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hutchhitched · 3 years

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Walk Back

Written by: @hutchhitched

Prompt 143: The girl of my dreams asked me if I needed a ride home from campus so I obviously let her drive me home then walked back to campus a couple of hours later to get my car. [submitted by anonymous]

Ratings/Warnings: G

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. This is the sixth of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. Only three more to go!

Peeta Mellark knows he’s got it good compared to a lot of people. He really does, but that doesn’t stop him from wallowing in pity every once in a while. He’s in college, the first in his family, on a hefty scholarship; his grades are good; he has a lot of friends and a good work study job that actually does give him some time to study. Those are all good things. They really are, and he doesn’t dispute it, but…

He’s also had a rough home life with a mom who’s never satisfied with anything he does and a father who loves him but can’t stand up to his wife long enough to protect his three sons from her emotional abuse. He’s a first-generation college student who’s excelling in courses for his major but isn’t doing so great in all his other general education courses. He has to work a lot more than he should for someone with his course load. Worst of all, though, he’s madly in love with a woman who likely doesn’t know his name. Well, that’s probably not true, but still. She’s certainly not crazy about him the way he is mad for her.

There’s just no way Katniss Everdeen, fellow Panem University student and the smartest girl in his biology lab, would ever give him the time of day. Not when she already has a boyfriend, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Rugged, who’s about to graduate with a promising career. That’s unlike Peeta, an art major. He’ll never amount to anything, or so his mother likes to remind him every time he’s stupid enough to visit his family.

Besides, Katniss is beautiful and sassy and shy and so many other wonderful things. She has no idea the effect she has on him or any other male within a mile radius, including their biology professor who’s proclaimed her the most brilliant student he’s had in his twenty-two years of teaching. Peeta spends the better part of their class together watching her from across the room, which is probably why his lab partner hates him and his grade in that class absolutely sucks.

So, while Peeta knows he’s got some things going for him, it’s not surprising that he finds himself a little down in the dumps occasionally—especially on days when his crush shows up at his workplace. It’s even worse when his co-worker knows about his hopeless infatuation and has no shame. Johanna Mason may be his least favorite person on days like that. Today happens to be one of those days. He’s cursing his life when Jo comes up behind him and leans down to whisper in his ear.

“Oooooooooh ooooooh. Katniss is pretty, isn’t she? Look at her over there. So serious. What do you think she’s getting ready to check out, and is there any way to make it sexual when gets over here?”

“Shut up, Jo,” Peeta hisses as his cheeks flush, and he curls into himself, trying to hide behind the circulation desk so Katniss won’t see him.

The last thing he wants is for the girl he’s been crushing on for months to hear his co-worker tease him about his hopeless attraction. The problem is that he told Johanna in a fit of self-loathing, and she coached him through it, built him up so his ego was a little higher than the floor and prepared him some for what to say to a girl when he likes her. While it was very kind of Jo to offer, Peeta isn’t that hopeless. He’d had a number of girlfriends in high school, but none of them compare to Katniss Everdeen. She is a goddess.

“What time’s your shift done today, hot buns?”

“Don’t call me that! What is wrong with you?” he hisses. “Why are you so terrible?”

“Terrible? I’m trying to get you laid, buddy. It’s certainly never going to happen if I leave you to your own devices, although I’m sure you’re taking care of yourself plenty. You’re a guy, after all.”

Peeta’s face floods with heat, and he wants to slide onto the floor and hide behind the counter. She’s not wrong—he is a healthy, twenty-one-year-old man who hasn’t dated in a while—but Peeta doesn’t want his co-worker to know that. She’ll probably tell the whole world if he confirms what she suspects. Or say something to Katniss, which would be horrifying.

“Why do you want to know?” he asks, suspicious.

“Knowledge is power, my friend. Knowledge is power.”

Still not convinced, he welcomes a patron and scans the student ID he’s handed. “Exactly ten minutes,” he mutters as he types in the bar codes of the pile of library books in front of him before sliding them across the counter. It’s almost midterm, so everyone’s trying to finish projects and bibliographies for research papers before they leave for spring break. The library’s been slammed for days.

“She’s on her way over here,” Johanna nudges him.

He whips his head up, and his eyes widen as he realizes Jo’s right. Katniss pages through a book as she strides toward the circulation desk. Johanna turns to busy herself with a pile of returned books, and he squeezes his legs together under the desk. If he can just stop his hands from shaking, things will be great.

“Hi, Peeta,” she says with a guarded smile as she hands him her student ID. “How’s it going?”

“K-katniss! Hi!” His voice squeaks, and he cringes internally. He sounds like an idiot. “It’s good. I’m good. How are you?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” She hands him her student ID, and he glances down at the book she set on the counter.

“History of Sculpture? That’s…”

She laughs wryly and nods. “Yeah, I know. I’m not sure how I managed to get myself into it, but I signed up for an art appreciation class. I have zero artistic ability, so it’s painful.”

“Oh,” he says. “That’s…yeah.”

Johanna snorts behind him, and he tosses her a warning look. He should have known better. The woman doesn’t have a tactful bone in her body. Instead, she comes to stand behind Peeta and surveys Katniss.

“You know, Peeta here is an art major,” Jo announces with her hand on his shoulder. “I bet he could help you with your art appreciation class. He’s great at that kind of stuff.”

“Are you really?” Katniss asks, her eyes widening in pleased surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

“I am,” he confirms. “I’m more of a painter than anything else, but I know quite a bit about all the different media. It’s kind of in the curriculum for my major.”

She looks impressed, but she shakes her head as she picks up her book and tucks her ID into her pocket. “I couldn’t ask you to help, but that’s cool. I thought you were a biology major like me.”

Johanna smacks him on the back, and he glares at her before wiping his expression clean and flashing a closed mouth grin at Katniss. When nobody says anything, Katniss turns to go.

“Nonsense!” Jo cries. “Peeta’d be happy to help. I’m sure there’s something you could do for him to repay his generosity.”

He swears under his breath and elbows Jo in the gut.

“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything I have that Peeta wants—”

“A ride home?” Jo interrupts. “Peeta’s car’s in the shop. He asked me for a ride, but his shift is over now, and I’ve got another two hours before I can leave. Poor guy. He’d really appreciate the lift.”

Relief colors her face, and she nods. “I’d be happy to do that. My car’s on the street. I snagged one of those metered ones that are always full. Must be my lucky day.”

“Oh, I’d say it certainly is,” Jo says, a wide self-satisfied smile plastered on her face. She practically shoves him out of his chair and adds, “Peeta, why don’t you go clock out. I’ll finish this up for you.”

“I can—”

“No, you can’t. You’re too close to hours. Besides, you wouldn’t want to keep Katniss waiting, now would you?”

“You really are the devil, aren’t you?” he hisses as he grabs his stuff. “My car’s in the parking garage, not the shop. What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting you some time alone with the girl of your dreams,” she explains with a withering look. “Now, let her give you a ride home so you can schmooze her.”

Still disgruntled, he shuffles to the door and meets Katniss on the steps. She shifts uncomfortably, tugging on her braid and hunching her shoulders. He wonders if she’s trying to hide or if she’s cold in the chill of the early spring day.

“I really appreciate this,” he says.

She nods and leads him to her car. “No problem. It’s the least I can do.”

“You don’t have to do anything at all.”

She’s silent as she starts her car. Hesitating, she glances over at him and asks, “Does that mean you don’t want to tutor me? I understand if you don’t. It’s asking a lot for someone you barely know, especially since I can’t really afford to pay you.”

“Except in rides.”

“Well, yeah. I can do that.” She smiles at him tremulously and shifts the car into gear. Glancing over her shoulder, she signals and pulls out of the parking spot and onto the street.

“You could help me in bio,” he blurts and his cheeks heat.

“Really?”

He cringes and shrugs. “Yeah. I can’t seem to get the hang of it. I think I’m one of those people that understands it in theory but not in practicality. I’m doing fine in the lecture, but lab is really confusing.” He doesn’t add that most of that is her fault, but not really, because he can’t stop mooning over her.

“I can do that.”

He glances at the pleased curve of her lips and wonders how he can make it happen again. The joy of seeing her happy sinks into his bones and gives him life. It’s ridiculous, but it’s true. He has no reason to think he should except common human decency matched with his overwhelming crush. He feels like a middle school boy who’s just figured out that girls and boys have different parts.

Katniss stops at the intersection and glances over at him. Bashful, she admits, “I don’t know where I’m going.”

Peeta’s eyebrows furrow and he motions out the windshield. “South?”

“No,” she answers with a nervous laugh. “I mean, I don’t know where you live.”

He’s an idiot. Of course she doesn’t know where he lives. “Sorry! Sorry. Turn left here. I wasn’t thinking.”

“If you want…”

“If I want?” he prods.

“Well, maybe, if you don’t mind, that is.” She clears her throat and then words burst from her in a torrent. “I know a coffee shop that no one else really goes to. It’s quiet and the coffee’s good. They know me there, and I have a table they kind of save just for me. If you wanted to go over some of this sculpture stuff today, that’d be a good place.”

“Oh. Okay,” he answers, fighting to keep his face clear of the glee he feels. Katniss Everdeen just asked him to go out with her. Well, she asked him to go somewhere with her, but that was more than he’d dreamed would happen any time he imagined actually speaking to her. Not only is he going to sit at the same table with her in a public place, but he’s at her mercy with transportation. She’s got him captive, and he approves.

“Maybe I can take a look over your lab notes with you, too. You know, if you want.”

Oh, he wants. That’s never been in question. He absolutely wants when it comes to Katniss Everdeen.

“That’d be great. Really great.”

The place itself is an independent coffee shop in an older area of town called The Seam. The properties tend to be more run-down than those closer to campus, but the café is cozy and humble and has great choices in both coffee and tea. He chooses a black peppermint he’s loved since his father made it for him when he was sick. His father had also snuck cookies to Peeta despite the disapproval of his mom. He adds sugar before taking a sip that transports him back to childhood. He breathes in as he swallows and blows out a heavy sigh.

Amused, Katniss asks, “That good?”

Nodding, he inhales the aroma and smiles softly. “Yeah. It’s that good. Thanks for bringing me here.”

Pleased, Katniss drops her head and shuffles in her bag for the book on sculpture and her class notes. They work together for over an hour before reviewing information from their biology lab. He finds she’s a good tutor, knowledgeable and skilled at breaking down the concepts into sizable chunks that seemed overwhelming previously. When he compliments her on it, she waves him off but returns the sentiment.

“I already feel like I appreciate art more.”

“Glad I could help.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, though,” she teases. “I’ll still need you after break’s over, but I think I can pass the final now, anyway.”

He shivers at her claiming she’ll need him. It’s closer to genuine interest than anything he’s ever gotten from her, and it gives him a small thrill of hope.

Reluctantly, she packs up her bag and sighs. “I really need to get home, but this was fun.”

“Yeah, I should be getting back, too. Got a lot to do before bed.”

They’re quiet as they slide into the car. Contemplative, Peeta almost forgets to provide instructions so Katniss knows where to take him. As he guides her through unfamiliar streets that turn into those he sees every day, he sends silent thanks to Johanna for her brashness and refusal to let things go. He only hopes he doesn’t have a ticket on his car when he retrieves it—hopefully before it’s towed.

“This is it,” he says with a wave at his front door. None of his roommates are home, which means he’s stuck until they return. He doesn’t want to say goodbye, but she’s antsy, unsure what to do with her hands or where to look. “Thanks again for the ride. Come find me at the library after break, and we’ll do a repeat of tonight.”

“Sounds great,” she says warmly. “Hope you get your car back soon.”

“Yeah, me too,” he grumbles.

He watches her leave, lifting his hand in farewell until her car turns the corner and heads back the way she came. Fishing his cell out of his pocket, he sends his roommates a group text asking when they’ll be home and if one of them can give him a ride back to campus. As each of them gives a reason for their absence, he realizes he’s on his own. He does stow his bag inside and grab a drink before heading back outside. Squaring his shoulders, he shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and begins the walk back.

It takes an hour, and he does have a parking ticket. Still, Peeta has no regrets. The afternoon with Katniss was the best of the year with the promise of more to come. She’s worth the inconvenience.

#everlarkficexchange #springtime edition 2020 #prompt 143 #everlark #everlark fanfiction #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #walk back

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iamcayc · 3 years

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Chapter 2: Kids

Fandom: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Gojo Satoru/Reader, Gojo Satoru/Original Character(s) Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Flirting, Developing Relationship, Original Character(s), Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Strangers to Lovers, annoyances to lovers, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Vaginal Fingering, Heavy Petting, Gojo Satoru is a Little Shit

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The phone ringing startles you as you’re sitting on your couch, a true crime documentary on the television as the soundtrack to your night of grading essays. There’s still half a stack of essays to slog through, and only one more glass of wine left in the bottle on your coffee table.

You glance at the screen of your phone, frowning at the name you see.

“What’s up, Nanami?” The phone rests against your shoulder as you scribble a barely-passing grade on the paper in your hand.

“You busy?”

Well, this isn’t going to end well.

“I’m almost out of wine and have twelve more essays to suffer through before I can call it a night.” Nanami chuckles at your predicament. “So, yeah, I guess you can say I’m a bit busy. Why?”

Nanami sighs and you can just see him rubbing his temple as he tries to work out a way to ask you something he knows you aren’t going to like.

“Spit it out, would ya?” you probe with a sigh.

“Satoru wants your help with a mission.”

Your frown immediately deepens. “I already told him that I’m not a sorcerer.”

A muffled series of thwumps and thuds force you to hold the phone away from your ear before a new voice chirps through the device.

“Technically, you only told me that you have asthma,” Gojo says brightly. “You didn’t say anything about not being a sorcerer.”

Your eyes narrow at nothing in particular. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’re the kind of guy who likes to point out technicalities?”

Gojo chuckles, the sound a warm caress through the phone. You’re fairly certain that’s mostly the wine reacting, but you aren’t taking any chances.

“Regardless, let me make it perfectly clear to you: I am not any kind of practicing, jujutsu sorcerer,” you say slowly, clearly. “I received enough training to keep my energy in check and help out where I can as a Window since I work at a school and know what to look for. Now, if you’d be so kind as to return my cousin’s phone, I’d like to tell him to make himself available for you since he is sorcerer.”

A soft grunt sounds as you listen to the phone getting passed back to Nanami. “I’m sorry, Kaya. I tried explaining—where the fuck are you going? Satoru!”

As he shouts Gojo’s name, a polite knock sounds at your door. You leap to your feet, your heart thundering in your chest.

“Kaya? Kaya, are you there?” Nanami’s voice sounds tired. “Do not open that door. You give this guy a fucking inch and he takes a mile.”

“Are you telling me that the random-ass person knocking on my door right now is Gojo?” you ask tersely. “Because I’m pretty fucking sure I live a solid distance away from your school.”

Nanami sighs and mutters a series of graphic swears as the person at the door begins to knock on the door to the beat of “Mary had a Little Lamb.”

“I can’t tell you if he’s being so stubborn because he genuinely needs your technique, or if he’s only thinking with his cock, but you do not have to answer that door.” You snort, not buying for a second that Gojo has any intention of giving up so quickly.

“I’m never having dinner with you again,” you hiss into the phone before hanging up. As far as you’re concerned, this is all Nanami’s fault for allowing Gojo to crash their weekly dinner. You toss the phone on your couch before stomping towards the door and yanking it open to reveal a casually-dressed Gojo leaning against the jamb with a grin.

“What the fuck do you want?” you ask with thinly-veiled hostility. Gojo ignores the venom and grins wider.

“I have to say,” he remarks, “I think you’ve got the most beautiful eyes when you’re irritated.”

You haven’t wanted to throttle someone in so long, you forgot what it felt like to have your blood boil.

“What do you want?” you ask again, this time through gritted teeth.

“Your help.” Gojo tilts his head innocently as he looks at you. “Pretty please?”

The bubbling frustration with this man isn’t something you need your neighbors witnessing, so you step aside and yank him through the door, surprised that he allowed you to grab hold of him at all, considering what you know of him.

You ignore his chuckle as you stomp back into your living room and pause your documentary, knowing you’ll likely have to restart the whole thing since you missed so much thanks to the asshat currently making himself comfortable on your couch. He stretches his arm along the back of the sofa, tilting his head back to look at you.

“You’ve got a nice place for a teacher.” You stare at him. He did not just backhand compliment you. “Though, the sound proofing tiles are a little odd.”

“You’re an asshole,” you tell him with a glare. “And now that I am fully aware of the fact that you have highly selective hearing, let me say this one more time: I have absolutely no interested in joining your mission.”

“Because of your asthma, right?”

Dear fucking god, you want to punch him.

“And the fact that I’m not a fucking sorcerer. I have never and will never work as one.”

“Why not?” Gojo watches you as you sink onto a pillow on the floor at the coffee table. “Nanamin isn’t anywhere near my level and he still makes a solid living doing exorcisms.”

You look at him as you pick up your red pen. “If you had to quantify the actual size of your ego, how big would it be?”

The jab is ignored with a dismissive wave. “Your cursed technique, it’s based on sounds that you personally create, right?”

“I mean, it’s definitely bigger than your dick. There’s no way that thing is bigger than a handful of centimeters, considering the way you carry on every time I have the displeasure of seeing you.”

“But that can’t be it, because if that were the case, you would be wreaking havoc on the populace if you so much as farted.”

“I wonder what that server thought when you finally whipped it out, after doing everything she could think of to get your attention? Ha! I bet she was so disappointed.”

Gojo leans forward, his forearms resting on his knees as he grins at you. His aura is practically dancing around him; he’s loving every second of this.

“You really didn’t like her, did you?”

“I really didn’t care either way.” Half-truth, but who’s counting? “I just got tired of seeing her tits every time she came to check on us. That, and her aura was starting to make me motion sick with the undulating and buzzing.”

He raises a white brow. “You can see auras?”

“I heard them first. I’ve always been sensitive to sounds.” You frown at the introductory paragraph of the paper in your hand. Did you students even read the assignment? “I only started to see the auras after training with Nanami.”

“I’ve never heard of someone hearing an aura... what’s mine sound like?”

You look up at him, surprised to see that he’d taken off the sunglasses he’d been wearing to pin you with those eyes. Why is someone so far up their own ass this hot?

Setting down your pen, you take a breath to center yourself, allowing your own aura to reach out to his. You let your eyes guide the edges of your aura along the edges his, like a bow across a string. If Gojo feels anything, he doesn’t say; he just watches you with an intense expression.

At some point, you let your eyes meet his, and that’s when his aura begins singing to you.

“You sound like a cello’s mid-range, that sweet spot of notes on the G and D strings.”

“What does your sound like?”

The question throws you off. No one has ever asked about yours before. It’s not that you don’t know how your aura sounds, but rather, you aren’t sure how to explain what you hear.

“It sounds like me,” you reply plainly. “I sound like... just me.”

He regards you quietly before letting his cheek rest on his fist. His gaze softens as he looks at you, sending whatever traces of annoyance you feel towards him scattering into nothing.

“There have been reports of a cursed human loose in a residential area outside of Hidaka. Some sightings have it listed as a child, others say it's a few adults. But all the witnesses agree that whatever it is, it’s luring children from the area into the woods.”

“Is this the part where you tell me why Six Eyes needs me to find some cursed human in the woods?”

He shrugs. “I’m not good with kids.”

You snort. “You’re a teacher.”

“And you’ll notice that my students are well above the age of 6 years old.”

“So are mine.”

“Are you always this stubborn?”

“Pot, meet kettle.” You set down your pen and look at him seriously. “And before you throw my whole aura-sight at me, I’ll point out that you seemed to have no idea that I could see auras until a few minutes ago. So, tell me why you want my help on a mission you and your students are more than equipped to handle on your own?”

Gojo leans back against the couch once again and sighs. You let silence creep into the space between you. His aura isn’t singing anymore, but it isn’t agitated, so you haven’t totally pissed him off. Yet.

“I want you to lure the curses out and get them to bring the missing kids with them.” One of his hands slides through his hair. “At least, that was my initial idea. But, if you can see and hear auras, that might help us get the kids out before shit goes south with the curses.”

You frown. “That original plan assumes that I can control more than one curse at a time, which isn’t the most fool-proof, either. I’m not being modest when I say that I’m not a sorcerer, I’m being honest. Your dark-haired student’s aura is more powerful than mine, and he wasn’t even trying to let me see his aura.”

Gojo considers you quietly, his blue eyes shimmering in the artificial light of your apartment. You’re tempted to examine the shifting colors of his irises up close, until you remember that you know better than to let your body anywhere near a man that self-confident.

“I’d say you’re an upper Grade 3, just as you are now. Properly motivated, maybe a Grade 2. Still, that’s more than enough to draw out a few curses. I don’t need you to exorcise them, only get their attention and make them a bit more docile for the kids to take out.”

“You really aren’t going to let this one go, are you?” you ask him, sighing as you rest your chin on the heel of your palm. He flashes you a bright grin, sending an armada of butterflies up your stomach and into your throat.

“Nope.”

You lean back on your palms as you look at him. You have no interest in telling him that you’ve already decided to help since there are missing kids involved, so you let him watch you watch him. Because, maturity.

“And what do I get out of this? Other than a potential asthma attack?”

His grin slips into a smirk. “What do you want?”

You raise your brow, knowing full well what he’s insinuating. “I don’t touch sloppy seconds, thanks. I was thinking more along the lines of a few bottles of really nice wine, or maybe an expensive whisky. Or, if you’re feeling really guilty about triggering my asthma, never asking me to help with your job ever again.”

“Since I’m feeling generous, why don’t you decide after you’ve helped me out? You know, see how much effort you have to put in and get the most reward for your buck.”

You don’t trust that new sparkle in his eyes as you agree to his terms.

You only agree to meet Gojo and the others after school the next day because the sooner you’re done with this favor, the better. Then, you can get back to watching Netflix specials on serial killers and grading piss-poor essays on the Baroque movement in peace.

The grounds of the Tokyo Jujutsu High School are well kept, despite there being so few students enrolled. The spans of the campus practically begged to be bustling with chattering students, but all it gets is the occasional grumpy alumni and sporadic admissions.

It wouldn’t hurt to plant some flowers either.

“I told you she wasn’t going to show up with a flute or drum!” You glance over your shoulder and see Gojo leading the two boys from before and a new addition, a girl with down-turned eyes and a bored expression.

Gojo inclines his head towards you by way of greeting. “Kaya, you saw these two yesterday, Yuji and Megumi.” His thumb points out Pinky first, then the dark-haired kid whose temperament you like. “This is my other first-year, Nobara.”

You wave with a polite smile, your teacher’s smile. “Nice to meet you all.”

Nobara peers at you a little longer, her eyes sweeping up and down your outfit with analytical eyes. You couldn’t wait to hear what a sixteen year old has to say about your clothes. You chose to swap out your black jeans for a sturdy pair of athletic leggings to increase mobility, though you are acutely aware of how tight the pants are, especially around your ass.

You pick at an invisible lint on the sleeve of your jacket. Gojo is doing a marvelous job of surveying your… assets.

“I want you to design our new uniforms,” she declares boldly. You blink in surprise since that is definitely not what you were expecting. Not sure what’s so stunning about leggings and a rarely-used running shirt, even if it has Gojo eyeballing your butt with enough heat to send his aura in languid waves around him.

“Thanks, I think.” You slip on your leather jacket and look over at Gojo with an arched brow. “Are you finished gawking? I have classes to teach tomorrow, and there’s nothing worse than trying not to make a bunch of teenage girls cry when you’re too tired to tell them their god-awful piano composition sounds like something out of a third-rate anime.”

If they thought Nobara offers up some hot takes, they need to see you with less than six hours of sleep and a full day of classes on the horizon.

