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quirklessidiot · 3 years

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title : cigarettes and parfaits [4] pairing : older!nanami kento x younger!reader [13 year age gap, ft toji fushiguro] Genre: romance, fluff, slice of life, josei, angst, comedy, strangers to lovers au

Summary: you’re pretty sure you’d remember marrying a man 13 years older than you, right? Warnings: alcohol, smoking, mild smut, y/n making stupid decisions, cliche fluff, everyones a human-au so yeh non-canon stuff and everyone’s happy (periODT)

Notes: lil development right there HAHSHSHHS , yes tojis appearing soon guYS hddhdhdh thank u for ur patience ily all and yall stay safe and drink lots and ltos of water!! sorry for the late update!

Masterlist || taglist || [prev ; next] [updates; every saturday!]

You stare at the ring on your hand as you stand next to Nanami Kento in the grocery shop, you and him have agreed to see each other and go out once a week while fixing up the divorce papers.

Last week you both had gone to a cafe after work but had to end early since Yuuji had fell down the stairs (despite being athletic, the boy was awfully clumsy). This week, you both decided to do something mundane.

Grocery shopping.

“Hm, what does Yuuji think about this?” You asked, showing the man some bars of rice krispies, “He seems to be a sweet-tooth.”

“Sukuna is the sweet-tooth, Yuuji isn’t really picky with food.”

“Huh,” You hummed, “Sukuna seems so soft despite all the tattoo’s.”

Nanami rolls his eyes at your statement, “He’s just, as kids like to call these days, a nerd.” he retorts, taking the peanut butter off the shelf and carefully placing it in the grocery cart, “He enjoys mathematics and art,”

“Ah, hence the tattoo’s.” you thought out loud.

“I almost lost it when he went home a few months ago looking like that.” He sighs, running his hands through his hair, “It was a sign of rebellion, saying that he didn’t want to move to Tokyo.”

You chuckled, eyes on him, “Must’ve shot up your blood pressure, Kento.”

He clicks his tongue in dismay, the memory still fresh. Nanami Kento unlike what Gojo Satoru said was a very easy person to like and accompany. Ever since that ‘mild’ mishap two weeks ago, you’d have calls and little quick meet-ups aside from the once a week dates.

At times it felt like the little wedding at the Izakaya hadn’t happened, it was as if you were just going out with him.

Nanami Kento didn’t even have to try so hard to make you comfortable, he was just...there and everything just seemed right. He had easily fit right in with your routine.

You continue to watch him and he stops in the middle of his tracks, blinking heavily, “Ah,” he mumbles, placing a hand over his eye.

“Oh,” you paused in your tracks too, “Are you alright, Kento?”

“Just dust,” He mumbles, “It probably got in.”

You hold back a laugh, how mundane, “Here, let me…”

You slowly take his hand away from his face, his eyes shut tight, trying to hold in the pain from the dust getting in his eyes, “Do you mind bending down a bit lower, Kento?” you ask, “I’ll have to blow it out of your eye.”

Nanami follows your orders and bends down. You slowly cup his cheeks and lean in closer to his eyes and softly blow. You notice the slight twinge of his body, the reaction making you inwardly giddy, “Feel better?” you whispered.

The older man opens his eyes and only then do you notice just how close you two were with each other. For a moment, movement around you is slow and you don’t even notice Maki Zen’in standing right in front of you along with Yuta Okkatsu.

“Sensei?”

You finally snap back to reality when you hear that very familiar voice calling you out. It seemed like Nanami had been caught up in the moment too, “Oh,” You cleared your throat, letting go immediately of Nanami’s face and jumping back, “Maki-chan.Yuta-kun. What a surprise.”

The young girl narrowed her eyes while Yuta’s ears were evidently red, signaling that he felt very embarrassed to walk in on that moment, “Hi sensei.” Yuta greets, clearing his throat, “I-uh sorry about that, I told Maki to walk away and-”

“It’s fine, Yuta-kun.” You laugh, a bit nervous. What would happen if she told Yuji and Sukuna about this? You knew how Maki was sort of close with the twins, although she did not know who Nanami was, she may describe him and if the boys were smart enough to catch on with it, you’d be entangled in it pretty quickly and you weren’t ready to meet them as their ‘oji-san’s’ partner.

You were a bit nervous and it was showing.

Nanami takes quick notice of this and slowly wraps his fingers around yours, a small smile appearing on his lips, “Good afternoon, you must be my partner’s students.” he greets, the man had a way with younger ones, you could only imagine how he was as a father figure to the boys growing up, “It’s nice to finally put some faces on the kids that Y/N loves to gush about.”

Unlike your nervousness a while ago, this man is calm, cool, and collected. You almost envy him at how good he’s doing this.

“At least you picked someone better than Toji-ojisan.” Maki nods, “This guy looks actually more serious with life than him.”

You feel Nanami’s brow quirk up at what she just said.

“A-Anyways, Sensei…” Yuta clears his throat, “We’ll leave you and your boyfriend together. See you at Math class tomorrow!” He hurriedly grabs Maki’s wrist and zooms away at a speed of light. Leaving you two awkwardly standing there.

“Toji?” Nanami asks, curiously peering at you, “An admirer, I assume?”

“Megumi’s otosan.” You mumbled, embarrassed, “He likes to play jokes and all that. It’s nothing serious.”

“Hm.” he mumbled, a small dismayed look crossed his features and you wonder why, “If he does anything uncomfortable, you can pull my name out. I wouldn’t mind.”

“I’ll be sure to take note of that.”

You both continue your way down the grocery aisle, not even noticing that he still has his long hand wrapped around yours.

“Y/N-sensei…” Nobara drawled, placing her head on top of the wooden end of the mop, “How come we never knew you had a boyfriend?”

“Oi,” Megumi growled, “You’re supposed to be cleaning.”

“You’re just jealous that Y/N-sensei didn’t get to be your new okaasan.” Nobara bit back, putting her tongue out. You watched as the raven-haired boy chunk the blackboard eraser at her direction, a vein popping in his forehead.

“Stupid,” He replied, “I’d never let Y/N-sensei near the jiji.”

“What’s he like, Y/N-sensei?” Junpei asked, tapping his chin, cutting the argument short, “I heard Maki-senpai talking about him.”

You watch as Yuuji placed his head on his best friend’s shoulder, “Yeah, she was telling me how older he looked than you.” he exclaimed, you nervously gulped down. Yuuji sure wasn’t helping the situation at all.

“Well,” You chuckled, trying to remain calm and oblivious, “He’s nice and he has kids.”

“Ha.” Sukuna droned, stopping whatever he was doing, his punishment despite not being given any by Nitta was helping the cleaners clean for the whole week, much to his dismay, he had to follow or you’d be giving him a slip, “You’re dating an old man? I thought the reason why you didn’t date the Zen’in-jiji was because he was old and he had kids.”

“Oh.” you looked down on your books on the desk, embarrassed, “I don’t have a problem with kids. In fact, I’d love to meet them.”

“Wah,” Yuuji’s eyes were sparkling now as he hurried in front of you and placed his elbows on top of your table and head on top of his hands, “I hope I really get to meet someone like you, sensei.”

“Stupid, I doubt any sane person would want to go with you.” Nobara said across the room, making Yuuji glare at her and started teasing her.

You chuckled once again at their antics. Meanwhile Sukuna continues to stare at you, eyes narrowing especially at the ring on your ring finger. For some odd reason, it held quite the familiarity.

Yuuji likes to think that Nanamin is the best godfather out there, technically, he was like a father to them already. So he had always wondered why he never got married, he was sure that when they were out a few times, many women would crowd for their ojisan.

His father’s very close friend, Haibara-ojisan had mentioned one fleeting moment back when he was babysitting them that Nanamin was very secretive on who he liked that even he didn’t know if he’d ever been in a relationship.

But things were different these days, for the past two weeks, he’d have one day wherein he’d go home later than usual. It was odd to say the least and not like he minded really, they were high school kids after all since Nanamin hated overtimes.

He mentioned it to Sukuna but his twin just rolled his eyes and said, “Man probably needs to chase the bag or something, he technically is paying for this nice house and two freeloaders here.”

Yuuji doubted it though! Nanamin earned pretty well and he didn’t really need overtime since he was technically the boss or so he heard from Geto-ojisan a few nights ago.

So while he was making them some katsudon for dinner that night and Yuuji was doing some homework for your class, he decided to ask the question.

“Saaay, nanamin-ojisan…” he drawled, placing his pen down, “You’re coming home a lot later than normal these days…”

The older blonde turns to the younger twin, face still straight-lace and stoic, something that Yuuji was accustomed to, “Work has me by the neck.” he replies shortly.

“Every wednesday’s?” he quips, tilting his head to the side.

“Yes.”

“You aren’t dating anyone?”

Silence erupted between them, the only sound could be heard was the sizzling of the chicken on the pan, “What made you say that?” he asked stiffly and maybe, if Yuuji was ignorant, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight twitch of his brow but he wasn’t.

Yuuji prided himself to be an observant person, someone had said he could pass off to be a detective in the near future, he had the agility and the observation skills (sukuna said otherwise though and said he’d get himself killed if he were to ever enter that field)

“You sometimes have that weird look on your face when you look at your phone.” the boy pointed out, “But Sukuna says you’re just chasing the bag so maybe he’s right, he’s kind of the smarter twin after all.” he mumbles the last part with great disdain.

Nanami lowers the fire on the stove and places his hands on the counter in front of Yuuji, “What if I told you I was sort of seeing someone?” he mused, humoring the young boy.

“Are you really?” Yuuji’s eyes widened, surprised written all over his features, “What are they like, Nanamin-ojisan? Are they pretty? Do they know about us?”

“Oi what’s the noise about?” Sukuna’s raspy voice cuts through Yuuji’s excited one as he enters the kitchen, hair still wet from the shower and in house clothes with a towel hung on his neck.

“I told you Nanamin-ojisan was seeing someone!” Yuuji yelled, eyes sparkling since he was right this time, he quickly returned his gaze back to the older man, “When do we get to see them? Are they nice? How’d you guys even meet?”

“You’re seeing someone?” Sukuna spat, eyes wide in complete surprise, “How’d you even get someone to stay around with your uptight attitude?”

“Yah!” Yuuji yells, “Nananmin-ojisan is nice with women unlike you, no wonder girls are very scared to approach you!”

“Shut up,” Sukuna grumbles towards his twin then turns towards his godfather, “How the hell did you even meet?”

Nanami just shrugs, telling them they’ll know soon enough as he returns to his cooking. The boys seemed to dislike his answer though and continued to bug him. After cooking dinner and having their fill, he returns to his room and whips out his phone, a text message from you saying, ‘hey, the boys asked me about you earlier. They heard from maki-chan.’

The blonde wonders if he weren’t drunk, would he even consider doing this sort of thing? Dating was really out of the question, he admits he isn’t in the right place to go out with anyone especially with a young person like you.

He thinks he’s taking advantage of the power-dynamics since he’s older.

He doesn’t even deny how weird it was that you're still hanging around him especially when you had a far richer man as one of your admirers. Satoru may or may not have overhead Yuuji gossiping about you one time and your ‘relation’ with Megumi’s father, it was definitely a small world and judging from the Toji you had mentioned a few days ago, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots that it was actually Toji Zen’in, a member of one of japan’s high business clans.

He shakes his head before pressing the call button, it only takes a few rings until you answered, “Hey kento.” You greeted, “What’s up?”

He hears the sound of a whizzing electric mixer on the other line.

“Boys gave you trouble?”

“No,” he could almost feel the smile on your words, “They were just surprised I liked a man with kids.”

“I reckoned, Yuuji seemed to have caught up too in my side. Been asking why I’m going overtime.”

Silence settled between you two for a moment and Nanami wonders if you’re scared out of your wits. You might be backing out this deal after testing those waters, “Maybe you should tell me when I could meet them then? We wouldn’t want them to run into us during one of our outings or when we’re fixing up the divorce.” you replied softly.

“Hm,” he mumbled, “I’ll be sure to ask them about that. For a temporary setting, you sure take this matter quite seriously, Y/N.”

“Well, I did say I’d help you out.”

A small smile reaches his lips as he hears your small and shy voice. It seemed like having people to check up on you by the end of the day wasn’t so bad, after all.

taglist [if crossed out, i can’t tag u ; - ;]

; @coldbookworm ; @frankenstein852 ; @neavil ; @shephard17895 @kristineyoshaii ; @airybnb ; @okachansenpai ; @amortentiaxo ; @rinvtaro ; @franko-pop ; @kozutenshi ; @kaldoesthings ; @moonlitdabi ; @chococroissant ; @bleepop ; @kaldoesthings ; @moonlitdabi ; @chococroissant ; @pettybroccoli ; @nixxona ; @kiyoo-omi ; @omibaby ; @bokkunto ; @peccobagnaia ; @sangwoahbigbussy ; @inu-makki ; ; @megumiisee ; @softieelorelylove ; @azellianna ; @haruhuiii ; @restless-human67 ; @tsukkisfatsimp ; @taihjj ; @shayiswifey ; @roione

@Kurok1717 ; @hcn421 ; @shinhiromi ; @airybnb ; @katshuya ; @atsuhaya ; @donotcallagain ; @answerthesirens

#jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #nanami x you #cigarettes and parfaits

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whosjunglejim4322 · 4 years

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Bramosia | J.Seo (m)

Genre: pwp, knight!au, smut, fluff, he is, and I can't stress this enough, madly in love with you

Warnings: loss of virginity, pussy eating, mutual pining and longing, it's forbidden but who's gonna stop u??? Exactly. Inaccurate descriptions of the time period probably, inappropriate use of the word princess, he fucks you to tears, this is so self indulgent I gotta blast

The moons unearthly luminescence bleeds through the windows that sit directly above your wing of the old castles corridor, a reminder of why he bears the heavy sword that hangs off of his hip, of why he's here in the first place.

He rolls his aching neck, blinking his dry eyes a few times in an attempt to dampen them. He's usually not so worn by now.

Perhaps the two of you had gotten too carried away last night, it's too easy when you're with eachother. Effortless, like that of a flowers perianth traveling wistfully through a summers breeze. It's easy to forget.

He's here to protect you, nothing more, as he is was a proffesional in all that he does. He is a knight, after all. One of the best. Your father wouldn't have requested him from a province so far away if he weren't damn good.

Six months ago, it seems like a lifetime away and yet the memory of seeing you for the very first time is so vivid behind his eyelids, tangible as if he could reach out and hover his palms over the warmth the halo around you seemed to emit.

He smiles to himself, the image keeping him sane and distracting him from the ache in the soles of his feet. He knows you're probably not sleeping, he wishes you wouldn't worry about him. He's doing it to himself, really.

He is a warrior but he is only so strong, so resilient. He has never been stricken by such a force as to have his bones feel as weak as they do when he looks into your eyes, when you cup his face in your hands like he is the most delicate thing you have ever seen.

Sure, he hadn't been the most nonchalant. His eyes barely left you even during the brief moments in which his life is not sworn over to do so, and you being you, caught him almost every time. You'd smile, fleeting enough for only him to notice.

You never get the credit you deserve, he had come to find out over the past several months. Being a princess, as fawned over the title may be, it wasn't meant for you.

You'd scowl at the name of every prince your father mentioned might come visit, which he'd take pride in secretly. You wouldn't even scold him whenever he'd been clearly protective in a manner than suggested that it was more than just the job that inclined him to act that way.

Perceptive, and clever you are. And to think, you might feel even a fraction of what he feels, it causes his heart to thunder loudly behind his sturdy ribcage, momentarily reducing his fatigue.

You are the only one in all of his twenty five years of life that has threatened to shake his very foundation, like you've found a way to wind yourself through every ridge of his skeleton like vines of Wisteria.

Sundays are always the hardest, you're still so fresh in his mind, on his skin. It's like every inch of him has been permanently marked, he can still feel the weight of your body against his and the warm puff of air from your lips against his earlobe as you sing his name.

His sigh is quiet in the vast, empty space around him. He shouldn't be thinking of you so late, when he's so tired. It makes him ache for you all the more, make him wish life was anything but what it is now. That he could be with you unabashedly.

That he could be your protector, and not just in a way that could be be permanently devastated if anyone were to find out about the two of you.

He doesn't realize he's closed his eyes, not until he has to peel them open and search for the source of the soft voice he's just heard whisper his name into the dark.

He furrows his brows as a stream of warm candlelight spills through the crack in your door from your room, your form coming into a few just a moment later, as if beckoned from his dreams.

"You're really going to stay out there, John?" He foresees your incredulity, smiling at the hand thats propped up on your hip.

"Those are my orders, princess." He has a hard time not staring at you, even in such poor lighting you are still the most beautiful thing he's ever witnessed.

He's always stubborn about breaking the made up rules you two have put in place, like only meeting in private on Saturdays. Despite his inability to resist you he still needs to keep you safe.

"My father is a whole wing away, don't you know," you emphasize your point by stepping out past your doorframe, tiptoeing at an almost imperceptible pace towards him. "and if danger were to arise, how much more convenient need it be, than for you to be right there with me?"

You're standing right in front of him now, weaking his resolve eith each syllable that passes those pretty lips of yours. It's strange, how he still wonders if your feelings for him are resolute as his are for you, when you're the one always asking for trouble. Eager to have your way.

When you reach out to grab his waist, he breaks.

"Princess, if someone were to see that I'm not outside of your room guarding as I'm supposed to,"

You interrupt him, pressing yourself closer until he can feel your chest against his, the barrier of his clothing suddenly a burden far heavier than before.

"Who? Who might see? Everyone is asleep, you should be."

You stare up at him and he can't seem to resist the pull, meeting your eyes and unclapsing his hands from behind his back to stroke the apple of your cheek with his knuckles.

You heel into his touch, beaming as you realise you've already gotten your way, evident in the way he sighs your name as if the word fills him with oxytocin.

"You really are trouble," he cups your face, calloused fingertips swiping a fallen lash from underneath your eye. "trying to lure me in, like a siren. I'd be willing to go, anyways."

You lift yourself to the tips of your toes, pressing a brief, featherlight, kiss to the surface of his lips. Just enough to bring forth warmth to his cheeks.

"You're silly, I'd be too selfish a siren to do any damage. I'd have to keep you all to myself."

His arms are strong and steady as the encapsulate you, the fears and worries of outside intruders fading with each second spent in eachothers presence. It's like nothing else exists.

"Please, Princess. It's hard enough already, to be away from you," he's on the verge of losing any bit of hope for his sanity, but as anticipated, you won't have it.

"And you don't think it's hard for me? You think that I enjoy knowing that it is prohibited for me to be like this with you? I am many things but I am not selfish, so if you don't want to come with me then I won't force you."

He has to bite back a laugh, or maybe a scream of frustration and agony all at the same time. Here you are, so close he's sure you can hear how his pulse pounds beneath his skin at your presence, actually accusing him of not wanting you. It's preposterous.

You glare up at him when his arms don't loosen their grasp.

"You must be mistaken, sorely mistaken. If you think that any moment spent without you is even the least bit pleasant for me, you're wrong. So wrong it's a bit humorous," he kisses your cheek, and then the other. Your skin tingles where his lips grace.

"You may not be selfish but I am. So selfish that I'd give into my own desires even if it meant that one slip up could ruin it all. Don't you see that?" You sigh blissfully, in spite of his words, when he kisses your nose.

"Well I think that's stupid, I'd never let such a thing happen. I've lived here my whole life, I'd be able to predict the likelihood of someone coming up here during such a late hour."

He doesn't miss the pitch of sadness that comes with talk of the castle, he knows that there is so much you still have yet to experience. So much you'd like to do, so far away from here.

Still, he can't deny the truth in which you speak. You're right, and he knows that you're as careful of these things as he is. He trusts you, as you trust him. And what is he going to do, say no? He'd never have the willpower.

His broad shoulders relax, his hands suddenly engulfing yours.

"Alright, you don't have to pout anymore. You know I'll end up kissing it from that pretty face of yours anyways."

You suppress a giggle of elation, squeezing your fingers around his as you turn to quietly pull him into your room, peering into the the hallway once more to make sure the coast is clear, before you ease your door shut.

And then at once, he is what you taste on your tongue.

His lips always leave you breathless. The way he kisses you, it's as of you are his only source of oxygen and his lungs burn with the need for air. He is fierce, but so very concise. You almost forget that he so ruefully pretended to put up a fight.

Your arms mold around his neck as he slouches the slightest bit in order to make the reach easier for you, knowing how you like to bury your hands in his hair and tug at the strands whenever he does something that you'd like more of.

Your eagerness is a bit more exuberant tonight, normally you'd still be a bit bashful, giggling between pecks and having to turn your face away before kissing him again.

But you haven't pulled away from him yet, not even for a breath and suddenly his skin is sweltering towards what feels like a hundred degrees. He's pretty sure you've just whispered his name.

He's already gone, helplessly lost in the way you're clinging onto him with all your strength.

"John." Just his name falling from your lips in the form of a sweet sigh has his knees buckling.

He's careful, hesitant even, when he cups the back of your knees and allows you to fall atop your bed, the sight almost too much to bear. He can never catch a break.

But he has to look at you, has to see the look in your eyes, the gleam that shines in your blown out pupils as your fingers tug at the clothing hanging loosely on his body. He fights back a groan.

Of course things have gotten intense between the two of you, but nothing more than over the clothes petting. And, even then, that drove him to the brink of insanity. He didn't think he could ever be putty in someone's hands until he met you.

It feels like everything is happening so fast yet not slow enough, it seems as if you're blooming like a lotus before his eyes and he wants to capture every little detail. Just incase one day his memories are all he has of you.

You pull him back down to your mouth, legs suddenly looping around his trim waist, knees locked on either side. You practically purr as his hands, large and tender, grace your thighs only to be met with bare skin where your nightgown has risen up.

He's breathing heavily when your mouths depart momentarily, his doe eyes an onyx pit of desire and emotion as he stares down at you, lips ruby red.

You nod, as if reading his mind and answering the dozens of unanswered questions that sit unmoving at the tip of his tongue. Still, his eyebrows are pulled together in concentration, in tentative restraint.

"You can touch me. Please, touch me."

Your skin is heavenly underneath his trembling touch, from the soft hair atop your thighs to the way you so perfectly mold around his fingers. You're a gift of the most ethereal kind, here in front of him.

You coo at him with a voice of an angel, pulling at his face in an attempt to have him kiss you again. He's been too busy ogling, and repays you with the press of his mouth against the crook of your neck.

You lift your chin to allow him more access, eyes fluttering closed and thighs tightening around his middle when you feel the warmth of his open mouth against your throat.

"You're so sweet, so pretty." He mumbles, practically floating.

He nips at your collarbone, and you can't stop your hips from bucking up against him, your clothed center meeting his hardened length through the material of his bottoms.

The air is thick with tension now, you can feel it buzzing through the both of you like ths thrum of a thunderstorm. He sucks in a breath, lips ghosting over yours.

"I want to make you feel good, If you'd allow me." He tries to control the shake in his voice but he's not sure he's succeeded. What a mess you've made of him.

You kiss him for what seems like the hundredth time but feels like the first, still sending jolts of electricity through your body and causing heat to swirl in your loins. You can barely speak.

"Y-Yes, yes I'll allow you."

Your voice is foreign to your own ears, clouded with desire and a desperation that is as overwhelming as it is strange and new.

But having him here, knowing he's the one whose hands are touching you, it's comforting in a way that leaves no room for doubt that he is nothing but kind. Nothing but adoring.

It's hard to tell with just the luminosity of a single candle on your bedside table, but you're almost certain you can feel him shuffle. At least, his weight seems to have shifted, his arms suddenly caged around your waist, upperhalf between your legs.

And then you feel it, the plushness of his lips just above your knee as he lifts your legs by your calves, placing them over his shoulders. You're not sure you can focus on anything else now, breathing suddenly heavy.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" His voice is so close, yet far away in an unfamiliar way. It has butterflies swarming your belly.

"I'm so lucky, so so lucky..." He trails off between kisses, shifting from one thigh to the other, slowly but surely making his way towards your center.

It's only now in your bird brain that you're beginning to realize what exactly he's about to do, and it's like some switch inside of you has been flicked on, toes suddenly curling in anticipation, wetness soaking into the fabric of your underwear.

The desire isn't just in your belly now, its everywhere. All consuming, when he pushes your nightgown up and bunches it around your hips, the air cool against your skin. You shiver, and his cheek brushes against the crease of your thigh.

"Have you ever been touched like this, princess?" He's curious but not pushy, just wants to know. When you shake your head, he swallows.

He's slow and steady, pulling your underwear off your hips and down your legs, allowing the garment to fall to the floor. You don't clamp your legs shut, despite the instinct to shield yourself. You've never hidden yourself from him, and you know there's no reason to.

Esepcially not when he's looking at you like he is right now, like a man starved whose just been presented with a meal of his favorite kind. He glances up at you, with eyes that shine with gratitude, and awe alike. You reach out to stroke his hair.

And then, suddenly, his face is gone from your view. You feel it, first, before you register that it's happening. A gasp leaves your lips the moment your back arches ever so slightly off of your mattress, his hands keeping your thighs apart as his tongue licks another flat stripe through your folds.

You feel exposed in a way that only feels as intoxicating as it does, because he's the one with his mouth on your cunt, suckling your bud between his lips and swiveling his head side to side. You tug at his hair.

A guttural groan resonates in his throat and the vibration serves as direct stimulation, a mewl leaving your mouth as you buck you hips up against his skilled tongue.

"Shhh baby, stay quiet for me," you furrow your eyebrows, looking down at him with stars in your eyes. "I know, I know sweetheart." He reads the pleading in your eyes, soothingly rubbing your hips as he delves back in.

It's not easy to stay quiet. Not at all.

If you'd thought him rubbing your clit through your clothes was something to be noisy over, nothing prepared you for this.

He's so good at it, so generous with every lap of his tongue. The sounds are lewd and loud in the shared space, and his tongues pace only increases when you reach down to find his hands. He intertwines your fingers before you give him the hint.

You try to keep your volume low, your whimpers almost inaudible but loud enough to spurr him on, to have his hips rutting against the bed while he kisses your cunt with passion only a lover could have.

Bliss overcomes you faster than you expect, and swallows you whole like a vicious, unmerciful hurricane.

Your thighs tremble against his strength as he keeps them parted when they threaten to close, your fingers twisted in the comforter as tears well in your eyes.

You're not sure if you're making any noise, the light too bright behind your eyes, bones suddenly weightless as his tongue licks you clean. You twitch, aware that you've let out a whine. The feeling is agonizingly pleasant.

You're still throbbing when his hands suddenly grasp your jaw, head lolling in his direction as he presses his lips to yours. He's serene, slipping his tongue into your mouth, humming.

You're certain, now. Certain that you need to have him in every way there is to have someone, for your heart may forever be unsettled if it doesn't get to taste what it's like to love him wholly, completely.

"I want to-" you've got his rapt attention, as you always do, and he stares down at you with a lovesick expression as you struggle to find the strength to say it out loud.

He's grown accustomed to reading your countenance, only time allowing him to grasp the meaning behind every crease and line that forms on your face, he's certain you could give him one look and he'd instantly know what it is that you're trying to say.

One perk to having a secret rendezvous, though he still needs to hear you say it. He'd only take your word for it regarding something like this, something that he's dreamt about more times that he'd like to admit.

He can't hide his surprise, thumbs stroking your face.

"You want me to..." he quirks an inquisitive brow, nearly becoming distracted when your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip. "you want me to be your first?"

Even the words have you latching onto him tighter, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

"Yes, I want that very much...do you...also want that?"

