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gashinabts · 4 years

Text

Ask Me Out (m)

Words: 5k

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader, Idiots to lovers

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Mature

Summary: You and Taehyung get in a fight because you were allegedly cheating, the only problem is, who are you dating and who are you cheating on.

Warnings: Teasing, spitting, oral (f/receiving), fingering, DomTae, slapping, jealously sex

A/N: Just a small one shot, hope you enjoy!! This is my work no reposting this and my other works on any other platforms.

Holding the letter tight to your chest you breathe out a heavy sigh before giving the letter to Eunha. Taehyung texted her that he will meet with her across the administration building, instead here you are standing in front of her, counting the seconds of when this interaction will end. She opens the letter and you cringe at every second she reads it, you look off at a distance to see if Taehyung could be watching this scene unfold. “ What the hell is this Y/N? Where’s Taehyung?,” she crumbles the letter and there’s irritation evident on her angelic face.

The one con of being Taehyung’s friend is that you have to break up with his girlfriends since he doesn’t like confrontation, to see them yell at him or worst cry in front of them.

In middle school Taehyung told you to break up with Soojin for him on Valentine's day, that was the first time you got bitch slapped by someone at school. Taehyung went to visit you at the nurse office with a red rose. “ Where did you get that?,” you asked him as you pressed the ice pack closer to your cheek. “ I stole it from Jungkook’s valentine’s gift,” he says, as he hands you the rose and sits next to you. His hands gently take off the ice pack inspecting your pink slap mark. “ Ouch. This will be the last time I let you do this for me,” he gives you a boxy smile. Another con of being his friend, Taehyung could be quite the liar.

“ Well as it says on the letter, he wants to break up with you…” you trail off taking a centimeter back. You don’t think she’ll do anything crazy, Eunha was nice when she was with Taehyung, however break ups can change a person.

Eunha takes a step closer and takes the lid of her ice coffee and throws it on your sweatshirt. The cup is empty and the ice cold coffee makes you flinch, “ I knew you guys were sleeping behind my back. Tell him, ‘ The next time he wants to break up with someone, he should be a man and tell them in person,’” she bumps her shoulder against you hard as she walks past you. You groan at her comment and walk towards the center of the campus where the water fountain is, there are students who briefly look at your coffee stain white sweatshirt. “ Well she got you good?,” Taehyung bites his lip and you glare at him. He stands tall right next to you, with his neutral tone baggy pants and sweatshirt. “ Hey I’m sorry I didn’t know she’ll react that way. Take my sweater,” he pulls his already oversized sweater and hands it to you.

You pull off your soaked sweater, “ That’s what you always say Tae,” then you put on his ugly dark green sweater. “ When are you ever going to have the guts to ask the girls you like out and also break up with them?” There’s also another thing he has a problem with, he needs to have someone, you, to ask the girls he likes out. It’s always awkward for you to tell them that Taehyung, the guy that you have a slight crush on, likes them.

“ Y/N, I can’t do that! Just imagine if I ask someone out and they straight out reject me. I would be traumatized for my whole life,” he takes your dirty sweater and walks with you to the apartment.

“ Nope. I can’t possibly see that. You are attractive and funny so I don’t see how you’ll be rejected,” you smell yourself and groan at the scent of ice americano. “ Look, ask me out right now,” you joke around while laughing to yourself. The short laugh becomes a gasp when Taehyung pushes you against a wall with his arm caging you in. His face is close to yours, you could almost count all the long dark eyelashes. Time feels like it slows down because the wind started to lessen along with chirping sounds from the birds.

“ Y/N. Go out with me,” he looks at you dead in the eye, his black curls slightly cover them. Without thinking much you let out a small okay and he backs up giving you space.

His face returns back to his bubbly self smiling, “ Do you want to order fried chicken and beer or pizza?,” he asked you while adjusting the straps of his backpack. The question takes you back and you pinch yourself just to see if this is a dream or an alternative universel. “ Fried chicken and beer,” you tell him, walking alongside him. There is silence between you two as he orders the food on his phone, he gives you the phone so you can review the order, you smile as he orders an extra order of spicy chicken since you are the only one that likes it. “ Looks good,” you say while handing it back.

You and Taehyung are watching a movie while eating the fried chicken peacefully until Jungkook barges in the living room from the front door, “ BAHAHA...Y/N you’re like all over everyone's snapchat. I even saw this video on my fyp on tiktok. Look it almost has one million likes,” he hands his phone while sitting down on the couch. ‘It’s the cheating for me’ you groan as you read the description. “ What the hell? Did you at least comment and tell them that I wasn’t the other woman?,” you ask Jungkook, the video plays and Eunha throws the coffee at you and your face grimaces.

“Yeah but like my comment got lost through the thousands of comments that are there,” he grabs a beer from the table, “ just live through your fifteen minutes of fame,” he chugs the beer. “ Ohh spicy chicken, my favorite,” his hands grab your chicken eating it with gusto.

You toss the phone on the couch, “ Y/N-” you ignore Taehyung’s voice as you go to your room. You take solace in your warm comforter hugging your stuffed penguin and taking a nap. The feeling of Taehyung’s warm hands wakes you up, he’s spooning you, hugging you tightly against his chest. You are used to Taehyung's skin ship at home, he typically does this when he sees a scary movie and has nightmares so he crawls into your bed or when the apartment is too cold and he doesn’t want to spend money on the heater. “ Are you okay?,” he asked carefully.

“ Yeah, I just hate how people don’t know the real story but it’s whatever I have you to make me feel better,” you sigh as you hug your penguin tighter.

He laughs and grabs the stuffed animal, “ You still have this raggedy thing?”

“ I’m not gonna throw him away. It was a present,” you take it back in your arms. Yeah, it looks beaten down but it was something special you cherished.

“ Man, I still can’t believe you dated Jungkook in high school. Doesn’t it feel weird to have that since you guys are not dating?,” he hugs you closer to him, you feel his warm breath against your neck.

“ Nah, we are still good friends even if he is kind of an asshole,” one of your hands reaches back raking your fingers against his curls. He hums deeply, “ Are you jealous of Mr. Penguin?,” you teased him with the question.

“ Kind of,” he mutters and snuggles into your hair. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting but you ignore it going back to sleep.

---

You grab an ice coffee for Taehyung and add sugar but a light tap halts you, turning you see a girl holding a phone zooming onto your face, “ Is this you?,” she asked you, eyes peering for a reaction. It was that stupid video from tiktok.

You laugh lightly, “ No, that is my twin,” you lie eaisly, you ignore her calls as you continue walking. You wait outside Taehyung’s office since he is talking to one of his students. The student adorably bows multiple times and thanks him, as she exits his room. “ She’s cute,” you comment as you enter his office with his coffee. He has his glasses on, along with his usual comfy aesthetic, there are a bunch of papers on the desk, and he looks the part as professor but clearly isn’t because he is a TA.

“ You are cute,” his large hand holds your hand giving it a quick kiss, while grabbing the coffee with his other hand and starts to gulp it. Today you were far from cute, you had no makeup, and you feel bloated because you were on your period. “ There’s an essay due about the elements of Gothic architecture and she was having a hard time about what to write,” he moves his hand as he talks, he finally sits down on his desk.

“ That sounds fun,” you sarcastically state. Sitting down on the chair you look on his desk and there’s a picture of you and him at the Louvre, it was two years ago that you guys spontaneously took a trip to Paris.

“ Sorry you aren’t a fan of art history,” he nudges you with his leg, “ Anyways let’s go to this new hotpot restaurant,” he gets up putting his laptop away along with his papers. “ Should we invite Jungkook?,” you asked while putting your seatbelt on in Taehyung's car.

“ No. It’s Y/N and Taehyung time,” he firmly states but his sparkly teeth show as he smiles.

---

“ You guys look closer than ever, which is weird because how can you guys possibly get closer,” Jungkook comments as you wash the dishes. It’s obvious that he is talking about Taehyung. Taehyung had been more clingy with you, almost every night sleeping in your bed and taking you to random restaurants without Jungkook.

“ What do you mean? We are always like that, you are just jealous that we don’t take you out anymore and pay for you,” you finish washing the last plate, you put the gloves away to dry. Jungkook crosses his arms which cause his biceps to bulge and you throw your head back with a laugh, “ Is that supposed to intimidate me?,” you lean against the counter.

He walks closer, “ Kinda, I’ve been working out,” he flexes it more. You roll your eyes and he stands right in front of you, “ So friends just invade other people’s personal space?,” his face comes closer to you, making eye contact with you. He’s provoking you and you just want to slap his smirk off his face. Jungkook lays his head against your neck, rubbing his nose against your neck, his body is against yours. “ This kind of reminds me of our first time, we did it in my parent’s kitchen when they weren’t home,” his hands gripped your waist.

You decided to play at his game, your hands reach his nape pulling his hair, “ But then you came the minute you put it in,” you whisper against his ear. You laugh as his face flush with embarrassment, you push him against his chest so he can give you space.

“ C’mon Y/N that wasn’t nice,” he groans, he tugs his situation in his grey sweatpants to not make it obvious that he has a boner. You stop laughing when you see Taehyung standing near the entrance of the kitchen, he has a blank face and goes to the fridge. Jungkook turned around looking at Taehyung as he quietly grabbed a coke, “ Hey Hyung, have you eaten? Y/N made dinner.”

Taehyung looks at Jungkook, “ I’m good,” he doesn’t even acknowledge you, walking away from the kitchen and you hear his door shut.

It’s quiet as you eat dinner alone and it is even quieter when you go to sleep by yourself. The bed feels more bigger and you might think it’s more comfortable but it’s not since you don’t have Taehyung hugging you like a pillow. The next morning you wake up late, Taehyung usually wakes you up and cooks you burnt toast with a shitload of jam but this time he’s already gone.

After class, you get his favorite coffee drink, and go to his office, there is another cute student talking to him. You peer through the window and see how happily he exchanges words with her. You wait until their session is done and she thanks him and he waves goodbye, you walk into his office. He looks at you but quickly reverts his gaze back at his laptop screen typing mindlessly. Placing the coffee on his desk, “ She’s cute,” you comment.

“ Yeah,” he says and continues typing, your heart lurches not expecting him to agree with you. There’s so much tension you feel like you are walking on eggshells.

“ Umm...are you okay?,” you ask timidly. You aren’t sure if he heard you since a minute goes by and he looks through his paper and then again types. There is sweat coming off your hands and wipe them down against your jeans,“ Taehyung?,” you speak just a decibel louder.

He closes his laptop, packing up his papers, throwing them harpazidly in his backpack, throwing the ice coffee that he hasn’t even got a sip of into the trash. “ I’m meeting with someone,” he brushes past you trying to exit his office. You grab his wrist before he can leave, “ Tae, are you mad at me?,” is the only question you can think of.

This is the first time he looks at you, it’s the first time he has ever shown anger at you, he yanks his hand back to himself and the feeling of the subtle warmth is gone from the palms of your hand. “ I just didn’t think you were the type of girl to cheat and try to fuck their ex in the kitchen,” he says seriously.

Cheating? Who were you cheating on? “ I wasn’t- Jungkook and I-,” you try to explain yourself but he wasn’t hearing any of it. He interrupts you, “ I don’t care anymore...I don’t want to see your face,” he jabs at you with a disgusted face one last time before leaving. There’s tears coming out and you quickly wipe them but they still stream down your cheeks. This is the first time in your friendship that you had a fight with Taehyung and it looks like it will be the last time you grab the tissue of his desk blowing your nose. The picture of you and Taehyung gleefully smiling in Paris is mocking you, you grab the picture and take it with you before he can also throw it away as easily as he did with the ice coffee.

You usually don’t like going to your parent’s house but this time you accept their invitation, planning to stay with them for a week, you already submitted all the assignments for classes and you could always look at the podcast lectures. There’s not much clothes you have to pack up since you hardly buy any new clothes and you usually borrow Taehyung's infinite amount of clothes, well used to. “ I’ll see you in a week,” you hug Jungkook goodbye.

“ Make sure you get some rest,” he walks you to the car, you nod and smile at him, waving him goodbye.

This is the last time you will ever visit your family, they make you do chores and take care of your nephews and nieces. It doesn’t even feel like you got any rest, you found a box under your bed and it’s filled with pictures of you and Taehyung, some of Jungkook but mostly of Taehyung. The more you shuffle through the pictures it gets harder to hold your tears. You have the urge to call him but you are afraid that he has you blocked.

---

It feels and sounds quiet in the apartment, Taehyung thinks to himself. Jungkook isn’t even making noise either which is odd since he is loud. He hasn’t seen you in three days, he was sure that he was going to eventually bump into around the house while you cook or get out of the shower but nothing, he hasn’t even seen light peek out of your door. He hears the door opening expecting it was you but it was Jungkook. Jungkook goes straight to the kitchen taking out a pan and vegetables out of the fridge, “ You want some Kimchi fried rice?,” Jungkook asks as he cuts some kimchi.

“ No,” Taehyung shakes his head and scrolls down on his instagram.

Jungkook sighs loudly, “ Wow this is going to suck. I have to start learning how to cook better since Y/N moved out.”

Taehyung drops his phone on the ground, “ What?,” he asked while walking towards the kitchen to where Jungkook is at.

Jungkook puts oil in the pan and adds onions, “ Yeah she moved out three days ago. She looked really sad, took everything she had and left.” Taehyung doesn’t believe him and enters her room, the bed looks empty, there are no comforters or pillows, he opens your drawers and is met with nothing, there are some skincare products on the table but those can easily be left behind. However there are pictures of you and Taehyung on the dresser, and he easily spots the one that he kept in his office. He walks back out and Jungkook looks like he is almost done cooking. “ You could be a real asshole Taehyung. Y/N would never do anything with me since she already whipped for you. The things you make her do and how she always does it because your Taehyung,” Jungkook says and finally turns off the stove.

“ What are talking about?,” Taehyung asked with hesitance.

“ Ask Y/N, why does she break up with people for you despite the many times she gets hurt from it. Ask her why does she spend so much money on your dumb ice americano? Ask her why she broke up with me in high school?,” Jungkook didn’t mean for the last question to come out but he’s tired of his two best friends being idiots. “ I’m going to eat in my room,” he leaves with a plate of Kimchi fried rice.

Taehyung sits in silence in his room thinking about your last conversation with him, and how he didn’t let you explain. How he yelled at you, how he threw his coffee, and how you looked like you wanted to cry. He hugged his pillow tightly desperately wishing that it was you and maybe if he thought hard enough you would appear.

---

“ Are you sure you don’t want to stay the whole week?,” your Mom asked while she helped you put your suitcase in your car. It’s the fourth day, six in the morning, and you don’t think you can last another day with her yelling at you to stop taking naps and to go grocery shopping with her.

Getting in your small car you sigh,“ Yeah, I have to go back. I forgot to turn something in for class,” you make up a lie.

“ What? Are you serious? Why didn’t you do that before when you came here, that’s very irresponsible-” Maybe on another day you can take her lecturing but not today.

“ Okay, bye Mom. Love you!,” you close your door waving at her as you leave the driveway.

It is expected for the apartment to be quiet since it’s early in the morning, you drag the suitcase quietly hoping that you won’t wake them up. Opening the door slowly, you are shocked to see a sleeping figure in your bed, your hand let’s go of the suitcase and you yelp trying to get it but it comes down crashing loudly on the wooden floor. Taehyung's head pops up from his small blanket, looking at you with wide eyes. “ I umm- I’m sorry. I’ll leave right now,” you pathetically try to excuse yourself. Taehyung said he didn’t want to see your face anymore so you hurry to pick up your things. Your shaky hands try to grab your suitcase but you are tackled into a hug, Taehyung’s arms engulf you trying to make you part of his body.

“ You came...I was scared that you were gone forever,” he whispers. “ I’m sorry for what I said. I was an asshole and didn’t let you speak. I hurt you in many ways that I never expected. Then Jungkook said you moved out…” he trailed off you couldn’t clearly hear him since his voice muffled in your hair.

“ Taehyung, let’s sit down and talk, okay?,” you asked him and brushed some of the strands of hair out of his face. He nods and sits down beside you and your bed, “ I wasn’t going to move out, I just went to visit my parents hoping that would relax me but it didn’t so I came back early,” you smile at him. “ Okay good,” he smiles back and scoots closer to you. “ Taehyung, I need to ask you something?,” you look away nervously.

“ Ask me,” he encourages and grabs your chin to look at you.

You swallow nervously, “ Are we together? I mean were we together? Since you said I cheated on you and I was kind of confused…” you trail off playing with your fingers.

He grabs your hands gently squeezing them “ Of course we were together. I mean we still are. Remember when you told me to ask you out?,” he asked, you nodded remembering it vividly, “ Well since that day we’ve been dating.” You didn’t think that was serious but it did make sense because of all the skinship he was doing and the places he would take out to eat. He did take you to the Han river and had a picnic during the night which you found oddly romantic but you didn’t think much into it. “ Y/N, I’m sorry,” he asked, kissing your hands.

“ It’s okay there was a misunderstanding. Next time, let’s talk before we act out on our emotions,” you tell him softly, before pecking him on his cheek. Turning quickly away so he won’t see you blushing in the morning sun. “ Help me set up comforters,” you get up, grabbing the comforters off the floor. He helps you set it up while complaining about how he missed you while you were gone, crying in your bed until Jungkook told him to shut up. You place Mr. Penguin on the bed and lay down hugging it.

Taehyung turns your body easily around so you're facing him, “ I actually didn’t know we were dating, I thought we were joking around,” your hand caresses his sharp jawline.

“ Idiot. I would never joke around about dating you,” he scoffs and takes the hand you were caressing him with, bringing it to his lips, kissing it softly. His lips move to your wrist, trailing up your forearm, arising goosebumps and leaving a giggly response from you, making him smile. Taehyung scoots closer to your neck so he can leave kisses there and you hug him closer when he kisses a particular spot that makes you squirm. The kisses trail upwards to your jaw, going closer to the area you wanted. He looks at you seeking permission and you pull him to feel your lips against his. It’s soft as you expected and you sigh happily at the feeling of his warmth. He pulls aways looking at you, “ That was nice,” he says as he moves over to hover you.

“ Yeah, it was,” you pull him down for another kiss, this time it’s more needier. Lips smacking at each other can be heard along with some heavy breathing. Your hands leave his tousled hair and go under his baggy sleeping shirt, feeling his naked back. You never thought you could feel Taehyung this way, but here are lightly trailing your fingers up and down his back. His mouth leaves yours kissing your neck and leaving marks here and there, he pulls the collar of your shirt down trying to get more access but gets frustrated. Laughing at him, you pull your shirt off, laying back down so he can kiss wherever he desires. His eyes sparkle at the sight of the swell of your breast, immediately leaving open mouth kisses that make you shudder with excitement. His large hands pull the cups of bra and his mouth envelopes your nipple, sucking while his other fondles with your other breast. Your pants are being louder and you can’t take anymore of the teasing. Your hands pull his hair as he lightly bites your nipple leaving you with pleasure and pain, “ Touch me Taehyung,” moaning at the end of the sentence.

“ Baby, I am touching you,” his lips leave your abused nipple and go to the other one giving it the same treatment. It looks like he enjoys you getting impatient since he is smiling at your frustration as you try to grind against him. “ No no no, touch me somewhere else,” you tell him shyly, you are never this coy with your partners but Taehyung just screams out dominance. His eyes darken and his mouth leave your nipple along with a string of salvia, his hand wipes his spit all over your chest. He sits up pulling off his shirt, his eyebrow arched, “ Where does my baby want to be touched?,” he asked, looking down on you. Your hand trails down to the button of your jeans, slightly tugging at it, refusing to tell him in words. His index finger tugs at the belt loop, “ You want me to touch your pussy?” Blushing at his words you nod, he takes off your jeans and looks at your panties, smirking at your evident arousal. He bends down and kisses above the hem of your panties before tugging them down your legs.

“ Please Tae,” you whine as he teasingly kisses the inside of your thighs, Taehyung finally listens to your words and eats you out like his favorite dessert, his hands holding your thighs up trying to taste more of you. Crying out in pleasure, as his tongue pays special attention to your clit and his two fingers slowly inched his way into your seeping hole. Afraid that you are making too much noise, you moan into your palm, his head lifts up and you whine at the loss of his tongue. “ Who told you you can cover your pretty mouth?,” Taehyung slaps your cunt, making you moan louder. “ Sorry,” you meekly let out but you desperately want to be punished again. He chuckles at your apology, rubbing your cunt to soothe the pain, “ Do you want me to fuck this needy pussy?”

“ Yes, I want you so bad,” you drawl at your words, hips rising and riding his long fingers. His fingers withdraw from you, quickly taking off his sweats and boxers, as you finally discard your bra. “ Spit,” he commands, his hand is below your mouth. Following his command, his large hand wraps around his impressive dick and you can’t wait for it to stretch you. Reaching to your drawer, you give him a condom and he puts it on. Taehyung slowly enters you and you feel an immediate stretch, your nails scratch his back at the slight pain. He kisses you to relax you and smile at his encouraging words. Moaning at the slow thrusting, the pain is completely gone, wanting to feel him deeper you tell him to fuck you harder. His hips move at fast pace and you can feel him in your stomach, “ You’re so fucking tight, I’m gonna have to fuck you everyday,” he moans out. “ Gonna have to fuck you everywhere too, so Jungkook can no longer flirt with you,” he thrust deeper hitting that particular spot that makes your toes curl. Nodding deliriously you meet his thrust, eyes rolling back at the euphoric feeling of Taehyung fucking you good. Moaning his name louder, as he grabs your jaw forcing you to look at him, “ I’m the only one that makes you feel this good, right?,” he asked but he already knows the answer.

“ Only you, only Taehyung,” you scream out feeling his other hand rubbing your clit. “ No one else,” you confirm once more, pulling him down for a messy kiss. Your approach is coming, clenching around him harder, “ I’m gonna cum,” you claw his back more, “ Can I please cum?,” begging him.

Rubbing your clit faster, “ Yeah, fucking cum for me, scream out my name,” he gives your clit you couple smacks. Crying out his name you come loudly with your body shaking in pleasure. Taehyung's pace falters, groaning at your tight cunt swallowing him in, holding your body closer as he orgasms. Kissing you softly Taehyung pulls out, tossing the condom in the trash bin. “ How’s my baby?,” he asked while stroking your flush cheeks.

“ Good but kinda tired,” giving him a tired smile. “ Taehyung I like you so much,” you confess, holding his warm hand against your cheek. High school you would be so proud that you finally confessed to him.

Taehyung grabs your hand and kisses it, “ I like you so much more. I liked you since high school but I was afraid to tell you and then you started dating Jungkook. So I thought I can never be your type. But then you told me to ask you out, joke or not, I thought that was finally my chance to have you be my girl,” he softly speaks but there’s an underlying insecurity in voice. Your hands pull him close to your body causing him to squeal, his head is on top of your breast listening to your heartbeat, as one of your hands comb his hair.

“ I guess we are both idiots, I liked you since high school too. But here we are now in each other's arms, better late than never right?,” you sigh. His fingers trace shapes your stomach, “ Just gotta make up for the lost time,” he agrees and his hand trails down.

“ Yes but not now because I’m tired,” you grab his hand before it can go any further. He laughs and kisses your breast tenderly.

“ I’m just glad that Mr. Penguin got to see me fuck my girl,” he snuggles more into you with heavy eyelids.

You sleepy smile at his words, “ You are so weird.”