Gojo chuckles as he rubs his lower lip with the pad of his thumb. There is something unfairly sensual about the motion, and extremely predatory. Frowning slightly, you turn away and hand the kids the the earplugs you had stuffed in your pocket before you’d left the apartment.

“What’re these for?” Yuji asks, inspecting the bits of foam like you just handed him cocaine. .

“Maestro, here, uses a cursed technique rooted in sound.” You feel Gojo sling his arm around your shoulders. “Though, seems like she didn’t bring enough for me to get a pair, too.”

You shoot him a look. “You know precisely why I didn’t bother. Now, can we please get a move on?”

Wordlessly, the kids gather around and latch onto Gojo’s jacket, and you brace yourself for the gut-punch that comes along with teleporting. Nanami graciously informed you of Gojo’s aptitude for warping after a series of threats of bodily harm that exponentially increased in severity the more he dodged your questions. In that time, you realized that Gojo’s perpetual use of Limitless could stop your technique without a thought.

You’re in the midst of replaying a particularly entertaining memory of Nanami squealing like a pig after you started to make him juggle kitchen knives when you feel a strong hand press you against Gojo’s chest by the small of your back. Sputtering with utter indignation, you glare up at the grinning man, wishing with every fiber of your being that your knee could make contact with his balls at that moment.

“Ready, maestro?”

“Fuck off, Gojo.” Yuji snickers from behind him. Gojo watches you expectantly and your glare deepens. “I’m ready.”

“There’s a good girl.”

“Dude, keep that shit up and she’s going to find a way around your Limitless to kick your ass,” Megumi mutters from the right. “And Lord knows, the majority of us will sell tickets to that show.”

You don’t hear Gojo’s reply as you're lost in trying not to hurl all over the man as he yanks your body through space. The surrounding trees whisper and rustle in the evening breeze, the low glow of the sunset making the setting feel eerie. You hope the missing kids are okay, but you’re jaded enough to know better. Rolling your shoulders, you shake off the creeping shadows of memories you’ve worked hard to ignore on a daily basis.

“You’re up, Kaya.” Gojo nods at you as he removes his blindfold, his eyes more aquamarine in the dying light. “Think you can tag the auras for me?”

“Everyone got their earplugs in?” you ask the teenagers behind you. They all respond with solemn nods, their expressions resolute. You glance at Gojo, his eyes unseeing but all-seeing as he looks out into the forest around you.

“When I start singing, Six Eyes should pick up any auras my technique hits, like sonar.” It’s been over a year since you last sang, but you’d prepped your vocal cords most of the day with hot tea and a couple shots of bourbon before heading to the school. “I’ll also be willing whatever hears me to come to me as I sing.”

He looks at you with slight concern. “How long can you sustain that?”

You set square your shoulders and look back out into the darkness ahead. “As long as I need to. My priority will be the kids, you guys can deal with the cursed human.”

He nods as you take a deep breath to settle the flurry of nerves in your stomach. Why are you so nervous about singing in front of Gojo, of all people? His opinion has never mattered to you, since the moment he crashed your dinner. Who cares if he doesn’t like the song choice or if he thinks your voice is garbage?

“Unsteady” by X Ambassadors is a go-to warm up song for you. It sits right in your chest range, so it’s easy to project as you start walking slowly into the woods. Besides, you know how it feels to beg someone, anyone for help but end up ignored instead.

Gojo’s footfalls are nearly silent as he stalks behind you, but your voice makes his aura pulse against your own. It’s a comforting feeling, lending you more courage than you were feeling, that’s for sure.

A sharp rustling to your left makes you pause, the movement too harsh and erratic to dismiss as an animal. The icy blue of the aura halos around a tiny form, the fear tinkling like a shrill bell being shaken by a child. Gojo stiffens behind you, but you raise your palm before shooing him back.

Without faltering in the song, you crouch down in the direction of the stumbling child, pulling a small handbell from your other jacket pocket. A steady, calming beat in time with your singing pulses forward, coaxing the child out slowly as her aura shifts from pale blue to a saturated cobalt.

A little girl, no older than six or seven, flies into your arms, making your stumble in your singing. She’s coated in dirt and gods know what else, clutching your jacket so tight that her tiny knuckles turn white.

“You caught the culprit’s attention,” Gojo chuckles as you soothe the frightened child into letting go of your jacket. She clings to your leg when you stand, her snot and tears soaking into your leggings. You try not to cringe, but Gojo catches your obvious distaste and laughs, earning him a glare.

“There’s a cluster of black auras there,” you tell him quietly, gesturing further into the woods, to the east. “I can see them, but they’re silent.”

He hums as he nods, stroking his chin thoughtfully before he looks at you again. His eyes flick to the little girl, whose grip on your leg is starting to get painful, and it’s in that moment you realize two things.

First, that you get to tell Gojo, “I told you so.”

Second, in relation to the first, the tiny girl death-gripping your leg has an aura that is shrieking and melting into an opaque black.

Fuck.

Without a second thought, you send a surge of your cursed energy into your aura, ballooning it up rapidly. You swing the handbell down sharply, a clear, piercing note with the demand to be let go striking the tiny cursed human, tossing her away from you a good 30 yards.

A dull ringing pulses in your ears as you struggle to keep your balance. You shouldn’t have used that move so soon out of semi-retirement.

Arms scoop you up before you hit the ground. Muffled voices bicker as you barely hold onto your consciousness, but they fade away quickly as you’re overtaken with another bout of nausea that pulls you back towards consciousness. You try to move, but the arms hold you tighter against what you learn is Gojo’s chest.

“Easy, easy.” His breath warms your face as he calms you. “Shocked you’re not passed out yet.”

You don’t have the energy to remind him that he’s the pot and you’re the kettle when it comes to stubbornness. Based on the bits and pieces of the room you can see through still-blurred vision, he had warped you both back to your apartment.

He lays you down on your bed, checks your pulse, then slips out of the room long enough to get you a glass of water and a banana.

“I told you I wasn’t a sorcerer for a reason,” you mumble as you push yourself up slowly. The dizziness is gone, but exhaustion presses against your bones at this point. Gojo sits on the edge of the bed as he watches you sip at the water and peel the banana.

“Your stamina is shit, yeah. But you know what you’re doing.” You break apart the banana bite by bite. Like hell you’re going to eat an obviously phallic fruit in front of a man with the maturity level of a teenage boy. “I’d say with a bit of training, you could hold your own without passing out again.”

You shoot him a look that hopefully conveys how little interest you have in making that a reality. He only gives you a small smile before he stands.

“Better go check on the kids, make sure they didn’t completely fuck that simple exorcism.” He pauses at the bedroom door, lifting his blindfold just enough to look at you with one eye. “Thanks for your help, maestro. Think about what you want for compensation. I’ll be in touch.”

He winks at you with that one azure eye before he just blinks out of sight. Your thoughts start replaying your time in his arms, a coveted location, you’re sure. He smelled like cedarwood and eucalyptus, but on the designer fragrance side of the spectrum, which surprises you considering how boring his attire generally is.

Sighing, you fish your phone out of the inner pocket of your jacket and swipe it open. No new messages, but a couple of missed calls from Nanami. You’re too tired to both giving him a lecture, so you just tell him he’s your personal chauffeur tomorrow until you can pick you bike up from the school.

And if you even THINK about sending Gojo in your place, consider yourself a eunuch the next time I see you, got it?

You don’t bother to see if he responds. Instead, you shed your clothes and crawl back under the covers, setting a few different alarms, just in case. Yawning, you curl onto your side and let your eyes drift closed, willing your brain to just shut the fuck up with the semi-intrusive thoughts. Falling asleep now would get you a solid 7.5 hours, more than enough for another round of compositional reviews.

I wonder what he thought of my singing…

#jjk #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #archive of our own #fanfiction #ao3 #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x oc #nanami kento #also on ao3 #itadori yuji #fushiguro megumi #kugisaki nobara

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parkersjiggle · 4 years

Note

Hi! I'm the one who requested the 'didn't know they were dating fic'. Thank you so much! It was perfect, I really enjoyed it. Can I make another request? Tony thinking Peter has feelings for one of the other Avengers and being jealous. But of course it's him Peter wanted all along.

Hey! I loved that prompt thank you for requesting it! I’m so sorry I haven’t gotten to you before now but I’ve been swamped with uni and I felt super unmotivated to write, but I’m back now! Anyways I hope you enjoy!!

Tags: jealous!Tony, mutual pining, misunderstandings, required unrequited love

—————

Frankly, this was not Tony’s morning. He hadn’t slept in over 40 hours and to make matters worse he had just run out of coffee and forgot to tell Friday to order more. But none of that could explain the bile rising up in his throat or the jealousy coursing through his veins.

The scene unfolding in front of him did though. Stupid Steve’s giggling again, unmanly as it is. His muscles shake and tears stream from his closed eyes. He has a hand plastered on Peter’s shoulder. Tony has to hold his breath, pursing his lips as he watches them from the corner of the room.

He knows what has happened. Peter probably told some joke that honestly wasn’t worth doubling over and bursting into harsh cackles of laughter, but Steve just had to go the extra mile to get Peter’s attention. Tony had been observing things escalate for a while, and the more he noticed, the more it upset him. It started out as most things did, he guessed. Flirty comments, lingering touches, more eye contact than strictly necessary.

It doesn’t matter anyway. Tony won’t have to be here for much longer. Next week he’s off to Hawaii by himself. The brochure looked really good and he couldn’t wait to relax, gather his thoughts and get over this idiotic crush.

It hurt to look, but he couldn’t not look either. He notices Steve telling Peter some lame story about a mission gone wrong. The kid’s face actually lights up brighter than a toothpaste commercial. He has that soft, adoring look on his face that makes Tony want to hurl.

Tony decides to torture himself some more and actually joins them in the living room. Steve whooshes past him as if it’s his house instead of Tony’s and perches himself on Tony’s favorite couch, signaling for Peter to come over. When he does, Steve wraps himself around him closer than food wrap, just as transparent. They’re whispering as if they’re sharing secrets. This time Peter’s the one giggling like he’s three and a half years old.

Tony can’t say anything about it. It would put their friendship at risk, and that’s something he won’t do. Friends like Peter don’t come along too often. Knowing that still doesn’t stop the want to raise his voice with jealous spite and demand Peter to explain why Steve makes him smile like that when it should be Tony.

But, it’s not the kid’s fault. Tony had no claim on Peter. They weren’t anything beyond close friends and Peter could flirt with whomever he wanted. Maybe he had a chance years ago when the hero-worship and excessive admiration still lingered, but he fucked that up too. Peter knew the real him now, flaws and all. Tony’s well aware he pulls with one hand just to push away with the other. He knows he’s doing it right now too, but he still doesn’t stop. He feels like he’s cursed. When he loves it’s too strong, like some God turned his emotion dials up way too far. No one really understands that Tony can only give mixed messages in order to disguise his love, protect his feelings.

He didn’t say anything but his eyes were like daggers stabbing Steve over and over again. He always had to have what Tony wanted too, huh? Tony felt the frustration bubbling up in his chest.

His knuckles turned white from clenching his fist too hard. His teeth gritted from the effort to remain silent, hunched form exuding an animosity that was like acid- burning, slicing, potent. “Something wrong, Stark?” When Steve spoke, Tony mentally snapped, face red with suppressed rage. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you, Rogers? You really love to rub it in, don’t you?” He made the mistake of letting all the frustration build until it inevitably snapped. He knew that he shouldn’t have let it escalate to that point, but logic wasn’t on his side right now. He couldn’t think this through.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Steve raised his brow questionably. Tony felt the hammering of his heart, its very great attempt to escape his chest. Nothing but hurt and fury ran through his mind right now, “Are you acting stupid or do you actually have a brain the size of a pickled walnut?”

He heard the youngest of them three gasp, almost scandalously. “TONY! You can’t say stuff like that! What’s gotten into you!?” He had the nerve to sound disappointed and angry at the same time. Those feelings quickly ebbed away, however, when he really looked at Tony, and more specifically at his eyes. Which seemed to hold a great deal of pain and had dark bags under them. Peter wondered when he was last able to get some sleep and not just a 45 minute powernap between his lab projects. He paused and sighed. “Are you okay?” The concern and sincerity was clear in his voice. It made Tony want to confess everything and run away at the same time. He let out a shaky breath. “No... I’m not.” He cast his gaze onto the ground and his eyes darkened. He glanced back up at Peter. “Why?” His voice sounded more pained than anything. Steve saw this as the perfect time to excuse himself, fully well aware of how much Tony hated being vulnerable in front of others.

“Why what?” Peter asked softly, following Tony’s gaze that was plastered on Steve walking out. “You mean Steve? Why do you have a problem with him?” Tony chuckled darkly and shook his head, choosing to answer with a question of his own. “How long have you two been dating?” Peter eyed him weirdly, confusion evident on his face. “Dating? We’re not... what do you mean?” Now it was Tony’s turn to look puzzled. “What’s all that giggling and whispering about then? I can’t walk in a room without seeing you two joined at the hip!”

Peter laughed, almost hysterically. “Omg this is golden. This is so good. We’re literally plotting, trying to come up with a plan, to get him and Bucky together! There’s absolutely nothing going on between him and I.” Tony couldn’t help the relaxing of his muscles and the breath of relief that escaped his mouth at those words. “Why do you care? Wait... were you jealous?” Peter leaned in closer, smirking. “So what if I was?” Tony would not back down so easily. “Well I’d say you’re a bit of hypocrite to be honest. One moment I’m important, next minute I’m background at best. What’s making my head spin are the transitions. Stop giving me mixed signals, Tony! Don’t be a coward, tell me how you feel.”

Tony didn’t hesitate this time. He closed the distance between them, kissing Peter short and sweet. “I love you,” he tells him, “I love you. Come to Hawaii with me? How’s that for a signal?”

—————

Send me more prompts loves!! 😊

#tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #starkerfic #starker

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

Neverending Story

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 11K

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut and Language

Summary: Y/N met her husband unexpectedly, and their subsequent relationship has been anything but predictable. But Changbin has always agreed to give Y/N whatever she wanted, but that is suddenly put to the test when Y/N takes things a step too far.

Note: The Holy Trinity of 3racha Married AUs is complete. @lordseochangbin I hope you don’t mind that I tagged you, but this is the fic inspired by that gifset from earlier this week.

Han Jisung had promised me a substantial raise, but after looking out over the podium to appraise the crowd of rich businessmen, I suddenly regretted ever agreeing to work for him in the first place. Because my boss was currently lying in his fancy upstate apartment dying of the flu while I was standing in his place with cue cards in hand to deliver an eloquent speech to a bunch of men who would probably laugh at my expense. But let’s also not forget to mention the fact that I’ve always been extremely introverted which meant that public speaking equated to sweat-drenched palms and the nervous sway to my gait as I rocked back and forth on my feet with hands behind my back.

“Hello,” I spoke into the microphone, wincing when my voice echoed over the speakers. Apparently, the audio feedback in this ballroom was something out of the early 20th century before people had figured out how to work a sound system. “On behalf of Mr. Han,” I said, resisting the urge to lick away the last remnants of my cheap lipstick. “He would like to thank everyone for their support with his new summer project.”

A light smattering of applause, probably from those arrogant benefactors who liked to come into the office to kiss Jisung’s ass and compliment him on all of his successes. They didn’t mean a single word of the bullshit spewing from their mouths, especially the women who openly gaped at him right in front of my desk. “In regards to the company’s s-stocks,” I said, stuttering over the word while fumbling with my notecards. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this nervous, mind working a mile a minute as I tried to desperately compose myself.

And because everything was already progressing this poorly, I started to lose my grip on the stack of notecards aiding my speech, watching as they fell to the ground and spread completely out of order. I immediately dropped to my knees, hurriedly gathering the notecards back into my grasp before inwardly cursing Han Jisung for what had to be the hundredth time that evening. I managed to collect the notecards together on top of the podium before gazing out into the unamused collection of wealthy aristocrats. “I’m sure it had something to do with fourth-quarter profits,” I said while clearing my throat. “Thank you for coming.”

I rushed off the stage without another word, drenched in sweat and failure, determined to make it out of the building before someone else could comment on the unfortunate incident. It reminded me of a similar calamity involving my asshole of an ex-boyfriend who had left me high and dry at one of his seminars to apologize to the people who paid to see his lecture. Why were the men in my life always determined to embarrass me?

With rapid steps, I was nearly out the door before an unfamiliar hand wrapped itself around my wrist. I paused with a wince, turning around to look at the rather handsome gentleman who was waiting patiently behind me. “I’m sorry,” I apologized quickly, assuming he must have something to do with the event. I’m sure he was not pleased with my humiliating display, especially when tonight's proceedings had been touted as a professional gathering. “Mr. Han couldn’t make it tonight and I was trying to fill in for him. Please don’t let this reflect badly on the company.”

A smirk graced his sharp features. “Don’t apologize. I thought it was great.”

“Excuse me?”

“The speech was great,” the man continued, dark hair falling into his eyes like a curtain. He let go of my wrist before offering me a more professional greeting. “Seo Changbin.”

“Seo?” I repeated, searching my mind for any mention of that name. I dealt with a lot of rich men when it came to scouring the city for potential leads, sorting through dozens of profiles every day I walked into the office. Usually with a cup of coffee in hand because Jisung wouldn’t be able to function otherwise.

“I own a line of hotel chains,” Changbin nodded. “Does that sound more familiar?”

His tone was teasing. “I do remember now, Mr. Seo.”

“Ah, don’t call me that,” he insisted. “You don’t have to put on an act like the others.”

I smiled at his easy-going nature. “Well, I’m glad you were at least entertained by my speech.”

Changbin glanced up at the door behind me. “Were you leaving already?”

I followed his gaze, albeit more hesitantly now. “I was planning to.”

“Good,” Changbin said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he leaned in closer. “Mind if I join you?”

I was flushed for an entirely new reason now. “I would be honored.”

Han Jisung was the greatest employer in the world, and I would do everything in my power to serve as his PA in the future. Because I would owe Jisung a million heartfelt expressions of gratitude for asking me to deliver a speech in his absence. Leading me to one of the most gorgeous men I had ever met since the insanely attractive graduate student who served as a TA for my college writing seminar.

But it was hard to think about Jisung, or anything rational for that matter when my legs were practically bent at my chest, lungs devoid of oxygen while Seo Changbin proceeded to fuck me into the mattress. It was a really nice mattress too, compliments of the fancy hotel suite he had reserved for the weekend. I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Changbin was a very wealthy man who had way too many muscles and a cock that stretched the sensitive walls of my pussy with every subsequent thrust deep inside to the point where it felt like he was spearing me against the bed.

Not that I minded in the slightest as I ran my hands down the smooth contours of his back, moaning loudly against his shoulder. It was completely unfair for someone to look this good, and I had nearly lost my mind when he had crawled between my legs, fingers deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt to reveal an upper-body straight out of the Men’s Health magazine. Because fate had deemed me fortunate enough to have the opportunity to fuck someone who belonged in my erotic fantasies, dick heavy on my tongue as I blew him under the desk in his office.

“Changbin,” I groaned, thighs trembling from their current position.

“You’re cumming, aren’t you, Y/N?” he asked in a raspy voice thick with lust and an irresistible baritone.

“Yes,” I managed around a gasp because Changbin had started to thumb across my clit with practiced movements, intentions perfectly clear as he leaned back to watch the way my back arched towards the ceiling. It had been a long time since someone had made me cum like that and I was still high from the effects of my orgasm while Changbin chased his release with several more slow grinds in exaggerated succession before filling the condom with a grunt.

I was fighting for air, sweat dripping from my bangs as Changbin fell onto the bed next to me. “How long have you been working out?”

Changbin chuckled. “Since high school.”

“It really shows,” I said, twisting my head to the side because I couldn't get enough of his firm biceps.

Changbin reached across the bed, fingers sliding through his cum dripping from the folds of my labia. “I haven’t asked for your number yet, Y/N.”

My entire body lit with excitement at his words because there was a very obvious intention in such an innocent comment. It meant that Changbin wanted to see me again, and I would give absolutely anything to feel his cock sliding in and out at his own luxury. Of course, there would be a lot of things he would come to ask me for in the future and very rarely would I ever tell him no, especially once he slipped a gorgeous diamond ring onto my finger.

I would also come to learn that there are few things my husband cannot resist in this world and the opportunity to fuck me over the kitchen counter was definitely one of them. I rarely woke up early enough to cook breakfast, so on the rare chance that I managed to obey my alarm clock, I would trudge into the kitchen wearing nothing but one of Changbin’s college t-shirts to pull out a carton of eggs from the fridge. It was the least I could do for my husband since he was always the more romantic one in our relationship.

Lured by the smell of coffee and bacon, Changbin found me in the kitchen, twisting my shirt around my waist to push his cock deep inside. Bracing my elbows against the rough marble of the countertop, I did my best to spread my legs wide for him because nothing felt better in the morning than Changbin fucking me from behind, fingers digging bruises into the skin of my hip bones. “Where did this come from?” I gasped because Changbin had figured out how to roll his hips just right to grind my clit against the side of the worn surface.

“When you walk around the apartment wearing nothing but a shirt,” Changbin said, growling at my ear. “I have to fuck you like the little slut you want to be.”

“Why didn’t you just say so?” I smirked, receiving a firm smack on my ass for my sarcastic question.

“Is that what you want?” Changbin asked, encouraged by my loud moans.

“What if I showed up to your office dressed like this?”

“You better not,” he grumbled, hands sliding up my shirt to squeeze my breasts. “These are for my eyes only.”

“Greedy,” I moaned, pushing back against him because I was desperately chasing a good orgasm.

“It’s your fault,” Changbin said, picking up the pace once he started detecting the familiar signs of my impending release. But at this point in time, we knew everything about one another’s bodies. And Changbin always managed to hit even deeper, reaching further and further inside with every aggressive meeting of our hips, the lewd sounds mingling with our moans.

“I was feeling particularly horny this morning,” I replied, finally letting go after a strategic thrust that snapped the chord anchoring me to reality. Changbin followed soon after, grinding his cock as he rode out his own orgasm. And despite my oversensitivity, Changbin ignored my whines and shoved his cum back where it belonged.

“Alright, Mrs. Seo,” he said, chuckling at the sluggish way I pulled myself back onto my feet, shirt falling back into place. “Will you shower with me before I go to work?”

“What about breakfast?”

“I guess I’ll just have you instead,” he said and I grimaced at the cheesy comment.

Jisung was always late in the mornings, but he could get away with it because nobody would criticize the CEO. But his status didn’t mean that Minho, Jisung’s closest advisor, was any less of a nuisance when he complained to anyone who would listen. Which was often me because my desk was located right next to Jisung’s office. “It’s like he doesn’t care,” Minho whined.

I nodded my head slowly, focused on responding to the emails flooding my inbox. “He’s got a lot on his mind.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Minho immediately opposed. “He’s just lazy! I get up every morning at the crack of dawn to come into the office. Why can’t he do the same?”

I glanced up wearily to reply because Minho was probably expecting me to agree with everything he was saying. Graciously, I was relieved of that unnecessary burden when I saw Seungmin walking in our direction. “Minnie!”

I waved him down desperately and he offered me a smile with his cell phone in hand. “Y/N,” he said, handing me the device from over the counter, blatantly ignoring a sour Minho. “My dog had her puppies.”

I immediately cooed at the sight of the tiny little Dalmations, squealing at the sight of their tiny ears. “Seungmin, they’re adorable!”

The younger boy grinned. “You know you’d be the first person on my list since I’m looking for new homes.”

“I don’t know, Seungmin,” I said, reluctantly returning his phone. “Changbin would be really mad if I brought home a dog.��

“Changbin? Mad at you?” Seungmin scoffed. “That’s impossible, Y/N.”

