#that man is overworked and yes it's his fault but yes he's gonna just pass out when he needs to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jaeminlore · 4 years

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Landslide | Mark Lee

summary: time makes you bolder. even children get older, and i’m getting older too.

words: 7.1k+

category: teacher!mark, single parent!reader, fem!presenting!reader, graham is the sweetest kid, mark is that teacher that lets kids pick earthworms during recess, friends to lovers, mark’s apartment is flooded so now he has to live in domestic bliss with his secret crush oh nooooo

warnings: talk of absent fathers

author note: it’s my birthday tomorrow so i wanted to give u all a present for supporting me for so long!! here’s to you <3 (cross-posted on /honklore)

Mark helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Mark advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Mark grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Mark.

Mark ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Lee forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Mark giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Mark to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Mark actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Mark did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Mark puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Mark checks his text messages.

There’s one from Taeyong: “I’ve already got Haechan on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Mark forgot that Haechan lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Mark’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Mark didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Mark has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Mark right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Mark doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Mark gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Mark is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Mark’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Mark gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Mark pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Mark! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Mark is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Lee! It’s rude to call him Mark!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Mark reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Mark.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Mark and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Mark studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Mark acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Mark clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Mark. I’ll text you.”

Mark spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Mark is his teacher.

Mark’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Mark is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Mark glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Mark.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Mark to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Lee?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Mark gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Mark.

“How have you been?”

Mark sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Mark pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Mark. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Mark bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Lee is coming over, Graham. Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Lee? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Mark decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Lee’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are heard before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, and you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Mark’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Mark is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Mark’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Mark teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Mark mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Mark gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Mark himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Mark has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Lee cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Mark around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Mark giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Mark blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Mark knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Mark thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Mark gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Mark quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Mark tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Lee! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Mark’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Mark gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Mark feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be. Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Mark reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Mark has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Lee?”

Mark grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Mark’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Mark feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Mark grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Mark, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Mark leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Mark thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Mark takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Mark watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Mark, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Mark reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Mark wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Lee let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Mark trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Mark scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Mark places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Mark’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Mark says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Mark Lee would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Mark grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Mark up by jumping on his chest.

Mark sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Mark, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Mark rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Mark and Graham enter.

Mark likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Mark, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Mark rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Mark insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Mark giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Mark reminds you.

“But Mikey is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Mark’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Mark scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Mark is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Mark laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Mark blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Mark is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Mark,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Mark opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Haechan comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Mark, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still high despite its blunt sarcasm. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Haechan, Mark’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Lee’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Haechan looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Haechan to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Taeyong’s, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Mikey, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re rambling and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Johnny about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Mark tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Mark didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Haechan scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Mark’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Haechan grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Mark, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Haechan in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Haechan’s voice cracks

You shoot Haechan a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Johnny’s.” Mark says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Haechan says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Mark laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Mark is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in the shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Mark is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Haechan’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Mark didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Mark was alone in a dorm with Taeyong, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Mark even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Lee?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Mark jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Mark realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Mark holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Mark says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Mark’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Mark and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Mark’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Mark scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Mark smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, copper brown under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Mark’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Mark Lee!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Mark has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Mark’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Mark laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Mark.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Mark.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Haechan told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Mark pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Mark stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Mark. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Mark again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Mark in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say.

Mark confesses, “I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Mark is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Mark bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Mark’s voice is a low rumble. Copper eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Mark.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in onyx black disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

#Nct fluff #nct fanfiction #Nct angst #Nct scenarios #mark lee fluff #mark lee imagines #mark lee angst #mark lee fanfic #mark lee scenarios #mark lee x reader #nct x reader #destwrites

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honklore · 4 years

Text

landslide | karl jacobs

(kindergarten teacher!karl, single mom!reader, oh no karl’s apartment gets flooded so he has to stay at his best friend from high school’s house who also happens to be the mother of his favorite student, karl just being soft and sweet and a great friend, um talk about the baby daddy being a loser essentially, the beast team is there playing the role of karl’s friends from school, graham is the sweetest child, slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers, SOFT KARL, warmth, comfort, romance coded but very light)

listen to: landslide by fleetwood mac, never grow up by taylor swift, growing up by river run north, rainbow by kacey musgraves

Karl helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Karl advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Karl grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Karl.

Karl ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Jacobs forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Karl giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Karl to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Karl actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Karl did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Karl puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Karl checks his text messages.

There’s one from Chris: “I’ve already got Chandler on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Karl forgot that Chandler lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Karl’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Karl didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Karl has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Karl right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Karl doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Karl gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Karl is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Karl’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Karl gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Karl pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Karl! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Karl is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Jacobs! It’s rude to call him Karl!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Karl reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Karl.”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Karl and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Karl studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Karl acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Karl clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Karl. I’ll text you.”

Karl spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Karl is his teacher.

Karl’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Karl is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Karl glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Karl.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Karl to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Karl gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Karl.

“How have you been?”

Karl sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Karl pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Karl. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Karl bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Jacobs is coming over, Graham. Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Jacobs? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Karl decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Jacobs’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are head before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, but just you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Karl’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Karl is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Karl’s stuff.

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Karl teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Karl mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Karl gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Karl himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Karl has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Jacobs cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Karl around the house.

Karl giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

Karl blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Karl knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Karl thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Karl gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Karl quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Karl tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Jacobs! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Karl’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Karl gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Karl feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be.

Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Karl reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Karl has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Jacobs?”

Karl grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Karl’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Karl feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Karl grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Karl, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Karl leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Karl thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Karl takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Karl watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Karl, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Karl reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Karl wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Jacobs let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Karl trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

Karl scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Karl places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Karl’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Karl says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Karl Jacobs would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Karl grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Karl up by jumping on his chest.

Karl sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Karl, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Karl rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Karl and Graham enter.

Karl likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of seeing you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Karl, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Karl rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Karl insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Karl giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

“I do have a godson,” Karl reminds you.

“But Tucker is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Karl’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Karl scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Karl is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Karl laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Karl blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Karl is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Karl,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Karl opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Chandler comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Karl, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still monotonous despite its humor. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Jacob’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Chandler looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Chandler to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Chris’, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Tucker, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re ranting and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Jimmy about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Karl tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Karl didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Chandler scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Karl’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Karl, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Chandler in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

You shoot Chandler a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Jimmy’s.” Karl says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Chandler says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Karl laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Karl is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in a shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Karl is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Chandler’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Karl didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Karl was alone in a dorm with Chris, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Karl even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Jacobs?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Karl jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Karl realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Karl holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“I’m going to leave one day,” Karl says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Karl’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Karl and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Karl’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Karl scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Karl smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, stormy green under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Karl’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Karl Jacobs!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Karl has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Karl’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Karl laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Karl.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Karl.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Chandler told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Karl pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Karl stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Karl. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

He’ll just be Karl again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Karl in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say, just as Karl confesses,

“I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Karl is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Karl bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Karl’s voice is a low rumble. Green grass eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in emerald green disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

#karl jacobs fluff #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs fanfic #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt fluff #pixiecap//

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feral-dumbass · 4 years

Text

Neon Angels on the Road to Ruin

James “Bucky” Barnes/ Steve Rogers / Female Reader

Summary: Bucky is on the phone with Steve when he decides he has to have you now.

Includes: Exhibitionism (???), Polyamorous relationship, Masturbation, Unprotected Sex, Overstimulation, Dom/ Sub undertones, Talk of oral, The stealth suit

Words: 2,008

A/N: Hi! The only thing I love more than super soldiers is women in rock, so let’s pretend to be surprised that this my second fic with title credit to The Runaways. As always tagging the homies @babybluestan @gagmebucky @heresyoursnackdumbass

LMK if you guys still want a tag list!

Masterlist

“Mhmm… Pfft, everyone knows to ambush at night. Where did these rookies come from?” Bucky speaks to Steve on the phone as he looks over reports. Steve was currently ranting about how quickly the mission with new recruits went south. Bucky wanted to be a good boyfriend and help Steve out as the reports started piling up. Man, is Bucky happy he’s helping Steve. Steve is making the recruits sound like dumbasses. It’s a shame Bucky will have to put them through the wringer come Monday.

Bucky has had to reread Clint’s shitty sentence twice while Steve rants. He can feel his brain cells deteriorating as he tries to read the report. He’s passed multiple stick figure drawings and that was just the first page.

Commotion from you allows Bucky to move his eyes away from the eyesore. You take a break from typing away on your computer to scratch your bare thigh. Even after you hand leaves the spot where the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt is touching your thigh, his eyes are boring holes into it. You’re sitting sideways in Steve’s reading chair, bare legs thrown over the armrest. Your soft, smooth legs shine under the light and Bucky’s hand twitches. He can practically feel your thighs underneath his hands as he spreads your legs. Not like he wasn’t just between them like an hour ago.

Memories of you coming on his cock fill his brain as blood rushes south. He moves up to your face. You’re biting your lip in concentration as you type out a scientific article. They’re still slightly swollen from Bucky. It’s not Bucky’s fault you’re a really good kisser and he just wants to kiss you 24/7.

With the sight of the wide collar of his shirt displaying previous hickeys and little bit of your cleavage, Bucky’s ripping out a page of Clint’s report. It was shitty. Steve was gonna make him redo it anyways. He balls up the piece of paper and throws it at you as Steve continues his star spangled rant in his ear.

Everyone knows Bucky’s aim is good. He hits you right on your forehead with it. You turn to glare at him. As you blink slowly at him, he points down to his crotch. You scoff and laugh at him. Bucky moves and cups the phone away from his mouth.

“Come hop on this dick.” Maybe Bucky said something wrong because you go back to your computer. “Please.” He tries giving his best puppy dog look, wide eyes and mouth turned into a pout. If it works on Steve, it should work on you.

“Oh my god,” Bucky‘s heart flutters as you laugh when you speak. ”I’m saving my work. Give me a minute.”

“What was that, Buck?” Steve has stopped his rant to ask Bucky a question.

“Oh, she was just checking on the spelling of adamantium.” Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off you as you shut your laptop and stand up, putting the computer in your seat. You stretch out your arms and your underwear is on full display for him.

“Oh,” is all Steve says before going back to his rant. You walk over to Bucky, hips swaying side to side. Bucky is hastily putting Steve on speaker and setting his phone on the mahogany desk. He takes your hand and pulls you on his lap. You throw your arms over Bucky’s shoulders and give him a sweet kiss as he rubs your back. His hand is slowly pushing up the shirt up your back so he can make more skin contact.

“He’s really going on a rant, isn’t he?” You speak lowly and glance back at Bucky’s phone. Bucky takes your chin between his fingers and turns you to face him.

“Ignore him.” Bucky kisses you senselessly. It doesn’t take him long to deepen the kiss, tongue swiping out to invade your mouth. You moan as his other hand moves to play with the hem of your panties.

“You guys know I can hear you, right? You’re making out as I tell Bucky about the worst few days of my life. Unbelievable.” Bucky breaks away from you to reply and you trail after his lips. He smirks as he talks.

“ ‘M sorry, Stevie. You should see our sweet girl right now. Been walking around in my t-shirt with no pants for the past hour. All her hickeys are on display. She looks extra kissable too. Bet she’s even already wet, again, too. Are you wet for me, sweetheart?” Your eyes are stuck on Bucky’s lips, watching the way they move as he speaks. You nod. “Gotta speak up, babe. Stevie’s gotta hear too.”

“Y-yes. I’m wet. I think Bucky should feel for himself, though.” You grab his metal hand and slide it into the front of your underwear. Bucky reaches further down to where you ache for him.

At the feel of your sopping folds as he slides his fingers through the mess between your thighs, Bucky groans out. “She definitely wasn’t lying.” Bucky kneads your sex harder and your breath hitches.

Steve inhales and exhales loudly through the phone. “I hate you. I hate you both. You’re killing me.”

“What do you say doll? Want to kill him even more and let him hear me wreck that sweet pussy even more?” Butterflies rumble in your stomach. Even if Bucky wasn’t going to fuck yoou, you were going to ride his thigh. You find yourself nodding your head adamantly through the pleasure as Steve speaks.

“I can’t believe I’m asking, but even more? What do you mean?” Steve’s brain is definitely fried from dealing with everyone’s bullshit.

“It was rare for me to be out of this tight, little cunt. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” As Bucky talks, he’s sliding his two of his fingers inside of you and finding those sensitive spots inside of you.

“B-Bucky, please.” You whimper as he pumps his fingers expertly. Bucky isn’t lying. He’s fucked you until you’re overworked and sensitive. It doesn’t take much to start to feel the rise of your orgasm.

“What’s wrong, babygirl?” His metal thumb circles your clit. “You gonna be a good slut and cum for me and Steve? You know what? Why don’t you ask Steve if you can cum?”