He grins, widely and for a moment you forget he was born to be made of steel, that he's fought all of his life and has bruised his skin for the sake of his kingdom. You want to kiss away every bad memory in his head.

"How could you even think you have to ask? I want nothing more, just you. You're all I'll ever want."

The veracity in his voice, suddenly hoarse, makes your skin feel like it's being tickled by a million, tiny feathers. You never knew anything could feel like this.

A heartbeat later, your hands are slipping underneath his top to make an attempt at pulling it off, your excitment not a good match for your lack of coordination. Of course, he doesn't mind helping.

He slips his sword from his hip while you stare up at him with wide eyes of reverence and desire, so much of him being exposed at once causing a swelter of heat to boil underneath your skin.

Your hands are hesitant, hovering around his lithe hips as he sits back on his haunches, chest rapidly rising and falling as the atmosphere begins to soak into his pores. He can't believe he gets to make love to you.

"You can touch me, princess," he's the one reassuring you now, knowing that beyond your headstrong personality when you're with him, you're still so timid; trembling like a leaf in autumn.

His dexterous fingers gently grasp your wrists, placing your palms over his abdomen, keeping your gaze all the while, head nodding in encouragement.

He's soft, soft on the surface at least. The soft down that covers his honey colored skin is like silk underneath your fingers, a juxtaposition to the rigid muscle underneath that flexes as your fingertips move upwards towards the broad planes of his chest.

You hook your fingers around his shoulders, and pull him down to your mouth, determined as your heart bellows inside of your body.

It's wilder this time, the wet sounds loud in your ears, his tongue waltzing with yours. You rake your nails down his sides, and he damn near growls.

It's a blur, the way he slips the straps of your gown from off of your shoulders, before removing the garment completely and throwing it behind him. Somewhere in between he pulls the covers out from underneath you, sensing the chill that runs through you like a tremor from the exposure.

It's during that brief moment when you're too drunk on adrenaline, that your fingers begin pulling at the buckle of his bottoms, too eager again and not being able to unfasten it correctly. Always the gentlemen, he does it for you, again.

He's careful now, not completely planting himself against you yet when he kisses your neck and takes your breasts in his massive palms, squeezing indulgently.

You pull him up by the ridge of his jaw, wrapping your legs around his middle as you had previously, letting out a small gasp as his hard length suddenly comes to lie heavy between your legs when you beckon him closer by your heels on his back.

"You're sure you want me?" He slips his hand that's not cupping your cheek, down in between your bodies to rub your clit with his middle finger, actually expecting you to be able to speak coherently. He supresses his gasp upon feeling the abundance of your essence.

It's hard to focus, when he's looking down at you like that, when you can feel every ridge and curve of his naked body against yours. Perhaps it's being able to to tell that he's feeling the same way just by the way he speaks, that makes it so intoxicating.

"You're all I'll ever want." You echo his earlier words, and his laughter fills your ears like a lullably. You reach out to push his dark hair out from in front of his eyes, his lips catching your palm and placing a kiss to the center.

"It'll hurt, I'll go as slow as you need me to." You see the worry creased between his brow, and you soothe it away by clenching your thighs around his waist, silently beckoning him.

"Please, please fuck me."

It takes him by surprise, cock twitching against your sex. You sound so sweet, so angelic even when you're requesting something so filthy.

He lifts himself on his forearms, reaching down to grasp his shaft. Your hands are in his hair a the while, fingers tracing shapes across the nape of his neck. You suck in a breath when he rubs the tip against your clit, arousal leaking from your slit.

He rubs his cock against you like this, through your silken folds and back up to your sensitive nub, until your head is thrown back against the pillows, face turned to the side and canorous mewls slipping past your lips.

Your eyes flutter open when he kisses you, finally prodding your entrance, readying you. Your teeth gently sink into the plush surface of his bottom lip, as if urging him to continue.

Your mouth falls open when he begins to push himself inside of you. You have to brace yourself by clinging onto his biceps, reminding yourself to breathe.

If you weren't as wet for him as you are, you're sure it would be more painful. It still stings, even more so as he begins to bottom out, using every bit of self control he has as to make sure he doesn't accidentally rut into you with too much force.

He meets your eyes when he's fully sheathed inside of you, your fingernails leaving crescent moons in his skin. He doesn't mind it one bit.

"Are you alright?" The tenderness in his voice is accompanied by his lips across your cheeks, down your jaw, over your eyelids.

"Mhm. J-Just stay like this, for a second, please." Your walls flutter around him and his eyes fall heavy. He stays as still as he can for the moment, fingers massaging your soft hip.

"I never thought...never dreamed we'd get to do this." He speaks in an irrevocable way, swelling your heart over two times its size with how he talks about you. Like you're truly something magical.

You wiggle your hips, his gaze searching for yours and lighting up with newfound determination when you give him conformation to move. He slowly drags himself out, before pushing himself back in.

"If you only knew...how much I truly think of you." You speak steadily despite the wave of pleasure that ripples through your body, from the pit of your stomach outwards, touching every nerve.

He's big, bigger than you expected, but curved in a way that has you fighting a cry. Your lungs ache with the need to make noise, to express how it feels to have him inside of you like this. You squeeze around him, and he smashes his lips against yours.

You never thought it would feel like this, you'd heard mixed reviews but clearly none of them had ever experienced what it's like to have someone like him demonstrating their skill.

He's precise, a little shaky but only because he's concentrating on not literally cumming after two minutes. You're everything he's ever wanted and more, you're soaked and warm around him, chest pressed flush against his. Your hardened nipples threaten to distract him.

His hair tickles your forehead as he begins to create a steady pace. He's got one hand behind your right thigh, cupping it and hiking it up just the slightest bit while he fucks into you, curling his hips.

He swallows your moans, tasting the sense of surrealness on your tongue. He feels it too, groaning when you tug a tuft of his hair.

"You're mine, all mine, fuck." His voice is hoarse, hips stuttering as he begins to rock into you, not completely pulling himself out of you before nudging your cervix again. His mouth catches the edge of your jaw, then your earlobe.

He buries his face in your shoulder, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against his hair as you keep yourself quiet. He can still feel the way you're shivering, the whispers of cries that are audible when you breathe.

"I'm yours, I'm yours." You're not sure you could ever feel this way about someone else, and not just because he is all that every single one of your senses seemed to be attuned to.

He's deep inside of you, reaching places you never would be able to by yourself, and still holds you like you're the entire world. Despite the need that consumes you both, he takes his time.

You feel him everywhere. On your neck, your throat, down to your clavicle where his hot tongue soothes over the mark he's just made.

You can almost feel him in your belly, the tip of his cock nudging the sweet spot of nerves deep within you causing your body to jerk in his hold. He takes note and is determined to drive you over the edge, knowing he's not going to last much longer.

He's yearned for it too long, and nothing his mind could have conjured up would ever compare again.

He lets go of your leg only to bring his hand to where your bodies are connected as one, your face contorted into a mask of pleasure as he begins to rub at your clit, in circular motions, with the same rythym as his thrusts.

"John, ohhh, you f-feel so good." You're slurring your words, high off of his affection. Your belly feels hot, a pressure just behind your navel leaving you writhing, trying to match his pace.

"Yeah? Feels good to have me inside of you?" He's being cruel now, already knowing the answer by the way tears are swelling in your eyes for the second time tonight, irisises shining back at him.

Your hands roam his sides, settling on his hips as you turn your face to hide it against his bicep. He kisses any expanse of skin that he can reach, till the wet spots leave a trail of chills along your body.

You're close, and he knows it. You're already leaking onto the bed, dripping down his shaft.

"J-John...p-please." You're blubbering now, and his fingers circle your clit faster, just enough to have you breathless and unable to speak as his strokes become inconsistent, cock throbbing.

"Shh, I got you baby, gonna make you cum okay? Want you to let go."

Looking up into his eyes, it's hard to resist. Suddenly it's the first time you've met and you're awestruck by his beauty all over again, by the sharp planes of his face that you'd come to realize are soft underneath your touch.

You're kissing him again for the first time, and his lips are as plush and pillowy as they look, his hands big and wsrm as they hold your face steady against his mouth.

You realize you're in love with him for the first time again, staring into honey colored irises and listening to his velvet voice, aware that when he's gone it feels like a piece of you has been taken along with him.

Your body suddenly stills, save for your back arching and his body, sturdy and whole, there to anchor you while you forget you breathe. Your orgasm is all the more powerful this time, with him inside of you, and it's like once youre unraveling it doesn't stop.

He holds the back of your head and allows you to muffle your cries against his chest, fingers latching onto any part of him you reach first, as if you might fall of the face of the earth. He's still rubbing your clit, whispering sweet encouragements in your ear.

You don't pick up all of it, only vaguely aware of the tremor in his tone as he says your name.

And then he's locked against you, every muscle in his body rigid and hard as a strained, muffled whimper resonates from beside your head. He's biting into a pillow, as warmth fills you to the brim and he sloppily fucks it into you.

You're still reeling, when he kisses you like someone who hasn't seen their lover in years and is finally getting the chance to touch them again, to wordlessly express how enamored they are. Wholeheartedly, and irreversibly.

He says it first, which surprises you, considering in your dreams you're always the one professing it to him, stroking his skin or petting his hair and whispering it in between kisses.

But you're sure this is real, you can feel ache in your bones, the throb of your centers where they're still connected.

"I love you." His voice is even more beautiful when he's speaking in such a simple, yet profound way. There's a quiver, but not because he's not being honest. He'd swear on his life, for his conviction.

"I love you too." You reply, looping your fingers round the nape of his neck, toying with the soft hair there.

Maybe he shouldn't be so shocked, but he is. His face can't hide it, the quirk of his full lips, the furrow of disbelief in his brow. You want to kiss his stupid face a thousand time over.

"I love you." He repeats it, as if the words bring forth sunshine on a day shrouded by the darkness of rain clouds.

He repeats it again, when he's hovering over your lips, breath warm against your skin. He repeats it again when he's placing kisses to your forehead, when you giggle and stroke his cheek.

"And I love you, silly silly man." You remind him, willing him by the longing in your voice, to believe it as you believe him.

He repeats it again, when a tear cascades down your cheek like a diamond shaped declaration of your honesty, and he kisses it away, claiming it for himself.

You love him, and he loves you.

And maybe, no matter what happens, that'll be enough.

786 notes · View notes

dilfbane · 3 years

Text

Your Weeping(Your Need For His Touch)

Summary: When things go south on a mission, you have to confront more than just the sketchy town, cartoon villains, and one-bed hotel room you’re forced to share with Loki. You have to come to terms with not only the consequences of being captured, but also the God of Mischief’s feelings for you - Because for all that he might be an asshole, sometimes, he really does have a heart. Written for the Picture Is Worth A 1,000 Words 6k Follower Writing Challenge by @startrekkingaroundasgard

Pairing: Loki/(Female)Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries and medical treatment, as well as discussions of the inevitable mindset around sacrificing oneself for the mission that I feel like being part of the Avengers would entail. Also swearing, because at its core, this story started out as a bit of a crack! fic.

Word Count: 7.8k.

A/N: So apparently when I have mental breakdowns they result in me writing crack-fic that takes a 180 veer into angst and fluff for absolutely no reason. For the sake of the crack-fic, in this timeline Loki was forced to help the Avengers take down bad guys directly after the end of the first Avengers movie, so… Is that a confusing plot hole I didn’t know how to account for except by making this AU? Maybe. Did I do it anyway?…. Yeah. This really was meant to be a crack-fic about Loki and the reader confessing their feelings set in the bizarre world of meme culture, I didn’t realize there were going to be feels in it until it was three in the morning and all of a sudden this happened. That being said, your girl went there, so enjoy!

“Oh, shit,” You say, as you take in the grimy hotel room. The walls all smeared in what looks like dried blood, the putrid smell of rotten eggs, a crack-screened television with a fine dusting of some suspiciously white powder. And, of course, “There’s one bed.”

“Hmm?” Asks Loki, turning towards you, briefly, from unpacking. He had dumped his suitcase(Magically plucked out of a chaotic liminal space) unceremoniously on the bed’s scratching, pilling coverlet without so much as a second glance at the rest of the room. And why do you need a suitcase, anyways?? You wonder. It isn’t like we’re planning to be here that long. In fact, you hoped with every fiber of your being that you’d be here for as little time as possible, because this town might actually be the sketchiest place you’ve ever seen in your life; no small feat, for a bona-fide member of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You’ve kicked alien ass on a mutated purple Mongolian death-worm three thousand feet over New York City. You’ve run reconnaissance to rescue debatably-magical items sequestered away in an ancient cave labyrinth plastered in paintings and untranslatable runes, gunfire and what could only be described as the baying of hellhounds in the near distance. You’ve fist-fought a gigantic hive-mind robot in a field of artificially sentient feral steel suits - You’ve even survived Tony’s parties.

Yet none of those scenarios hold a candle to this fucking town.

And Loki, the asshat, seems utterly, competently - no, maniacally - unfazed.

“There’s one bed,” You repeat, into the air.

“Ah,” Says Loki, straightening.

“You don’t see that problem with that?!”

“Should I?” He asks you, walking across the room in long, graceful strides to stand in front of you. He wears the same expression he always wears, amused and indifferent, but this time with the addition of a single, elegantly-arched eyebrow. You drop your head, refusing to meet his somewhat-curious gaze. It physically hurts, how attractive Loki is. Not for the first time, you curse whatever god decided that you and him would once again be mission partners - in this case, you belatedly realize, and choke back a thick laugh, said god is, unsurprisingly, Thor.

If you survive this, you make a note to beat his head in with Mjolnir. As it is, you are here in this room with Loki, with perhaps twenty IPP agents and a reckless poisoner dogging your every move, and there’s a high chance that you won’t live long enough to navigate whatever the hell sleeping with your crush-who-has-murdered-men. Ok, so ‘murdered men’ isn’t entirely accurate. More like ‘caused the murder of men inadvertently through his schemes’. It doesn’t seem to make much of a difference, right now.

And what about Loki? He is still staring you down, like you’re some wind up toy moments away from going off. Funny, that, you think. If ever there were a time to not have a mental breakdown, it would be here, with him. You’ve crossed a lot of moral lines in your life, but you will be damned if you let Loki Laufeysson see you cry. Loki is graceful. Composed. Sarcastic. Lithe. Rolls his eyes at almost every statement that comes out of somebody’s mouth. But he is, also, beautiful. Shockingly comforting, in his own nihilistic way. You don’t know what it says about you that you find comfort in statements like, Try not to die, you know that I hate funerals. Part of you - most of you - doesn’t want to. But it gives you strength, somehow, to shrug off the day and ground your flailing mind in evading Loki’s calculated manipulation. I won’t show you my weakness, you think to yourself. It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

“No,” You tell him - too quickly, he’ll pick up on that - “You’re right, you shouldn’t. It’s fine. We have - a lot to deal with, is all.”

Loki nods, seemingly accepting your answer, but his eyes are still narrowed, watching you like he’s calling your bluff. You talk right past that look - have to, to keep yourself sane, to not think about the one bed that looms large over this entire conversation. It doesn’t even look like a comfortable bed.

“We have two days,” You say, to stop yourself thinking of it. And, also, to talk your way through your disarmingly disjointed thoughts. Loki nods. It would really help if you said something, you think. Swallow the thought, hot and thick, down your throat. What’s the point of a mission partner if you can’t even soundboard off them? “The Pink Cobra could strike anyone, anytime. The IPP is planning something in New York - “

“Isn’t everyone, these days, planning something in New York?”

He sounds regretful, and for half a second you want to offer him the reassurance that his very presence offers you. But you are sure he doesn’t know what he does to you - with his words, with the sidelong glances that you’ve felt linger on your form far too long in the heat of a fight. If you didn’t know any better, you would say Loki worries about you.

“We have to shut him down,” You say. Focus on the Pink Cobra, because honestly, that’s easier. “Find out where he manufactures. Not get poisoned,” You add, at the end.

“Yes,” Loki says, tone dripping with sarcasm, “We should certainly try not to get ourselves killed. Failing that, I suppose, we can at least request that no one in H.Y.D.R.A gets autopsy access.”

“Loki?” You ask. Rhetorically. “You’re not helping.”

He smirks at you, then. He knows.

“What do you propose that we do then?” He asks, taking a step towards you, getting so close that you can feel his hot breath. “About the Pink Cobra?”

“Find him.” You say, fumbling, blush rising high on your cheeks.

Tonight?

One bed?

You are screwed.

***

When you were a kid - think really little, Capri Sun pouches and still believing that true love wasn’t complicated - your father told you that every story needed a good supervillain. You aren’t sure if the Pink Cobra counts as a good supervillain, but he’s the least confusing one that you have to deal with - and, as far as villains go, a fine enough challenge to face. He’s like a madman out of some high fantasy novel, with dark eyes and a sable-sewn cloak and a penchant for poisoning. He is adept in all the arts of the woman’s murder; he has a keen grasp on the side-effects of arsenic and camphor and tansy and cyanide and strychnine. He’s been found to have dropped crystal phials filled with belladonna and ricin while fleeing a scene. If all else fails, he’s more than practiced with daggers.

In other words, he’s the kind of villain that none of you, with your flying suits and telekinesis and super-strength, are anywhere near prepared to waylay.

The plan, as far as team Avengers is concerned, is easy:

You and Loki. This town, where the webs of his manufacturing production and the few glimpses of information that Thor has totally legally excavated out of his captured minions has led to. Two days until some undefined grand attack bears down on the city you live in. Two days to find the Pink Cobra and kill him. The more time passes with no headway, the more you think that this is an impossible task, but you know what Tony would say. We have our best minds on it.

The thing is, you aren’t sure that that’s true. The minds that have been set to this task are you and the God of Lies. It’s hardly the best they could have come up with, considering your track records. Actually, you take that back - Loki was a good choice for this mission, because, not three hours after arriving in this hellhole of a city, he seems to have somehow developed the ability to read minds. More specifically, yours. And that could prove stunningly useful.

The scene, as it stands: Loki, sprawled across the lumpy bed, three pairs of crisp white shirts, a plaid scarf, and a full set of Asgardian battle armor neatly hung in the mothball-infested closet, flicking through channels on the grain, cracked television with an apathetic expression and one arm thrown haphazardly over bent leg. Propped up in such a way that he could jump or spin or parry at a moment’s notice, yet perfectly, devastatingly languid, leafing through Nick Fury’s dossier on the Pink Cobra. He looks at you like a god, you think, and then remember. He is one.

You, on the floor, because on top of all the other things this hotel doesn’t have, like two beds, there isn’t anything even resembling a desk, shifting through a glowing, holographed file archive from headquarters that barely runs on your severely outdated laptop. It’s a point of pride to you, keeping the laptop - not because it’s good, but because it’s survived five years of being an Avenger, which is something not even all the Avengers can claim to have done. You’re also fairly certain that Tony’s attempts to update the firmware had infested it with some sort of renegade virus. Elevated above your screen, the files are split into two groups, the sum total of everything that you know about both of the groups that are avidly trying to kill you.

There’s the wealth of information containing the Pink Cobra’s poisoning sprees, but those aren’t the files that interest you, and you know that Loki’s not much interested in them either. That honor falls to the fanatics at the IPP, the Imminently Predictable Psyops organization, which you know even less about than you do about the Pink Cobra, chief among which the fact that they need a new name. Imminently Predictable Psyops?, Tony had said, when you’d finally apprehended one of their proxies. What do they think this is? Some type of ARG?

What you’ve gleaned, from months worth of studying the network, is that they operate as a sort of cringe-oriented death cult intent on ‘reshaping the universe through meme agents’. They’d been on S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar for a long time - upwards of a year - before anyone at team base learned they existed - which, you can almost hear Loki saying, was a failure in the extreme. Currently, it was your job to obsessively worry over whether they were going to send ‘meme agents’ to bust through the door of your seedy hotel room and off you both. You hated - truly loathed - how casually Loki was taking it all.

He’s acting like nothing was wrong with this situation, when, in fact, you’re ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that this night will end up with one or both of you dead. It is, to say the least, disconcerting.

Kill switch, the holograph files read. Cross-referential Neil Cicierega acoustic weaponry. Your mind sees the words, but doesn’t comprehend them, and you run a hand up to rub at your bleary eyes with annoyance. You risk a glance upwards; on the bed, Loki scans page after page after page with disinterested nonchalance, punctuating the flipping over of each document with a noncommittal hum; as if to say, I understand you. As it to say, This could be worse. You try to slip into that mindset. Certainly, things could be worse.

Actually, though? Not really.

Because, for all the world, the holo-file in front of you just said ‘Pepe The Frog Chaos Banking Laser Initiative’.

“What the fuck does that even mean?!”

“Sorry?”

You whip your head around. Loki, raising an eyebrow. Damn that - perfect - eyebrow.

“Sorry,” You echo back at him, rubbing your eyes again, perversely glad for the break, even if it is this awkward. “I … said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Marginally,” He tells you. “Yes.”

“Sorry,” You - well, it’s not a whine, not exactly. You’re tired, and there’s no way you’re going to sleep tonight, so you feel like your tone’s justified. “I didn’t mean to do that. I think I’m just - this is. Completely nonsensical.”

“Show me?” He asks, and you snort. He could totally just look up, but -

“Do you have a P.h.d in memes?” You ask him, and, before he can answer, “Because unless you have a P.h.d in memes, I don’t think you’ll be able to help.”

“You’d be surprised,” Loki says. Vaults over the bed with the speed and grace of a panther, filling the air with a cringing wheeze as the rusty springs bend underneath him, and landing in front of the holo-file, pushing you aside slightly to get a better view. When his fingers brush against your side, cool and firm, you flinch.

“Tired,” You offer, when he shoots you a momentarily concerned look. “Just. Need to sleep, later, I think.”

But Loki is already scanning the file, and when he looks up, not five seconds later, you want to hit somebody. Preferably, you think, him.

“I would assume,” Loki says, “That they’re using time travel in order to obtain and store monetary value by way of a Pepe-the-frog inspired laser array.”

“Oh,” You say. You blink once. Blink twice. Still have no idea what that means. “Right.”

“Do you not know your memes, love?” He asks you, smirking. And oh, if you don’t feel things.

“I don’t go on the internet, much,” You tell him. “Too busy, you know, trying not to get killed.”

Loki shrugs. Sidles away from the file. The groan and squeak of those springs tells you he’s back on the bed, giving you some well-needed space, but you can’t bring yourself to look.

“You can sleep,” He says, “If you want.”

“Ha!” You yelp/choke/embarrassingly bleat out into the room’s stale silence. Underneath the rotten eggs, you catch a whiff of bong-water. “No.”

“There’s a bed,” Loki says, cocking his head pointedly and patting the lumpy covers.

“Yeah, that’s - kind of the problem.”

“Why?” He asks you.

“You - really?”

“I was only asking,” Says Loki, re-focusing his attention on whichever Pink Cobra document’s next in the folder. “If you aren’t comfortable telling me - I merely thought, seeing as you were tired, you might take this opportunity to rest.”

“Yeah,” You tell him, “Of course, that’s - nice of you.”

It comes out stilted. Patently off. If he notices, he doesn’t say.

“Are you going to - um. Do you need help, with the rest? The ones I have seem kind of hopeless. I mean,” You say, when he doesn’t look up, “I don’t think that we have to worry about getting demolished by trans-dimensional Agarthian wormholes.”

“Of course not,”” Loki says, scoffing and incredulous, gaze, you are sure, on his page. “If they wanted to kill us, they’d send someone with a gun.”

In reality, it’s several someones.

***

“You jinxed it,” Is the first thing you tell him, when the men leave you. They’ve thrown you into a one-room warehouse, rickety shelves stacked with cartoonish tubs of green goop and mildewing boxes filled with grenades and machine guns and what appears, at second-glance, to be twelve-fingered latex gloves. You’re tied wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle, and your throat feels uncharacteristically parched. Fear, you tell yourself. Apprehension. “Can’t you just - use your seidr to magic us out of this?”

If you could see him - which you can’t, because you’ve been tied back to back - you’d swear that Loki was glaring.

“Do you - do you have a plan?” You ask, after a moment.

“I’m working on it,” He says.

“That’s all?” You say. “We were dragged out of our drug-dealer’s hotel room by a bunch of robed men with guns and the only thing you have to say is ‘I’m working on it?’”

“I’d get it done faster,” Says Loki, “If you wouldn’t interrupt me.”

“Ok,” You tell him, “No interrupting you. Got it. That’s - Alright.”

Unfortunately, not interrupting him is easier said than done, because without the sound of your voice, you are left to your thoughts.

The men had broken in nearly immediately after Loki’s glib, sardonic retort to your worries, shooting the glass out of the room’s already half-smashed-in window and kicking the door in simultaneously. A bit much, isn’t it?, Loki’d asked, and you had wanted to smack yourself on the forehead. Really not the time, you had hissed, but Loki hadn’t seemed to hear you. Do you do this with everyone they send you to assassinate?, he had asked, instead. The men had been dressed in long, billowing cloaks of bright red, embroidered with orange snakes framing a picture of Beaker from the muppets with early 2000’s emo hair. Chaotic meme agents, you had thought to yourself. So that’s what they’re supposed to look like.

You hadn’t picked up, until now, on the snakes.

“They’re working together,” You say, when you can’t stand the playback of Loki being disarmed after spinning and tossing his silver daggers at the men, of the men kneeing him in the balls and twisting your arms behind your back, holding a gun to your head to stop you from trying to fight. Waking up in the back of a van that smelled like microwaved fish. Being tossed like garbage onto the floor of the warehouse, painted in bruises and cuts from the small pieces of glass that had dug their way into your skin. “The IPP and the Pink Cobra.”

“Obviously,” Loki says. Sharply.

“Did Tony not -“

“Stark,” Loki practically growls, and, ok, you’re not losing it but that did make you jump in your skin, “Is an idiot. He wouldn’t know how to connect the dots if they were presented to him in a Buzzfeed Unsolved episode.”

“That’s - You had that on Asgard?” You ask him, momentarily distracted. You wish that you could see Loki’s face, and are very glad that you can’t.

“That isn’t the point,” Loki says.

“I know,” You tell him. You’re scared that your voice is trembling. Scared that he can tell, even though he’s not facing you, how badly your fingers are shaking. Scared that he knows your worst, biggest secret -

That, despite being an Avenger, you are anxious. That, despite him being Loki, despite him being here, and wonderfully, infuriatingly himself, he cannot help you, this time.

You are going to die, covered in cuts and abrasions, on the floor of a meme network’s headquarters, at three a.m in the morning. They are going to come in with umbrellas that shoot poison darts or the ex-presidents Point Break masks and mow you down, and Loki has no fucking plan. You feel the ropes tighten where they’re knotted, itchy and fierce, and you have to fight to keep yourself from whining in terror and nerves. Whining isn’t what Loki needs right now. Whining’s not going to save you.

What is going to save you, you try and remind yourself, is Loki. If you can shut up. If you can let him decipher what needs to be done. If he can figure out some way to do it before the blowtorch-wielding robed vigilantes or some disincarnate meme god comes back and draws their electronically-sharpened fingernails across your throat hard enough to split skin and sinew, send waves of blood down the front of your shirt like a river of sweet, thick red honey and toss your corpse in a ditch by a highway and -

“Y/N?” It is foggy, barely-heard. Posh. “Y/N!” Louder, this time. There are fingers on your wrist, bent backwards to grip you. Squeezing, insistent and there. “Breathe.”

Fuck, you think. You’d started to hyperventilate. To shake, with a full-body tremor that forecasts a great, unstoppable wave of sobbing panic. And Loki had noticed. “I need you to trust me,” He says. “Trust me to get us out of this. Can you do that for me, darling?”