“Changbin gives you whatever you want,” Minho added as if unable to resist jumping into our conversation.

“But not this,” I said. “One time, I thought it might be nice to bring home a fish for the apartment, but when Changbin saw it on the coffee table, he complained for hours about how gross they were. If I even mention a dog, Changbin immediately changes the subject.”

“Well, I guess it never hurts to ask,” Seungmin said with a shrug. “But they really do need new homes. They’ll be old enough in a few weeks to leave their mother.”

“Don’t try to talk me into this,” I said, shooting him a glare. “You know I have a weak resolve.”

“What if you at least come over this afternoon to see them?” Seungmin asked as if blatantly ignoring my last demand.

“Can I come too?” Minho asked. “You know how boring it gets around here.”

“As long as you can at least pretend you might take one,” Seungmin said. “I’m sure your cats would be thrilled.”

“My cats are angels,” Minho said. “They would love a new friend.”

“To torment,” I said. “Won’t they get jealous when you give the puppy all of your attention?”

“My babies know how to share,” Minho replied. “They were taught well.”

“I’d hate to see you as a teacher,” Seungmin said, receiving a glare in response.

The conversation ended there, but the subject remained a heavy point of focus for the remainder of the day. I couldn’t stop thinking about the puppies, finding myself distracted during the most menial of tasks. I even managed to completely ignore Jisung’s greeting because I was so lost in my thoughts. Subsequently, my boss had stood at the front of my desk to snap his fingers in my line of vision. “Y/N?”

“Sorry, sir,” I apologized immediately, blushing because I knew I should be focused on my work.

And I knew that agreeing to visit Seungmin’s puppies would definitely be a horrible idea. The minute they looked at me with adorable button noses and innocent eyes, I would be breaking down and demanding to have one for myself. I knew this would happen, but I still tortured myself and drove with Seungmin back to his apartment, falling in love a dozen times over with each and every single puppy who subsequently chewed on my frayed sandals or plopped themselves right in the middle of my lap. “You’ve ruined me,” I told Seungmin because there was no way I wasn’t bringing home a puppy and that only meant trouble.

Changbin absolutely hated the idea of pets and had repeatedly denied me every time we walked past a pet shelter or saw a dog during our walks through the park. I could never understand why he was so adamantly opposed, but I figured it had something to do with the fact that he was an obsessive clean freak who liked everything in his life to be controlled. Puppies were a factor one simply couldn’t plan for and they tended to possess destructive tendencies, especially when it came to the things they really believed were toys instead of expensive shoes.

“I’ll call you when you can pick one up,” Seungmin said, following me to the door of his apartment.

“What am I doing?” I groaned loudly, pointing an accusing finger in Seungmin’s direction. “I’m holding you personally accountable.”

Seungmin offered me a grin. “Tell Changbin to call me.”

Eight weeks later, I chose a strategic day when I knew Changbin would be coming home late from work because of a board meeting. Subsequently, I snuck the small Dalmatian puppy upstairs into our apartment, holding tight to its wriggling body before she immediately made her presence known the moment I put her down on the floor. “Don’t pee there,” I said, ushering her away from the pricey carpet Changbin had bought for the foyer.

My plan was to hide her in the guest bathroom, praying that she would keep from barking too loudly when Changbin came home. “Changbin’s going to kill me,” I thought to myself while opening the door for the excited puppy who ran inside to smell the low hanging duvet with curiosity.

Changbin rarely raised his voice around me, and I could only think of a few incidents where Changbin and I had truly fought. Most of the time, it was because of his mother who quite simply hated the idea of her son being with someone who didn’t come from money. There was also the issue of me working for Jisung because Changbin would prefer it if I stayed at home, but that definitely wasn’t happening. I stood my ground against him, making my case until he had reluctantly relented, muttering something about how he had enough money to take care of both of us.

However, in neither of those cases had I ever went behind Changbin’s back to do something that I knew he would hate. Of course, I had also never wanted something as bad as the adorable puppy who had stolen my heart the minute she first wagged her tail while I carefully stroked the soft fur of her ears. “Changbin will understand,” I said to the puppy who cocked her head to the side as she watched me. “For now you can stay in here until I think of a better way to introduce you.”

Bang Chan was one of those people who never acted like he had enough money to buy the entire city of New York. He was funny and laid back, laughing with everyone despite whether or not they were a big donor or just an employee. He was one of Changbin’s best friends and he always invited the two of us to his parties at his extravagant condo. As an invitation-only affair, Chan’s parties had become the envy of anyone who was denied the opportunity to attend. More often than not, the parties became a friendly get-together which meant that some of Changbin’s other friends would also be attending. But Hyunjin and Felix always drank way too much beer to be considered appropriate for what was deemed a “suit and tie only” event.

“You look gorgeous,” Changbin said as we waited outside the door.

“Well, it’s hard not to look good in this dress,” I said because, despite my refusal, Changbin had insisted on buying it for me. Then again, I still wasn’t quite used to watching Changbin pull out his credit card for something that cost nearly half a million dollars.

“Aren’t you glad I bought it?” Changbin asked, reaching over to finger the delicate lace outlining the dress’ neckline.

“I’ll be even more satisfied when you take it off later,” I said casually, smirking at his sharp inhale as the door suddenly opened to reveal Chan standing on the other side.

“You’re late!” he lightly chastised us, pulling Changbin inside by the hand with more force than necessary. I grinned at the affectionate display, removing my jacket for the server who waited next to the entryway adorned in an elegant suit. “How was the meeting?” Chan asked, making easy conversation as he led us to a nearby waiter holding a tray of flutes filled with champagne.

“They liked the presentation,” Changbin replied, handing me a glass. “I think some of the new trustees favored the last approach.”

“Of course they do,” Chan nodded. “But you know that you can do whatever you want. It’s impossible to satisfy everyone.”

“I know,” Changbin said, curling an arm around my waist to keep me close to his side. Not that I minded considering the sea of unfamiliar faces who all swarmed to Changbin like he was a celebrity. I guess in their world he was, but it might be funny to tell them about how soft he got after I jerked him off under the sheets.

You see, Chan was the general manager of Changbin’s largest hotel and he always did his best to ease the burden that Changbin took responsibility for as he oversaw dozens of hotels and thousands of employees. Felix and Hyunjin also helped where they could, not just as friends but as personal assistants to Changbin at the main office. And I happen to know from experience that nobody made a better cup of coffee than Hwang Hyunjin.

Felix was also dating one of my best friends who I had introduced him to while Changbin and I were still dating, inviting a plus one for the grand opening of his very first hotel expansion. I was surprised when Felix demonstrated just how loving he could be because Changbin often told me horror stories of Felix’s more play boyish tendencies back when they went to college together. However, Felix had been nothing but polite and loving towards my friend since the moment the two first met over a few too many glasses of wine.

“Rina,” I smiled warmly, graciously accepting her invitation to talk outside on Chan’s balcony because the party was suffocating inside.

“Let me see the pictures!” my friend squealed, practically jerking the cell phone from my grasp. “Cute!” Rina declared, scrolling through my camera roll. “And Changbin doesn’t know? I really do admire you.”

“Well, if you were any louder, he might find out,” I said, checking over my shoulder to ensure that Changbin was still in deep conversation with Felix. “I heard you visited Felix’s parents the other day.”

Rina groaned, handing me back my phone. “I’m pretty sure they hate me. I made the worst impression possible.”

“What did you do?” I asked, rolling my eyes because Rina had a tendency to go overboard.

“Well, for one thing, when his mother asked for help with the food, I may have accidentally started a small kitchen fire.”

“You know, it really doesn’t matter if the fire is small or not.”

“Yeah,” Rina agreed sheepishly.

“Does that mean things are okay with between you and Felix?” I took a sip of my wine, thinking my question innocent enough until I heard Rina let out a shaky breath. “What is it?”

Rina shook her head, leaning out over the balcony. “Felix is acting weird these days. He comes home late now and he doesn’t bother paying me much attention.”

“Felix?” I immediately questioned because I wanted to make sure we were talking about the same boy who bought every single bouquet of roses in the flower shop on Main Street for their anniversary.

Rina suddenly moved in closer, eyes carefully ensuring that no voices were potentially listening. “I think Felix is cheating on me.”

“Rina,” I gasped because the accusation was incredibly serious. “Why would you think that? After he just took you home to his parents?”

“I think he just did that because I kept insisting,” Rina huffed. “I’m serious here, Y/N. There’s something going on with him.”

I wracked my brain for any indication that Felix might have said something to offer justification for Rina’s claim. “But how can you be sure?”

“I can’t,” Rina said. “That’s why I’m going into the office tomorrow night.”

“The office?”

“He’s probably meeting her there.”

“Who?”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Rina hissed. “Felix comes home really late all of a sudden and he doesn’t talk to me about why?”

“That’s just how Felix is.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” Rina said, dismissing my comment. “I’m planning to follow him. See what he’s really doing.”

“Rina, this sounds like a horrible idea.”

“As bad as sneaking a dog into Changbin’s apartment?”

“They can’t even be compared,” I exclaimed. “And I plan to tell Changbin about the dog.”

“Good luck with that,” Rina sneered, fingers tapping the side of her wine glass. “Can you at least come with me tomorrow?”

“To spy on Felix?”

“As a precaution,” Rina said as if that improved the situation.

“Rina, you need to trust Felix. I don’t think he would do anything like this to hurt you.”

“Please, Y/N,” Rina said, reaching out for my hand. “Best friends are supposed to come before boys.”

“Don’t use that against me,” I said. “Besides, how do you expect us to just sneak into the office?”

“Leave that to me,” Rina said, patting my shoulder as if to show her appreciation. “Just tell your man that we’re going out for the night.”

“Fine, but you owe me big time.”

Nevertheless, why did it have to be so cold for our impromptu spy mission?

“Don’t say I never did anything nice for you,” I commented dryly, gazing out at Changbin’s office building from across the street. “We’re definitely going to get caught.”

“Not with that attitude,” Rina said. “Are you ready?”

“I suppose I have no choice,” I grumbled.

“Felix didn’t respond to my last message,” Rina said, already making her way out of the car. “But I saw that he was parked in the garage.”

“Changbin’s still here too,” I said with a shiver because I had been desperately hoping that my husband would leave on time for once. However, the moment he found out that I was going out with Rina, he called up Hyunjin and told him that tonight would make a great time to work on their new project. “At least he won’t accidentally wander into the guest bedroom and find Jane in the bathroom.”

“Wouldn’t that be hilarious though?” Rina giggled. “Changbin is going to throw a fit when he finds that dog.”

“He hasn’t noticed anything so far,” I said, although he came very close to suspicion in bed the other night when he realized that something that sounded a lot like barking was emanating through the walls.

“Y/N, you can’t hide that dog forever, but I need your full attention tonight,” Rina said, snapping her fingers while she pointed at the office near the top where Felix worked. “I have someone on the inside who’s gonna help us.”

I had a bad feeling about this mysterious insider that was only confirmed the moment Jeongin stepped outside to greet us at the front. “That figures,” I muttered because Jeongin practically idolized Rina who always showered him in affection. If Rina and Felix weren’t so obviously in love, Jeongin would be the first person to show up on Rina’s doorstep with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Changbin and Hyunjin are in a meeting,” Jeongin explained as he led us to the elevators. “Felix should still be in his office, but he mentioned something about leaving before I came downstairs.”

Jeongin was also Felix’s intern and I highly doubted that he would appreciate the younger’s blatant participation in Rina’s witch hunt. “Perfect,” Rina nodded. “Now tell Y/N about that woman that Felix keeps meeting with.”

Jeongin turned to me with a gasp. “I have no idea who she is, Y/N, but she’s showed up every day this week!”

“See!” Rina exclaimed, waving her hands around like she had suddenly solved the world’s greatest crisis.

“I don’t see anything,” I told her, stoically unmoved when we arrived at our designated floor. “Felix meets with a lot of people. I don’t know if you’re aware, but he kinda works for a pretty big business.”

“We’ll see about that,” Rina declared, heels loudly clicking against the floor as we followed our newly appointed Jeongin tour guide. He led us to one of the desks outside of Felix’s office, searching through some reports until he found what he was looking for, handing it to Rina. “This is the last spreadsheet for all the transactions from Felix’s company credit card.”

“They’re from the same restaurant,” Rina said, reading over the list with narrowed eyes.

“Business meetings,” I said.

“Or, he’s treating this homewrecker to sushi and bad soju,” Rina said. “What else do you have, Jeongin?”

The younger boy obediently knelt down to open another drawer, but let out a little gasp when he jerked on Rina’s arm and forced the two of them on the floor. “Get down!” he hissed, but I reacted late to his sudden warning, realizing my mistake a moment too late when Changbin was already calling my name from somewhere to my right.

“Distract him,” Rina whispered urgently, tugging on my jeans.

I rolled my eyes but tried to put on my best smile when Changbin stopped on the other side of Jeongin’s desk. “Y/N,” he said, clearly surprised to see me. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d visit you on my way home,” I lied smoothly, resisting the urge to kick out at Rina in her vulnerable position.

“Where’s Rina?” he asked, arms flexing enticingly in his tight-fit shirt.

“Probably at home,” I said, before trying on my best pout. “Are you not happy to see me?”

Changbin’s expression immediately softened. “Of course I am, Y/N,” he said. “I’m glad you came by. I’m leaving soon so we can ride home together.”

“Perfect,” I said, stepping away from the desk to eagerly lead Changbin further away from where my best friend was hiding. I also didn’t stop him when his strong arms encouraged me into the firm expanse of his chest, cologne heavy against his neck.

“Do you need anything?” Changbin asked while calling for the elevator.

I glanced over his shoulder at Jeongin who was trying to tell me something, but I quickly determined that he would be really bad at the whisper challenge. “I’m okay,” I said, clutching tightly to his arm as led me downstairs.

Seungmin and Minho were acceptable lunch buddies and despite their near-constant arguing, I still sat with them in the company’s cafeteria, enjoying whatever organic food they planned to serve that day. “How is the puppy, Y/N?” Seungmin asked over a mouthful of potatoes.

“She’s great,” I said, unable to resist a smile at the thought of my charming new friend.

“Does Changbin know?”

“Not yet,” I said, hesitantly poking at my salad. “But I have a plan to fix that tonight.”

“Is that so?” Minho butted in, studying me from across the table. “Maybe he could buy you a new apartment across the city.”

“That’s not necessary,” I said. “Because I plan to thoroughly convince him.”

“Sounds like an innuendo to me,” Minho said, reaching out for my hand. “Congratulations, Y/N, you’ve finally figured out the real purpose of marriage.”

“Manipulation,” Seungmin concluded.

“Stop it you two,” I groaned. “I’m not manipulating Changbin.”

“Seduction sounds like manipulation to me.”

“I’m merely encouraging him to change his mind,” I said, ignoring their unnecessary commentary.

“By dicking him down, I get it,” Minho nodded. “I’ve done the same things to my girlfriends.”

“No wonder you’re still single,” Seungmin said earning him a flick across his forehead. “Ow!”

“I’m sure Changbin has affection for animals somewhere deep down inside,” I continued. “He’ll be so much happier with a dog around the apartment.”

“Or he’ll be really furious,” Seungmin said. “I guess if you really need to return the puppy, I can always take her back.”

“No,” I whined at the thought. “We’ve already bonded.”

“Well, if it comes down between your bond with man’s best friend and the man, which would you rather choose?” Minho asked.

I really hated them both sometimes.

There were three things that Seo Changbin truly loved: 1. His family 2. His wife and 3. His wife in lingerie. Which is exactly what he was going to get the moment he stepped inside that door. Because tonight, I needed to do everything in my power to appeal to him.

I nodded in satisfaction as I studied my appearance in the floor-length mirror in our bedroom, adjusting the thin fabric of my stockings as they ran up the expanse of my thighs, attached to the garter belt Changbin had bought me for my birthday. Once I was satisfied, I tugged on a silky black robe, loosely tying the belt around the middle. “Perfect,” I declared.

Next, I made sure that Changbin’s favorite food was ready, table set with our finest cutlery. I also pulled out his favorite wine, filling two glasses while keeping the bottle cool in a bucket of ice. Finally, I lit a few candles around the table and the perimeter of the dining room, trying for a romantic mood since Changbin was secretly a huge fun of those extravagances.

“Do it for Jane, Y/N,” I whispered to myself, flinching when I heard the sound of Changbin’s key in the lock.

My husband called out my name and I directed him to the dining room, pleased when his eyes immediately froze on my attire. “Y/N?”

“Binnie,” I grinned, taking a seat on the edge of the table, kicking out one of the chairs as an invitation. “I made your favorite.”

Changbin tugged at the tie messily wrapped around his collar, taking my hint and planting himself down next to me. One hand caressed my exposed leg through the fabric of my robe while he looked up at me with dark eyes. “What’s all this for?”

“For you, of course,” I smiled, reaching back to grab a strawberry, holding it up to his lips.

Changbin took the offered fruit, eyes never leaving mine. “Is there something you want, Y/N?”

Changbin knew me too well, but I kept up the act, sliding down the table and into his lap. My thighs were planted on either side of his body and Changbin delicately traced the lace lining of my stockings to the place where they disappeared beneath fabric. “Does there have to be a reason?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“No,” Changbin agreed, eager hands working the belt of my robe. “But there usually is.” He was silent for a moment as he drew the sleeves down my shoulders, leaving me completely on display for his eyes to leisurely explore. “You can tell me, honey.”

“I can?” I asked breathlessly, planting kisses across his forehead while his fingers dug into my ass to pull me even closer.

“Whatever you want,” Changbin agreed, hands smoothing across the skin of my stomach while he started to slowly grind his hips against mine. He was impossibly hard beneath the tight material of his fitted slacks, cock moving perfectly in time with the little moans he forced out of me. I was practically drooling at the thought of Changbin’s cock, stretching my lips across the head and tasting his precum.

“Binnie,” I gasped, jittery fingers working apart the buttons on his shirt to reveal the smooth skin of his chest, groping my hands against his defined pectoral muscles.

“Yeah, baby?” he said, reaching up to taste my lips. “You want me to fuck you on the table?”

“Please,” I whimpered, holding onto his biceps to feel his impossible strength while he practically manhandled me into place, looming over my trembling body while his eyes made a luxury trip of exploring my exposed skin. I wrapped my legs around his waist to encourage him closer, wanting nothing more than to feel his cock...

“Did you hear that?”

I froze under him, detecting resistance from Changbin whose eyes were now devoid of lust as he lifted his head in concentration. It was then that I heard it, an alarmingly loud whine from Jane in the guest bedroom which was suddenly way too close to ignore.

Changbin immediately stopped everything he was doing. “Please tell me you can hear it too?”

“Hear what?” I asked nervously, attempting to draw his attention back to me and it might have worked had Jane not decided to let out a series of playful barks and I suddenly regretted leaving her alone with a new toy.

“It’s something,” Changbin said, tone much darker as he ordered me to unwrap my legs from their vicelike grip around his waist. I obeyed hesitantly because my plan was falling apart at the seams and I had a bad feeling about what might happen next.

Slowly, I followed him as he marched to the guest bedroom, opening the door like a man on a mission. And I doubt I’ll ever forget the way Jane immediately darted from the bathroom, sniffing Changbin’s shoes before waddling in my direction, plastic bone hanging from her mouth. “Y/N,” Changbin said, watching me as I picked up Jane off the floor. “Do you mind explaining to me why there’s a dog in the guest room?”

“It’s nothing bad,” I said, holding even tighter to Jane. “I may have adopted her-”

“What!” Changbin cut me off with a sharp interrogative. “How long has it been living here?”

“She,” I corrected him, “has been living here for a week or so...”

“A week!” Changbin exclaimed. “You’ve kept a dog hidden in here for a week?”

“Well, I didn’t plan on hiding her forever,” I said, fingers moving nervously through Jane’s soft fur.

“Get rid of it,” Changbin barked, looking every bit the intimidating CEO whose annual salary easily eclipsed my entire family net worth.

“Changbin,” I said softly. “Please don’t say that.”

“This is my house,” Changbin growled. “And I will not have it trashed by that thing.”

“I thought it was my house too?” I asked with narrowed eyes.

Changbin seemed taken aback, but he was not deterred for long. “Of course it is, but you know I don’t want any animals living here.”

“But she’s really clean,” I said. “And I’m training her every day!”

“I don’t care,” Changbin snapped. “I want to see it gone tomorrow morning, do you understand?”

“Changbin,” I whimpered, eyes clouding with the promise of tears. “You said you’d give me whatever I want.”

I know it sounds selfish, but I was growing increasingly desperate as it became more and more apparent that Changbin had already made up his mind. “I meant something like clothes, Y/N,” Changbin said. “Not a living pest.”

“She’s not a pest,” I insisted. “Jane is really sweet.”

“Oh great, you’ve named it,” Changbin grumbled, reaching for his cellphone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Animal control,” Changbin muttered and I immediately reacted.

“Don’t call them!” I exclaimed. “At least give her a better home than that horrible place.”

“Then find her one,” Changbin said. “You get one week before I handle it myself.”

“What an asshole,” I snarled.

“I agree,” Rina nodded, offering Jane a few treats when my puppy clambered onto the sofa next to us. In spite of Changbin’s dismissal, I found a refugee for both myself and Jane in Rina’s shared apartment with Felix. “I don’t see what the big deal is anyway. Changbin can’t possibly be that averse to something so cute.”

“It’s not like I brought home a child,” I said, frowning at my phone screen when Changbin sent yet another text message. “I hope he knows I’m not coming home tonight. If he kicks Jane out, then I’m leaving too.”

“You can keep me company instead,” Rina said. “Felix never comes around anymore so it’s just like college again.”

“Except we have more than just ramen in the kitchen.”

“Not to mention this sweetie,” Rina added, lifting Jane into her arms. “Who needs a man around anyway?”

“At least your man is okay with Jane living here for a few days,” I said. “I guess I’ll have to ask Seungmin to take her back.”

“You shouldn’t have to, Y/N,” Rina sighed. “It’s unfortunate that Changbin hates the puppies. I’d even keep Jane for myself but I think she’d be much happier with someone who isn’t prone to forgetting to even feed herself.”

I snorted. “That would be better than the pound. Can you believe he tried to call animal control?”

“Seo Changbin?” Rina snickered. “Nothing he does surprises me. This is the same person who rented out an entire restaurant just to propose to you.”

“Don’t bring up our happy memories,” I complained. “I’m supposed to be mad at him right now.”

“Then be mad at him,” Rina shrugged. “Honestly speaking, if he can’t see how important this is to you, then he doesn’t deserve to call you his wife in the first place.”

“This isn’t a deal-breaker,” I said. “I just wish he would understand how I feel.”

“Analytical types like Changbin are incapable of empathy,” Rina said. “It’s a proven fact, Y/N. He’ll still think he’s right when the two of you are retired somewhere in a tropical paradise.”

“Ugh, he’s so stubborn.”

“Takes after his mother in that regard,” Rina said. “Remember at your wedding? She bawled her eyes out after giving that horrible speech where she basically implied that you were stealing away her only son.”

“She’s the mistress of Evil,” I nodded. “They share that characteristic. Both of them can be downright mean when they want to be.”

“I guess that’s why Changbin has been so successful,” Rina said. “Still doesn’t take away from the fact that he sometimes seems to forget you're his wife and not a stockholder.”

I let out a deep breath. “What about you and Felix?”

“Oh, he’s still distant and I’m half-way convinced that I’m being replaced by a supermodel with bigger tits.”

“I don’t think Felix would be that shallow.”

“I know,” Rina said, palming her breasts through her shirt. “They’re pretty big, right?”

“He doesn’t care about that,” I said. “And if I wasn’t so pissed at Changbin, I might ask him about this mystery girl.”

