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karajaynetoday · 2 months

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nothing's going right, and everything's a mess, and no one likes to be alone | jack hughes

author's note: don't ask me how the university semester timeline in this works. i have simply given reader a three week break in march bc why not. this is fanfiction okay, anything can happen 😂 no one proofread this for me so soz for any typos!

word count: 3.4k words

warnings: none that i can think of? but lmk if i've missed anything. soz if the ending makes you mad LOL i do love a cliffhanger

read part one here

read part two here

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here (soz that the masterlist is not up to date lol) | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here

Somehow, the ill feeling of waiting until summer to see Jack again began to fade with each passing day. The itch to text him every time something exciting or infuriating happened to you began to lessen. The thoughts of him when you saw a funny meme he’d like, or your shared favourite foods on special at the grocery store, quietly stopped happening as frequently.

But then there were the things that didn’t stop. The sharp pain in your chest whenever Jack’s smiling face popped up on your social media feed. The butterflies in your stomach whenever your parents brought him up in conversation, fuelled by whatever the latest updates were from their group message thread with Jim and Ellen. The joy that would wash over you when you heard about a Devils win or a Jack Hughes goal, followed almost always by a wave of sadness that you were hearing about it second or third hand, rather than from Jack himself.

You were the one who’d asked for space. You needed time, you’d said. Given the blow up of All-Star weekend, all Jack was doing was respecting your wishes; but a huge part of you not so secretly wished he’d be a bit more disrespectful and reach out. Your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts, and your heart wasn’t sure which emotion to feel or where to go next.

Since kindergarten, you’d barely gone more than a few days without seeing or communicating with Jack in some way. Now you were nearly a month without a word, and even though you were still mad at how he’d treated you, you were craving a return to the friendship you’d become so accustomed to. Jack knew you better than anyone, could basically read your mind with a single look, and although you had plenty of friends at college and still around in Toronto from high school, none came close to the camaraderie you shared with Jack. He was someone you could talk to for hours, or sit next to in silence for the same amount of time, it didn’t matter. With Jack, you could be utterly and entirely yourself, no complications. Now it felt like you were always pretending. And it was exhausting.

It was about 9pm on a Thursday night when you found yourself pushing through that exhaustion to try and complete yet another university assignment. For motherfucking economics. You couldn’t wait until you’d completed all of your compulsory economics credits because it was the absolute opposite of your cup of tea, when it came to academic subjects. This assignment was your last one, and you weren’t sure whether to cheer or cry at the idea of hitting the submit button on the online portal. Maybe you should’ve bought a confetti cannon to celebrate. Or a box of wine. Or booked yourself a flight somewhere fun, given you had a break from classes soon.

As soon as the thought of a trip crossed your mind, your phone began to buzz with an incoming video call. A video call from… Luke. Luke Hughes.

Your face scrunched in confusion, as you swiped to answer the call, met with Luke’s smiling face and messy curls.

“Hey sunshine! Long time no see. How have you been?” Luke spoke cheerily. Almost too cheerily.

You were immediately suspicious and narrowed your eyes at the youngest Hughes.

Luke was 3 years old when you met for the first time; he could barely remember a life without you in it. Given how inseparable you and Jack were, Luke became your de facto little brother, always tagging along where he could and joining in your adventures. Later on, when he became a teenager, you were the one Luke would come to when he was having issues with his friends, or trying to build up the courage to ask out the cute girl in his math class, or missing his brothers when they moved away. You were his second call after Ellen when he felt homesick at Michigan, and you were his first call when he had fucked up something that he felt his brothers would never let him live down. Emotional support and damage control, with a healthy dose of teasing and laughs thrown in. That was the dynamic between you and Luke. It also meant you could read him to filth when he was lying to you, and your honesty radar was through the roof at this sudden video call.

“I’m fine, Moose. Just trying to wrap up my final assignment before the break without losing my entire mind.” You offered weakly, half-expecting Luke to make a joke about your mind having been lost years ago, but the joke never came.

Instead, you saw the concern flicker across Luke’s face, just for a moment, before he forced a smile.

“How long is your break for? Any plans?”

“Three weeks, and not really. I promised my mother I’d spend a few days helping her with planning for their anniversary party in June, but that probably won’t happen until right before I go back to school.” You chatted absently, hitting save on your essay and standing up from the couch, bringing your phone with you as you moved into the kitchen to make yourself a drink.

You propped the phone up against the vase on your kitchen bench, reaching up into the cabinet to retrieve a glass.

“Well, you should come visit. We’ve got like 5 home games in a row or something ridiculous coming up. It’d be fun!” Luke’s tone was cheerful, but cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to react.

You hummed in response, moving slightly out of view of your phone to get some ice cubes from your freezer and a soda from the fridge.

“Besides, I heard a rumour that you’ve got an airline voucher to use. I’d hate for it to expire or something.”

You could feel your heart starting to beat faster. Luke knew about the voucher. Did that mean Jack had told him about your fight?

“The voucher won’t expire for three years. I’m sure I’ll manage to use it before then.” You deadpanned, stepping back into frame to see Luke rolling his eyes at you.

“Yeah, sure, but will I survive that long without seeing you? Absolutely not. Come on, sugar. Please? Even if it’s just a weekend?” Luke had moved into full begging mode, with puppy dog eyes and everything.

You sighed, fidgeting with the straw in your drink and avoiding his gaze.

“I don’t… we haven’t talked at all, Luke. I don’t know what he’ll do if I just show up there.” You half-whispered, feeling that all-too-familiar wave of sadness coursing through your veins.

“He talked about you tonight at dinner. Says he misses you. But he doesn’t want to push, or not give you the space you wanted. But right now, he’s on the couch watching Gossip Girl, so…” Luke stated matter-of-factly, staring you down with a knowing look on your face.

Gossip Girl was something you’d insisted Jack get into when you were teenagers, as long as he “wanted to be called your official best friend”. And The OC. And Gilmore Girls. And One Tree Hill. And basically any other teen drama series you could think of. Collectively, those shows had thousands of episodes, and you always found yourself settling down to watch them whenever you were missing Jack more than usual. You’d never realised before that he did the same.

“Should… should we tell him I’m coming? I don’t want him to get upset by a bad surprise.”

“Not at all, sugar. Book the flight and send me the details, I’ll sort out the rest.” Luke’s beaming smile made a smile of your own creep onto your face, as you nodded at him and went to retrieve your laptop from the couch to log onto the airline website.

“Now that that’s sorted, I was wondering, what does it mean when a girl asks me what my sun, moon and rising are? Should I be worried? Or is it a good thing?”

–

Two days later, you were done with your semester and on your way to the airport. Luke had suggested you book a one-way flight, “That way, you can go home whenever you like!”, but you were starting to feel like the whole thing was a mistake.

Nonetheless, you pushed through those feelings and boarded your flight. The whole ordeal took less than two hours, and soon enough you found yourself navigating the arrivals area at Newark airport. You spotted Luke’s lanky figure, clad in a Michigan sweatshirt, with his back to you. You couldn’t help but creep up on him and poke his side, cracking up with laughter as Luke jumped at least three feet into the air. He’d always been the easiest to scare, ever since you were kids.

Luke cussed you out, and then pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Missed your face, sugarplum.” Luke murmured, as you pulled away from each other and he rested his hands on your shoulders, studying you.

“Aw, Lukey. I’d say I’d missed yours too, but we really gotta do something about that hair.” You poked your tongue out as the youngest Hughes brother’s jaw dropped in mock offense.

You retrieved your bag from the luggage carousel, and headed out to where Luke had parked. The two of you fell into easy conversation as Luke navigated through the New Jersey streets back to the apartment he shared with Jack.

You managed to bury most of the nerves, but they came bubbling back to the surface when Luke pulled into the parking garage at the bottom of his building.

“Is… um… Is Jack home? Alone?” You managed to squeak out, and Luke looked at you like you were crazy.

Ever since All-Star weekend, you’d been having a recurring nightmare about Jack and the girl from the messages you’d accidentally become privy to. In particular, it was a scenario where you would come home from wherever you’d been out, and opened the apartment door to find them… entangled, on every possible surface you could think of. You felt yourself starting to feel ill as the images from your nightmares started to flash back into your mind.

“He’s alone. Ever since… ever since he came home early from All-Star, he’s been alone. None of the… usual visitors have been over. And he hasn’t been going to theirs, either. Not even when we’re on a roadie.” Luke said carefully, and you could tell he was trying not to upset you.

You could also tell that he was being honest. Because you could always tell when he was lying. But your mind was running a million miles a minute. Jack hadn’t… for a month? Because of his fight with you? You loved Jack, but you also knew (despite wishing that you didn’t know at all) that it had been years since he’d gone that long without intimacy. In fact, it was probably the longest since losing his virginity that Jack hadn’t fulfilled his desires.

Your mind was starting to wander into the gutter, and you pressed your eyes closed to bring yourself back to Earth. All you could do was nod at Luke, before you both hopped out of the car and into the elevator. Luke insisted on carrying your luggage, so you found yourself fidgeting incessantly with your hands as the elevator climbed to the correct floor.

You trailed behind Luke as he strode towards the apartment door and unlocked it, stepping inside and putting your bag down. He looked back and waved you into the apartment, pressing a finger to his lips. You tiptoed across the doorway, and your heart softened at the scene before you.

You could see the back of Jack’s head leaned up against the couch, and an episode of Gilmore Girls playing on the TV mounted on the wall. In fact, it was one of your favourite episodes; where Jess comes back and shows Rory the book he wrote, and calls her out for dropping out of Yale. You smiled ruefully as you thought about the parallels between that episode and your current situation with Jack, as the argument between Jess and Rory played out on the screen.

What do you mean?

You know what I mean! I know you. I know you better than anyone! This isn't you!

…

This isn't you! This! You going out with this jerk, with the Porsche! We made fun of guys like this!

You caught him on a bad night.

This isn't about him! Okay? Screw him! What's going on with you? This isn't you, Rory. You know it isn't. What's going on?

I don't know. I don't know…

“Are we Team Jess or Team Rory this time, Jacky?” Luke called out, making you jump.

“Team Jess all the way, obviously. Where have you bee-” Jack stopped dead in his tracks as he turned to face his brother, and instead saw you in the middle of his living room.

Jack’s face was a revelation. Confusion, at first. Then the briefest flash of hurt and anguish. Then a smile. Then caution and uncertainty, as he slowly stepped towards you.

You let a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, and quickly moved across the room, clumsily throwing your arms around your best friend. You felt Jack freeze momentarily, almost as if he was shocked at your touch, but that soon passed and you felt his hands slide around your waist and squeeze, bringing your bodies as close together as possible.

You nestled your head on Jack’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. His thumbs softly rubbed up and down your side, and you felt him press a soft kiss into your hair. You stayed like that for a minute, or maybe longer, relaxing into the embrace.

The sound of the apartment door slamming shut made you jolt, and you rolled your eyes as you realised that Luke had tried to sneak way unnoticed and failed miserably.

“Hi.” Jack whispered, pulling back from you slightly but keeping his hands locked around you.

“Hi.” You whispered back, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes.

“Is it still shit hair? Or better now it’s longer?” Jack teased, rolling his tongue between his teeth.

“Better. But only slightly.” You teased back, your hands slipping down to the back of his neck comfortably.

The warmth of the surprise arrival was starting to fade. The dread you’d felt over addressing your fight with Jack was starting to set in, fast. The guilt you felt for being the catalyst for over a month for not speaking to your best friend was washing over you. Your heart rate was through the roof, and your palms were beginning to sweat.

Jack sensed your change in mood, and pulled away from you to look you up and down.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to shower? Or take a nap?” He was nervous, too.

“I ate before my flight. And showered this morning. And it’s 11am, so I think I’m good on the nap front. But I do think we should… we should talk. About everything.” You were basically tripping over your words at this point, but Jack’s reassuring nod helped to calm your nerves.

Wordlessly, Jack took your hand and led you over to the couch, gesturing for you to sit. You sat down and faced him, crossing your legs and resting your hands on your knees, still fidgeting with your hoodie sleeves.

“I’m sorry - “ You both said unanimously, a gentle laughter filling the room.

“I’m sorry I needed so much time apart, J. It fucking sucked, and it was my fault, and I just didn’t -” You began to ramble, only stopping when Jack leaned over and squeezed your knee reassuringly.

“You only needed that time because I was an asshole, sugar. It’s on me, really. I had no right to treat you like an occasional friend, or something that I shouldn’t prioritise -” Jack paused as you cringed, remembering the text messages that referred to his time with you as “boring family bullshit”.

“I was thinking with my dick, not with my head, and that’s not fair on anyone.” You shot Jack a weird look, and he looked sheepish in return.

“Quinn… Quinn said that to me. After you told him to tell me about the messages. He’s right, thought. It wasn’t fair.” Jack continued, pausing to take a deep breath.

“This whole… thing, this life -” Jack gestured broadly at the apartment around you, and you glanced around properly for the first time. Framed jerseys of Luke and Jack’s adorned the walls.Various photos of the Hughes family scattered about the place. The fridge, with a gas bill stuck to it, along with a polaroid of you and Jack from last Christmas. And a photo from your senior prom. And a group photo of everyone from last summer at the lake house, Jack’s mouth open in laughter with his arm slung over your bikini-clad shoulders.

“It’s all I thought I ever wanted. And it’s amazing, and I’m so grateful. But it’s worth nothing to me, the money, the girls -” You felt yourself involuntarily cringe again. “The fame, the accolades, it’s worth nothing to me without the people that I love by my side. And if those people don’t know how much I love and appreciate them, because I treat them like shit, then that’s on me. No one else. Me.”

You sat quietly, taking in Jack’s emphatic statement. You weren’t quite sure what to say. So instead, you gently reached over and took Jack’s hand in yours, lacing your fingers through his and squeezing softly, for a moment while you gathered your thoughts.

“I know the life you live, Jack. You don’t have to be sorry for it. Playing hockey was all you ever dreamed of, and I honestly can’t blame you for… enjoying… all the perks it comes with.” You swallowed the wave of nausea that hit you, before continuing.

“I don’t… I don’t know what life looks like without you in it. The last month was such a bizarre experience, and not one that I ever want to repeat, but I also… I need to… Can I be honest?” You spoke softly, glancing up from your hands to meet Jack’s gaze, and he nodded encouragingly at you.

“I wasn’t just upset because you made me feel like I was inconveniencing you, or cock-blocking you -” It was Jack’s turn to cringe. “I think I was upset because I was jealous. Because that will never, ever be me. And I think… I think I want it to be? Maybe? Fuck, I don’t know!” You dropped Jack’s hand and stood up from the couch, and started to pace the room.

“Sugar, please sit down.” Jack pleaded, and you paused, looking back at him on the couch. One look was all you needed, and you narrowed your eyes at the smirk on his dumb face.

“Why are you smirking? I am experiencing emotional distress, you asshole.” You seethed, running your hands through your hair in frustration.

“Tell me more about this jealousy thing. I’m intrigued.” Jack’s tone was light and teasing, and washed over you like sour milk. Your head whipped in his direction and your face must’ve said a thousand words, because Jack’s smirk soon disappeared and he hurriedly stood up and walked over, reaching out to touch you.

“See, this -” You jabbed a finger into Jack’s chest. “This is why I have avoided this conversation for almost my entire life. Because you think it’s hilarious that we could ever go down that path. That we could ever be something more than what we are. Because I’m not good enough,or pretty enough, or just enough and I never will be, and I hate it. I hate it so much.” Your voice cracked on the last few words, and you felt the hot tears start to bubble out of your eyes and stream down your face.

Jack didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He pulled you into a hug, bringing his hand up to your face and gently brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“Breathe, sugar. You need to calm down.” Jack said quietly, willing you to calm. That just made you cry harder.

You were about to pull away, when you felt Jack cup your face with both hands, before leaning in to kiss you.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes one shot #new jersey devils #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #my writing #nhl fanfiction

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femmefatalevibe · 7 months

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Hello darling! I’ve tried several times to do time blocking and have my app calendar organised but it never works. I have adhd so it’s like I don’t know how to keep it up because I never found a method that it works for me. Can you share how you do it in case you do it? And some tips? I feel like it’ll help me to organise my life but I feel stuck every time I have to do it. Thank you <3

Hi love! Sharing my method below. Hope it's somewhat useful xx

To-Do List Planning:

Spend an hour or so on the weekend to list all of the important assignments/errands, etc. you need to complete during the week. Fill your calendar with your school/work/activity obligations first see an overview of how you will need to spend a considerable amount of time dedicated to each non-negotiable activity. Use this overview to help you map out the "free" time" you have and pre-schedule when you will do specific work projects, study for a particular exam, when you will run certain errands, engage in leisure activities, etc.

Before bed/dinner, use this weekly framework to finalize the next day – your agenda for the upcoming day. Determine the big 1-3 tasks you want to complete the following day and when throughout your day you will focus on these specific tasks. Giving yourself this pre-assigned schedule will eliminate decision fatigue and allow you to go into a more "autopilot" mode by completing the action you've already planned to take at any time of the day.

Important Date Reminders:

Utilize your Google Calendar and sync it to your iCloud (make sure it's private!) to allow you to write down any important dates available for viewing on your phone, computer, etc. at all times.

Create a color-coding system to organize your calendar (i.e. make any big projects due in blue, regular/smaller assignments to complete in red, important job reminders in yellow, errands tasks in green, family/friend obligations in purple, appointments in orange, etc.)

If you need to remember to submit certain paperwork, run an errand, etc., use your Reminders app to alert you at the time when you're able to complete this task before a deadline, going home, etc.

Use the location function or invite other participating members on a specific Google calendar event for any obligations where you need to be at a certain place at a specific time and/or are working on a group project, having a meeting, or need to be at a location with someone else.

I'm very into my "bookend" routines aka the rituals I do before I start my tasks for the day and how I wind down at night.

In the morning: Skincare, outfit, makeup, 2 big mugs of black coffee, reading articles & newsletters

In the evening: A long walk outside or a 15-30 minute YouTube workout/dance party session when the weather isn't optimal. Shower, skincare, get into sweats, make dinner, clean up around the house

To plan out my work week/days:

I use the 3-Month Productivity Planner by Intelligent Change (linked here). It's been my holy grail while building my business for the past 3-4 years. I also love having a physical "To-Do" list notepad next to me for tasks that come to mind or come up throughout the day that I want to organize/come back to later. (I always try to plan my week out on Sunday evenings and for the next day either before my evening routine or after dinner) I was gifted this one from The Daily Edited a few years ago and love it. Very much worth refilling the inserts.

For meetings: I use Google Calendar that's linked to my iCal. The notes section is essential for me.

For small tasks/bills/errands: I set scheduled Reminders for the day/time I need to pay a bill, write an email, schedule something for work or life, create a reminder for something I need to take before heading out to a meeting or appointment, something I need to buy at the pharmacy, etc.

As someone who in certain ways completely embodies the stereotypical "creative" type, my brain naturally goes in a million directions at once, so streamlining everything has become an important, deliberate habit and way of life for me. People think I'm naturally organized at this point in life, so I hope this system works for someone else out there too! x

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hairstevington · 1 year

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flowers and ink (part 1)

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve and Robin work at a flower shop together. One day, the pair decides to get matching tattoos at the place across the street. You can probably guess who their artist turns out to be. (requested by @thereindeerlady)

part two, part three, part four part five part six part seven part eight final part link to Ao3

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: This is just cute fluff, nothing too serious, modern day AU, Tattoo Artist!Eddie, platonic soulmates Steve and Robin, also I threw Bob Newby into the mix because I love him

A/N: I'm wrapping up the semester and am finally tackling my request list! Thank you for reading! :)

Robin applied to Flowers for All because a really pretty girl worked there and Robin needed a reason to go in and talk to her.