He has never called you darling before, but God how you’ve wanted him to. You feel like you’re being stabbed in the heart - because there is no way he means it, no way that this is anything other than a desperate and cruel attempt to get you to calm down. Something that belies how obvious you are. How needy you are. How pathetic. And yet -

And yet, he doesn’t say it meanly. He speaks like he cares about you, and in the face of your impending death, you want to think Loki cares. You’d let him say anything, do anything to you, right now. More than that, though, more than any of that - as you think back to meeting him, to your blossoming late-night friendship and twitchy banter and the quiet moments you’ve shared with him in-between battles -

“I trust you, Loki,” You tell him, and feel your breath quiet in you. Feel yourself growing still and calm with the certainty that Loki will do as he’s said.

That you will survive this.

That -

“Good,” Loki says. Not relieved, but determined. Leaving you no room to argue.

“So what do we do?” You ask him.

“Nothing,” Says Loki, and you can hear his wide grin.

“Nothing?” You ask him, gawking.

“Nothing,” Says Loki. He gives your hand a tight squeeze.

And then the Pink Cobra walks in.

***

This will end badly, you think. It’s about the only thing that you can think, preoccupied as you are with -

It might be easier not to -

Fuck.

The thing is - and you really do try not to move, not to groan, not to scream - the thing is, you thought that when Loki said he had a plan, that said plan wouldn’t involve you being collateral damage for a LARP-er who’d most likely broken out of an asylum. I wish that we could be back in that shitty one-bed hotel room, you think to yourself, and - alright, not the best timing, but it rips a laugh out of you, spiraling and unhinged, before you feel the Pink Cobra, resplendent in coral cloak and villainous swagger, slug you one in the jaw. It hurts worse than you’d thought it would - you’ve never really gotten injured on missions, you’re usually good at talking yourself out of things, which is why the Avengers keep you around. You can speak any language, as long as you’ve heard it once, and your customary daily awkwardness can shift into persuasion like flicking a light-switch on.

Usually, though, you had an opportunity to speak, and weren’t rendered speechless by -

Loki, if you’re being honest. How much you want to kiss him. How much of an asshole he is. Trust me, he’d asked you. Can you do that for me? The Pink Cobra’s grip is sharp and bruising on your side; he’s slipped his fingers up your shirt and is pressing the point on your side that threatens to make your knees buckle, making bile rise up in your throat, driving you wild with the aching need to flee. He has one hand clasped over your mouth, now that you’ve quieted, and you can feel something - pain, and a pill - pressed snugly into his palm. He will force it down you, you know, if Loki so much as sighs wrong.

You’ll never trust him again.

You wish that you knew what the time was. If you end up dying at 4:20, you’re going to throw fists with somebody in hell.

You wish, also, for aspirin. Avengers training has left you woefully unprepared for the reality of getting punched in the face. You can already feel your jaw starting to swell, taste an egregious amount of blood. You’re pretty sure that the force of the blow knocked a tooth out.

What strikes fear into you, though - a fear somehow deeper than the absolutely bone-chilling, blood-curdling knowledge of what the Pink Cobra might do to you - is the look you’d seen on Loki’s face in the seconds after he’d grabbed you, before it fell into practiced, amused apathy. He’d gone white, and his eyes had blown wide. His fingers had spasmed with anger.

He’d looked as scared as you feel.

And you have no idea why.

It isn’t like you’re anyone special. Not any more than the rest of the team. Less so than most of them. You aren’t a god, like Loki and Thor are. You don’t have stealth-assassin training, like Bucky, or super-strength like Steve. You can’t seamlessly pilot mechanical suits over the New York skyline like Tony, or use a crossbow like Clint, or beat thirty people in single-hand combat like Nat, or change into a nitro-fueled rage machine like Bruce.

You can’t do anything, much.

Except, apparently, die.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not letting yourself look at him. You won’t let Loki’s disinterested face be the last thing that you see. It makes the Pink Cobra’s words all the worse, when he speaks. His voice is dark and sick and timbered, and you feel maggots crawling over your skin as he slots you closer to his body, tightening his already painful grip on you so that you can’t move even an inch away from his tensed, coiled muscles.

“So,” He says, “You are superheroes? How long did it take me, to apprehend you? Ah - three and a half hours? Tell your boss-man, do better next time.”

“I’ll pass it along,” Loki says. His voice sounds different. You can’t place why. Still won’t look.

“You won’t,” The Pink Cobra says. You can feel his shoulders rise, then fall. Feel him smirk. You love Loki’s smirk - secretly delight in drawing it from him, sometimes - but the Pink Cobra’s only fills you with yet more terror. You’ve pursed your lips tightly shut against the intrusion of his hand, but when Loki speaks he forces your bruised, bleeding jaw open and shoves the pill into your mouth. The pain of your injury tears through you like white lightning and you thrash, trying to escape. A keening sound claws its way out of you, fevered and anguished, and you feel your hands, still bound up in ropes, trying in vain to push off and away. The man behind you sighs, and then aims a swift kick at the back of your knees, which sends you down before you can so much as yelp. Your knees hit the floor, and he’s holding you by your hair now, twisting it so hard that you’re almost sure he’ll scalp you. He’s pulled something - too big to be be a knife, some kind of shortsword?! - Out from beneath his cloak, and is pressing it up against the column of your throat. You feel the weight of the capsule between your teeth heavily now, and realize what it means in the split-second before the Pink Cobra bends and whispers, Your choice; stale and rancid into the shell of your ear.

Next, he addresses Loki.

“You’ll be wanting to know what our plan is,” He says. Our, you think. We were right. “Hmm? I know how you people are. Always wanting to know. Tell me this, Mischief Man. What will I get, if I tell you? What price are you willing to pay?”

You know what this is. You know it like the ache in your heart when Loki brushes you off. Like the safety you feel in his arms. You open your eyes. Take in Loki’s face - he’s trying to hide, but you know, you know how he feels. You know what he’s going to choose.

And you know that you can’t let him choose it.

“You’ll let her go,” Loki asks, “If we let you leave here?”

“The thing could be managed.”

No, you think. No, Loki, don’t! Whatever the Pink Cobra’s going to do, whatever the IPP’s planning, knowing’s worth more than your life.

“One thing I want to know,” Loki says. He’s twirling a knife of his own, a slim silver number he keeps on him at all times, and you feel the blade on your own throat start to dig in - not enough to draw blood, but enough for you to feel it. The threat of it. The promise of it, and the coldness of the gleaming metal. “You and the IPP? How does it fit?”

“You want information from me?” The Pink Cobra asks. Lets his blade bite you, just barely, and the strength it takes for you not to scream is more strength then you’d known you possess.

“Yes,” Says Loki. “It’s not like I’m asking for much.”

He meets your gaze. You meet his. You hope that he cannot read it. His eyes are so worried, so desperate, you nearly break down.

“I suppose,” The Pink Cobra says, “That you’ve earned it. Getting here - getting this far - it must have been no easy task. Fine. There is no Imminently Predictable Psyops organization. They were a - what do you call it? Red herring? A scent of blood for the shark.”

“You fabricated them,” Loki says. “Why would you fabricate them?”

He is losing his composure, you can tell. You will never be ready for this. He will never be ready for this. You hope that he will forgive you, and you know that he never will, and you swallow the pill in your mouth.

“Because it was fun,” The Pink Cobra says.

And then your body knows pain.

***

“He didn’t think I would do it,” You say. Your mouth feels thick, clotted with blood and shock, and your body is one raw, gaping wound, but the giddy feeling of victory has begun to course through your veins. Pure, unfiltered adrenaline. You had waited for the moment of death to come, and it hadn’t. The pill is fake, your mind had screamed. But there’d been one thing left, that might work. You had breathed as slowly as you possibly could, forced every muscle of your scared, writhing body into single-minded limpness, rolled your eyes backwards into your head, drew one last breath in, and fallen. Twitched, for a few seconds, like a rag-doll. Then made yourself still.

Loki had slit the Pink Cobra ear to ear, beaten him within an inch of his life as he bled out, screaming like a man deranged. He’d left him a wet, bloody mess on the floor, and the blood had run down the not-quite-steady plane of it, pooling around you and mixing with the blood from your jaw, from the evening’s earlier glass cuts, from the deep, burning stab wound the Cobra had got on your arm.

You breathe, and your body knows pain.

You look at Loki, and your body knows pain.

He is shaking. Visibly shaking. His hands are clenched into fists at his side, and he looks as pale as bleached bones. His eyes are shot red - he had sobbed, when you fell, and a howl had torn through his body. You don’t know what to do, what it means, what the hell even to say to him. His cheeks are tear-stained, his breaths ragged.

You blink, and your body feels pain.

“We won,” You croak out. “Loki, we won.” It hurts worse than anything you’ve ever felt in your life. “I think he broke one of my ribs.”

You don’t mean to say that last part, but you do, and you are the one crying now, because it feels like he probably has, and you can barely even stay awake through this pain. It feels like the Hulk is pulling you limb from limb. Like all of those nightmares you’ve had where Loki decided to leave you - to go back to Asgard, and never speak to you again.

Stupid, you think. He won’t, again. Not after this.

Loki still hasn’t spoken. He’s looking at you, and his eyes are wild. Desperately, jaggedly roaming your body. His fists twitch with every new part of your body they land on.

“That bad, huh - Oh, fuck.”

And just like that, the tension leaves Loki’s body. The dam that had held him firmly in place is broken, and he’s running towards you with none of his usual grace. Dropping down by your side. He hoists you, and you hiss, and the tears won’t stop coming, so you bury your face in his shirt, nose pressed at the crisply ironed collar. Don’t care that it’s bleeding, because Loki’s here now. Holding you. Keeping you real. He’s got one hand stroking your hair and his touch feels right, nothing like the Pink Cobra’s, and he’s whispering: You brave, precious, idiot, how dare you, how dare you throw your life away like that?!

“It worked,” You exhale - it’s the most you can manage. You would laugh, if it wouldn’t shred you to pieces. Loki cradles you fiercely, hands grasping at the sweat-and-blood soaked fabric of your shirt, running over you as if he doesn’t believe you’re alive. “It - hurts,” You get out. Barely. “Loki, it - I can’t -“

“Don’t,” He tells you. His voice has gone brittle, choked with thorns. “Don’t talk. Don’t - Don’t ever do that again. Do you hear me? You will never do that again.”

If I need to, I will, you think. And you wonder if that’s why you’re here. Wonder if that’s why you’re strong. You wonder, and hurt, and believe. Feel the strength of him, clutching you like you’re the only thing in the world, taking in greedy lungfuls of your weeping, your need for his touch.

You can’t talk, anymore. It hurts too badly. But you surge, upwards, up into where he’s holding the back of your head, pressing your forehead into the dark, warm space under his jaw that smells like smoke and peppermint. Loki is taller than you are - you fit right into the curve of his neck, and his long curls curtain you in a bubble of warmth and content.

“Promise,” You say, but it comes out unintelligible, and Loki’s hands are running, so gently, over your skin.

“What was your plan?” You ask him, forcing it out of your body.

“Hush,” Loki says, “Later.”

There might not be any later, you think. Not like this.

***

In the hotel room, an ocean of scattered pages and ceiling mold and blessed privacy, you balance, cross-legged, on the bed. The wind blows wet and cold from an earlier rain through the busted out window. You have managed this out of sheer stubborn-ness, because it is the most that Loki allowed you to do. You’d passed out, twice, on the journey back - he had magicked you there, though it had taken a considerable amount of effort that you weren’t sure you really deserved - and had immediately propped you up on the pillows and stooped to ruffle through his suitcase, emerging not long after with binding tape, cat-gut thread, and a needle so sharp you could feel it slicing your flesh. You had opened your mouth to protest, but Loki had silenced you with a glare that could fell Director Fury. So you had gone quiet, and caved, letting him kneel over you on the distinctly lumpy mattress and begin inspecting your wounds. It had taken a few tries and a Please to convince him to let you sit on your own, and it hurt much more than the manner in which he’d arranged you. You were starting to, slightly, regret it.

“You don’t have to do this,” You say, pulling it from bleeding lips. He shushes you with a harsh, stern tut. “You’re not my mother,” You tell him.

“You could have died,” Loki says. There’s a snarling undercurrent to it that you can’t even start dissecting. “What were you thinking?” He asks. It is easier, though still painful, for you to answer him - he had used nearly half of his Thor-limited magic reserve to perform a basic stasis spell on your injuries, but the spell wouldn’t last forever. You’ll need stitches, he’d said, choking it out like he was the hurt one when he’d seen the number the Cobra’s blade had done to your arm.

“I’ve had worse,” You say, grinning weakly.

“Are you lying to me?” He asks you, with the tone of someone who’s distinctly not in the mood for joking.

“I thought,” You say. Steel yourself. “I thought you weren’t going to do what needed to be done. So I - Did it myself.”

“What needed to be done.” Loki says, enunciating every word.

“We couldn’t let him walk away,” You say, meeting his eyes. Emerald, clouded with fury. You don’t let yourself flinch from that anger. You don’t let yourself run from your choice. “You know what he would have done.”

“I don’t,” Loki says. “I know nothing. I know - I know that you think that your life means so little I wouldn’t care if you were gone. That I could - Live, without you.”

That’s… different.

“And I know,” Loki continues, “That I told you to trust me, and I meant it.”

“I do,” You say. There is no hesitation. “I trust you - Loki. Of course I trust you. It’s not - it wasn’t -“

“Stop talking,” He snaps. Gentles, when you jerk your head away, blink back a fresh wave of tears. “You need rest,” He says. “And - This is. This is going to hurt.”

You nod.

“Best get it over with, then.”

“You should keep your eyes closed,” He says.

“No! I want - I need to look.” You bring your eyes up to your arm, which he’s settled onto bed’s chewed, scratchy quilt without you realizing, but Loki tilts your head up with a barely-there graze of his fingers, achingly gentle to avoid aggravating your swollen jaw. He holds your gaze for a long time. Doesn’t look mad, anymore.

“Are you sure?” He asks you. Like all of this could be over with, if you wanted.

“How bad it could it be?” You ask back.

The injury is horrendous. You’d thought - honest-to-God, you’d thought the pain was terrible, but you weren’t ready for what your arm has become. The line of the wound runs in a craggy jigsaw from just under your shoulder to the tip of your elbow. Small wonder you can’t move it, can barely think through it at all.

“Y/N?” Loki asks, “Are you -“

“Fine,” You say. Blink, and your body knows pain. Try not to let how scared you are show, when you look back up at Loki. The Pink Cobra’s dead. You shouldn’t be scared, anymore. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?”

Loki sighs. Long and low and sad.

“Will I have to - “

“Bite,” Loki says, and shoves something - the sleeve of his shirt, crusted in blood which you realize, sickeningly, is yours - into your mouth. “It’ll help.”

It doesn’t, but he holds your hand through it, hushing you through the pain with furrowed eyebrows, thread and needle flying deftly through skin, air, skin again. His fingers move precisely, deliberate, quick, and when, on one stitch, you audibly whimper, he pauses to lean down and press a soft, utterly unexpected kiss to your hairline. You are unable to fully express how much it means to you, so you do the next best thing and kiss him yourself, pressing him back once he’s finished the last of his stitches and breathing all the the words you can’t say into him. You press every fear and gratitude and lingering nerve into the warmth of his lips, wending your fingers through his dark hair despite the pangs of agony still thrumming through every inch of your body. Your face hurts, but the kiss is all you’ve ever needed and more, and Loki is so, so gentle with you, pulling away with creased eyebrows and a look of genuine concern.

“I wanted to,” You tell him, mustering all of your strength. “It didn’t hurt.”

“Stop,” He tells you, voice cracking, “Stop lying.”

“I’m not,” You say. “I wanted to, Loki, I did.”

“And you wanted to -“

“No.” You are vehement about it, for a broken-ribbed, broken-jawed, freshly-stitched person coming off the high of his teeth and his tongue. “Not that, I swear, never that.”

“Why did you do it, then?” Loki asks. He has steepled his fingers under his chin, and his narrowed eyes pierce through you to the soul. You couldn’t lie to this man, you think, if your life depended on it.

You know that you have to tell him, this time. Really tell him. You don’t.

“”Why didn’t you use your magic?”

“You know why,” He says, and you do. You’d remembered it as the white pill turned to white powder in your gums, as the Pink Cobra’s knife had carved its way into your flesh. Thor had put a set limit on it, as condition of Loki’s release - Proof, he had said, We can trust you. Loki had thought to save it for later, that you wouldn’t need him right then. He had thought you’d talk them out, to safety.

You’d failed him.

“You didn’t,” He tells you, voice raw. He goes to grip your chin, to force you to listen to him, but with a glance and ill-concealed wince at your purpled jaw he thinks better of it. “You think that you failed me? You let yourself be - be beaten and stabbed - just so people you’ve never met in your life wouldn’t die, and you call that a failure?” He runs a hand through his hair. Bites back a snarl. Drops your arm. “I need you to listen to me,” Loki says, “Very, very carefully. You’re going to tell me why now, love. And then we’re going to fix it.”

You raise an eyebrow. Worse than he does, you’re aware.

“Sleep,” He amends, with a pointed look at the bed underneath you, “And then we’re going to fix it.”

“There’s only one bed,” You tell him, “And I feel like I just got run over by a truck.”

Loki huffs, a puff of warm air that you feel, from how close he still is. A grin twitches at the edge of his lips. It sets off sparks inside you.

“I thought -“ You say. Shake your head, and restart. “You would have let the Pink Cobra attack. You would have let him just walk away, and I couldn’t just - let that happen.”

“Enlightening.”

“No,” You tell him, “I mean it. I couldn’t - I’m not - I’m not worth more than anyone else. We’re the Avengers. It’s our job to save people, Loki.”

He’s regarding you carefully, eyes still narrowed, all vestiges of softness gone from his face. When he opens his mouth, it’s to close it. Form thoughts. Discard them. Exhale.

“My mother once told me,” He finally says, “That I would never know what it meant to be human until I found the person who made me want to bleed the world dry. Take all of its’ suffering, all of its’ cruelty, and leech it out of the very fabric of time, just to keep that person from anguish, from harm.”

“I don’t -“

He holds a hand up. You still.

“She never said they would infuriate me,” Loki says. “She never said they would make me laugh, or smile, or question my sanity on a regular basis. She never said that they’d try and get themselves killed, and that I’d have to watch, and that I would feel like my heart was being ripped from my body and torn to a bloody pulp; that I would make the sky rain blood and fire at the sight of it alone. But she was right about one thing - Many things, but also this. She told me that it wouldn’t matter. That I would - love you - anyway.”

“You don’t,” You say, not daring to hope. It’s an automatic retort.

“Foolish girl,” Loki chides, and you blink back fresh, stinging tears. How long have you wanted to hear Loki say that to you? How many sneaky looks have you stolen in the heat of your missions, just to see his smart mind and tricky magic at work? How many nights have you sat up together, sequestered from your insomnia in a bubble of hard-earned banter and peppermint tea, fighting the tight, coiling urge to push aside your steaming mugs and pull him into your needing?

He could not - he can’t - feel the same.

“Loki,” You say, stumbling over the words, “You can’t - This is - This is me we’re talking about.”

“Is there anyone else here,” Loki asks you, “That I could be talking about?” He seems nonchalant, now, as if this - this cruel fucking joke, when you already feel you’re on fire - is merely a fact of his life. “We’re going to leave this excuse of a town, and get you - proper care. Fix it. Because I will not, on my honor, watch you suffer in pain. But first, you’re going to sleep.”

“There’s only one bed,” You tell him, and feel your resolve as it shatters. You cling to the statement like it’s the last remnant of the girl you were and the woman that you’ll never be, “And the shower doesn’t work. And I’m covered in blood.”

But when you look at Loki, his eyes twinkle, mischievous.

“Will you stay with me?,” You ask him, biting your lip.

“You astound me,” He tells you, and rolls his eyes, and it feels - it feels normal. Good. A tender heat unfurls in your heart like orchid petals in the sun, numbing the persistent ache in your ribcage. “To even think that I would do anything else.”

Later, you will ask him why. Why do you love me?, you will ask, and Loki will hum, low in his throat, curled around you just like this first night; your back pressed into his chest, your legs tangled up hopelessly, his fingers tracing nonsense patterns onto your spine in the dawn-light’s syrupy gold. Because, he will tell you, trailing a line of soft kisses up the scar on your arm - an ugly thing, but it functions, mostly, and only ever seems to hurt on the days when he isn’t there - I was given no choice.

But if you’d had one?”, You will ask, and spin around, propping yourself on your elbow.

You tempt me, He’ll tell you, baring his sharp teeth. Shouldn’t you know better than that?

You will lie there, next to each other, not needing a single word. Because you will know. Because he will have told you, a thousand times, a thousand ways, exactly how he feels about you.

Tonight, though, isn’t that night. It takes a moment to get settled in his hold, and the rain spits and drums against what glass remains in your window, slicking the carpet with dark, greasy splotches. It figures, you think, that even the rain in this city has the smell and the texture of oil. You feel like a bag of bones, stretched too thin. But safe, in his arms, in a way that you’ve never felt, before now. Loki is with you, you realize. Wrapped around you like a traveler’s cloak, the comforting weight of a slim, balanced blade at your side in a fight. He is cool, around your afraid. Warm, where his clever fingers whine and needle their way through your skin to your heart.

“I hate you,” You tell him, “You know that?”

Loki laughs, a deep, rumbling purr.

“Go to sleep.”

#picture1000wordswc #pic 4 #loki/reader #female reader #crack #so much crack #just a lot of references to bad memes and cringe movies that turns into all the angst #because for some reason i’m like this #guess which character from another popular franchise i based my crack villain off #soundtrack to this was 800 percent mouth moods #in all seriousness though huge congrats to @startrekkingaroundasgard #you deserve all the love #unfortunately i showed my love by writing insane crack fic but HEY #loki is in it so hopefully that makes up for the c r i n g e

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2ynjns · 4 years

Text

connected || kang taehyun

pairings: taehyun x reader

word count: 2.7k

genre: fluff, slight crack, soulmates!au

notes: bratty, lowkey annoying reader, reader is kinda oblivious, best friend!kai.

a/n: requested by anon!

Hello! Can I please request a soulmate au with taehyun? Maybe they can be connected through dreams? But please give it a happy ending 🥺👉👈 Thank you so much!! ❣

thank you so much for requesting! i enjoyed writing this one. although this might not what you expected i hope you liked it T T

+ i wrote this on google docs and idfk how it got to 8 pages 🤡

there you are again, wide awake in your room, staring at the ceiling and unable to sleep. you’ve shifted your position for about seven times now and you just can’t find the right position for you to even feel slightly sleepy. even using your phone to make yourself sleepy isn’t helping either, it just makes you more awake.

honestly, you have been thinking about this one person in your dreams. that person has been appearing in your sleeping state for weeks now and you are eager to figure out who that person is. you just want to know who he is and why the hell he keeps appearing in your resting brain.

and you wonder, do you also appear in his dreams? or is he even a real person? or is he a ghost?

you scratched your head from frustration and sat up on your bed.

12:18 am. you sighed and checked your phone, you swore to yourself this is going to be the last time you’d check your phone before you go to sleep, for real.

you even asked your friend huening kai if he ever encountered something like that before, he said no, but his older sister did. his older sister said that through people’s dreams, soulmates connect. you were confused at first because you never really believed in love, let alone soulmates.

“well guess what, i don’t really care about soulmates. i just need my peaceful and quiet sleep in. that person does not need to bother me and has no business to be in my brain at all.” you remember telling huening kai. you cringed at that thought but just brushed it off.

you have to attend your 8:30 am English class tomorrow morning and overthinking about that person isn’t helping you at all. you covered your face with your blanket and it’s good enough for you that you fell asleep after a few.i

you found yourself in your all white clothing wandering around a grass field alone. you looked at the horizon and it’s sunset. trying to look for your phone in your pocket, you found it and checked the time. 5:53 pm.

you frowned and looked for someone around, but you’re alone. there’s literally no one but you.

so you gave up and just sat on the grass to watch the sunset. i mean if you’re gonna be alone in an unfamiliar place, why not just sit down and appreciate the horizon right?

you sat and laid on the grass, you watched the sky as it turned dark but you couldn’t help but to be awed by the blue-orange hues of the sky with the sun setting. you smiled to yourself and sat up, you lifted your right hand and pretended to grab the sun as if it was a cookie.

“if you were to eat the sun, i don’t think it would be very pleasant.��

you quickly whipped your head around to see a blonde guy, also wearing all white just like you are. your brows met as you pointed.

“it’s you! again!” you yelped and faced him, now standing up. a gust of wind quickly brushed through your face and it made you squint and once you opened your eyes, the guy isn’t there anymore.

“actually, it’s you, again.” the guy said, now sitting on the grass next to where you were sitting. you frowned.

how the heck did he get there so quick? and what is he anyway?

“who are you?” you asked him, daring not to sit down because what if he just attacks you?

“i should be asking you that because you’re in my dreamland.” he looked up and raised his brow.

your eyes flew wide eyes and your hand involuntarily placed itself on your chest. “excuse me? your dreamland? YOU are in my dre-- wait, i’m dreaming again!” you turned around and grabbed a bunch of your hair out of frustration.

omygosh don’t tell me kai’s sister is right…

the guy chuckled and paid attention to the setting sun. “tsk, you’re being overdramatic.” he said and laid on the grass just like you did. you looked at him and you saw him resting on the grass, looking peaceful as ever.

you pouted and looked around to see if there is any exit so you could leave the place, but no. this place is just a never ending grassfield and horizon that there is no building structures or any door to leave, just grass and the sky.

“maybe if you stopped panicking there your body will just wake up by itself and you’d be able to leave in no time.” the guy told you, body still relaxed and eyes are still closed. you sighed and sat on the grass about six feet away.

you hugged your knees and looked at the sun again, gosh why can’t i just wake up?

“why are you so far?” now with his eyes open and looking at you. you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“just practicing social distancing.” you said and dug your face on your knees.

you heard the guy chuckle as he sat up. “you believe in soulmates right?” he asked you, you paused before answering him. “no.” you admitted. “i think it’s stupid.” you added.

he shook his head, “you’re one dense of a person.” he stood up and walked towards you and held his hand out. “get up. let’s take a walk. i don’t think our bodies will wake up anytime soon.” he offered.

you just stared at his hand then to his eyes, you gave him a questionable look and not moving at all. “why would i take your offer?” you asked.

sigh, he is actually so done with you, your nonstop questions and your bratty attitude, but he’s just keeping his cool because he knows you are his soulmate. although he doesn’t want his soulmate to be this bratty, there’s really no turning back anymore. he can’t just throw a fit to the heavens above to take you back and change his soulmate.

“cause i’m your soulmate, smarty pants. now get up before i leave you here.” he said still having his hand out. you bit your lower lip before taking his hand and getting up.

he gave you a simple smile before walking ahead of you and you just followed him, not asking where he is heading but you actually want to know where he is going.

“where are you going?” you asked him, though he didn’t answer. he just kept walking without looking back, walking like there’s no end. well, literally there is no end.

you waited for his answer but you didn’t get any at all. so you threw in more questions.

“who are you?” “how are you my soulmates?” “so you believe in soulmates?” “why are you not answering me?” “why are we in each other’s dreams?” “why do we have soulmates?”

he stopped walking and took a very very deep breath. he turned around to meet your gaze and that caused you to feel flustered and stop breathing. you saw him purse his lips and sighing before saying something.

“soulmates connect through dreams.” he finally said, “god, why are you so annoying.” he said and continued walking.

you pouted and stomped your way to follow him again, now with your arms crossed. “i don’t even know your name.”

he shook his head and looked back at you still walking. he smiled at you, “it’s bleep”

you frowned at him. “what?”