“We’ll have to go through the middle man,” she said, offering me a knowing look.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” we both agreed in perfect synchronization.

Luring Hyunjin out of the office building was as easy as promising a free lunch at his favorite restaurant. And when Hyunjin discovered that he would be meeting with both myself and Rina, he immediately jumped at the opportunity. Because Hwang Hyunjin was one of the most overdramatic people I knew and he never missed an opportunity to ensconce himself in everyone else's problems. “You know, Y/N,” he said through a sip of wine. “It would be nice if you at least pretended to like Changbin. He’s always intolerable at the office whenever the two of you fight.”

“I can’t even pretend to like him right now,” I said. “And, if you feel so inclined, you can pass on the message to him that I won’t be coming home tonight.”

“Oh, I can’t do that,” Hyunjin said, but it was impossible to miss the spark of mischief in his eyes. “Should I?”

“You can kick Changbin’s ass for all we care,” Rina said, already working through her third glass of chardonnay.

“But, of course, that’s not the reason we invited you here,” I said, earning me a curious look in return.

“It’s about Felix,” Rina said through gritted teeth. “And don’t bother trying to cover for him, Hyunjin, because you’re a terrible liar.”

“What did he do wrong this time?” Hyunjin scoffed, seemingly indifferent as he took a bite of his organic salad.

“That blonde he keeps meeting in the office,” Rina said, always ready to get straight to the matter at hand. “Who the hell is she?”

Hyunjin visibly blanched, choking on his current mouthful while desperately trying to wash down the rest of his glass. “What?”

“The. Blonde,” Rina repeated. “I know everything, so don’t try to hide the truth from me.”

“If you knew everything, you wouldn’t be asking me,” Hyunjin pointed out.

“Just tell me who she is!” Rina exclaimed, loud enough to attract the attention of several tables.

Hyunjin wilted under their accusatory stares. “I can’t tell you.”

“Hwang Hyunjin,” Rina started, hands clasping the edge of the table. “Don’t you dare try to cover up your friend’s extracurricular affairs.”

“Felix isn’t cheating on you,” Hyunjin snapped. “I can’t believe you would even think that.”

“It’s not hard to,” Rina defended herself, “when everyone is walking on eggshells around me. I feel like I’m in the middle of something but I’m not even allowed to know what it is!”

“Rina,” Hyunjin tried again, tone visibly calmer. “Trust me on this. Felix isn’t cheating on you and everything will start to make a lot of sense.”

I studied my friend, but she seemed completely unmoved, expression fierce as she glared down at her untouched plate of food.

My mother’s house was located almost an hour away from where Changbin and I lived in the city. My visits were less frequent because of the combination of distance and my inability to leave work early because Jisung couldn’t handle the office without me. But, since I needed someone to take care of Jane, I knew my mother might be the best solution. She also didn’t hesitate when I asked to spend the night away from Changbin. However, my mother was prone to exceeding selfishness when it came to spending time with me.

In any case, it was the last time I would be able to get away with my nightly escapades because Rina had brought me an invitation that morning to join herself, Felix, and several of their friends for a getaway at the beach. I reluctantly agreed to come since Felix insisted that it was important and Rina demanded she has her “partner in crime” next to her side all weekend. But I would be expected to share a room with Changbin which meant we would either argue even more or ignore each other awkwardly at every available opportunity.

The last time Changbin and I went anywhere with Felix and Rina was back when Changbin first started the company. We ended up stuck inside our hotel because it rained endlessly for the entire week we visited the Florida Keys. On the plus side, I did manage to watch a lot of good movies at the theatre, including a horror classic that was made even better when Changbin decided to stick his hand up my skirt. I’m pretty sure the couple next to us knew exactly what we were doing, and it was worth it to watch their expressions when I accidentally moaned during an intense scene involving a ghost and a clueless teenager.

Nevertheless, I usually loved going on trips with Changbin because he always planned the best surprises. Too bad he had already ruined this one because of his, for lack of a better term, “assholish” tendencies. And poor Jane shouldn’t have to suffer along with everyone else just because my husband hated cute animals.

“Y/N,” my mother grinned brightly, encouraging me inside while I carried Jane in my arms. “Isn’t she adorable!”

“At least some people think so,” I grumbled, putting Jane on the floor so that she could make herself comfortable.

“I can’t believe Changbin told you to get rid of her.”

“Really?” I huffed, leaning against the wall. “You were the one that warned me he would be, and I quote, a pompous ass.”

“Well,” my mother grimaced, “I thought he might prove me wrong.”

“And I’ll be stuck in the same room with him all weekend,” I groaned. “Felix and Rina owe me big time.”

“Or,” my mother allowed, “maybe you should thank them. The trip is a good opportunity to put this argument to rest.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Honestly, Y/N, I know he was harsh, but you’re the one who went and got a dog behind his back. Plus, Jane can just stay here with me. It gives you a good excuse to visit more often.”

“You’re only saying that because you got a cute new puppy,” I muttered.

“Sweetheart,” my mother cooed, carefully guiding me to the counter. “I’ll always have your back, and I’d like to believe that I’m still the only person who can take care of you, but I think Changbin stole that title a long time ago.”

“He’s just infuriating sometimes,” I said.

My mother laughed. “All men are, Y/N, and you know you’ll have fights with Changbin. That’s what married couples do. The important thing is that the two of you can always come back together and forgive, even if the matter at hand is this cute.”

I grinned when my mother reached down to collect Jane into her arms. “I still don’t get how someone can hate a puppy.”

“Perhaps not hate,” my mother said. “But you should respect his opinion, even if you don’t agree with it.”

“He never asks me for anything,” I sighed. “I guess I made this into a bigger deal than it needed to be.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, you definitely get that from me,” my mother said. “Now, about you spending the night...”

“Yeah, I get it,” I grumbled. “I should go back home.”

“It’s not exactly mature of you to run away from him,” my mother pointed out as if I didn’t already feel guilty enough. “And it only makes it that much harder to fix things when you keep avoiding them.”

“Fine, I’ll go home,” I said, pulling out my phone to send Changbin a brief message. “You’re all wise and old now.”

My mother frowned. “Sweetheart, I don’t consider myself old.”

“Mom, the last time we went shopping, you had me come pick you up at the mall entrance because you didn’t feel like walking to the car.”

“Well, everyone has those days,” my mother said. “In any case, I should find somewhere for Jane to stay. Her mom is certainly welcome to come over any time.”

“Pretty sure her mom is Seungmin, but I appreciate the thought,” I said, lifting Jane from the ground to bring her closer. “You won’t forget about me, right?”

Jane considered with wide eyes before cautiously offering me a small lick on the cheek. “Yeah, I think we can make this work.”

Changbin’s car was already parked in his usual spot when I pulled into the complex. I was hoping he would stay at the office longer, but he probably left the moment he received my message. Straightening the hem of my skirt, I carefully entered the apartment, inwardly groaning when I could hear the sounds of the TV from the living room. I was still quiet when I shuffled across the carpet, but apparently, Changbin had been waiting on me. “Babe,” he murmured quietly as I passed by the couch.

Whispering a curse, I turned around to look at Changbin whose eyes were struggling to open as if he had been asleep when I came home. “Sorry,” I said in return, forcing my eyes to look away from his exposed chest, firm edges made softer under the light from the LED screen.

I made my way to our bedroom, deciding to pack as efficiently as possible because I was starting to get a headache which meant I wanted nothing more than to pass out on the bed. “Y/N,” Changbin spoke up softly, lingering by the door as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “How was your mother?”

“Fine,” I answered shortly, moving around our bedroom as quickly as possible because I was determined to avoid any sort of conversation with Changbin, cramming my t-shirts into the stupid designer suitcase he had bought for me.

“Are you tired?” he asked, looking irresistible with his messy hair and puffy cheeks.

“Yeah,” I said, carefully zipping my suitcase closed. I brought it next to his at the side of our dresser.

Changbin took a few more steps into the room, pausing next to the bed while I changed clothes quickly. “Is it alright if I sleep with you tonight?”

I really wanted to tell him, no, but it was rather difficult to refuse him when he was being sweet. At least he obviously understood that he was wrong for screaming at me like I was one of his assistants instead of his wife. “You can,” I told him, already pulling back the sheets of the comforter.

And I didn’t even resist when he climbed in behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist because he liked to keep me close in bed. “Y/N,” he whispered in my ear, fingers curling with mine. “You can keep the dog when we get back.”

“Binnie,” I murmured, attempting to protest because I wasn’t expecting Changbin to give in so easily. He really does give me whatever I want.

“It’s alright,” Changbin said, tenderly squeezing my waist, breath warm against the back of my neck. “We can talk about it later.” The combination of his familiar presence and the lovely feel of his fingers pulling through my hair was enough to lure me into a much-needed sleep.

Early morning flights were a pain in the ass and I was no exception to the demonizing effects of insomnia, especially when I felt guilty because Changbin had agreed to let me keep Jane only after I avoided him for several days. We didn’t talk about it on the drive to the airport. In fact, we didn’t talk much at all as Changbin turned up the volume on the radio while he drove with tired eyes. It had probably been difficult for him to take the whole weekend off for Felix’s getaway trip, and I hadn’t bothered to ask him how he was feeling.

Felix and Rina were waiting for us at the security line when we arrived with a few minutes to spare. Apparently, Hyunjin and Chan were already at the loading gate since they had arrived much earlier than everyone else. “It’s been a while since we’ve gone out of town together,” Rina remarked as she pulled me away from Changbin, leaving him to talk quietly with Felix.

“Excluding the first beach disaster?”

“Definitely,” Rina agreed, tossing an arm around my shoulders. “I convinced Felix to switch tickets with you. Now, my best friend can sit next to me instead.”

I nodded in reply since I had actually been looking forward to an opportunity to talk with Changbin on the airplane. It was probably best for both of us if we talked about what happened. Because the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was a rather stupid argument that definitely could have been avoided if I had been less inconsiderate of Changbin’s feelings. They might seem irrational, but they mattered and that’s all I could think about for the entirety of our flight to the island.

And if I thought I’d get a chance to talk to him when we landed, I was proven wrong. Because Felix enforced a tight schedule, barely allowing any of us to get settled in at the resort before he was already ordering us to change into something comfortable for the beach. The hotel itself was situated right on the shoreline, busy with fellow travelers looking to enjoy what was already becoming a gorgeous afternoon. And since Changbin happened to own the place, we were treated to the best care with a constant presence of wait staff who brought us drinks and food. “You get five stars, Changbin,” Rina remarked as she sat between Felix’s legs on his beach chair. “I see why everybody makes a big deal out of your expensive hotels now.”

“You’re welcome,” Changbin grumbled from where the two of us were situated on a comfortable beach towel. Changbin had long since dismissed his t-shirt, tentatively requesting that I apply a generous amount of sunscreen to his skin. And no matter how I felt towards Changbin, I would never turn down the opportunity to run my hands against the gorgeous muscles that supplied his well-built torso.

In the meantime, Hyunjin and Chan were arguing about whether or not the hotel in New York needed the same kind of luxury swimming pool that the six of us had spotted on our way outside. “If I knew they would be this loud, I would have left them behind,” Felix said, sunglasses resting on the brim of his nose.

“It’s Hyunjin, what did you expect?” Rina said, watching the two older boys bicker.

I nodded vacantly, growing tried from the influence of the sun. “What’s this surprise all about, Felix?” Rina asked her boyfriend, eyebrow raised in question.

Changbin jumped from his spot in front of me and I was startled when I realized I had massaged over his nipples. “You’ll see,” Felix said, a proud smirk making him look just as mischievous as he had been when we first met.

I couldn’t see Rina’s reaction since her glasses obscured most of her face. “Are you really going to keep me waiting?”

“Just until tonight, love,” Felix said, reassuring her with a gentle kiss that had my heart aching in my chest for Changbin despite him being in such close proximity.

I spent most of the early evening with Rina, wasting time shopping as we waited for our dinner reservations. “What do you think?” Rina asked, holding up a sundress that barely fell below her thighs.

“No,” I said, returning my attention to the magazine in front of me.

“Changbin has made you way too conservative,” she griped before disappearing back into the changing room. “But you seemed more relaxed around him today.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I think I owe him an apology.”

“What for?” Rina asked. “He’s the one who almost sent for animal control to handle an innocent puppy.”

“I never should have tried to hide Jane in the first place,” I said. “Changbin doesn’t ask for much and I should have respected his preference.”

“Wow, since when have you grown up?” Rina asked, re-emerging from the dressing room. “That’s awfully mature of you.”

“I love him,” I nodded. “And that means more to me than anything else in the world.”

“Including me?” Rina feigned hurt while dramatically falling against a nearby display of sneakers.

I rolled my eyes, checking the time on my phone. “We should probably meet the others.”

“Alright,” Rina grumbled. “But I’m afraid of what Felix might say at dinner.”

“What makes you think it’s a bad thing?” I asked.

“Where have you been, Y/N? Don’t you remember all the drama? Felix avoiding me? Coming home late? Does any of this ring a bell?”

“I thought you moved on from that.”

“Never,” Rina insisted while curling her arm through mine. “I’m still on high alert.”

“You know how Felix can get sometimes,” I said.

“Of course I do! But he’s never acted like this before,” Rina insisted.

“Well, maybe you’ll get your answers tonight,” I said, leading her into the crowded seafood restaurant on the lower level of the hotel.

It must have bee massively popular because guests were patiently waiting in large parties scrambled throughout the main lobby. Rina and I fought our way to the hostess, allowing her to check our reservation before graciously leading us further away from the rampant group of hungry customers who were all attempting to talk over one another. Instead, the hostess brought us to a private room, clearly the work of Seo Changbin, where the others were already seated.

“Finally!” Hyunjin exclaimed. “Felix wouldn’t let us order until you got here.”

Felix ignored his friend, pulling out a chair for Rina. I could tell he was visibly nervous which was certainly concerning because Felix was one of the most confident people I knew. He was the friend in Changbin’s board meetings who was never shy about speaking up. The one person you could always rely on to sweet talk an additional 5% off our coffee bill in the main lobby because he only had to smile at the poor cashier working the register.

I glanced over at Changbin who was busy scanning the menu in front of him. Changbin didn’t seem worried at all which was reassuring, although it definitely didn’t mean that Felix necessarily told Changbin what he was planning for tonight. And the longer I studied the younger boy fidgeting in his seat, the more curious I became.

“You know, Chan,” Hyunjin said. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring that girl with you. Aren’t the two of you moving in together?”

I perked up at this new information. “Chan has a serious girlfriend?”

Chan and I had known each other for several years, but I was starting to conclude that the older man was planning to stay single for the rest of his life. Not that Chan didn’t make an elegant bachelor because the combination of his appealing good-looks, charming accent, and accumulating wealth was enough to cement his status. But then again, it might be nice to see Chan in a committed relationship because he would make the best father.

“It’s not that serious,” Chan said bashfully, ears tipped in red as he glanced around for the waitress.

“Whatever,” Hyunjin huffed, glancing between Felix and Rina with a barely concealed smirk. “You guys look great together.”

Felix glared at his friend. “You’re determined to spoil everything, aren’t you?”

“What does that mean?” Rina inquired, studying Felix curiously.

“Nothing,” Hyunjin said, immediately turning to me and Changbin. “Are the two of you still fighting?”

“Hyunjin,” I growled his name, determined once and for all that Hyunjin was intentionally trying to stir up more drama for his viewing pleasure.

“We’re alright,” Changbin said in a surprisingly gentle voice, one arm coming to rest across the back of my chair. “Here,” Changbin said, pulling my plate closer so that he could cut a few pieces of steak for me. “Your favorite.”

I blushed at his kindness, stuffing my mouth full of tender meant to avoid having to say anything in return. Thankfully, Felix was more than ready to interrupt our moment, abruptly standing up from his chair with a glass of wine in hand. “Everyone,” he said, immediately silencing our small party. “I have something to announce.”

I glanced over at Rina from the corner of my eyes, watching as she drew her bottom lip between her teeth. A nervous habit she picked up from countless nights of writing 10,000-word essays for our history seminar. “Rina,” Felix said, addressing my friend. “We’ve been together for a while.”

Rina nodded, seemingly frozen in place. At least until Felix dropped down onto one knee next to her, pulling out a beautiful gold-encrusted wedding band with diamonds circling the outside. “Marry me.”

My expression of shock likely mirrored Rina’s while Hyunjin clapped like a maniac from across the table. “Thank god! The secret is finally out!”

“Felix,” Rina finally managed, eyes growing cloudy with the promise of tears while she held out a shaky hand. Felix gently accepted her outstretched limb, sliding the ring into place on her finger.

“I’ll consider that a yes.”

I immediately turned to Changbin who was watching the two of them with fond eyes. It was quite obvious that he also knew about the proposal and I admired my husband’s ability to help his friend make this weekend so special. Changbin met my gaze with a beautiful smile, reaching underneath the table to take my hand without hesitation.

It was late when the six of us finally left the restaurant, listening to Rina gush over her new ring while clinging to Felix’s side persistently. Changbin and I lingered at the back, shoulders brushing with every step while keeping our pinky fingers interlocked between us. “That woman!” Rina suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a familiar blonde standing behind the concierge counter.

“She’s the hotel’s general manager,” Felix explained, sending a wave in her direction.

“Oh,” Rina said dumbly and my friend was very rarely caught off-guard. I definitely couldn’t wait to offer her a well-deserved “I told you so” when we met for breakfast in the morning. However, for the time being, I wanted nothing more than to go back to the room with Changbin.

“I can’t thank her enough,” Felix continued. “She’s been very helpful when it came to planning all of this.”

“Really?”

“She deserves a raise, Changbin,” Felix said, nudging his friend as the six of us broke off into smaller groups as we returned to our assigned rooms.

“Congratulations, Rina,” I said to my friend, watching her join Felix in the suite across from ours.

I waited until we were truly alone before I closed the door quietly, turning around to find Changbin fiddling with the lock on his Rolex. “Let me,” I said quietly, gliding across the floor to handle the delicate switch with nimble fingers.

“Thanks,” Changbin said, dropping the watch on top of the nightstand.

��Changbin,” I spoke up hesitantly. “I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

My husband shrugged, broad shoulders tense against the fit of his shirt. “It’s alright, Y/N.”

“No, it’s not,” I said, reaching out for his wrist to turn him around. “You didn’t deserve that, especially over something that was my fault to begin with.”

Changbin sighed, tugging me closer against him. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

I pressed my forehead against the center of his chest. “You never ask me for much. In fact, you’re always the one who gives the most in our relationship. I should have respected your opinion. Instead, I went behind your back and I’ve felt guilty about it for the entire trip.”

“There’s no need for that,” Changbin insisted, fingers curling through my hair. “We’ve both made mistakes, but I can never stay mad at you for long.”

“I’ll let my mom have the dog,” I said, pressing my fingers against his plush lips before he could interrupt. “I’m serious. She’s much happier with Jane. Maybe, later on, we could try something smaller? Like a hamster!”

Changbin grimaced at the thought and I laughed at his expression. “Unless you just want me all to yourself.”

“That’s not it,” Changbin sighed. “I just don’t want that responsibility. Plus, I really don’t like the idea of a dog or cat in the apartment.”

“Well, I can always visit my mom when I want to see Jane,” I said, reaching up to fix the messy strands of his hair. “See? A compromise.”

Changbin smirked, leaning down for a kiss. “You make a better negotiator than I do. Maybe you should be in charge of the board.”

“I’ll let you handle things,” I said, running my hands along his stomach to the waistband of his jeans.

“I meant it when I said I would do anything to make you happy,” Changbin whispered against my hair. “Even if that means I have to fill the apartment with dogs.”

I grinned. “I like what we have now, Changbin.”

“That’s so cheesy,” he accused me, laughing when I whined in response. “I love you, Y/N,” he said.

“I love you too,” I said. “You’re basically just a giant puppy anyway.”

Changbin grunted as his hands gripped the back of my thighs. “Please don’t say that when I’ve already started making plans to fuck you until you’re screaming my name.”

I shivered at his seductive promise. “Oh yeah? I guess you’ll just have to prove it to me.”

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #seo changbin #seo changbin fanfic #seo changbin smut

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iwantitiwriteit · 4 years

Text

Love Lockdown - Part 4

Begin Again

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: You and Chris have your first serious conversation after being apart for the first few weeks of lockdown.

Warnings: Angst, Pandemic backdrop, Profanity, dash of Fluff, sprinkle of Sexual suggestiveness

Notes: Another In My Feelings Monday™ yesterday! Hopefully there’ll be more musings as the weeks go on, but I loved the whimsy the mindset added to me day! 🥰 This part y’all! Whew! Tried to get as much angsty good tension in there as I could muster-- I won’t rest until we’re all bawling lol Read the previous part here!

Let it be known, that for a professional writer, you were shit with words.

Though you were a force with pen to paper, fingertips to keyboard, and a mirage of emotions… maybe some wine, when it came to verbal expression, you were more tongue-tied than a motherfu—

“What do you mean?”

Your mouth is dry as it opens and closes like a fish out of water, a lame attempt at finding the words to answer Chris’ valid question.

“Baby, please talk to me. What do you mean ‘you don’t wanna do this… with me’?”

His heart is on the fritz. His mind is everywhere and nowhere. Chris decides to focus on what he sees, what is real, like that will do him any better. Seeing the soft lines of your face tensed into sharp, anguished angles and you’re hugging yourself so tightly only makes him want to replace your arms with his.

To Chris, you’ve never seemed to need his help, though. You seemed strong, self-sufficient, self-healing, even. He loved and admired that about you. How you didn’t need, but just wanted him around. But if he thought too hard about it, it scared him. He wanted you to want him as much as he wanted you. He’s never really been sure of how much you wanted him. You also seemed to struggle with saying how you felt. The one thing he was probably too good at. The one thing he could help you with.

But he’s the one who’s got the two of you thousands of miles away from each other. Now, you’re having this make or break your relationship discussion over FaceTime. He doesn’t get to do that. He doesn’t get to jump in. Might not be the worst thing in the world, considering all his efforts of jumping to “make things right” in the past few months have landed you both in your current situation.

His options are limited now. It feels like his hands are tied behind his back, and you’ve got your finger on his chest. Will you use the slightest force to push him away forever, or open your palms and bring him closer to you?

Chris is trying his best to maintain composure, but his voice is giving him away as he asks one last time, ‘what do you mean?’.

You, too, are trying to remain composed.

You’re not entirely sure what you meant, but felt compelled to say it. You’re trying to be vulnerable and let your heart speak for once, so aware of the discomfort in your chest that your arms are crossed tightly over it. You weren’t one to let your heart move on it’s on volition, finding it smarter and more self-preserving to let your brain take the wheel. Your aversion mostly coming from what it makes you look like. Take your state at this moment: lip quivering, throat constricting, eyes burning, and rimming with tears. On the verge of being a mess.

You always hated when people cried in uncomfortable situations. “It’s a cheap shot,” you’d say, feeling like it wasn’t fair to make the other person feel bad. You refuse to cry. Instead, you screw your eyes shut, and take a few deep breaths. There’s an intense white noise in your head keeping you from thinking straight. Maybe taking a moment will give you some clarity.

After a few seconds, your senses come back to the room. You hear the rustling of wind outside the window in front of you, the hum of the A/C, and Chris shuffling on his end of this caustic call. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes just yet, but you found your bearings enough to speak.

“Ok…” Your eyes finally meet Chris’ eyes through the camera. He’s poorly holding back his pain in those ocean blue eyes of his. You consider backtracking, engaging your filter. You could ease his mind like always, telling him “never mind” or “it’s nothing”. You could just let him speak like always. He’s always been better with his words. You loved and admired that about him.