——————————————————————————

Do not repost, translate, or alternate my work in any way, onto any platform. I do not take plagiarism lightly.

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lcksndkys · 3 years

Text

Title: Here for you

Pairing: PJM x reader

Rating: SFW

Genre: fwb au meets hospital au

Word count: 1,475

Summary: after an especially hard day at work, Jimin tries to comfort you, except you don't seem to respond to his usual tactics.

Warnings: imposter syndrome, a penis wiggle, discussions of medical complications but no death, implied smut

A/N: Hi, all!! There’s a bit of medical lingo. Resident= a physician who practices under the supervision of an attending physician. Attendings= doctors who have completed a residency, and supervise residents. Med surg= medical surgical unit/floor of the hospital where patients are generally, but not limited to, those recovering from some type of surgery. PE/pulmonary embolism= an emergent medical condition where there is a blood clot in the arteries that supply the lungs.

Also, this was written as part of the ghostie drabble marathon with the prompt: Character A gets emotional easily. Character B does not. A catches B crying alone and realizes that they never learned how to comfort B since they were usually the one getting comforted. Please drop a line, anything you want, to let me know what you think!!

You feel like an idiot.

Head in your hands with your eyes squeezed shut, you inhale slow and deep to calm your stuttering breaths.

Inhale, pause, exhale. Repeat.

You refuse to break down while at work. Doctors didn’t have that kind of luxury and you can’t sit here forever (even if a small part of you wants to).

Hands braced on the cold, hard concrete of the hospital's dingy stairwell, you're ready to continue with morning rounds when the door suddenly opens.

Fluorescent light floods the dimly lit stairwell.

“Dr. Lee’s lookin for you,” comes Jimin’s concerned voice.

“Fuck,” you whisper at being caught crying like a scared first year intern. You swipe under your eyes, erasing any trace of wetness and avoiding Jimin’s worried gaze.

“Yeah, I was just- just going down for coffee. I’ll come right back up to med surg” you sputter. You’re nowhere near the cafeteria.

His dark eyes meet yours briefly. Two years of friendship and casual hooking up has him believing he knows you better than most. He knows when you’re lying.

You make a quick exit, pushing past Jimin, refusing to make eye contact. Heading down towards the cafeteria to keep up pretenses, you decide maybe you do need the extra caffeine.

Coffee in hand and hearing the death march ringing in your head, you dread meeting with your attending.

Dr. Lee is a stern, but fair, mentor. She scolds you harshly for your mistake and then gently reminds you that this case will stay with you for the duration of your medical career. She promises you won’t let yourself make the same mistake twice. You hope she’s right.

By the end of the day, you’re feeling wretched. Having worked 80+ hours this week has exhausted you mentally, emotionally, and physically.

You head to the staff changing rooms not noticing the figure following you. Angrily pulling off your scrub top, you pause at the soft knock at the door.

“It’s me,” comes the quiet of Jimin’s soothing lilt.

In your bra and scrub pants, you crack open the door and peer around him confirming that he’s alone. Opening the door wide enough to slip his lithe body between the cracks, you sigh. “What do you want, Jimin”

“You had a rough day. I wanted to make you feel better” he rasps, winding his arms around you and pressing his body into yours.

He easily crowds you against the door, one hand slithering around your waist, the other discreetly locking it.

Mouth slotting against yours, you part your lips wider to allow him to press his tongue to yours. You moan into his kiss, letting him tilt your head, deepening the angle. His hands wander the expanse of your exposed back, down your hips, and landing on the swell of your ass where he palms at the soft flesh.

He kisses you like it’s the last time every time. Ardently and enthusiastically, like he can’t get enough of you. It takes your breath away.

You give yourself a moment to enjoy his affection, sliding your hands under his scrubs to scratch lightly against the soft skin of his abdominals before pushing him back with a firm hand against his chest. You pretend you don’t feel the rapid thrumming of his heart under your palm.

“Not tonight, Jimin” you pant.

You can’t get fully out of your head and into Jimin. Not right now. He lets you withdraw from him with worried eyes.

The past two years have been hard, but your unforeseen friendship (turned fwb status in the last year) with Jimin has been a nice bonus. He made you laugh, he talked you up to the other nurses and your superiors, he made you cum, (he made your heart race, but you’d never tell him that). You were focused on completing your orthopedic residency and Jimin had hesitantly agreed that there were to be no strings.

You hastily finish changing, stuffing your scrubs into your bag and making for the door.

Before you can hustle down the hallway and away from the sterile white of the hospital, you’re stopped by a firm, yet gentle, hand around your wrist. With a light tug you’re falling right back into his arms.

“It’s not your fault. You’re a great doctor” he insists, holding you close and pressing his forehead against yours.

Word gets around fast.

You scoff, tearing out of Jimin’s hold.

Great doctor? A second year resident and you still feel like you’re flying by the seat of your pants. You don’t belong here.

“Shortness of breath, coughing, fatigue, recent surgical procedure, chest pain, lightheadedness when ambulating with physical therapy” you tick each off on your fingers. “Classic signs of a PE, Jimin, and I missed them all” you spit.

The nurse shrinks back at your harsh words. After two years of friendship- and in Jimin’s opinion, more- he’s never seen you like this. Jimin has always been the emotional one; tenderhearted and in need of comfort after rough days. He’s always turned to you for that.

“We caught it in time though. He’s gonna be fine” Jimin tries, trying to hold you closer.

Your brow furrows in frustration. He doesn’t get it.

“He could have died!” you burst. A patient could have died because you didn’t catch it when he threw a pulmonary embolism. “Stop trying to pretend you know what I’m thinking!”

At your venomous words, Jimin backs away. “I-I didn’t. I’m sorry. I only wanted to comfort you.”

Eyes tight and biting his lip, he takes one last look at you before retreating back to his unit.

You sigh, disappointed in yourself. But you have the next two blessed days off. Hopefully by then, you’ll have grown the nerve to apologize to Jimin for blowing up at him.

Washing up and throwing your dirty scrubs in the laundry, you curl into your bed, finally allowing yourself to cry.

On day two, your phone pings with a notification. You see that Jimin has sent you a snapchat.

Intrigued, you tap open the icon and-

Jimin is standing in front of his bathroom mirror- cheeks rosy, hair pushed back to expose his neatly trimmed undercut, ends dripping wet- covered only by a towel hanging from the base of his very erect penis.

He must’ve just finished showering as you clearly see the beads of water running down his exposed neck and chest in rivers to undoubtedly pool on his bright orange bath mat.

One hand is holding his phone, the other is waving into the mirror as he repeatedly clenches his pelvic floor muscles to make his rigid cock wiggle in greeting.

“Miss you,” comes his angelic voice.

He continues slowly waving, towel-covered cock bobbing in time with his hand as if purposely synchronized.

“I hope you’re feeling better today” he says earnestly with a goofy smile.

You cackle at his antics, feeling your mood boost instantaneously.

Eyes trained on his figure, you try to imprint this short video to the backs of your eyelids. It’s over as quickly as it began, video disappearing.

Reciprocating, you snap back a shot of your body covered in nothing but his oversized shirt. Then, you open your texts and arrange for Jimin to meet you in an hour at your apartment.

Waiting for his arrival, you pull out your favorite lube and some condoms in preparation.

When your doorbell rings, you’re already worked up and ready for him to pound you into your mattress.

Fixing your lips to his with a soft groan in greeting, you pull him towards your bedroom and pin him down onto the bed.

You’re both panting when you break away from his plush lips to kiss down the column of his throat.

Jimin purrs beneath you, unable to resist the soft pull of your lips against his sensitive flesh.

“Shit, I wasn’t planning on-” he pulls back from you, eyes glazed with desire. “I just wanted to be here for you and make sure you- that we- were ok.”

You stare down at him. “Jimin. I’m sitting on your half hard cock, trying to apologize, and you’re talking right through it” you chuckle.

He stops you as you lean in again. He’s serious.

“I mean… I also wanted to tell you," he looks shyly up at you. "You’re the only person I’ve been hooking up with,” he quietly admits. “I don’t want anyone else”

You gulp. Have you been stupidly exclusive this whole time?

“Same,” you whisper, meeting his excited eyes with your confession.

“So, then, this- you and me- it’s real?” he asks again with an endearing rouge to his cheeks.

You look into his hopeful gaze and can’t resist him.

“Ask me again after you take me out on a real date,” you agree easily as his eyes crinkle with happiness, beaming up at you.

#park jimin #jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin scenario #hospital au #fwb au #p3nis wiggle #btsghostiemarathon

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deardiarygirl · 2 years

Text

1123

1123. I see that number everywhere. It's on clocks, credit cards, checks, videos, you name it. And every time I see it, I feel a surge of anger and disgust.

If I had to guess, I'd say it's been about two years or so since I officially cut him out of my life. I blocked his number, blocked him on every social media platform I could find him on. He couldn't learn to leave me alone on his own, so I had to put up a firm boundary for the first time in my life.

When I met him over a decade ago, I had no idea what kind of impact he'd have on my life. I was just barely 15, boy-crazy, and completely driven to follow the dopamine rush I got whenever I talked to him. A hopeless romantic, I let his cryptic messages trick me into believing that I had found something really special. In a way I guess I had found something special - just not in a good way.

He told me: "I'll ask you to be my girlfriend tomorrow, depending on whether it rains."

Would he ask me if it rained? If it didn't rain? What the hell was that supposed to mean? I didn't know, but it thrilled me.

It didn't rain. He asked me to be his girlfriend. He kissed me, briefly - we didn't want to get caught by our parents. And then I never saw him again after that night.

When I agreed to be his girlfriend, I knew he lived halfway across the country. It would only ever be a long-distance relationship. And I knew I wasn't allowed to date, so it would be difficult to maintain. But when you're a horny high schooler, high on hormones, you find a way.

We sneakily called each other late at night. Mind you - this was back in the day when I could send only a limited number of text messages each month, and calls after 9pm were free. There was no snapchat, no picture messaging, no videos. Just phone calls.

It was wonderful. I lived for those phone calls. He intrigued me, kept me on my toes. I felt lucky to have connected with him in such a special way. I would do anything for this guy.

TRIGGER WARNING! Sexual coercion, suicidal ideation & threats

He liked teasing me, getting me flustered. I didn't consider myself to be inexperienced - not after my first boyfriend, anyway - but in retrospect I was very inexperienced. But what I lacked in experience, I made up for with my desire to please.

One night over the phone, he told me about how he was touching himself. He told me what he would do if we were in the same room. It excited me. But then he asked me if I was touching myself, too.

I wasn't. I didn't feel comfortable with my body. I hadn't really masturbated at all at that point in my life. But I couldn't let him know that - so I said I was touching myself.

He asked me how it felt - I told him it felt so good.

He asked me if I liked it - yes of course, I just wish it were you instead.

And then he asked how many fingers I had inside, and that one threw me for a loop. The correct answer was zero, but I had already dug myself into a hole with my previous lies. So... what would a sexually experienced person say?

All of them, I told him. That seemed reasonable to me, and that way he'd know I was really enjoying it. The more fingers the better, I thought.

He wasn't as inexperienced as I was, and he immediately knew I was lying. And he got mad. He couldn't believe I was being dishonest with him.

I apologized. I didn't tell him I was uncomfortable. I didn't tell him that I didn't want to do that. I continued being dishonest, but this time it was about my true feelings. I kept that shit hidden, protected. As if that would do me any good.

I'm pretty sure we resolved the issue at some point, but I don't remember how that conversation went.

As the summer dragged on and we continued our late night calls, I got a better picture of who he was, of the mental demons he fought every day.

He told me he was schizophrenic, depressed. That triggered the caretaker response in me. I told him it was okay, I was there for him if he needed anything. Absolutely anything, he was my whole world. The most important thing to me. I loved him.

To clarify - what I felt then was not what I now know love to be. But at that point in my life, that's what it felt like. I thought I loved him. In truth, I was obsessed, addicted. I didn't love myself, and I didn't love him.

One night he called me, and for the first time I could genuinely feel the distance between us. He sounded detached, emotionless. He told me he didn't want to live anymore. No one loved him, he just wanted to kill himself and be done with it.

No, I love you! Please, you can't! I love you!

He rejected me, told me that I didn't love him. He told me that no one could love him because he was a monster, a worthless piece of nothing. How could he possibly be loved by anyone?

No matter how hard I sobbed, no matter how desperately I tried to convince him of his worth on this world, he wouldn't hear it. He told me I was lying. He hung up, and I cried all night. He didn't pick up any of my calls after that.

Sometime the next day, he finally texted me. He was fine, he didn't attempt to take his life.

I had never felt so helpless. Even now, twelve years later, that night stands out as one of the worst of my life. I was so scared. I felt like it was my responsibility to keep him alive, and no one should ever feel that way.

It was not my job to fix him. It was not my job to make him feel better. If he had hurt himself in any way that night, it would not have been my fault. But I know I would have held onto that guilt for the rest of my life, thinking that if I had just tried harder to make him feel loved, maybe he would have been okay.

That's something I'm still struggling to learn in my relationships today. It's not my job to take care of anyone except myself. I should support the people I love, but I should not take on the responsibility of improving someone else's life to convince them to keep living.

We had a handful of nights like that, where I desperately pleaded with him to stay alive, promised him that I would get my license as soon as I was old enough and I'd drive across state lines for him. I could make his life worth living if only he'd hold on until I could get there.

On those nights, he never believed me. And it crushed me. Over and over again, I feared I would lose him.

Finally, the summer came to a close, and we mutually agreed to take a break. The new school year was starting, and we were both excited to meet new people and foster in-person relationships. There was a boy in the marching band that I had my eye on, so I wasn't bothered by this break-up.

A few months later, I broke up with the boy in the marching band. My long-distance lover wanted my attention again, and I had missed the thrill of it.

So we got back together. The late night calls resumed. I didn't tell any of my friends about the relationship, because I didn't want my marching band ex to know I had left him for someone else. As is typical of my codependent nature, I wanted to protect his feelings. I wanted to try to control his reaction to our breakup. But that's a bigger topic for another day.

This second wave of our relationship was somewhat short-lived. I think it lasted for a month or so before he confessed that he cheated on me. He had sex with his ex-girlfriend. I hadn't suspected it, and I was sad about it. But the worst part is that I told him it was okay. I told him I still loved him, and I forgave him. I just didn't want him to leave me.

It was NOT okay. I never should have begged for him to stay with me after he broke our promise of loyalty. But he had trained me to tell him everything was okay, and I think part of me was afraid that he would get upset and try to hurt himself if I told him I was mad about him cheating.

So I didn't even let myself feel mad. I felt compassionate, forgiving, and most of all, scared.

And of course, I should have expected his response. He didn't listen to my begging and pleading, and decided that he wanted to break up. I couldn't convince him that our relationship was worth keeping.

I was heartbroken. I couldn't let him go for months after that. He wouldn't respond to my texts. I didn't have any social media accounts, so I couldn't contact him that way. So I did the only thing I could think to do to get in touch with him: I printed out a photo of us from the day we met, and I mailed it to him. No letter, no words. Just the two of us, together.

He called me as soon as he got the photo. And we got back together.

It felt good for a while. We were doing just fine. We talked about him cheating, and he apologized for it. He said that he mostly just wanted to have sex, but he ended up missing me after we broke up. But he hadn't reached out to me because he was worried I would never forgive him for what he'd done - and I told him, silly, I forgave you the second you told me about it. Don't you remember? You can always be honest with me, I'll forgive you no matter what because I love you that much.

It was nice to have that resolution, and to put myself on the pedestal of The All-Forgiving, Holier-Than-Thou Girlfriend. It was a power I would never wield explicitly, but in the back of my mind I knew I could always remind him how wonderful of a girlfriend I was, how he'd never find someone else like me, how I was simply irreplaceable. And I think he knew it, too.

I think I leaned into it a little too heavily, though. I thought I could be a "good example" and motivate him to improve himself, too. He didn't really care about school, didn't really have any goals for life after graduation. I thought he could do better.

I told him something I overheard his brother saying. His brother had mentioned that he was worried about him not doing anything with his life, worried that he wouldn't amount to anything if he didn't apply himself. I shared that conversation, thinking he would feel motivated to do better for his brothers' sake, since I wasn't sure he would try to do better for my sake.

I was so, so wrong.

That infuriated him. I shared it with him with good intentions, but all I got in response was: Don't ever talk to me again.

He never responded to another text after that. And that subconsciously taught me that anytime I share critical/constructive feedback with someone, they will immediately shut me down and hate me forever. Again, that's another topic for another day.

Somehow, I got over it. I dated other people, and a few years passed. I graduated high school and prepared to move out to college.

Coincidentally, my college campus ended up being just a few hours away from his hometown. I didn't move there with him in mind, but after I settled in, I started thinking about how crazy it would be if he were to come visit me, now that I'm a Grown Adult (translation: freshly 18 with an inflated sense of confidence) with the freedom to hook up with whomever I wished.

I found him on Facebook. I sent him a message. I don't remember what it said, but I'm sure it was some sort of apology for upsetting him, and I probably explained why I did what I did.

He responded. The gates opened. The addiction began again.

One night, after my roommate had gone to bed, I sat on the couch and chatted with him over Facebook. He said he wanted to see me, and so we moved to Skype.

For the first time in probably four years, I saw him in front of me. He was just as hot as I remembered, even more so now that his hair was a little longer and he looked a little older. His smile was charming, utterly disarming. He was a natural flirt, and honestly, so was I.

We got naked for each other that night. This time I was willing, although my new streak of faking orgasms over the last few years continued. Another topic for another day.

We never officially got back together. Instead, we just periodically called each other up for a little fun. Every conversation was sexual in nature, and I loved it. I dreamt of the day I'd convince him to come visit me at school so that I could actually experience him in the flesh. He never did visit, though.

Our sexting carried over into my first college relationship. Eventually I told him it had to stop, because I needed to be more faithful to my current partner. He'd still occasionally send me flirtatious texts, and I'd usually roll my eyes and tell him to quit being such a tease. Then it died out altogether when he started seeing someone - if I remember correctly, it was the ex he originally cheated on me with.

Whatever, I didn't care. I was dating someone else, anyway.

The true problem came a year or so later, when he was single. He told me once more how much he missed me, how she could never be like me. He loved me, and he'd never love anyone the way he loved me.

But I was dating someone new. And this new person was truly someone special, someone that I'm still with today, eight years later.

I told him that although I cared about him, I was with someone else. And I really, deeply cared about this person. I really wanted to make sure it worked out with them. He said he understood, that he was happy for me.

And then he continued to text under the guise of friendship. It always started as a casual conversation, but inevitably it would turn flirtatious. It would turn sexual. And a few times, I indulged.

I'd tell him it needed to stop, that if we were going to be friends, we'd truly have to just be friends. I couldn't handle the guilt of caving when he tempted me, and I knew I had to do better.

The cycle continued for years. He told me he understood, that he was sorry, that he'd stop making it sexual. We'd stop talking for a few months. Then he'd text me again, real casual. And the more I responded, the more flirtatious and sexual the conversation would get. I'd tell him to stop, he'd apologize, and leave me alone for a few more months.

No matter how many times I asked him to stop, no matter how many times I told him no, he wouldn't truly listen. He wouldn't respect my wants or my relationship. He wouldn't stop.

Finally, two years ago, I cracked. I told him I was done trying to be friends because he clearly couldn't handle it. I blocked him everywhere to prevent him from contacting me in any way. It's the only way I could get peace.

It worked, for the most part. He sometimes finds ways to contact me, regardless. Apparently, even though his phone number is blocked, he can still leave me voicemails. He did that once, and I screamed and sobbed when I heard it. But I didn't respond. And then he sent an email to an old account of mine a few months after that, and I didn't respond to that, either. But every time he intrudes on my life, I'm reminded that I have zero power over him, that what I want is meaningless to him.

It's only - always - about him.

11/23. His birthday. I see it everywhere, and I'm always struck with that feeling of being powerless and small. I literally closed a credit card account because the last four digits of my card were 1123, and I couldn't stand to see that series of numbers whenever I made an online purchase. It makes me sick and it keeps him present in my life, no matter how hard I try to keep him out.

I absolutely hate it. I hate him. I hate that number. I hate the way he makes me feel. I hate that I will never be able to get true closure because I cannot trust him to actually grow up enough to acknowledge what he's done to me.

And most of all, I hate that I let myself unknowingly fall into his trap.

The only thing I regret in my life is letting him in. But I was in a vulnerable place when I met him - I didn't have any self-worth, and I desperately needed to feel like someone cared about me. I needed to feel valuable. He gave that to me.

I'm trying really hard to forgive myself for that. I didn't know any better. I was just trying to feel important. I can't blame myself for latching on when someone was willing to make me feel that way. I was trying to meet my needs however I could, without thinking critically about whether my methods were healthy.

So to the version of me that was entranced by him twelve years ago: it's okay. You didn't know what would happen. You were doing your best. And I love you.

To the version of me who became addicted to him: it's okay. You didn't know what healthy relationships looked like, so you had to learn the hard way. Although your relationship was damaging, you didn't know. You were doing your best. And I love you.

To the version of me who finally cut him out: I know that was hard, even though it felt like it should have been the easiest thing in the world. It's okay. I'm proud of you for standing up for yourself, even though you felt conflicted about it. I love you.

And to me, today: You have worth. You have value. You are important. Although he has trouble abiding by your boundaries, that's on him. He has a lot of growing to do, and that has nothing to do with you. You are strong for setting boundaries and taking care of yourself. And I'm proud of you for looking back on these years and thinking critically about why you did the things you did. It's hard, but you're growing. You're learning about yourself and you're improving. That's amazing.

Now our story is in words. I can free it from my mind. I can release the anger and pain I've felt for all these years. I know it won't be a permanent fix and I will inevitably experience these feelings again, but at least for now, I can rest.

#dear diary #tumblr diary #my diary #diary #journal #journal entry #journaling #personal #personal diary #personal post #diary entry #online diary

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solange-lol · 3 years

Text

"why don't we be friends (why don't we make out)" - (1/1)

words: 2,373

read on ao3

—

There are very few people that Nico forgets about. At least, as far as the people that have stuck around with him for most of his life.

He’s known Percy and Annabeth since they were young, remembering watching the two of them chase each other around the schoolyard and purposefully try and get desks right next to each other before they were inevitably separated by alphabetical last name seating. He remembers trying to convince Piper to do his french project and Jason sitting in the halls with him outside of the music room when they wouldn’t want to go outside for recess in middle school. He can still hear the alarm when Leo accidentally knocked over a bunsen burner in their sophomore year chemistry class, and the feeling of paint on his skin when Hazel tripped and sent half of her palette onto him in their art class.

Nico can even recall moments with the people he was never particularly close to, like when Rachel told him she loved him backstage of their winter concert after only having known him for five minutes (in a very lesbian/gay solidarity way, of course), or when Grover spent an entire hour hiding out in their school library to get away from their math sub.

It’s strange now, looking across such a large circle of people piled into Jason and Thalia’s house. They’re all people from his grade (or class , he supposes, now that they’re officially graduated), Each one of them, Nico can remember at least one conversation he’s had with them, one story he’s passed into his closer friend group that is laughed over and then inevitably moved on from.

It was supposed to be a big party celebrating all their friendships throughout the years.

Ironically, so many people that had such little impact on him, in retrospect.

Which is why it comes as a surprise to him when he sees a flash of blonde curls and freckled skin among the sea of people. He’s hit with what feels like a wall of memories of the two of them, laying in the same bed trading quiet secrets, and walks to the store to get an inhumane amount of candy that they can go share at the pier. Images of blue eyes, warm hands in his, and the sound of stifled laughter at midnight feel all too familiar. Nico is stuck on them.