She was hired, then the pretty girl promptly quit. Also, she was straight and engaged to a man. That was a huge bummer.

Still, the job stuck, and since they were down an employee…

“No,” Steve said when she brought it up.

“Please?” Robin begged. “Come on, you hate your job and it’s been forever since we worked together. It would be just like old times and -”

“Robin, we never used to get anything done when we worked together. We were terrible employees.”

That was true, but it did not deter Robin from her master plan.

“Okay, well so far the only other applicant is the seventeen year old son of the owner who thinks the shop is actually a marijuana dispensary, and there’s no way I’m gonna work with that little twerp -”

“He didn’t take himself from the running when he found out you just sell literal flowers?” Steve asked, amused.

“I think he’s going to set up his own business in the back, honestly,” Robin sighed. “Please, I promise I’ll do everything and you can just hang out and -”

“Okay,” Steve said.

“Wait, what?”

Robin wasn’t anticipating he’d agree to it so quickly.

“I said okay. Sure. Fine. Where’s the application?” Steve took his phone from his pocket to find the Flowers for All website. He clicked on the “apply now” button and scrolled through the questions.

There were basically no requirements. He just had to put in his name (Steve), education (high school), and any experience he’d had with flowers (none), and then boom, submitted.

He got an email the next day to come in for an interview. Robin was assigned to be the interviewer.

He got the job.

Eddie started as an apprentice for Ink About It when he was fresh out of high school. It was run by this dorky middle-aged man named Bob, who didn’t have any tattoos and initially seemed mismatched for the profession. Still, Bob was supportive and kind, and he let Eddie grow and thrive in the tattoo shop. He also happened to be amazing at working with clients and was a decent artist. Go figure.

“Hey, Eds?” Bob asked as he tapped his knuckles on the door. Eddie was on his break, snacking on some chips while watching YouTube on his phone.

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking of inviting Joyce’s son here sometime so he could see the place. He’s this great artist, and I think he’d love to meet you and see how we work here.”

“How old is he?” Eddie asked, his eyes still fixed to the screen.

“He’s seventeen. Just about to graduate high school, can you believe it?”

Eddie didn’t really pay attention when Bob talked about his family. He probably should have listened more, but the man was just so dorky.

“Okay,” Eddie agreed. He didn’t really want some kid in the shop snooping around, but it wasn’t really his decision.

“Okay, great,” Bob replied with a smile. When he didn’t leave the room, Eddie knew he had more to say. He shut his phone off and turned to face his boss. “You see, uh. Will’s been having some trouble lately. Bullies and all that. He just came out, you know? And he’s a great kid. He’s so great, and some people at school are just - well, they’re bullies.”

Eddie didn’t really know where Bob was going with this.

“That sucks,” Eddie acknowledged. “I remember when I came out, people said all kinds of shit - I mean, uh, stuff. Sorry.”

“That’s kinda why I’m telling you about it,” Bob said, shifting his weight on his feet nervously. “I think Will could really use someone on his side right now. Someone who really understands, you know?”

Ah. Eddie got it now.

“Someone who’s gay,” he deduced. Bob knew that Eddie was gay, and he never cared or said anything about it, which was great. While he didn’t really want to be some motivational story about overcoming adversity in a hetero-normative society, he knew that Bob didn’t ask for much, and talking to a struggling kid seemed easy enough. “Okay, yeah. I’ll talk to him, if you want.”

“Great,” Bob said, breaking out into a smile. “You’re gonna love him. He’s a huge fan of that Dungeons and Dragons game, just like you.”

“Shit, really?” Eddie replied. “I mean - shoot. Sorry.”

“I never told you to stop cursing in front of me, Eddie,” Bob chuckled. “I know I may seem naïve and innocent, but I got into all kinds of trouble in my youth. You’re free to be whoever you want to be here, as long as you’re nice.”

He was just so wholesome it hurt. Eddie imagined the trouble Bob was referring to being something along the lines of sneaking a beer into a movie theater. It would probably break his heart to know some of the things Eddie had gotten into before he’d started working at this place. Maybe Wayne already told him, and he had just never said anything. Eddie certainly wasn’t gonna bring it up.

“Hey Bob,” Eddie said. “Why did you start this job in the first place? Aren’t you this huge tech wizard?” Bob smiled warmly.

“Sure was. Bob the Brain, they used to call me. I still love a good puzzle, but life takes you to all kinds of places you don’t expect to go.”

“Yeah, but that seems like a pretty big career change,” Eddie continued.

“Well, did you know this building used to be a RadioShack?” Bob asked. Eddie shook his head. “It was, and I used to work there. After it closed down, some artists tried to make it a tattoo parlor, but had no idea where to start. I stepped in as manager and they did the tattooing. I rebranded it, changed the name, and have been running it ever since. The rest of the story you’ve been around for.”

Bob was a great guy and a wonderful manager. He motivated Eddie to get his life together, and things had really leveled out for him just by having a stable job he enjoyed.

After their conversation, Eddie’s break was over, so he went back to work. He continued a design for a client who’d come in wanting a quarter sleeve, and then at 4pm he was scheduled to tattoo a bird on a guy’s shoulder blade.

Overall, it was a normal day.

Robin knew every single plant and flower in the shop. She knew their names, their seasons, how to take care of them, and what they meant.

She just happened to be really bad at keeping track of watering schedules, and tended to kill anything she touched.

“Maybe I should work at a pet store,” Robin sighed, discouraged that the gardenias that had just come in had already wilted.

“What? Robin, why would you do that to the poor animals?” Steve replied, horrified.

“Shut up, Harrington,” she snapped back. “Animals can tell me when they’re hungry.”

She looked sad, and Steve hated when she looked sad.

“Aww, Robbie,” he said, jumping off the counter to put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I can help. If you tell me what to do, I can do it.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked.

“Nope,” he responded confidently. “But they’re already dying, so it’s worth a shot, right?”

Steve actually turned out to be a natural at taking care of plants. He tended to be very good at looking after people, so it shouldn’t have been that surprising, but what was most shocking was how much he enjoyed it. Robin caught him talking to the flowers quite a bit. It was adorable.

Ink About It was right across the street from Flowers for All. Steve and Robin stared at it every single shift through the front window. Neither of them remember who started the bit where they’d come up with weird matching tattoos they’d get with each other, but it became a staple every time they worked together.

“Salt and pepper,” Robin greeted him as he walked in one day.

“You’re pepper?”

“Obviously,” she responded with a smirk. They continued working, but it was a slow day. The ideas got progressively unhinged as the hours went by.

“What about…” Robin wondered, her chin resting on her hand as she sat at the register. “You get my face and I get yours.” Steve chuckled.

“Or we both get Harry Styles’ face.”

“Yes!” Robin’s face lit up as she laughed. “What about something flower themed?”

“Like what? A flower and a pot?” Steve proposed.

“Sure, you can be the pot,” she remarked.

“What? Why am I the pot?”

“Because you smoke pot and I don’t,” she explained. Steve shook his head and scoffed.

“Weak reason, Buckley, but fine. You’re the flower.” She smirked, pleased with herself, but then Steve added - “The flower is dead, though. For obvious reasons.”

“Steve!” She yelled, laughing. “Harsh, but fair.”

Their shift ended, but instead of going home, they went to the bar next door. They continued the bit until they were tipsy, and ended up arguing over who would be Bert and who would be Ernie. It got kind of heated.

“Whatever!” Robin huffed, throwing her arms up. “It doesn’t matter, because you know I hate puppets. We’re not getting Bert and Ernie tattoos.”

“You’re acting like we’re actually going to do this,” Steve said as he sipped his beer.

“I mean, if we find something we like, why not?”

“Why not?” Steve echoed. At first, he was going to give her all the reasons he could think of why they shouldn’t get tattoos together, but then he realized he didn’t have any reasons. “Uh, I guess you’re right. Okay, so no Bert and Ernie. What about Frog and Toad?”

“Are you just going through all the queer-coded best friends in children’s media, Steve?”

“Basically, yeah,” he replied, smirking. “Fuck, I’m Toad aren’t I?”

“I’m glad you said it and not me,” Robin replied. They sat in silence for a moment, coming to the same conclusion.

“Uhh, so maybe that’s - Like, maybe that’s not such a bad idea,” Steve said. “Am I just buzzed, or -”

“No, I’m right there with you,” Robin responded. Of course she was, she always was.

Before they knew it, they were stumbling towards Ink About It.

Eddie had just wrapped up his final appointment and was quietly working on other designs. Bob had left for the day, and sometimes Eddie stayed late just because it was a quiet place to be.

It became less of a quiet place to work when two tipsy idiots stumbled in.

“Hello!” The man greeted Eddie. “We would like tattoos, please!”

“Okay?” Eddie replied, confused.

“He wants Toad and I want Frog. You know, from Frog and Toad are Friends?” The woman said. “Can you do that?” Eddie eyed them both and did his best to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“I can do whatever, pretty much,” Eddie replied. “Except, uh - I mean, do either of you have tattoos?” The pair shook their heads. “Do you know where you want them?”

“We didn’t get that far,” the man responded, prompting both of them to giggle.

“Right, okay,” Eddie said. “So, since you’ve clearly been drinking and this is your first tattoo, I’m gonna say it’s a no-go. Think about it, and come back tomorrow if you’re still interested.”

This kind of thing happened every so often, so Eddie was used to it. People never came back. They always came to their senses once they sobered up, and Eddie would never see them again. He figured it would be the same for these two.

It wasn’t. They showed up again the next day.

“We’ve thought about it!” The woman said as she walked into the shop. She dug into her bag and pulled out a picture. “This is what we want. Inside of the ankle.”

“Wow,” Eddie said as he looked at what they’d chosen, impressed. “I really didn’t expect you’d wanna go through with this.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” the man argued. “It’s an amazing idea.”

“Yeah,” the woman agreed. “And work’s been slow, and we’re bored, and this is not even close to the wildest thing we’ve done together.”

Eddie didn’t find spontaneous tattoos to be that wild in the first place. He was covered in them, and most of them were on-the-fly. Once you have a few, it gets easier and easier to add more.

“Right,” Eddie said, wondering what the other wild things they’d done together were. He wondered if it was some sort of innuendo, like they were the kind of couple that secretly went to BDSM clubs or something like that. “Well, lucky for you, it's slow here today, too. Shall we?"

Eddie had them fill out paperwork while he got the stencil ready. He had adjusted their reference picture a little bit just to add his own flair, and after they approved it they were basically ready to go. It turned out their names were Steve and Robin.

Eddie thought that Steve was kind of a stupid name, and didn’t match the pretty boy associated with it whatsoever.

They didn’t even seem that nervous, which was baffling. Eddie figured there must be more to them than he had originally assumed. They were also a lot less annoying when they were sober.

“So, who’s first?” Eddie asked, gesturing to the chair.

“I’ll go,” Steve answered, raising his hand. Eddie put the stencil on his ankle and got final approval before they got started.

“You ready?” Eddie asked, holding the tattoo needle in his hand. He waited for Steve to back out, but he nodded instead. “Okay. It’s gonna sting a little.”

“I have a pretty high pain tolerance,” Steve replied. Eddie tried to hide the smirk on his face. He’d heard that line before, many times.

Eddie put the needle to the skin, and Steve didn’t so much as blink. Huh. Well, okay then.

Tattooing someone naturally involves a lack of personal space. It never bothered Eddie, because he tended to not think about personal space at any given moment, but some clients were a bit more hesitant than others. Ankle tats were thankfully not as intense as a rib or hip placements, but it did mean Eddie had to have a stranger’s foot close to his face, which wasn’t amazing.

He wasn’t a foot guy. The man attached to the foot, however…

Eddie couldn’t help it. Steve was gorgeous. He also was charismatic, which was a quality that Eddie always appreciated and was attracted to. Steve chatted with Eddie during the whole 45 minutes he was being tattooed, and even made Eddie laugh a couple times.

Robin started to show her anxiety the moment it was her turn.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Steve reminded her.

“Uh, of course I do!” she retorted. “This was my idea. You think I’m just going to let you have a loan toad on your ankle?” Steve and Eddie laughed.

“I don’t mind. It came out pretty badass, thanks to Eddie.” Eddie smirked at the compliment.

“If you can do it, I can do it. Come on, Eddie, let’s do this.”

She was shaking a little at first, so Steve pulled up a chair and held her hand. He asked her to start naming all the flowers they sold, and she did so rapidly. Eddie hadn’t heard of a lot of the plants she’d listed, and the list was unending. Ten minutes in, she eased into the process, and the rest went by without a hitch.

Steve and Robin were really cute together. Eddie wasn't sure how long they'd been dating, but he wished them the best.

Steve left a sizable tip - like, an absurdly high tip - and then they were off.

This time, Eddie was sure that would be the last he’d see of them.

It wasn’t.

(part 2)

__________________________

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#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #st fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve and eddie #eddie munson x steve harrington #flowers and ink #robin buckley #platonic stobin #bob newby #writing #modern day au #eddie munson #steve harrington

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wardenparker · 3 months

Text

Summer Rose

Professor!Santiago Garcia x female OC Co-written with @julesonrecord

Rating: E for Explicit 18+ Word Count: 6k Warnings: OC is named (Daphne Antonelli) but has minimal physical description. Age gap 10+ years. Both parties are consenting adults. Alcohol consumption, mutual pining, professor/student, oral sex (f and m receiving), 69, sexy mythology references, vaginal sex, protected sex, fingernails/scratching, a bit of biting. Summary: Daphne is having an absolutely terrible day and has missed office hours to turn in her final paper to Professor Garcia. When she turns up on his doorstep to turn in her assignment, the professor she's been crushing on for ages offers her a supportive ear -- and help relaxing. Notes: A little collaboration between myself and my beloved Jules featuring a character we've working on (Daphne) and today's wet daydream of college professor!Santiago. Honestly this is just a bit of porn with the barest thread of a plot, and we're not sorry. Also, just a disclaimer that I have no clue how one finishes a masters degree, but it doesn't matter. We're here for the porn, not the threadbare plot.

Twilight is beautiful on campus. Santiago has always thought so, even before he had the letters after his last name that demarcate him as faculty. He enjoys the blush of the sun fading, the purple of the dusky sky fading to blue-black, indigo, then glitter with starlight.

He likes walking home after class this way; a quiet moment to ease his mind after lectures and before grading. This late in the semester, it will be one of the last walks before the summer term. As he passes through the quiet neighborhood and climbs his front doors, he glances up, spies Orion's Belt in the heavens. He thinks about introducing the story next time he holds his Mythology and Myth-Making class. Did he include it this year? He can't remember. He'd been... distracted.

His phone pings with a text as he sets his messenger bag on the dining room table and undoes his cuff buttons, rolling them up. Too damn hot for this, damn dress code rules... He peers down at the message, and notes it's from an unknown number. His students know to text him if they have an emergency, so he opens it straight away.

Hi, Professor Garcia. I know that it's after office hours, but the fact is...I missed office hours altogether. Would it be an inconvenience to call you and explain? Otherwise I'm not sure how to get my final paper to you. Thanks, Daphne Antonelli (Mythology and Myth-Making)

Santiago lifts an eyebrow. He recognizes the name. Oh yes, he recognizes it. In fact, he's called it to mind more often than is probably appropriate, along with the image of a very beautiful graduate student with a focused stare and drop-dead gorgeous eyes. She was an attentive student, responsive, ready to answer questions but never one to hog the spotlight, making insightful, empathetic, and razor-sharp questions. It was unlike her to miss anything, never mind not visit office hours. They'd spent many such visits over the semester. Short. Professional. Of course.

So why does his heart rate increase, his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he thoughtfully taps the phone screen, spelling out a careful, professional text?

Hi Daphne. As this is your final paper, I would really like to have it ASAP as I am required to submit grades on Monday. Why don't you swing by my home to drop it off?

Feel free to call, he types, then deletes before sending. He wanted to hear her voice. He did need that paper. No reason why he couldn't do both in person. No reason at all.

He had had his graduate students over for a spring dinner after midterms so they know how and where to find him. The bonfire that night had lasted for ages, as tipsy grad students who were feeling feisty with a full meal in their bellies debated the cultural implications of different myth origins and the similarities of some creation myths that they had just been discussing in class. Daphne had been amongst the students that night, animatedly defending her points with unmatched ferocity that was impossible to ignore.

The text that comes through a few moments later takes a while for her to decide on, judging from the continuously undulating bubbles indicating how long she was typing compared to the brevity of the eventual message.

Thank you for understanding. I'll be over shortly so the rest of your night isn't interrupted.

Satisfaction. He tosses the phone down and leans over the table with a slow sigh, taking a look around the room. The same old familiar wall-to-wall bookshelves line the tidy bungalow. The same pendant lamps up, tacky, that he'd meant to change when he bought this place... four years ago. His degrees might be hung in his office upstairs, his clothes are here, he shaves here, but who does he have here, really? Nobody. Warm sheets for a night and then no one. Nothing. There was no reason to bother, really—

And then Daphne. Daphne with her slowly blossoming smile that melted from shy to beaming when he said hello to her on campus. Daphne with her neat notes in the margins, Daphne with the legs that had so often been tucked primly next to his as they leaned over a book or paper together, never touching but so close, close enough so that he could smell her perfume: cinnamon, orchid, incense.

"Fuck," he mutters to the table. There's no way of hiding from himself, not really. He pushes off the wood and stalks to the kitchen for a beer. He cracks it open efficiently and takes a long swallow, Adam's apple bobbing. He wants her. That much is clear. How could he not? She was intelligent, fierce, gorgeous. He could fool himself all he wanted, her coming here was a bad idea. It's been a long semester, keeping her close but not too close.

But, he realizes with a jolt, she's about to graduate. This is her final, his course is over. He is... well, technically by Monday, no longer her professor.

"Fuck," he mutters again, this time to a magnet of a catfish, his only catch from a weekend out fishing with the guys.

It's twenty minutes later precisely when his doorbell rings. There was no sound of a car outside on the street or dramatic slam of a door, but when he opens the door there is a bicycle leaning against his front gate and a frazzled looking student on his front step.

"Hi, Professor." Daphne stands on his step with a mix of anxiety and embarrassment on her face and she digs into her bag right away to pull out a manila folder with his class name and number written on it alongside her name. "I'm so sorry about this. I know it's technically late and that you'll have to dock points for that. It's completely my fault."

"Hey, hey, easy." He lifts a palm and lowers it soothingly, taking the manila folder gently. "There's no need to be sorry, accidents happen." Then, as he knew he would, he asked, "Would you like to come in? It's the end of semester, though. Maybe you have a party you'd rather get to?" He smiles fondly, bumping his shoulder against the doorframe and folding his arms to show off his tanned forearms, shirt sleeves straining slightly.

Yeah, he's still got moves. And he wants to show them off. To Daphne. Who is no longer his student. Who's staring up at him with the anguish slowly sliding from her face. He wants to remove it, stroke her stress away with his thumb, ease it out of her slowly—

Fuck, he's screwed.

