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theshireisburning-so-mordoritis · 2 years

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I have a kind of angsty request for a din x reader if ud like it?

What if the reader maybe a hunting partner or smth avoids looking at din bc they dont like seeing their reflection (insecurities yay!) in his armour but din thinks its bc they don't like him and then somehow he finds/works it out idk

Do with it what u fancy <3

Like I See You

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Angst. Insecurities. Self-loathing. Reader spiralling. Reader's parents are arseholes. Protective Din. Soft ending.

A/N: This asks has been in my inbox for so long whilst I've figured how exactly I wanted to approach this and then whilst I re-wrote what I had about 20 times until I was finally satisfied. Shoutout to the wonderful @acourtofsnakes who read through when I wasn't sure I was doing a good job and had to put up with being sent alot of snippets along with the caption "does this make sense?" Ily my friend and I couldn't have done this without you.

It’s one of those days.

The days where your mind decides to be your worst enemy and spits insults like acid - firing up each and every insecurity you’ve ever felt in rapid succession like a never ending horror reel in your brain whilst you stare at the mirror.

And shutting your eyes doesn’t work. The image lingers - imprinted - distorted - your mind turning it to something monstrous to fit the words that blaze incriminatingly across your features.

It’s the type of day where you compare yourself to everyone that goes by even though you know you’re only feeding the parasitic thoughts behind your self loathing behaviour. But you can’t stop. You can’t snap yourself out of it with kind affirmations no matter how hard you try, mantras like I am enough - I’m perfect just the way I am - they sound weak in comparison to the other things ramming against your skull. False even.

You can’t even distract yourself with the job you’re supposed to be doing, you're that unfocused, and of course Din notices.

He noticed the moment your mood shifted, the moment your smile became a tiny, hollow thing and the wild spark of your eyes dulled. He noticed the moment your shoulders sagged as if struggling under some colossal weight and he could almost sense you shrinking into yourself, trying to make yourself appear smaller, unnoticeable to everyone including him, even as the two of you leaned side by side against the sticky bar of a run-down cantina waiting for an informant.

Din just doesn’t understand why.

You were born to burn, not fade to shadow. You burned right through him - his armour and his unimaginably high walls that he thought he would never lower for anyone until you came along and showed him it was okay to depend on another every once in a while.

Before he had loathed the idea of sharing his work with someone - his home - but then he had found you.

You, who had stunned him from the first time he warily approached you. With your sweet expression and mischievous smile - the way your eyes glittered as light bounced off the dagger that you flipped so effortlessly in your hand. You who had immediately launched into a vividly detailed plan of how you and him could slip into the bounty’s hideout and rip it apart from within from the moment he reluctantly had suggested he might need some help.

You had been glorious, destruction in your veins and blood streaked across your face - your neck - your bruised knuckles as you sunk a blade into one man's spine and twisted. Together, they had broke against the bounty’s muscle with the force of a tsunami and by the time there was no one left - no one except the cowering heap that you dropped at his feet with a warm, buttery smile - Din was fucking starstruck.

He’s remained that way ever since. His awe twisting - blooming - into something that takes his breath away even when he watches you do the most mundane things. Every move you make seems to hold a beauty to it - a whisper of power - something unique he can only ever link to you that makes his heart seize behind his ribs.

And he can’t understand why it feels like he’s now watching that flame that burns within you go out before his very own eyes. Why you’re trying to make yourself invisible and refuse to meet the dark gaze of his visor even though he knows you can sense his eyes on you.

'What’s wrong?” He prods quietly.

You sigh then, a flicker of something pained passing over your features before you can hide it. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

"You’re a terrible liar.”

"And you’re not usually this fucking nosy.” You snap, muscles tensing, still refusing to spare him even a single glance. “I said I’m fine, Mando. Drop it.”

His brow pinches in a frown, eyes narrowed to slits as he lets your sudden burst of anger crash against him. Tasting the defensiveness and frustration brushed through it. He knows this. He’s all too familiar with becoming aggravated when he doesn’t know how to get shit that’s bothering him off his chest, the way he would allow it to bleed out through rage or violence because trying to form it into words made him feel foolish.

It seems like you’re both similar in that way, maybe you don't need him trying to gently coax it out of you.

Maybe you need a fight to let it all come pouring out.

You’re furious by the time he’s dragged you into the tiny bathroom. Baring your teeth like a snarling beast as you yank your wrist from his tense grip.

The contact had thrown you. Your heart stopping before it broke out into a chaotic gallop that you could almost believe would be heard by the Mandalorian as he took an intimidating step closer.

The blank slate of his visor had bore into you and you had felt it so excruciatingly - the weight of his assessment, the crushing force of your own insecurities as he crowded you. Close enough that everything you considered a flaw was laid before his eyes in startling clarity and reflected back at you in the mirror sheen of his helmet.

It made your stomach churn, anxiety crawling through your chest, an icy hand that winds around your neck and grips tight until his sudden touch had shattered its hold.

"Come with me.” He’d growled.

And temporarily stunned, you’d gone. Stumbling to keep up as he all but dragged you away from the roaring noise of music and clashing conversations to a room so quiet you could hear your blood rushing in your ears as your surprise gave way to anger.

"What the fuck are you doing?” You hiss, ripping away from him as he slams the door closed behind him. “We’re supposed to be waiting for someone.”

You make to push past him and he doesn't budge an inch, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he looms over you. An immovable wall of solid beskar. “We’re not doing anything else for this job until you tell me what’s going on with you.”

You glare at him, fists clenched tight at your sides “I said it was nothing.”

"And like I said, you’re a fucking terrible liar.” He shoots back.

Why do you even care, you want to scream. There’s a fierce energy building inside you, the volatile kind - self-destructive - born from too many emotions spinning through your head. You try and focus on the steady drip of the faucet to will it down - counting specks of mould on the worn tiles - how many times the light can flicker in between each uncomfortable breath you take.

"It doesn’t matter.” You grit, attempting to assert some kind of authority of the situation. “All that matters is that we have a job to do and we’re wasting time.”

It doesn’t work.

"No. We’re out. I’m calling it.” He advances on you slowly, his tone creeping towards irritation at the stubbornness of your denial. “You’re too distracted, lost somewhere in your own head. You might not give a shit that it could get you killed but I do.”

Suddenly there’s a wave of tears building - burning behind your nose - those nasty little voices purring through your skull as you gape at him.

Useless.

Can’t even do the one thing he keeps you around for, your job.

Why would he ever look at you the way you wish he would when all you are is a constant hindrance to him.

And then you get defensive, that energy bursting hot and fast through your blood before you can slam it down.

"You don’t get to make that decision for me Mando.” You snarl, swatting away his outstretched hand that reaches for you when expression threatens to crumble. “Don’t! You don’t have to keep pretending you care, I know I’m dispensable, if I die you can get another partner anywhere.”

He reels back as if you’ve struck him. “You really think I’d do that?”

"Why not! It’s not like I’m special is it? There’s heaps of other hunters out there, one’s more skilled - more reliable - probably easier on the eyes too.” You laugh humourlessly, eyes stinging with salt as you begin to pace. Ignoring the gentle lilt of your name that he tries to offer as a grounding force, something to bring you back to him when you’re clearly beginning to spiral.

"Hell you could replace me right here and now if it’ll make your life easier.” You babble. “Just think of all the credits you can rake in, not having to put up with my shit anymore.”

Your breaths are starting to come quick and shallow and before you can say anything else Mando is immediately in front of you - his hands snatching at your shoulders before he drags you into a bone-crushing hug.

You struggle against it for a moment - a fighter down to the last possible second - and then you fall apart. Harsh, ugly sobs wracking your frame whilst his gloved hand smooths over your hair, his helmet pressed to your temple as he makes soft mouthed sounds to try and comfort you.

He waits until your cries quieten down, until the quake of your body lessens to a light shudder and then he tilts his head to look at you. “Look at me. Look at me - mesh’la - please.” He murmurs.

You shake your head. You don’t want to see how pathetic you look, can’t bear the thought of what will stare back at you in the reflection of his beskar.

"Please.” He repeats.

You bury your face closer into his cowl, croaking “I can’t.”

There’s a beat of silence - disrupted only by the rhythmic drip drip drip from the faucet. And then he’s sighing - a desperately sad sound that twists something vital in your chest until you're sure you’ll feel a snap.

"Can you tell me why?” He murmurs, hesitance bleeding through him as you stiffen in his arms and he swallows thickly. “It’s not just now is it, you haven’t been able to look at me in days and if it’s because of something I’ve done - if I’ve made you feel this way - then I need to know. I need to make it right, because I can’t lose you.”

Oh - oh no - he thinks it's his fault.

Your throat closes up and for a moment you feel like you could cry all over again. He carries a guilt that has never been his to bear and it wounds you in some way - that this man who has only known you for such a short time takes your happiness so personally that he would beg to right a wrong that he’s not even sure he himself had made.

He says that he can’t lose you like he refuses to entertain a scenario where you’re not by his side and you don’t even realise that you’re practically crushing him to you in another fierce embrace until you feel the gentle weight of his helmet resting against the crown of your head.

"It's not you Mando." You blurt, a soft flutter brushing through your chest when he squeezes you tight as his body sags with relief. But only seconds later he stiffens again and you know he’s heard it. The implication. It’s not you. There’s someone else.

You know he’s worked it out by the sudden change in how he holds you - the subtle shift from comforting to protective - his body all but curling around yours.

He growls. “Who.” And you shudder.

You need to explain and fast before he decides to storm out of the bathroom and track down everyone who’s come into contact with you in the past few days. This job you’ve been on had required a lot of stealth so as to not tip off your target and if you were going to pick up where you left off after everything then the last thing you needed was your Mandalorian going on a vengeful rampage.

He lets you untangle yourself from him reluctantly, follows like a shadow when you point to a spot on the floor and state lamely. “We should probably sit for this.”

You can feel his eyes on you as you slide down the wall, as you fold your legs only to stretch them out in front of you not even a moment later. He’s not stupid, you know that, you know Mando is wisely giving you the time you need - refraining from pushing whilst you try and get your head together under the guise of making yourself comfortable on the grimy floor.

When you’re as ready as you think you’ll ever be you take a deep breath to begin but suddenly find yourself hesitating.

Were you really going to tell him? Could you let every sad little truth pour from you when you've spent so long plugging it up, shoving it down. Building a damn in your mind and your heart to keep it from making a mess for those around you.

Hunters were meant to be strong - an undeniable, deadly force. They didn't do insecurities - self-doubt - weaknesses. At least that's what you'd always been told. It's the impression you got from every one you ever met, including Mando.

So how could you tell him that you were haunted by all of them. That every now and again they ripped into you and made you feel like your worth was less than nothing. How could you lay yourself emotionally bare like that and expect that he would still look at you the same after?

…Except hadn't you already? You had spiralled before his very eyes. You had screamed and cried and shattered to pieces and yet… there had been no judgement.

There had been nothing from him except comfort and patience. The press of his body against yours as he held you like you were infinitely precious - like he wished nothing more than to be a barrier against all these things he was clueless about except for the fact they were trying to hurt you.

"Did you know I always wanted to be a hunter?” You ask so suddenly that he jerks, surprised.

It makes you smile when he softly shakes his head , when he shifts from his relaxed position against the wall and tilts his body towards yours as you offer a rare glimpse into the life you had before him.

"I thought it sounded like the coolest job ever.” You recall. “Getting paid to chase down bad people and learning how to use a shit load of weapons? What more could I want? And it turned out I was good at it, better than a lot of other things I’d tried to force myself into growing up.”

He makes a soft noise of agreement - like he gets it - and your lips twitch. “When I returned home after a really long time of taking pretty much every job that came my way, I thought my parents would be proud. I thought they’d be happy I had made some kind of a life for myself and that I wasn’t struggling for money like they had worried I would when I decided to make my own way instead of relying on them.”

You close your eyes as the memory resurfaces. “They weren’t. My dad basically said I was no better than a vulture, feeding off other people’s misfortune, but my mum…”

Your voice cracks and you swallow hard, fingers picking at a still healing wound on your hand before a gloved one stops you. Silently lacing thick fingers through your own as you struggle not to sob.

“My mum told me I had ruined myself. My face and my body. I had forgotten how obsessed she could be with our family’s image and legacy until she told me that no one would want someone who was covered in scars or who’s nose or teeth weren’t perfectly straight because they’d been damaged too many times fighting with bounties."

He sucks in a breath and you can feel it. His rage.

It pours from him in waves as he visibly bristles beside you, drenching his voice when he rasps your name and you have to hurriedly continue. Shoving the rest of the story out of you because if you stop and let yourself wallow in the emotions clawing at the pair of you then you may never fully get the weight of it off your chest.

"I told her I didn’t care.” You spit. “That if my appearance bothered people that much then maybe they were the type of people I didn't want to be around. And it had been the truth, I fucking meant every word.”

"But then I started noticing the way some people would look at me, the way they’d be scrutinising my face or my hair or what I was wearing and I’d hear her voice in my head again.” You don’t realise you’ve trailed off, gone distant, until the soft pressure of Mando’s thumb drawing circles on your hand brings you back.

"I started wondering if they thought the same as her when they looked at me too and then it was like I couldn’t stop. Eventually it happened enough that when I was looking at myself, sometimes I started to think it too.”

His fingers tighten around yours, the soft, aching sigh of “Cyar’ika” slipping through the modulator wrapping around the pain in your chest.

You sniff and your voice comes out thin - watery. “There’s days where I still hear it and when I look in the mirror, or something reflective like your armour, it’s all I can see. But at least I’m still a good hunter right, I’ve got that left? Only, today I completely fucked that up too. So when I can’t look at you Mando, it’s not because you’ve done anything to hurt me or piss me off, it's because when I do, all I can see is how much I disgust myself.”

There’s silence between you as he digests everything. It stretches out and allows your thoughts to wander with it - undecided if what you feel after all that was said is relief or something else. It’s nice that you’ve been able to talk about something that has pained you for so long but now Mando has another piece of you that no one else does - the part of you that is most vulnerable - and you don’t really know what to do with that.

