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leeknowlover99 · 10 months

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Jake drabble - Prove it then

masterlist

word count: 2,2k

friends to lovers if you squint

warnings: smut, blowjob, drinking, smoking, swearing, dirty talk

„fuck” you yelled angrily propping yourself up on your knees and trying to catch a breath. yellow bus just drove away 5 minutes earlier than it was scheduled. „motherfucker!!!” you yelled and kicked nearest object you found - trash can filled to the brim with empty cans and bottles became your victim. few bottles fell out of it and rolled on the pavement with loud clinking. it was the last bus that could take you to the small town where you were renting your apartment. dang, only if your tinder date did not try to kiss you maybe you’d make it. the guy was tragic, he kept talking about himself all evening, split the bill and awkwardly tried to kiss you after all that. and now you were stuck in the city. first morning bus was leaving at 5 am so you still had few hours to pass around. you were already feeling a bit sleepy, probably after all that boring stories your date told you. your feet were starting to hurt a bit as you made a stupid mistake of wearing platform heels today, trying to impress this idiot guy. god, what was happening with you?? your life was a mess lately. but now all you knew was you have to find a place to crash somewhere till 5 am. think Y/N, think you told yourself. you could go to a club or a bar, it was saturday night so most places would be open and busy but you weren’t in the mood. normally you would crash at your best friends flat but her parents were visiting her this weekend so it was a no go. it looked like you only had one option left, you opened chat with Jake and typed:

are you in town? i need a place to crash, missed the last bus :((

three dots appeared immediately. thank god he was awake, you just hoped he was not at some party as it was his usual weekend routine. text appeared:

hello

you can come over if you want ;)

typical Jake, always flirty for no reason. you rolled your eyes and texted him back.

omw then, thanks

your relation with Jake was undefined, you weren’t close enough to be called friends but you knew each other quite well. you used to hang out more often but sometimes things got weird between you. tension was always there but you don’t think there was more and neither of you wanted to make a move. sometimes you wondered what it would be like. to kiss his pretty lips, feel his hot body pressing against you or wake up next to him and cuddle all day. but usually you quickly dismissed these images from your head. however they kept coming back as you made your way to his place. fortunately he lived only two crossing from the bus stop so you arrived quickly before your mind drifted to far.

you knocked on his doors impatiently, you got a bit cold on the way and could not wait to warm up. he opened and leaned against the doorframe lazily. he was wearing home attire - loose grey sweats and tank top, his muscular arms peeking from tight material. he must’ve just taken the shower as his hair was dump and slicked back. damn he was hot. you realised you were staring but when you snapped back to reality you noticed he was staring too. after all, you did make an effort to look good today, did your make up and wore your favourite black dress. he whistled looking you up and down.

“will you let me in ?” you huffed.

“sorry, was wondering why are you here when it looks like you clearly had other plans for the night” he smirked and let you in.

“please don’t make me more miserable than i already am” you sighed.

Jake invited you to his room and you immediately made your way to his bed. finally your feet could rest, you rolled your toes feeling relief after spending all evening in those platforms. Jake followed you to his room after a minute carrying two beers from the kitchen.

“hey, outside clothes are not allowed on the bed” he grabbed your hand to lift you up.

you looked at him annoyed. he was not making it easy for you today.

“if you want me to strip so bad just ask” you teased getting up.

he raised his eyebrow in response.

“cocky are you? you must’ve really have a bad evening. want a smoke?” he fished out a pack of marlboros from his pocket.

“why not”

you grabbed a fluffy blanket and sat on the garden chair slowly sipping beer and smoking. Jake lived on 4th floor so view from the balcony was quite nice. you enjoyed watching the small crescent moon and few stars that were visible above you.

“i thought you quit” he said pulling you out of your thoughts. at first you didn’t get that he was referring to smoking and you frowned at him. he gestured to your hand, cigarette resting between your fingers.

“oh, yeah i did. guess you’re the bad influence” you joked.

“i don’t think it is me sweetheart.” there he was with the flirty nicknames. but he was right, it was not him. it was you who was lost and continued to make one bad decision after another.

“yeah, i just have a tough time lately” you said not looking at him. “can i have another one?” you said putting out your current cigarette.

“lucky for you, it was the last one” he winked at you showing you empty package. “so did your date went bad or what?” he asked.

“yeah. he was a jerk. like all of the guys apparently” you rolled your eyes.

“can i share my opinion?” he stood up in front of you.

“if you have to.”

“i think it’s because you’re always choosing assholes while there are much better guys out there.” he said confidently looking at you.

“oh really? guys like who? you?” you stood up and met his gaze. he was being annoyingly cocky.

“maybe” he licked his lips. he was the opposite of a good guy actually. but he was the tempting one.

you grabbed him by the collar of his tank top and yanked towards you. your faces were centimeters away now. you were so close you felt his breath quickened. after looking into his dark eyes you flicked your eyes towards his lips and back up.

“don’t start something you can’t finish Y/N” he warned, you were still holding his tank top.

“who sad I cannot finish it?” you asked tilting your head slightly and after that you let go of him and turned around to go back inside.

“i’m going to take a shower now”. you were taking a step into the bedroom when Jake grabbed your forearm and forced you to turn around, you bumped into him slightly and your heart started beating faster as you saw his dark eyes piercing you.

“prove it then. prove what you just said” his voice was quiet but cold and demanding, sending shivers down your spine. blanket was long gone from your shoulders pooling on the floor and cold air was brushing against your exposed body but your skin was burning. thousands thoughts rolled through your head trying to decide whether to take this step or not. blame it on the alcohol or the haze from smoking after such a long time but there was only one winning voice and it told you do it.

you crashed your lips against his with a force. he seemed shocked for good few seconds as he was not kissing you back. just when you were about to pull out you felt his hot fingers grab your neck and his lips roughly moved against yours. there was nothing gentle or pure about the way you were making out. tongues dancing together, jake biting your lower lip from time to time. one of your hands was grabbing and pulling on his hair while other was holding his biceps, god his body was amazing, hot and hard under you fingers, your hand feeling small next to his arm. jake was not wasting time either, he acted like man starved, exploring your waist and grabbing your ass, soon his fingers started to wonder under your skimpy dress as he pressed you against the balcony railing, you felt his hard on against your stomach and it made you weak in your knees, good thing he was holding you tight. his fingers teased your inner thighs and slowly moved towards your panties.

“fuck, you’re so wet” he hissed against your lips when he made contact with your clothed core, his fingers feeling your entrance through the thin material. you could not hold a quite moan and burried your face in jake’s neck as his started playing with your clit. you nipped at his skin lightly. he started to move your panties to the side, you grabbed his hand and looked at him wide eyes, damn he looked hot, lips plump from all the kissing, pupils dilated and breath fast. “jake, not outside” you managed to say. he grinned smugly in response.

“oh yeah? why not? are you embarrassed someone is going to see?” he asked grabbing your neck and choking you slightly.

you decided to pull a move to distract him and leaned to whisper in his ear “want your cock so bad daddy” he stiffened and raised his eyebrow at you. “fucking get inside now” he gritted through his teeth. looks like you little stunt did work perfectly.

you stumbled towards the bed together and messily landed on the soft mattress. you climbed on jakes lap and nagged at him to take off his tank top. it revealed mouthwatering sight of his abs and v line disappearing where waistband of his sweats hang low. you pressed open mouth kisses and sucked on his neck as you moved slowly down his body. he threw his head back and groaned. “baby hurry, i want to feel you” he panted after a while of your teasing. you finally got him what he needed and palmed his hard dick, it was painfully big in your hand. “impatient are we?” you tsked at him. “for you always”. you took off his sweats and boxers and kneeled to kiss the red swollen tip of his dick. it looked delicious and tasted a little salty. you gave it a good suck before starting to move your head up and down. “fuck baby you’re so good” he grunted as you sped up, drool starting to drip down your chin and eyes watering. he made a ponytail of you hair and helped you move faster and take him deeper. few more moves and he yanked you off his cock. “i’m gonna cum if you don’t stop” he explained and moved on top of you “god this dress needs to go” he undressed you and you could see his gaze became even darker when he saw you fully naked underneath him. “god you have no idea how hard i wanted this” he whispered sucking on your hard nipples and fondling with your breast. he surprised you with that statement but you did not have time to think about it as you felt yourself become even wetter and your cunt clenching around nothing. “ jake need more please” you begged. he shout you up with a kiss. his dick grinding against your wet core made you gasped in his lips. “will you take it without a prep?” he asked sucking on your neck and putting light pressure on your entrance with his tip. he was making you crazy. your whole body was on fire, you were leaning towards his touch, craving it. “please” you moaned. “good girl” he praised and thrusted in you. it was quite a stretch because he was so big but you liked the burn and after few shallow thrusts it went away and pleasure replaced it. he was deliciously thick and warm. you nagged at him to move faster and he stopped holding back, thrusting roughly and picking up a pace. he was hitting your soft spot perfectly, you orgasm was building up. “god you’re so perfect” jake was completely lost muttering praises, his face burried in your neck. “jake i’m close” you said and lifted your legs to place them on his shoulders, new angle making him go deeper and your pussy clench harder. “you’re so hot, i’m gonna cum soon too” he said as his eyes followed your moving tits. you reached your hand down to circle your clit and moaned at how sensitive you were. it felt too good, jakes hot sweaty body on you, his thick cock massaging your wet walls, your orgasm came suddenly and made you whine loudly, pleasure rolling through your body, you arched your back slowly coming down from your high. jake was still thrusting roughly. “ can i come inside?” he asked kissing you messily as you lowered your legs to cross them around his waist. “yes i’m on a pill, please come inside jake” you coaxed him and seconds later he filled you with his cum. he kissed you passionately, soft lips moving together, tongues lazily meeting, his dick was still inside. “god that was amazing” he smiled at you. “so did i prove it to you?” you teased. “i might need a seconded try” he made a thinking face and you smacked his arm laughing. “care to join me in the shower?” you asked

#enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen drabbles #enhypen smut #enhypen jake #jake smut #jake drabble #enhypen hard thoughts #jake hard thoughts #enhypen suggestive

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woneuntonzz · 7 months

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𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐩 .ᐟˎˊ˗

📞 ; “left twix or right twix?”

𖹭 : like-a-big-brother!sungchan x afab!reader x partner in crime!wonbin

💭 wherein wonbin chose you to be his ride or die and sungchan, well he just loved sharing his twix with you.

⤷ contains: fluff, cussing (very light), humor, mention of other idol

names for world building, twix lmao

⤷ warnings: none :))

⤷ wc: 8 . 4 k !!

not proofread >:)

under the cut .ᐟ ✂ - - - -

There are things in life that are just as beautiful as the twinkling lights of the city at night. Sometimes these things are salvageable, say, like a butterfly. most butterflies would live for two to four weeks, too short. That’s why with every butterfly that flew by and over the bushes of azalea outside your home, you made sure no one would come and ruin the very little time it had on this earth.

Your young self would have a daily routine of just sitting at the front porch of your house and just watching the flying critters flit their wings. To the pair of eyes that watched through their living room window, you looked lonely. You’d beg to differ though, butterflies were the closest you were gonna get to fairies, and every moment with them is fantastical at most.

The eyes that spied on you from the confines of their house would soon join you, but he would never get too close. He just stood near your lawn, not even daring to take another step.

Your conversations were of very frivolous things, you were children after all.

“What are you doing?” —he would be blunt the first time around.

“Watching the butterflies” his eyes would shift around a bit, and after some struggle, he was finally able to spot them.

At that point he could’ve said anything else at all, but his reply was very arbitrary, “I can swim very well.”

“That’s cool, I guess.”

“You should be my friend, do you wanna?”

“Mm-hmm~”

He’d learn that your name is Y/n, you lived just across the street and you went to a different school. Every day, you would be at the bus stop with your mom, sometimes it was your grandma, and he was there too but he couldn’t talk to you with the presence of an adult. You went to a different school, to his dismay, so really he could only idle around with you during those mornings at your front porch.

Overtime, he’d see you less and less at the bus stop. Instead, while he took his steps out of their house, he’d see your dad’s car taking you to school. The next morning, he finally mustered up the courage to sit next to you, and he’d ask, “Why is your uniform different? Did your school change the uniforms?”

You giggled, he seemed genuinely concerned about the sudden change. “No silly, I go to a different school now.”

And in a blink of an eye, you were away from him. He thought it was traffic’s fault that it was taking you so long to get home, but after the fourth day, he’d resort to a different excuse. She’s probably on a vacation, with lots of butterflies —it made enough sense for him to start waiting for you to show up every morning at their front porch too, until they too had to move.

At first he opposed the idea and felt particularly betrayed by his parents for hindering his quest to await your return, but after some time of staring at your deserted house, he thought maybe they were moving to where you moved, or at least close enough for him to end up at the same school as you.

Perhaps his expectations were too much of a major leap. Still, he kept his hopes up, maybe one day he’d stumble into you again.

He would walk to the bus stop a little earlier than thirty minutes before the bus arrived. He stared at the stop across the street, and he wished everyday that ‘one day’ would be today.

The day would come where he could no longer wish. Bearing only his dwindling hope, five years later he was almost running late he had to catch the second bus. Whilst he ran, he could hear bells ringing like christmas eve —a boy with black boxy glasses and a girl with a ponytail tied with a yellow silk ribbon, both on bicycles would speed past him.

He almost missed the bus again, because the yellow silk ribbon belonged to you. He would think that recognizing your face through the years of growing apart would be nothing but an impossibility, but the innocence that embellished your eyes and the lines that drew on your face when you smiled, he could recognize them like it was yesterday when he first saw you on your front porch admiring butterflies.

What he definitely couldn’t recognize was the four-eyed kid that you cycled with to the bus stop. He’d just watch since your stop was the one across from his, so every morning, he would be across the street sitting on the wait —he not only waited for the bus, but he waited for you too. He’d observed the kind of relationship that you had with that boy, and he’s admittedly grown jealous of the way he could make you laugh and how close he would be to you all the time —or at least when you were at the stop.

It’d be like that, and you’ve always thought he looked familiar, but you never really came around with who he actually was. Highschool came around, and you would never know that one kid that always hung around every after breakfast at your front porch would be your classmate.

“Can I have some? I’m really hungry.” you were eager to get a bite of something since your activities for that day were particularly tiring —in this case you eyed an unopened packet of twix bars.

“Hmm, okay.”

The chocolate was freed from its packaging, and you were expectant, and very evidently so. Your eyes followed one bar being held up, and —snap.

“Here.” —you would receive the shorter half of the right twix bar.

“Wow, thanks Jung Sungchan.” a playful smirk would play on his lips.

“You’re welcome.”

It wasn’t much, but you’d try your best to maximize the bites you would take. Three bites, and it was gone. The last bite felt like you were being snapped out of the universe, fading away into nothing and willed to the state of inexistence.

Luckily your best friend was there to save the day. And there he was, carrying two quantities of the infamous cafeteria sandwich.

With a smile, he’d hand you one of the sandwiches. You were inspecting its edibility when you asked him, “Wait, were you saving these?”

“Yeah. p.e. hit me real hard today.”

“Wow, coming from the Park Wonbin?”

He was a track runner but eventually he’d move on to join the school’s dance team. Still, he had the stamina like that of a wolf.

“Hey Wonbin, seniors told us to meet for practice.” —Sungchan is in the dance team too.

You definitely thought he was one with the typical cool guys of your high school. He’s a football varsity, and got pretty decent grades, but he was more atypical than anything really. Other than being extremely talented, he was deemed to possess a high sense of responsibility and was appointed to be a protocol officer by the supreme student government. You called him the school eagle —his eyes sealed the deal. He was such a watcher, sometimes you felt like not moving at all fearing that moving at the wrong angle for even just a few inches might get you in detention.

Somehow, though, you never got sent to detention. You weren’t a troublemaker per say, but you’ve had your fair share of late arrivals, and under cloudy weather your teacher might just announce your detainment to the whole class just because you stood from your seat a little earlier than everyone else when class was dismissed.

Sungchan was in charge of taking people to detention, but when it was time to turn in the transgressors, he’d just go on to tell you, “Meh, not really in the mood to send people in there today, besides, detention should be illegal, don’t you think?”

Now who wouldn’t agree to that? “I think so too!”

A faint chime of bells —a sigh would leave Sungchan’s lips, one you wouldn’t catch for yourself because all of your attention would lie on your best friend who rode his pure black bicycle.

“Hi Binnie!” you’d wave your hand and exclaim like a child.

“Hi Y/n-nie, I thought you got detention?” Wonbin was genuinely surprised to see you out of school, the humiliation your teacher put you through would've been enough to kick you straight into the disciplinary dungeon —students liked to call it that.

“Oh, that? Sungchan got me out, ain’t that right Channie?”

Sungchan nods at you like a puppy, with strikingly excited eyes. He finally got himself a nickname. It didn’t even matter if it sounded like Binnie that he hated hearing so much, it was from you, and that was all that mattered.

Your next stop —the bus stop. It was the same one you and Wonbin always cycled to every morning since you became each other’s ride or die, the same stop Sungchan stared into whilst he wondered if you could still remember.

Whether you remembered or not, it was certain you moved on. You were just children anyways. That swimmer kid was cute, friendly, and funny for being his outlandish self. But you couldn’t even remember his name, Susan? Sangchin? —whatever it was, he would be just another memory you’d grow apart from. Either way, you already had Wonbin.

Yet, Wonbin was so hard to love. You’ve heard it all before, never fall in love with your best friend. He was once a timid boy that wore thick frames and was a bumble-borne. You befriended him because you thought you could be that one nerdy duo since you were so nerdy. You’ve both had your handful of friends, but in the end you would end up being there for each other when outcasted from the rest. It’d be easy to say you’re attached to each other, it’s already been a good seven years of rushed bike rides and chasing each other in empty spaces. Your friendship would be the foundation for your shared felicity and solace.

The prime of your wretched feelings would root from your middle school days.

“Do I look okay?” you heard Wonbin ask from behind you.

You turned around, and it would take you a while to actually look at him because you were busy fixing —or trying to fix— his glasses which hinges went loose causing its temples to break off. “You look great.”

“You haven’t even looked yet.”

“Okay drama queen, hold up.” you set aside his poor glasses and the roll of tape you had worn on your wrist.

When you finally spared him your eyes, suddenly your glands were producing double the hormones. “Ew.” is what you’d utter, contrary to what you truly felt. Smitten, suddenly your best friend was too attractive for your eyes.

You would try to forget about that embarrassing moment —embarrassing for it was one-sided. You’d feel mortified over your own shenanigans and the fact that he never even knew you did karate with the air in your room later that night by the sheer thought of him.

You’d think that was it, that it was only your man’s journey to self-discovery —but he was just so attractive when he ran the track. You are what you eat, and everyday you’d feed yourself with your delusions. Your practice of being touchy and soft with each other with your sudden upsurge of attraction for him was not a good combo at all.

Hand holding, side hugs, linking arms, resting your head on each other’s shoulder, it all used to be in your best friend etiquette, but because he couldn’t stop your heart from pumping a thousand beats per minute, there would be a shift. Boundaries were established later on, it felt just right since you were both changing and heading towards the confounding parts of your adolescence. You would be less touchy, perception growing as quickly as your bodies changed.

Now he’d let his hair grow a little longer, would occasionally get a trim to follow school regulations, and he’d get rid of his glasses, though would still have them on when he needed them. He definitely got dapper, more charming. Eventually, you wouldn’t be the only one subjected to his attraction, and he’d hold his title as a ladies’ man.

His timidity was long gone for sure, but if he were being honest, your attention was all he needed. He didn’t need, nor asked for the love notes stuck on his desk, or the letters stuffed in his locker. Still, he’d go through all of them, thinking maybe one of them might be from you.

Him catching feelings for you was an absurd idea, but every day you’ve spent with him felt like a spark, that maybe would ignite the flames of your affinity. He saw the way tables have turned —then, he used to be the one to shy away from physical contact, more than often blushing even, and of course you'd just be your enthusiastic self. Now, he was the one who’d usually initiate skinship, smiling at your inept attempts of seeming unbothered. You’d gulp and inhale thick air whenever he gave you compliments also, and in his eyes you’d be his cute, little best friend —little, because he was a few inches taller but wouldn’t want to be discredited for only being a little loftier.

Even then, your bond would only grow and it thrived with your little escapades like staying out after school till curfew, making shameless excuses to your parents that convinced them enough that you were just really studious and preferred after school till curfew group studies. For that though, you were obligated to maintain above average grades, it was hard, but it was crucial to mask your leisure.

You’re a fairly active student, the type to not feel anxious over giving the wrong answer because you believed redemption could be achieved by anyone who knew the right steps to take. School was definitely not easy, but it shouldn’t be made complicated. You’d learn to sort your priorities, separating academics from the twists and turns of your life.

“Left twix or right twix?” —school would still encompass such interesting encounters nonetheless.

It was the first time Sungchan would raise this offer, and you tittered at him for being a believer of the left twix versus right twix agenda. “There’s no difference anyways.”

He took his time, basking in your sweet, sweet laughter before he replied, “No, but just imagine—” he takes out both bars from its packaging, holding them out with both hands. “This is me—” he’d bring the left one forward a little, “—and this is Wonbin.” then the right.

Under a frolicsome mood, you wore a grin as you reached for the right twix, but he’d move it away. “Hey!”

“Wow, I’m giving you my chocolate and you still hate me.”

“It doesn’t mean I hate you, but I like Binnie more.” —way more. With a bitter smile, he gave you the right twix, but not without snapping off an inch. “Sungchan.”

“What? If i’m a full twix bar and this is Wonbin, it should at least be accurate and Wonbin’s definitely not as tall as me.” you broke into a chortle from his unserious justification.

“Wonbin is still tall though, besides, you probably want more for yourself just to spite me.”

“Untrue.” he took the piece he snapped off and held it close to your lips. “This little piece can be you then, have it.”

“Are you’re trying to say I’m just about an inch of your height?”

“More like a foot, but yeah.”

He fed you the small piece, eyes following the movement of your lips as you bit on it. “Thank you, Channie.”

There truly was no difference between the left and the right side, he just wanted to test something out, to check how likely you were to pick the left twix —to pick him.

You would wonder why he seemed to always have a packet of twix with him, and why he always hit you with the left or right question. You always answered right, and he always snapped it to the same length, giving you both pieces. You thought maybe instead of left and right, he thought of it as him and Wonbin still, like the first time he asked you. It was such a bold assumption to make, especially when you treated him like an older brother. He was waggish, not much of a prankster, but he knew how to turn a smile upside down and at the same time, he was dutiful, and caring at times needed.

It was something about him you thought you didn’t have to second guess. Well, while he did help you stay out of detention for all the times you were sent there, you figured he might’ve done that for his friends too.

“Dude, please, I can’t get detention today. I don’t have any other excuse for getting home late again.”

“Bro, you know I have to turn you in, if not I might get in trouble.”