“bleep is my name.”

you looked at him weirdly, “all i hear is bleep.” you said and rolled your eyes.

he just stared at you without any emotions, “why don’t you introduce yourself?”

you squinted and scrunched your nose. “my name is bleep.”

he laughed at you as if you were crazy, “well i guess both of our names are bleep.” he looked at the sun, now almost down to the ground.

“well this is it.” he turned to you and waved his hands. “see you around!”

and with a blink of an eye, you saw his body disintegrate into the air which caused you to be scared.

“wait!”

your phone alarm woke you up and you got up groggily, having only five to six hours of sleep when you knew you needed more to keep sane throughout the day. you massage your temples and turn off your alarm.

having to dream about that guy again, you’re kinda disappointed that you didn’t even catch his name and all you heard was bleep, which was very odd.

but you just shook it off, you’re not really interested in meeting him soon anyway. you don’t even believe in soulmates.

kai gave you a ride to your first class since you both have the same morning class together.

“i dreamt about that guy again.” you started while taking a bite of your bagel on the way to you lecture hall. he giggled and teased you.

“did he kiss you?” you pouted and took another bite of your bagel. “heck no. he was annoying.” you got in the lecture hall and walked towards your usual spot.

but your mood immediately fell down seeing another person sitting in your usual seat. you shook kai and pointed at the spot. “someone is sitting on my spot.”

kai looked at the direction and just shrugged. “you can sit on the opposite spot, still next to me.” he said, you frowned even more. “but i want my spot.”

kai pinched your sides before pulling you towards the seats. “stop being a brat and don’t give a tantrum. you’re an adult, you know better.” he shook his head and patted yours.

you gave the person a death glare before going to your new spot. but you couldn’t see the person’s face since they’re wearing their hood on and it’s covering their face. you sat on the chair next to kai with so much anger, wanting your seat back.

kai glared at you and sneered. “stop being a brat.” you rolled your eyes and took out your laptop to start taking notes.

15 minutes in the lecture you started to feel sleepy. you smacked your face lightly to keep yourself awake because you don’t really want to fall asleep at the lecture hall because one, you’re gonna fall asleep until later later, or two, you’re not going to be able to eat until later when you get home.

“lemme go to the restroom for a moment.” kai tapped your shoulders before heading to his business. you just nodded without looking at him and rested your chin on your hand, and sighed. gosh why does english lectures have to be this boring?

“even in real life you’re bratty.” the guy next to kai’s seat blurted.

you peeked to his direction just to be shocked it’s the same guy in your dreams.

your hands immediately covered your mouth from keeping yourself from screaming and yelling at the guy from first, stealing your seat, and second, oh shit he’s that guy in your dreams.

you pointed at him and whispered-yell, “it’s you!” you looked at your professor’s direction but he wasn’t really being mindful what the students are doing.

“what are you doing here? why are you here? you’re a student here?” you asked him, he just shook his head and rolled his eyes then paid his attention back to his tablet. “even here you ask so many questions.” he said and gave you a smile.

you crossed your arms and leaned on your chair, “you literally stole my seat and i always sit there.” you said.

he looked at you, “you’re unbelievable, it’s just a seat.” he got up and grabbed his stuff and walked towards you, “we can switch seats. it’s really not a big deal.” he said and pulled you up.

you excitedly got up and took back your seat, settling you laptop and bag on your usual spot and sat on the chair the guy was sitting on.

“omygosh, your butt is warm.” you said.

“stop complaining, i just gave you your seat back.”

you didn’t answer and there was an awkward silence between the two of you until kai came back next to you. his brows are furrowed to see that you have switched seats with the guy. “you switched seats?” he asked you and you happily nodded.

“got it back, thank god.” you said and hugged the desk in front of you. “i missed you.” you said to the table. kai just looked at you with disgust and went back to writing on his notebook.

“are they really like that?” the guy asked kai. kai quickly looked at the guy and shrugged. “yeah, they're always a brat. sorry about that, they probably bugged you when i was gone.”

taehyun just laughed and shook his head, “nah, they didn’t. i offered to switch seats since, well, they looked very upset. and i already knew they’re gonna be… like that…” kai gave the guy a smile before giving a small bow.

“thanks. and your name?”

“i’m taehyun. i’m new here so that’s why i accidentally got their seat.”

“hey stopped talking to him.” you told kai, kai whipped his head towards you and gave you the look. “and why not?” he asked.

you glared at taehyun and hissed at him, “he’s that person who keeps bugging me in my dreams.” you admitted.

kai’s jaw dropped opened and turned to taehyun, “oh my, you’re that guy?” he said. “you’re THE soulmate?”

taehyun let out an airy laugh before nodding, “unfortunately, that would be me.” he said.

kai shook his head and pinched your sides, “ouch! kai!”

“well, you’re going to treat him to lunch today, y/n. you’ve been acting bratty towards him and you should give him a pay back.” you rubbed your sides and hit kai’s arm.

“he should be the one treating me lunch since he’s been keeping me awake the past nights.”

“actually, you’re sleeping and resting when we meet in the dream so you’re actually not sleepless.” taehyun pointed out. you glared at the guy again attempting to throw your pencil at him.

instead of taking sides, kai just blocked his arms in between you and taehyun to stop the bickering he’s witnessing in front of him. “okay okay, how about we just take lunch together since taehyun is new here, yeah? and no, y/n you can’t complain, again.” kai said before you could say anything.

you pouted and looked away. “as if i could do something about it. i’m practically stuck with this guy forever.” you said.

an hour has passed of you and taehyun arguing in class, you finally decided to take an early lunch since you have another class at 12. and yes, kai dragged taehyun with you both to tour the new guy around campus and meet new people around.

“hey bleep, what are you getting?” taehyun asked you, you scratched your head and answered. “i’m getting carbonara. Why?”

“okay, i’m getting carbonara too.” taehyun said. kai walked towards you and taehyun and teased you both. “did a hear a secret nickname between you two?” kai wiggled his brows.

“ew no.” “yes we did.”

you kicked taehyun on the shin before walking to the counter to order your food.

“that hurt!” taehyun ran to you as you order your plate.

“one carbonara with breadstick please, and iced tea.” you said, “make that two.” taehyun said before pulling out his card and giving it to the cashier.

you looked at him handing his card as it was swiped on the machine, “why?”

“take this as my apology. and you’re my soulmate, you’re basically my other half or whatever. so drop the attitude and let’s be friends for once.”

you stuck your tongue out to him and walked to an available table and taehyun sat next to you. “my name is taehyun.” he said and offered his hands for a handshake.

you didn’t hesitate but to take, “y/n”

“at least we’re not bleeps anymore.” he said, which made you giggle. “don’t tell me you’re gonna be in my dreams again tonight.” you frowned.

taehyun held your cheeks between his fingers and gave it a slight squeeze. “yes, i am and get used to it.” he squeezed your cheeks a little harder and he cooed at you.

“maybe you’re cute, you’re just annoying.”

“hey!”

“omygod, can you two get a room. we can see that you’re soulmates, jeez.”

#tomorrow x together #txt #kang taehyun #taehyun #txt imagines #txt imagine #txt scenarios #txt scenario #txt fluff #kang taehyun imagines #taehyun imagines #taehyun scenarios #taehyun fluff #taehyun au #txt au #txt x reader #taehyun x reader #PLS IT KINDA GETS CRINGY AT THE END

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prose-for-hire · 4 years

Text

UC Sunnyhell: Part Two

Hell is a place on Earth

Previous Part // Next Part

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: College AU where Spike is the campus bad boy who secretly is a softie that writes poems and reader is the new transfer who just moved into Spike's apartment since it was the only available room on campus (no one wants to willingly live with Spike). Spike constantly having one night stands over, reader always trying to study. Things appear to go from bad to worse.

Originally requested by: @sunflower-stan

Other tag: @fictionalhoomanofnowhere

Warning: Sex references. Swearing.

The first semester had been and gone by this point. You were settling into life at UC Sunnydale, found your friendship group in Buffy and the others. But one thing you still weren’t accustomed to, was living with Spike. He was hard to get along with at the best of times but living with him was a whole different thing.

He appeared to stay up most of the night and sleep well into the afternoon. He played loud punk music almost every waking hour and he smoked like a chimney. He never appeared to listen to a word you said and he pretty much did the opposite from whatever you said or thought anyway.

It was becoming really hard to live with him. Especially when he seemed to do everything he could to make you want to move out. He found it easier to live alone. To hide in the depths of what he knew than

Because of your current living situation you had started to branch out and pursue some of your interests. It beat staying in all the time and you really wanted to find someone that you could relate to.

You were a fan of musicals and the theatre. Poetry and literature. You liked reading and the way a writer could weave such intricate feelings. Scenes and spoken word able to explain your own feelings better than you ever could.

Your new friends didn’t really share your enthusiasm – even Willow was more into science and computers. Although your friend group were kind enough to listen to the way you spoke about your interests. They certainly didn’t make you feel bad about expressing your passions. But they just didn’t share your love and so you began to try to search out people that you could connect with. On some kind of deeper level.

You had been frequenting different bars that held open mic nights. Watching plays and listening to monologues. Letting the intricate wordplay wash over you. It could make you feel so many emotions. So many feelings were conjured.

Your favourite were the open mic nights. You pretty much never got up yourself, you usually would just listen. You were working yourself up to performing something of your own. You wrote things too it was just a matter of working on your performing skills. You were thinking of joining the clubs, maybe to improve your confidence in your writing. In your performing.

You walked back home from a play you had watched (and cried at) to find Spike sat there scribbling something. It was the first time you had ever seen him actually writing or appearing to do any work.

You were about to make a snide comment about it and then he noticed your presence. He almost jumped five feet in the air in surprise. He then hid the notebook behind his back and immediately got up to leave now you had returned. He left muttering something about you being a nosy bitch.

Spike had taken the opportunity, while he finally had time where he felt comfortable since you had actually left the house for once to write. This was something he didn’t like people knowing about. He wiped his eye as he stormed away. Hoping to God you hadn’t seen that. He couldn’t bear you knowing him that way. Laughing.

It was Friday evening and you had some friends over. There was a sudden knock at the front door. Spike had taken a baseball bat from his room and held it up as if he was ready to swing it.

Willow and Buffy’s eyes bulged at the object in his hand as they peaked from your bedroom doorway. Buffy was pleased they had convinced you to come to self-defence class now.

He walked slowly to the door, meeting you in the hallway skipping happily past him. He grabbed you back looking at you as if you were mad. He was expecting debt collectors. Again.

“Spike, it’s the pizza guy” You moved your shoulder from him before carrying on back to the door with the dollars in your hand, “What is wrong with you?” you muttered.

He scowled, jaw tensing as Buffy and Willow giggled at the way he had been so tense and he stormed away smacking the edge of the bat against the wall in his frustration. Leaving a small hole there.

You brought the pizzas back into your room (so you didn’t have to face spike again) and shared them out with your friends.

After you finished your meal and managed to calm yourselves down from whatever had just happened, talk of course turned back to Spike.

“So how is it… y’know…” Willow asked before mouthing “with Spike”. You hadn’t realised how much built up rage you had inside until you launched into your conversation.

“Well, I can tell you that Hell really is a place on Earth”

“That bad?”

“I can’t believe I’m stuck with him – if I even breath in his direction he has a problem with it!”

“Yeah, he’s always been a complete pig. Some people are just born evil” Buffy shrugged.

“Buffy! He’s not evil! He’s just… mean spirited”

“In the most evil way” Buffy added. She had never liked Spike. He was cruel and treated her as if she was dumb just because she was in a sorority and enjoyed cheerleading.

What you and the two girls didn’t realise, was that Spike was eavesdropping. You had all been laughing really loud and he was about to take his chance to kick Buffy and her little loser friend out. Until he found he was interested to hear what you all had to say about him.

You groaned, thinking about the way things had been. You needed to vent. So, you took the chance while you were in the company of your now closest friends.

“He’s inconsiderate and rude and also I’m pretty sure he never washes his clothes... but he always smells good. Weird”

“Totally weird”

“Well, we did like, warn you”

“And oh my God! He walks around naked all the time! There’s always some stranger he’s brought home and they are always so loud! He never studies and the plates are always piled high in the kitchen! It’s disgusting – he’s disgusting!”

“He’s always been so arrogant and gross”

“Hey, don’t wig, next year we can find a place. The four of us – right Buffy?” Willow offered, including her girlfriend. She comforted you as you caught your breath from your outburst. Willow rested her hand on your shoulder to reassure you.

“Really?” You asked with a smile as Buffy nodded. She was going to move out from her sorority so she wasn’t distracted for her last year she had already decided.

“Don’t worry, y/n. We’ll keep you sane” Buffy insisted.

Spike scoffed. The way Buffy acted as if she was saving you from him. As if he was a fate worse than death. You angered him. The way you had determined his character over a few fleeting conversations. The gossip your silly little friends told you.

You became enemy number one. Even more so than you had been before. He hated gossip and the way people would laugh behind his back. You reminded him of this every time he looked at you now, not that you knew this.

The annoyance for the other just kept growing. Yours had originally been fuelled by your friends rumours, but his actions were now getting worse. Spike was seething at your dismissive tone against your character. He didn’t even want a roommate, he only agreed the landlord to put the room up so he didn’t put up the rent again.

So he decided to try and make you leave. Properly this time. He didn’t care anymore, you reminded him of everyone out there. Everyone that he hid himself away from. Distanced himself from.

The tension rose uncomfortably. He was more rude. More gross. And he made sure to do everything he knew that he could to annoy you. It was petty, he knew it, but he knew it would get a rise out of you.

One afternoon, you had been scraping off some congealed red liquid that you had been concerned was blood. He hung out with a weird crowd, you only hoped some poor thing hadn’t been exploded in there. Although, upon further inspection it appeared to be tomato soup. But you would probably embellish the story a little to your friends.

You washed your hands and scowled at him. He had moved to lean against the doorway and just watch you clean.

“God, Spike, you’re so lazy”

“’Scuse me?”

“You don’t clean, you don’t study – what exactly do you do with your life?”

He was affronted by this. By the way you spoke to him. How he felt like you acted like you were better than him. In your frustration you didn’t care what he thought. He just didn’t care. You were trying to live your life.

He could hear Buffy or even Angel’s voice through your own. The way they had always berated him.

“And what? I should be like you? You’re not exactly making a proper go of it are you? Haven’t seen you do much of anything ‘cept follow them brainless bints around the shop. When you’re not doing that you sit in your room as life passes you by, livin’ through your little Musical shows rather than living in the real world - You’re boring. You’ll live your pathetic little life, stuck in your lame little ways until you die”

“Spike-”

“You’re all the same! You and your preppy little band of misfits looking down your noses at everyone and yet you can’t see the obvious, can you? You’re so bored with your pathetic, frigid little lives that you have to make it my bloody problem!”

You decided, seeing as that’s how he viewed you that you would treat him exactly like that. Like he treated you. Things got worse.

He started to invite people over all the time. You would call it a party but there was nothing celebratory about it. You were confined to your room most of the time as they all laughed and screamed along to their music. They were always drinking and playing music no matter what time of the day you saw them.

You usually avoided them, locking your door, but you had needed to slip out of your room for a moment.

“Who’s this?” One of the guests pointed you out as you tried to make it to the bathroom without anybody noticing you. Now everyone’s eyes were on you.

“Oh don’t mind them, they’re just for show hasn’t had an original thought their entire life” Spike shrugged.

“Aw, no, Spike. Another mindless automaton” One of his friends spoke up and he laughed. It was a cold laugh, there was no humour in it.

“Do you, like, want to-”

“Don’t, love. They’re nobody” Spike stopped the blonde girl from speaking to you more kindly than the rest. They all laughed at this and began to tease you.

You left, slamming the door and you heard them laughing, jeering at you for your reaction. It made tears sting the back of your eyes. You collected yourself, shrugging on your jacket. You walked to a place you knew you would be welcome.

You knew that you weren’t going to get on. But this was getting out of hand. You hated him. Hated the way he treated you. The way he judged you, despite him knowing exactly how that feels.

As you thought this, he appeared to be thinking the same thing. Which made Spike scoff and frown. Was he really better than any of the people he hated? He shook that thought away. Downing his beer and looking for another rather than reflect.

You had called Buffy on your way over and she had been quick to contact the entire group to tell them there had been a major incident. Everyone piled around to her dorm room so that they could support you. You had sounded upset on the phone.

You explained everything that had happened and they all comforted you the best that they could. Xander then showed you the stack of films he had brought to try to cheer you up. He had even found some Musicals just for you.

Buffy explained that she had called Angel but he says he’s sorry but he’s busy right now. Buffy appeared disappointed and when you asked her about it she explained. They used to date when they were seniors in college but they had broken up despite still both having feelings for each other.

She explained it had seemed the right thing to do at the time, but now she wished they were back together. You insisted that you would make it your mission to help them get back together which made Buffy grin at you. She really did value your friendship.

As the night wore on your friends began to discuss the idea of you taking your revenge on Spike. It had made you laugh as they suggested ridiculous pranks and ideas that wouldn’t bother him at all. But then they began to take it more seriously. Insisting that you should get even.

You said you weren’t sure. And left it at that. But they thought you had better do something or he wouldn’t stop.

You eventually went back to a trashed house after staying for the weekend with Buffy. You stared at the mess. Maybe you would have to do something.

It had been unusually quiet the few days prior and you should have known better than to hope he had stopped. You had heard a girl, one of Spike’s partners that came around more than most (Harmony but her sex noises were nothing close to harmonious). She explained that if they were to have a threesome it would have to be boy-boy-girl. Apparently, neither of them had been able to swing Charlize Theron.

You had overheard this conversation over breakfast one morning on. A rare occasion they were both awake (they hadn’t gone to sleep yet). You had immediately spat out your food in disgust of their blunt discussion.

It had been perhaps in slight exaggeration but you felt like you were allowed. You were fine with people having sex and having fun but you really didn’t want to have to hear about it over your breakfast. They could have at least let you rub the sleep from your eyes first.

He had scoffed at you at the time and now he had set this up seemingly just to rub you up the wrong way. As opposed to the right ways he was rubbing his partners.

He tried to push the thought down that this had been solely planned because of you. With you in mind. To get a reaction from you. Because that would start him questioning his intentions. His actions. How you made him so angry it was now near obsessive.

So, it appeared they had finally agreed on the logistics of it. And were now giving you a live audio performance. On some random Thursday afternoon just as you had settled down to study.

You swore they were doing it on purpose. Being as loud as possible just to get a rise out of you.

You pounded on the door. You could smell sex from where you were stood out on the landing. He opened the door and stale cigarette smoke appeared to pour out of the room with him. He had opened the door almost immediately. As if he had been waiting.

“Spike!”

“Problem, pet?”

“I don’t care that you’re having sex, the walls are just so thin – I have an exam coming up can you just be quiet? Or go to one of your, uh, friends’ houses…”

“Mm, someone’s jealous”

“I’m not-”

“Just ‘cause you’re not bloody gettin’ any” He prodded before he thought about it a moment, changing tac, “Oh no. I know what this is… You want me, you need me…” He teased, knowing it would make you flustered.

“I just- I just want to-”

“If you wanted a taste all you had to do was ask” He smirked, moving his hips slightly and moving his head smugly along with his words. Drawing your attention to his naked form. The people in his bed were calling him back and you were just staring at each other. All he was wearing was a single silver chain around his neck. He was attractive, you couldn’t deny this and he knew it too.

You were both furious at each other. Silently trying to gain the upper hand.

“You’re a pig, Spike!” You suddenly screamed, stepping towards him angrily. Which made him smile and just close the door in your face. That was what he had wanted. To get such a big emotional response from you.

You were so angry you threw one of your precious book at his now slammed shut door. He winced at the name you had used, one often used against him by people like Buffy. She even managed to get to him in his own home. You angered him. You angered him.

But he turned back and the noises started up again and you knew for sure that they were doing it on purpose now. It was getting louder and louder. He couldn’t be that fucking good, you were sure of it.

You ran into your room and rummaged through the stack of CDs you had brought with you, selecting the perfect accompaniment. The soundtrack from your favourite musical. You turned the volume up fully and let the entire score play out.

You never wanted to see his stupid smug face again.

#UC sunnyhell #Spike btvs #Spike x reader #Spike imagine #Spike x you #btvs #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #btvs x you #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #gender neutral #gn #college au

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3pirouette · 3 years

Text

Fic: Fighting Doesn't Make You a Hero (2/?)

Title: Fighting Doesn't Make You a Hero

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: StuntCoordinator!Steve meets Actress!Peggy, who is an absolute menace when it comes to stunts.

Chapter Summary: Steve falls hard for Peggy (figuratively) while Peggy falls hard (literally).

A/N: Here’s some more of the story I tried so hard to write last year when I put this little AU out. Also, this is the “more” that I think only one person actually asked for. Hope you like it, anyway. I’ve always loved this idea, the rest of the story has just alluded me until now. For Steggy Week ’21 Day 3: Favorite AU.

Apparently, there will be more of this, because my brain has FINALLY figured out how this is supposed to go, and it’s not just one chapter’s worth. Sheesh.

Also, if it is not clear (it should be…) I know nothing about stunts or stage fighting. Completely made up. Please enjoy.

~*~

Chapter 2: Thrust and Parry

It was hard to be nice to her when he was waiting for the next injury to occur. He was professional, clear, and concise. They rehearsed for hours straight on Wednesday for a long, single shot of her moving through a room full of stunt men for one of the climatic battles.

Though no one got seriously hurt, there were a few bumps and bruises that shouldn’t have happened.

It was hard not to be harsh with her, not to be demanding. He could see moments of beauty in how she moved, but then she’d go too far and make contact. He had to find a way of breaking her of it, if not for his own safety, for that of the stuntmen around him.

~*~

It was an early call for the shot they’d spent the entire previous day rehearsing. He was bleary and chugging coffee as quick as he could stomach it. Peggy was already on her way out of hair and make-up as he passed the trailer. She gave him a shy half smile as she passed him, being ushered from one trailer to the next to be slid into her ridiculously tight costume.

On one hand, he got it. He couldn’t deny that she looked absolutely gorgeous in that costume. (How long he’d spent thinking last night about her in that costume and what she might be able to do with that Lasso of Truth absolutely was not relevant…) But from a practical standpoint the costume wasn’t realistic at all, and she wobbled horribly on the stilettos. They had to stop rolling often to keep her taped into the thing.

The stuntmen around him were warming up, and he even heard a few near him joking about wearing cups. He gave them a sharp look, waiting until everyone was quiet before he reviewed timing and patterns while they waited for her to come out to set.

The director wasted no time once Peggy was on set. They made minor adjustments to the cameras and rolled on the first run through. He was proud as he watched them all, every move was timed right and it looked fantastic. He waited, with a smile, for the director to give his notes.

There wasn’t much for his team, but the director took Peggy aside and gave her quite notes and reset the scene quickly. He shot it over and over, from new angles and with different lenses, and by the time it was over, there were three black eyes and a cracked camera lens.

Peggy’s assistant ushered her off set as soon as they cut the last take, the star unable to look him in the eyes as she walked past.

~*~

The director decided, after a short break, he wanted another go at the capturing the pattern. Steve reluctantly went off in search of Peggy, hoping to figure out where she’d gone wrong that morning. He couldn’t find her in her trailer, and her assistant only pointed vaguely towards the parking lot.

He found her in a far hidden corner of the lot, sitting on the edge of a flower pot, crying. He was startled by a side of her he wasn’t prepared to see. He thought maybe he’d be coming out here to find her sneaking a smoke or a flask of rum. He’d heard she was dangerous, a bitch, a tough broad who didn’t care about the stunt men that she hurt. This didn’t really fit with all the stories he’d heard. “Peggy?”

She moved to wipe away her tears, manicured fingers moving swiftly and carefully around the fake lashes and caked on make-up. “I’m sorry. I’ll be right there. He wants another take, right?”

Steve crouched down next to her. “Are you… are you ok?”

She laughed, watery and weary. “Oh, good lord, no, but I’ll be there in a minute.” She waved her hand at him. “I’ll have to stop in make-up first.”

Steve stood hesitantly, astonished at how she pulled herself together so quickly. “Is there… is there anything I can do?”

She looked up at him, taking a deep breath. “I don’t mean to hurt anyone, I promise. I mean, I know I have a reputation, but… I’m not an action hero. I’ve never been physical. I’m not good at it.” She shook her head. “I’m a Shakespearean actress.” She stood, wiping at her mouth and pacing. “Give me Ophelia or Bianca or Beatrice. Hell, even give me a sword fight. I can fence, you know. But one time I get a tiny part in an action film and all of a sudden, I’m being type cast as some action hero and no one ever even taught me how to do any of this!” She was pacing quickly now, the rant spilling from her lips like a waterfall of words she couldn’t stop if she tried, her weariness evident with each syllable. “Not once was I instructed on the how, just, ‘punch here’ and ‘kick there.’ And it was fun so I kept doing it. I thought it was worth it, you know? But I should be saying no. The sane thing to do would be to say no to all of this but I mean, who says no to Wonder Woman?!” Peggy stopped, her face morphing as she realized all she’d said, her hands coving her mouth for a moment before she forced herself back into a stoic, hard shell. Her chin wobbled, betraying her hidden emotion as she pushed past him towards the make-up trailer. “Just know I don’t mean it. And I’m sorry.”

He watched her move away, stunned in her wake. He didn’t quite know what to do with that information, but he was quickly starting to feel a soft spot for her forming. He moved quickly back to set, relaying that she would be there soon and watching the team of stuntmen around him stretch to perform the scene once more.

She was back on set, looking fresh and happy, in just minutes. He ran them through the pattern again, and watched closer this time.

Once he’s shed himself of expectations, it was easy to see that she really didn’t have any idea what she was doing. She was a natural mover, to the point where he figured she was probably a good dancer, and that went a long way to hiding the technical flaws. But she was jerky when she tried to pull her punches and she wobbled off balance when she held back power in her kicks. She misjudged force when blocking constantly, and it put her on her heels, literally.

She was on her back in a blink when she shouldn’t be, coughing and sputtering. She had the air torn from her lungs with the impact, and everyone froze in place.

Steve bounded over, pushing through his stunt team to kneel by her side. Her eyes were closed, pressed tight. “Peggy, are you ok?” She was gasping, trying to get the rhythm of breathing back. “Slow in through your nose, slow out through your mouth, ok?”

He lifted her hand in his as she nodded, sputtering once more before slowly getting a deep breath in, and then another. He squeezed her hand tight. “Good, good.” He smiled when she blinked her eyes open, her breath starting to come back. “Better?”

She nodded, but he could see the frustration and fear in her eyes, welling tears following quickly.

“Let’s get her checked out,” the director called. “We got what we needed anyway.”

Peggy tried to sit her up, but Steve pushed her back down. “Wait until the medic gets here, ok?”

“I’m fine,” she argued, having tamed the tears quickly.

“Be that as it may,” he smiled, whispering, “You know what the protocol is.”

It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was the closest he saw to one today as her hand held tight to his. “Fine. Just this once.”

He moved away mindlessly when the medic came in and started talking to her, checking for a concussion or cervical injury, eyes still on her face.

Forget about the Lasso of Truth, her smile would be what was haunting his dreams tonight.

~*~

He met her in the rehearsal gym, bright and early the next day. He was on the floor, warming up, when she came in, hair pulled back messily and no make-up on, thermos of coffee in her hands. She was pretty much the exact opposite of the made-up, costumed bombshell from yesterday, but he was no less enthralled with her.

He couldn’t help it: he smiled.