"They don’t deserve you.” He mutters suddenly, so quietly that you almost had to question if you’d simply been hearing things.

You frown. “Who?”

He has your hand in his lap now, cradling it in his larger one as he traces nervous patterns with the other. His voice is steady however, utterly serious. “Your parents, the people who give you those looks. Anyone who can look at you and not see how incredible you are.”

Your chest spasms and you look at him in surprise before your lips attempt to curve into a weak imitation of a smile.

"I appreciate you trying to make me feel better Mando but…”

"Don’t do that.” He chastises you gently. “Whatever voice is telling you right now that you aren’t worthy of being told what I’m about to say to you, I want you to tell it to shut the fuck up and listen to me.”

You snort and the way he tilts his helmet in your direction makes you pretty sure he’s currently got his eyes narrowed at you, an expression on his face that would probably say if you don’t listen, I’ll find a way to make you. You nod for him to continue.

"You are incredible.” He reiterates. “You chose to make something of yourself when you could have had an easy life and you fucking excelled at it. You’re one of the best hunters I’ve ever seen even on your off days and you’ve saved my ass more times than I’d like to count.”

You murmur a sly seven and quicker than you can react he pinches your thigh. A yelp bursts from your throat followed by a shaky laugh and it’s a quick reprieve from the way the pride in his voice was making your ribs constrict.

"You’re a genuinely good person, I’ve never seen you turn away a single person who’s come to you for help and you constantly go out of your way for people. Even those who probably don’t deserve it, like me.” He sees the way you open your mouth to argue and quickly holds up a hand to stop you, shrugging. “I was an asshole when we met, don't deny it.”

He had been. But you had sensed that there was something underneath it all. That there was more than met the eye when it came to this particular Mandalorian and you had been intrigued. And also right.

He shifts next to you and then there’s the brush of buttery-soft leather at your jaw. Hesitant fingertips tilting your face fully towards him as his helmet hovers just above your forehead and you gulp.

"Mando…” You whisper.

"Your mother called you ruined but that’s not what I see when I look at you.” He breathes and you tremble as he palms your cheek. “Every part of you is beautiful and there is nothing that black eyes, bruises, broken bones and scars can do to take that away. They only add to it. They prove that you’re a fucking warrior. That you’ve lived and fought and survived everything the galaxy has had to throw at you. How can your body be ruined when its remained strong and kept you alive despite the hell you’ve been through?”

Something breaks inside you - you’re crying and you don’t even realise it until Mando’s other hand leaves yours to gently swipe away the tears with both thumbs.

It’s the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to you and it seems to highlight the fucking number that those words from your mother have done on you - the fact that you have no idea how to take what Mando has said. How you're supposed to believe it.

But you want to.

You desperately want to believe it so you can drown out the poison in your head with it. Take all those pretty words and lock them safe in your heart for when you next need them.

And unsurprisingly, thanks to how adept you've become at reading the other, Mando instantly catches on to your internal struggle.

"You don't have to believe me right now." He tells you softly. "I know it won't magically make everything go away and you'll suddenly see yourself the way I see you."

He leans back and pulls you with him, tugging you into his chest - the cold kiss of beskar soothing beneath your tear-stained cheeks - as his arms wrap around your shoulders and waist. His chin notched at your crown and the venomous voice in your mind more quiet than it had been in days as you eased into his comfort.

"But one day you will and until that happens I'll gladly be there to remind you as many times as you need me to."

You choose to believe that, a hopeful smile tugging at your lips as you lift your head from its place buried in his neck, to place a soft kiss to the cheek of helmet and whisper. "Thank you Mando."

You choose to believe that you'll always have him by your side. That the ugly words staining your memories will fade eventually.

That one day you'll see yourself as the warrior you've always been.

And for now that's enough.

Main taglist: @autumnleaves1991-blog @ecuadorlady @readsalot73 @acourtofsnakes @justanotherblonde23 @tiffanyblew @alexmarie29 @simsiddy @dihra-vesa @gingerbreadandpaper @sleep-tight1 @prettylilhalforc @mstgsmy @wildmoonflower

Pedro Taglist: @outlawedmando

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fanfic #pedro pascal character fic

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kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

department of matchmaking || s.r

summary: in which you’re asked by aunt may to babysit peter while she’s away at a business conference & steve tags along. peter, being the innocent smol bean he is, tries to get you and the Captain together.

words: ~3.1k

warnings: none, just fluff & a little matchmaking spider-man :) and OH steve’s blue jacket heheh. tony’s your dad in this oop cant resist a stark child. shhh CW never happened bc i’m still in denial

Peter: Aunt May says she has a couple errands to run so she won't be back until later this afternoon. Can you pick me up? School just ended.

You: Of course!

Peter: Ned and I are planning on building the Lego Death Star tonight. I know you're a sucker for building stuff :)

You: You know me so well, kiddo. I'm definitely in. How could I miss out on our weekly date nights?

Peter: You're the best! See you soon

You: See you!

"Where are you going?"

"May's busy, so I gotta go pick Peter up from school," you explained to Steve as you slung your purse over your shoulder and grabbed the keys to your (Tony's) Audi, sliding your sunglasses on. "We're having one of our weekly Friday movie nights, and he and Ned just got a new Lego set that they want me to help construct. You wanna come along?"

"Sure, I don't mind."

You headed outside to the car together, sticking the keys into the ignition as Steve slid in next to you in the passenger's seat. "I hope you don't have anything else planned for the rest of tonight. We might be there for a while...I know we were gonna see that new action movie in theaters tomorrow. I'm sorry."

"Nope, no plans," he smiled, "I'm free for the rest of this weekend. As long as I get to spend time with you, it's okay."

You couldn't help but feel your heart flutter a bit at his words.

But you quickly brushed the thought off, knowing the last thing you were supposed to do was fall for someone after you'd just gotten over a nasty breakup.

Soon enough, you pulled up in front of Midtown High School and saw Peter standing with Ned by the curb. You rolled the window down and called out to them. "Hey, boys. Need a ride?"

"My favorite Avenger! Hi!" Ned greeted as he and Peter got into the backseat, strapping their seatbelts on.

"Ouch, I'm offended," Steve placed a hand over his chest and pretended to look hurt. "I thought I was your favorite?"

"Captain America! It's an honor!" he exclaimed. "I've heard so much about you from Peter!"

"Oh, really? I hope he only told you good things?" the super-soldier chuckled.

"Yup!"

"So, how was school?" you glanced back at the two teenagers from the rearview mirror. "Anything interesting happen?"

"No, except they actually served something edible in the cafeteria for lunch today," Peter rolled his eyes. "Which is a first."

You sighed, placing your hand back on the wheel, "School food isn't the best thing ever."

"So uh, I have a question," Ned spoke up as you headed down the street, "are you and Y/N a...thing? ‘Cause I hear a lot of fans are speculating that the kickass agent and America’s golden boy are dating."

"What? No," you and Steve replied in unison, exchanging a knowing look before bursting into laughter. "No."

"Okay..."

It was mostly quiet for the rest of the car ride back to the apartment. Peter pulled out the keys from his jacket pocket and slid it in the lock, pushing the door open and gesturing for the rest of you to come inside.

"So," he breathed out, setting his backpack down by the front door and dusting his hands off. You sat around the sofa together, glancing at the massive Lego set on the coffee table. "Here it is, in all its glory."

"How many pieces is this?" Steve questioned, looking at it in shock.

"Almost 4000."

A buzzing sound from his phone made Peter look down, swiping a few times before unlocking it and scanning over the new notification.

"May has an overnight business conference and she won't be back until tomorrow evening. She wants you to babysit," he explained as he looked up at you.

"Fine by me," you shrugged. "Cap?"

"Sure, why not."

"But I'm 15 and 8 months! I'm not a baby."

"Well, kiddo, I'm 28 and Tony treats me like a baby even though I’m not a baby anymore. Steve's going on 32, and acts like he's 12."

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do."

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do."

"Arguing like a married couple," Peter coughed, and Ned wiggled his eyebrows up and down. "Cute."

"For the last time, we're not a thing," you let out an exasperated sigh, but felt a blush creep up your cheeks as you spoke.

Two hours later you were a little over halfway done with building the Death Star, and fatigue was beginning to catch up with you after you neglected your sleep schedule and pulled three all-nighters in a row bingeing Netflix with Sam.

You let out a yawn as you flipped through the instructions pamphlet, stretching your arms up in the air.

"You tired?" Steve asked. You were too tired to respond, simply leaning into him and closing your eyes.

"You can take her to the guest room. Straight down the hall, then turn right," Peter said as he noticed you'd now fallen asleep on him. "We can continue this after dinner."

Steve scooped you up into his strong arms and carried you down the hall, pushing the door to the guest room open with one hand before carefully setting you down on the bed, tucking you in.

"Sleep tight," he whispered, a ghost of a smile on his face as he leaned down to kiss your forehead and left.

"Ahem. Now that she's gone," Ned cleared his throat, "time to plan on how we're supposed to get our OTP together!"

"Ned, really-"

"You should ask her out, Cap. I see the way you look at her," Peter raised an eyebrow at him, "I mean, it's clear to everyone how you feel about her, and the way she feels about you. Sam sees it, Mr. Stark sees it, heck, I think May has her suspicions as well because she wouldn't stop talking about how great of a couple you two would be over dinner last night-"

"Look, Peter, I don't think she's ready for a relationship."

"Why not?"

"She just broke up with her boyfriend two months ago. I doubt she'd be willing to date again."

"But you're her best friend! You're literally the perfect man for her!"

"It doesn't matter. I'm not taking advantage of someone when they're vulnerable. That isn't right."

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and kicking his feet up against the coffee table, tossing a spare Lego piece up and down in one hand. "Yeah, I totally believe the great Captain America isn't in love with the great Y/N."

"She's my friend. A teammate."

"Friends with benefits!" Ned chimed in. Steve made a face at this. "No, not like that. I mean that as in, you guys do all the things that regular couples do, except you're not officially a couple. And I think that's big enough of an indication that you should get together for real."

"I'm just waiting for the right time."

"AHA!" both boys shouted. "So you are in love with her!"

"Keep it down!" he scolded. "She's asleep!"

"You didn't deny it this time..."

"Fine, whatever. What do you guys want for dinner? I'll go pick it up."

"Pizza."

"If Y/N asks where I am, just tell her I went to go get the food."

"Okay."

As soon as the door shut behind Steve, Peter and Ned's heads immediately whipped over and they faced each other, exchanging evil grins.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Ned practically squealed.

"Yeah, I'm thinking what you're thinking!"

"Romantic dinner and movie night setup!" both boys whooped and hollered.

"I'll light the candles and get the napkins. May always keeps a stock of scented ones when Y/N comes over because she loves the smell of cherry blossoms."

"...I'll grab the rose petals and tablecloth."

"Rose petals?"

"Mind if I tear apart the flower on your desk?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead. Also, the regular tall candles are in the cabinet below the sink in the bathroom."

"Yessir."

Twenty minutes later, Steve came back with the pizza in hand, setting the keys on the counter and closing the door, stopping dead in his tracks as he observed the scene before him.

"What is going on?"

"We set up a date night for you two because we know you've been working hard this past week and deserved to relax," Peter explained happily. "So, here you go!"

"Peter," Steve sighed, rubbing his forehead, "I appreciate your effort, but Y/N isn't ready for a relationship and neither one of us has feelings for the other."

"But you guys deserve a break! After working nonstop you should at least rest or something."

"Alright, alright. I'll go get Y/N. You guys set the pizza on the plates for everyone, okay?"

"Got it."

You yawned and rubbed your eyes, then stretched your arms up into the air, skidding to a halt as you observed the sight before you.

“Wh...what’s going on?”

Peter and Ned grinned from where they sat on the couch, paper plates on their laps. “We thought you deserved a nice break, so we set up a little something for you guys!”

“A romantic dinner? Why...”

"It looks pretty and gives off a relaxing mood. Why else?” Peter laughed nervously. “Now eat!”

“Okay...” you started growing suspicious, but didn’t question it, “alright, then.”

You fell into an awkward silence after that, aside from the occasional sound of silverware clinking against plates and drink glasses being set back down on the table. The atmosphere felt heavier than before and you couldn’t help but wonder what it was.

“So, uh...how have you been holding up?” Steve asked you tentatively. He knew the topic of your ex-boyfriend was still that of a rather sensitive one - you’d come storming through the elevator doors and gulped down half a bottle of vodka (you never drank, so this had everyone genuinely worried), before heading upstairs and taking a forty-five minute shower, then afterwards, proceeded to lock yourself in your room for the rest of the afternoon.

When you wouldn’t come down for dinner, he had to carry up your food to you and when you refused to eat, he was the one to force-feed you. When you suddenly broke down sobbing when he asked you if you were alright, he was the one who held you in your arms. He was the one who got you out of bed to bring you downstairs for some fresh air and to interact with the others, and not once during the time he was having to take care of you for, did he question any of your behavior. You were hurting and that was all that mattered. If you were hurting, he was hurting, too.

“It’s been a rough eight weeks...” you sighed, rubbing your forehead with one hand as you took a sip of wine. “Could be better, but...I’m alright. I just wish I could’ve seen that coming from the moment I went on that blind date with him.”

“What do you mean?” Steve was confused - you’d never mentioned any details of your relationship, you were a very private person, for that matter. You rarely ever opened up to anyone. “I thought you were...”

“Happy? Hell no, I don’t even know why I stayed,” you scoffed as you took another swing of your drink. “It was so easy to fall into a routine. There was this gaping hole in my heart, and...I needed it to be filled somehow. Then Agent Williams comes along, a seemingly perfect new SHIELD recruit, almost everything a girl could possibly want in a man standing right in front of me...how could I not fall for his façade? I didn’t realize it was doomed from the start until about a week into the relationship...but I held my tongue. I knew if I dared to speak up against him, he’d somehow manage to use my words against me, twist everything I said into a whole new lie...he manipulated me, day after day...yet I still didn’t leave because I genuinely believed he’d change.