Okay, maybe not all his friends. Overhearing their smalltalk made you think back on all the times he’s gotten you out of trouble. Shouldn’t he have been kicked from the supreme student government if he really faced any consequences for never taking you into the disciplinary dungeon?

“Hey Channie?”

Sungchan had never stood up so fast in his life. “Yes? Is there anything I could do for you?”

“Oh, no, I just wanted to ask you something, is it okay?”

“Yeah! of course, go ahead, hit me.”

“So I heard you and your friend talking the other day…” Sungchan anxiously swiped his tongue over his top lip as he waited for you to continue speaking. “Did I get you in trouble for saving me from detention?”

He profusely shook his head and would briskly reply, “No, not at all. Don’t you worry about it.”

You kept your eyes locked with his, and you’d furrow your brows and squint your eyes in jest, displacing your doubt with a playful scowl. His eyes would widen in the slightest bit, chuckling at your mien.

“You know I always got your back.” —he meant it as a sign that you’d hopefully pick up on, but you learned to just not question his sweet gestures, all the big and all the small.

But from that day forth, you haven’t gotten detention, not even a single warning. Sungchan wouldn’t acknowledge your efforts till one the day you would be waiting for the early morning bus beside him, and you weren’t with your best friend like you usually were.

“Y/n, you’re early today. Where’s Wonbin?”

“Still asleep probably. I already told him I wanted to go to school early, but he didn’t meet me at the exit street.” you yawned, carefully ridding the water in your eyes with your fingers. “I waited for him there for thirty minutes, but I just went ahead. Can’t miss the first bus.”

Sungchan blinked a couple of times, trying to process what he was hearing. The morning haze was quite strong, and it was getting to his head. If she chose to not wait for him, she wanted to ride the bus with me, right? —his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of you clearing your throat.

“How about you? you seem pretty early too.” your query had left him flustered for a second.

Truth be told, he would come that early in the morning to wait for you, and unfortunately for Wonbin too. However, in all of those mornings, you’d assume he had just gotten there like you have, and for that, he deserves an oscar. Though, there were mornings where he wouldn’t he wouldn’t be there, it was the days you got detention for arriving late at school. Sungchan could take the risk, but would rather not get himself in any trouble as a part of the student government.

“I ate some good breakfast today so I was in the mood to go to school a little earlier.” He sounded convincing enough, so you’d just shrug your shoulders.

The first bus was less full, with one or two vacant seats left at the back, and you sat next to him somewhere in the middle. Before you were sat though, he would place a hand on top of your head, anchoring you where you stood and rushing past you —and you thought he did that so he could have the window seat to himself, but instead he got himself settled on the aisle seat, giving the seat next to him a little tap, signaling you to sit down.

“You’re unbelievable.” your words came out in an exhale as you sat down, struggling a bit because his lanky legs were in the way.

“And you're just so cute!” he’d do that thing where he’d shake his head, pointing a pout at you.

His supposedly teasing little gesture would cause your mouth to fall open, just enough to express the cringe you caught from his tomfoolery. “Ew, what the hell.”

“What?” he’d laugh at you —quietly, for the sake of paying respect to the other people in the bus— and for a second, would wear a smirk on his face, “But seriously, you’re really cute, you know.”

Your brows would lift itself along with the dilation of your eyes. He did sound genuine, but it was just a sheer compliment, one you didn’t hear often, but still, you took it as words he pulled out of the kindness of his heart.

That day, Wonbin got to school eight minutes late.

“Sorry, I forgot we were supposed to be early today.” he’d tell you during lunch time, barely having touched his food.

“It’s okay, be sorry to yourself. You’re being sent to detention today —eat your food Binnie.” you watched his hasty movements, taking a bite out of his already lukewarm food. “You should practice being early too.”

“Is that why you wanted to be early?” he’d reply as soon as he got the food down his throat. “Sungchan kept you out of detention, didn’t he?”

“Yeah but, he might get in loads of trouble if he kept covering for others.”

Wonbin only nods. “I guess I better be careful then.”

When Sungchan took him to that horrid room, he’d reflect on —not his actions, but rather, Sungchan’s. Wonbin could tell that he stuck around you often, so often that there was no way you couldn’t discern his mellow doting, but you didn’t notice at all, did you? And from the very conversation you had with Wonbin at the cafeteria, he’d conclude that maybe, you like —or at least was starting to like Sungchan as well, he took it as if you were only staying out of trouble just for Sungchan.

But there’s no way, Wonbin had only ever seen you with a rosey shade on your cheeks when you were with him, him and not Sungchan. He would be awakened from his nap by the detention monitor, and he would wake up with a new purpose. Like track and field, he was determined to stretch himself far enough to be able to reach you, to earn you once he pushed through the finish line tape.

For the next following days, he’d wake up before the chickens could cluck, and he got to the exit street first and waited for you. He kept up the routine, even when he was tired from p.e. or dance practice the previous day, he’d greet you with a sheepish grin like he was telling you that he beat you to being the proficient early bird.

When it had all started, Sungchan was utterly bewildered —but even more let down, but he’d never show it, to you especially. He had no reason to feel perplexed even, you saying that you waited for Wonbin the previous day on which he failed to show up should’ve been a hint that the four eyed kid —now not so four eyed— would stick around. For a while you would think he was excited to see Wonbin because he got more fired up, fired up in a positive way it seemed.

Little did you know, they’d softly scoff after one of them spoke. Now they were sure of their competition, and you would be oblivious of it all. Fortunately for Wonbin, you still had heart eyes for him, which Sungchan would catch up to quickly. He’d try to contest it by helping you with anything and everything, humorous pick-up lines evolving into actual and genuine compliments, and when he had the chance, he would approach you when he sensed the gloominess in your demeanor and turn your frown upside down. If there was anything that didn’t change, it was of course, the never-ending left twix or right twix query.

“Left twix or right twix?” he held the half-opened packet to your face.

Without sparing him an answer, you’d snatch the right twix. Sungchan’s bittersweet chuckle subsided quickly when you snapped the bar yourself, popping the shorter piece into your mouth first. “You never run out of twix bars huh?”

But he was surely running out of time. Perhaps his practice of splitting the bar in uneven lengths was foreshadowing, if you and Wonbin came from the same twix bar that he split up, that would mean you two are each other’s halves. Stupid —he felt stupid in love.

He had a twix bar and a dream, but Wonbin had you close already. Besides, what could a split bar of chocolate do? Everytime Wonbin saw that pathetic excuse of a conversation being pulled out of Sungchan’s bag, he made sure to bring you a nice and cold bottle of honey ice tea to wash down the sugars. It was your favorite too, now how could a twix bar ever compare to that?

Their antics would persist with time, still no one made any substantial efforts. And by the time you were in your senior year, you would think the two have just gotten closer, but with that they’d confront each other —prom night hung by a thread, and it was getting close.

“What’s your plan? gonna pull out a giant twix bar?” sickly was all it sounded to Sungchan.

“I already asked her. She said yes.” Wonbin’s assertive facade would break when he heard the certitude in Sungchan’s voice.

“She did?”

“Yeah, funny I used a twix bar too.”

A quick and defeated exhale would fall off of Wonbin’s lips that would soon display a weak smile, “Good for you.” he had lost races before, practically got used to the feeling, because he knew there was always room for improvement, and that there would be another race for him to win.

However, this race would have him limping. He does admit he was a little careless sometimes, still giving away his time to talk to a previous admirer before politely rejecting them, it wasn’t for a long time, it lasted for a good two days, but after those two days, it would take a while for Wonbin to win back your laughter —a while being a little over a week. For a minute he thought you were bound to grow apart by the end of highschool, but he’d almost go crazy over your shy glances and the slight stutter in your voice whenever he said something out of the best friend zone.

“You should’ve joined the school band, or the choir.” he says moments after he voiced out to you his concerns for college.

You sat up, lifting your head from his shoulder to answer him. “I considered, but I got too... scared.”

“How about this, promise me you’d be more open to showing off your talent to people —I know you love to sing, you’d love it even more when you realize through others how wonderful you actually are.” his hand would slowly move close to yours. “Performing might help you love yourself in some way.”

“Okay, okay, I promise.” you held out your pinky, and he’d intertwine his own with it.

“You have a beautiful voice. So, so beautiful.” you weren’t certain if he had intended for you to hear the last part, as it would be a little faint, but you heard it.

In a hospital, you’d be close to the state of losing life just by how rapid your heartbeat was going and how hot you were, matching the crimson spread across your face. Wonbin kept your pinkies intertwined, who knows, that might be the last one you’d have.

Prom night inched closer, and closer, and a week before you were growing anxious. Then news would fly by of a lucky girl, so lucky that she got Park Wonbin to ask her out to prom.

Let’s just say, you weren’t lucky at all. Devastating, heart wrenching, you had used every word in your mind’s dictionary to describe how you felt, at that point you couldn’t really run to your best friend to cry when he was the sole reason for your heartache, so to whom do you go to?

You sniffled, expelling a weak laughter through your stuffy nose before you’d say, “I want the left one.”

“Really? why?”

“Cause he left—” sniffle, “—he left me.”

Sungchan was only now realizing just how much you actually liked Wonbin. His guilt would arise, and he would look back on the moment he had deceived Wonbin to believing he already had you as his prom date when he hadn't even composed a proper plan to ask you out.

“Take it.” He gave you both bars.

“Do you not want any?”

“No, I want you to have it.”

You ate your heart away, tears dissolving into nothingness once you’ve had a sweet bite of his succor. Sungchan offered you his water bottle, and it was half full of warm lemonade. You’d never expect him to carry around a bottle of hot lemonade, still you’d drink it. It was perfectly tart and sweet, like comfort in a cup. Soon enough, you were feeling a bit more lively and somehow felt like you needed to pop him a question.

“Who’s the lucky girl you’re taking to prom?”

You were flustered to hear him laugh a bit as he spoke, “I don’t have one, actually.”

“Wait, really? not even one of the girls who held up those big signs that said ‘marry me jung sungchan’ in your football matches?”

“I’d only take a girl I actually like. I don’t want to pretend to be enjoying myself around someone I’m not familiar with.”

You didn’t know what was in the air that day, but for a while you’d glance out the window, there was a butterfly —you used to love them so much, as a kid you’d always be there to accompany them, it was his fault you’d grow out of it —that little boy. Your glee that was once those tiny fairy-like creatures soon took the form of that little boy, but why were you suddenly just reminiscing about that childhood crush you had? it wasn’t like you’d meet him again, he could be an olympic swimmer for all you know.

“I wanna be your lucky girl.” six small words were enough to make a mess of the big guy that he is.

The next thing you knew, he was picking you up from your house. “Shit.” he’d only seen a glimpse of you through your living room window but he was already fumbling, sweaty palms and all. And when you finally stepped out of the door, all eleven organ systems in his body would start malfunctioning. You were even more beautiful than those azaleas or the garden butterflies that flew over them. He was so lost in your grace that you had to snap him out of it.

“These looked like the ones we had back at my childhood home. They’re beautiful Chan, thank you.” you held the bouquet close enough to get a whiff of its scent.

They were azaleas, other than butterflies, it was these flowers that reminded him of you. Did he know what flowers they were the first time he saw them? no, but did he remember its appearance clearly enough for him to spot it within an array of several other flowers? Well of course he did.

“They remind me of you.”

“Wait, really? how?”

He wanted to say it —I used to swim very well— but for some reason, he held back. “Cause you’re beautiful, Y/n.”

It was the first time you’d actually feel your face heat up because of his compliments. However, this one sounded different, and soon you were shying away from his gaze, trying to hide the ridiculous color spreading throughout your face.

That night, you saw Wonbin with his date. For a while, you’d convince yourself that you were in the stage of acceptance, it was time to let go. But then, your efforts of avoiding him were vanquished, he only seemed to be appearing in your sight more and more throughout the night. He looked so… happy, happy like he was with you, but you were a couple meters apart, only giving each other abrupt glances.

The night would end, with your eyes brimmed with tears, face to face with Wonbin at the back of the gymnasium where no one else could see.

“I like you Wonbin.” was not what he expected at all.

He was already shaken by your watery eyes when you had asked him to talk for a while. “But, why’d you say yes to Sungchan?”

“Because you had already asked Lia out.” and I thought you would ask me —you could only finish it in your head, too afraid that you might just be going crazy.

“Wait, Sungchan told me you already were his date before I asked Lia.”

Suddenly, your tears would dry up. Your brows furrowed, feeling a great sense of betrayal. “I wasn’t. He's only my date now because he didn’t have a date either.” your voice became a little more stable, your anguish diminishing, and in its place would surface, the feeling of being misled.

“Y/n, I liked you too.” Wonbin, for a short while, would look out into the lights of the gymnasium that seeped through the ajar door.

Lia was waiting for him. While he had his moments of sorrow, he’d be by himself, and he’d find that she, a beam of sunlight, gave him enough motivation to look a little farther into the future. His feelings for you, while it did linger, would eventually dwindle from the thought that maybe you had been more fond of Sungchan after all. Now that it was refuted, all he really felt was confusion. His worries would lie with you, but mostly it was for the girl who he had told to wait for him, the one he had already made promises to.

“Let’s stay best friends, yeah?”

Just a little later, you'd be back at the table where you had left Sungchan, and he was still there, his doe eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “How’d it go?”

“Why would you do that?”

He instantly knew what you were talking about, and with an anxious breath of air, he said, “Y/n, I didn’t think he’d take it seriously.”

“Seriously?”

He was being honest though, he thought Wonbin would’ve double checked with you, he thought, if Wonbin really wanted to have you as his date, he could’ve had you instead of some other girl, right?

Now, there could be a billion ways to apologize, but chose to play safe, saving his confession for some other point in time. Forgiving him wouldn’t come as easy as he thought it’d be —what a man, too sure of himself for his own good. He took his time, being extra cautious and keeping his tranquility to take care of yours. You’d be nonchalant with him, something he’d never get used to, but even then, he was the same —if not more altruistic. For a while you’d feel bad for shunning him when he gave you most of his energy every day for you to reconsider his apology. But the whole ordeal at prom night was cauterized into your soul. Wonbin would only and quite literally be your best friend forever, not even really forever.

You wouldn’t really say your friendship with him was at the verge of falling apart, but you most certainly weren’t spending as much time as you used to with him. You wished you could bring the old times back, you wished you had asked him to prom yourself. But the chances were long gone, you were already in college, still with a handful folks you’ve gone to highschool with —and the most notable of the few, Sungchan and Wonbin.

Much to your dismay, Wonbin would stray a little further from you, taking a major that was way too different from yours. Though, you made sure to make time for each other whenever you could, in the meantime, you’d have your moments with the only person you felt comfortable enough to stick by.

“Left or right?”

Your first instinct has always been to grab the right bar. “I’ll be on my way, Wonbin just texted me that he’d been in the mall since five. I’ll see you for group study tomorrow!”

You were in a hurry because it was already five-thirty. You chose the right one again, but at least you weren’t rejecting his offer anymore, unlike when you haven't forgiven him for his deception. You’ve come to terms with just letting it go, and you believed he deserved your forgiveness because he treated you so well, maybe too well even. You saw a shift in Sungchan, he was a lot more —sincere? genuine? honest?— honestly, it’s quite hard to pinpoint which one it is, but he was all that and more.

Just letting it go was a painful process, especially when you still had to maintain your friendship with the very man that pulled on your heartstrings and cut them off. After everything that went down that night, you two became evidently distant, but only for a considerable while. Getting back to bff terms just came naturally and there was no actual talk about what happened that fateful night in your old highschool’s gymnasium.

At this point, you were so close to accepting the fact that you’re only fated to meet a friend just to be a friend and nothing more if you wish to be nothing less. Maybe the best friend rule was right, maybe you should’ve been more rational.

Your movie night with Wonbin would end with him giving you a very light hug, and words that would trigger your past misgivings, “I’m meeting Lia again tomorrow, just catching up, she’s at the neighboring campus, are you free tomorrow?”

You gripped tightly on the the straps of your bag, trying to look for something, anything that could possibly affect him the same way. “I’m pretty packed tomorrow, Sungchan and I are preparing for multiple tests coming this week.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Goodluck! and tell him I said good luck too.”

His unfazed visage left a stinging in your heart. Why did he have to grow his hair out to a length that made him look so alluring when he’s choosing to act unbothered by your sly hinting? sure, he wasn’t as beautiful as a bouquet of azaleas but still, it was unfair.

“You good? you seem very down today.”

You were thankful the group study was not just a blatant last-minute excuse even though it might’ve sounded like one when you spoke it.

“Did something happen last night?” Sungchan would quickly catch up with the shift of expression on your face, so he’d add, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I look fine, right? like, just okay?” he was taken aback with your question and your voice that just sounded so tired.

You just had your eyes on each other, after a while his eyes would move down slowly as he said to you, “I don’t know about everyone else, but I think you’re really pretty.” his eyes would shift back to yours that fluttered with his dulcet words. “I really love your eyes.”

He really did, he always have. He loved your watchful orbs that glistened against the harsh sunlight, lashes flitting with the morning breeze as your irises followed the butterflies.

That day was suddenly not so bad.

The times you’ve met with Wonbin to catch up would be a time for revelations. You’d learn that he’d made a lot of friends —quite a friend group they are, just a group of pretty and talented people. Wonbin seemed to be handed opportunities left and right, and you were happy for him, it’s just that when it was your turn to share the events of your life, you’d be empty handed, and occasionally would tell him that you’ve been busy with projects, tests and whatnot. You’d feel mortified, having him feel bad for you when everything was going well for him. Those meets would lead to gruesome mornings the following day, but luckily, Sungchan’s always there to mend you.

“Say ‘ah’” you’d part your lips, just enough for Sungchan to feed you a twix bar.

When the chocolate in your mouth was almost gone, you ask him, “Why didn’t you ask me if I wanted the left or the right one?”

“Well, did you want a specific bar?”

“Hmm, maybe? I mean, I would’ve chosen the left bar.”

It wouldn’t take you a while to familiarize yourself with Sungchan —him and his everything, his routine, his favorite things, his little habits, his comforting patterns, he was unlike any other guy you’ve met despite him appearing to be on the surface. He’d give you a sense of hope every time you felt like closing your eyes and falling into an eternal slumber, and eventually, he would become a reason for you to wake yourself up everyday.

While he’s explained to you the things you could still observe with your own eyes, you wanted to know more, to understand him a little better like he did so well with you. You were hesitant to go past standard questions, but he’d encourage you to continue asking him whatever. He answered every question, from his highschool life to his very upbringing. You’d learn that he wasn’t always a football player, he used to be a very well-equipped swimmer, and that the place his family used to live where you used to live, and that— wait, he was a swimmer? —you’d interrupt your train of thoughts. Sungchan wasn’t even there anymore, but you were still thinking about everything he had told you earlier that day.

You’d take your time to think again, about that little boy that lived across from your house. He was a swimmer, and what are the chances he’d become a football player? What are the chances that that little boy is now the not so little Jung Sungchan?

“Left or ri—” you’d bite the left twix from his hand, locking it in between your lips. “Oh, okay. Do you want the other one? I’m not really hungry right now.”

“No, no—” chew, “Have it. And while you’re eating, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, anytime. There’s no need for you to ask if it’s okay.” he took a bite out of the twix bar he held.

“What do you think of butterflies?” —he’d stop chewing for a while and his eyes would light up like a night sky of constellations.

“I’ve always thought they’re very pretty, but I know I could never love them as much as you did.” —so it wasn’t Susan or Sangchin, it’s Sungchan.

“Oh, so you didn’t become an olympic swimmer?”

Relief and felicity, there was nothing else in Sungchan’s mind and soul —nothing else but you. His butterfly-loving Y/n whose beauty surpassed even the most well-nourished of azaleas, everything about you, to him, was the closest God had ever gotten to perfection.

From then on, you would tell each other stories, the hows and whys of your detachment.

“We moved because of my dad’s work, but I was sad because I thought I'd never see you again ever —but you’re here now. I gotta admit though, I kinda forgot most of what we had then, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I understand. All that matters to me is you still love butterflies —I mean, that you’re still happy.”

“Thank you Chan. How about you? Why did your family move?”

“Well, I spent like, what? four years maybe? —I was practically begging my parents to move me to a better school, y’know, because…”

“Because?”

“I wanted to be with you. I love you Y/n, I always have, haven’t I told you?”

His confession was something you didn’t foresee, but he didn’t either. It was all unplanned, but he just felt like it was the right moment. Just you and him at the most tranquil site on campus. He wanted to lean in, to just close the already little distance that separated the two of you, but he didn’t. He wanted you to be willing, to give him an avowal that you felt the same. It was only then that you’d start seeing him beyond his brotherly demeanor.

Tomorrow would be the first day that Sungchan would fulfill his duties as your suitor.

First thing in the morning, he’d pick you up, three rhythmic knocks on your door was all it took for your heart to start tumbling and jumping from your chest. And everytime he opened the door, you’d be met with a pair of lively eyes that would become fervent when he finally had you close to him. You two were always together, so much so that it was hard to spot the two of you in two different places at the same time. At hectic times, you’d confine yourselves in each other’s presence. A twix bar and a smile was all and everything that could relieve the two of you of your frustrations.

Your birthday, unfortunately, was an exam day —something both you and him can’t miss for your life. You studied all morning, and before you could snooze away, he’d start to randomly play songs and dance around, dismissing the judgemental eyes that watched him caper. If that wouldn’t work, he’d lay his weight on you like a baby, pushing his nose against your cheek or shoulder. You just hoped you didn’t look too annoyed, because if you were being honest, you thought you would’ve never been able to answer anything on that test at all if it weren’t for him and his foolish, but sweet pokes.

After such a long day, you two would be sat next to each other at an empty stairwell in campus, somehow, for you it felt like sitting at your old front porch all over again.

“Happy birthday!”

“Not really happy, I feel like I got half of the answers wrong.”

“Oh? birthday!” once upon a time, Sungchan could only hope he’d be the one to evoke your sugared laughter through your hardships, but now, he had it all to himself which was more than he could ever ask for.

You watched as he fished a packet of twix, and with a cheeky smile, you’d snatch it from him. “Oh.” was all he could utter, dispensing another guffaw out of you.

You opened it, holding both bars with two hands. Holding out the left bar, “So imagine this is you.” and then the other, “And this is me—” he takes that bar out of your hand using his lips, munching away as you laughed, “Hey! I wasn’t done yet!”

He could only laugh with you, coughing slightly from the sudden sugar attacking his throat. “Okay, o—” cough, “Sorry.”

“What I was meaning to say was—” you took a minute to admire the boy in front of you who stared at you with such fondness and anticipation. “We’re like twix bars. This is gonna sound so cheesey…”

His chortle would make you shy away from his gaze, but he was quick to assure you, “Go ahead, cheesey or not, all that matters is that you mean it.” it was all jested words for encouragement, but he’d soon realize that his jovial advice would apply greatly.