“Steve, please. P-please, can I come?” No hesitation as you start to beg.

“Let her cum, Buck.” Bucky doubles his effort, pumping his fingers at faster speed. You hold onto his bicep for dear life, nails digging crescent shapes as your muscles tense. You reach your peak.

“FUCK!” You curse in between breathy moans. Bucky lets you ride out your orgasm before he slips his fingers out of you and into his mouth. He takes his fingers out with a pop, loud enough for Steve to hear.

“How does she taste?”

“Like fucking candy.” Steve is groaning and a door slamming in the background breaks the trance between you and Bucky.

“I hope you guys are happy. I’m gonna jerk it out in a supply closet like some kind of creep because you two couldn’t wait twenty fucking minutes to stop fucking like bunnies.”

“Well, you head the Captain. Let’s give him something good to listen to. C’mon and fuck me.” You look at Bucky expectantingly.

“Fuck.” Bucky’s groaning as he sets you on your feet. Before you can blink, he’s yanking his shirt off you and standing up to his full height. You only have a few seconds to look up at him before he’s turning you around and picking you up by the waist to roughly place on Steve’s desk. Your feet barely graze the ground with your breasts against the cool wood. Bucky doesn’t make you wait for long. Before you can process it, Bucky is moving your underwear to the side and sliding his cock into you. You’ve had his cock enough this weekend. He doesn’t let you adjust just starts off at a brutal pace that’s already making you see stars. The smacking of your skin echoes through the room. You have no doubt it carries through the phone.

“S-steve.”

He moans at how wrecked you sound already. “Yeah, baby? Bucky making you feel good?”

“So good.” You whimper. Your back arches as you scramble to get a hold of the smooth surface of the desk. Bucky notices and takes your hand down to reach his thigh. Your fingers dig into his skin. You can feel his muscles contract underneath your fingertips as he thrusts into you. “So fucking good, Bucky.” Even with your ears ringing, you’re able to hear the tell tale signs of skin slapping skin on Steve’s line. Bucky is too focused on your praise to make fun of him for it, thrusting into you with vigor. He tugs on your hips so you’re hanging more off the table. You whimper out as Bucky reaches around you for your clit, rubbing in fast circles.

“Jesus Christ, you sound so pretty. I wish I was there.”

“What would you do, Stevie?” Bucky pants as he speaks. “It sure would be great if you were here to take her mouth. The wet heat of her mouth is almost as good as her pussy. She can barely deepthroat your massive cock. It’d be a great show.” Bucky’s palm smacks down on your ass cheek. It’s almost as if he knows your mouth is watering at the thought.

“Bucky!” Your hips buck at the stinging feeling of metal.

“You’re the biggest fucking tease, Bucky. I should put your mouth to good use.” Bucky’s thrusts falter for a few seconds before his pace picks back up. Well, Bucky definitely wants his mouth used like a whore and you can’t really blame him. There’s something special in letting Captain America facefuck you, firm grip on the back of your head as he makes you take as much of his length as you can.

The thought has your orgasm approaching quicker than you thought as drool starts to pool on the desk. The sight of your muscles tensing and the feel of your nails digging harder into his thigh has Bucky doubling his efforts, angling to hit your sensitive depths with every thrust and rubbing your clit even faster.

“Cum for us. Remind Steve how pretty you sound when you cum.”

“Cum for us, angel. Be a good girl.”

With the sound of both of your boyfriends begging in low, deep voices for release, your orgasm overcomes you rather quickly. Your breathy moans fill the room as you pant. Your legs are so shaking so hard, Bucky has to make sure you don’t fall off the desk as he fucks you through your orgasm. You can barely make out Steve groaning into the phone as you moan out his name.

When you manage to catch your breath over the oversensitivity Bucky is putting you through, a mischievous grin spreads across your face as he thrusts get sloppy. “You close, Bucky? I think you should ask Stevie if you can cum.”

“You heard the woman.”

“Steve, I swear to fucking God if you don’t let me cum-”

“Nicer.”

“Please, can I cum?”

“I think you know what I’m looking for, Bucky.”

“Please, can I cum, sir?”

“See that wasn’t so hard. Go ahead.” With his permission, you can feel Bucky spill his warmth as you whimper. His groaning sends shivers down your spine as he roughly yanks your hips to meet cock in the last few thrusts.

Everyone takes a few minutes to catch their breath before Steve is speaking out again. “The weirdest fucking part about this is that I haven’t had time to switch out of my stealth suit.” A moan slips out of your mouth on accident as you clench down on Bucky.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Did she just-”

“Yep.”

“I want you both naked waiting for me on our bed. 15 minutes. Try not to fuck each others brains by then.” Steve abruptly hangs up after that leaving you and Bucky to scramble to the bedroom.

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hongism · 4 years

Text

the little things - k. yeosang

↣ pairing: yeosang x reader; mentioned poly ot8 x reader ↣ genre: sfw, fluff, slight angst, fantasy au, witch ateez au ↣ wc: 2.5k ↣ summary: as it turns out, even you have a breaking point. yeosang is there to pick up the pieces as you fall apart. ↣ warnings: a lil language, talks of stress and anxiety

If there’s anything for you to pride yourself on, it would typically be your ability to handle any amount of work handed your way. Your shop is not the only one in the area – plenty of people have a need for herbalists and alchemists these days – but that doesn’t keep you from being busy nonetheless. This time of year is the most busy for you. Between holiday orders and people who get sick when the colder weather strikes, you find it quite reasonable to say that you are drowning in your work.

As such, it pulls you away from the coven and your eight lovers more and more with each passing day. It isn’t that you don’t want to see them or that you are attempting to push them out of your life; simply put, you are busy, even if San refuses to believe that each time he comes to visit. Your mood, which is already sour as it is, has been considerably worse today thanks to a visit from said familiar this morning. Not because of anything he did, however; no, you only have yourself to blame for being in such a bad mood because when he fluttered in through the window and shifted on your kitchen counter, he just so happened to shed a few feathers on the floor. Something that isn’t typically a big deal. Something that happens regularly. Something even Seonghwa, a damn hearth witch, doesn’t mind.

Yet apparently, this morning was the straw that broke the camel’s back (it’s you, you’re the camel), and you snapped at San so quickly that the familiar stumbled backward and hit his hand on the knife you left out on the counter. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the man retreated back into his raven form and flew straight out the window before you could even offer to help clean the wound and apologize.

So yeah, today has been an absolute shitshow from start to finish, but you have so many orders on your plate that you can’t even spare two seconds to cry from the pressure of it all. Even midway through the afternoon, you are still laboring over all the concoctions and potions that you have to make despite having worked for well over nine hours already. Half of these orders are not even due until next week, and it would be perfectly reasonable for you to space them out or schedule them differently, but your stomach is in knots at the mere thought of waiting to start them any longer.

You don’t hear the door creak open moments later, too engrossed in the steaming cauldron on your countertop. When there is a whoosh of air and a sudden burst of magic in your entryway, you snap into action, whirling to face the intruder with a metal ladle in hand.

“Yeosang,” you sigh, equal parts exasperated and relieved. The blond stands before you with a gentle smile painting his sharp features, and those cat-like eyes blink several times in your direction, pupils relaxing back into their natural feline slits. Honestly, you should be more confused about the hybrid’s appearance in your home. It is rare for him to leave the premises of the coven’s cottage, and even rarer for him to do so alone, but you push that thought to the back of your mind in favor of returning to your work.

“That’s all the attention you’re gonna give me?” Yeosang quips as you turn away from him. Another sigh slips from your lips without you intending it to, and you have to bite down hard on your tongue to keep from snapping back at him. “Y/n…”

“I’m busy, Yeosang.” Tone flat and biting, not even the sharp pressure of your teeth can keep you from spatting the words over your shoulder. “These orders won’t finish themselves.”

“We’re worried about you, angel.” Yeosang’s presence pushes closer to the kitchen but he doesn’t step any further than that, eyes trailing over your hunched form from the doorframe.

“Yeah, well, save the lecture for later.”

“I’m not here to lecture you.” If you were to glance at Yeosang now, you are certain that you would see his delicate cat ears twitching with annoyance just from his tone of voice. “You know Seonghwa or Hongjoong would be here if that were the case.”

“Surprised they aren’t here given what happened with San this morning.”

“They – just like the rest of us – know that you have a lot going on right now. We can’t fault you for being stressed.”

“You could fault me for being a bitch,” you scoff, dropping your ladle back into the cauldron and stirring its contents to busy yourself.

“I would never claim you to be something you’re not.”

The words are sickeningly sweet – far too sweet compared to what you deserve to hear at the moment. Part of you wishes he would just be cruel and tear into you so that you could actually cry and get the building emotions out of your system.

“So what? You’re just here to distract me from my work and say you’re worried about me?” This time, you actually do see Yeosang’s ears twitch in annoyance because you shift to look over to where he’s standing. He doesn’t let the emotion shine in his eyes though, biting it back in favor of smiling at you.

“Yes.” He folds his lithe arms over his chest and levels you with a determined stare. “That is precisely what I am trying to do.” A step closer. “Is that a problem, Y/n?” Another step towards you. “I can stand here and pester you until you get frustrated enough to kick me out, or—” he paused beside your counter now, slipping around it so that he can be directly across from you “—you can admit that you need a break.”

Your fingers tighten around the handle of your ladle, and it’s certainly leaving the indentations of the metal on your palm but you don’t let up for a second. Yeosang’s gaze searches yours, begging and pleading for some sort of give on your part. You are nothing if not stubborn though, and you absolutely refuse to give in that easily. He’ll have to try harder than that to get you to break. Yeosang seems to realize that in less than a second because he dips around the side of the counter to join you where you’re standing now. You pay him little to no attention this time.

Then, as you are in the midst of reaching for an empty vial, a hand darts out to snatch the vial out of your grasp. You open your mouth to snap at Yeosang for disturbing your work yet again, but he doesn’t give you the opportunity to because he darts behind your back and snakes a hand forward to take the ladle from you as well. It leaves you completely helpless: stuck in the cage that is Yeosang’s arms as he brings them around your shoulders and begins to do your job for you. The heat of his breath is rushing down the back of your neck, the feel of his arms around you is suffocating in its warmth, and the mere gesture of watching him pour the potion into the empty vial nearly causes you to break.

Yeosang hums as he works, a gentle and soft tune that he sings to Wooyoung when trying to get him to fall asleep or to Hongjoong when the man is overworking himself as usual or even to Jongho during their afternoon naps on the couch. Now he gives it to you, humming directly in the shell of your ear as he peaks over your shoulder to make sure he doesn’t spill a drop of the mixture.

“How many do you need filled?” He asks once the first tube is full and sealed with a small cork. You are so overwhelmed in that moment that you can’t even find it in you to respond. Yeosang barely has time to react and set the ladle and vial down safely before you’re reeling on him and shoving your face into his chest. The air leaves his lungs in a huff, then the small clatter of him releasing the ladle into the cauldron resounds behind you. You can’t see a thing past the soft cotton of his tunic.

“S-Shit,” you mutter. The tears are already welling you against your will, and your throat seems to be closing in on itself. Yeosang drapes his arms over your back without needing an explanation, letting you push him back until his tailbone hits the counter behind him. He settles against it without complaint though and tucks his arms further around you until every single one of your senses is completely full of him. He smells of fresh lilacs and lavender, clothes soft on your skin, hands warm in your hair. He doesn’t even need to say a word for you to shatter completely. Within the next two seconds, you are sobbing into his chest, well past your breaking point in terms of stress and anxiety.

This is a first for Yeosang, even if it seems to be something regular for you. When it comes to comfort, Hongjoong or Seonghwa are the first to be at your side to ease your concerns and worries. Yunho after that, then maybe Mingi. But never Yeosang. That just isn’t the type of relationship the two of you share. The dynamics among all of you are different but the same, all ending in a place called love. And even if this is not something Yeosang typically does for you, you feel the love and warmth in it nonetheless.

His hold on you doesn’t let up for a second, and he simply lets you cry against his body for quite some time before he adjusts your position and pulls you away from the kitchen. You pay no attention to where he’s taking you, only that he guiding you away from work, but the intensity of your sobs would keep you from working anyway. All you can do is let him tug you along until you feel him drag you down to the couch, pulling your body over his and tucking you under his arms once more.

“Just let it all out, angel,” he murmurs, lips dancing over the column of your neck. “I’m here, you don’t have to suffer alone.”

“I-It’s just so much,” you sob. The waterworks are already out and ready to play, but you were hesitant to open up about the causes of your stress until Yeosang whispered those words that seemed to give you permission.

“I know it is, love. You have so much on your plate. So much to deal with.”

“It’s too – too much. I c-can’t do it all.”