He always seems to know how to poetically and intellectually verbalize exactly how he feels, be it about a movie he’d seen, a tweet he read, a song he heard, a woman he loved. A woman he probably was tired of her tongue-tied bullshit. Not that you weren’t a little exhausted from his B.S. You could just let him break up with you, say “ok”, and go your separate ways. A nice, clean break. The hell it would be. You’d be wrecked, you just know it.

But your sister’s words from a moment ago ring in your head:

It’s good to feel. It’s okay to show it sometimes, too. Especially with the ones who showed and proved they won’t judge you for it.

Chris has never judged you. Maybe it’ll be ok to lose composure just a little, halt your filter for just a second or two.

“Chris, I don’t wanna do this with you— this acting like strangers, acting like nothing’s wrong. This hurting each other, but still holding on to each other? I don’t wanna do that to you. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry that I hurt you. That I let contempt build up until I explode instead of just talking to you about what I was feeling. I understand if—“ you take a breath to keep calm and keep your emotive stride, “I know what you wanted to talk about, and I understand.”

“What do you think I wanna talk about?”

“I—” your filter kicks back in as you hold back your thoughts. Despite your front, you hadn’t fully come terms with it. Saying it would make it real, and you weren’t ready for that.

“You thought what?” His tone was slightly accusatory, causing you to cover your face with your hands, engulfing you in embarrassment over your doubts as you realize that ending your relationship was not what Chris wanted to do. You let out a baited breath, as you drop your hands. You had nothing to say, casting your eyes down to your twirling thumbs in your lap.

Chris’ eyes grow ever so slightly wider as his jaw relaxes and lips form into the slightest frown. “I would… I would never…” he stutters out. Chris goes to bring his hand down his face, a subconscious tick for when he’s exasperated, but stops short with the thought in his mind of germs and viruses and fucking Corona. He’s settled on a sigh, it all settling in the difficulty of everything in life at the moment. It’s exhausting.

You’re hurting. He’s hurting. It feels like a never ending cycle. But he’s determined to break the cycle.

“Do you remember what I said that night in my kitchen? Back in December?” All you could respond with was a nod, your eyes still fixated on your lap. December’s events still left a little bit of a bad taste in your mouth, but with each passing day you were sure you were getting over it. “Well, I fucking meant it.” Slowly, you raise your head to your screen. Chris looks like a wounded puppy that’s still game to play.

“And I should be the one apologizing. Obviously I haven't been doing the best job of living up to my words from that night. I’m sorry.” Then you couldn’t help it. But what would one tear hurt? Chris clocked the tiny droplet streaking your glowing cheeks. His soft smile at it was so small and so brief before he continued. “I never meant to hurt you with my ignorance. But I did, and I’m doing the work and the reading to be better. What happened when you were here should’ve never happened, but I made it worse by not listening to you, really listening to you, and—“

“My love,” your voice stops Chris mid-ramble. That pet name. He hasn’t heard it from you in a long time. Too long, in fact. Hearing it now almost makes his heart burst. “You’ve got to stop beating yourselves up about it.”

“But aren’t you mad?” He was projecting.

“Mad about what happened? Yeah, kinda. Mad at you? No… not anymore. I stopped being mad as soon as you did listen to me, really listen to me,” you echo his words. A small smile graces your lips, and you’re able to coax one onto his. For a moment it’s sweet. You then notice his smile disappear as the gears in his head start to overwork again.

“But then I did it again! With the shitty shit with my shitty friends. I’m sorry for my shitty friends.”

“I feel sorry for them too,” you joke with a tentative smirk.

Chris laughs, appreciating that you’re able to find humor in any moment. His chest feels a little lighter now. He thinks back to your earlier statement. “I agree; I don’t wanna do this. Cos it just feels like I’ll lose you, and I don’t want that. I want you. For as long as you’ll have me. Can you forgive me for all the stupid shit I’ve done in past few months?”

“As long as you can pardon my behavior as well.”

“Of course. I love you.”

“I love you,” you stress to him.

Chris places his arms on the table, leaning into the camera, his gorgeous face taking up more of your screen. He’s got a sort of glossed over look in his eyes as he says matter-of-fact-ly, “I wish I could kiss you right now.” There’s no suggestiveness, just a statement of a very pure desire. Yet, your face heats up at his words. You take a quick glance down and bite your bottom lip to hide your smile.

“It’s too bad you can’t.”

“I know, I know. That’s my own fault.”

“Not gonna fight you on that.” you lightheartedly say. At least you meant it that way. Although he should’ve expected it and is usually a good sport with digs, it still… stings. He grimaces and you know that it’s just too soon.

“But maybe…” your low, sultry tone brings his attention back to you, “you could…” you purr slowly and suggestively as you lean into your computer while pouting your lip.

Chris raises his brows as his jaw slacks. “Yeah…?”

Your mischievous smile is met with his eager one. “KISS ME THROUGH THE PHONE?!” You belt out the familiar melody, shocking Chris to point that he jumps a little in his seat. You’re in stitches, clutching your chest. You hadn’t laughed this hard in a while. You get a good belly laugh out of Chris as well, his head tilted back, the glorious sound filling your ears as the sight of all 32 of his teeth please your eyes. His spirits are instantly lifted. You love that you can make him laugh like that, it satisfies a part of your soul you were unaware of.

The two of you come down some from your laughing fit. “Cute… real cute,” sarcasm never more evident in Chris’ voice.

“Hahaha you thought you were gonna get a show! Nope, buddy… not this time.”

There’s a quick quirk of his brows at the possibility of him getting to see you in all of your hot, sexy, naked glory. His mind gets lost in the last time he had you like that: your back arched, your nails dug into his back, your legs—

“Ahem! Eyes up here dude!”

“Oh my g— I’m—“

“You’re forgiven, you’re only human,” you smile at him coyly.

Silence settles around you, as you steal glances and smiles at one another through your screens. The air is free of pleas and sighs and stupidity and jokes. Hopefulness moves in for the first time in weeks, evicting the uneasiness that had made a home out of the deepening space between you two. You just watched each other, adoringly and longingly, watching your love for each other begin again.

Part 5

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans angst #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x poc!reader #love lockdown series

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oakleaf--bearer · 4 years

Text

this is my third ace jon fic, this time featuring a lot more projection, particularly around jon discovering what asexuality means

aka georgie tries to take the next step and jon learns a new word

also on ao3

Jon pressed play. He was curled up in bed, back against the headboard and cross stitch in his hands. It was a hobby he'd gotten into after his grandmother had become frustrated when he interrupted his television programs with his fidgeting. Give his hands something to do and he could pay attention for hours. Cross stitches were a pleasant distraction for his thoughts.

The theme song had just finished playing when Georgie came out of the bathroom. She blinked at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Watching that documentary I was telling you about." He pointed to the screen of his laptop. "Oh, did you want to watch it with me? I can start it again."

"No, that's okay." She said slowly, climbing onto her side of the bed.

He hummed and returned his attention to the screen.

"My housemates will be out all night." She whispered, curling against his side.

"You said."

"It's just us."

"Mmm."

She reached out and took the cross stitch out of his hands.

"Georgie-"

"Jon."

"I'm watching-" He pointed to the screen. "I've been looking forward to this documentary."

She nuzzled against his neck. "It'll still be there."

"Yeah, but it's really interesting. This episode is about Dover Castle."

"Mmm. Sounds fascinating."

"It is, there's a Roman lighthouse there. The curtain wall, that's the bit around the outside, you know, the wall, it's a mile long. There was restoration work done on the keep, it's now fully decorated again. With original techniques, it was a whole thing- What are you doing?" She was rubbing gentle circles into his belly. It felt a bit like she was petting him like a cat.

Sighing, she sat back, closing his laptop and placing it on the bedside table, deaf to his sounds of protest. She clambered up, sitting herself on his lap. "What do you think I'm doing?"

"I don't know. If you wanted to cuddle, you could've said, I wouldn't have minded wearing headphones."

"Christ Jon, you're so oblivious." She lowered herself against him and Jon's brain suddenly caught up.

"Oh, oh no, I'm sorry, you wanted- Right, my mistake." He awkwardly put his hands on his hips. "I'll, you know, get to work, I suppose."

She snorted, shaking her head fondly. "Get to work?"

"No?"

"Not the usual phrase."

"What is the usual phrase?"

She leant forward and whispered something in his ear that made him blush furiously.

"Oh!" His voice came out as a squeak. "Oh? I see. Yes, okay, right."

She chuckled and leant down to kiss him, deep and slow, gently biting on his bottom lip. Jon just sort of sat there, letting her move (there was a shocking amount of moving) and trusting her to take the reigns, so to speak.

Apparently that was the wrong choice, because after a minute or so of kissing (and moving) she leant away from him. "You're still thinking about Dover Castle, aren't you?"

"No."

"Jon."

He ducked his head, a little sheepish. "I was thinking about Edinburgh Castle."

"Jon, your girlfriend is currently on top of you and you're thinking about Edinburgh Castle. Is everything okay?"

He nodded quickly. "Everything's fine! Sorry, I'm just distracted."

"Is this because I interrupted your documentary?"

"No, not that," He shook his head, then paused. "Well, sort of. I don't know."

"Come on, tell me what's happening in that big brain of yours?" She wriggled backwards until she was sat more firmly on his thighs, a safe distance from any potential distractions.

He tilted his head back, dropping it against the headboard. "I just didn't think this was going to happen tonight. I knew it would happen at some point, but I don't know. I wasn't expecting this."

"I invited you over to my flat while my housemates were out. What did you think was going to happen?"

He shrugged. "Not this, I guess."

Jon could see her mental cogs whirring away. "Jon, is this the first time anyone's done anything like this with you?"

He nodded. "Is that bad?"

"No, no, everyone takes things at their own pace, it's just-" She frowned. "I thought I was being obvious."

"You've told me extensively how oblivious I am."

"And I love you for that, but still. I thought I was being Jonathan Sims levels of obvious."

He shrugged, awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of her shorts. "I didn't pick up on it. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, I just know to be even more obvious next time."

He blanched. "There will be a next time?"

"You don't want there to be a next time?"

"I've just... not considered it, I guess. It feels like a very big thing to discuss, and I knew it was going to come up at some point but I thought we would have more time."

"Are you nervous?"

He nodded. "Very much so. People make such a big deal out of having sex that I suppose I don't want to mess up."

"Mess up? Jon," Georgie laughed gently, stroking his face. "you won't mess up. It's not that big of a deal."

"Isn't it?"

"Not at all.

"But you like sex. People like sex. I'm going to like it, I just don't know how to-" He waved his hands. "I'm supposed to want to do this."

"Supposed to- Jon, if you don't want to then that's okay."

"But it's not fair to you for me to ask that you wait for me to get over my ridiculous hang ups."

Georgie shook her head. "Come on, let's talk about this tomorrow. Tonight is clearly not the night. Finish your documentary, I'm going to get some water."

Jon raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"More than."

"But aren't you-" He searched for the right words. "Don't you want to-"

Georgie grabbed his hand. "Jon, I love you, but do not finish that sentence, okay?"

"Okay."

A few days later he was sat at her kitchen table, a mug of coffee being pushed into his hands, grimacing about the smell. "I really don't understand why people like this."

"It's coffee."

"I'm aware."

Georgie gave him one of her 'I'm plotting something, play along' looks. "Lots of people like coffee."

"I know they do, I just don't get it."

"What don't you like about it?"

"The smell? The taste? Tea is just a far superior drink on all levels."

She leant forward over the table. "So there's not a single thing you like about coffee?"

He thought. "The warmth, I guess? If nothing else it's nice to hold. Comforting."

"Right."

"Right. What's this about?"

Georgie leant down to her bag and slapped a leaflet on the kitchen table. "Here."

"What's this?" He pulled the leaflet towards himself. The bright flashy words on the front read 'So You Think You're Queer?''. "Georgie, I'm bi. You know that right? We are well past this."

"Are we?" She asked. "Are you sure?"

"Is this about the other night? I know I'm attracted to women, I promise you I'm not gay."

"It's not that. I was just reading it when I was waiting for my appointment and I came across a bit that made me think of you. Particularly about the chat we had the other night." She took it out of his hands and flipped it open to one of the pages. "Here."

He stared down at the page she was holding out. "What- what is this?"

'Asexuality', the page announced. Georgie had clearly underlined it a couple of times. The page had a definition and a small chunk of text that Jon's eyes skipped right over.

"Georgie, what is this?" Jon looked up at her.

She was staring at him with an expectant expression. "Asexuality. It's the lack of sexual attraction."

He was already shaking his head. "No, I know I am attracted to you."

"Sexually?"

He paused. He knew Georgie was pretty, that much was clear. And she was funny, she always knew how to make him laugh. He liked spending time with her. He liked calling her his girlfriend. But as he tried to picture their relationship, each logical step of it, the part with sex was just... missing, he supposed. He couldn't picture it.

"But, I like you. I know I like you."

"You can like me without it being sexual. Warmth without the smell or the taste, right?"

Jon blinked at her, then remembered the coffee in his hands. "That's a drink. Did you just compare our relationship to a drink?"

"I knew if I thrust this onto you without some sort of metaphor you'd immediately panic. Make it weird or Jonathan Sims won't focus."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. But what do you think?"

He stared at the leaflet. It was a possibility. Georgie was nice, he liked dating her, but the thought of doing... that made him feel sick.

But people enjoyed sex. It seemed to be all people could talk about a lot of the time. If Jon didn't want that...

"Georgie, is there something wrong with me?"

"What?"

"Sex is normal, it's a thing normal people do. If I don't want it, surely that makes me-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. Listen to me very carefully Jon." She took his hands. "Not wanting sex doesn't make you not normal. It just means you don't want sex. There isn't some preordained rule that says that sex is something everyone has to do. So you might be asexual, who cares? You're not broken. Being bi doesn't make you broken, why would this? It's just another label."

He gave her a small smile. "You're sure?"

"A thousand percent. Read the leaflet. If you agree with it, then we can do some more research. If not, then we can forget about this." She took the mug of coffee out of his hands. "Until then, let's not worry about that particular facet of a relationship."

"But what about your needs."

She gave him a look that would've been withering had she not been grinning ear to ear. "Jon, I have dated plenty of very crappy dudes who aren't nearly as considerate as you. I can look after myself. This just means I won't have to fake it."

"Fake it." He frowned. "Fake what?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh! Oh good lord. Really?"

"Oh yes."

"How often?"

"More than you'd think. Some people just don't know their way around down there."

Jon felt somewhat lightheaded. "I doubt I'd be much better."

"Well like I said, we aren't gonna worry about that until you've done your homework. Don't fall into a guilt spiral over this. Remember, you're not broken, no matter how much of that you agree with." She pointed at the leaflet.

He nodded.

Over the next half an hour of reading the leaflet, then opening up his laptop and reading some more, Jon felt more seen than he had in years. A comforting sort of warmth settled into his stomach.

Asexual. Strange how one little word could make so much sense.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #georgie barker

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

❪ TO THE MOON AND BACK! ❫

You use your one brain cell for love. It doesn’t always end well.

pairing. kth x named f!reader. jjk x named f!reader.

genre + rating. non-idol!au. fluff, a bit of angst. general.

tags / warnings. none! this chapter is pretty sad but also pretty happy? “balanced, as all things should be.” - thanos, and also me.

wc. 3.9k

chapter 11.

“Are you ever going to do anything with them?”

You’re so focused on the melody that you don’t recognize the words immediately, his voice playing somewhere beyond your recognition. It takes a long few moments of staring at Yoongi’s face, his moving lips, for you to realize he’s speaking to you.

Headphones are tugged off your head and carefully returned to the stand at your elbow.

“Sorry?”

“I said ‘are you ever going to do anything with them?’”

It feels like you’re missing an integral part of the conversation. Forehead furrows, following the lead of your mouth as it purses, little indent forming between your brows. “With what?”

“The songs.” He doesn’t have to say much more.

“Oh.” Your lack of answer doesn’t seem to deter him, his expression politely interested, if not a little tired. You feel a pang of guilt for the fact that you’ve had such long nights lately - sessions passing the stroke of midnight more often than not.

While it wasn’t your fault, you saw the toll it took on him - found evidence of it in the bags beneath his eyes, heavy enough to incur an additional charge at the airport counter.

He refocuses your attention: “Yes? No?”

“I… don’t know.” You hadn’t considered it, honestly. The songs had originally been written to give your misery an outlet. You’d never considered what would happen to them once they were fully formed.

You’re also not sure why he’s asking. It’s been at least four months since you’d even thought about them. Now they sat in the back of your mind, tucked away in a dusty box labelled JUNGKOOK along with a hundred other memories you weren’t sure you were ready to face yet.

“Can I use one then?”

That certainly isn’t what you’d expected.

“What?” It catches off your teeth, shattering over your tongue. You wonder how you look - if the surprise is glaring beneath your skin like neon light.

Yoongi grins, low and slow and full of gums. He must mistake your emotion for something else - excitement, maybe? - because he’s joining you in front of the computer, the imprint of his body still worn into the soft leather cushions he’s just vacated.

The same instant he drops into the seat beside you, he takes over the mouse, flicking through file folders with purpose. “I’m working on a new mixtape. I thought one of your songs might work well on it so I took the liberty of recording some vocals and mixing it to see.”

In any other situation, you’d be preening from the praise. Now, it only settles discomfort in your stomach.

“I don’t know,” you repeat, finally, after what seems like forever. He’s already pulled up the audio file and the beginning notes fill the enclosed space, sinking into your ears. It sounds amazing, of course. Everything he touches turns to gold. His voice is distinct, the delivery of lyrics so masterful you still don’t really know how he does it.

You listen in silence, admiring the way he’s managed to lay your original refrain with his effortless rap. It thrums in a low bass - utterly brilliant - and then your voice starts.

It hits you like a ton of bricks then, two thousand pounds of weight dropping your heart into the pit of your stomach. You don’t expect the reaction to be so polarizing. You hardly realize you’re locked into place, gaze trained on some freckle in the wood grain of the desk, until you’re physically pulled from it.

A hand settles on your shoulder, hesitant yet unyielding. It frames the bone and squeezes once, twice. Yoongi’s voice follows, softer than you anticipate. “Are you okay?”

The question repeats on a feedback loop. It turns over and over and over until there’s nothing left but a distortion of your own voice in your head. Were you okay? You’d thought so. Now, you weren’t so sure. Hearing the familiar melody is like reliving those eight excruciating months all over again.

“It sounds great,” you answer earnestly, in a voice that wobbles with emotion - a trapeze artist barely hanging on. You’re not lying; you wish your voice wasn’t so feeble.

“You’d get full credit, obviously.” Yoongi’s trying to soothe the ache he can’t quite understand. Not that he hasn’t tried. After all, he’d helped you bring all of this to life. He’d already done more than enough.

“Oh, thanks.” It’s a little watery and a little weak but you’re laughing and that stretches an almost triumphant grin across the producer’s face. It splits the casual indifference he normally wears, throwing the roundness of his cheeks into stark relief.

You can’t help but smile yourself, however small.

Still, it’s enough for him. You’re past the one-two sucker punch and he’s nearly all business again, studying the screen now that he knows you aren’t about to start bawling. You have to hand it to him - he’s a professional through and through.

“Did you mind if I took a look at your notes? I’m thinking we might want to do some ad libbing but I wasn’t sure if you’d considered that.”

You don’t think twice about it, handing your worn notebook over. The edges are tattered and it’s nearing the end, only half a dozen blank pages remaining. All the rest are filled with nonsense: half-formed lyrics, melodies stuck in your head, and—

“Are these about Jungkook?”

The question quite literally knocks the breath from your lungs. It takes you what feels like ages to regain control of your own anatomy, your jaw falling and rising in tandem with the drawn out beat of your heart. It feels strange - like you’re moving in slow motion.

Laid out before you - before him - are pages you’d poured your heart into over half a year ago. You recognize them because of the dogeared edges and the almost concerning pen strokes decorating the margins. Half the time you’d been writing about nothing at all, just putting your jumbled thoughts onto paper. The lyrics had only come after that, once you’d word vomited as much as you could.

You know what he’s reading now - not the verses you’d brought to life, but the heartbreak.

“No?” You’re not a great liar. It’s never been an issue until now.

He doesn’t do the disservice of belittling you or questioning you on it further. Instead, Yoongi remains decidedly silent; the quiet isn’t quite like any other. It’s careful and considerate, formed by unspoken questions and curiosity he holds close. Almost as if he’s giving you time, he flips through the pages with the strangest expression on his face.

Even when he’s done, he says nothing - meeting your horrified stare with something close to compassion. (Or pity, but that feels a whole lot worse.)

He waits for you to speak first. You don’t.

Finally, because it’s almost suffocating now, he hands your notebook back to you. Two hands - deeply respectful. You accept in the same fashion and try to ignore the tremor that runs the length of your fingers, slotting the journal back into your bag.

“Does he know?” There’s no judgment, no expectation.

You have to hand it to him - he’s handling this spectacularly well. Far better than you would be if you’d found out one of your best friend’s girlfriends had history with another of your best friends.

“Sort of.”

It’s the first reaction he gives that feels like it isn’t restrained, carefully packaged and offered only after it’s been perfected. “Sort of?” It rolls incredulously off his tongue.

“It’s a long story.” You don’t mean how defensive you sound. It’s just hard not to when the wound has been festering for so long and you’ve let it turn to rot, weeds sprouting around the Jungkook-shaped sadness you’ve tried to cover with a sheet.

“I have time.” He doesn’t mean it in any way but comforting. It still doesn’t feel right.

You begin with fiddling hands and eyes that won’t quite meet his, bouncing around the room like you’ll find solace in the muted light or the KAWS figurines that line the side wall. “We met in school - second year. He asked if the seat beside me was empty.” You’re proud of the way your voice doesn’t break - how it steels itself through the acid that boils in your veins.

“We… were friends.” The word has never quite matched what you’ve felt for him, even now. But then? It didn’t hold a candle to the torch you’d carried. “He honestly became my best friend, or something like that.” You try not to get too lost in the memory, holding tight to the present with white-knuckled fists. “We did everything together. We visited our families. We went to Disneyland.”

Surprise fits itself into the sea of his stare, recognition flickering like a lighthouse. You wonder how much he knows - if the nameless girl in Jungkook’s stories finally has a face.

“We were inseparable.” The smile you offer is mostly playful, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I guess, except for when he was with you guys. But at some point, the friendship changed. For me, at least.” You fiddle with the long end of your belt, scraping indigo nails over the glossy fabric. “I never acted on it, though. I knew I couldn’t. I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

“Then how…” It trails off but the question lingers, hanging in the spaces between you.

“You know how hard he works.” Yoongi nods - of course he does. “Our last semester was… a lot. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so stressed out. We kind of let loose once we submitted our final projects.”

The little puzzle pieces you’re offering are slowly taking shape. A part of you - the part that hates picking at the poorly healed wound - wishes you could take it all back. You’re so close to the climax of the story and yet, you know it’ll be lacklustre. It’ll fall miles short of the cinematic masterpiece you’re sure Yoongi’s expecting.

There will be no grandiose declarations of affection and no heartbreaking rejections.

“I made the mistake of asking him to spend the night.” Heat eats up every surface of your skin, starting at the apples and ascending up over your temples. “And then… I left in the morning.”

Seated not two feet from you, Yoongi’s quiet breath is far louder than he means. It puffs out of his cheeks in surprise. “What do you mean you left?”

Whether the warmth is embarrassment or shame now, you’re not quite sure. It all feels the same, red hot and humiliating. “I left a note on my pillow.” You won’t meet his stare even as you can feel it digging into your skin.

“What did the note say?” By the way he speaks, you think he has an idea.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“No, the note. It said sorry.”