“Well, I was gonna say, we’re like twix bars. Say one twix bar is you, and the other is me. If you break it in half and misplace it, you might just confused which half belongs to which half, so, technically speaking, no matter the consequence, we’d be each other’s other half.”

He had his lips pressed together, like supressing a laugh, but what it truly was is him fighting the urge to just jump you and shower you with all his affection.

“Don’t laugh!”

“I wasn’t gonna!”

“Yeah you were.”

“Were not, you’re just really cute, that’s all.” he’d gently pinch your cheek, but you remained expressionless, so he’d start poking it, progressively becoming a little more pushy, until— “Y/n—”

It took a lot of your power, but you were able to grab him by the wrist, the hand that poked on your face would now be linked with yours, not only that, but your lips were locked too.

“I love you too Sungchan.” “Your lips tastes like twix.” —you’d spew at the same time after pulling away from each other.

Your own laughters were the only thing you could hear, nothing else but each other would matter as your lips would soon attach to each other again.

“Wait, Sungchan, don’t you think we should be somewhere more, I don’t know, private?”

“Sorry, your lips just really taste like twix, I can’t help it.”

It wasn’t really because of the remnants of chocolate on your lips, he just wanted to go all in, as if he already hadn’t gotten you all to himself at that point.

Though, it would be quite an interesting story to tell. Jung Sungchan, who used to swim very well, met a girl who loved to watch butterflies from their front porch. He fell in love, but she wouldn’t reciprocate after a few fifty twix bars. Maybe Wonbin was the one who’d been foreshadowing with precision, because Sungchan had a twix bar, and a dream in the form of you. And he hoped that maybe, some time in the future, you’d be watching butterflies at the front porch of the house you would share in morning and bask in each other’s love for the rest of the day, and maybe forever too.

End.

#riize #briize #riize fanfic #riize au #riize x reader #riize fluff #riize sungchan #riize wonbin #jung sungchan #park wonbin #riize imagines #Spotify

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spider-stark · 1 year

Text

Anti-Hero // Hero x Villain Trope // pt. 2 //

Previous Part

Summary - Reader and Peter are both living double lives. Spider-Man is considered a national hero, while the reader is viewed as a criminal. In their personal lives, they're both head over heels for one another, their friendship finally blossoming into something more. But as vigilantes? It's complicated

Warnings - Blood, mentions of kidnapping/abuse, knife violence,

Word Count - 4.6k

Your foot bounced against the footrest of the barstool you were sat in, your patience wearing thinner and thinner with each passing minute. Another glance at your phone as it laid face up on the counter, confirming that it had now been twenty-five minutes past when you and Peter were supposed to meet.

Five more minutes, you told yourself, only five.

Peter Pan’s doorbell chimed as soon as the thought crossed your mind, as if Peter knew that you were getting painfully close to assuming that he had ditched you.

“Y/n!” He sounded like he had run several blocks just to get here, gasping for breath as he jogged over to where you sat. Your foot stilled at the sight of him, the anxiety of being stood-up immediately dissipating.

He slid onto the stool beside you, still struggling to steady his breathing. You grinned at him, and the sight only made his lungs feel tighter. “You’re late, Parker.”

A knowing tone, yet so light and playful, and it somehow held the power to wash away all the defeats he had faced today. It was one of the things Peter loved most about you, the way that you could melt all of his stress away, without even lifting a finger.

“I’m sorry.” He choked the apology out between labored breaths, his body finally settling enough to let him try to speak.

While Peter hadn’t run several blocks to get here, he did frantically swing a few dozen blocks, his muscles screaming out in pain the entire time. He was thankful that the annoying girl from earlier had been telling the truth when she said he would recover from the toxin, but he only managed to regain control over his motor skills with enough time to change clothes and come straight to Peter Pan’s to meet you.

She also could have mentioned that he would feel like he got hit by a bus afterwards.

“I started to think you were standing me up.” You admitted.

“Never!” Peter blurted the word out, squinting slightly under the fluorescent lights that only added to the pounding in his head. “Today just felt kind of… paralyzing, I guess.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at his own pun, knowing it would fly right over your head. “Had a hard time getting myself moving.”

Concern suddenly washed over your features, brows pulling together. “Do you feel sick or something?”

You didn’t wait for his answer, leaning forwards on your stool and placing the back of your hand against his forehead. The sudden contact had a blush creeping up his neck, his face beginning to turn red. “You do feel a bit warm.” You hummed with a frown. “You should’ve texted me if you didn’t feel good, we could’ve rescheduled.”

“No!” Another too-quick response, only deepening the crimson shade now painting his cheeks.“I feel great, promise.” He awkwardly cleared his throat, trying to sound a little less, well, excitable. “Just a rough day, ya know? Nothing worth rescheduling over! But I’m still really sorry that I’m late.”

Peter already wanted nothing more than to throw that sorry criminal in jail, if not for being a thief than for attempting to ruin his plans with you. God, they knew just how to get under his skin. He tried to shake the thoughts of them from his mind, wanting to focus entirely on you, his mind free of irritating distractions.

Today might have kicked his ass, but there was no way he would miss out on coming to see you. He struggled to make time for ‘Peter Parker’ things while managing to balance his duties as Spider-Man, but when it came to you? He would gladly shove Spider-Man to the side when possible.

“I get it.” You reassured him, a soft smile that had his heart melting. “My day wasn’t that great either, but that’s just how it goes sometimes, yeah?”

It really hasn't been a great day for you. Getting away from Spider-Man was the only thing that had gone right today. The job you were on earlier when Spidey had caught up to you ended up being a total bust after faulty intel led to your target getting away before you could even make a move. It threw things off for you—left you without a profit and forced you to evaluate your sources.

“Well,” you cleared the brief silence between the two of you, “do you wanna get started?”

Peter only stared at you, those beautiful brown eyes filled with little other than complete confusion as his mind lagged behind. You giggled at how dumbfounded he looked, and while he was slightly embarrassed, he also savored the sound of your laugh.

“On studying.” You clarified with your index finger tapping against the garishly colored chemistry textbook laid on the counter. “Our test is next week and I really don’t wanna fail Mr. Harrington’s class.”

Peter’s mouth formed a perfect O shape, his head nodding along as you reminded him of the reason why the two of you were meeting up today. Truth be told, he had been purposely letting himself forget about the ‘study’ part of your study date.

“Oh, yeah.” He shook his head a bit, keeping his gaze focused on the coffee-stained countertop in hopes that you wouldn’t see that he was still blushing. “Sorry, I’m still not all here yet.”

“We can still reschedule, ya know? If you’re just not feeling up to this right now.” You hesitantly reminded him, silently hoping that he would say no, that he would insist that he stay. It had been days since the two of you made these plans, and you had been looking forward to spending time with him.

“No, really, I’m fine!” Peter answered your silent pleading, adding a smile. “I think we need to be on page 279.”

You nodded in response, returning the expression before moving to flick through the pages of the book.

To be honest, Peter really couldn’t comprehend why you needed his help to pass Harrington’s class. In nearly every other subject you were at the top of your class, serving as one of his biggest academic competitors at Midtown. What he didn’t know, however, was that the only reason you needed his help was because of certain distractions in class.

Chemistry was the only class the two of you had together, and unfortunately that meant that the majority of it was spent with you staring at the back of Peter’s head and barely listening to a word Mr. Harrington said (too busy daydreaming about what it would be like to run your fingers through his gorgeous wavy hair). Your little crush had ultimately led to you just barely passing the class, which had turned out to be quite convenient, as it served as an excuse to ask Peter for help and get the chance to hangout with him outside of school.

“Oh c’monnn.” You groaned as you examined the page, immediately filled with dread when you read scientific notation printed in big bold letters.

“I promise it’s really not that hard!” Peter tried to assure you, hiding his amusement at your dramatic reaction as you pressed your forehead against the book, little sounds of protests still falling from your mouth. “You’ve got this, mkay? I’ve got full faith in you.”

“As sweet as that is, Parker,” your close proximity to the paper muffled your speech as you refused to face him, “math is actually my arch-nemesis. I’m horrible at it.”

Besides Spider-Man, you jokingly thought to yourself.

“It’s not nearly as bad as it sounds though!” Peter continued to make promises that did little to ease your dread. “Let’s just give it a try.”

You turned your head to the side just a bit, cheek still flush against the book as you looked over at him from the corner of your eye. “Do I even need to know how to do this? Like, if I don’t pursue a career in chemistry, will I ever need to actually understand scientific notation?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Give me an example.”

“I don’t know, what if you wanna figure out how many drops of water are in a river? You’d need scientific notation.”

You furrowed your brows at him, although still amused by the response. “Why would I ever wanna know that?”

Peter’s shoulders lifted into a shrug, an action he swiftly regretted as a burning pain coursed through his forearm, a reminder of the wound he sustained earlier that hadn’t quite healed yet. He gritted his teeth at the sensation, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Whoa.” You quickly straighten your posture, staring at him cautiously. “Are you good?”

He forced out a quiet mhm sound as he bit down on the inside of his cheek, desperately hoping the feeling would subside. Peter wasn’t used to his healing abilities being so impaired, yet another side effect of the toxin, and he had forgotten just how much it hurt to be injured.

“Are you sure?” You asked again, clearly not convinced by his less-than-impressive attempt at hiding his discomfort. “Is it your shoulder or back or something?”

Peter felt your hand coming towards him, his Spider-senses snapping him out of his current agony as you hovered just inches above the covered wound. He reached out and grabbed your wrist so suddenly that it made you gasp, shocked by how fast he had moved.

“Sorry.” He apologized, immediately loosening his grip. Your eyes remained wide, the shock still evident alongside a bit of suspicion. “I think I pulled something in my shoulder the other day and it’s still sorta tender to touch, ya know?”

He already felt guilty for the lie, but it was the best he could come up with to ensure you wouldn’t try to reach for him again. Coming up with lies was already difficult for him, and he had no clue how he’d be able to craft a story for how he ended up with a giant slice taken out of his arm if you found out.

“You really have the worst luck, don’t you?” You mused, your hand retreating back to your lap as you spoke. “I still have trouble believing that last week you accidentally ran into that streetlight and gave yourself a black eye!”

Peter laughed nervously, thinking back to the moment. Funny enough, he hadn’t really been lying about that one. Sure, he had been swinging and not running, but he did hit a streetlight. “What can I say? I’m just not the most coordinated.” He fidgeted in his seat, an action you equated to embarrassment.

In reality, the action had been fueled by anxiety. There had been too many close calls lately, too many instances where he had to make up an excuse for a bruise or a cut or whatever else, especially with the new girl running around. He was running out of lies to tell, and more than that, he was getting tired of having to lie.

“Well at least try and be more careful, alright?” You teased him, though your concern for him was still evident. While he might’ve hated lying about his injuries, he did quite enjoy the way you’d dote over him whenever you’d discover a new one, always desperate for your affection in whatever way he could receive it. “If I’m gonna pass chemistry then I’m gonna need my tutor in one piece!”

Peter grinned, returning your teasing tone, “If you’re gonna pass chemistry then you’re gonna need to learn scientific notation.”

You jutted your bottom lip out in a pout, a low groan following suit. “Fine.” You reached for the book, sliding it closer to the two of you while scooting your stool a bit closer to Peter’s. “But you owe me.”

“I owe you?” He shot you a bewildered stare, struggling not to laugh.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“I’m the one helping you pass chemistry.” He noted, shifting his index finger from himself to you as he spoke. “So technically wouldn’t you be the one that owes me?”

“Nope. Pretty sure I was right. You owe me.” You feigned complete seriousness, mocking him by pointing your finger in his direction.

He decided to play along, electing to ignore the fact that you’re just procrastinating studying. “Okay, fine. So what do I owe you?”

You paused for a moment, a mischievous look appearing on your face, causing Peter to raise a brow at you. “A date.” You declared confidently, taking advantage of the opportunity. “A real one. No school stuff or anything.”

Peter felt his heart skip in his chest.

“Deal.”

Maybe learning scientific notation was worth it.

Coming to Queens was a risky move, one that you didn’t like to make often. It was one of two places in the city that you liked to avoid—the other being Hell’s Kitchen—in an attempt to try and avoid running into anyone with devil horns or spiderwebs.

Luckily, your line of work typically kept you out of the ‘problem’ areas of the city. The majority of your targets were New York's wealthiest, the kind of people that wouldn’t so much as dream of stepping foot outside of Manhattan.

You much preferred meeting them in their own territory, finding it all the more enjoyable to toy with them in the places where they felt safest. But, sometimes, that just wasn’t a possibility for one reason or another. Despite that, bringing your business into Spider-Man’s self proclaimed home territory was always a dangerous move.

In this case, though, it was unavoidable.

For months you had kept a close eye on councilman Rupert Fletcher, a man that many others in your circle had tried to go after, only to fail time after time. At first, you struggled to understand how so many accomplished thieves had somehow been stumped on such a painfully average man.

Despite Fletcher's status as a councilman, he was of little importance, his wealth being the only thing to put a target on his back. On the surface, he lived a rather average life of a man in his position.

He owned a sizable penthouse on the Upper East Side that he shared with his wife and their french bulldog. A quick peek at his schedule revealed that his weekdays were typically spent in the office, the deviation being an occasional conference. His weekends were always the same, a trip to the country club in Spring Valley to decompress and unwind.

There were sizable gaps in his schedule, several windows of time where his apartment was left unoccupied, with his weekend trips to the country club and his wife’s recent trip back to her home country for family matters—essentially meaning that Rupert Fletcher was every thief’s wet dream. Yet, even the craftiest of them all came out empty handed, claiming the man’s home was unusually bare. There was nothing of much importance in it, no safes filled with cash, no lavish jewelry. It was painfully basic, appearing as little more than a model home. Every one that dared to go after him all left the same: empty handed.

You started to think you hit a dead end with him, after questioning every single person in your circle, desperate to dig up something on him. That is until a tiny girl by the name of Red made an offhand comment, one she clearly thought was of little importance.

“The best I got out of it was this Dukes of Hazzard keychain,” she flashed a disturbing grin, the street lights illuminating the silver caps on her teeth, “better than nothin, right?”

It was better than nothing. A lot better.

While the keychain itself was rather stupid and not something you cared about, there had been a dingy key dangling off of it, a tag attached that read: StorageMart #813. At first you considered the thought that it had belonged to Red, but given the fact that a pristine Bugatti key hung alongside it, you quickly decided that it must’ve been Fletchers.

That same night, you broke into the office of the StorageMart that night, combing through their records until you found payment receipts for unit 813. It hadn’t shocked you when you saw it was purchased under a different last name: Petrov. You recognized it as his wife’s maiden name, a fact learned through your prior research on him. With confirmation that it was his unit, you wasted no time with swiping a key from the utility office and heading straight for the unit.

Its contents were a mystery to you, your imagination running wild. What could it be? Diamonds? Gold bars? A Dukes of Hazzard boxset? You weren’t sure, and truthfully, you didn’t care all that much as long as it was something of value. You didn’t know what he was hiding in the unit, but what you did know was that Rupert Fletcher was a bad man, and he deserved to pay for it.

And discovering what he had worked so hard to keep secret only cemented that fact.

The first thing you saw was a mattress laid out on the cold cement floor, a tattered blanket with the thickness of a sheet of newspaper spread across it. Beside it was a dingy orange bucket, the scent of what was inside practically overwhelming your senses entirely. You almost considered slamming the door shut, almost decided to cut your losses and get out of there before you emptied the contents of your stomach on the floor and left evidence of your presence.

But then, you heard it. A faint voice, small and fragile, the words in a language you didn’t know. You didn’t need to understand what she said to know who she was, though, to know that you had finally caught Fletcher in his biggest crime of all.

A bit of gossip tends to go a long way. It took a bit of work to find out where the women in Fletcher’s wife’s inner circle like to hang out, but it turned out to be well worth the struggle as all of them sat amongst themselves at lunch and chatted about how she had been threatening divorce months prior, and their theories of what he had done to her upon finding out, entirely unaware of the listening ear just a table over. A bit more digging led to gaining even more intel on Fletcher’s past tumultuous relationships, only furthering the suspicions.

“Ms. Petrov?” You purposely opted to avoid use of her married name, hoping that it would indicate to her that you were there to help, not to cause further harm.

The woman was emaciated and looked as if she were just days away from death, and you struggled to hide your shock. “I’m gonna get you out of here, alright?” A promise you intended on keeping.

A huge part of you wanted to take the story public, to take pictures of the unit before he could destroy any evidence she was here and send it straight to the Daily Bugle. Jameson was an asshole, but he was never one to miss out on a good story. But, despite your desire to see Fletcher’s mugshot on the news, you bit your tongue.

It wasn’t your story to share. And, even if Petrov had wanted to come clean and expose him to the world, men like Fletcher were rarely forced to deal with the consequences of what they’d done. He was too wealthy, too well-known, too powerful.

Which was exactly why you were back here in Queens, at the same shabby StorageMart you had pulled Fletcher’s wife from just a few days ago. She was safe, staying in a women's shelter upstate, already beginning to plan her trip back home where she would be away from Fletcher for good. There was just one thing she needed before she could make her escape.

“Thanks Rupey.” You sang over your shoulder, lazily wiping the ruby stained blade against your pants, “It was a pleasure doing business with ya.”

He coughed a few obscenities in your direction, but made no move towards you as you headed towards the door of unit 813, too weak to move from where he laid on the floor. Everyone liked to put on a good show at the end, run their mouth just enough to make themselves feel like they put up a fight. You usually ignored it. Usually.

“How much did you take?” He spat in your direction, your footsteps falling silent as you paused by the door.

You didn’t like his tone, the arrogance in his voice, his domineering attitude. You were a bit shocked that he had any snide remarks left in him, and even more shocked that he could even form words after you knocked two of his teeth loose.

“I took what I needed.” You assured him, your own tone calm and collected in comparison to his. “And then some. Gotta make a profit in this business somehow, Rupe.”

His wife had told you he would be here tonight, promised that he came by every other day just to chuck some food in her direction and try to convince her to reconsider her decision to leave him. Waiting for him was easy, since she said that Fletcher liked to stick to a tight schedule, and incapacitating him was even easier.

A quick slash to the forehead, just a half an inch above his brows. It was the easiest way to stun someone, there were enough capillaries in the forehead to cause profuse bleeding that would eventually impair their vision, making it even easier to keep control over the situation. Immobilizing him wasn’t hard either, a quick jab to his right leg, maybe two or so inches deep. Deep enough that the average person wouldn’t be able to keep their weight on it without passing out from the pain, but nowhere deep enough that he would bleed out from the wound.

After that, it was as easy and slipping his phone out of his pocket, forcing him to use touch-ID to get into his bank account (threatening to cut off someone's thumb makes it quite easy to get them to follow instructions) and then transferring a couple hundred thousand dollars to an untraceable bank account you had a friend set up for his wife. Fletcher had been the one to ruin her life and damn near kill her, it was only fair that he was the one to pay for her new one, especially if that was the only justice she’d ever get.

“They’re gonna find you–” Fletcher swore, his strained voice growing louder as you moved to open the door, “I have cameras set up in here! There’s cameras all over this fucking property! The cops are gonna find you!”

You gave him a quick glance over your shoulder, your mask still secured over your face, confident that the NYPD would find nothing that could trace back to you. Not any more than they already had, that is. “You’re not gonna tell them shit.” You laughed at him, rolling your eyes, “You think I wasn’t smart enough to hack into your stupid security cameras and duplicate the footage? I have hours of it, Fletcher. Hours of you torturing your wife, keeping her caged up in here like some sort of animal.” He didn’t respond, barely moved a muscle as his face paled. “You tell a single soul what happened here tonight, and I’ll send the footage off to every news station in New York. Got it?”

You didn’t need to wait for confirmation, aware that men like Fletcher would do anything to avoid bad press. He would make up a story, the same way all of them did. A mugging gone wrong or some stupid lie, anything to paint himself the victim and keep his wrongdoings away from the public. You looked forward, savoring the feeling of the cold Winter air kissing your skin as you let the door slam shut behind you, relaxation washing over you at the thought of finally getting to go home.

“Do I wanna know what you were doing in there?”

Well, so much for relaxation.

You glanced up, immediately noticing Spider-Boy crouched on the unit across from 813. “What are you even doing here?” You asked him, an exasperated groan following after. “Like, seriously, do you have a tracker on me or something? I’m gonna get you one of those little collars with a bell on it, the kind for cats, ya know? That way you at least can’t sneak up on me.”

Spider-Man narrowed his eyes at you, and your lip curled in response. You didn’t like the way the whites of his mask moved to match his expressions, finding it a bit unnerving. “What were you doing?” He asked again, ignoring your previous sarcastic remarks.

“Why don’t you go look for yourself?” You jutted your thumb over your shoulder, pointing towards the unit door where Fletcher’s groans of pain should still be faintly heard. “Cause I’m a bit tired from doing your job and all, so I’d rather skip the small talk tonight and head home.”

He scoffed, still perched atop the building, staring down at you. “Doing my job?”

You nodded. “Uh, yeah. Did I stutter or something?”

“How were you doing my job?” He rephrased his question, annoyed by your constant habit of avoidance.

“Do your own research for once, Spider-Kid.” You told him lazily, shaking your head as you began to continue your walk towards the exit gates of the StorageMart. “Maybe then you’ll realize we aren’t quite as different as you think.”

The nickname annoyed Peter, but he tried to shake it off, aware that it was just another way you tried to get under his skin and throw him off. He swiftly jumped from the building, landing directly in your path to keep you from leaving. Before his feet even touched the ground you already had a knife drawn, as if you had predicted his movement.

“While I commend you for wanting to stop me,” you spoke slowly, the tip of your blade pointed at his throat—it was an empty threat, as you knew that you would never strike what would most certainly be a fatal blow against him, although he didn’t know that and chose to keep a safe enough distance. “There’s a man in there that’s in desperate need of medical attention. I suggest you run off to be a hero and get him to a hospital.”

Peter’s eyes shifted towards the unit, his amplified hearing allowing him to hear Fletcher’s heartbeat from where he stood. You were right; and while he didn’t sound like he was on the verge of death, he needed a hospital, and a fight with you was one he wasn’t confident he would win—not quick enough, at least, to justify leaving a wounded man to suffer.

“We’re very different.” He promised you, taking a step back to show that he was backing down. To show that he was a hero, that he would prioritize a civilian's life over stroking his own ego by attempting to capture you right now. The two of you were nothing alike—Peter worked to protect this city, locking criminals up and fighting alongside the Avengers. And you? “You’re a villain.”

You snorted at his dramatic choice of words, still armed and prepared to strike if he made a move towards you. He didn’t, though, taking a few more steps backwards towards Fletcher’s unit.

