#i did have a panic attack early today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mangowillow · 19 days

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last to know | ch. 2: as always, even now

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader / kim woosung x (f) reader

summary: you and jeongguk got together at 16 years old, married at 20, and divorced at 21. what was once love ever after turned into nothing but pain and unfulfilled dreams. you keep going despite the pain in your heart that never really went away, until one day, jungkook comes back— to seoul and in your life.

general story tags: divorce au, childhood friends, angst, hurt & eventual comfort, kind of a slow burn, OC is an adopted child in this fic, a lot of flashbacks later on because context is important; and the others that a lot of people seem to dislike: a love triangle and a LOT of miscommunication. look away if this isn't your thing. tags and warnings will be updated as we go along with each chapter!

warnings: mentions of weight loss and a hospital, jeongguk has a panic attack (semi-detailed), problematic parent-child dynamics. let me know if i miss anything and please be kind!

word count: 5.3k

author's note: *peeks into the void* why hello there! let's pretend i didn't disappear off the face of the earth. earlier this year i went to see The Rose live for their dawn to dusk tour and it was so much fun! there's just a lot of things that have happened and continue to do so; please accept my sincerest apologies for being inconsistent! BUT. know that i haven't forgotten about this story. heh.

also a few more things: ♡ to put things into perspective: jeongguk, OC/reader, and woosung are all the same age; that also means they're as old as seokjin and yoongi in this fic. all the other members maintain their age. honorifics may or may not appear at times. if that bothers you, well, can't please everybody! ♡ this fic isn't beta'd nor proofread by anyone. we go rogue, always.

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

fic masterlist

Woosung plants a big, sloppy kiss on your cheek and giggles.

Looking at him, you ask, “What was that for?”

“Do I need a reason?” Woosung teases as he chews on his jjajangmyeon. You chuckle at his candidness and reach out to wipe the sauce that landed on the corner of his lip. The both of you resorted to sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes, using one of them as a makeshift table to place the food.

“I’m really happy you got to come today,” you muse, enjoying Woosung’s calming presence as he delicately places a piece of chicken karaage on your noodle bowl before setting his own down. You haven’t seen him for a few days because he needed to get some new music done in preparation for his application to a recording agency as a performer and a producer. You were more than happy to support him in any way you could, including giving him his space to figure things out. It was also who Woosung was— a quiet soul who liked working in solitude.

You and Woosung are so much alike.

“Why? Did you think I’d forget?” Woosung teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

“No, I just thought… maybe you needed more time to prepare for your application. That’s important.”

Woosung gently shakes his head, ready to disagree— “Nothing will ever be as important to me as you.”

A slight pink dusted your cheeks. You didn’t expect him to be this cheesy so early in the morning so you smile and cast your eyes back down to your meal.

“... I do have news for you, babe.” Woosung starts. He turns his body to face you. Giving your hundred percent attention, you cut the noodles with your teeth and place the bowl down. Wiping your mouth with a napkin, you hum at his statement, “What is it?”

Woosung smiles and looks at you lovingly. You feel a bit self-conscious every time he stares at you so intensely and like clockwork, you feel your cheeks heat up.

“I got the job, sweetheart.”

Hearing the news leave his lips leaves you surprised— your hands fly to your mouth and your eyes start to water. “R-really?” Woosung nods and chuckles through his own teary eyes, you throw yourself at him to give him a tight hug. “Woosung, oh my god— this is— “ you hold him by the shoulders, explore every inch of his face, elation in both of your hearts— “this is great, oh gosh I am so happy for you,” you hug him again.

You feel Woosung’s body relax instantly in your hold; it has been a journey, walking with Woosung through his own painful moments struggling with his art and passion. Two years ago, he came to Seoul desperately needing a break from life and music after many unsuccessful attempts to make it into the music industry back home in the United States. Although he and his bandmates have put out several songs in the past, they never really gained as much traction with an audience as they had hoped. Going back home to his roots in South Korea also meant leaving his bandmates behind— they have been nothing but supportive of him and his time as they also needed to re-assess their own lives and figure out what they truly wanted.

Two years ago, Woosung also met you. Both your lives changed ever since.

“Thank you for all your support, ____… you know I wouldn’t have been able to get through all this if it weren’t for you.” Woosung whispers, tightening his hold on your waist. You feel this, you feel everything when it comes to him— so you wrap your arms tighter around him, too. “This is all you, babe. This is all your hard work.”

You both stay that way for a while. Unspoken words are left hanging, as well. You both know well what might become of all this as you always try to communicate. You believe it is what has sustained your relationship for so long.

Both of you know that Woosung will always belong to music— it’s his dream and the reason why he took so many risks along the way. It was only a matter of when. The possibilities have always been there— should there be a moment where Woosung would return to his career, to his band, to becoming a global star. The fears that come along with those possibilities were also ever-present: what you and Woosung’s future would look like.

All of these thoughts come rushing to the both of you, but neither of you said anything.

For now, the both of you are happy. And that is enough.

When you parted from each other, you pushed away some of the hair that fell over Woosung’s eyes. “When do you start?”

Woosung takes a deep breath, “As soon as the higher-ups get settled in. I’ve been told they’ve recently landed in Seoul so it shouldn’t be too long now. I’ll be meeting with the owners and one of them is the lead producer. I heard he was a genius, but also a bit scary. They’ve also given me a signing bonus and a potential collaboration with him… that was new… he said they liked my work so much…”

“Wow, that… that sounds so exciting, baby. How are you feeling about all of this?”

“I’m nervous, for the most part,” Woosung murmurs, readjusting the collar of his shirt. It’s been a while since I talked to someone else about music professionally and… this company— I’ve heard so many wonderful things about it. For one, it was built by musicians, too. So I’m hoping they’re not just doing all of it for the business.”

You smile warmly at Woosung and hold his hands. “You’re going to do great, you know that, right?”

Woosung draws in a breath and nods before meeting your eyes.

That night, Woosung couldn’t sleep. He watches over you as you dream and when a strand of your hair falls on your face after moving a bit, he tucks it behind your ear. His fingers lightly dance while grazing the side of your face. Woosung sighs as a feeling of anxiety starts to creep into his heart. He loves change, but he cannot help but feel somewhat scared about it anyway. He gets so lost in his thoughts about you that he doesn’t notice you wake up.

“Baby, hey… you’re still awake.”

Your voice brings Woosung back to the present. Seeing your sleepy eyes under the sliver of moonlight that passes through your window makes his heart do a mini somersault— it always does.

“Hmm… I couldn’t sleep,” Woosung says. You scoot closer to him, his arm going under your shoulders to support your body in an embrace.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” you whisper, eyes closed, inhaling his scent— him.

“Just… things. I’m not sure how to articulate them yet…”

You hum, “Then I’ll just stay like this with you to keep you warm… warmth helps you sleep, right?”

Woosung nods, bringing your body closer to his. “Hm… especially your warmth.” Seconds later, he feels you breathe deeper, letting him know that you’re about to let yourself succumb to sleep once more. “I love you.”

When no response came from you, Woosung closed his eyes. Then suddenly, in the stillness of the night, he feels your hand squeeze his ever so lightly.

“I love you, too.”

“Hyung, I think that’s the salt—” Jimin starts.

Seokjin snorts, stopping with the shaker in his hand mid-air, “What do you mean, Jimin-ah, I think I know the difference between salt and sugar.” He was about to potentially put salt on the croffle in front of him, leaving Jimin feeling both very nervous and distressed.

“Last time, I remember you put the sugar in a different container because a customer accidentally broke the original shaker. The color of the cap was blue, not red. This—” he pointed at the shaker Seokjin was holding, “— is obviously not blue.”

“Yah, that happened last week, but I already switched them out two days ago—” Seokjin tries to argue.

They didn’t notice Woosung enter the cafe until he spoke, “Why don’t you just taste it?”

“Oh hey, Woosung-hyung,” Jimin greets.

“Hey, Jimin. Good to see you,” Woosung replies as Jimin nods, his eyes turning into crescents as soon as he smiles.

Seokjin scoffs once more before greeting Woosung, but he relents and tastes whatever is inside the shaker. When he makes a funny face, Jimin and Woosung chuckle.

“Told ya, hyung. Tell us I saved your life.”

“I can’t believe this is salt, I knew I already switched it out—”

With possible disaster averted, Jimin doesn’t listen to Seokjin’s monologue anymore, “You’re here early today, hyung. Would you like to order the usual?”

“Actually, I am here to buy a mango parfait… ____’s fridge is crazy cold and the frozen mangoes are, well, too frozen. I might actually break the blender. I also forgot to make her usual overnight oats. We had to move a lot of things very quickly yesterday so she could have a bed to sleep on.”

“I got you, hyung. We just finished making a fresh batch of parfaits. Do you want one, too?” Jimin asks.

“Are there other flavors?”

“Blueberry and strawberry,” Seokjin adds.

“I’ll take one blueberry, then. Thanks.” Woosung gets ready to pay, but Seokjin waves him away. “It’s on the house.”

“You always give us free stuff, Seokjin—” Woosung tries to argue, but Seokjin shakes his head immediately.

“Taking care of my sister is more than enough, Woosung-ah.”

Woosung gives Seokjin a tight smile and nods. Seokjin then asks, albeit softer, “How is she doing lately?”

“She’s doing better,” Woosung reassures. “She has been painting more recently; not just because of her job at the university, but also at home. We’re going to set up her studio today so it should be fun.”

“That’s good to hear, right hyung?” Jimin turns to Seokjin, who nods. Jimin hands Woosung a paper bag with the parfaits. “I put some new desserts we’re experimenting with. Please give them a try.”

Woosung peeks at the paper bag and sees croissants and greenish muffins, presumably matcha-flavored. “Oh wow, thank you Jimin… I won’t take up too much of your time, guys. ____ is still sleeping and I need to clean up the mango disaster I left on her kitchen counter before she wakes up.”

Seokjin chuckles, “You really came all the way here for parfaits when you could have bought these anywhere near ____’s apartment.”

“Ah, but nothing beats your parfaits, Seokjin. A wise man once told me that,” Woosung smiles. He and Seokjin instantly formed a bond the moment they met two years ago, much to your relief. You’ve always been nervous to tell your brother anything remotely new about your love life— and you understand where he is coming from.

“Well whoever that wise man is must be pretty smart,” Seokjin replies. His eyes soften right afterward. “Go. Let’s have a drink sometime, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” Woosung waves goodbye to Seokjin and Jimin.

Jeongguk walks the hallway of the recording studio, still groggy from sleep. Hands in his pockets, he stood outside Yoongi’s door, staring at his peculiar mat: a cat with its middle finger raised, the words ‘fuck off’ glaring at him. Figures, he thought. A doormat won’t stop him from ringing Yoongi’s doorbell, though.

“Who is it?” he hears Yoongi call out.

“It’s your favorite person in the whole wide world,” Jeongguk says, sarcasm lacing his voice. He pinched the bridge of his nose; a habit he developed in college whenever he felt the exhaustion seep out of him. He hears scuffling from the other side of the door until the sound of the door’s automatic lock rings. Jeongguk sees Yoongi clad in a plaid shirt, ripped jeans, and a gray beanie— his signature style.

“Dumbass,” Yoongi mutters under his breath before turning his back to return to his equipment. “Good morning to you too,” Jeongguk teases as he closes the door behind him.

“How are you already set up? It’s barely a day since we arrived!”

Yoongi chooses not to respond.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Jeongguk asks in disbelief. “Please tell me you at least went home to get your shit sorted? Or maybe sleep like normal human beings do?”

“I did… for a brief moment, maybe?” Yoongi starts.

Jeongguk shakes his head, “You have to stop spreading yourself thin, Yoongi. It’ll be the death of you.”

Yoongi fiddles with a few knobs on the synthesizer before muttering, “That doesn’t seem so bad— spreading myself too thin, that is.”

Jeongguk throws his hands up in surrender and rolls his eyes.

“Have I succeeded in frustrating you to hell and back, yet?” Yoongi smirks while continuing to flit his eyes through the numerous screens in front of him.

Jeongguk was about to say something but then the door alarm clicked. Kim Namjoon’s head peeks out from behind the door.

“I came to say my welcome remarks,” Namjoon says as he lets himself in. Jeongguk’s mouth falls open because he couldn’t believe Namjoon could just easily waltz in without any resistance. What’s even more astounding was that he knew Yoongi’s passcode— while he, on the other hand, had to ring the fucking doorbell.

“Oh, great. So your boyfriend knows your passcode and I don’t?” Jeongguk asks.

“He isn’t my boyfriend,” Yoongi states, matter-of-factly. Jeongguk couldn’t help but glance at Namjoon’s way, who seemed unfazed.

“Right, and I’m Neil Armstrong,” Jeongguk plops down on the couch.

“You’re the CEO, Jeongguk, of course, you should know the passcode… right, Yoongi?” says Namjoon, ever the oblivious one.

Yoongi continues to do work on his computer, his fingers deftly flying across his keyboard, “Don’t encourage him, Namjoon.”

Namjoon looks back at Jeongguk who has now taken an interest in the plant beside the couch. When they met each other’s eyes, Namjoon just shrugged, his dimples showing.

“How was your flight, you guys? I hope everything was easy peasy.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Jeongguk responds. “Not sure about Yoongi here though. He looked like he was about to puke.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi retaliates.

“I can’t imagine the both of you tolerating each other while in another country. It’s a miracle this production company is still standing upright,” Namjoon says chuckling.

Namjoon met Jeongguk first in university while they studied in New York. Although Jeongguk was a business student and Namjoon double majored in music theory and composition, they ran into each other at a frat party-— with Jeongguk being drunk off his ass. He was about to fall into the pool full of piss (which the other frat members thought was funny) when Namjoon saved him in the nick of time.

Apart from Yoongi, Namjoon also served as Jeongguk’s confidant, especially after things went south between you and Jeongguk. When the dust settled and Jeongguk was sober enough to realize the gravity of his mistakes, Namjoon helped Yoongi pick up the pieces of Jeongguk’s brokenness. As with time passing by, Namjoon and Yoongi started to develop into something more, too. Much to Jeongguk’s delight and envy.

However, neither Yoongi nor Namjoon has admitted their feelings to the other. And truth be told, Jeongguk is sick of them dancing around each other.

But he also knows it’s none of his business.

“Hey, Jeongguk, is that family dinner of yours still happening tonight?” Yoongi decides to ask. Also probably to change the subject.

Jeongguk lets out a deep sigh. “Yes, it is.”

“Ouch. Will you be alright?” Namjoon asks out of genuine concern.

“I don’t really have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, Jeongguk-ah,” Yoongi inserts. “You just need to work on making the right ones.”

Jeongguk slacks his jaw and runs his tongue across his lip ring. He doesn’t really have an answer to that.

Because once again, Yoongi was right. Not just about the damn family dinner; Jeongguk also knows his best friend’s words run deeper and imply a whole lot more than just feeling forced to sit down with his parents over steak and champagne.

“See you on the other side, then,” Namjoon says as he pats Jeongguk on the shoulder before leaving the room.

Jeongguk mulled over bringing flowers to the family dinner but decided against it.

He knows that the house would be filled with them, anyway. And his efforts won’t matter, either.

As he got out of his car, a chauffeur was already by his side ready to take his keys for him. When the car drove off, Jeongguk took a moment to look at the house he hadn’t lived in for years. It feels odd to come home; it feels even odder to feel numb about all of it.

It took Jeongguk a few seconds to ring the doorbell; for god’s sake, it was his house too, he thought. Ringing the doorbell meant he was a stranger— which he felt was appropriate.

He was greeted by a new housekeeper. He gave her a nod before stepping inside. Almost instantly, his mother appeared at the top of the staircase. They look at one another for a moment, before his mother breaks the silence.

“You finally decide to show yourself.”

Jeongguk doesn’t move. Doesn’t respond, either. He was prepared for a stare-off match with his mother, but that was until his father showed up from the kitchen. With a dish towel in hand, Jeongguk’s father smiled at him as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“It’s so good to see you, son.”

Jeongguk, once more, doesn’t have it in him to respond.

At the dinner table, the silence was so loud, that Jeongguk thought it could break glass.

“Did you settle in fine, Jeongguk?” his father asks.

“Yes, father, I did.”

“You should have chosen a place that was nearer to us, Jeongguk,” his mother chides.

“Honey…” Jeongguk’s father tries to put out a fire that is about to ignite. Jeongguk, on the other hand, was so tired from the flight and emotionally, that he felt a need to retaliate.

Because why not? Whether he speaks up or not wasn’t really up to him. Between him and his mother, he has nothing to lose.

“I don’t know, mother, I chose that place because I wanted to get away from here as much as possible.” Jeongguk remarks. He knows he hit a nerve because his mother downed her champagne rather than respond.

“How is the company going, son? Everything doing alright?” his father asks, trying to mitigate a conflict that neither of them could recover from.

“I guess. Yoongi and I haven’t managed to burn anything so that’s nice,” Jeongguk eats a spoonful of mashed potato. He knows he really needs to shut up and regulate his emotions, but he just can’t help but be sarcastic.

Once more, the silence won. However, Jeongguk’s mother is the type to not back down.

“You should think about getting married soon, Jeongguk—” she starts. Jeongguk feels himself grow cold as if on instinct.

“—and this time, we want you to marry someone your level,” she finishes. Jeongguk felt his heart twisting so painfully that he didn’t notice how tight he held on to his cutlery.

Jeongguk swallows the once-repressed pain that used to consume him whole. He knows this is futile because he never dares to face his regrets square in the face. Instead, he allows the pain to make him angry. He allows his resentment to consume him in ways he doesn’t know how to handle and in a pained effort to avoid causing further damage, he remains quiet. Unresponsive. Cold. Withdrawn.

But his own mother is even more cold-hearted than he is. She is the one who made him like this.

It’s her fault.

“You need to marry a good woman who can keep up with your social status. Remember you’re not just anyone, Jeongguk. You’re a Jeon. And you have a legacy to uphold,” his mother condescends.

Tears start to sting Jeongguk’s eyes, but he doesn’t want to let his mother win. So he keeps still.

“I have a few prospects for you, dear. We should set dates for them, don’t you think so? I chose the most refined and educated—” Jeongguk hates how his mother knows how to push his buttons and hurt him.

He knows that his mother knows his ultimate weakness.

You.

And because his mother cannot contain her insecurities and prejudice, she projects it all on her son. But most especially, you— whether you were in the room or not.

Jeongguk’s mother continues her monologue. His father miserably fails to become the referee (he always does). Heat starts to rise Jeongguk’s neck and he swears he could hear his own blood pumping through his ears. What almost immediately follows is the high-pitched ringing that only he can hear.

Jeongguk starts to feel dizzy; like he’s about to lose control.

But instead of releasing, instead of crying, instead of getting angry— he does none of them.

He finds himself standing up, his hands dragging the plate full of food to the ground. With all his might, Jeongguk tries to breathe deeply.

“That’s enough, mom.” Jeongguk croaks. A tear escapes his eye. “Please.”

Jeongguk rarely addresses her as “mom”. But in times of vulnerability and helplessness, it’s the term he ends up using.

“As I expected… you are still weak, Jeongguk.” his mother states with absolutely no remorse.

Jeongguk feels like he is about to throw up. To save himself, he drags his legs to leave the dining area. Housekeepers try to help him, but he brushes them aside. Security guards around the house up until the gate tried to support him, but Jeongguk just waved them all off.

He just needed to get away before his vision completely blurred. He needed to get out of this godforsaken house.

It was a miracle that Jeongguk got far away from the house as he had. But in doing so, he felt physically weaker and weaker. His mind isn’t done with him yet as thoughts of you start to resurface. His chest starts to tighten again. He feels cold and afraid and tired.

Jeongguk falls to his knees on the side of the road; he allows his body to go limp and fall to the ground.

He barely remembers what happened next.

When Jeongguk opens his eyes, bright, stale lights greet him.

He hears beeping, faint footsteps, a voice over an intercom.

He feels something brushing his leg so gently that it takes him a while before realizing that someone is standing over him, wiping the edge of his slacks.

Jeongguk squints his eyes to get a better look at the person touching his leg. When he tries to elevate his upper body, the person in front of him feels him moving.

Jeongguk couldn’t believe who he was seeing. His panic attack must still be happening because it was impossible.

It was you.

“Oh… hi,” you start. Jeongguk is at a loss for words so he continues to stare at you.

You immediately feel self-conscious so you start to wrangle the damp cloth you were holding.

“Are you okay? Hang on, I’ll call the nurse—”

You start to leave, but Jeongguk catches your wrist. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. You look at his hand on your wrist before Jeongguk lets go of it.

“W-what happened?”

“You’re at the hospital… um, I– I got a call from them saying you were here,” you say.

Jeongguk’s eyebrows met. He is still confused as to how or why the hospital would call you. As he looks at you, in the flesh, in front of him, the familiar ache in his chest threatens to overwhelm him again.

You look as beautiful as ever, even more so than the last time he saw you. The last time he did, you were crying to him. He did that to you. That was his fault.

“Are you hurt, anywhere, Jeongguk? I think I need to call your doctor, just give me a second—”

“No… please. I’m okay. I don’t feel any pain.” Except for my broken heart.

“Oh… okay.”

Jeongguk observes you, more particularly your hands. You still have that habit of fiddling with your fingers when you didn’t know what to do, he thinks.

“H-how did the hospital call you? You didn’t change your number?” Jeongguk is a hundred percent sure his choice of questions was dumb, but he doesn’t have any idea as to why you’re here.

“The hospital told me I was your emergency contact… they uh– they only found your wallet on you and found this,” you explain as you handed him his wallet. Inside was an old piece of paper with your emergency contact number and e-mail address.

“The e-mail address is now defunct, but my number is still the same because I had it reactivated when I came back here…”

When I came back here, Jeongguk repeated to himself.

Jeongguk wanted to ask you a million questions, but his throat feels dry and he is unable to speak.

“I um, I also called Yoongi. He should be here any minute,” you continue. When Jeongguk looks at you funny, you give him a small smile— the first one you’ve given him since he woke up. “We talk sometimes.”

There is a lot of information that Jeongguk needs to process but his head hurts a lot and he makes a mental note to interrogate his friend later.

You move to grab and open the plastic bag that is on the bedside table. You pull out a pair of black socks. Jeongguk sees you hesitate a bit before speaking again.

“I got these across the street… your socks got wet from the rain.”

“Oh.” Jeongguk feels really dumb.