“But I was wrong. I was naïve, I stayed because I was so desperate to experience true happiness that I went as far as to stay with someone I knew would do a number on my mental health in the long run. I shouldn’t have been surprised when I walked into HQs one day to drop stuff of for Coulson, to see Williams on top of someone else...in the gym. In the gym...of all places. I only didn’t blast him because I didn’t want to destroy Fury’s property. So I slapped him and left. That’s it. This whole...fling, or whatever the hell you want to call this shitty relationship, lasted only twenty-six days before everything fell apart. God, I’m so stupid - I should’ve known. I was so stupid, I’m such a horrible person for doing what-”

Steve felt his blood boil with anger. Williams had cheated on you - that’s why you’d broken up. All this time he’d been thinking that you simply fell out of love, or maybe ended it on friendlier terms - when in fact, it was anything but.

Nobody deserved to be treated this way, especially you. I could treat you much better, he thought to himself.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly, reaching a hand up to wipe the stray tears that fell from your eyes. Instead of letting his hand fall back at his side right away, he let it linger there for a moment, gently stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. The feeling sent electricity up his fingers. “It’s not your fault. You’re not a bad person...he is.”

“Shit, I think our plan’s backfiring,” Peter hissed into Ned’s ear as they watched the scene unfold from the couch. “What the fuck, Ned!”

“Shh! Hold on, they’re having a really deep conversation. Let them be for a second.”

“I was stupid enough to stay, when he was giving off all the wrong signs...I should’ve listened to Tony and Nat. They knew. They knew from the moment we first got together, but I didn’t listen...”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know any better,” he reassured you, absentmindedly taking your hand in his and rubbing circles across your palm, “you just wanted to be happy. To experience that feeling that came along with being in a relationship. Frankly, I think I would’ve done the same thing.”

“And what makes me feel even worse,” your voice caught in your throat as you spoke, “...were my true intentions of staying. I wanted to be happy, I really did. But I realized I’d never achieve that with someone like him...in a way, I was using him too, I guess. Not for my personal gain or anything, not to boost my social status, like he did...he always made a point of walking around and declaring that he had an Avenger girlfriend. But...”

“But what?”

“I knew if I was in a relationship with someone, that’d prevent me from thinking about being with anyone else. Well...that plan failed...horribly.”

“...What are you saying?”

“Of course, I didn’t figure that out until not long ago...but yeah. The heart wants what it wants...and it didn’t want him.”

“Then who was it?”

Your gaze flickered down to your now-intertwined fingers. You hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “...I think you know who it is, Steve.”

“See!” Ned kicked Peter in the shin as he was in the middle of finishing off his second slice, and he winced. “It’s getting saucy!”

“Ow!”

“I think we both know,” Steve murmured.

You let out a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a sob. “I don’t know why I tried pursuing a relationship that wouldn’t fulfill me in the long run. I should’ve known it was you all along, huh? You know me like the back of your hand. For Odin’s sake, you remembered every detail of my SHIELD file, my favorite color, my exact birth date, everything there is to know about me. It’s always been you-”

“...It broke my heart to see you with someone who wasn’t me,” he said quietly.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to feel like I was meddling in your love life. I know you hate it when people do that.”

“Steve-”

“I knew you weren’t as happy as you let on. I shouldn’t have stayed silent...I should’ve at least said something. I was terrified to speak up, thinking that you wouldn’t reciprocate my feelings-”

“You...you what?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly, “I’m in love with you.”

Peter let out a squeak. Ned chucked a pillow at him, a giddy look on his face.

“Good news,” you laughed, “because I’m in love with you too.”

“FINALLY!” Ned whooped, unable to contain his excitement for any longer. He and Peter exchanged a fist-bump. “FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY! I can’t believe our ship finally sailed! Though I gotta be honest, I had no idea pizza could bring out people’s true feelings like that.”

“We’re geniuses!” Peter squealed, pulling out his phone.. “Oh, wait until Mr. Stark hears about this!”

Your eyes widened in realization. “Peter, don’t you dare c-”

Too late. A buzzing sound came from your phone, alerting you of a new notification, and you unlocked it to see a text from your father.

Mr. Stank😡: Took you long enough, honey. I expect a grandchild soon.

Mr. Stank😡: But I’m gonna be honest, I wouldn’t want any other man for you than Capsicle himself.

You let out a loud groan, shoving your phone back into your purse. “Oh, come on.”

A buzzing sound came from Steve’s phone as well, and he took it out of his pocket to take a look.

Stark: You better not knock her up until after you get married and then leave. I learned that lesson too late. I’m being serious when I’m telling you to treat her right - she hasn’t been the same since her mother walked out all those years ago. You make her happy, though, so I won’t try to intervene.

Stark: But if you hurt her in any way, I’ll break your face. Capiche?

Steve: ...Capiche.

“Ooh! I just got a promotion for telling him about you guys!” Peter clasped his hands together. “I’m joining you on your next group mission!”

“That’s great, Peter!” you congratulated, “but...why would he give you a promotion for...this?”

“Because he’s been waiting for this to happen for the longest time! Oh and also, your food’s getting cold.”

“We could just reheat it. Or...if you guys are still hungry, do you want to go to Olive Garden?” Steve looked over at the two teenage boys.

“YES.”

“Y/N, what about you?”

“It’s a date,” you winked. You let out a small laugh upon seeing his cheeks flush red.

#avengers imagines #steve rogers x reader #avengers x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers one shot #captain america one shot #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you

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bwemph · 4 years

Text

Secrets

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Request: @cherrykarts Could I get a Peter Parker x shy reader where Pete breaks things off bc he doesn’t want to see her hurt, but when he goes to the avengers tower it turns out she’s an avenger and she’s crying and stuff with Wanda and fluffy happy end? Idk

Word count: 2,400

Summary: After breaking up with Peter, you go to Wanda for comfort. When Peter shows up at the Compound unexpectedly, it turns out you both have secrets to share.

Warnings: Mild angst, light swearing, Peter being an absolute dork :)

A/N: This is a fic from my old blog Purpleocity. All future fics will be posted here at bwemph :)

“I just…I don’t think this is going to work.”

Your heart dropped, tears already threatening to spill over. Your brows furrowed. Why was Peter being like this? You two had been together for six months now. What changed? Everything was fine until just recently. He got that “Stark Internship” and he started acting all strange, now he’s breaking up with you out of nowhere? It just didn’t make sense.

“Peter, what do you mean ‘this isn’t going to work’?” Your voice shook a little as your crossed your arms. You leaned back against his wall, sinking a little further into his mattress. Your thoughts raced back through everything you could have done wrong, but it was all little stuff. Things that shouldn’t have mattered. You thought everything was going fine between the two of you.

“It’s just…It’s really complicated.” He reached out to you in order to take your hand, but you pulled it away, your vision blurring with tears. You bit your lip to keep back the sob that hitched your breath.

You shook your head. “’It’s complicated’? What’s gotten into you?” You asked as you stood up. He stood to meet you. “You’ve been acting so weird lately. You’re always disappearing. And you’ve been at least ten minutes late to almost every single one of our dates in the last month!” He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “Just the other day I came over after school like you asked me to and you weren’t even here. Aunt May said she didn’t know where you were either. What, is there someone else? Are you…” You faltered a little, your heart dropping even further. You didn’t even want to say it for fear of the answer being yes, “…are you cheating on me?”

“Y/n, please just let me explain.” He took your hand again. You shirked away as he tried to hug you. You turned away, watching his reflection in the mirror with stone cold eyes. Your phone buzzed, and you glanced down.

Tony Stark: We’ve got a situation. Get here as soon as you can.

You cursed under your breath, looking back up at Peter. “I have to go.” You pushed past him.

“Wha- Y/n, please,” he practically begged, reluctantly letting go of your hand as you crossed the room to open his door. “Don’t go.”

“I gotta. I’ll–I’ll see you at school.”

You closed his door behind yourself a little harder than you’d intended, lowering your head as you made for the apartment door.

“You’re not staying for dinner?” May asked as she looked up from a mixing bowl. “I’m making your favorite cookies for desert.” She nodded toward the cookies in the oven. They almost tempted you.

You sniffed, quickly drying a few rebellious tears before turning to her. “I, uh, I have to be somewhere. Thanks, though. Maybe another time.” You mustered a smile and picked up your backpack, slipping your shoes on.

“Is everything okay?”

You sighed. “Probably not, but don’t worry about it. It’ll be alright. See ya, May.” With a wave, you left before she could further question you. You made for the Compound as quick as you could, though you had some down time in the back of the car before you got there. You allowed a few silent tears to fall, holding back the real deal for later as not to make things awkward for the chauffeur. You scrolled through your pictures on your phone, still unable to wrap your head around the situation. You half hoped this was maybe just a bad dream. You dried with your hoodie sleeve another tear that dropped onto your phone screen.

When you arrived, Tony was already standing outside to meet you. He walked you inside. “Well, I needed you in the moment,” he explained, “but we got it handled before you showed up.”

You shrugged one shoulder, putting a hand in your pocket. “Sorry. I got here as quick as I could.”

He clapped you on the back for reassurance. “Don’t worry about it, kid.” He paused, removing his glasses and moving to stand in front of you. “You okay?” His hand remained on your shoulder.

You forgot you’d worn mascara that day, which was probably smeared and streaking your face at this point. You sighed, shrugging. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just boy trouble.”

Tony gave a sympathetic look. “Boys are literally the scum of the earth.” He took a moment to snarl at the thought of whoever had hurt you. “Whoever he is, he’s a douchebag. Let me know if I have to hit him.”

You laughed softly. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.” He winked in response. You sniffled again. “Is Wanda here?”

Tony nodded. “Up in her room.”

You wasted no time as you hurried up to her room.You weren’t sure how much longer any more tears could remain unshed.

You hovered in her doorway, making sure she was alone. She sat on her bed, plucking her guitar. She hummed a soft melody and took notes on whatever little riff she just made up. Her eyes lit up when she looked up and saw you. She set the guitar back in its stand and ran to hug you.

“Y/n! What are you doing here?” She pulled away and her smile vanished in an instant. “What’s wrong?” She touched your arm in an attempt to comfort whatever was bothering you.

“Do you have any makeup remover?” you asked, breathing a laugh as you assumed you were a mess. You glanced down at your phone when it vibrated, but you ignored it.

“Yeah, yeah, come here.” She led you to the bathroom and handed you a container of makeup wipes. You looked in the mirror, somewhat amused despite your broken heart. You started with your eyes. “What happened?” Wanda asked, hovering close to your side.

You removed the makeup from your other eye before answering. “Peter broke up with me.” You choked up, biting your lips. You didn’t want to cry again. He’s just a stupid boy. Why did it matter?

He wasn’t just a stupid boy, that’s why it mattered; this was Peter.

Wanda gasped, pulling you into a hug as your tears started flowing again. “Why? What happened?”

You hid your face, your voice muffled by her red sweater, which was now gaining dark splotched from yourr tears. “I think he was cheating on me.”

She gave a hum of disapproval, leading you to sit down on her bed. You proceeded to explain everything that pointed toward his disloyalty: his weird absences, being late or sometimes not showing up at all to dates or when you were supposed to hang out, and how weird he’d act when you asked where he was. You shouldn’t have let it go so easily. You knew something was up and shouldn’t have ignored it. She listened to you vent for the next while, comforting you where she saw fit.

- - -

“Peter, dinner is ready,” May called softly as she poked her head into Peter’s room. He looked up from his phone, sending you numerous text messages. You didn’t reply to any of them. “Is everything okay? Y/n looked upset when she left.”

Peter dropped his head again, letting his phone fall onto his bed. “Uh, no, not really.”

“Why don’t you come talk about it over dinner, then?” May offered, gesturing for him to follow her. They sat at the table together. Peter explained what was up, poking at his spaghetti absentmindedly, but eating very little.

He wanted to protect you. Now that he was Spiderman, everyone he knew and loved would be in danger. He wanted to keep you safe most of all. He cared about you so much, and he regretted every time he had to take a raincheck or be late to see you. He always wanted to be around you, but saving the world would make that hard. Villains kidnapping or killing you would make that even harder, so he decided to break things off in order to keep you safe.

“I understand why you did that, but there’s plenty of other things you could do to protect her. You didn’t have to break up with her,” May said, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “Are you going to eat?

He sighed and shook his, the corners of his mouth being tugged down. “I screwed it up now. I don’t think I can get her back.”

Before May could say anything, Peter heard his special ringtone he had set for Happy. His eyes widened and he stood and scrambled to his room.

“Hello? Hi, yeah. It’s Peter.”

“You’re late for your training session, Peter. I’ve been out here for twenty minutes!” Happy snapped over the line.

A hand went to his forehead and he rushed to grab his things. “Shit! I’m so sorry, Happy. I’ll be out in a minute.” He rushed to throw the rest of his things he needed into his backpack and swiped a handful of cookies from the jar as he rushed out the door. “Sorry, Aunt May,” he mumbled around his mouthful of cookie. “I had to be at the Compound like a half hour ago! Bye, love you!”

He rushed out to the car where Happy stood, his arms crossed and a glare set deep in his features. Peter got in and said nothing on the way to the compound. Happy didn’t ask. In fact, he reveled in the fact that Peter shut up for once.

- - -

Sweaty and exhausted, Peter left the training room. The personal trainer worked him harder than usual today, probably because he was late. He stumbled out of the training room and into the common area, chugging a glass of water.

“Peter?” you said, eyes wide. He startled, fumbling with the glass. “What the hell are you doing here?” You dropped the apple slice you were holding into the bowl of caramel as you stood. Wanda eyed both of you, looking very confused.

“Wait a minute, that’s Peter?” she said with her brow furrowed.

“You two know each other?” Peter asked, pointing between the two of you.

You put your hands on your hips. “I asked my question first.” Your voice was a little too calm to be okay with the current situation. He crossed to meet you, rubbing his hands together nervously.