“You can, Y/n. You can do it. You know why?” Yeosang shifts his head up a bit to press a warm kiss to your temple. “You always handle everything with such grace and determination. You work so hard and get so little in return, but I promise you – Y/n, I promise you that your efforts do not go unnoticed. It may feel like you are doing this all for nothing, but it will all pay off in the end. Your hard work will pay off.”

“It doesn’t feel like it will. I feel like I’m not good enough, not smart enough, not talented enough… I just f-feel like I’m not enough.”

Yeosang pulls back upon hearing those words, hands reaching up to cradle your face and look you in the eye. His gaze is absolutely unreadable, and you don’t have it in you to make an effort to figure out what emotion he is harboring there. His words do more than enough to explain it to you.

“No matter what you do, what paths you travel down, what choices you make in life, you are enough. You are smart enough, talented enough, good enough. You are capable and powerful in so many ways, even if you can’t see it yourself. And you always have at least one person at your back, cheering you on and rooting for you when you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel any longer. Because no matter what, you deserve to feel like you’re enough. Everyone deserves that, and I know you can see that in others yet when it comes to yourself, you feel like it’s selfish to give yourself that much. It’s not selfish or egotistical or wrong to let yourself be enough. The work… it might be a lot now, it might be hard now, it might be stressful now. That doesn’t mean it will always be this way though. It will get better in time, and you will come out of this stronger than before, stronger than ever. I know this is true because I know your determination and drive to be good at everything you do. Sometimes we have days where we can’t even get out of bed because we’re so overwhelmed by everything. And even if you have those days, it doesn’t mean that you are any less than what you are. And what you are is enough.”

Your tears are spilling over the fingers that trace over your cheeks in softly-traced patterns. Your lip is wet with the tears, and you are quite positive that you look an absolute mess and a wreck, but Yeosang doesn’t seem to mind one bit. It’s with a gentle, barely-there pressure that he lands a kiss on your lips. Merely a gesture meant to provide more physical comfort, but you bask in it still, sinking your mouth deeper atop his until your tongues entangle in his mouth. You only part when you are completely out of breath and unable to stay connected any longer. Rather than pulling you down for another kiss, Yeosang simply pushes your head back down to his chest and lets you rest there as cries continue to leave you.

And he continues to smile at you. Coaxes tear after tear out of your body, and his humming resumes. He presses his hand to your hair without a care in the world about the way your tears soak through his shirt. The humming blossoms into sweetly sung words, ones that push warmth and comfort through your whole body.

“When it’s overwhelming, hold on tight. I’ll be here, don’t forget it ‘cause in life sometimes we need a helping hand. You’ll be alright. Just take it slow. One day at a time.”

...

a/n: kira i know you already finished school but i wrote this with you in mind bc i know how stressful these past few days have been for you bc of the end of the semester :c @felixity i love u!!! and for everyone who is having a hard or stressful time because of school! hang in there! you’ve got this! im rooting for you and wishing the best for you <3 take care of yourselves and i hope this little fic can provide some comfort for you 💗

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chiptrillino · 3 years

Note

Respectfully, I would love to hear more about these OCs, or any others that you may have.

okay i am really not used in talking about OC so... :')

first things first. not all are drawn. like some are really just original story oc that i may one day will draw but we will see!

This is rather long so in order to not spam your timeline click below!

Starting with the one that technically has a face but refuses to have a face.

moth-man & 0-experience: or is it woman? moth-person? morph??? they are the ones that hire the 0-experience person for the job. and what is the job you ask? well technically everything. simplified i like to call their profession "the collector and curator of stories" you have to imaging 0-experience person, enters this really old book shop that is inside way larger than it is outside, and moth-man just hires them. just like that.

and they both go out, listen to people and what they like to tell them about. and then they go back to the bookstore and start working on creating and binding the other person story. i have a hard time sitting down and drawing this because the moth- person really changes shape for every profession and person they interact with. there is not a fix shape. and ahh... ONE DAY I WILL MANAGE!

the hornist ace in existence: well... let’s say you are a creature of the dark. and in the monastery, this new cutie arrives. and all these old rusty dusty nuns and priest bullies her. but this girl is the sweetest creature that ever was abandoned in this place and has a natural curiosity for science and biology, and you just really crush hart for her so like... why not pass the girl an apple again, shall we?(not gonna lie... its Christian lesbian in love, though one is literally a creature form hell. and there is some nsfw in this story but. God no, demon girl has no interest in vile human needs, but she will gladly talk with you about universe and constellations and how birds fly, also ‘yass girl tear the bible into tiny pieces that is so hot!’) (listen... easter time in church is really boring and if god listens, I hope he enjoys the outline of this story in my head.)

Reaching the ones that have a face my bi disaster man is this guy so...

say hallo again to Waylin, who end up meeting Camille here, who is well... look at her she is cute! and then he turns around to Camille in guy version which is her twin brother Burscop. and yeah... he shortcrust. and no being Bi, and a disaster is not his only characteristic. he is quite reliable, skilled with weapon, really gentle with the little kids, a great storyteller, handy with the needle and solution oriented. but yeha, he is crushing hard for the twins. and that’s partly because i can't decide who he should end up with at the end ;;;

Camille finds it cute and funny at the same time and makes Waylin’s live living hell on purpose. Burscop on the other hand... doesn’t really care.

he has his, well he is angry at his dad. but before you come at me with "oh he has an abusive dad!!" no! not the case here. a distant dad, yes. but Burscop over here, doesn’t grow up and decides to be a petty 9 years old for the rest of his life. not that their dad isn't as petty as his son. but for other reason. Camille is just tired, she has to visit her mom soonish to vent.

and the award for best father of the year that cut his daughter fingers off goes to!!!! Cavan over here!

eokay it is not his fault! i just... didn't want to draw all Zorya’s finger one day and was like. "YOU KNOW WHAT?!? fine no fingers" and that’s why she is missing fingers :'D but by now there is actually some kind of story for that. Basically, Cavan was for some time a single dad. and well Zorya is just a wild child. never sitting still and needs to run and jump. complete opposite of her dad that is more of a well... sitting in his laboratory, drawing maps for the queen building, and tinkering on telescope and scientific models etc etc. and well... little children better should not play around with heavy duty tools and so...

hey! Cavan is distraught, he is unable to forgive himself for this okay! he was an overworked single dad, with a whirlwind of a child. Zorya doesn’t even remember the day she lost the finger and fingertips. so now Cavan is the world best and most supportive dad in my world by letting his daughter spend most of the year with her grandfather and uncle in the tundra. and regularly sends er presents and trinkets and yea. winter he is there for her 24/7. and she is a really happy child.

So... this was rather long;;; sorry about that. but hey you asked!!!

#chip!ask #chip!talks #i hope this was not all to disapointing #i have to clue how to talk about oc :'D #btw the idea backfired because now i have toemember all the time with finger is gone and which is still here!!!

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onthepageoftears · 5 years

Text

Kill Your Darlings — Ch. 1 (Jaskier x Assassin!Reader) || Witcher

A/N: So this is the start to my first ever series (yeah im not nervous posting this at all). I’ll be posting one chapter each Friday! This is more of a prologue, but definitely worth the read for the background! Overall, I have to warn you, this story is a very slow burn. I haven’t finished writing it yet, but I know some ~things~ take a while to happen, so stick around!

Anyway, your comments and feedback are more than appreciated, so don’t be afraid to leave me some messages :)

Also, if you’re @ on the taglist is italicized, it means it wouldn’t let me tag you, so you might have to change your settings :)

Summary: Y/N, a skilled assassin, gets their newly assigned target.

Warnings: language, mentions of death/killing/murder, mentions of abuse and r*pe, alcohol consumption

Words: 1,996

Support me?

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

Taverns were one of your least favorite places to meet. The stench of the unfortunate man’s breath wafted through the air, on top of the lingering odor of cheap alcohol. Men staggered around with their mouths wide open, yelling obscenities — women pulled down their dresses just enough to gain attention, glaring at anyone who passed. Everyone was way too loud, as if the sound of their slurred words were more valued over anyone else’s.

Your hood hung low over your head, just high enough to leave space for you to see. Your eyes immediately scanned the tavern — it was smaller than the usual ones you met at, but just as packed. The stuffiness of the room practically smacked you in the face as soon as you walked in, almost making you scrunch your nose. The smell was way worse than you remembered.

You kept your face stiff as your eyes stopped at a table near the back. Without a second thought, you made your way past the piles of people and towards the familiar head of hair you would recognize in a mass of a hundred people.

“I see you still have an impeccable taste for meeting places.” Your voice caused him to look up just as you sat across from him, removing the hood that covered most of your face.

“You know I do.” Rauf smiled proudly despite your obvious sarcasm. He gestured to the full cup of ale that was already in front of you. “A drink?”

You shook your head, “Not tonight.”

“Come on, Y/N. It’s just like old times.” Rauf was right. The length of the walls, wood of the tables, even the stench of the ale in your cup. It reminded you of the many nights you and Rauf would retreat to the taverns after training. A hard day’s work requires a hard day’s ale. It was what he said when he treated you to your first, and definitely not last, drink. You were pretty sure he just wanted an excuse to get drunk — which, you wouldn’t blame him for. Your line of work was never easy, not even for a veteran like him.

You picked up the drink with a sigh. “What’s the occasion?”

“Can’t I just want to have a drink with my favorite niece?”

“Only niece. And not by blood.” You reminded him every time, but it didn’t stop him from saying it.

Rauf was a family friend, always had been. You called him uncle, even when you were old enough to understand he had no relation to your family’s bloodline. Growing up, he was a common visitor at your parents’ home, frequently coming for a chat over some dinner. He would ruffle your hair on his way out, send you a wink every time. You always loved his visits, because it was the only time your parents stopped fighting; in those times, you felt like you had a normal, happy, family. Now, Rauf was the only one of your family that you had left.

You shook the memory from your mind and put the cup down. “You have a new target?”

Rauf was busy watching a woman drunkenly dance to the poor excuse of music, but he responded nonetheless. “When do I not?” He turned back to his own cup and chugged it down. After he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked at you. “People are shitty, Y/N, always have been.”

“My point exactly.” You tapped the table beneath you, trying to keep your patience. Sometimes, it was hard for you to imagine Rauf running an assassin’s guild. He was responsible, sure, but in front of you, he acted like any other man in the tavern. In this case, that meant being almost unable to tear his eyes from beautiful women. There was always a charm about him, though, like the charisma of a well-respected bard — without the annoying craving for attention. He was messy looking, but in a good way, and his smile was infectious. At a single glance, you wouldn’t think he has killed people.

You took another sip of your ale, though it didn’t taste like much of anything.

Rauf turned his gaze back to you, a playful smile on his lips. “Maybe you should learn to dance. Perform, act. You used to always put on plays for me as a youngster.”

“I’m acting right now.” You faked a smile when he quirked his brow. “Like I don’t want to kill you.”

Rauf leaned back, his smile growing wider. “We both know you don’t kill innocent men.”

“You call yourself innocent?”

“Point taken.” He signaled the server to bring another round, eyes almost immediately trailing back to the dancing woman.

It was your job to assassinate those deserving, but you really felt like bending the rules right now. Rauf could be distracted, but tonight he was especially so. You clenched your jaw, urging your own patience to hold out a little longer.

It was understandable why Rauf would want some time off from talking about the job. As Rauf mentioned the last time you spoke, business was, to put it lightly, booming. He had been giving out more assignments than usual — our work finally paid off, he told you. It was quite exciting, to be honest. After years of working alongside Rauf and his trusted team, you all hoped the guild would reach a wider range of people in need.

After all, your guild was different than most; rather than be paid to kill anyone, Rauf made sure there was an unjust act committed by the targeted party. Abuse, rape, murder, any of the likes. You were vigilantes, in a way — though even the most well-known assassins of your guild wouldn’t call themselves that. You all knew you were killing — it just helped you sleep at night to know the ones who were being killed weren’t…undeserving of the death.

The rise in work was great, but also taxing on Rauf. Even just looking at him now, you could see the weight he was holding on his back. His eyes were more tired, overworked. Of course, he would never admit to it, and neither would you. Complaining leads to laziness. It was one of his many scoldings throughout your training.

So, Rauf needing a break from his work made sense. It just made you antsy knowing there were more people out there committing heinous acts — more people you needed to terminate.

The server returned with two new cups of alcohol. As Rauf continued to watch the woman dance her troubles away, you tapped your finger on the table, shifted in your seat, fought yourself from rolling your eyes, and finally cleared your throat. You spent enough time waiting around. “Rauf.”

“Hm?” He only slightly turned to you.

You let out a frustrated sigh before answering, “The target.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Finally, his attention was brought back to the task at hand. You straightened your back, readying yourself for your next assignment.

Rauf’s eyes searched your own. Finally, he spoke.“He’s a loud mouth—“

You rolled your eyes. “My favorite.”

“I wasn’t finished.” He took a big gulp from his cup and set it back on the table. “A bard.”