“May I?” you tentatively ask. “Your feet will get cold if we don’t—and you have the IV on so you won’t be able to use your hands—”

“It’s okay…” Jeongguk’s response startles you. “Thank you.”

You nod and sit by his feet to put on the new socks. Jeongguk feels the tears again but he tries to hold them back as he feels your touch and your warm fingers graze his bare, cold skin. When you’re done putting them on him, you smile to yourself.

“Does that feel better?” you ask.

Jeongguk nods and hums. He took his time to look at you and to his mild surprise, you reciprocated. A sense of stillness seemed to occur like time stopped just so Jeongguk could fully take in the sight of you.

He hurriedly tries his best to memorize all your features—old and new. Your face is smaller, your cheekbones higher; both indicative of you losing a bit of weight since he saw you last. Your eyes are softer, but also more tired. You also grew out your hair.

To Jeongguk, you are still so beautiful.

And he missed you so much that his heart hurt again at the thought of losing you.

“How are y—” Jeongguk tries to ask, but the door to his hospital room slid open, revealing a disheveled Yoongi.

“Jeongguk, are you okay? What happened?”

Jeongguk notices you quickly moving aside to give Yoongi room.

“I’m fine, Yoongi. I guess I just passed out and—”

“You had another panic attack, Jeongguk. That’s the second time this week. Have you taken your medication?”

Yoongi’s string of questions had Jeongguk feeling anxious. He just had the unexpected chance of seeing you again but under the most dire circumstances. Surely, it wasn’t the time for you to hear about his mental health issues.

“Yoongi, can we—” Jeongguk tried to save face, but Yoongi was faster.

Yoongi turns to you and hugs you. “I’m sorry, ____, you must have been so confused.”

“No, not at all, I’m… I’m glad I could be of help,” you reassure. More so for Jeongguk because you know this must be very awkward for him.

A bit of awkwardness did happen because none of you spoke for a bit. Your phone ringing was the only saving grace.

“Hello? Oh, okay. I’ll be right out,” you answer the other person on the line. Hanging up, you say, “Um… I should get going.”

“Is someone picking you up?” Yoongi asks.

“Yes, Taehyung’s just a few minutes away,” you answer.

Yoongi nods and pulls you in for another hug. He whispers his thanks and you respond by hugging him tighter.

You also approach Jeongguk a little closer. “Take care of yourself, Jeongguk.” You see the pain in his eyes, but you refuse to acknowledge it to yourself, even if Jeongguk’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears and his nose was already pink.

Jeongguk doesn’t want you to go. But again, he has no choice but to let you.

“You too, ____.”

As soon as you close the door, Jeongguk allows his tears to fall.

As soon as you get into the car, Taehyung asks his questions.

“Why the hell did you just come out of a hospital?”

“Tae—”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? You’re the only one there? What happened?” You can feel the panic rising in Taehyung as he inspects you, but you just chuckle.

“Yah—you laugh?”

“I’m fine, Taehyung,” you tell him but he doesn’t look convinced. “I really am.”

“Then why were you in there?”

“I saw Jeongguk again, Tae,” you calmly respond.

Taehyung freezes. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not,” you answer.

“And you’re… are you okay?”

“I am.”

Taehyung knows you better than that but he gives you a pass because he could also tell you were tired and your short answers mean that you didn’t want to talk just yet.

“Do you want to talk about it over ice cream and fries?”

For a second, you felt tempted, but you just also wanted to go home. “Maybe some other time, Taehyung.”

Taehyung understands immediately and nods. “Should I take you to Woosung hyung or do I take you home?”

You do want to see Woosung because you know he is what you need, but you also don’t want to burden him with a bombshell of an event so you opt to be alone for the night. “Take me home, please.”

“Okay, ____,” Taehyung answers.

The rest of the car ride was a quiet one.

The short walk in the hallway leading to your home is a heavy one. As you punch in your passcode, you deeply sigh. You want nothing more than to collapse on the bed and ruminate on what just happened over the past few hours.

However, the moment you open the door, a wave of delicious scents welcomes you home. As you take off your shoes, you see a familiar pair. You smile to yourself as you place yours beside it.

You enter your home further and see Woosung with his back to you, working his way in the kitchen. As if on cue, Woosung turns around and walks toward you.

“Hey you,” you say with a smile.

“Hi,” Woosung responds, gathering you in his arms and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Did you have a good day, today?”

You feel yourself swallow once before nodding. Woosung, ever the sensitive boyfriend, holds you tighter.

You know you can’t hide from him. So you hold on to him tighter, too.

And you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Woosung feels your body shake and he runs his hand across your back to soothe you.

He may not know what’s going on right now, but he also knows you will talk to him when you’re ready. So he continues to embrace you; kissing the side of your head after a while.

Woosung whispers against your ear, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart.”

taglist: @whoa-jo @nays2112 @junecat18 @jk97bam @butterymin @smdnai

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

#jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #bts au #bts au fanfic #woosung x reader #jungkook divorce au #divorce au

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queenimmadolla · 1 year

Text

𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀

(eddie munson x secret admirer!reader)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • eddie edit © @fefemunson! • ao3

Summary: After four long years of pining, it’s high time you tell your crush you like him and quite possibly your last chance to, luckily there’s no better time for love confessions than Valentine’s Day. If only you hadn’t chosen to do so anonymously, because you’re pretty sure Eddie Munson is hoping his secret admirer is someone else.

Warnings: pining, angst, misunderstandings, very brief (blink and you miss it) descriptions of oncoming panic attack (doesn't happen), Heather Holloway being a sweetie, and a whole lot of fluff

authors note: no, you're not imagining things. i'm reposting a story i already have up. unfortunately, i seem to have an anti who has been flagging anything of mine that gains traction as content that it is not so it's hidden to those who don't have the settings on (most people) and goes to die away, never to be interacted with again. they're attempting to do the same to Magical Mysteria, as they had the original flagged and, therefore, hidden. because everyone seemed to really relate to reader and enjoyed reading this particular fic, i've decided to give that anti the finger, so here's a repost.

word count: 10k

You stood posted by a row of lockers, peaking around the corner of the hall to watch as the longtime object of your affections laughed at something one of his friends said.

“Are you stalking him again?”

You jumped, clutching your biology book to your chest as you swiveled around to face Heather, your best friend.

“Geez!” You hissed out, voice low as you checked to make sure you hadn’t attracted his attention.

But it’s you, so of course you hadn’t. Eddie was still leaning up against his locker and chatting away, face framed by the mane he called his hair. His curls were defined much more than usual—clearly he’d washed his hair before school which meant he must have been up early. Why did you know that????

“I’m not stalking him,” you grumbled and Heather giggled. “I’m just observing him.”

“Well, stop observing him and go talk to him.” She nudged your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile.

“I’m gonna—,” You answered with false bravado that soon wavered, “. . . eventually. Look, I have a plan. Okay, today is a new day, Valentine’s Day and the perfect day for romance. No more watching from the sidelines─”

Heather coughed out a stalking, followed by another cough, all of which you ignored.

“No more quietly pining, I’m telling him how I feel.”

Heather raised her eyebrows, tongue clicking.

“Let me get this straight, you’re not only going to actually exchange words with him, you’re actually going to tell Eddie Munson about your feelings?”

Your heart fluttered just at the mention of him.

Edward Wayne Munson. Eddie.

You’d had a crush on him since your freshman year of high school, and contrary to your best friend’s earlier statement, you had exchanged words with him already. Sorta. Basically.

Freshman year you’d ate shit in the hallway, tripping over literally nothing and all your belongings had scattered, he’d stopped walking to help you pick your things up before he was off again. It wasn’t much conversation, but he did say something about those invisible rocks people left lying around.

Then your sophomore year, he’d sat behind you with his club at the school’s mandatory pep rally. One of his friends had accidentally jostled you and Heather a little too roughly when he was finding his seat and Eddie had apologized on his behalf.

Then last year he’d held the cafeteria door open for you and your friends when you slipped in. That time, you’d been the one to thank him and he had said you’re welcome. Almost unprompted!

So, yeah. Maybe you were a little delusional, it didn’t matter though. What mattered was you were running out of time.

Somehow, Eddie had managed to fail the past two years, allowing you to catch up to him but that meant you were now a senior as well. You’d let the other chances to approach him pass you by because you were too scared of rejection, this was your last chance.

The college acceptance letter you’d received at the start of the week also spurred your bravery, if he rejected you, you only had a few months left until you were on your way to California, there’d be all those states between the two of you.

You had nothing to lose, so today was gonna be the day.

“Yes,” you took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as the determination sank deep into your bones. “I’m gonna tell him.”

“How are you gonna do that?” She cocked her head, the curls of her side ponytail bouncing.

“I’m glad you asked, my friend.” You grabbed her hand, dragging her down the hall to your partially opened locker. You pulled the door open fully to reveal a bouquet of roses, set on top of your books.

Her face wrinkled up in confusion, “You bought yourself flowers again?”

“No.” You glared at her, a hand scratching your head as you hissed out through gritted teeth, “And we promised not to bring that up anymore—these are for Eddie.”

Heather perked up at that, a hand resting over her chest as she fawned, “Dude, that is so cute! When are you gonna give them to him?”

“That’s the thing, I’m not actually going to give them to him directly. I need your help. You’ve got history with him, yeah?”

You already knew she did so it didn’t surprise you when she nodded. You slipped one rose from the bouquet and handed it to her.

“Can you leave this on his desk?”

“Sure! Wow, I can’t believe I get to be part of your love story,” she marveled, twirling the stem between her fingertips.

God, you hoped it’d be a love story and not a tragedy.

“And these are for you.” You pulled out a smaller bouquet of pink roses, and Heather just about burst into tears.

The two of you had been best friends since middle school, and often spent your free time watching corny teen movies, usually living through the main characters of the romance ones. You’d had a couple of almost-boyfriends, in the end you hadn’t been interested in them enough to accept when they’d try to make it official. And Heather simply hadn’t caught the eye of anyone, which was ridiculous to you considering how pretty and nice she was, so you were usually her valentine on Valentine’s Day. This was the first time you actually got her flowers instead of a bunch of chocolates to eat the night away, you’d figured she deserved them.

She’d had a crush on Steve Harrington, but he hadn’t noticed her and ended up dating and getting dumped by Nancy Wheeler. Then he’d dated every other girl except her. You feared your non-existent relationship with Eddie might go the same way.

“Dude,” Heather yanked you in for a hug, squeezing you to the point you thought your ribs might be bruised.

“Uhm. Heather. Ow.”

“Oh, sorry.” She released you, holding you by your shoulders, “Okay, so I just give it to him?”

“No, no, no, no, no. There will be no interactions. Just leave it on his desk.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

You were about to reply when the first bell cut you off and threw you into a panic, nudging Heather in the direction of the classroom so she could beat Eddie there. Heather took off running once she realized the reason for your worry, only you both failed to remember Eddie was late to everything.

You reluctantly made your way to your first period, plagued by thoughts of Eddie’s reaction to the first rose.

Would he like it? Oh, you hoped he liked it.

What if he thought it was some prank? What if he threw it away? Would he do the same to the rest?

Oh, well. There was no backing out now.

Your carefully thought out plan was put into action. You’d made sure to play sick the last 15 minutes of every class to get an excuse note to the nurse, only you didn’t go to the nurse. Instead, you ran around leaving a rose in Eddie’s various hang outs. One at the creepy old bench you knew he did business at. Two roses with the stems placed through the slits of his locker, three on his windshield wipers, one of the younger students in your art class was in Hellfire with him and after swearing him to secrecy, Will had promised to deliver three to Eddie personally, without revealing your identity.

During lunch, you found yourself behind the stage of the cafeteria, in part of the drama department. It’s where Hellfire took place.

You’d been there a handful of times, only when your curiosity for the metalhead got a little too overwhelming for you and you wanted to feel closer to him without having to face him. It was only ever set up on Fridays, the day Eddie got to school early enough to do so.

You made your way over to sit in the chair closest to his throne, casting it a couple of nervous glances.

This would be where you left the last rose, so of course, everything about the set up, the throne had to look daunting to you now; a representation of how you were seeing Eddie as your confession grew nearer. If things didn’t go as planned, it’d be the last time you could come here.

The thought made your stomach hurt, a large void beginning to form there.

The last rose was much too personal to leave just anywhere, where someone without a key to the room would find it. No one but the Hellfire club would occupy this area today. Attached to the rose with a ribbon was a note with a simple message that meant more to you than you cared to admit. You’d written it when you first came up with your plan at the start of the week and had been debating on whether or not to sign your name since then.

The answer should’ve been obvious, right? This whole thing was to let Eddie know how you felt about him, and your romantic intentions were clear with the red roses. This note would finish implying the rest. And if you wanted Eddie to know it was you who admired him, you just had to write your name.

Yeah, simple as that.

You clicked the pen in your grasp, placing it just over the paper.

You wavered, licking your lips as you tried to convince yourself to just own your goddamn name. That’s all you had to do. Write on the paper.

Just write on the paper.

Your hand was beginning to shake, and with a heavy heart, you realized your name wouldn’t be going on this note.

You weren’t brave enough for that. You set your purple pen down, staring down at the words written in pink ink before you rolled the paper up, making sure the ribbon was secured (you’d used a hole puncher to slip the ribbon through) and left it on the seat of the throne before scurrying out of the room as fast as you could.

—

Eddie was at a loss, completely stupefied.

When he’d arrived at his history class, after having mentally prepared himself for the onslaught of boredom he’d face, he was surprised to find a single rose on his desk. By surprised, he meant incredibly suspicious. A glance around the room confirmed he wasn’t being watched, everyone was gossiping about Emmy Switcher’s upcoming party, so he’d settled into his seat and marveled at it.

Eddie wasn’t one to ever really get things on Valentine’s Day, not counting the mandatory valentine’s cards in elementary and middle school. The last time he’d gotten a card was his first senior year, and it had been a prank by a couple of girls on the softball team and their boyfriends. Embarrassed the shit out of him. The following Valentine’s Day he’d faked being sick to avoid falling victim again—god, he craved affection so much it made him pathetic enough to still hope for something gross and cheesy to happen to him.

A rose was harmless though, right? Unless it was poisoned or something. Eddie lifted it to his nose, but all he could pick up was the seductive floral scent and when he didn’t immediately pass out from chloroform, he figured it was just a rose.

He glanced around again in vain, hoping someone would somehow stick out and when no one did, he held it in his grasp, rough fingertips stroking over the soft petals for the duration of the class.

He’d been stunned when he arrived at his locker to find two roses hanging out of it. A few people were staring at him as he carefully pulled them from their place, but they looked more curious rather than shy or mischievous. He had a feeling whoever was leaving the roses for him wasn’t around.

He refused to leave them in his locker, the stems clutched in his hand as he went about his day and found more. Eddie was more than proud to display them, somewhat smug at the attention they were garnishing him.

Yeah, fuckers. Someone finally liked him. Eat shit.

He’d spent his English class convincing himself he’d never find out exactly who this someone was. He was pretty fucking stressed after that. He tried to come up with a roster of sorts, girls he thought might be interested in him enough to maybe leave him pretty flowers and woo him right out of his Reeboks.

He’d only been able to come up with four—impressive—but his first pick he was quick to scribble out. He hadn’t had a decent interaction with her and he figured it was creepy of him to put her at the top of the list all because of his wishful thinking.

The second girl listed was possible, maybe. Chrissy Cunningham. He’d had a crush on her for as long as he could remember since she was always nice to him. She’d dumped Jason a couple of months ago and he’d been dealing to her for a short amount of time, but she seemed pretty flirty to him. Although, flattery did work on him.

The third name made him nervous, and not in a good way. Tina Sawyer. They’d both got pretty drunk at her Halloween party and hooked up in her bathroom but she avoided him like the plague afterwards, obviously embarrassed about interacting with him, which was typical for the lot of Hawkins.

He’d been sure it was a drunken mistake but sometimes, he’d catch her staring at him, and she didn’t look all that disgusted with him.

The last name on the short list was that of Tammy Thompson. She had made her interest in Eddie pretty clear his junior year, always trying to sit behind him in classes so she could play with his hair. Unfortunately Tammy was very, for the lack of better words, aggressive with her affections. He’d made out with her once and it had been sloppy and messy in the most unattractive of ways. It was like tonguing a dog.. Then he remembered she’d actually been able to graduate, unlike him, so he was spared.

By lunch, Eddie was ready to try to figure out who his secret admirer was. Out of the two remaining girls on his list, he was leaning more towards Chrissy, who he felt wouldn’t be ashamed to hold his hand in public.

He and his lunchbox full of drugs—and some snacks—made their way to the Hellfire lunch table where he spent a significant amount of time studying the two girls.

“Uh, are you okay, Eddie?”

Eddie glanced up at the concerned face of Will Byers, who’d arrived much later than the rest of the guys and Stephanie, one of the two girls in Hellfire. The question drew the attention of the rest of the table and Eddie internally sighed.

“Yeah, I’m fine—what are those?” Eddie asked, eyes honed in on the roses resting on Will’s tray.

The younger teen handed them over, “A girl told me to give you these.”

Eddie felt his heart skip a beat, “You know who she is?”

Will nodded and before Eddie could demand a name, he rushed, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy!”

Eddie scowled, carefully setting aside his roses so they wouldn’t be involved in his annoyance.

“Byers, I’m gonna level with you. I’ve been in this miserable prison for six long years. While I’ve had my fair share of hookups, I have not ever had a girl like me enough to leave me roses and do cute shit before. And I fear I never will again. That’s why I’m actually gonna need you to tell me who it is so I can have a girlfriend by the end of what is supposed to be the most god awful romantic day of the year. ‘Kay?”

Eddie’s eyebrows dart up, face set in an intimidating glower but Will remembers how scared you looked when you trusted him with this task. He also knows, very well, how it feels to love someone without them ever knowing because you fear what their response will be. He’d also seen Eddie eyeing both Chrissy and Tina.

Will knew what it was like to have that special person interested in someone else, too. So, he’d protect your secret.

“I swore.”

Eddie groaned, head dipping forward in a brief moment of defeat before he slammed his fist on the table, making the other occupants jump.

“Whatever, I’ll find her myself.” Just as Eddie stands, an idea occurs to him. Will said he wouldn’t tell him who it was, but the youngest Byers hadn’t said he wouldn’t tell him who it wasn’t, “Is it Tina?”

Will shakes his head, nose wrinkling. Nothing against her, she just wasn’t the nicest to him or his friends. Not the meanest, still.

Eddie breathes out a sigh, mumbling an oh, thank god as he makes his way to the cafeteria doors. That only left one possibility, and he was due to meet up with her in just five minutes. He couldn’t fight the grin off his face.

──

Your heart was racing a mile a minute, having witnessed everything transpire at the Hellfire table.

You’d selected your lunch table four years ago because of the perfect view of Eddie it provided you, but right then it was killing you. You’d ruined your manicure, picking aggressively at the polish as you watched Will and Eddie, breathing out a sigh of relief when it looked like Will hadn’t revealed your identity.

Eddie hadn’t seemed too happy about that.

Then he stormed out and you fought very hard with yourself to not follow after him because then Heather would be right and you’d be a stalker.

“Regret it yet?” Heather asked after she’d swallowed a bite of her sandwich.

“No.” You sorta lied. Yeah, you kind of regretted it but at the same time, knowing Eddie wouldn’t have to let you down gently made you less anxious. Besides, it wasn’t like you could just climb up the stage and duck past the curtain leading to the hellfire room without one of it’s members spotting you from their table. They’d tell Eddie in a heartbeat, especially if they found out the last rose and that damn note was there.

“Sure,” Heather drawled, glancing over her shoulder as you picked at your food, appetite suddenly gone.

Maybe you really should have written your name on that love note.

“Well, I hope you mean it, because Dream Girl is on her way to meet Ice Cream.” Your head snapped up at the mention of Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie’s code names you’d given them so both you and Heather were free to talk without either of them suspecting anything. You referred to Chrissy as Dream Girl because you’d known all about Eddie’s crush on her (while Heather had been depressed about Steve and Nancy, you’d eaten your weight in ice cream over Eddie and Chrissy’s more than friendly interactions with each other, which had nothing to do with Eddie’s code name—he was ‘ice cream’ because you wanted to lick him all over).

Sure enough, you looked over Heather’s shoulder, following her gaze to see Chrissy bidding her friends goodbye before she walked right out of the doors Eddie had pushed past minutes ago and as you watched her exit through the double doors, something inside you withers and dies a bit.

You knew Eddie sold to her (gave her a discount because she was pretty and because of their flirting, hearing him say that made you want to drive a knife right through your chest), you and Heather had followed them out a couple of times which is how you were both aware of the flirtationship.

After the first time you’d spied on them, the two of you had gone back to your home where Heather held a mock funeral for you. Now, you wished it had been a real one because you were sure Eddie had not only loved your roses, he also assumed they were from Chrissy. They would send him right into her arms at that shitty ass bench. And when he’d get a hold of the love note, well, you’d be the reason behind why Eddie and Chrissy would be hand in hand come Monday, canoodling by their lockers and kissing like no one else was watching. All the things Eddie should have been doing with you.

You should have signed your name on the fucking note.

─

Eddie had paced a pathway, disturbing the mounds of fallen leaves surrounding the picnic table.

His stuff, another rose he’d found waiting for him included, was on the table and he’d taken off his jacket, despite the chill of the February air. He was working himself up in his head, overheating in the process.

“Eddie?”

His head shot around, grinning as Chrissy—who apparently left him roses—approached him, face broken out in a smile.

“Hey, Chris.” Eddie’s heart was racing a mile a minute, palms sweaty as he rested them over his hips, then quickly realized he looked stupid so he crossed them instead.

She laughed at his nerves with absolutely no malice and they sat down at the bench, getting down to business. She’d been about to hand him a twenty dollar bill after he slid her the ziploc bag of nugs, but he held up his hand.

“On the house.”

“Eddie, it’s always on the house. I feel bad.”

“Then stop.” He emphasized the demand with bulging eyes, smirking when she giggled. She had to like him, right?

Eddie tried to be discreet about it, plucking one of the roses from his growing pile. He played with the stem, even sniffed the petals again in hopes she’d comment about it, maybe look a little excited about it or just give him any sort of reaction to indicate it had been her.

Chrissy was too busy moving things aside in her backpack to make room for the baggy. When she finally did look back up, she smiled, but gave no hint she was even familiar with them.