"I'm not really – I mean, I haven't –" She doesn't get invited to parties, is what she's trying to say. Not that she doesn't enjoy parties, because she does. She absolutely does. The night they spent here at his house just sitting around the fire talking and sharing a meal was one of her favorite graduate school memories. But she isn't great at socializing with the other students in her program, she's found. There is something a little odd about Daphne, and it has reverberated through her life to keep her just a little on the outside of normal.

Maybe that's why she nods, accepting the invitation with swallowed thanks, and steps inside her professor's house. Her professor who has more than a decade on her in terms of age but has never held his years of experience or knowledge over her head. If they were colleagues, she might have even considered him a friend. As it is, being his student, she's stuck in a sort of limbo with a useless crush and fond memories. "I've had kind of a crazy day," she admits sheepishly. "Even if I had been invited to any of the parties on campus, I don't think I would be going."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Daph," he says, with real sympathy. "Is everything all right? I just opened a beer, would you like anything?"

"A pipe burst at my place and my landlord is claiming I'm liable, then my computer crashed in the middle of doing one last edit on your term paper and the tech office gave me grief, it's just...it's been a long day." She barely even nodded in agreement that a drink would be a huge relief, but he is immediately retreating to his refrigerator to grab her a beer. "Oh, and my summer plans fell through today." Her shoulders sag, the stress of the day dragging her down and determined to keep her there. "I'm just lucky I got up to take a shower first thing this morning or else the day would've been even worse."

"Oh, Daph, that's a rotten one," he says, placing the opened beer on the coffee table and settling his hands on her shoulders. "What happened to your summer? Surely you're going off to some incredible internship, you're more than qualified." And she is. He'd have recommended her to any program she wanted, and had, in fact, written her a letter of recommendation earlier in the year. "You know I'm not going to dock points, right?" he asks more quietly. "None of today was your fault, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. That shouldn't burrow into her chest and bloom into warmth like it does, and Daphne's eyes drop to the floor immediately to carefully focus on the toes of her boots instead of looking him in the face. That's your professor. Don't be creepy. "I had that internship lined up in London with the publishing company but they pulled the rug out from under me." She shrugs, feeling more vulnerable in the moment than she wants to admit. "Apparently the CFO's kid decided all of a sudden that he wants to be an author, so they rescinded my offer. He's going to get it instead."

His chest pangs. He hates that there is nothing he can do to fix this for her -- because she's right. That's the cherry on top of an extremely long day, and all he can do then is what feels most natural, which is to lift her chin up with the crook of his finger, his voice soft, gentle. "Hey."

When she meets his gaze, he watches them flicker slightly, scanning his face as he drinks in hers. Her eyes are so pretty. Like fresh honey dripped from a spoon.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says again, and means it. "You deserve that spot, but you'll find something better, okay? Hey, look at me." She had turned away slightly, embarrassed or perhaps made shy by his praise, but her eyes fix on him again, golden and fringed with thick lashes. "I promise, you will. There's lots of ways into this world, and you're too talented not to break in. Okay? You want to sit down, tell me about it?" His fingers clasp around her delicate elbow, ready to guide her to the couch.

"There's not a lot more to tell, to be honest." Two people with two beers steer almost mechanically toward the couch, and Daphne finds herself being seated on his plush leather sectional just before he sits down beside her. This spring has been chilly and he still has a throw blanket out, which he pulls close to them as if to have it at the ready. "No summer in London means I'm going to have to either go back home and figure out my next step there, or find a new place here and do the same. Because I'm sure as hell not staying in the place I'm in now. As if the landlord weren't bad enough, now the plumbing is going."

"Huh." He trails his arm over the back of the sofa, sipping his beer thoughtfully. "What kinda guy is this-" Asshole, he wants to say, but quells it, "Fellow? Any chance he'll back off? Perhaps once he... calms down, he can be reasoned with." He's approaching the boundary of reason himself. He can see it, taste it, the drip of something sweet down his throat. "Beautiful woman like you? You could convince a man of anything."

The pffft sound that comes out of her mouth goes with a wave of her hand, but she does accept a sip of the beer that he's brought her with a grateful sigh. "The apartment is a piece of shit anyway, if I'm honest. I hate it there. It's just that it's affordable." There's a moment's pause where Daphne's eyes widen in panic and she deflates again with a groan. "I already put in my notice at my job, oh my god."

"Hey, hey, Daphne." He puts his beer down and reaches for her, wrapping one arm around her waist, cupping her flushed cheek with the other hand. "C'mon, it's going to be okay, I promise, but for right now, I need you to relax, okay? Can you do that for me, bebita?" They're so close now, almost nose to nose. He's lost in her eyes again, but he can feel the burning heat of her little cheek in his palm.

She had been so sure she was going to start crying instantly with that realization, but two searing hot hands on her skin steady her. His touch is grounding, pulling her away from the edge of panic and drawing her into his aura so effortlessly that she didn't even realize how close he was until she felt his breath on her skin. "O—okay—" He can't know that the thing keeping her from having a complete panic attack on his couch right now is the fact that all the blood in her body has rushed to her aching clit, but damned if it isn't working. Daphne nods vaguely, trying to keep her head from swimming, but all she feels is his hands on her and the way his coffee brown eyes have turned to oceans in front of her. "Okay," she repeats softly.

"Okay?" Santiago nods, his breath coming a little fast. "I'll help you. I'll help you relax, sweetheart. You tell me to stop any time, okay?" He leans closer so slowly, their breaths mingling. He can almost count her eyelashes. Her nose is sweet and soft as it brushes his, but it's nothing compared to her plush lips. They seal against his and he feels the world fall out from under him. Something deep and ravenous unlocks and spills out all over his inside. He barely chokes down a groan.

There is no doubt that this is the most surreal moment of Daphne's life, and it isn't as though she hasn't been in some weird situations before. It's a miracle that she managed to get her beer bottle onto the nearby coffee table without spilling or knocking anything over, but she needs her hands for this. For a year and a half she's been working on a master's degree and avoiding too much contact with the one professor who makes her mind fog up and her daydreams wander, until finally she had landed in his classroom.

And now on his couch.

Kissing him.

If it were anything besides the most surreal moment of her life, she might have jumped backward or at the very least, pulled away. But Daphne has imagined kissing Santiago Garcia far too many times to do anything but sigh in response and open up for him like a summer rose.

"It's okay," he repeats soothingly between kisses: to himself, to her, to the waiting tension in the room. "I've got you, cariño. I've got you now, there you go, so sweet for me. So pretty. Beautiful, smart girl." He deepens the kiss, tasting her lips slowly, reverently, one hand sliding slowly down her soft sweater to rest on her waist and squeeze gently. He brushes his thumb over the soft material and then flicks it open, wanting closeness, to drag his palm up her thin blouse, wide and slow across her back.

The sound that bubbles out of her is a plaintive moan, unsure but wanting, and one of her hands grasps for steadiness on his arm even as the other instinctively sinks into his curls to keep him close. The battle is want versus wisdom, and it takes longer than she's proud of for Daphne to drag her lips from his and pant for a breath that still has no prayer of clearing her head.

"But." The fog in her mind has settled thick and heavy like the arousal in her core, and even as she's trying to straighten herself out she's still clinging to him with digging fingers and sharp nails. "You'll get fired," she manages to breathe out a few seconds later. Her only real protest being that she doesn't want him to get in trouble over a whim – which is surely all this is to him.

"Baby, no, no," he shakes his head, almost laughing with relief that that is her only concern. "No, you're graduating. I'm not your teacher any more. You handed in your paper. We can finally do what I – what I've been—" Shit. This is going to sound so bad. "What I've been thinking about since I met you," he admits.

Santi leans his forehead against hers, sighing. "I'm sorry. It's so inappropriate, but it's true. I've been waiting so long to kiss you, baby girl. Let me kiss you." He brushes his fingers over her knee, lifting her skirt just a little. "Let me make you feel so good, my little nymph. Do you even know how long you've been haunting me?" His mouth brushes her again, gently, over the corner of her mouth, the edge of her jaw, the flutter of her pulse, which smells delicious, deep and floral, her scent.

His cock aches against his zipper.

"Fuck." This time Daphne groans, sinking further into the couch, and feels herself giggle softly in disbelief more than she's actually aware of making the sound herself. "You've been haunted?" She challenges, eyes burning with courage now that she's heard his confession. Heard him beg. Did he really just beg for her? "Do you know how long I put off taking your class because I didn't know if I could even concentrate around you?"

Using the opportunity of her gently reclining body, Santiago leans in for the catch. "I never could," he murmurs into the hollow of her throat, his hands sweeping her skirt up, revealing her pretty legs, and god her thighs, so plush and luscious in his hands. He takes a moment to stroke there, brush the hem of her panties with his thumbs. "Never. You came in with Eros and made me Apollo." One thumb slips gently under the gusset of her panties. "Are you running, little nymph, hm?"

"Fuck—I—no, I—I don't even think my legs work now," she huffs, all at once tense as a bowstring with desire and measurably more relaxed as the reality of the man she's wanted forever finally touching her exactly where she wants him.

Well, not exactly. But it's not going to take long to get there at the rate they're going.

"What should I..." Daphne's head falls back on the sofa cushion as his thumb strokes her slit and she moans. "Santiago is a lot of syllables to moan."

"Santi. You can call me Santi from now on," he murmurs, removing his thumb from her panties only to twist the thin white cotton things, Jesus, so fucking wet, around his fingers and slide them down, down. He tosses them to the side and shucks off her high heeled boots while he's there, his eyes locked on where she glistens for him, needs him. "But you can call out any god you want to, bonita." He flicks his gaze to hers and smirks. "Show me how much you were paying attention, yeah?"

If she can even remember a single name from his class at this point she'll be shocked, and the cool air of his house on her overheated cunt is enough to have her squirming instinctively underneath him. Her brain has pretty much given up the ghost already, overstimulated in the very best way possible far before the rest of her body feels the same. Although she has a feeling that it will get there. "Santi..." Trying it out, there is a sweetness on her tongue and heaviness in her core that really is just a whine waiting to break free. Daphne's hands have found their way to his shirt front, fumbling to free the buttons even while she's nearly shaking with desire. "If you get to touch me, I want to touch you, too."

His lips find hers again, almost impatient to taste her again. "You can touch me, I want you to," he mutters against her lips, lifting her blouse hem from her skirt as she takes care of his buttons. Santiago doesn't pause, doesn't make it easy for her or for himself, drowning himself in the touch of her, the sweet little noises emanating from her throat, the ones taking a running leap on the way to begging for everything he's ready to give. He lifts her shirt over her head and begins tugging down her skirt an inch at a time, his fingers dragging slowly over her hips, her now bare legs.

Nothing is exactly torn away, not specifically, but the pile of clothing that collects beside his living room sofa accumulates quickly and haphazardly — shirts and sweaters and everything else discarded blindly as they drown in kissing each other and swallowing those moans that make their way to the surface over and over again. With that building freedom Daphne finds a buried courage — not that she is a timid lover by any means, but there is an eagerness below the surface here that she hasn’t felt in so long. When the only thing left between them is the flimsy pair of boxers that do nothing to disguise how achingly hard he is, Daph bites down on his bottom lip to pull a groan out of him and soothes it away by sucking on the same spot as her fingers slip under the waistband of his last remaining piece of clothing.

"Fuck," he hisses, hips jumping forward so that the weeping tip of his cock brushes against her hand and he groans. He sits up straighter, caught in a web, aching to touch her – at least take his boxers off, fuck – but loathe to move away from her curious little hand. He settles for sitting up on his knees, staring at the place she's touching him, watching her explore him as though in a trance.

Taking advantage of the momentary shift, Daphne sits up along with him and nudges Santi backward so that he is on his back now instead of her. His curls are mussed and his eyes are so black with lust that he looks positively debauched before she’s even had a chance to touch him very much. Once he’s on his back, though, Daphne hooks her thumbs in his boxers and peels them away, groaning at the sight of him. Harder than diamonds and leaking precum like an eager teenager, a sly smirk rides across her face knowing she did that to him. “I want to suck your cock,” she admits, gaze flickering between his length and his blackened eyes. “You have no idea how many hours I’ve spent imagining sucking your cock under that desk in your office.”

Santiago closes his eyes a moment. Is he fucking dreaming? Or is his most fucked fantasy coming true before his eyes?

"Probably almost as many as what I've spent imagining what that wet little pussy tastes like." His voice is a low rasp, but he pulls himself together enough to halt her hand on his throbbing dick. His fingers squeeze around hers, gliding over the rigid shaft slowly, with control. His breath fans over her forehead. "You want this, baby? Hm? Gonna have to give me something in return. Come here," he urges, a low purr, her very own siren. "Come here and give me a little taste, cariño."

“Even Kama had to worship a lover in order to find his release,” Daph breathes, having spent an entire semester doodling images of the Hindu love god’s sugarcane bow and bird companions in her notes while thinking of all the various ways her professor could be worshipped.

"Kama was burnt alive by Shiva, sweetheart, and I don't plan on doing any different to you. Come here, that's it." Santi helps Daphne turn in his lap, both of them facing the wall. He guides her hips over his face as he lies back on the couch. Thank fuck it was big enough, for this and more, and then her perfect pussy is hovering over his face, tantalizing him. At heart? Santiago likes torturing himself, loves the thrill of giving into pleasure. Perhaps that too, is why he waited so long to take this girl into his bed. Perhaps that's why he's slow and sure as he spreads her lips, flattens his tongue, and tastes her indulgently, from clit to hole.

Daphne's momentary flash of composure is gone again as soon as he tastes her. Her legs shake on either side of his head, thighs pressed to his ears so her moans are muffled but it isn't on purpose. It's just been so long since she had a man between her legs who knew what the fuck he was doing that just having her clit noticed is a vast improvement. Daphne's body sags momentarily before she is shifting all her weight to one hand and wrapping the other around the base of his cock to stroke his base with the pressure that he showed her – the pressure he likes – while she takes as much of him as she can into her mouth.

When he moans it's with a growl into her pussy she can feel vibrate all the way up through her lungs.

She's not fucking sitting, and he knows it's because she's still, however minutely now that her moans are ringing sweet and clear across his living room, in her head instead of fully in her perfect body the way he wants. Licking up her slick almost lazily, he drags his nails lightly up the outsides of her thighs before firmly catching her hips in hand and pressing her into his waiting mouth, his evening stubble scraping across her folds. Only then does he give her a real reason to moan, encouraging her to grind while his laps at her clit with his tongue, filling his hands with all the gorgeous skin he can reach.

"Sit," he grunts, "Fuck, baby, I wanna to go to the field of fucking reeds with this pussy on my face, come on, you can do it, give it to me."

Come on, carińo, I know you can come for me, such a good fucking girl, he thinks, his brain a hazy lightning storm at the sensation of her hot throat squeezing around him as she swallows. Fuck, he could let her do this all night, but he's hungry for her pleasure and he's so close, he can taste it. Santiago lifts her hips with a final loud suck and trails a finger around her slit, teasing, almost pressing, but only just, his thumb running circles around her clit. With a deep breath he lifts his mouth, slips his tongue and a single finger inside, fucking into her with slow, measured movements.

The overwhelming pleasure of having more than just the tip of his tongue inside her pussy has Daphne moaning so earnestly that she pulls off of him cock with a lurid pop. "Dammit—I—fuck, I'm going to cum—Santi, baby, oh my f—" The shaking of her legs and the coil in her core twist down on each other so her thighs tighten and he breathes into her like he's going to devour her whole as she falls apart at the seams.

Oh yes. He really likes hearing her moaning that, but not more than the way she gives in as her orgasm rocks through her, grinding her hips down, into his waiting, eager mouth, helping her ride him through it until the aftershocks ease. His voice is barely a scrape when he lifts her up, his aching cock swinging between his legs as he presses forward, eager for her mouth. "Did so good, baby, such a good girl for me. I need to fuck you. Need to fuck you, baby. How do you want it?"

"Any way." Daphne gasps, trying to wrap her head around any kind of how that's more artful than just sinking down on him right here and now. When she does wrap her head around it, though, she groans in a less ethereal tone. "Let me grab a condom." Like any sensible, sexually active college girl, she carries one in her regular purse. Emergency cock wrap, if you will. She just never thought she'd actually need it.

"Wait, I got it." He scoots up a moment, digging into the small table beside the couch. From the drawer Santi draws out the foil pouch and rips it open, quickly rolling it on before turning his attention back on Daphne, who's watching him with drowned eyes, eyes deep and longing and still so lovely.

"Lie back, sweetheart. You ready for me?" He slowly glides the head over her silky wet folds, smearing her slick across his tip.

Deciding she absolutely does not need to know how many other girls have been fucked on this couch -- possibly at the end of their own courses -- Daph pushed herself up on her elbows to kiss him fiercely. Tonight is not to be wasted. Tonight is to be a fantastic memory. "I'm ready." Her nails drag down the base of his scalp, having caught a near purr from him earlier when she did the same. "I want you to fuck me, Santi."

Almost before his name is out of her mouth, he's pushing inside her with a low rumble, his head falling back slightly into her hands. Her nails scrape sensation over his scalp and down his spine, and her cunt is licking flames over him, so warm and perfect he almost comes right fucking there, but halts, breathing damp against her lips, his teeth nipping her lip possessively.

They hold like that, frozen together in the heat of the moment as he regains his composure and she adjusts to the stretch and fill and thickness of his cock inside her. The only movement, in this long moment of coming together, is the languid slide and tangle of their tongues together as they drown in the intimacy of feverish kisses.

Gradually, Santi comes down enough to get restless, eager again. He nips and bites down over her jaw and descends on her throat, sucking a mark low on her collarbone as his hands pay some long overdue attention to her pretty, heaving tits. Mine.

When the mark on her neck is soothed with his tongue, he sits up slowly, his eyes a glittering black, his lips parted. He looks like he's about to devour her. He takes one of her calves in his hand, eyes never leaving hers, tipping her knee up towards her head and then out, spread wide for him. He grips her ankle in a warm hand. Then, with a grunt, he's pulling back and pitching forward hard enough for their skin to clap obscenely, fast enough to make them both soon begin to tremble.

The position that he's in has him almost entirely out of her reach, just close even to graze her nails over his chest as he thrusts into her at a pace frantic enough to make them both pant and heave. Her back arches off the couch with a keen and her hands grapple with the couch cushions for purchase to hold on tight as Santi fucks her so deeply and insistently that she can practically feel him all the way up in her throat.

"Gripping me so fuckin' tight, baby, Jesus," he says through his teeth, his jaw tight, streaks of pleasure raking down his chest with her sharp, clinging nails. Keeping his relentless pace, he bends forward, pushing her thigh up, testing her limit. When he's low enough he seizes her mouth with his, grinding deep.

"One more for me, pretty girl, one more," he whispers huskily, his other hand skimming down her body to rub at her clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, so good baby, oh my fucking god—" Something in Daphne's mind short circuits, and the rambling begins in earnest the higher and higher she climbs toward a second orgasm. Tripping over her own tongue and throwing her hands up over her head as he slams into her so hard that either they are moving up the length of the sofa or the entire sofa is moving, Daph is completely lost in her pleasure. That volcano of pleasure building in her core is damn near ready to explode and the only thing she wants more than to erupt is to take him with her.

The second her expression breaks and she cries out for him, he's gone. He thinks he's done even before she clamps down on his cock like a goddamned vice, ripping his orgasm from him in a half dozen hard but increasingly languid strokes.

His upper body grows heavy, and with a groan he grinds in deeply just once more – never mind why – and leans his forehead on her soft breast, pulling out of her with a sigh. His entire body is basking, floating. If she puts her hands in his hair again he might even fall asleep.