“Even better.” You followed his actions and chugged the rest of your drink, putting it back without so much of a blink. “What’d he do?”

Rauf’s mouth twitched. The sarcasm was spilling from his expression before he even spoke. “You’re gonna love this.”

“I bet.” You had to hold yourself back from leaning forward in anticipation.

Rauf pursed his lips. Then, he let out a quick breath. “Raped. A bunch of women.”

You quirked a brow. “A bunch?”

“Twelve. So far.”

You shook your head. “Not ‘so far’. Just twelve. There won’t be anymore.”

“Not after you’re done with him.”

“Damn right.” You settled back in your seat, anger already filling your veins. If not for your years of training with Rauf, the anger you felt would overwhelm you, cause you to be irrational and slam your fist into whoever’s face was closest. But now, you learned to contain that anger and use it on your targets. And boy, did you use it.

A thought entered your mind, but you bit your tongue for a few seconds. As Rauf lifted his cup once more, you tried to sound casual. “Who put down the money?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know that’s anonymous.”

“Of course,” You shrugged. “But if it was one of the victims, I hope you gave them a reasonable price.”

Rauf studied you for a moment. “It wasn’t a victim. It was a… family friend of the victim.” You narrowed your eyes at him until he groaned. “Yes, I gave them a discount.”

“Good.” You leaned back with satisfaction. Now that that was out of the way, you needed to figure out the details of the target. “This target got a name?”

Rauf tapped the edge of his cup with a finger. “Julian Alfred Pankratz. Goes by Jaskier. Not quite famous, but well-known enough.”

Your eyes glazed over with near boredom. “I haven’t heard of him.”

“You haven’t heard of anyone. Well, I suppose that’s partially my fault.”

You ignored his comment. He often tried to guilt himself for not teaching you more about things other than training, fighting, killing. No matter how many times you told him you didn’t mind, he brought it up anyway. Besides, you didn’t think you wanted to know of this bard, especially after what he’s done.

“Where is the target located?”

“He was in Oxenfurt two weeks ago, at the time of the most recent…incident. Payer said he’s now in Novigrad.”

“Not far.”

A comfortable silence fell between you two, allowing the noise of the tavern to fill in the gap. You noticed Rauf eye the same woman who had been dancing practically all night. This time, you allowed your eyes to make their way to her as well. She was so carefree, seemingly impossible to tire. There was so much life in her, but you wondered what she went home to. An empty house or a full one? An abusive husband or a loving partner? A loved child or one she wished she never had? These people, they each had their own lives that lead to either pain, anger, or devastation. Each and every person would have their own life, their own struggles, their own sins. Some of them wouldn’t even realize it, or care.

You shifted your attention back to the nearly full cup in front of you. You picked it up and swirled the liquid around before bringing it to your lips. Before every assignment, you felt the same nerves as you did now. It was a mix of eagerness and hesitation. In this case, you wanted to get the son of a bitch bard, no matter what it took. But an assassination in a city like Novigrad, for a somewhat popular bard? It would be tough, that was for sure.

Rauf must have noticed your clouded eyes, as he nodded his head towards you. “You think you can handle this?”

Despite the underlying nerves, your lips curved upward and you quirked a challenging brow towards him. Within a second Rauf nodded with a similar smile, silently understanding the uselessness of his question. Of course you could handle it. It would be tough, yeah, but the job was always tough. You were trained by the best, after all.

Rauf lifted his cup and spoke with the rim to his lips, “Meet me at the Novigrad guild when you’re done. You have the usual time to finish it.”

You took one last sip of your drink, then stood from the chair as you lifted your hood over your head, “See you soon, Uncle Rauf.”

After a single nod from him, you left the tavern and descended into the darkness, ready to eliminate your next target.

———————————————————————————————————

Tags: @alienemilyyyy @treehousemagicblog @jediviolet @roaringliona18 @saint-hardy @milkierei @curse-brekker @beneathstarryskies @itsametaphorbriansblog @scream-kiwi79 @starfox-92 @sophiasescape @aspenholland

(if you want to be added/removed to/from the taglist, don’t be afraid to send me a message or sign up via the taglist link in my description)

#the witcher imagine #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #jaskier #jaskier series #the witcher series #the witcher #reader insert #reader imagine #kyd #kill your darlings series #writing #my writing #fic #the witcher fic #joey batey

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imaginewrites24 · 5 years

Text

The first part to my story...it probably sucks cause my brain hates me sometimes but I wanted to go ahead and get this part over with.

It’s short and sweet because it’s just a little introduction 😊

PROLOG

The day was slow for Katalina at the dinner. So slow that she had told her coworker to go home. She only had 2 tables taken up at the moment. One table held an elderly couple, Raymond and tess, they were regulars at the dinner and had become a second family to Katalina. They came in everyday only skipping days when one or the other had a doctors appointment and even then they let Katalina know ahead of time. They always got on to her about her habits of overworking. Ray and Tess never had children. They had tried for many years but were never able to get pregnant so when they started coming to the dinner 4 years ago they decided then that Katalina was their adopted daughter. Ray even went as far as running off anyone who tried to hit on her if he didn’t think they were good enough for her.

The other table was taken up by a man who had caught Katalinas interest. He sat alone at the table focusing on whatever papers he had brought with him. He had only ordered a water which was odd to Katalina because nobody ever just ordered a drink. The leather he wore when he first came in was now draped over the side of the seat he sat in. The leather had told her that the man was a prospect of the local motorcycle club the Mayans, which only peaked her interest more.

Katalina had noticed that whatever the man was focused on was causing him stress. He had been there for a little over 2 hours. He had been there so long that she had decided to have the cook in the back make him so food anyway. When she had brought it over to him he had looked up at her confused.

“I didn’t order anything” he had said

“I know but I figured that whatever got there that you’re trying to figure out you should at least do it while eating. The meal is completely on me of course ”

“That’s really nice of you but I can’t-“

“you have been here for 2 hours and haven’t eaten so just take it besides thats 6 bucks out my paycheck so if you don’t eat it you’ll look like an ass” she said with a smile. They looked at each other for a moment before she was pulled away.

“Hey Tess and I are heading out but I wanted to say bye and give you your tip” the elderly man said handing her a $50

“Ray I can’t accept this”

“Katalina you take care of that girl in Los Angeles and never take care of yourself, we tip you like this so you have more to spend on you my dare so you’re gonna take it or I’m gonna give it to Jane to put in your paycheck”

“Fine but you guys have to stop giving me so much”

“Never gonna happen, now it’s a slow day you should relax why don’t you sit down with this young man right here”

“Ray”

“What I’m sure he dosent mind”

“I don’t mind I could use some company actually” the man at the table said he’d being lying if he said the short brunette with blue eyes hadn’t of peaked his interest either.

“See he said it himself now sit down and relax”

“Okay okay but if I get yelled at I’m telling Jane it’s your fault”

“Like she would ever yell at you. She has you down to inherent the dinner when she passes on.” Tess said finally joining in on the conversation and giving Katalina a hug like she always did.

“That’s not for a long time Tess”

The older lady just rolled her eyes before shoving her husband out the door so they could get home to her dog. After a few seconds Katalina looked back at the man sat at the table.

“I don’t have to sit you know” she said

“I know but I really don’t mind, these papers are racking my brain and I could use a break from them.”

“Okay I’ll sit but only if you promise to eat”

“Deal” he said and then Katalina sat across from him

“Got a name then?” She asked with a smile.

“Ezekiel but everyone calls me Ez and from what I heard, your name is Katalina”

“Oh god no.....I mean yes that’s my name but please call me Kat”

The two spent hours talking there. Katalina had only received one more customer who had ordered a pick up meal so her and Ez had all the time to talk. He stayed with her while she cleaned and locked up. Then being the gentleman he is and knowing damn well his mother would have slapped him if he didn’t, he walked Katalina to her car before wishing her a good night and waiting until she was in the car before climbing on his bike and leaving after she did.

#ez reyes imagine #ez reyes #mayans imagine #mayans fx #ez reyes fafic #jax teller #sons of anarchy

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amintyworld · 5 years

Text

Brothers - Sanders Sides Oneshot

Characters: Remus, Deceit (Daniel), Roman, Virgil, Logan, and Patton.

Summary: After Roman and Remus are separated, they find each other again.

TW: Seperation, overworking, self - worth/ self - esteem issues, bullying, slight trauma, sympathetic Remus, sympathetic Deceit

Hope you enjoy! I'm making a tag list so let me now if you'd like to be tagged and what for. Love you guys! -Minty

"No! No, don't take him!" Remus cried as a caretaker held him back tightly. "Please, don't take him away!"

"He wasn't adopted sweetie, I'm sorry."

"I'm not leaving without him!" Roman cried as he pushed off the caretaker and ran to his brother. Remus was stiff, tears going down his cheeks. Roman wiped them away, hugging him tightly.

"I love you, brother."

The caretaker grumbled. "I don't have time for this." She tightly grabbed his arm, and Roman was dragged away, crying.

That was the last time Remus had ever seen his brother. They were only four years old when Roman was adopted. For some reason, they didn't want him. It didn't seem like anybody did.

Remus bounced from Foster Home to Foster Home, leaving a trail of trouble behind him. Was it really his fault that Ms. Ruby didn't like spiders? Or that he thought rat poison would add a tangy flavor to soup?

Even though he kept trying to be a good kid, everyone told him he was anything but. He supposed that was why his brother was adopted. He wasn't such a troublemaker like him. He realized he'd never be good, so he stopped trying. What was the point if he'd always end up causing trouble?

That was until Daniel.

He was a kind man who never settled down, but always wanted kids. He had a birthmark that covered half his face, which always gave him quite the stares when he was out and about. He was a magician at the local club, as well as a waitress and plumber to get extra cash.

He'd already adopted a son - Virgil, and was looking for one more addition for their family to be complete.

Remus had already known how it was gonna go - he'd mess up so badly he'd be gone within a week or so, back on the road to find a home that didn't exist.

But that didn't happen.

He had wanted to make a cake for Virgil's birthday was coming up. Virgil was really nice to him, though he was mostly an anxious ball of energy about anything and everything, staying in his room most of the time.

When he was out running a small errand, Remus knew it was the perfect opportunity he needed. He put all the ingredients in the mixer and started it, when he saw the speed dial on the side. He thought if he could turn it up, he'd get the cake done faster! He turned it up to the highest setting, sending batter flying through the entire kitchen, covering everything.

"Remus, I said I'd help you bake the cake in a minute-" Daniel walked in and immediately looked around in shock.

"I'm sorry, I...I didn't mean to!" Remus sputtered, knowing his time with them was over. He expected him to storm off, or yell at him, but he didn't. He smiled.

"It's okay, Remus. Let me get the mop, we'll clean this up together and bake another cake. Sound good?"

Remus was adopted by Daniel a few months later, on his tenth birthday. It was the perfect birthday gift.

Remus, being a year older than Virgil, was awfully protective of his younger brother. When middle school bullies were messing with him, you better believe Remus gave them more than trouble for messing with his little brother.

When high school rolled around, Remus was your typical high school basket case - as he always said, 'I'm me, where else would I fit in?'

It was a typical Friday at Sanders High, Remus walking toward his locker after science class, where he mixed two chemicals together, out of curiosity, that emitted a stinky smell that drove the teacher half-mad. He laughed, remembering her putting on three fans and opening all the windows to find that the smell was still strong. He apologized of course, but he could tell Ms. Norris was still angry.

Angry enough to dish out detention, apparently.

He unlocked his locker and punched it open, knowing it was always stuck. He practically threw the binders inside, grabbing his lunch money and inspecting his reflection in the broken magnetic mirror on his locker door. His green fingerless leather gloves and spiked choker accessorized the rather drab ripped T-Shirt, jean shorts, and tights that were following the dress code. Students passing by gave him a look or two as his brother Virgil walked up to him. Remus turned to face him. "What's up, Virge?"

"Nothing much, Rem. Detention, as per usual today?" Virgil smiled in his patchwork hoodie, his eyeshadow covering the real bags under his eyes.

"You know it." Remus smiled.

"Just wanted to say I have tutoring, so I'll have to meet you at home." Virgil said.

"Oooh, who's the lucky guy?" Remus said, raising his eyebrows. Virgil scoffed.

"It's just some transfer, Rem. It's not a date, I barely know him!" Virgil said defensively.

"Alright, alright." Remus said. The bell rang loudly, ringing throughout the halls.

"I better go." Virgil said quickly, turning to run.

As he sped off, Remus called after him: "Tell Ms. Norris I said 'Hi!'"

_________________

"Now, I hope you all have learned your lesson for today, and become model citizens moving forward." Assistant Principal Kingsley stated as he stood up. "Have a good day, and I'll see all of you Monday morning."

Student quickly filed out as Remus shouldered his bag. He smiled at the Principal as he walked out. "Nice hanging with you again, Kingsley! We should do this another time!"