“Well, uh…” He glanced between the two of you. “I’m kinda an Avenger?”

You furrowed your brow. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You threw your hands in the air with exasperation.

He stuttered as he gestured between you and Wanda. “Well why didn’t you tell me?” he asked you, equally as irritated. “It’s what I was going to tell you! I’m freaking Spiderman!”

You were taken aback, and you hugged yourself, unsure what to think. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind. Peter was the Spiderman? Since when? You thought he’d just been working out, not suddenly training as a superhero! You looked to Wanda, who seemed about as confused as you were. “Well then I guess we have to work on our communication skills…” you said eventually, your tension easing.

Peter laughed a little. “Yeah…” he sighed and reached out to take your hand. “Look, I know I probably screwed up any chance I had with you, but am I allowed to take back what I said before? I didn’t really mean it when I said things weren’t working out…I lied. Sorry.”

Your shoulders relaxed further. You felt a little embarrassed. “Well I haven’t exactly been honest with you either.”

Peter laughed a little, stroking your knuckles with his thumb. “It’s okay. Since we’re telling each other our darkest secrets right now, can I tell you something else?”

“Hit me.”

He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Things were actually going better than great…yknow, with us. They’re amazing. And like, you’re amazing. And I’m so sorry I’m always late and disappearing and I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.” He looked at his feet for a bit, shame curving his features into a bit of a pout. He glanced back up at you, his puppy dog eyes begging for forgiveness already. “But like, I really love spending time with you and Aunt May loves you and I…” he faltered again, “I love you, yknow?”

You smiled, taking his other hand. “I’m an idiot too, so it’s okay. And,” you stood closer to him, “I love you too.” You leaned in to kiss him, but Wanda cleared her throat, reminding you of her presence. You pursed your lips, your face warming a little with embarrassment.

She picked up the tray of caramel and apples. “I’ll just put these away,” she said, hurrying to put them away and leaving you two alone.

“I’m all sweaty and gross. Sorry.” Peter said before you silenced him with a kiss. It didn’t stop you from pulling him close.

When you broke away, you murmured, “It doesn’t bother me.” You ran a hand down his arm, entwining your fingers again, but remaining close. “Stop apologizing. It’s really okay,” you giggled.

“Sorry–Er, I mean…” He laughed, pecking another kiss to your lips. He smiled brightly, startling a little as Tony entered the room. It seemed that everyone needed to know now.

He froze, his glasses coming off again. “Wait, this is the douchebag?” he asked, unsure he was actually seeing the two of you together like this. “And why are you smooching him? I thought he was giving you trouble?” He pointed at you. “Were you giving her trouble, Parker?”

“No, Mr. Stark,” Peter assured. “It was a misunderstanding. I think we’re good now.” He looked back at you, and you nodded in agreement. You tried to contain your smile.

He squinted, turning with a shrug and going the other way, dropping whatever his previous task was.

“Wanna go get ice cream?” you asked.

Peter smiled. “I like the sound of that. But can I take a shower first?”

You nodded. “You do that, Spidey.”

He dropped his head with a laugh. “That’s cute.”

“What? Spidey?”

“Heh, yeah.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #tom holland #marvel #mcu #reader insert #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #avengers #the avengers

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tintinwrites · 4 years

Text

out of my dreams | Modern!Poe Dameron x Fem!Reader | Part One

A/N: Hey ladies and gents if you ever get married definitely make sure your wedding night is worth 2.5k words alright

Rating: M

Warning: Smut 18+. Naughty words. Age gap relationship bc they’re adults and love is love is love is love.

Word count: 2,537, apparently!!

Summary: It’s the night of your and Poe’s wedding, and you agreed not to have sex for the week leading up to it.

GIF credit: realoscarisaac

---------------------------

You’d been staring at yourself in the mirror for quite a bit despite having told Poe you only needed a minute to ‘slip into something way less comfortable’.

Was the underwire and sparkling lace poking and scratching at you? Sure, but you had specifically picked this white, glittering number out at a fairly expensive store and you were glad that you did.

You looked damn good.

It wasn’t the first time you’d bought lingerie to wear in the bedroom, but usually it was a little nightgown you picked up for fifteen bucks while buying other things or a pair of skimpy panties you knew would be appreciated for the millisecond they stayed on you.

But this...you decided on the color white as if the traditional color was meant to extend into the wedding night, a bra and underwear set with little lace details stitched onto the shimmering fabric.

You didn’t know if it was conceited of you to think that you looked quite ethereal; you ultimately concluded that women were allowed to think they were hot when they did.

Your breasts had never looked perkier and you looked pretty bangable if you did say so yourself in the lace panties and stockings with the garters that had taken you several minutes to figure out.

And with the price, and the work to put it on, and how attractive you found yourself, you really hoped Poe would like it.

You knew he would, yet you were almost nervous for some reason.

It wasn’t the first time you bought lingerie and it definitely wasn’t the first time you were going to have sex with Poe, and a lot of people who already had sex with each other usually didn’t care about their wedding night and would instead drink until the wee hours of the morning with all their wedding guests.

You and Poe, however, hadn’t had sex in about a week.

And you craved it.

Your first deal you made was to wait a month with no sex to make your wedding night all the more special.

Then you rode Poe as he laid back against the pillows looking at you with admiration that night.

Then you agreed to three weeks and Poe returned home from work saying how he’d been thinking about eating you out which you simply couldn’t decline.

Then you agreed to two week which might’ve worked if you didn’t beg your fiance to — and you could quote this word for word — ‘rail me against the counter until I’m screaming for you’.

Then you agreed to one week and you managed to keep your hands off each other with a lot of self-control.

People were usually surprised when they found out you two had been together for a couple years already with how much you were still into each other.

Some people who’d known you since you got together still disapproved of you being together.

You’d been fresh out of college and working at a coffee shop while you looked for a job when you met Poe, a test pilot who was almost ten years out of college.

How were you supposed to turn the guy down when he looked like that and he was genuinely good and he revealed to you on your first date that he came into your coffee shop every morning even though it was out of the way of his work?

You loved each other and that was the only thing that mattered, and anyone who disagreed could go be bitter somewhere outside of your lives.

“Mrs. Dameron,” Poe sang from outside the door.

“Sorry, babe.” You looked yourself over one more time then opened the door, stepping into your bedroom.

“—fuck.”

“You like it?”

Poe’s answer was to caress your hips and pull you against him, kissing you deeply.

Your hands slid up his chest to find that his suit jacket was off and his collar was hanging open since he’d taken his tie off and undone the first button of his shirt. You gripped his shoulders, nuzzling his jaw as he broke the kiss. “Are you a virgin?” You whispered.

He huffed a laugh, reaching up to snap the stark white strap of your bra against your shoulder.

“I thought you were the virgin.”

“White doesn’t mean you’re a virgin anymore.”

“That reminds me, I don’t think I told you how beautiful you looked today in your dress.”

“Yes, you did.”

When you stood in front of him as tears fell down his cheeks, during the reading of your vows, once you kissed for the first time as husband and wife, taking pictures in between the ceremony and the reception, sitting by you at your reserved table, cutting the cake together, in the car on the way back to your apartment that night, and he told you again as you were going to change out of your dress into your lingerie.

Poe wasn’t ashamed of how many times he told you how gorgeous he found you, changing the subject by sweeping you into his arms and making you yelp as you were gently flung onto the bed.

You were quickly giggling when Poe snapped off the garters and kissed over each thigh as he dragged your stockings down your legs. “These are sexy, but they’re another thing I have to take off you and I’m gonna have to request no more stockings.”

Once they were off, he moved over you and began peppering kisses from your jaw to the tops of your breasts that were spilling out of your bra.

“What would you have preferred I—oh—preferred I wore?” You happily laid there to let Poe move you around, unclipping your bra and pulling it down your arms.

“No, no, I didn’t mean that. You picked something perfect.” His kisses continued down your body.

“I think you’d say that if I’d walked in here wearing only a lacy thong.”

Poe’s fingers were hooked into your underwear and he paused his pursuit of dragging them down your thighs to look at you with a dark gaze. “Promise me I might come home to you in nothing but a lacy thong.”

You hummed, gently scratching his head with the fancy fake nails you’d been convinced to get for your wedding. He leaned into your touch until your panties and garters reached your knees, and he had to move away to pull them down off your ankles.

He parted your thighs to look appreciatively between your legs. “I’ve missed you, baby.”

Now you shoved his head playfully and shook your head at his antics.

“I did! I’ve been thinking about this tight, warm home of mine all week.” He pulled away with exaggerated sadness in his eyes that made you giggle, unbuttoning his shirt fully.

“You’re stupid.” Your horny tone did not match your words as you watched him remove his shirt then undo his pants.

“Am I? Because I know you like I know the back of my hand, sweetheart. And I know what your eyes do when…” He eased his pants and underwear down to let his hardening cock spring free, and your eyes practically glazed over with arousal as he knew they would.

“Not my fault you have the prettiest dick in the whole world,” you whined, sitting up and beckoning him over.

He obliged you without a single complaint, sitting on the bed and tugging you by your hips to pull you into his lap. Your hands went to his hair as you kissed him deeply, pushing your tongue into his mouth much to his delight.

But he pulled away to start pressing slow, marking kisses down your neck, taking one of your nipples into his mouth when his lips reached your breasts and sucking on it.

Poe loved your tits.

And your ass...and your pussy.

Come to think of it now, there wasn’t a part of you that he didn’t practically adore; he loved you from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet.

You loved every bit of him the same.

...but his ass was really the cutest and probably one of your favorite parts of him — if not the favorite.

Your nails raked through the hair at the nape of his neck then your wrists fell loosely to his shoulders, something to hold onto as you arched your breasts closer to the attention that was going straight to your needy clit.

He moved to your other breast and very gently bit down on your nipple, smirking against you when your hips rolled against his in pleasure.

You sat there for a few moments with his mouth working on your breasts as you grinded on top of him, both of you working each other up and moaning with each jolt, then his lips made their way back up to yours.

Alternating between your lips and your jaw, he mumbled against the latter softly.

“Position?”

“Everyone says missionary is really boring, but I love it when you’re on top. Please?”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to beg me for anything. Aside from occasional orgasms. Not on our wedding night, though.”

“I want to be close to you. If that makes sense.”

He laid you back against the pillows, moving over you to lay between your legs. “Perfect sense.”

Your arms went around his shoulders and your legs around his waist where you let your heels push against his ass to squeeze him closer, bucking your hips slightly.

“I’m guessing you’re ready,” he laughed, lining himself up and raising an eyebrow when the tip of his cock pressed to your soaked entrance.

“We haven’t touched each other in a week and you sucked on my tits while I humped you like crazy...I’m ready.” You pushed on his ass again, gasping softly as his tip pushed into you.

He kissed you as he slowly slid his cock into your entrance, stretching you like he always did and almost seating himself all the way inside you; he knew every bit of you, though, and stopped with most of himself in the warmth he loved.

His lips pressed sloppily to yours and then he let his head slide down to your shoulder, relishing in the sensation of you around him.

The time you’d both agreed not to have sex to make your wedding night a little more special might have made him appreciate this more.

But he was like this pretty much any time you took it slow; savoring every moment when he was inside you.

“I’m inside my wife,” he said all dreamily, lifting his head to look at you with the goofiest, most beautiful grin you were sure you’d seen.

“My husband is inside of me.” You thought it was silly at first, but something about thinking of how you were now husband and wife made your cunt squeeze around him.

Maybe it was the new bond, or the promise of having each other forever, or something else.

You had no idea.

None of it really mattered when your husband was moaning on top of you at the squeeze of your cunt and starting a gentle pace against you.

You loved having Poe’s cock inside of you and it was always almost enough to get you off, the rhythm of his thrusts as he pumped into you making you whine in pleasure.

His dick was one of the most incredible things you’d ever had the privilege of feeling every ridge of it drag out of you then push back in.

There were times he would angle himself perfectly to make you gush all over him, but tonight was intimate; one of his hands disappeared between you, rubbing circles on your already swollen clit.

Your hands buried themselves in his hair, tugging him down to kiss him hard, again and again, gasping between each one. “I love you, baby.”

He pressed his head to yours, eyes closed and brow furrowed as his hips sped up a little.

“I love you too, sweet girl...fuck...I knew I was gonna spend the rest of my life with you, but today was a nice reminder about how happy that makes me.”

“Oh, no, I am not crying during sex.”

“You mind if I do a little?”

“I mean, if you’re gonna cry…”

“Maybe we are virgins.”

“Fuck, Poe.”

You let out a loud laugh despite the tears falling from the corners of your eyes, kissing his nose and his lips.

His finger stroked the perfect part on your clit, tingling moved over your cunt like electricity and seemed to fizzle into your thighs, almost numbing you yet making your sensations even stronger at the same time.

The two of you could be giggling through sex, but then your pleasure would build too much and Poe would press his face into your neck in this position, and everything would be forgotten as you both sought to reach your orgasm.

Poe knew you were close when you would get all wiggly; your eyes would close, and your mouth would fall open slightly, and you would start bucking your hips in search of the friction that was getting you off.

You would flutter around him a little then you’d arch your back and—

Your pussy would clench around him tight as your muscles released their built up tension and you would either moan or cry out depending on how good it was, then you’d hold onto him tight while your cunt continued to clench around him.

If he was the least bit close, your orgasm would send him over the edge.

You knew he was about to come — even in the haze of your own orgasm — when he’d whimper into your neck and whisper a bunch of sweet nothings, his hips snapping into yours almost desperately without their previous rhythm.

Both of you had known each other long enough to know each other’s tells, but you didn’t care.

It only encouraged you when you knew the other was being pleasured.

And how could you care when now you were coming down from your high all satisfied? And how could Poe care when he was spilling his warm cum into you, thrusting sloppily a couple more times and then enjoying the privilege of laying on top of the woman he loved?

Knowing each other like this pretty much guaranteed good orgasms from a loving partner.