There's a moment of quiet as he ties off and disposes of the condom, and for a split-second Santi disappears around a corner but he comes back with a warm, damp kitchen cloth to clean them both up with before curling back around her on the couch. "Goddamn," she huffs, giggling softly to herself as his arms come around her.

"Tell me about it," he says sleepily, flipping the throw blanket over the two of them as they settle, kiss, explore lazily what before had been greedily consumed. "Still not sure I'm not dreaming," he says, only half-joking, tracing her lips with a smile. "Did I really get so lucky?"

"I'm not sure how you're the starstruck one out of the two of us," Daphne teases, even though it's through a thin veil of honesty.

"Bonita, I've been increasingly starstruck all semester," he chuckles. "You have so much to look forward to. Shit, you're definitely going farther places than I am. I'm just happy to be here," he presses a kiss to her left tit, "To enjoy-" to her right nipple- "The satisfaction of being right." He kisses her forehead and studies her, his lids heavy. "Do you need anything before you fall asleep, baby girl? You wanna sleep here or in bed? I can't let you bike home this late, querida, so don't even try. Besides, you can shower here, my plumbing is fine." He smirks here, as if anticipating the swat he's earned himself.

"It's not that late." Daphne wrinkles her nose at herself. The protest was just good manners. She doesn't actually want to leave. She wants to wrap up in him and breathe in this comfort for as long as humanly possible. When he levels her with a disapproving look, Daph just ends up grinning. "Let's go to bed," she suggests, catching his lips as he drags them along her jaw. "And when I wake you up in the morning with my lips wrapped around your cock again, you'll be glad your back isn't sore."

The laugh bursts out of his chest with delight, easy and real. "All right, baby, all right, and what makes you think I won't beat you to it?" Santi pulls her to her feet, wrapping the soft blanket securely around her shoulders before guiding her upstairs with a hand at the small of her back.

No matter which one of them beats the other two it, they both know they aren't done. Whether it's a weekend, a week, a month, or even more. This night is just the beginning.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

#Oscar Isaac #Oscar Isaac character fanfiction #Oscar Isaac fanfic #Santiago Garcia #Santiago 'Pope' Garcia #Santiago Garcia x OC #Santiago Garcia x female!OC #Triple Frontier #college professor au #professor!Santiago Garcia #pwp #really there is barely any plot here #and we're not sorry

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wndaswife · 1 year

Text

the warmest season

wanda maximoff x gn!reader

tags: fluff, slight angst, mentions of a car accident, slight sexual content.

word count: 3008

summary: After an accident that leaves you bedridden for the remainder of December, Wanda is assigned to be your at-home nurse.

gif credit to creator.

It happened because of something stupid and entirely avoidable should you have been paying attention to your surroundings.

A series of things happened beforehand: telling yourself you’d get your winter tires done once you had the time, going out in the midst of a storm to submit a report to your boss whose office was a town away.

For a while, you’d get stuck on the fact that if you had simply declined, you’d never have gotten into the accident. But weeks of being bedridden told you that holding that regret so close was fruitless. It didn’t heal you faster, didn’t make the days and nights spent doing nothing but sleeping any less tiresome.

Your nurse steps into the kitchen where you’re reading with a cup of tea in hand.

A bright smile forms on her face when she lays her eyes on you.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Wanda says cheerfully. You greet her with a smile. She lifts three bags of groceries onto the kitchen counter and huffs out softly. She pushes her hair back behind her ears and begins to unpack the groceries while looking up at you. “You’re up early.”

You put your book down and reach over to one of the bags, carefully unloading everything onto the counter one by one. “I got some pretty great sleep,” you tell her, dividing the groceries between produce and things for the pantry.

She takes a few things into the fridge and looks over her shoulder at you. “Your ankle isn’t bothering you at all, is it?” she asks.

Yesterday, Wanda drove you to the hospital to get your ankle cast removed after having it on for weeks.

Shaking your head, you hand her a container of cream cheese. She takes it from you and stores it in its place.

“Good,” she says and closes the fridge before moving onto unpacking the last grocery bag. “We should take a walk later today since you’ve been off your feet for so long. The snow finally melted a bit so we can start off by walking down the street.”

“Down the street?” you repeat. “Can’t I do something around the block, at least?”

Two days have passed since Christmas Day, and you’ve been cooped up at home ever since you were released from the hospital on the third. Even before then, the most of the outdoors you’d gotten was from an open window in your hospital room which was closed after no more than six minutes of being open.

Sometimes Wanda let you sit out in the backyard for a little while, but because the snowfall had been relentless as of late, she wouldn’t risk having you get a cold, so you stayed inside more often than not.

Wanda shook her head. “No,” she answers. “Not yet. You might have your cast off, but your fracturing was rather intricate. I’m sure you remember. I don’t want you to put any more pressure on your ankle than necessary until your next check-up.”

You slump down in your seat and begin folding up the empty reusable grocery bags silently.

Wanda stares at your forlorn reaction to her words, a guilty pang spreading through her chest at the sight of you.

Over the last few weeks, she had seen how prone you were to feeling down. She couldn’t blame you.

You had told her once during the time you spent with her that you weren’t very close to your family, and you hadn’t been to a Christmas dinner with them in years. So instead, you’d developed a habit of prioritising work to the point where having time for your family wouldn’t have been feasible anyway. It was easier to see it that way.

But because of the accident, you hadn’t been able to do any work either.

You’d tried a few times, but you were always so heavily fatigued and weak to finish anything significant. In some ways, Wanda was thankful you were spending more time focusing on taking care of yourself rather than working on anything else, much less for a boss who hasn’t even sent you so much as a concerned email when it was him who had called you out into the snow storm that day.

“I can drive us around instead,” Wanda offers and you suddenly feel yourself in the likeness of a sulking child. “We can go to that restaurant you really like, but we’ll have to order out. It’s not recommended that you put any unnecessary sort of stress on your body just yet."

You straighten in your seat and stand to store the folded bags under the sink. “No, it’s fine. Down the street sounds good,” you say. “Thank you for the groceries.”

The next few hours of the morning are occupied joyfully as you sit in the kitchen talking with Wanda, talking about nothing in particular.

She makes herself scrambled eggs and you a small omelette of the size you requested, both filled with mushrooms, red peppers, and diced carrots and bacon. Because you didn’t want it cooked into the omelette, Wanda makes you eat half of her canned tuna to ensure you got enough protein.

She sits across from you on the kitchen island counter, retelling her Christmas spent with her family while you nod and make a few comments here and there. She tells you she’d love it if you could meet them, and that both her twin brother and parents have gotten increasingly curious about the patient she’s been spending so much time with.

You silently question why they would know how much time Wanda spends with you, but the thought is left behind when she reaches over with her fork, slicing a bit of your omelette onto it and bringing it to your lips.

“Here, take one more bite,” she tells you after she’d noticed you were finished with your breakfast. “I’ll finish the rest.”

You move your head forward and take the piece of omelette from her. Wanda slides the fork out from beyond your lips carefully and takes your plate.

“Is there anything you want to do today?” she inquires with a smile, looking up at you from her stacked plates. “You have me until six.”

You suggest to your nurse after swallowing your last piece of your omelette, “Nothing, really. Wanna watch a movie?”

“Sounds cool,” she says, her smile growing so her eyes wrinkle at their corners. She forks the last bit of your omelette into her mouth and carries the dishes into the sink.

While she washes them, you approach her and give her your empty glass. She takes it with a smile and steps to the side, closer to you.

“Do you shower today? Or tomorrow?” she asks.

“Today.”

Wanda places a washed plate on the rack to the right. “I bought the plastic wrap for your cast,” she informs. “I’ll help you put it on before you get into the shower. Do you need my help with anything?”

You shake your head. “I think it’ll be much easier now that I don’t have the ankle cast,” you ponder aloud.

“I think so too,” she agrees and begins washing the cutlery. “Let me know if you need anything. I won’t be too far.” Wanda looks over at you with a warm smile that makes you flush and scratch at the pad of your thumb with your fingernail.

You nod.

Once Wanda is finished washing the dishes, you decide to shower first before you start the movie together.

With an arm around your waist, an instinctive act of assisting a patient turned into something like a display of affection, Wanda helps you ascend your staircase.

You don’t really need her help in going up the stairs anymore, not after your ankle cast was taken off. You had no problems going down this morning before she came to your house.

Wanda must also know you know longer need any assistance in going upstairs anymore. She was the nurse, after all.

But neither of you say anything as her hand tightens around your hip when you take that last step onto the second floor.

She sorts through a plastic case she brought with her in your bathroom while you get undressed in your bedroom.

The way Wanda’s eyes dart down your partially-uncovered body is not lost on you. A towel is wrapped around your chest that conceals you down to your mid-thighs. She’s seen you this way countless of times before, though her eyes seem to linger a bit longer every time.

Wanda clears her throat and you see her jaw clench before she gestures to the edge of the bathtub.

You take a seat there and Wanda takes the wrap out of the case. She unwraps it and you lift your arm up. The stretchy material fits your hand like a fingerless glove. Wanda leans down, one hand circled gently around your wrist and the other tugging the wrap up above your cast.

From this angle, you can clearly see down her loose t-shirt. You don’t have enough time to look away before your eyes run down her exposed clavicle, and the swells of her breasts and her black bra.

Wanda turns away to take surgical tape from the box on top of the toilet lid and you focus on cooling your flushed cheeks. Her hand snakes up the length of your arm and she holds the end of the cast wrap in place while she tears the tape from the roll with her teeth. She places the roll down and tapes the end down with her free hand. She wraps a few more strips of tape around the edge of the wrap to ensure no water can come through before she finishes.

When she straightens, her eyes find your face and the concentrated furrowing of her eyebrows dissipate into a concerned expression.

“Did I hurt you?” she asks, stepping forward and placing a hand on your upper arm.

You look up to her and shake your head, hastily saying, “No, no, no.”

“Is the wrap too tight?”

You shake your head again.

“You look a little flustered,” Wanda notes.

“I’m fine. It’s hot in here.”

Your nurse runs her hand down your arm then reaches behind you to turn the tap on. She runs the shower, playing with the handle a bit as she feels out a cool temperature for you.

“Okay, come up,” she says quietly. She places an arm on your hip and takes your hand into hers, lifting you from the edge of the bathtub. “Is that too cold for you?”

You feel the running shower water with your hand. “It’s perfect. Thank you,” you tell her. When you turn your head to look at her, Wanda’s face is only a few inches from your own.

Her hand on your hip raises to your shoulder. She brushes your hair back behind your shoulder so it spills down your upper back and leaves your neck and chest exposed.

You hear your breath begin to quicken alongside your heartbeat and you try your best to steady yourself lest Wanda think you’re overheating in her arms.

Suddenly, she lets go of your hand and steps back from you.

“I’ll give you some space,” she hesitates. You watch her pack her things back into the plastic box she came with. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll be just downstairs.”

And with that, she leaves the washroom, closing the door carefully behind her.

You pull your towel from your body and set it beside your sink.

The cool water from the shower makes you feel as if the tension from earlier, thick enough to have slickened your skin with layers of nerves, could slip down from your body and into the drain with ease.

You take care in ensuring you avert your wrapped arm from the shower despite the covering around it as you could already envision Wanda’s panic if she were to find her wrapping hadn’t properly cared for your cast.

You don’t notice that the very thought of it has made your cheeks flush a warm pink until the cool shower brings a refreshing downpour onto your face.

Wanda is sitting on the couch with your book from earlier in her hand when you head back downstairs after your shower. At the sound of you descending the staircase, she turns.

“Feeling better?” she asks, eyes following you as you approach the couch and take a seat beside her.

“Better,” you say with a reaffirming nod.

You threw your cast’s wrap out in the washroom, observing your wrist’s cast in detail to ensure it stayed dry in the shower.

Wanda does the same and you smile when she brings it up to her eyes. Satisfied, she lays your hand back in your lap and pulls herself closer to you so your arms brush against each other.

“Anything you’re thinking of watching?” she inquires, taking the television remote from the coffee table and turning the TV on.

“We should watch a Christmas movie,” you suggest, pulling your legs onto the couch and leaning back comfortably.

In what seems like a response to your act of bringing your knees up to your chest and getting comfortable on the couch, Wanda leans into you.

She smells good.

The next few minutes are spent deciding on a movie while Wanda cuddles close to you, looking over her shoulder at you occasionally with a curious glint.

It is not even halfway into the movie when you end up stuttering out a quiet, “Wanda. Can I ask you something?”

She hums and looks over to you.

“Don’t you ever feel, like, a little taxed that you have to come here almost every day and take care of me?” you question.

Wanda looks completely bewildered at your question, her eyebrows pushing together as she straightens and detaches herself from your shoulder. You feel a chill where her warm body used to be. “No. It’s not taxing at all. It’s my job, you know. I do it for a living,” she answers.

At the rationality of her answer, you just nod. “Right. Okay, yes,” you say, almost more to yourself than to her, before looking back to the television. “It’s a job.”

Though you’ve started watching the movie already, decidedly focused on something else and having moved on from the question, Wanda continues to look at you. You can see her face and her unmoving stare from the corner of your eye.

While you question whether it would be better to look over to her and acknowledge the way she’s staring at you, Wanda moves close to you again. Her hand reaches up to the back of your neck and you bristle momentarily. Her fingers play with the wisps of your hair and your shoulders untense.

“Why do you ask that?” she asks, her voice quiet and indicative of sincere curiosity and something intimate.

You stutter, trying to find your words to answer the unexpected question, “N-No reason, really, I was just curious about-”

Warm slender fingers are placed against the side of your face, redirecting your attention over to Wanda’s face. The corners of her lips tug upwards slightly at the sight of you, and she urges you to continue with lifted eyebrows.

But you can’t find your train of thought, not once you’d lost it when Wanda’s touched your cheek.

“I wish I could have spent Christmas with you,” she whispers. She’s smiling again, wider this time.

With an embarrassed smile, you look away. “You don’t mean that,” you say. “It’s boring here.”

Her head tips to the side. “You have a bit of a problem with keeping eye contact, Y/N,” she teases.

Your ears feel hot and your fingers tremble around your knees.

Were you sick?

Wanda made sure you never went out without both a jacket and a sweater if she ever let you go out in this weather at all.

You’d felt normal this morning and this afternoon.

“Y/N,” she whispers.

At the sound of your name, hushed on Wanda’s lips and said like a quiet prayer, your head turns quickly.

The last thing you register is the scent of the nurse’s perfume before her soft lips are pressed against yours. Wanda’s eyes flutter closed, and her fingers that had been playing with your hand are now wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you into the kiss.

You can feel her soft exhale on your upper lip.

She looks so pretty.

Your eyes run over the freckles on her face that you hadn’t noticed until now.

When she pulls away from the kiss, your lips parting with a soft pop, green eyes flit over your face. At your frozen expression and parted lips, her face forms into something concerned and regretful when it comes over her that she had completely missed the mark.

What would happen now that she forced a patient to kiss her?

What would happen to her relationship with you?

She pulls away from you, averting her gaze and moving to stand up.

Her wrist is seized by a stubborn hand, and she’s tugged back down to the couch where you lean up and kiss her, eliciting a small squeak from the surprised nurse.

Slowly, she settles back down on the couch. Wanda leans forward, placing her hand on your knee and squeezing softly. Her lips leave yours to kiss your cheek, then your jaw.

“Isn’t it… breaking some rule to kiss your patients?” you suggest teasingly.

You feel her grin against your temple. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” she says and raises a gentle hand to your face, making you look up at her. She breaks out into a fit of giggles as you wrap your arms around her hips, pulling her on top of you as you lay yourself down onto your back.

“Deal,” you affirm, burying your nose in her soft hair while Wanda kisses up the column of your neck with a wide grin.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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simpinberry · 1 year

Note

for my mental health i need hcs of bella ramsey x fem or gn reader with words of affirmation love language ‼️‼️

hi guys i’m back to feed you some more bella content ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ hope i did this right and that u guys like it :) also tysm for the requests

listen listen!!! after taking a shower she would 100% leave sweet compliments on the foggy mirror for u to read. will add ‘kiss your s/o’ to your to do lists.

will text/send photos of random things that reminds you of her throughout the day. she does this especially when she’s on set and you guys can’t talk much. they have your favorite snack there? sends u a photo and tells u theyre thinking of u. lots of i miss yous, love yous and that she can’t wait to be home to see u again. “text me abt what you get up to today babe” “pedro is making fun of me because i’m apparently such a simp for you, he is absolutely, in every way, correct ;).” “i saw a butterfly today n it reminded me of the pretty tattoo you have”

will watch u like the weirdo she is when you’re getting ready in the morning. sneaks up behind u and repeatedly attacks ur face with kisses. “i have the most beautiful gf in the world” “omg i love this purple eyeliner on you, it rlly suits you” “your curls look really defined today, the new conditioner you got is so good!! my beautiful bby”

is the type to whisper compliments in between kisses. yk like corny spelling out of i love you in between pecks? yep, does that. “i really really like you” “my darling” “mine” “you’re so cute” in between kisses hehehe.

spam texts you when you send/post a photo. in your dms/comment section screechingggg!! my mans is DOWN BADDD. needs and loves to comment “first” on ur posts. they actually make up most of ur comment section. “BABE IM DYING YOURE TOO BEAUTIFUL” “so glad we’ve advanced technology so i can stare at this photo 4life if i want to” “you+this dress= my death”

randomly tweets a photo of you, captioning it “this is my darling, be jealous, gn”

very validating when you’re upset and talks you through it. thanks you for speaking up and communicating abt anything that’s been bothering you. SPILLS THE TEA WITH YOUUU. you have a co worker you hate? she hates them too. listen to me when i say she is on ur side, she is shocked and they’ll even remember stuff you’ve previously told them to add to the fire. best bf frr “thank you for telling me babe, i’ll really keep it in mind next time, i’m so sorry for hurting your feelings like that” “it sounds like it’s been difficult for you to complete (insert task) you’ve been working through it so well :)” “he said what??? yeah like he’s one to talk, go go! continue tell me more i’m invested” “babe you’re honestly so right, this is why i always listen to u”

definitely acknowledges you so so much when you accomplish something. will go on about how proud they are of you, how well you’ve done and how wonderful it is. big or small, bellas on her way to pour her heart out to you. would be unbelievably encouraging throughout the process too, telling you to keep going and trust the progress. “you’ve got this babe, go on :))” “that drawing is absolutely amazing, you’re so talented omg look at the details” “you submitted your assignment?? ahead of time?? that’s my girl frr” “these cookies are amazing, thank u sm for baking them ughh give me a hug you’re the best baker ever, they’re so soft!!”

you guys will be facetiming one night when shes away in a different country for filming. she’s been gone two months and you really miss them. you get a bit emotional talking abt it and they really listen, telling you to let it out. just before you guys hang up they tell you to look at the last drawer of your jewellery box. turns out she wrote you a letter before she left, many letters in fact, for when you really miss them. you can’t help but sob reading it. she attached a polaroid photo of you guys kissing at bottom of the page. she’s so incredibly kind in the letter, telling you how wonderful its been getting to know you these past few months. "hehe youre probably crying from how nice im being" istg this mf even teases you in writing. when you're finished you call her back, they immediately burst out laughing at your blood shot eyes, “hahahhs i knew you’d cry”. sneaks in a ‘you look so pretty even when you cry’. tells you they have more hidden around your room and that when you need it she’ll tell you where you can find more ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ

goodnight!! if i made any mistakes, no i didn’t. byebye!!