If looks could kill, you’d likely be six feet under. You’ve never seen so much exasperation - not even on your professor’s face when you’d beg for an extension literally seconds before a project was due. “And what else?”

“Nothing?” You say it like a question despite the fact you know the answer.

He’s pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. You’re practically gnawing a hole through your cheek.

“Then what happened?”

“We didn’t talk.”

“At all?” Watching him grow incrementally more frustrated is like observing an overworked stay-at-home mom losing her cool at the supermarket. It feels bad, discouraging, but you can’t look away. Not even when he stares at you like you’re the dumbest person he’s ever met.

“I mean…”

His expression begs you to spit it out.

“He tried once or twice, a few weeks later. But I still felt so bad so I didn’t say anything back. And then he stopped trying.” You know you’d let the silence go on too long, allowing the awkward tension to mutate into something worse. You’re not stupid.

The longest sigh greets your ears. “You guys slept together and then you ghosted him.”

When he puts it like that, it sounds infinitely worse. You frown deeply, shaking your head. It wasn’t like that. It was different - necessary.

“I didn’t ghost him!”

“You left a sticky note!”

“Because I didn’t want him to regret it! I didn’t want him to feel weird.”

“You honestly thought leaving your so-called best friend a note was better than talking to them?” The way he utters the title makes you squirm in your seat. You shouldn’t be surprised, though. If you’ve learned anything over the last ten months, it’s that Min Yoongi does not mince words. Not when it’s important.

“I was scared.” It’s not an excuse; it sounds like one.

“Things are scary. You get over it.” He has a point.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Unfortunately, so do you.

“I guess not.”

FLASHBACK Friday, June 21, 2019. 12 PM.

When he wakes up, it’s like the end of the world - except not with a whimper, but with a bang.

The evil monkey that comes out of hiding after he’s had too much to drink is loud and unbothered, clanging its stupid gold cymbals hard enough to rattle his teeth in his skull. The sound bounces around in his ears, digging past his usual post-drinking haze to directly assault his senses.

Rolling over doesn’t help. In fact, it somehow makes it worse, the sudden motion bringing about a tidal wave of nausea.

The feeling rises and crests, threatening to swallow him whole when he rolls onto his front and yanks his legs up beneath him. Face pressed into the warm topside of the pillow, he curls his arms around the underside and takes three deep breaths, trying his best to alleviate the discomfort in his chest.

It works albeit poorly, like the second wave is coming, creeping up just beyond the horizon.

“Fuck.” It’s grumbled into the soft cloth he’s presently trying to suffocate himself with. Jungkook whines another sound - not as loud as the clattering in his head or even very clear - and presses deeper into the pillow, inhaling deeply.

God, he feels awful. You were right - he definitely shouldn’t have had so much to drink.

You.

The same you who had tried to go shot for shot with him over dinner, only to tap out when he wrenched another glossy green bottle open. The same you who had held his hand on the way back to your side of campus and laughed when he’d crowded you in the elevator, pressing sloppy kisses all over your neck and shoulders. The same you who had moaned his name so prettily he can feel it even now, stirring something in the pit of his stomach that feels a helluva lot better than the liquor-induced ache.

The you that should be at his side - and yet isn’t.

He blinks owlishly against the straining morning light, how it fades in through your half-drawn blinds and spills over your side of the empty bed. A hand reaches - slow, because he’s still not in full control of his motor functions - and slips over the cotton.

It’s cold.

Another blink, another pat of his hand.

He’s definitely in your dorm. There are photos strung up across the walls - taken by you or of you - and your familiar leather jacket is hung over the back of your desk chair. Your too-many coffee cups sit beside your keyboard but your familiar canvas backpack is nowhere to be seen.

“Jiyeon-ah?” It’s more gravel and sleep than anything remotely coherent. He tries again.

Silence settles in the enclosed space and he wishes it’d do the same in his head. Where were you?

The flat of his palm roves across your sheets, fingers seeking out the cold hard surface of his phone. Maybe he’d left it in his pants? That seems probable but they’re also not on his person, likely left in a pile at the foot of the bed - along with his underwear and socks - and well, he’s terribly lazy.

Lazy and still way too hungover.

So Jungkook lays there and waits, comfortable in the bed he’s been in more than once, more than twice, more times than he can count on both hands. He tosses and he turns, not quite patient but also not ready to face the day. He figures you’ll be back soon.

Truthfully, he doesn’t mind. Your dorm’s like a second home to him, somewhere he’s crashed a few too many times after you’d both trudged back in the dead of night after losing track of time across town. He knows the sweet spot on your shower - where he needs to get it right before the water turns from mild to scalding - and the fact that you hide your favourite coffee in a crate under your bed. It’s nearly as much his as it is yours, though he’s sure you’d disagree.

Either way, he could very, very easily fall back asleep. He almost does.

The nausea settles and while moving too fast stirs it uncomfortably, he’s doing a lot better than he normally does. It’s just this-side of relaxing, with time that doesn’t pass in screeches and lulls, rather simply sliding by in the transition of red numbers on your bedside clock.

It’s only when he realizes that it’s been nearly two hours that he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he should get up.

With an exaggerated grunt, he pushes himself to his elbows, entire body groaning with the effort. While he might’ve felt fine mentally, his poor aching limbs were doing decidedly less well. It’s almost like he’d been hit by a fourteen-wheeler loaded with booze.

He sways with the force of it, nearly faceplanting back down on your pillows when he sees it.

A little neon yellow square with your messy, rounded Hangul scrawled in black Sharpie. Three characters, one word, one broken heart.

Mianhae.

It comes when you least expect it, straight out of the blue. Your eyes are trained on the same colour that spills across the sky, the hazy clouds drifting in and out of focus; the sun is playing hide and seek, splashing rays of warmth whenever you pass between tall grey buildings.

“I love you.” Three words. That’s all.

They roll off Taehyung’s tongue as easily as a breath from his lungs, filling the spacious interior of his German-built sports car. There’s nowhere for the proclamation to go, caught between four walls and two bodies and your wide-eyed stare. Not that he can even turn to admire the way your eyebrows have shot into your hairline, how your mouth gapes open like a fish out of water. He’d still probably call you cute. You know him.

“What?” You’ve found yourself repeating this same word a lot lately. With Jungkook, with Yoongi, and now, with your boyfriend, who seems terribly smug and not at all bothered.

He’s staring straight ahead, focused on the road in a way that you know isn’t wholly natural. You’ve spent enough time in this car with him, with his hand gripping yours, to know that driving is second nature and he does it like he does everything else - effortlessly.

“I love you.” It comes without missing a beat. The edge of his mouth curls, revealing his perfectly straight white teeth, and you can’t miss the mischief. You’d feel wary if you didn’t recognize it so well, how it lights up his insides and spills out brighter than the sun above your heads.

You ask because it’s funny and not because you care. “Are you pranking me, Kim Taehyung?”

He levels you with a look then, one just from his periphery. You can hardly make it out amongst the dark of his lashes, the velvet that brushes over his eyes because it’s just a little too long now. The hand on your knee squeezes experimentally, the cold metal of his rings digging into the soft of your thigh.

“Is my love a joke to you?”

“Maybe.” It’s a challenge - a playful, proverbial pat on the cheek.

The sound he makes is a mix between a growl and a laugh and 100% adorable, sweeping affection across your face in stretches, apples of your cheeks pulling wide. “You’re lucky - I still love you anyway.”

Every time he says it, it’s a little less jarring.

“You love me.” You repeat it not for the sake of doing so but to taste it on your tongue, to feel its weight. It’s much lighter than you’d anticipated, spun fairy floss and strawberry-scented bubbles rather than a newfound burden. It fills you without expectation, fitting itself in the little cracks and crevices without demanding more. Still, you want to give in return. It feels right. “I love you, too.”

Just like you love the smile that spreads like wildfire, boxy and distinctly him. It’s so endearing you swear you feel your heart trip in your chest, lovesick and enamoured.

He says it more to make you laugh than anything. “I know.”

You roll your eyes and meet him over the centre console, grateful that he’s found his familiar spot right down the street from his parents’ expansive home. You appreciate the little moments kept just for the two of you; you cherish them more than you can say, tucking them neatly into your pockets and behind your ears.

He presses forward for a kiss. You smell like citrus and floral - Sicilian lemons and just-bloomed lilacs - a scent he thinks he’ll never forget. When he rearranges himself in his seat, turning enough to drag you just that bit closer, he’s greeted with the sticky sweet musk - tonka beans and neroli - hidden beneath the curtain of your dark hair.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve got dinner in ten minutes or you’re sitting in the brightly lit street like two nervous high school students after a first date.

This time is for him and for you - a celebration of sorts.

So he kisses you again, though it’s not quite kissing. It’s more like worshipping and he takes his time doing it, wordless devotion roving over every inch he can possibly reach. He treats you like a god or a deity, treasuring you like you might grant him his heart’s greatest wish or that maybe you already have. It’s nice to imagine that.

“I love your bedhead.” Which is where he starts, right at your temple. They’re the softest presses - barely there trails of his dry, slightly chapped lips. He inhales that familiar lemony scent as he deposits sweetness in its wake - over your eyelids and down.

The line of his nose meets the contour of your cheekbone and he’s littering tender kisses along the rounded edge, all the way up to your ear. There’s a beat of hesitation - a will he, won’t he - before he drops his head further, nosing past the sensitive spot where neck and shoulder meet to brush over the column of your throat. It’s almost innocent until enamel catches, not nearly hard enough to blossom any colour but enough to draw forth the quietest sigh.

“And I love the way you sound.” The lecherous grin he offers is far too handsome. It doesn’t pull disgust and reproach as it should, especially not paired with the dainty kiss to your wrist. He lingers there, over blue veins that jump beneath his touch, and only moves onto the back of your hand once you huff an almost imperceptible sigh of impatience.

You receive five more kisses - one to each of your fingertips.

“I just love you.”

author note. three more chapters to go. ty for reading, as always! xo

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pernatius · 3 years

Text

Lost in Space Part 9: Ch 2

Summary: Syco and the unnamed Space Explorer question their choices

Lost in Space on Tumblr

Lost in Space on ao3

Lots of diagrams. Plenty of banter but no signs of Ashley, Mikrovos, or Skeema. In the end, though, I can’t say it was a complete waste of time. I know where they are, and I also know where Syco is in terms of his state of mind.

“I’ll look more into it.” His projected image vanishes, and the symbols that were once circling Syco float back down to the platform. Once again, it's just the two of us. His back is facing me. A purple glow is facing him. The compass, what Commander Knox was referring to before leaving the meeting, is held in Syco’s hand. It's held in his other hand, the one not ranked with death. Its symbols have yet to be translated. The two are stuck, Syco especially as he remains standing on that platform, refusing to look at me.

“I loved it. I loved the feeling. I loved the power I had. I took so many lives. I took too many lives. The Commander, he,” he sighs, and his grip loosens, “No. No, I can’t blame him. It was my fault. It was all my fault. I let my dark desires take over. That’s why I stopped. That’s why I took that oath, but I broke it.”

He shakes his head. Briefly, I see a smirk. It’s not the villainous smirk I’ve grown ill towards. It’s the type of smirk that says: “I fucked up then, and I fucked up once again.”

Continuing his monologue, “I’m trying to do what’s right. I’m trying to make up for what I’ve done. I'm trying to walk forward, but I keep walking backward. I’m trying to save lives, not end them. It’s times like these I question if this war is worth it. Have I become what I’ve grown to hate? I’m insane, but you already know that.

“I can't trust my inner circle. I can’t even trust myself. I never could. Human, you’re the only one I trust. So, please tell me, have I become the villain in this story?” Finally, he turns to face me. For once, our height difference doesn't bother me.

“We’re the villains in our stories, but there’s no such thing as justice. There’s just us and our decisions. Make one that helps us, and it hurts others. Make one that helps them, and it hurts us.”

“The universe isn’t infinite. It’s finite. It crushes, breaks. It kills life. The truth is ironic, but we’d rather believe lies. I don’t want to be like everyone else anymore. I don’t want to be me anymore. I hear and see things that aren’t really there. I don’t sleep. I can’t because they’re always nightmares. I’m restless. That’s why when we finally write ourselves in the last chapter in this story I want my story to end with you.

“I disagree with your earlier statement, though I can see where you’re coming from. There is justice in this abyss we call the universe. It’s when I find myself meeting with and gasping underneath your blade.”

Instead of a set of glowing purple eyes glaring at me from afar, hunting me for my reaction, is two sets of eyes looking at each other. Both are stiff, serious. One of them switches from looking at someone I have to call my friend, as the only way of surviving is by having friends, to her screen. “It just looks like chicken scratch to me.”

The symbols on her screen are the same ones that were written on me. I touch my chest. They’re gone now, but I imagine the red paint had rubbed onto my hand. It feels like blood. It looks like blood. I get a chill thinking about seeing the reflection of that thing from the trial onto the imaginary stroke on my hand.

It’s when I step inside the room the two finally take note of me. They look up, but Shiitakee returns to inspecting Saamuki’s screen. “Any news,” she asked.

“Yeah. How far away are we from Quadrant Forty?”

“It's about a two-hour trip, but that's a lot closer than I expected.”

“They’ll be there a while.”

“But I still can’t figure out how to access the code.”

I join Shiitakee. “What’s this about?”

“The symbols that were on you are the same ones that Sakhra painted on himself. I see the same ones whenever I glow. It’s the same one I heard The Speaker speak.”

“Are they the same as the ones on Syco’s compass? I haven’t gotten a good look at it yet.”

“Me too, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it is.”

Shiitakee cuts in, cutting out of his daze on Saamuki’e screen, “Fine, let’s say I believe you. Okay, this isn’t just some chicken scratch. Out of the millions of languages in the known universe, whoever first started this whole strange trend decided to use a language I haven’t heard about until just a few minutes ago. Why?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out, but maybe if I were to look around Quadrant Thirty-Nine’s library I could find something.”

“And how would you do that? We’re two hours away at the very least, remember? Besides, I hear it’s the most guarded place right now.”

“Also, I don’t think Syco is going to let us just get up and leave anytime soon. It’s not the best time right now,” I added.

“That's fine I wasn't planning on leaving this room. I know of a way to set foot in that library without actually setting foot." Both Shiitakee and I look at each other. Following our shrugs is Saamuki continuing with, "It's a lot of explaining. But basically..."

The way was by sending holograms of us first flying across the universe at unimaginable speeds, then swimming in miles of electric currents to eventually abruptly being smacked onto some dusty, browning tiles I pictured being cold. For the most guarded place in the universe, it sure looks abandoned. One of the lights above is flickering. It goes on and off for a minute before it completely dies. At least the other lights above, thousands of dim lights, can keep on. They shine across the jaw-dropping rows upon rows of books. Piles of them, rather than being properly organized by nuzzling against each other in bookshelves, are stacked high. Three nearly reach the roof, which I need to add this building is three stories high. All of the piles are taller than our three heights combined. Why must aliens not use bookshelves?

At the very center of the ceiling is a perfectly square window lying just behind a cage. On the other side of the window, squeezed between the nest of what I hope aren't bones, is a purpling sky. It’s twilight here.

Gleefully Saamuki whispers, “It worked.”

Footsteps are heard coming our way. I gulp.

Saamuki reminds us, “No one can see us.”

The guard’s footsteps die down as they turn and move away from us.

“Although, we have to be careful with our voices." She raises her head and looks around the library. "Sounds bounce around here quite easily.”

Shiitakee looks around before replying, “Curse me for not asking more but don’t tell me we’re actually going to look through this mess to look for a book or two we don’t even know the name of. Must I add, for a mere theory? Who knows maybe it’s just a coincidence, or maybe you’re overthinking. Maybe I was actually right for once.”

“I didn’t force you to come, Shiitakee. I asked you to come.”

“Yes, you did.”

“You can still go back.”

“That’s the thing I could. I will after a few minutes. Maybe when I can’t take this bore anymore, but it was really boring waiting for you two to come back last time.”

“Then, let’s get right into it.”

The three of us went our separate ways after promising to meet back there. Saamuki went straight, going deeper into the jungle of books. One minute she's waving bye to us. The next, she's been swallowed by the books. My other companion just turned away and flipped through the nearest book. I went right. The books here are smaller than the books Saamuki traveled into, but they’re much more portly. They’re almost five inches thick. I scan the titles. Many I find interest in, thinking they held the answers Saamuki is looking for. I find myself skimming through them, and in those brief moments, I try to figure out how to cope with how much time I wasted. I groan. Little blurry pictures. So few creative titles. Too many tiny printed words, most of which are long. I despise reading. It always makes me so sleepy, but I force myself to the next book and then to the next. I must’ve skimmed through a hundred, barely a tenth of the books around me, before my eyes become too watery to read. I reach around for another book, but I fall on my butt. Accepting my new predicament, mainly because I'm too tired to get up, I note the book is coated in just as much dust as the floor, if not more. I blow on it but soon regret it. I cough and try to hold in the noise. I try fanning away the fine particles. When they eventually blow away, I frown because I can’t read the title of this book. Maybe if I flip through the book I’ll find at least a word I can read. Nope. It’s all simply just lines, circles, and dashes to me. They have no meaning to me, but the stars above do. It’s well past midnight. We’ve been here for hours, but find ourselves no better than where we were before coming here. I sigh and lay back to look up at the ceiling.

I hope Saamuki is close to finding something. I also hope I get to see the others soon. I reach my hand up, thinking I’m somehow able to reach out to them lightyears away from where I’m laying. Then, I hear static. With a guard swinging his flashlight across my clearing, I chalk the strange sound to his shuffles even though I knew that doesn't make sense. That’s why I’m not surprised when I get the real answer. I hear a voice I haven’t heard in some time. Hearing it has me get up, get watery-eyed, and look around for the unlikely. “Skeema,” I asked quietly.

A moment. No reply. I was about to rethink my recent judgment until he finally replies, “It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

“W-Where are you?” I look around again, thinking Skeema would pop out of nowhere with tea for us to share. Of course, that doesn’t happen. I remain alone in this crevasse in the sea of books listening to the guard walking away.

“Light years away from your location.”

“How are you talking to me?” At first, I thought I'd truly gone insane like Syco. Then, I remembered what Syco did all those weeks ago before the tournament. Although, unlike then, I don’t get to see the face behind the voice. “Right. My chip.”

“Yes.” A cough rushes out of Skeema. It sounded painful. I felt it. It’s as if my chest is collapsing in on itself.

“Are you alright, Skeema?”

“It’s nothing. Don't worry about it. I don’t have much time. Knox is planning something big. Don't come looking for us. For the time being, remain where you are.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t have the time to explain, but I’ll let you know when I can.” A blaster goes off on his side. It rings in my ears, and right after our call goes static. I try calling out his name. Nothing.

Looking up at the window, I wonder what's coming. Then, instead of getting an answer, but it’s not like I would’ve gotten one, I see a black silhouette looming over me. I get out my sword, and they just tilt their head.

#220 #lost in space #my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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greenwaterskeeter · 4 years

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i finally have a coherent personal narrative, and here it is. It’s quite long, but i think of some interest, and might be encouraging!

-Mentions of suicidal ideation, emotional and financial abuse, emotional incest, fatphobia, misogyny, capitalism. Whatever the qpr equivalent of romance is. Ends happily-

I felt for a long time that i should have died when i was 20. Not in the sense that i deserved to, but in the sense that by then i’d accomplished as much as i ever would and was therefore obsolete– taking up resources unnecessarily.

When i was 13, i felt forced to choose between my parents. My bus driver/karate teacher, a kind person who i very much admired, advised me to flip a coin and then, if i didn’t like the result, pick the other. I chose my mother and (privately) pledged absolute loyalty to her (I was obsessed with LOTR at the time and felt that it was the purpose of my life to be a Sam for somebody).

While she was single and struggling to keep the farm and raise my brother (a toddler then), that devotion was used and rewarded. There were times i thought with satisfaction that i might as well be her husband, as well as a parent to my beloved brother. I was proud. I felt righteous. The joy of supporting and protecting her was real. The intermittent anguish of being a minor who could legally only do so much to help was also real. (I believed in laws then).

When I was 17, she remarried (a perfectly nice, wealthy man, as devoted as me and much more powerful) and i went to college. I slowly imploded across all four years, though I didn’t realize that until nearly the end. I think now it was because nothing i could offer her was needed anymore. Every time she treated me like a child instead of the valued partner i had been, i was crushed. Emasculated. i began to feel positively Tortured without understanding why. It sounds like a villain’s origin story, doesn’t it?

When it started affecting my performance, i could only think the trouble was that i was pining for a married professor, as you do. I had fallen in love with him, and made myself his best student (and then his TA, and then began to feel gross about it, quit, and started avoiding where i knew he’d be, all without telling anyone). Once my decline became known and answers were demanded, this was all i could offer in explanation.

I didn’t blame anyone consciously then, but i think now i felt betrayed by how my friends and family reacted. They all thought i must have seduced him (or vice versa if they were generous) to be so torn up. It was too foolish to become suicidal over a crush. They didn’t believe me, or accused me of grandiosity, when i said the professor didn’t even know how i felt. I have always struggled to keep in touch with people, and once my oldest friends gave me the Adultery is Bad talk, it was hard to keep trying.

Everyone did their best and we were all very young. I didn’t understand any more than they did. But still, i can acknowledge now what it would have meant to have just one person who believed in me regardless of understanding. On a deeply hidden level, i felt that my mother, at least, owed me that, after years of faithful service.

But horribly, once it became clear my suicidality was almost entirely passive, she turned on me. She was very frightened. I guess she had also been thanking her lucky stars all that time that i wasn’t turning out like my dad, but here i revealed myself at last to be a freeloader, just like him. I was supposed to go to medical school. I had been the pride of the extended family, the eldest and purest of my generation, a marvel of the local intelligentsia, and i wound up dragging myself back home inept, directionless, cringing, the same as so many unfortunate young cousins and neighbors who’d used to have me pointed out to them as an example. Who would my brothers look up to now?

I endured living at home for a few years. My mom couldn’t keep up the punishment constantly, so although there was no telling when she would start in on me again, or whether she might finally go through with evicting me, there were beautiful things too.

I worked for her husband’s business for no pay, which i understand now was abusive, but i have always enjoyed working with my hands, and when they left me to it, it felt like the old days, like i had a use, even if it was now peripheral. My brothers weren’t sure what to do with me, but we still had fun when we could. The animals comforted me, and it’s special to be able to give affection and gentleness to a creature who depends on you. The woods and mists and early mornings and silent moonlights were still beautiful, and gradually i could appreciate them again. When i was with people, i felt my disgrace abjectly. But on the farm there were many chores to be done alone.

The more i recovered, the more trapped i felt. I even, very alarmingly, spent about two hours one afternoon silently consumed with resentful feelings towards my mother (this hadn’t happened since i was 10). I began to be afraid of losing control and doing something desperate (I totaled two different trucks during this time, on roads i knew well, for no apparent reason). I had given up my spot at a medical school i would not get into twice, and the obvious escape was to reapply elsewhere. I attempted this, and sabotaged it, multiple times.

I got a job at a nursing home, which was hard on my back but full of wonderful people, and was forced to quit when it made me late to my shift at my stepfather’s business too many times. By this i understood that a local job was not getting me out of there. I asked for money to get an EMT certification and was refused. I applied to many online jobs, none of which i had enough time to make money from. I called up one or two branches of the military, and was rejected for being too fat, thank God. I applied to medical school again, and managed to not sabotage it enough that i was accepted into a master’s program instead. It was across the state, five hundred miles away.

And still it might have come to nothing, as i had no conscious plans, actually, of staying away once i was done with this master’s program. The expected thing would be to go on to medical school, but i was only anticipating the first day of being free and couldn’t imagine anything more than a week in the future. I looked at the amount of debt i was taking on for this, knowing in my heart that i would not get a job that could pay it back, and was only relieved that they hadn’t caught onto me and i could still get loans.