Poe moved to roll off you once he was able to think straight again, but you held onto him to keep him at least halfway on you, cuddling into his arms.

He huffed a laugh, pressing a kiss to your head. “That was fucking incredible.”

You smiled at him.

“It’s always incredible. I honestly can’t think of a time when even the most basic sex with you wasn’t the best thing ever.”

“Must’ve been good if you’re stroking my ego willingly.”

You nudged him playfully, watching him roll over to turn off the light and holding onto his arm when he turned back to hold you again.

His fingers traced along your side as you absentmindedly strokes over his forearm, both of you starting to doze.

“I love you.”

#poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader #star wars imagine #poe dameron fic

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ditch-witches · 4 years

Text

Insufferable (iii) - George MacKay x reader

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 4)

requested: yes/no (im still using the same request bye)

God bless @/okay.l0z

"Hi! I've been reading your fics and I love them so much bc there's hardly any around. I was wondering if you take insta requests and if so can you do one with George and the reader are like enemies to loves and they have really cute moments but then end up fighting all the time and then it escalates and they end up having sEx and then get together or something bc I will THRIVE IF YOU DO!" ... "Is it bad if I want it long ass?"

pairing: George MacKay x reader

warnings: smut, angst

word count: 3,335

a/n: I feel like this is so vanilla and weepy. I M SO R R Y.

It had been a few days since what had happened in your apartment, but something had clicked into your mind. And it was George. You hadn't had the opportunity to really talk to him since the event, him being too wrapped up in the production and sidelining with the director, you too concentrated on the revamp of one of the costumes as well as scouts from major cinema companies sprinkled into the crowd of most of the shows. Sure, there was the occasional glance and in special cases, a wave but the wedge between the two had seemingly been growing since that night. Every time you did see him brought a sense of terror deep within you because you were now looking forward to getting an opportunity to speak to him. You wanted to vomit at the thought of ending up as another one of his groupies or the girls that longed for his attention. You hated that you couldn't just let the deed be a one-time thing and it meant nothing. Just as he said, "It's not a big deal."

Or at least you thought he had said that. Hadn't he?

You hadn't realized you were tearing up a program as the thought crossed your mind of if George had said it hadn't been a big deal or if it had. Someone snapped their fingers, pulling you out of your anxiety trance. You looked up to who had wanted your attention, your eyes falling on your very worried looking director. He was hemming a dress that had somehow gotten caught on a part of the set. It was ten minutes until the curtain call. "Have you seen George?" He called to you from his crouched position. You shook your head, furrowing your brows. "Be a dear and call him?"

"I don't have his number," you answered, walking towards him and dodging a few actors running across the stage to get to the dressing rooms. The director sighed, quickly shoving his cellphone at you and returning to the poor girl's dress. You did as you were told, the shock of your lead actor possibly flaking sent a chill down your back. You pressed a few buttons and the line began to ring. Your heart pounded in your ears and your eyes scanned the stage and you wandered into the backstage area, looking for George and his understudy. The phone continued to ring and you bit your lip. Where could he have gone? Was he in a closet somewhere with one of the stage girls?

The call dropped and you instantly redialed, heading back to where the director was. It was then that one of the back doors opened and George stepped in with a rather frustrated look on his face. The director sighed in relief, getting off of his knees and nodding at the girl before turning back to George. "Finally, I feel like I can shit solidly now. Go help him get ready, curtain in five," he stated to the both of you, shoving you in George's direction.

The two of you rushed to his dressing room, feverishly attempting to get his shirt buttoned and his suspenders on. "Where were you?" You asked, rubbing a bit of gel into your hands to fix his hair into place as he laced up his boots. "I almost had to fit Donny into your pants," you grumbled. He laughed dryly. This is when you noticed the small blot of lipstick on the side of his neck. You wet your thumb and rubbed at it and he avoided your eyes in the mirror, his expression tensing in a cringed effort at you finding the spot. "Busy I see," you joked, a small smile playing at your lips, despite the estranged sense of jealousy flaring up inside of you. "You were really going to miss the show for some pussy? Ouch," you tisked in disapproval.

George let out a soft laugh, sounding completely unlike him as he pulled his suspenders onto his shoulders and stood up. "It's not what you think." You were half expecting a smart-ass response from him. Whatever was on his mind seemed to be numbing his personality tonight.

"It's whatever. Just glad you didn't flake." You felt your humor faltering as he paused, his body remaining rather close to you. You could practically feel the warmth of his breath against your skin again and the touch of his lips. In the midst of the chaos, your nerves seemed to calm when you were this close to him. Maybe it was the sandalwood and lavender playing at your senses and the thought of the cabin in a field that set you at ease. Maybe it was just his presence finally bringing you comfort instead of intensity. His eyes danced across your face and you swore you saw him move towards you.

An abrupt knock on the door made both of you jump away from each other. Something seemed off about George and you couldn't put your finger on it. Maybe your energy around him was different and that was shaping him? You cleared your throat, pushing passed him and heading down the hall at a quicker pace. You heard George's strides behind you. "So, are you serious about that Mark guy?" He asked.

You furrowed your brows, looking over your shoulder momentarily as you wove in between people. "What's it to you?" You leered.

George tucked his shirt into the back of his pants and straightened his collar as he walked. "He's an ass."

"So are you?" You shot back, almost defensively.

You heard him scoff darkly before grabbing your arm as you walked, bringing your ear closer to him. "Didn't seem to think so the other night." You shook out of his grasp, rolling your eyes. You knew he would use that night against you. "I was thinking earlier," he began but you cut him off.

"Don't hurt yourself," you jested, your words coming out a bit meaner than you had meant them to sound. Why did he have lipstick on his neck?

He seemed to match your tone. "Well, I did and figured it out. I figured, maybe that's it, huh? You like it when guys treat you like shit?" Upon reaching the stage you whipped around to look at him. He was completely serious in his statement.

"What?" You snapped.

He crossed his arms. "You haven't spoken to me in a week, that's after I treated you like a human. Mark throws you to the side like garbage all the time and you're still fucking him. You're still inviting him to shows he couldn't give a fuck about and you're still giving him the time of day. Am I not good enough?"

"Are you serious right now?"

His mouth opened slightly before his jaw tensed. "Am I wrong?"

"You have no right to talk to me like that!"

"Why not? It's the only way you'll listen!"

You furrowed your brows, your fists clenching at your sides. "Where the fuck is this coming from?"

"I've had some time to think without your insufferable nagging," he barked. You were taken aback, words slipping from your mind. He must have noticed your twisted expression. "That came out wrong. I didn't mean that..." He chewed on the inside of his cheek, his eyes dropping from yours to the floor.

You rolled your eyes, your heart breaking into pieces as you felt small and vulnerable. "Whatever. Go get on stage," you stiffly mumbled. His words echoed into your head as his face seemed to grow into shame. Usually, when the two of you bickered, you didn't leave the conversation feeling disgusted with yourself and him. Your stomach was in knots and you wanted to cry. You cursed yourself for even considering feeling something for him. Your breathing deepened as tears began to well up behind your eyes and George's understudy approached the two of you.

"Seriously? He can show up five minutes before the show and still perform but everyone else gets kicked if they aren't here two hours early?" The two of you turned to him, George's arms falling to his sides as his shoulders squared. "Special treatment for a fuck, right?" It was like a slow-motion scene from a bad action movie. George inhaled sharply but before he moved, you took a swing at the boy, your fist coming in contact with his nose, a triumphant crack of bone echoing through the air. He didn't deserve to be hit but your anger overtook you. The understudy groaned, doubling over, and George wrapped his arm around you, pulling you away from him. The director stormed over to you, eyes widening. Reality seemed to come crashing down on you as he whisper yelled for you to leave, shoving George off of you and through the curtain to keep the show moving. You straightened yourself up and nodded, apologizing and taking your leave.

You no longer bothered with holding up your skirt as you trudge through the darkness, finally letting a tear slip from your eye. Maybe this was a good thing. It proved that George was wrong. You preferred when he treated you like you deserved even an ounce of respect. Who wouldn't? But most importantly, you wanted to vomit at the idea of throwing away something so important because you couldn't control your feelings over a guy. Your dream show was closing out tonight and you were walking home in your new dress, crying over George. He didn't even deserve to be cried over after saying what he had. But here you were. You came to an abandoned clearing and took a deep breath. "FUCK," you yelled into the air, rubbing your eyes with your hands and stopping to crouch down slightly.

When you were in grade school, George made his presence known to you. He would always bicker with you when he could or hang out with your older brother when he was supposed to pick you up. He dated your best friend and broke her heart in front of you. But he always told jokes that could bring you to tears. Him simply just existing around you had come to bring you to peace without even trying. It was like he was already so stitched into your life when he had become a more dominant character to you that you hadn't even realized he was really there. Was he right? Why were you settling for Mark?

You stood up quickly when you heard heavy footsteps running towards you. You furrowed your brows in the darkness, reaching into your bag for your mace. George jogged to stop you. "You need to cut that out. You know how many times I've almost pepper-sprayed you?" He chuckled at your joust, catching his breath.

"You fucking punched Donny," he stated unevenly, resting his hands on his knees.

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, fuck face. I was there." You leaned slightly to catch his eyes. "Did you run after me to tell me I have issues again?"

"No. I was going to tell you I miss your nagging."

You exhaled through your teeth, turning on your heel. "I'm going home."

"Come on, listen." You turned back, raising an eyebrow at him and crossing your arms. "I was there when your dad gave you your first screenplay. It was Judge Dredd." You tilted your head, asking his point. "Your dad asked us---your brother and I---what he should get you that year. It was my suggestion."

"So?"

"I don't know how to say this without sounding like a stalker but I've loved you since I met you. And I know weird shit about you because for some reason I can't get you out of my head." He straightened up as he spoke. He seemed like he hadn't meant to tell you, but nodded to himself. "Yeah," he sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "I love you."

You rolled your eyes. "Give me a break, George. It's been a long night."

He reached out for you. "I know you love me too." You looked up at him lazily. "I know you do. I feel it every time we're together. Shit, even when you're screaming at me, I know."

"Why the fuck would you say that shit about me then?"

"I freaked myself out. I overthought everything that happened that night. After we didn't talk, that is." You huffed. "I mean, in all honesty, I don't like going down on girls usually but I enjoyed you," a lightness had returned to his voice.

You scoffed. "Stop bringing it up!"

"I can't help it." You shook your head at his words. "Tell me I'm wrong about how you feel about me." You furrowed your brows, unable to find a response in your head. Tonight was a rarity in you being literally speechless, both accounts happening with the same man in front of you. Your head swam with a million thoughts at once and all you wanted is for then to settle. You took a few steps to close the gap between you finally, your hand reaching up to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him down to you. Your lips crashed against his, stunning him momentarily before you felt him relax against you, his arms snaking around you to pull you closer to him. The smell of his cologne was a safe haven, infiltrating your brain and quieting the noise. His lips against yours left you with only him to think about. His hand moved to cup your face, wanting to eliminate all possible space between the two of you.

You broke away from him, his arms still around you as you hovered inches from his face, looking up into his eyes. "What now?" You mumbled. He barely moved an inch to shrug. "Should we fuck?"

"I'd be okay with that..." he answered, and before you knew it, you were falling onto George's bed as he climbed over you, slipping his jacket off of his shoulders.

Each kiss sent warmth throughout your body. His lips drew patterns across your skin; different from your birthday gift when George was seemingly rushed. He had all the time in the world to take care of you tonight. Maybe it was the way he had---almost effortlessly---said he loved you that drove you into his arms. Like it was already second nature to him but foreign and... a relief. You sighed as he hesitated before nipping at the skin of your collarbones. You drove your hands into his hair, your fingers locking around the slight curls forming after the rain. He sat off of you, letting you turn to settle on top of him, your hands reaching for your zipper as you straddle him. He watched your movements carefully, drinking the sight of you in like you were the last thing he wanted to see before the world ended. You pulled your dress over your head, your hair falling out of the elaborate mess you had previously braided it into to cascade around your bare shoulders.

He sat up to press his lips against yours again like he had been away from you for years, his hands resting on your thighs lightly before brushing up your back to settle in your hair. You worked at undoing his buttons, breaking the kiss momentarily to focus on your work, giggling slightly as his breath feathered over your shoulder. Your hands ran across his chest to hook into his suspenders, pulling them off before stripping him of the shirt as well. His hands settled on your hips, moving you to grind against his lap. You moaned into his shoulder, your arms wrapping around him. His hand reached up to rest against your jaw, bringing your lips back to his. You pushed him back on the bed, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear as you fumbled with George's belt buckle, the thought crossing your mind that technically you were about to fuck Charlie. You slid his pants down his legs, climbing back into his lap.

His lips settled on your chest, unclipping your bra and taking one of your breasts in his hand. How many times had he thought of being with you in this way? Had he planned out the way he wanted to touch you? "Stop thinking..." he mumbled, his lips gently pressing against your neck with his arms wrapping around you to pull you beneath him.

"If I stop thinking I'm going to forget what I'm doing."

George chuckled, placing a kiss on your lips. "And then what?"

"I don't know. I'll bite you or something," you joked, kissing his jaw as he smirked.

"I like biting," he leered. You laughed, wrapping a leg around him to pull him against you.

"Dream on, lover boy," you grumbled. He smiled into your kiss and you seemed to relax. His hips dug into yours, the friction bringing a lazy smile to your face as you bit your lip. You tugged on his hair, making him moan into your ear to mix with his motions. "I want you, George," you stated, your voice falling from your lips in a slightly deeper tone, your breathing uneven with passion. He moved to look into your eyes, pausing for a moment before his hand slid between your waistband and your hip to remove your underpants.

He smirked slightly, his lips finding your neck once again. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear that," he practically growled.

You tugged at his boxers. "Shut up, stalker." He chuckled, before pressing into you, filling you up like he was built for you. You hummed slightly, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as he began to move. He gripped onto the edge of the mattress beside your head as he leaned his weight on his forearm. You wrapped your arm around his shoulder, bringing your hips up to move with his.