“Ooh, pretty flowers. Where’d you get those?”

Was she playing coy?

“Uh, someone’s been leaving them for me all around school.” Was it you?

Chrissy’s face lit up and Eddie thought it was finally the moment of truth.

“That’s so sweet! Do you know who it is? Or is it like a secret admirer sort of deal?”

Evidently, not the moment of truth. She had to be toying with him, trying to prolong the reveal. Because if it wasn’t her, he was out of ideas. And he really, really didn’t want to be out of ideas. Not when there was someone out there, maybe thinking about him.

“I actually have no idea who it is,” he sighed out, hoping, if it was her, she’d just put him out of his damn misery already.

Chrissy glanced down at the table and Eddie perked up. Nerves? Was she finally gonna come out with it?

“It wasn’t me, Eddie…but, I wish it had been.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say, mouth dropped open a little as his eyebrows quirked up in surprise.

Okay. Hadn’t been expecting that. He was expecting a yes it was me or a no it wasn’t me but not Chrissy confirming it hadn’t been her while also telling him she liked him.

“So, you haven’t been leaving them for me?”

Chrissy shook her head and reached across the table to place her smaller hand over his, palm warm against his skin. Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, head falling forward to rest against the table.

“Eddie?” Chrissy asked, concern lacing her voice.

He let out a very long sigh, a little miffed at how messy this whole thing had gotten. Now, there was his, Chrissy’s and someone else’s feelings in the mix. Christ.

“‘M’sorry, Chrissy.” Eddie sat up straight, face grim as he slowly pulled his hand out from underneath hers. “You’re great, fantastic, actually. You’re really nice and really pretty, but… I’ve been going crazy all day, trying to figure out who’s behind these.”

He gestures to the roses at his side, the sight of them filling him with an intense wave of longing.

“It’s been like years since I’ve gotten anything with real meaning behind it for any occasion—” he wasn’t counting the hellfire club or Wayne, referring to romantic intentions—“let alone Valentine’s Day, and someone in this school seems to be thinking about me.”

Eddie thought about what it must have taken to do something like this, it may have seemed like a trivial thought, something simple to others. He knew it wasn’t. He had no idea who it was, but he put himself in their position. They had to know enough about him to know his schedule, where he spent time, and then make the time to leave them in those spots just before he got there.

He’d spent the time waiting for Chrissy considering the anonymity of it. On the chance it wasn’t her, there was someone else in the school who was too afraid to approach him directly. He’d thought it might be out of fear of being seen with him, seen doing anything remotely romantic with him. Then, why even bother? They had to be afraid of his reaction, it’s what he would be nervous about if the positions were flipped.

And god, he’d never felt more alive before, more seen and all it took was a couple of roses. He felt like those fawning girls in John Hughes movies.

“Before today, I never would have approached you about this, you know? I know we flirt, but I never would have been brave enough to cross that line.” He admitted, looking into her shiny blue eyes. Aw, man. Eddie hated making girls cry but it was true, he would have been waiting for her to make a move, or for Tina to make a move. Any of his past hookups, really. He’d have been with any of them—having craved affection and everything that came with it so bad—if they had just been the ones to initiate things on a more permanent basis.

He would have. Past tense. They could all form a conga line and confess their undying love for him but, unless they were the one who left him the roses—the one who made him brave enough to actually go around confronting people in an attempt to seek her out—he’d let them down.

“She made me brave, makes me feel really wanted and I don't even know who she is. It’s not you, it’s just─”

“I’m not her.” Chrissy finished for him, wiping under one of her eyes. “It’s alright, Eddie. I mean, I’m obviously a little sad, but it’s not your fault or hers. I do hope you find her, though. She’d be lucky to have you.”

She gave Eddie a sad smile, making him feel even guiltier but it’d be pretty shitty of him to try to be with her when he’d be thinking of someone else.

“Thanks, Chrissy.” Eddie stood up and gathered his things. It was clear she was upset and would probably need some time to gather herself, he didn’t want to force her to leave first or linger around and make it awkward.

He left her with a small, parting smile, relieved that he hadn’t charged her. Would have felt like a douchebag to make her pay for weed and turn her down in the span of five minutes when she’d been nothing but pleasant to him.

Eddie shook it off, determination setting in once more. Sure, he was back to the drawing board, but if all else failed, he could corner young Byers again until he finally gave him a name.

He’d come up with a pretty good list of ways he could force Will to give up the name by the time school let out and he got to the Hellfire room.

It wasn’t until he set his little bouquet and the lunchbox down (he didn’t bother with backpacks, just shoved whatever he needed in his pants pockets or the box), walking around the throne in a circle like some fucking animal because he was so restless, that he saw the rose.

The flash of white had caught his eyes and he dove down to grab it, trying to be as careful with pulling the piece of paper away from the stem of the rose, only he realized whoever left it had hole punched the thing together so he ripped the ribbon with his teeth rather than rip the note.

The ribbon was stuffed into his back pocket as he eagerly sat himself down, rose clutched in one hand and the note in his other.

Eddie,

Please excuse my lack of eloquence in this note and also in our real life encounters.

Eddie felt a shiver of excitement wash over his skin, cheeks a bright shade of pink at the confirmation he’d indeed interacted with his secret admirer before. Fuck, she’d talked to him! It made her feel even more real.

She was a real person, someone he could probably hold hands with and kiss. Unless, this was done in a purely platonic way which would be a little fucked up. Red roses to be friends? C’mon. He read on.

I hoped you liked the flowers. I was actually debating on getting you different ones, something a little more personalized to you, but I ended up going with roses because, well, they convey romance better.

Eddie leaned over the arm of the throne, sagging back as he allowed himself to completely collapse with relief. Just for a few seconds, then his eyes were glued to the pink penmanship.

I’m trying really hard not to sound creepy because I’m totally not creepy and I know what you're thinking, ‘that’s what a creep would say’ but I swear I’m not, I just. I admire you. A lot. I have for so, so long. I admire the way you keep going, even when things are absolute shit for you, I like how you watch out for the underclassmen that come in and don’t really have anywhere to go. I like the way you dress, how pretty your hair is (even when it’s frizzy which is so unfair), how passionate you get with your rants (even though sometimes you’re an asshole about it).

And I like your laugh I LOVE your laugh. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had what feels like the worst fucking day of my life and I’m ready to breakdown and cry and scream, but I don’t. Because I can hear you laugh your ass off at something one of your friends said in the cafeteria, by your locker or even when you’re just walking past me. And I wish I was there, laughing alongside you or making you laugh. I don’t know how your laughter makes me feel better, it just does. I get all smiley and I feel warm inside and I want to give you a hug for it, for making me feel better without even trying.

But I can’t. You kind of scare me. Not in the mean, scary way, I’m just not sure you’ll like me. Or that it’ll go anywhere, or even if it should.

You’re so confident, Eddie. And you’re stupid attractive (you are, and I’m sure you’re aware but I’ll go ahead and tell you I’m also physically attracted to you) and it’s so overwhelming that I can’t contain it anymore and I don’t really want to. We only have a couple of months before we’re out of here (I have a feeling this is gonna be your year, you’ll be free of this sentence, too), and I don’t want to have any regrets. The only way I’d ever regret you is by not telling you how I feel.

So, here I am, Eddie Munson. Never thought I’d ever be confessing like this, but for the first time in my life, I feel brave. And it’s all because of you. Thank you, Eddie. I’ll be running around— dodging teachers and detention write ups— like Rocky in his training montages to get these roses to you because you deserve your flowers and I’d be delighted to give them to you today, and every single Valentine’s Day after. Actually, I want to give you even more than that. If you’ll have me.

Love,

What the fuck?

Eddie hastily searched the bottom portion of the back side of the paper, where the note ended for a signature, a name, initials, something but that’s where it ended.

There was no name.

“NO! FUCK! NO! No, no, no, no, NO! I’ll have you, take me, just tell me who you are!” Eddie groaned out, note dropped into his lap so he could clench the roots of his hair with both fists as he doubled over.

This had to be a nightmare. It was the only reasonable explanation for someone to say all those wonderfuckingful things, just for them to disappear.

His heart hurt and he blinked frantically to ward off the onslaught of water and sniffed to deter the tingle in his nose.

The unmistakable sound of his own little rat pack making their way towards the room wasn’t enough to get him to pull himself together.

“Eddie, dude, are you okay?”

Eddie recalled his final option, head shooting to glance around at their faces in search of one in particular.

“Byers. Where’s Byers?”

“His mom picked him up after lunch, wasn’t feeling good,” Mike informed him, completely unaware his grand Valentine’s gesture for Jane had been the cause of his sudden illness.

It was the final straw for Eddie, he snatched the lunchbox and flowers and grumbled out, “Sessions canceled.”

He must have looked pissed as none of them protested, probably having something to do with most of them having dates afterwards.

He almost made it out of the room when Gareth called him back, holding up a purple pen he’d found on the table and figured Eddie was about to forget.

“Is this yours?”

Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“No.” Then he walked out.

Before promptly storming back in, swiping the pen out of Gareth’s meaty hands. Eddie clicked the pen and scribbled furiously over the side of his fist until the ink finally ran. It wasn’t purple. The ink filler was pink.

His secret admirer’s pen.

“What a cruel parting gift,” he sighed, shoving the pen in his pocket before making his exit. Again.

The really sad thing was Eddie couldn’t even sink into depression in the peace of his room. Emmy Switcher had approached Rick about wanting some herbal refreshments at her party and since he was still under house arrest (how Rick managed to deal and supply in his circumstances baffled him) the job fell upon Eddie. He’d driven to Rick’s restocked, then hit the party.

It was a horn fest, couples everywhere he looked. All heart-eyed and attached at the tongue. It was disgusting.

Eddie was pouting, quietly fuming that it wasn’t him and his secret admirer making out or cuddling or doing something equally romantic but noooooo. Just had to take the ‘secret’ aspect to its extreme.

He banished himself to a dark corner, only interacting with people when approached for drugs or weed. He’d caught sight of Chrissy and it had looked like she wanted to come over but he’d purposely shifted his gaze. Despite the gaping hole left where his heart was, it wasn’t Chrissy or Tina, or the girl in the upstairs restroom, who’d thrown herself at him when he’d been searching for a free bathroom to piss in, that he wanted. Eddie wasn’t in the mood to rebound.

Which was kind of crazy considering he hadn’t even been in a relationship, hadn’t been dumped. He wanted everything in that note, especially the promise of more and only with its author.

Now, Eddie hadn’t been in love before. Some serious lust and want, yeah, however, reading that note made him feel like he was falling a little bit in love and he wanted, very badly, to dive headfirst the rest of the way. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

Once he’d sold out the rest of Rick’s inventory, he stole a beer and headed for the front door.

Once outside, Eddie took a minute to breathe. He hadn’t realized how stuffy it had been in there until he was no longer engulfed by the claustrophobic displays of affection.

He trudged down the pathway and paused when he saw the figure of a girl sitting on the lawn. Her head was directed down towards the ground and she was most definitely not wearing the right clothes for the outside weather.

Eddie cursed under his breath, plans to immediately drive home and get crossed put on hold as he walked over, noting the dew already coating the grass.

“Hey, you okay?”

─

Drinking your sorrows away probably wasn’t the best idea, considering how much of a lightweight you were.

Originally, you’d wanted to lock yourself away in your room for the night—and probably the rest of the weekend as well as maybe the next school week; nothing wrong with playing sick to avoid facing reality and your problems─to cry and pass out. Heather, on the other hand, had plans for you. She’d dolled you up, having to force you to wash your face and re-do your makeup once when you had started crying—put you in a cute outfit and dragged you to Emmy Switcher’s party.

You knew her intentions were pure—as pure as underage drinking could be—but she knew her mistake when the party started to couple up. You’d been approached multiple times and she’d try to encourage you to go for the decent acting ones, you just hadn’t wanted to. When Chrissy Cunningham showed up, you’d gone for shots of the hard liquor (over the sink of course in case you gagged it up, which you did a decent amount of), sure that Eddie would soon follow and you’d be forced to witness their affection.

Obviously, you ended up shitfaced and somehow lost track of Heather. Or maybe she lost track of you. You’d very briefly attempted to find her, accidentally spotted Chrissy, now making eyes at Eddie who’d shown up, and you’d promptly headed outside, eager for some fresh air and an escape from the madhouse. The high alcohol level in your blood kept you from feeling how chilly it really was and you settled into the grass, twirling strands of it around your fingers.

You weren’t sure how long you were out there when someone approached you.

“Hey, you okay?”

You looked up, ready to ask them to just leave you when you locked eyes with Eddie Munson. Most of the liquid courage coursing through your veins evaporated, you couldn’t look at him for long, gaze moving back to the grass. What a way to start sobering up.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? ‘Cause,” Eddie sat down next to you, one leg crossed and his other, knee up with his arm resting over it. His unopened beer was at his side, “You’re outside, alone, in the cold and you look pretty fucking sad.”

You scoffed, fingers still playing with the strands of grass as you tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make you seem pathetic. In that time, Eddie took you in.

He knew you, he’d seen you around school and you were nice enough to greet him. Pleasantries in passing. Pretty Hallway Girl, as you’d been dubbed—though never referred to as—until he knew your name. It had been the first one he had jotted down on his list for his secret admirer’s identity, of course he realized with your lack of interactions, it wasn’t likely. He entertained the idea of dating you often, you’d just never shown any real interest in him. Eddie thought about it a lot. Anytime he caught sight of you, really. Your pretty face didn’t make it easy for him to stop. He was a really, really big sucker for your eyes and that smile you’d give him during those brief interactions; like the two of you had some sort of secret between each other. Warmed him up inside.

And here you were, all sad at a party. He didn’t really mind not getting crossed if it meant he got to comfort you, keep you company.

“I’m just drunk,” you finally blurted out, unable to come up with anything else, “And bummed.”

Try devastated.

“You look it,” he joked, nudging his shoulder against yours.

“You don’t look that much better.” You shot back.

“That’s fair,” he sighed, breath visible in the night air as he tilted his head back. “I’m pretty bummed, myself.”

You really didn’t want to ask, figuring he’d already had some sort of lover’s quarrel with Chrissy and you didn’t want to get in the middle of it.

But you were an idiot, so you asked, “Why are you bummed?”

You watched him dig around the pockets of his leather jacket, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out of the pack, clenching it in between his teeth as he shoved the pack back into the pocket before he shrugged off the jacket entirely—denim vest included—putting it around your shoulders.

It caught you off guard but you were grateful, your body having decided to become once more susceptible to the chill of the air and dewy grass. Eddie must have been a freaking space heater because the lining inside was blissfully warm.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, shimmying around in it until you could slip your arms into the long sleeves of it, your fingers barely poking past the hem.

“You’re welcome,” he shrugged, flicking the lighter to life as he lit the cigarette. After he’d taken a drag, he answered you.

“Love,” Eddie blew out along with a wispy plume of smoke, “Didn’t expect it to be so complicated.”

You wanted to mime the action of staking yourself in the heart. Of course he was in love with her. She was wonderful! And on top of that, he thought she’d been the one leaving him roses! Had he read the note? Assumed it was her, too? DUH! You were definitely playing sick next week.

“Yeah, well. Join the club,” you grumbled, hugging his jacket around you. It was as close as you were ever gonna get to actually hugging him.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, hoping to school his disappointment. While he wasn’t looking for anyone else tonight, it was still displeasing to hear you were taken but of course you were. He couldn’t imagine you dating sporadically, you seemed much too wonderful for someone to even consider giving you up. No, he was gonna hurt himself with ideas involving you and a high school sweetheart stemming back to your freshman days, probably.

“Ah, I see. Is he here?”

You froze for a moment, “Uhm, yeah. He is.”

“Then why come? Or did it happen in there?” He jabbed a thumb behind him, gesturing to the party inside.

“No, it didn’t happen tonight, it was earlier. In the day. I didn’t really want to come but my best friend dragged me out here. I thought I was doing good, apparently not ‘cause here I am. I’m mostly bummed because of myself, though. I didn’t follow through on something I sort of promised myself and I messed everything up. For me. Not for him. I think he’s pretty happy, so I don’t want to ruin that. He deserves to be happy.”

Eddie could tell you meant it, you were vague as hell but whatever you’d done, however it ended, you genuinely seemed to want your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) to be happy. He hoped it wasn’t something you had to cave into for one of those meatheads. You deserved better than those jerks.

“That’s pretty selfless of you if you ask me,” Eddie raised the cigarette to his lips, admiring you.

“Eh, I guess. I fully plan on punishing myself for it, though. Really make sure to rub the salt in there, you know?” You finally turned to grin at him, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Eddie thought about how he couldn’t just stop going to school so he could avoid having to look at all the faces in the crowds and wonder if his admirer is one of them.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m right there with you.”

Sweetheart. He really was trying to kill you.

“Eddie, get your ass in there and make up with her.” You lightly slapped his arm and jabbed your finger in the direction of the house. You were not about to let your sacrifice be in vain and he’d better stop unknowingly torturing you like this.

“I can’t!” He laughed, amused with your sudden bossy attitude.

“Why not?” You whined, eager to just get him away from you. It wasn’t fair, he wasn’t being fair.

“Because I have no idea who she is.”

Once again you froze, eyes widening. Luckily for you, Eddie didn’t look too much into your reaction. He figured most people would be surprised over him nursing a heartbreak from someone he didn’t quite actually know, or was aware that he knew.

“What?” You asked, trying to seem as uninterested as possible as you played with the ends of his jacket sleeves.

“Fuck it. Someone left me roses all around the school and this really amazing love note.” For a moment, Eddie entertained the idea of trying to convey exactly what it meant to him, then he thought better of it. He’d either seem crazy, desperate or like some pathetic guy in love (which, he kind of was on the cusp of), “Pretty sure it was a girl.”

Not a single dude in the high school was romantic enough to pull it off, maybe leave him an entire bouquet, but not expand upon it like she had.

Eddie licked his lips, raising the cigarette to them once more and ready to admit that he had no fucking clue who she was, but he figured he might as well make one last rally.

“Wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

“Not me,” you lied flawlessly, with a gentle shake of your head. “Sorry, Eddie.”

Sorry I’m a big liar because HOLY FUCKING SHIT, wasn’t expecting that.

“I figured. Still had to try, your boyfriend probably would have kicked my ass, though.” Yeah, Eddie hated Valentine’s Day.

He stubbed the cigarette out into the wet grass, and laid the rest of the way down, hands covering his eyes as the back of his head met the ground.

You frowned down at him.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Hello.

Eddie peaked at you through his fingers, “No?”

You shook your head and as Eddie moved to push himself back up, he yelped.

He shifted onto his side, digging around his pocket for whatever it was that stabbed him.

“Ouch,” He hissed, yanking the purple pen out. “Damn, that hurt like a bitch.”

Your eyes squinted at it in suspicion.

“Is that my pen?”

“Huh?”

“My favorite—and pricey—pen. I lost it at school today.” In fact, you were sure you had and you were sure that was your pen. You’d broken off the clip of it by accident and you recognized the large crack in the body of it, having once given into an intrusive thought regarding whether or not you had the strength to break it while you were bored in class. You did have the strength and luckily for you, it still worked.

When Eddie made no move to give your pen back, you figured he didn’t believe you so you added, “The ink is pink, right?”

Eddie continued to stare at you, mouth slightly parted in awe, and you suddenly felt very nervous, glancing behind you to see if there was something that caught his attention but all you could see were the empty lawns.

“What?”

He finally blinked, licking his lips again.

“You’re a really good liar.”

“What?” You repeated, this time your question was laced more so with confusion than panic. He was right, but why was he saying that?

His lips slowly parted up at the corners until he was grinning at you so wide, his dimples were showing and you could feel your heart beating wildly against your rib cage, as if it was trying to break free to fly right over to him.

“This is your pen?”

“Yes!” Is that what his happiness was about? That he was holding your prized pen hostage?

“This is your pen?” You could tell he was having fun at your expense now, getting more giddy by the minute.

“Yes!” You laughed out, his joy contagious even if he was teasing you with your own belongings. “That is my pen. Give me my pen!”

He clicked it closed with his thumb, “I found it where we hold Hellfire sessions, same pen that was used to write my love note.”

And just like that, your heartbeat seemed to stop all together, smile dropping instantly as you wished a giant hole could form in the ground below you and swallow you up.

“That’s not my pen,” you denied, shrugging off his jacket as you quickly rose to your feet. “I gotta go, bye, Eddie.”

When you saw him starting to hastily rise, you bolted, literally running back into the house to try to find Heather and get the hell out of there.

You heard Eddie frantically calling your name but you didn’t stop, forcing your way through the bodies as you desperately searched for your best friend.

Luck was finally on your side because you were soon smashed into her back by a passing group.

“Whoa,” she laughed, turning to steady you, “There you are, I’ve been searching for you everywh—hey, what’s wrong?”

You were sure she must have noticed the panic on your face, eyes shiny with tears you refused to let fall in public.

“I wanna go home, we have to leave.” You grabbed her hand, pulling her into a secluded corner as your head darted in the direction of the front door. You wanted to make a run for it but you feared running into Eddie on the way.

“What happened?” Heather asked, voice initially soft before hardening as her protective nature came out, “Did someone do something?”

You shook your head, chest heaving with your breaths. You were so close to having a panic attack.

“Eddie. He knows. He knows, Heather.” And because she was your best friend, she understood, mouth and eyes going wide.

“Holy crap. Wait—isn’t this what you wanted?”

“No—yes—I don’t know! I can’t face him!” There was a reason you hadn’t written your name down on the note, regardless of how badly you wanted to. You were just scared.

“Why not?” She bent down, leaned in closer to hear you. This girl and her twenty questions.

“It doesn’t matter, he didn’t want it to be me, anyways. He would’ve asked earlier, and he only did it now because of that stupid pen!” You should have kept your mouth shut and just gone to buy another over the weekend, “Can we just please get out of here? We can try the side gate in the backyard.”

“Is Eddie looking for you?”

“Yes, that’s why we have to leave!” Whatever Eddie had to say, you didn’t want to hear it. Yeah, maybe he could want you but if he didn’t, was searching for you to let you down gently you’d be heartbroken.

“He knows and you don’t think he wanted it to be you?”

“Yes!”

“Then why would he be looking for you?”

You refused to answer her, pushing her towards the back door instead. She went willingly for a few steps, then Heather stopped and you bumped into her back again as she craned her neck to look over her shoulder.