“Villain’s such a harsh word.” You clicked your tongue, chastising him, making his blood boil as he had to use all the restraint in his body to prevent himself from going after you as you readied yourself to dart for the exit.��

“I prefer anti-hero.”

tag list: @llovergirlll @hpchosen1 @vintageoldfashion

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jungle-angel · 11 months

Note

I NEED 2. “I um… I made you dinner” with Rhett pretty please 🥺

My love, I've been thinking about this all day long, you don't even know how hard (lol).

"Alright, everybody put your chairs up on your desks and make sure you have everything," you told your fifth graders. "Bus students, you know where to go."

The wooden chairs and desks in your classroom clunked against each other as your fifth graders put them up, gathering their coats and backpacks from the cubby spaces and hooks in the back of the classroom. Thank God today had been a half day and that your main lesson block on math was finally over. You swore that if you had to look at another fraction one more time, you were gonna go insane.

"Mrs. Abbot!" chirped one of your students. "I think I'm missing my bus tag."

"It's right here Jaime," you told him, clipping the yellow tag to the top strap of his backpack.

Your students came to shake your hand and say goodbye before they left the room, heading to the front of the school to wait for the busses or their parents. Your phone suddenly began vibrating in your back pocket and when you saw the contact picture, you knew it was Rhett.

"What's up Grumpy?" you joked.

"You've still got a half day right darlin?" he asked.

"Yeah and I'm on my way to get Amy and Hannah, what's going on?" you asked. "Did another calf come?"

"Nope, I've got a little surprise for you."

You made a face, wondering what sort of hair-brained thing your husband had been up to, being home alone all day with Tatum and Tanner. "Alright I'll be home in twenty."

"See ya then sweet cheeks," Rhett replied before hanging up.

You headed out the front doors of the school and down the cobbled path to the early-ed building, the last of the fall leaves just having fell from the quaking aspens near the play yard. Out of all the buildings on the school campus, this one was by far your favorite.

You walked right through the creaky front gate and up the steps that lead into the building, the kindergarten class immediately on your right and the preschool one to your left. There were only a few kids left in Amy's class, most of them already having taken the bus home, but you knew that in less than a few minutes, they too would head for home.

"Amy, sweetheart, Momma's here," her teacher called happily.

Amy ran right to you, giggling up a storm as she threw her arms right around your waist. "You ready to go home?" you asked her.

"Yeah!" she chirped.

You thanked her teacher and let her grab her coat from the hallway cubbies while Amy proudly showed you the little symbol she had chosen on a painted stone to show that it was hers......a bull kicking up his back legs.

You gathered up Hannah from the preschool room and led the girls out to the dirt lot, loading them up in the truck and buckling them in before heading for home. It was only eleven-thirty in the morning, but the earlier you could get home and get everything out of the way, the better, seeing as you and Rhett had a long vacation to look forward to.

Finally you reached home and unloaded the girls, the two of them charging into the warm and cozy house to kick off their little fuzzy ugg boots and strip off their hats and coats to go play down in the basement playroom. Yet a rather spicy and enticing smell had started to waft from the kitchen and a fire already crackling away in the living room fireplace.

"You're home early," Rhett chuckled as he poured a little bit of milk into his coffee mug.

"Half day," you said, dumping your back on the hallway bench. "And thank God. Our math main lesson block is finally over and I don't have to worry about it anymore."

Rhett laughed again as he lifted the lid off the crockpot and filled the whole kitchen with a spicy and herby scent. "Is that my little surprise?" you asked with a sly grin.

"I um.......I made you dinner," Rhett said as his cheeks began to go hot.

"You made me dinner?"

"I'm not the greatest cook in the world darlin but....."

"Rhett, how can you say that?" you laughed. "You made a prime rib last Christmas that had your godfather begging for the recipe."

Rhett laughed a little bit. In all the years you had been married, you still thought Rhett was an excellent cook, no matter what.

All day long, you let the chicken legs cook in the crockpot until they were practically falling off the bones. You, Rhett, his parents and the kids all ate until there were no leftovers to be had, surprised and grateful by Rhett's sweet little gesture.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #amy abbott #outer range

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theherdofturtles · 4 months

Text

Fandom: Hetalia Prompt: therapy session Rating: G Word Count: 6,412 England goes to family therapy and regrets everything. Especially when Ireland shows up. This had more comedy in it than I expected. @badthingshappenbingo

It was in Haltwhistle, in a grim grey gloom of early morning mist from an earlier morning drizzle. The pale street was darkened by the moisture, and the sun added a silvery tinfoil glow to the cold concrete through the thinning clouds. England was waiting outside the building, about six minutes late to the appointment.

An all-morning headache throbbed behind his eyes from what he knew was to come and England stared dead at the doorknob.

His fingers touched the cold brass and opened the door painfully slow, resonating every ear scraping squeak of the hinge through the waiting room inside.

This was not appreciated by the blank-faced human, who stood behind the counter, and ever-so-slightly dropped their fake smile.

England closed the door behind him, approached, and tapped his fingers on the desk.

“Sir Kirkland,” the human nodded. They were straight laced, holding a practiced pearly smile that anyone could choke on. Every non-English human looked almost exactly the same to him… this one was no different. German. England only entertained this for Germany's sake.

The person clicked diligently on their computer, then gestured for him to follow, “right this way." They stepped in front of him to lead him to a hidden, deeper door down the hall. "I must remind you that you are not permitted to harm any living being in these premises or carry a weapon.”

England scowled. He wasn’t unreasonable, he asked beforehand to be certain was all. Having no weapon made him feel naked.

They came to a door, which had the homeliness of an office space. On the white, plexiglass, clouded window door were the printed and unimpressive block words, "The work you do today determines where you will be tomorrow." England stared at it with half-lid judgement for a moment.

England reluctantly steeled himself for the upcoming migraine. It took him a moment to mentally prepare, focusing on the words being spoken in two different, but familiar, accents behind the door. The memories came back, the sentiments, listening very carefully. Then he pulled himself forward. The human opened the door.

“Take a seat…” the human said.

He entered with a sigh, and sat down with a firm resolve.

"This was your idea," Scotland growled.

England scowled.

This was a mistake, was what. England wished he'd never brought it up, he wished he could go back in time and slap himself with a brick. Who thought any of them were capable of sitting still and talking about feelings for an hour? Why did he consider it could even help? Some things were so broken they didn't deserve fixing.

And now the three of them were flopped onto light grey therapy couches rather ungentlemanly, sinking into the cushions as if throwing off a long day. Unfortunately, this day wasn’t even close to finishing and he couldn't deign himself to treat this activity with respect.

"It was a good idea," Wales encouraged. His eyes were brighter than everyone elses and he swayed as if dancing in his chair.

Of course he thought it was a good idea. He'd given England the final push to mention it to the Prime Minister. He couldn't backtrack, now. This was Wales's fault, too.

"Blame Wales." England tossed his brother under the bus. "He said I should bring this off-hand idea to the PM."

Scotland tossed Wales a betrayed, questioning look, as if asking for a defense or for the real truth… maybe he was even willing Wales to give him a lie.

Wales gave him the sheepish, apologetic half-shrug he didn't want. "It was a good idea."

Scotland rolled just enough to face away from both of them, unseen, looking suddenly rather weary behind a blank shuttered mask.

Wales went to stare at his feet, and England went to stare out the window.

The day was middling in more ways than one and if the therapist didn't show up soon a war would start. The peace of the British Isles was unhappily in the hands of one human with a measly pHD. Sorrows. Story of the modern world. England should've stayed in bed today. A thousand things that were better left alone were spinning in his head, and above all those writhing half-baked thoughts hung the rather large and block-like fear of potentially having to share the thousand things that were better left alone.

This truly had been a miserable idea.

When the thought to try therapy had first struck him, it had been suggested by a human being at a pub and drunkenly accepted as sound. He'd written the whole idea out in barely legible letters on a stained napkin: a two way plan to be a normal family. He'd almost tossed the paper into a bin the following day, certainly would've if Wales hadn't found it first, managed to read it, and then went and mentioned it to one of his former EU peers. After which the news travelled down low through the ranks. 'Very mature,' they said. Everyone was shocked. Out of character. Then the boss found out and considered the gains. Everyone except England loved watching him squirm his way into an awkward family dinner, but then he felt a need to prove them all wrong.

The door opened. He casually looked up, expecting the therapist. Instead England almost choked.

A man strode in with the doctor, mid-speech. "The lads caught the fish foaming at the mouth, thinking it was cursed. Once beached they pelted it till it dried out in the sun and I haven't seen so many spiders in one place since," the last man England wanted to see explained with flapping hands to the therapist.

Ireland. In all his lacking glory.

He hadn't taken his tweed coat off inside, he kept one hand shoved into a pocket and had a pair of sunglasses sitting on the bridge over his nose. Mind you they were inside while the weather was currently clouded. His dark red hair scattered windswept over his face and was fully unbrushed as if he'd rolled from bed and then let a cow lick it for good measure.

How was he here?!

England gaped and stared and Scotland and Wales jumped to their feet like proper siblings.

"Ciarán!" Wales shouted. He nearly tripped over the table to clasp Ireland's outstretched hand, giving it a hearty shake before falling into a sideways hug. "Whatever are you doing here?"

"A rumor caught the butt of my lung and I couldn't miss a day as dour as this." Ireland turned to grin. He quickly found England, and looked down on him. He flipped his useless sunglasses up to meet England's cold, sharp eyes. "He's destroyed, surely," Ireland muttered.

Just because he signed for therapy didn't make him destroyed.

Scotland grinned and said something fully unintelligible to England, but which made Ireland laugh.

He didn't know what they said. Habit knew it had to be at his own expense, though. He straightened in his seat and squared his shoulders. “What is it?! Say it to my face,” England growled.

“Would you like to see a health specialist?” Ireland asked.

“What does that mean?!” England pushed himself up from his comfortable spot on the couch.

But nobody got another word into the budding fight. At least, nobody worthwhile. The human being who'd been given the grand task of fixing the mental discord of the United Kingdom plus Ireland, apparently, politely interceded.

"Thank you all for coming today. I am doctor Christal. If you are prepared to begin, I will start by asking if you know about different psychotherapy techniques, or if you are fully new to therapy," the human said. She carried herself tall and casual, with a rather impartial tone that was obviously trained. It must be their default response to derail conflict. England felt he was three steps ahead of this human, and therefore, he felt he'd be too intelligent for therapy to work on. He felt the discord between his siblings would be too much to fix, anyway, which added two more reasons to why this had been a terrible idea.

“Yes… I'm sure I know the basics…” England sat down once again. He never had to do a thing to his siblings, yet his actions were always received negatively. That was fine with him… he'd lived with it for years, he could live with it longer. Especially after the day inevitably fixed nothing.

His siblings also came to sit, two to teach side of the room, turning the therapy lounge into a four way staring competition.

Wales sat next to England, quietly in the corner and carefully keeping the attention undrawn to himself. Scotland faced across from England with every limb on his body crossed, and Ireland, facing Wales, sat with his head leaned back over the top of the couch letting the air dry his tongue.

"Everyone's progress in treatment is subjective," the therapist said. She sat at the head of the table, turning their staring square into a five-star circle of tension. "And the best results come if you do your best to cooperate. Today, I would be happy to support you in addressing improving meaningful family communication, but you should not be discouraged if progress is, at first, slow. Learning how to communicate in any relationship can be difficult."

Scotland had a great interest in the wall; Wales listened intently to the therapist; Ireland had an incomprehensible smirk on his face.

He just knew he was going to hate this day forever.

"Structured exercises that encourage communication can benefit relationships. The exercise I've prepared today can help start to strengthen abilities of expression. Each of you will be given an equal number of legos-"

"legos?" England raised a brow. "What do toys have to do with anything?"

"Honest to God, this'll be a great game," Ireland promised without looking at England. His head still lay tilted back, still staring at the ceiling with his stupid smirk. Under his sunglasses England had no clue if his eyes were closed for a nap or wide alert.

"Shut up, you weren't supposed to even be here," England retorted. Ireland clearly wasn't taking this seriously. He didn't know how or why Ireland had even shown up if it was a game to him, but England would get to the bottom of it. One of his brothers must have tipped Ireland off to this event… he suspected Wales. Wales tossed him under the bus and a tooth for a tooth would do the trick. England wouldn't let any of them get away with this.

"Your boss gave me an invite," Ireland simply said.

"Lies."

The therapist patiently waited, but the therapist also did not care for their spat. "I will explain their usage in a moment," she said, cutting between them, back on track. "The player who starts first will draw a card, read it aloud, and respond to it. If two or more other players decide the response is appropriate, the player gets to place a lego piece on their base. If less than two decide the response is appropriate, no lego piece is placed. Play moves to the next player. The next player draws, and we repeat. We play until one player has his base covered, and that will be the winner."

"What's the prize?" Scotland finally pitched in. He briefly put his attention into the room, dragging his brooding thoughts from whatever depth of detail on the wall they'd fallen into.

"One month of no government paperwork."

Audibly someone sucked in a breath.

One month of no paperwork? England hated paperwork. Paper cursed the modern world, he missed being able to do anything and go anywhere without filling out boxes or filing requests. Back then, the king or queen just waved everything off, the perfect system. Who would do his paperwork while he was free? Decidedly, England did not care. His heart already lurched greedily after what it wanted, and England had to have it. He did more than his siblings, it was only fair. He worked late nights breaking pencils and ruining his eyes on pixels. They did so much less for this country.

England cast a quick glance at Wales, and Wales cast one to him, then to Scotland. Each cast glance was precarious, hesitant, but determined. Everyone wanted a blessed free month. Nobody was sure they were willing to sacrifice what it took to get it. England steeled himself for a new type of fight: bonding. Ug.

Over in his corner, nobody could tell what Ireland was thinking hidden behind his sunglasses.

England was starting to think him a clever bastard.

"Is there a volunteer to go first?" The therapist asked.

"I can," Wales half lifted his hand. It withered back a bit, shrinking before even being protested against. "I'm just curious. I could also wait."

Wales was rarely first to anything, or one to speak out about opinions. It almost surprised England how quickly he'd responded. But then he remembered that Wales was the most willing to trip over himself in order to save another person any level of discomfort. It meant Wales was usually the first of his siblings to fall and least likely to leave.

She gave an encouraging nod and nobody else protested. They all eagerly watched to find out what would happen.

A stack of cards was proffered to Wales, which Wales took and placed onto the centre table. Wales slid the top card off and flipped it over to read:

"Tell about a time that you were emotionally hurt."

Wales nervously smiled, slightly. Wales, equally nervous, chuckled. "Not sure what I expected? Therapy couldn't be easy." He shrugged.

He placed the card down into his lap and tapped his thumbs together in thought, staring off, but leaving just enough of himself present to indicate he was participating.

England could tell the moment he latched onto a thought to begin.

"This happened several times…" he paused "I've never been invited to a meeting. Or asked for a diplomatic opinion, of course. Because I don't have official autonomy. But I've tried to give diplomatic advice at least once, and you've all said… that I wasn't a real country. You don't even hear me out. I think that stings."

Wales looked to each of them, and his fingers slowly creased the edges of the card in his lap.

They were all quiet for an awkward moment. No one dared say anything. As a matter of fact, if no one ever spoke again that would be grand. England didn't know why hearing Wales share his personal struggles sucked the air from him because England didn't even really care. He felt annoyed and—he wanted to dig out of the room. Why'd he ever think this was a good idea?

"Thank you for sharing," the therapist said.

Wales smiled, half shy and relieved for any response at all.

England was going to toss himself out of the window before the day ended. There was no way he'd survive this. Oh, but he wanted that month of vacation—but the thought of sharing anything with his siblings sounded worse than a paper cut to the eyeball. But he wanted that vacation.

"Now we're started," Ireland said, "very sorry about that, Wales. We'll have a drink sometime and I'll hear you." He waved at the therapist. "Give the man a lego."

Scotland gave a nod of agreement, and England gave the stack a sliding, terribly wary eye as Wales put down the brick on his plate. A terrible restlessness crawled under England's skin, compressing his itching chair into a stringed cage, taunting him with the stupidity and uselessness of this whole game.

Everyone looked at him.

He felt the stares and the restlessness grow worse, but England had the guts- or stubbornness- to not fall short under anybody else's expectations. He resisted the urge to tap his foot.

Reaching for the card and turning it over to read, England stared at the prompt and silently read. The quiet, hidden tension slowly left his shoulders.

That wasn't bad. That was so easy. England could easily do that. This was stupid as he thought, he could easily survive the day.

"Compare this family to a musical instrument," he read aloud.

He gave a little pleased smile to the therapist, as if he'd won a lottery and had some fortune to show for it, and was beating the house at their own game.

Wales hummed with sincere attention all on England. England's smile shifted into a more hesitant mirroring frown and he discarded the card in his lap.

Why was Wales looking at him like that? How could a question like this garner that kind of attention? It wasn't important, was it? Surely not.

He cleared his throat. "An untuned kazoo."

Wales looked less happy, like the answer wasn't what he wanted and England had no idea why.

"Does one need to tune a kazoo?" Ireland mused.

"I don't know," England snapped, "we've managed to untune it."

"Managed most the work yourself," Scotland said.

England seethed quietly and folded the card in half. "Well, that's my answer. Live with it."

"No lego for the man," Ireland declared. He announced with the same smile and volume he'd commended Wales with, and Scotland, once again, nodded agreement to the eldest's judgement.

"What?! I answered fairly!"

"But why? Why's it an untuned kazoo?" Wales asked. "You have to explain at least."

No. He shouldn't need to explain, it was straightforward enough—they all annoyed one another, and nobody wanted to listen. A kazoo was equally annoying and nobody listened to it in their free time, either. No respectable instrument would be caught in a composition with one, and if another instrument happened to be forced to work with them, their family wouldn't even be tuned enough to make the proper harmony.

He crossed his arms and turned his head away. "I don't have to explain anything."

"Mr. Kirkland, creating a meaningful experience today may require attempts at difficult or seemingly unnecessary communication."

Screw the therapist, too. His brothers were all going to gang up to keep him from winning.

"We can wait as long as it takes for you to form an answer," Wales helpfully informed. England felt like shooting someone.

"This is pointless," he muttered, "pointless. But if you have so little ability to solve it out, it's because untuned instruments fail even when performed to the exact instruction; they're unable to play in a composition. And kazoos are annoying."

Ireland nodded in mock serenity. "You're still a caterpillar. Break up your boy-band. Solo should do you kinder."

Wales snorted a laugh, and Ireland smiled at Wales, pleased with himself.

England had no clue what he meant, but once again, he knew this was at his expense. England felt his cheeks flush with hot blood, blooming red, and skin being whiter than white, everyone knew every time anyone got to him. He was going to shoot more than one someone, and he didn't know if he'd spare himself in the aftermath.

"Give me my brick," England demanded.

He got his brick. It was only fair, Wales had said. England added the child's toy to his plate and noted the off-colourness between brick and base, and found the film of the brick's unwashed surface highly agitating. Both heightened the noise of restlessness in his body, traveling up through his fingers.

Next was Scotland, who took a card as calm and bored as he'd take a cigarette.

"What do you like about the way you fight?" Scotland read carefully. He put the card back down onto the table and crossed his arms. "I don't talk words," he said. "Only do action."

His cold green stare steadily focused on England before boredly drowsing back to the wall.

England held his hands closer. Scotland fought more in actions, but at the end of the day, that was Scotland's weakness, too. He learnt that long ago. Scotland got to fighting before he'd even read a room, he struck quick and clean, which made him venerable but easy to out-maneuver with a document and speech at Whitehall.

Back when England was backwater and weak he used his words to his advantage. England had always been best and warfare in language, and that made Scotland's answer one England, too, appreciated.

Never change, England snidely thought.

He didn't like the bruises their scuffs got him, though. He should nag at him. "Make him explain more, he didn't give enough words," England said.

If England should suffer, so should the rest.

"… I think that one explained itself," said Wales.

Ireland gave Scotland a thumbs up. "I'd drink health to that. Simple, easy, and the type of spat that can be done with quickest in this family."

This response affirmed all of England's obviously correct calculations. His siblings were gained up on him. Irleand and Wales had backed Scotland but failed to back him.

England should not lose in the field of words.

Therapy was his antithesis… the plain, true speech of morons stripped the power of information withheld. Nobody kept their cards close. England thrived so long as he kept his cards close… all warfare was deception.

Scotland added his brick, and Ireland rubbed his hands together before taking his card.

"What is something that you would not give up?" Ireland read and shook his head pleasantly. "Several things, though one presently needing declaration. So I'll have you a riddle! There are two skulls in Ireland, one of a person when he was a boy of ten years, and the other of the same person when he grew to be a man." He raised two fingers in demonstration as he said it. "They sit kindly side by Cromwell's under a loose stone in my wall."

England blinked. His brows furrowed.

An indignity caught a spark and burned into a sudden blaze.

"I asked you to give me my skulls back! You said they were lost!" England stood to his feet.

"I'm your devil when your head's astray. You shouldn't've lost a head twice at my house."

England was shooting himself first. Then he was shooting everyone else.

"I can't believe you--"

"Why do you want to keep those?" Wales interrupted.

"Because he's psychotic," England said. He was psychotic and orderless.

Irleand tapped two fingers to his lip in thought.

"At his age ten, I was an island born from druids and fed by Catholics. Call it indulgence… I even kept mother's finger. We like our dead." Ireland, oddly pensive, frowned. "But at his adulthood, I wanted to curse him." Ireland suddenly fell from his odd spiel with a grin.

Curse?

"What did you put on me?" England narrowed his eyes.

"You would love to know, wouldn't you?"

Pressuring would prove him correct and England felt particularly petulant. An injustice had been committed against him. He brought a quick hand to his current skull to feel it, flat against his forehead.

"That first part was oddly touching," said Wales, "the second one wasn't, but it was understandable. We've all cursed one another at least once. Nothing debilitating."

Who put Wales in charge of mediating? What was the therapist doing?

England looked at her and she looked at him.

Her blank, unreadable face bore a hole in him.

England looked away.

The sight that greeted him was worse: Ireland got a brick and Wales got a new card.

"Do you say 'I'm sorry' before you are ready?" Wales put the card down. "I think so… or… I'm not sure. Sometimes I say it to end a fight, that may be readiness. I don't want to be responsible for perpetuating any hurt or conflict."

Once again, the reigning choir of crickets arose gloriously from three completely dead silent brothers. Nobody wanted to say anything to Wales. Each time Wales spoke, England irrationally wanted a shovel. For himself. To get out of the world.

"That must have been uncomfortable," the therapist said, saying what no sibling wanted to say.

She could be interacting with Wales the most. England tried to remember how she'd responded to each of them, and he suspected he was right, as usual.

"When we apologise before the time is right, we can still feel empty inside afterwards. But holding onto our anger can gave us a harmful, and false, sense of control in difficult situations. We should acknowledge that we apologise in order to help us forgive ourselves. If we cannot forgive ourselves yet, or feel no need to do so, an apology may be too early."