He pressed a kiss behind your ear, the tenderness of the action making your toes curl. "You're so beautiful..." he mumbled, his lips brushing against your collarbones again as his thrusts into you became deeper. You were slowly beginning to realize they were his favorite part of your body. You wrapped yourself around him, rolling the mess of the two of you so you were perched on top of him once again. His expression of mild excitement made you quirk an eyebrow in his direction. His eyes lit up as his hands ran the length of your thighs.

You chuckled slightly, swirling your hips against him. "Sub," you jeered.

He groaned at your teasing, slapping your ass mockingly as you moved. "You like it," he quipped. You bit back a laugh, hushing him by covering his mouth.

"You talk too much." Your comment made him groan against your hand. He held onto your hips, moving you at a quicker speed and pulling himself deeper into you, drawing you towards him. Your hand pressed into the mattress, fingers curling around the sheets as George pulled you down to him again, his lips melding to yours. You groaned, finding your sweet spot as he did so and picking up your pace again. The veins in his neck tightened, indicating that he was approaching his own climax. A few more thrusts and you were straightening up, your hands in your hair as a rush of pleasure spread through your body, the knot deep within you unraveling. George's head tilted back as you felt him release inside of you. Your actions slowed, realizing just how tired you actually were. George exhaled deeply, pulling you into his arms. You relaxed against him as he placed a kiss to your temple, another action that demonstrated just how much he cared for you. As he tugged the sheets around the two of you and began drifting off to sleep, a content grin playing on his lips lazily, you found a pang of newfound guilt weighing in your stomach.

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagines #george mackay smut #george #1917 #1917 imagines #imagines

112 notes · View notes

emybain · 5 years

Text

Welcome Home

I really liked the last fic I wrote, possibly bc it’s in a world where there’s a (somewhat) happy ending. so I decided to write a little continuation that’s set three months after the events of the last fic!

“They’re turning the corner!” Oscar announced, looking at his messages. Everyone quieted down and hurried to find a place to hide. Nova had to refrain from rolling her eyes as she strolled to the door leading out of the kitchen and crouched down. It was the easiest getaway, after all.

Adrian was returning from Egypt after being invited to help Danna out with her global mission to spread activism. What was supposed to only be a two week thing ended up being a month long thing, much to Nova’s frustration. Not that she wasn’t happy for the opportunity Adrian was getting and that he’d be able to catch up with Danna and all, but she just missed him.

Three months before, Adrian had visited Nova’s apartment for business reasons, only to leave kissing her goodbye hours later. The next day, actually, as he spent the night at her place. Two years of pretending not to be attracted to one another anymore required a lot of catching up.

They officially started dating, and it had been the happiest three months of Nova’s life. But the only thing was, only they knew. They had agreed that it would be best to keep their relationship a secret until their friends and the public would be able to handle it. It was hard and exasperating at times to lie, but for the most part, Nova got a thrill from sneaking around so much with Adrian.

Oscar turned off the lights in the kitchen and made a shushing sound, even though no one was talking. Nova saw Ruby swat at him jokingly from across the room as he knelt down beside her, arm instinctively wrapping around her waist. Nova watched them, biting the inside of her cheek. Oscar had proposed a few weeks back, and Ruby said yes, of course. Nova was elated for her friends, but it was small moments like now that Nova was the tiniest bit jealous. They could laugh and flirt and kiss one another in public without fear of repercussions.

Nova heard the front door click. All movement ceased in the kitchen. She heard Hugh’s booming voice first, jokingly calling out if anyone was home. Then she heard Simon laugh, then she heard Max’s voice, speaking insistently about a video game. Poor Max, he was at that awkward stage in his early teen years known as puberty, and his voice was suffering the worst from it. Although it was annoying that Nova was now officially the shortest person she knew, as he had sprouted up and not necessarily towered over Nova, but she now had to look up to see him.

Her heart skipped when Adrian replied, arguing with as much enthusiasm as his brother. Sure, they had spoken over the phone while he was gone, but it was different than hearing it in person.

The family entered the kitchen through the other door one by one, with Adrian coming in last. Once he entered the room, Simon flipped the lights on, and everyone jumped out from their hiding places, yelling “Welcome home, Adrian!”

“Great skies.” Adrian jumped back, holding a hand over his heart. Nova drank him in, unable to keep a smile from spreading across her face. For whatever reason, he looked different. Nova couldn’t place it. Maybe it was because she had been forced to imagine his face whenever they had spoken over the phone. Whatever the case, he looked handsomer, if that were possible when Adrian Everhart was concerned.

Nova stood back as Adrian greeted everyone, mostly family friends. He congratulated Oscar and Ruby, stopping to talk with them for a moment. Then his eyes scanned the room, falling on her, and she forgot how to breathe. Her stomach lurched at the loose, yet secretive, smile he gave her. Attempting to collect herself, she purposefully bit her lower lip, turned her eyes downward, looked back up at him, and then left the room. She was brave enough to shoot him a half smile over her shoulder before she turned the corner. Quickly, she made her way downstairs to his room, heart pounding with every step.

She decided to wait on his bed, sitting on the edge with her hands in her lap. His room hadn’t changed much over the years. He had gotten rid of a few posters here and there and reorganized furniture, but other than that, it was more or less the same. Nova rarely came over in more recent months because of his dads and Max. Like the rest of the world, they were clueless that Adrian and Nova were dating. Adrian had talked a few times about getting his own place, even showing Nova some apartments for sale on his tablet. He was twenty-one, after all. He had told Nova he was only still at home because his family needed him, especially Max, and because of the fact that Gatlon was still healing from the Final Battle.

The stairs groaned underneath the weight of feet. Nova sat up straight and ran a hand through her hair. If whoever it was wasn’t Adrian, she would have some serious explaining to do. But it was Adrian who appeared at the bottom of the stairs, so Nova let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

For a minute, they just stared at one another, as if they couldn’t believe they were in the same room. He may have only been gone a month, but Nova could have easily mistaken it to have been a lifetime.

Nova stood suddenly and rushed to him. His calm composure was replaced with a grin and open arms as they embraced. She inhaled his scent, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He lifted her off her feet, and a laugh escaped her when he spun her around, only to walk forward and sit her down on top of his dresser.

“Hi,” they said at the same time, ridiculous, goofy smiles mirroring each other.

“How was Egypt?” she murmured, pulling him to her once again, this time to settle between her legs.

His hands went to her waist, resting casually. “It was an experience,” he replied, eyes glinting as he took her in.

Nova hummed happily. “And Danna? How’s she liking her trip?”

“Very much. Although, she would not shut up about this girl she met in France. Celeste, I think was her name.” Adrian shook his head, chuckling.

Nova raised an eyebrow. “Should we be expecting another wedding soon?”

Adrian pushed a stray hair behind her ear, then cupped her neck. She leaned into him, buzzing under his touch. He sighed, and his breath on her neck sent chills down her spine. The look he was giving her only increased her nerves.

“Definitely,” he said, and when he closed the remaining space between them, pulling her against him and kissing her deeply, Nova had a distant feeling that he wasn’t talking about Danna.

Nova’s hands mapped his back, tracing the edges and curves she had long since memorized. She wanted nothing more than to slip her hands up under his shirt, but restrained herself. Instead, she moved her lips to his face, trailing featherlight kisses across his cheeks, over his eyelids. He sighed and held her, eyes closed in content.

“Great skies, I missed you, Nova,” he breathed as she kissed underneath his ear. “So, so much.”

Nova pulled back and placed a light kiss on his lips. “I missed you, too.” Her thumb massaged a spot on his neck.

“Next time I’m taking a long trip, you’re coming with me,” he joked, resting his head against hers.

“What would people say about that?” she whispered. A teasing smile played at her lips, and Adrian had just started to kiss it away fervently when a gasp broke them apart.

“What the hell!” Max nearly fell, eyes comically huge as he took in Nova and Adrian’s...position. Nova was frozen, heart having stopped working all together. Adrian didn’t move either, but before Nova could assume it was for the same reasons, he turned his head around and sighed.

“Hey, Bandit. What’s up?” As if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Did you find them?” Oscar called from up the stairs. When Max didn’t answer, he showed up as well. Nova buried her head into Adrian’s shoulder, groaning loudly. “Hey man, not cool. We throw you a party and this is all you cared about?”

Nova peeked her head up to see Adrian smile, a mix between sheepish and smug. He boldly squeezed Nova’s waist, causing her to squeak and swat at him. This was not happening this was not happening this was not happening.

“We’ll be up in a minute, Oscar. Now take Max with you and please leave.”

Ruby padded down the stairs. “What is going on-OH MY GOD WHAT THE FU-”

Everyone shushed her, including Nova, who gained enough dignity to raise her bright red face.

Oscar shook his head and nudged Ruby playfully. “Told you. You owe me twenty bucks, babe.”

Ruby’s eyes flicked between Nova and Adrian, who were still in a compromising position, too shocked to think about moving away, and her fiance. “Do not. We made that bet before you proposed.”

“That doesn’t make a difference,” Oscar cried indignantly. They started to argue, and Max, poor, innocent, sweet Max, slowly backed up and attempted to sneak back up the stairs.

Adrian looked at Nova apologetically, but there was humor in his eyes. “Guys,” he said loudly. Everyone froze and looked at him, even Max, who was three steps up on the stairs. “Just...please don’t tell anyone, okay? We’re not ready for that yet.”

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Please, Everhart. Like you were fooling anyone before.”

Nova narrowed her eyes at him. “What does that mean?”

Oscar started laughing. “Well, it’s not like either of you are very discreet. Always disappearing together, returning around the same time, the looks,” he gagged, “God, the looks are disgusting.”

“How many people know?” Adrian’s grip on Nova tightened, but this time, it wasn’t joking.

“Just us,” Oscar reassured. “And Danna, of course. Your dads might be suspicious, but then again, when are they not?”

Adrian nodded slowly. Nova bit her lip. They exchanged glances.

“Well, the party is still upstairs.” Oscar nodded to the ceiling. “I suggest you two head up soon.” He placed a hand on Ruby’s back and they turned around to leave. But then Oscar looked over his shoulder, an evil grin plastered to his stupid face. “Don’t eat too much, now. Save some room for the cake upstairs.” And then he, Ruby, and petrified Max were gone.

Nova hid her face in Adrian’s chest, humiliation flowing through her body, quickly replacing the previously wonderful feeling she hadn’t felt in months.

“I’m definitely getting my own place.” Adrian planted a kiss on top of her head. “Would you like to look with me this weekend?”

Nova pulled back enough to face him. She was still mortified over what just happened, but her heart swelled at the smile Adrian gave her. It had been forever since she had seen it. She sighed, nodding. Clearly, her plans for his homecoming would have to wait.

“It’s a date.”

#archenemies spoilers #nova artino #Adrian everhart #nodrian #danna bell #Oscar silva #ruby tucker

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abnormalpsychology · 5 years

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The Bully (part one)

[HAPPY VALENTINES DAY EVERYONE! Ya boi is excited bc I’m uploading my first-ever fanfic!! @joshua-rush-fanpage I hope you like it! This is part of the Valentines Day Friendom Gift Exchange. I wrote quite a lot more than I expected to, so the tag #myfanfic on here will be where you can find the rest uploaded later today. Sorry about the spacing errors— I originally wrote this in a google doc and Tumblr was being weird when I tried to fix them. I really really hope you like it! The first part is utter shit as a warning but it gets better!!! Hopefully I write more stuff soon, but here’s a little GHC to warm your hearts for now. I can’t believe I’m leaving a long, shitty, Wattpad-ass Author’s Note for the whole world to see but here we fuckin’ are. I also did not think I was the Soulmate AU type, but ALSO here we fuckin’ are. Meme mutuals please don’t think I’m lame I PROMISE IM COOL UwU. Have a lovely day even if you don’t read anything besides my ramblings. Thanks for making a community where I feel brave enough to finally post some writing I’ve worked hard on. I’m very grateful. <3 @swingsetboys Thanks so much for arranging this.]

Kids normally started thinking about their soulmates and deciphering their marks once they got their first crush, but Cyrus Goodman was different. He’d been worried about love all of his life, and the more he thought, the less sense it made. Trusting fate was generally put forward as the best way to deal with soulmate-related issues, at least before you met them, but Cyrus was finding that trusting fate was remarkably more difficult than all of the online articles and books in his parents’ offices made it sound. He wondered sometimes if he maybe was the universe’s first-ever mistake, a legendarily big screw-up, and this was a concern that was difficult to express without simultaneously concerning everyone else around him.

Cyrus’ mark was in what he had decided was the worst possible place it could be— his back. Two solid pitch-black handprints were indented into his skin so he had to twist around in the mirror to even glimpse the peculiar birthmark, like a two-year-old’s art project smushed across his skin or a crude frat party drawing etched on during a hangover was supposed represent his hope for the future and the person he was supposed to love more than anything. He’d always felt weird about it. The question that was tied most to it, the great white whale, the million-dollar-Jeopardy one, was what the situation could possibly be that would cause the mark to light up, to fill with color, when it made contact with his future spouse’s skin.

They’re gonna... push me? It was still, after years of contemplation and stomachaches, the best theory he had. The first way the person he was supposed to find eternal happiness with was by them trying to hurt him. That sure didn’t sound like love to him.

How would he make them angry? What would he do wrong?

The thought was his shadow, and the more he thought about it, the more confused he was. He didn’t want to make them angry, though! He wanted the person he was destined to spend the rest of his days with to like him right off the bat. He wanted the happy ending that everyone got.

“It’s fate,” Buffy had said and shrugged at their final summer sleepover before seventh grade began. “I mean, you can’t do anything to change it, Cy. I’m pretty sure you can’t fool the system by covering it with a tattoo. Since you always try to be as nice as possible anyway, I think you’re doing all you can.”

“Yeah.” He squinted. Maybe I’m just not good enough at being nice.

Buffy rolled her eyes, seeing through his words. “Cyrus. You really need to stop forgetting how cool you are. It’s annoying.”