“I think it's too late for that.” She pointed at something behind you and you followed her finger.

Eddie was standing on top of the kitchen table a bunch of guys had carried into the living room to play beer pong on, eyes searching the room with his lips set in a frown.

He was attracting attention, a multitude of heads turning to peer up at him in curiosity.

Oh, god. He was looking for you, you were probably going to get rejected at a fucking Valentine’s Day party in some stranger’s living room.

Eddie must have caught the attention of someone near the sound system because the volume of the music was lowered and you could hear everyone muttering amongst themselves, asking what had happened to the music before they noticed Eddie.

He glanced around, not even a little nervous at the amount of people staring at him. He hadn’t planned on making a huge show of it, figured they were all too drunk to pay him any attention, luckily he was used to being a spectacle.

Eddie used it to his advantage, calling out your full name.

The crowd muttered, everyone looking at each other in confusion or maybe trying to catch sight of you.

It wasn’t long before someone recognized you, head turning in your direction, followed by many more—a domino effect—until just about everyone was staring at you, including Eddie.

He hopped off the table and made his way towards you, crowd parting to allow him. Heather slipped her hand into yours at your side, giving you a reassuring squeeze before she too stepped away, leaving you to finally face Eddie.

Eddie didn’t look at anyone else, gaze trained solely on you.

“Hi, again.”

You blinked, unable to keep yourself from glancing at the crowd around you, curious—nosey—to see what would happen next.

Guess you were going to have to finally face reality, no more running. You didn’t think you could break through the crowd, anyways.

“Hi,” you whispered but you knew Eddie had heard you, his lips pursed into a smile, eyes lighting up when you didn’t shut down.

“You ran away before I could tell you how I feel.” Eddie took another step, pretty much invading your personal space but he was desperate to be close to you and maybe body block you in case you tried to flee. He didn’t want you to run away again, to disappear like he feared you had when you hadn’t left your name on the note.

“It’s only fair, right? Since I know?”

You nodded again, the drum of your heartbeat loud in your ears. You were surprised you could hear Eddie over it.

Eddie stared down at you, lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t look upset or frustrated. It looked like he was thinking about something.

Little did you know he was reciting the note in his head to give him some courage, he’d memorized it.

He didn’t leave you waiting for long.

“I admire you. A lot.” Your breath hitched as the words you’d jotted down were repeated to you, “So much that I want to stand on expensive looking, antique tables and crash parties for you. I like the way you get animated when you talk, the way you give into your intrusive thoughts at the most random of times—yeah, I saw you trying to see if your finger fit in the pencil sharpener in the library once—I like how kind you are, even when people don’t deserve it.

“I like how you’ve never made me feel ostracized, never made anybody feel like that and I like how dramatic you are—storming off, making an exit, falling flat on your face in hallways then staying there like a dead body before you decide to reanimate again once you’re done being embarrassed. I like how you beat up your locker when it won’t open and then you give it a couple of pats to apologize once it finally does.”

Eddie chuckled at those particular memories, having been thoroughly amused when watching you and you feel your face get hot at being the cause of his cute laugh.

“And I really like your face, your pretty eyes, all of this,” Eddie gestured to you, to all of you from head to toe, “… you’re beautiful. Although, I gotta say, you drove me really fucking crazy today. Made me feel emotions I didn’t know I was capable of feeling and you scared the shit out of me when I thought I’d never get to know who the person I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with is.”

Okay, maybe you didn’t want the ground to swallow you whole.

“I know we only have a couple of months left of school and you’re probably going off to continue being amazing at some college in some big city a million miles away—‘cause that’s my luck—but I’m willing to work with that. I want to drive those million miles to give you flowers and hold your hand, kiss you, listen to you complain about your bad days, hear you brag about your good ones, kill all the bugs you’re afraid of—even though some of them freak me out, you make me feel brave, too—and just be all around disgustingly domestic with you.

“And yes, that includes all the not so fun domestic stuff like fights—which we’ll get over, I’ll do just about anything, even cave first, if you give me those big, coy eyes of yours—and taxes. I want to do it all with you. If you’ll have me.” Eddie ended, eyes wide and just a little out of breath.

There it was. He’d thrown it all out there, everything he wanted to offer (because he wanted to give you everything, even though it kind of terrified him).

And you—you were just staring at him, left to gape at him since you’d expected… well, you hadn’t really known what to expect since you usually ran from the consequences—be they good or bad—of your actions.

He wanted to be with you. Holy crap, Eddie Munson wanted to be your boyfriend. Wanted to do boyfriend things like visit you at college and hold your hand. You’d thought, the whole time, it had just been you observing him. You never thought he’d be observing you, too. It all sounded too good to be true, you couldn’t really think, couldn’t really form words.

You didn’t have to, Eddie grew anxious, maybe even a little impatient despite having decided the moment you’d run away from him in the front yard that he’d chase after you for as long as it took him to get you to give him a chance.

He found himself blurting out his strongest desire, “Can I kiss you?”

This was it, you were faced with another opportunity, and this one was the actual last opportunity you had to tell him how you feel, without any anonymity. No more hiding, no more running.

“Yeah,” you breathed out and he was on you before you’d even finished saying that singular word, his surprisingly soft lips pressing desperately against yours as his hands moved to frame your face, one of his thumbs stroking along your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as you returned the kiss and just like that, what he intended to be a simple but firm kiss, turned into your lips moving against each other, a little wet and enough to have Eddie want to pop his leg up like in the fucking movies.

The only reason he kept himself from introducing his tongue to yours like he so badly wanted to was the sounds of encouragement around him; cheering and hollering. You broke away, having also heard your peers whooping and wolf whistling, to hide your face in his chest, bashfulness returning full force.

Eddie laughed and kissed the top of your head, unable to contain his grin and joy. He definitely wasn’t used to this, more accustomed to jeering, not cheering. A couple of people even clapped him on the shoulder.

“You know what, I think they’re rooting for us, sweetheart.”

You pulled away just enough to look up at him, offering a small, pleased smile of your own.

“They’re not the only ones.”

Well, he had to give you some tongue for that one. The cheering and sounds of excitement got louder as he did.

— You hadn’t walked into school hand in hand with Eddie when Monday came around—though you’d spent pretty much the entire weekend with him, driving around town, lounging around your room (he’d come in through your window) and making out—he hadn’t mentioned anything about meeting up in the parking lot and you weren’t offended in the slightest. While you wanted to see him, you appreciated the extra time to calm your excited nerves before you did.

Heather ran up to you the second you made it to your locker, grin stretching from ear to ear.

“I still can’t believe it. It didn’t even happen to me and I’m pinching myself because of how romantic it was!”

“Imagine how I feel,” You were all smiles as you turned the combination for your locker. But of course, since it was openly known as one of, if not, the shittiest of lockers in the school—having belonged to several wrestlers and football players before you, who’d evidently cared for it on the rough side—it didn't budge when you tugged at it.

You wouldn’t miss it when you graduated.

With a sigh, you pulled the straps of your backpack off of your shoulders and handed it to Heather. Then, you yanked aggressively at the small locker handle. It was your routine though, so you knew it wouldn’t open then, either. It was only when you slammed your fist against it, after all the yanking, that it opened.

Roses immediately flooded out of it, piling onto the ground at your feet. You and Heather watched with open mouths, glancing at passersby, who also looked on in surprise, until your stuffed locker finally finished its floral avalanche.

“Like ‘em?”

You jumped up, and then internally scolded yourself for almost trampling a couple of your flowers. You carefully twisted around to face Eddie, who was leaning back against the row of lockers behind you, smug smirk on his handsome face.

“Yeah, what are all of these for?” You asked, still marveling at them as he pushed himself off the lockers to wrap his arms around your middle and press a kiss to the side of your head.

“I realized I never got to ask you to be my Valentine or give you flowers. So, I bought some Saturday morning,” They were on sale so he’d gone purposely overboard, “used my uncle’s collection of mugs as vases to keep them alive, then woke up at the asscrack of dawn this morning to get here before you did. I probably broke your locker even more, by the way. So, be my Valentine?”

“I’m pretty sure it was part of the terms and agreements of our relationship, but yes. I’ll be your Valentine.”

Eddie closed your locker for you, pressing his weight against it to make sure it was secure and no more roses would escape before he scooped up the ones that had fallen out, arranging them into a large bouquet which he handed to you, leaning in to give you a kiss.

You hummed happily against his lips, nose wrinkling in glee when you felt him smile.

Eddie let out a content sigh when you parted before glancing to his side at your gawking best friend.

“Hey, Heather.” Eddie wasn’t at all bothered by the audience. “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks! They’re new. You done sucking face?”

“For now,” he promised, then turned his attention back to you. “I’ll see you later, beautiful. I’ve got a test to barely pass. Gotta make sure I walk that stage with you.”

Eddie pinched your cheek, pressed another kiss to your forehead and rushed off down the hall. You’d barely locked eyes with Heather when Eddie came running back, taking your face in his hands as he muttered something about one more and gave you a kiss that had you a little shaky on your feet.

‘One more’ actually turned out to mean a couple more pecks before he really forced himself away, blowing you a kiss just as he disappeared around the corner.

“He’s whipped,” Heather stated.

“Pretty sure I’m falling in love with him.”

“That’s appropriate.” You both nodded before you turned to face your closed locker, arms full of sweet smelling roses.

“. . . You still need to get your books, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Heather slid her arms through the straps of your backpack, over her front, so she could hold your flowers for you as you prepared to battle your locker again. It was totally worth it.

─

Eddie never ended up giving you your pen back, it’s the one he used to write love letters to you while you were away at college.

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0nerd-at-heart0 · 3 months

Text

The Case Continues

A/N: Thank you for ALL the love and support on my latest fic!!!! ♥ After not writing for a year it felt weird to write again but y'all have been so sweet, so truly thank you to all of you. I just finished 2 of midterms and there was this guy behind me on one of my tests coughing like crazy so now I am sick. While I should take this opportunity to study for the LSATS now that I am stuck in bed, I just had to continue writing. As long as you all continue reading I am more than happy to continue writing. If you want to be added or taken out of the taglist please DM me :)

P.S. : I used the stars to break down the sections for myself as I wrote and kept them in, if they are weird or unhelpful let me know so I can get rid of them and as always feedback is always welcomed

Taglist: @happy74827 @princessvader15 @hashcakes @malfoys-demigod @yiiiikesmish

Word Count: 5.5 k

Warnings: sexual harassment, cursing, pet name like sweetheart, mentions of food and eating (any more warnings that I missed please let me know)

There will be a part 3 after this one, still writing it but if you haven’t please check out the Part 1: The Stress of a Case

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As you finished the last bite of your meal in Rachel’s office, a comfortable silence settled between you and Harvey. Harvey leaned back in his chair, and a sense of relief seemed to wash over his face, "You did well today, Y/N. We'll get through the Jackson case. I promise. Whatever it takes.”

You offered a small, appreciative smile, acknowledging the sentiment. "Thanks, Harvey. It means a lot."

You stared at the clock and the realization that it was time to head home crept in. Harvey, ever the gentleman, offered you a ride, “Come on, I’ll take you home.” He stood up moving the desk back to how he found it and picked up the trash.

However, your need for control and familiarity after the recent panic attack made you decline the ride, "Thanks for the offer, Harvey, but I think I'll take my own car tonight."

A small, almost imperceptible frown flashed across Harvey's face, quickly replaced by his usual composed expression. "Alright." was all he could stammer out.

After parting ways, you walked towards the parking lot, keys in hand. As you drove home alone, a subtle sense of curiosity lingered. What if you had accepted Harvey's offer? What could have unfolded in the confined space of his car, free from the walls of the office?

The thought nagged at you as you navigated the familiar streets, feeling your head cooling off. Rolling down the window to allow the fresh air to overflow your senses There was a part of you that wished you knew the answer, a desire to unravel the mysteries that lay hidden beneath the surface of your professional relationship with the Harvey Specter.

The next few days went by pretty fast. All days felt the same . It was a routine of restless nights as your mind was clear yet foggy on your night with Harvey. Nervous yet excited on what the following days would bring. You woke up early every day to go to your favorite coffee spot. But every day you spent it at your desk going through Amir related emails and one day you spent the day researching organic cat food for Louis. You haven't even had the chance to really see or talk to Harvey, not that you were keeping track ( 3 times he has spoken to you).

But about 10 days after the incident, here you were, standing in the elevator, expecting to be another calm day of going through Amir’s associates emails with Rachel.

But when the elevators dinged, the beautiful face of Donna Paulsen appeared as the door opened. She stood there waiting for you and without saying a word she turned on her heel and gestured for you to follow her. And like a loyal puppy you followed Donna through the corridors, her signature click-clacking heels echoing in the hallways as you tried to keep you.

As you walked, Donna’s voice boomed, efficiently providing a rundown of the latest developments in the Amir Jackson case. Apparently, Amir had signed a contract with his brother-in-law’s firm, and Harvey was currently breaking it down in his office to find any potential weaknesses or loopholes. You were confused but eager to understand your role in all this, so you did your best to keep up with Donna's brisk pace. The details of the case were important, but the question of why Donna was sharing them with you lingered in the back of your mind.

Donna approached Harvey's office, she shot you a sly smile and motioned for you to enter. The door creaked open, revealing Harvey Specter engrossed in his work. Donna whispered, "You wanted to be in the big leagues; well, here you go."

Harvey was seated at his desk, a stack of papers spread out before him. Mike Ross was leaning against the wall, and both turned their attention to you as you entered.

Donna, standing in the doorway, mouthed, "You got this."

It dawned on you—this wasn't just an update on the case. Donna had orchestrated this moment for a reason. You were being given a seat at the table, an opportunity to contribute to a high-stakes strategy session. The realization sent a surge of adrenaline through your veins. Harvey was keeping his word after all.

Harvey and Mike acknowledged your presence, you straightened your posture and mentally prepared to engage in the battle of wits that lay ahead. You are ready to keep up and prove your worth beyond your typing skills.

Mike walks up to you handing you a file, and you take a seat. Knowing the breakdown you take out your colorful pack of highlighter ready to color coordinate. Purple for potential loopholes, yellow for things to research, blue for important dates and green for contacts.

Harvey couldn't help but notice you being meticulously organized. With a smirk, he quipped, "Really, Y/N? Color-coordinated highlighters? Are we in kindergarten?"

You, shot back with a playful smile, "Well, Harvey, some of us appreciate a little order and aesthetic appeal. It's called professionalism."

Harvey raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the quick retort. "Professionalism, huh? I prefer the classic black and white approach. Simple and effective."

You without looking up from your file said, "Well, Harvey, sometimes a splash of color can make things more interesting. Maybe you should try it sometime.” Reaching down to your highlighter bag you pulled one out handing it to him, “Here, I think pink suits you”

He takes it from your hand, not backing down, “You know if your legal skills were as efficient as your highlighting skills we would be done with these files already”

You retorted, “Well, Harvey, if your people skills were as smooth as your hair, we'd have won the case yesterday."

Mike, who had been silently working, looked up with a bewildered expression, unsure of how the banter had suddenly transformed into a flirtatious exchange. He blinked, processing the unexpected turn of events.

Harvey leaned against the table and raised an eyebrow. "Smooth hair, huh? You're just jealous, Y/N."

"Oh, please," you replied with a smirk, "I've seen smoother hair on a mannequin."

Mike, now thoroughly confused, looked between Harvey and you, trying to decipher when this banter became a new development.

Before anything can go any further there is a knock at Harvey’s door, it was Rachel. After hearing from Mike about your little fainting incident, she was kind of overbearingly persistent on making sure you were eating and were okay no matter how much you told her you were fine. Despite your reassurances that the incident of passing out was a one-time occurrence and that you were doing better, Rachel continued to express her care in thoughtful ways.

Today was no exception. Rachel asked to borrow you for a moment. Excusing yourself from your work, you followed Rachel outside the office. She had a warm smile on her face and a bagel in her hand, with your name on it.

"Hey, I know you said you're doing better, but I thought you might need a little pick-me-up," Rachel said, offering you the bagel.

You couldn't help but smile at Rachel's thoughtful gesture. "Thanks, Rachel. You really don't have to keep doing this, but I appreciate it."

Rachel chuckled, "I know I don't have to, but I want to. Consider it my way of making sure you stay fueled and ready to tackle anything."

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While you were outside having that conversation with Rachel, Mike couldn't help but seize the opportunity for a little teasing. Looking at Harvey with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he remarked, "What was that?"

Harvey, ever the master of composure, shot Mike a sharp look. "Shut up and focus, Mike," he retorted, trying to divert attention back to the files.

Mike, undeterred by Harvey's attempt to change the subject, leaned back with a playful grin. "Oh, you're definitely focused on something," he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Harvey rolled his eyes, realizing that he might have just opened himself up to a barrage of teasing from Mike.

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You returned to the office with the bagel in hand, you tucked it away in your bag without giving it much thought. However, Harvey's raised eyebrow didn't go unnoticed. He questioned, "Aren't you going to eat that?"

Unbeknownst to you, the hesitation stemmed from a lingering unease about eating near files, especially in front of Harvey—thanks to the hot Cheeto incident. Harvey, catching on to your reluctance, decided to assertively intervene, "Eat."

You raised an eyebrow, teasing, "Bossy much, Harvey?"

Harvey quickly adds, “Well I am the boss”.

Mike, always quick to jump into the banter, chimed in, "Hey, wait a minute. Rachel didn't get me a bagel."

Harvey, in his usual deadpan manner, responded, "Deal with your relationship drama outside the office”

Mike mumbled to himself though directed at Harvey “you deal with your relationship drama outside the office” as he turned over to the next file.

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Without hesitation you grabbed another file, opening it up you saw on one of the clauses of the contract that it said, “Keep an appropriate reputation”.

You spoke up, “Have we been able to contact his brother in law?”

“Louis is currently on that”, Harvey said nonchalantly.

“Louis?!?!”, the shock in your voice was not hidden at all as your hand went to cover you mouth,

“See even she is shocked’’, Mike gestured towards you as he closed his file.

“Mike you are going to have a deposition with Amir in about an hour and I got to prep you. As much as I'd rather have you do it,” Harvey eyes quickly glance at you before returning to the file in his hand, “I don’t have time to walk you through it, plus Jessica said I have to throw Louis a bone”, Harvey mumbles the last bit.

You nodded, understanding that you were too green to already start interviewing people without supervision.

After an hour of underlining and highlighting things they may be able to use against him, Harvey dismissed you and Mike to prepare for meeting Amir. You gave Mike a questioning look as you exited the office.

The door closed and you could have sworn you heard music playing.

“He has a whole routine when he has a stressful case”, Mike said as he handed Donna a piece of paper to fax.

“Whoa, you are just going to share Harvey’s secrets like that”, Donna added.

“She is part of the group now, she deserves, nay she needs to know”, Mike defensively argued

Donna playfully rolled her eyes and all you can do is laugh.

“Imma go to the conference room and set everything up”, Mike then turned on his heels.

“Why are you meeting with Amir?”, you couldn't help the question come out of your mouth.

“Jessica and Harvey believe he is trying to get in our heads”, Mike causally stated like this is somehow normal, “anyway see you afterwards”.

You headed down to the bullpen with a couple of files in hand for you to review. The bullpen was empty, you saw a memo on your desk that Jessica was holding a mock trial for the associates. You believed she was doing this to boost morale. It's been 3 weeks since the Jackson case was first assigned and every day the stress of the case becomes more evident in not only the partners but everyone.

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All that can be heard was the click-clack of your keyboard as you diligently worked on a memo at your cubicle in. A man walked it, he didn't go unnoticed as he leaned against the wall, a smirk playing on his face.

"Working hard or hardly working, sweetheart?" he said with a smug grin.

Startled by his words, you looked up to fully take in this strange man, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement.

"What can I do for you?", you let out an annoyed breath.

He wasn't unattractive, tall, seemed to be built, his dark hair slicked back and his tan figure was highlighted with a beautifully tailored suit.

He ignored your attempt to deflect his trashy pickup line as he leaned in, invading your personal space. "You know, I am here to see Mike Ross, but I would rather be seeing you. What do you say we grab a drink sometime?"

You noticed a wedding ring on his hand and that added to your discomfort which was palpable, and you glanced around, searching for a way out of the situation. Amir Jackson was standing right before you in all his dirty lawyer glory. Before you could respond, the familiar sound of a door swinging opening caught your attention. Harvey Specter stormed into view, his expression colder than the usual glacial demeanor he reserved.

"Amir, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Harvey's tone was razor-sharp, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation.

Amir straightened up, his confident facade faltering in the face of Harvey's iciness. "Just trying to get to know the beautiful talent that sits before me" he replied, attempting to play it off.

Harvey's jaw clenched, and he stepped forward, his presence dominating the small cubicle. "This is not the time or the place for your personal agenda. We're here to work, not to entertain your attempts at charm.", emphasis on the word attempt.

Amir chuckled nervously, realizing he had crossed a line. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble, Harvey. Just thought we could all use a break."

Harvey's stare could freeze time itself. "Save your charm for the courtroom, Amir. Now get lost before I decide to make this a legal matter."

Amir hastily retreated, leaving the cubicle, heading upstairs to interview Mike.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Harvey's gaze softened ever so slightly as he turned to you. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, grateful for Harvey's intervention. "Thanks, Harvey. I didn't know how to get rid of him.” You left a pause before continuing, “Though he was cute”, it was your attempt to lightened the mood

But it seemed that you failed as you could have sworn that Harvey’s eyes darkened.

“Don't tell me he is your type?” Harvey glares, trying to play it off as a playful intrigue. Though behind those words were sharp undertones of jealousy.

Was your type arrogant lawyers? Oh god, you thought to yourself.

“I mean if we are being honest”, you were already regretting the words coming of of your mouth, “I wouldn’t mind drinks with him, if you know he wasn't-”

“A dirty slimeball”, Harvey interrupted.

“I was going to say married but hey your words not mine”, You shrugged as you smiled, tilting your head up to look at him.

Like a switch any sign of a normal human being verison of Harvey goes back to a cold exterior Harvey ", Get back to work. We have a case to win."

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the silence. Louis Litt barged into the bullpen, a triumphant expression on his face. "I got it, I got it!" he declared, his voice echoing through the walls.

Harvey shot him a stern look. "What do you mean, Louis?"