He hasn’t seen Will in years.

It wasn’t exactly his choice. It wasn’t either of theirs, really. They had gone to middle school together, and from the ages of 10 to 14, Will knew the most about him.

And then their middle school graduation came and went, and Will left for a boarding school. Nico remembers, vaguely, Will asking him to come with them.

“They offer more classes, and there are more opportunities for help,” they had said, or something along the lines of it. “And we could be roommates.”

Part of him wanted to. All of him almost went. But it was the same year he lost his sister, and while moving to another state for school sounded like a fantastic way to avoid all his trauma, he had to stay with his family. Not that his father would have stopped him, but Nico knew he couldn’t go. Not yet.

So he stayed, and Will left, and it all worked out fine. They texted every other day, facetimed once or twice a month when their schedules lined up. Will came home for Christmas that year, telling stories about the other kids on their floor and their girlfriend. Then, when he came home for that summer, about their boyfriend.

Nico would listen, then catch Will up about what was going on at his public school. He had gone out on a date with one boy which was nice but didn’t turn into anything, and Will told him he would find someone eventually. They took trips to the mall together instead of the pier, mostly just to get milkshakes and have a place to walk around.

One morning, Will convinced him to bike to the beach in the morning to see the sunrise. The sky ended up being too cloudy, but they still sat together on the empty lifeguard chair, swapped sweatshirts and bagels with cream cheese, and talking about summer jobs and college.

Then Will left for their sophomore year, and school caught up to both of them and whatever kept them going was lost. The most Nico talked to them was through the occasional Snapchat sent to each other or on a group facetime

The last time Nico had called Will alone, it was in a panic to ask advice on how to break up with the boy he was dating at the time because he realized that relationships weren’t really his thing, at least not yet. Will had sat quietly, giving him occasional advice, and mostly just comforted him.

And that was it.

Nico had gotten a new phone later that year, and all their call logs and long text threads were lost into the depths of his phone memory.

It was bittersweet, in all honesty, and pretty painless for the most part. Maybe it’s because Nico never really forgot about Will. There was never any clear ending; no hard feelings between the two of them. He still sees their posts on social media, sees their mom in the store on occasion. He remembers passing Will at their local fair when they came home again for the summer of their junior year with their boyfriend that they were still dating, and then later again the next when he noticed that all posts had been removed from their Instagram including the ones with said boyfriend and nothing but will - they/them in their bio.

He wondered, briefly, where Will had gone when he didn’t even see him in passing over the following summer. Was he still going to the boarding school? Had his family moved out of the state entirely?

It never felt like a friendship breakup. It was clear now, though.

Nico wonders at which point it became one. He didn’t mean to stare at Will as long as he did. Everything had just come washing over him at once, and he was frozen in place staring at the person Nico had once called his best friend.

He doesn’t even realize he was staring until Will looks back. Their blue eyes meet his brown ones, and reality sets back in. The loud music he had drowned out in his daydream came filtering back through his ears, and he stumbles as people shove past him towards the kitchen. Still, his gaze locks on Will.

Neither of them makes a move towards each other at first.

Then, a moment later, Will is right next to him.

“Hey,” they say it slowly, almost like they were testing the waters, like they knew how long it had been since they had spoken.

Nico doesn’t know what to say. His first instinct was to hug them.

He withstands it, though, instead grabbing onto their wrist and pulling them past the crowd of people and into one of the rooms off of the main hall, which was miraculously empty. He can still hear the pounding music, but it was a little bit quieter with the door closed. Quiet enough that he can think again.

“Uh, hi,” Will tries again, and god, their smile never changed.

“Sorry,” Nico says once he realized he had just seemingly dragged them into a secondary location with no explanation. “It was just… loud. Out there.”

“I get it,” Will says, sitting down on the couch pushed onto the far wall and looking back up at Nico. They were wearing a pinkish-orange button-up Hawaiian shirt that looked straight out of their dad’s closet (Nico would know, he’s seen it before) that was half-tucked into mid-rise light wash jeans that were cuffed just enough that you could see a glimpse of where their socks met their Converse. Yellow, possibly the same pair they had bought at the mall two years prior when Nico was there.

They got taller, he thinks vaguely. Nico had too, but Will still has at least half a foot on him.

“So, what’s up?”

“Not much, I guess,” he shrugs, twisting his ring. “I mean, I graduated. I assume you did too.”

Will nods. “I did. Lou Ellen invited me as her plus one. You know her, right? Friends with Rachel.”

Nico nods. Shoulder length, cloud-like hair that was a different color every other week. Wore lots of random thrifted t-shirts over big pants. Loud personality, even louder voice. Band kid. Friends with Cecil; her good grades probably being the only reason he hasn’t been kicked out of the school yet. Once debated the legitimacy of gender binaries with him in an English class.

“Sorry for, like, staring at you before,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

They nod again. “All good. I was staring at you before anyway.”

“You were?”

“Yeah,” Will shrugs. “You’re easy to look at.”

Then, a moment later, “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah. You’ve changed a bit.”

“Have I?” They ask. “I think just my look, maybe. I’m still just as obnoxious.”

Nico snorts. It’s comforting to know they could just slip back into it like this. Like no time had ever passed, and Nico is back in their bedroom creating each other in The Sims.

“Are you still dating Connor?” Nico asks, vaguely remembering the last conversation they had.

“Nah, we broke up last winter.”

“Any reason?”

Will squints a bit like they’re curious why Nico’s asking. It makes Nico blush, immediately regretting saying anything.

“Dunno. We just grew apart,” they say. Then, “Sounds kinda familiar, doesn’t it?” followed by a laugh.

“I didn’t mean to stop talking to you,” Nico says quickly because he didn’t. There are days where he sees Will’s Instagram story or a tweet and knows that even though he could still comment, it wouldn’t quite be the same.

“Life got busy,” Will says. “It happens”

“I didn’t want it to. Not to us.”

“So let's restart.”

Nico blinks. “Just… start over our entire friendship?”

“No, just pick up where we left off.”

“Just like nothing happened?” he asks, sitting down on the couch next to them.

“Just like nothing happened,” Will affirms.

They’re both quiet for a moment, then—

“Do you remember what you told me when you first came out as bisexual to me?”

It was in the basement of Will’s house. Nico had come out as gay a few weeks prior, and when he was talking about the boy he liked, they just casually mentioned it. Being with Will like this again reminded him of something they had said, and something he later found out.

“I think I just, like… told you, right?” Will smiles. “And I said you were a big part of helping me figure out.”

“Yeah. I always thought you meant because I had already come out,” Nico said. “It wasn’t until, like, last year that Piper mentioned you meant that because you liked me.”

Will laughed again. “I figured you didn’t. You were always talking about what bad of a couple we would make.”

“Yeah,” Nico said, and his heart picked up pace as his knee knocked against Will’s by accident. Neither of them moved. “I actually had a massive crush on you for a while. I think I just said that because I wanted to try and get over it, so I wanted you to indirectly reject me.”

“Did you ever get over it?”

Nico laughs. “Not really. But I moved on.”

He notices Will shift closer, notices how their hands are now on top of each other and their legs are fully pressed together.

“Same,” Will says, moving their head closer to Nico’s until their foreheads are pressed together and their breaths mingle. They look at him for any sign to stop, and Nico doesn’t move.

“Good thing we’re starting over then, right?” they continue, practically a breath of a whisper before their lips connect, and god Nico did not think this was where his night was going but no way in hell was he about to stop it. (He’s not sober enough to care, anyway, and seemingly neither is Will judging by the strong scent smell of weed coming off of his shirt.)

Their hands laced together, subconsciously, almost like muscle memory from all the days walking hand in hand down the dock. (Nico wonders if his younger self was ever trying to tell his mind something.) Nico’s other hand comes up to rest on warm skin, brushing Will’s cheek with his thumb like he’s trying to wipe the freckles off.

Will wraps one arm around Nico’s waist, pulling him closer until he eventually just shifts so he’s in their lap. Will certainly doesn’t complain, only tilting their head to deepen the kiss and breaking apart their hands so they can run one hand through Nico’s hair.

They have to break apart after a moment, and Nico can help it when he laughs.

“Guess we were a little dumb when we were younger, huh?”

Will’s breathing heavy, but Nico doesn’t miss the familiar playful glint in their eye. “I don’t know what you mean. You’re still an idiot,” they say, pressing a kiss to the underside of Nico’s jaw, and another one right next to his ear.

He wonders if Will has thought about doing this the same way Nico has.

“Says you,” Nico says. “You were far more oblivious than I was.”

“I’m not the one who said we would make a bad couple,” they remind Will.

“Yeah?” he says, then leans back in to kiss Will again. Their mouths slot together, and god, they’re an even better kisser than Nico ever thought they could be. Something in his mind tells him maybe it’s not relationships he didn’t like, maybe he just knew it wasn’t the right person.

Perhaps Will’s that person he was always looking for.

Nico leans back, just barely so he can mumble “Lucky for you, I’m willing to test that theory,” against Will’s lips just before they pull him in once more.

—

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@unicornsgomooo @anxiouswinter @soulangelou @number-of-fucks-i-give-0 @underworldystuff @theeloquentsnake @solangelover@thefandomsaretakingover @internallyexplodingrainbows @hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon @motivatedcryptidtamer @emilyfairchild @wherethewildthingsare-nt @hetapeep41 @blavk-dahlia

#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #pjo #heros of olympus #my writing #liz writes.com #i like this update for the automatic italicies but holy shit just let me type my tags tumblr dear god

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

never gonna measure up (i)

wordcount: 2.1k - I’m splitting these up so they’re not crazy long

warnings: cursing, insecurity (?)

____

“Hey, you’re flying back with me, right?” Sophie murmured, trying not to disturb Rafe too much if he was asleep.

The two were cuddled up in his bed on their last full day of break before going back to school - both of them had agreed to get back before the annual back-to-school Delt senior party for the spring semester.

New Year’s Eve had came and went without incident, though Sophie tried to ignore the small twist in her stomach upon hearing after the fact that one of their high school classmates had rented out a bar for them and their friends on the mainland - drinks included and all. (Rafe had tried to play it off, saying he pitched in for their share so she wouldn’t stress, but an extra-drunk classmate let it spill halfway through the night.)

She felt most at ease when it was just the two of them together, usually Rafe lying on top of her with eyes shut as she combed her fingers through his hair. Since the Christmas party, they’d hung out almost every day. Sophie hadn’t stopped thinking about what she told Rafe on that night, but he had just chalked it up to a combination of her overthinking and being tipsy. Besides, he figured she hadn’t brought it up to him since then, so it was fine. Right?

“Uh...no, I just got the one-way flight to go with you. You can come back with me if you’d like.” Rafe shifted onto his side to look at her, a crooked elbow propping up his head.

She furrowed her brow. “But you left your car in Columbus. How are you getting back?”

He shrugged. “My dad’s plane?”

Sophie blinked. “Your dad has a plane?”

“Yeah, the airstrip’s just twenty minutes up the island.”

“Right.” She rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. He frowned and moved to hover over her, forearms on either side of her head. “Hey. It’s not a big deal, but I wanted to offer it up.”

She laughed at his proximity and lifted her head slightly to bump her nose against his. “It’s okay, I already have the return flight. Think it’s too late to cancel.”

“Your funeral.” He grinned and kissed along her jaw and down her neck lazily, pushing up the hem of her sweatshirt with his hands. She squirmed a little but didn’t let out even a tiny moan, far too distracted by the fact that Rafe had a fucking private plane to concentrate on where his lips and hands were going. He teased his thumb across her hip, pleased when she pressed into him a little in response, but frowned when he noticed her staring off into space.

“Soph.”

“Huh?” She glanced down at him, cheeks going red.

He laughed and nipped gently at her collarbone. “What’s on your mind, space cadet?”

She made a show of glancing at her watch and frowned. “I have to go. Mom’s going to kill me if I’m not home for the last family dinner before going back.” He pulled away with a small frown to match and gave her a sweet kiss. “Alright. Can I take you to the airport tomorrow?”

Sophie shook her head. “My dad’s going to, but I have an early flight and I’ll see you tomorrow night for the party. Deal?” She moved to get up, but Rafe slipped his arm around her waist, pinning her in place. She laughed, pushing at him. “Rafe, seriously.”

“I was kind of hoping we could spend our last night here together...you know, before we have to go back to separate beds and roommates...” He trailed off, smirking at the insinuation. She rolled her eyes but grinned. “If I can sneak out tonight, I’ll climb the tree to get in your room. But you have to get me back to my house by five am, I leave for my flight at six thirty.”

“I hate when you do that, you’re gonna fall and hurt yourself. Just come to the door like a normal person.” He slipped his fingers up her sweatshirt again, trailing them up her spine.

She scowled, slightly ticklish but not wanting to show it. “And park my brother’s shitty old car next to your dad’s Range Rover? No thanks.”

“Who cares? No one’s gonna see it.”

Sophie was grateful for her phone ringing again with her annoyed mother on the other line to interrupt their conversation. “Can you drive me home?”

“Yeah, of course.” He hopped up and stuffed his feet into sneakers as she hurriedly answered and explained to her mom that actually, Rafe was driving her home right now and she’d be back soon. He shot her a knowing grin and she put her a finger to her lips as she listened to her mom’s annoyed huff, heading downstairs with him.

Once she walked up the drive to her house, waving goodbye to Rafe over her shoulder, she couldn’t stop thinking about what he said. No one’s gonna see it. Like he would be embarrassed if someone did see the car in broad daylight, knowing it was hers. Or was she just overthinking it?

Later that night, she called him, murmuring into the phone. “Hi. I can’t come over.”

“Huh? Why not, your mom’s trapping you in? Wait, why are you whispering?” He matched her tone with his last sentence.

She laughed softly. “No, but it’s eleven thirty and I’m still not finished packing. My parents are asleep. But I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Hmmm...what are the odds you can stay quiet?” He smirked and she could practically hear it through the phone.

“Huh? I’m whispering right now.”

“No, if I came over?”

“I don’t understand.”

He laughed. “If I came over, and we happened to just have sex...”

She cringed, the flirting not nearly as sexy once he had to explain it. “My mom would kill me, Rafe, she thinks I’m still a virgin. I still remember when I was fourteen and had my first boyfriend, she told me I couldn’t have sex until I was responsible enough for a child.”

“Jesus.” He laughed. “I don’t think my dad ever gave me the sex talk. Just put a box of condoms on my bed one day and called it good.”

“Lovely. That sounds more enjoyable than my experience.”

“Hm. Yes and no. So you’re serious, I can’t come over?”

She hummed into the phone. “Not unless you’re an expert at packing. I swear I didn’t bring this much stuff home, I don’t know what to do with all of it.”

“Dunno. I’ll see you tomorrow night, will you pack that black dress? It has all the strappy things and it’s kinda drapey in the back.” There was rustling and the jingling of his keys in the background.

“You got it. Hey, Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“I, um.” She paused. “I’m sorry you can’t stay over for the night. I did want to spend more time with just us, you know?”

“Hey, I know, don’t stress about it. I’ll see you soon enough.” With that he hung up, leaving Sophie just a little more reassured. What she didn’t know was that he was already in his car, making his way over to her house anyways. It only took ten or so minutes for him to park his car at the end of her street and walk up, trying his best to be subtle about it. He cursed quietly when her back door creaked open, that Sophie had briefly mentioned was always unlocked - then stopped right in his tracks.

Her dad was in the kitchen in sweats and a t-shirt, retrieving a bottle of water from the fridge. “Rafe?”

“Mr. Flint! Uh...hey!” He kept his voice quiet, unsure if he’d wake the rest of the house.

“It’s Jeff, kiddo. What are you doing here?” He glanced over Rafe’s attire, with his hood up and feet shoved into untied Nikes.

“Right, Jeff, sorry about that. I...uh...Sophie, y’know...” He fumbled for an excuse but couldn’t come up with a single one, trailing off into embarrassed silence.

“Sophie’s sleeping, upstairs. Alone.” He added pointedly, but kept a good-natured smile with Rafe. “Unless there’s something I don’t know?”

Rafe shook his head quickly. “No sir, nothing at all. I’m just gonna head out, actually, forgot why I came over. My bad.”

“Right.” Her dad regarded Rafe with a mixed look of confusion and also slight recognition, but seemed as if he didn’t want to think about why Rafe was sneaking over so late. “Have a good night, Rafe.”

“Yes sir, you too!” He couldn’t get out of there fast enough, cursing under his breath as he made the walk of shame back to his car. Once he quietly closed the driver’s door, he paused, contemplating texting Sophie and trying again to see if she’d help him sneak in - then reconsidered. Her dad seemed to like him just enough, and actually seemed interested when Rafe told him about his film minor - something his dad had just dismissed as a waste of time. He didn’t want to trade one extra night with Sophie for losing her dad’s trust.

Still embarrassed about being caught, Rafe didn’t reach out to Sophie all next day except to text her and confirm that she had landed safely, then to let her know that he was on his way. The Snapchat she received from him, with the view out the window and then a glimpse of the inside of the plane, made her want to die just a little. She got it when she was getting lunch with her roommates Julia and Allie later that day, and made a clear face of disdain upon opening it. She hadn’t mentioned Rafe once in the three hours they’d been back together, and the girls knew something was up.

Julia raised her eyebrows. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Huh?” Sophie asked, eyes still trained on her phone. Allie leaned over to look at the screen and did a double take. “Wait, is that a private plane?”

“Yeah.” Sophie paused and set the phone on the table to show Julia. “Unfortunately.”

“I thought you knew he was rich, why is this a bad thing? Think of all the vacations he could take you on.” Julia questioned.

“Think of all the vacations I can’t take him on.” Sophie replied, slumping back in her seat. “Hey Rafe, I know you took me to, I don’t know, the Bahamas, but I can take you on a five and a half hour road trip to Chicago to stay in a basic hotel instead of the Ritz Carlton you’re used to.” She dropped the facetious tone, wrinkling her nose. “I’m never gonna measure up.”

Allie frowned. “Sophie, I’m sure that doesn’t matter to him.”

“I don’t know.” She crossed her arms, thinking again about his off-handed comment about the car. No one’s gonna see it.

“Did he bring it up or something?” Julia asked, cocking her head.

“No, but. I met his dad and he mentioned some girl, Lexie something? They were in some group project together this semester and his dad tried to set them up. He thought I was her when I went to their Christmas party.”

“It’s not Lexie Rhodes, is it?” Allie was a marketing major too, and often had classes overlapping with Rafe.

“Wait, you know her? Oh god, how bad is it? Not that I think he’s cheating, he’d never -”

“Sophie, stop.” Allie grabbed her arm to cut her off. “She’s had a steady boyfriend since freshman year. And you know he wouldn’t do that to you.”

She sighed, a little in relief and more in frustration. “I know. That’s the problem.”

“...The problem is that he won’t cheat on you? Do you hear yourself?” Julia cocked her head and kicked Sophie’s shin under the table.

“Ow, hey!” Sophie scowled. “I know, I sound ridiculous. I can’t explain it. It’s all moving so fast and he got me the nicest present ever for Christmas, I almost cried in front of him and then I went home and cried more.”

“Crying in front of a boy? Actually showing your feelings? Who are you and what have you done with our Sophie?” Allie teased, poking Sophie’s arm.

“Look, you don’t want to break up with him, right?” Julia asked.

“No, no, of course not.” Sophie shook her head quickly.

“Okay. So you just need to tell him how you’re feeling, be upfront. He doesn’t care if you have money or not, that boy practically worships the ground you walk on.” Julia told her, and Allie nodded in agreement. “He does.”

“Hardly.” Sophie stirred her straw in her drink, trying to distract herself. “I’m just going to give myself time, I didn’t stress about this when we were both at school. I’ll chill out, promise.”

“Are you promising us or yourself?” Allie raised her eyebrows.

“Good question.”

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx fanfic #college rafe #frat rafe #outer banks fanfic #rafe x sophie #mine

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wr1ter-reader-dreamer · 4 years

Text

Waiting (Pt. 1)

Timothee Chalamet x Reader

A/N: This story is an original work of fiction inspired by actors I like. If you like it too, please reblog it and leave a comment. Also check out some of my other works at my master list linked below. I welcome feedback, so let me know how I could make my posts better! Thanks, and enjoy <3

Masterlist

Part 2 - Part 3

He had been away filming for months, and it was hard. We had gotten by with late night phone calls and Facetimes, but it was obvious how much we missed each other. Usually I was able to take time off to spend a week or two wherever he was filming, but not this time. This time the director had requested no outside guests, hoping that it would keep everyone focused so they could finish as fast as possible. Never before had I hated his job as much as I did now, but it was his passion, so I tried not to show it.

The calls and Facetimes had been innocent at first. We would end almost every night with a summary of our days, a statement about how much we missed each other, and a declaration of love. Days where we knew we would be too busy to call would see numerous Snapchats with short captions about whatever we were thinking at the moment. Everything was going fine the first month, but then everything changed.

I had been having a particularly hard day at work when I got a text from Timothee to check his Instagram. Curious, I immediately clicked open the app and looked for his most recent post. What I saw had my body instantly heating up.

The picture was a first look of Timmy’s character in the movie. He was dressed in period garb with black leather pants and chainmail. His hair was cut shorter than usual, and he was looking off camera with a serious look on his face. The image radiated power and authority, a look I usually only saw from Timmy in bed.

Sucking in a deep breathe, I attempted to rein in my racing heart. I didn’t bother texting him back, knowing he would see that I had liked the post and that he would know what it had done to me. For now, I tried desperately to focus on my work until I could get home and show him exactly how much I had liked the picture.

That night our FaceTime hadn’t been so innocent. Instead we both showed each other just how much we had missed the other with lowly spoken words of praise and need. After that, all of our conversations had an underlying, if nor outright, sexual tones. It was obvious that we needed each other in a more carnal way that neither of us were bothering to hide.

It was no surprise really that we had come to this. Timothee and I had always had a very active sex life, and that didn’t change just because he was away filming. After almost two years together, we knew all of the alternative ways of getting each other off. If anything, it was surprising that we hadn’t started this earlier.

We continued like this for two months, our calls now ending with breathless “I love you’s” after we were both temporarily satisfied. Neither of us was a stranger to the fact that the tension and sexual frustration was building the longer he was away. I needed him, and he needed me, and the last day of filming could not come fast enough.

Just when I thought I would die from frustration, Timmy announced in an excited call that he would be him in two days. Bubbling with anticipation, I prepared for his arrival. I re-stocked the fridge with all his favorites, changed the sheets on the bed so he could crawl into fresh ones, and even bought a new set of lingerie that I knew he would love.

I took off of work the day he was set to arrive, knowing I wouldn’t be able to focus. Instead I set my focus on preparing for tonight. Timmy’s plane would arrive relatively late, and I knew he would be hungry, so I made his favorite dinner. I also took a shower, shaved, and put on the lingerie under now of his oversized t-shirts so that I was prepared for desert. It was a tradition to spend our first night back together relieving all of our built up tension, no matter how late he got in.

Finally, I got the text that he had landed and was in a car on his way home. Squealing, I set out dinner on our small table and went to the entry hall to wait. I knew that it would take a while for him to arrive, but I was to excited to do anything else. I had missed my sweet boy more than I ever could have imagined, and I was so happy to finally get to be in his arms again.