England wanted to snap any response of denial possible.

"I don't believe in apologies," England said. He couldn't stand this pat-on-back seasick sharing fest. "Apologies are selfish. People do it to feel good about themselves."

"Is feeling better about oneself bad?" She asked.

"It's selfish," England repeated.

Ireland stared at England, and England could already hear his voice. Bold words from a selfish man. England knew what his brother thought of him. He knew what all of them thought.

"Just give Wales his lego so I can fail to win a week off paperwork," he grumbled and swiped a card from the deck.

"Are you so determined to win that you don't listen or really look for a solution? No. I'm not. I listen, I find a solution, then I win."

"Load of shite," Scotland said, staring at his wall.

"Has yourself, or another, been put in danger to achieve one of your victories before?" She asked.

"Ha! I'm a soldier, what do you expect the answer to that is? That's all I ever do." He ought to leave. This day was indeed a waste, he was determined to remain unsubdued. Why? He never had to think about why. He didn't know, he couldn't stop throwing words away. He hated a comfortable smile, it wouldn't be reasonable to accept. It wouldn't change anything. He hated anyone who promised otherwise. Those moments he felt he was being lied to, and he only entertained a good lie when too smashed drunk to remember it.

"Do I get a brick or not?" He demanded.

The circle of silent, undisturbed faces said the answer was no.

He was right. They disliked him because he was right. An apology wasted breath… he couldn't count how many words and treaties everyone had broken. A spat ended with never again,, I'll change,, we'll make it better, but the very next day the war continued. They should skip the formalites.

"Forget it, go on, Scotland," England snapped.

The unbearable moment sponged into the resuming, tense air. They were acclimated to it, they didn't bother with it.

Scotland took the next prompt and read, "Do you fight someone else's fights?" He shook his head. "Not if I can't help it."

His finger tips rubbed together as if he wanted to roll tobacco into his mouth. Instead Irleand rolled a lego into his hand.

Ireland, ever untouched, moved freely despite the tension. He escaped the world without leaving the world, tearing England's speech from his tongue. The air was warm for him wherever he went, so privileged and natural like nature itself had given him an edge over everyone else. England didn't matter to him. No voice, decree, or weapon could damage the high head he carried and each room he entered he navigated easily as water changing shape.

England breathed through his nose and focused on his empty hands.

"Tell about one of your most frightening experiences," Ireland read. He dropped the card and leaned backwards, hands laced behind his head, falling to where his sunglasses caught a glint of the artificial lights. "Ah, there was a year at Colman's college I took, passing for a student, when I realised the boys hadn't got a word of gaelic. All my years before that day, there never came a minute I thought of Gaelic as being in danger. It struck me so sudden. How the old people were heading off, and there would be a generation with both languages, and then a generation that hadn't got gaelic at all. Then my island sounded like a foreign country. I almost preferred going to a foreign country, living there rather than see a land without a word of Gaelic in it. Ah well-- I did what any would do, finding sudden isolation on their brink. I dug me heels in. Never going to let the amount of my own language fall to nothing. Do chum glóire dé agus onóra na hÉireann. I'll keep the words close to heart until the people have them again."

Both Wales and Scotland would agree. They did agree. Every problem Ireland had they had also had, because both of them were stuck to England. And every problem they had had, they had either conquered or learned to deal with through an imitation of one another.

England was the only odd one out, because England had no common problems with them… nothing he had discovered or would share.

Everyone was then one piece ahead and England had no more reason to entertain this place with his time other than for show.

"What was one of the happiest moments of this last century. Oh. Hm. I don't know." Wales never said he knew. Wales continued onward with what he knew. "Sri Lanka sat on a bench with me in Rome, we argued over who had the better flag."

"Alright, and then?"

"That's it."

"But who won?"

Wales shrugged. "I don't remember if we did."

"Ah, I see." Ireland leaned over the table with his grin. He did most of the interacting today, the therapist did some pointers but had lost interest in her job compared to Ireland. Scotland engaged only if he had no other choice.

The bricks kept stacking.

And then it was England's miserable turn again. The only comfort he had was the lack of initiative he felt for this so called 'game.' England had no reason to answer with the truth, or answer at all.

His new card read: I wish I were less __ with a big, awful blank on the end. One short void for one short answer that he could never fit on a card. The space provided was too small and England didn't have enough graphite to fill it. It burned through his fingertips.

He blinked at it several times, resisting the urge to tear it.

"I wish I were less blank," he read. Agressive, incompetent, well-known, difficult, vocal… England scowled. "Short."

He should never have to answer this question.

He could use an extra few inches.

Shave himself away, replace it with a new stature. Maybe he'd find the respect he wanted to give himself and take from others, then. Maybe that would fix it. He crumpled the offending question in his hand.

The council reluctantly gave him his little lego brick and moved on without pressure or questioning.

Scotland's next card had to do with quotes, and he said something in a language England didn't know.

After, Irleand talked about a riot in Dublin, and a trial, against him the council written in the English law. He bragged of denying his guilt before the unclever court.

And the brothers talked, barring England. He skipped his next turn and Scotland got his question:

Tell about your greatest concern for this family.

He flatly informed them all that it was England which earned them amusement.

Another story came around about an idiot who flew through Iranian airspace, and required international attention.

England was having a strenuous day, and was becoming wary of any voice at all.

Each click of a tongue or shuffle of a foot scraped under his skin. England couldn't settle it, his head tilted slow, very slow, side to side as if trying to escape it.

"Do you pretend that the fight isn't important or laugh about it?" Ireland immediately agreed. "Of course. Most spats aren't worth losing a year to the pain."

England sunk deeper. He didn't know what he wanted. He wanted to leave.

Wales got another card about fighting, yet another, all about fighting. He knew the day was to adress family fighting and communication, he didn't want to talk about fighting again. Who do you fight with best/worst? Wales didn't understand how he could answer the question and took his first veto.

That left him second to last, and only Ireland and Scotland to fight for a first.

For the hell of it, England took up his next question and regretted it immediately.

I will feel accepted and part of this family group when _.

He felt the same, familiar, irritated muchness with the world filling his stomach. It felt empty, full of nothing. Everything was distorted, out of proportion to the cause. England didn't want to continue this. Not for two rounds.

He folded it in half and leaned back into the couch.

"Play on," he said.

Nobody questioned him. He hated that worse, he was so, deeply, terribly relieved. Instead there was a huff and a sense of patience wearing thin. The noise rubbed worse on his eardrums.

Scotland began his next reading:

"I feel most loved when, blank." He grumbled under his breath. "when I have scotch, a fireplace, and m' dogs."

His fingers rubbed the couch armrest. England didn't want to be here. Any moment spent longer in the room while he could think of nothing else became intolerable. He saw the cards, each scrape of paper scratched his ears. England didn't want to be here. His feet planted stiff on the office floor and England had to, he couldn't be here longer. They'd talk about it but he couldn't stay. England stood.

Several gazes hit him at once. Ireland's hidden gaze was worst of all because he couldn't tell. England hated being unable to tell. What he was thinking, if he was actually gazing.

He held his breath under their gazes, and only breathed easily when he slipped through the door to leave.

England felt a thin pin prick of annoyance in his chest. His frown deepened.

In the warm artificial light outside, in the hall, England stood straight in a firm immobile stance, in the usual strung-up orderly manner, keeping his appearance composed. Everything itched. The room behind him murmured. His siblings maybe talked about him. They maybe said nothing about him. Two outcomes England immediately noticed and decided he couldn't take. He didn't even know why he had to leave. Nearly two thousand years of life and these were the things that bothered him through it all. What a pathetic existence.

The door opened again.

Wales steadily closed it, carefully. England never realised his carefulness until the world burned and every sound was too much on his nerves.

"You lied," England said.

"I didn't."

"You said you apologise to end fights. Nobody does. Not in this family."

"Do you want an apology, Arthur?"

"Do it. I don't care. I'll keep accusing you of being a liar. I'll bring it up tomorrow. This family doesn't drop anything."

Wales came forward and- and- hugged him.

He flinched. It travelled like a jolt through his spine, quick and shocked and discontent. The jolt settled and spun and then it vanished, like seafoam fizzling away after a wave. England was left stiff.

Stop.

Don't ever leave.

England relaxed.

"I can't stand you," England said. And he meant it. He couldn't stand anybody, he always wanted them around when he was terribly alone and always he wanted them gone when they were with him. The isolation got worse the more people he had in his life, the isolation got worse and he looked for more people and ruined his hopes worse.

"Then we have a conundrum. Because I can stand you, and I like you, even," Wales said. He let go of England and took a step back. "But I think you like us too. I don't want to believe otherwise."

England thought, standing in the hall, under an artificial light, he didn't want to think about it. The world had been a better place and the ice thickened only just enough to keep war from cracking through between them, but he imagined the plunge was but a few reckless inches away. It was thirty years ago he shot Ireland… Ireland had peeled him off by pretending he didn't notice; Ireland got a certain perverse joy from continuing to remain indifferent to his existence. Like it didn't matter. Like England wasn't but a minor inconvenience, a slapable fly. The taste for righting wrongs was in Europe's reluctant air.

England turned down the hall to leave, walking out and into the same lobby past the same human who barely acknowledged them with a customer nod. Wales followed.

"He wants to annoy me to death, he didn't have to be here. I give him a bullet he gives a grin—came to screw with me, that's why he's here." "He wants to support your choice to sign for therapy." "He could've done that with a card." England crossed the threshold into the street.

A wet glisten sparkled in the road where his foot landed and England blinked. Water. Yes, water, always water, but glinting water. The road sparkled in the sun.

He looked up at the sky.

Blue sky.

A clear patch cleared through the early white grey wisps of clouds overhead, receding the early morning haze into the lime-green earth.

He heard Wales sigh behind him. "What a day." Wales smiled, breathing in the clay-wet air, basking in the golden sun. His palm cupped flat to the open sky, feeling for an already fled rain.

"Indeed… what a day," England murmured, watching him.

'I don't know why you're still around,' he thought.

#hetalia fanfiction #hws england #hws wales #hws scotland #hws ireland #hws uk bros #Prompt: therapy session

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weirdocvnt08 · 1 year

Text

Title: After-work Nappies

Relationship: Rise!Leonardo/Yuichi Usagi

Words: Under 1k

TW: None, unless you hate fluff and good times

Author is listening to: Gypsy Girl by Crystal Waters

Summary: Work makes you eppy, so cozy nappies with your significant other is just natural.

~<3~<3~<3~<3~<3~

It was the end of the day and more importantly, the end of Yuichi and Donatello’s shift at the shop. Their Thursday shifts weren’t typically hectic considering it’s a flower shop and not everybody in New York are buying them on the regular but today they had a big order that needed to quickly be assembled.

The customer who requested it had come to the shop very last minute as they needed their flowers by the next day for early afternoon, and their boss being the sympathetic person she was had accepted the order. Donnie was not shy to express their frustration towards customers or just people in general who wait until the last minute to do things when they had more than enough time to plan (though that just might’ve been the autism talking). One would think that out of frustration the purple clad teen would give up on their end of contribution with the stressful order, but Donatello never once stopped working and stood firm with Yuichi when their boss attempted to shoo them away and told them to head home when their shift ended, insisting she was fine finishing up on her own.

In the end though, the foam wall of intricate flowers with the additional orders of large bouquets were completed and their hard work figuratively and literally paid off. By the time the two teens left the shop it was night out and very late.

The two stood outside next to the shop in silence (or more so Yuichi since the twists haired teen beside him had their headphones on), staring at passing vehicles.

‘Well, this is boring’ the platinum haired one thought to himself. Looking to his right where Donnie was busy texting someone, Yuichi closed the distance between them to lay his head on the other’s shoulder. He peered up at them and whispered “Why are we standing here? Shouldn’t we be heading to the bus stop that takes us home?”

Donatello swatted the touchy teen away from their shoulder, slightly overstimulated but not to the point of going nonverbal. “Personal space, please. Although I don’t regret helping Su-Wei, staying there later than usual really disrupted my daily routine and I wish to go home now and not in an hour and a half, so I just texted Raph to pick us up. Said he’d be here in fifteen minutes B-T-W.”

The taller teen watched as Yuichi made the tiniest sidesteps away from them, constantly looking up from his feet to see when the other approved of their distance. With only their arm four inches away from each other, Donnie sighed tiredly as they signed ‘you’re good’, knowing that’s how far the Japanese boy would accept being away from them.

Yuichi flashed them a cheeky smile as he opted to communicate with his friend via text as to prevent further discomfort than what Donnie was already in.

Jackass: I know you luv me Donnie :3

Don: Clingy bastard, contain that affection for Leo since he’s equally as clingy and the one you’re dating

Jackass: We’re not clingy we just have a lot of love to give!

Don: My ASS you two aren’t! You two can’t even last a day being without each other.

Jackass: THATS NOT TRUE >:(

Jackass: We can last 3 days without each other >:p

Both playfully bantered about for the remainder of their wait and before they knew it Raph had arrived to pick the two up. The car ride was filled with excited chatter between Yuichi and Raphael, both eager for this upcoming weekend’s wrestling match that they bought tickets for to see live.

The trio arrived to the Hamato household where everyone had already retired into their rooms for the night. Raph informed them that if they were hungry Mikey had stored away leftovers of the sautéed veggies and pan-fried pork chops they had eaten earlier in the fridge, then bidding them a goodnight as he could finally be able to sleep in peace knowing his sibling was back in the safety of their home.

Donatello was next to walk to their own room, stating they needed to deregulate by having “Donnie Time” (which was just them immediately changing out of their day clothes and into loose ones, then curling up and rocking themself in their sensory swing as they play Minecraft).

Now in his solitude, Yuichi realized just how exhausted he actually was with his body feeling heavy and sleep desperately calling for him. On autopilot his legs lead him to his boyfriend’s room, and he hopes his door is unlocked because Leo had a habit of locking it and Yuichi would very much prefer to sleep on his comfortable bed rather than on the Hamato family’s cold couch.

When he reached Leo’s door he found it was indeed locked but heard movement coming from inside. Too tired to use his hands, Yuichi used his forehead to knock on door and after a solid minute of waiting it opened.

“Mikey why are you bang-, Yuichi? Why are you here?” Leonardo, who was dressed in causal sleepwear (his favorite Ebenezer Scrooge type long since gone and ALLEGEDLY destroyed by his twin plus Mikey) with the addition of his favorite royal blue bonnet and a translucent facial mask, looked at his boyfriend quizzedly. It was a school night and the other’s guardian was typically strict about sleepover days, so sue Leo for asking.

“Am I not welcomed here no more? Should I take the stuffed rabbit back?” With a tired shrug he continued “Hueso gave the green light to let me sleep me over this one time ‘cause of how late we got out of work, but since it seems like you don’t want me here, I’ll just go sleep on the cold, lonely couch where I’ll most likely wake up sore from in the morning!” The teen exaggerated as he played off as if he was going to leave.

Rolling his eyes at the act, Leo pulled his boyfriend inside his room by the arm. A surprised “woah” escaped Yuichi’s mouth, allowing Leo to take the chance to close the gap between them and steal a kiss.

Yuichi scrunched his nose as he remembered Leo was still wearing a facial mask. “Nooooo! Your facial thingy’s gonna smudge onto meee!” He muffled out as their lips were still smooshed against each other.

Pulling away, Leo swiped his fingers across his cheek then flipped them over to show Yuichi that it wasn’t wet. “Look, it’s dry, so shut up.” Continuing where he left off, the slightly taller male cupped his partner’s adorably squishy cheeks and pecked kiss after kiss on the puckered lips in front of him, all while Yuichi could only pout as his cheeks were held hostage by the strong grip the other’s hand had on them (not that he hated it, he just didn’t like how he couldn’t kiss him back).

After the broad-shouldered teen released the toned one to peel off the face mask, Yuichi staggered his way to the bed while gradually removing all items and clothing on his being until he was only left in his boxers. He then tossed himself onto the semi-soft king mattress with his limbs outstretched comfortably as he waited for Leonardo.

“That tired huh?” He heard Leo ask when he came out of his bathroom and shut the door close that lead to the hallway. He heard as his footsteps grew closer then felt a nudge on his calf. “Want some pj’s or you good like that?”

“I’m fine like this, now come cuddle me” Yuichi replied as he sat up and made grabby hands at Leo. Amused and ever so loving this extra clingy side from his boyfriend of almost two years, Leo grabbed Yuichi’s phone from his discarded pants and set it to charge on a wireless port Donnie had made for all of them. He then climbed into bed and laid on the right side as Yuichi sat on the left.

Quick to cling himself onto his love, Yuichi slotted their legs together and hugged Leo’s torso as he laid his cheek above his sternum, sighing when he felt familiar smooth hands undo his tight ponytail and running a hand through it to soothe it out. And as if the delightfulness of it all wasn’t enough, he felt Leo softly scratch his short nails around the area where he felt the most tension on his scalp.

Leonardo smiled as he heard the boy below him groan pleasurably and continued the action until he felt that the tension from the hairstyle Yuichi had had dissipated by now.

“So bun, you gonna tell me what happened that made you and Dee come home late from work?” Leo asked curiously but was met with silence. Peering down he slightly shook the other, thinking he was probably just pretending to be asleep. “Yui? Hello?” A soft snore was heard from below, the head scratches from before seeming to be the cause for Yuichi’s rapid descent into slumberland.

The bonnet covered teen sighed as he watched his boyfriend’s sleeping form with endearment. Behind those closed monolith eyelids were the prettiest and most warm brown eyes that almost glimmered under the rays of a setting sun, and if you looked at his face up close enough, you’d notice the faintest of freckles sitting across his golden-brown tawny skin, earned from the hours of outdoor labor on hot sunny days back when he still lived on his aunt’s farm in Japan. And to spike up on the cute-o-meter the Japanese boy had the most winsome smile that accentuated that sportive charm he carries.

Deciding to allow his significant other to sleep, Leo played online with Donnie who was still awake for an hour or so before both of them logged off and called it a night.

Blearily, he pressed soft kisses onto the crown of his boyfriend’s head, heart warm and full and as the heavier his eyelids got, he could only smile blissfully as he too succumbed into peaceful slumber.

#rise leonardo #rise leo #yuichi usagi #samurai rabbit #usagi yuichi #rottmnt #rise tmnt #leoichi #leochi #rise leosagi #my writing #my work #rise usagi #riseleoichi

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apotatomashedbybts · 1 year

Text

Homecoming

✉ Pairing: idol!Seokjin × secretagent!reader ✉ Genre: fluff, angst, romance ✉ Trope: married au, flashback au ✉ Word Count: 6.5k+ ✉ Trigger Warning: mentions of gun, blood, injuries. suffocating feelings. ✉ Rating: pg13 ✉ Banner: @fleurguk / @sweetieguk [My loveliest, Sana! Thank you so much for making this beautiful banner for me! 🤍 ] ✉ Beta Reader: @eoieopda [I can't thank you enough, Jade, for reading and helping me through this writing! Without you this fic wouldn't be what it is today! Thank you for all the hard work you did for me and for all the little compliments you left(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) They mean a lot to me! Thanks for being such an amazing beta💜🌼]

✉ Disclaimer:-

↳ This fic is the revamped version of my first ever published fanfic on Tumblr 4 YEARS AGO ON OCTOBER 25, 2018.

↳ The secret organisation mentioned in the story is purely fictional. However, the other military organisations/groups do exist in real life. ✉ Author's Note(1): I remember coming up with this story, all those years ago, while doing living creature things in bathroom at night and writing this down as soon as I got out! To say that it was exhilarating would be one way to put it. But more than that I felt liberated and happy that I found something that I wanted to do! I wanted to write! And let people read It! While revamping this story I felt embarrassed about the way I wrote it all those years ago but it also reminded me of how I was so excited and confident about it and I didn't really care about criticism nor did I think I wrote bad. I miss that part of me... Now I am constantly worrying if it's good enough, continuously hoping for a little interaction... I hope I can go back to just loving my work... and not drown in self doubt. But, hey, it's all about growth, isn't it? ✉ Author's Note(2): In this story, there are a few parts where the flashbacks jump between times. I have included the times but I hope it's not too confusing.

✉ Author's Note(3): It'd mean the world to me if you not only like but also REBLOG and let me know about your thoughts on this! ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠). Your feedback gives me the motivation to keep on writing ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧ ✉ Taglist: @sugarwithtea , @tangy-tangerine , @lonelystudio , @kuuipobangtan ✉ Crosspost: ao3 | Wattpad ✉ Extras: Book Cover | Homecoming Timeline

✉ Summary: When you breezed into Seokjin's life, he understood why the phrase "home is where the heart is" is so celebrated. Despite the cruel nature of your professions, both of you managed to live through it but Seokjin's worst fear clutched his throat when you disappeared unannounced for two years and he felt his very home taken away from him. However, promises are meant to be kept and one must return home at the end of the day.

— where Seokjin waits for y/n to return home.

Seokjin's life is bountiful today.

In his widely spread bright kitchen the air feels more forgiving than it has been for a very long time. The sunlight seems friendlier than usual and the incoming sounds from outside fall softer on the ears.

Seokjin could enjoy all of these consciously only if he wasn't busy removing the last of the now crumbled architectural masterpieces of spiders from the side of the oven hurriedly. But what he does notice is the clamour of his friends — except the youngest, Jungkook — as they start to swarm the kitchen with bags full of all the necessary groceries that he had requested them to bring earlier.

The third youngest whines while putting the bag he is holding on the counter, “Hyung! I want to stay with you!”

As much as Seokjin would have wanted to have them here, today is not the day. Today is a day that he wants to keep his mind full of you and only you. So, he pulls off a serious face that almost goes halfway to a pout and says, “No can do, Jimin.”

Seeing Jimin sulking, Namjoon intervenes and with a light tug on Jimin's left sleeve he says, “You know how it is, Jimin.” Then looking at Seokjin's ‘already back to being a busy body self' Namjoon smiles, “Let him be. It's for y/n.”

“We will come back tomorrow. He won't mind us then. Let's leave for now.” Yoongi states matter of factly while standing at the door, preparing to leave and waiting for others to join him.

Amidst the busy shuffling of them preparing to leave Jungkook comes back from the backyard. He informs while looking at Jin with his big doe eyes and pointing his right thumb outside, “Hyung, they have finished cleaning up the rooms and the porch. They said they’ll be done after a couple of hours, once they clean the pool and garage. Should I stay with them?”

“Yeah, no. We’re leaving.” Namjoon grabs Jungkook’s one arm and Hoseok the other. Yoongi patters forward, lightly pushing Jungkook’s figure while Namjoon and Hoseok drag him backwards.

Jungkook’s doe eyes become even bigger in surprise and confusion, “Huh? Already?”

To which he gains nothing more than a quick “yep” from Yoongi.

Seokjin mouths a small 'thank you' to Namjoon and Yoongi for helping him out. Namjoon and Yoongi don't say much but with a slight nod they wave goodbye to him and leave with the rest of the boys.