Louis beamed, brimming with excitement. "I met with Amir’s brother in law and we have a plan"

"Louis, I don't like that look on your face. Well, actually, I don't like your face, period," Harvey retorted, his patience wearing thin but shot you a mischievous look as you let out a small laugh.

Just as Louis was about to unveil his plan, you received a text from Rachel, asking for assistance upstairs. Seizing the opportunity to excuse yourself , you made a quick exit, leaving Harvey to deal with Louis's eager revelation.

As you walked away, you overheard Louis saying, "Can I just tell you my plan?"

You missed Harvey's response that carried a tone of indifference, "Louis, I am a lawyer, not your babysitter. You don't need to run your ideas by me. Just do whatever it takes to win."

"Whatever it takes," Louis echoed, his enthusiasm undeterred as he practically skipped out of the room, eager to set his plan in motion.

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The next day, as you were on your way to the copy room, Louis Litt beckoned you into his office. The air in the room felt different, an unusual tension hanging in the air. Louis, with a somewhat secretive smile, asked for your help with a deposition. He believed you were the perfect candidate to handle the client interview. He said he will be there to supervise it all.

Despite the lingering suspicion about Louis's true intentions, you were eager to prove your skills and showcase your capabilities. With determination in your eyes, you took the file full of questions that Louis prepped for you into the conference room, ready to face the challenge. As you were coming round the conference room, Louis excused himself to the bathroom saying he was going to be right back and to start without him.

As you entered the room and set up the camera, you were met with the unexpected sight of Amir Jackson—the person you would be interviewing. Suppressing the internal alarm bells, you maintained a professional demeanor and focused on the task at hand.

"Good morning, Mr. Jackson. My name is Y/N, and I'll be conducting the deposition today. Please make yourself comfortable," you greeted, doing your best to project confidence.

Amir acknowledged you with a nod, “Oh trust me. I remember you. I can't forget a face like that sweetheart”.

You couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this deposition than met the eye. As you pressed record on the camera, a pit forming in your stomach as you felt that you were part of a bigger scheme that Louis had formed. But you continued on.

The questions came to an end and Louis was nowhere in sight. You think you did a good job but you really hoped you would have some help guiding you. You were reaching over to turn off the camera when Amir made his way around the table, invading your personal space as he placed his hand on your thigh. You felt disgusting, but you gritted your teeth and tried to remove his hand. His grip just got tighter.

“Mister Jackson, you are married and I am not interested so please let go”, you remained calm.

"This isn't the first time I've given in to another woman's temptation," Amir whispered, his hand slowly making its way up higher. . The situation escalated, and you attempted to stand up, desperate to distance yourself from his unwarranted advances.

Just as the discomfort reached its peak, Louis Litt stepped into the room,

"We got you now, Amir," Louis declared, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Louis revealed that the entire encounter had been captured on camera, since the little red button was still going and Louis left his dictaphone as well. There was enough proof of the man Amir really was

The revelation startled Amir, who looked like he was ready to erupt in anger at being caught.

But a last Amir stammered trying to get his words together.

“I think you should make some calls”, Louis said, his smile not faltering.

Amir, now furious, stormed off, leaving you alone in the aftermath of the orchestrated confrontation.

Anger boiled within you. You were mad at Amir, you wished you had the strength to have slapped him or yelled at him but you froze, your mind was whirling running 100 mph before you can truly comprehend what was going on. Now that it was over you were a teapot full of steam. Ready to blow. The more you thought about it, the more your frustration became directed at Louis.

His dramatic reveal. His smirk. This was the plan all along and you were just his puppet. He knew this was going to happen, he wanted this to happen.

"Why the hell did you put me in that situation?" you snapped, the intensity of your emotions evident.

Louis, unfazed, responded, "It was Harvey's idea. We had to win the case, and trust me this”, he gestured to you and the empty door, “ sealed the deal”

Your anger shifted, now directed at Harvey Specter, the architect of this manipulative plan. The lines between professional strategy and personal boundaries blurred, they have been blurring. But this, this felt like the lines were being drawn all over again, You took a deep breathe as you were left grappling with the aftermath of an uncomfortable encounter.

You stormed out of the conference room.You were shaken and in desperate need of someone to confide in. As you walked down the hallway your bubbling emotions made every step a struggle. In your mind, the need to talk this out with Rachel outweighed any confrontation you might have had with Harvey.

Focused on reaching Rachel's office, you were determined to leave the unsettling incident behind. However, Mike Ross, perceptive as ever, intercepted your path, concern shown across his face.

"Hey, are you okay? What happened back there?" Mike inquired, his voice laced with genuine worry.

The overwhelming emotions made it difficult for you to articulate your feelings. When Mike reached out to grab your hand, hoping to offer some comfort, a reflexive flinch escaped you. The subtle gesture spoke volumes about the impact of the encounter.

"Don't ask like you don't know," you managed to utter, your tone heavy with frustration and disappointment.

Mike was left dumbfounded, his attempts to provide support met with an unexpected defensive response. As you stopped in your tracks, you turned to face him, meeting the bewilderment in his eyes.

"I was Louis’s bait but if this was Harvey's idea, lord knows you were right there beside him. Batman and freaking Robin," you added, the accusation hanging in the air.

Mike's expression shifted to curiosity as he raced down the hall to Harvey’s office, needing an explanation. What the hell did you do now Harvey, Mike thought to himself.

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You sought refuge in Rachel's office. Rachel offered a comforting presence. You recounted the events, finding solace in Rachel's understanding.

"I can't believe he used you like that. I'm so angry on your behalf," Rachel said, her support unwavering.

As Rachel provided a comforting presence for you, on the other side of the office, Mike Ross stormed into Harvey's office, his frustration evident. Ready to give Harvey a piece of his mind for giving Louis the idea to use you as bait, Mike's accusatory words were poised on the tip of his tongue.

But Harvey, surprised by the accusation, defended himself. "What are you talking about, Mike? I didn't allow Louis to do anything."

Before Mike could continue, Harvey's tone softened. "How is she, Mike? Is she okay?"

Mike hesitated, admitting, "She's shaken up, Harvey."

Without sparing another second, Harvey stood up, determination etched on his face. "I need to find her."

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The atmosphere in Rachel's office was heavy as you sat there, still visibly shaken from the encounter with Amir Jackson. You found comfort in spinning your bracelet around your wrist.

Rachel, ever the empathetic friend, suggested a visit to the bakery you both loved, a subtle attempt to bring a touch of sweetness to the somber moment. As she left to fetch the cookies, you stayed seated at her desk chair, staring out of the window.

Harvey stepped in to check on you. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken tension as you looked up, frustration written across your face. You turned back to the window refusing to look at him.

You couldn't hold back the surge of emotions that spilled out. "Fuck you"

You were always so poised, always so put together, Harvey couldnt and wouldnt lie that hearing your curse did something to him. But he scratched that out of his mind, returning to the matter at hand.

Still taken aback by the force of your words, he raised his hands defensively. "I had nothing to do with what Louis did. I wouldn't put you in that position."

But you weren't convinced. "Your motto is 'do whatever it takes to win,' right? I was just a pawn in your grand scheme of things. Last week, after the panic attack, I thought we were okay. I thought we were on good terms, but now I don't know what to believe."

Harvey's expression hardened as he tried to find the right words to reassure you. "You weren't a pawn, Y/N. I didn't know about Louis's plan, and I would never intentionally put you in a situation like that."

You scoffed, frustration and hurt evident in your voice. "Your actions speak louder than words, Harvey. I'm tired of being caught in the crossfire of your 'win at all costs' mentality.”

Harvey, his usual composed demeanor faltering, tried to find the right words to reassure you. The weight of your accusations, was challenging the fragile trust that had started to rebuild between both of you.

You continued to stare out of the window, refusing to meet Harvey's gaze. He could feel the tension escalating, and he knew he had to address the storm of emotions swirling within you.

"Look at me," Harvey said firmly, his voice cutting through the charged atmosphere.

You clenched your jaw, still refusing to comply. Unfazed, Harvey moved closer and he bent down a little so he would be eye level with you and with a gentle touch, guided your head to face him. His touch ignited the fuel of your emotions, whether it be rage or something else entirely. There was a fire burning within you.

"I don't like to repeat myself," Harvey stated, his eyes locking onto yours.

You met his gaze, still angry, a tempest of emotions brewing within you. He could see the fire in your eyes and sensed the need for an outlet. "Yell at me," he urged, guiding you to stand up.

You were now facing Harvey, an arm's length between both of you. You took this oppurtunity, you took a deep breath as you let it all out.

"You are insufferably arrogant and stubborn. You're like a shark in a corporate sea, ruthless and cold-hearted. You wield your charisma like a weapon, and everyone else is just a pawn in your game. You bend the rules until they are ALMOST at a breaking point", you go off on a mini rant.

Harvey, with a measured tone, responded, "I don't disagree. The fact that I haven't interrupted you should tell you I take pride in who I am. But one thing you didn’t say and one thing I would never do is hurt the people I care about. Maybe I would occasionally push Mike in front of a slow-moving car, but that's as far as I'd go."

You stifle a small laugh, trying not to give Harvey any satisfaction. But you nodded at him showing that you believed him.

His hand rested on your shoulder as his eyes looked at you with concern. "How are you?" he emphasized.

You shrugged, voicing your discomfort. "I feel kinda disgusting right now."

Harvey's jaw tightened as anger flared in his eyes. "I'm gonna kill Louis," he declared, ready to retaliate.

As he turned to leave you grabbed his arm. "Don't hurt him," you pleaded, your voice holding a mix of anger and compassion. Despite the hurt you felt, you couldn't bear the thought of Louis facing physical harm.

Harvey paused, looking down at your hand on his arm. "I can't promise that I won't give him a piece of my mind, but I won't hurt him physically."

You nodded, acknowledging the compromise.

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The celebratory feeling filled the air in Jessica's office as Harvey stormed in, anger etched across his face. Louis and Jessica stood there, clinking glasses in celebration of what they believed was a triumph in the Amir Jackson case.

"Join us, Harvey! Louis found a way for us to win this case. It's finally over" Jessica exclaimed, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within Harvey.

Harvey's eyes narrowed as he observed Louis making himself small under the intensity of his gaze. Unable to contain his fury any longer, Harvey erupted, "Louis, you pretentious fucker! How dare you do that to her?"

Jessica, puzzled, looked between Harvey and Louis. "Harvey, what happened? Why are you so angry?"

Ignoring Jessica's inquiry, Harvey continued his tirade, directing his fury solely at Louis. "You used Y/N. You put her in a bad situation with Amir. That's a new low, even for you."

Jessica's confusion shifted to anger as she slammed her glass down. "What?"

Louis, feeling the heat of Harvey's wrath, defended himself, "You said to do whatever it takes to win."

" One, you know how I feel about cheating. And two, you know what yeah this is my fault. For half a second there, I thought you would be a lawyer, not try to pimp out my associate," Harvey placing particular emphasis on the word "my."

“Here's the deal," Louis began to explain his plan. "Amir's brother-in-law allowed him to join his firm under one condition: he behaves and doesn't cheat on his sister. Now, Amir signed his contract promising to behave because Amir’s brother in law has a list of evidence that could easily get him disbarred, but his brother-in-law promised not to expose him as long as he kept his promise."

Louis sighed as he continued, "Y/n was the bait, Harvey. She is one of the more attractive associates that Amir couldn't resist. So I let the pawns fall where they should fall and we got it all on camera. Amir's brother in law is going to the association to get him disbarred as we speak. "

Jessica chimed in, "Louis, why couldn’t you let it so Y/N in on the plan.”

Louis nodded, ‘’ I didn't think it would be a big deal”

The room collectively groaned.

"The only reason you don't have a broken nose right now is because she asked me not to hurt you...physically," Harvey declared, his rage simmering beneath the surface.

Jessica, ever the professional, butted in, “Harvey the case with Amir is over now, let me handle Louis” giving Louis a dirty glare before opening the door to her office moving Harvey out the door, “Tell everyone to go home for the night”.

Harvey followed suit, leaving Louis to face the wrath of Jessica. As he closed the door he could hear Jesscia yell, “What were you thinking”

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Harvey's footsteps echoed through the hallway as he made his way to Rachel's office, seeking you out. Upon entering, he found you surrounded by Mike and Rachel, laughing at something as Mike shoved his face with cookies. The look on your face seemed lighter, you appeared more at ease.

Harvey addressed everyone in the room, "Alright, pack it up. Time to go home."

As he spoke, his eyes lingered on you, and he added pointedly, "Especially you. Y/N. No arguments this time, I am taking you home."

Your colleagues exchanged knowing glances, and Rachel and Mike gathered their things to leave. Harvey's directive made it clear that there was no room for negotiation this time; he was taking you home.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The plush interior of Harvey's car surrounded you, and you couldn't help but feel a bit out of place in the luxurious vehicle. Harvey, however, seemed at ease as he turned to you and casually asked, "Put your location in the GPS."

You entered your apartment complex as the destination. The ride continued in relative quiet,

You were now three blocks away from your apartment complex, when Harvey abruptly took a sharp left. Confused, you turned to him with a puzzled expression, questioning his unexpected turn.

"Harvey, where the hell are you going?" you asked.

He glanced at you, a twinkle in his eyes, and replied, "We both deserve to have some fun tonight."

You saw him pulling up to a bar, one that seemed too classy for you. You were too undressed for this. The doubt clouded your mind.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you couldn't help but ask, "A bar, Harvey, really?"

He looked over at you, the corner of his lips quirked up. "What do you say?" He was parked but hadn't turned off the engine, giving you an out.

You looked over at him and he had that stupid, handsome smug smirk on his.

Not wanting the "what ifs" to take over, you met his gaze and said, "I'm in."

#harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter x you #suits #suits tv #suits usa #harvey specter fanfic #donna paulsen #mike ross #Pearson Hardman #Pearson Specter #Jessica Pearson #louis litt #rachel zane

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alexwritingspot · 7 months

Text

Request from @isabelboo :oml i had like the worst dream last night so i would love that flufftober of percy jackson and prompt #2 🥹

——————————————————————————————————

Nightmares’ comfort

When during the night nightmare hunts you in your dreams you find comfort in the arms of your boyfriend.

prompt 2: “Shh… it was just a nightmare”

warnings: mention of panic, nightmares

pairing: Percy Jackson x gn!reader

A/n: hi love, hope you feel better! And I also hope this fic will bring you comfort, I shaped this as a demigod nightmare so it could make sense in the plot, stay safe! 🧡

——————————————————————————————————

Being a demigod sucked, you had always something to do for the gods, you could easily die in a horrible way, you saw your friends and half-siblings die every day, and you were haunted by monsters day and night. However monsters weren’t the only things that haunted demigods, the worst part of this kind of life were the nightmares that plagued your dreams.

After having a rather amusing campfire with the rest of the camp you headed to the Poseidon cabin with your boyfriend to get some nice and refreshing sleep. Your muscles were sore from the early morning training, and even if you and Percy weren’t technically allowed alone in the same cabin, even worse sleeping together, everyone at camp closed an eye after all that the two of you had been through.

Percy had his arm around your shoulder as you walked to the cabin “Today the food was better than usual, have you noticed?” He then asked you “Yeah, maybe the nymphs understood that putting the water of the lake in the soups isn’t the best choice” you joked, and the both of you laughed together. You enjoyed moments like this, where the only problem was if dinner had been good enough, or if the stars were clear in the sky.

Once you arrived at Percy’s cabin you changed into the spare clothes that you had left in his cabin for times like this, you quickly brushed you teeth and then lied on the bed near Percy. He wrapped his arms around your waist, (like he always did when you were sleeping together) and rested his head in the crook of your neck. You fell asleep together.

You woke up to the sound of the camp alarm ringing in your ears, there had been a monster attack. Percy got up immediately, not even looking at you, took riptide and headed outside to fight the monster. You ran to your cabin to take your weapon too, sweat dripping from your face , and heart hammering in your chest. It didn’t matter how many monsters you had fought, a shiver still shook you every time you had to combat. Weapon in hand you rushed to the entrance of the camp, and there stood your boyfriend, fighting against what seemed to be an harpy. Before you could even move, the flying creature’s claws stabbed Percy right in the chest, you saw him fall to the ground with a soft thud. You rushed to his side, he was bleeding hard.

you couldn’t move.

you couldn’t breath.

you frantically tried to do something, to stop the bleeding, to save him, your heart was beating so fast you thought it would jump out of your chest in any moment, a scream of pain stuck in your throat, the world had stopped for a moment.

you leaned in his chest crying hard, this couldn’t be real, you couldn’t have lost him like that…

you woke up to a very alarmed Percy grabbing your shoulders and trying to wake you up, you felt tears building up in your eyes and your breath coming short. You searched for his eyes, for them to tell you that it was just your imagination. Percy pulled you close, stroking your hair softly and whispered sweet nothing in your ear “shh… it was just a nightmare” he kept holding you close, reassure you with his touch, you clutched to him as if once you let go it would disappear into thin air, and your dream would turn out to be the sad reality.

“You- you were gone- and I- I-“ you were shaking like a leaf, Percy just held you close “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, not now not ever” and you let yourself be reassured by his words, you held each other close in the darkness of the night…

A/n: hope it was what you were searching for! 🧡

#Pjo x reader #pjo #pjoverse #percy jackson x reader #percy pjo #annabeth chase x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #jason grace x reader #leo valdez x reader #pjo headcanon #x reader #pjo au

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froggibus · 1 year

Text

“Why are you crying” - Obey Me

Includes: Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo, Beel & Belphie

Genre: angst -> fluff + hurt/comfort

Summary: their reaction to catching you crying

CW: crying, lots of emotions, levi being a trog, hurt/comfort, cursing, panic attacks if you squint?? cuddling

omg hi hi i am so tired + ive been going through it this week but here is something for now. working on some more fics, lots of angst coming soon + maybe new fandoms lol

————

Lucifer:

he texts you saying you need to come to his study to talk

you ask if you can have a few minutes

you feel really out of sorts and want to gather your bearings before going in

he says it’s urgent and makes you come in right now

you go in immediately on the verge of tears and sit down with him

he has a bit of a tone cause it’s been a rough day but all he wants to know is how your school is going

it comes out of nowhere and you instantly start crying

thinks he’s done something wrong

“are you—did you get upset over something I said?”

when you shake your head no he’s at a complete loss

is this a human thing??

walks over to you and kneels down between your legs, places his warm hands on your knees

wipes your tears away and rubs his thumb across your cheeks

tries to calm you enough so that you can talk about what’s bothering you

even when you’re crying so hard you can barely breathe he manages to stay calm

after a while when you’re calm enough he’ll bring you water and a snack

and will coax you into talking to him about why you’re so upset

Mammon:

since you’re his responsibility he always HAS to know where you are at all times

not at all because he cares about you or anything

so when you lock yourself in the bathroom and yell at him to fuck off through tears he’s stunned

and annoyed

sits on the other side of the bathroom door and waits for you to calm down some

after a few minutes he asks if you’re okay

that’s when you really break down

he listens to you cry through the door and wishes he could do something to help you

he gently coaxes you into letting him in

sits with you and holds your hand

tried talking you down but you’re crying way too hard for that

for some reason carries you to the bathtub and sits with you between his legs???

it’s weirdly comforting and the heat/pressure of his body makes you feel way better

reminds you that everything is going to be okay and you guys are gonna work this out

when you’re finally calm you realize how weird the situation is

“wait did you put me in the bathtub”

“it works for Levi”

Levi:

you’re home early from school thinking no one is home

but Levi is doing schoolwork from home today

it’s been a really tough day so you lay down on the couch for a while and cry

Levi takes his headphones off to give his ears a break and go get food when he hears someone else is home

his first thought is that it’s Lucifer and he’s in trouble

until he sees you sobbing on the couch

he’s not really sure what to do

so he ignores you and goes to get a snack

but then he feels guilty about ignoring you so he comes back

sits on one of the chairs and fumbles with his hands while he figures out what to do

“y/n”

you didn’t even notice he was in the room

you try to hide the fact that you were crying but it doesn’t work that well

Levi isn’t gonna call you out tho he’s much too awkward for that

asks if you want to come play games with him to take your mind off of things

you take him up on his offer and play games

tries to be supportive and let you know you can come to him if you need it

mostly comes out a jumbled stuttered mess but it’s the thought that counts

doesn’t think to give you a hug until you wrap your arms around him

he just awkwardly accepts and pats you on the back

Satan:

hears you late at night when he’s trying to read

doesn’t realize WHAT the noise is, just where it’s coming from

so when he throws open the door and asks you to be quiet only to see your red, tear stained face, he feels like the biggest asshole in the world

apologizes for being so harsh

tries to get you to talk to him but you keep insisting you’re fine and you promise you’ll be quieter

“shhh y/n i don’t care about that now—what’s wrong?”

gets frustrated when you can’t/don’t tell him

you feel it too so you’re hesitant to let him touch you

but when he gives you a hug you melt into his arms

kisses your forehead and talks you down

offers to stay with you until you feel better/can fall asleep

you keep saying it’s okay and he can leave but obviously he doesn’t believe you

cause he’s a great detective

let’s you take what you need from him

but you WILL be having a length discussion about your feelings and your emotional responses when you feel better

it will be painful

Asmo:

catches you after you cried

knows instantly because of the red eyes and the puffy lips

pulls you aside and asks how you’re doing/if you’re okay

him asking just makes you cry again

he knows what to do though

grabs a cold cloth for you to dab your eyes with and sits with you

puts his arm around you and lets you lean on him and cry

doesn’t try to interrogate you or get you to open up—he knows you will when you’re ready

gets you water so you can rehydrate

lots and lots of forehead/top of the head kisses

any sort of gentle touch he can give you he does

and once you’re done crying he’ll help clean you up while you tell him why you were upset

listens very intently too!!

dabbing your eyes with a cold cloth and wiping away your tear stains while reassuring you everything will be okay

also thinks you’re just the CUTEST crier

wants to take a picture of your ‘just cried’ face but respects you if you refuse

Beel:

most emotionally mature of the group tbh

comes in to your room to ask you if you have any snacks

you’re curled up in a ball under the covers so he assumes you’re sleeping

he’s about to leave when he hears sniffling

“y/n, are you awake”

“y-yeah”

can instantly tell you’re upset

he comes and sits at the end of your bed and rubs your back over the blanket

“what’s going on?”

doesn’t force you to talk about it if you don’t want to

also doesn’t force you to come out from under the covers

instead he talks you down from your ledge and is very gentle with you

eventually you do come out and he gives you a big hug

you fall apart in his arms but he holds you until you feel better

even if you end up falling asleep he stays with you

just wants you to feel better (even though he still really wants those snacks)

Belphie:

is wandering the halls at night because he slept all day and now he can’t sleep

hears you crying in your room

is hesitant to go on because he doesn’t know how you’ll react and doesn’t know how to deal with this

paces past your room door at least a dozen times before finally coming in

you’re not even paying attention so you don’t notice he’s there until he sets a gentle hand on your shoulder

“why are you crying?”

in classic y/n fashion you instantly start crying harder

belphie thinks he upset you by touching you so he moves back

but it only makes it worse

doesn’t know what to do but your crying is lowkey annoying

is torn between hugging you or letting you be

decides on giving you an awkward half-hug and then leaving

does NOT expect it when you suddenly cling to him and cry into his shirt

you’re getting it all wet but he doesn’t care

is kinda flustered that you’re so close to him (not that he would ever let it show)

realizes after twenty ish minutes that you’re not crying anymore

you’re not moving at all

you must have fallen asleep from all the crying you’ve done

he can’t just leave you on the floor so obviously he carries you back to bed

but what if you wake up and think he left you?

it’s probably better if he stays with you…

#obey me oneshot #obey me fic #obey me x you #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #leviathan avatar of envy #leviathan #mammon x you #mammon #satan x you #satan x reader #lucifer #lucifer x reader #asmodeus #beel x you #beel headcanons #belphie headcanons #beel and belphie

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augustvandyne · 3 months

Note

Could you write a Tim Bradford x reader where she is at a bank when it gets robbed. Worried Tim knowing she's inside and then all the comfort when he gets to her. Maybe she gets minorly injured somehow or maybe has a panic attack. TYIA!

yes yes yes!!!! i wasn’t even expecting anyone to send stuff in this early, but i’m excited to write for tim

panic attack

Today started like any other day.