Principal Kingsley sighed. "You gotta be more careful, Remus. This is the third time this week.

"I...I know." Remus said, leaning on the doorframe with a sad sigh before turning and walking home.

His keys clinked as he unlocked the door, entering the small house. He heard laughing from the second floor, his father napping on his chair. He must've gotten home from his second job. He sighed as he grabbed the blanket laid over the couch and draped it over his snoring father. He smiled at him with love.

He walked up the stairs, slowly to Virgil's room, he popped into the doorway. "Virge, I'm-"

The giggling stopped as Remus felt a stare bore into him as he entered the room. Virgil turned to Remus with a small grin. "Roman, this is my brother-"

"Remus…?"

The transfer was tall, with a ruby red knitted beanie as well as a simple T-Shirt and blue jeans like Remus. He noticed a gleaming yellow crown pin on his beanie, and smiled at that. He knew how to accessorize.

"Yes…? How do you know my name?" Remus asked nervously. "Did they tell you my famous rumors?" Remus laughed.

"Remus, you don't remember me? It's me, Roman."

Virgil looked back and forth between the two. "What's going on…?"

Roman. Why was that name sound so familiar?

"I've never seen you before in my life, sorry buddy." Remus said.

Roman looked at him. "I'd know that white streak anywhere, brother."

Remus looked at him, eyes narrowed. "Wait…"

Remus hid in their bedroom, pulling the covers up to hide himself. Roman could never find him now! He'll win hide and seek this time for sure!

The door creaked open and Remus covered his mouth before a giggle could escape.

Roman looked around the room, a grin spreading across his face as he noticed a small clump of white hair above a flat lump on the bed. He jumped on top of his brother. "Found you!"

Remus frowned as he sat up on the bed. "How?"

Roman smiled. "I'd recognize that white streak anywhere!" Roman laughed.

"R-roman?!" Remus exclaimed, taken aback. "A-after all these years...you...you're HERE."

"Remus?! Explain, please?!" Virgil exclaimed, thoroughly confused at this entire situation.

"Virgil, Roman's my twin brother. Back from the orphanage." Remus said. Virgil looked back and forth between the both of them. They seemed so different, but now that he was looking at them, they looked extremely similar.

"You never told me." Virgil said.

Remus rubbed the back of his neck. "I...I guess it slipped my mind. The orphanage...it was forever ago. It...it's sometimes something I want to forget."

Virgil hugged Remus tightly. "Guess we'll have to pick up fractals next Friday, then. I'll...I'll give you guys some space." Virgil left, closing the door behind him.

They talked for hours, about everything that happened in the past 12 years. Roman was adopted by Patton and Logan Sanders, who could only afford one kid to adopt. They had no idea they split the twins, and when Patton went back to adopt the other with the money they'd saved, Remus was gone. They didn't have many details, but they knew he either got adopted, or...he died.

Roman grow up in the town just next door to Sandersville, Greensburg. They were so close, yet so far away from each other. When Logan got a promotion for his job and they had to move, they moved close enough so he could attend Sanders High.

Roman said that the day they were separated never left his mind. He promised himself if Remus was still alive, he'd find him. Someway, somehow, he would.

Roman held out his arms and Remus rushed in for the hug, tears flowing down his face. "I...I thought I'd never see you again." Roman said. "I was so scared that something happened to you, Rem, I...I'm so happy you're okay. I love you, Rem."

Remus smiled as Roman's warm hug wrapped around him. "I love you too, Ro."

#sander sides #princey sanders #morality sanders #logic sanders #patton sanders #anxiety sanders #duke sanders #creativity sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #deceit sanders #sanders sides platonic lamp #sanders sides angst #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fluff #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fandom

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writingblock101 · 6 years

Text

Stick Up (Frank Castle)

Request for @raylan-c: can you do 53. "I will always protect you" and 38. "listen to me, okay? we're getting out of here, together" with frank castle (platonic or romantic i dont mind) either in the same fic or separate ones whichever is easier. i loooved Safe btw ❤❤ you're sooo good at writing😍

Guess who’s back?? Hello my loves, I have missed you. Also @raylan-c you are so sweet!! Thank for the prompt and the kind words that got me crying in the club right now. I imagined this taking place during the beginning part of The Punisher so Frank goes by his fake name Pete. Without further ado!

Word Count: 1,700 (lol got a little carried away)

Warnings: Cursing, some gore, robbery, guns

The waitress job at a dinner was a pretty shitty gig, but it paid bills and college wasn’t cheap. Most of the time, you dealt with elderly people bitching about your generation or telling you random yet endearing stories. Other times, you met truck drivers passing through town. On occasion, you got a group of hungover students looking to order the greasiest thing on the menu. Your life was nothing glamorous or exciting, but like you said, it paid the bills.

The only remotely exciting thing about your week was visits from Pete.

Pete was an... interesting man. He came in once a week at various hours and ordered the same thing. Despite the varying time for his visits, Pete always came in when you were on shift. He was usually toting a large bag, sported multiple bruises, and wore a hat low on his face. His beard was grown out, his voice was gruff, and his hands were scared, but he was very friendly and always polite.

Your knowledge about Pete was limited. He worked in construction and used to be in the military. He always asked how classes were going and left disproportionately large tips. The first time, you thought the hundred-dollar bill paying for a nine-dollar check was a mistake, but Pete made it clear that it was intentional. While you knew he worked in construction, you were doubtful about construction paying Pete well enough to drop one hundred dollars every week at a dinner for a cup of coffee and a number seven special.

As you set a plate of scrambled eggs down in front of an elderly man, the door chimed. Pete strolled into the dinner and sat in the far back booth of your section. He looked over the menu provided on the table as if he were actually going to order anything different.

Once checking on your other tables, you grabbed a fresh pot of coffee and walked over to Pete.

“Good morning, Pete,” You smiled as you poured him a cup.

“Morning, Y/N,” He set the menu down and looked up at you, sporting a black eye this morning.

“You getting into fights again?” You teased, gesturing to your eye.

Pete chuckled then shrugged.

“Oh, you know me, always getting into trouble,” He paused to take a sip of his coffee then grinned up at you. “Besides, you should see the other guy.”

You rolled your eyes playfully.

“I’m sure.”

“You staying out of trouble?” He asked.

“Of course,” You promised.

“How are classes going?”

“They’re kicking my ass,” You admitted with a tired sigh.

“I’m sure you’re kicking their ass right back,” Pete took another sip of his drink.

“Trying to! I’ve got four papers due this week and no time to work on them.”

“Don’t overwork yourself, kid. Every time I come in here, you’re always working. You can’t burn the candle at both ends.”

“Guess you just can’t get rid of me,” You joked.

“Wouldn’t ever want to,” Pete lifted his mug with a grin. “You make the best coffee.”

“I’ll be sure to put that on my resume.”

“How did that test go last week?” Pete asked.

Last week, Pete came into the dinner late one night while you were studying for a media law test. He was on the only customer, so he sat at the bar and quizzed you.

“I got an A!” You responded proudly.

“Atta way!” Pete grinned.

The door chimed again as another group of customers walked in.

“I’ll go put your order in,” You promised. “Number seven special?” You checked.

“Yes, please” Pete nodded.

You smiled one last time at him then went to take drink orders for your new table.

“Good morning, and welcome to Bo’s Dinner,” You greeted the group of three. “My name is Y/N and I’ll be taking care of you this morning. Can I start you off with anything to drink?”

If you had to guess, the group of guys, probably in their twenties, were high on something. All of them had their hoods up, they were twitchy and fidgeting, and constantly looking over their shoulders. It was a little weird, but you’ve seen much weirder.

“Um...” One of them stared straight down at the menu. “Water,” He told the table.

“Coke,” Another muttered to their hands.

The last one with bright blue eyes actually looked up at you.

“A coffee would be great, please,” He requested politely.

“I’ll get those right out,” You walked toward the kitchen and began pouring drinks.

You give them their drinks then take their orders. A few minutes later, you delivered Pete’s food then brought the three stoners their food.

“How does everything look?” You asked.

“Looks great,” The blue-eyed boy reassured you.

“Alright, I’ll be back to check on you in a little while,” You promised then went to check on your other customers.

“How’s special?” You asked Pete, wandering back to his table.

“As delicious as always,” Pete grinned. “Say uh, is that boy in your econ class... Ah, what’s the little shit’s name again?”

You groaned.

“Ugh, you mean JoHo?”

Pete nodded.

“Yeah, that little shit. He still bothering you for a date?”

You shrugged.

“He’s trying to guilt me into a date. Sometimes he’s nice and backs off, other times, not so much.”

Pete grumbled at your response. One night, you came into work fired up over this annoying ass dude in your econ class. He managed to bait you into a date, which ended up being the worst date of your life. Pete lent an ear and offered for you to bring him into the dinner, so Pete could “have a chat”.

“My offer still stands,” Pete took a sip of his coffee. “Just let me have five minutes with him, he won’t bother you after that.”

You laughed, brushing Pete off.

“I only have a few weeks of the semester left. I can handle him. Besides, he doesn’t really need to be scared for life by you.”

“He’ll learn to stop trying to guilt pretty people into dates.”

You blushed at the compliment.

“Let me go grab your check.”

You rang up Pete’s check and dropped it off at his table then went back to your table of stoners, gathering up their plates.

“Will that be everything?” You asked, picking up their plates.

“Just the check please,” The blue-eyed boy requested.

You brought their check.

“Actually, can we get one more thing?” The boy asked then pointed a gun at you and cocked back the hammer. “Empty the register for us.”

You froze, your eyes widening and your heart pounding in your chest. The other two boys produced guns from their hoodies. One fired a shot at the ceiling, sending the dinner into panicked screams. The blue-eye blue climbed up on the table and fired another shot while one of the other boys pointed his gun at you. You shakily raised your hands in the air, feeling tears build in your eyes.

“Stay calm. We’re not here to hurt anybody,” The boy announced. “We just want a few things then we’ll be on our way.”

One of the other boys went to the kitchen while the other grabbed your arm and yanked you toward the register.

“Open it,” He demanded in a gruff voice, pointing the gun directly at your head.

You took a shuttering breath, your hands shaking as you opened the register. Once opened, the boy pointing the gun at you shoved you aside and stuffed the money from the register into his kangaroo pouch. When the register was empty, he shoved you out from behind the bar, back with the few customers in the dinner. The blue eye boy jumped down from the table in front of you. He smirked at your terrified face then heard the cock of a gun behind him.

He whipped around and yanked you in front of him, using you as a human shield with his gun against your head. Pete stared down the boy, holding a gun with steady hands.

“Let them go,” Pete growled.

“Looks like we got a hero!” The boy called sarcastically. “Sit back down, wannabe. You’re gonna get someone killed.”

He pressed the gun harder into your head. You whimpered at the pressure. Pete’s eyes flicked to yours for a moment.

“Let them go,” Pete demanded again.

“Not gonna happen, so why don’t you,” The boy gestured to him with the gun. “Sit your happy ass back down before we spray,” He glanced at your name tag. “Y/N’s brains all over this shitty dinner.”

Pete quirked an eyebrow then shot the gunman holding you. You screamed at his brain exploded then Pete tackled you before the other gunman, still behind the bar shot you. He used his body as a human shield over you until the firing stopped. While the gunman reloaded, Pete kicked over a table and pulled you behind it. Your heart was pounding, tears streaming down your face as you gasped for breath. Pete grabbed your shoulders.

“Y/N, look at me. Breath. You’re okay. I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” He used his thumbs to wipe your face. “Listen to me, okay? We're getting out of here, together.”

You nodded, still scared out of your mind, but felt marginally better, knowing Pete was protecting you. He grabbed his gun again and poked his head over the table, waiting for the gunman to pop up. Right as he did, Pete took one shot. Two down, one left.

Pete stood up, but you grabbed his jacket.

“Where are you going?!” You asked nervously, your fingers curling into his jacket.

“I’ll be right back,” He promised. “Don’t worry.”

Pete hopped over the knocked down table then went into the kitchen where the last gunmen went. You curled your knees to your chest, your hands over your head. From the kitchen you heard another gunshot then someone walked back out. Your mind assumed the worse. Pete got shot. Oh my gosh, Pete was dead and now they are coming to kill you because they know it’s your fault. Pete was dead, Pete was dead, Pete was dead, Petewasdead--

“Y/N?”

You looked up to see Pete standing over you. Before you registered what you were doing, you leaped up and jumped on Pete, wrapping your arms around him. He tensed for a moment, then hugged you back.

“Is it over?” You asked.

“It’s over,” He promised, squeezing you tight. “I will always protect you.”

The ending felt a little rushed but I hope you enjoyed!

I have another request in my inbox and one request I started writing and seemed to have forgotten about. Once I answer the other request, I'll finish the Spiderman one I never finished.

Let me know what you think!

