the front of his sweatshirt, your voice comes out muffled, "i'd love to but i'm a bit busy, jen. next time, maybe."

at your response, it's the first time that jeno feels, acknowledges, that his heart drops, even though it's in the slightest. there's an image of you in the stands, your textbooks in your lap and glasses sliding down the bridge of your nose. the image moves as he moves cross the rink and you look up when he passes by, eyes bright and a small smile and thumbs up in encouragement. from then on, it's that image that's plastered in his mind every time he thinks of you, that one self-conjured image.

jeno feels his heart drop even more when he awakes to an empty bed. he finds that the text that you've sent in departure isn't nearly enough to repair his spirits, he wishes you were there instead.

practice sucks ass the next day and the day after that, he doesn't pay it any mind, knowing more than well enough how renjun whispers of the news of his breakup among the members. he doesn't hold it against him though, after all, his ex is his teammate's best friend. jeno thinks it hurts the most when his ex shows up at the next game, the one he'd invited you to when you'd crossed paths on campus a few days ago. he finds himself in a weird predicament between trying to forget about a girl and chasing after another one. he can't tell if he really likes you or if he just needs a rebound.

today, jeno decides it's the latter because he's fuming the entire game at how hyuck would send winks in her direction, how he would skate up to the edge of the rink to converse with her during their breaks. jeno hates how she's moved on all too easily and he feels and urge to prove that he can do the same. he wants to prove to himself.

he's let almost every goal in by the time the buzzer signals the end of the final round. the coach reprimands him because at this point, he might as well be from the opposing team. the helmet is off in a split second, he showers for the briefest of moments, only allowing the water to slosh across his body one time before he's patting himself dry. jeno slips the towel from his shoulder throws on a hoodie in its stead. he's out the locker room in bare minutes where he comes face to face with you. you, with the little sheepish, apologetic smile on your face. you, who'd just arrived from your shift at the local cat adoption center, late for the game but in just time for him. you, the only person he's been aching to see the whole day. but even now, he's unsure of exactly why.

"y/n, hey," he's by your side in an instant, hesitant in his actions but words tumbling out nonetheless, "you came. late, but...you came."

you meet him in the middle, hands coming up to your aid and waving nonsensically as you speak, "i'm so sorry, my shift was extended and i forgot to tell my boss beforehan-"

"it's fine, i'm just glad you're here." he readjusts the bag onto his shoulders in a nervous fit. he barely manages to make eye contact with you and he wonders when he started to feel this way about you or, again, the desire for a rebound, his need for a taste of vengeance is willing him to act this way. jeno shrugs off the thought and fills the silence with an offer, "so do you wanna go...do something together?"

jeno should know by now. the little sparkle that glints in your eyes and the way his stomach upturns itself in response. he should know by now how much you like him too. hyuck exits the locker rooms in that instant, he greets you in passing as he joins a girl up ahead. you turn back to jeno, momentarily distracted, only to find his gaze hardened and fixed on the girl. a sickening feeling erupts within you as you begin to piece one and one to make two.

he turns back to you and you avoid his gaze. the shift in your countenance jolts him as much as his had jolted you. you lick your lips before looking back up at him, your own eyes guarded. he wishes he knew why. "jeno, i'm gonna have to rain check. i just- i thought of something- something came up. i have to go."

you're stalking away from him before he can even process it. he's lucky that his strides are long because he catches your wrist right before you get to the exit, "y/n," he tugs gently so that you turn to him but he's caught off guard even more when he sees the tears that have begun to form in your eyes. "why are you like this all of a sudden? what happened?"

you shake your head at him, hurriedly swallowing the sobs before you can embarrass yourself even further, "nothing, jeno. i just realized something." you stare down at his wrist expectantly but he only clutches it tighter, "then, what did you realize?"

he lets go of your wrist now and you feel like your heart couldn't get any heavier as you answer, "i realized that i'm just a fill-in until you get over her." jeno sucks in a breath as he watched the words leave your mouth, as he watches you turn and leave, and he hears more tears bubble from your frame, the sounds receding the farther you walk from him. for some reason, it's only when you tell him so that he understands that he feels the exact opposite.