You woke up beside a sleepy Tim, who ushered you both out of bed the second the both of you woke up. Although, you always made him lay with you for an extra hour.

It annoyed you most of the time, the waking up early, but you loved him anyways.

Today, you hated him for it.

You weren’t able to convince Tim to stay in bed to snuggle this morning, due to him being called in early for some follow up interrogations on a case from the night before.

It had him come home late last night, and you were asleep before he got home.

So you’d only talked to him this morning, for all of ten minutes.

To keep your mind off missing Tim today, you thought you’d do some laundry, clean around the house, made yourself breakfast.. but you’d done all that within the first two hours of the day.

You then realized you still had a check to cash at the bank, and when was a better time to do it then today, on your day off?

That was the mindset you had until you walked into the bank, a terrible feeling in your gut.

You shoot Tim a message that you had went to the bank, in case anything had happened to you. That was one thing Tim asked of you in your relationship—was to know you were safe. Not only because he’d seen things in his line of work, but also because he loves you and wants to see you’ve messaged him.

You send it to his city issued phone, that way if he didn’t have his own phone on him, he still knows where you are.

Tim was already on the way to that bank by the time you messaged him, but it was too late.

A friend of the robber had called in a tip to the station, and Tim signed him and Lucy up for it immediately.

He prayed you weren’t inside yet, but that hope died the second he saw your empty car.

Lucy has to get Sergeant Grey involved in calming Tim down, because he’s freaking out that bad.

He loves you so much. Ever since Isabel, he didn’t think he’d ever love anyone as much as he did her—but he does, and more.

Shots are fired, and he puts his thoughts aside, going into police mode. He’s going to treat this as if it were any other day.

You on the other hand, were freaking the freak out.

You hadn’t had a panic attack since you were a teenager, and you forgot how bad they knock you down.

You feel like you need an inhaler, but you don’t carry one around you anymore.

You were smart on your feet as soon as you heard the first shot. You took in your surroundings, and moved to behind the counter.

The robber was on his way behind the counter when you heard LAPD and SWAT enter the building.

You could hear Tim shouting orders, but Nolan was the one to get him to drop the gun and to calm the robber down—or so everyone thought.

Just as everyone thought the guy was gonna give up, he grabs you from behind the counter and pulls his second weapon out. A small knife, maybe used for fishing or just used as protection.

He doesn’t hold it to your neck, so they make the decision of shooting him.

When he falls to the ground, he makes a shallow slice in the side of your abdomen, to which you’re wincing about on the way out.

“Cmon, baby, lets go,” Tim is the first to your side, but everyone gives you sympathetic looks before attending to the other victims.

You let out a shaky sigh, still in the middle of your panic attack.

“It’s okay,” Tim rubs his hand over your face to wipe your tears to which you lean your full weight on him. Mentally and physically. “It’s okay. Come on, let’s get you checked out.”

“Tim-“

“I’m right here,” Tim holds your hand as they patch you up.

Your injury is minor, so all they have to do is clean it and put a bandage over your side.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

When home, Tim won’t take his eyes off you, and you seriously doubt he’ll go in to work tomorrow, knowing the “condition” you’re in. Tim’s words, not yours.

He has you laying your head on his chest and the television on with your favorite show.

There’ll be a lot more panic attacks, and a lot of begging Tim to do all the banking from now on, but how can you deny your love for this man?

He’s holding you even when it was just a tiny run- in and a little cut!

#tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #the rookie x reader #the rookie

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grimace-writes · 4 months

Text

New Kid in Town *.•.*•

No.1

GN!Reader x Task Force 141 (feat. Alejandro + Roldolfo)

| No.1 | No.2 | No.3 | No.4 | Masterlist |

Summary: Reader’s first day on base meeting the team.

Word count: 1670

(3rd Person POV | They/Them so anyone can read :) | Early to Mid Twenties)

Mentions of Anxiety/Panic Attack.

-——————⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˖⁺‧₊˚｡⋆ ˖⁺‧₊˚°˖✧˚ʚ🦋ɞ˚✧˖° ˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆ ˚｡⋆——————-

“Just remember to give it your all, kiddo! They’ll love you”

The words of their mentor ran through their mind as the plane landed on the strip, the rattling of the cabin alerting them of their arrival. It felt like dumb luck that they were chosen as a new addition for Task Force 141, hand selected by Captain John Price himself. Being a military brat meant they were basically trained from birth for active duty, {Y/N}’s skills were highly respected by their superiors (no matter how much they had their own doubts).

Sun rays filled {Y/N}’s eyes as they used their free hand to shade their face enough to make the descent down the stairs safer. There waited for them was a young man with dark skin around his late-twenties next to Capt. Price, {Y/N} assumed the man was one of his new teammates.

“Greeting {C/N}. Glad to see you again, mate. I hope the flight here didn’t treat ya too badly..” Price shook their hand with a warm smile on his lips, he gestured to his left toward the other male “..Meet Sergeant Kyle Garrick.. Code name Gaz. He’ll be acting as your guide around the base as I’m busy with a few meetings I have today. I was hoping to show you around myself, but it couldn’t be helped. Speaking of which, I’m a tad late..See ya at lunch” The older male sighed giving {Y/N}’s shoulder a welcoming squeeze as he gave Gaz a wink before leaving the two of them.

Y/N turned their attention to the slightly taller male for further instruction, they were able to take a better look at him. He was so youthful and frankly handsome, his light facial hair outlined his jaw nicely, his smile caused their chest to feel warmer. Gaz stood with confidence as he held his hand out to {Y/N} “Sup, like the cap said, I’m Gaz.”

‘This might not actually be so bad..’

They took Gaz’s hand in a firm handshake, as they did so Gaz pulled them into a bro-hug, his smile never breaking. “It’s great to finally have someone on the team closer in age. Let’s start this tour with your room, so you don’t have to lug that around the whole time.” Gaz let {Y/N} go walking towards the hanger, leaving them a little dumbfounded by the sudden physical contact.

‘Mmmm..Not what I was expecting, Gaz is a hugger, noted. I wonder if the others will be the same..’ They thought to themselves slinging their duffle bag over their shoulder, taking long strides to catch up with their interesting colleague.

Gaz filled the silence between them with small details of the base, from passing the training halls to the recreation area as they made the long way to the barracks (basically showing them everything). {Y/N} started to feel a slight annoyance start to build in their mind as they recalled what Gaz said earlier, it seemed they ended up just carrying their stuff the whole way. The feeling spiked as the two finally made it to their destination and Gaz had a cheeky smirk on his lip. He leaned against the frame of {Y/N}’s new room, luckily for them the base had adequate space for each member of 141 to have private quarters.

{Y/N} smacked their lips towards Gaz causing the male to snort in response, they placed their hand on that door handle but stopped themselves before proceeding. “Is it unlocked?” They asked, not wanting to feed into Gaz’s mischief further, all they wanted was to unpack and take a few minutes to settle in.

“Yeah, don’t worry I’m not gonna make you run into the door. Plus the key should be inside, along with a small map of the base just in case. Though I’m an awesome tour guide so I doubt you’ll be needing it.” Gaz boasted himself, this time it was {Y/N} who scoffed.

“Absolutely, one hundred percent..” They said, opening the door to the 140 square foot room, which was furnished with a plain colored full sized bed, a large wardrobe, and a basic oak desk and matching desk chair. {Y/N} placed the duffle bag on the bed then laced their fingers together to quickly stretch and crack them. They hummed at the satisfying feeling it gave as he turned back to Gaz who was now standing in the doorway.

“Since I showed you everything, I’m gonna leave you to hang out and settle in before lunch time. I’ll be in the training hall if you need anything or get bored. See you later, {C/N}” He said, closing the door for them with a small wave, which they returned.

They waited a few minutes before they let out the deep sigh they didn’t realize they were holding in. Pushing the bag to the end of the end, {Y/N} crawled onto to bed, creaking under their weight. They wrapped their arms around their head, moving their legs close to their chest as they hid into themselves. From learning of their new post to the moment they stepped foot on base, the situation hadn’t set in until now.

The intense sound of their heartbeat filled the negative space, minutes felt like hours whilst they laid curled into themselves. They meekly hummed a snippet of a song their Mother would sing when {Y/N} would have episodes like this at home. It had been a while since they felt so frightened by a decision, they always went from one mission to another like they were ordered to do. The feeling of making their own decision on their career was so freeing yet so overwhelming, it made their head spin and their heart sink. {Y/N} took a couple deep breaths then stretched their limbs out, sitting up on their bed to check the time. ‘Only twenty minutes..That’s good, I didn’t waste too much time.’

They moved off the bed over to the desk, picking up the simple key ring with a single key on it that laid on a map of the base. They ran their thumb over the key, the cool metal feeling nice on their warm skin, before placing it back on the desk. They thought the best next course of action was to unpack, change into their new uniform, then head to meet up with the rest of their team for lunch. It took them only 30 minutes to finish their tasks before they made their way out of their room, locking the door behind them as they went. {Y/N} had the map folded in their pocket just in case, but Gaz in fact was a good tour guide, so getting to their destination was easy.

The sound of a few men laughing echoed through the hallway leading to the entrance of the mess hall, which was more like a mini makeshift dining and recreation room with a decent sized kitchen area. The team had strong feelings their bond would grow stronger if they made homemade meals together. As {Y/N} entered the room, they saw Price by the stove with a gentle looking Hispanic man chopping vegetables nearby. Sitting at the table was Gaz, along with another Hispanic man widely smiling, a loud laughing Scottish Man, and..{Y/N} almost couldn’t believe their eyes as the Ghost sat with the rest of his teammates. Alongside Capt.Price, his reputation was well known, even his mentor had a run in with Ghost.

Gaz was the first one to acknowledge {Y/N}’s presence in the room as he waved his hand high, greeting them in a chipper tone. “Hey {C/N}. Glad to see you decided to join us, time to meet the rest of the gang.” {Y/N} took a seat next to the excited male, looking at each person as they were introduced. “First off, we have Sergeant John Mactavish call him Soap..” Said male flashed {Y/N} a flirtatious smile with a wink. “..Then, Colonel Alejandro Vargas of the Mexican Special Forces," Alejandro raised his glass as a welcoming gesture. "As well as his second in command Sergeant Major Roldolfo Parra or Rudy. He’s the one next to Price over there.”

Rudy turned to the table after hearing his name to wave at {Y/N}, his smile was as warm and welcoming at Price’s was. Their attention turned to the final member to be introduced, his gaze intense making them feel a bit nervous. “Last but not least, we have Lieutenant Simon Riley better known as Ghost.” The lieutenant gave his new teammate a nod for a reply, turning his gaze to a different part of the room. “Don’t take his cold shoulder personally, the LT is a big softie when you get to know him.” Soap chimed in causing Gaz and Ale to snicker.

“Either way it’s nice to meet you all. I’m Sergeant {F/N L/N], my alias is {C/N}. I look forward to working with you all.” They spoke confidently as they sat back in their chair, feeling more part of the group as they chatted. They were asked about little things like where they were from and their experiences to their hobbies and interests. It was mainly Gaz, Soap, and Ale who asked, Ghost just sat there listening intently locking away their answers for future use.

The conversation ended when Price and Rudy placed the components of their shared meal onto the table. Soap and Gaz were instructed to grab plates and utensils as {Y/N}, Ghost, and Ale took turns washing their hands. During their chat it was explained how chores and meal prep were divided equally amongst them, with {Y/N} now here they would have to do some adjustments. Any anxiety or doubts about joining were starting to melt away as they ate and laughed amongst their new colleagues.

‘This really isn’t gonna be so bad..’

•*.•*~To Be Continued~*•.*•

-——————⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˖⁺‧₊˚｡⋆ ˖⁺‧₊˚°˖✧˚ʚ🦋ɞ˚✧˖° ˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆ ˚｡⋆——————-

Author Note: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed the story. Let me know what you think, Love Love~ 💕💕

| No.1 | No.2 | No.3 | No.4 | Masterlist |

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literaila · 2 years

Text

it’s really nothing

tasm!peter x fem!reader (office au)

summary: with peter parker as your coworker, work is something to look forward to.

warnings: idiots to lovers, pining, reader has a panic attack, peter gets sick, spider-man stuff, fluff, actual idiots, they both “hate” m&ms

a/n: this is the longest oneshot i’ve ever written. and also, i really like calling people criminals. let me know what you think!

peter parker has pretty eyes.

this is what you're thinking about while he stands in front of you, smiling politely, waiting for you to say something.

to shake his hand and establish a growing work relationship.

they're brown. soft and warm and a bit too bright for so early in the morning--he probably hasn't been up all night and probably doesn't suffer from a severe coffee dependency.

not that you do, either. it's just...

"y/n," you say, smiling even though it feels more like a wince. like trying not to scare away the newbie. you shake his hand.

the newbie who you were supposed to be director of today.

the newbie who you definitely did not forget about.

and who is absolutely not almost devilishly handsome.

his eyes are crinkled at the edges and you can't tell if it's because he's amused or concerned.

or if he is just pleasantly waiting for you to say something.

"sorry," you clear your throat. look away from him, to the person in the cubicle beside you--who is not judging you in the slightest. "busy morning."

"it's okay. i like... awkward silences."

he's got dimples. a little quirk on his cheek as he waits for you to tell him where to go. what to do. how not to get fired on the first day.

"i'm a little distracted," you concede, almost regretful. almost like he definitely thinks you're crazy.

he turns to look at whatever you were staring at. "yeah," he turns back, smiling. "that's a nice wall."

"okay," you take a deep breath in, feel the shame smother you with your shirt. "let's try this again."

peter, who looks like a tiny little beam of light in this room full of half-asleep people, nods. he holds his hand out again. "hi, i'm peter. i'm supposed to ask you where my desk is."

you almost laugh. "y/n," you say again, to clarify. "i'm supposed to show you where your desk is."

"hopefully it's facing that wall."

and so ensues the battle of trying not to stare at him for thirty seconds every time he makes eye contact with you.

fraternization is forbidden from the office.

you lead him to his desk, show him all of the drawers, completely with a jar full of pens--courtesy of the company--and a little welcome gift.

a little bag of m&ms that you may or may not have rushed to get from the vending machine down the hall.

"what's this?"

you swallow. again. maybe for the fiftieth time. "just a 'welcome to the office' sort of thing."

peter raises a brow. "from who?"

"me. i'm, uh, supposed to be your 'office buddy' while you settle in."

more specifically, you're supposed to be the person he goes to. the person with all the answers. the person who does not get distracted when looking into the eyes of their coworkers.

third time's a charm.

peter nods. "oh, well, i don't like m&ms."

there is a tiny fraction of you that would like to beg him not to make this even harder than it already is.

"you don't like m&ms," you repeat.

he shakes his head. his hair is messy. and soft. you'd like to reach out to touch it.

and burn your hand off immediately after.

"i didn't realize we were hiring criminals," you shrug. take the candy from his hands.

peter's jaw drops, minimally. "um, sorry?"

"not like m&ms is a federal crime."

his eyes widen. he looks a bit relieved. and then his face switches, smooth and chill, and almost evil eyes. "guess i must've missed that one."

"if you don't take my candy i'll have to eat it myself."

he raises a brow. "i'm assuming you like m&ms."

"nope. hate 'em."

he laughs. "then why would you give them to me?"

"it was the last thing in the vending machine. and i assumed you weren't also on probation. "

"neither of us is very good with assumptions," he leans back, looking a little bit more comfortable than he did a minute ago.

like maybe he doesn't think that you're absolutely insane.

you smile at him, try and keep the energy up even though you would really like to lay down on his desk and take a nap.

"so," you say, clasping your hands together. "my desk is right there."

across from his, of course, because you're already the office leader in procrastination.

"if you have any questions i won't be too far away."

"questions?"

"yeah. like, about what email to use for an article. or where to find files in the overly complicated filing system. or why it smells like pickles every couple of days."

his brow furrows. "pickles?"

"don't ask."

he picks up a pen. clicks it. puts it back down.

you watch because how are you supposed to do anything else?

especially when he's got a voice like that and a face like that and eyes that could probably remove your heart from your chest and take a bite out of it.

he clears his throat. "does everybody get an office buddy?"

"only the pretty ones."

immediately you turn around, run directly into the wall.

you fall directly onto the floor.

you don't dare to look at his face.

you laugh, awkwardly, scratching your neck. "sorry. i, um. i'm not very good at this."

at talking to people who are insanely attractive, or showing anyone around. or breathing, really.

"being an office buddy?" peter tilts his head, but he's smiling at you.

you're pretty sure the crinkle is amused.

"talking to people. especially when i'm sleep-deprived. or, trying to make a good impression."

peter laughs, seemingly appreciative of your self-depreciation. "you're doing fine," he assures. "you know, after the whole wall thing. and then the m&m thing."

you cross your arms. "it was an example of your everyday employee."

"oh okay, then." he nods. "it worked."

"and that was a welcome gift."

"you called me a criminal."

"i also called myself a criminal. and if you turn out to be anything like me, then you'll last at least a year."

he bites his lip, looking a little bit confused.

you laugh.

"c'mon, i'll show you where we keep the snacks."

his eyes light up even more. you have to take a deep breath in before you start walking.

peter tries not to bother you.

he took this job with the money in mind.

because selling pictures and running around all night and falling asleep in a bed made out of more cardboard than cushion, well, it was time for a change.

time to become an actual adult--in aunt mays words--and get an adult job.

when peter took this job--mostly because it was the first acceptance he'd gotten and the rejection letters were killing his ego, piece by piece--he figured that it would almost bore him to death.

but pay the bills.

but make it possible to keep up with his extracurriculars and avoid getting his water turned off when he was covered in a slime-like substance that he would really rather not think about.

he figured that it would be horrible; because having a job was, inevitably, horrible.

but he was good at suffering. he was good at balancing the scales and doing what needed to be done.

and may had threatened him with not letting him do his laundry at her house anymore, so, he didn't really have any other choice.

when he took the job, peter hadn't thought that he would be spending almost every night rushing to submit his forms and edit a million different articles.

he really hadn't thought that most of his hours spent in the office would be spent staring at you.

at watching your lips move as you talked to someone on the phone; or straining to hear you whispering to yourself--because not even with his senses could he make everything out completely.

or at staring at your hands as you typed. your eyes as you laughed. or when he said something--how he managed to, peter wasn't sure because his brain all but stopped whenever you were within five feet of him--to make you smile.

because your smile, god. it was the worst of all.

it was soft and beautiful and so mesmerizing that peter was worried you had already killed him every time he saw it.

there was just something about you.

something funny. something intriguing. a tiny little thing he wasn't sure how to describe.

and so, it really wasn't his fault that he didn't get any work done.

it's not as if he'd chosen to sit right across from you and be forced to watch you work all day.

he made a conscious effort not to.

to only stare when you were staring back.

to type random things onto his document and swear that he was actually going to get something done.

today.

but, of course, today he was having a problem.

the problem being that he didn't want to bother you but he also hadn't talked to you all morning.

three weeks after he'd officially met you.

you were his office buddy. his friendly coworker who he was just a little bit infatuated with.

and he didn't want to bother you.

he tried not to.

to keep his staring down to a minimum and avoid planning what he was going to say to you the night before.

he smiled at you during lunch, asked how everything was going.

and that was that.

until now, because peter was having a problem.

"hey," peter whispered, trying to keep his voice down.

you looked up from your computer, a quick smile making its way to your face.

peter pretended not to notice the three cups of coffee on your desk.

or that your shirt was inside out.

"hi, peter."

"hi. i'm--i'm having a little bit of trouble with a document..."

you raised a brow, making one of your eyes quirk up. just so peter could memorize the color a little bit more. "trouble?"

"i don't know how to change the font."

it wasn't a complete lie. it also was a poor, poor excuse to talk to you.

to not bother you.

"the font?" you ask as if he was lying.

which he would never do. especially not to get your attention.

"i've never used this program before."

"microsoft word?"

he nods. he watches the edge of your mouth quirk up.

he watches your fingers tap against the desk.

"okay," you say, so easily. "i'll show you."

you stand up, close enough to peter for him to smell your perfume and practically taste your amusement.

"thanks," he says, quickly, taking a couple of steps back.

and then a couple of steps more.

he allows you to lead him back to your desk. to sit in his chair and spin around, just so that he's looking at your face again.

"i like what you've done with the place," you say, gesturing to his almost empty desk.

"thanks. i try."

you laugh. "very cozy."

and then you spin around again, and peter leans a bit closer to you, watching your eyes as they flick over the computer screen.