Closing the door behind them Seokjin heaves a heavy sigh and scurries back to the kitchen. He has a lot to do. Even though the day is still young, he feels like he doesn't have enough time to do everything he wants to.

While sorting out the ingredients for your favourite sushi he chuckles at how this one thing has survived all these years on your list of favourite foods. And with that his mind takes him back to the day he first met you at the fansign seven years ago.

•••••••

Fansigns had always been Seokjin's favourite. He loved interacting with his fans and absolutely adored their cute and fun way of showing their appreciation.

That day wasn't any different. He was looking forward to receiving all the love personally from the fans but that changed when you showed up. He didn't expect to fall in love himself.

He was the first member among them to meet the fans as he was sitting at the left-most seat. You greeted him shyly and handed over your album for him to sign. Jin looked at you and he noticed that even though you were kneeling you still looked as if you were almost standing. You knew exactly what he was thinking and when you were about to just say it he asked, “Sorry, but how tall are you?”

You replied almost immediately, lightly placing your palm on your forehead, smiling sheepishly at your own unexpectedly right guess, “6'3". It's hereditary.”

The time given wasn't enough. While still recovering from the heat in your ears, you took out the huge insulated container, handed it over to him and said, “I made these sushi for you all. I hope you like them.”

He made that surprised face accompanied with a 'woah' and a bunch of thank yous. Before you could say anything else you were told to move on to the next member.

Maybe it was the lingering taste of your handmade sushi or perhaps it was your sparkling eyes when you spoke - neither of which he could choose between - that made Seokjin think of you more often than not. He regretted in those moments of remembrance that he couldn’t ask for your name.

People say, when you want something with your whole heart then the whole universe mechanises itself to make it true for you. It worked for Seokjin too.

In the next fansign, you were there - with your box of sushi and that sparkling smile adorning your face.

When you knelt in front of Jin the second time, who was sitting in his usual, left-most seat, you couldn’t help but avert your gaze as you felt the gradual sensation of heat rising from your neck to your whole face at his words, “I have been waiting for you.”

Years later, on your fourth year marriage anniversary, in the comfort of your couch in your beach house, you had told Jin, while reminiscing that fateful meeting that the wishfulness of it all made it harder for you to forget the smile that nearly took the shape of a smirk on his lips and the intent gaze with which Jin was looking at you while saying that. He’d set you on fire and you stayed willfully.

You had also pointed out how all the members craned their necks to look at him losing his usual composure over you. They had made fun of him for it later but in Jin’s words, it was a very small price to pay if he could show how much he admired you.

“What’s your name?” Jin asked while signing your album.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” Your voice trembled in anticipation of all things happening around you.

For Jin, on other hand, restlessness came to him after the fansign was over. He couldn’t stop imagining your reaction when you would discover his phone number written on the page he signed, accompanied by a cheeky little note under it that said - “looking forward to a text from a lovely stranger.”

“That was super cheesy, honestly.” You had smiled, while reminiscing again while cuddling in the same couch as the sunset and the salty afternoon breeze both caressed your skin.

Seokjin had looked at you and while taming away the strands of hair on your face he wished he could just look at your happy face forever like this silently but you were looking at him expectantly with those deep eyes and he had to say something back.

But there was no taming the tempest of love he felt for you so he had cupped your face in his hands to fill it with kisses and nuzzled your neck while saying, “You loved it nonetheless, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.” You had giggled under his touch.

Falling in love with you was easy for Seokjin.

About a week after giving you his phone number, while everyone was busy taking rest amidst the shooting of a music video, Jin had slipped out in the afternoon through the back of the residential building.

The night before, Jin had told you through text how much he wanted to see you. For some reason, picturing his pouty face typing the text had made your heart burn.

You had the day off so you drove to Chuncheon where they were shooting and called Jin upon arriving.

You were sitting on the wooden platform over the lake, waiting for him. You saw Jin running towards you from a distance so you stood up immediately to wave at him so that he could notice you.

In hindsight, Seokjin realised it was a bad idea to run at you with everything he had just so he could hug you as soon as possible, as you lost your footing when he all but tackled you; and both of you fell into the water.

In the split second before falling, you had braced yourself for hitting the cold water in this freezing winter but the water was surprisingly warm and it felt nice.

You wiped the droplets off of your eyes to get a better look at Jin who just spat out a mouthful of water and was running his hands through his wet hair and face.

The heart burn was back and you finally asked what you had been pondering over for a couple of days now, “Jin… Can I politely ask you to go out with me?”

As awestruck as Jin was at your question, he didn’t miss a beat to answer back, “Can I… politely kiss you to say yes?”

Falling in love with you was easy for Seokjin. But loving you and losing himself in your kiss was easier.

He did get scolded when he returned to the shooting spot with all his clothes wet and make-up washed off. Everyone assumed that his red face and ears were a result of the cold and that he was smiling sheepishly because he felt guilty. The real reason was a well-kept secret between you two.

It wasn’t easy dating an idol but you made sure to support him as discreetly as you could.

Thankfully, due to the nature of your career, you were no stranger to discretion.

After finishing your three-month-long Winter Warfare training in Pyeongchang under SWC – also known as ROK-SWC which stands for The Republic of Korea Army Special warfare Command and is responsible for the army’s special operations forces – you had completed your year-long training for the 707th Special Mission Group — which was an elite counter-terrorism force made of only the best of the country. Being an ex-UDT/SEAL, it was easy for you to go through the rigorous, 10-day selection program and get selected for the prestigious team.

You thanked your stars for having you go through all that romance-is-a-luxury stuff before you met Seokjin.

Now, you had ample time on your hands before receiving your recruitment letter. So, you attended his showcases, visited most of his domestic shoots and spent nights, whenever he was available, in his apartment. You duped the hawk-eyes of lurking reporters by disguising yourself as a fast food delivery person - it was super effective.

It wasn’t easy dating as an idol but Seokjin tried his best to do his part too. Whenever you visited him he made sure to take time out of his busy schedule to be with you. On his day off he visited you at your local sparring centre to watch you practice and hype you up. Sometimes he even showed up with banners to cheer you on just like you did during his shows. And all you could do at times like those was to laugh while covering your whole face, mirror his cheering movements and do well in practice.

Since it was nearly impossible for him to take you on dates in public, sometimes he decorated his apartment like restaurants or picnic spots to give yourselves a normal dating experience.

After four months of secret meetings, longing for each other, countless kisses and innumerable laughs, Seokjin understood why people called a person their home.

As the realisation hit him, he thought it was about time he asked you if you felt the same too.

And Seokjin knew exactly how to make it special for you.

One fine spring morning, he took you to a dog park that he had rented for the day.

The night before, Namjoon had asked him if he was sure he wasn't rushing things.

Seokjin had replied that he was afraid of it being too late.

The choice of place for an early morning date couldn’t have been better since you just adored dogs. You loved it even more because neither of you owned a dog.

Like an unavoidable phenomenon, Seokjin came to you like a book that you must memorise, like a notebook that you must highlight and put sticky notes on.

And because you knew him so well, you decided not to squint your eyes at the oddity of Seokjin’s constant check-ins while you were busy playing with a border collie, his hasty retreating steps or the brittle grin that barely reached his red ears to assure you that nothing was out of ordinary.

You just smiled to yourself, preparing yourself amidst the loud colliding of your heart's beats that fought with each other like two racers trying to win first place.

You knew of his intentions and you knew that your answer was going to be yes.

What you didn’t know was that a very adorable golden retriever would grab the end of your long jacket and drag you to the only cherry blossom tree of the enormous park that stood mighty and beautifully in the middle of it. Now you understood why Jin had insisted you on wearing that in the morning.

Under the cherry blossom tree were fifteen cute little corgis that sat patiently with their tongues out and wagging tails. Each of them had one placard hung on their necks with letters written separately which read, “WILL YOU MARRY ME?”

It was a silly and tiresome feat to achieve. He knew you would have been happy even if he had proposed to you in some alleyway with a wildflower ring, but it was you; and if he could Jin would bring the whole moon to your lap to make you feel special. However, much to his pouty lips and flared nostrils, physics is an ass.

There were a whole bunch of words that Jin thought he would be feeling for the next coming moments. But when you walked over to him with your hands covering your gasping mouth and your watery eyes amidst the timidly falling petals of cherry blossoms and uttered the word “yes”, none of the words he thought of sufficed. He slipped the rose quartz ring on your ring finger and hugging you he let the world surrounding him fall silent under the sound of your heartbeat.

“How did you even manage to do all that?” You asked while on your way home in the car. You giggled remembering how all the corgis charged at Seokjin, making him roll over the ground, and climbed on top of him when he was trying to give them treats after everything was done.

He looked at you. His face was trying to do multiple expressions at the same time. He wanted to smirk, and act cocky; he also wanted to hold back his laughter. Ultimately all he could do was pout and say, “You know I could have done all of that myself but I was short on time so the people from KKA (Korea Kennel Agility) helped me.”

You laughed at his reply, “I am not running away though.”

Jin intertwined his fingers with yours and pressed a kiss at the back of your hand. His lips stayed a few seconds longer than a chaste kiss required, “Mhm.”

Two weeks after the proposal, the wedding was held secretly in Seokjin’s family home. His band members and your respective families were present. You moved into the new house that Seokjin had bought prior to marriage in a nice suburban neighbourhood. Before you let reality hit you, you gifted yourselves what you could: a breezy honeymoon getaway to the beach, for as long as possible, in each other's complete presence.

The reality that hit you two was sad and lonely.

Oftentimes as a human defence mechanism, they try to look over the harsh reality. They ignore its existence and keep it shoved inside a storage bunker above head until it comes crashing down. It was the same for both of you.

While dating, neither of you thought about how hard it was going to be to have enough of each other and live as a family even after marriage… Especially after marriage.

You were already training to be in the SWC’s 707th special mission group and Jin’s career as an idol was far from over.

Two months after your wedding was still manageable. Then, one sweltering August morning, you got summoned at the SWC headquarters to receive your recruitment letter from your superiors. It wasn’t the one you were aiming for. You were taken on by an arcane and powerful organisation. It was led by a collaboration of several governments undertaking covert missions to address sensitive and violent crimes: the Organised Crime Control Association, or in short known as The ORCA.

You were dumbstruck. Seokjin was proud of you.

He knew what you were capable of, and even though he wanted you to stay close to him he knew where you would shine the most. To him you were as smart as Sherlock and more impregnable than Jack Reacher.

You were silent and stuck after receiving the news - Jin pushed you towards your dream just like he had always done to himself.

The reporting HQ of the organisation was outside of South Korea, and you had to depart within three days’ notice. You assured Jin that you would keep in touch as best you could. But your best wasn’t always enough.

As soon as you arrived there, your internet presence was erased from every database except from the organisation itself. Being an ORCA member also required you to get rid of the phone you possessed and instead use a burner phone that they provided.

Contacting family was an extravagance for everyone and you respected that sacrifice.

Both of you lived on infrequent texts and even rarer opportunities to listen to each other's voices.

Jin would tell you about his day and you would yours. Even the most mundane things would be the most exciting thing that you both had listened to in a while.

“I have a day off today so I stayed up all night and played games. That’s why I woke up this late!”

“I broke three pieces of training equipment today so I have to wash the dishes after dinner.”

Daily flavour of monotonous life was delivered to the other side of the phone in a wrapper of - I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

Seven months of bone-draining training later you returned home on a much deserved vacation. It was a reward for having the most impressive evaluation result, nearly making up for the broken arm and the burn your back had sustained to receive it.

It took you a month to recover and Jin made sure that it took no more than the minimum time required. He was with you all the time - taking care of the littlest of your needs.

You were grateful but seeing him always on high alert broke your heart. You wanted to tell him to relax his shoulders and peel off some of the attention he was giving to you to his own work.

But he wanted you to be healthy as soon as possible so that you could lead your normal life.

Normal life…

The life that Jin wanted for you wasn't your normal life. Your 'normal' life was out in the wilderness full of heinous crimes and the smell of blood and gunpowder.

'This' was your vacation - a way out of the ordinary.

You knew that once he heard about what really was going to happen he would break and protest. But it was necessary to let him in on some basic information so he could prepare himself for that. Moreover, you had already broken one of the core rules of the organisation by letting him know you were working for The ORCA.

One evening, after your month-long healing period, you walked over to your husband in the dining room and back-hugged him. You rested your chin on his shoulder and called out to him with a sigh trapped inside the cavity of your chest, trying not to sound too sad, “Seokjin-ah…”

He knew that tone. You called him like that only when you needed to say something serious.

But he acted clueless anyway and while setting the plates on the dinner table and placing a quick kiss on your cheek, he quipped, “What’s poppin’, good lookin’?”

You couldn’t help but scoff at his attempt to lighten the mood. You needed to tell him before it was too late. “Come on, Seok! I am trying to be serious here.”

“Yeah… I am sorry, poppins. I am listening now.” He held your arms and made you sit on a chair. Then he dragged another chair to sit facing you and held your hands in his, “What is it?”

His thumbs drawing small circles on the back of your hands didn’t soothe you much but you tried to look relaxed, “My vacation… Um… I am going to stay here until they call me back. And they are going to call me sooner or later.”

Your hands fell from Seokjin’s hold like a yellowed leaf from a branch. He couldn’t believe that you just said that you wouldn’t stay at home, that you wouldn’t stay with him, and you were planning to go back to a job that gave you a broken arm and burn marks just on the training!

You placed your hand on his shoulder and called him softly, “Seok-ah…”

His head hung low as he kept on glaring at the floor. Even if the dining room wasn’t so brightly lit, you wouldn’t have missed the teardrops that escaped your husband’s eyes and fell directly on the floor without getting the chance to glide over his quivering soft cheeks.

Seeing him refusing to get his head up and look at you, you called again, replicating your previous tone, “Seok-ah… Please listen to me.”

“NO!” An almost scream escaped his parched throat. He looked up at you quickly with glossy pleading eyes before looking down again, “You are not going anywhere.”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead on his and held his face in your hands. Your thumb grazed softly across his cheek, swiping away the tears that slipped and stained them.

“Seok-ah…” you whispered. He begged, “please don’t go…”

“Please, look at me. Listen to me just this once.” You pleaded and he adamantly shook his head, still looking down.

“Please? Just once?” The teardrops dancing along the brim of your eyes threatened to fall.

His eyes finally met yours and your tears fell just like his.

You inhaled sharply, “Seok-ah, I can’t just quit my job out of nowhere. If I tell you to quit being an idol and do a normal day-to-day job, would you be able to? Too many people depend on you - be it emotionally or professionally. It’d be unfair. Same goes for me… It’s too important to just… leave! And you know more than me what it feels like to chase a dream and finally achieve it. I… love my job. And I can’t let my abilities rot.”

You paused. Jin didn’t say anything back; he simply continued to look at you with those big eyes waiting for you to say something more. Something convincing.

You continued, “I know you are worried and I know that this work is dangerous as fuck! I get unnerved more than I would like to admit. But if I am allowed to be a little arrogant, I am the best in my field, well — almost.” You rolled your eyes. “But still I want you to have faith in me that no matter what happens I will return to you. No matter how long it takes me, no matter what happens. Can I ask for this much trust from you?"

"It's not that I don't trust you, poppins… I trust you more than myself. But… it's just that I am so…” He gently caressed your once-broken arm while looking at it, “Scared… I just need some time.”

His eyes darted back to yours and you understood where he was coming from; if he was in your place you would be wary too.

You finally let go of the sigh you had been holding and whispered, “Okay. Let’s do that.”

At night you felt a soft hold on your hand - it jolted you awake.

But you relaxed immediately when your body understood that it was Seokjin.

He flinched a little seeing you stir out of slumber. His voice came out rather croaked, “I.. I am sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up.”

You glanced at the watch kept on the bedside table - it read 3:56 am.

You sat up. In the white light of the LED seeping in through the window from the outside, you finally made out his face - his eyes were swollen and shiny red.

He didn't let go of your hand. Instead he held the other one as well when you called him gently, “It's okay, baby. What happened? Why are you up so early?”

His voice came out but a whimper, “I just couldn’t fall asleep.”

He sniffled to speak clearly, “Your hands are calloused.”

“You know, the downside of practice,” you shrugged. You went on with the flow of his conversation. You knew he would speak his mind eventually.

There was a silence that hung around for a few seconds like that awkward friend in the group before Seokjin spoke up again, “I thought about it a lot… and it’s just not fair. Neither to you, nor to myself. But I know you…” He paused to take a deep breath as if to prepare himself to say the next words, “Promise me that no matter what happens you will come back to me.”

You felt relieved and grateful. It wasn’t like Seokjin owned you and you needed his permission to do what you wanted to do with your life but his understanding and support made the emotional burden a lot less gravitational.

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to return…” You squeezed his hands as an assurance, “But I promise that I will. You need to promise me one thing as well.” He looked at you with questioning eyes and you answered, “That you will lead your life normally keeping this faith in your heart that I am doing perfectly fine. Can you please promise me that?”

Seokjin was well aware that it was nearly impossible for him to continue living normally knowing that you could be in a life threatening situation at any given moment but if it would give you a little bit of relief, he wouldn’t mind lying. “Promise.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, pressing your foreheads together.

“Oh! I need to request you one more thing! You might come across me in the streets while I am on duty. Please ignore me and treat me as you would treat any stranger. Can you please do that?”

He nodded vigorously, and wiped his runny nose with the back of his bare hand.

You smiled and brought out a wet tissue kept in the side drawer. With it, you wiped his hand and patted his nose gently.

He kept on staring at you while you were doing so; and when you were done, with a smile that hung on his lips like a decade old incandescent bulb trying its hardest to do its job properly, he remarked, “I think I should get used to doing it myself from now on.”

The call finally came - later than dreaded, sooner than hoped for.

The thing with living in absence of loved ones is that you never get used to it, no matter how much mental preparation you had done for it.

So, when you kissed him goodbye from the doorstep instead of letting him drop you off at the airport, Jin was devastated.

Jin didn’t want to move away from the doorstep; the larger part of his brain was trying to convince the rest of it that you would emerge from the line where you disappeared and laugh at him saying that it was all a prank.

Alas! It was not.

It was summer again and Summer was sad that it had been demoted from being Seokjin’s favourite season to his most hated one.

But in all of the stifling air that hung around and inside Jin, a notification sound brought a gust of sea-scented breeze to him - a text message from you.

“Check the drawer under the staircase.”

Seokjin took a moment to blink away the surprise and then he ran inside, leaving the threshold behind.

Inside the drawer was a multi-patterned cardboard box with a note on top that said, ‘one for each day you miss me’ and within it was a pile of letters - 366 in total, in case it took you that long to keep your promise.

Days were going by.

You were keeping your promise though contacting each other while you were away was rare.

Officially, you were granted two vacations yearly. It didn’t matter which times of the year you took them as long as there wasn’t any mission that required your input. The length of your vacation also depended on the presence of operations and requirement of personnel and expertise.

To ensure coverage, the agents were given a form upon entering the organisation. It asked the agents which time of the year they preferred to have a vacation. You had filled it up as ‘I am fine with any time of the year’. Of course you had preferences in mind but the higher-ups didn’t need to know about them. The response turned out to be in your favour because some heartless asshole in the authority made sure that no agent got the vacation that they put as their preference. That made power harassment a hot topic at the dinner table among the rookies.

Even though you had years of experience and you were proficient in your job, you were a rookie in the organisation and therefore assigned to easier tasks. It was convenient because you were able to effortlessly wrap up the work in time.

You always made sure that you were home for Jin’s birthday and your wedding anniversary.

In the beginning you also secured vacations as long as seven days. As promised, you returned home unscathed.

But as years went by your holidays got shorter.

On your fourth year anniversary, you got three days for your second vacation of the year. Jin took you to the beach house where you had your honeymoon.

It freshened up memories that you cherished. And you cherished the person in those memories. You wished to stay home forever when Jin kissed you by the bonfire under the stars and your toes curled in the cold sand.

Just like any other human whose primary instinct is to adapt and survive, you both responded to your situation likewise. You made sure to make enough memories while being together - in shapes of photos and videos, laughter and smiles, kisses and sparkling eyes - to hold on to and reminisce when you stayed apart. You were living and adapting.

But life is cruel and it couldn’t tolerate that it was beginning to seem bearable to both of you.

After the last goodbye in the summer, that marked the beginning of your fifth year as an ORCA agent, Jin continued living just like he had made himself live all these years - waiting for the phone to make that special ringtone set for unknown numbers; going through the photos and videos of you and the two of you together, working consciously for the sake of everyone and himself; taking care of himself so that he doesn't get scolded once you returned home; keeping up with world affairs to make wild guesses about where you might be right at that moment and reading one letter per day.

It was hard at first but he had started to get the hang of it.

Seokjin’s worry started when you neither contacted him nor came back in winter as usual.

Things turned blue when even after the 366th letter his phone didn’t vibrate with that special ringtone and you didn’t return to him in spring like you were supposed to.

Jin felt his consciousness shutting down like a gradual power outage - one by one, bit by bit.

The members were worried about both of you, but if they were to show their weakness to their oldest brother then who would keep him sane?

“Sane…” Jin chuckled to himself in the darkness of the living room and wondered if he was ever sane for even a single day since you joined that hell of a stupid secret organisation.

Now he felt even more insane because the walls of every room in this big house were beginning to close in on him; the ghost of your presence haunted every corner of its existence.

He had to make an escape, he had to survive, he had to keep his promise.

He started to spend more and more of his time outside the empty house, in the company building - working himself to the bones, making a cocoon in his studio.

He also began to reread the letters, starting from the very beginning.

At night, he buried his screams in the wet pillow and prayed for you to be safe and alive and that you would come back to him.

“Is this too much to ask?” He wondered, “it’s been a long time…”

His prayers were answered one fateful winter morning when he was woken up with a start by the unfamiliar relentless ringing of his phone.

He fell from his couch and fumbled to take the phone out from under the letter that he was reading last night — 210th — and opened your text - ‘guess who is coming back home finally? See you tomorrow, lover boy.’

He blacked out for a good minute because of the sudden burst of serotonin in his system.

The entire day, Jin couldn’t wait for their schedule to wrap up and he kept on pestering the staff by asking repeatedly after each task, “Are we done yet?”

When finally they were free to go Jin rushed out of the building with Taehyung who just liked tagging along wherever Jin went.

Upon reaching, the forgotten house greeted them with upset cob-webs, sad furniture and prideful dust that weren’t too happy about the idea of being removed. The dust protested by invading their nasal cavities resulting in a series of immediate coughs and sneezes.

“Damn, hyung! When was the last time you came home?” Taehyung asked in a muffled voice after covering his nose and mouth with his scarf.

Jin’s forlorn gaze travelled around the space and his voice came out rather distant. “I haven’t, yet.”