“Thanks, Buffy, I just hope my soulmate understands my annoying… ness.”

“That was a joke—“

He gasped, shooting up with wide eyes. “What if I annoy them too much and that’s why they push me? What if I’m the one who ruins it?”

“Cyrus, I’m fairly certain that you would never be destined to spend your life with a total jerk. You may be weird, but that’s why soulmates love us, dummy. That’s why we love you.”

The two exchanged a smile, and Buffy reached around to squeeze his hand with her comforting smile.

“You’ll know when you see them anyway, because that’s like the whole thing. So… I don’t know. Maybe the push will be an accident or something. If it helps, I’ll personally remove the toenails if anyone who messes with you.”

“Well, I think,” Andi interjected like the voice of God from above, staring at the pair from her position of power on Cyrus’ couch. “You should stop worrying about something completely inevitable. It’s coming, like it or not.”

The boy let out a yelp and rubbed furiously at the goosebumps blooming on his skinny arms. “You didn’t have to phrase it like that, Andi!”

“Seriously,” Buffy agreed, eyes wide and unfocused. “Yikes.”

“It shouldn’t be scary. You two should really trust yourselves more. Future us will all make good decisions, I’m sure of it. Mostly. Probably.”

She leaned over to look down at her two best friends, reduced to frightened messes at the thought of someone who loved them, and deeply did not understand.

“I trust future Andi, at least. You two are weird.”

She stuck a bookmark made of old newspapers into the John Green book she was skimming, one of Bex’s favorites. She’d explained earlier about how since her older sister would be coming to visit her for the first time in practically forever, she had better know something about what she liked. Although from her various annoyed growls that echoed from above every once in a while, her friends could tell Andi’s tastes maybe differed from the latter’s.

“Real life isn’t that dramatic! Certainly isn’t as dramatic as this Augustus”—she gesticulated to the paperback copy—“thinks it is! What’s even going on in this book?”

She wrinkled her nose in disgust, setting the book down by the lamp.

“Yeah, whatever.” Buffy turned to look doubtfully over her left shoulder at her other best friend, from the spot on the calming maroon carpet where Cyrus was French-braiding her curls. “If you think all this soulmate crap will be totally drama-free, all relaxation and games, Andi, you’re kidding yourself. And it’s middle school.”

“You might want to rethink your position here,” agreed Cyrus, twirling a lock dastardly between his fingers.

A beeping sound came from the kitchen as butter filled the warm air, clashing with the rosy scent of the aromatherapy stuff Celia insisted on spraying everywhere before anyone else entered the house, even though it was just Buffy and Cyrus. They’re very well-behaved, Andi would always say, even though one was now swatting like a kitten at the other. True friendship.

“Stop that! Grow your own facial hair so you can stop using mine!”

“Low blow,” Andi commented.

“Never!” He fell backwards onto the carpet with a grunt as she attacked him with her fringe scarf, smacking her opponent with swift malice. Andi got up to go get their popcorn from the microwave, hopping easily over the destructive swarm of thrashing limbs on her floor.

The two broke apart, close to the door now. Like wrestlers, the kids sprinted to either corner of the room.

“Every time! This is why I don’t let you braid my hair, Cyrus!”

“You underestimate me! Now I have a secret weapon!”

A shadow rushed forward and cackled menacingly, a beautifully stitched pillow in shades of pink and red held aloft to decimate his friend.

“No! Bad Cyrus!” Andi scolded from the kitchen. “I made that for Bex!”

“This isn’t a Western!” Buffy yelled, hands up in surrender. “You aren’t going to tie Andi to the train tracks, no more!”

Cyrus pouted mutely, savoring the power, then conceded mercifully. “Ohhh-kay.”

“Maybe that’s why your soulmate will push you,” Buffy laughed. “You attack them, viciously, in a war of pillows.”

His face fell again, the weight of worry and insecurities returning instantly.

“Dammit.” Buffy sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Maybe I will... I’d demolish them, anyway.”

The three collapsed onto the couch together once Andi returned, mutely chewing their popcorn, their feathery Cold War forgotten. They could still hear cicadas outside. It didn’t quite feel like school yet, and something about that made the night seem more important, more meaningful, and made them all the more grateful for the other people who they felt like they could tell anything.

“Soulmates are weird to think about, though,” Andi added. “I mean, it’s not something you can teach in school or anything. How one person is made for another. I think it’s pretty crazy. Although I bet Augustus and Hazel would disagree.”

“Yeah, love’s simple until you think about— like— what if they die before you meet them?” Cyrus said, the years’ worth of anxiety seeping into his words. “Assuming it isn’t a fate thing. What if you’re the first one to prove it wrong? Or… you don’t know if you like that type of person?”

“Well,” Buffy chimed in, shrugging. “I mean, people always do, so…”

The trio fell quiet.

“Like soulmates or not, we can agree the marks are freaky as hell?”

“Absolutely.”

“At least you don’t have your mark in as weird a place as me.”

“Buffs, yours is on your hand. That’s not that weird.” Cyrus reached over her back to lightly touch the white splash of color across her right palm, and she jerked it away fast as if she was scared of it going off like a bomb. “High-fives happen all the time.”

“I know, but why would future me let anyone touch my hand? That’s not allowed!” She shivered dramatically. “Ugh. Can you imagine me all… stupid and love-struck? That would be remarkably awful.”

“Middle school,” Cyrus said, nodding sagely. “It changes all who experience it.”

“Well,” Andi whispered, suddenly solemn. “I guess we’ll find out if it changes us too.”

“Guess we gotta trust that the Future Good Hair Trio will make good choices. Soulmates or otherwise.”

The three looked around.

“At least we’ll have each other. No matter who comes, we’ll at least have each other.”

#andi mack fanfic #my fanfic #andi mack #andi mack gift exchange

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hippo-euphoria · 5 years

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Empty Streets and Neon Lights | Bildungsroman Challenge

Hey, so I finally finished the sequel to Sea Turtles, and because it lined up so nicely with the challenge I decided to use this as my submission. I specifically focused on the themes of these quotes:

“I wondered if that’s how forgiveness budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.”

- Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner

“Because things change. And friends leave. And life doesn’t stop for anybody.”

-Stephen Chbosky, Perks of Being a Wallflower

“You have to accept that sometimes that’s how things happen in this world. People’s opinions, their feelings, they go one way, then the other. It just so happens you grew up at a certain point in this process.”

- Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go

Empty Streets and Neon Lights - read on ao3 (can’t link bc of tumblr purge but ( https:// archive of our own .org/works/16758763 ) )

pairings: yoonkook, namjin

word count: 33,931

genre: slow burn, hurt/comfort, light angst

warnings: light angst, sexuality crisis

summary: Jeongguk tries to find his place in Seoul's art scene as well as the balance between JK, the artist, and himself. But how can he do that when he doesn't even know his real self; maybe the real Jeongguk is still in America, reliving all those Moments he's tried so hard to forget, and when his hand hurts too much to actually create anything, can he even call himself an artist?

Jeongguk, a freelance artist, at some sort of science-y convention with his chemist friend, Jimin. He doesn’t want to be here, he finds things like this painfully disinteresting, but Jimin didn’t want to come alone, and Jeongguk supposes he does kind of owe him, seeing as Jimin has attended almost every single one of his pop-up galleries and exhibitions. Also, he promised to buy Jeongguk dinner.

“Stop scowling,” Jimin pinches his arm, creating a briefly noticeable crease on Jeongguk’s nice, situationally appropriate white button-up.

“I’m not,” He hisses, flinching away from Jimin and smoothing over his sleeve.

“You are,” Jimin insists, and he’s honestly probably right. “You look like you hate everyone here because one time you held the door for them and they didn’t say ‘thank you’ or something,” Okay that’s fair.

Jeongguk would’ve been annoyed regardless, he doesn’t understand most of this stuff, so he probably would’ve spent the evening scrolling through various social media platforms and maybe lowkey stalking the couple thousand fans who follow his art instagram. He doesn’t really stalk them, he just goes through and tries to pick out if any of the accounts are other artists or journalists or something along those lines. Anyway, the point is he would’ve been bored if it was any other topic, but this conference is about the ocean, and Jeongguk is leaning more towards irritated rather than passively annoyed.

Jimin conveniently forgot to mention that this conference is geared towards the ocean, finding new ways to clean it up and what not, and Jeongguk hates the ocean, hates the beach. Okay, maybe he doesn’t hate it, he just tries his best to avoid anything to do with the marine world. This all really is a noble cause because yes, the ocean is a mess and could do with some light spring cleaning, but he’d just rather be left out of it all, if he’s being totally honest.

In the art gallery of Jeongguk’s mind, where memories hang like paintings and decorate the hallways - all Good, Bad, and In Between Moments - he doesn’t want to think of the room holding every Moment he wants to forget. A room roped off and where the lights of his consciousness went out years ago and he hasn’t yet bothered to change the bulbs; everything is perpetually dark and dusty, almost each Moment is from his one semester in America. He doesn’t want to remember anything he shoves in that room, but perhaps above all, he doesn’t want to remember the boy with oceans in his eyes.

But here he is, trying to follow Jimin while staring intently at his back or messing around on his phone, anything to ignore the innocent enough posters depicting dolphins leaping from the water, sea turtles on a shore, or shells half-buried in the sand, because each time he catches a glimpse, the lights flicker just the slightest before going dark again.

Jeongguk tried to forget, he really did, but for months after they’d come home, it hurt. He couldn’t visit the beach in the early morning with his mother to pick up shells, he couldn’t tag along with Jimin and their friend group for beach parties or bonfires, all because he couldn’t be there without remembering.

So he tried to bury everything and pretend like America never happened, and eventually succeeded, to a point. After breaking down with Jimin, he began actively forcing away thoughts of him; he buried the memories as deep as he could, and pushed everything into that room in the back of his gallery to be shut away and ignored. But they were still there, and this conference was threatening to bring them up to the surface.

Jimin leads him through a set of double doors into a room where the floor goes from beige tiles to flat carpet that’s got to have a hundred or more chairs, facing an elevated podium. Someone is supposed to speak - there was a poster outside probably, but Jeongguk was too busy focusing on Jimin’s back to notice. They take their seats, choosing the last row because even though Jimin is somewhat small, he doesn’t really need to see the presenter. Also, if they sit in the last row, the pair can whisper to each other without eyes boring into their backs, and Jeongguk can be on his phone without too much judgement. Jeongguk busies himself with a pointless match-three game, the seats fill, and eventually someone steps up to the podium and provides an introduction of the speaker. Jeongguk doesn’t hear the speaker’s name or any of the introduction, probably because he doesn’t care to pay attention, but when he starts talking, Jeongguk recognizes his voice, the lazy syllables all too familiar. Jeongguk’s head jerks up to see none other than Min Yoongi standing at the podium, speaking with the force of the ocean in his words about something - he’s too panicked to listen. His heart stops, Jimin speaks next to him.

“Isn’t that-” Jimin begins asking, then takes one look at Jeongguk’s wide eyes and sudden pallor. “Yeah okay, bathroom,” He whispers and tugs on Jeongguk’s arm, and they sneak out of the lecture and across the convention center to the restrooms. It’s noisy and crowded, people milling around different exhibits and speaking over each other as scientists do when they have a point to prove, and Jeongguk suddenly feels small. As an artist he is very out of his element here. He reaches out a hand to grasp Jimin’s sleeve, and lets himself be led through the maze of bodies, too many wearing white lab coats, and when they finally reach it, Jeongguk locks himself in a stall and dry heaves, nothing comes out.

Jimin leans casually against the sink when Jeongguk lets himself out of the stall, arms crossed and eyes holding thinly veiled concern.

“You okay?” Jeongguk shakes his head and proceeds to splash cold water on his face because maybe this is all a horribly fucked up dream or like, three nightmares in one. “Thought so, I really can’t leave, but how about you take an uber home and I’ll see you there?”

Jeongguk nods. It’s not like he really has a choice, because Jimin had apparently already ordered the car and it’s there by the time Jeongguk composes himself enough to exit the bathroom - Jimin had locked it, much to the dismay of other attendants; Jeongguk tries not to think of the assumptions behind two men locking themselves in the bathroom, about how that looks to everyone else. He sends Jeongguk off with a gentle squeeze to the swell of his shoulder, and then Jeongguk watches through the window as he rushes back up the stone steps, probably back to the presentation. He leans his head against the glass as the city passes by, street lights and skyscrapers and nameless, faceless strangers all merging together into one stereotypical young adult novel introduction. Rain drizzles gently, fat drops rolling lazily down the windshield, and Jeongguk loses himself watching their trails. He thinks back to when he was a kid, and he would imagine the drops to be racing one another.

“Rough night?” The driver - a brunette woman with her hair cut to a short bob - asks, eyes meeting his in the rearview mirror.

“Something like that,” He mumbles, leaning forward and pressing his head against the back of the passenger seat.

“A girl?” She asks, and he grunts in disagreement. “Oh, a guy?” This is Korea, Jeongguk should not have boy troubles.

“Mhm,” She laughs quietly. “How’d you guess?”

“You look like you’ve just had your heart broken,” No, he just saw the person who broke it years ago for the first time, and he thought he’d gotten over it; but maybe he didn’t, maybe seeing Yoongi up there on the podium lit his gallery like a Christmas tree and broke it all over again. He doesn’t answer because Uber rides aren’t supposed to include personal conversation, and she turns on the radio to fill the silence.

By the time he’s left in front of the apartment he shares with Jimin, the rain has stopped, the air is muggy and thick, and the wet pavement appears to give off its own light as it reflects street lamps and headlights. It’s the type of night he could get lost in, where he could walk around for hours just thinking, but he’s exhausted, and he’s seen enough dramas to know what happens when you walk the streets and a past love happens to be in the city, so he sighs and walks up the steps, buzzing to let himself into the complex and taking the stairs up to the fourth floor, where he kicks off his loafers and collapses on the couch.