it's only when you shove it in his face, your own face scrunched up in tears, that he's only going after you as a rebound, when he sees his feelings for what they really are. honest, jeno finds it hard to believe that he's never felt anything towards you since you're everything he could ever ask for in a girl. pretty and cute, snappy but sweet, the most perfect curve of lips and above all, you're an intellectual. he finds it attractive, he finds you attractive. fuck it, he likes you.

fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, your next tutoring session was scheduled for just a few days after, just enough time for him to get his act together and enough for you to cool your head enough sift through the thirty or so voice mails he'd left you. most of them seem to contain the same rueful, repentant tone, though a few seem to be displaying his slow spiral into self-deprecation. you're pretty sure the last is a mistake, a butt dial maybe.

jeno's not proficient with the knife, definitely not with how he's cutting the pears right now. he thinks he would've been better off bringing bananas but that would've seemed too insincere, wouldn't it? his thoughts are jumbling and sludging against one another when a finger of his slips and the fine edge of the knife is pressed on a knuckle. "fuck," he swears, his other hand already reaching over to the sink to run the cut under cold water. the sting is piercing and he looks away from the cut to the clock overhead. "double fuck," he mutters this time. the last thing he needs right now is you thinking that he stood you up.

with steadfast athleticism, he finishes off the last of the pears with one hand. he's sure you'd laugh at the whole debacle if you were there though he's thankful you're not. jeno faces the fear that he sucks at everything except ice hockey, and he's barely getting by these days. he only ever feels confident on the rink with his stick in hand, crouched low so his eyes were level with the ice. he's never felt that much control over anything else, much less confessing to a girl and trying, somehow, to show that she was of much more worth than what he'd made it seem like.

the library is a ten minute walk from his house, a three minute sprint. yes, he had sprinted.

he knows for a fact that pears were the right way to go when you let the tiniest of smiles adorn your face at the sight of him setting the tupperware in front of you. you check your expression back into taut impassivity before he can indulge in his victory any longer. he knows you're not half as mad as you present yourself to be but that doesn't mean he'd take his mistakes lightly and go about this sleazily. jeno needs your trust.

you resist the urge to reach over and flip over the hair that stood upright on the wrong side of his head. reverting your eyes onto the computer screen before you, "let's get started." not a half hour into your session, you're spaced out, eyes zoned onto the way jeno spins his pen between his fingers. maybe it's the lack of sleep that's getting to you.

"y/n? you good?"

you swallow thickly, removing your gaze from his hands, from him, from his paper, from anything that has to do with him. you notice how your chair has inched closer to his, or his to yours, you notice the finger-wide distance between you and him. shivers are sent down your spine. "let's take a break, is that fine?" jeno, from beside you, yawns and for a brief second you think he's about to pull the stretch and hand around shoulder trick. you blush unknowingly.

jeno speaks before you can ask to resume the session, "can i say something?"

"is it work related?" you give your best efforts at keeping your voice level and head turned somewhat in his direction. in your peripheries, he cocks his head to the right, "...no, but we're on break." almost letting a huff escape your complexion, you relent, "fine then, shoot," figuring he would say it anyways.

"i want you to come to our next game."

you're lucky you had the whole scenario thought through, at least something can be harvested from your late nights spent tossing and turning, "i don't think i can-"

"y/n, i haven't even told you when."

"okay fine," you wrinkle your nose in distaste and hand out the truth for him to see, or hear, "i just don't want to." jeno is doing his best, he really is, but he knows that you've heard all that he has to say, if not once, then twenty-nine times over. the last one was a mistake. "did you get my voicemails?"

sighing, you chance a glance at him to see that he isn't the slightest bit annoyed, face drawn into a frown of sorts. you'll never admit that even just the sight could soften your set mindset. consideration replays in your irises when you answer the yes or no question with a decisive nod.