#bella ramsey x reader #bella ramsey #bella ramsey fluff #ellie the last of us #wlw #lgbtq #bella ramsey gf #bella ramsey head cannon #lesbian #nonbinary #genderfluid

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boyfiejay · 3 months

Note

omg the jungwon soulmate au was so cute 😔 i was wondering if you could do one for sunoo?? <3

Thank you for sending an ask! This took me so long, im so sorry. Love you <3

Soulmate AU

PAIRING : Sunoo x gn Reader

GENRE : Soulmate au, fated to be

Warning : mention of drink(no names), almost road accident, reader calls him pretty like 10 times

Word Count : 1.1k

Author's note : lowk wrote this in a hurry so it isn't the best :((

Jungwon version

Working in a café in your junior year of high school was probably the dumbest decision you've made. Well, in your defence, last year when you started working, it was a nice distraction. The cafe wasn't very popular, the same few faces greeting you everyday.

But a couple months ago, a local influencer made a post about the cafe and the once silent and comforting cafe was constantly bombarded with people.

You were happy for the raise, but not for the increased work.

The only reason your parents haven't asked you to quit yet is because this job makes you meet new people everyday. 'Parents and their obsession with soulmates' you thought, and continued wiping the table.

Yeah, soulmates. When you turned 10 you were presented with a bracelet with a pretty charm, your soulmate has a bracelet with similar or identical charm on it. You remember being excited to meet yoir soulmate just like your parents. When you meet your soulmate, the charms link together and let go whenever they please.

When you meet your soulmate, you feel like you've known them forever and suddenly feel so much adoration for them, yada yada (you've heard this for years)

Now that you're older, you aren't as much excited, all because you remember seeing people all over each other, practically eating each other's faces throughout your high school days.

Today was one of the few days that it was actually peaceful, only a handful of people coming in. It had been over half an hour since no one came and you were honestly getting tired of wiping the same floor and same tables.

Just then the bell attached to the door chimed as someone made their presence known. The person stood in front of the counter looking at the menu and wondering what to order, but all you could think about was how pretty this guy is.

His beauty could single handedly defeat all of your past crushes, combined.

Before you literally start drooling at him, he opened his mouth to place his order and started taking out the money for it. God even his voice was pretty, were you going to get a crush on a random stranger you probably would never meet.

Taking your eyes off his breathtaking form, you hurried to make his drink. In record time the drink was in front of him, even he looked surprised as to how you made it so fast.

He handed you the money, something shiny on his wrist caught your eye. You returned his change and observed his wrist.

It looked too much like yours.

Before you could be out of your trance and open your mouth, he had thanked you with the prettiest smile and was hurrying out the door.

For the next week you couldn't get the pretty stranger out of your mind. All your thoughts circled back to whether his charm was really similar to yours. To be fair, a lot of people had similar looking charms, just enough difference that you wouldn't catch in a hurry. Sure his must have been different.

But you couldn't shake off this feeling that there was more to it, you just wanted to run to him and confirm it yourself. But where would you go? You didn't know his name, or his age, or which school (or uni) he went to.

Today was one of the worst days you've had this whole month. Firstly your teacher suddenly announced that you needed to submit a lengthy assignment tomorrow, then your locker door won't open and you were late to class. It seemed that you had pissed your teacher a lot considering you were sent to detention, and then your regular bus had missed.

After waiting about 20 minutes, the next bus arrived, you got on and walked to the very back of the bus to sit. You almost cursed out loud when you saw who was sitting in the row beside yours, almost.

It was the guy from the café! He had his earphones plugged in as he was hurriedly typing on his phone. The charm on his bracelet caught your attention, it really did look like yours.

Again, before you could speak up, thr bus had stopped and he was walking towards the door. He was going to get off!

You weighed your options for 2 seconds before you were also walking out.

He was walking away still immersed in texting, his whole attention on his screen. God what kind of tea did he get to have that much attention on texting.

Just then you saw a car speeding on the road, the road this guy was going to walk on!! You ran towards him, pulling his shirt collar just in time as the car zoomed past. You pulled him far away from the road.

He began coughing due to the pressure on his neck as you panted from the running. He threw a confused look towards you and before he could open his mouth you said, "A car was speeding, you would've gotten run over."

He probably didn't notice anything due to the earphones still plugged in. Noticing his neck slightly turn red you apologised. But he was quick to brush it and thank you for saving him.

It was awkward for a moment, till he noticed your gaze on his wrist. In turn he looked at yours, immediately softly grabbing your wrist to inspect your bracelet.

"You're.. We are.." he muttered, not being able to finish his thoughts.

"Yeah. Yeah we are." you nodded.

He hesitantly brought up his wrist to link your charms together. Although you already knew that you were soulmates, this was a process that made your bond stronger.

As the charms linked together, he looked up to meet your eyes. God even his eyes were pretty, long lashes and everything. This man was perfection, and he was your soulmate?

"I'm Sunoo, Kim Sunoo. Are you free right now? I mean, we don't really have a choice since this will not let go just now." he said, although borderline rambling, his voice remained soft and soothing.

You couldn't stop the smile on your face as it was finally dawning upon you that you found your soulmate. You nodded at him as he gave you one of his smiles that might even put the sun to shame.

"Let's go then! I'll show you my favourite places and you show me yours." he said, his voice more high pitched as he became excited. A slight bounce in his step as he grasped your hand, his fingers weaving through yours.

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princessbellecerise · 11 months

Text

Picture Perfect, I

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | Your sister Natasha is in trouble. You know it in your gut, and even moreso — you know it’s because of her so called ‘family’ the Avengers. It’s up to you to save your sister and yourself — before it becomes too late.

warnings | dark!peter parker, dark!avengers, non-con, kidnapping, dubcon, violence, loss of virginity (m. and f), manipulation, overall mature themes, stalking, delusional!peter, 18+ ONLY

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You wanted to tear your hair out.

You groaned as the words of your essay seemed to blur together on your laptop, barely being able to focus despite being the only one in the coffee shop.

It was quiet, but the silence didn’t help when it was your mind that was racing, pure agitation and frustration making your thoughts run a mile a minute.

Leave it to your damn journalism professor to assign you something that was nearly impossible. Okay, you shouldn’t say impossible, but for a math major, English and writing in general was not something you were particularly good at.

You were majoring in math for a reason, because numbers made more sense to you than words. Numbers were rational, logical, set in stone. Numbers meant facts and reason. Words however, could confuse you. They could appear as one thing and mean something entirely different. It was easy to deceive with words, harder when you had the facts.

You didn’t like words. You much preferred numbers, but so far the only number required in your assignment was the word count you had yet to reach.

You didn’t get it. Why would he assigned you a project so late in the semester, a project worth so much of your grade at that?

You had been doing fine all semester, scraping together things here and there, pretending you knew what the hell he was talking about when he mentioned things like press and media and PR.

All things that had nothing to do with your major, by the way.

You could pretend until now, until you suddenly had to put everything you had learned towards this project, and it was not working.

You groaned again in frustration as you scrapped yet another sentence, noting how stupid it sounded. In fact, your whole essay was half-assed because you simply were not good with words and you were finding it difficult to type your proposal despite having your source right at your fingertips.

You looked up as Marjorie, the woman that ran the café, gave a little chuckle at your frustrated nature. You locked eyes, and you could see that she was amused, knowing full well how much you hated this project — seeing as you did recruit her for help.

Professor Bernstein wanted the class to use their so-called skills to gather information about a topic that they found interesting. And you were supposed to use your ‘journalist methods’ as he had called them, to gather sources, write articles, and eventually compose a report of all the findings you gathered.

Which was fine, at first.

It was fine because you thought you could just pretend like you had been all semester, and you picked an easy topic you thought you were just going to breeze through.

The History of Math is what you had opted for. Simple, easy, and…

Apparently not good enough for Professor Bernstein.

You still scowled when you remembered the day you handed your proposal in. One week ago was when he had taken your paper, looked at it once, and then handed it back to you with a shake of his head.

“Journalism is about reporting things that are new and exciting,” He had put an emphasis on exciting and it wasn’t lost on you. “Try and research something that’s more relevant. Something that’ll capture the readers interest. You do know that the best project is getting submitted to the local paper, right?”

“But—” You had protested, thinking it unfair he turned you down so quickly. “If you just read it, then you’d see my paper is interesting. In fact, I even tracked down the grandson of the man that invented the calculator. Even managed to get a photo of the original prototype. Is that not interesting?”

Due to the fact that you had to resubmit your proposal, you would say that no, Professor Bernstein did not think that was interesting.

That interaction caused you to sulk, and as a way to cheer yourself up, you went to Marjorie’s Cafe for coffee and to express your exasperations to the woman who was always happy to listen to you. You told her about what happened and that’s when she offered herself as a topic for your project — or rather her heritage as an Italian American woman.

Marjorie agreed to be your source and give you interviews on what it was like having immigrant parents and grandparents.

She agreed that she’d help you out, as long as you did one thing for her.

“Stop complaining so damn much and just get it done,” She told you, and you wore a sheepish smile, knowing that she was right.

You would pull through this, you would pull through this, you would pull through this, you would—

Oh, fuck this.

You groaned again and this time you finally slammed your laptop shut, pushing it away from you and grunting as you snatched up your coffee. As you sipped on the dark drink (you usually liked your coffee with three creams and three sugars but you decided you need something stronger for today) you heard the old woman laughing again and the scuffle of her feet as she came from behind the counter, and sitting at your table.

You didn’t look at her as she sat down, opting to close your eyes and try to steer away the headache that was surely coming.

You rubbed your temples, and when you opened your eyes again, you met those of Marjorie’s, whose face was dancing with amusement.

“I take it it’s not going so well,” She guessed as she grabbed your coffee cup, pulling it towards her. You watched as the woman filled it back up to the brink before passing it back to you, a grateful sigh leaving your lips.

“Thanks, Marj. And not at all,” You told her with a deep frown. “I’m trying so hard to put everything you told me into words, but it’s just all so—”

“Boring?” Marjorie guessed, causing your mouth to drop open in shock.

“What? Marjorie, you know I would never—”

You started to protest, but the old woman’s laughter cut you off. She threw her head back, and by the way her hand reached over to gently pat yours, you were able to relax knowing that she was just joking.

“Dear girl, you have got to loosen up,” Marjorie told you, shaking her head slightly. “I was just kidding, but it seems this project has got you so stressed out you can barely think straight anymore.”

You sighed as you leaned back in your seat. She wasn’t wrong; you had barely slept in the last couple of days because you were so worried about this project and this class. You had stayed up all night writing several proposals before Marjorie had even offered, and now it felt your brain was really and truly burnt out.

“It’s just,” You fiddled with your hands as you met Marjorie’s brown eyes. They were warm, full of sympathy as you struggled. “It’s just that I want to go ahead and get this over with so I can finish this semester strong. But you know me—writing is not my strong suit, Marj. I do way better with numbers which is why I picked math as my major in the first place. And I mean—it’s frustrating that I even have to take this class. When am I ever gonna use journalism skills as a math professor?”

“Who knows?” Marjorie shrugged. “You might discover some new equation and end up in the papers yourself,”Her eyes twinkled and you snorted.

“Okay, I am not that smart,” You told her. “I mean, it’s not like I’m Tony Stark or anything. You know, discovering a whole element and all.”

You had only been joking, but at the mention of the multibillionaire, Marjorie suddenly got quiet. She bit her lip as a distasteful look grew on her face, her nose turning up slightly.

You rose an eyebrow.

“What? Not a big fan of Iron Man?” You tried to joke a little, but Marjorie only shrugged.

“Not in the slightest,” She said, seriousness in her voice. Her brown eyes narrowed slightly.

You had to admit, you were a little taken back by her response. Of course, you had your own opinion of the man and especially the organization he was affiliated with, but you never expected Marjorie to agree. You guys had never talked about it before, but whatever.

You two wouldn’t be the only ones that held disdain for a superhero.

“I guess that’s valid,” You shrugged as you sipped on your coffee. The bitter taste made you grimace a little bit. “Tony Stark does seem like he’s a bit—”

Full of himself, is what you were going to say.

“Dangerous,” Is what Marjorie came up with. “That’s all that man is. And boy do I tell you, I worry for your sister every day that she has to live with that man.”

“Well…” You trailed off because you were genuinely taken aback by Marjorie’s answer. Never, and you mean never, had anyone other than you referred to the Avenger as dangerous. Most people worshipped the ground they walked on, including your parents. Most people thought they were heroes.

But Marjorie…

You stared at her as you recognized that same suspicion behind her eyes. The same look people had often described you as having and you were shocked. Because it was one thing to have your own concerns, but if someone like Marjorie was thinking the same thing, then…

“What are you—”

Your voice was suddenly cut off by the bell over the door ringing. An abrupt customer had you slamming your mouth shut, holding your words as Marjorie’s eyes drifted from yours and towards the door.

What are you worried about? Is what you wanted to ask her, but you didn’t get the chance as a sudden gasp escaped her lips.

Marjorie got up, and you watched curiously as her face turned to happiness in an instant, the woman making quick haste towards whoever it was at the door. The joyful laugh she let out reached your ears, the conversation between the two of you long forgotten as she exclaimed:

“Peter!”

Peter? You inwardly questioned. Who is Peter?

You swiveled your body around so that you could be nosy and see what was going on. When you did, you were shocked to see Marjorie hugging the person that had came in. It was a boy, but you couldn’t get a good look at his face because Marjorie’s body was blocking your view. The only thing you could pick up on was his long, deep chuckle and his words as he said,

“Aunt May!” The stranger pulled away and greeted her with excitement in his voice, causing your eyes to shoot open and your mouth to drop in shock. You were absolutely floored when he stepped back, revealing a quite handsome boy that looked exactly like the woman you had known for two years.

Young, with brown hair and a sweet smile that almost melted your heart. The way he was looking at Marjorie was absolutely adorable, and even though you were still in shock by this new revelation, you smiled.

“Peter, my favorite nephew,” She giggled as she looked him up and down, fretting over him in typical Marjorie fashion. “To what do I owe the pleasure? You don’t usually visit your Aunt May on the weekdays, if at all.”

“Well,” Peter trailed off sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I’ve been kind of busy with schoolwork but I had some free time today so I decided to just pop in and see how you were doing. I would have done it earlier but you know I also have the—”

“The Stark Internship,” Marjorie answered for him, and you didn’t miss the bitterness in her voice, nor the familiar name rolling off her lips. She looked like she was grimacing a little bit, but she tried her best to hide it from Peter as she glanced back at you. You locked eyes for a second and you rose an eyebrow. “Of course. How could I forget that you’ve been spending all your time with Tony Stark?”

Tony Stark. Well that certainly explained some of Marjorie’s disposition towards him. It seemed like her nephew had been visiting her less and less frequently due to this so-called internship. You would have, of course, known this—except you were too busy not even knowing that Peter existed.

Marjorie had never told you she had a nephew. In fact, she never told you she had any family except for her late husband and children who she sorrowfully told you about. You racked your brain, but you were certain she never told you about any living relatives and certainly not him.

You could feel your cheeks heat up as you looked at the pair once again, and this time you were shocked to see Peter already looking back at you. May had taken his hand, and your mouth parted a little bit when you noticed her pointing towards your table.

“Come on. Let’s go sit down for a little bit, okay? There’s someone else here I think you should say hello to.”

Quickly you sat up, brushing the crumbs from your snack off your jeans and straightening up in your chair. You tried to make yourself look presentable while also pretending like you weren’t eavesdropping. When Peter and Marjorie finally got to the table, you put on a shy smile and blinked your lashes so Peter wouldn’t think you were weird for just sitting there.

“Um, hi?” Your words came out more like a question, and Peter laughed as Marjorie patted your shoulder. The two of them wore identical smiles as they sat down across from you, though Peter was the one directly across from you while Marjorie was beside him.

“Well, while you’ve been busy with Tony Stark,” There was that dismay again, “This one here has been keeping me plenty of company in your absence. She comes here almost every day; too much if you ask me,”Marjorie joked.

“Marj! Haha, you’re so funny,” You sent her a look while she simply grinned, winking at you as Peter laughed. “I don’t actually come here everyday,” You tried to assure him, even though you really did. Peter just smiled.

“Well if you did, I wouldn’t really blame you. Aunt May here has the best coffee in Brooklyn,” He beamed at her while you nervously nodded. And, not wanting to be rude, Peter suddenly realized he hadn’t introduced himself so he held out his hand. “I-I’m Peter, by the way,” He said with a sweet smile. “I’m this old troublemaker’s nephew.”

“Oh,” Marjorie, or May you supposed, waved him off while you giggled. Reaching out, you clasped your hand into his and noted how warm it was. Maybe even a little sweaty, but perhaps that meant he was just as nervous as you were.

“Hi. I’m Y/N,” You said to him shyly, your lips turning up. “Y/N L/N. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Peter agreed.

Marjorie cleared her throat when the two of you held hands a little longer than what was necessary, but she didn’t say anything. She just grinned widely when you both pulled away, embarrassed.

Peter was blushing and you suddenly became obsessed with your coffee cup. Marjorie noticed the interaction between the two of you and had you been looking at her, you would’ve noticed the slight twinkle in her eyes as she suddenly stood up.

“Come, Peter. Let me out so I can make some fresh coffee. I’ll pour you a cup and in the meantime, why don’t you chat with YN? I’m sure you both could find something to talk about,” Marjorie sang. You wanted to protest but before you could even say anything, she was gone—leaving you and Peter there staring at each other awkwardly.

The pregnant pause between the two of you was strong, neither of you knowing what to say. The two of you had literally just met and there wasn’t much to talk about, until Peter’s eyes landed on your laptop.

“No way, you go to MIT too?” He exclaimed excitedly, causing your attention to immediately snap to him. You noticed that he was looking at all the stickers that decorated your device, most of which you had added freshman year. “That’s so cool! What year are you in?”

Your mouth parted slightly at his words, but you quickly caught yourself as a small grin grew on your face. Blushing slightly, you leaned up and said,

“Sophomore. I’m a…I’m a sophomore,” You stuttered slightly, Peter’s face lighting up at your words. “I study mathematics there on main campus. You?

“Engineering. East campus,” He told you quickly, and even though you didn’t know him, you thought his major fit him as such. “With a minor in robotics. Thankfully I’m a senior now.”

“A senior?” You quirked an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “Oh my god, there is no way you’re that old.” You gave him a look. “You literally…you look the same age as me!”

“Well, that’s cause I probably am,” Peter admitted, once again scratching the back of his neck. “I went to Midtown High and I had a couple of internships so I got admittedly early. I was able to finish my freshman year and sophomore year before I even graduated and now I’m here. I’m uh…I’m nineteen, but a lot of people still think I’m in high school,” He laughed.

You laughed too because you could definitely relate. “Same here,” You told Peter, causing both of you to grin. “I’m 18, but my parents and literally everybody else swears I still look fourteen.”

“That’s because you do,” Came Marjorie’s voice, the woman coming back with coffee just as she promised. She slid a cup to Peter and while she didn’t have any beverages for you, she did have a snack.

You grinned at the cinnamon rolls she placed on the table, eyeing them hungrily while Peter did the same. He started to reach for one, but when Peter saw your hand shoot out first, he quickly pulled back and slid it over in front of you.