Lost in my thoughts about his soft smile and fluffy brown hair, I almost missed the sound of the key turning in the lock. Still, there was no way I could miss the door swinging open to reveal my handsome boyfriend, a large yet tired smile on his face.

“Timmy!” I squealed, rushing into his arms and almost knocking him over in the processes.

He laughed and dropped the bags in his hands so he could wrap his arms around me, “Hi, mon amour.”

Eagerly I pulled back from the hug only to connect my lips with his in a frantic kiss. Pushing up on my toes, I tangled my fingers in the base of his now grown out curls and tugged lightly. He growled, returning my kiss briefly before pulling away with a quick peck.

“I’ve missed you, baby,” he sighed as he smoothed his thumbs over my cheeks and looked at me, “I almost forgot how beautiful you are.”

Rolling my eyes, I nipped playfully at his thumb before stepping away entirely, “I made you dinner.”

“I can smell that,” he smiled, hand trailing down my arm to my own so as to not loose contact. After so long away he didn’t want to let me go for a second, and I was perfectly fine with that.

I bent down to pick up his bags as I said, “Why don’t you get started, and I’ll take these to our room?”

“Merci, mon cher. Hurry back, though. I miss you.”

Smiling, I nodded. I quickly took his bags to our room and deposited them in our closet before glancing in the mirror. Briefly, I fluffed my hair and smiled, then made my way back to where Timothee was tucking into dinner.

“How was your flight, handsome?” I asked as I sat beside him and tangled my fingers with those of his free hand.

Taking a moment to chew and swallow his bite, he shrugged, “Long and boring. This is really good.”

“You should know by now that I can cook when I want to,” I teased playfully.

He rolled his eyes with a smile, “But you prefer when I do it.”

I shrugged, “Not my fault those French grandparents of yours taught you so well.”

With a laugh and a shake of his head, he reached for the glass of wine by his plate. I watched mesmerized as his long fingers wrapped atone the simple glass and brought it to his lips. His soft lips curled around the rim, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed a large gulp. Then he returned the glass to its place by his plate, and my eyes lingered on his hand.

He had such nice hands. Long fingers, wide palm, perfect for curling inside me or pinning my hands above my head when I was naughty. Instantly my body heated uo, reminding me just how long I had gone without those hands on me.

Timmy must have noticed my gaze because he sighed. Blushing at having been caught, I looked up at him to find an apologetic look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked with a slight frown.

He sighed again and turned slightly to rest his arm on my shoulder and play with the ends of my hair, “I’ve had a really long day, mon amour, and I have to be up really early for a photoshoot tomorrow.”

“So?”

“Baby,” he said softly, abandoning my hair and cupping my cheek, “I can’t tonight.”

“Oh,” I said dejectedly.

“I’m sorry, amour. I know how much we’ve both been looking forward to this, but I need to get some sleep.”

Plastering a small smile on my face, I shook my head, “It’s alright Timmy. I understand, and I can wait.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, leaning down slightly to catch my eye.

“Of course.”

He smiled and pulled me into a big, “Je t’aims, douce fille. Merci.”

“I love you too, Timmy. So much”

And that was how we broke tradition for the first time. Timothee finished his dinner then took a shower while I cleared the table. When I was done, I got ready for bed, making sure that he didn’t see my disappointment. I knew that his job was important, and I didn’t want to make him feel bad. I hadn’t lied. I did understand, and it was fine. I was perfectly capable of waiting. I just didn’t realize how long I’d have to wait.

A/N: There are a second and third part to this, so make sure to hit the link above to read them! And if you’d like to read more of my work, make sure to check out my masterlist, also linked above.

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 6: You Know You Got Me In The Palm Of Your Hand]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Mean It by Lauv.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sex and violence, slavery in American history.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @writerxinthedark @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @loveandbeloved29

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

What The Fuck, Washington Animals Are Weird

I woke up in a bedroom drenched in a rainbow of darkness, shades of grey vacillating from charcoal to the wings of a mourning dove; indolent dawn rain pattered against the window. There were no glaring veins of sunlight spilling in through gaps in the curtains, no promise of dry invigorating heat, no whistle of vicious parched wind. Toto, we’re not in Phoenix anymore.

“Ugh,” I complained to the empty room, unraveling from a tangle of blankets patterned with cacti and pure white clouds and rust-orange suns.

I clicked off my iPhone alarm—I’d beaten it by two minutes; my circadian rhythm was finally conceding that this whole Pacific Time thing was permanent—and read my nine new texts from Joe.

3:12 a.m.: Hey it’s an emergency what’s the plural of octopus

3:13 a.m.: Rami is insisting that it is octopuses

3:14 a.m.: But it’s octopi, right? Right?? I just announced in front of everyone that it’s octopi

3:15 a.m.: Scarlett is verbally abusing me

3:18 a.m.: Oh you are probably asleep

3:21 a.m.: Update, according to the internet Rami is right and now I have to assume a new identity and move to Antarctica

3:25 a.m.: We can discuss logistics of the Antarctica relocation tomorrow

3:26 a.m.: Hope you like penguins

3:30 a.m.: Okay goodnight!! Don’t let the mythical creatures bite!!

“That man,” I murmured to myself, smiling.

I typed out: It’s definitely octopuses, you clown. Then I deleted ‘clown’ and replaced it with its Italian equivalent: pagliaccio. Text sent.

Joe responded almost instantly. I had to ask Lucy what pagliaccio meant and now she’s verbally abusing me too. Send help. See you at lunch. xx

Wait, two Xs? What did Xs mean?? Kisses???

Did Joseph Francis Mazzello, sexy undead Italian man, just send me multiple text kisses?

“You’re gonna give me an aneurism, Chicago boy,” I muttered at my phone as I slid it into the pocket of my flannel pajama pants. And then I glanced out the bedroom window into a tussle of rain and thick, caliginous fog.

Just a few feet beyond the misted glass, its leathery talons hooked around a branch of Charlie’s decades-old red alder tree, was an owl. But not just any owl. A hulking, spotlessly white owl.

“Oh, hey, you,” I whispered, leaning closer, pressing my palms against the cold window. My hands left transparent imprints in the condensation. “Hey, buddy. Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? I sure wish I was. Did something wake you up? Did your idiot vampire boyfriend disturb you with a series of ridiculous texts?”

The owl just contemplated me with unnervingly vast, slick, engrossed eyes. And there was something else, too: those eyes were blood red.

“So you’re an albino owl, huh big guy? Good for you. You know, usually albino animals don’t last all that long in the wild. Because they’re really easy for predators and prey to spot. Or they get skin cancer. So congratulations on living to become the voluptuous, tremendously creepy creature that you are today. Job well done.”

The owl stared back at me unflinchingly, blinked, then resumed staring. Rainwater gathered in swelling beads like blood drops on its ivory-colored beak and talons.

“Well,” I noted, turning away and grabbing my shower towel off the back of the desk chair. “You don’t get that in Arizona.”

Thirty minutes later, I was bounding down the stairs two at a time to meet Charlie in the kitchen. He was browsing through his daily newspaper at the table, drinking coffee and nibbling messily on burnt triangles of toast. Crumbs littered his moustache.

“You didn’t tell me that living here came with the added benefit of freaky albino animal friends.”

Charlie crinkled his forehead at me. “Huh?”

“How was bowling with the dads last night?”

“Oh, awesome!” he exclaimed, folding up his newspaper and slapping it down on the table. “We bowled against the team from Mora and it came right down to the wire, but we caught them. Dr. Lee got a strike on his very last turn. He always seems to do that...he’ll be bowling hit or miss all night and then when it really matters he manages to pull a strike out of nowhere. He’s a beast.”

“He’s a pretty remarkable guy,” I agreed, rummaging through the cabinets for Pop-Tarts.

“He mentioned that you and his son were really hitting it off,” Charlie said, grinning. “Not the ragey blond one. The spindly annoying one. What’s his name again? Josh? Jimmy?”

“Joe.” I conjured up my best poker face of lofty indifference. It crumbled like a sandcastle beneath reckless, rushing footsteps.

“Ohhhh, I saw that!” Charlie said, pointing, delighted. “Check out that smile. My gorgeous, brilliant progeny has a crush. I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t be single for long up here. Alright, I’m ready. Bring on the grandchildren.”

“Shut up,” I pleaded good-naturedly.

“Relax, I have great news. According to Gwil, that Joe kid is pretty wild about you too.”

“Oh, is that what you old guys do between bowling turns? Betray your children’s deepest confidences? Matchmake them over nachos and chili cheese dogs?” Still, my curiosity was piqued. “What else did Dr. Lee say about Joe?”

“I think the exact word he used was...” Charlie reminisced, sipping his coffee, curls of steam pouring over the rim of the mug. “Smitten.”

Supernatural Pictionary

I turned the notebook to Joe so he could see; everyone else momentarily covered their eyes or looked away. Then Lucy started the timer on her iPhone. Thirty seconds.

“Go!” Lucy announced.

“I think it’s a boat,” Rami said, hesitantly, haltingly, squinting at Joe with great concentration.

“Do you?” Joe teased.

“Yeah. But I’m also getting something about a fish.”

“Maybe I’m trying to make you think it’s a fish because it’s actually a boat,” Joe replied flippantly.

Rami muttered: “Or you want me to think it’s a boat because it’s actually a fish.”

“Interesting.”

“Now you’re mentally singing Never Gonna Give You Up just to fuck with me.”

Joe gasped, pressing a palm to his chest. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do!”

Scarlett snickered, dunking her chicken tender in honey mustard, slurping Coke through a straw clenched between crimson-painted lips. “That sounds exactly like something you would do.”

“Fifteen seconds,” Lucy warned.

“Fish or boat, boat or fish...” Rami chanted, peering fixedly at Joe.

“Make a decision,” I taunted, hugging the notebook to my chest.

“I’m going with boat,” Rami decided.

“Final answer?” Lucy asked, then stopped the timer when Rami nodded.

“Loser!” Joe cackled victoriously, leaping out of his chair, waving his L-shaped fingers in the air. Calawah University students at nearby tables glanced over with wide, startled eyes, their beloved chicken tenders briefly forgotten. “How’s it feel to not win every round of a game, huh?! Loser!”

I flipped my notebook so Rami could see the extremely unskilled pencil sketch I’d drawn there: a smiling fish. “My condolences.”

“Damn.” Rami pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet and slid it across the table to Joe. Joe snatched it up, tucked it into the waistline of his jeans like a stripper collecting money in her G-string, and slung his arm around my shoulders.

“We are the champions. Bask in our glory.”

Scarlett turned on her iPhone flashlight and waved it in slow arcs over her head. “Youuuuu are the champions, my friendssssss...”

From my usual lunch table, Jessica gazed at my esteemed place among the Lees with palpable envy, resting her chin in her hands. I had worked out a schedule that seemed fairly obvious given my extensive experience as a child of divorce: lunch with Jessica et al. one day, lunch with the Lees the next. I took a bite of the Chipotle veggie bowl that Joe had insisted on ordering for me and tossed Jessica a sympathetic wave. Get Ben’s Snapchat for me! she mouthed back. I harbored serious doubts that Benjamin August Hardy, former professional assassin, born in 1893, had a Snapchat.

Joe’s words from last week rolled around in my head; I could see him all over again, nodding to the enormous painting hung in Gwil’s upstairs office, telling me about those startling, ethereal figures who had initiated Ben into life as a vampire. They call themselves the Draghi. They collect dues from covens, offer protection, keep order, protect our secrets. But they also demand loyalty. They force people they want into service. They might try to make it seem like you have a choice, but you don’t. They destroy anyone who tries to resist them. And they feed on humans.

“This is so awesome,” Lucy sighed, elated. “We could never play Pictionary before, drawing something is way too much of a mental process, Rami always figured it out right away...”

But now they had a built-in blindfold, someone who could draw without Rami getting a peek into their thoughts, a fighting chance at hiding the truth from him...for thirty seconds, at least.

“Okay Benny Boy, you’re up.” Joe darted over to Ben’s side of the table and massaged his tense, muscular shoulders as Ben grimaced. “You got this. I believe in you. Baby Swan is gonna pitch you a home run.”

“I’ll pass,” Ben said.

“You can’t!” Lucy cried. “Ben, please? Rami got Scarlett’s, and then he didn’t get Joe’s...and I know he’s going to see though me immediately. You’re our only chance to tie things up and maybe beat him!”

“Traitor,” Rami told Lucy affectionately.

“Uhh...” Ben hesitated, glimpsing longingly at the doors that led outside to the grove of bigleaf maple trees. He was fidgeting restlessly with his vape pen.

“Come on, Benny!” Joe begged. “I’ll owe you. I’ll do anything.”

Ben perked up a little bit. “You’ll do my Calc 2 homework for a month?”

Joe groaned theatrically, but nodded. He was wearing a grey U Chicago hoodie today. “Fine. Okay. But you’re gonna have to learn that shit eventually, I can’t take the MCAT for you.”

“Deal.” Ben bumped his knuckles against Joe’s.

“Batter up,” Joe heralded in his best mock-umpire voice, grinning at me expectantly, drumming the table with his palms. “Go Baby Swan, go! What will she choose? Will she continue with the nautical theme? Will she change it up, maybe switch to beloved Chicago landmarks? Baseball or food? Will she invent a variety of pizza even more despicable than pineapple?”

“Hm.” I flipped to a fresh notebook page, scratched my temple with the eraser end of the pencil, then quickly sketched a picture for Ben. “Okay, I’m ready.” I showed the drawing to Ben while everyone else covered their eyes.

Ben shook his head, scowling. “You’ll have to try again. I have no idea what that is.”

“Really?!” I checked the picture again. Okay, it definitely didn’t belong in the Louvre or anything, but it was lifelike enough to be decipherable. “You don’t recognize it? At all?”

“No,” Ben replied flatly.

From behind his shielded eyes, Rami scanned through the images in Ben’s mind. He dropped his hands onto the table. “SpongeBob?!”

“Who...?” Ben ventured.

Everyone else looked too. “Oh yeah, that’s definitely SpongeBob,” Joe said, then chuckled. “Aww, Baby Swan, you even remembered his little necktie!”

“It’s so cute!” Lucy trilled.

Ben just stared at the picture, blinking, completely lost, increasingly morose. And now there was a new guest at the table; or maybe not a new one, maybe just a quiet one, something that perched on the ledge of every conversation and field of vision just waiting to tap its claws against the wall and make its presence known: that interminable reminder of Ben’s unconventional past life, of how incomparable his vampiric upbringing was to those of the rest of the Lee kids.

“Benny Boy, you’ve never seen SpongeBob?” Joe inquired gently. “No problem. We’ll have a marathon tonight. I have the entire series on DVD. Also several Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy action figures.”

Scarlett snorted. “This is why you’ve been single since Hoover was president.”

“I wasn’t single the whole time,” Joe corrected.

“Oh, really?” Not that I’m interested, my voice suggested. I was a total liar. I was super interested. Thank the great deity that Rami and Ben couldn’t read me like a restaurant menu. Today’s specials are Being In Love With Someone Wildly Inappropriate for $15.99, and also Lamenting My Own Lack Of Sexual Experience for $11.99. Oh, and clam chowder.

“He had a couple of...what would you call them?” Scarlett combed her elegant fingers through her voluminous blonde hair. “What’s the modern vernacular? Fuck buddies? Booty calls? Netflix and chill partners?”

My stomach lurched; I nonchalantly buried my fork in a mountain of guacamole and left it there. I kept my lips turned up into a smile like a mask. Of course he’s loved other people. Duh. He’s hot and immortal. Get over it. But that didn’t calm my pounding heartbeat at all, didn’t soothe that sudden and irrational melancholy.

“Whoa whoa whoa, okay, you’re making it sound way worse than it was,” Joe protested, glancing at me nervously.

Scarlett continued: “It wasn’t serious, whatever it was. None of them would have cared about your action figure collection or obsession with a city you haven’t lived in for fifty years. It wasn’t your personality they wanted. Thank god.”

Oh this is bad, I thought helplessly. How am I ever going to be able to compete with the memory of countless gorgeous vampire girlfriends?

“Uh, ScarJo, you’re single too.” And Joe’s nickname for her was strangely apt; Scarlett could pass for Scarlett Johansson’s younger, blonder, much hotter sister. And Scarlett Johansson, in case you’re somehow unaware, is already pretty fucking hot.

Scarlett flashed a grin. “Entirely by choice.”

“And much to Mercy’s eternal and profound concern,” Lucy told me. “She stages an intervention at least twice a month. Did I overhear one last week, Scarlett?”

“Oh jesus, yeah. I was like, ‘Mom, what the hell do I need a husband for? I have my own money. I can fix household appliances. I have a vibrator. I’m good to go.’”

Joe rocked back in his chair, howling. “You did not tell Mom that!”

“I did. She was so distraught. She just kind of pinched her eyes shut and shuddered and then went out back to feed the alpacas.”

“Scarlett, babe,” Rami managed between gales of laughter. “A vibrator isn’t going to keep you company for all of eternity. It’s not a suitable substitute for a life partner.”

“You’re right. It’s even better. It’ll never abandon or disappoint me. Assuming I keep the batteries fresh, of course.”

“Oh my god,” Lucy giggled into her hands.

“She’s not wrong,” I said, shrugging, sipping my Diet Coke.

And Joe peered over at me, surprised, intrigued, slowly raising his thin dark eyebrows. I winked back. Yeah, okay, I’ve never slept with someone. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never had an orgasm.

“Ah, loud thoughts! Loud thoughts! Joe, please!” Rami moaned, pressing his balled fists to his forehead.

Ben smirked. “There’s a color I’ve never seen from you before, Joe.”

“This family is the worst!” Joe exploded.

“I like that girl,” Scarlett decided, signaling to me with glossy maroon fingernails. “She can stay.”

Joe sighed, flustered, then shook it off as he turned to me. “You coming over tonight?”

“I can’t spend every night at your house petting alpacas, mob guy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling, draping his arm around the back of my chair. “Why not?”

“Well, my tonight-specific reason is that I’m visiting a friend.”

“Cool. Your friends are my friends. Can I visit too?”

“You’re aware that you’re a legit stalker, right?” But actually, Archer was dying to meet Joe: the loud Lee, the approachable Lee, the Lee who I definitely liked more than a Tinder swipe could ever convey. This could work. “Offer to buy dinner and you can come.”

“I’m a walking Visa, baby.”

Ben stood, hauled on his backpack, gathered up his trash to throw away. “I need a smoke break before Chem. See you guys later.”

“Don’t forget!” Joe called after him. “SpongeBob marathon starts at 8! I’ll bring the Milk Duds!”

And when Ben disappeared through the doors, a solemn hush descended over the table.

“Poor guy,” Lucy said softly. The other Lees nodded.

And again, I recalled what Joe had told me in Gwil’s office, what he had said when I asked how Ben came to join the Lee family. He was assigned to us, to be the liaison to our coven. And Gwil saw something in him. Potential, suffering, unrealized decency, I don’t know. But Gwil worked on him for years, trying to convince Ben to leave the Draghi when his contract was up and come live with us. To give a peaceful life a try. And to be honest, Ben never seemed interested. But something must have resonated with him, because we opened the front door on October 15th, 2016 and he was sitting on the steps of our porch with a single suitcase, puffing on that fucking vape pen and watching the storm clouds roll in off the Pacific Ocean.

But why would they just let him leave? I had asked, tracing my fingertips over the uncanny and magnificent faces in that painting. Why would they let him live?

Because they know how valuable he is. And because they think they can get him back.

“I think he’s a good person,” I said, breaking the silence. “You know. Underneath the whole being raised to be a killing machine thing.”

“Yeah,” Rami replied, frowning thoughtfully. “Just try not to spend too much time alone with him.”

Car Jacks And Sneak Attacks

“Joe, this is Archer James Foxchild, my first-ever best friend.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” Joe said, shaking Archer’s oil-stained hand. “I understand you are really good at making mud pies and poking dead animals with sticks.”

Archer chuckled. “It’s true. We found a shark tooth down at La Push one time and I convinced Baby Swan here that it was from a sea monster. She had nightmares for months. Charlie called my dad over it and I got my Game Boy taken away.”

“No!” Joe gasped in horror. “Were you a Pokémon guy?”

“For sure.”

“Ruby or Sapphire?”

“Emerald.”

Joe grinned. “This dude knows what’s up.”

“And to think, my grandpa tried to tell me that you guys were freaks,” Archer replied.

“Well,” Joe conceded. “Not all of us.”

“Maybe you two should start dating,” I said. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit in my Honda and eat my Taco Bell cheese quesadillas and Cinnamon Twists and try not to interrupt all the sex.”

“Yes, you brought Taco Bell,” Archer sighed euphorically. “Give me five minutes, I just gotta finish rotating these tires real quick.” He jogged to the other end of the garage, knelt beside a Ford Mustang that was propped up on a jack, and starting twisting off lug nuts with a tire iron.

“You have a nice place here,” Joe observed, strolling around the small garage with his hands in the front pocket of his U Chicago hoodie, eyeing the fractures in the concrete floor and the spidering cracks in the windows. “You have any investors?”

“Are you kidding?!” Archer replied from the Mustang. “No, man, it’s just me. I rent for now, but at some point I’ll buy my own shop. Once I’ve saved up enough. A great big one with shiny new equipment and no mice squeaking behind the walls.”

“What’s your cash flow like?”

“I’m netting around three grand a month after taxes.”

“Not bad!” Joe noted admiringly.

“Yeah. It’s a hustle, but I love it.”

“Hey, I don’t know if you’d be interested—and absolutely no pressure if you’re not, really—but I do a lot of work with start-ups and I’d love to help you get into your own shop. By this Christmas, preferably. If we can work out a deal.”

“Really?!” Archer peeked incredulously over the hood of the Mustang.

“Absolutely.”

Archer beamed at me. “This guy is willing to drop serious cash to look good in front of you. You should probably marry him. No prenup though.”

I held my pinky out towards Joe, grinning. “No more sad prenups.”

He laughed and hooked my pinky with his. “Bankrupt me, bitch.”

I heard the metallic clang of a lug nut hitting the concrete floor and rolling under the Mustang. “Come back here, you bastard,” Archer muttered, then dropped to his stomach and crawled beneath the car.

“Hey, kid, be careful,” I fretted, crossing my arms across my chest and taking a step closer.

“Relax, Baby Swan, I am a professional, changing a tire for me is like feeding a fish for you, so just chill and keep fantasizing about those Cinnamon Twists—”

There was a squeal of metal as the car jack collapsed and the Mustang came crashing down. In a fraction of a second—faster than I could see him moving, faster than I could loose a scream—Joe had soared across the garage, yanked Archer out from beneath the falling Mustang, and dragged him to the center of the room.

“Oh fuck,” Archer wheezed, his dark eyes huge and fascinated and horrified. “Grandpa was right.”

I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)

We rolled up to the Lee house in my 1999 Honda Accord just as I polished off the last of my Cinnamon Twists and Archer chewed, tentatively and dazedly, on a Cheesy Gordita Crunch. The sun was beginning to set in a clouded sky that perpetually threatened rain.

He asked Joe for the fifth time from the back seat: “But wait, seriously, no one is going to eat me, right? Because I’m too young to die. I haven’t taken enough vacations yet. I can’t die without seeing Hawaii. I want to swim with the sea turtles.”

“No, none of us have ever eaten people. Well, almost none of us. Maybe stay away from Ben.”

“I would like a little more exposition,” Archer replied, blanching.

“Hey, if you stay until 8, you guys can join us for the SpongeBob marathon!”