For months, everything he painted had to do with the ocean. Animals, landscapes, everything had some connection to the marine world, to Yoongi, and he hated it because somehow each piece was perfect. As a college junior, some of his pieces were being featured in actual galleries, not the mock presentations all students participated in, ones where people paid to see his work.

His best work was a landscape of the beach at night, with soft moonlight illuminating ocean swells and the beach vegetation appearing to sway gently and stars dotting the night sky - people loved it, called it surreal, hyperrealistic, a masterpiece. He’d spent weeks working on it, and apparently his dedication showed, because people told him how beautiful it was, how they could imagine themselves in the scene, and Jeongguk had to bite his tongue because no, they couldn’t. Jimin was the only one with context, and after he saw the painting for the first time, he sighed and helped cover it with a sheet and lean it carefully against the wall, where it remained until it was time for showing.

Everyone loved it, but Jeongguk hated it because Yoongi was in every fucking stroke - and though Jimin too thought it was beautiful, he hated it right along with him because that’s what friends are for. He received his highest mark on that painting, and his professor recommended it for an exhibition, and Jeongguk spent the entire night outside, a glass of champagne abandoned on the railing next to him because he couldn’t bear to go inside and see his own work with a small plaque next to it reading:

Title: Confession

Artist: JK

Medium: Watercolor

So he waited outside, nameless faces approached and complimented him, and when it was finally over and everything was being cleaned up and put away, he went in to find a small pink tag hanging off his plaque - someone had made an offer. He didn’t ask who or how much, just let employees take it away, he never wanted to see it again.

When Jimin returns nearly two hours later, Jeongguk is sitting alone at their four person dining table with an open bottle of wine and wine glass in front of him; he’s both the optimist and the pessimist: the bottle is half empty, his glass is half full. This is a Bad Moment, he’s just tipsy enough that the earlier shock of seeing Yoongi has ebbed away, and his eyes droop just barely; Jimin sighs when he sees him.

“That bad?” He asks, stepping out of his shoes and into a pair of slippers.

“Mhm,” Jeongguk hums, swirling his glass. Jimin simply shakes his head, then goes into the kitchen and retrieves a glass for himself. He sits across from Jeongguk and tips the wine into his glass, filling it halfway.

“I had no idea he’d be there,” Jimin says after a moment of contented silence - well, it’s contented on Jeongguk’s end, anyway.

“It’s fine, I don’t blame you,” He takes a sip of his wine, wincing slightly at the bitterness.

They’re drinking a cheap red tonight out of stemmed wine glasses, which isn’t right honestly, because red is supposed to be drank from stemless glasses, as it’s served room temperature. White wine is meant to be served chilled, and is drank from stemmed glasses to keep it from getting warm from being held.

“I thought you got over him,” Jimin says, and Jeongguk knows he’s been waiting until the right time to broach the subject of himself and Yoongi and what exactly happened way back then, what better time than now?

“I wanted to but, I just kinda, buried it all, you know?” He takes a long drink from his glass, draining it despite the bitterness and reaching for the bottle, to pour himself another glass. “I didn’t want to think about him, about any of that.”

“You know that’s not how you deal with things, this isn’t how you deal with things,” Jimin leans his glass forward, and Jeongguk clinks his glass against it even though there’s nothing to be toasting.

“I know, but it’s easier.”

“So, we’re back at square one, then. Do you still have a thing for him?” Jeongguk pretends he doesn’t hear the question, instead he lays his arm out across the table, resting his head on it as his other hand toys with the edge of the wine glass. “Jeongguk, we need to talk about this.”

“I hate him,” Yoongi has made it to where Jeongguk, born in Busan, can’t be near the ocean. Can’t even think about it.

“So you do.”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s go to bed,” Jimin hasn’t even touched his wine, he takes both glasses and dumps them down the sink, then shoves the cork back in the dark bottle and puts in the refrigerator. Jeongguk slides out of his seat and heads to his bedroom, where he collapses into the comforting security only his bed can provide.

Jimin comes in, sighs, and makes Jeongguk get up and undress because apparently it’s not a good idea to sleep in a button-up and slacks. He sits on the edge of Jeongguk’s bed, speaking mostly to himself.

“It’s fine that you hate him, I mean, no one can control that. But you gotta get over him, you can’t let what happened control you. I know a lot of your best art came out of it, but I mean, come on, when was the last time you went to the beach? Hell, the last time you even dated someone?”

Jeongguk hasn’t dated anyone since Yoongi, hasn’t dated anyone in six years. He can’t. He’s still stuck and maybe a little bit afraid when it comes to the topic of his romantic life, and that’s because after all these years, he still hasn’t figured himself out. Is he straight? Gay? Both? Neither? He doesn’t know, he hasn’t tried to find out. He slept with one girl when he came back, one, and the entire time he wasn’t thinking about her, but am I gay? He can’t, not completely if he made out with a guy more than once. But he’s tired, in no mood to deal with these thoughts right now, so he listens to Jimin talk speak and his eyes droop steadily. Before he’s out completely, Jimin tugs his duvet over him. He’s a good friend, Jeongguk should keep him around.

continue reading on ao3 - Empty Streets and Neon Lights by sleepy_time_tea ( https:// archive of our own .org/works/16758763 )

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madigabz · 7 years

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Alan Gouze :) the name of the man that has had my heart for a quarter of my whole life!!! Wow, and he adores me even tho I am 100% a clumsy, forgetful, emotional HOT mess...I'm reading your letter and responding back as I go. Even though my feelings were a little hurt that you said I'd be sexier if I didn't get emotional, I understand. Alan I am a little mentally broke, but I'm different. And thankful for that. Bc even if depression, OCD, ADD, insomnia, all of my health problems, pain, overthinking overcasts me; I still shine. Tyler said something to me at Applebee's when I saw him. He told me that one day someone will come into my life and tell me that my hair, eyes & smile glow. I radiate in the sunshine, and I'll know what they mean by it when that day comes. I am so hard on myself but I've had a handful of people- strangers and close friends tell me this. And I know it's true. I know there is more to me than usual. I still smile, I still shine. And I thank fucking whatever god is out there that my glow stays. My friend Angel that did reiki on me told me I've been carrying something since I was a child and that's the reason for my anger. It's someone else's burden that I have put on myself & the woman who read my tarot cards said something similar too. I really do have a little bit of poison in me but something in my soul, or even beyond my own existence, has given me this gift. As I get older, I become more and more scared that the reality of the world will take away my light. I smoke so much I can't even remember shit anymore. "Lose you." That's the song you told me to listen to and I'm sorry that I forgot but you bet your sweet ass the next day I bought it on iTunes and listened to it :) I'm sorry I float through life to avoid realism and pain. I don't mean to forget everything just the bad stuff but I can't pick and choose what my poor memory holds... Emperors new groove. Idr if I've mentioned it before this, but I saw it on the shelf in my room today. (I gotta take some pics of the apartment for you). I remember coming over right after all of the Jackie shit & finding out about your mom. Trying to overdose. You cried on my chest & you were so emotionally exhausted. I believe your mom was still in the hospital and we put a movie on in her bed. Emperors new groove :) it was snowing outside and it was the first time my mom blatantly was bitching about me staying the night w you bc her crazy ass drove by and saw my car at auburn hills, when I told her I was staying at Courtney's. I never felt so close to you like you let your guard down and let me feel your pain for once. Selfish of me to say but it was honestly beautiful to finally feel you so deeply. Connected and so raw. I feel like I use that word too much, raw, trying to explain myself to you but nothing fits better than it. I remember that day like it was yesterday. Speaking of the past. Alan at this point in my life idk and idc what was true and what wasn't when we were together before db (that's vals name for now on-dumb bitch.) but one thing I'm holding you to is honesty. I care too much about you and this relationship to see it as a joke where it's okay to lie to each other. Like you said that was the one thing you kept consistent of so please don't lose it. I respect you for your honesty. It isn't a trait people carry anymore. Good or bad, through manipulation, brainwashing, reverse psychology, mind games, everything that come with this fucking sick generation..I do not want to be apart of. I much rather be in the 50's than this day in age. I don't belong here. Mostly I belong in the water ;) can't say that it doesn't kill me a little everytime you talk about threesomes, fucking other women, having a 2nd gf. You need to stop with it. You take away my dignity little by little everytime you say some fucked up shit like that. Gotta admit, you were right tho. Out of FUN and fairness I'm sure one day in the future you can get my happy ass all buzzed up and in bed with another chick. Just don't give her all/special attention bc it'll strain our relationship for forever after that. This does not mean I am actually cool w an open relationship, you having another gf, or having sex with anyone else without me. Starting a new chapter. "Everything will be ok." "No one should ever see you crumbling"...that's the thing, trust me no one besides you sees me crumble. I don't talk about myself to anyone. I feel this void most of the days and I don't want to put a damper on anyone's mood. I never open mssgs or get back to ppl bc they dgaf about me or what I'm going through, think, feel. None of it. And I crave meaning too much, in everything, to be stuck in a one way friendship. I have wasted so much time and energy into ppl who are rotten eggs. They'll never be anything besides selfish i and I can't surround myself in that type of environment anymore. I'm killing myself slowly by not meeting my potential in life rn. I need more meaning. Not to make things more complex but the opposite. To feel full and complete by understanding shit all of the way. And ofc to make it through this terrible generation I was born into. I do see what you see baby...well for the most part. And I don't see the good in everything :p I know I won't always have someone to tell me life gets better. It has always been this way. I have taught myself this. Overthinking just kills me so much! Being a Virgo doesn't doesn't help that I overanalyze either! Fricken OCD-.- my brain sees & thinks things way differently than most ppl. Soul gotta be like 300:) I know you think differently too. I love my nerds ;) so sexy to me. Maybe that's why our souls just click. I am sorry I was quiet the other day. You knew I had something to say and I didn't say it. It wasn't the right time but it isn't a big deal so o don't want you worrying about it baby. Was I really that quiet and meh that you could tell? Or is it just bc you know everything about me?..-.- blessing a curse that you do! But I wouldn't want another man to try and understand me anyway bc I know he couldn't. It's time to stop living life for other ppl you say...idk if it's your 20's or what but I feel like I'm redefining my life again. Rediscovering who the hell I really am down to my core. I love YOU inside and out & to death!!!!!:,( pouty face. This is the most settling and amazing letter I have gotten so far. Thank you for these words I really needed it. I love you all the way through your tough skin and down to your beating heart Alan. Changing my diet is the least of my worries and it's awesome bc I'm going to get sexy af!:) I've been gluten free before. Not having cheese just breaks my lil heart tho lol. Yes my parents have fucked me up. But I workdue with it and try to overcome the shiftiness they make me feel. Ik I'm a pussy. But my dad has definitely fucked w my head and has never made me feel good enough. Maybe that's what I feed off of you and why I want you so bad. My mom is just an emotional crazy lady w multiple personality disorder lol. But at least they didn't hit me. Just verbally f*cked my shit up. "Do everything your heart desires" "even if I get out and we can't stay together 1 yr isn't shit to wait" do you understand how absolutely fucking amazing it is for me to see you say that? You're right everything happens for a reason and it'll all collide during the time it's suppose to. The stories held in the fate of the stars ;) "before we know it we'll be 30 looking back laughing." Nothing has sounded more fulfilling than that small, little sentence. I am studying finally! And I hope the pain fades away w my diet too:( my poor locked up bf has to tell me everything is going to be okay. I can't even say anything to compare to this last letter. You were too smooth with your words, and I can't tell you how refreshing it is for you to be away from me through out a whole year and wanting to stay faithful. We were blessed with each other . Keifer was right, never could stay away from each other. You will always have me too baby. I can't tell you how bad I need to hear this. You have helped me more times than I count. And for sure more than I have helped you. I can't say thank you enough for making me feel so much better . You're the wind beneath my wings <3 & the cheese to my cake. Thank you for loving me for who I am. I reread our letters last night an I am so proud of the man you are becoming. You'll have me sitting passenger cruising in your vehicle in no time toots. A place, school, income, a dog :), happiness, prosper, feeling complete. Taking care of each other, midnight runs grocery shopping. I love you with all that I got, every ounce of my being. And I hope I WILL always have you. You are stronger than so much of the race around this world. I am glad you are all mine. Love you always my sweet, handsome man. I never mentioned anything about the pics I sent. The picture after the 2012 one was when I went fishing w Anthony and t the other day. I'm pretty sure I took some pics of the water for you, I'll have to look. Ofc next one is me omw to see you. I put a wonderful alnatural big tshirt mirror pic on there for you since you're all about natural beauty:p speaking of I'm getting all new make up bc I bet that's why women age faster as they get older! We get words looking you guys get better and we carry your children wtf lol. The black dress is what I wore to Josis party, I sent the one and only picture I took at her party. Does exhaustion look sexy on me baby?:b. The last pic is from the gas station I went to after seeing you. The sky was soo overwhelming in red. There a w a double rainbow and it looked to rad & gleaming from the sky. It was beautiful!! I also wanted to show you my red robe that I have two of(: silky and comforting af, I can't wait to wearing matching robes with you:) lol do yoga, face masks, spoil or ourselves and one another as well. I can't wait to run my hands all over your body and give you a massage. Rob made me Nutella and strawberries tn, made me think about how bad I want to lick Nutella off of your body right now. I got wet from just thinking about it..mmm I'll take some sexy pictures tmmrw night for you. Happy I'm coming to stay for a whole weekend next week. You're my kryptonite and I love everything about you. Give me time so I can give you a kick ass amazing, inspiring letter next!!!! You rule my world. Forever and always sugs, you are my forever and always<3 3 am and time to crash. Hope you're having a kinky dream About it rn;) just ordered that vibrator off of amazon and metal kegel balls bc I guess they feel amazing. I can't wait to be with you. Like we always say, sex and a real bed. It'll be so soon sweetheart and I will have money for us to get a place as soon as you get out. Thank you for telling me to go wherever you astound me but life is just not the same without my other half. You're my soulmate I'd do anything for you. Being in southern michigan doesn't effect me as long as I'm there with you. You're my sunshine..goodnight love.

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