#did i write in a boy's name who i got a really shitty date from #pft #no #i would never #frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x reader #kind of???#the punisher x reader #pete #i can't remember his fake last name #marvel imagines #marvel request #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher fanfiction #writing

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tnystrk-exe · 6 years

Text

Home 3

Tony Stark x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 End

Ro woke up when she heard the loud noises outside. The rumbling of distant thunder wasn’t enough to wake you, but it was enough to scare Ro. It sounded like there were scary monsters outside. Her little nightlight wouldn’t be enough to scare them away.

She grabbed her bear and ran into the hallway. Magic lights turned on by themselves, her daddy said he fixed them so that she’d be safe at nighttime. Daddy was always doing magic. She thought it was really cool. The lights flickered briefly, followed by a loud crack of thunder. Magic lights weren’t so cool anymore.

Quickly, she ran to your room, already crying loudly. Now, that was enough to wake you up. Ro wasted no time throwing herself into your arms the second you sat up. Mommy and daddy always kept her safe. They felt safe.

“Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” You asked, sleepily pressing a kiss to her head.

Ro sobbed into your chest, “Mommy, monster ou’side.”

“There’s monsters outside?” You rubbed her back, trying to soothe her, “That can’t be right.”

“They make lights off!” She jumped when the thunder struck again.

You hugged her tighter, “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I promise you’re safe. It’s not monsters because mommy and daddy made sure they all went to there houses far far away.”

Ro finally seemed to notice Tony’s absence, “Daddy take ‘em home?”

“Yes, he’s taking them home. They’re all very happy to go home. Wanna know what the sounds are?” She nodded and you explained thunderstorms to her.

“Sometime sky goes boom!” She said, still a bit shaken up, but noticeably tired. By this time the rain had noticeably slowed and the thunder stopped. “I don’ like it.”

Thirty minutes passed before you finally calmed her down enough to fall asleep. Her soft snoring filled the room and you couldn’t go back to sleep. Your mind drifted to Tony. Before he left, he told you about his recent test flight. He had said it was the greatest thrill he ever felt. There had been a small snag. The titanium steel plating was good, but it had the tendency to freeze at high altitudes.

“Hey, sweetheart, don’t go quiet on me. I’m good, we’re good. It’ll be okay next time,” he assured you in a calming tone, wrapping an arm around you, “I should have taken freezing into account but I didn’t. Gold titanium alloy won’t freeze. I already triple checked everything I looked over.” Tony looked over at Ro, who was fast asleep in her toddler’s flip sofa in front of the tv.

“Anything else happen during your flight?” You wondered, relaxed into him.

“Well, the baby probably shouldn’t pay a visit anytime soon. I kinda broke the house,” he admitted, feeling peaceful. This was one thing Tony couldn’t deny, knowing his kid was safe asleep for the night and having you in his arms was the most calming thing he had experienced.

You laughed, “Of course you did, how bad was it?”

“I managed to land myself on a weak structural point. There’s easy access from the living room to the lab, if you want me to install a pole instead of patching it all up,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes, “You gonna come home to me injured when you get your suit up and running. I can feel it.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, sweet pea.”

“Just calling it how I see it, honey.”

He left shortly afterward. Tony wanted to work more, all he needed to do was install the plates and paint the model. Both you and Ro had convinced him to stop working for the day and hang out with the two of you. The work he was doing was important to him and the people he planned to help. Still, you didn’t enjoy the idea of him overworking himself. Anytime you’d called or visited him, he was hard at work and didn’t take many breaks. Whenever Ro asked to visit, you’d make sure to make food before or pick something up because more than likely Tony skipped out on meals in favor of building his suit.

It was coming together, but he didn’t have to fall apart for the machine.

You had no clue where his future was heading. Tony was a driven man who obsessively updated his weapons before the kidnapping. Who knows how far he would go with it all now. There was a small part of you that was scared. How couldn’t you? It was bad enough having to worry about Rhodey when he was called to action. Adding Tony and his secret project to the mix was frightening. He wouldn’t have someone to back him up when things got rough. Tony was going to be a one man army on his own.

Sighing you decided it was time to wake up for the day. If there was anyone that could stress you out while not being present, it was Stark. You turned on the tv and started flipping through the channels. For once you finally had back to back off days, so you weren’t too worried about a lack of sleep.

How did he manage to always be on tv? You tried to remember if he said anything about an event, but you were sure he told you he had to lay low for a while.

“..Stark has finally come back into the public eye since he came back from Afghanistan,” the reporters voice played over footage of Tony on the red carpet, “The billionaire was said to have been bed ridden due to severe post traumatic stress, but, it seems like he’s already back to his playboy tactics with his assistant Pepper Potts.” A couple of blurry pictures of the two of them showed on screen, before showing him alone again, “It seems the fun was cut short after his conversation with Obadiah Stane, leaving us all wondering what went wrong? Next on the chopping block, best dre-.”

You cut the tv off and reached over for your phone, deciding to call Tony to see what was happening.

The phone rang for a beat before he answered, “Something happened to Ro?” He asked quickly, it was still early for either of you to be up on a free day.

“No, she’s fine. Are you okay?” If you listened closely, you could hear the sound of wind rushing past in the background.

He sighed, you could basically see his fake smile. “You know I am, cupcake. I’m fine as can be.”

“Come on, Tony, talk to me. Please?”

“...I can practically hear the pout in your voice.” He took a minute before starting. “Obadiah...It’s all him. He’s trying to push me out, selling my weapons under the table, and who knows what else he’s done in the dark.” There was a strain in his voice as he spoke, he coughed to cover it up.

You didn’t know how to respond. All you knew was Obadiah was like a makeshift father figure to Tony with the way he talked about the man. The only time you had seen him in person was at the Stark’s funeral. “You’re doing something about it?”

“I’m doing something about it,” he confirmed, grateful not to linger on the betrayal. “Right now, in fact.”

Thoughts buzzed in your head. What if the arc reactor failed? It was powering the whole suit, but most importantly it was keeping Tony alive. If it failed... You shook the thoughts from your head. “What are you doing?”

“Heading to Gulmira. The Ten Rings is terrorizing the families there. It’s all my fault, YN.”

You frowned, “It’s not your fault, Tony.”

“Yes, it is,” he muttered, “I should have been on top of this. All of it. It never should have gotten this far. Instead I was being a fucking dumb ass. This is all my fault. What was I doing?”

“Well for the past two years, you were being an amazing father to our daughter. Tones, weren’t being a dumb ass. You trusted someone you knew since you were a kid. That’s hardly doing anything to be ashamed of.”

“It was my responsibility, YN. At the end of it all, I was supposed to make sure the company was running everything the right way. If I watched, if I was paying attention, none of this would have happened.”

The two of you were at a stalemate. Both of you knew the other was right in a way, but it wasn’t enough to be fully convincing.

“Sir, we are approximately ten minutes from our destination,” J.A.R.V.I.S. interrupted your silence.

“Thank you, J. That’s my cue to hang up, honey,” he said.

Your worry spiked, “Stay safe.”

Tony chuckled, mostly hoping to calm you, “What? No good luck kiss?”

“You can come back and get that from Pepper. Media is already on top of you with that by the way,” you told him teasingly.

“They think they’re on top of everything. I’m really closing in here, sweet pea.”

“I mean it, stay safe. I love you, Tony.”

“I love you. Tell Ro, I love her too.”

With that the line cut off.

It was hard to stay calm. He’d be okay. He had already came home once, he’ll do it again.

You watched Ro, sleeping calmly, no worries in the world. Laying back down, you pulled her into your arms. The thought of Ro during those three months was at the forefront of your mind. No way you could handle that again. All the tantrums and sadness were still fresh. She loved her father more than anything in the world.

Would Tony stop this when it was over? Probably not, you knew him. He’d probably find another way to use his new skills. You were proud of him, but this anxiety was something you’d have to become accustomed to if he continued.

A selfish part of you didn’t want him to keep going afterwards.

Each minute seemed to stretch out even longer. It didn’t feel possible to think of anything else other than Tony. Four hours passed. Since then Ro was already up and ready to play for the day. The rain had started again and she giggled watching raindrops race down a window pane before turning her attention back to her building blocks.

Your phone went off, blaring the similar rock track.

“It’s daddy! Daddy calling!” Ro sang, happily, ditching her toys and running over.

“Hello,” you answered, “How are you?”

“I’m okay. The Rings weren’t so bad, but the Air Force was a little rough.”

You did a double take, “Tony the Air Force?”

“Mommy, I talk to daddy please?” Ro asked, standing in her tiptoes, reaching for the phone.

“We’ll talk about it later. Let me talk with the kid for now.”

You handed over the phone, “Daddy! You took away all the monsters? Were they nice?”

“Yeah, monsters. Tell me again about the monsters. Dad’s feeling a little bit sleepy right now.”

“Silly, daddy,” Ro giggled, “Mommy said you took all the monsters to their home to be happy.”

“Yeah! I did, didn’t I?” He agreed quickly, “Sorry daddy’s a bit of a dunce. They’re very happy now. All of them are home safe and sound.”

“Were they scary?”

“No honey, they aren’t so scary. They’re actually very nice. How’s my little monster?” He asked, “Did you eat a good breakfast?”

“Mommy gave me a yummy banana muffin and a smoothie,” she answered, happily playing with her bear on the counter, “‘Ony Bear eat with me. Come home and play blocks with me, please daddy?”

“Ro, that sounds beautiful, but I can’t right now. I’m a little bit busy.”

“Don’t like you being busy,” Ro pouted, “You busy a lot.”

Tony felt guilty, “I promise I’ll make all the time in the world for you. Right now I’m just too far away.”

They talked a while longer before Ro handed you back the phone. She happily returned back to her toys.

“You really went up against the Air Force?”

“Yeah, I broke one of Rhodey’s toy planes. He says I owe him, but they shot at me. What do you think?” He spoke quickly, hoping to push past your fears.

You sighed, accepting what had happened. He was safe. What more could you ask? “I think you’re going to buy him another one. It’s Rhodey, how are you going to say no to him? There’s at least three people I know of that can get you to do whatever they want.”

“You’re probably right, but just for that I’m gonna take extra long before I replace it. Blame yourself.”

“Hey, that’s no fair to the Colonel,” you chided him, “Just don’t do what I want you to do for a week and we’ll call it even.”

“Make it three.”

“Two,” you negotiated.

“Hmm,” he playfully thought it over, “You got yourself a deal.”

“How did your first run at things go?”

“I think it went pretty well, besides the run in with Rhodey’s boys. I destroyed all the weapons I could find. Let the people have a go at the guy I saw the most. There’s still loose ends to tie up.”

You nodded, “You’re going to do great, Tony. Though I do want you over here as soon as possible so I can give you a once over.”

“Sure thing, beautiful,” he chuckled. “Give me a couple of hours, won’t you?”

Tony made good on his promise to see you, it wasn’t right away, but you weren’t complaining. Life was busy for the both of you. While J.A.R.V.I.S. was tasked with repairs and Pepper was getting somethings from Stark Industries, he found time to come over. Ro played doctor while you checked over him. Soon enough various parts of him were covered in Captain America and Hello Kitty bandaids. You laughed softly, watching him pull her onto his lap and press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Rugrat, you’re already taking care of me so well,” he praised the little girl, “I was really hurt.”

She smiled proudly and pressed her toy stethoscope to his mouth. “Daddy ahhh!”

“Ahhh!” He humored her, “So docs? What’s the diagnosis?”

“You’re fine and primed to annoy me for a long time,” you answered, packing up your supplies.

“You think I’m fine?” He asked, smirking at you.

You rolled your eyes, unable to keep a small smile at bay, “What do you think Doctor Ro? Is daddy healthy or sick?”

“Daddy, um, he really sick and needs to play with me,” she responded seriously.

He feigned fear, “Is that the only cure?”

Ro nodded, “...Yes.”

With that the two of them ended up on the floor. Building blocks scattered around as they started making a castle for ‘Ony Bear. While they were busy, you got ready for the night shift and packed Ro an over night bag. The sound of Ro’s laughter echoed through the home. It was nice when the three of you got to play family. Everything about it felt right.

That was something you probably shouldn’t even think about. As much as you had wanted to, there was a big risk. If you and Tony were together it wasn’t just the two of you that would be hurt anymore. The track record was proof that things never went well. She couldn’t lose Tony. There was no was you were going to screw that up for her. You couldn’t.

“What’s got you thinking so much?” Tony asked, stepping over and taking packing her bag from you.

“Hmm?” You were pulled out of your thoughts, “Nothing, I was thinking about a surgery I have to handle today.”

He looked at you, before stuffing some random toys into the bag. “Is it a tough one?”

“Yeah, kind of, it’s a hard call to make.”

“In my experience, and I’ll never say this again, you’re usually right. Go with whatever it is you’re thinking. More than likely it’s the right way to go. Someone doesn’t like it, fuck ‘em,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek, “Why don’t you go say bye to Ro and I’ll take her to Mrs. Herrera’s? Get that kid of ours out of your hair for a bit. It will give you some time to rest before work.”