Gwil and Mercy were waiting on the front porch, thanks to Joe’s ‘hey I accidentally exposed myself as a paranormal being and now we have a new friend, plz don’t be mad okay love you see you soon!1!!’ text.

“Welcome, sweetheart!” Mercy fussed, enfolding Archer into her arms as soon as he stepped out of the Honda. “Would you like some hummingbird cake? I just baked it this morning. And maybe some sweet tea too. And some peanut butter cookies. And banana pudding.”

“Sure,” he responded, bewildered. This lady does not seem like a bloodsucking demon, that voice said. And he was absolutely right.

“I’ll fix you up a tray,” Mercy promised, and hurried into the house.

“We’re so very happy to have you, Mr. Foxchild.” Gwil shook Archer’s hand firmly. “We don’t get many visitors around here. I’m sure you understand why.”

“My grandpa always insisted that there was something off about you guys. Especially you, Dr. Lee. Said you shouldn’t still be around.”

“Yes, I imagine that would have been disconcerting for him. He must have remembered us from the 1940s...that’s the last time we settled down in Forks. It’s not often that someone recognizes us after so long, but it happens. It was just Mercy and me and Rami and Joe back then. And look how far we’ve come.” Gwil beamed warmly, then turned to Joe. “But really, son, you’re going to have to stop telling humans about us.”

“Hold up, I was not responsible for her!” Joe exclaimed, waving at me. “Take it up with Ben!”

The garage door rumbled open and Scarlett sauntered out, wiping her filthy hands with a rag. She halted abruptly, stood there in her high-waisted vintage jeans and black crop top and bare feet with maroon-colored toenails, tilted her head and pondered Archer with an innocent sort of curiosity that I hadn’t seen from her before.

“Wait,” Archer said, gaping. “Is that...is that an Aston Martin Vantage in there?!”

“You bet,” Scarlett replied. “You want to learn how to work on it?”

“Uh, hell to the yeah!” He trotted over and they vanished into the garage together.

“Huh,” Joe muttered, watching them. “She was nice to him. Very weird.” He whirled back to me. “Anyway, come on. I promised you an education in classic rock music. And I shall deliver.”

Joe’s bedroom was a chaotic jumble of economics textbooks and Chicago Cubs paraphernalia and U Chicago apparel and action figures and comic books and classic rock posters. There was a massive Italian flag tacked to the wall above his bed. But what caught my attention immediately was a life-sized cardboard cutout of Ben lurking in the corner by a bookshelf full of cassette tapes.

“How is there any possible logical explanation for that?” I asked, pointing.

“Oh, that! That was a joke. When Ben first showed up, he pretty much lived in his room and never came out. Gwil was worried. Mercy was heartbroken. So I made a cardboard cutout of him and would bring it to family activities and do this really deep and seductive Ben voice when I pretended to have conversations with him. It gave the whole situation some levity...and I think Ben secretly liked that we missed him enough to make an artificial version to fill the void.”

“So this bitchy, brooding, blood-craving Ben I met is actually a drastic improvement?”

“Oh, Baby Swan,” Joe confided, almost sadly. “You have no idea what he was like four years ago.”

“I’m glad he has you. All of you. That he has a chance to get better.”

“I think you might be good for him too. Seeing a human as a real person instead of a walking, talking Hi-C juice box. And you care about him, don’t you? Despite everything.”

“Of course. It’s not his fault they taught him to be a monster.”

Joe just looked at me for a while, and then he cradled my face with one hand and grazed a thumb across my cheek “You’re never going to stop saying things that knock me into next week, are you?”

“Joe...” I hesitated, laying my hand over his. His skin was smooth and yielding yet strong, cool yet not unnaturally so. Refreshing. Safe. Fan-fucking-tastic. Oh noooooo. “Are we a thing?”

“Why? Do you want to be a thing?”

“Oh, uh, no, I was just wondering if we were.”

He stepped away, teasing me with a crooked smirk. “...So you don’t want to be a thing?”

“What would that entail?”

“Well...we’d be an official thing, you and me.” He shot finger guns at me, and then towards himself. “Which means you can’t be a thing with anyone else. And neither can I.”

“Ahhh, I see. So this thing is an exclusive thing.”

“Will you shut up and just admit that you’d totally be thrilled to be a thing with me?”

“Fine. Whatever. We’re a thing.”

“Nice.” He high-fived me.

“This is the most romantic moment of my life.”

“But wait, there’s more.” He went to the bookshelf, browsed through his cassette tape collection, found the one he wanted and popped it into a boombox that was probably older than I was. The frantic opening piano notes of I’d Do Anything For Love poured out.

“Meat Loaf,” I said in disbelief. “Really. This is the product of your superior taste in music. This is the culmination of over a century of musical experience. Meat Loaf.”

“The man is a genius!”

“This is all an elaborate joke about my vegetarianism, isn’t it?”

“No,” Joe mused. “But now that you mention it, I have yet another reason to force you to appreciate this song.” He took my hand in his, spun me around like a ballerina in a slow and careful circle, sang along—with extreme and dramatic enthusiasm—to the music.

“And I would do anything for love

I'd run right into hell and back

I would do anything for love

I'd never lie to you and that's a fact...”

“I don’t dance,” I cautioned him, laying a palm against his chest to catch my balance. That brisk, comforting scent of pine and snow and peppermint was everywhere. It feels like I can’t stand to be away from him. Like I’ll never get close enough. “I am terribly uncoordinated. I will step all over your feet. And I’m really not sure if I can trust you. You didn’t even know the plural form of octopus until like eighteen hours ago. You’re kind of a disaster. A, you know, uh, unexpectedly charming, unconventionally super cute, kind of bizarrely enchanting disaster.”

“Yeah,” Joe whispered, smiling, tilting up my chin, leaning in to kiss me. “I like you too.”

Cato

He came out of the oak trees like a ghost, pushing aside massive chandeliers of Spanish moss that blotted out the dusk sun, his expensive shoes sloshing in the marshy water that flooded the rice field. He was wearing a full suit, but no top hat; his hair was black and chin-length and wild around his face. And at first I thought he was a hallucination, a dream conjured by heat sickness or those first dreaded signs of malaria. He was unnervingly, uncommonly beautiful; beautiful like a hurricane, beautiful like lightning or an eclipse. But he was real. I straightened up as I watched him approach, my back aching in protest, a basket full of seedlings slung over my shoulder.

“Mr. Cato.”

His voice, clear and beckoning and twisted by an accent I’d never heard before, rang in my skull like church bells. He called me mister. This white man called me mister.

“Yes sir?” And I almost added: You want to be careful there, sir. The water moccasins like to hide among the tree roots, especially when the sun starts going down. But I had an inexplicable feeling that this man wasn’t afraid of things like snakes. Maybe the snakes should be afraid of him.

“Mr. Cato,” he said again, this time to himself, very quietly, tasting it.

I kept trying to look away, to disentangle my gaze from him like a hook out of a sturgeon’s mouth, because staring piercingly and astonished at a white man like that in the rice swamps of South Carolina in 1851 could get me beaten or the lash, could get my teeth pried right out of my jaw. But it didn’t seem to bother him. He grinned, hugely, all-knowingly, under prehistoric golden eyes like an alligator’s. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. And he was proud.

“Do you want to be free?” he asked, almost hissed, still grinning from the tree line.

What kind of question was that? Did a sandpiper want to fly? Did a coyote want dirt under its paws and flesh disappearing down its throat? But that wasn’t something you ever confessed aloud, not if you wanted your feet on the ground instead of swinging ten inches above it. But this man wasn’t a master, wasn’t an overseer. He wasn’t from the South. He didn’t carry a whip or a club to remind you of the rules of the world. He stood there tall and radiant in the shadows of the fading daylight like he was the one who wrote the rules to begin with; which meant that maybe he could change them. “Yes sir.”

“I can only take you,” the man warned. “No others. No family. No friends.”

“No trouble, sir,” I told him. “They sold my family. They hanged my friends.”

The man’s grin stretched wider under glinting eyes. His canine teeth were sharp, I realized: like a coyote’s, like a snake’s fangs. He held out his hand. “We are going to get along very well, you and I.”

I let the basket fall from my shoulder. I slogged through the mud and rows of wispy verdant rice plants to meet him in the shade of the oak trees. And there, for the first time in forever, a man with skin the color of bones looked me dead in the eye and shook my scarred hand.

“Welcome, Cato,” he whispered; and I was home.

He took my face in his cool palms, gingerly, reverently, like a lover. He touched his teeth to my throat. And every nerve ending in my body flooded with wildfire as he dragged me, screaming, into the depths of the forest.

60 notes · View notes

scandeniall · 4 years

Text

Playing Games

Pairing: Iwaizumi x Reader, mention of akaashi x reader

Request from @mel-melona: hi! I saw that you opened song requests and thought I’d drop one here if you’ve got time. So here’s the vibe, Playing Games by Anna of the North

wc: 1642

summary: A story in which you and iwaizumi break eachother’s hearts again and again.

Breaking your own heart. It was something Iwaizumi never considered. Throughout the years he’d thought heartbreak was at the hands of others. But, to an extent, he was right. As he scrolled his instagram a simple picture completely shattered his own heart. You had been seated on the lap of none other than ex fukurodani setter, Akaashi Keiji. What stood out even more was the way your hand extended to show the shiny diamond resting on your ring finger You were officially gone, and it was all his fault.

“Let's get married.” It was the first thing you’d ever said to him. You guys were 8 years old. The way You’d ran up to him at recess caught him off guard. The flowers held tight between your fingers couldn't have been for him. The dirt staining your outfit was an indication that you’d just picked the flowers. “No.” It was the first thing he ever said to you. The way your eyes filled with tears made the young boy uncomfortable. However, before he could apologize, or cry because you were crying a voice interrupted. “Iwa-chan, you made them cry.” That was how you wound your way into Iwaizumi’s life, and the first time he broke your heart.

----

The sun had started to set when the three of you started to make your way home. You stayed after school to watch the practice of Kitagawa Daiichi’s boys volleyball team. Your friends had made the team with ease years ago and as the three of you were almost with junior high you took every chance you could to see your boys play. “You didn’t have to wait on us you know.” You only shrugged. “I like watching you play Iwa. You're really cool” Had the golden hour sun not been illuminating you guys, you might’ve noticed the redness that crept up his ears. “Aren’t I cool too (Y/N),” your third party exclaimed. “You’d be cool if you stopped overworking yourself shittykawa.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the scold, and it was the first time Iwaizumi noticed how amazing the sound was.

“Besides, I’m gonna really miss you guys.” The words came out quietly, both boys brows furrowing with confusion. “I thought you were applying to Aboa Johsai too.” Iwaizumi covered the frantic tone with a cough. He remembered how he blamed it on dirt flying into his mouth. Even at 14, it seemed weird but you let it pass. The reality of what you were able to tell your best friends settling in. “I’m moving to Tokyo after this year ends. I’ll be going to Fukurodani Academy.” That was the first time you broke Iwaizumi’s heart.

----

He promised. He promised he’d only be a phone call away, and that nothing would change. You would talk or text everyday and it would be like nothing changed. The tears that drowned your pillowcase currently made you feel like otherwise. It was halfway through 1st year and not only was it harder to make friends in Tokyo, but you couldn't even turn to your best friend/ After All, he was the reason for the tears.The summer before you left you and Iwaizumi found yourself in your first relationships with one another. Shortly after you admitted that you would be moving after your last year, Iwaizumi admitted to having a crush on you. The awkward conversation consisted of him telling you that he thinks that he likes you. “Or I just really like your laugh and your smile, and jokes.”

The two of you ended junior high and went into your first years of high school despite living in two different places. The promise of taking the train every weekend to see one another sounded good in the head of two early teens who were still in the honeymoon stage. However, the distance wore and as Iwaizumi and Oikawa began getting more and more involved with one volleyball there was no time for you. “Someone at school confessed to me today. I don’t know how I feel.” The admission not only led to a breakup, but the second time Iwaizumi broke your heart.

----

“Shhhh your parents are home,” you laughed against his lips. You were met with the hands on your hips sliding upwards and fingers beginning to move rapidly along the skin of your waist. The legs you had tangled with his began to twitch and you had to slap your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing loudly at the way Iwaizumi’s hands tickled you. The two of you had made up shortly after your “‘breakup”. If you could even call it a relationship given how young you were. Now halfway through your third year, you tended to travel to Miyagi twice a month to see your childhood friends. You always told your parents that you were staying at your cousin’s for the weekend, however would always sneak out with their help. You tended to find yourself sharing whispered jokes and soft kisses with your first love.

“Are you sure you have to go back tomorrow,” The groan vibrated against your neck from where Iwaizumi had his lips rested. “We can always just skip school and stay like this.” Your hands lightly thread through the soft strands. “Our parents would absolutely kill us. Besides I promised I’d help Akaashi, with some science problems tomorrow.” You didn’t notice it but something kin to jealousy flickered through his eyes. It was lightning fast, and he composed himself even faster. The two of you weren’t dating by any means, the distance not being worth it. Those were his words not yours. However, he didn’t know you were that close to the setter. “Is that the setter?” Iwaizumi knew the answer. Afterall, you helped with the volleyball on occasion, and could be seen hanging out with them on snapchat sometimes. Your nod of confirmation only prompted home to continue. “I didn’t know you two were that close.”

“I’ve gotten close with everyone on the team.” He doesn’t miss the way you stress the word and has to force himself not to sound like a jealous asshole. “Besides, he has the same teacher I had last year and I still have those notes.” The warmth on his body fades as you sit up, eyeing him silently. “You know, you two resemble each other. Dark haired, pretty eyed. Handsome. Maybe I do have a type.” The last words come out as a tease. However, at the slightest indication of you being interested in Akaashi, you broke Iwaizumi’s heart for the second time.

----

Iwaizumi remembered how you cried when he told you that he was going to college in California. Your puffy eyes and reddened face made his heart ache, however he still found you to be the most beautiful person in the world. The night before he left he gave you a necklace. Just a simple silver chain that had been his, but he rarely wore. He told you it was to remember him by and for you to still feel close to him. The two of you promised to keep in contact, an unspoken promise to pick things up one day.

However, that never happened. You’d visited him once down in California and he took you to a few parties, at which he ended up ditching you halfway through the night. It wasn’t intentional, but his new life without you just seemed more appealing. The crack in our heart so tiny it was practically unnoticeable.The following days he’d apologize, with a gentle caress along your jaw and a sweet kiss to match. Still the two of you had no title. When you returned back home, you’d two worked out a time schedule in which you two would talk. Slowly his calls became less frequent and you found out he’d be out living his new life. Your face time Netflix party dates with Iwaizumi eventually dissipated. As the cracks in your heart continued to grow, you began to find solstice in your old friend Akaashi. However, whenever you seemed to start moving on in your own life, your first love found his way back into your life.

A simple text checking in to tell you that he missed you. To a random call while it was 3 am for him, because he wanted to hear your voice. And then he got too busy again. Too busy to confirm that he was out safe, or to remind you how much he cared. Each time the once tiny crack grew bigger and bigger. Although it was unintentional, his arrival and departure served as a silent reminder to not move on. Too keep waiting on someone who just wasn’t willing to keep you. At least not in the moment.

Eventually texts turned into once a month, and then once every few months, and then only on holidays and birthdays.However, Iwaizumi would miss the subtle mentions of Akaashi and the way the relationship began to blossom. He’d waved it off as the two of you just being friends as his chance slowly diminished.

----

As Iwaizumi read the caption, he’d found out the two of you had been dating for the last 3 and a half years. You looked so happy. The two of you are 25 now, and he had every intention of returning back home for a while, hoping to reconnect with old friends, including you. As he observed the picture, he picked up a tiny detail that anyone else would have bypassed. Zooming in, he noticed you still wore the silver chain of his. His heart briefly raced, but another look at the way your eyes shined brighter than all the stars in the sky said it all. He had lost you. Maybe not as a friend, but as a lover. For the last time you broke Iwaizumi’s heart.

a/n: i just binged this out and now its 3am but im gonna post it now anyways. This was fun and I hope i did it justice bc obviously this isnt a happy ending type song. But it was also fun to just write. Anyways thank u for requesting and song requests are open: check this post for rules (ish)

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi imagine #request #haikyuuwritersnet

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thedeaditeslayer · 3 years

Photo

Crash Palace Interview: Catching Up with Dana DeLorenzo.

This interview briefly brushes over Ash vs Evil Dead and Dana’s latest projects.

Even though it has been over two years since Ash vs Evil Dead has been on the air, fans still clamor for their favorite badass, Deadite slaying heroine, Kelly Maxwell. Dana DeLorenzo, the actress behind her is equally adored and cherished by admirers of the Sam Raimi legendary horror franchise.

So, as always, I was thrilled to speak with her about life after Ash, her latest movie, the heartwarming holiday comedy, Friendsgiving and what she has on the horizon. Welcome to the Crash Palace Interview with Dana DeLorenzo…

The Denouement of Ash vs Evil Dead Crash Palace: Thanks for speaking with me, Dana. It’s always a pleasure. Let’s talk about life after Ash vs Evil Dead. As you know, Lee Cronin is helming the latest installment in the Evil Dead franchise, Evil Dead Rise. Fans were hoping that the Ghostbeaters would be a part of that venture. While we know it is going in a different direction, do you think Kelly Maxwell could show up some time in the future?

Dana DeLorenzo: One can dream, right? Let me take this moment, right off the bat to say something I say often because I mean it, and I can’t say it enough. People who know me know this is not fan service. I say it when I’m not doing interviews; I say it to my closest friends and my family on the regular.

I am so grateful to the fans of Ash vs Evil Dead and the Evil Dead franchise all over the world. They have truly been my Jiminy Crickets throughout this insane, bizarre year that is 2020. They have gotten me through so many of the toughest days, just by keeping the bloody love alive. With every year that passes, even though we haven’t filmed a season of the show for three years, it feels like it’s fresh because of the fans .

So, to all you Ghostbeaters out there: I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope I get to meet all of you someday. But I can’t convey enough how your passion and love of the show has gotten me through this 2020 roller coaster; thank you for keeping Kelly’s ass-kicking spirit alive! On that note, I have really missed the show, I’ve missed playing Kelly. I posted some things recently about Ash vs Evil Dead, photos I hadn’t looked at in a while. I miss it a lot. I like to keep hope alive that someday, somewhere, the Ghostbeaters will be reunited. Even just for a quick Ghostbeaters fist bump.

Is Kelly Maxwell going to show up in this film? No. I won’t say never, but from what I understand, this is an alternate universe for Evil Dead Rise, separate from Fede Alvarez’s movie with Jane Levy and it’s separate from Ash vs Evil Dead. It’s a new adventure in the Evil Dead universe. And I can’t wait to see the new blood and guts journey Lee Cronin takes us on. I would like to think in the Ghostbeaters’ universe, we’re still kicking it and we’re still fighting evil. But I am loving that the fans are clamoring for it! They can keep pestering Rob, Sam and Bruce the way they have for twenty-five years before Ash vs Evil Dead came to be — their persistence is what got me that dream job.

So, if they want to continue to pester to bring us all back, I won’t stop them! Because we know the fans have the power to persuade. It might take another twenty-five years. But I am always down to play with those guys and our great crew.

CP: Do you keep in touch with anyone from the show?

DD: Yeah, I try and keep up with what everyone is doing and shoot them a message to tell them I miss them like the sap that I am. I just miss seeing their faces every day, you know? I miss Lucy’s face pretty hard, and not just because she’s ‘Lucy Flawless’! She’s got new shows left and right, she never stops! Ray and I randomly text Pablo and Kelly’s catchphrases to each other. “How are you holding up? / What is happening?!” We said that pretty much every episode so it still makes me laugh. Arielle and I chat often even though she lives in Australia, she’s like my little sister! Bruce often responds “ in character” with the latest Snapchat filter. He loves those — just check his Twitter feed — and it’s all my fault. I showed him how to make them while filming Season 3. He could probably do a show solely with Snapchat characters — I’d watch.

Fall from Perpetual Grace

CP: Let’s shift gears for a moment and talk about another series that you appeared on. You had a great run on EPIX with Perpetual Grace, LTD working with the talented Jimmi Simpson, Luis Guzman and of course, Jacki Weaver and Sir Ben Kingsley. There was some talk about a possible movie to tie up all the storylines after the show ended. Do you know if that is in the works?

DD: I have no idea, but I really hope that happens. Steven Conrad is a genius and so was that cast. If you haven’t seen or become a part of the cult following of Patriot on Amazon or Perpetual Grace, you should. But the people he casts and the stories he writes and the beauty of the cinematography, all create a piece of art that is in its own category. He has such a strong point of view, aesthetic and vision, you always know when you’re watching a Steven Conrad show.

I’ve been very lucky to be part of two shows where both casts were like extended family. Like Luis Guzman. We talked recently, I adore him. Side bar: I feel like in a crazy, crossover world, Luis could be Pablo’s other uncle because of his giant heart and comedic delivery. Anyway, we’re both working on my friend Joe Ahern’s indie comedy, The Disappearance of Toby Blackwood, which he co-wrote with Doug Mellard. And I can’t wait for people to see Luis slay the screen, yet again. The filming process is pretty innovative during COVID, where everyone but the two main characters filmed their parts at home using an app. These guys were doing it before anyone else, so kudos to them.

Friendsgiving: The Gift that Keeps on Giving

CP: I had the pleasure of watching Friendsgiving the other night and it was an enjoyable holiday film. You had some hilarious bits as Kat Dennings’ wise cracking sister, Barbara. What drew you to the project?

DD: Thank you for watching the film and I’m so glad you enjoyed it! It’s the kind of original comedy we all need right now.

I knew I was auditioning for Kat Dennings’ (Abby) sister Barbara, whose part of Abby’s Jersey-Italian family. Within the first two lines of that family exchange, I was cackling. I’m drawn to anything that grabs my attention on the page and holds it for the entire sitting of reading the script. Those lines of dialogue, the way the family members are unapologetically who they are, and the fact they mean well but are constantly giving you their two cents when you don’t want it or ask for it, hooked me. And that kind of art-imitating-life comedy held up for the rest of the script for me. Nicol Paone hit it out of the park, both on the page and behind the lens. And I’m pretty sure it’s loosely based on a Thanksgiving that Nicol and Malin Ackerman shared.

The subject matter was also relatable. I’ve celebrated Thanksgiving with my family as well as a couple of Friendsgivings. And the bottom line is, the holiday is just dysfunctional, always. It might be a lot more fun with your friends but it’s still going to be dysfunctional.

That concept makes me laugh. It’s not funny when you’re the one going through the stress and drama of Thanksgiving. However, it’s very funny watching someone else go through it. It’s cathartic. That’s why I loved it.

CP: With so many talented actors in the cast, do you have any behind the scenes anecdotes?

DD: There was a lot of laughing in between takes. It’s always a good sign when the crew laughs. Abby’s (Kat Dennings ) Jersey-Italian family was cast perfectly, and the actors were so damn funny! Rose Abdoo plays our mom, Nadya Ginsburg as Aunt Anna and Johnny Williams plays Uncle Sal. Like I said, it was already funny on the page, and Nicol being a New Jersey Italian herself really captured the essence of those family conversations. The actors brought Nicol’s words to life, and on a few takes she let us riff. In one scene the Aunt Anna character was telling the scripted story of a sexual gesture; I remember laughing so hard at her adlibbing additional euphemisms for that particular act by referencing Italian food.