There are a lot of things in my story that aren’t what they say is healthy or proper. I shouldn’t have romanticized my own parentification, i should not have had feelings for a 50 year old man, i should have kept trying with my friends, who have good hearts and only made one mistake before i ghosted them, i should have kept telling the truth, i shouldn’t have taken moral injury from things that weren’t my fault, i should have been properly angry with my mother at some point, i should not be grateful that my tendency is to harm myself rather than others.

One person alone should not have been able to save me.

In the second month of my year away, i was in a study group with my roommates and some of their acquaintances, and i laughingly shared some anecdote or other that i thought was harmless. I don’t remember whether anyone else laughed, but one person said: “That sounds kind of fucked up.”

“Oh,” I said, embarrassed. “Eh, well.”

Nothing more was made of it, and we went on studying. Later, this same person saw me sitting in the cafeteria alone and came to sit with me. We met to study again, just us two, and they showed me a video about white tears and watched me closely for my reaction. We compared ideals and found them the same. We came up with a project to collectivize flashcard-making for our class and had to meet frequently to carry it out. “We’re colleagues,” my new friend said, firmly, when people asked if we were together. We discovered ethical problems with the program and protested them, formally and informally. We were accused of being too insular. We talked about our families, and they said things like: “That’s not okay, you realize that, right” and “I think if more people loved the way you do, I’d have a reason to smile in the morning.” It became normal for my eyes to be sore from crying.

Neither of us got into medical school that year. We got an apartment together after graduation, and worked together too until i was fired (I was new to challenging authority and not very subtle in my distaste for our bosses). My friend’s parents wanted them to quit too, to come home while they reapplied, but they said: “Not without Autumn.” So after some negotiating, we went to live with their folks for a while…

We’ve been together for 5 years now. At first I did the same as I’d always done, but my partner made it clear they don’t want self-abnegation from me. I started trying to have boundaries, paradoxically, to make them happy. I’ve dipped into therapy as money allows. I’ve been reading and thinking and writing. Above all, I’ve been loved.

And all this time, I’ve still been deeply ashamed. I’ve spent the last ten years in some degree of emotional pain 24/7. But somehow, two weeks ago, another thing happened that shouldn’t, and i suddenly knew that i was a human being like any other.

I still feel that I should have died when I was 20, but now it’s in the sense that people say, “You shouldn’t have survived that! What a miracle!” Still existing feels like a bonus. I might live a long time from now and i might not. Either way, I’m incredibly lucky to turn my face to the world and know that i am a creature in it, like other creatures. I am well. It’s good that I’m alive.

#by auti #hopefully this is something good for someone :)#long post #yikes i hope this isn't just me rubbing it in that i hit the jackpot #idk i feel good about it so i'm posting it #please watch dr. gabor mate btw #that's part of this #and the untamed is part of it too #i still have problems lol don't get the wrong idea #but still everything's different now #the euphoria has worn off a bit but #it's like... it's like i'm meditating all the time?#it's not painful to be present is what i mean #i have the distinct feeling of being un-nerfed #feel free to rb!#although adding commentary might be weird #still i can imagine certain kinds that might not be so. your call!

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thatshithurted8 · 5 years

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Small Bump

Summary: Y/N has a miscarriage and feels as if it’s her fault, but Tom couldn’t disagree more.

Prompt: “I lost the baby.”

Requested: @pxkajesus

Length: 1,849

Warnings: Miscarriage and swearing

A/N I just want to say that if any of you have or know someone that has gone through a miscarriage just know that most of the time it’s not your fault and in this imagine the reader feels like it is. None of this is facts, purely fiction.

You currently sat in your favourite spot in yours and Tom’s shared house - the couch in the living room. You sat eating an apple while reading a book on parenting. Ever since you were a teenager you loved children and couldn’t wait for parenthood. For you, parenthood seemed to be taking longer than you initially expected.

At first you and Tom were simply not ready for a child yet, but you two both knew you wanted children together. So a few years later you guys mutually agreed to start trying after feeling that the timing was right.

It was naive of you to think you could get pregnant the first try, but it wasn’t your fault that girls you went to high school with were becoming teen moms faster than a blink of an eye, so why couldn’t you, now a grown woman conceive a baby?

After having killer sex and experiencing pregnancy symptoms a few weeks later you and Tom would take a pregnancy test while full of nerves.

However, those nerves would disappear once the pregnancy test read negative. You two tried countless of times to conceive, but there was still no baby.

Looking back on it you would find it comical, you were so tired of trying and getting the same result every time that you gravely wanted to give up. But, the baby that is currently growing in your uterus had other plans.

Weeks went by with you experiencing pregnancy symptoms, but you didn’t think anything of it. You simply thought your mind was playing tricks on you since you’ve gone through this time and time again, but were never actually pregnant.

This time though was different. The symptoms were more intense, but you didn’t want to take another pregnancy test to be let down yet again. You were actually with Zendaya when you found out that were pregnant. To this day your eyes well up with tears after finding out your dream is finally going to come true.

You place your parenting book down on the coffee table, making sure to mark your place before getting up to use the washroom. When you walk into the powder room you smile at yourself in the mirror as you caress your small, but prominent baby bump. After a minute of smiling at your stomach that holds your child you do your business. However, your smile instantly fades away when you see what’s in the toilet.

Blood.

Tears well up in your eyes as your hand flies up to your mouth. This couldn’t be happening. Once the initial shock hits you you exit the washroom grabbing your phone and car keys. You were in such a rush to the hospital that you forgot to put on shoes.

As you drive quickly to the hospital you make sure to call your mom off of the keypad of your car.

“Hey honey. What’s up?” She asks in a cheery voice.

“Somethings wrong with the baby.” You breathe out.

Your mother’s voice instantly changes. “What do you mean?”

“I went to the washroom and when I got up there was blood in the toilet. I’m going to the hospital now.”

“I’m on my way now just stay calm alright?”

“I’ll try.”

The next person you call is Tom who was currently two hours away doing an interview for far from home. As you expected his phone went straight to voicemail, signifying that his phone was on do not disturb. You groan as you stop at a red light, but you call Harrison. While you wait for the light to turn green and for Tom’s best friend to pick up you look down at your stomach.

“Please just be scaring us baby I, we can’t lose you.”

Your focus turns back to the road when Harrison’s voice fills your cars speakers. “Hello?”

“Haz, tell Tom I’m going to the hospital.”

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks concerned.

“There’s something wrong with the baby.”

“Shit okay I’ll stop the interview.”

“Holy shit.” You say exasperated while clutching your stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just got a cramp.” You say softly realising what it could possibly mean.

Haz lets out a deep breath. “I’m getting Tom now we’ll be there soon.”

With that being said you end the call before pulling up to the hospital parking lot. You could give less of a shit about the fact you didn’t pay for parking and could possibly get a ticket. You speed walk into the large building making a b line for the front desk.

---------------------------------------------

“This next question is for Tom, do you do your own stun-” The interviewer says, getting caught off by Harrison.

“Tom, mate we gotta go.”

The curly haired brunette looks up at his best friend confused considering how unprofessional he is being.

“Haz we’re in the middle of an interview.”

Harrison sighs before walking over to Tom and whispering in his ear. “Y/N just called me and she said she’s going to the hospital because there’s something wrong with the baby.”

Tom’s eyes widen as soon as the sentence leaves Harrison’s mouth. He quickly gets up, issues an apology to a shocked interviewer and Jacob before running off set with Harrison.

“Haz you drive.” Tom says while throwing his car keys at the blonde. The two get into the car and drive off leaving Tom’s manager extremely mad and upset.

“Did she say what was wrong?”

“No, all she said was she was going to the hospital because something was wrong, but she also said that she had a cramp or something.” Harrison says while making a sharp right turn.

As the two drive the two hour trek back home Tom didn’t know how to feel. His legs were bouncing up and down with nerves and it seemed like the faster they went the slower time became. The whole ride to the hospital was silent. The only sound that could be heard was the faint sound of the tires. The silence was consuming Tom and making him think of the absolute worst.

-------------------------------------------------

You were currently sitting in a hospital bed with your mother by your side. You felt nothing, but emptiness.

It felt like years when Tom finally arrived at the hospital. The superstar walks into the make shift hospital room by moving the blue curtain and his heart drops when he sees your face.

“Hey baby.” He says softly while sitting by your side on the bed. As he grabs your hands to hold Harrison walks in after parking the car.

You didn’t reply to Tom, instead your eyes welled up with warm tears. “What’s wrong?” Tom asks brushing a stray hair out of your face, praying you aren’t going to say what he’s expecting.

Your eyes finally meet his and that’s when your tears began to fall. “I lost the baby. Tom I lost the baby.” You sob.

After you uttered those four words Harrison and your mom left the room to give you guys more privacy even though the walls were made out of curtains.

Tom’s face drops. “What?” He asks as his voice cracks and tears start to fill his eyes.

“Don’t make me say it again.” You say as your lip quivers.

Tom embraces you in a hug as the two of you sob knowing you lost the one thing you loved more than anything in the whole wide world, the one thing you’d sacrifice your life for even though it wasn’t born yet.

It took a few more hours before the doctors released you to go home. And you so desperately didn’t want to go back to the place you call home. The place that would’ve been your babies first home.

The ride home was a lot like Tom’s ride to the hospital - silent. Both of your guys’ minds were running a mile a minute, but neither could manage to say a word.

Tom shuts off the car after he pulls up in the drive way. The two of you simply sit in your seats for a solid five minutes, just thinking about what happened before Tom got out and opened your door.

You grasp onto Tom as you get up and walk up the porch’s steps. Once you get into the house you walk by Tessa not even giving her pat then sitting down on what used to be your favourite spot in the house. Tom follows behind you and sits down on the cool leather.

Three minutes of silence go by, but the silence was driving you crazy. You spot the blue book that you were reading earlier on in the day about parenting. You pick up the hardcover and throw it at the wall as hard as you can, leaving a small indentation in the plaster and an alarmed Tessa.

“Fuck.” You breathe out before putting your head in your hands.

Tom sighs, “Love, it’s going to be okay.” He says scooting over to hug you.

“What if it isn’t going to be okay?” You ask moving away to look Tom in the face as tears fall down your face.

“It will be, we’ve gone through so much already we can get through this.”

After seeing the sadness in Tom’s eyes you instantly felt even worse. Projecting his emotions wasn’t Tom’s strong suit and even though he’s trying to stay strong, you know he’s breaking on the inside.

“This is my fault Tom, it has to be.” You say as you feel your nose starting to become stuffed.

“How?”

“Maybe if I ate healthier or if I didn’t get sick last week then our beautiful baby would still be growing.”

“Love, none of this is your fault.” Tom says staring directly in your eyes. “You heard the doctor it was a cervical insufficiency there was nothing we could’ve done to prevent this.” He says while wiping away a tear that slips from one of your eyes.

“B-but it’s not fair Tom.” You sniffle.

“I know it isn’t, but there has to be a reason for this. Maybe this is going to make our relationship stronger and -” Tom says before you cut him off.

“There can’t be a reason for this though. When I read the pregnancy test and realised it said positive it was like our unborn child’s whole life was displayed in my mind from them taking their first steps, to their first heartbreak, to them becoming parents. And now all of these unmade plans are gone in an instant. There is no reason for our child to be torn from life that fast.”

Your husband sighs, “This is going to be the hardest thing we will ever go through Y/N and it will take time to heal, but promise me you understand that this isn’t your fault.” Tom says holding your face in between his large hands while looking into your dull eyes. You simply nod your head as your lip quivers before collapsing into Tom’s chest and soaking his shirt with your tears.

Maybe you were needed up there, but we’re still unaware as why.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #marvel #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home

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itsallavengers · 5 years

Text

Yes I fused doctor who with avengers. What about it.

“Don’t turn your back. Don’t even blink. It’s not gonna move if you’re looking at it.”

Steve jerked where he was stood at the sound of the voice behind him, every instinct telling him to turn and see who it was in the room with him. He’d been alone in the empty house when he’d scouted it twenty minutes ago. He’d not heard anyone coming in.

Then again, the creepy stone angel stood with a hand outstretched about a meter from his face hadn’t been there last time he’d come through the corridor either, so maybe today was just a weird day. Those happened sometimes.

Steve swallowed and clenched a hand tighter around the strap of his camera. He’d only come in for some good photos. This house had been abandoned since the 40′s, a hole blown straight through the roof from a bomb. It was a beautiful mix of humanity and nature now, with vines creeping up the walls and arm-chairs sat in the middle of wildflowers. Usually if Steve was going to photograph a new place, he came with Bucky to act as his scout, seeing as a lot of their sites were, uh, not exactly legally allowed to be entered. But Bucky had been busy that day and Steve... he’d been too inspired to wait.

So he’d gone alone. Scaled up the wall, putting all five-feet and 7 inches of him to good use as he’d hefted his way over and landed on the other side. It had been deathly quiet, not a soul around for miles. Steve had spent the first twenty or so minutes just walking around the place, taking it all in. It was...strange. Made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. But beautiful, too-- and in that moment, Steve had cared more about that than any stupid gut feelings.

The first time he’d seen the angel, it had been stood in what had used to be the kitchen. Steve had looked at it for a long time, brow furrowed in confusion as he’d drawn a little closer. Someone must have come and put it there after the house had been abandoned, because it sure as hell wouldn’t have been there in the forties. It had been sculpted with its face shielded by its own hands; a picture of sorrowfulness, and Steve’s fingers had itched to touch. But something had stopped him. Maybe it had been those hairs on his neck; maybe something a little deeper. Either way, he’d backed off. Moved on.

And then when he’d come back down from searching the top corridor, the angel had moved. He’d almost run into the damn thing as he’d turned the corner, and he knew... he knew for a goddamn fact that there had been no sculptures in this corridor when he’d been here last.

He licked his lips. “Very funny,” he said drily, wondering why he still hadn’t turned away from the statue, “moving these things around while I was upstairs. Did Buck set you up to this? He’s probably mad I left without him.”

“Uhhh,” the man-- because it was a man, Steve knew that much-- pondered behind him, his footsteps drawing closer, “no, not exactly. I was just passing by. In the area. Then I saw a big ‘do not enter’ sign and a man entering, and I was intrigued, what can I say? Except now I kind of get why they put up the sign...” Steve jumped again as the man brushed up against his side, and he couldn’t resist glancing sideways to see who this person was. The man was taller than him by a few inches, dressed in an odd combination of jeans and an ACDC tshirt, with a fancy blazer layered over it. His hair was fluffy and dark, curling at the back of his neck, and he had a very particularly trimmed beard. A van dyke, he recalled. Steve frowned, and the man just chuckled, not taking his eyes off the angel in front of them. “You’re lucky I listen to my own advice, or we’d both be toast right now.”

“Who are you,” Steve said, folding his arms, “and how the hell did you move this thing? They’ve got to be heavy, look, they’re solid--” he moved to touch it, try and push to see whether it would give, but he was stopped by a hand circling his wrist and stopping him dead. The man still didn’t turn away from the statue.

“Don’t,” he said easily, “touch it and you will die, I promise.”

Steve made an incredulous face. “Get off me,” he snapped, yanking his hand back, “don’t tell me what to do.”

“Oh, usually I wouldn’t dare. You don’t seem the type to follow orders.”

Steve jutted out his chin. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The man raised an eyebrow, but he was stopped from replying by a creaking sound somewhere behind him, and more strangely, the sound of... almost like grating stone. Like someone was hauling slabs about the place.

Steve turned in the direction of the noise. “Are there more of you?” He asked, “ and if you’re doing some sort of project, can you at least tell them to be quiet? I would really rather not have to deal with a trespassing fine.”

“There are more,” the man said, voice quiet, “but they’re not here for an art installation. What’s your name?”

“Steve. Steve Rogers.”

“Right. Steve Rogers. Good name. Strong. How ‘bout you just back up, Steve? Keep your eyes on the other exit for me.” The man took a step backward, his shoulder bumping Steve’s as they went. He wasn’t taking his eyes off the statue. Steve had no idea why, or who this man was, but he was getting real creepy vibes out of this whole ordeal, and he was a second away from just running straight out of the room and getting out of there.

“This is ridiculous,” he said exasperatedly, looking at the man in disbelief, “what kind of prank is this? It’s not even funny!”

“Steve, exit, please, look at the--”

“No, hold on, look here Mister, I don’t care who you are or what you think you’re doing here, but I was just minding my own business taking pictures, I’m not hurting anyone, and if this is your idea of revenge then...oh.” Steve’s speech withered and died in his throat as his gaze flickered over the other exit on the opposite end of the corridor.

There hadn’t been an angel there before.

There was now.

“Oh my God,” he breathed, “what the hell--”

“Okay, so I take it the corridor’s sealed off then,” the man cocked his head and sighed, “told you you should’ve kept your eyes on the exit.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” Steve said through gritted teeth, feeling his heart begin to pound from the unknown danger. This was ridiculous. Statues didn’t move. Someone was clearly... they had to be.

“The angels are waking up,” the strange man explained easily, his hand winding around Steve’s forearm as he moved them back, away from the first statue and over toward the second, “they’ve been asleep, resting in this little pocket where the fabric of reality is just that little bit thinner. Scavengers. The whole village is timelocked though-- and don’t ask, it’s a long story and all Nat’s fault-- so they can’t feed off the energy they found here. Caused them to go dormant, waiting. But now... one Steve Rogers stumbles into their home, and just like that, they smell fresh blood. Oops.”

Steve didn’t take his eyes off the angel. It’s face wasn’t shielded like the other’s. It wad contorted in a snarl, fearsome and... terrifying. It was just a statue. Steve knew it was just a statue.

But there was something about it...

“Stairs.”

Steve blinked as he heard the word, and then froze in terror when he looked at the angel again. The whole thing.... the whole thing had moved, it was closer, Steve hadn’t even looked away-- “Steve, listen to me, we have to go up the stairs.”

“It got closer,” he said dumbly, feeling the man tug on his arm. He lifted a finger and pointed at the angel shakily, “that... it moved, I didn’t even... I only blinked--”

“That’s enough time for them,” was the answer he got, short and blunt, “now please, Steve, after you?” He gestured behind them to the staircase, and without taking his eyes off the angel, Steve backed up. His heart had gone from beating fast to throbbing straight out of his chest. He doubted that would do his asthma any good.

“I’m Tony, by the way,” the man-- Tony-- told him, somewhat cheerfully as he rummaged around in the pocket of his blazer and pulled out a funny device. A flashy red and gold colour, and when he pressed down on it the end glowed white, making a strange whining noise. “Just checking we don’t have any visitors on the top floors.”

“There aren’t,” Steve said quietly, “I’ve been up there.”

“There weren’t any in the corridor last time you were there either,” Tony said simply, and Steve choked. He was going to die. These angels... these things, they were going to kill him. He couldn’t stay looking at them forever.

“There’s no exits up here,” Steve said, his voice eerily calm as he backed his way up, “we’re trapped.”

Tony just clapped him on the shoulder. “What, you never heard of windows?”

They got onto the second floor, and Steve felt Tony’s gaze move from the bottom of the stairs to Steve. “You can look away now for a bit if you want,” he explained, “they’re still-- I dunno, groggy, let’s call it. Only just woken up. They can’t see us any more, they’ll think we’ve gone. They won’t follow.” Tony’s nose scrunched up, and in his panicked haze, Steve still had some libido left to consider the action cute. “I think they won’t follow.”

“How do you know all this stuff,” Steve asked him in bewilderment, “who are you?”

Tony stuffed his hands in his pockets and winked. “I’m Tony. I’m an Avenger. It’s kind of what we do.”

“What, hunt rocks?”

“No.” Tony shrugged, ambling backward, “more like observe. And only the dangerous ones. There’s more than you’d think. With that in mind, don’t ever upset a Petravore, let me tell you that. Mean swing on them, those ones.”

Steve just blinked at him. He was almost certain at this point that he’d just hit his head on the way over here and was currently hallucinating all of this. Because for starters, statues didn’t move. Secondly, attractive and crazy strangers didn’t just walk up and start talking nonsense to him, and more importantly, Steve did not stand around and actually listen to it. This simply wasn’t what happened in reality.

There was a creaking noise downstairs, and both of them glanced downward. “I think they’re getting peckish,” Tony said quietly, looking at Steve with his deep brown eyes, “Steve, just for five minutes, I want you to trust me, okay? Just five minutes.”

Steve mulled it over for a second, breath threatening to start disappearing from his lungs. This was all absurd. He’d come to take photos, for Christ’s sake, not... not this, whatever the fuck it was. “No,” he said stubbornly, shaking his head and then pushing past Tony, “no, this is not fucking happening, I refuse to believe... statues don’t move--”

“Steve, stay away from the stairs, don’t... stop walking, just stay still--”

“Statues aren’t alive, for God’s sake, you’re just a lunatic who got me scared over nothing, and I’m going--”

“Steve, stay away!”

“--home, Good fucking b--”

Steve’s voice cut off abruptly, feet stopping in their path as his foot hovered. His centre of balance was an inch away from tilting forward and sending him down the first step. The same step on which an angel was now residing, face contorted in a scream of anger as it extended its hands out toward Steve.

There couldn’t have been more than an inch between them.

“Steve,” Tony’s voice was gentle, calming, like he was talking to a frightened animal. Steve figured maybe that were the case. “Steve, stay very still. Don’t let it touch you.”

He swallowed. “What happens if it touches me.”

Behind him, he could hear Tony approaching him again. “Well, usually you’d just be displaced-- sent back a couple hundred years, and the angel would feed off your time energy. But, like I said, there’s a timelock here. It’s what must have drawn the angel in in the first place.”

“So,” Steve encouraged, feeling a pair of warm hands gently grab his elbows, pulling him away from the top of the stairs.

“So, you’d be displaced, but your atoms wouldn’t be able to leave the time-field. You’d burn up upon exiting and your very existence would be turned into pure time energy.”

Well that sounded fun.

“Window,” Tony breathed, tugging him back, “also, you smell nice. Apple scented shower gel?”

“Is now really the time?”

“There’s never really an appropriate time to ask a stranger about their shower gel preferences. Keep watching the angel.” Tony turned away, leaving Steve to stare at the stone that wasn’t stone, eyes locked on, burning from lack of blinking. Behind him, there was that buzzing sound as Tony turned on his little device thingy. “Come on, Brucie Bear,” he muttered absently, “pick up the signal, there we go--”

“Tony,” Steve whispered, hand flailing behind him until he found warm skin, “Tony, I can hear something moving to my left.”

A pause, and then; “yeah, that’ll be the other angel. Okay. I’m looking at it now. We’re alright. Help is coming.”

Steve couldn’t believe this was happening. He was staring into the face of a stone statue, and if he blinked now, it was going to kill him. There was another one of them advancing on his other side, and a raving lunatic who Steve was apparently entrusting with his life was keeping that one at bay. But what about...

“Can you hear that or is it just me?” Tony hissed softly, at the sound of grating rock coming from their right, and Steve’s heart plummeted. He didn’t have two sets of fucking eyes. He couldn’t look at both of them at once.

They were going to die. Oh God, Steve was going to die and his ma would never know why, she’d never--

“Steve?” Tony began, “may I just say, usually I would wait until the third date for this, but desperate measures and all. I’m going to have to make an exception. Promise I’ll buy you dinner later.”

Steve could hear the grating, advancing ever closer on his right, and if he turned away from the angel now then the one in front of him would get him, he had no choice, he had to keep looking... even as a hand snuck around his slim waist and grabbed hold of his belt buckle. He had a second of time to began to say “what the fuck are y--” before, with a tremendous tug, the arm went taut and they both careered backward. Steve’s brain took a fraction of a second to process it; the position in the room, the sound of a dozen cracks and crunches. The sensation of fresh air and a light breeze that suddenly hit his face.