Her smile back was half hidden behind another sip of coffee. “Good morning,” she said softly in her lilting English accent that she covered up for her movie appearances.

“Morning,” he stood, wiping his hands on his pants. “How are you feeling?”

“Bit of a headache,” she replied, setting her coffee down and pulling off her jacket. “Are the rest of the team coming?”

Steve hung his head, bashful. “Uh, no. I had them stay last night and run through tomorrow’s scene with your double.”

“Oh.” Peggy froze, the word slipping out softly. She started putting her jacket back on, trying to hide her disappointment. “I didn’t get the message. I thought I was doing the scene.”

“You are!” Steve corrected quickly, holding his hand out. “I just thought…” He sniffed and cleared his throat, trying to sound as professional as he could. “After I found you yesterday, I watched you do the scene again. I mean, really watched you. And you’re right. You’re missing a lot of the basics.”

Peggy wrapped her jacket back around her, crossing her arms. “Yes, well, like I said—”

“You weren’t taught,” he supplied quickly and gently, eyes kind and open. He shrugged and tried to smile. “I thought we could spend some time on that this morning. You already know the scene, so if we go back in and fill in some of those blanks you have…” He trailed off, hoping she’d understand.

She licked her lip slowly, thinking. “And you told the other stuntmen to stay home because…”

He wasn’t sure what she thought he was going to say, but he could imagine how some of his collogues might have treated her and couldn’t say that he almost expected her surprise. “I don’t want you to feel like they were watching you, or judging you. It’s not your fault no one taught you this, or that whoever you’ve worked with before didn’t take the time to make sure you were doing it right.”

She bent, grabbing her coffee to try to hide the shock he saw. She took a long swing and then nodded, pulling her jacket off again. “Alright then.”

He waved his hand, signaling her to follow him to the middle of the cushioned floor.

She was a quick study, and he’d been right as she eventually reveled somewhere in their discussions of balance and force, that she’d been a dancer before she became an actress.

“ACL surgery,” she replied, pulling up the leg of her legging and showing him the scar on her knee that he was sure must have been covered by make-up every other time he’d seen her. “Retore after the first surgery, and I never danced the same after.”

The melancholy that had started to disappear as they’d been going through their first few lessons returned, and Steve swore he’d do anything to see a smile on her face again. After a moment, he pulled up the sleeve on his t-shirt and showed her the crisscrossing pattern on his shoulder. “Cool scar, but I think this one wins.”

“Ohhh,” Peggy reached out, her fingertips lightly brushing over the flattened lines. “What happened?”

“IED just outside of Fallujah. Caught our caravan off guard.” He turned, pulling the shirt back more to show her the back of the shoulder. “Two bullets, six pieces of shrapnel, three torn tendons and almost a year of physical therapy.”

She let her hand run down his arm in a gentle way that made his heart pound. “Is that why you got out?”

He shrugged, stepping away and pulling his sleeve down. “It’s why they wouldn’t let me back in, so yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Do you miss it?” Peggy asked, truly interested.

He paused. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever asked him that before. He must have been quiet long enough that she took his lack of an answer as not wanting to answer, because she started rambling, stepping over to get more coffee.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I only asked because,” she paused to sip, taking a deep breath. “Well, because I didn’t really get to choose to stop dancing, my body chose for me. And as much as I love this…” she paused, her voice growing quieter as she looked down at her coffee, “sometimes I miss it.”

Steve softly stepped towards her. “This can be a lot like dancing, you know.” He held out his hand.

Peggy set her coffee down and took it, a smile on her face. “Really?”

He nodded, giving her a gentle pull that pulled her towards his body. “Think of it less like moves and add beats to it.” He started counting softly in fours, walking them through the pattern they’d just practiced: step forward, step back, parry, swing and miss, swing and block, swing, connect, turn under and sweep the leg.

Peggy laughed with delight as they stopped, standing. “That was… so much easier!”

Steve couldn’t help but smile back, she looked like an excited child on Christmas morning and he wanted more of that. “See? I told you. You just needed to understand it a little more. To figure out how to make it make sense to you.”

She bounced on the balls of her feet, excited. “Can we try the second pass?”

He nodded, stepping in front of her. He started counting again as she squeaked with happiness behind him. Push, pull, drop, jump, punch, punch… they moved through with the fluidity he knew she possessed but had somehow never understood or tapped into before. He smiled at her as they finished the set: her wrists in his hands, held over her head as they stood face to face.

They both smiled, but didn’t move. Steve could feel his heart pounding, and if the look on her face was any indication, the moment wasn’t one sided.

But he was here professionally, and it did no good to lean in and kiss her breathless like he wanted. He started to pull away quickly, but Peggy grabbed his hands, keeping him close. “Thank you,” she whispered, eyes shining with an emotion he didn’t want to think too hard about.

He didn’t understand. “For what?”

“For this.” She shrugged, twining her fingers with his. “For not just believing I’m a dangerous bitch who doesn’t care who she hurts. For taking the time to actually teach me,” she smiled, “and get to know me.”

It was still between them, and he could tell what they both wanted, but he couldn’t give in. Not while they were in the middle of the movie and he knew she’d still need so much more help if she was going to make it to the end of all of the complicated fight scenes and wire work. Instead, he redirected, smiling wide. “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve got to do all that again, but this time, in the heels.”

Peggy frowned, but didn’t let go of his hands. “Bloody hell, I hate those fucking things.”

#steggyweek21 #Steggy Fic #3P's Fic

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tteokggukk · 4 years

Text

coffee rings → kth

✳ pairing: kim taehyung x deceased reader

✳ genre: angst, triggering themes, post-split au

✳ warnings: taehyung is grieving, major character death, mentions of a car accident and someone passing away

✳ summary: it’s been a year since you and taehyung went your separate ways, but today’s your birthday and he misses you more than ever. though he never really liked coffee, he drinks them now because it reminds him of you. to pass the time, he heads over to your favorite coffee shop at one in the morning. what he did not expect, however, was to see you walking in, smiling at him.

✳ words: 1.7k

✳ a/n: it’s sad but this idea just popped up in my head so i wanted to write about it because!! i miss writing HAHAHA pls enjoy (or don’t, bc it’s supposed to be sad so it’s okay not to enjoy it).

It’s one in the morning and Taehyung couldn’t sleep. Ironically, he was supposed to be in bed trying to doze off but he now found himself sitting inside an empty 24-hour coffee shop—your favorite coffee shop, sipping on an Iced Americano he was forcing himself to drink. He never really liked coffee, but nowadays it brought him a feeling of comfort and nostalgia that he began relying on it to keep him sane.

It’s been a year since you two went your separate ways, yet here he was, staring at the entrance of the shop and hoping you’d walk in and talk to him.

You were always the type of person to leave the apartment at any given time of the night to grab a quick snack from this café. When you and Taehyung were living together, you’d often go out and buy pastries while Taehyung waited outside because he used to hate the smell of coffee. Though he never acquired a taste for it, he learned to love the scent because it reminded him so much of you.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d walk in right now at this time like you used to.

Even if he knew it was impossible for you to walk in right now, he waited. He held onto the small chance of seeing you once again. He wanted so badly to talk to you, to feel safe through your touch, and to find a peace of mind. You were his happy pill, the only person capable of making him feel better, and right now not having you around gave him the worst withdrawal from you. He hasn’t been the same since you separated.

All he wanted was to see you.

Imagine his surprise when the café’s entrance opened and you walked in.

Your eyes immediately met and all he could think of was how you looked exactly the same as the last time he saw you. You were just as beautiful and just as glowing. Your eyes looked so bright and alive even at one in the morning, and your lips, god, how he missed the feeling of your soft lips on his. His eyes scanned your whole body before he landed on your hands—the hands that always made him feel at ease.

He watched as you walked over to his table and sat in front of him, a warm smile on your face. He wanted to wrap himself around you right now, but he was too shocked to move from his seat.

“Can’t sleep?” You asked. Taehyung only shakes his head.

“Don’t you think it’s a bad idea to hang out in a coffee shop, then?” You laughed. His chest began to hurt at how much he missed your laugh. It was like hearing an old favorite song he hadn’t heard in so long because it brought back too much memories.

“I guess,” Taehyung had to choke out his words just to start talking, “But the place is oddly comforting.”

A small, sympathetic smile forms on your face. Taehyung looked… different. His eyes that were once enchanting and welcoming now looked tired and puffy, the brightness in them gone. His mouth, which always used to be upturned into a friendly smile were now straight and expressionless. He looked worn-out, but despite everything he still looked beautiful in your eyes.

“Since when did you start drinking Iced Americanos?” You asked.

“Since you left,” He admits.

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it, Tae...”

“I do, because it reminds me of you.”

“Isn’t it best to start moving on?” You asked.

“If you were in my place, do you think you could move on that easily?” He asks, turning his hands into fists to prevent the tears from falling on his face. You watched as he held himself back.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized. There was a brief silence between you two before Taehyung continued. He turns his head down, immediately recognizing this habit of his that he always did before he started crying.

“I miss you, ___. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of you,” The hurt was evident in his voice now. You didn’t say anything, you thought it best to let him clear his head.

“I don’t even like coffee, but you always smelled like coffee so now I’m used to drinking it just to remind myself of when you were with me,” He continued, “I wanted to live my life with you… I imagined my future with you…”

Tears began dripping on your face, but your expression remained calm. Taehyung’s breathing gradually turned heavy, it was long before his eyes turned red as his tears soaked his face. He wished you would wipe them dry, but he knew you couldn’t do that.

“It’s been a year, ___,” He sniffed, “It’s been a year since the car accident, and I thought I was beginning to forget you.”

“But earlier today, I was with your parents,” He continued, “I still keep in contact with them every month, just to see how they’re doing. They asked me to celebrate your birthday with them.”

“How are they?” You asked.

“They’re healthy and they’re doing fine, but I don’t think they’re feeling any better than I am,” He sobbed, “And I told them everything.”

“Told them what?”

“I told them about what my plans were with you, how I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you…” Taehyung was sobbing uncontrollably now. The cashier stared at him in concern.

“I miss you, ___. I miss you so much, I don’t know if I’ll ever get over you. Sometimes I see you in the apartment, sitting on the couch. Other times I see you at the library you used to visit often, and you’re just there reading all your favorite books. Sometimes, you’re in the faces of strangers I see every day, always just a few inches away but I can never bring myself to get close. And I know you’re not really there, but I can’t stop picturing you everywhere.”

“Taehyung,” he watched as you leaned forward to place your hand on his, “You have to let me go.”

“How can I let you go when I still love you?” He wanted to grip your hand tight. He wanted to keep you here with him, but he couldn’t.

“And I’m always going to love you, but you need to accept that I’m not here anymore. I love you too much to see you suffering like this, you have to let me go,” you pleaded.

“___…”

“You can start by taking that out of your pocket,” Your eyes glide over the inner pocket of his jacket, and Taehyung’s breath hitches for a moment. You smile at him, letting him know that you’re aware of what he’s been carrying with him all this time. An item he’s always kept so close to his chest— to his heart.

He takes out the box, the box he’s been preparing for more than over a year now, the box that he waited for so long to kneel down on one knee with to present to you. Now all he could do was take it out without doing all those things and saying all those words he imagined he’d do when he proposed to you. His heart aches as he opens the box, the diamonds on the engagement ring shining right before him. There’s a weight that leaves his chest the moment he sets the ring on the table.

“Carrying that forever will only make it impossible to move on,” You told him.

You were right, he thought. Though it pained him to know he had to let you go for real now, he also couldn’t help but think of how this was what you wanted for him.

Memories of you and him together began playing in his head. The first time you met, all the ups and downs you two shared, him picking out an engagement ring and realizing the ring on the table in front of him was “the one”—to the night he got a call about your accident.

“I’ll never stop loving you, ___,” He whispered.

“I’ll always be watching over you. I want you to be happy, Taehyung, and if that means finding someone new, then it’s all right with me,” You smiled at him. His eyes were still full of tears, but he felt much calmer. Taehyung looks down and nods, wiping the tears off his face.

The ice in the Iced Americano has melted, diluting the drink. One of the café’s staff member approaches Taehyung and hands him water, courtesy of the cashier who noticed Taehyung crying. Taehyung thanks the staff and sips on the water before asking them to dispose of the iced Americano he could no longer drink.

“You never liked Iced Americanos anyway,” You breathed a laugh, and Taehyung just smiles.

“Namjoon will be here any minute,” You tell him, making Taehyung look back at you. How did you know?

“I just figured,” You grinned.

Sure enough, you were right. A few minutes later, Taehyung noticed Namjoon walking outside the café, trying to find where he was seated inside. When Taehyung meets his eyes, Namjoon starts making his way inside with a concerned look on his face.

“I’d better go,” You told Taehyung.

“What?” Taehyung’s eyes shifted from Namjoon to you.

“Take care, Taehyung. Please be healthy, and be happy,” you smiled at him one last time.

“Taehyung!” Namjoon called, catching Taehyung’s attention. When he looked back at where you were seated, you already disappeared. You were really gone.

“Who were you talking to?” Namjoon asks.

“I… no one,” Taehyung mutters, “How’d you know I was here?”

Namjoon gives him an understanding look, “It was her birthday.”

“Oh,” Taehyung nods and looks down.

“Come on, let’s get you home, alright?” Namjoon takes Taehyung’s arm and helps him up. He offers to drive Taehyung and already asked the others to come over to help him feel better. Taehyung just smiles, feeling thankful to have his friends with him.

Once they exit the café, Taehyung looks back one last time to see if you would be right there watching him leave. All he saw was an empty café.

“Goodbye, ___, and thank you,” He whispers.

He was going to be okay, he thought, everything was going to be okay. He might not be okay soon, but in time he’ll allow himself to heal. The previous heaviness he used to feel was no longer there and was replaced by a lighter feeling of relief and acceptance. Namjoon and Taehyung both drive away in silence, and Taehyung doesn’t look back once.

The engagement ring sits left behind on the café’s table, finally freeing Taehyung.

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nothingbutimagines · 4 years

Text

Elizabeths (Chapter II)

Pairing: Bad boy!Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: Cursing, death, mentions of suicide

Summary: Y/n is part of her high school’s most powerful and most popular clique, but she disapproves of the other girls’ behavior. When Y/n meets the new boy in school, Peter Parker, and begins dating him, what she has known to be her clique begins to unravel. Starting with the death of the clique leader, Liz Allan, one by one, people Y/n doesn’t like begin to die by her and Peter’s hands. Soon, she realizes that Peter is killing students he hates and begins to try to foil his plans, all while clashing with the new clique leader, Elizabeth “Betty” Brant.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: This is a Peter Parker AU I thought of doing. It’s a Heathers AU!!! This is going to follow a similar plot to Heathers, but of course, I won’t keep everything the exact same. Here, we meet our protaganist, Y/n, and our love interest, JD Peter.

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

Dear Diary,

I know I said I only fuck with the college boys and to hell with the high school ones, but goddamn, I can’t take my mind of off Peter Parker. Especially with him pulling that shit he did with the gun in the commons.

“God, they won’t expel him. They’ll probably just suspend him for a week or something.” Lizzie insisted, clacking her croquet mallet against your own as you both chuckled.

“He used a real gun.” Liz scoffed. “They should throw his ass in jail. Doesn’t he know today’s climate? Hasn’t he heard of Columbine?”

“No way.” You argued, leaning forward on your unused mallet as you watched Liz retie her ponytail with that red scrunchie you always hated. “He used blanks. All Peter did was ruined two pairs of pants... maybe not even that...” You and Lizzie began giggling. “I mean, can you bleach out urine stains?”

The sound of Liz knocking her mallet into the red ball and the red ball hitting Betty’s green one was a response enough. The sound was almost deafening as silence fell between you and Lizzie.

“Ah, yes, Peter.” Liz finally spoke up, “You seem pretty amused. I thought you were over high school guys.”

“Never say never.”

“What are you going to do, Liz? Take the two shots or knock me out?” Betty asked, her doe like eyes meeting Liz’s, making it clear she had not been paying attention to the conversation at hand.

“Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast?” Liz snapped. “First you ask if you can be red, knowing I am always red...”

You watched as Liz took a step forward, her foot firm on her red ball as she hit the mallet against it, the red ball sending Betty’s green into the flower bed, causing you to wince as Liz grunted triumphantly.

Liz hit her ball again, this time falling short of the wicket as she groaned, rolling her eyes. Always too cocky too early, Liz.

“Damn.” She cursed. “Anyway, I can say never to high school boys. Especially when I have Steve.”

“Ah, yes. King Steve.” Lizzie chuckled, taking her shot and getting the yellow ball through the wicket as she squealed.

“Maybe when you get older and actually reach maturity, you’ll understand the difference between Columbia University man like Steve and a Midtown High boy like Brad “nut-and-bolt” Davis.”

Lizzie shrugged. “I think Brad’s sweet. Your turn, Betty!”

Betty pouted, a whine escaping her throat as she navigated getting into the flower bed, trying to avoid the peonies your mother had planted earlier in the week.

“No pain, no gain!” Lizzie teased.

“Give it up, girl!” You added, both of you howling at Betty.

You watched as Betty furrowed her brow, leaning down a bit as she hit the ball. You chuckled as it bounced off a tree and then hit the fountain in the yard before rolling perfectly through the wicket.

“Holy shit!” You gasped, howling in laughter.

“That was incredible!” Lizzie squealed.

“What. A. Shot.” Liz added, shaking her head, a mixture of pride and jealousy in her smirk.

You began setting up your shot as Lizzie spoke up, your attention half on her and the other half on getting the shot.

“So, tonight’s the night. Are you two excited?” Lizzie asked, glancing between both you and Liz.

“I’m giving Y/n her shot. Her first Columbia party. You blow it tonight, girl, and it’s keggers with kids all senior year.”

You groaned, having missed your shot. As you dropped your mallet, bending down to pick it up, you rolled your eyes as Liz’s attitude.

“Damn.” You cursed. “So, who’s this Bucky guy I’ve been set up with? Witty and urban pre-law or an idiot and savant art major?”

“Don’t worry.” Liz rolled her eyes. “Steve says he’s very. So he’s very.”

“I doubt it.” You muttered, knowing full well the only boy you wanted to be set up with is the bad boy wannabe from the commons.

“Lizzie! Your mom is here!” Your mother called before Liz could open her mouth to say anything further.

“Come on, whoever wants a ride!” Lizzie announced. “Bye, Y/n. Good luck.”

“Yeah, good luck.” Betty agreed as she rushed past, following Lizzie and Liz up the stairs.

You dropped your mallet and followed behind the girls, waving them off as they cut through the side of the house and off the property. You took a seat at the table on the patio as your father took a seat beside you, James Patterson book in hand as you mother joined you both, salsa and chips on the platter clutched in her fists.

“So, what was the first week of Spring Break withdrawal like?” Your father asked, leaning past your slouching figure to grab a chip.

“Hey, kid, isn’t the prom coming up?” Your mother asked before you could answer your father.

You shrugged with a smile. “I guess it is.”

“Any contestants worth mentioning?”

“Maybe. I guess you could say there is a bit of a dark horse in the running.”

“Goddamn. Why do I even read these damn Patterson books. Bastard probably doesn’t even write them.” Your father chimed in, looking up at you.

“Because you’re an idiot.” You beamed, laughing alongside him for a moment.

“Oh, yeah. That’s it.”

“You two...” Your mother smiled, shaking her head.

“Thanks for the salsa.” You rose from your seat. “But I gotta motor if I want to be ready for that party tonight.”

Dear Diary,

When you fuck with the eagles, you gotta learn to fly. Columbia is Liz kicking my ass out of the nest, whether I like it or not. And to be honest, I don’t wanna fucking fly.

You opened the car door, the cold night breeze chilling you to the bone as you slammed the door shut, wincing as you knew Liz would scold you for your improper behavior later. Tugging at the length of your sleeves, you walked towards the 7-11.

“Corn nuts!” Liz yelled, half her body out the car window as she yelled at you.

Without looking back, you waved her off, tempted to just give her the middle finger and call it a night.

You swung the door open, the warm draft greeting you as you made a beeline to the Corn Nuts, hoping to get in and get out and get this goddamn Columbia party over with.

“You going to get a Big Gulp with that?” A voice erupted from behind you as you turned around, the bag of Corn Nuts you needed in hand.

“No, but if you’re nice, I’ll let you buy me a Slurpee.” You teased, meeting Peter’s eyes, or rather, eye, as the other was covered by his falling bang. “You sure do know your 7-11 slang.”

“I’ve moved around all my life; Baton Rouge, Vegas, Dallas, Suburbia. There’s always been a 7-11. The only stability. Any town, any time, I can pop a chicken sandwich in the microwave and feast on a tornado. Keeps me sane.” He explained, his hand shaking next to his head at the end of his speech.

“Really?” You asked, “I don’t know, I mean, that thing you pulled today was pretty severe.”

“The extreme always makes an impression, but you’re right, it was pretty severe. Did you say a Coke or Cherry Slurpee?”

“I didn’t.” You pulled a red vine from the open box at the counter. “Cherry.”

You smiled, taking a bit out of the vine as you twirled it between your fingers, Peter matching your expression. You took the Slurpee from his hand and followed him to the counter, the silence between you comfortable as he paid for the snacks you collected and you followed him outside.

You shivered in the cold air, the thought that getting a Slurpee was a good idea now turning in your mind.

“Great bike.” You nodded to the motorcycle as Peter took a seat on it.

Liz honked her horn, causing you to tear your gaze from Peter as she gave you an agitated look, only for you to return the gesture with a glare and turn back to Peter.

“Just a humble perk from my uncle’s construction company or should I say deconstruction company?”

“I don’t know, should you?”

“My uncle seems to enjoy tearing things down more than building things up. Seen the commercial? ‘Bringing every State to a Higher State.’“

“Oh, shit.” You gasped, connecting the dots as you playfully hit Peter’s shoulder. “Peter Parker... Your uncle’s Big Ben Parker Construction. Must be rough, moving place to place.”

Peter shrugged. “Everybody’s got some static in their life. Is your life perfect?”

You scoffed. “Sure, I’m going to a Columbia University party.”

Liz honked the horn again, letting her hand rest on the horn for a little longer as you frowned.

“It’s not perfect.” Your tone was serious. “I don’t really like my friends.”

“I don’t really like your friends either.” Peter shook his head, a low chuckle escaping his lips.

“It’s like they’re just people I work with and our job is being popular and shit.”

“Maybe it’s time for a vacation.”

Liz’s horn blared again as you waved at Peter, starting to walk away. “You’re telling me!”

Dear Diary,

The day I take a vacation, that’ll be the day Liz Allan is dead. Until then, I’m stuck doing my job being her popular lap dog and sucking her dick by telling her how hot and popular she is.

You could barely suppress a look of disgust as you followed Liz and Steve through the crowded dormitory hallway and into Steve’s dorm. You hated Steve. Sleazy, sweaty, somewhat mediocre looking Steve. You could feel the clot of bile creep up your throat as Steve held the door open for you, the sick smell of cheap beer and sweat so pungent your eyes teared up.

“You can just throw your coats down on the bed, girls.” Steve instructed as both you and Liz slipped off your coats and did as you were told.

You watched as Steve walked away for a moment, you assumed to get Bucky as you looked at Liz, who was watching them as well, the doe like look in her eyes telling you that she was in love with him. That for some reason, the clever bitch fell for the disgusting college guy.

“Y/n, this is Buck.” Steve introduced the other boy, his hand clasped on his shoulder as he guided him to you.

“Excellent.” Bucky nodded, his eyes tracing over your form as you held back a frown. “Did you girls bring your partying boots?”

“Yeah, let’s party.” Liz smiled, jerking you to get you to do the same.

Steve chuckled, throwing his arm around Liz as he looked at her. “What can I say? She loves to party.”

Dear Diary,

I want to kill and you have to believe... damn pen!

“So, are you a cheerleader?” Bucky asked, his back against the tacky blue and grey striped wallpaper.

“Not at all.” You gagged, the smell of beer and cigarettes on his breath making you nauseous as you took a sip of the drink in your hand.

“You’re pretty enough to be one.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“It’s so great to be able to talk to a girl without having to ask ‘what’s your major?’ I hate that.” Bucky took a sip of his beer before continuing, “So, when you go to college, what do you think you’ll study?”

You have to believe it’s for more than selfish reasons. More than a spoke in my menstrual cycle. You have to believe me.

Bucky had given up on conversation, you could tell by the way he shifted on his heels uncomfortably. It’s not like you minded, nor cared, since you debated finding Liz’s coat and stealing her car, leaving her in your dust.

Goddamn Liz. Goddamn Columbia guys. Goddamn you for agreeing to be here.

“So, what do you say we go up to my dorm and have a real party? I’ve got the best rap mix in the whole dorm.” Bucky’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as another boy approached.

“Buck, man,” The boy jerked Bucky around by the shoulder, “Nick’s been looking for you. He says he owes you for blow and he just got some shit himself.”

“You’re kidding. Asshole really scored some of his own?”

“He’s in Nat’s room. Go, man. Party on.”

“Excellent.” Bucky finally turned to you, as if he forgot you were even there, “Y/n, you ever do coke?”

“Ever since writing that DARE essay in fifth grade, I refuse everything.”

“DARE? Are you sure that shit still works?”

You smacked your forehead lightly. “Oh, geez, right! I wrote that at eleven. Might as well do drugs now since I’m not so stupid!”

You groaned, pushing through the crowded hallway back to where you and Liz had thrown your coats.

“Hey, don’t run off, now!” Bucky called out, following behind you closely.

Seventeen is the last year Mom buys the Twinkies. When you make the jump from working at Pizza Hut on the weekends to working thirty years at I.B.M, when you lose something, not innocence - power.

You swung open the door to the room, throwing yourself on the stack of coats on the couch beside the door. Setting your glass of vodka in your lap, you pulled out the matchbook you’d gotten at the 7-11. You struck a match, holding your hand over the flame, bringing it closer and closer until the red light licks your hand, causing you to shriek in pain. You dropped the match into the glass, shocked when it catches fire. Giggling to yourself, you toss the glass out the open window; out of sight, out of mind.

“There you are.” Bucky’s voice has you rolling your eyes as you turn to him. “How’s my little cheerleader? Now I know everyone at your high school isn’t so uptight, come on.”

His hand was coated in sticky sweat as it touched your tight covered thigh and his breath was hot and warm as his leaned in too close to your face.

“Hey, I really don’t feel so great.” You argued, shoving him away from you as you shot up off the couch.

“Let’s do it on the coats.” He grinned, oblivious to your side of the conversation. “It’ll be excellent.”

“You know, I have a little prepared speech I give when my suitor wants more than I’d like to give him. Gee, Blank, I had a nice-”

“Save the speeches for Malcolm X. I just wanna get laid.” Bucky chuckled, cutting off your sentence before you could even get the bulk of it out.

You yanked your coat out from under him, sending him sliding off the couch and to the floor.

“You don’t deserve my fucking speech.” You huffed, stepping over him and storming out the door.

You slow as you realized you now gained Liz’s attention, along with Steve’s as Bucky emerges from the “coat” room. You can tell by the falling smiles on both Steve’s and Liz’s faces as Bucky spews some words you can’t hear that they are more than pissed at you. You watch, your eyes widening as Liz slides her beer glass on the table beside her, steel-faced as she approaches you.

“What’s your damage? Bucky says you’re being a real cooze.” Liz snapped.

“Liz, I feel awful, like I’m going to throw up. Can we jam, please?”

“Hell no.”

You couldn’t help it, the sudden clot in your throat was replaced with actual vomit as you leaned against the wall, rendered unable by your sudden fatigue to make it to the bathroom. You leaned over, vomit spilling onto the carpet and splatter hitting Liz’s red heels. Groaning, you charge down the hallway and out the door, determined to make it back to the car as Liz follows close behind.