"then i'm sure you understand why i want you to come."

jeno lets you drive him home that day, he'd be the last to complain. the ride is silent from start to finish until right when he's about to close the passenger door, the car parked in front of his shared house. an, "i'll think about it," is what he's left to brew over for the next week or so as he stares that the text, read and unreplied, that he'd sent to remind you of the day and time of the game. he's anxious but it's only to that extent.

it's becoming more and more evident that jeno is loosing his touch on ice. he hates that the only thing he can attribute it to is his dwindling love life. he finds that the enforcer is atypically rough today but he's glad that his role at the goal requires the least interaction and footwork. he'd promised his coach that he would be more wary of his surroundings but he can't help the occasional glance at the rink entrance every once in awhile. what he doesn't understand is that his definition of 'once in awhile' marks at around every thirty seconds.

the last round is the most painful, undoubtedly, because it's as if his defeat is being dragged on and on, as if the giant timer above the rink is ticking to the heartbeat of a dead man.

jeno can is aware that he's breathing. he's aware but he has to double check when the entrance doors open for the last time that game and you've arrived. you're standing by the doorway, apprehensive, but jeno can't get it past his head that you've arrived, that you're here. he'd have gotten decked in the face had you not motioned your head in the direction of the fast approaching puck and the burly man behind it.

he blocks the shot and every shot after. there's no need to wonder why.

the buzzer rings in his head so quick that he thinks time runs on his emotions rather than the clock. his helmet is often in seconds and he's making his way at supersonic speeds to the part of the rail where you're stood. the glass fogs with his breath as he tries to get his words across. 'i'll be quick,' he mouths.

you count two minutes until he's off ice. jeno hasn't bothered to shower, he lacks the patience for it. he sits you down on the lowest of the bleachers, closest to the rink. standing over you, he finds that he has so much to say, so many things he wants to let you know, all the feelings he's ever bottled up for the girl so obviously made for him.

he's never had much of a way with words but he thinks that the romance movies hyuck's made him watch over the years give a pretty good overview of what to say in situations like these, "i'd cross the world for you." you snort back at him, nose crinkling in distaste at his choice of words and poking fun at him with your own, "rink, jeno. you mean you'd cross the rink for me."

"y/n, i'm tryna do something here," he whines, the pout on display mimicking his displeased but light-hearted implications. you're equally as amused, "oh yeah? what are you tryna do?"

"i'm tryna," he takes your two arms in his and wraps them around his middle. you instinctively fist the fabric of his blue jersey at the back, "jeno, what are you-" you stop when a hand of his own comes to trace the lines of your face softly. maybe he can't find the words but surely he could show you. if he could just…"you keep interrupting me, jeno."

drawn from his resolution, he's snappy when he retorts, "i think as your boyfriend i ought to have that privilege."

"boyfriend? since when did you-"

"i just did," he revels in the idea that you think him to be smooth with words when in reality the 'boyfriend' was a slip up, a mirror of his daydreams. he's over the moon that it worked out in his favor. while he fixates on just how much he feels for you, you're playfully annoyed at a whole other, "stop fucking interrupting me, jen-"

"i love you."

you blink up at him. well shit. a lot of things are happening and you lack the brain cells to process them. there's only one thing you can think to do, only one think that you're thinking about, have been thinking about, will still be thinking about.

he may be the one to steal words right from your mouth but beyond that he's oblivious, you think. the smile still plays on his lips when he follows up, "is it okay to interrupt you if i say something like tha-"

you press a smile of your own onto his lips, cutting his words effectively. a hand of yours moves up to the curve of his neck to bring him down further, the angle at which he is kissing giving him all the advantage he needs to deepen it. when you part, you aren't surprised to see how half your body is leaning on the row of seats behind you and that jeno's entire body is sprawled on yours, supported by a knee on one side of you.

you like your lips as you feel his breath hot on yours. "how's it feel now?"

shaking his head, jeno presses his temple to yours so that the only thing you can see is him, just him. "interrupt me any day, will you?"

✧ end note — wrote this up in approx. three hours. lee jeno is so rude for interrupting all my other wips (that are also mostly for him). i hope you enjoyed because i did, i freaking love writing for him <3

#nct jeno #nct scenarios #nct fics #jeno fluff #neothestars #neo-constellations #hockeyplayer!jeno #jeno angst #lee jeno #lee jeno fics #nct jeno fics #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

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