"see the little 't'?" you patronize him, using the cursor to point.

he avoids laughing and giving himself away. he feels like a child.

which, in hindsight, he pretty much is.

peter nods. he's sure you can feel it.

because he can almost feel it when you swallow.

"you click that," you do so, "and then choose whatever font you want. except for comic sans. because that is against office policy."

"what if i like comic sans?" he whispers, closer than he wants to be to your ear.

"then we can't be friends and i'll be switching departments."

he chuckles. "where would you go?"

and he leans up, just so you can turn around again. and maybe because he feels little bit lightheaded.

it's really nothing.

"probably legal. they have a ping-pong table down there."

"and a dungeon with all of their lost souls."

you shrug. "reasonable price to pay."

you're smiling at him, so small that he might not notice if he hadn't been watching you do it for three weeks.

"i'd personally go with janitorial. get the whole place to yourself."

"they also have to clean up your desk, so."

he crosses his arms. "what is that supposed to mean?"

"you think i haven't seen the old wrappers and cans of soda? did you clean up just for me?" you touch your chest, mock appreciation.

"nope. it is 10 am, and the janitors love me."

"i highly doubt that."

you stand up, wiping your hands on your pants. "okay. you got it now?"

"yup. thanks for your help."

peter can see you trying not to laugh. he watches very closely.

"sure thing, peter. let me know if you have trouble finding the space bar."

and if peter's got a little bit of a crush, so what?

he likes his new job.

you poke him on the shoulder. "peter."

he doesn't budge. his eyes barely even move. his chest just barely inflates.

so you resort to almost pushing him out of his chair. "hey," you say, just a little bit louder. "peter."

and then, as soon as you've begun to push him again, his hand darts out to grab onto yours.

you let out a little yelp.

it scares you more than it scares him. you try to flinch back but his grip is hard, his eyes are stern and confused as he looks at you.

as he looks down at the hand that's on you; creating bruises on your wrists.

and then he lets go, as if your hand was burning hot, and jumps away from you.

"i'm sorry--"

"are you okay?"

peter blinks. looks like he's forgotten where he is or what he's doing here. he blinks again. "what?"

"you were asleep. i woke you up."

"oh."

you nod. take a breath in and readjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder. "you okay?"

"i'm fine."

you stare at him. his eyes are a little bit wild. a little bit all over the place.

he's staring at his keyboard like he's lost the ability to think clearly.

"peter," you say, softly. "it's five."

"five?"

"yes. time to go."

"oh."

you frown. "how long were you asleep?"

"not long. like, an hour."

some part of you wonders how you didn't notice that. considering how much you're looking at him on any average day.

"i didn't realize. i would've woken you up sooner."

you rub your hand, taking a step back as he gets up from his desk. as he grabs a bunch of spare things and doesn't really look you in the eyes.

"it's fine. i wasn't getting a lot done anyway."

his voice is quiet. soft. a bit rough--like he's been using it too much. sore.

"having a hard time sleeping?" you ask, trying not to step over the boundaries of your office buddy relationship.

peter snorts. "you could say that."

you nod. stand there uncomfortably.

not sure if you should just leave or wait for him. which one will cause you more pain.

peter looks up. he sighs. "your hand," he gestures to the red mark you've got on your wrists--which really don't hurt that bad but are a bit startling. "i'm sorry."

"oh," you look with him. shrugging. "it's fine. it's what i get for waking you up."

"no, i just--" he pauses. shakes his head like he's being stupid. "sorry. i don't know what's wrong with me."

"i'm sure there's a multitude of answers, peter parker."

you say it with a smile on your face, trying to avoid the seriousness of this situation. in which, you should probably be concerned for him.

in which you would really like to hug him because he looks sort of sad. sort of crumbled as he picks up his bag. sort of small.

he chuckles. "good guess."

"ready?" you ask him, straightening up.

"i'll walk you to your car."

you hold a finger up, brow raised. "i think i'll walk you to your car. 'cause you're looking a little... green."

peter blinks.

"and also because i'm a gentleman."

"of course," peter snorts a little bit, beginning to walk. "thanks for waking me up," he says, "i would've just slept there all night."

"and then what would the janitors think of you?"

he waves a hand. "they'd just clean around me."

"or call the police."

"yes. or that."

you smile at him.

appreciate the way he smiles back. even if it's just for show.

when peter runs into you just as he's leaving the bathroom, it's a completely normal reaction to be a little bit shocked.

to crave the warmth of your body, even if it's slamming into him and causing him to trip.

causing you to trip, which, peter does not take advantage of.

he does, of course, steady you with his hands, looking down at you as you blink.

"woah," you say. "i didn't think i was going that fast."

"practicing for a marathon?"

you glare at him, just a little. "just going to lunch."

your eyes are delightfully smooth. your mouth is quirked up in peter's favorite way.

he laughs. "i would run too."

"sorry. didn't mean to crash into you."

"it's fine."

he stares at you for a moment. waiting for you to say something.

you don't because you're not a strange coworker trying to preserve any minute with him you can get.

"where are you going?" he asks, rocking on his heels.

"forced to go to the sandwich shop on the corner. i forgot my lunch."

"charlie's?"

peter watches you lick your lips. he watches you breathe in and out and pretends that he's not being weird.

he's not.

"yeah. have you been there?"

he nods. smiles a little bit. "it's good."

you smile back.

he breathes in; trying to match his heart to yours.

you look a little bit disheveled; a little bit eager as you stare at him.

and he's got no clue how he looks because he's got no control over his body.

you breathe out. "well..."

"oh," peter steps aside, running a hand through his hair. "enjoy your lunch."

"thanks, you too."

and then you walk away from him.

peter tries not to feel a bit begrudged by his lack of conversation skills--particularly when it comes to you--and he tries not to think about how warm and soft your skin is, or how cute you look when your hair is a little bit messed up.

but then you turn around, clearing your throat. "you, um, wanna come?"

it barely takes peter a second to say "let me grab my bag."

"where'd you work before this?" you ask peter, sipping on some coffee.

nursing the fact that you're going out to lunch with him and that he offered to pay.

not that it means anything. it doesn't.

it'd be nice to have a friend around the office, though.

and it's nice to know that he doesn't completely hate you. yet.

peter swallows some of his sandwich, face contorting strangely. "i did some pictures for a couple of newspapers... but um, just a lot of odd jobs," he shakes his head. nonchalant.

"you like photography?"

"just a hobby."

you raise a brow. "that's not what i asked."

"yeah," peter answers, slowly. "i like it."

"you must be pretty good at it, you know, since you got paid for it."

he shrugs again. "i'm alright."

you let out a confused breath, trying to take his short answers as a good sign.

as any sort of sign.

"how long have you been working here?" peter asks you, quickly changing the subject.

you pretend not to notice.

"oh, a year and some odd months."

peter leans a little bit closer to you. "and you've lasted this long?" he whispers.

you laugh. "it's not that bad. good holiday pay. free vending machine snacks. and clive, the elevator guy, brings me coffee sometimes. can't let him down."

"clive?"

you frown. "you haven't met clive?"

peter shakes his head.

"that is a problem. i'll introduce you to him. it'll change your life."

peter laughs.

"no, i'm serious. after i met clive i was a completely different person."

"i guess we'll see."

"no, peter. i wouldn't joke about clive."

peter raises a brow. "you joke about getting fired all the time."

you wave a hand. "pfft. have you ever even met the boss?"

you say the words like they're formidable.

kind of like how peter is looking at you right now.

his eyes are absolutely insane.

"um..." peter thinks for a moment. "no, i don't think i have."

"me either."

"really? you've been there a year."

you point at him. "exactly. who's going to fire me?"

peter smiles. "fair point."

you nod at him, content.

happy, for some strange, incomprehensible reason. you can feel his eyes on you.

you look up at the clock.

"you better finish your sandwich," you tell him, meeting his eyes. "we've got fifteen minutes."

and so it begins.

"hey," peter says, sticking his head in front of your face, and interrupting your typing.

you scoff and push him away, moving so you can see the screen again.

resume typing.

"y/n," peter sings.

"i'm working."

"why?"

you turn towards him, sighing. "what do you need?"

he gestures towards your coffee cup, smiling. "want some more coffee?"

"no. i've had two cups already."

peter raises a brow. "that's low for you."

"rude."

he grabs your cup. "don't worry. i know how you like it."

"stalking me, peter parker?"

"you're in there all of the time," he deadpans. "it would be hard not to know."

"rude," you repeat.

peter turns around, whistling as he carries both of your coffee cups.

you shake your head, somewhat amused, somewhat confused.

you blink until the image of his face and stupid smile is gone.

continue writing.

and then peter sticks his head around the corner again.

"by the way, you're missing a comma in line three."

and you hate him, just a little bit.

you barely even smile as you add the comma in.

peter has been looking for you for the last ten minutes.

it's become sort of a thing to walk out together; to make fun of the building as you go, swearing that you're never ever going to come back.

peter, well, he likes the opportunity to stare openly at you while you laugh.

and when you weren't at your desk, peter took the time to explore a little bit.

and maybe go through some of your drawers looking for snacks--not that he'll admit to it when you ask.

he finds you in the basement, going through a filing cabinet.

"what're you doing?" he asks, attempting to scare you as he turns on a light.

you've got a flashlight in your mouth and a glare in your eyes.

"that's too bright," you say, around the flashlight.

"woah. what's going on?"

peter gestures to the mess on the floor. to the papers you're practically buried in.

"i couldn't find a file, and nancy in information technology said that it 'wasn't in the database' so i'd have to come and look for it down here. and none of these are alphabetized."

"ah. and did nancy use that snarky tone of voice?"

you glare even harder at him. "yes. she was very unpleasant."

peter groans as he sits down right next to you, messing with a file you've left on the floor. "sure you're not projecting?"

"peter, you should go home."

he laughs. "c'mon, you can't stay here all night. why don't you look for it tomorrow?"

"i need it tonight."

he puts a hand over yours, urging you to look at him. "you're gonna be looking forever. who knows the last time these were organized?"

you sigh, head drooping. "i know. i was trying to do it myself but..."

"there's thousands of these," peter finishes for you.

"yeah."

he laughs. "yeah."

you rub your eyes, and peter watches you as you try not to yawn.

"when was the last time you ate?" he asks.

"had lunch at my desk."

"you know that's not enough," he chides. "that was six hours ago."

"my deadline is today. i didn't realize i needed the file until today."

you sound just a little bit angry. and absolutely tired.

peter can see the circles under your eyes, and the furrow between your brows that hasn't gone away since he walked in.

"okay," peter sighs, taking the stack of files from your lap.

"peter," you sigh. "i really need--"

"i'm gonna help you."

you look up at him, frowning. "what?"

"it should only take an hour or two with both of us. and then we'll go get something to eat. and then you'll go home and sleep."

"it's--peter. that's sweet, but you don't have to. it's already late and--"

"c'mon," he says, handing you a couple. "who am i going to annoy if you're at home sleeping tomorrow?"

there's just a quirk of your lips. and then it stills, and you're staring at him very seriously. "are you sure? i know you don't get a lot of sleep anyway."

he smiles, nudging you with his shoulder. "we'll work fast. and then have fries."

and the smile it earns him is worth the exhaustion the next morning.

"hey," you frown, tilting your head to get a better look at his jaw.

peter looks over, eyebrows raised. "hmm?"

you point to the side of his face, brows furrowed. "you've got a bruise."

peter touches the spot you're pointing to--as if you've just reminded him of this--and winces. "oh. yeah."

"does it hurt?"

he shrugs. "a little."

"what'd you do?"

he smiles. "how do you know that i did anything? some of us wake up looking this good."

"peter."

he rolls his eyes. looks away from you and sighs. "i was helping may hang some pictures. dropped one."

"on your face?"

"no, actually," he says, smiling at you. "i dropped it on my foot. the bruise just happened to show up on my face."

if it wasn't for his smile you might push him off of the bench.

"you're stupid," you respond. "and reckless. and stupid. did may yell at you?"

he snorts. "told me that just because i 'act like a child' doesn't mean i'm not 'a responsible adult' and that i shouldn't be so 'stupid.'"

you nod, pleased. "good. now i don't have to."

peter is not staring.

he does not stare at you, he swears.

he watches the wall instead.

the wall with its lips and eyes and nose and cute little crinkle in its brows.

he watches the walls and he doesn't get any work done.

and when you look back at him--because you always do--he'll make a face at you. gesture towards the clock with a frown.

it might get him a laugh. or a pout.

and peter finds both of those things equally gratifying.

so it anyone asks, peter does not stare at you. he has no reason to. no need to look at something that he already knows very well.

and still, he can't quite look away.

"where are you?" you say, immediately, without any greeting.

because it's ten in the morning and you're actually staring at a wall. a wall that might've been interesting about five months ago before brown brown eyes took its place.

now it seems boring, blatant, and annoying.

"hello?" peter says, sounding as if he's attempting an old man.

"hi, peter. where are you?"

"at home."

"really?" you say, rolling your eyes into the receiver so that he can feel it. "i thought you were sitting right across from me. what i really meant was, where the hell are you?"

there's a pause. a quick shuffling. and then: "i'm sick."

you frown. "sick?"

"you know the thing where your body begins to ache, and then you--"

"i don't need to hear about your bodily feelings."

peter laughs. "well, that's where i am."

you almost whine. you almost swear to god that you're going to drag him in here so that you don't want to nap all day.

or go over to his apartment and have him cough in your face.

"what am i supposed to do?" you ask, spinning around in your chair, allowing the cord to wrap around your chest.

it's not like anyone is looking at you.

"i don't know," peter answers, voice muffled. "your job?"

"that's boring."

"so is reality tv. where did all the good stuff go?"

"you're at home watching tv and i have to work."

you hear peter sigh. "i'm at home sick and you're perfectly healthy at your desk. you get to talk to clive today."

he sounds a bit desperate; a bit peeved.

"clive misses you."

"he tell you that?"

"no. he actually told me that he wants his money."

you spin back around. pretend to type something into your keyboard.

"not this again."

"you lost the bet."

"i did not, you both knew that i--no, you know what?" peter pauses, breathing against the microphone. you almost have to tilt the phone away from your ear. "i'm too sick to argue."

your brows furrow. "that's not good."

he laughs. "i'm going to take a nap. get an article done. ask clive about cacti. steal all of the m&ms from the vending machine."

"it's not like anyone eats them."

"goodbye, y/n."

"but, peter..." you whine.

and that's how you end up at his door, shivering on his welcome mat.

peter frowns as he opens the door. "what're you doing here?"

you, immediately, walk right past him, feet pounding on his floor.

"i brought soup," you say, instead of answering. "and good company. and crackers."

"i don't like soup."

peter follows you into his kitchen--because somehow you know where everything is and are completely comfortable in his house already--leaning against the counter.

he tries not to wince as his leg strains to keep up.

you stare at him a moment, frowning. "you don't look sick. do you have a fever?" you reach out to touch his forehead but peter leans back.

"i don't like soup," he repeats.

"ah," you wave a hand. "yeah you do."

"no."

you sigh. "peter. soup is good for you. and so is getting out of bed."

peter stares at you for a moment.

any other day he might've appreciated the faux oblivious smile on your face. or the humming you're doing as you look for a bowl.

"y/n," he says, flat.

"hmm?"

"how did you get my apartment number?"

you turn back to look at him, eyes wide. "you know," you say, calm. "google."

he stares at you.

"i looked it up."

he raises a brow. takes the weight off of his left leg.

"you have a file, peter. which is very useful when your favorite coworker wants to bring you soup because you're sick."

"clive is my favorite, so--"

"you're sick," you emphasize. "which means you should go lay down. i'll bring you the soup when it's warm."

peter bends down so he can look you directly in the eye.

so he can stare at you a little bit closer and laugh when your eyes begin to disappear.

so he can watch your skin curve and fall and all of the indentations that he can't see from more than a foot away.

you stare back at him, eyes wide.

"you're not sick," he mocks, "which means you should be at work."

you cross your arms. "it's my lunch break."

your stubbornness would usually excite peter, but it's getting hard to stand.

"did you eat?"

"coffee in the car. and i stole some candy from the candy jar."

peter frowns. "that's not lunch."

he teases a small strand of hair out of your eye, pokes you in the forehead gently.

you pretend to fall backward.

"i'll have some soup," you say, pleasantly, stepping past him. "there's enough for two."

"you could've come after work," peter says, mostly just so that you'll look at him again.

so he can catch an inch of your smile and hide it in his pocket forever.

it's a crime that his camera is in the other room.

"i was worried," you admit, a little bit softer than usual. "i didn't think you could get sick."

"i am human," and even peter doesn't really believe it.

"yeah, but you're, like, naturally gifted. immune system of steel."

"i wash my hands."

you laugh, the small sound is a beacon in the room.

an earthquake shaking peter's core, again and again.

"you don't have to be worried about me," he says.

but what he really means is thank you for coming, and i wish you'd stay all day.

he means absolutely nothing at all.

"it's not just that," you turn around, gentle light in your eyes, face morphing into something peter can't describe. "i missed you," you tell him. "it's boring."

he tilts his head. tries not to let the words fall too far to the ground. "you done it before," he protests, just so you'll smile again.

"well, i didn't have any friends at work before."

peter takes the words. he grabs them from the air with his hands and throws them into a corner somewhere very far away.

he waits a moment, for you to laugh at him, to smile, to tell him what the hell to do about any of this.

and, because you know him, you do.

"go lay down," you tell him, pointing towards his door. "it'll be just another second."

and peter tries not to limp as he walks away.

he tries not to look back at you; fails.

it really means nothing.

it means nothing as you push away from your desk, legs feeling surprisingly limp, hands shaking as you use them to stand up.

as you run them over your face, making sure that you're still here.

you look towards peter's desk and see nothing. he's sick today, you remember.

he's been sick for three days.

that this is all normal, and perfectly fine, and just your average workday, really.

except for the overwhelming feeling pulling at your chest, making it just minimally harder to breathe.

harder to think. to see. to wonder where you are and why you're supposed to be here.

work, you rationalize. you think it through again and again.

and it still doesn't help.

you take a step, moving away from the cubicle, from the phone that you've left stranded on your desk and the tears that--as you'll find out later--have ruined a document.

you take another step, swearing to yourself that if you're going to throw up--which isn't even a possibility really--it won't be here.

it won't be in front of these people, and it will not be over something so small. so trivial.

still, that sort of fluctuating anger crawls further up your throat.

if you tried to speak, you would find only air in the place of words. you would find a dry and broken throat.

you would find that you've lost the ability.

you walk down the hall, nervous tears dribbling down your cheeks.

you wipe them away with an errant hand that you can't feel.

the next goal is the bathroom. the next goal is to calm the hell down and try and pull yourself together.

it's only nine in the morning.

it is too early for any of this.

too early for the sun to be up and too early for these feels to have collapsed your chest in whole.

you were fine when you woke up, you swear.

you had breakfast, got to work, had coffee, got to work.

there's no disorganization in a routine that you've been developing for years. in the same job that you've been used to since you got there.

panic attacks aren't acceptable when everything is fine.

you're fine, you tell yourself, a meek repetition in your brain, but whoever is controlling this doesn't seem to care.

you're fine.

the bathroom is two hallways away. on normal days, you have to plan out when you need to pee.

you clench your fists so tight that they lose blood circulation.

you wipe another tear away, angry at the movement it takes to do so.

ashamed to be walking down this hallway and avoiding the eyes of coworkers you would usually smile at.

but they don't deserve this sight.

you walk a little bit faster, unsure how far you've gotten.

it could be inches. it could be miles.

and it's at this point--when you've made it so far from your desk that you can no longer feel the indention of your chair on your legs--that you realize that this isn't going to get any better.

that compartmentalization has failed you, once again.

your eyes burn as you look down at the floor, trying to note all of the coffee stains you can see as you walk along.

you fill your lungs with air, basking in the bit of relief, the cool feeling in your chest before the anger comes back swinging.

it mocks you with a laugh. with a funny little remark about how deep breathing won't get you through this.

and it's fine.

you walk faster, swearing to yourself that you just need a moment alone.

and then you hear a quick little "hey," before you run directly into someone. quickly looking up while your eyes fill with tears again. mistake mistake mistake.

running into your coworker--especially this one--is definitely a mistake.

especially with his eyes and his face and every single thing that he just seems to know.

"hey," he says, softer, trying to keep you steady with one open hand, the other holding a coffee mug.

you're pretty sure that he just spilled some of it on the floor but you don't dare let yourself look.

this is fine, you think, as his fingertips burn your skin.

"peter,” you whisper, voice cracking. "what're you doing here?"

you try not to wince.

immediately, he's frowning. "what's wrong?"

you laugh. you chuckle. you practically cackle at the words.

what's wrong, do you think? nothing.

absolutely nothing.

you stand up even straighter. "nothing. i'm fine. how are you? feeling better?"

you're very confident that he can't hear the hesitation in your voice. after all, you're completely fine.

you smile at him.

you know that there's something else you should be saying, something funny, something to make him smile.

this might be normal if you could just figure out what that something was.

"c'mon," he whispers, little concerned brow. little evil eyes. "you're crying."

you clear your throat. "am i?" pretend to wipe away any remains. "i get really bad allergies this time of year."

"you don't have allergies."

you laugh again, little bit smaller. there is no evidence of a lie on your face.

the feeling is still there, laughing with you.

"i think i would know, peter," you say, taking a step back from him. "just heading to the bathroom so--"

"y/n," he's even softer, like whatever you're saying is causing him physical pain. "you don't have to lie."

"i'm not lying," you swear.

you swear again and again that you're not going to start crying in front of him.

because if there's one thing that could make this any worse--besides an actual heart attack--it would be peter parker watching you cry.

"did something happen?"

"no. i have to go to the bathroom."

"did someone do something?" he's leaning down a little bit, trying to get a clearer view of your eyes.

there's really no better view than this, you think, staring into his brown eyes. waiting.

"nothing happened, peter."

"then why are you crying?"

"i already told you--"

he tilts his head. he's breathing almost normally. he's standing close to you. his eyes are so gentle, warm. "i just want to make sure that you're alright. you don't look alright."

"i'm fine," you say, out loud, through clenched teeth.

and another tear falls down your face, mocks you as it hits the ground.

and then another, because where else are they supposed to go?"