One of my favorite things Nicol did was add some of the funniest ad-libs and bloopers in the end credits. I love seeing those! Now everyone who sees the film will get to see those behind the scenes moments.

The Show Must Go On

CP: When we were coordinating this interview, you told me that you were going into the studio to do voiceover work. Can you give us a hint about this upcoming effort?

DD: The show features a cast of familiar faces that might have worked together recently. I just realized what everyone is probably going to think when they read this.

CP: Sorry everyone, it isn’t Ash vs Evil Dead. However, you have more work on the way. According to IMDb, you have completed a short film called PCH. What else can your fans look forward to?

DD: The Disappearance of Toby Blackwood which I mentioned before but we’re still filming that. I am so excited about this voiceover project because it’s completely original in every way, it really hasn’t been done before. And of course, Friendsgiving is out now in select theatres and VOD. It’s the perfect film to watch this Thanksgiving when we can’t celebrate as we usually do. You can laugh at the characters’ holiday drama and maybe even be grateful to take this year off.

CP: Will you be appearing at any virtual conventions like Bruce and Ted are doing for Wizard World events?

DD: There are a couple in the works. But in the meantime, I’ve teamed up with this new platform called, Real Talk Live, which is both an app and on the web. It’s like a virtual convention where you can live video chat one on one, basically like a Zoom call. You can schedule the video call in advance or whenever catch me whenever I’m live. I think it’s a great solution, and personally I’m really looking forward to connecting with Evil Dead fans this way until live events pick back up. And it’s accessible worldwide so this will be great to finally see the amazing fans I hear from overseas. I miss interacting with them in the flesh, hearing their stories and seeing their badass cosplays! And do I miss pose-punching them in our epic photos. So I end with this, because I can’t say this enough: “Thank you, Ghostbeaters! I love you more than Ash Williams loves his Delta!”

Many thanks to Dana DeLorenzo for spending time with me at Crash Palace. For those of you that haven’t had the chance to catch Friendsgiving, it is available online by buying or renting it as a video-on-demand on iTunes, FandangoNow and VUDU.

#Crash Palace #Dana DeLorenzo

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sincerelyreidburke · 4 years

Note

Omg can I please have a fic where Quinn (possibly backed by all of SMH) absolutely throws down N*te. And then maybe comforts a Sad Nando bc nando is Soft and needles all the cuddles and support

Okay, this has been in popular demand for quite some time now. It may be 1:31 AM, but I’m counting this as a little birthday present for Nando.

Set during Quinn’s summer in Arizona. :D

One of the first steps of taking your boyfriend home for the summer is showing him around.

For the past six days, that’s what Nando has taken it upon himself to do. He can’t believe, actually, that he and Quinn have been home from school for an entire week already— well, a week tomorrow, but still— and yet here they are, arrived at the last day of Nando’s extensive tour of the Phoenix metro area. They’ve spaced it out— something one day, something another— like dinner at Tio’s one night, an afternoon meeting his best friends from home, showing Quinn his childhood rink.

He’s satisfied with his own performance as a tour guide, but tomorrow means his first shift at Tio’s restaurant, which means that summer job season is really beginning. Which, like, obviously he and Quinn can still hang out— they’re living under the same roof; and if it’s not Mama or one of the girls, Quinn is the first person he sees every morning. It’s just that once he has a summer job schedule, their days won’t be entirely their own anymore.

For Quinn, he knows, that might be a little weird, at least for these first three weeks until Gabi and Rosa get out of school. Once they’re done, the summer theatre stuff starts up, and Quinn is getting paid to do that, so he’ll have something to do.

In the meantime, though, Nando knows he brought things with him. Like his knitting stuff. And a few books. And his camera.

And until tomorrow, the time is still theirs.

“Okay, my love,” Quinn says, at the kitchen table, over his toast and eggs. The morning is all theirs; Mama is at work, so once they got the twins out the door and onto the bus, Nando made him breakfast. “What’s on the agenda today?”

Nando grins at him. “Oh, you’re curious?”

He shrugs. “In a way.” He’s wearing a baggy KMH shirt tucked into his pajama bottoms, and he hasn’t even done his hair yet. Nando lives for seeing him like this— his obsessively proper boyfriend, who won’t be caught dead in jeans outside of a party, in his pajamas in his family’s kitchen.

It has been six days, and having Quinn at home has given him enough fuel for domestic daydreaming to last a lifetime.

It’s going to be a good summer.

“Well, I saved a good thing for last,” Nando tells him, reaching for his hand across the table. “We’re going to the beach.”

Quinn raises his eyebrows, skeptical. “In Arizona.”

“Yes,” he chirps back, because two can play at this game. “I’m driving you eight hours south to the ocean. Do you have your passport?” Quinn laughs a little, and he adds, “No, baby, the beach by the river. There’s a little park there. We can sit by the water in the sun.”

“Ooh.” Quinn smiles. “That sounds lovely.”

“But first,” he adds, squeezing his hand. “I’m taking you to my favorite Starbucks.”

Quinn cocks his head, with amusement in his smile now. “You have a favorite Starbucks?”

“You don’t have a favorite Starbucks?” he replies.

“I…” He trails off a little. “I can’t say I do, actually.”

“Well, I’ll educate you.” He brings his hand to his face, kisses it, and says, “Maybe this one will become your favorite.”

Quinn’s smile is the cutest shit he has ever seen. “Maybe so.”

In the truck, on the way there, Quinn is watching out the window. “So why is it your favorite?”

“Huh?”

“The Starbucks.” He looks to him across the console. “Why is it your favorite?”

“Oh.” Nando grins. “Well, okay. It’s, like, classic Arizona architecture, and—”

“Wait, you like it because of the architecture?” Quinn chuckles a little. “Are you Ben?”

“Jesus, baby, are you chirping me?” Nando jostles his arm, and Quinn laughs. “You’re a regular KMH member. I’m impressed.”

Quinn shrugs. “I suppose you’re finally rubbing off on me.”

“Wow.” Nando loves his boyfriend. “I’m honored. But FYI, I was only starting with the reasons I liked it.”

“Okay, continue, then.”

“Okay, so it has a lot of really nice outdoor seating.” Nando pauses. “It’s, like, near a shopping center, but it’s separate from the rest of the stores, so it’s not just some ugly spot. They always have the good cake pops, and plus, the manager is cool. They have blue hair and they wear a bunch of pride pins on their apron.”

“Okay.” Quinn nods, as Nando watches him process. Or at least sort of watches him, because he is, technically, still driving a vehicle, cute as the boy in the passenger’s seat may be. “That does sound like a good Starbucks.” He pauses. “What do you mean by the good cake pops?”

“Lemon ones,” he replies. “And chocolate. And, during Pride month, rainbow.”

“Oh my goodness.” Quinn closes his eyes, like he’s having a moment. “Now I’m craving a cake pop.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re on our way there,” Nando replies, and he laughs.

It only takes a few more minutes to arrive. The parking lot is sort of crowded, but it doesn’t look like a mob scene, which is nice. Nando sees an empty table for two under a palm tree on the patio that has their name on it.

“Here we are,” he remarks, parking the truck across the lot from the door. “Our cake pops await.”

Quinn puts on his sunglasses. Their lenses are rose-gold and circular, and he looks criminally adorable in them. And also kind of super hot. That’s the thing about Quinn. He’s the cutest thing in the world and he’s also the source of literally all of Nando’s thirst. And he can turn on a dime. “I’m ready,” he tells him, combing back his hair. Already, with the past week in the sun, it’s gone a little lighter blond on the top. “I’ll have you know, my expectations are extremely high.”

“Oh, this won’t disappoint you,” Nando assures him. “I promise.”

They walk hand-in-hand across the parking lot, and Nando grabs the door for him. Inside is sweet air-conditioned bliss, and it smells like fresh-roasted coffee beans and the bakery case. Nando hasn’t been in here since Christmas break, and it’s been too long.

There’s a small line, but it won’t take more than a few minutes to get to the register. He tries to see who’s working, in case it’s Shai, but he can’t get a good look at the cashier, and there’s no sign of their blue mohawk among the baristas making the drinks.

Shai is actually, like, thirty, and possibly married, but they memorized his drink order in high school and always complimented him on his pride shirts, so they’re one of those older queer people Nando has just imprinted on. And, okay, yeah. He was totally excited to bring his boyfriend in here to meet them. It’s the little things.

Going around town with Quinn is like showing him off, and he has never been happier.

As they get in line, Quinn wraps his hand around his elbow, leaning into him. “It smells good in here,” he hums, with his head against his shoulder.

“I told you,” Nando replies, kissing his temple. “This is a magical place.”

He checks his phone, briefly, while they wait in line; he hasn’t actually looked at it since he woke up this morning. He has a few Snapchats in the cricket group chat, plus one from Nursey (he and Dex just got engaged, which, !!!!!!), and a separate text from Rhodey (it looks like he sent him a TikTok; Rhodey is obsessed with TikTok). He opens the cricket group, turns his front camera on, and snaps a selfie. Quinn is smiling with his cheek against his shoulder, and he himself looks like a little bit of a meme, but Quinn looks cute, so he saves it before he types the caption (coffee run y’all want anything) and sends it through.

In exactly twenty seconds, Rhodey replies. It’s a picture of himself in his work uniform— he delivers pizzas in Providence— and he’s flashing a peace sign at the camera. His hair is in a pink, blue, and yellow striped scrunchie. ya get me an americano. also yall are gay

Quinn snickers. “Well, I would sure hope so, Ben.”

Nando pockets his phone and hooks his arm around his neck. “Super gay.”

Quinn leans into his shoulder. “Mm.” He nods. “The gayest.”

They move forward a spot in line, then another. In fact, they move forward three entire spots without incident. Quinn is humming some showtune— it’s from Spring Awakening; he recognizes it— and Nando is keeping his eyes peeled for Shai, or at least someone he knows. Look at me! I’m in love and I’m happy.

But then God says, be careful what you wish for.

Because as they move into the spot where they’re up next to order, he catches the sound of the cashier’s voice. “... and can I get a name for the order?”

All of the life leaves Nando’s body.

“Holly? Great.” The voice is nasally, and a little artificially cheerful. He hasn’t heard it— outside of a few drunk voicemails— in over two years, but it evokes a visceral reaction in him. He feels sick, all of a sudden. “That’ll be right up.”

He must be tense all of a sudden, because Quinn peers up at him. “Sebastián?” he asks, and what a difference between two voices. “Are you alright?”

He tries to take a deep breath. “I, um.” He pauses. “I think we have to leave.”

“Next customer, please?”

“Leave?” Quinn squints. “But we’re next!”

The people in front of them step to the side counter, and Nando sputters too long. “We, uh—”

But when the way is clear, it’s too late. “Sebby!”

Nando wants to die.

“Holy shit!” Nate has a different haircut, and a Starbucks apron, but otherwise he’s the same— the same pasty pale skin, the same bony stature, the same face so easily twisted into a scowl. Right now, though, he’s smiling, which, honestly, is an expression that looks alien on him, based on Nando’s memory. “You didn’t tell me you were home from school!”

What he wants to say is, Nate, why the fuck would I tell you I was home from school, but what he does say is, “Uh, hi.”

He is going to cringe himself to death. He’s been home for no less than six days, and he is already running into his ex with his boyfriend.

When did he start working here?

“It’s been forever!” As Nate keeps on this weirdly cordial tangent, Nando feels Quinn still next to him. Quinn knows vaguely what Nate looks like, but what he knows better is the way he used to act, and the fact that he used to call him Sebby. Also, he’s wearing a nametag. And Nando feels as stiff as a board. “How’ve you been?”

Very carefully, Quinn unwinds his arm from his, and takes a firm, obvious grip on his hand.

“Jeez, I keep trying to reach out to you,” Nate continues, like they’re old friends running into each other, and not exes with a toxic history. “We really should catch up sometime, now that you’re in town.”

Nando takes a long breath, like it’ll fix the tension in his chest. He squeezes at Quinn’s hand, which helps a little. Quinn leads when they step up to the counter, and he inhales like he wants to order, but Nate is still fucking going. “Who’s your friend?” he asks.

“Boyfriend,” Quinn blurts, in his I’m pissed and I mean business voice, which, thank God for this boy. “I’m his boyfriend.”

Nate raises his eyebrows a little, looking at Quinn like he’s a five-year-old having a tantrum. “Oh,” he says, shrugging. “My bad. Although, I should’ve known.” Nate’s eyes dart to him for a second, and Nando wants to scrub himself clean of that gaze. “He tends to go for the little guys,” Nate continues, to Quinn, gesturing between the two of them like he’s comparing their heights. Then he shrugs again. “Gotta balance it out, y’know?”

Nando’s stomach turns. It stings, so much, and as soon as this is out of Nate’s mouth he feels Quinn squeeze his hand so hard it’s like he intends to break bones. He squeezes right back, and God, he knows it’s cruel and unnecessary and shouldn’t bother him, and it’s been almost three fucking years since he had to deal with Nate, but it still hurts. It hurts just as much as every comment like that did from him. It sends him back to memories of hating and second-guessing himself, and he just. He feels so fucking humiliated.

Quinn takes a very long breath, his eyes on Nate, while he digests this, and then he says, “Can I get a peach green tea, please.” He pauses, still squeezing the circulation out of his hand, and it is the only thing keeping Nando from tearing up. Which is pathetic. But he’s just. It hurts. “And he’ll have a—”

“Mocha frappe. Yeah. I know.” Nate chuckles a little, already grabbing a cup. “Extra whip, right?”

Quinn bristles, face flushing, and finally, Nando finds his voice. “Actually,” he says, “no.” Because even though that was what he was going to order, he doesn’t want to give Nate the satisfaction of thinking he still knows him that well. His Starbucks order may be the same, but there’s so much about him that’s changed since Nate knew him. So much about him that’s better now. Without him. He orders his second favorite. “An iced vanilla latte.” And then, because even though he really doesn’t feel like being polite to him, he feels like Mama might manifest in this Starbucks and kick his ass if he doesn’t say it, he adds, “Please.”

“Hm, my mistake,” Nate says, with a shrug, as he’s writing on the two cups. “I guess you’re a new man, Sebby. We really should catch up.” Quinn’s death grip intensifies, because he knows how much Nando cannot stand being called that. He brings his other hand back to wrap around his elbow, too, like he’s being protective, and Nando has never been more grateful for him.

“Anyway, that’ll be right up.” Nate looks so unbothered, just the way he always did, years ago, when he’d make a comment that left Nando’s self-esteem reeling for days afterward. “I guess I don’t really need your name for the order, huh?”

He’s writing on the cup, and Nando can’t see— or just doesn’t want to— but Quinn must be able to, because he says, “His name is Sebastián.”

Nate raises his eyebrows. “Ooh, feisty.” And of course Quinn sounds mad— but Nate making fun of him will do nothing but add more fuel to the fire. Nate looks to him, past Quinn entirely, and adds, “Does he speak for you all the time like this, or—?”

Nando wants to melt into the floor. “Just give us our total, Nate,” he says, because the faster they can get out of here, the better. Quinn is bristling next to him, but stays quiet.

Nate sighs, shrugs a little, and punches into the cash register. “If you say so,” he says, then announces, “6.23.”

And he thinks that’s going to be the end, but then, as he’s handing over his card, Nate keeps fucking talking. “Oh!” he says, still all faux-fake. “Sebby, you should take him to the lake. Remember, when we’d go down there in high school?”

Quinn’s grip on him tightens. This transaction cannot process fast enough. “We had a lot of fun,” Nate says, like he’s reminiscing. “Always did. It’s a shame; I feel like we never really had closure.”

Finally, finally, after what feels like a million years, he hands his card back, and Nando pockets it in a hurry. “C’mon,” he says to Quinn, because he cannot stand here for one more second, and as they walk away, Nate calls after them.

“Hey, give me a shout sometime!” He’s doing the fake-smile thing again. “We should really hang out, now that you’re in town again.”

Nando squeezes his eyes shut and takes a tight breath; he didn’t realize it before, but it’s hard to breathe. He feels sick and humiliated and awful, and when they’re far enough away to be out of earshot, he looks to Quinn and whispers, “Baby, I am so sorry.”

Quinn is surprisingly calm, at least in comparison to his clear irritation at the register. He shakes his head and rubs his arm with the free hand that’s not holding his. “Don’t apologize,” he says. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I just—” He wants to melt. “I had no idea he started working here; I haven’t even seen him since before freshman year, and it just— like, it figures, right—”

“Sebastián,” Quinn says, and his even voice pulls Nando out of his head. “I’m going to get our drinks, and then we can get out of here, okay?”

Nando lets all his breath out at once, then nods. “I— yeah. Okay. That’s— perfect. I’m sorry, baby.”

“Do not be sorry.” Quinn rises on tiptoe and kisses his cheek. “None of that was your fault.”

Quinn seems surprisingly collected for someone who was just ignored and insulted a minute ago, and Nando has this feeling, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he’s planning something, some kind of revenge— but what could he do, with Nate just working?

They station themselves against the wall by the pick-up counter, and it isn’t lost on Nando how touchy Quinn is being— not that they’d hold back in public for any reason in general, but he’s definitely going the extra mile right now, rubbing the inside of his elbow and leaning his head on his shoulder and holding his hand all at once. Not only is the touch grounding; Nando is also fully aware that Quinn is trying to rub it in Nate’s face should he glance over from his spot behind the counter.

Which, good. Let him fucking stare if he wants to. Nando hasn’t felt that humiliated in a long time.

And he hates that he let it hurt him, that one stupid comment— but it was such a reminder of worse times, times when he’d have to process things like that from the person who was supposed to be his partner all the time, and it was just. It was always hard, and it was always awful, and being with Quinn has helped him work so much on all of that. Quinn taught him, so early on, that he deserved better. Everything with Quinn is better.

He just focuses on holding Quinn’s hand for a minute, until Nate puts their drinks out at the pick-up counter. “Stay here, honey,” Quinn tells him, squeezing his hand before he unwinds his fingers from it. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Nando replies, and watches him go.

Quinn squares his shoulders, takes a short breath, and walks to the counter. Nando is suddenly very aware that something might be about to happen. He leans against the wall and listens in, as he watches Quinn take the two drinks from across the counter.

He’s right. Quinn looks Nate dead in the eye and says, “Hi, could I just remind you of something?”

Oh my God. Nando widens his eyes. Is Quinn about to chew him out?

Nate says nothing, but looks unamused, and Quinn continues. “You broke up with him,” Nando hears him say. “After you cheated on him, by the way. Just in case you forgot.” Nate raises his eyebrows, but stays silent. Quinn is reeling now, and there’s no stopping him. “And I happen to know an awful lot about the way you treated him, and how much that hurt him, so don’t you dare try to act so friendly, like you didn’t break him.” Nando is frozen in place, as Quinn picks up both of the drinks. “He owes you nothing. He clearly does not want to reconnect with you, and I sure as hell wouldn’t want to do that either with someone who did nothing but make me feel awful about myself for two years.” Quinn isn’t even making a scene— the only reason Nando can hear what he’s saying is because he’s not standing that far away— but Jesus Christ, if this isn’t the most satisfying thing to witness in the world. Nate is red in the face and absolutely silent, and Quinn is staring daggers at him; if looks could kill, he’d be dead on sight. “If you wanted to be his friend, maybe you shouldn’t have stomped all over his heart.”

Nando cannot believe his ears.

“And,” Quinn adds, like it’s the end of a big monologue, “I’m going to need two straws.”

Nando is so in love with this boy.

He watches, trying not to smile or even laugh, as Nate fumbles into the thing of straws and shoves two in Quinn’s direction. Quinn takes them, flashes a big, stage smile, and says, “Thank you!” before he turns and walks back in Nando’s direction.

The fake smile turns self-satisfied in a second flat, as he meets Nando’s eyes again. Nando is still kind of frozen, but he wants to kiss him, right in the middle of Starbucks.

All he can say is, “Baby.”

Quinn is all smiles. He looks the way he does when he comes out of the stage door after a great show. “Ready to go, honey?”

“Am I ever,” Nando says, and they join hands again as they head for the door. He’s not sure if Quinn knows that he heard what he said. “That… was kind of the most satisfying thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life.”

“Oh,” Quinn replies as he sticks his straw into his iced tea, “trust me, Sebastián. It’s the most satisfying thing I’ve done as long as I can remember.” He pauses, as he takes a sip, and then adds, “I’ve been wanting to do that for longer than I can even say.”

“It was hot,” he says, because, well, it was. “And just… jeez, I— maybe something good did come out of this situation.”

“Of course it did,” Quinn replies. His smile is kind of maniacal, and Nando is into it. “I got to have the confrontation of my dreams, and I got an iced tea.” He holds up his drink. “Cheers!”

Nando bumps his vanilla coffee against it and laughs. “Cheers, baby.”

Quinn squeezes his hand. They walk back outside into the summer day, and Nando doesn’t look back.

Not even a glance.

#crickets #nandoooooooo #mini quinny #quindo #fuck n*te hours #ficlet #mel writes

45 notes · View notes

justasparkwritings · 3 years

Text

The 1: Well Enough Alone

Previous: Making It Count

Pairing: Hoseok X Reader

Genre: Slice of Life / Angst / Strangers to Lovers / FWB

Rating: NC15

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Mentions of Recreational Drug Use, Mentions of Consensual Sex

Summary: Hoseok returns to New York to make sense of the mess he’s made.

Listen: the 1 by Taylor Swift

The beginning of summer in New York was a mixture of heat and stench, the smells of the city rotting under the suns unrelenting gaze. Summer in the city was a mixture of absolute hell and immense pleasure, as rooftop parties, pool gatherings and air conditioning entangled themselves with the sweat and grime of the subway. It was your favorite season, sun dresses and eyelet shorts with chunky sandals and sunglass fashion was enough to tide you through until fall.

It also meant that Hoseok would be returning, his first time back since your tryst in January. You decided to meet at the bar, and you hoped that you’d fall back into the ease and comfort of your first romantic escapade.

You stepped into the bar, the summer sun illuminating the typically dark and dingy business. You turned your head, craning to see the brilliant smile of Hoseok, only to come up short.

“Looking for someone?” A man said, arm slipping around your waist. You turned; eyes wide.

“Hobi!” You called, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him to you. He laughed cheerfully and inhaled your shampoo, the scent bringing him back to whispers over tequila and scratches in the night. He held you tight, savoring the comfort of your familiarity.

“I missed you, Y/N.”

“I missed you, too,” You blushed as you pulled away from him.

“Shall we?” He gestured towards the bar and you moved to take two seats in the corner, far from the growing crowd but close to the air conditioning. He left briefly to get drinks, and when he came back, he winked as he handed you your glass.

“Manhattan Goes Hollywood,” He said, taking a sip, “not as good as yours.”

“You remember that?”

“I remember a lot of things,” He said. You blushed again. “Did you break our promise?”

“My promise to you? No, I didn’t.” You said.

“So tell me, what adventures did you go on?” Ho-Seok didn’t stop smiling.

“I went to Rome,” You informed him.

“No way,” He was surprised.

“I did, I got lost and had to ask no less than five strangers in broken Italian how to get back to my hotel.”

“Did you go alone?”

“My friends and I went, but we took a day to explore the sites we wanted to see, alone. Katie went to Verona, Emily went on an olive oil tour. I went to see the Saint Valentine skull and got lost.”

“No!”

“Yeah, it was awful, I had several panic attacks,” You sipped your drink, the alcohol warming your already too hot skin.

“But you made it back,” Hoseok tipped his glass to you, humor in his eyes.