Christ, I can’t explain it, but I’m allowed an understanding that my parents and these Columbia University assholes have chosen to ignore. I must stop Liz.

“You stupid cunt!” Liz roared, the trash can fire casting shadows on her face as you shivered in the cool night air.

“You goddamn bitch!”

“You were nothing before you met me! You were playing Barbies with Cindy Moon! You were a Brownie, you were a Bluebird, you were a Girl Scout Cookie! I got you into a Columbia University party! What’s my thanks? It’s on the hallway carpet. I got paid in puke!”

“Like it up, baby. Lick. It. Up.”

“Monday morning, you’re history. I’ll tell everyone about tonight. Transfer to Washington. Transfer to Jefferson. No one at Midtown is going to let you play their reindeer games.”

Cindy Moon was a real friend and I sold her out for a bunch of Swatchdogs and Diet Cokeheads. Killing Liz’d be like offing the Wicked Witch of the West. Or is it East? West! I sound like a fucking psycho. Tomorrow I’ll be kissing her aerobicized ass, but tonight, let me dream of a world without Liz. A world where I am free.

You couldn’t help but fling your diary across the room, the satisfying thud from it hitting the wall beside your window soothing you as you wallowed in anger. You gasp as you hear a sound at the window, looking up, you tear off your glasses and make eye contact with one Peter Parker.

“Dreadful etiquette, I apologize.”

“It’s okay...” You replied breathlessly.

“I saw the croquet set out back, you up for a match?”

Your heart was still racing, however instead of the initial shock, it was now revving up with anxiety as you looked at the boy in your bedroom. Was he even really there? Or was he just an anger fueled hallucination?

“Sure. But I’m blue.”

Dear Diary,

When did my life become reminiscent of a YA novel? When did I come to believe it wasn’t weird that Peter Parker was coming through my window? Did Twilight finally condition me into believing odd behavior was true romance?

“Now I can see why you looked so mangled when I came up.” Peter shook his head, his voice soft.

You shifted so that your head was on his bare chest, your eyes focused on the pile of his clothes that sat beside him.

“I’ve always treated Liz’s drama queen plays as bullshit, but I’m honestly really scared. Who am I going to sit with at lunch on Monday?” You groaned, leaning back onto the grass, the blades pricking your bare shoulders. “God, I sound like I’m from Riverdale.”

“Are girls really that bad?”

“It’s a dog eat dog world.” You shrugged. “It feels like it’s either kill yourself or get told to kill yourself.”

“Geez.” Peter shook his head. “That was my first game of strip croquet, by the way. I thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s a lot more interesting than flinging your clothes off and going at it on a neighbor’s swing set.”

“Well, I don’t know, there’s something to be said for- ouch!”

You chuckled as the blue mallet that was stuck in the ground fell over and hit the boy. He handed you your panties that fell along with the mallet before sliding on his own underwear.

“What a night.” You giggled, slipping on your panties as you kissed him softly and stood up. “What a life. I almost moved into high school right out of sixth grade because I was some sort of genius. But of course, my mother was too scared I wouldn’t make friends, so we chucked the idea and blah, blah, blah.”

You searched the yard for your clothes, cursing Peter silently for allowing you to toss them around instead of into a neat pile like he had done. You picked up your shirt and pants, gathering up your socks and slippers before putting them on as you spoke.

“But now blah-blah-blah is all I ever do. I use my grand I.Q. to decide what shade of lip gloss to buy and how to hit three keggers before curfew. Some genius.”

“Liz Allan is one bitch that deserves to die.” Peter blurted out, making it clear he wasn’t listening to you.

“Killing her won’t solve anything.”

“A well time lighting bolt on her walk into school on Monday morning, all the other Elizabeths, shit, the whole school, would be cut loose.”

“Well, then, I will pray for rain.” You chuckled. “A flowerpot falling from the window sill would work just as well, more likely to happen too.”

“You see those condoms in the grass? We killed it tonight, Y/n. We killed our baby.”

“Hey, it was good for me too, imbecile.”

“I’m just saying. It’s not hard to end a life.”

“There’s a big difference between killing the prom queen and busting into a condom.”

You both laugh as Peter finally starts getting dressed.

“I guess I don’t know what I’m talking about. After all, there’s only one genius here.”

“I know exactly what the hell you’re talking about and you’re right, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Why don’t we just graduate, grow old and be adults, and then die?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“But before we do that, I want to see Liz Allan spew chunks so we can call it even.”

_____________________

Tagged: @thewinchesterchronicles @spookyanairwin @audreylovespidey706 @asonofpeter @halparkebitch

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dreamieofu · 4 years

Text

Finding You

pairing; superhuman!mark x reader word count; 1.2k genre; strangers to lovers!au, angst, fluff, will lowkey figure it out as i go lmao summary; Mark falls in love, but it’s not the real him who meets you for the first time. It’s his clone. And although he can’t really remember everything, he’s desperate to find you again.

a/n: kinda nervous about this haha, but please let me know what you think! if i should continue in parts, or just write it in one post... i’m still debating. please don’t be shy, i’d really love feedback considering this is my first big fic haha. ♡♡ anyway, enjoy! xx

Mark has always been hardworking. Everyone knows that. Nearly everyone aspires to able to do the things Mark does, but at the same time: How the hell does he pull it off? Quick Answer, there’s two of him.

At a young age, Mark has always been curious, a quick learner, intelligent. He had all the qualities every parent dreamt their child had. A damn near genius. In the case of Mark, music played a rather big part in his aspirations. Always eager to learn about dance, and instruments. So growing up, that’s what he was all about, he was doing anything and everything related to music. Every Sunday he’d volunteer to play his guitar and join the choir in church. He would be dancing every now and then and composed his own music. But as per told, he is a damn near genius. His mother always urged him to do more advanced studies, that he shouldn’t keep his heads in clouds singing blues, and wearing his dancing shoes. Mark should use his intelligence to better use, make something of himself. Mark knew though, in his heart, his answer was always about music. His father though, was super supportive of him, always the one to drop Mark off to the next competition he had, invested in Mark’s first guitar. Always told him to follow his dreams, and not to matter so much about what mum had to say. Mark would always smile at the supportive words of his dad, a sort of encouragement, that maybe he really was doing great at the whole music thing. But mothers know best. Mark was always top of his class, effortlessly. Even himself, couldn’t deny how easy things came about to him, it felt like things were solving itself, all he had to do was write his thoughts. A damn near genius. It was easier to just give in to his mothers words, it made her smile, made her proud. But with all his accomplishments, he realised he was losing touch with what made him sane. He didn’t have time to carry on with his music.

He was around 16 years old. That day he still remembers the way the sun shined, the way the wind felt through his hair. It was late afternoon, soon until sundown. That day he’d finished doing all of his extra classes, feeling all worn out. In the back of his head, all he wanted to do was just bask in the sun, and play his guitar. He hasn’t for a while, and he misses the way his thumbs brush the strings. The way the melodies felt through his fingertips with each strum. He felt like maybe he’s neglected a part of himself. Although, he found doing maths problems fun and exciting. He couldn’t find the same satisfied feeling as he did with music. Mark was making his way home, and upon arriving he found his father sat at the kitchen counter, looking at his watch. “I’m home,” he calls out hopeful it would also reach his mum, his dad looks up in an instant. “Mark, come sit down, I’ve got something to tell you,” His dad gestured towards the seat next to him, eyes were mysterious. Mark couldn’t really read the emotions his dad was giving off as he slid his bag off his shoulder, resting it on the kitchen floor near the doorway.

He took cautious steps towards his dad, wondering through a dozen scenarios on things his dad could possibly say. Was it good news? Was it bad? Mark furrowed his eyebrows, pulling out a seat. Once he sat down, his dad turned towards him, his hands clasped and his lips in a tight line before his gaze connected with Mark’s curious ones. “Is everything okay?” Mark could only fill out the gaps in the empty room, still wondering what his dad had to say. “Yeah, just-“ It was obvious that Mark couldn’t really understand what direction his dad was taking the conversation. His dad kept trying to piece his words together. “Now that you’re 16, I thought it was only right you tell you about something that’s been connected to my family for possibly, years,” His dad finally lets out, but Mark was still confused. Raising his eyebrows he just let his dad carry on, slightly giving up on figuring it out himself. “When I was 16, My father also told me the same thing, but I didn’t really make use of it. I felt like, recently you’ve been - slightly not yourself, and that kills me son,” His dad places a hand on his shoulder, and lets out a sigh before carrying on. “You know, we’re not really like other people,” He drifts off, and Mark only sat there still as confused as ever.

Nonetheless, Mark sat patiently while his dad tried to figured it out. “Maybe you’d get more use of it, nothing really special though,” His dad laughs to himself, Mark straighten his back. “I don’t understand,” Mark confesses sheepishly, causing his dad to cough, the laughter abrupted a little bit. “Well- we, us boys, are able to clone ourselves.” His dad then says in a serious tone. Mark only stared blankly, not really understanding it, and taking it as a big joke. “Are you alright?” Mark speaks out. There’s no way that rings true. He only watched as his dad shook his head, “I’m dead serious, We’re able to clone ourselves.” His dad just repeats and Mark couldn’t believe it until his dad proceeded to show him how. And boy, was that a big slap to Mark’s reality.

He learnt the following that day:

You can only clone another one of yourself. This meant, he could literally be in two places at one time.

There was no medical reasoning attacted to it. He was normal, everything else didn’t really change. He would still be himself.

There was a limit of at least 24 hours being a clone, before you reconnect as one.

Memories associated with the clone, didn’t really stick. This meant, even if he were to clone himself, his memories would sort of be hazy once he became one again. Never really able to the connect pieces.

Through the years, he did use this to a great advantage. While finishing his high school education, his clone would attend the classes he didn’t find that important, while Mark would go else where to finally work on his music. His clone, was still Mark. Just another body. They worked the same, the only downfall was the memories. He made sure though before he clones himself, his clone would still take the class notes. Memories felt like a distant daydream, but still there. It was enough for him to work with. And he graduated top of the class, a golden star. He got into one of the top universities. Everything sort of came to Mark granted, he had the best of both worlds. That was until he met you.

#eekkk okay #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct dream imagines #nct mark imagines #nct mark scenarios #nct mark angst #nct mark fluff #nct dream blurbs #nct 127 blurbs #mark lee scenarios #mark lee imagines #mark lee blurbs #idk tags

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floatingpetals · 5 years

Text

Call of the Mountains || Ch. 5

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes (Werewolf AU!)

Warnings: Nothin, a little bit of language, maybe slight angst

Word Count: 4200+ (good lord)

Summary: (Werewolf-AU!Stucky x f!reader) Life had begun to overwhelm her. Work was insane and her life was a mess. There was a tug in her soul that called her to take this trip, deep into the forest away, where there was the peace and stillness of nature. She didn’t know why, but she knew she needed to listen. It was meant to be a relaxing trip, but one misstep on some moss sent her tumbling into the rapids of the flooded river. She thought she was gone and the earth decided it was time to reclaim her. She didn’t expect was to be pulled from the river nor the creature that saved her. Her entire world is turned upside down and all it took was an accidental step to the left. (18+ Only Story)

A/N: Ha. I did it. Jear Desus. This took too long to finally get finished. Once again, I couldn’t find a good stopping point. Thank you @itstartswithhelloo for inadvertently helping me find the ending lol I hope you all enjoy! It’s kind of a long one but it finally gets the ball movinggg!! yaaaay. However, I might not be able to work on this for a few more weeks cause I’m moving to NYC in like... two weeks lol. But anyway, let me know what you think!!! Please excuse all editing booboos. I tried my best. Okay, ENJOY!

The gifs are not mine, credit to the owner.

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Series Masterlist

The main house was surprisingly large compared to what she saw outside. The front led into a giant open concept living room with the second-floor balcony wrapped around looking down with two handcrafted chandeliers lighting the space. Giant plush couches were laid out in two sitting areas, coffee table with stacks of books and blankets draped over the back of the couches. She eyed the warm fur rugs that laid in front of one of the televisions mounted on the wall and giant fireplace in the center of the room. It looked cozy, warm and incredibly inviting. Someone clearly wanted to make this a place where people could come and relax in a group.

Natasha led her around the living room and into the kitchen, where a heavenly aroma hit Y/N’s nose. Her stomach let out an incredibly powerful growl at the smell, causing her face to burn in embarrassment. Natasha stifled a laugh.

“I’m going to assume that sound means you like what you smell?” A deep baritone voice made Y/N stop short, her breath catching in her throat. The owner of the voice walked out of what she assumed was the pantry with a wide grin, a box of pasta in his hand.

“I can’t speak for her, but it does smell good Barnes.” Natasha greeted, walking over to the stove and the simmering pot.

Y/N stood rooted in spot, her eyes wide as she watched Natasha dip the spoon in the pot to taste the red sauce. The man clicked his tongue and waved her aside.

“Hey now. This isn’t for you, its for our guest.” He chided. Natasha rolled her eyes but stepped aside after deeming it suitable, sucking on the spoon as she went. The man grumbled at her for a moment before he turned to Y/N with a gentle smile on his face. “It’s good to see you up and moving.”

Y/N mouth fell open to answer, but she couldn’t get her voice to work. Her brain completely short-circuited at the sight of the man in front of her. The man’s shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a low bun that accentuated his sharp jawline shadowed with a scruffy beard. His bright gray eyes looked her over carefully, his gaze pausing heavily on her injured wrist before they slid back up to lock eyes with hers. He’s absolutely gorgeous, Y/N thought as she struggled to contain sigh.

“Oh yeah, Bucky this is Y/N. Y/N This is Bucky, the one who pulled you from the river.” Natasha waved from the sink.

A flash of black and grey eyes shot through Y/N’s mind, causing her brows to furrow. Something didn’t feel right with that sentence, but she wasn’t sure exactly what. Shaking off the strange feeling, Y/N stepped forward and stuck out her good hand.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” She cleared her throat in an attempt to hide how breathless she was. He looked down at her hand before letting out a chuckle and gently pulling her into a hug. Y/N was caught off guard, but not against being wrapped up in his arms. He gave her a tight squeeze before letting her go.

“I hope you don’t mind; I’ve started cooking dinner. The only thing I can actually make is spaghetti and meatballs though. Figured you might want something to eat since you haven’t in a few hours.” Bucky replied sheepishly, waving to the pot on the stove.

“No, that sounds amazing. To be honest, I’m hungry enough to eat you,” Y/N’s eyes went wide when the words tumbled from her mouth. Bucky let out a soft laugh, his cheeks twinging a soft pink while Natasha snorted with a smirk. Flustered, Y/N immediately began to backpedal. “No-wha- I mean, I’m just really hungry! I didn’t mean- No-.”

“It’s okay.” Bucky chuckled, patting her arm. “I know what you meant.”

He shot her a crooked grin that made her heart flip and turned back to the stove. He grabbed the box of pasta and nodded to island where there was a set of bar stools.

“Why don’t you take a seat. Nat, can you grab her something to drink and I’ll get the pasta started?” Bucky asked while he opened the box of pasta from earlier. Natasha nodded and Y/N took up one of the barstools. She distantly heard Natasha ask what she wanted to drink, although she couldn’t tear her eyes away from in front of her.

“Water’s fine.” Y/N mumbled absently to Natasha, watching Bucky as he moved around the stove. The simple black t-shirt he wore stretched snuggly over his muscles, and Y/N was definitely not going to ignore the lovely view of his back. She didn’t realize she was staring, however, until Natasha set a glass with ice water with a sly smirk. Y/N squeaked and mutter a thank you, tearing her gaze away from the wonderful display.

“Where did Steve go?” Natasha asked. Y/N let out the breath she was holding, grateful she didn’t tease her further. Bucky glanced over his shoulder, mid stir of the noodles. There was a sharpness in his eyes that melted when he caught Y/N’s eye.

“Dunno. He stormed out the back right before you two walked in.” Bucky replied shortly and turned back to the stove. Natasha let out a puff of air and dug her phone out of her pocket. Did they get cell service up here? Y/N thought curiously. She didn’t think there would be a cell tower for miles.

“Hey Y/N.”

Y/N perked up at her name, humming at Bucky. She didn’t see the way his smile grew at the sound and how his cheeks turned pink at the cute noise. He had to bite his tongue to hold back from giggling and cleared his throat instead.

“I know you’re hurt, but can you go in the bottom cabinet next to the fridge and grab the strainer for me?” He nodded towards the fridge. Y/N nodded and climbed off the stool to do as he asked.

“Want me to put it in the sink?”

“Please,” Bucky replied over his shoulder, pulling out a noddle to check if it was done or not.

Natasha watched Y/N from where she was perched on her own bar stool, a knowing look in her eyes when Bucky glanced back at Y/N. She had to stop herself from letting out a heavy sigh and rubbing her temples. She knew that look all too well. It meant trouble.

“Well, as much I would love to steal a plate, I need to go talk with Steve.” Natasha sighed, her phone vibrating in her hand. She rolled her eyes at the text and swung her feet off the stool. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“O-oh. Okay, bye, Natasha. It was nice to meet you.” Y/N blinked in surprise at Natasha’s quick retreat. The redhead waved to Y/N and left out the back door without another word.

The click of the door echoed in the room, the only other sound coming from the bubbling sauce and Bucky’s spoon stirring the boiling water. Y/N would admit she was a little nervous, being left alone with Bucky. It wasn’t that she was afraid he would hurt her, despite his massive intimidating stature. She was just worried in her stupor she’d say something ridiculous. Like how pretty his biceps were when he lifted the pot off the stove to walk to the sink.

“Sorry about Natasha,” Bucky said, shaking the excess water out of the strainer. “She’d not usually so curt, but a lot’s on her mind right now.”

“So she’s not always that… cryptic?” Y/N didn’t really believe that. Bucky paused and laughed after a beat.

“No. She is. She’s just usually less so on her good days.”

Y/N giggled and shook her head.

“Well, she wasn’t that bad. A little scary on the walk up here,” Y/N paused. “Actually. I have a few questions I’d really like an answer for.”

“Hmm?” Bucky replied absently. He was putting the noodles back in the pot and headed back to the stove to turn down the stove on the sauce. The meatballs were already done resting in the skillet and the sauce was ready to be served.

“How-What was with the field and there not being any buildings? And then it just appearing out of nowhere? And what’s with the glowing totem pole out front?” Y/N rubbed her temples, her mind reeling once again. She hoped Bucky might be willing to answer the several questions she had regarding the strange settlement. Or whatever this was called. “And why did I get a feeling of complete and total doom when I walked into the field?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away, instead, his back tensed at her question. All emotions slid off his face for a split second, his lips tugging down into a scowl. They were perfectly reasonable questions, questions any sane human would have after experiencing them. But it didn’t mean they weren’t something he was willing to answer. Yet. Bucky was quick to wipe the scowl off his face before he turned to Y/N.

“Do you mind grabbing the silverware from the drawer and setting the table? There in the middle drawer there.” Bucky skirted over her question and nodded towards the drawer in question. “Why don’t we sit in the breakfast nook. I don’t think we need to use the dining hall for just the two of us. I’ll fix you a plate.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open and quickly snapped shut. Why was it not surprising that he would completely sidestep the question? Not even sidestepped. Complete and totally ignored that she said anything. That seemed to be the recurring theme around here, being all evasive and crap.

Despite her simmering frustration, Y/N bit her tongue but did as he asked and walked over to the drawer. Grabbing a pair of forks and knives, Y/N walked over to the little nook he told her about. It was warm and cozy, much like how the rest of the house and set up with comfy cushions on the benches along with a number of pillows to lean back on.

She just picked her spot to sit when Bucky stepped up with two plates, setting one in front of her and the other opposite her. He went back to grab her glass of water and grabbed a beer from the fridge for himself. She mumbled a thank you when he placed the cup in front of her.

“Of course.” He replied with a wide toothy grin. “I hope you like it.”

“If it’s as good as is smells, it’ll be incredible.” Y/N tittered softly and picked up her fork. Even though she was desperately wanting answers, she couldn’t ignore her stomach practically eating itself over the smell of the food. Digging in, Y/N took a bite and had to keep from groaning aloud. “Holy shit, Bucky. This is amazing!”

“Thanks,” Bucky let out a bashful chuckle and poked at his food. His cheeks burned a soft pink as if he didn’t get complimented often on his cooking skills. Which was crazy, because this was some of the best she’s had in a while. There was a touch of hominess to it as well, comforting and familiar to her.

Y/N seemed to lose herself a little bit, taking another bite of the delicious food and did a little dance. When she opened her eyes, Bucky had leaned back against the pillows and was watching her have her moment with a giddy grin. Her face burned.

“I can honestly say, I’ve never had someone actually dance because of my food.” Bucky teased, wagging his brows. “And it was adorable.”

“Yeah well,” Y/N mumbled, twirling the noodles on her fork. “Consider it a huge compliment. I don’t dance for just anybody let alone someone I just met.”

“Don’t worry,” Bucky replied with a smug grin. “I took it as one.”

“Alright, don’t get a big head.” Y/N rolled her eyes at his laugh. “One good meal doesn’t mean you’re the best.”

“You’re right,” Bucky nodded. “I’m just the one who made a great meal and saved your life, all in one day.”

Y/N blinked at him before she burst into giggles. He beamed and went back to eating his food, the smile never faltering on his face. Y/N would let him have that. He did deserve a little praise.

Just as quickly as she reached her high, she came crashing back to reality. The sobering memory of what happened just hours ago sent her crashing back to reality, shattering the sliver of solace she had. That’s right. There was a reason why she was here, sitting in the breakfast nook with a man she just met eating his food. Y/N took in a deep breath and set her fork down softly.

“I know I’ve said this before, but I need to say it again.” Y/N said seriously. Bucky sat taller in his seat with his attention firmly on her. “Thank you for saving me. I don’t remember what happened after I fell in the river, but I remember all of it before. I definitely haven’t had time to process it yet, but the feeling of complete hopelessness and sheer panic is something I’ll never forget.”

Bucky sucked in air sharply when tears started to fall from Y/N’s eyes. He tossed his fork aside and quickly stood to sit by her side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her close, hushing her gently with words of comfort. She was safe, she was alive, and he wasn’t going to let anything harm her again.

For Y/N, it was enough to break the tight seal she was keeping on her emotions. She curled into his side and gripped his shirt tightly between her fingers as ugly, broken sobs wracked her body. Bucky let her cry, his heart breaking at the sound of her anguish. He ran his hand through her hair, nuzzling his nose against her head and reassuring her it was alright. That she could let go and he would hold her tight.

There hadn’t been many moments in her life that Y/N could remember where she broke down like this. However, this wasn’t a small matter. She nearly drowned, her life seconds away from being over. She was miles from home, in an area she barely knew, and the weight of what happened had finally settled on her chest. Any thoughts of this being remotely attractive never once crossed her mind. She didn’t care what Bucky would have thought about her after this. It was simply all too much to keep inside for much longer.

“It’s alright,” Bucky soothed. “You’re okay.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Y/N stammered through her sobs.

Bucky quickly shook his head and shushed her once again.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about sweetheart.” He spoke gently. “You’ve had a lot happen in the past 24 hours. It’s not healthy to keep that all bottled up.”

Y/N didn’t reply, couldn’t through her tears. She nodded and clutched tighter, desperately leaning against him for support. He would gladly give her any help he could. Including brushing her tears with a napkin and holding her tight.

It wasn’t until her sobs started to slow that Bucky loosened his grip to let her sit up. He passed her another napkin, which she thanked him with a watery smile. She wiped her tears and dabbed her nose.

“Sorry for crying all on your shirt.” She mumbled hoarsely. Bucky hummed and reflexively tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

“Like I said, nothin’ to be sorry about. I’m surprised you lasted this long before it finally clicked.” Bucky grinned with a hit a pride. “You’re pretty damn strong if I do say so myself.”

Y/N scoffed and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I guess.” She sniffed. She paused for a moment before exhaling softly. “Guess that’s another thing I get to thank you for.”

“You’re just full of those today, aren’t you?” Bucky teased. Y/N rolled her eyes, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

“Apparently just for you.”

“Guy could get used to that,” Bucky smirked down at Y/N. His breath hitched in his throat when she looked up at him. Puffy red eyes and all, he couldn’t help but think how beautiful she was. Clearing his throat, Bucky gave her a gentle squeeze and began to stand before he could make a complete fool of himself so soon.

“Hey, Bucky.”

The call from the side door made Bucky pause, a frown tugging on the corner of his lips. He wasn’t expecting him to come back any time soon.

“Kitchen,” Bucky called back and settled in his original seat, scowling at his plate of unfinished spaghetti. Y/N sat silently, a little bewildered at Bucky’s sudden shift in behavior. His jaw ticked when the sound of footsteps grew closer and he exhaled loudly through his nose.

A man came into the kitchen and stopped short under the gaze of Y/N and Bucky. He glanced over to the pot of pasta and the spaghetti and Y/N could have sworn there was a spark of excitement in his eyes. But when he turned back to Y/N and Bucky it was wiped clean.

“What can I do for you, Steve?” Bucky questioned pointedly. Steve’s eyes narrowed at Bucky and he took a step towards the table.

“Natasha barged in the house and told me to head over here. I didn’t know you were eating dinner though.” Steve nodded to Y/N, who wasn’t paying any attention to the two’s conversation in the slightest. She was rather blatantly staring at Steve his equally tight shirt and tight-fitting jeans.

No one could blame her. He was just as attractive as the man sitting across from her. Long dirty blonde hair, thick well-groomed beard, and bright blue eyes that landed on her. His eyebrow raised when he caught her gawking. Bucky cleared his throat, causing her to jolt at the sound.

“What?” She squeaked.

Bucky snorted, while Steve looked on mildly amused. He leaned against the island, crossing his arms across his chest. Slowly, he looked her over up and down before stopping on her face. He noticed the puffiness and redness to her eyes. He didn’t have to ask to know she had been crying moments before. Strangely, he felt unsettled at the thought of her being up. That made him pause. Why would he care if she cried or not? Then the image of her lying unconscious on the bed, weak and defenseless, flashed across his mind and his stomach churned.

“Y/N, this is Steve. Steve this is Y/N, the woman I pulled from the river earlier.” Bucky said, interrupting Steve’s thoughts.

“Hi,” Y/N said meekly.

“Nice to meet you.” Steve nodded with a small smile, forcing aside his contempt. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… doing better. Wrist still hurts, but that’s to be expected.” Y/N replied, softly rubbing the brace. Bucky frowned and sat taller.

“Did Nat give you pain meds?”

“Yeah, she did. It’s just a little sore is all. Don’t mind me.” Y/N said with a wave of her good hand. Bucky scowled at her flippant tone and disregard for her obvious discomfort but didn’t press. Rather, he turned back to Steve and felt his hackles rise as the look on Steve’s face. The tension had slipped from his face as his eyes trailed over her form.

“What exactly do you need that can’t wait until later, Steve?” Bucky nearly bit out to gain Steve’s attention. Every protective instinct screamed to drag Steve away from Y/N. He had already made his disdain for the woman clear. Steve didn’t have the right to look interested.

Steve slowly blinked and tilted his head in Bucky’s direction. He was less than impressed with Bucky’s growl. He clenched his fist against his forearm and struggled to hold back an answering growl. He would have, but they had company. His mother didn’t raise a complete animal.

Instead, he tightened his jaw and took in a sharp breath through his nose. He faltered, catching a sweet smell that didn’t fit the savory smell from the dinner. It wasn’t too sweet, like a peach and cream sweet, soft and pleasant with a hint of cinnamon. The unusual smell made the beast inside him raised it’s head in interest. For a brief second, Steve felt panic bubble up to his chest. His beast never sat up in interest, at least not then.