•••••••

The beeping sound of the microwave oven pulls Seokjin out of his reverie. The muffins are the last one of the dishes that needed done. All the other preparations are complete. All he needs to do now is to wait - which is proving to be the hardest of all the tasks.

He is restless and he can’t stop shaking his legs and repeatedly checking the time. He is trying hard to convince himself that years are a lot longer than a few hours but he can’t make the anticipation in his heart go down with any amount of pep talk. He is finally going to see your face, hear your voice and hold you in his arms. He is finally going to feel your warmth envelope his lonely frigid heart.

Just as the sun sets, leaving the house at the mercy of the moonlight, the loud sound of the doorbell starts to echo throughout the house.

Seokjin springs up from the inner threshold where he has been sitting on the floor, and before the ringing can stop he opens the door.

A tanned smiling face lined with days of trauma greets him and Seokjin doesn't miss a beat to hug you. Keeping his ears on your chest he listens intently to the beats that greatly solace him. He squeezes you tighter in his embrace as his head moves up and down rhythmically on your very-much-breathing bosoms.

Your life is merciful today.

The water touching your body is the perfect temperature. The hands massaging your sore muscles and helping you clean are soft and gentle. The clothes you are wearing are crisp and clean. Your stomach doesn't have to growl for long and the food in front of you is warm and inviting — finally you are going to have the sushi you were dying for.

Most importantly, the person you are with now is someone with whom you don't need to stiffen your shoulders and strain your senses.

You don't realise until you see his face how much you longed to see it. Seokjin's face is like a resting place for your eyes - a balmy sight. Looking at him now reminds you of the three days straight you had once spent in the surveillance room. When you came out and saw the greenery outside the building, you cried because your eyes had felt so relieved.

Lying down on the bed with Seokjin snuggling you under the cosy blanket, the fatigue finally catches up to you and you feel yourself getting swallowed by the soft mattress. You don’t remember the last time you felt so worriless while falling asleep or the last time sleep came to you so easily, so caringly.

With drowsy eyes you look at your husband who is looking at you with a faint smile and some residual longing in his eyes and you suggest in a sleeplaced voice, “Maybe I should take voluntary retirement now.”

Jin watches you fall asleep right after making that comment. He knows that it’s most likely your body’s comfort receiver talking and you would return to your usual self after getting enough rest. Still, he can’t help but water the little seed of hope that you just sowed in his heart.

He rests his palm softly on your cheek and gently caresses the space beside your eye with his thumb. He shudders while thinking about the countless sleepless nights those beautiful eyes of yours have endured and the innumerable grotesque things they have witnessed.

His mind tells him that maybe he can try to reason with you again later but right now he must give his own tired body some rest.

Lying in the comfort of your presence in the familiar room makes him release a slow content sigh - the walls don’t feel suffocating anymore.

He scoots closer to you and places a kiss on your forehead before whispering, “We have a lot to catch up on, poppins.”

His arm moves on muscle memory and finds its way around you anchoring itself.

Seokjin has been running for a while, trying to escape from a part of his reality but now he can stop doing that and get some rest - he has come home now.

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lumierian · 2 months

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idk?????

hei, come here now. i'm home.

a pop up notification from a very aniticipated person.

welcome home! i'm still at work. will be there in 2 hours

it's Saturday 8 a.m, what do you mean work? come over now. i'll take a bath, my house passcode is 143143

frown. what joke this boy pulling out at you now? his house passcode? take a bath? is this somekind of a new scam?

"aint fall for it" is what i say, yet i get ready to going outside from my comfy bed with a few plushies around. i start from making the bed, then go to the wash room to take a bath, choose some comfortable outfit to make you feel warm. last, put some make up on especially my favorite pink lipstick.

i'm on my way, you done bath yet?

sent. i stand up for one minute in front of my apartment door, no reply. then i take a five minutes walk to the bus stop. lady luck on my side today! bus arrive on time. i look around the road, busy sunday. most of them are teens who's tired from school life and enjoying today's not so warm weather laughing with their friends. ten minutes has passed, i have to get off the bus then walk again for another five minutes. there is a convenient store, i decide to have a breakfast there.

"three sausages, one onigiri and three banana milk"

i eat my breakfast in front of the convenient store, all the chair are empty. i choose the one close by the door. i open our roomchat, "really though? Zayne? it's not like him to act this way"

you done?

no reply. i continue my meal time.

done, come now

he does like to bossing around. as i finish my little breakfast, i walk to his apartment in this very fancy neighborhood. i ring his doorbell,

"wait-" i hear his voice then a beep come out, he open the door. surpised, by his apperance, i forgot what i want to say as i prepare the sausage and banana milk from the store that's already in my hands ready to give it to him.

"what is wrong with you?" unconsciously i say those words.

"what is wrong? what?" he looks at the sausage and milk in my hands then take it "for me i guess? thanks"

shake my head, something wrong with him? or the trip?

"bed head, pajamas, you sure you took a bath?" i sit on his comfortable couch.

"...can you wait here? i'll bathing now" head empty, just nod. he's too fast eathing and drink those food i gave him earlier.

head still empty, i sit comfortably or make myself comfortable. this room always make me drowsy, i wonder if he has a drowsy ghost or something.

"now i'm done" i look at him with similar outfit like mine, i laugh. i don't know what's going on with or how the brilliant mind of his works.

"something funny?" frowns, he looks at his outfit then me then look at his outfit again.

"YOU- you ask me to come so we can wear a couple outfit? tell me the truth!"

he smiles, what a beautiful smile. not a big one, but he's smiling. i love it.

"let's go" again, he act like he's a boss. i follow his footsteps, wherever he go, i look at his lonely broad shoulder, i decide to walk side by side.

"where?"

"somewhere to show off our couple-wear" he holds my hand, interwined like we will live together forever.

we walk to the park near his apartmen to show off our couple-wear. he must hit his head somewhere in his trip.

"do you like kid?" he ask me weird question,

"no? i will only like my own kid"

"does that mean you like my own kid too?"

"does your kid also mine?"

"the we have to get married soon"

"marriage.." is stop, then look at him in that gazing at me all this time.

"that's the least thing i want to do in this world" i look the other way, saying those will hurt him, i know.

i feel a cold hand pat my haed gently, with a gentle voice he says,

"i will wait, with my entire life"

your heart stop beating, only to look at him smiling, the moment i cherish the most. i take his hand that's been rest on my head. coping it with my hands.

"your hand's cold. i'll warm them"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

sorry for some grammatical error, i write this so i can study English :'3

#lnds zayne #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne

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theretirementstory · 4 months

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19/05/2024. Does the photo above give you an idea of where I am this week? Yes I am still in Paris! Not as a tourist but as a patient in hospital. My third week here was “celebrated” on Friday, which just so happened to be Day 11 since the CAR-T cell treatment.

I don’t really know what to tell you about my week, without going into all the gories of this treatment. Suffice to say that after Pauline’s visit, I started with nausea and sickness. Then for five days I had said nausea, sickness, migraine and my temperature was up and down faster than a rollercoaster. I had bloods taken, one normal way and one through the PICC line. The culture produced from the blood from the PICC line showed bacteria so I either had an infection or CAR-T cell toxicity. I was put on antibiotics and the following morning I felt so much better that I managed some food. Fortunately, it was an infection, but for five days I had been feeling steadily worse and worse.

I really would not like to guess the number of transfusions I have had on this journey, which has now passed one year. Yesterday I had another two transfusions, hémoglobin and platelets. I have never given blood in my life, but to all those people who do, I want to say a heartfelt thank you.

Yesterday, Pauline messaged me with pictures of her visit to friends in Italy, one video showed her boarding a bus, she was heading for Rome, presumably for a couple of days before she returns to Barcelona. Her friend, who was pregnant, actually gave birth on Friday so there was also a photo of the new baby.

A friend in the UK, returned home from work on Friday to find her elderly Dad not too well at all. She rang the emergency line and a doctor was dispatched and it was recommended a trip to hospital. Early yesterday morning (after being up for over 24 hours) she messaged to say he was waiting for a CT scan. She messaged again last night to say still waiting news on CT scan 🙄.

It’s the music section and I just found this song purely by chance, it’s by Chris Rea, from 1989 and it’s called “And You My Love”.

The second song is from a lady who I have mentioned before in this section, the song is “No More The Fool” by Elkie Brooks from 1986.

Maud messaged me yesterday, she is still having problems with her family, hence why she hadn’t messaged.

Monique took the liberty of going to my home to photograph the garden, it looks in need of a lot of work to bring it up to snuff. I won’t be doing that straight away but at least I can do some little bits. The grass has grown quite lush and the gardener will be going to give it a cut this week.

Anie had messaged a couple of times, she had been visiting her sisters, one lives near Paris and the other one in Burgundy, where she is at the moment.

“The Reconnect Navigator” had another busy week at work. Then yesterday it was her Father’s birthday so it was all round to her parents house for a birthday drink. Still one day of the weekend left so I wonder how you are going to spend it?

“The Trainee Solicitor” was glad to see the start of the weekend but it has turned into an “action-packed” time again! Hopefully after a couple of meet-ups today you will get some time to relax.

“The Photographer” has signed a contract for a new job and will be starting mid June. This weekend he is busy with his children and hopefully I may get a video call. My grandson has had “slapped cheek syndrome” but has not really felt ill with it.

“The Jetsetter” has either left Vancouver or is due to leave today. However, that won’t be the suitcase being packed away when she gets home, there is still more to come!

A quick update: “The Jetsetter” landed in London earlier this morning and is currently making her way to the train station for the journey home.

That’s another week’s roundup at an end. I hope that this time next week I am able to look out into my garden, if not, I am sure there will be something I can pass onto you.

Jusqu’à la semaine prochaine.

#paris #vancouver #rome #hospitals #80’s music #france #photography

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slowroadtosantiago · 1 year

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Day 43 - O Pedrouzo to Santiago de Compostella

(Posted the day after as too tired to finish it last night!)

We made it! We’re more than a little proud of what we have done, and I am a bit emotional too!

But back to earlier today. After a much better night’s sleep Jane woke me at quarter to 6. We had decided to get going much earlier to get ahead of the crowds and left the hostel shortly after 6 in the dark.

We managed to find our way back to the Camino but were then rescued by one of the American girls who gave up a top bunk a few days ago as we were starting down the wrong way. Going through the forest we had to use our phone torches for a while until it got light enough to see.

We passed through fields and forests, it was all quite rural for some time.

After about 4 miles we stopped for breakfast at a lovely place. The lady who owns the cafe complemented me on my Spanish, probably a bit of an exaggeration though I have got ordering breakfast down to pat now! She had spent quite a few years working in the UK in the VIP lounge at Heathrow and it was interesting hearing her story.

We carried on and eventually got to a hilltop just outside Santiago that gave us a wonderful view down into the city and the cathedral.

Carrying on downhill we passed and were passed by many pilgrims on their way in. Jane needed the loo which gave us a great opportunity to stop at a cafe for chocolate and churros which Jane had not experienced yet. The churros were great but we couldn’t finish the chocolate as it was so rich!

Another very busy mile or so got us to the city centre. I was quite emotional thinking about the adventure being almost over. It has been something that we had talked about and planned for so long, then we were on it, then it was going to be over.

We followed the signs, then lost them as we got closer to the end, but again got directed by pilgrims who had finished. It was impossible just to follow people wearing backpacks as everyone was!

Going through an archway with a piper playing we finally entered the Plaza do Obradoiro and caught sight of the famous cathedral. Pilgrims, tourist groups, and schoolchildren filled the square and it was noisy and busy.

We found Laura and Rian who had finished a short while ago and who were sitting people watching. Rian took some great photos for us then she found a friend to take some photos of the four of us.

Having had enough of the square we went with the girls to find the Pilgrims’ office to get our Compostela, our certificate. They had a QR code which led to a form to fill in. Jane was struggling to get it to work so someone inside took pity on us and told us to go on through, down some stairs then into a reception area with PCs where a nice man helped us fill in what we needed to. So we’ve all got our certificates, as well as a certificate of distance.

To celebrate we found a great tapas bar for food and a few wines. We were joined by two of Rian’s Dutch friends, one of whom had walked all the way from the Netherlands!

Replete and relaxed we popped into the Tourist Office for a map, then went back down to near the Pilgrim’s office to buy our bus tickets to get to Finisterre on Thursday. The town is incredibly busy but we’ll take more time to explore tomorrow.

As we have come in a day earlier we found a hostal with a twin room for the night. It’s very close to the town centre and seems fine. Jane went to investigate the bathroom and who should pop out of the room next door but Kate (living in Canada who we met with her brother earlier in the journey). It was great to see her and to meet her daughter who had joined her to walk from Sarria.

As we were chilling we had a message from Rian to say the Cathedral was already filling up (at 6 for a 7:30 Mass), so we hot footed it up there to find standing room only! We managed to squeeze ourselves onto some steps at the back with Laura and then had a long wait.

The service started at 7:30 and even though we couldn’t understand anything we stood and sat when needed. The priest seemed very kind welcoming pilgrims from all over the world. After an hour, and right at the very end, they swung the botafumeiro, the huge incense burner. It went the whole length of the cathedral and seemed like it almost touched the roof!

Once the service had ended we went with the girls to try to find food. The streets were heaving but we eventually found an organic restaurant and I had a mini pizza and Jane a salad and sausage. We were all hanging by then so decided to call it a day.

Tomorrow we find our Airbnb and have a day being a tourist.

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bobbiworks · 9 months

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Beyond the Bell's Chimes | Part 42

The clock struck seven in the evening, marking the end of the workday. The crisp cold air wrapped the city, but the festive spirit of the season painted the streets with warmth. Wonbin lingered outside, waiting for his colleagues to join him. Wooseok had planned a celebratory dinner at Shotaro's family restaurant, a gesture to commemorate their first day on the job.

Lost in his thoughts, Wonbin was reminded of his family's imminent move abroad. The ache in his heart deepened at the realization that he would be leaving behind the girl he loved. His reverie was interrupted when a pair of arms enveloped him from behind. Jiwoo had come outside.

"Hey, hey! You're going all out!" Seunghan teased, witnessing the couple's sweet embrace.

Wonbin turned to Jiwoo and hugged her back, concern etched on his face. "Feeling better?" he asked, cupping her cheek.

Jiwoo nodded, burying her face in his chest. "I'm fine."

Shotaro prompted everyone to head to Wooseok's car, but Wonbin and Jiwoo hesitated. "Aren't you coming with us?" Shotaro inquired.

"We have plans," Wonbin explained. "Thanks for the offer, but Jiwoo and I have something special for tonight."

"Will you be alright?" Seunghan asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"We'll be fine," Jiwoo assured them.

"Be careful, and call us if you need anything," Eunseok said before the car drove away, leaving the couple alone.

"Shall we?" Jiwoo asked, holding Wonbin's hand. He tucked it into his pocket to warm it up. "There's a place I want to go with you."

They boarded a bus headed for the outskirts of the city. Wonbin felt a pang of worry about missing the last bus, but Jiwoo reassured him that she had enough money for a taxi. She had planned this outing for a long time.

Their destination: the famous Han River. Wonbin had never considered going there with Jiwoo, but she had orchestrated this surprise. The riverside bustled with people and food stalls, creating the perfect setting for a romantic date.

"You should have told me you wanted to come here," Wonbin remarked as they sat on a bench facing the river. The water, still and dark, reflected the city lights. The gentle touch of the wind and the ambient sounds of life created a magical atmosphere.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Jiwoo replied, turning to him with a beaming smile. "Wonbin, how was work today?"

"It was great, except for the fact that you were hurt earlier," Wonbin said, a worried look in his eyes. Jiwoo chuckled, assuring him that she had gotten used to such surprises. "Jiwoo, are you okay living like this, where people hurt you for no apparent reason?"

"Of course not," Jiwoo answered, a tinge of sadness in her eyes as she gazed at the river. "I don't understand why I'm treated this way. I tried to fight back, but the more I do, the more they come."

"Have you told your parents? This is bullying," Wonbin said, aware that this wasn't the ideal setting for such a conversation, but he couldn't ignore her struggles.

"I did, but I don't want to make them worry," Jiwoo confessed. "And besides, it's my own struggle. I can fight back, you know."

Wonbin sighed, recognizing the truth in her words. "You haven't done it much. You could have confronted them earlier."

"I was at work, and my uncle handled it," Jiwoo protested.

"Are you alright?" Wonbin asked, his concern evident. Jiwoo paused, struggling with her smile. "Of course, I am," she said, summoning the courage to share her pain with him.

Wonbin sighed, accepting Jiwoo's words as they were, and pulled her into a comforting embrace. She nestled her cheek against his chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. Wonbin's warmth enveloped her, making her feel close and at home. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she cuddled with him on the bench, expressing a wish, "I hope we can be like this always."

Her words struck a chord in Wonbin's chest, the looming possibility of him moving away from her weighing heavily on his heart. Weeks had passed since he'd talked with his mom about the potential relocation, but none of those conversations had changed her mind.

"Wonbin," Jiwoo gently called his name, drawing his attention. "What do you want to be after high school?" she asked suddenly.

"Hmm? That sounds sudden," he teased, and Jiwoo pulled back to look at him. "I want to do music, to be honest. But my parents won't allow that," he explained.

"No wonder you're a natural," she remarked. "If you do pursue it, I will always be your number one fan," Jiwoo said with a sweet smile.

"How about you?" Wonbin inquired. "Is there something you want to do after high school or maybe in your future?"

"I want to be rich," she declared, causing him to burst into laughter at her straightforwardness. "How can I be successful if I'm not rich?"

"You have a point," Wonbin chuckled. "But I hope that we'd support each other no matter what."

"You sound like you're not going to be with me," Jiwoo said, pulling away slightly, her expression wary. Wonbin's smile faded, and a troubled look crossed his face. "Wonbin, do you want to tell me something?" she asked.

"I do," he nodded, his lips heavy with unspoken words. He was scared of how Jiwoo would react. "My parents are planning to move to another country. It's not certain yet because I don't want to leave my friends, especially you, Jiwoo. You're the best thing that's come into my life, and I'm so happy right now that I can't imagine being happy without you around."

Jiwoo listened, holding his hand as he poured out his heart. After a moment, she hugged him, sighing, "It must have burdened you for quite some time. Thank you for telling me."

"Are you okay with it? How come you're so calm? You could have been mad at me—" Wonbin expressed, his frustration evident.

"I'm not mad. I'm sad, to be honest," Jiwoo admitted, dropping her head as she looked at their joined hands. "But I think you should really go with your parents. After all, they're your family."

"What the hell are you saying? I told you, I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave you," Wonbin retorted, his anger flaring.

"What can you possibly do, Wonbin? We're in high school, and we barely know what future lies ahead," Jiwoo replied, trying to keep her tone calm. She understood Wonbin's perspective but also knew the pain of being alone without family. "Wonbin, I know it's not certain, but try to think about it, okay?"

"Losing you is going to be my downfall," Wonbin sighed, holding back tears.

"You're not losing anyone," Jiwoo reassured him, cupping his face to make him look at her. "Wonbin, it's okay. Hm?"

Jiwoo returned home that night, exchanging pleasantries with her parents and brother before retreating to the solace of her room. Alone in the quietude, tears welled up, and she allowed herself to release the pent-up emotions. Similar to Wonbin, who grappled with the same turmoil, she couldn't find the words to share her feelings when her family inquired about her day.

As for Wonbin, he immersed himself in his guitar, plucking the strings to the tune of his lonely heart. His mother stood by the door, watching him without entering the room. She sensed the weight of their life decisions affecting her son. Without uttering a word, Wonbin continued playing. His mom gently informed him, "Your dad's coming home tomorrow."

Stopping for a moment, Wonbin looked at her with a mixture of frustration and sorrow. "I don't understand why you chose to bring me to New York when you never cared about me in the first place. All you did was work and work. Yes, you provide, and I just had to do what I had to do as your son. You and dad hate having people around because you think they're just using you. But I'm not like you, Mom. I have people who care about me, and I care about them. If you don't understand why I'm not happy with moving, then it's your problem, not mine," he expressed, the weight of these words echoing like a repetitive refrain, unheard by his mother's ears.

"You have a lot of opportunities there," his mom argued, attempting to persuade him. "You wanted to do music, right? New York is the best place to start. I'm going to enroll you in the best music school and help you with your dream," she continued, using his aspirations as leverage to push their family's desires.

Wonbin, however, couldn't bring himself to listen. His heart ached, realizing that his dream was being manipulated to fit their agenda. The clash between familial expectations and personal happiness intensified, leaving Wonbin torn between his passion and the ties that bound him.

It was the much-anticipated Christmas Eve, and the coffee shop buzzed with activity. Customers filled the space, ordering an array of sweets and hot drinks to fuel their festive spirits. The boys had seamlessly adapted to their roles, contributing to a surge in sales with their exceptional work. Sohee and Seunghan had learned the art of coffee brewing under Shotaro's guidance, while others adeptly handled customer disputes and requests. Everything went smoothly until the shop closed for a staff event.

Wooseok, appreciative of his team's hard work, gathered everyone for a dinner party. Grateful to Jiwoo and Shotaro for their assistance, he ordered pizza and drinks, and the team converged around a large table in the shop. Wooseok handed out two weeks' worth of pay to each of them.

"Whoa! Is this mine?" Sohee exclaimed, clearly the most surprised among them. "My first pay!" he grinned, and Eunseok chuckled, playfully ruffling his hair. "Thanks, hyung!" Sohee expressed with gratitude.

"I hope you can enjoy your pay this season, and of course, you can still work for me if you want to, even after winter break," Wooseok suggested, receiving positive responses from the boys.

Wooseok turned to Eunseok, who had barely touched the envelope he received. "How do you feel?"

"Normal," Eunseok replied. Although he was content to receive his first pay after days of hard work, it was his initial experience working in a cafe. He had initially thought the job was tiring and insignificant, but he realized it was genuinely rewarding. "I'm glad to be dragged here," he added, eliciting laughter from the group.

"I can buy presents for my parents now," Sohee grinned, still holding onto his pay.

"Me too, we can go shopping after this," Seunghan added.

"Alright, I know you're excited about spending your money, just don't leave the pizza waiting for you," Wooseok quipped, and everyone eagerly dug into the festive spread, marking the end of a successful and heartwarming day at the coffee shop.

Jiwoo strolled out of the cafe, her mind filled with a whirlwind of thoughts, especially the looming possibility of Wonbin leaving. She had suggested he go with his family, true to herself, yet the conflicting emotions within her couldn't be dismissed. She hoped for change but also recognized the limits of her desires, mindful not to demand too much simply because they were dating. Such dilemmas were subtly distancing her from others, and the fear of losing people gradually consumed her.

"Jiwoo," Seunghan's voice broke through her thoughts. He approached her with a big smile, gripping his backpack straps, and skipping toward her. "Waiting for Wonbin?" She nodded, sighing, and Seunghan stood beside her, sensing her distress. "Did he tell you?"