“Yes, I made it back before dark, but barely,” You laughed, embarrassed at your blunder.

“What else did you do?” He was egging you on, daring you to share wild escapades you’d had while he was touring, the ultimate adventure.

“I took molly at a Kim Petras concert in Bushwick,” You were unsure how he’d respond to your foray into illicit drugs. In true Hoseok fashion, his shock came across in a raucous laugh.

“You didn’t!”

“I did, it was, euphoric,” You said.

“I can imagine,” He responded, eyes veiled with an emotion you couldn’t recognize. “You didn’t text me though.”

You bit your lip. There were unclear boundaries in your relationship, this cat and mouse, never sure what was okay and what wasn’t, putting things out into the universe to see what would stick, often coming up short as he crossed time zones and continents. By texting him, he meant purposefully seeking him out. Not the snapchats, drunken messages late at night or voice messages sent. Hoseok meant you hadn’t texted him or sought him out when you realized you’d be in Europe at the same time. He meant you didn’t reach out when you saw something that reminded you of him, or when you heard BTS in the speakers at Target. You’d written the texts, you’d almost hit send dozens of time, but each time you stopped yourself. Hoseok didn’t want a relationship. He wasn’t interested in settling down. It didn’t matter if you felt a connection to him, if your heart wanted his every day. He made it clear in January, no matter how many times you turned his words, his actions, over in your mind, you came to the same conclusion.

You were both playing the game, but only one of you could win.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to,” You said, eyes unable to move from his.

“I did,” He said.

“You didn’t text either,” You reminded him.

“I know,” He said, eyes darting to your lips.

You stayed like that, unmoving, eyes trying to communicate what had happened in the months since you’d been in each other’s orbit.

“You saved the voice messages,” You said.

“So did you,” Hoseok countered. It was moot point. There was no upper hand.

“Do you want to get out of here?” You asked, ice saturating your drink, the unrest in your body making you uncomfortable.

“Your place?” He questioned.

“You’re forward,” You forced a laugh, a poor attempt at breaking some of the tension.

“We don’t have to-

“I know,” You stood.

“We can but, I’m happy just being,”

“Together,” you finished.

“Yes,” He nodded.

You nodded in response before standing up and much like before, your hands found each other’s as you guided him back to the street. Hoseok looked left and right, before glancing down at you.

“Are you trying to navigate us, or just being cute?”

“Can’t I be both?”

“Sure, Hoseok, sure,” You laughed again, guiding him down the familiar streets to your apartment. “How long are you here for?”

“Four days,” He said.

“Doing?”

“A photo shoot, somethings for MTV, Today Summer Concert series,”

“Holy fuck, how did I forget?” You stopped in the middle of the street, staring at Hoseok. “Friday, right?”

“Yes,”

“That’s so exciting! It’s going to be a fucking madhouse!” You were giddy, new BTS content? Yes, please.

“I know, I’m excited,” He took your excitement and leveled up. Euphoria seeping through his chuckles.

“How are the guys feeling?” You asked.

“Good, excited to perform again,” He said, energy flowing freely between you.

“It’s not like it’s been years since you performed.”

“No, but you still miss it after a week or two off,” Ho-Seok said.

Hoseok had a few weeks off… why didn’t he come to New York sooner? YOU’RE NOT HIS GIRLFRIEND, yelled the voices of Emily and Katie.

“What are you going to perform?” You asked, pulling yourself back to him.

“I can’t tell you that,” He laughed again.

“Please?” You begged, bottom lip jutting out, eyes swelling.

“What do I get in return?” Hoseok’s tone was teasing, you both knew he didn’t want anything from you.

“What do you want?” You asked. You had reached your apartment, and as you walked up the two flights of stairs, Hobi thought about what exactly he was trying to get from you. He didn’t want anything, and yet, he felt like he wanted everything from you and with you. He had kept your voice messages and wouldn’t delete your voicemails. He had a file of screenshots of drunk texts you’d sent, confessions late at night… He couldn’t count the number of times he reached to text you… the phone calls and facetimes he’d said were an accident but were really his feeble attempt at reaching out to you. All he wanted was to talk to you, to tell you about the shows, to fly you to him, to talk to you, to be with you. But he couldn’t.

“Come to the show on Friday,” He offered.

“What?” Your heart stood still.

“Come to the show, I’ll put you on the list.” He tried to brush it off like it was nothing, an innocent outing.

“Hoseok, would the guys be okay with that? Is that allowed?” Your mind began to race with possibilities.

“Why not? Yes, it’s allowed, we can hang out after,” He shrugged.

“Okay,” You said hesitantly.

“Yeah?” His smile was back.

“Yeah!” You smiled.

Hoseok pulled you to him, first in a hug, then his lips found yours. He missed the way you tasted, the way your fingers scrunched around his shirt, holding him to you by the thread count. He missed the sounds you made, the warmth he felt in your embrace. He’d missed you.

Hoseok slipped out before you awoke, a kiss on your cheek and a note on your nightstand. He’d have management send a car for you on Friday morning and bring you to the Plaza to watch. You’d get brunch with the guys after, some secluded five-star restaurant that the team had arranged. You were impressed that he’d scribbled this much before 6AM, and more impressed that he’d found a sticky note in your clusterfuck of a desk.

As you sat with your girlfriends the next day at lunch, you relegated your previous escapades.

“He’s your international fuckbuddy,” Katie said, sipping on her espresso.

“Isn’t that the best of all the worlds?” Emily asked.

“I think?” You said, unconvinced.

“You think? He fucks you when he’s in town, then it’s no strings attached the months he’s gone. What’s wrong with that?” Katie prodded.

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” You said shrugging.

“You’ve caught feelings,” Emily said.

“I’m just not sure that that’s what this is,” You dipped your toe in the water of their judgement.

“Does he call you when he’s gone?” Katie pressed.

“Sometimes,”

“And you text often?” Emily asked.

“Often enough,” You said.

“Aren’t you just strangers who fuck? I don’t understand this confusion,” Katie said, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t know if that’s all it is,” You tried to explain.

“What would give you an idea that you’re anything other than American pussy?” Katie asked.

“The way he looks at me, and the things he’s says… He waxes poetic every time we’re together,” You told them.

“To get you into bed?” Emily asked.

“Why would an international idol fuck with me?” You questioned, more force behind your words than you’d intended.

“You’re hot and intelligent?” Katie offered.

“Beautiful and charismatic?” Emily added.

“I just mean, he could be fucking anyone, right? But he’s sleeping with me on the off days he’s in New York. He says things… He doesn’t treat me like a fuck buddy,” You were growing flustered and upset. Couldn’t they understand what you were hinting at?

“Other than only fucking you when he’s in town?” Katie laughed; disbelief written across her face.

“And barely speaking to you otherwise?” Emily said, unlocking her phone to check her emails.

“Never mind,” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m just trying to understand-

“I don’t want to talk about it,” You said, disappointment in your eyes.

You’d shared almost every detail of your relationship with Ho-Seok. From how his hands felt on your body to the things he’d whispered to you as you laid in bed. They’d told you your relationship was nothing more than sex, that Ho-Seok was far too busy and important to want anything else from you.

If you thought about it rationally, it made sense. But in your heart, as you looked into his eyes, or read his texts, or saw the number of missed facetime calls you shared, you knew it was more. There was something there in his gaze, in his words, in his kiss. Why else had he promised that you’d see one another again, the next time he was in New York?

This was your mindset as you stepped out of the chauffeured car at the Today Show. The whir of the crew and BTS handlers buzzing as they prepped for the performance overwhelmed your senses as you were guided to where the men were.

“Y/N!” Hoseok called, moving from a conversation with Namjoon to hug you. The men glanced at you, taking in your appearance as Ho-Seok spoke to you. “You’re here! It’s going to be so great.”

Your smile faltered, you hadn’t expected a kiss, on the lips or cheek, but a brief hug? Hadn’t he been in your bed two nights ago, moaning your name, coming undone inside you? The prying eyes made you uncomfortable as you glanced around at the men trying to focus before their early show. The energy was electric, caffeine and adrenaline mixing with the vibe of an early summer morning in the greatest city in the world. It was intoxicating.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Hoseok called, looking at his six bandmates. “You can introduce yourselves later.”

The men were guided to the stage, where they were introduced and began their performance. You’d never seen them this close, and were in awe of every note, every step, every movement. Ho-Seok commanded the stage, oozing talent and sex appeal as he led the group through routine after routine. You were equal parts amazed and so turned on. You recognized his hip thrust, the slight twerk of his ass, the furrow in his brow. His voice was gorgeous, clear and strong over the throngs of screaming ARMY. Who wouldn’t want something more with him?

Your mind was hazy as they came off the stage, interview segments completed. Ho-Seok crashed into your arms, holding you tight.

“You were so fucking good,” You said laughing. He laughed to, merriment filling the dressing room.

“All for you,” He said, resting his sweaty forehead against yours.

“Ew, you’re so sweaty,” You said.

“That’s not what you said the other night when you were sticking to me.”

“Two can play that game,” You replied, eyes squinting.

“Oh?” He asked, daring you to say something in a room filled with his brothers.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice your hips, or that furl of your brow,” Your words were hushed, an intimate conversation between lovers.

“Mm, recognized them, eh?” He smirked before untangling himself from you. “Give us a bit, we’ll go to brunch.”

“Okay,” You said, and you stood still, watching Ho-Seok walk towards the showers as his hand slowly slipped from yours.

The other men moved around you, showering, changing, thanking staff and wrapping up their time at the Today Show. It was the highest viewed concert series, with the largest audience that the Today Show had seen since One Direction and BTS’ last foray in the summer heat.

After thanking the hosts and signing a few merch items, BTS left, you in tow, to pile into a few vans headed for brunch. Ho-Seok insisted in taking a separate car, just the two of you, or at least it was until Jin decided he needed to chaperone.

“Oh, yeah, I hear this place is good, I did some research,” Jin said as the car moved through Manhattan.

“Mm, I’m starving,” Hoseok commented. His fingers were wound in yours, and your bodies were close together, shoulders touching.

“Y/N, what are you going to get?” Jin asked.

“Maybe eggs, but I’m kind of feeling waffles,”

“And a mimosa,” Hoseok laughed.

“Oh, bottomless,” You said giggling.

“Mostly champagne,” Hoseok said.

“With a drop of orange,” You added.

“Your favorite,” He glanced at you, smile crinkling his eyes. He remembered.

The three of you piled out of the car and were ushered quickly into the restaurant, Hoseok’s hand still in yours. As you sat down, Hoseok on your right, Namjoon on your left, you took in the Bangtan. Their striking beauty was blinding. How each of them had managed to find their way to Big Hit and stick it out was beyond you. There couldn’t possibly be anyone in the world more beautiful than them.

“Y/N, tell us, how is your friendship with J-Hope going?” Namjoon asked as he sipped on his Bloody Mary.

“I’m impressed you stay friends with him,” Yoongi muttered.

“I’m an excellent friend!” Hoseok exclaimed.

“It’s going well, yeah, I’m glad we get to see each other when he’s in town,” You smiled at the men, hoping they won’t notice how flustered you’d become.

“He’s a good friend, always so optimistic,” Taehyung added.

“Except when he’s blasting music, dancing at four thirty in the morning,” Yoongi commented.

“It was one time!” Jungkook said, coming to his hyung’s defense.

“Why were you even awake?” Jimin asked.

“I was preparing for –

“You barely slept,” Yoongi said, voice serious.

“Nervous energy,” Hoseok responded.

“The performance was amazing,” You interjected, noting the tension between the two men. “I love how you pull out your back catalogue for every performance.”

“We fight about it, a lot,” Namjoon said.

“Only because some of us are wrong,” Jimin said.

“You’re just mad because –

“Let’s not fight when we have a guest,” Namjoon interjected.

“Yeah, we can fight on our flight to Brazil,” Jin said. “Plenty of hours to bicker,”

“Y/N, do your other friends like Ho-Seok?” Taehyung asked.

“Um, they’ve never met,”

“They haven’t? But he spends so much time with you, talking to you, about you,” Jin rambled.

“Um, yeah, it’s just never lined up,” You took a large swig of champagne, “I’m sure they’d like him.”

“Unless he’s dancing at-

“Shut up Yoongi!” Jimin said through laughs.

“So Brazil, what will that be like?” You asked.

As the boys launched into their excitement for returning to South America, you sat and lost track of your thoughts. How many times had they called you a friend, said they were glad Ho-Seok had a friend like you, wanted to become your friend. Friend.

Is that what you were? You grew uncomfortable as the conversation lingered on, the men laughing and Namjoon translating quickly the funny things they were saying. Hoseok kept an arm around your shoulders, eating with his non dominant hand, just to hold you close. You felt no comfort in his gesture as your anxiety grew.

“They think we’re friends?” You asked, Hoseok’s hand in yours as the car took off towards Brooklyn.

“Yeah, aren’t we?” He countered.

“I don’t know, do friends know what it’s like to be inside the other?” You scoffed.

“Y/N,” He said, cocking his head toward the driver.

“I’m just asking,” You responded.

“Can we talk about this at your apartment?” He pleaded.

“I’d prefer to talk about it now,” You turned to face him.

“We’re friends,” He was treading lightly, you could hear it in the breath he put into the word ‘friends’.

“Aren’t we more?” Your voice betrayed your cool demeanor.

“I, I don’t think we can be,” Hoseok said.

You turned to face forward, hand slowly slipping out of his. You made a list of every sad song you wanted to listen to as you drank the half open bottle of Prosecco in your fridge, tears inevitable. Ho-Seok didn’t say anything, didn’t try to bring you back to him. The gravitational pull had been severed and you both were spinning.

“Thanks for uh, making sure I got home, and for letting me spend the day with you,” You said, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“Of course, can I walk you up?” His eyes were sad.

“No, I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” You said opening the door to the summer heat.

“Y/N,” He was searching for you.

“Hoseok, have a safe flight, okay?”

He leaned in to place a kiss on your lips, but you turned, lips landing on your cheek. Getting out of the car, you didn’t look back.

Why couldn’t you have left well enough alone?

Next: Never Gonna Grow

6 notes · View notes

collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Ease My Mind - Connor Murphy

A/N: Angsty but happy?

TW: Mentions of attempted suicide

Help me leave these lonely thoughts behind, when they pull me under and I can feel my sanity start to unwind, darling only you can ease my mind. - Ease My Mind, Ben Platt

\\\

The hospital room was filled with small touches of color, meant to be comforting. The glass rainbow mural that hung on the wall seven floors above the emergency waiting area reflected into his room in ICU, painting the floor in different colours. The vinyl couch that could be rearranged into a bed for a guest was a maroon color and the chairs that were pulled up beside his hospital bed were a navy blue. They empty but hours earlier his mom had been sitting in one.

So far she was the only one to see him. Larry and Zoe both stayed outside the room, in the waiting area, and Cynthia said it was too hard for them to see him like this but he knew that wasn’t it at all. They were keeping him for observation.

“Because you tried to kill yourself Connor, do you remember?”

Of course he did. After the first night his mom sat on the couch while she assumed he was asleep and called everyone in her address book to tell them that Connor had ‘been in an accident’. Bible study, the ladies luncheon, book club, and bridge were all cancelled because of him.

On the second day there she announced she was going home for a change of clothes. Larry had already left the night before to sleep in his own bed and Zoe had gone with him. His mom stayed so that she could whisper to the nurses about his psyche while she presumed he wasn’t paying attention. She left early in the morning, pressing a kiss to his forehead and asking him to “please just listen to the doctors okay sweetie”. Her change of clothes lasted all day. But 9am that Tuesday morning someone besides hospital staff came into his room.

Your mom had gotten the call the previous night. You were playing video games with your younger brother when she came in the room to tell you that Connor was in the hospital. An accident, she said, though she confided that Cynthia had told her he tried to kill himself.

“Your mom said it’d be alright to have visitors,” you said, walking further into the hospital room. “I brought twizzlers and I borrowed Sean’s Nintendo switch.”

“Hey,” Connor sat up further in bed, a little caught off guard to see you there. He expected his mom, maybe Larry and Zoe eventually, Evan if he ever heard the news and could brave the trip into the city but not you.

Your mom and Cynthia had been college roommates and best friends. For the entirety of your elementary school existence you had been best friends with Connor. You were at his house constantly, jumping on the trampoline Larry installed, trick or treating at Halloween, having pizza every Friday. When your family moved into the city after your mom got remarried that relationship changed. Soon you were only seeing him once a year at Cynthia’s annual New Years Day open house. Your mom relayed every bad story that was shared with her about Connor and his out of control personality.

The time he tried to burn all his childhood photos or when he painted his entire bedroom black without his parents knowledge, that time he got into a fight with Larry so bad that his dad punched him, when he destroyed the trampoline. You heard about it all, and some of it you had witnessed. But it was difficult to see that boy, to know that Connor. Because you saw him only once a year and when you did he was sweet. He’d find you in the kitchen and suggest hiding in the basement while the party went on, playing video games and watching tv. He was nice to your little brother and always made an effort to behave on New Years.

“I’m not gonna fuck shit up so much this year, I’m gonna be better.” Connor always swore.

Once you had cellphones keeping in touch was a little easier but sometimes Connor got in his own head. One minute you’d be texting and the next you wouldn’t hear from him for days while he decided that everyone was better off without him.

The thought had briefly crossed your mind that he might not want anyone to see him like this. Larry and Cynthia certainly didn’t want anyone to see him like this. But you had to go, you needed to know he was okay. Or at least that he was still breathing.

“How’d you get here?”

“The subway.” You shrugged, “my mom and your mom were supposed to go to lunch today and I figured while they were there I’d come here.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you pulled one of the navy chairs over to the bed and sat down, laying your backpack on the ground. You’d packed it with stuff for Connor and skipped school to come see him. A little outside of your usual character. “I just wanted to see you. My mom told me what happened.”

“What’d she say?”

“I think something about your appendix burst.”

“Yeah.” Connor nodded.

“Well anyway I brought some stuff,” you said, looking away from him to rummage in your backpack. You felt like you were going to burst out crying if you just looked at him and you weren’t sure if he would be comfortable knowing that you knew what happened.

Though Connor had made off-hand comments about feeling depressed or angry he never really talked about his emotions with you. He never talked about wanting to end things but you knew he did. Likewise though, you had never broached the subject before because you were never sure what to say. You doubted that Connor would appreciate you interrupting a game of Mario Kart on New Year’s day to talk to him about his feelings. So you just didn’t.

“Scoot over.”

“Scoot over? This is my hospital bed,” he pointed out even as you sat beside him on the bed.

“Don’t start with me Murphy, I skipped school for you.” You teased, smiling at him as you settled the backpack in front of you to pull out the contents.

“Do you remember that time when your hair was just passed your ears and you let me put tiny braids all over it with those little rubber bands that Sean had?” You asked.

It had progressed into lunch and you sat there with Connor, the tray table pulled up so he could eat the pancakes he ordered, and you were painting the nails of one hand black. The nail polish you’d bought specially for him though you didn’t say so.

“Yeah, you took a picture even though I told you not to.” He replied. You were looking down at the hand in your lap but he was watching you.

“I still have it.” You mentioned, glancing up at him and smiling, “I keep it in my day planner.”

“I wish you’d trash it.”

“I love that picture!” You brought his hand up to your face and blew on the polish, “this stuff is supposed to dry matte, it’s not so shiny.”

Connor only shrugged.

“Hey, Connor, my mom told me why you’re here, not the dumb appendix story.” You mentioned.

You had been thinking about it all morning, since you woke up and decided that you were not going to school. You were going to mention it right away, rip the bandaid off the whole thing and dive in the deep end but you chickened out when you saw him.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Could I just...we don’t have to but could I just say something before we don’t?”

“Whatever.” He leaned back against the bed and looked away from you, toward the window and the rainbow reflecting in it. Of all the rooms.

“I didn’t wanna...I like how easy things are between us and I don’t want to jeopardize that and I don’t want you to feel bad but when my mom told me what happened I was so scared. I just thought, what if something happened and I didn’t get the chance to tell you how much you mean to me. I love you Connor, you are my favorite part of the entire year and I wish we hung out more and every year I swear to myself that we will and I never follow through with it. I always let it slide and I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want you to feel alone and I know I can’t take that from you but I just...when you aren’t sure, I want you to know that I’m here and that you’re always on my mind.” You confided.

Connor turned his head back toward you, staring openly at the way your skin looked with fresh tears tracked down your cheeks and even fresher ones threatening to fall from your eyes. You had cried when your mom told you that he had tried to commit suicide and you had cried on the way over here and you had cried riding the elevator up to his floor. But you had been trying your hardest not to cry in front of him. He frowned and reached up to brush some of the tears away.

“Don’t cry.” He pleaded, “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, this is not okay. We’re supposed to be playing video games in your basement on New Year’s day or facetiming while I do homework or sending each other stupid pictures on snapchat. Not this, not sitting here.”

“I know,” Connor pulled you into his arms, ignoring the nail polish still drying on his hands. He held you against him, his forehead resting against yours, “I know.”

“I love you.”

I decided to write this because Dear Evan Hansen is very personal to me. When I was about twelve a family friend killed himself. He was seventeen and he was just the coolest person in my life. I thought he was wonderful. He had a lot of anger issues and mental health problems and not a lot of help dealing with any of it. But he was always so nice to me and always made me feel so important and I kind of wanted to capture that feeling in this writing. There are a lot of things that I wish I could’ve said to him and this is my way of dealing with that. So, hope you like it?

#Connor murphy x reader #Connor murphy imagine #Connor murphy fanfic #Connor Murphy fanfiction #deh fanfiction #deh imagine #deh fanfic #deh au #Connor Murphy au #dear Evan Hansen imagine #dear Evan hansen fanfiction #dear Evan hansen fanfic #dear Evan hansen au #collecting stories imagine #cs discography series

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 5 years

Text

Aftermath - Peter Parker

I Love You and I Like You Chapter Fourteen

A/N: Hello! Hello! I know it’s been a long time since I wrote ILYAILY, but I couldn’t help but add Infinity War and Endgame chapters! I’ve had this drafted since IW came out, and since seeing Endgame, I had to post. If you haven’t seen Endgame yet, there are a few spoilers at the end of the fic! I hope you enjoy! I’m sorry about the angst!

If you haven’t read the original fic, you can find all chapters in my masterlist, but long story short, Peter is now 20, the reader is 23 and they have been together for two/three years now. The reader is also a superhero and they’re currently in a long distance relationship because he is at MIT. Anyways! You’ll understand the fic if you just read this part! I’m sorry I’m talking too long! Just read!!!

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Word Count: 5,188 Synopsis: It has been two years since the last ILYAILY chapter, and Peter and the reader are getting used to their new lives. Just as Peter returns for his summer break from MIT, Thanos sends his people down to collect the rest of the Infinity Stones.

Tags: @atomicpeacekryptonite, @spiderking-of-queens, @the-life-of-a-loser, @drunken-superheros (Taglist people!! A lot of the original list has either deactivated or changed their urls, so if you would like to be added to the list, please let me know! I have at least one more fic drafted to add!)

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Y: Are you done with your exams yet?

P: No, I have one more tomorrow.

Y: If you skip it will you fail?

P: Yes

Y: Fuck

P: Miss me?

Y: Sooo much. Check your Snapchat to see how much

Peter smiled as he changed apps and opened the Snap you just sent him, showing off your cleavage. He bit his lip and started to seriously consider how much it would affect his grade to leave Massachusetts right now and drive back to New York.