“Sorry. Ladies first,” He said, and you smiled as you plopped a sweet treat onto your napkin. You thanked him before digging in, Marjorie giving Peter a smile as he watched you.

“I figured since you’re both young geniuses you’ll need a snack to fuel those brains of yours,” She chuckled, elbowing Peter slightly. “After all, it’s not easy graduating at sixteen or having an IQ that’s higher than Bruce Banner and Tony Stark combined.”

“May,” Peter was obviously embarrassed as she smirked at this, causing you to stifle your laugh. You didn’t want all your food to come flying out and embarrass yourself in front of the two Parkers. So, you held back, but you appreciated the dig at Tony Stark. “How many times do I have to tell you, I am not smarter than Mr. Stark or Doctor Banner!”

��So you say,” Marjorie waved him off, but you had a feeling she wasn’t lying.

You looked at Peter and smiled at the blush on his cheeks. It seemed that he got easily embarrassed, just like you did. So, you decided to make him feel better.

“No, no, I definitely believe it,” You said, agreeing with Marjorie. “You look like the kind of person that would win a Nobel Peace Prize or something.”

Marjorie grinned. “See. Y/N agrees.”

Peter let out a strangled noise, almost choking on his cinnamon roll as he looked up at you. His brown met yours, and you winked at him as Marjorie simply smiled.

She gave you look when Peter wasn’t looking, and you knew exactly what she was thinking. And while you did think Peter was cute, you were mortified at the thought of being set up on a date by his aunt. Marjorie just had a way of being…embarrassing at times. You didn’t want her to get involved, but it seemed that she already had other plans.

“So Peter,” She started casually, ignoring the way you shook your head at her. You wanted her to stop but once Marjorie had her mind on something, there was no going back. “Didn’t you take Professor Bernstein’s journalism class at one point? I’m only asking because Y/N here has it now and, oh the poor girl is struggling.”

You glared at Marjorie as she faked sympathy on your behalf. Only for it to vanish when Peter looked at you.

“I think maybe she could use some pointers, if you wouldn’t mind of course. I know you’re always busy with that Tony Stark, but keep in mind that she almost punched a hole through her laptop before you came.”

The smirk was evident on her face as both you and Peter flushed. Damn that old lady and her meddling. You had only just met the guy and here she was already trying to shove you in his direction. Not that you didn’t need it of course, but still…

You gave her a look, but Marjorie pretended not to even see you as Peter turned his body towards you, a surprised look on his face.

“Peter, you most certainly do not have to—”

“Well, I kind of would be happy to help,” He cut you off, casuing your eyes to widen slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Bernstein was kind of a pain in my ass and I don’t blame you for being frustrated. If I can help anybody else from destroying their own laptop then I most certainly will,” He chuckled.

Marjorie beamed as you stared at him in shock, your heart beginning to race in your chest.

“Are you sure?” You asked Peter worriedly, not wanting to feel like a burden. “I don’t like, want you to feel pressured or anything. I know you have the Stark Internship so I don’t wanna distract you—”

“Oh nonsense,” Marjorie sneakily waved you away. “I’m sure Peter will be fine. Besides, it’ll give him a break and an excuse to come visit me more often. Two birds with one stone, right?”

“Yeah,” Surprisingly, he agreed. You felt your cheeks heat up as he flashed you a sweet smile, and luckily he couldn’t see your blush. “I uh…I’m sure Mr. Stark would understand if I cut back a little bit.”

God, you sure hoped he did. You worried that Marjorie had moved this too fast, too soon. And you didn’t want Peter’s life to get interrupted because of it…

But man, you really did need the help. None of your other classmates would bother, and your friends didn’t have to take this class. It was just you, and you worried that if you didn’t take Peter’s offer, you really would fail after all.

So, after not much deliberation, you agreed.

“Okay.” You sighed a little bit in acceptance, finally meeting Peter’s eyes. They sparkled as your gazes connected, making you shy as you finally agreed, “I suppose I could use the help. After all, this project is worth a lot of my grade and I’d hate to pass up an opportunity like this.”

“Really?” Peter’s face seemed to light up almost as much as his aunts did. Nodding slowly, you bit your lip, thinking that the matching expressions were adorable. Especially Peter’s…wait no! No! That was not what this was about. He was just helping, that’s all. There was no need to call him cute, or think his smile was adorable. He was just going to help you, that’s all.

“Yeah.” So you tried to play it cool, acting like it was nothing. But on the inside you couldn’t deny that you were a the tiniest bit of excited.

Marjorie gave you a look as she caught you staring at Peter again, but you simply flashed the woman a fake smile, knowing damn you weren’t fooling her. Just like her nephew, she could practically read you like a book. And if the way the two of you were staring at each other was any indication of what was inside, it was going to be an interesting read indeed.

“Come on, is it really that bad?”

“Yes! I’m telling you—Bernstein is absolutely relentless. It’s like he knows I’m no good at this and he’s purposely giving me all of this work just to see me fail,” You complained to your older sister, picking at your fingernails and staring into the phone you had propped up on your desk.

It seemed that your day just kept getting better and better. After leaving Marjorie’s with Peter, Natasha had called you right as you had gotten home.

It was the last thing you were expecting, sure, but you welcomed it nevertheless, never willing to pass up an opportunity to talk to your sister.

You had been giddy as you sat all your stuff down, the excitement of Peter walking you home still rushing through you. And immediately, you had dived into your life events, leaving no detail out from the last time Natasha had called you. It was routine at this point; one that you both welcomed.

Natasha seemed to smile as you told her everything about your life—even about your asshole of a teacher that was trying to ruin your life. And you swore that Nat was trying to gaslight you into thinking that maybe you were overacting.

“Yeah, but I don’t think he’s out to get you голубка,”She teased, using your familiar nickname. She chuckled a little as you rolled your eyes. “I don’t think any professor ever cares that much, but maybe he just wants to push you outside of your comfort zone. Maybe he just wants you to succeed in every subject, not just math.”

“Good one Nat,” You sarcastically laughed as a grimace came onto your face. “But no professor gives this big of a project, this close to summer without having the intentions of ruining someone’s life.”

“Yeah, okay. I think someone is just lazy,” Natasha pointed out, laughing harder when you flipped her off. “голубка, you didn’t graduate at sixteen for nothing. I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure this out.”

“Don’t remind me,” You muttered. “If I could take it back, I would. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t have gone to college at all. I’d have made you train me so I could be a super awesome hero. I bet they don’t make you do journalism projects.”

Natasha smiled, but you couldn’t help but notice that the action didn’t reach her eyes. They didn’t light up the way they used to, and it seemed like she had to strain to even get it on her face.

It made you sad, and it made you look at your sister closely, noticing the tiredness behind her eyes. In fact, she just seemed overall exhausted, her beautiful face looking blotched and worn out.

You knew there was quiet of an age gap between you and Natasha, but your sister wasn’t old by any means. However, it seemed that ever since she had joined the Avengers, she had aged beyond her actual years on earth. At first you always chalked it up to her job and the stress it must surely be causing her, but now another part of you told you that perhaps it was something else.

Perhaps it had to do with her shadow, forever lingering behind her even though he was trying his very best to stay out of sight.

It didn’t work.

You wondered why Bucky was even there but you didn’t want to risk asking and possibly sounding rude. After all, he could probably hear you. He was quite literally a super soldier, and even if he didn’t have advanced hearing, you were sure that with his proximity, he could still hear you. Even though you had your suspicions about the Avengers, you still had no proof that they were…well, anything. The only thing you had to go on was the uneasy feeling in your gut and you weren’t ready to openly insult Natasha’s friends to their faces, just in case you were wrong.

And if you were wrong, the last thing you wanted was for your sister to be mad at you and call you less than she already did. It already hurt your heart to see so little of her, and you didn’t want to do anything to mess it up. So you said nothing, only focused on Nat and occasionally looking at the shadow behind her.

“Are you okay?”

You noticed she had gone quiet for a little bit and grew concerned. Nat smiled again, but it looked like someone had pushed thread into her cheeks and pulled up.

“I’m fine,” She said quickly, her voice hoarse but steady. “Everything’s fine here, I’m just—”

“Let me guess, you’re just tired?” You cut her off and she nodded, you shaking your head. “Figured you say that,” You chuckled humorously.

Nat frowned. “It’s just…well we’ve just been going on a lot of missions lately and I haven’t had a chance to really rest, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what it is,” You said absentmindedly. You didn’t mean for your tone to sound so sarcastic, but before you could take it back, it was already too late.

Nat frowned deeper, and you could see her recoil a little bit causing you to sport your own frown. She stared at the camera for a little while before answering again, almost like she was carefully choosing the words that she wanted to say.

“Y/N,” She said slowly, grabbing your attention. She rarely ever called you that. “I assure you that whatever you may think is going on, that’s not it. I’m just tired from all the missions, nothing else. You know my life as an Avenger is rough and I’m not sure why you don’t believe me, but I’m not lying,” She said to you.

You rose an eyebrow. “I…never said you were,” You retorted back, blinking in confusion. But you quickly changed your tone as Bucky began to stir in the background.

You watched as he tensed a little, his head snapping towards Natasha and his eyes glaring straight into the back of her head. And even though Nat wasn’t even facing him, she still flinched and your jaw dropped a little bit at the interaction. Quickly, you scrambled to fix your words, not knowing if you had triggered something, the suspicions you felt coming into play.

Quickly, you said, “I know you would never lie to me. You never have before and I know you won’t start now. So if you say it’s just a mission then I believe you, Nat.” You tried to sound reassuring. “I don’t want to imply anything else but it’s just, well…I guess I just miss you, that’s all. And I just have so much to say to you in one phone call that I guess it just all comes out wrong.”

Natasha studied your face, and you tried to show her that you truly did believe her while you truly didn’t. You tried to convince…well you weren’t sure if it was her or Bucky. But whatever it was, it seemed that they both had relaxed, and Bucky went back to staring straight ahead, pretending like he hadn’t almost snapped his neck off upon hearing your words.

“I miss you too, голубка,” Nat replied sadly, lowering her head. “I wish I didn’t have to work so much so I could be there with you and mom and dad. I wish I could visit more often, but with all the missions…well, you know how it is.”

“Yeah. I know,” You smiled sadly and shook your head. “I know you’re busy Avenging and all that stuff so I try not to let it bother me so much. I know you do what you can, and I’m really thankful you even called me today. Cause honestly, this Bernstein thing has me really stressed and if it wasn’t for Peter—”

“Peter?”

Nat cut you off quicker than she could probably slice someone’s throat, her eyes snapping open and her jaw dropping slightly. Honestly, it took you kind of by surprise. The way her body suddenly became rigid, her skin turning white…it was unlike anything you had ever seen from her.

Truly, it kind of terrified you. You had never seen that expression on her face before and her hand that was in the frame clenched so tightly you could’ve sworn she drew blood.

You frowned, visibly alarmed. “Yeah, Peter,” You repeated slightly, not sure why Natasha had gotten so worked up. “I met him today at Marjorie’s café. You know, the one in Brooklyn that you always—”

“I know,” Nat cut you off quickly once again, and shook her head. “The one I always tell you to Stay. Away. From,” She snapped, visibly angry.

Now, you really were taken back. “Yeah…that one,” You said slowly. Man, what was with your sister today? “Marjorie knew I was struggling so she tried to set me up with Peter in her own little way, like getting him to help me. Honestly, you know how I feel about her meddling, but man those Parker’s sure are—”

“Parker?” The word came out so slow, so horrified that you actually had pause to check to see if you had heard Nat correctly. You actually froze as your sister began to shake, her hand coming up to slap over her mouth. Like she was starting to get sick or something.

Now, you were beyond confused and scared as tears began to gather in Natasha’s horrified eyes.

“голубка,” She begged, “Please, please don’t tell me that you met—”

“Peter Parker,” You said slowly, your own anxiety beginning to make you shake. “I…I did. He goes to MIT with me. He majors in engineering. Apparently he even interns under Tony Stark but I—”

“NO!”

“Nat!”

You were horrified as your sister suddenly jumped up, knocking the camera back with her hand and causing you to flinch then gasp. Suddenly, your whole body froze as you heard Natasha’s screams come through the phone, and male voices, including Bucky’s, beginning to yell. You reeled back, positively terrified as you screamed out Natasha’s name, begging for her to answer you.

“Nat? Nat! Please—somebody! What’s going on?”

“No!” You heard Natasha cry out again, and absolute terror trickled down your spine to hear your sister scream out like that. You couldn’t see anything, but you could hear all the commotion. Several more voices joined in—most of them telling Natasha to calm down. They were yelling so you weren’t exactly sure, but you thought you recognized most of the voices. Most of the voices you had heard on TV, speaking at UN meetings and press conferences. Most of those voices belonged to Natasha‘s teammates, and you desperately strained your ears to hear but it was all just too much. Too chaotic to really catch anything, so you continued screaming Natasha’s name as loud as she was screaming yours. You couldn’t see, but you could hear, and you somehow knew that she being held down.

“No, no, please! Anybody, anybody please answer me!”

You shook the phone as if that would do anything. As if it would shake your sister’s shoulders in real life. You shook the phone, but nothing came of it. Nobody picked up the device and only thing happening was the commotion. Muffled voices could be heard in the background, almost becoming eerily quiet.

Especially Nat’s.

You could barely hear her anymore, her screams dying down. But if you strained just the tiniest of bit, you could hear something. Mainly just broken words and mumbles, almost as if she was falling asleep.

Why on earth would Natasha be falling asleep when she just screaming her lungs out? The answer terrified you, making you want to cry. But you couldn’t shed any tears, you couldn’t even breathe until you knew that your sister was okay.

So shakily, you began to speak again. “Nat? Are you there? Please tell me you’re okay большая сестра.”

You begged and you begged and you begged some more before finally, somebody picked up the phone. Quickly, you grew hopeful, thinking that maybe it was Natasha. But you were a fool to think that—especially after what you had just heard, and the figure that came into was not your sister.

You couldn’t see their face, and you already knew in your gut that they only picked up the phone to end the call. You knew it. So, you did everything you could to memorize that face; to hear what your sister was saying before you were cut off from her.

It was faint, but just before the phone clicked off, you did hear something.

“You…you promised,” Natasha gurgled as if it was physically painful for her to say the words. “Bucky, you promised you wouldn’t hurt her if I—”

Beep, beep, beep.

The phone went dead. The call ended, you didn’t hear the rest of what Natasha was saying. You didn’t hear anything except for your own jagged breathing, your sobbing face staring back at you in the black screen.

If you had to guess, every feeling that you had two days ago was true. Every thought, every uneasy sensation was correct.

You could never prove it, never explain why you felt so uneasy when you saw your sister with those so-called heroes on TV. You could never gather enough evidence to say with definitive proof that something just wasn’t right about those people.

But now you could.

After hearing her last words, there was no doubt in your mind that something was going on with Natasha. And you knew, in that moment, you had to figure out what it was.

tags 🏷️

@iiirhiane-g

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader

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guqwrvte · 1 year

Text

make it three | one

⨽ summary: everything made sense to you, until it didn’t. you expected the name of your soulmate to appear on your shoulder the day you turned twenty one. and on the day of your twenty first birthday, that happened, but instead of one name, there were three.

⨽ pairing: vminkook x reader

⨽ genre: fluff , soulmate au , slow burn (?)

⨽ warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, tipsy reader, strong language, and i think that's it?

⨽ word count: 2,5k

"I can't wait for this lecture to just end," You grumbled, staring at the clock on the wall.

Minus the twenty-minute break you received earlier, you had been in this lecture for three hours.

"Tell me about it." Yeonjun let out a sigh, sinking into his seat. "I'm lowkey regretting taking Crimonoly as one of my majors. I never knew Criminal Law would be so boring."

"I don't think the course is boring… I think it's the professor," you whispered.

"Alright, that's all for today, students. Please remember to submit your assignment by the end of next month. If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask me," Your Professor said, and you let out a sigh of relief, muttering a soft finally. "See you all on Wednesday."

"I think it's the fact that we have this lecture on a Monday morning that makes this course so dreadful," your friend said, getting up from his seat, and you couldn't agree more.

"It's also because it's fucking three hours long." You mumbled, packing away your notebook. "I don't know how someone can speak in a monotone voice for three hours."

"If the man had more energy when he spoke, I'd probably be awake for most of his lectures," he chuckled. "When's your next lecture?"

"Uh, it looks like I have Ethics next, at four, so I have two hours of chilling around campus," you told him.

"Aw, I have Sociology, and it's an hour," he grumbled. "Gosh, I hate Mondays." You chuckled, throwing your arm over his shoulder, bringing him into a playful headlock.

"We still have time to chill," you said, ruffling his hair. "Do you wanna go to the cafeteria? I think Yuna is done with her Cinematography lecture."

"If you don't let go of me, I'm going to throw you off," he cursed.

You only kept him in the same position walking out of the hall with a cheeky grin. Yeonjun suddenly placed his arms around your waist, beginning to tickle your sides.

You exclaimed in shock before erupting in giggles. "Stop!" You whined, trying to free yourself from his hold.

"Did you remove me from your stupid headlock?" You couldn't answer. Not while he was tickling you.

"Stop! You're going to draw unnecessary attention!" your friend finally stopped, glaring at you.

"Be glad I don't want to be seen as someone who harrases girls." You stuck your tongue out at him before skipping to the cafeteria.\

"How was Cinematography?" You asked Yuna, your other best friend, and she shrugged.

"It was alright. I don't really have a problem with it." She said, causing Yeonjun to dramatically sigh.

"Imagine not having a problem with your morning lectures? Could never be us."

"I'm guessing Criminal Law is showing you guys flames?" She asked, and you hummed in response. "You willingly chose to study Criminology."

You sighed before turning to Yeonjun. "Junnie, please feed me," you sang, pointing to the plate of chips in his tray.

He playfully rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around your shoulder before bringing your body close to his. "Here you go, you big baby," he said, stuffing a few chips into your mouth.

"Gosh, I feel like I'm third-wheeling," Yuna commented, looking at the two of you with a grossed-out expression. "I sometimes even forget that Yeonjun has his soulmate."

"What do you mean? y/n and I are soulmates! Not romantically, but platonically? One thousand per cent. I love this little shit with all my heart."

"Do you love me enough to leave Mingyu for me?" You playfully asked, and the male sent you a glare. "Know your place."

You and Yuna burst out laughing. "I think I should start helping you find your soulmates. If I don't… you'll eventually take me away from mine."

"Yeah, as if finding one is an easy task. Now I have to look for three," you muttered.

"Damn, sometimes I forget that you're supposed to be part of a soulmate cluster," Yuna whispered.

"I wish I could forget sometimes, but I can't. Not when I see my soulmates' initials on my shoulder daily," you whispered.

Soulmates.

Ever since your twenty-first, you dreaded the topic of soulmates. All excitement you could have possibly had of meeting your soulmate died the second you saw your shoulder.

And that was three years ago.

Finding your soulmates was a difficult task. The only thing that could help you find them was their names engraved on your shoulder. And because you had three soulmates, you had it three times harder. You had no idea where to start looking.

It's hard enough finding your soulmate when it's one person. And now you're supposed to look for three. It would've been easier if their names were written with their last, but no. The universe only gave you their first names.

"You know, if you put some effort into finding them, maybe you would've found one of them by now," Yeonjun suggested.

"And what effort do you think I'm supposed to put in when all I have is their names? I can't go and ask people for their names, and I definitely can't type them into a google search bar. For all I know, they could be commoners just like me."