“Yeah, Tones. That would be nice.” You gave him a tired smile.

“Don’t be so worried, YN. You always make the right calls,” he said, following you into the living room. “Rugrat, time to go. Say bye to mom.”

Ro ran over to give you a hug, “Bye bye mommy. I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. Be good for me okay?” You kissed her cheek.

“Yes, mommy.” She walked over to Tony, lifting her arms up.

He picked her up, “Do I have to be good for you too?”

“Even more than Ro. I don’t wanna hear anything about billionaire geniuses on the news tomorrow morning.”

“I think, I can manage that.”

You watched them leave. Tony had, unbeknownst signed off on throwing away a future. He was right, going with your gut was usually the way to go. Overthinking usually resulted in the worst case scenario. You were torn, but the possibility and risks of failure outweighed the success.

Besides, that picture of Tony and Pepper came up in your mind. They looked...cute? There was a small bout of jealousy in your chest, you were adult enough to admit it. These feelings had to be remnants from days past and seeing him interact with your daughter. Anyone could have been swept off their feet with those two components. Time had past, he and pepper had grown close. They were good for one another. She definitely knew how to handle him. You needed to make more of an effort to get to know Pepper. If Tony did take that step, she’d be apart of your and Ro’s lives a lot more often.

You needed to get your mind off of Tony. The hospital was the easiest way to do just that. Getting there early you got a head start on your rounds. Soon enough time came for your patient’s surgery. Helping people was easy as breathing, it cleared out your head. Fortunately, as long as the surgery took it had been a success.

“How does it feel being the doctor with the highest success rate here?” Sebastian asked, while the two of you rested for a minute.

You raised a brow, “You and I are always partnered up. Our success rate is the same.”

“Take the compliment,” he groaned, throwing one of his chips at you.

“We should start planning out the next one.”

“Sounds good,” you said, tossing him a file, “I handled the last one, what should we do this time?”

The two of you went through procedures. It was a cycle of approving ideas and giving the other a look that asked “Are you an idiot?”

“Hey,” Gabe popped his head in the door, “Everyone is on duty. Some freak accident happened near Stark Industries. Something about two robots fighting on a highway and a building exploded. We’ve got a couple of people needing surgeries coming in. Boss assigned you two to a guy that was thrown off a motorcycle into traffic.” Gabe gave the run down before popping back out.

“YN, call him,” Sebastian knew Tony was a close friend, “Then I need you to be a robot for a little while. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah, yeah. I can. Just let me process.” You pulled out your phone and dialed Tony. The line was dead each time you called. “You know I asked him to make no news headlines.”

“And you can scream at him when you see him, first thing,” Sebastian put a hand on your shoulder, leading you to where you needed to be, “Getting yelled by you is worth it. Come on, we need to get prepared.”

This surgery wasn’t as smooth sailing as the one prior. No planning time, your head wasn’t as clear as you’d like, and there were so many things going wrong. Seven hours in, doctors scattering like ants in and out to help in there specific fields throughout the surgery. It took a while longer before you and Sebastian were sure all that could have been done was. Sebastian stitched him up.

“You shouldn’t drive right now, YN. You’re running on low charge and worried,” Sebastian glanced at you.

You shook your head, “I need to pick up the baby and I need to talk to Tony. I’ll be fine, Seb.”

“What are the odds of me convincing you to take a nap?”

“Slim to none.”

“Just call me when you get home. So I know you’re safe.”

“That I can do.”

Picking up Ro didn’t take so long. She was just hardly awake and fell back asleep in her car seat. You took a chance and called Tony’s phone again.

“Hey, Cupcake. How was the surgery?”

“God, you’re a dick,” you breathed out a sigh of relief, “It went fine. Are you okay?”

“I’m the same annoyance to you as ever, just slightly bruised. I’ll pass by later and you can fret over me then, right now I have a press conference and a cover story to handle. See you soon.”

After a quick call to Sebastian, you and Ro fell back asleep quickly in your room. It wasn’t until you felt the bed dip that you woke back up, pressing your sleeping daughter against you protectively.

“Calm, Mama Bear, it’s just me,” Tony assured you, quietly, “How’d you get her to sleep so long?”

“Herrera keeps her up late during my night shifts,” you mumbled sleepily. “What happened?”

Tony laid down, his hands behind his head. “It’s not important right now, get some rest.”

“Sleeping isn’t important. You are. Tell me what happened, Tones.”

He sighed, getting his thoughts together. “Obie, managed to get a hold of Mark 1, but he was missing a key component,” he tapped his arc reactor, “So, he took mine...I could feel the shrapnel digging it’s way deeper. YN, I looked up to him, he was like a father to me. There were times where I wished he was instead of..” he cleared his throat, “I managed to crawl down to the lab. Don’t let me be mean to Dum-E for a month, by the way. Rhodey got there soon enough, but Pepper was in trouble. We fought. I had Pepper overload the giant arc. Obie’s dead.”

“Tony...” You didn’t know what to say.

“I’m okay, YN,” he sighed, looking up at the ceiling, “Got a new name now, a not so secret identity.”

“The people know you’re in the suit?” You asked, he nodded, “Who are you?”

“I am Iron Man.”

You pondered it for a moment before nodding, “It’s catchy.”

“Guess it’s true what dad said, Stark men are made of iron.”

“I think you’re made of something else entirely, Tones.”

Everything Tag:

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Home Tag:

| @marvellheros |

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #iron man #iron man x reader #iron man imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu fanfiction #reader insert #x reader

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light-up-shawn · 6 years

Text

flourish. - peter parker

part four!

genre: i still don't know

warnings: none

pairing(s): peter p x reader eventually

words: 2793

parts: one , two , three

A/N: Maaaaan there’s still no fluffy reader x peter and IM SORRY i promise that will make an appearance in the next chapter though. I feel so bad that I’ve been leaving it out though sksksk. Anyway, I have part of the next chapter written but I dunno how to finish it so if you’re a great writer hmu ! As always if you have any suggestions, questions, predictions, or feedback please leave it in my ask. Thank you for giving this a chance, ily all.

It was two months into the school year. You, Peter, MJ, and Peter were sitting in a McDonald's arguing about stupid things and somehow spider-man came up.

"Yeah, I know Spider-Man is a guy in a suit but like wouldn't it just be cooler if it was a Spider-Man was a spider in a human suit."

"No! No! Y/N that's the stupidest thing you've ever said and you say a lot of stupid shit." MJ said.

"You don't even like spiders, Y/N. What makes you think that's a good idea?" Peter asked.

"Okay, alright, get off my back."

Peter's hair on his arms stood up like he suddenly got cold. The boy scrambled out of the store with his backpack, stumbling over his words while trying to come up with a viable excuse.

"What's up with your friend, Ned?" You asked.

Peter had been scrambling out of places like just now often these days. He quit most of his clubs saying he had no time for them anymore but nothing's really changed. Although, he did pick up this internship with Tony Stark. You considered that may be why your friend was running around everywhere but then you realized Stark wouldn't be making him work until late hours in the night when you all were supposed to go to a movie together. It didn't make sense and both you and MJ had your suspicions. Especially since Ned was always covering for him. Something was fishy.

"Nothing is up, just Stark overworking the poor kid."

"You say that like every time. If you're gonna lie at least make it believable." MJ said, gathering her things and getting up to go.

You gave Ned a sorry smile. If there was one thing MJ disliked, it was being lied to.

You followed behind her, saying your goodbyes as you left the fast food restaurant.

"I can't believe they continue to lie to our faces. As if we haven't proved that we're trustworthy enough."

Times like these would make you feel guilty. It feels like she was speaking about you. Technically, you were lying to her and it made you feel really bad. There wasn't really anything you could do about it though.

"Yeah. Maybe it's something they aren't allowed to talk about though."

"This isn't the time for your positivity, Y/N. Our friends are keeping something from us and it's killing me, bro."

"MJ, it's none of our business. We should just drop it."

"You've been acting weird too, Y/N. It kind of sucks that even you won't tell me. We're like best friends. I tell you everything the least you can do is return the favor." She said to you before walking off in the direction of her house.

You sighed. MJ was fine with people not telling her things, she was usually able to figure it out on her own. This time around though, she couldn't figure out was going on and you can tell she was frustrated.

You walked home with a frown and your mom noticed as soon as you walked through the door.

"Hi, my love. Why the long face?" She asked pulling you into a hug.

"I wanna tell MJ."

Your mom released you from your embrace and sighed.

"I don't know much about this whole superpower thing but I do know that I trust you and I trust MJ. If you want to tell people, I really can't stop you but please understand that you have to trust the people you tell. You can't just go around telling everyone you can make water move."

"I don't plan on telling everyone. I plan on telling MJ. I know about the whole great power comes great responsibility thing, I never plan on telling anyone outside of my circle but I don't plan on telling everyone now."

"Okay, sweetheart. You're a smart girl. I know you'll make good decisions." Your mom kissed your forehead and went back to the kitchen to finish making dinner. + The next day, MJ was distant. You two walked around with each other, as you normally would, but you knew she was still upset. During last period, you texted her to meet you outside of Midtown.

Today, you would be telling MJ about your weird abilities and hopefully she won't laugh in your face or distance herself in fear.

The last bell rang and you scrambled out of the classroom. When you got outside, MJ was already standing there.

"Hey, MJ."

"Hi."

"You probably already knew but there is something I've been keeping from you."

"Y'know what, Y/N? You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I realize that if there's something you haven't told me there's reason for it and I'm in no place to pry."

"No, it's okay. I want to tell you."

She nodded.

"Lets go to my place, no one should be home."

You and MJ hopped on the bus for five stops and walked the two blocks to your apartment building. It was empty as you suspected.

MJ sat on the couch and you did the same.

"Do you remember when we first hung out and we played 21 questions?"

"Yeah." she said with a smile.

"I told you my dad left but I never really told you why."

Her eyes softened, like she knew what was gonna happen.

"So basically, this thing was injected into one of my great grandfathers. Whatever it became a dominant gene on my dad's side. Everyone from that side of the family was born with some sort of special ability. But my dad wasn't. My mom told me was insecure about it and it made him feel insignificant. I can understand that. He was different from everyone else. But then I was born. I guess my dad had the gene because I too have special abilities."

MJ's jaw dropped.

"Uh he left, my dad, he left because i guess he felt threatened by me, a baby."

"Y/N, this is big."

"Yeah and I totally get it. If you need time to process or anything, I understand."

"What can you do?"

"I can uh, I can manipulate Water, Air, Fire, and the Earth I guess."

"Are you shitting me right now?"

You lept off the couch and headed straight for your kitchen. You poured out a glass of water and set it on the table.

MJ stood behind you as you put your hand into a claw position. You raised your hands and the water lifted out of the cup.

"What the fuck?"

"Yeah, that's something I can do. There's more though. Like, a lot more. I don't really understand anything yet but yeah."

"Y/N, I am so sorry for making you feel guilty about telling me this. If I had known it was something of this extent, I wouldn't have said anything."

"It's okay. It's in your nature to wanna know everything."

MJ pulled you into the tightest hug she's ever given you. A wave of relief overcame your body.

"I swear on my life that I will keep this secret until I die, Y/N." MJ said.

"Thank you. You don't know how much it means to me that you're still here for me."

"I'll always be here for you. Always."

She released you from your hug.

"But this still doesn't explain why Peter has been acting so weird." you said.

"Fuck, Y/N!" MJ said, a look of realization coming over her face.

"What? Did I do something?"

"Yes, you did! Peter has an internship with Tony Stark right?"

You nodded.

"What is Tony Stark?"

"A billionaire, genius, and playboy?"

"He's also Iron Man!"

"Uh huh."

"When Peter started his internship crime rates went down because of Spider-man. Before the suit he has now, the one we're all familiar with, Spider-man had this really weird homemade looking suit. Around the time Peter started his internship, Spidey got a new suit."

You were finally catching on to what MJ was trying to say.

"And Spider-man is always fighting crime around the time Peter randomly leaves!" you added.

"Exactly! What if our good friend, Peter, quit all the clubs he was in so he'd have more time to be spider-man and save our city?" MJ asked.

"MJ, you genius!"

"I do try."

The two of you laugh.

"I mean, I had my suspicions before but this just takes the cake!" she said.

"So what are we gonna do with this information?" you asked.

"I kind of wanna mess with the kid. Do some harmless teasing, y'know?"

you nodded.

"Anyway, did you guys see what happened yesterday on the news? Spider-man stopped a jewelry store robbery." You asked.

You and MJ had decided to tease Peter by buying at least a weeks worth of Spider-man merch. You two thought it would make him uncomfortable but it was obvious enough for him to catch on eventually.

"Yeah, I heard the place was left in shambles though." MJ said.

"I'm sure that was the fault of the criminals and not spider-man." Peter interjected.