He shot Y/N another cautious glance before he shook the thought. It didn’t keep the smell from lingering nor his beast pushing to get closer to the source of the smell. It had gained interest that wasn’t there before. He knew he needed to escape, fast.

“I-,” He began, his voice cracking from the strain. Bucky’s scowl deepened, his gaze darting to Y/N who was oblivious to the tension between them. She was too busy pushing her food around to notice. “Natasha mentioned about getting a room set up for our guest. In our house.”

That caused Bucky’s heart to skip a beat. Shit. He didn’t think about that.

“Oh.” Y/N blinked, realizing they meant her. “You don’t have to do that. I can just go back to my camp and stay there. It’s just a sprain.”

“You forget your concussion.” Bucky tilted his head, a tiny grin spreading on his face. Y/N’s mouth snapped shut. She totally forgot about that. Shit. Maybe she shouldn’t be alone for a little bit. “Tell her it’s fine with me. But I’m not the issue.”

His tone was sharp as he glared at Steve. The blonde glared back, less than impressed at Bucky’s tone.

“I… will admit I’m not too keen on a stranger sleeping under our roof, however, I’m not going to throw an injured person out in the woods.” He grumbled, speaking as if she wasn’t even there. Y/N would have been offended if she had the energy to argue. So far, she was getting that Steve had a pretty big issue with strangers and that the two men share a house, which would be her in his crossfire fairly regularly.

“And we are the only ones who have a room that would be willing to house her till Bruce gives her the all-clear.” Bucky stated simply, his eyebrow raised. Challenging Steve to argue further. It was true and he knew it. The others in the pack wouldn’t exactly be thrilled putting a human up in a spare room. It was already pushing it as it was having her here.

Steve didn’t respond, he didn’t need to. He knew before he walked in the main building he was going to lose this battle. But the alpha in him wanted to at least attempt putting his foot down with Bucky. He wasn’t the only one in charge of this pack, damn it.

“Look, just go tell Natasha to get the guest room near my room ready and we’ll discuss this later,” Bucky said with a wave of his hand and turned back to his plate, effectively dismissing Steve.

Steve had to bite his tongue from arguing. He didn’t want to wait till later to discuss this. He wanted to argue now about how stupid and dangerous this was. But he made the mistake of glancing over to Y/N.

She sat staring at Steve, a torn expression on her face. As if she knew he wasn’t comfortable and was debating on arguing herself. When she locked eyes with him, a tiny smile grew on her face along with an apologetic look in her eyes. He didn’t know why, couldn’t possibly explain it at that moment, he felt the mounting frustration just fizzle out of him. He heard the wolf inside him whine at the conflicted expression on her face. No. He knew he had to get out while he could.

Biting out a gruff goodbye, Steve turned back and head out the door he came in. His fists were clenched at his side, his heart pounding in his chest. This has never happened not since-No. He threw that thought from his mind. He couldn’t think about that, not the past, not now. It was just a fluke, a freak reaction that he was sure would never happen again. He’d make sure to put as much distance between them as he could. The house was big enough and their rooms far enough apart. It would be easy. He wouldn’t have to worry.

While the alpha marched on to his shared home to tell Natasha to keep up with what she was doing, the trees and sky watched on. They knew it wasn’t a fluke, that things happen for a reason. Only time would tell how their stories would play. If they didn’t go down the paths they were meant to, then it could be fixed. It would only require a gentle nudge, and everything would fall in the right direction. Perhaps there would be a lull before the storm, a sense of reprieve before the panic. The birds did their part, now it was the skies turn.

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2ynjns · 4 years

Text

wrong package || tomorrow x together

day 30 of 31 days of christmas with ydale

pairings: txt x reader

genre: neighbors!au, slice of life, fluff

warnings: slight profanity. this is inspired by my own experience except the txt part and i found friends HAHA kms. and also this is the last txt christmas upload of the series! WOOHOO! i hope you all enjoy it!

*ding!*

you excitedly unlocked your phone to check the notification you got. you ordered some clothes and miscellaneous items online as a christmas gift to yourself. you have been patiently waiting for this day to come most especially you can’t wait to unbox the items you bought and use it at home and keep yourself sane during quarantine.

your package has been delivered!

**** Express 0000000 from KOREA delivered as of 12/30/2020 04:21 PM.

Reply STOP to cancel msgs.

you giggled out of excitement and rushed to your front door.

you swung the front door open wide and didn’t see any package at all. you figured the delivery man probably left it inside the mailbox. you quickly ran back to your room and took your jacket to wear so you could go outside and check your mailbox.

“mom! i’ll be back. imma just check the mailbox!” you didn’t wait for your mom’s answer and just headed out your house and ran to your mailbox.

you walked quickly because first, you’re wearing a thin jacket and shorts and you’re only wearing flip flops. the cold breeze of nature hit your legs and your face even though you barely stepped out of your house.

you opened the mailbox and found a box inside. the box isn’t relatively big or small, it’s just a perfect sized box that fit inside your mailbox.

what could fit inside this box that i ordered? you asked yourself.

you ordered so many items online that you can’t even keep track of it. all those tracking numbers that you have put on your phone is uncountable, really, you didn’t hold back on spending your money.

you ran back inside your house and rushed to your room. you grabbed the box cutter and clapped your hands, happily giggling to yourself and started cutting the box open.

“yaaaay! here i c-- what the hell is this?”

you were dumbfounded from what you saw inside the box. you quickly closed it and checked the name on the box.

Choi Soobin

**** Cherry Blossom Ave

South Korea

“who the hell is choi soobin?” you said and scratched your hair from frustration because one, you got the wrong package: two, you don’t know where your actual package is: three: who the hell is choi soobin??

oh wait, you thought. this is literally the same street as my house. you muttered to yourself.

“lemme search the address!”

you grabbed the phone and opened your maps apps and searched the house address stated on the shipping label.

“it’s my next door neighbor?” you whispered to yourself carrying the box outside to your living room.

as soon as you got to your living room, you found your mom talking to someone at the front door. you peeked to see who was your mom talking to and you saw a tall guy holding a huge box while smiling.

“oh, there you are y/n. our neighbor said your package was delivered to their address. he dropped it off for you.” your mom opened the door wider, exposing you looking shocked than before.

you shuffled to come closer to your front door and asked the tall guy. “are you choi soobin?” he smiled at you and nodded his head.

you looked at the opened box you’re holding and passed it to him. “uh, here’s your package. i accidentally opened it cause i thought it was mine.” you awkwardly giggled and took your correct package from him.

“don’t worry, i immediately closed the box as soon as i saw what’s inside.” you said and continued your awkward laugh.

soobin just blushed and smiled at you. “no worries, it’s okay. the packages are mainly for my friends anyway.” he said and tucked the box to his sides.

“what are you gonna say, y/n?” your mom said to you while both her hands are on the side. you looked at her and pouted.

“yeah, uh. thanks for dropping off my package.” you said and bowed. he boxed back and smiled one last time, “no problem. thanks for this too.” he said and waved at your mom.

your mom pushed you aside and took your spot as she talked to soobin.

“you’re that neighbor from next door right? the one with your four other friends? don’t you only live with them?” your mom went no chill on her questions. you nudged her a bit and pouted and eyed her at the same time. warning her to stop asking so many personal questions.

soobin looked back to see his four other friends hysterically waving their hands in the air. he turned his gaze back to you and your mom and smiled. “yeah, me and my friends live alone without our parents.”

your mom smiled and opened the door even wider this time. your eyes almost popped out from her action making you step back a little bit, too.

“poor kids. why don’t you have dinner here with me and y/n? Invite your friends too! and don’t worry we won’t harm you, well y/n might. but i won’t. have a proper meal with us, treat us like your own family from now on.” you mom said letting soobin in and calling the four other boys who were waiting outside.

you glared at your mom and made an irritated face. you looked up to see soobin starting down at you and that made your shy and hug the package your got.

“i guess we’re friends now?” soobin smiled and handed his hand out. “i’m soobin, and y/n right?” he asked.

you looked at his hand, then back to his face, then back to his hand and hesitated on shaking his hands. but you did anyways.

“yeah, i’m y/n. and that’s my mom, y/m/n. sorry if she’s being weird right now. i hope you don’t mind. but yeah, please feel free at home.” you said and watched four more boys entering your house.

“wow! you’re such a cool neighbor. hi mrs. neighbor. i’m huening kai.” one guy said. your mom giggled from his introduction and guided your neighbors to the dining table. the boys introduced themselves one by one and your learned that their names are soobin, yeonjun, beomgyu, taehyun and huening kai and they all live together for university.

“well, feel free to feel at home. you can visit us anytime too, please give my child a social life.” your mom patted your head. you looked at your mom and pursed your lips.

“geez, thanks mom.” the boys laughed.

“don’t worry, mrs. y/l/n. we’ll take care of y/n.” yeonjun said and finally started eating.

“oh, christmas is next week. you all should celebrate christmas with us.” your mom suggested. you sighed and took a bite of the rice. “y/n’s dad will be home and you all should meet him. he’d love to have more children at home since y/n is an only child.” your mom added.

you drank water from your cup and looked around. oh, yeah. it is christmas next week.

“sure mrs. y/l/n! we’ll try to bring in food too.” taehyun said. “i’ll bring christmas hats.” beomgyu added.

and from then, you found new friends, aka your neighbors.

17 notes · View notes

cherryhanji · 4 years

Text

Winter Shenanigans

oneshot. bangchan x reader

genre: romance, fluff, roommate!au, college!au, friends to lovers!au nonIdol!bangchan

words: 8.3k

warning(s): some swearing, I guess

(Anyways~~~ it's my first longest oneshot using a first-person pov. I feel like I want to write this using it. I hope you enjoy it! Luvlots!)

Winter is the worst season for me. Reason? It's cold and melancholic. That's it. I never knew why people loved the winter the most. Ever since I was a kid, I never liked the idea of playing with friends on snowy roads, throwing snowballs here and there. I don't like the coldness of winter that brings me. And what made it worse? My ex-boyfriend dumped me on a cold, winter night. Fuck him and his shitty reasons.

Anyways, I've already moved on. I'm now happily living with my roommate slash best friend, Alexa. Same college sophomores and majors. We're both majoring in Psychology. My parents decided to let me become independent. I'm thankful that I have loving and supportive parents. We both live in a cozy apartment near our school. And that all makes it easy. I just need to think about my college life and our monthly rental pay. Simple, but full of pressure but I still enjoy it because I have my best friend with me. But still, I hate winter.

"Uhm y/n, can I talk to you?" Coming out from her room, Alexa called me softly as if she was hesitating to tell me what she wants to say.

"Hmm, what is it, Lexie?" I tapped the space between the sofa.

"You know about my mother right?" She carefully asked

"Uhm, of course. Why? Is she doing well?" I asked with a bright face. Her mother is ill. She's now bedridden but I hope that she's doing well.

"Unfortunately, no." She said and lowered her head.

"O-oh. Sorry about that. What are you gonna do?" I slowly caress her back.

"Uhm, I am planning to skip the next semester as I need to go back to Gyeonggi-do. It's hard for me. But it's my mother. I can do anything if it's her." She said. I froze, shocked at her confession. But my face softens as I understand her situation.

"Uhm. Are you going to stay there for good?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no. I'm not sure. But sorry to tell you, y/n. I think you need to find a new roommate. I'm really sorry. You can't pay the rent alone so I suggest if you look for another roommate. I'm sorry if I have to leave you. My bad, winter's coming, and here I am, leaving you alone." She said and half-smiled at me. She knows that I really hate winters, especially alone.

I smiled at her to let her know that it's okay.

"No Lexie, don't be sorry. Don't worry about me. How can I be mad at you if it's important to you? Don't mind me. I'm okay. I can find a roommate. But I'll miss you. I'll miss your rants, your screams, our drunk nights after exams. I'll miss hanging out with you. Just be good, and I'll pray for your mother's recovery." Alexa can't help but cry at me. I just hugged her tightly and shush her.

"Thank you, really, y/n. I don't know what will I do without you. I'll miss you too, idiot. Don't worry, there's facetime, and DMs yah know. We can update each other." She said while sniffing her cries. I'll miss my only college best friend. But still sad because I have to endure the incoming winter season. I need to find a roommate soon.

After cleaning the whole day. I decided to contact my new roommate.

Two weeks since Alexa left and within that period, I can't still find a roommate. I even asked the good landlord to help me find one. She gladly accepts it and now she's in front of me, delivering me the good news.

"So here it goes, y/n. I found you a new roommate." She gladly told me.

"Really? Thank you very much! Don't worry, I'll pay you tomorrow for the rent next month." I said.

"Oh no, darling. Don't mind it. He already paid your rent for the next month." She said. Wait, what?? HE??! As in a male? A boy? A man??

"Wait a minute, he, you mean-" she laughed at my shocked reaction.

"Yes, darling, it's a guy. Isn't he so sweet? By the way, he also goes to your school. And he's so handsome. Bet you'll have your eyes out when you see his gorgeous face." She said describing the guy as if he was some lost God who fell on Earth.

"Uh, really? I'm glad to know that we attend the same school. Anyway, when will he move? So I can clean at least the apartment." I asked as I take a look at the apartment. It isn't that dirty because I am a tidy person and so as Alexa, but I feel like it's kinda embarrassing if I didn't clean at least a little bit. Seems like I want to leave a good impression on my new roommate.

"He said he can move anytime if the apartment is ready. Here. Here's his contact. You can message him if the apartments ready." She handed me a card that has a contact number in it.

"Thank you for this," I said and accept the card she handed.

"I need to go. You can call me if you have any concerns. Have fun y/n, with your new roommate." She said and gave a playful wink at me. I just chuckled at her playfulness. Maybe I need to get ready.

I smiled as I send the message. Winter is now starting so I made myself a cup of hot tea. Winter sucks really. Fuck this cold weather. But I wonder why it doesn't feel like melancholic as I said it was? Maybe because of my new roommate? Is it because the landlord told me that he's handsome? Or maybe I'm excited because I got to have a new friend and luckily also attending my school? Who knows?

to: new roommate [22:47]

hello! This is y/n. your new roommate at Yellow Wood Apartment. I am glad to tell you that the apartment's ready. You can move tomorrow. Excited to meet you!

Winter season means there's a possibility of having no classes because of the weather. And that's what I'm facing today. I'm sitting on the couch with my lonely ass and cold feet. As I scroll on my phone, I can't see anything different but people posting their lives every winter, playing outside, enjoying the coldness of the weather. Ugh. Winter shit. I just played some music on my phone as I cook some ramen for myself. This is the only thing that makes me sane every winter. Calm music and ramen.

As I gave myself a hearty meal, the doorbell rang making me shift from where I sit. Maybe it's my new roommate. I fixed myself first in the mirror to make myself at least presentable even if I look like shit.

"Coming!" I shouted as I stumble on my way to the door. I gladly open it and froze in front of a god. Oh no, is he really my new roommate? Is this man sent from above my new roommate?

"Uhm, hi! Y/n right?" The man in front of me snapped me back in reality. I shook my head as he spoke.

"Oh yeah, h-hi .." I said shyly. Oh shit calm your ass down bitch. I look like I'm whipped for this man even though we only met for the first time.

"It's Bang Chan, but you can call me Chan, Chris, Christopher, or baby if you like?" He gave me a suggestive wink. Just what the actual fuck? Is he okay? How can he be this confident in front of me??! He just laughed at my shocked reaction.

"Just kidding. I'm a good person. You can trust me. But, Can I first go inside? It's kinda cold here." He said as he shifted from where he stands.

"Oh! Yes yes! Sorry. Here, let me get these." I said as I reached for his small backpack that was on the floor.

"No, it's okay. I'll look like an asshole if I let a gorgeous girl handle my things." He smiled sweetly to me as he grabbed all his things and went inside the apartment. Gorgeous? Me? Gorgeous? Oh god, what will I do now if I have this gorgeous guy as a roommate?

I showed him his new room and smiled brightly as he saw the cleanliness of it.

"Did you fix this yourself? Woah, It's an eye candy. I'm a minimalistic person. And this makes me so happy. Thank you for fixing this!" He said as he sat on the new fixed bed. I smiled as I saw how he enjoyed his new room.

"Uhm, thanks for appreciating it, Chan. I'm glad that you liked it. Would you like to have a look at the apartment?" I asked him as he still taking a look at his room.

He stands up from the bed and smiled at me. "I would love to!" I went first and he followed me everywhere I go.

"Well, I wish we have good memories as new roommates. I said and gave him a glass of orange juice.

"Yeah. I hope too. By the way, you're a college sophomore, right? Where do you study? Bet it's near the apartment." He said as he drinks his juice.

"Yes. I study at Levanter University. A psychology major. I heard from the landlord that you also attend there. What are you majoring in?" I said as I sit down on the chair.

"Really? It's good to know that we attend the same school. I'm also a sophomore, majoring in Music. I really love music. Ever since I was a child, I've dreamt of being a professional music artist and composer. That's why I chose it as my major." He said. I can see that he really loves music as his eyes twinkle when he talked.

"Really? I hope I can hear you sing someday." I clasped my hands in excitement.

"Oh yeah sure Uh, by the way, who used to live here with you? Is it also a guy?" He curiously asked as he put his elbow on the table with hands on his chin.

"My best friend used to live here. But sadly she needs to go in her hometown to look after her sick mother." I told him. His face saddens a little bit.

Time passed by and we grew close to each other. I found out that he has these gorgeous eight friends since middle school. But some of them are not studying in our school. Jeongin, his youngest friend, looks like my younger brother, so I grew close to him the most. He's so caring, sweet, and lovely. Meanwhile, Changbin and Minho are the ones who also study in our school, like Chan, Changbin is also majoring in music. Minho is majoring in Business Administration. While the others, Hyunjin, Felix, Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin are freshmen from other universities. They usually hang out at our apartment and I'm no against in it. I really love hanging out with them. They're so approachable and funny.

"Oh sorry to hear that. I hope your friend and her mother are doing fine." He said and smiled at me. I nod at him in response.

"Isn't it nice today? Winter is already here! It's good to have a cup of hot coffee and a heartful talk." He said as he looked at the window outside.

"I don't think so. I'd never like winter." I shrugged as I drink my juice. He looked back at me as if I was some crazy woman.

"You don't like winter? But why? People love it. It's nice and cozy, I live winter actually." He said and looked at me.

"I just don't like it. I like warm summer, autumn, and spring. Winter never excites me. Even when I was a kid. And my boyfriend dumped me on a cold winter night. That made worse. " I explained to him carefully. He just nods at me. Accepting my hate for winter.

"Oh I see, so how do you endure winter? I mean what do you do when the season comes?"

"I just hang out with my friend. Drinking, eat ramen, or anything that makes us warm. But when I'm alone, I usually sleep or binge-watched some dramas." I said and he nods in response.

"Hmm, it's not that boring tho. Me, I usually write songs and make some mixtapes when winter comes. I just love the feeling and emotions that winter gives me. In that way, I can make my music."

"Really? Wow, you're talented. I wish I have that kind of talent too. But I suck at those." You shrugged and chuckled. He just smiled and talk further.

Alexa decided to study next semester but in her hometown. I'm sad knowing that she'll not continue to study here but we promised each other that we'll contact and update each other.

"Noona!" Jeongin surprised me with a hug as I opened the door of the apartment.

"Oh my Jeongin! How are you, my little boy? Come inside. Hey guys!" I let them inside the apartment. Another noise from the freshmen including Changbin. It's always like this. Every time they go here. It's always this noisy. But I love it. It makes me happy and not alone.

"Hey Channie," I said as I welcomed Chan who looks tired.

"Oh hi, y/n. how's school? Sorry, I let you go home by yourself. I was just busy and these stupid boys asked me to meet them."

"Oh, it's okay. I prepared you some food." I said and cling my arms to his. We always do this. It's very comfortable and I feel like I'm in my home.

"Thank you, dear," he said and ruffled my hair. Oh. That nickname. Fuck. It makes my heart do somersaults. Is it normal to feel this for a friend like him?

"Hey lovebirds, we brought some colas and pizzas!" Minho shouted from the living room as they prepare the food they brought.

"Shut up Minho! Mind your goddamn business there!" Chan shouted

"Okay then!" Minho replied and burst a laugh.

We just sat and decided to watch the newest drama we happened to saw on Netflix.

"I'm freaking tired. Chan-hyung! I think I need to go by now. We still have exams for tomorrow, right Hyunjin?" Seungmin said as he stands up and yawned.

"Oh shit! Right! Hyung! We need to go now! I need to review some past lessons." Hyunjin said as he ready himself to go. The others also get ready. I decided to stand up and try to clean up.

"Let's do that, later. Let's say goodbye first to the boys." Chan said and I just nod in response.

"Goodbye Chan hyung! Goodbye noona! Good night!" Changbin and others bid their goodbyes.

"Yeah, yeah goodnight! " chan said as he pushed the boys out. I chuckled and waved my hand at them.

"Maybe it's time to clean up," I said and Chan nodded and went to the living room to clean.

The annoying alarm woke me up. I still have my classes on Saturdays. But Chan doesn't. When he first wakes up than me, he usually asked me to walk me in school. But sometimes he wakes up late, I just prepare some breakfast for him and leave a note telling him that I left.

As I walk out of my room, I heard some shufflings and noise from the kitchen.

"Morning sunshine! Eat and get ready for your classes." Chan greeted me and smiled.

"Morning Channie. You wake up again early?" I said as I sit down on my chair.

"Yep. I woke up early and can't go back to sleep so here, I prepared us breakfast." He said as he finished cooking and sit beside me.

"Thank you then," I said and started eating.

"I'm going to the mall near the university. Mind if I walk you to school?" He asked

"Hmm. Is it okay?"

"Of course. Hah! " he said and chuckled

"Thanks though. What are you going to do in the mall?" I asked him

"Uh, it's Changbin's birthday on the 11th. I planned to buy him some gifts."

"Really? We should celebrate it here!" I clasped my hand as excitement fills me. It's my first time to celebrate a new friend's birthday.

"Sure thing. I'll wait for you later after classes. Just text me if you're done." I nod at him and he smiled. So excited to celebrate Changbin's birthday. It's two days from now.

We just walked from the apartment to school as I still have a lot of time before my first class starts.

"So see you later y/n. do well, okay?" He pinched my cheeks and scrunched his nose.

"Yes, I will. Now go to the mall and buy Changbin a nice gift." I waved my hand at him as I went inside.

I met Minho at the cafeteria. Luckily we have the same schedule of break time.

"Y/N!" Minho went near me with food in his hands.

"Oh hello, Minho! Uh, can I ask you something?" I asked him and let him sit down on the chair beside me.

"Uhm, what is it?" Minho said as munched on his food.

"It's about Changbin. Do you know anything he loves? Like favorite clothing? Perfumes? Or what? It's his birthday the day after tomorrow, right?" I said and sip on my drink

"Oh yeah, Changbin isn't a picky person. As long as it's from a good friend, he'll love it." He tilted his head and chuckled.

"Oh, it's kinda hard. But anyway, thank you for that. I'm going to buy him a gift later. And I asked Chan to celebrate it the apartment." I said

"Really? That's a good idea! By the way, it's already time. Need to go back! See you around!" Minho stands up and bid his goodbyes. I waved at him and decided to attend my last class.

"Y/n!" Chan waved at me as I saw him outside the campus.

"Hey Channie!" I smile while happily ran to him.

"You look cute doing that," Chan said and ruffled my hair. I lowered my head to hide the lingering blush on my cheeks.

"Channie, do you mind if we go to the mall again? I just want to buy Changbin a gift."

"Hmm.. Sure! I'll help you. " he said and took my hand. God, why is he doing this? He so freaking sweet. I feel like I'm having a date with my boyfriend. Wait-- fuck boyfriend?? Erase erase. We're just friends, okay?

After I got the best gift for Changbin, I decided to take a look at the shelf and found this cute little thing that caught my eye. I took it and stare at it like it holds my future in it.

"You like that one? It's cute." Chan said as he also takes a look at the music box.

"Uh, yeah. But nevermind. I didn't bring enough money for it." I put it back to the shelf as I have no plans on buying it. But I turned to Chan as he grab again the music box and grabbed my hand.

"Let's take it. I'll pay for it for you." Chan smiled and went to the cashier.

"Hey, Chan! You don't have to." I pulled back his arms.

"No. Think of it as my gift for you. A gift to my friend. Don't worry." He said and went to face the cashier and hand his payment to her.

"Thank you for this! I really appreciate it!" I said as I stare at it again and listen to the calming music playing.

"See? You love it. What will happen to you if I didn't buy it?" he chuckled and turn his head to me. Oh no, I know he's staring at me, and stop these loud heartbeats! He might hear it! Why are you like this?? It's a simple gift. Do I like him? Yes, I appreciate all the efforts he did and the small things that he did for me. Do I already like him? I mean, it's not a bad thing if it is. But I'm scared that he might not feel the same. But it doesn't matter to me for now. I just need to forget these lingering feelings.

Changbin's day dropped on a fine Saturday. All of the boys went here including the birthday boy to help in preparing for the party later.

"Need help in cooking?" Chan asked peeking from the kitchen entrance.

"Uhm, yes, please. Changbin's foods are quite a lot!" I said as I cut the ingredients for my own version of kimchi fried rice.

"Poor little y/n. here you go." Chan started to help me, asking what should he do, or what ingredients to put next.

"They're so noisy, aren't they?" Chan chuckled as he groaned to the noise from the living room.

"Don't act like you're not one of them Channie," I teased and smacked his arm.

"Why? I'm a good boy!" I glared at him and he just laughed at me.

"Hey sweethearts! Where are the foods?" Changbin went to us while wearing his birthday hat. It's his idea. 22 years old my ass.

"Just you wait little prince, the food is nearly ready," I said

"Go away Changbin! You're so excited as hell, it's still early! Mind your business outside!" Chan said and shoo Changbin away. He just huffed and pouted at us.

"Happy Birthday hyuuung!" The juniors greeted him cheerfully after we sang him a happy birthday.

After lots of drinking and eating, the other boys were now drunk. Leaving me, Jeongin, Seungmin, and Felix sober. I chose not to drink a lot as I thought of having atleast one here have a sober mind.

I woke up peacefully without the sound of an alarm. Sunday morning. No classes, a good day to rest. But I need to clean first the mess outside.

*ring ring

"Hello? Y/N?" It's Alexa! I missed her voice.

That night, Chan brought some pizzas and colas for us. Watching some movies before going to sleep.

After our classes, Chan and I went first to a fast-food chain to buy some food.

"Lexie~" I screamed at the top of my lungs running to Alexa

"So, how's living together?" Alexa said as she grabbed a slice of pizza and bite on it.

"What do you think you're doing Alexa?" I whisper shouted at her while Chan left and went to the bathroom.

Alexa slept early because of the long travel she took. Me, on the other hand, still resting on the couch, scrolling through my phone, when I felt someone sit beside me.

"Take care of my friend, Chan. I can count on you, right?" Alexa said turned to us before she goes outside.

Winter is near again. And Chan's one year here is near too.

I just need a simple outfit since it's fucking cold outside. But shit, we're going to his parent's house. Maybe it's not bad if I wear something nice beneath my thick parka. Ugh. Why do I feel so nervous? As if I'm getting judged by his parents later. Calm your ass down, y/n. it's just dinner. No more, no less.

Winter is now starting and here I am again, sulking at one corner. We're out of fucking tea! My one and only partner in this season! Fuck!

"Y/n! You ready?" Chan knocked on my door while I'm still getting my bag.