"Maybe you should go out more. Like, meet new people? That's one way you can try to find them," Yuna suggested, and you groaned.

"And how do you think I'd meet people? You know my social skills are almost non-existent," you huffed, crossing your arms. "You two and Mingyu are the only friends I have!"

"How about this? Yeonjun and I will take you out tonight!" She said.

"Out?" You asked, raising a brow.

"Yeah! We'll take you out! Out to a place where you can easily meet new people!" Yeonjun.

"I should've known these two were taking me to a club," you grumbled as Yuna dragged you to the entrance. "Why did you have to choose a club?" You asked with a raised voice.

If you could barely hear your voice while being on the outside, you guessed it would be 5 times worse on the inside.

"Because you can easily and accidentally make physical contact with anyone here!" Yeonjun said. "Anyone could find their soulmate simply by bumping hands as you make it through the crowd."

"Now, that's enough talking. Let's go inside already!" Yuna said before taking your and Yeonjun's hands and dragging you inside.

"I hate you guys!" You shouted when you saw the number of people in the room. "You know I hate crowded places!"

You hated going to places like this. You couldn't stand being in a closed space smelling of alcohol and full of drunk people rubbing against each other. You cringed as you tried to squeeze your way through the crowd of people.

"There's Mingyu!" Yeonjun said when he saw his soulmate sitting at the bar. "Mingyu, my love!"

"Hey, guys," Mingyu greeted before embracing his boyfriend.

"How could you let them bring me here, Mingyu?" You whined, sitting on the barstool next to him.

"You should let them help you," Mingyu chuckled. "Though, I don't think a club was the greatest place to start… it's still a start!"

"Exactly. Live a little, y/n. How else do you think you'll find your soulmates when all you do is stay cooped up in your apartment. I swear you only leave your house for school and food," Yuna said.

"Anyway, we're going to leave you alone now," Yeonjun said, causing your eyes to widen.

"What do you mean?"

"We brought you here to socialise and meet new people, remember?" He asked.

"Look, if we stay here and keep talking to you, there's no way you're going to try and talk to anybody else," Yuna told you, placing a hand on your shoulder. "The whole point is for you to interact with new people, y/n. With us around, you're definitely not going to do that."

You looked at Mingyu with pleading eyes, hoping he'd offer to stay with you, but he just shrugged. "These two know you better than I do. Sorry, y/n."

"Don't worry too much, y/n! I'm sure you'll make a lot of new friends!" Yeonjun winked before grabbing his soulmate's hand and dragging him to the dance floor.

You watched as your friends disappeared into the crowd of dancing people with your mouth agape.

"You have a pretty interesting bunch of friends," the bartender said, and you huffed. "Tell me about it."

You quietly sat by yourself with a glass of pina colada in your hand as you watched the crowd jump and dance as they sang the lyrics to the song blasting through the speakers.

It seemed like everyone here was having a good time except you.

You had a few people come up to you for some small talk, but it didn't take time before they ended the conversation and danced away.

"You don't seem to be having much of a good time," a voice said, startling you.

The masked male quickly backed away from you, raising his hands in defence. "Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you!" He apologised with his voice raised now that he had put some distance between you two.

"It's okay!" You said, gesturing to the stool beside you. "You can sit next to me!"

"Can I?" He asked, and you nodded. "My name's Jimin! Park Jimin!"

"Jimin?" You asked as he sat next to you.

"Yeah. Jimin."

"Nice to meet you, Jimin. I'm y/n. _ y/n."

Although you didn't expect this conversation to last, it did.

You guys talked a lot, and the topic seemed to change every few minutes. Something about Jimin made you want to know more about him.

Throughout the entire time you two spoke, Jimin kept his mask up and beanie down, allowing you to only see his eyes.

As he talked about his recent visit to the beach, you took the time to notice how his entire appearance was mysterious. He was dressed in all black. His jacket? Black. His t-shirt? Black. His baggy jeans? Black. His boots? Black. Everything except his hair was black.

His hair was a dark blue, something you wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the white lights coming from the bar.

"What do you do for a living?" He asked, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. "Are you a student, or are you working?"

"Oh, I'm still a student. I major in Criminology."

"Really? That's interesting. What made you decide to choose Criminology?"

"Uh, to be honest… I don't really know. Maybe it's because I grew up watching a lot of true crime. In the mind of serial killer kind of stuff," you hadn't really thought about it. "Anyway, what about you?"

"I, um, make music," he told you, and your eyes widened. "I guess you could say I dance too."

"Really?" You asked, and he hummed in response. "You make music?"

"Yeah. Uh… I make music with my friends."

"That's really cool! What genre?"

He brought his hand to scratch his nape as he shrugged. "We started as a hip-hop group, but now it's a bit of almost everything."

"Woah," you whispered. "Do you think I could listen to one of your guys' songs?" You asked.

"Actually, you've probably heard one of them playing in a store or something," your eyes widened again, and your mouth slightly fell open.

"I'm assuming you're famous? You could lie to me, and I'd believe you. I don't keep up with trending artists these days. But you could be right. There must be a reason you look like you're dressed as a spy unless that's your usual style? Oh my god, I'm sorry for rambling. I think the alcohol is getting to me. I need to stop drinking."

Jimin laughed at your behaviour. "Are you usually like this?"

You shook your head, pushing the glass away from you. "No, not at all. It's the alcohol. One hundred per cent." Jimin let out another laugh.

"Anyway, let me answer your questions. I guess you could say we're famous. And no, this isn't really my usual style. I just needed something dark for tonight."

"Ooh. That makes sense. Kind of? I don't know." Jimin couldn't help but chuckle.

In his eyes, you were funny and cute. Whoever was your soulmate must've been lucky.

"Have you found your soulmate?" He asked. The topic surrounding soulmates hadn't been brought up until now.

"Nope, that's the main reason why I'm here tonight. To meet some new people and maybe find my soulmate or one of my soulmates, to be exact."

"You're looking for your soulmate at a club?" You nodded.

"I'm not a club/party girl. My friends thought bringing me here would be a good idea. Apparently, it's the perfect place to meet new people."

"Are you supposed to be part of a cluster? You mentioned how you were looking for one of your soulmates." Jimin asked, and you nodded.

His eyes widened. "No way! Me too!"

"You're part of a cluster too!? Have you found any of your soulmates?" You asked, and he hummed.

"I've found three of the four. Still looking for our missing piece," Jimin sighed, and you couldn't help but sigh too.

"You're so lucky to have found some of them. I haven't found any of my soulmates."

"I'm only lucky because they're in my group. So I found out about their birthdays. The last one, however… I did say we're still trying to find them."

"That is really lucky. I-" Jimin raised his hand, signalling you to stop talking before pulling his phone out of his pocket and bringing it to his ear.

"Hey, love. Really? Okay, I'll leave now. I'm going to say bye to my friend first," his eyes glanced at you at the mention of a friend.

While Jimin talked on the phone, your eyes wandered around, hoping to spot one of your friends. It sounded like he was about to leave, and you didn't want to sit alone and talk to the bartender.

"Yeah, I made a friend. And yes, she seems nice. Really nice, actually. I'll talk to you at home. Love you, bye."

"Sorry about that. That was one of my soulmates. Looks like I need to go," Jimin apologised once he got off the phone.

You couldn't help but feel a little sad that your time with him was over. Something in you wanted to get to know him more. But he was apparently famous. So you weren't sure if he would even be able to?

"It's okay. I had fun talking to you!" You smiled.

"I had fun talking to you too, y/n. Uh, can I get your number before I leave? I'd love to talk to you again," Jimin asked, extending his hand with the phone.

You almost dropped his phone from the sudden shock in your body when your fingers brushed together.

"Oh my gosh," Jimin whispered, looking at his hand with wide eyes before looking at you. "I guess your friends were right. The club is the perfect place to look for your soulmate."

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sapphicsmaximoff · 2 years

Text

ease into it - wanda maximoff

Summary: getting assigned a project with a school ice queen seems like a fun time, right?

a/n: another wanda au cuz i’m bored.

Story Masterlist

Xavier Prep had split itself into two categories, or at least the students did. There was the scholarship kids, and then the rich kids. Of course the rich kids made this comparison to seem superior, and it worked in a way.

Surprisingly, there were very few kids there on a scholarship. Enough to count on the hand at least. The rest were filthy rich, well equipped with people to take their important tests, and Ivies ready with spots to fill.

Unfortunately for you, you were not a lucky rich kid. The dean was friends with your aunt, and that’s how you’d gotten the connection to this school back in 9th grade. Now you were working in the tutoring center to help pay for tuition, because your parents couldn’t afford this school, uniforms, and your younger sisters’ activities.

$2300 a month was robbery.

The money was good, and it helped that teachers were very adamant on making sure you got payed. You were glad considering the amount of sessions you were skipped out on, or the way the richer kids would treat you like you were their maid. You recalled that one time Quentin Beck had given you $500 to tell Dr. Banner that he’d come to sessions to get off of his back.

Of course you took it, but you felt weird about it. And of course the richer kids loathed your intelligence because their money made up for that. “Y/LN.” Ms. Palmer calls.

You stood from your seat, walking to the front to her desk. “This was a phenomenal essay, you should submit it to the contest we’re having next weekend.” You smile, taking the paper. “Aren’t you like the main judge? Wouldn’t that be biased?” You laugh, the older woman chuckling. “Yes, but I won’t be the only one, consider it.” You nod, walking back to your desk.

As you walked, your eyes averted slightly to look at Wanda, your crush since 9th grade. You know she probably didn’t remember when you were lab partners, or all the time you held the door, but you did. When you made it back to your seat, you were still staring as she talked to Natasha.

“You’re pathetic.” MJ mutters from beside you, making you jump. Peter snorts, adjusting his uniform tie as he sits up in his chair. “I am not pathetic.” You mumble, focusing on the worksheet you all had just been handed. A hand grasped your shoulder from behind, making you smirk.

“You’re pathetic.” Kate repeats with a smile. She sits back, making you roll your eyes. “It’s never gonna happen, man.” MJ mocks, placing a hand on your other shoulder. “Obviously, plus I think I’m perfectly fine single, and lonely, and...” You pause, making your friends sigh.

“Oh, brother.” Kate mutters. “Ya know what? Fuck you, Kate. That’s why Coach is gonna make you run laps all day while I get to actually practice.” Kate scoffs as your other friends snort.

“Yeah, right. You can barely run half a pole without get winded.” You roll your eyes, sitting back as Ms. Palmer stands at the front of the class. “Attention!” Almost everyone quiets down, and the extra noise easily annoys you.

“I have a project for you all, but since Ms. Maximoff, and Ms. Grey, and Ms. Romanoff are so busy in conversation…” Natasha looks up from her phone, silencing herself as Wanda and Jean look up at the teacher.

“Ok! Well, I have a project for you all. I want for you to write-“ The class groans, making the teacher chuckle. “I want you to write a play. Based off of the genre your group leaders pick.” You loved to script write, so this would be easy. “Group leaders are…Y/N.” You smile nervously as a few groans are expressed.

“Pietro.” Pietro turns to his friend beside him with a smirk. “Natasha.” The redhead smirks as the girls beside her smile. “Mr. Walker.” John scoffs. “,and Remy.”

“Thank ya, Ms. Palma, I won’t let ya down.”

“I hope not. So leaders, pick your slips.” She pulls an envelope from her desk, and the four of you stood, grabbing a single slip. “We will be in five groups of 4…” The class seems to buzz with excitement.

“Chosen by yours truly.” Then came the protests. Of course you were disappointed in not working with Peter, MJ, and Kate. You found it unnecessary, it being the protests, considering if you’re paired with anyone other than your friends, you’re doing all the work.

“You can whine all you want, but it’s temporary. Now! Let’s start with…Natasha.” The redhead sent the older redhead a death glare that definitely would’ve killed the older woman in another circumstance. “Natasha, Peter-“

“Oh! Oh! Slow down!” She exclaimed, making Peter frown and flush in embarrassment. “Bucky…” The boy blows her an air kiss. “and Emma.” Emma was already sat behind Natasha, and was whispering in her ear, looking at Peter. They separate with a giggle, and MJ shot a glare towards them.

“Remy, Anna Marie, Gwen, and MJ.” The girl beside you shrugged as Remy looked over at you guys, throwing a thumbs up towards MJ.

“Pietro, you will be with Vision, Quentin, Kitty, and Kate.” Pietro shrugs, and Vision turns around, kissing Wanda’s hand. “Y/N’s group will be Wanda…” The girls around Wanda snort as her jaw drops. Kate scoffs at the reaction, noticing your discomfort.

“Sam, Jean, and Darcy.” She looks over to John.

“John, Lemar…“ The two dap each other up. “Oh, that’s not fair!” Natasha exclaims. “Life isn’t fair. The last three are Bruce, Steve, and Bobby. Everyone disperse!” Some students move around, but you don’t, now quite pissed at Wanda’s reaction.

Wanda and Jean were actively avoiding next to you, loitering around Natasha’s group as they conversed with her and Emma.

You smile slightly when Sam places his hands on your shoulders, shaking you lightly. “Wassup, kid?” He smirks, sitting next to you. “Nothin’ much.” You smile, looking over at Darcy. “Hi, Darcy.” She silently waves.

“So…what’s our topic?” Sam asks. You hadn’t actually looked, but you turned it around. “Romance.”

“Ooooh.” Sam rubs his hands together as you take out your laptop. You had 30 minutes left of class, and Wanda and Jean couldn’t avoid you forever, but apparently you had the plague. “So…I have several unused scripts here we can use, they’re not finished, but I think it makes this easier-“

“Ms. Maximoff, Ms. Grey, I believe your group is…” The woman points to where you were sitting. “Over here.” Ms Palmer smiles as the two girls glare, walking over to your area, they sit, automatically turning on their phones. “Ok…” You chuckle, scrolling through your Google Docs.

“Ok! Um, Heartbreak Hotel, I can easily reformat it.” You nod. Darcy and Sam seem ecstatic and impressed. “Cool, what’s it about?” The girl asks. “Um…a girl rekindles a friendship with a girl who outed her, and they fall in love again, despite the main character actively pursuing someone else.” Sam nods.

“That sounds real good.” He says, making you blush. “Oh…thanks.”

“Can I read it?” You nod, lending him your computer. “Wait! I wanna see.” Darcy rounds your desk, making you giggle as she sits next to Sam. Turning towards Jean and Wanda, anxiety fills your chest as you look to speak to them. “Um…”

“I-I-I need your emails, so I can send this doc to you guys.” The girls stopped speaking to one another, looking at you. “Why?” Jean asks. “Well, since you guys are obviously not planning on working, I think we’ve decided-“

“Dude, this is so good!” Sam exclaims. “So you guys wanna use it?” They nod, and you look over to the other girls. “We’ve decided to use my script to-“

“Okay, whatever. So…do we have to meet outside of this class? Or?…” You resist the urge to scoff at Wanda’s brashness. “Is assume so, to…practice? I did this project in her Honors class last year, so we have to perform on stage, because the classroom is too small…” You trail off, noticing they weren’t even listening anymore.

You look over at Sam and Darcy in disbelief, and they shrug with sympathy.

———

“Is she really a nut job?” Natasha asks as the four girls waltz down the hallway, and outside. “Yeah, she’s so like…jittery all the time, like calm down?” Jean giggles. “I’m not surprised she’s a crazy as she was in 9th grade.” Wanda mutters.

The girls walked along to spacious quad during lunch. Wanda stood on the far left, and she looked over to see you and Peter playing with a soccer ball. He was using his goalie gloves as you kicked it straight to him.

One kick of the ball curved just right, slipping through Peter’s hand, hitting Wanda directly in the back of her head. You gasp, MJ not subtly laughing as she and Gwen sat on a picnic blanket. “Oh shit! I’m sorry!” You ran over to Wanda. “Are-Are you alright?” You went to help her up, but Emma pushes you away.

“Back up, you freak!” You hold your hands up i’m surrender. “I said I was sorry.” You say with your hands up in surrender. “I bet enjoyed that, planned it.” She accuses, making you frown in confusion. “Wh-?”

“You wanted to hurt her, didn’t you?” Jean asks, trapping you in between the two. “No-I…I’m sorry, it was an accident, seriously.” They kept making you back up, until you trip on the ball, falling on your back on the hard concrete. The crows that had built around you had bursted out in giggles as you groaned.

The girls walked off as Peter nervously picked you up. “God, I’m sorry I didn’t catch it, Y/N.”

“It’s okay, Pete. You’re fine.” You walked back to your small picnic, MJ and Gwen eyeing you with worry. “Are you okay?” The blonde asks, making you nod. “That was crazy intense. I though they were going to suck your blood.” MJ mutters.

“They’re saving me for their winter sacrifice.” You joke. It was hard being in love with someone that hung out with people like that. But of course she did because she is like that.

That day, you’d given up on it. If this was the repeated torment you were gonna receive just for being near her, you’d think it best to keep your distance.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff au #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #marvel

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cap-ironman · 6 days

Text

2024 Cap-IM Reverse Bang Date Claims Information

The Cap-IM Reverse Bang Date Claims are coming—it's time for you to decide on a posting date! Date Claims will open on Saturday, April 27th, 9:00 AM EDT (what time is this for me?) and close on April 29th at 11:00 PM EDT. Remember that if no one on your team is available to claim a date, you can ask someone else to proxy-claim for you!

IMPORTANT INFORMATION

By claiming a posting date, you are committing to having your work complete and ready for posting by the date you have picked; this counts as your check in for the RBB. If your team does not claim a date by April 29th 11:00 PM EDT or email the mods prior to claims, we will assign your team to a posting date.

If you have any special requests, such as pre-arranging a set posting date due to personal circumstances, please email [email protected] or DM Cap-IM Mods on Discord as soon as possible so we can try to accommodate you (please note that we cannot guarantee anything, and will consider requests on a first-come, first-serve basis).

If no team member is able to submit your date claims on behalf of the team, please use a proxy to submit a claim on your behalf. If you can't find a proxy, please email the mods at [email protected].

By submitting a claim, your team is committing to publishing your works on any of the dates chosen. If you believe you won't be able to finish your work by next month, please communicate your concerns with your partner(s) and the mods as soon as possible. You can find all extension and amnesty information in our Posting Instructions post.

Incomplete works, failure to meet the deadline, or a complete lack of communication with your team on and after your posting date will result in a participant's temporary ban from some events — for further details, read through our Defaulting and Participation Eligibility guidelines.

HOW TO CLAIM YOUR DATE

31 posting dates are available from 1st May to 31st May. Only two teams will be posting on any given day so that your Stevetony content is staggered for people to enjoy! Before choosing the posting dates you will list, please make sure it will work for everyone on the team. You are required to have all works posted on your confirmed posting date by noon EDT so that you can send the mods the masterpost information on time. This means that if an artist is working with two creators (was double claimed), they will all post their fanworks on the same day. Posting date claims will be run via a Google Form on a first come, first-served basis.

The Date Claims Form is linked here, as is the live claims spreadsheet that will show the claims happening real-time. The form will only open when date claims start, but you can access the link beforehand.

Your posting team is determined by the artist's CODENAME as given to you in the RBB matching email.

The person claiming on behalf of a team needs to know their CODENAME and 3-5 posting dates to list in order of preference.

Posting dates will be allocated in the order that forms are received.

Teams that submit forms where all dates listed have already been picked will be asked to resubmit.

If your team has special requirements to due participant schedules, you must contact the event mods via email at [email protected] before April 24th.