"yeah, i can imagine."

"I wonder who's behind the mask." MJ said.

"I bet whoever it is, is hot." You added.

Peter’s cheeks flushed red.

"Like, they probably have rock hard abs and pretty eyes." you continued.

Ned snickered and Peter kicked him.

"Sad you'll never know what he looks like." Ned said earning another kick from Peter.

"Yeah. Anyway! Ned and Peter, how was your night yesterday?"

"Oh, um, my...my night was f-fine. I did my chem homework and st-stuff."

"I thought you finished your chem homework in class."

"Yeah, Peter. What were you really doing last night?"

"Who cares what Peter was doing last night? I watched three fast and furious movies before passing out! That's way more interesting than anything Peter could've been doing because he's boring, y'know?"

You and MJ tried your hardest to hold back giggles.

Peter's demeanor changed. You looked to where he was looking and saw that Flash had walked up to the two of you.

"Hey, I came over here to invite Y/N and MJ to my party tonight but i guess Ned and Penis can come too."

"Oh thank you, Flash but-"

"Great! Wear something sexy." he winked at you and left.

"Gross!" MJ blurted.

"Uh you okay, Y/N?" Ned asked.

"I'm fine. Is Peter okay?" You asked.

The three of you turned to him to see his hands balled up into fists.

"Dude, It's okay. We aren't gonna go to his party." MJ said.

"I'm fine." he told us.

We went back to eating our lunch, not necessarily knowing how to lighten the mood. + The next day you walked into the cafeteria sporting a Spider-man hoodie. You were halfway to the table when someone's wrist grabbed yours.

"Didn't catch you at the party last night."

"That's because i didn't go."

your hands started to heat up.

"Aw, why babe? You know we would've had a good time."

"Flash, let go of me now or I will punch you in the face."

"Ooh, she's feisty." Flash let go and you ran off to the table with your friends.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Peter was the first to ask.

"Just. Peachy."

your hands absentmindedly formed the claw position that enabled your powers. the pipes of water fountain shook and exploded. all over flash. after you realized what you'd done your eyes widened in shock.

MJ looked at you with the same look you had on your face.

"was that you?" she whispered.

you nodded slow. Janitors we're rushing to the fountain attempting to stop the burst of water.

Ned was trying his hardest to hold back a laugh and Peter was staring at you and Michelle with a look of confusion on his face.

The bell rang and Peter grabbed your hand. He pulled back because they were still heated and you ran off with MJ.

You two decided to sit in the back of the class. You would be able to talk about the previous events without any interruption.

"Why'd you do that? Aren't you supposed to be hiding your powers?"

"Yeah, I am but I didn't do that on purpose. It kind of just happened."

"That can't happen again. Peter and Ned are smart, they'll figure it out that something is weird."

"I think Peter already thinks something is weird. He had this look on his face after it happened, like he was trying to figure it out. He tried to stop me on my way out but I ran away before he could."

"Yeah, I saw that. He pulled back."

"When I get upset my hands get really hot. It used to be a big problem when I was younger but it hasn't happened in like forever."

"Jesus, Y/N."

Your phone buzzed with a text from Peter. You showed MJ the text and a wave of worry overcame her.

"I was planning on telling the boys. Just not now, not yet."

She gave you a small smile.

"It's okay, Y/N. Remember I always got your back."

After a long three hours, the two of you made your way to the Mcdonald's and saw that both Peter And Ned were sitting in a booth.

"I took the liberty of buying you two a burger but in return, we ask that you tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

The both of you nodded.

"You have to pinky promise." Peter said.

MJ rolled her eyes.

You wrapped your finger around Peters and MJ did the same.

"I think you guys know something about me that you shouldn't and I think I know something about Y/N that I shouldn't."

"Oh what do we know about you?"

"You can drop the act. We caught you red-handed and we're taking you in." Ned said. You assumed they were doing a good cop/bad cop thing.

"shut up, Ned." Peter whispered.

"You know that I'm...you know..."

"No, Peter. I don't think we know. Maybe you should say it."

"MJ can you stop being difficult for one second!" Peter yelled.

It caught the two of you off guard. He was serious and we were making a joke out of it.

"Yeah, Peter. We do know that you're Spider-Man." You admitted.

"I TOLD YOU!" Ned yelled.

"And even if we didn't, we definitely know now." MJ added.

"What do you know about me, Peter?" You asked half-hoping he didn't know.

"Whatever happened at lunch today was your fault."

"There's no way you could possibly back that up. Y/N wasn't even close enough to the water fountain to-"

"That's why I know she has powers. The way she looked after it happened. She looked...she looked scared." he explained.

"And MJ was in on it too. She always is." Ned added.

She rolled her eyes at Ned's comment.

"Why are we here boys? Why did you need to know whether we knew about your secret identity or not? Why did you need to know if Y/N has powers or not? which by the way isn't confirmed." MJ inquired.

"Listen, I'm not supposed to be telling you this but Mr. Stark is dealing with this duo of villains. One of them has a pyro suit and we don't know how to catch the other one. We don't even know who the other is or what he can do." Peter said.

"What are they going after?" MJ asked

"Huh?"

"Every villain has a motive. What do these guys want?" She added.

"Oh, I never really asked." he answered.

"Clearly, you guys need to lure them out with whatever they're looking for and then that's when you catch them." MJ advised.

"Oh. I guess that makes sense. I'll be sure to suggest that to Mr. Tony when we go upstate this weekend."

"Who is we?" You asked.

"You and I?" He replied.

"What makes you think my mom will just let me go on a spontaneous trip upstate? My mom doesn't even like Stark."

"What? How can anyone not like Stark?" He asked.

"With all the shit the Avengers have done, I promise you it's very possible, Pete." MJ said

"I'll tell my mom about this Stark internship thing and we'll see what she says, if not then i guess you guys will have to find another hero or something." You said.

"We need you." Peter said.

"Really? You haven't even asked her what she can do. How could you possibly know she'd be of use?" MJ asked.

"She's got a point, dude." Ned whispered.

"What can you do, Y/N?"

"Manipulate Air, Water, Earth, and Fire."

"Woah so you're like Aang from the last air bender!" Ned exclaimed.

"That's so sick!" Peter added.

"But anyway, we definitely can use you. Put water versus fire and water wins."

"Okay, I'll help. Well, I'll try."

"Yes!"

taglist : @chims-kookies

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angelkurenai · 7 years

Text

Imagine being in a secret relationship with Jensen Ackles and him flirting with you when he comes to your work.

“You know if I see you one more time here, I'm gonna start thinking you're doing it on purpose.” you said with a soft smile as you checked on the machinery next to him.

“Although I would really do anything for that gorgeous smile of yours-” he said a little breathlessly and in a more rough voice than you were used in hearing on TV too “No, this really happened accidentally. Seems like I've been working for too many hours without eating and I had not realized it at all.” he mumbled as you hummed.

“Seems like?” you raised an eyebrow, placing your hands on your hips “You know as much as I like seeing you here, Mr Ackles, you need to take more care of yourself. Don't need to worry your loved ones.”

“So that's why you're worried too?” he asked with a small smirk and you scoffed a laugh.

“Careful Mr Ackles, your Dean is showing.” you turned your back to him as you started fixing his med and shots “Besides, I think it's more than just overworking. You're really exhausted, you'll need to take a break for a few days and rest. Let your body do the healing and take some vitamins you really need. What a shame you won't go back to flirting for a profession huh?”

“Who said I can't flirt here too?” he asked but then just laughed, wincing slightly when he felt his head ache “Besides-” he licked his dry lips “I think I won't really have a problem staying here for longer. With such a cute nurse I honestly wouldn't mind staying here forever either.” he broke into a boyish grin and you shook your head with a laugh.

“Who said I am going to be the one to take care of you?” you asked, looking over your shoulder.

“What? No, I won't take another answer. I have my personal nurse, I am not going to let any other woman touch me.” he shook his head stubbornly and you laughed.

“Very sweet but-” you handed him a glass of water “Sometimes, I wish I had not become your personal nurse from all the times you've been here, Mr Ackles. And yes I am really saying this because I'm getting worried, and no it's no joke now.” you said, crossing your arms over your chest and looking him dead serious in the eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart.” he gave you a half and sad smile “Just another excuse to see you.” he shrugged “Besides, I am not doing this really on purpose I told you. The first two... three alright maybe four times were a little intentional to come and see you but- but this wasn't and I... I promise, I'll take more care of myself. On one condition though!” he raised a fingers and you rolled your eyes, laughing to yourself.

“What's that, Mr Ackles?”

“You call me Jensen.” he said simply “Just like that, Jensen. Why do I call you (Y/n) so easily?”

“Because you're a patient and I am a nurse, I am working here. That's why.” you said matter-of-factly at his obvious effort of flirting with you.

“Come on, no harm done. Besides, if that's your problem- you could always tell me the time your shift end and I'll be there to hear you call me Jensen, as many times as you want!” he gave you an adorable smile and you shook your head.

“Sorry but unless you realized it, the moment my shift ends you are still going to be here-” you pointed at the bed “-A patient, and unable to get up and leave because you are a stubborn ass that won't take good care of himself.”

“You are not going to get away with this so easily.” he said and you chuckled.

“Moments like this I really understand why they chose you to be Dean, Mr Ackles.” you emphasized and he just shook his head.

“Not my fault, Miss (Y/l/n). I just so happened to come face to face with an angel in a nurses clothes, and you know I mean a lot more than the Supernatural ones.” he said gently.

“You never give up, do you?” you asked and he gave you an innocent smile.

“You know me-” his smile turned from playful and flirty to soft, genuine and sweet “Can't help falling in love with you every single day I see you, (Y/n).” he whispered and you closed your eyes, letting a deep sigh through your nose.

“I hate you, do you know that?” you asked in a really low voice and his lips pulled into a tender smile.

“No you don't.” he mumbled, extending a hand to take hold of your and bring it to his lips, peppering it with butterfly kisses. You got lost in the way his green eyes stared at you so intensely and you let him bring your hand to his cheek. You cupped it as his hand still didn't leave yours. You let out a shaky breath when he closed his eyes and nuzzled his face in your palm, kissing it tenderly. You could feel your heart hammer in your chest, just like every time you were close to this man, and you got lost in the sight in front of you. This tall, big man that was so strong at moments could curl up and hold your hand like he was the most fragile little child in need of love because he was scared. Because something had happened to scare him, and today you knew what it was all too well. He needed the love because of such an experience real bad. And oh did you love him so much already.

You almost got lost in the moment, the peaceful silence that surrounded you helping in that. So much that when you heard footstep you jumped in your place, pulling your hand away from him “Jensen!” you hissed, shaking your head in frustration mostly because you let him get you so carried away. You walked towards the door, giving a friendly smile to one of your co-worker as she passed by and closed it soon afterwards.

“That was close.” you whispered to yourself “What the hell Jens?!” you gave him a look as he laughed at your panicked expression.

“Come on, she didn't see a thing.” he gave you an adorable smile.

“But she could have! Because you couldn't hold yourself back.” you huffed, walking towards him.

“And who is to blame for that? Certainly not me.” he shrugged “Why do you keep that Mr Ackles act up all the time? There was nobody around!”

“But there could be, just like you saw.” you crossed your arms over your chest “And I keep the Mr Ackles act up because if I didn't I wouldn't be in my clothes at the moment, am I wrong?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He just chuckled, his eyes roaming your entire frame “Guilty. Yes I would definitely put this bed to good use for once.” he grinned at you like a young boy and you laughed.

“Really huh? Does your fiance know about these ideas you have then, Jensen?” you asked and he shrugged.

“Maybe, or else she wouldn't tease the living heaven out of me walking in here like this.” he pointed at you.

“Hm seems like that to me.” you said with a smirk.

“Now come here and give your husband-to-be a big kiss because I've waited too long.” he extended his arms towards you and you laughed.

“Jens, don't get any ideas. You're beat and you need your rest. As much as my body can never say no to you, I'm a professional when it comes to my job.” you pointed out seriously and he laughed.

“Of course I remember that, just like that small closet you have on the third floor does.” he winked and you covered your face that started to heat up at the memories. Four years in and it still felt like the first day of your relationship.

“Come on, even if it's only a kiss. You won't be so heartless to say no to that, right? I hate that I have to see you under these circumstances but still- we could make the most out of this chance too, right? I'm not that bad anyway. And I'm a fast healer.”

“Only if you promise me you'll be more careful next time.” you said a little more serious and he nodded his head.

“Deal. But even if I won't, I'll have my gorgeous nurse to take care of me anytime.” he wrapped his arms around your waist as he made room for you on the bed, although you only just laid half on top of him.

“Now give your patient some love, miss future Ackles.” he said against your lips and you giggled before cupping his face and pressing your lips hard on his.

And of course, as expected, his hands didn't stay only on your waist.

~Huge thanks to RLS for proofreading this for me!

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