"We're here. I'm glad to show you around my childhood home. This is where I grow up together with my siblings. It's nice isn't it?" Chan said and faced me.

"So y/n, is Chan a good roommate to you?" Chan's dad asked me. Like him, Chan's dad is a good looking man. Like Chan in his 40's. something like that.

"Where are we going?" I asked Chan as he wears his shoes going outside.

I guess winter is not that bad. Especially when Chan is always here beside me, he can make my winter warm and comfortable.

"It's quite calm and quiet isn't it?" Chan said as he stares from nowhere. I just shrugged at him and swayed my feet.

#stray kids #straykids #stray kids bang chan #straykids bang chan #bangchan #bang chan #skz bang chan #stray kids oneshot #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #straykids scenarios #straykids imagines

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 4 years

Text

TATMILB, CHAPTER 4

Penelope spent her life writing love letters, which didn’t seem like a terrible idea until the letters were mailed out and Schneider received one of them. Hoping to fool their exes, they agree to fake a relationship. But are they lying to everyone around them, or to themselves? aka my To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before-inspired AU.

Penelope x Schneider, ODAAT. available on ao3 with extra author’s notes.

Chapter 4: Ben comes to Penelope’s door bearing a letter. Penelope explains the situation to Schneider over ice cream. She scoffs at his proposal but can’t wave it away so easily once she’s alone with her thoughts.

Dear Ben,

It’s been a really long time since I felt the way I did when I was with you--I know talking about it makes me sound like a giddy teenager.

But in so many ways, that’s how you made me feel. I was full of lighthearted happiness, hormones and that need to know everything about somebody that only happens at the beginning of a relationship.

The story of how we met sounds like a movie: I poured my heart out to you, thinking you were gay and couldn’t possibly be interested in me, and you turned the tables by asking me out. A night full of self-loathing and guilt led to a moment where I felt really attractive. And considering how hard life had been lately, especially in the romance department, it meant a lot that you looked at me in my emotional half-drunk state and saw someone worth getting to know.

All of that makes how we ended worse. I’m sorry for what happened with Victor, for how easily and how quickly I became a cliche--the ex-wife who takes back her apologetic husband, who believes and trusts when she shouldn’t...who gives up a good man for a familiar one.

We had fun while it lasted, didn’t we? It’s the what-ifs that haunt me now. The possibilities. Maybe you would have gotten along well with my family, when it was time for you to meet them. Maybe you would have been a good husband someday.

I know I don’t have the right to hold on to you, to the idea of us, when there was barely an us in the first place. Some nights, though, I pull out that mental picture and let myself live inside for it a little while. I still feel happy there. I wonder if you do, too.

Love, Penelope

****

“Ben!”

Penelope steadied herself by gripping Schneider’s arm, which also helped to steady him as they wobbled in the doorway after their near-collision.

She saw the letter Ben was holding, on yellow paper she remembered too well, and offered him an overly-bright smile, aiming it like a shield. “We’re actually just on our way out. Gotta go get dessert for the family before there’s chaos, y’know?”

Her laugh was as forced as her smile, but she ignored the look Schneider gave her and hoped Ben would buy it. He didn’t know her nearly as well; not everyone had Schneider’s keen eye for her tells.

“This is Schneider,” she added, shutting the door behind the two of them. She kept her grip on his arm, pulling him past Ben.

“Yeah, hi,” Schneider said, with a facial expression that could best be described as ‘trying to do calculus in his head.’ Great, Penelope thought, now she would have even more to explain to him once they made it free of the building. And Ben.

“Listen, I don’t want to hold you up,” her ex said, lifting the letter to her eyeline. “I just wanted you to know that I got it, but that I’m actually--well, I’m engaged now.”

“Oh, wow! That’s amazing! Congratulations,” she said, shaking his hand and trying to hurry along as though that would be the end of that.

“Penelope.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I really enjoyed the time we spent together too. And I did think about you--about us. For a while. That was such a long time ago, though, and where my life is at these days...I’m really happy. I hope you will be soon.”

The hint of pity she detected got her attitude up, but if she made a scene it might bring the family out into the hall, which was the last thing she needed to add to this insanity. She exhaled through her clenched teeth instead.

“Thanks Ben, I appreciate that. I’m glad things are going well for you.”

“Anyway, I wanted to give you this back. It doesn’t feel right keeping it, while I’m planning my wedding to somebody else.”

“Alright. We really gotta go, but I hope the wedding goes great and it doesn’t rain. Best of luck to you both!” she half-shouted as she sped down the stairwell, not bothering to look behind her. Schneider would catch up, and she needed Ben to stop treating her like a crazy woman who was still nursing a crush on him years after they went on a handful of dates.

Not that her behavior in the hall was likely to make her seem more sane.

Her cheeks were burning as she exited the building, and she wished the air outside were cool enough to settle her racing heart. There was no denying it now--all of her letters must have been sent, every single mortifying one of them. Her innermost thoughts and feelings, directed at men who were never supposed to read them. This was beyond terrible. This was a catastrophe. This was--

“Pen! Wait up!” Schneider let the exit door slam shut behind him, making short work of the distance between them on the way to her car. “You know, I can’t go with you to get ice cream if you leave without me.”

“I know. Sorry.”

The scoop shop was only a five minute drive from their building, but it was a deeply uncomfortable five minutes, with Schneider watching her from the passenger seat and Penelope stuck on the image of Ben and his pretty, sympathetic face handing her back old dreams on paper.

She hoped he really was blissfully happy with his new fiancée. She hoped they had a long and happy marriage.

She hoped she never had to see him again.

****

Schneider managed to hold back as they waited in line at the shop, but he was restless next to her, filled with anxiety and questions. Penelope wasn't exactly in a hurry to explain; her nerves mirrored his.

“Let’s just order ours, okay?” She said before they approached the counter. “We can talk while we eat it, then get the rest to go after.”

Schneider nodded. “Sure. Whatever you want.” He ordered an oversized monstrosity, filled with a jumble of flavors and toppings that Penelope eyed with suspicion.

She got cherry gelato and frowned when he paid for them both, but didn’t bother arguing. She was the one who caused this whole mess--there wasn’t much point to starting a fight on top of it.

Schneider sat down across a corner table from her and made no move to touch his dessert. “Listen, Penelope, I’ve tried not to push. I kept quiet through dinner, I didn’t corner you in a moving vehicle, but I’m kinda out of patience now. What was that back there?”

“At...the hospital?”

It was stupid to try and buy herself more time. She wasn’t sure why she felt so nervous to talk to him--this was Schneider. He always understood even her craziest moments. Yet there she was, still stalling. Keep on digging that hole, Penelope.

“Yes, at the hospital, when you kissed me!” The last part came out louder than he’d intended, and Schneider looked around like they might be under surveillance, before continuing.

“What was that about?” he pressed. “I thought that I was pretty clear about where I stood, and then you kissed me anyway. No means no, Penelope!”

“Yes...you’re right.”

When he put it like that, she felt even worse than just embarrassed. If she found out Alex was going around kissing girls who told him they weren’t interested, she would be so pissed at him. She would read him the riot act. What could she possibly say to defend herself to the one man who understood that better than anybody-- who knew her behavior totally contradicted what she believed in?

“Sorry.” She watched her gelato melting in its little cup, swirling it with her spoon. “You’re right, there’s no excuse.”

“I don’t want an excuse--though the apology’s appreciated. I want an explanation. It doesn’t make any sense, what you did. And you always make sense. Come on, talk to me.”

“I don’t have a good explanation.” She sighed, trying her gelato before it was completely liquid. It didn’t taste as good as it would on a day when her life wasn’t unraveling. “It was out of character. No argument there. It just sort of happened.”

“But why?”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she warned him, resigned to the fact that she couldn’t avoid this forever. He practically lived in their pockets--she couldn’t avoid him in general.

“You just made out with me,” he shot back. “I already know you’re crazy.”

“It was one kiss! I did not make out with you.” She dug into her gelato more emphatically, letting him sit with his own melting dish for a minute, almost as annoyed at Schneider as she was at herself for ending up here.

“That letter that you got from me, it wasn’t the only one I wrote.”

“Okay.” He blinked, taking that in. “You’re in love with people besides me?”

“I’m not in love with anybody, you dope. And I didn’t send you that letter.”

“I’m confused.”

“I write letters. I always have. To process stuff, get my thoughts out. I didn’t have therapy, you know, before the last few years. And between my mom, and the Army, and Victor...I had a lot of stuff to deal with. I’ve never been a diary person, but when things got really intense, I would write...”

“Love letters.”

“Yeah.”

He nodded as he dug into his ice cream, listening intently now. Schneider was good at that, even when he was visibly baffled--like he seemed now.

“I used to write other letters too, when I was a kid, letters to my parents when I was upset or frustrated with them. But I never held on to those ones--I had this feeling that no matter how well I hid them, Mami would find them, so I always trashed those. It helped enough, writing them.”

“When it comes to Lydia, I think your paranoia was probably well-founded.”

There was a hint of a smile teasing the corners of his mouth now, fondness not just for her mom but for Penelope. The wave of relief that flooded her settled some of her anxiety. Kissing him had been dumb and desperate, but she didn’t want it to ruin their friendship.

One kiss couldn’t do that, right?

He pointed his spoon at her gelato, a silent request. She nodded, passing him her spoon for a taste. She hadn’t really been in the mood for ice cream to begin with; she’d just wanted a place away from home for this confession.

“So, yeah, I write letters sometimes. Not all that often, because I was with Victor for most of my life. There haven’t been that many guys. But when I needed to put those feelings somewhere, I wrote them down and tucked them in my favorite duffel.”

She took her spoon back and gestured with it. “Over the years, I wrote five letters, including yours. And somehow they disappeared along with my duffel bag. The letters got sent out. I realized it when I saw you and Max.”

“And Ben,” Schneider added, putting the pieces together. “So, if that makes three, is the fourth Victor?”

“Oh, god.” She knew, of course she knew, exactly who she’d written her letters to. But she was so busy fighting the initial panic, she hadn’t thought about Victor yet. “Yes, I wrote to Victor. A couple of times. Ay dios mío, I hope that one gets shredded in the mail. I cannot deal with that right now.”

Schneider was lost in thought for a while, long enough that she took her cup to the trash. “Who’s the last one?” he asked when she sat back down.

“Huh?”

“I’ve known you since you and Victor separated. After Victor, there was Ben, then Max, then I guess you wrote my letter, since it was after Lydia’s hospital stay. I can’t think of anybody else you dated. Did you have a secret lover?”

He looked intrigued by the possibility. She swatted him lightly on the arm. “Don’t be so dramatic. You sound like my mom. The other letter was my first big crush, back in high school, a boy named Joe.”

She reached for his spoon and Schneider let her, bemused. He knew she usually hated his topping combinations. She just needed a second to gather her nerve again.

“I really am sorry,” she tried to explain, more carefully this time. “For kissing you like that. And for you ever seeing that letter. I was busy trying to figure out how it was possible, and then I saw Max coming, with a letter in his hand too, and I knew what it had to mean. I haven’t spoken to him since we broke up, my head was reeling--I couldn’t imagine explaining to him why he was getting a love letter from me a year later. I panicked.”

Risking a look at him before pinning her gaze back to the table, she continued. “It hit me that if he saw us kiss, he might assume we were a couple and be thrown off enough that I would have time to regroup. We could pretend the letters never happened.”

Schneider’s face was unreadable now. When she gave his spoon back, he didn’t go back to eating, just kept watching her.

“It’s not logical, I get that, but like I said, I panicked. And I know it was wrong of me to pull you into this, but I really would like to pretend the letters never happened, if we could. Especially yours.”

“Yeah?”

She ran the risk of offending him--she was aware of that--but their friendship was too important for her not to fight for it. She couldn’t tell what Schneider was thinking, though. That same perfectly blank expression stayed in place. At least he hadn’t left the shop yet, Penelope reminded herself. He was still giving her a chance.

“Yes. I was in a terrible place when I wrote your letter, Schneider. It was a few months after Mami’s stroke, after giving up Max had me convinced I’d lost my chance at love, and I was so lonely and scared and sad. About all of that.

“And there you were, so present and kind...and, well, loving. All the time. You were the one person I knew I could count on and we spent all those nights together. No matter how rough the day had been with the kids or at the hospital, you would find a way to make me laugh. Remember?”

“Of course.” His face was still guarded, but his voice had that comforting softness to it. That tone that meant he was ready to help. The voice of her best friend.

“I was vulnerable then, and I wrote it all down, because it had to go somewhere. It took me a while to step back from that place, to get back to feeling stable on my own even when you weren’t around. And once I had that distance, that balance back, I could see clearly again. I was never in love with you, not really. I mixed up how much I care about you as part of my family, as my best friend, with love. I mixed up how good you were to me with the idea that we would be good together.

“Once everything was okay again I felt like an idiot about it, and I was so glad I never said anything. I don’t want to lose you. And I never would’ve sent that letter as some attempt to awkwardly hit on you. I’m mortified to even be talking about it now. So, could we just move on? Like this was a weird day but we both agree it was a fluke and laugh it off?”

“Sure, sure, sure,” Schneider agreed, clearing his throat. “But what about the other letters?”

“What about them?”

“If Max’s letter is like mine, a love letter with no extra context, then are you going to have to do this all over again? Tell him you’re not still in love with him?”

“I-I don’t know. I’m really hoping it won’t come to that.”

“Because he saw us kiss and that’s a magic barrier to all future confrontation...or because you can’t honestly tell him that?”

He knew her too well, Penelope thought. And she’d had to share enough deep emotional truths for one day.

“Wow, look at the time,” she said, standing and nodding toward to the front counter. “If we don’t get the rest of the treats and head back, they’re gonna think we lied about the whole dessert run.”

She put in the requests that she knew her Mami and Alex would want and moved down to the other end of the counter. Schneider followed, clearing his throat again.

“What is it?”

“Speaking of lying, I just got a text from Nikki about our kiss.”

“What? How does Nikki know?”

“One of her friends saw us in the parking lot, I guess. Nikki’s super pissed.”

“Have fun with that.” She shook her head. “Luckily for me, I only have to see Nikki at school functions and some of Alex’s games. You’re the one who decided to hook up with her.”

“She’s pissed in a jealous way,” Schneider added thoughtfully.

“I’m shocked.”

“Hey, Pen. Hear me out: what if we kept up the lie for a while?”

“As in, the lie where I kissed you and you freaked out about it?”

“My freakout was in response to your freakout. Glass houses, Penelope. But yeah, the kissing. The public display of affection, emphasis on public. It got Nikki’s attention, and I wasn’t even trying to do that. If seeing me with you makes her realize she misses what we had, maybe we could stop this vicious cycle of breaking up all the time.”

“You want to pretend to be into each other just so you can get back with Nikki? Gross. No way I’m volunteering to be used for that.”

“Hey, you used me first--and I didn’t volunteer.”

An aproned employee passed her the sack of ice cream and Penelope walked out ahead of him.

“It would solve your problem too,” Schneider suggested. “Isn’t that why you kissed me in the first place, to make it seem like you were taken?”

“I was temporarily insane,” she insisted. “What’s your excuse?”

“I’m just saying we could both get what we want. Think about it,” Schneider added before mercifully dropping the subject as they made it home.

She ignored Schneider for the rest of the evening, as best she could, until he headed back to his own apartment. If her mom or Alex wondered what took them so long--or why they ate their dessert on the way--neither of them asked.

****

Penelope was in her bedroom, finally able to take a moment to decompress from the chaos of her life, before it occurred to her to check her phone. She fought so hard to keep Alex off his at the dinner table; it helped a little when she set a good example.

“Three missed calls,” she told her empty room, staring down at the name next to all three of them.

“Yep, and you didn’t pick up even once.”

The day had clearly been too much for her, if her imagination was so easily manifesting Max there next to her bed. She closed her eyes for a moment and reopened them, only to find the illusion of him still watching her.

“You can’t call a guy back anymore? Especially after you ditch him in a public place? That’s not like you, Penelope.”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.”

Okay, so she was hallucinating. Not a big deal. She was stressed out and had him on the brain, especially now.

“Got your letter,” Max said, smiling down at her where she sat. “Of course, you know that already. It’s why you’re avoiding me. How long do you think you can keep that up?”

“I have no idea. How long do you think you’ll keep trying to confront me with it?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m in your head--what do I know. If you want real answers, you should give me a call.”

“Can’t say I like that idea very much.”

“Yeah. If we talk, you’re going to have to answer my questions. Why did you send the letter, why did you write the letter, did you mean what you said.”

She swallowed hard, staring into Max’s warm eyes. What would she say, when she had to explain it all to him?

“Do you still...love me. That’s the million dollar follow up, right? That’s the one that counts.”

“I’m not ready to explain any of it,” she admitted. “I’m not ready to tell you how I feel. I’m not sure I know, myself.”

“Then you know what you have to do,” Schneider told her, popping up in the dark space where Max had been standing moments before. “Get your cover story on, chica.”

“God, don’t call me that. Don’t call anybody that.”

“All I’m saying is, you can’t avoid Max forever, right? There’s a solution staring you right in the face. What are best friends for, if not to act as a human wall between you and your relationship issues?”

Penelope frowned, trying to find a counterargument.

“Hey, if you’ve got a better idea, then go ahead...tell me no. A backup plan? Anything?”

“I’m thinking.”

“No, you’re stalling. And the clock is ticking on that strategy. But my plan, it can last as long as we need it to. Until you figure out what you want to do--with Max, Victor, all of them. We can be each other’s wingman and cover story at the same time, Pen. You help me, I help you...everybody wins.”

“Aaagh.” Penelope groaned, gripping hold of her hair for a second. When she lifted her head back up from her hands, she was alone in her room.

She didn’t know if Schneider’s idea was a brilliant one, or a terrible one. But at this point, it might be her best chance to save her sanity.

That was reason enough to consider it.

#alvareider #one day at a time #odaat #penelope x schneider #to all the men i've loved before #penelope alvarez #schneider #ben with the gay brother #max ferraro #alvareider fic #odaat fic #my fic

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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 4 years

Text

Sexiled (Part 16/23) ~ Steve Rogers x Reader ~ College!AU

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Happy Monday. I hope everyone is doing alright and staying safe and sane.

So I am excited (but also sad) to say that Sexiled is almost complete. I have the next few parts basically ready for posting. And I should have the story completely written and edited in the next few days. Once I have everything done, I’ll schedule the remainder of the story and I will update the masterlist with the scheduled post dates so you can keep an eye out in case tumblr is eating my notifs. So for now onto the story.

Summary: Girls night and subsequent studying with Steve. Are your friends ever going to figure it out?

Characters/Pairings: Steve x Reader, Natasha, Wanda, Skye

Rating: T

Warnings: Language. Feels? Fluff.

Word Count: 1487

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

After an exam, turning in your final writing assignment, and completing your last two labs of the semester you were practically skipping back to your room. Most of the doors on the floor were open as people packed to go home for Thanksgiving. You could hear the laughter coming from your room from the elevator.

“I can’t believe you started the party without me,” you announced before you walked in.

“We didn’t start anything,” Skye called back.

Wanda and Skye were on your bed, and Nat was standing on hers trying to string up the last of what looked like eight strings of fairy lights.

Wanda started to get up, but you waved her off, stowing your bag under your desk.

“Nat, what are you doing?”

“The lighting in this room sucks. And you said you liked the little strand that I had on my wall. So when I found these for cheap I figured why not.”

“And eight strings doesn’t seem like overkill?” you teased.

“Oh be quiet. Hurry up and change. Sweatpants are mandatory.”

“Okay, okay.”

You quickly went to the bathroom to change into your favorite sweatpants and Steve’s hoodie. When you came back Natasha had gotten the last strand up and the room was illuminated only by fairy lights. It was very calming, almost magical.

“Whoa.”

“You like?” Nat asked with a hopeful grin.

“I love.”

“Good,” Nat smiled as she sat on her desk. “Because I wasn’t taking them down. This took five hours.”

“Oh my god, Nat.”

You giggled and rolled your eyes as you crawled onto her bed.

“Worth it.”

“It’s perfect,” you agreed.

A few hours later there were half eaten pizza boxes piled on your desk and you were laying with your head hanging off the edge of Nat’s bed with your legs against the wall.

“What do you think the guys are doing right now?” Skye asked the room.

“Drinking whatever beer Tony smuggled in and playing video games,” Nat snorted.

“Somebody pass the Oreos,” Wanda called from her spot on the floor.

“Here you go,” Skye dangled the pack in front of her face. “Who’s got the Twizzlers?”

“Catch.”

Nat tossed the pack across the room and Skye caught it easily.

“Thank you.”

“So, how’s it going with Barnes?”

Skye’s smile turned soft as she dragged her knees up to her chest.

“It’s good. He’s such a good guy. It’s a nice change of pace from my ex,” Skye’s tone dropped and you stifled a growl.

She had told you all about Ward and all you could say was that he was lucky he didn’t live in the state because you would have gone and kicked his ass.

“You guys are really cute together,” Wanda cooed. “He never smiled this much when he was with Dot.”

Skye blushed slightly, clearly pleased.

“That’s because Dot was sucking his soul out of him,” Natasha grumbled.

“He makes me really happy. And he’s easy on the eyes.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Are you guys going to make it official soon?” Wanda asked softly.

“I think so. I mean, it’s still early, but it looks like it’s going that way.”

“See, y/n, that’s how it works. You like someone. You go out on dates and then start a relationship.”

You rolled your eyes nudging her shoulder with your knee.

“Oh really? I had no idea. Thanks for clearing that up,” you sassed, earning you a flick on the ear.

“Ow.”

“Come on,” she practically whined. “You and Steve have been basically dating for months. You spend literally all of your time together. You’re even going home with him for Thanksgiving. When are you going to tell him how you feel?”

“Who says that I haven’t?” you asked coyly.

“Have you?” Wanda asked with knowing eyes. You had to wonder if she somehow knew. She was talented like that.

You considered fessing up.

“There’s no way,” Nat interjected before you could speak. “If she’d told Steve, they’d be together and insufferable.”

You shrugged. Skye was doing an admirable job of suppressing a laugh.

“I’m happy with where Steve and I stand. Isn’t that enough?”

Sweetheart that she is, Wanda smiled and nodded.

“As long as you’re happy. We just don’t want you to miss out on a good thing.”

“I appreciate that, Wanda.”

“But speaking of meeting parents,” Skye started, saving you. “Wanda. I heard a rumor that you’re meeting Sam’s parents this weekend.”

Wanda’s cheeks turned as red as her signature leather jacket. She and Sam had gone public a couple of days after his birthday and you’d been relieved you didn’t have to keep that secret for long.

“Yes. They’re coming up on Wednesday. They’ve invited me and Pietro to join them for dinner.”

“That’s going to be really nice.”

“I’m really nervous.”

“Don’t be,” you soothed. “They’re really nice. And they’re going to love you.”

“I hope so,” she sighed.

The four of you stayed up talking until nearly five in the morning, so you didn’t wake up to meet Steve until after noontime. You watched him from the doorway to the study lounge, admiring his focus. When he noticed your presence, he lit up with a wide smile.

“Hey, sweetness.”

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” You pushed off the wall and took his outstretched hand as he pulled you between his legs. “How was guy’s night?”

“It was fun. We played Call of Duty, and Tony managed to sneak in a couple six packs.”

You chuckled at Nat’s accurate prediction.

“What?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Nothing.”

“I missed sleeping next to you last night,” Steve admitted as you carded your fingers through his hair.

“I did too.”

“Did you have fun with the girls though?”

You nodded happily.

“It was a lot of fun. It was nice to have all of us together for once and just be able to talk. And being done with all the assignments was nice too.”

“Mmm. What did you all talk about?”

You smirked and shook your head. “That is privileged information. Girl’s night code.”

“Oh. Right. Very official.”

“It’s a binding contract. I’m sure you guys have the same.”

“Oh yeah. Of course. I can tell you that the guys did are really rooting for me to ask you out. For the most part.”

“For the most part?”

“Mhmm. Tony thinks you can do better.”

You chuckled, “I mean…”

Steve narrowed his eyes.

“I’m kidding.” You leaned down to kiss him tenderly. “You are everything I have ever dreamed of.”

He pulled you into his lap, touching your foreheads together.

“You are better than anything I could have dreamed of.”

“Did you tell them?” you asked after a quiet tender moment.

“I thought about it. I probably would have if they’d let me get a word in edgewise,” he rolled his eyes. “At this point I think they just like to hear themselves talk.”

“Wanda actually asked outright if I’d told you how I felt,” you admitted.

“Did you tell her the truth?”

“Didn’t get the chance. Nat said there was no chance. She’d think we’d be insufferable if we were together.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhmm.”

“They’re going to be so pissed when they find out,” he chuckled.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you grinned kissing him once before extracting yourself and unpacking your books.

You were taking a break between your Chem and Bio lab reports when Steve spoke up.

“Oh, I didn’t get to tell you. Erskine does remember me.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“I went to his office hours yesterday to ask about the atomic orbital stuff, and I was the only one there. So after he helped me, I decided to thank him whether he remembered me or not. He did.”

You smiled smugly.

“Told ya.”

“Yeah. Yeah. You were right. Anyways, he said he recognized me right away and he was glad to see me doing so well. He also invited me to see his lab after we get back from break.”

“That’s so cool. I’m so excited for you.”

“Thanks, sweetness.”

“Do you feel better knowing he remembers you?”

He hummed, shaking his head slightly.

“You know me well. Yeah. I do. He had such a big impact on my life. It’s nice to know that he cares as much about his patients as I hope to someday.”

You rested your chin on your hand listening intently as he launched into a rant about the need for compassion in medicine. After about ten minutes he seemed to realize he’d been ranting.

“Sorry, I.”

“You’re going to be such a good doctor.” You surged forward, cutting off his apology with a kiss. “Do not apologize. You are so hot when you talk about the things you’re passionate about.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows. “You must love when I talk about you.”

“You certainly won’t catch me complaining,” you agreed.

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy.

Tag Lists are Open please send an ask. Strike throughs didn’t work

Sexiled Tag List

@yourspecialcrush @part-time-patronus @impala-with-wings @the-stories-in-my-head-95 @zlixlle @peter-parker-steve-bucky @encounterthepast

@holygaygal @hista-girl @steves-on-a-plane @juliagolia87 @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @musicfreak180 @captainscanadian @viarogers

Steve/Chris Tag List

@isaxhorror @peachykeen3502 @patzammit @wordlesscaptain @coffeebooksandfandom @hereisanapplepie @mywinterwolf @straightforwardly

Marvel Tag List

@hdthdthdt @sophiatomlinson23 @misty-panther @supermusicallee @scarlettsoldier @acupofhotlatte @slender--spirit @petitesmate @libbymouse

Permanent Tag List

@iamwarrenspeace @jayzayy @bexboo616 @neoqueen306 @santheweird @rowenaravencalw @buckitybarnes @prxttybirdz @sergeantjbuckybarnes @captainsamwlsn @broitsmydick @ailynalonso15 @nyxveracity @queenoftrash97 @walkingtravesty97 @lamia-maizat @memyselfandmaddox @lowkeybuckyb @whiskey2011 @averyrogers83 @lovingpeterparker @buckybarneshairpullingkink @beansparker @coralphantomninja @xxashy999xx @thisismysecrethappyplace @ravennightingaleandavatempus @paintballkid711 @whosmarisaaarw @silverkitten547 @yknott81 @mmmmmmmmmchicken @thefridgeismybestie @crispy-kitten @isabelcrichards @greyeyedsmile14 @loving-life-my-way @geeksareunique @rachelsficcollections

#Sexiled #steve rogers x reader #College!AU #Part 16 #steve rogers fic

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