Then he saw the lack of floor underneath his feet, and promptly realised that Tony had run them both backward out of the large french window behind them. That was when he began to scream, naturally.

His legs flailed and he felt wind whip up around him, Tony’s arms wrapped around his midsection as they fell downward, gravity pulling them to their death. He clenched his eyes shut and apologised to his mom and Bucky in his head, hoping he’d get a chance to see them again after death.

Except death, surprisingly, didn’t come. They hit the hard surface far too soon, and rather than splatting everywhere, Steve hit Tony’s soft chest and then sort of thudded off onto something made of glass. Around him, he heard the noise of clanging. And voices.

He opened his eyes.

“You know, one day I’m going to miss your signal and you’re going to fly out a window without me to catch you,” a man with glasses and a purple shirt poked his head out from some sort of control panel in the centre of the room, eyes on Tony as he grinned. Tony rolled onto his haunches and then blew the man a kiss.

“I have far too much faith in you to believe that, Brucie Wucie.”

“Yeah, I mean, in fairness, it is a time machine,” another man-- large, with blonde hair that he had stuffed into a messy ponytail-- said with a shrug, “we can always go back and redo it if we mess up.”

“Lucky for you, we never mess up in the first place,” a feminine voice this time, and Steve turned, looking blankly at a redhead sat spinning a knife in her hand. She was looking at Steve with a cocked head. “Who’s the new boy?”

Tony turned, apparently remembering Steve’s existence. “Oh!” He said in delight, extending a hand for Steve, who was still lying on the floor. Running on autopilot, Steve took it.

They’d been falling. Out of a building.

And now they were back inside. In some... somewhere completely different. And they weren’t dead.

“See?” Tony was smiling at him, and he patted Steve’s cheek in happiness, “told you we’d be alright. Just got the TARDIS to swing by and pick us up, and we took a quick hop from the window to escape any wandering stone hands, and now we’ve arrived here! Safe as houses. Cross my hearts.”

Steve looked at him silently.

Then he looked at the other people in the room.

Then he turned around, looking at the doors they’d fallen through, which revealed the window that they’d just jumped out of, with a twenty-foot drop between them. Three statues were leaning out of the shattered frame, reaching out, trying to touch. A second later, and they would have gotten their targets.

He took a small breath.

“Okay,” he said evenly, turning back around and looking at the team of people in front of him, “someone tell me what is going on, right now.” The room went quiet, all of them looking at him a little awkwardly. He decided that shouting would be the next best course of action. “RIGHT NOW.”

He turned his gaze on Tony, who was now looking somewhat surprised, spinning his stupid buzzing device in his fingers idly as he observed Steve. But he caught the glint in Steve’s eye, and decided that answering him was probably going to be the best (and safest) bet here.

“Essentially,” he said finally, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back nonchalantly against the guard rails behind him, “your universe just got a whole lot bigger, Steve Rogers.”

#YEAH SHUT UP I KNOW I JUST WANTED TO WARM UP I HAVENT WRITTEN ANYTHING IN AGES #its bad just let me get back into the abit #stevetony #itsallavengers writes #sci fi horror #doctor who au #ofc tony is the doctor.....what do u take me for #also weeping angels cuz i LOVE those scary fucks

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pandawritesmanythings · 5 years

Text

Halfrid // Part 4

Platonic!Loki x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your life has always been dictated by the fact that you are smarter than most adults. This has made you antagonize many of them, it isn’t your fault that you are just citing facts! However, when the god of mischief becomes your friend, are there enough facts you can cite to prove his innocence?

Warnings: Censored Curse Words, dude being an entitled jerk (not Loki), Angst, Panic attack, bad writing.

Word Count: +4000K

A/N: Thank you so much for the support guys, just a heads up, some things in this chapter may not make sense now, but they will later. I don’t curse, personally, but it was important to have a catalyst in this chapter, that’s why I censored them. Leave feedback, I highly appreciate it!

TAG LIST IS OPEN!!!

PRESENT TIME

“I wish we could have met at a better time. I honestly do.” Fury had returned to the room and you had told him a short version as to why you started to investigate Loki.

“Why do you say that all of a sudden?” You asked, slightly confused.

“You see, I don’t find this kind of fire or passion in agents anymore. If we get out of this, and you are still around, come find me when you are 17, maybe I can find you an internship somewhere you can use your talents.”

He was sincere, you could see it in his eyes… Eye.

“Well, you might be the first. But thank you.”

He cleared his throat, the rumbling above had ceased a bit, according to Fury because the ground above had become a literal war zone. Military aiding the hero’s battle. The enemy ceased fire, but they were sure to resume it at any moment.

“So when was the next time you met the god of mischief?”

You almost giggled. “Ah. That was about six months after. I wish it had been under better circumstances. But the fact that our paths crossed again, is surprising in itself.”

NEW YORK 2015

Both you and Ashley leaned over to be able to look at your crush for a distance.

“We are not staring okay?” “Yeah, we totally aren’t.” You told each other.

You huffed and closed your locker with a thud, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

“I’m not doing it.” You finalized.

“Aw, come on! Be a little courageous!”

“Being courageous is to know your mom may find out that you have been researching Loki for 6 months and still risking it by logging onto, probably, illegal websites and the dark web.”

“Soooooo, she doesn’t check your history anymore?” Ashley mused.

“Not manually, and I may have hacked into her phone so, I have that going for me.” You walked towards the exit, other middle schoolers filing after you.

“Still, if you just go and talk to him-” “Are you CRAZY?” “Don’t interrupt me. If you just ask him to walk you home, maybe then you could at least ask him out!”

“Not all of us have been able to have seven boyfriends on their 12-year life span.” You cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh, come on! I still haven’t kissed anyone. I’m waiting ‘till I’m thirteen!” She chirped.

“Why thirteen?”

“It’s supposed to be the unlucky number, right? That way I can pass my bad luck to whatever jerk deserves it!” She seemed too proud of herself.

“You are a jerk.”

She flipped her hair. “Wow. Thanks!”

You both giggled. Through the months you had learned to read her bull, call her out on it, and she had pushed you to try new things. It was a mutual relationship, she knew where your limits were and vice versa. Yet, in a way, you seemed to balance each other out.

“Anyway. Not all of us have your confidence, Ashley.”

“Well, if you don’t do it, I will.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” You gasped.

“Wanna bet?” She playfully glared at you, and you glared back.

Suddenly she made a run for it, dashing towards the exit where your crush was hanging with his friends. “Malcolm! Hey, Malcolm!”

“ASHLEY FOR THE LOVE OF G O D!”

Your crush turned around as you tackled Ashley onto the ground.

“Hey! You guys okay?”

You froze when you heard his voice. Oh, you were so sure your smile looked like a weird grimace.

“N-Nothing. It’s just someone was about to do a stupid.” You said as you got up and brushed off imaginary dust.

“A stupid?” He asked amusement in his voice.

“Is my constant state of being.” Ashley chirped.

Malcolm, your crush, raised an eyebrow in amusement. Another guy behind him chuckled.

“Well, I think we are all in a pretty similar state.” He smiled looking at his friends.

“You mean, you Malcolm.” The guy behind him called out. “Parker wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Ah, as if you weren’t in that state often Morales.” Malcolm retorted. You knew he was joking, but there was something in his tone that just…

“Actually, my friend wanted to ask you something.” Ashley pushed me towards him.

“No. I don’t.” I squealed.

“What is it?” He asked with a smug grin.

“Umm… I-I…" STOP STAMMERING BRAIN!!! "I-I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

Ashley was dying inside. You definitely needed to work on your communication skills.

“I-I…” She placed a hand on your shoulder. You took a deep breath. “I don’t know if you r-remember, b-but in… science class? Yeah! Science. We have a project together, and since Ashley is already not coming with me home today… I was wondering if maybe you… Wanted to have a coffee? To… Plan the project out! Of course!”

He had a smug grin on his face, but it softened into a smile and he nodded. “Of course, I would love to accompany this lovely damsel in distress…” He winked at you kissing your hand. You pulled it from him, there was a way that he talked that you had never noticed before. However, since you actually did have a project to do, you ignored it and gave him a smile.

“Alright! Well, I’ll wait for you outside. See ya! Yeah… Okay.”

You fled down the stairs and waited patiently for Malcolm to come by so you could start talking. However, you were unaware of the conversation that was going on back there. But Ashley wasn’t. She hid nearby, where she could hear the aftermath of your petition without the boys finding her spying on them.

“Dude! She is really cute.” Ashley heard Miles say.

“And nice, I have Spanish with her and she is always very proper and quick about her speaking. She is really cool.” Peter added.

“I don’t know. See, physically, she isn’t my cup of tea. Yeah?” Malcolm interrupted.

“But, you do know there is more to her than how she looks, right?” Miles questioned, worry in his voice. This was starting to unnerve Ashley. Few boys had ever made her feel a chill go down her spine like this guy. He looked pretty nice on the outside but in private… He didn’t seem that nice.

“Bah, I’ll see. I do have to do the project, so let’s see if she is any good.” He said as he walked out the doors. “And, remember I’m waiting for that science report.”

Ashley had heard enough. She was not gonna let this idiot take you home by any means. She dashed as quickly as she could down the stairs, near where you were furiously typing something on your phone.

“Hey! (Y/N)!”

“Gimme a second Ash, I can’t let myself forget this.” You typed a little more and then turned off your phone. “I suddenly got an idea for a new argument for my essay. I think I almost have the intro down, but I need the first transition and-” Ashley quickly pulled you aside, interrupting you. “H-Hey!”

“Sorry, but I don’t have much time. I don’t think you should go home with Malcolm.” She tried to warn you.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t think he is who he makes out to be.” She continued. “I think he is only going to take advantage of you!”

There was something deep inside you that had been telling you the same thing. But you wanted to believe otherwise.

“Alright, I’ll be careful Ash. Thank you for telling me.” You smiled.

“But… I don’t think you should be around him, I heard him back there, he-”

You interrupted her back. “I know you mean well. But I don’t want to live life thinking the worst of everyone. If he steps out of line, I’ll kick him straight in the groin.”

Ashley let out a nervous breathy laugh. “Just… Be careful, I don’t want you getting hurt-”

“Hey!” A male voice sounded behind you. “Ready to go home, princess?” Malcolm asked taking your hand and placing a kiss to it as he did before. Again, you pulled away. For some reason, that gesture unnerved you.

“Yeah…” You smiled awkwardly. “I’ll call you when I get home, okay Ash?”

“Yeah… Ok. See you (Y/N)” She said masking her worry with a winning smile and a flick of her hair as she walked away.

“So, lead the way.” The boy signalled for you to start walking and, with a timid smile, you started walking towards a coffee shop near your home.

It wasn’t anything unusual. He cracked a few jokes like he usually did in class. Offered to open the door for you when you got to the coffee shop. And although you bought your own drink, he insisted on getting you a snack.

“You can have whatever you’d like.” He smiled. You tried to reject his offering, but he wouldn’t have any of it. In the end, you just asked for a muffin.

He was actually really good at doing research, quickly flying through loads of information and sending them to you as you typed the essentials into the PowerPoint presentation.

“I just need to make it look pretty, but I’ll do it some other time.” You said while saving the presentation and snapping your computer closed. He did the same and got up, pulling your chair gently from behind you so you would stand up.

“Are you ready to go home, then?”

“Yeah, it’s not that far away from here, so I can go by myself.” You smiled while strapping your backpack.

“I don’t mind, I’ll go with you.” He insisted.

In the back of your mind, Ashley’s warning kept sounding off. But you decided that a little bit longer wouldn’t hurt. He had been very kind to you after all. Why not let him take you home? That sounded really nice.

Together you walked out of the quaint little coffee shop and started heading towards your apartment compound.

“So, I heard you were in the WRITE scholarship!” He smiled.

“Yeah… Wait. Who told you that?” Only your parents and Ashely knew. She wouldn’t have told him about it, right?

“I saw you taking out a paper in class, it had: WRITE ideas! Written in a corner.”

“O-Oh…” You blushed.

“I’m working on it myself. Coming along quite nicely. It’s going to be a short story, but I think I might turn it into something bigger later down the line.”

“If mine does any good, I may publish it. But, I don’t think people would want to read about it.”

“Oh! Really? Why would you say that?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s just… It may get a little controversial…” You hid your face.

“Ah. I see, one of my friends is also writing about something controversial. I’m not supposed to say, but being anti-gun control sounds pretty controversial to me.” He whispered in your direction mockingly.

You giggled at his tone. “Ah. Well, she has her beliefs. I think as long as she doesn’t try to use her essay to justify violence, it should be okay.”

“Are you anti-gun control?”

“No. I think people’s safety is way more important than things.” You honestly said. “But she can have her opinion. Honestly, that’s why we have superheroes, to protect us. That way people don’t need that many guns.”

“Yeah. I think I stan Stark the most.”

“Oh, and why?”

“Billionaire? The smartest guy on the planet? All the babes? He has everything.”

You cast your gaze to the ground. Your shoes suddenly being more interesting.

“I mean. I think he is cool because he saves people. But he just has everything.” He finished

After what seemed an eternity you arrived at the entrance of your building.

“Thanks… For coming with me.” You muttered.

“Nah, no problem.” He smiled. “By the way, can I come in? I need to pee.”

You didn’t want to. You really didn’t want to. But you found yourself nodding and leading him inside your apartment.

“The bathroom is over there… Just- Quickly, my parents shouldn’t be long.”

He ran inside the bathroom, and you walked into the open kitchen. Getting a cutting board out, you started slicing some carrots and boiling some water to make some chicken and potatoes. Your dad’s favorite dish. You really wanted to surprise him, and in about two hours he would be home.

Okay, yeah. You had lied to Malcolm about your parents being home soon. But he was making you uncomfortable, every time you let your guard down you had felt him invade your personal space, maybe he was just trying to be charming, but you wanted him out of your house, quickly.

And then you felt two hands sneak through your waist.

The handle of your knife made contact with the side of his forehead. The hands released your waist, you turned to see Malcolm stumbling backwards. His hands holding his head as he tried to recover from your hit.

“You b*tch!”

You were left paralyzed.

“Take that back…” You mumbled. The words barely coming out of your mouth.

“What if I don’t? You hit me with the handle of a knife, you b*tch.”

You head went numb. Swirling thoughts repeating over and over your head. Your demons were hunting you again.

“Get out.” You said. But it was numbed. You couldn’t hear yourself. “Get out.” This time he flinched.

Although you felt numb you grabbed his backpack and threw it through your window. Not caring about where it fell.

“Get out.” You kept saying as you pushed him down the hall. His string of curse words only worsening while all you could say was: “Get out.”

You reached the street and you were still saying it. He hadn’t touched you anymore but he was screaming at your face. And suddenly all the noise came back, crushing you.

“GET OUT!!!” You heard yourself scream.

“I’m out already you piece of-” He was interrupted all of a sudden.

“Malcolm. Stop that!” Miles came out of nowhere and pulled him away from you.

“Get out!” Was your voice failing you? You swore your voice sounded hoarse.

Two pairs of hands held you in place. “I’m sorry (Y/N). I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone with him.” You heard Ashley say near you.

“Hey, she is really cold. Is she okay?” Another male voice sounded behind you.

You shied away from his touch and retreated straight into Ashley. You did your face in her shirt. Finally allowing your voice to rest. But you felt so weak, your legs felt like jelly and your chest hurt. A lot.

“Hey, you’re okay.” She soothed you. “We’re here. We’re going to take care of you.”

Ashley ran her hand through your hair, a gesture that slowly calmed you and allowed you to regain a level of consciousness.

When you felt better, you pushed away from her and gave her a weak thanks. Then turned to see a very worried looking Peter Parker next to you.

“ ’m sorry Pete… I didn’t mean to push ya away…” You said weakly. Your throat barely emitted any sound.

“No, it’s okay. You were upset by whatever Malcolm did, you needed some space.”

You looked around, he was gone. “Wher’ did he go?” You slurred, suddenly feeling your energy drain out of you.

“Miles pushed him away. Don’t worry, he isn’t gonna bother you anymore.”

You highly doubted that.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. You didn’t remember entering your apartment again. Just the feeling of Ashley running her fingers through your hair, and the worried questions of Peter near you. Mumbles. That was all you could hear. No definitive words, no. Just mumbling going all around you.

When you came back to your senses it was about to be 5:30 pm. Ashley was heading out the door with Peter and Miles, saying goodbye to both of them.

“I’ll see you guys on Monday, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. If she needs anything you have my phone right?”

“Yeah, I got it. Thank you, boys.” She closed the door.

“Ash?”

She whipped around to see you lifting yourself up from the sofa. “Hey… How are you feeling?”

“Like I was hit by a truck.”

She chuckled. “I made you something. I can bring it if you’re hungry.”

“Nah. I’m good.”

“Mom was calling me. I have to go, but if you need anything please let me know.” She started heading out the door. “Love ya girl.”

“I love you too.” You smiled at your friend.

But as soon as she closed the door it vanished from your face. You felt empty. That was something that happened when you got too worked up about something. Mom had told you that it would fade over time, and both of your parents constantly apologized whenever it happened. That’s why you never told them when this happened anymore.

Dad would arrive any minute, so you dragged yourself from the couch and sat in front of your computer to try and squeeze something out of your brain.

Your research for WRITE was good. But the more you looked at it, the more holes you found.

Why did Loki really attack Earth? He had been here before, why hadn’t he done it a year prior?

Was his slip up with Agent Romanoff a mistake? He hadn’t spilt any kind of information before. Not about himself. Not about his plan. Afterwards, he hadn’t even been asked why he’d done it. There was no trace of any comments from him about his actions.

You looked and looked and started breaking apart. This was never going to work. This was stupid. There was no way that anyone would believe your poorly researched essay. There were no official comments on the main perpetrator. And where would you get it?

They were right. All their words. You were useless. Stupid. You would never be enough, why couldn’t you just dissape-?

“CUPCAKE! I’M HOOOOOME!!!”

Ah… Dad…

“Cupcake?” He had opened the door. “How are you, sweetie?”

You turned around, in the darkness he couldn’t see your reddened eyes. “I’m good. Just finishing some homework.”

“That’s my girl. Hey, I gotta head for the night shift, but I’ll see you in the morning.” He headed towards you and kissed you on your forehead.

“I-I didn’t know you had a night shift today…”

“Yeah, I know I’m sorry. They need extra back up to supervise after Ultron’s attack.” His voice was apologetic. “I’m a sorry munchkin. I promise you I’ll here tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry. I know your job is important.” You smiled, even though you felt broken inside.

“Mom also has a night shift, but she couldn’t drop by to say goodnight.” He rolled his eyes. “You sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

“Yeah. I know the drill.”

“Goodnight munchkin.”

“Goodnight dad.”

You were all alone. He left. She didn’t even bother to check on you.

You walked up to your closet and pulled out a corkboard. Where for the last few months you had worked extensively in collecting research to figure out your thesis.

Pictures of security cameras. Documents. Transcriptions of recordings. Some were tied by a red cord. It looked like a detective trying to solve a case. And for a while, that’s what you thought you were. But as you looked through it, you found more wholes. Wherever you looked, the word failure just hammered in your head.

The word he had called you today. That insulting and disgusting word.

In your anger, you grabbed the board and knocked it over. Papers flew across the room. Strewn all around.

Sobs then proceeded to rack your body. There was no way you could do this. Who would listen to a 12-year-old anyways?

THE NEXT DAY

Neither of your parents arrived home in the morning.

New York seemed to match your mood since it was raining. It was definitely a lazy Saturday, so you decided to text Ashley that you were feeling better and that you’d see her on Monday. Then afterwards, you walked out, with your coat on and some money to spend it all in whatever you were craving for breakfast that day.

You usually didn’t ask for much, so your parents were never angry at you when you spent just a little bit more for yourself.

Is not like you were going to order a bunch of expensive items. But you just went wherever your stomach led you.

You ended up in a bustling part of the city. Despite the rain, people walked by in a hassle. You approached a food car that had a small roof to protect yourself from the light rain that fell upon New York.

“Hey, there sweetie. What would you like today?” The owner of the truck asked you kindly.

You looked at the menu, the variety of options overwhelming you. “Well… What do you recommend?”

“Ah! I think the best food to have in weather like this, is the Chocolate waffle delight. With some hot cocoa? The perfect comfort food, missy.”

“Then I’ll try it.” You smiled at him. Did you really look that bad?

After paying you still stood under the roof as the rain lightened, turning into a drizzle. The waffle was honestly really good. It was crunchy outside, but soft inside. The chocolate dripping everywhere and the sugar topping it. The hot cocoa was good too, but you preferred your dad’s. It was creamier.

As you finished your breakfast you dedicated yourself to look around at the people who walked by. Couples walked arm in arm. Families held the children’s hands. People who walked on their own, seemed to go faster. All of them had somewhere to go.

But you, today, on a Saturday like this. Had nothing to do and nowhere to go. Wasn’t that just pathetic?

If the thing with Malcolm hadn’t happened you would probably be working around those holes for your scholarship. But you didn’t feel like writing anymore. There was no motivation coursing through you like it normally did.

So you just stared.

And stared.

And stare- Wait, what?

A single person in the street stood out to you. What was he wearing?

You threw away the paper wrapper and cup of cocoa and said a hasty thank you and goodbye to the truck owner.

He was standing on the sidewalk, waiting for the crossing sign to change. And he stood out like a crown in a sea of parrots. Because yeah, New Yorkers are weird, but not that weird. Who wears a three-piece, all black, suit anyway?

You speed-walked through your pedestrian crossing, walking towards him.

It can’t be. They took him back to Asgard. They would arrest him if he ever set foot back on earth. It can’t be him.

You racked your mind for an explanation, but the place where he had just walked out of sent you into a new form of confusion. Why would he be in an elder’s home?

You finally caught up to the man. However, an inner panic overtook you so you just stood awkwardly by his side, waiting for the pedestrian light to change.

Look towards me. Come on. Notice me. You hoped since you were definitely not just going to start a conversation with an unidentified criminal. No. That would be irresponsible of you.

You bounced on the ball of your feet and when the light changed, you followed him as inconspicuously as you could.

After a minute or two of quietly following him, you just thought that maybe you were following the wrong guy. Maybe your sight failed you. There was no way this was him. I mean, he would have the FBI, the CIA, the army and the Avengers on top of him just by setting foot on earth. Yeah, you just-

“Why are you following me?”

Oh no. It’s definitely him.

“Uh-Uh, excuse me?” You tried playing dumb.

He didn’t turn around, nor he stopped. So you didn’t either.

“You have been following me for some time. Please go, I’m not friendly with kids.” He dismissively stated.

“Wow. I guess I’m just some kid. I thought I wasn’t that forgettable.” You smirked, wondering if that would steer his brain.

He only stopped when the next pedestrian light turned red.

Still not looking at you, but with a furrowed brow, he asked: “Do I know you?”

“Yep. I guess I am pretty forgettable.” You shrugged, not meeting his side looks. “I guess sneaking past the security of the highest security vehicle in the world is quite dumb.”

Is he catching on? Am I pulling this off? Or do I just look like an idiot?

It took him a second of silence and starting to cross the street to suddenly whip around in the middle of the crossing and give you a look.

“You’re my cell buffoon.” He smirked.

You gasped, feigning hurt. “Excuse Y O U. I’ll let you know that I am so much more than "entertaining”.“

You both stood there, in the middle of the street, staring at each other for a while.

"Well, this will be interesting then…” The smirk on his face told you one thing. This was just starting.

#loki #loki x reader #loki angst #loki fluff #halfrid #platonic!reader #teen!reader #loki odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason

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