Y: What? No response?

P: I wish I could come home. You are so hot

Your next text was just a Spotify link to the *NSYNC song, Digital Get Down. He laughed out loud and immediately Facetimed you. You picked up right away, grinning at him widely.

“Hey,” Peter said.

“Hey.” You ran your fingers through your hair, purposefully knowing that it drove him crazy.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I can’t wait for you to come back to the city.”

“Me too. How’s my favorite Stark Industries engineer? Any cool projects you’re working on?”

“Weirdly enough, I didn’t send you that snap so that we could talk about my job.”

“I know,” he said, smiling, “But I can’t talk for that long.”

“You don’t even take that long in the first place.” He opened his mouth in shock, making you laugh.

“You know, I take offense to that. You’ve lost all sexting privileges.”

“I can’t lose them if I never had them,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“When I get home, we will spend every second in bed-”

“Every thirty seconds,” you teased.

“I’m staying in Massachusets.”

“No, no, I take it back,” you pleaded, pulling the phone close to your face. “I love you and you satisfy all of my needs.” Peter laughed and threw his arm around his head, relaxing back in bed.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. And I like you. You should get back to studying.”

“Yeah. I’ll call you as I’m leaving. I like you, too.”

“Bye,” you said, hanging up on him.

“Y/N!” You turned around on your way to your office inside of Stark Industries and saw Tony Stark himself running towards you.

“Hey. What are you doing here? I hear congratulations are in order!” He smiled as you patted his arm, feeling the hollow shake of where the metal plate in your hand used to be.

“Thank you. I thought it might be nice to swing by and see how things are going with my company.”

“Isn’t that what board room meetings are for?” He ignored your question as he opened the door to your office.

“You know, you don’t have to wear that,” he said, referring to your professional outfit. “I wear sweats and t-shirts when I work.”

“I know, but actually, I do have to dress like this. The rest of the men in my department don’t take me seriously unless I dress like this.”

“Fire them,” Tony said optimistically, taking a seat in front of your desk.

“I didn’t hire them,” you said, smiling slightly as you sat down.

“I know, I did, and I’m telling you to fire them if they’re being assholes.”

“I’ll take that into consideration. So, Tony, what are you doing here?”

“When does the kid get back?”

“Peter should be back tonight. Why?”

“I might have a new suit design prepared for him.” You smiled and clasped your hands together.

“I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic to see it. Do you want to come over for dinner or something?” Tony looked at you seriously, pulling his glasses down the bridge of his nose.

“You seem stressed, what’s up?”

“Nothing, I just miss my boyfriend,” you said with a sigh.

“You talk to your uncle lately?” You shook your head with a frown. “City can be pretty lonely. I know better than most. You taking care of yourself?”

“I’ve got Peter. And you.” He smiled and stood up.

“So? Dinner this week?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright. My people will call your people.” You laughed and nodded. “Fire those assholes! And use protection! We don’t need any spider-grandchildren yet.” You rolled your eyes and turned on the computer, feeling grateful for the smile on your face.

In the past two years, with Peter being away at MIT, and Steve cutting off contact with the world, you felt really lonely in the big city. You had your family and your friends, but things weren’t the same. A nagging notion in your head told you that you were also missing your plates. Tony had turned off the slightly functioning one to keep it from destroying your hand, and their absence made you feel even more alone.

As you pulled up the schematics for the recent product from Stark Industries that would monitor radiation pollution, your phone buzzed. Expecting it to be a message from a coworker, you glanced down at it briefly.

P: Finished with my exam. On my way home!

Y: Yay! Hurry the hell up!!

This message lifted your spirits and inspired you to get some work done. You started configuring the sensor on the monitor and filed paperwork to get two of your least favorite employees out of the company. You left work early and headed down to Peter’s favorite Chinese place, picking up his favorite before getting back to your apartment. If Peter had truly left when he said he did, he should be getting home soon.

You spun your armchair around to face the door, checking your phone every few seconds to see when he would be home. At 6:53, you heard shuffling in the hall and threw open the door. Peter looked up at you in surprise, wearing an MIT hoodie and ruffled hair.

“Hey, babe,” he said with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. He dropped his bag and hugged you back tightly, picking you up off the ground. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said, setting you back down to kiss you softly. You hummed into his lips, grabbing onto the hem of his sweatshirt, holding him against your chest.

“Come inside,” you whispered, pecking his lips once more before backing up. He picked his bags up off the floor and followed you inside, kicking the door shut behind him. He tossed his bag onto the couch before coming up behind you. He snaked an arm around your waist and kissed your neck a few times.

“How was your exam?” you breathed.

“Good.”

“Good,” you said as he continued to kiss down your neck, making you smile. “I have a surprise for you.”

“What?” he asked, picking his head up. You laughed and leaned back to kiss him before leading him into the kitchen. Sprawled out on your countertop was a spread of practically everything the Chinese restaurant offered.

“Do you like it?” you asked, squeezing his hand. He laughed and pulled you in close, kissing you again.

“I love it. Of all the things I missed most-” You loosened your grip on his hand, looking at him angrily. “You are obviously the most, but food from Wok on the Wild Side is the second.”

“Damn right.” He laughed and opened up a bag, taking a bite of an egg roll.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know?” he said, his mouth full.

“Oh, I know I didn’t. But I want you to know exactly what you’re missing when you go back to MIT next fall.” He cocked an eyebrow at you, finishing his egg roll.

“So, you’re going to have buffets of Chinese food every single day?”

“Well,” you said, walking over to him, “Your surprises aren’t all entirely of the food variety.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him back to your bedroom, kissing him quickly every few steps. Once you got inside, you started to pull off Peter’s sweatshirt, which he threw over his head.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

“Show me how much.”

Coming out of the bathroom later that night, you smiled at Peter. His head was propped up by a pillow, his arm draped over his head. You crawled back into bed and kissed his chest.

“I love summer break,” he said, letting out a satisfied breath. You groaned and laid in his arms as he wrapped them around you.

“Don’t remind me that it’s only a break. I’m pretending you’re never going back to MIT.”

“Well, that’s months away. And who knows, with all you’ve got in store, maybe I won’t go back at all.” You laughed softly and tilted your head to look up at him.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you said, poking his chin softly.

“I would never.”

“Should we bring all that Chinese food in bed with us?”

“Are you kidding me? Absolutely,” Peter said, getting out of bed. “It’s even better when it’s cold.” He came back into your bedroom with a six-pack of beer and all of the takeout boxes. You sat up in bed and smiled at him as you opened the bag of crab rangoons.

“Alright, so now that we’ve got the important things out of the way,” you said, throwing your hair up in a ponytail, “Tell me everything.”

You each discussed the projects you had worked on since seeing each other last. Peter described his new friends and his proposed idea for a thesis. You got him caught up on all the drama at your work, eventually getting to what happened today with Tony.

“He’s got a new suit for me?”

“That’s what he says,” you said, using your fork to kick around the rice. Peter noticed your mood change and touched your knee.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just-” You stopped and sighed.

“You can tell me anything.”

“I know. I’ve just,” you sighed again, moving all of the food from the bed and sprawling out. Peter laughed quietly and looked down at you in confusion.

“Okay, I was still eating that,” he said as you laid your head down on his lap. He played with your hair, smiling at you. “What’s up?”

“I’ve missed you, I miss the Avengers, I miss my stupid uncle, I am getting so mad at the idiots I work with, and I am a little bit jealous that you got a new suit.”

“Well, that is a lot. But I’ll tell you what, I’m here now. As far as I’m concerned, I’m the coolest Avenger anyway,” he said, making you laugh, “And if you want a new suit, I will make you a new suit.” You reached up and cupped his cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Do you want Spider-Man to go beat those idiots you work with up?”

“So much.”

“Can I eat that food now?” he asked quietly.

“Sure, I’m just having a crisis, but by all means, eat your fucking mu-shu pork.” Peter smiled as he moved you off of his lap and onto a pillow.

“I’ve missed you so much.” You smiled, and relaxed against your pillow, you realized how tired you were. You had been bottling up so much since Peter had left, and it felt so good for him to be back and to get everything off your chest, that you expected you would sleep easy tonight.

So easy, in fact, that you didn’t even notice that you had fallen asleep. You only felt Peter tuck you in after he turned off the lights and wrapped his arms around your waist. He fell asleep next to you with a full stomach, completely satisfied.

“Pete,” you said the next morning, shaking his arm carefully. He woke up abruptly and looked at you worriedly.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you up,” you said, flashing an apologetic smile at him. He laughed and folded his pillow underneath him, looking at you.

“What’s up?”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Because it was 12:30 and you seemed exhausted.” You traced your thumb across his cheekbone and smiled.

“I had a lot more in mind for you last night.” He smirked and grabbed your hand, kissing your palm.

“No time like the present.”

“Hmm, I wish, but I’ve got to get to work. I’m needed in a board proposal meeting.”

“Can’t someone else do it?” he asked, pulling on your t-shirt.

“No, but I can probably leave early if you want.”

“I want that so much.” You smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “Can I cook you dinner?”

“Well, I think we have enough Chinese to last for four days, but sure, I would love that.”

“Perfect,” he said, kissing you once more before you got out of bed to get ready for work.

Your board room meeting went poorly. No matter what angle you could spin it, there just wasn’t enough money to fund all of the projects you wanted to get done. You slumped back to your office, wanting nothing more than to go home and be with Peter again.

You looked down at your phone and saw that you had only been here for two hours. Groaning, you decided to call Peter. His phone rang and rang, and eventually went to voicemail.

“Ugh, where are you? Call me back.” You sat in your office for another hour, still wondering why Peter hadn’t called you back when Pepper came into your office.

“Hey, Pepper,” you said, looking up from your computer with a smile. She didn’t match it. In fact, she looked incredibly upset. “What’s wrong?”

“Turn on the news.”

“What?” you asked as she grabbed a remote from your coffee table and flipped on the TV. Destruction was covering New York, and just as you thought it couldn’t get any worse, you saw Spider-Man swing past with Iron Man. “Oh my god,” you said, putting your hands over your mouth.

“I haven’t heard from Peter, but Tony went up with that spaceship.”

“Pep-”

“And I’m freaking out, too, but I need you to call Peter. See if you can get a hold of him.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” you said, shaking your head as you dialed Peter’s number again. It rang and rang, and just as you thought it was going to go to voicemail again, he picked up.

“Peter?”

“Y/N? I can’t believe I get reception out here.”

“Reception out where? Peter, where are you?” Pepper looked over at you, her face mimicking your reaction.

“Um, that big donut in the sky.”

“Get back down here.”

“I can’t, I’m helping Tony. And I know you like to boss me around when we . . . but you can’t really do that-”

“Peter! You can’t go to space.”

“I can- Stark- suit-” The rest of his conversation cut off until the phone line went dead. You put your phone down with a shaky hand.

“What’s going on? What the hell is that spaceship doing here?”

“I think I can explain that.” You looked to the door and saw Bruce Banner walk into your office.

“Bruce.”

“Hi, Y/N,” he said, smiling. You stood up and hugged him tightly.

“When did you get back?”

“Just a second ago. I called Steve. We’re meeting at the Compound? What happened to the tower?”

“Long story. Luckily, we’ve got a long drive. Pepper?”

“No, I need to start clean up around here. You two go.” You nodded and gave her your hand.

“Be safe. Keep in touch.”

“You too.”

“So this is the compound.”

“Fancy digs, huh?” Bruce smiled, but you didn’t. He looked over at you, his eyes softening.

“So that spider?”

“My boyfriend,” you said, parking your car outside of the compound.

“And you were both a part of Tony and Steve’s fight?”

“Yep.”

“I’m sorry.” You forced a smile at him and walked into the compound. Rhodey was waiting for you in the situation room and nodded at you as he finished up his phone call.

“Hey.”

“Where’s Steve?” you asked.

“On his way. You doing okay? Tony went up with that kid, right?” You nodded and flopped down into a chair in the corner. The remaining members of the Avengers were about to walk in here, who you hadn’t heard from or spoken to since the airport hangar.

“How’d it go with the secretary of state?”

“Not well,” Rhodey said, sitting down at the table. “I’ve been court marshaled.”

“Well, fate of the galaxy and all, I’m sure they’ll be forgiving.” Rhodey laughed softly and nodded his head as a noise came from down the hall. You looked over and saw Steve, Sam, Vision, Nat, and Wanda walk into the room.

“Y/N, hey,” Steve said, coming over to you and giving you an awkward hug. “Peter will be fine.”

“Thanks.”

You sat in the corner, not getting involved with the discussion. No matter what their plan was, you weren’t going to be involved with it. Even if you could turn your plates back on, you had no chance to hold up against a god-killing monster like Thanos.

“Y/N?” You looked up when Wanda said your name.

“What?”

“What do you think we should do?”

“Thanos is coming whether we like it or not. If we can get the stone out before he gets here and destroys it, then by all means.”

“That’s not a side,” Natasha said.

“Taking sides hasn’t really panned out for us, has it?” Steve set his jaw but nodded his head.

“She’s right. This is the only option we have where we can still save Vision. And I know someone who can help.”

“Who?” Bruce asked.

“King T’Challa of Wakanda.” Bruce looked like he needed to sit down from all the new information he’d received and you couldn’t blame him. “Let’s suit up. Y/N?” He nodded down the hall and you reluctantly followed after him.

“What?”

“It is really good to see you,” he said, touching your arm gently.

“You too,” you said genuinely, albeit reluctantly.

“I know I left you alone, and to make it up to you, I’ve had T’Challa’s sister whip up something for you.”

“Meaning?”

“She made you gloves that should harness your power without the plates.”

“I haven’t fought in two years.”

“No time like the end of the universe,” he said, smiling softly.

“Ah, I see you’ve picked up more jokes since you’ve been gone.” Steve smiled.

“A few.”

“Alright, well, thanks.”

“One last thing, though. You’ll need to get the plate out of your hand.”

“What, do you want me to just rip it out?”

“No. Bruce thinks he can remove it on the ride over.” There was so much to take in, but absolutely no time, so you had no choice but to agree.

“Okay.”

Within ten minutes, you all gathered the needed supplies and boarded the ship. Once it took off, you found Bruce. You smiled at him and he looked just as nervous as you.

“Have you ever performed hand surgery before?”

“No, but that’s what she’s here for.” He motioned over to Wanda as she walked into the room. “She’s going to be my hands and I’ve got this manual,” he said uncomfortably.

“Alright, what the hell,” you said, holding out your palm.

By the time you landed, you had cursed Wanda out twice, resulting in her using her skills to basically turn off your mind. Once you came to again, Bruce was bandaging up your hand.

“How’d it go?”

“Great,” Wanda said, putting her jacket back on.

“Great, thanks.”

Shuri was amazing. The first instance you met her you knew the two of you would be friends. Peter would like her even more. She was wildly intelligent, witty, and cute. She fitted a more advanced plate technology into gloves for you. When you put them on, you felt the familiar surge of power flow to your fingertips. This, combined with the power still embedded in your palms naturally, made you feel more powerful than anything you had produced on your own, or with Tony’s plates.

Steve looked at you with worry, but you nodded. Shuri was now working on removing the stone from Vision, and Thanos’s army was arriving.

“How do you feel?”

“Powerful,” you said, wiggling your fingers, making a few sparks come out. “Check it out.” You snapped your wrists and instantly two identical, sharp-edged shields appeared out of the gloves. Steve smiled and patted your shoulder as you snapped them away again.

“I also had her design a new suit for you.”

“You’re really trying to make it up to me, aren’t you?”

“I need to.”

“Thanks,” you said with a smile. One of the Wakandan guards led you down to a room where a pale purple leather jacket and black pants to match your gloves were spread out on a table. They were lined with bullet-proof fabric, but you didn’t know how that would hold up against alien technology.

“Ready?” Nat asked, stepping into the room.

“Yeah. Let’s stop this son of a bitch.”

Standing next to Natasha and Steve, you watched with the rest of the Wakandan warriors and your friends as the alien creatures ripped themselves apart trying to breach the wall. You wondered if Peter was having these same troubles as the wall opened up and you went running into the firefight.

As you ran, you snapped the shields into place and pushed one full force. It plunged into the chest of one of the aliens, dropping it to the ground immediately. You smirked and made eye contact with Steve who smiled back. You snapped another shield into place and took out all of your frustrations from the past two years on the aliens.

Over and over again, you sent shield after shield into the chests and skulls of the aggressive alien creatures, and over and over again, they kept coming. It seemed that Thanos had brought an infinite number of soldiers with him, and you were wondering how you were going to stop him. Wanda had already joined the fight, and even with one of the strongest Avengers, you didn’t know if you could defeat Thanos.

Just as this thought entered your head, thunder struck overhead, and everyone, including the aliens, turned to see the god of thunder himself strike down onto the ground, demolishing a slew of aliens. You smiled. Inspired by his action, you created a giant ball of force and sent it rolling across the field, flattening a group of aliens. Thor nodded at you, winking slightly as he went flying across the field.

Just as things were starting to turn around, you felt a disturbance in the air. You and Steve had run over to help out Vision when the unknown change occurred. You looked over at Steve and saw that he felt the same presence.

“Everybody on my position. We have incoming.”

A few moments later, a thick cloud of smoke grew before your eyes and Thanos stepped onto Wakanda. The rest of the Avengers gathered around you, and you all readied yourself to fight. Over and over your friends went after Thanos, and by some combination of his strength or the stones’, he took every single one of you out.

As he came towards you, you sent shield after shield towards him, but he waved them all away like he was swatting a fly. He jumped and was about to punch you into the ground with his massive fists as you created a force field around yourself. You held on as long as you could, you fingers straining with the weight of keeping the shield up, but eventually, he overpowered you.

It felt like all the bones in your body were broken, and too weak to move, you watched Thanos step over your body. Steve put up a valiant fight, as did Wanda, and you still carried hope as Thor plunged his ax into Thanos’s chest, but then, everything changed.

Thor screamed at Thanos as Steve came rushing forward, but the ugly purple alien disappeared right in front of your eyes. You struggled to sit up and watched your friends disappear to dust around you. You stumbled over to Steve, ignoring the pain in your body as you clung to him as the world changed forever.

“Oh god.”

Once what happened set in, you stood up and started pacing back towards the castle. If anyone could make contact with Peter, it would be Shuri.

“Y/N! Y/N, wait!”

“For what?” you shouted, looking back at Steve. Your eyes were frantically searching his. “What am I supposed to wait for?”

“I don’t know, but-” You ignored him and kept walking. Across the field, dead alien bodies laid with a few Wakandan soldiers. The ones who had survived had also dipped slowly in number with the snap.

You didn’t care what it would take. You just saw your friends vanish into thin air. Just the thought that the same thing could be happening to Peter made you breathless.

“Y/N!” Across the field, Steve was coming towards you. You didn’t stop him but didn’t tell him to go away this time, either.

“What?” you asked, still walking forcefully towards T’Challa’s home. He grabbed your arm and whipped you around so you were facing him.

“You’re not the only one suffering right now, but we have to figure out what’s happening.”

“We know what’s happening! We lost! We fucking lost!” you shouted, pressing your fingers into his chest as tears flowed from your eyes. “There’s a fifty percent chance that my boyfriend is dead. A fifty percent chance. I’m not going to sit around, crying for the lives I can’t save right now.”

“Y/N-”

“Steve! I have to know.”

“I know, I know you do,” he said, putting his hands up to calm you. “With what happened in Sokovia, if Peter really is-” You rolled your eyes and walked away. If Steve wasn’t going to take you seriously, you were going to figure things out for yourself.

“Shuri? Shuri?” you called, walking into her lab. There was only one person in the room, one of Shuri’s bodyguards, crouched down on the floor, crying softly.

“What happened?” she whispered heartbreakingly.

“Thanos,” you said, letting out a sigh. “Shuri?”

“Vanished into thin air.” You nodded and set your jaw, trying to think of another way to discover Peter’s fate.

“Fuck!” you shouted, kicking the nearest table.

“Y/N,” Steve said softly.

“Just, give me a minute. Go figure out what we do now. I’m fine,” you said firmly. He looked like he wanted to stay, but he didn’t want to argue with you anymore.

Your last hope for making contact with Peter and Tony was now gone, and the weight of what happened felt like it doubled. Even if they would have survived the snap, who knew if they had made it to that point in the first place? If they did survive, their chances for survival in space weren’t looking promising either.

On Titan, the world began to shift around Peter, too. He watched the weird girl, the big angry guy, the Footloose lover, and the magician disappear before his eyes. He felt something strange in the pit of his stomach, just as Tony’s eyes fell on him.

“Kid, don’t,” he said warningly. Peter shook his head, stumbling towards him.

“Mr. Stark? I don’t feel so good.”

“You’re alright,” Tony said, although his voice didn’t agree.

“I don’t . . . I don’t know what's happening. I don’t know,” he said, falling into Tony’s arms. Tony held him back, his heart thundering in his chest. “I don’t want to go, sir,” Peter cried, “Please. Please, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go. I have to get back to Y/N.”

“Yes, you do,” Tony said, helping him down to the ground. Peter looked into his eyes, finding similar tears in his. They both understood at this moment that they had failed and that they would never see their loved ones again. Peter stumbled over his last words.

“I’m sorry,” he said weakly, his eyes looking away emptily. In his arms, Tony watched as Peter disappeared to dust just like the rest of them. He tried to hold onto any part of him, but he was gone, and Tony was now alone in space with Nebula, with no hope of getting back to what remained Earth.

Two weeks since the snap, the world looked bleak. Power was still out in most parts of the world. Many locations still didn’t know exactly what happened and explaining it was another headache entirely. You went back to the Avengers facility with the rest of your friends, even though all you wanted to do was cry in bed.

Pepper offered all of the resources that Tony Stark could and put you in charge of divvying up what help went where. You were sure it was because Steve requested that the job be given to you to keep your mind off of Peter, but it was nice nonetheless. You got to help people all over the world, so you didn’t have to worry about helping yourself.

You arrived back at the Avengers compound late at night, ready to fall in bed and dream of Peter. As you made a bowl of popcorn in the kitchen, you saw a giant alien ship land on the yard.

“Steve? Steve!”

You raced out onto the yard, but Steve cut in front of you when he saw the shape that Tony was in. Looking pale and week, Steve went over and helped him out of the ship. It was so good to see him that for a moment you didn’t register that Peter hadn’t stepped off the ship.

“Tony,” you said softly as he came down the steps. He looked up at you but didn’t return your smile. If anything, his face saddened when he saw you. He fell in Steve’s arms, and you rushed over to help him down, along with Pepper. Even with all the love around him, Tony’s mood didn’t change as he looked at Steve.

“I lost the kid.” You took a few steps back, letting go of Tony’s arm.

“Y/N,” Steve tried gently, but you only shook your head in response.

“No, no, it’s not true,” you muttered, shaking slightly as you stepped onto the ship. The woman Tony arrived with tried to stop you, but you pushed past her. You called Peter’s name over and over, tearing apart the ship to find some trace of him until Rhodey pulled you off.

“Y/N, Y/N, hey,” he said, grabbing hold of your arms. Now that you were steadied, the loss took its full effect on you. You fell down to your knees, trying to keep your powers from shooting out like they did in Sokovia. You sobbed on the floor of the ship, finally feeling like the world had truly ended.

You waited until everyone had left you alone, and stepping onto the compound’s grounds, you let go. Even as Steve and Pepper got him away from the ship, Tony still heard your heart-shattering scream, the scream that would keep him up for the rest of his days.

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