Remember, only one person claims on behalf of their team.

Please find the Posting Date Claims Form here. It will open on Saturday, April 27th, 9:00 AM ET (what time is this for me?) and close on April 29th at 11:00 PM EDT. Please find the spreadsheet for viewing live claims here.

On April 28th, teams will receive an email with their finalized posting date and additional information regarding their deadline.

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #capimevents #capimrbb

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satankilledmyghost · 6 months

Note

Hello, may I have a eunjang boys with a reader who is straightforward, headstrong, and willing to succeed on her own without help from others? She possesses extraordinary talent, determination, and willpower. shes is the leader of the sports club.

this, this ask right here, she's an antique. it's been, what, a year? more? that this has been sitting here. i apologize for any shit writing; it's going to be rough since i'm getting back into it, so take this while i scrub the rust off of my cranium meat.

enjoy!

eunjang & a take-no-shit best friend

warnings: swearing, female reader, reader owns a cat

You are infamous for being eunjang’s tough, straight forward sports club leader.

You knew exactly what had to get done and when, and you made sure that it got done.

Everyone was intimidated by you to a certain degree.

It’s not like you were heartless, you just didn’t see the point in not doing things effectively and efficiently as soon as they were assigned.

You had grown comfortable in the consistency and solidity of your schedule, and you were in the middle of a peaceful break time when ben park busted into the classroom.

It was after school, so you were alone with an out of breath teenager that was hunched over in front of you.

You didn’t say anything, assuming he stormed in here for a reason, so you just raised an eyebrow at him.

Once he got his bearings, ben straightened himself and smiled brightly at you.

“Hey! You must be y/n, I'm Ben Park! It’s nice to meet you!”

He was the cheerful energetic type. Great. You avoided these types only because they were the ones most likely to dawdle and cause everyone to fall behind.

You kept your body and face neutral as you responded.

“You’re correct. Did you need me for something?”

Ben was visibly surprised at your abrasiveness, but he quickly got over it.

“Yeah, I'm trying to get my friend on the soccer team, but since he forgot to submit his form by the due date he wasn’t let in. He’s been on the team last season, and he’s really good, and I asked the coach to reconsider it, but he sent me to you. So is there any way you could let him join, just this once? Please?”

You nearly snorted at how desperate Ben sounded, already knowing your response.

“No. If your friend couldn’t follow a simple deadline, how are you going to convince me that he won’t skip practice, games, arrive late, or actually not perform well enough to be on the team? I don’t even know his grades or class rank.”

You had hoped that your response was enough to shut Ben down, but that was your mistake.

Instead, Ben's face lit up and he took your words as a challenge.

“Okay, I understand, but if I prove to you that he can be on the team tomorrow, will you let him in?”

You bit the edge of your tongue, mulling the proposal over.

Sure, you understood one bad day every once in a while, and you do like to think of yourself as a fair person so:

“Okay, fine. You have until the end of practice tomorrow.”

You narrow your eyes at Ben as he smiles widely at you, his body language brightening.

“Thank you, see you tomorrow!”

And he runs out of the room and that’s the last that you see of Ben until tomorrow.

The next day, you had barely made it onto campus before the sun was blocked by someone standing in front of you. You squint and look up, being met with Ben Park and a way too cheerful smile for seven thirty in the morning.

"Good morning, y/n! I brought Alex with me this time. Alex, this is y/n!" Ben moves so you're now looking at a different person. His body is more slender and lithe than Ben's heavily worked-on muscled frame. Alex was definitely fast, that much you could tell. He also was a lot quieter than Ben. You remembered him from last year, he was an asset to the team.

You relaxed knowing that your wager with Ben Park wasn't for nothing. You really didn't need to know any more about Alex since his record with the soccer team already speaks for him, but you were still wary about grades.

You took your thoughts and switched your focus from Ben to Alex, giving him a small smile. "Good morning, Alex, it's nice to meet you. Ben has informed me about your late application and your wanting to play soccer on the school's team this year. Is this all correct?" Alexs' eyes widened, probably not expecting to get straight to the point right away. His face dusts with a slight blush as he looks away from you in embarrassment, nodding yes. "Uh, yeah. That's true."

"Okay, how are your grades?" You press, wanting this conversation to be done already so you could head to class.

"My what- oh. uh, I'm in the B, B+ range." You nod. "Thanks, you can take your application to the soccer coach and tell him that I've approved of it and he can let you join the team."

"Wait, really?!" Ben butts in, nearly shoving Alex out of the way.

"Hey! What the hell man-"

"That fast? I thought you needed like his papers or something?" You politely smile at Ben's question and shook your head.

"No, Alex Go has been in soccer before, like you said yesterday. I know his reputation on the team. As long as he keeps his current grades up, there's no issue."

"HAH! Gogo, you sly dog, I thought you said you didn't do much last season?" Ben joked, taking Alex into a head lock. "Get off of me, you lump of muscle!" Alex protests, attempting to free himself.

"Well, if that's all, then I'll be heading inside. Class is about to start so I recommend you two going to class as well." You say, walking away.

"Hey, wait!" Ben called, causing you to turn around. "We're, uh, we're going to play pool after school today by the underpass. Are you busy?"

"No." You admit. "Well then you should join us! Meet us right here after school, we'll all walk there together!"

As much as you wanted to say no, you had already said that you having nothing planned. You sigh, mad that you've dug yourself a hole. "Sure."

Ben gives you a giant smile and waves you off, "Great! I'll see you here after school, then!"

"Good job, y/n." You mutter to yourself, turning away from the giant ball of energy. You were not enthused to be spending your time with a group of guys playing pool when you could be studying, but you weren't heartless.

You kept true to your word when the final bell rang and you collected your things from your desk and headed outside. You were met with Ben and Alex, “Hello, how many more are we waiting on?”

Your question startles the two and Ben is quick to answer. “Hey! You made it! Well, there’s Gray, Eugene, Gerard, Rowan, and Teddy, but I’m sure they’re on their way now.”

You freeze at the list of names. You were never one to enjoy socializing in big groups. "Um, okay. Sounds Good." You nod. It's just this once, then you can be left alone. You reassured yourself.

It only took a minute or two before you heard a new voice. "Hey guys! Sorry we're late!" You turn and see two more boys walking towards you, Ben, and Alex. "Eugene! Gray!" Ben cheers, waving his arms wildly above his head.

Eugene and Gray stop just before you, "Hello, who are you?" You look up and down at your schoolmate. He's short, considering the average size of males, and has an odd color of blue and gray eyes, purple-colored if the sun hits his irises just right, and to end the look, the boy has silvery ashen hair. If he's not Gray I'm going to have to rethink some things, you think.

"My name is y/n-" "And she's joining us for some pool! She got GoGo on the soccer team so I invited her as a thanks, isn't that right, y/n?" Ben nearly yowls, swinging an arms around your shoulders. "Y/n, this is Gray and Eugene." Alex informs you, so I was right. That's good, I don't feel like rethinking things. I'm already rethinking my agreement to go along with this.

"It's nice to meet you, Gray and Eugene." You end the introduction.

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

You found yourself spending time with Gray and Eugene studying, playing cards with Rowan and Gerard, talking about your cat with Teddy, and enjoying Ben and Alexs' constant banter between themselves.

It took a while to warm up to Ben and his friends saying good morning and acknowledging your existence in the hallways of the schools. And it took even longer for you to get used to constantly being invited to things. But you adapted, like you always do, and found a makeshift family in your new group of friends.

#weak hero x reader #weak hero webtoon #weak hero #the end is shit. i know.#i didn't know how to end it #i may or may not come back to this in the future. idk

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girl-please-study · 10 months

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Alright I have something to confess. I've been thinking about dropping my course or taking a gap for a while.

And I did it, I'm back home. It wasn't a decision I made under pressure or any sort of influence, it was my own choice.

I've been to college for 8 months by now and honestly I did not learn a single thing, it wasn't a good college to begin with but it also kinda wasted my time and my parents' money. Every week they had some new scheme to drain more money out of students.

I was a good student overall, had bonding and friendly relation with almost every teacher including the chairperson. But I did not grow cognitively for as long as I've been there. Their "good" teachers they had when I joined college left gradually and by now our college has 2 teachers with 5 yrs+ teaching experience and all others are just fresh graduates who don't know how to teach. My growth just simply stunted and I could not bear that.

Plus, they don't teach anything clinical, everything I learned, I learned from YouTube and the college's lab is literally bankrupt, it has nothing you can use to practice. They have broken BP apparatus, broken thermometers, expired meds and other liquids since 2007. Hello?

Plus, it was located in a rural-like area so people were super narrow minded, they controlled every aspect of your life, EVERY. But that's for another post.

I did not work hard a single day since I've been there, it was way to easy to be the brightest kid in the call, it was a free reward.

I could've easily been there and savoured it and after 4 yrs I would've woken up and realised I wasted my time and money. I wanted to challenge my brain, life was way too monotonous and simple.

Then I remembered, there's a degree that's from an Open University that's also been going on parallelly (although I have not submitted a single assignment or been to a single practical class ouch). It's a BSc honours course in Biochem. My third yr just started so I can (not so) easily cover my 1st and 2nd yr along with 3rd yr and graduate by next year and then there's so much scope.

As opposed to nursing that was gonna take 4 yrs to just complete it and then search for jobs or sit in competitions, I'll still be sitting in competitions but (if I tried enough) can easily get a well respected job in 2 yrs time.

These are only some of the points that made me change my mind, there's a sea of resons why I came back home. Overall, I feel like it was a right decision and I'm so proud of me for taking a leap of faith and putting myself out there.

#you'll be seeing a lot of biochemistry assignment and stuff from now on <3 there are SO many assignments 😭😭😭💔 and so much material to #study #original #random #update #jai bholenath #sab badhiya hojaye nahi to I'll cry

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brookediamonds · 8 months

Text

like snow on the beach | dalton lambert x reader

gif is not mine

Summary: You and Dalton are hanging out like you normally do when you find out he has a muse when he creates. Heartbroken it isn't you, you spend the night pondering the last few months and how this will affect your future, possibly without him.

Warnings: None, fluff, angst, mutual pinning, Fem! Reader

Word Count: 2K

Song Inspo: snow on the beach by taylor swift

Dalton Lambert x Fem! Reader

I sat on Dalton's bed reading a new romcom book I picked up earlier as he continued to finish his art project that was due tomorrow.

Music played softly in the background as we dwelled into our hobbies while still enjoying each other's silent presence.

"Done," The artist stood in front of his now finished canvas looking over the assignment. Glancing up from my page, I admire the work he spent the last few days on.

"Wow," I stare at the painting in awe. The colors are bright and fiery the whole thing was eye-catching. "I don't think I've ever seen you use colors like those."

"I normally don't use such loud colors but," he looked over at me a grin breaking out on his face before facing the painting again. "I've been inspired lately."

Part of me is beaming but the other part of me is dying on the inside because who was inspiring the boy I grew to have a crush on?

"Oh," I nod shutting my book closed. Scooting down to the edge of the bed, I watch as Dalton continues to look over his project double checking it was to his liking.

"What's been inspiring you lately?" I gain the courage to ask careful not to use 'who.'

"A girl," he answers nonchalantly, his back still facing me.

I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach. The last few months replayed in my mind, the longing stares, playful banters, late night study sessions, Sunday sundae's in the student lounge, had it all been in my head?

Were we just two friends hanging out to him?

"Lucky her," I breathe out. Before he can say anything else, I slip on my grey slippers and begin to stand up.

"I just remembered I need to turn this assignment in for English, it's due at midnight," I stammer out.

"Do you wanna use my laptop?" Dalton asks motioning over to the computer on his desk.

"N-No!" I reassure him quickly. "I have it saved it specifically in a folder on my laptop."

"Oh, okay, are you gonna come back so we can watch 'Suits?" He grins referring to our usual hangout routine. Last month we binged Better Call Saul, this month it's Suits.

I stood by his door with my hand on the handle ready to flee.

"Actually I feel a migraine coming on," I pretend to wince, pressing my palm to my forehead. "So I'm just gonna head to bed after I submit my paper."

"Do you want me to get you some ice and bring it to your room?" The boy frowns taking a step closer to me knowing my go to remedy was an ice pack.

"No, I just want to be in a dark room," I say quietly avoiding his gaze. To cry my heart out.

"Okay, well text or call me if you need something alright?" He reassures me. "Just down the hall."

Which was true, he was four dorms down the hall from me

I nod ready to walk when he suddenly took ahold of my wrist spinning me around to pull me into his chest. We never leave each other without a hug.

This was the hardest part, being in his warm embrace. It was strong and comforting, the way I can hear his heartbeat against his chest, how perfectly my body molds into his.

All of me is screaming to get away and run before you break down right here but the way he sway from side to side with his cheek pressed to the top of my head, I stay taking in this moment that could be the last.

"Is this helping?" Dalton whispers unaware of his words.

"I wish," I mumbled. It's making it worse.

Pushing him away, I turn away opening the door rather quickly, and walking out prepared to spend the rest of my night sulking in my bed.

Waking up the next morning I feel the pounding in my head erupt due to the amount of crying I did last night.

It didn't help that I watched 'P.S. I Love You' but sometimes you just need that extra push to get out that good cry.

"Here," my roommate Izzy holds out two pills of Tylenol for me with a bottle of water.

"How'd you know?" I mumble, half my face still in my pillow.

"The trash is filled with tissues and it smells like popcorn in here," she teases me. I grab the pills from her hand, sitting up in my spot to take the medicine.

"I thought you were staying at Jaime's," I recall her saying she was supposed to spend the night at her girlfriend's room since her roommate was gone for the weekend.

"I did, I forgot my insulin," she walks over to her mini fridge to grab her small bag of her prescription. "Why were you crying last night?"

Swallowing down the two pills, I wiped my mouth to prevent the excess water from dripping down my chin.

"Sad movie," I respond lamely, laying back against my pillows.

Izzy stood up from her place, watching me with careful eyes.

"You only watch a sad movie when you're already sad," she points out. Damn, she knew that? "What happened?"

I sighed scooting further down into my bed, not wanting to bring up last night events. I was being dramatic, I shouldn't be this emotional over someone.

Dalton didn't mean to intentionally hurt my feelings, so how could I be upset?

"I got my hopes up, like always," I responded crossing my arms over my chest.

"With Dalton?" She asked raising her eyebrows. I told her about the liking I had taken on the boy the second I got back from hanging out with him and Chris. "Did you tell him?"

"Not really," I mumble avoiding eye contact with her.

She places a hand on her hip giving me a knowing stare that I wanted to avoid.

"How can you get your hopes up if you haven't even told him how you feel?" Izzy states bluntly making me cringe.

"Its what he said last night," I sighed. "He painted a really beautiful picture of a garden with the sun, with all these bright and pretty colors."

Izzy walked over to my bed waiting for me to continue.

"Dalton doesn't use too much color when he creates, so when I asked why this time around, he said it's because someone inspired him," I explain reliving last night's events.

"So? That someone could've been anybody-"

"He said it was a girl," I say lowly looking to my right at the wall in front of me. Since becoming friends with Dalton, he's gifted me all sorts of drawings.

My favorite flower, peony, a portrait of Louis Armstrong because that's my favorite artist to listen to when I'm reading, and my personal favorite, a painting of me reading my favorite book.

"Was he looking at you when he said that?" My roommate asked a frown forming on her lips. I began to feel that heaviness on my chest again, this time I didn't need a movie help get out this cry.

"Nope," I confirmed for her, my eyes swelling with tears. "I left after that."

Before Izzy could respond, there's a knock at our door causing me to panic.

"I don't want to see anyone right now," I begged my friend. "Send whoever it is away."

Wiping away my stray tears, Izzy creaks the door open before looking over at me with a sheepish smile.

"I think you'll want to see this person," she says opening the door wider to reveal the boy I wanted to avoid.

"I brought you your favorites," Dalton gives me a small smile as he holds up an iced vanilla cold brew in one hand and a small bag in the other which I'm sure was the breakfast sandwich I always got at Starbucks.

Dalton used to give me a hard time about my Starbucks intake but after forcing him to try my favorites he understood why I was so broke all the time.

"Call me," Izzy mouthes to me before walking out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Dalton saunters over to me, handing me my items as I sit there dumbfounded at what my roommate just did.

"You feeling better this morning?" He asks taking a seat at my feet. "Was hoping the coffee would help."

"Yeah, I'm still not all there," I sniffle avoiding his gaze as I stir the sweet cream at the bottom to blend in with the cold brew.

"Sounds like you might have a cold," he reaches his hand out to press the back of it to my forehead then my cheeks. "Maybe we should-"

"Dalton," I cut him off removing his hand away from my face. "I'm not sick."

There's a pang of guilt in me when I see the look of hurt come across the boys face. He was just trying to help and I was being bitter.

"You can't help with this," I assure him quietly taking a sip of the drink in my hand. So good.

"Try me," the blonde pushes. I sigh looking him dead in the eye.

"I really like you, Dalton," I finally let out. "I like you like I'll let you have the last bite of this sandwich like you, I like you like I think of you in every love song Taylor Swift has ever wrote like you, I like you like I want to call you after any little exciting thing happens to me like you."

"I like you so much, and you told me another girl is inspiring you," I look down at my hands that were slowly growing cold due to the melting beverage in my hand.

Dalton falls silent for a moment making me sick to my stomach. I poured my truth out, that's all I can do. I probably just ruined everything. No more Friday show binging, no more Tuesday study sessions with Chris, no more of him picking off my food in the mornings.

It's all over.

"You didn't look at my painting very well," he finally breaks the silence. Looking up at him, I furrow my brows.

"What?"

"You are the girl," the corners of his mouth quip up. "You've been my inspiration since the first day Chris introduced us."

My breath hitches in my throat as I take a deep breath.

"I've been drawing peonies since I saw them on your phone case," he admits reaching out to tap the back of my phone.

I think back to the painting from last night and immediately recall the colors of different pinks splattered across the canvas below the bright orangey sun.

"Peonies are playful, beautiful, lively, and bashful, just like you," he says gently running his thumb over the top of my cheek. "Incase it isn't obvious already, I really like you too, (Y/n)."

Relief washes over me, a giddy feeling running through my veins instead.

"You think I'm beautiful?" I tease him tilting my head to the side. Dalton shakes his head biting back a grin.

"Playful," he refers back to the flower's characteristics.

He lays his palm flat against the side of my face making me lean into his touch.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks staring at me with adoration.

"Never ask again," I confirm for him before pressing locking my lips with his. I snake my free hand around the back of his neck pulling him closer to my body.

My heart sputters in my chest, as our mouths become familiar with one another's. His mouth still tasted minty from bushing his teeth not too long ago, while I'm sure mine tasted of coffee.

We pull away slowly, the tips of our noses still touching.

"You are so beautiful," he whispers confirming my question from earlier.

A warmth splays across my cheeks at his compliment, I smile widely leaning my forehead against his.

"I suddenly feel so much better," I quip up placing my arms over Dalton's shoulders.

"Good," he murmurs pressing a soft kiss to my forehead moving his hands to grasp my hips. "Because I'm taking you out for lunch."

"Why not dinner?" I chuckle at the unusual date time.

"Because we're doing what we should've done last night, tonight," he explains. "We are watching 'Suits' and eating candy as soon as we get back."

"Oh," I laugh realizing his plan.

"Does that sound good to you?" He asks bumping his head with mine.

"Sounds perfect."

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