"Yes, he did," Jiwoo nodded, biting her lip as she looked at him. "I just can't figure out what to do."

"Do you want him to stay?" Seunghan asked straightforwardly. Jiwoo didn't hesitate to answer yes. The desire for Wonbin to stay lingered within her, but she acknowledged that it would be selfish to insist. Her love for him coexisted with her wish for his well-being, prioritizing his family over her own desires. She could never ask him to choose her over his parents.

"You know me, Seunghan. I can't be selfish," Jiwoo forced a smile. "I don't want to make things difficult for him."

"But Jiwoo, are you gonna be okay if he leaves?" Seunghan pressed on. Jiwoo teared up, shaking her head dismissively. She hated that question.

"I would be lying if I said yes," she admitted. Seunghan sighed and gently patted her head, attempting to offer comfort. "I feel like it's going to be lonely without him."

"You are not alone, okay? I am here. We are still here," Seunghan reassured, embracing her. He then noticed Wonbin watching them from afar. Pulling away, Seunghan turned Jiwoo to face Wonbin. "You should go to him."

There was a somber silence between them as they walked down the street toward their bus stop. Choosing the one near their school seemed logical; it would grant them more time to talk. Jiwoo, clutching a paper bag since she left the cafe, remained unusually quiet. Wonbin could only absorb the weight of her silence, keeping her close as they navigated through the crowded street, filled with people either in a rush or under the influence. The truth eventually surfaced — Wonbin was indeed moving to New York at the end of the year with his parents. Their decision stemmed from a desire to be together for his own good, tired of living apart. Initially perplexed, Wonbin gradually understood that Jiwoo was right; they were young, and family always came first.

"We're here," Wonbin stated, trying to sound composed despite the heaviness in his chest, observing Jiwoo holding back tears.

"Yes, we are here," Jiwoo replied, her eyes reflecting sadness, unable to meet his gaze. She tightly gripped the paper bag until Wonbin reached for her hand and held it.

"Jiwoo," Wonbin began, a silent apology lingering in his eyes.

"Don't apologize, Wonbin," she halted him. "You're not at fault. Hmm, when is it?" she asked, attempting to appear composed despite the turmoil.

"I am going to leave before New Year's Eve," Wonbin disclosed, to which she nodded. Noticing Jiwoo still clutching the paper bag, he inquired, "What is it?"

"Hm, this?" she asked, offering it to him. "My present," she explained. Wonbin graciously accepted and opened it to find a scarf, identical to the one she was wearing. "I was saving for this for us to match this season," she revealed.

"I like it," Wonbin smiled, handing it back to her. "Can you help me wear it, then?" he requested, and Jiwoo happily nodded, carefully wrapping the scarf around his neck. "It feels warm, just like your hugs."

Jiwoo blushed at his words and looked away, attempting to lighten the mood. "Oh, there is another box," he noted, pulling a black square box from the paper bag. He opened it to reveal a customized guitar pick. "Jiwoo…"

The guitar pick held sentimental value, featuring a drawing of the bus stop with a boy and a girl standing together. Jiwoo had invested time in creating a special gift for him this Christmas, something that held meaning for both of them — the bus stop. Wonbin, overwhelmed, hugged her tightly.

"I put all of my prayers and wishes in that guitar pick for you to be successful wherever you are," she said, and only Wonbin could respond with a silent nod as he took a moment to absorb her presence in his arms. She turned to him, offering her most sincere smile as she cupped his cheeks. "Shall we stop here?" she asked.

Breaking up was a topic they had discussed. Jiwoo wanted Wonbin to embrace his new life in New York without the weight of waiting for someone. She wished him to grow without being hindered by her. Despite his disagreements, Wonbin understood Jiwoo's intentions. The uncertainty of what awaited him in New York lingered in his mind.

"Remember when we talked about changes?" Jiwoo prompted. "We clearly both hate it, yet we are taking the challenge to accept it."

"This is clearly the change I hate the most," Wonbin sighed.

"We'll grow out of this someday. If we are meant for each other, then God will make a way for us to meet again," Jiwoo assured him. This time, it brought tears streaming down Wonbin's face. He resembled a lost child, and Jiwoo couldn't help but tightly embrace him.

"We are okay, Wonbin. It's alright," she comforted him, patting his back. "I love you so much," she cried, creating a moment etched in both of their memories. Wonbin pulled away, wiping his tears. He cupped her cheeks and managed a smile. "I love you too, Jiwoo," he softly spoke, gently pressing his lips on hers, sealing their goodbye with a bittersweet kiss.

#riize #fanfiction #eunseok #sungchan #anton #seunghan #sohee #shotaro #kpopfanfiction #wonbin #beyondthebellschimes

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kirklandsheartsecrets · 2 years

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Since I read about the wife's 18th century self I imagine that even as a pirate she still has the grace of a woman. Like do you know how Elizabeth Midford from black butler fought? That's definitely how she sword fights, dual wielding while dancing at the same time.

One of the btt definitely had a crush on her, and if he shared this as the reason why to arthur he'd be awed by the information.

And then he mentioned the boobs, artie probs killed him immediately

england x reader || married au bonus || piracy crushes

Arthur looked at the Spaniard in front of him, his nervous face result of him being late to this outing.

"Sorry— I didn’t think the bus would be so late—" Antonio says, waving quickly before taking his coat off and sitting down in front of the Brit.

The two nations just wanted a friendly coffee break together. Being caught up in their personal schedules and countries made it difficult for them to meet up often.

The past rivals in piracy finally found the said time. They would talk about whatever came up to their mind, from their bosses random drama to hating over each other cuisine.

"Always on time just like planned Arthur—"

Antonio started, a slight sound of sorry still in his voice.

"Have you considered leaving earlier..? Except if as back then you still live your unplanned life-" Arthur said.

"I am just bound to roam with my instinct- yours failed you many times Kirkland" the Spaniard teased, clearly taking in the small challenge.

The blonde looked annoyed, Antonio’s habits of living by-instinct put him in awkward or difficult situation. Today was just 20 minutes of waiting in the middle of a coffee shop, however before Arthur’s plan on sailing were easily corrupted by the unattended plans of Antonio also on sea at the time.

Hours spent calculating where and when to stop, so they wouldn’t meet— but it happened, Arthur couldn’t have this kind of control over life, furthermore over Antonio and his crew.

That was how the discussion would turn today, who knows, they might switch later on to something else.

"About pirate instinct, mine might have failed me against you few times, but at least it never failed me against a woman" Arthur started. His green eyes stared directly into the Spaniard ones.

He wouldn’t mention how in his intimacy he would fail against you or how you would fail against him.

“Was i supposed to win over the woman that made my heart beat so easily? I knew she was gonna get killed if I caught her”

Antonio started to explain,

"If caught, and in her country , it’s a death sentence and specifically as a woman. Plus the chica was sure she didn’t want anyone’s child at the time to escape the price of death.” Antonio kept explaining.

Arthur was listening carefully, not aware exactly of what the green eyed Spaniard meant with the sorrow in his voice.

"But I must admit she has nice—"

"Don’t you dare say it," Arthur interrupted him coldly.

"I wasn’t gonna mention her chest—"

“You did last time!—"

"Not today— I was gonna talk about how impressively she fights, she had lovely choreography, does she still have it?"

The brunette asked, looking too happy about you for Arthur’s taste.

"I don’t really know— probably ?”

Arthur lied,

"Come onnn— she is your wife now— I would have tried to play fight—"

Antonio commented again,

The Brit rolled his eyes closing his arms over his chest, as much as he loved you and did admitted that you had beautiful swords moves, Antonio had a reason to be in love with you at the time. He would have too if he has med you at that time.

“None of your business, get her out of your mind." He spat,

“Calm down— I do not think of her like that now— I respect her— however you can’t erase the fact that I saw it before you—“ The Spaniard hardly stated,

“Shut up about that would you?” Arthur shut him off, pissed but blushing.

#aph england x reader #aph england #hws england #hetalia headcanons #Hetalia x reader

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observeowl · 1 year

Text

Right By Your Side | Chapter 18 - Wimbledon

Summary: In the world where wearing glasses makes you a different person. You were forced to swallow a pill that turned you into seven years old. Now, you're living with your crush in a small form, what would you do? Who were the ones who brought this to you? And, can you change back?

Chapter summary: Calling Nat by her nickname when you're tired

Series Masterlist

After the terrifying incident that Wanda just witnessed, you were sitting in the pile of your own clothes.

"Wanda..." Even your voice has become much higher after shrinking.

"Oh my god..." Both of you didn't dare to move afraid of making the wrong move as if there were mines laid out. "That was a sight to behold."

Once you had gotten out of your trance, you cleared your throat and said. "C-can you turn around so I can change?" Wanda lifted her head and faced the door as you tried to roll up your sleeves and pants to prevent yourself from falling over.

Lifting your pants like a princess lifting her dress, you went to find your bag and took out the clothes that were suited for your current body. Rushing to change while occasionally checking if you still have your privacy.

"Okay... you can turn back now." You said as you zip your bag up and tossed it aside.

"So, what are we going to do?"

---

"Finally!" Tony yelled once you entered the restaurant with Wanda. "We planned to come to London with you but only a day and a half later did we manage to see you." Tony had booked a private section of the restaurant to dine in.

You rolled your eyes and sat next to Bill who came earlier than you since you told him Wanda would be bringing you here instead since she was 'taking care of you'. While waiting for the food to be served, he told you where he went and laughed at the absurd price he had to pay for the souvenirs.

Dinner was nice like what you would expect from a Michelin star restaurant but it is nothing compared to the comfort that home cook food provides.

There was another event planned when Tony Stark was involved. The night is never done until he says so. He brought us to the river where Happy informed him that there was a special event today. He was afraid that you would miss this out since you haven't been around. (just taking this from my country and putting it here)

There were plenty of people seated and waiting for the water show to start as it was a regular event that happens here once a week. There were already families with their kids seated at the front row. Since it was outdoors with no entrance fee to pay, he was unable to book the entire space.

The surrounding lights dimmed and everyone focused on the water where the jet sprayed out mist, forming a makeshift wall where the lights projected.

Suddenly, a muscular hand grabbed your waist and lifted you up, placing you on their shoulders. You looked down and it was Steve smiling at you. "I'm afraid you couldn't see it too well."

"T-Thanks." You grabbed his shoulder lightly, knowing he wouldn't do anything silly.

The show lasted around twenty minutes and the story they were conveying was really cool and touching, conveying how they built the country from the ground up.

When the show ended, the lights lit up once again and everyone started dispersing, either heading back since it's late or continuing shopping around the area.

"Thank you." You said once again when Steve let you down on the ground. He was about to reply until Tony came rushing at you, cutting him off before he even had a chance to open his mouth.

"Hey, kiddo. What would you like to do tomorrow? It's not always you have a chance that Tony Stark pays for everything."

You shot Steve an apologetic look before turning to Tony. "Umm... maybe the Wimbledon? I would love to watch it from the stands." You were not overly excited about the sport but you were excited to be able to see something up close instead from a screen. The closest you have even been in an activity was participating in your soccer tournament, but that ended in failure with your free kick.

"Sure! I'll make it happen." He ruffled your hair before moving aside and Wanda came to replace him.

"How is he able to treat you like a kid like normal?" Her voice appeared in your head and you looked at her and shrugged.

It hadn't been a long day for you but you were struggling to keep your eyes open by the end of the day. You trusted Bill as you held his hands and closed your eyes as you walked. It was not the best but it allowed you to rest your mind when you could. When you sensed that he stopped walking you would stop in your tracks as well.

Suddenly, another person picked you up and you shot open your eyes and squeezed Bill's hands tighter.

"It's just me." Nat said. She had picked you up after seeing you were walking with your eyes closed and decided to carry you since Bill was much older.

"Natty..." You said before putting your head on her shoulder and falling asleep.

Nat's heart jumped twice when she heard her nickname from you and her arms around you wrapped a tad bit tighter. She carried you all the way back to your room with Bill and tucked you in bed before saying goodnight to Bill.

---

"Alright! Let's enjoy our last full day here! Tony shouted at the lobby of the hotel and you all groaned and looked away, walking towards the exit leaving him behind. All of us were wearing sports attire since he said we would be having a full experience of Wimbledon.

Since there were a number of us, we took a van towards the stadium and there were already a handful of people even though the match was not going to start a few hours later.

We were given our passes and there was even a guided tour for us. We managed to see the waiting room, training room, canteen and the facilities they have. There were even people running around, getting things ready such as isotonic water or what the player states they want before playing their match. There are a few that's known to last hours and all the backstage people are the ones that keep them going.

It's interesting to see all the ball boys getting brief on what their job scope was and how they should act when on court.

"Let me show you something new that was added this year, I'm sure the kid will like it." The tour guide said and brought us out to an open area court where there were lots of people gathered around seemingly cheering at someone.

"This here, is a place where the kids can participate and play against our trainers here. There's one for adults over there too." He pointed towards the adjacent court.

"Do you wish to join?" Steve asked.

"Yeah sure, if you all joined too." You jumped and cheered, hoping they would accept.

"Alright, let's get us signed up then."

After putting in our names in the application paper and receiving a number each, we went to stand around the fence and watched as the other kids played. Occasionally, you would move over to the adult side because it was more exciting, instead of having to see the kids bending down and picking up the ball each time.

Each player has a set amount of time to be fair for all. Soon, it was the adult's turn since fewer people signed up, the majority of them preferring to look after their kids.

"Goooo Clint!!" You cheered as he stepped on the court. He was known for his accuracy but does it apply here as well?

The trainer started his serve and directed the ball towards him, giving him an easy first swing. Soon after that, the trainer was controlling the flow of the game and started making move left and right. It was safe to say that the trainer was having a lot of fun torturing him.

"Phew, I came here to relax, not train." He said passing over the racquet to Steve who was next.

"You managed to hit some great shots there." Nat encouraged him.

"Yeah, could have done better though."

You cheered Steve on as it was his turn. He was a lot clumsier than Clint was. His shots were flying way too high over the net making it easy for the trainer to get to the ball and swing it back at him. They had a few long rallies and it was your turn so you went back to the kids side and stepped on court.

"Have you played tennis before?" He asked.

"Yeah, a little." You said as he showed you the basics of how to hold a racquet.

"Ahh no wonder you're holding the racquet so well. In this case, don't hold anything back." He said before moving back to his corner of the court.

Once you gave him the signal that you were ready to serve, the ball went flying towards you and bounced on your court before you gave it a tough swing and aced it.

"Yes!" You pumped your fist as you cheered as you won the first point. Claps and cheers could be heard from the side. You looked around and managed to see Nat and you waved at her full of energy.

"You're not playing around huh." He tossed back the ball at you since you won the point. You only smiled as you got ready to serve the ball.

More people gathered around as time passed. Words travelled around that there was a kid that was playing exceptionally well and when at Wimbledon, there would be a lot of scouts looking for their next potential player.

You played to your best ability in this size. You just wished you had more stamina as you soon got tired within the first set. You were catching your breath during the fifteen seconds you have before having to serve.

Immediately after serving, you bounced back to the center of the court to prepare for whichever direction the ball was going to come. But little did you expect the trainer to drop shot the ball causing you to dash forward only for the ball to bounce twice before your eyes.

"40-15. Nice game kid." The trainer won in the end and you stood at the net to shake his hands.

"Thank you. I had a great time."

Nat and Bill were at the exit waiting for you, ready to guide you back to the group but the pair of lady and guy got to you before they did. Nat's instincts took over and rushed towards you and pulled you back before they could do anything.

"Sorry for my sudden intrusion, I'm Tom, with the Sports Association and I was wondering if I could speak to the kid for a few minutes?" He passed his cards to Nat and Bill while waiting for their reply.

Both of them looked at you, leaving the decision to you if you wanted to speak to them so you nodded your head and followed them to the side where there were fewer people. Nat wasn't going to trust them with you alone so she was watching you from afar. She couldn't hear what you were saying, but she made sure you were in her sight.

"I can't believe you did such a stunt." Tom said and you furrowed your eyebrows not understanding what he meant. "Meeting your girlfriend and wasting the pill for your trip back? That was dangerous."

"Lucky thing Hailey knew you would pull such a stunt and asked us to give you a spare pill." The woman said and I finally realised they were Booker and Vivian Kudo, Jimmy/Conan parents. I took the business card from her and I felt a pill stuck to the back of the card.

"Thank you."

"Don't do this again, you'll never know who is watching you." Booker advised. You nodded before waving them goodbye and returning to Nat.

"What did they want?"

"They were just wondering if I'd like to take the sport more seriously."

"And?"

"I said no. They are based in England and I'm going to be in America most of the time, plus, I'm still studying."

She nodded her head as we returned to Clint and the rest. Wanda was just coming out of the court. "You missed Wanda's action. She did really well. Better than Captain America over there." Clint said when he saw the both of you returned.

"I guess we can do more in the compound."

It was getting nearer to the time when the players started entering as we decided to head to our seats to rest after exercising. Since Tony bought the box seat, there were VIP treatments when we arrived. There were tons of sweets and pastries for us to choose from before taking our seats.

You took some eclairs and puffs before taking your soda to your seat. Thank goodness for box seats or you'll be spending a lot of time sweating in the sun. There wasn't any particular player you were rooting for, you just liked the sound of the ball in contact with the racquet.

Your head was moving side to side when the tennis ball went across the court. Soon, it was time for a break between each set and you went to refill the soda you had. Perhaps it was not a good idea to drain out your energy in the beginning.

After getting your sugar refilled, the players were back in the game. It soon got a bit boring for you so you turned to look at the audience, how they were presenting themselves and how many were still watching them.

The atmosphere there was great, it was everything you expected and even more but you were just tired already. Your eyes just couldn't stay open and you tilted your head to the back of your seat and dozed off.

Natasha noticed that you became very quiet and no longer shifted in your seat. She looked at you and saw that you were already sleeping with your head tilted back on the uncomfortable seat. She waved her hands in front of you to make sure you were truly sleeping before guiding your head onto her lap.

Only Natasha knew you were sleeping as she was stroking your back up and down. That was peaceful until a roar of cheers sounded for the final winner causing you to shoot up from Nat's lap.

"Hey, you're back. The winner has just been decided." She nodded towards the giant screen showing the replay of the final point.

"Hmmm I'm hungry Natty." You said as you sipped on the room temperature soda.

"Natty? That's a new one. I've actually heard you say it more than once."

"What? I did?" You gulped at the revelation. "I- I'm sorry. I'll stop saying it."

"Nah, it's fine. Tony should be bringing us somewhere for dinner I suppose. Let's go." She said as some spectators were leaving the stands, only those hardcore fans were staying for the award ceremony.

"So you don't mind me saying Natty?" She shook her head and you decided to tease her. "Natty Natty Natty!"

"Stop it. Or I'll never allow you to say it again." She warned. So, just for fun, you decided to repeat it one more time before rushing to get to Wanda's side. She was shocked when she felt your body collide into hers. Nevertheless, she managed to keep Nat away from attacking you.

After dinner, everyone headed back to the hotel to pack for tomorrow's flight. Once again, you were leaving before everyone else and they had taken it upon themselves to all gather at your room to celebrate until the night before all collapsing in the room.

In the morning, Bill left a note and the hotel card beside Nat's phone to make sure she can see and return the card before leaving the hotel. You didn't want to wake them up as they have been up since 2am in the morning and it's only 7am currently. They still had another 5 hours before they had to leave and it was better if they didn't feel so cranky when they woke up.

Upon reaching the airport, you immediately took the pill in the washroom and changed into adult clothes before heading to immigration. The rest of the flight went smoothly and it was your turn to wait for their return this time.

You and Bill were waiting at the arrival hall after checking if their flight had landed. Since they were seated in first class, they were the first to leave and were able to avoid the crowd. Soon, one by one, you saw the Avengers walking with their hats and sunglasses and you couldn't help but sneak a photo. They looked like some famous band if they weren't the Avengers.

Knowing they didn't want to attract attention, you waved slyly when pointing towards the direction of the car park where it was more private.

"How could you leave without telling us?" Clint rushed towards me and planted his hands around my waist tickling me.

"Clint stop!" You started laughing uncontrollably. "Oh my god, please stop! I'm sorry. I'll tell you next time!" You shook under his hold.

"Alright, I forgive you." He gently makes sure both your feet touch the floor before releasing you. You took a moment to breathe before following the rest to their cars.

---

The rest of the week went as per normal, going to school, hanging in Bill's house before going back to the compound. The only thing different was Conan coming back with a busted lip. You let out a sigh as soon as you saw him in school. This guy has a curse, wherever he goes, cases follow him.

He said he was fine and ended up solving cases for his crush's useless father.

"So, what about you?" Conan asked as all of you were gathered in Bill's house. George, Mitch and Amy were playing games in front of the television when the rest were just watching them play.

"Nothing much, just experience London for a bit before coming back. Souvenirs are on the table over there." You pointed towards the circular dining table in Bill's house.

Your phone sounded and it was a message from Nat asking you to go back since everyone wanted to have dinner one last time before Clint had to leave again. You told her okay before informing Bill that you were leaving early.

After bidding everyone goodbye, you faced Hailey with a serious expression. She looked at you for a few seconds before rushing you to speak. "Thank you for the third pill, really. Couldn't have done it without you."

"Yeah, without me. You wouldn't be going anywhere."

"I shouldn't have said anything." You muttered under your breath before turning away with a wave.

Taking out your headphones to have some company, you put them on your ears as you walked back to the compound. Recently, you've been listening to movie soundtracks from Disney. You trudged back to the compound, Nat told you they were just starting to prepare dinner so there was still time before dinner would start. Though, by the time you get back to the compound, everything should be done.

You didn't even see anything, perhaps you did. White cloth in front of your face and you passed out before you were able to react.

Natasha POV It has been roughly 30 minutes since Allie said she was coming back. Dinner was ready and we were just waiting on Allie and Wanda. I thought maybe she was taking her time but it has been far too long and it was making me worried. She would have told me if she needed more time or I could have gone to pick her up.

To make things worse, she wasn't picking up her phone, which was very unlike her. She always has her phone next to her.

"Has anyone seen Wanda?" Steve asked as he came into the dining room. Literally all of us were just waiting for the both of them. "FRIDAY said she left an hour ago."

"She went to get deserts, but an hour is a bit too long too." Clint said as he set the last dish on the table.

"I'm having a bad feeling." I said as I dragged Tony to his lab and asked them to track both of them down.

While he was doing that, I called Bill and he said Allie left a long time ago and hasn't heard from her since.

What happens if she's taken by Hydra? It'll be all my fault. It's too dangerous letting her walk around alone when she has been around us for so long. And now Wanda is missing too, what's happening.

"I haven't located Y/- Allie but I found sources of energy from Wanda."

Series Masterlist

#natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #black widow 2021 #mcu #Right by Your Side #my writing

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