"okay," peter says, leaning down just a little bit so he can grab your hand. taking a step closer, and using a hand to get you to look at him.

to rub your skin with the tip of his thumb.

to drive you even more insane than you already feel.

any other time, this might be a dream.

he takes a moment to look at you. and you look back, a bit perturbed. a bit annoyed. a bit anything but fine.

and then he nods. "okay," he repeats. looks up from you to around the office--you don't want to know how many eyes are on the two of you.

peter uses his grip on your hand to pull you, clearly not hearing your protests, as he drags you into a room.

into a maintenance closet that you didn't even realize existed.

"there," he says. "no more people."

the room is big enough for you to take a step away from him. breathe out. "thanks."

but it doesn't help.

the tears continue because the floodgates are open and the universe would like to continue to make a fool of you, thanks.

"it's okay," peter says, and he takes the step forward. his hands wipe away your tears, but they aren't fast enough. "it's okay. you don't have to tell me."

and then, in a quick gentle motion, he wraps you in his arms.

he holds you so close. so tight.

fingertips trailing on the skin of your neck. chest smelling exactly like his house.

breaths and heartbeats in your ear.

"why are you here?" you whisper, against his chest. just to break the silence and no longer feel overwhelmed by his very proximity.

"i missed you," peter answers, quickly. "i feel better."

"that's good."

he nods against your head. breathes in even deeper.

you're not sure if it's for you or him.

"peter," you whisper, and your voice shakes.

you topple over the side of the building.

but he catches you.

"i've got you," he whispers. "whatever happened, i'm here."

"thank you."

"shh," he says, and "don't be ridiculous." and "you look pretty even when you're crying." and "i would offer you some m&ms right now, but i think that would be counterproductive."

and you breathe against him, allowing yourself to laugh.

allowing the feeling to envelop you whole.

you almost don't mind, because however much panic is stuffed down your throat, peter is holding you.

peter is hugging you and whispering in your ear.

"it's okay," he repeats, a different variation of your own words. "i've got you," he promises.

and it's okay, you think.

it's completely fine.

this is nothing.

except, you know, falling in love with peter parker.

"what is this?" peter mouths to you from ten feet away.

he's got no idea why you're staring at him, but he doesn't really mind.

"what?" you mouth back, lip quirked a little bit too much.

peter raises his brows. points at the letter in his hands.

you squint at it.

he waits.

and then you shrug your shoulders. "i don't know," you mouth to him.

he stares blankly at you. thinks about throwing it across the room.

you laugh and look down at your desk, resuming whatever you were getting done before he interrupted.

but peter doesn't mind that very much anymore.

he emails you with no subject line.

an invitation.

you take five minutes to respond. in which, peter spends throwing trash into his trash can from six feet away.

he gets every single one in.

for the work party thing?

you look up at him, raised brow.

yes.

peter thinks about how it would be easier to just text.

yeah. they do one every year

did you go?

yes

was it lame?

yes. and no. there was a dart board

you're a liar

you smile up at him. pretend that you're the most productive employee here.

peter chooses to ignore your face so that he doesn't get distracted.

are you gonna go? he asks.

not sure. are you?

for the dartboard

wise decision

go with me. i promise no lameness.

he can hear you laugh but he doesn't look up.

just keeps your voice as a soundtrack in his mind. copy and pastes the sound. hits save.

you're a liar peter

but he finally smiles at you.

peter parker is, above all else, completely wrong about the party.

not that it took much convincing on his part; one single word, one single chance to hang out with him for just a little while longer, well, that was enough.

it was enough of an answer, enough of a promise, and the threat of honeysuckle eyes staring at you until you fell apart, piece by piece.

so the party is lame.

almost the same as last year.

there's a punch bowl on the table, spiked with something you choose not to think about. there's a speaker in the corner of the newly arranged office, blasting music that you don't know the words to.

there's your coworkers, mingling, standing awkwardly together because when is there time to actually talk to each other--nonetheless develop any friendships. or, acquaintanceships.

discluding you and peter, of course.

because, as you've recently become aware, he's your best friend.

he's your best friend when he's curled up on his couch and eating all your popcorn and laughing when you choke in the middle of the movie, but handing you some water anyway, eyes betraying whatever sarcastic comment he was about to make.

he's your best friend when you're eating lunch together, contemplating the benefits of pulling the fire alarm at one in the afternoon.

he's your best friend when he sends you memes over email, swearing that they're going to make you laugh.

he's your best friend when he's throwing things at you from across the office, earning the two of you some nasty looks from the same coworkers in the room now.

he's your best friend when you want to kiss him.

when you want to lean in just a little bit closer and confess everything to him; allow yourself to be uninhibited by his smiles and eyes and laughter and voice.

he's your best friend, and sometimes, you wish he wasn't.

because it just makes it a little bit harder.

not so easy to stop noticing all the amazing, wonderful, significant things about him when you're spending each weekday with him and listening to his voice over the phone every weekend.

not so easy to stop loving him when he's just...

he's your best friend.

even now, standing too close to you, whispering in your ear.

"do you think they're all robots?" he asks you, gesturing towards the group of people.

"i think we would know by now."

he looks severely judgmental. "look at them," he points, "they're all just standing there. perfect posture. great smiles. well manufactured."

"i'm sure some people think that about you too, peter."

he looks at you, offended.

"oh wait," you say, shaking your head. "you've got the posture of an eighty-year-old, so, probably not."

"i do not."

"ninety."

"we are the same age."

you raise a brow. "there is no proof of that."

"besides our birth certificates."

you wave a hand. "i'm still young," you say, "you're getting up there."

"weren't you the one complaining about 'wasting your life away sitting at a mindless--'"

"that proves nothing."

peter laughs. takes another sip of his punch and winces.

you look around. anything to avoid his face. and his stupid attractiveness.

why you're here, you're not quite sure.

"wait," you say, grabbing peter's shoulder. "i think there's a real person here."

"really? where?"

"nancy."

you gesture towards the woman standing alone, staring at peter like she's going to demolish him in a second. looking at peter like he's an actual greek statue--not too far-fetched--and she'd like to destroy him.

it might make you laugh if you weren't severely irritated.

"nancy from i.t.?" peter asks, looking around.

"yes."

"the same nancy who gave you attitude and then made the two of us go through files all night?"

"yes."

"wow," his eyes land on her, and you watch as she looks away from him, cheeks flushing. "i think she was staring at you."

you laugh.

"no, really. her hatred is being fueled."

"she wasn't staring at me, peter."

he raises a brow, looking down at you. "uh, i'm pretty sure she was. maybe you didn't see it but she had evil in her eyes--"

"she was looking at you."

"what?" he looks back to her, back to you. shakes his head. "no she wasn't."

there's just something about his eyes.

"yes, she was."

"what did i do to her?"

you laugh. "she was admiring the view."

peter's brow furrows, and you take the time to admire his eyelashes, the light hitting the side of his face.

"what does that mean?" peter asks because he's completely oblivious.

and adorable.

"pretty much everyone in this room has a crush on you, peter parker. you're a handsome guy."

"you think i'm handsome?"

you use the time to take a sip of your drink. to look around the room and admire the disco ball on the ceiling. how they got that up there, you're not sure.

peter swallows. "everyone in here?"

"yup."

"even clive?"

you laugh. "clive is well beyond a crush. i think it's considered more of an obsession."

peter smiles. he nods, pleased. "good. i feel the same."

"i'll be sure to let him know," you look down at the floor. try and get the coffee stains out with your foot.

it hurts a little bit to look at peter right now.

to stare at his face and understand that it means nothing.

smiles and laughter--they're yours but not for you.

and it's fine.

you're perfectly alright with that.

you clear your throat. "you should go talk to her."

peter looks up. "who?"

"nancy."

his lips purse. "why would i do that?"

"she likes you."

"she was mean to you," peter frowns, eyes right on you.

looking at you the same way he did that first day. like you're crazy.

like he can hear the words you're saying but they still don't make sense. like he can touch your skin but can't feel it.

you shake your head. "it was nothing. she might be nice."

"why are you trying to set me up with nancy?"

you sigh. "peter."

"are you trying to pawn me off to someone else? because i'd really rather go with clive..."

"i don't--" you sigh again. bite your lip. look down and imagine the ground isn't there. "i don't know. just..."

peter nudges you with his shoulder. "hey. this is lame."

you snort. "i told you so."

there is music blaring in both of your ears. it's gotten increasingly louder in the last thirty seconds.

if you looked over you might see people dancing. you might actually see your coworkers getting along.

but you don't look over. you don't dare take your eyes off peter.

"wanna go somewhere else?" peter asks, with a bit of a smirk.

and then you follow your best friend out the doors, not bothering to look back.

peter has always considered himself to be fairly strong.

after a difficult childhood, a difficult teenager, a difficult life--he thinks that he's grown well. that as long as his feet have remained firmly on the ground, then he must be doing something right.

he must be on his tiptoes now.

"hey," you say, arm locked in his, so close to him that he can smell you. "there's a diner open. wanna get shakes?"

he can feel you.

"shakes?" peter winces.

"peter parker, if you're about to tell me that you don't like shakes--"

he laughs. pulls you towards the shop. holds the door open for you.

he tries to fall back on his heels. tries to remind himself that strength doesn't mean anything. that he could hold you up for as long as you needed. that he would hold you up forever.

he plants his feet in the ground and digs his toes into the soil.

he smiles at you.

"i love shakes," he says.

and what he really means is.

i love you.

"it is two in the morning," you complain as peter rubs his hand together, looking like a child.

excited and lit up and far too awake for this early in the morning.

"i thought you were young," peter says. pulling you along.

his hands are cold.

and still, you don't really mind.

he's holding your hand.

"i am young. and old enough to not want to freeze to death on some swings right now."

"y/n," he chides as if you're being ridiculous. "when was the last time you played on a swing set?"

"probably when i was five."

peter points at you. "exactly. you don't remember what it's like. the joy of feeling like you're going to fall off--"

"and die."

"i won't let you die."

"peter," you say, dryly.

but you're smiling at him.

and as long as he keeps holding your hand, you think, you might follow him anywhere.

when peter notices that you're shivering, he offers you his jacket.

but you don't take it.

"i've seen you in the office," you say to him, the words teasing. "and i know that you're the one always turning the heat up."

"it's cold in there!" peter protests, following you as you lead him to the edge of the world.

as he tells himself that it's nothing.

nothing at all.

expect wanting to keep you awake, to keep you smiling, to keep you from falling on your face, and to keep you in his arms.

you don't take his jacket, so he must resort to the next best thing.

slinging an arm around your shoulder so he can nuzzle his nose into your neck.

"peter!" you squeal, squirming away from him.

but his hands are wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

and he's definitely not taking the time to breathe you in and imagine kissing your skin right where it's most warm.

"are you cold now?" he asks, trailing his nose up your neck, feeling you shiver beneath him.

"no."

"are you sure?" his lips are at your ear.

his grip is weak, barely even there. but he can feel how heavy you're breathing. he can see your breath in the air.

"i'm perfectly content, thank you."

you only stutter a little bit. only sound a little bit shaky.

"you can still have my jacket," peter tells you, lips close to your jaw, nose by your cheek. your skin is soft, smooth.

"i don't want your jacket."

"it's warm."

"so am i," you claim, but you're leaning into him. just a little bit.

peter pretends that it means nothing.

and when he walks you home, you snuggle under the jacket with him.

the pounding in his chest is nothing more but a simple reminder.

he's strong enough to live with it.

to hold you this close and have it mean nothing.

there's this thing.

it's been there for a couple of weeks.

pressure on your chest, an unrelenting reminder that you need to do something.

and you ignore it, for the most part.

tell yourself that it's nothing significant.

but looking at peter now--peter with his flushed cheeks and wide eyes and small smile and eyes and--you can feel it.

trickling down your throat, a gentle river, swarming at the bottom of your stomach.

you take a breath in.

"that was a lot more fun than last year," you tell him because it's only the truth.

his smile widens. "i was right."

you point a finger at him. "the party was lame," you clarify. "but the company was good."

"just good?"

he's got dimples.

dimples that you might drink out of, given the chance.

you shake that thought out of your mind.

"getting cocky, parker?"

his eyes are on yours, swarming your face. "i can tell when you're lying."

the smile on your face feels almost numb.

and you don't say anything back to him.

the pressure enhances, builds and falls, and pounds on the doors to your heart, swearing that it only needs a place to stay.

you've always been too kind.

been too forgiving.

loved a little bit too much.

"okay," peter whispers, taking a step back from you, hands leaving yours. "you should go inside."

"why?" you ask, even though you know the answer.

"it's cold out here."

"i'm not cold."

he smiles. brushes the side of your face with his finger. "liar liar," he says, softly.

his fingertips make your whole body fall apart.

you might be ashamed if you weren't so completely invigorated with him.

"are you going to be okay getting home?" you ask, just to break some of the silence.

tear your heart apart vein by vein.

"i'll be fine."

"it's late," you protest. "you could get hurt."

"i appreciate your confidence," he's smiling at you, but it's not enough.

"peter," you sigh.

his hand falls to your chin, tracing a line up your jaw. "hey," he whispers. "i'll be fine."

"hey," he says to you, again and again.

the pressure increases until you can barely feel anything at all.

and here's the thing about peter.

you can't stop looking at him--from that very first day.

and you haven't been able to stop loving him for months since then.

"i've got to go," he whispers, but you both know that he doesn't really mean it.

"peter," you say.

he stares at you. his eyes flick from every inch of your face, every small spot, every secret that you have written on the skin there.

he's close enough that you can feel his breath.

that you never want him to move away.

and you should really turn and open the door.

you should really go inside and forget about all of this.

you should pretend that this means nothing for just a moment more.

but.

"peter," you whisper, one last time.

"yes?" he answers back, right there. so close to you.

and his eyes stare back at yours. they have answers. they have so many questions.

"you need to kiss me."

and then, he does.

"what?" you whisper to him, walking down the hallway, taking your jacket off, bag in hand.

peter is pretending that he's not trying to slip his fingers in between yours.

he's pretending that this is exactly how it's supposed to be.

"we should've taken the day off," he says.

"we just had two days off."

"not long enough," he swears, whispering so that only you can hear. "i want a lifetime."

"let's start with this week."

he laughs. he's far too close to you.

fraternization is forbidden.

"this is weird," he says. "i want to kiss you."

"you can kiss me at five."

"but i want to kiss you now."

"join the club."

he smiles at you, and finally lets your fingers slip from his. he watches your eyes, so sure on his that it almost makes his knees buckle.

"i'm going to hold you to that," he says.

"good."

and then you walk to your desk, putting your jacket over your chair.

peter is staring at you, but what else is new?

you look up, just so you can smile at him.

with the lips that he's tasted. the hands that he's felt. the girl that he's spent the last two days with, and also can't get enough of.

he wants to run over to you. he wants to kiss you just one last time.

and, if the look on your face means anything, he's pretty sure you feel the same.

he pouts.

you laugh. point at the clock.

he stares some more.

and really, it's not like he got a lot of work done before anyway.

my masterlist here.

tags: @moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @random_writer1021 @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah

1K notes · View notes

feelbokkie · 3 months

Text

Let’s Fall in Love, IRL | Chapter 15

pairing: Jisung x fem reader

genre: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, Pen pals to lovers, friend of a friend to lovers

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: swearing, depictions of a panic attack, mention of food

summary: When she was a child, L/n Y/n was in a horrible accident that left her face disfigured. After getting bullied relentlessly by her classmates for her appearance, Y/n escaped to the digital world where she meets Felix. Now an adult, Y/n has be come a complete social recluse, only talking to her 4 childhood best friends and roommates and her only friends. When Felix goes AFK one day in the middle of a game, Felix’s roommates decides to step in. Is this the start a new relationship or will Y/n’s crippling social anxiety get in the way?

taglist: CLOSED

word count: 5,296

screenshot count: 10

previous | masterlist | next

“Why are you all home? Scratch that, why are you awake right now?” You ask Chan as you walk into the living room.

It’s strange for everyone to be home so early in the morning on a weekday. Changbin, Hyunjin, and Seungmin normally would be at work while Chan would be in bed after working all night. Even Hyunjin, who often works from home, would be in his room this early in the morning. And yet, as you're running around the house, getting ready for your date with Jisung, all four of them are in the dining room. Chan is at the stove, finishing cooking breakfast. Seungmin is in the corner fiddling with the coffee machine. Hyunjin and Changbin are at the dining table, deep in conversation.

"Good morning, Y/nnie," Seungmin calls, not turning around.

You quickly walk over to Chan, annoyed that nobody is answering you. You latch onto his arm and gently shake it, still being mindful of the hot pan in his hand.

"Why are you all home?" You whine.

It's a reasonable question. Both Changbin and Hyunjin have been hinting about following you on your date. You thought they were teasing you, as brothers do. But seeing them still home when you're set to leave in a few hours leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

"Don't worry, they're not going to follow you. I took away and hid all the car keys. And they're on a strict ban from leaving the house today." Chan reassures you with a smile.

"But--"

"Hey, baboya, it's the 7th. Did you forget?" Hyunjin calls from behind you.

Your birthday.

You almost forgot. You knew your date aligned with your birthday. But because of the anxiety and nerves that came from mentally preparing yourself for today, you completely forgot about it. Not that you wanted to remember your birthday anyway.

"Come and sit," Changbin waves you over to the table.

You didn't notice it at first. The gifts on the dining table. You were so mortified at the idea of your brothers and dad following you on your date that you completely overlooked them. There are 5 in total, one large rectangular box and a few smaller gifts around it. It was a birthday tradition for all of you. Everyone would pitch in what they could for one big gift. As you all got older, it became one big gift with a few, individual gifts.

"Sorry, I did forget," You apologize as you sit down at the head of the table that Chan normally sits at.

Seungmin finally makes his way to the table, setting down a cup of coffee in front of you. He takes the open seat closest to you. You take a sip of the coffee and hum in approval when its familiar flavor hits your tongue.

"Seungmin, make me one too?" Changbin says excitedly.

"It's not your birthday. Make it yourself," He says sharply before taking a sip of his own coffee. "Y/n, that's decaf so don't worry."

A small smile spreads across your face at the small gesture. You aren't even thinking about how caffeine would affect your anxiety later. And, just like always, Seungmin is thinking ahead for you.

Chan finally joins the four of you at the table, setting down the plate of chocolate banana pancakes and different side dishes. Hyunjin gets up and pours 3 cups of coffee before rejoining everyone at the table. You don't like celebrating your birthday, for good reason. And while the boys normally just leave you be, your birthday is the one thing they actively fight you on. eventually, you gave up and let them do their little traditions that the five of you came up with. Like birthday breakfasts. It's the one thing you look forward to when your birthday rolls around.

***

"You can wear that today. I made you a matching mask and a bow for Inuyasha." Hyunjin explains as you hold up a light blue dress with daisies all over it.

"Thank you, Jinnie!" You say excitedly. You still weren't sure what to wear for your date, and thanks to Hyunjin, that's one less thing to worry about.

After breakfast, the boys pushed you to open your presents. So far, you've already opened the complete manga series for A Promise Neverland from everyone, 'The World's Okayest Sister' coloring book from Seungm (with money hidden in it), A neck massager from Chan, and now a dress from Hyunjin. All that's left is Changbin's gift. Even if you didn't already know his gift was last, you would be able to tell from the wrapping paper alone. He's never been the best when it comes to wrapping. Without fail, the paper also gets crumples and never resembles the shape of the item it's concealing. Still, you happily pick up the box and start to unwrap it.

"A...taser?" You question once you open the misshapen box.

"He forgot," Seungmin whispers under his breath.

“No, Seungmin, I didn't forget." Changbin swings his leg under the table, hitting Seungmin in the shin.

"Changbin hyung kicked me!" Seungmin whines as he bends over to rub his leg.

"It's a practical gift! Just in case that slim ball gets handsy or something.” Changbin explains, ignoring Seungmin.

“This is illegal,” You reply dumbfounded. Hyunjin bursts into laughter at your response. Hyunjin takes the taser out of the box and starts fiddling with it.

“It’s okay, I’m a firefighter,”

“I’m a civilian.”

“It's fine. You're related to a firefighter.” He waves you off.

"Oppa, I don't think that's how this works." You snap, slowly getting annoyed.

Buzz buzz

"Hyunjin, give me that. Changbin, you owe her an actual birthday gift." Chan takes the taser from Hyunjin and puts it away.

"How about pepper spray? I have some right here." He pulls out a bottle of pepper spray from his pocket.

"Also illegal," You sigh as you remind him.

"Where are you getting these from? Are you going to pull out a switchblade next?" Hyunjin leans over to see if Changbin is hiding anything else in his pocket.

"Changbin," Chan sighs as he takes the pepper spray from Changbin's hand.

"Just give her money, hyung. You suck at gift-giving." Seungmin says, finally sitting upright.

"Give me back everything I've ever given you." Changbin snaps.

"No,"

Ding dong

"Oh my god, he's early," You say quickly as you jump up, your heart beginning to beat quickly.

You still have about 30 minutes before Jisung said he was going to come and pick you up. You already did your hair, all you had to do was get dressed and get Inuyasha ready.

Why the hell is he early?

"Go and get changed, we'll take care of it," Seungmin tells you softly.

"Right," You nod slowly before turning to Hyunjin and Changbin, "You two, go to your rooms."

"Why do we have to go to our rooms but Seungmin is allowed to roam free?" Hyunjin whines.

"Seungmin doesn't have ulterior motives." You reply quickly, getting up and grabbing your dress.

"I have motives. You have no idea if they're ulterior or not." Seungmin sasses.

"You go to your room too."

"Y/n, go get ready. I have everything under control." Chan reassures you as he gently pushes you off towards your room. "And Y/n, stay calm."

***

Stay calm.

You quadruple-check yourself in the mirror, taking deep breaths as you make sure everything is perfect. Inuyasha stays close to your side. You got him dressed first with his 'service animal' vest and Hyunjin's homemade bow. Your hair is perfect. The ends are curled and your bangs are draped neatly over your left eye. You used extra hairspray to ensure that your bands won't move too much. The dress Hyunjin gifted you first perfectly and is comfortable enough for you to wear the entire day.

Stay calm.

You take one last deep breath as you grab Inuyasha's lead and your purse and leave the room. You slowly walk towards the front of the house, preparing yourself as you walk around each corner. If Changbin got his way, Jisung might still be standing outside the front door. You kind of hope he is. At least you'd have more time to calm yourself down.

Stay calm.

You freeze when you finally walk into the living. Because there he is. Han Jisung is in your living room. He's actually here. To see you. Jisung makes eye contact with you, freezing mid-sentence as he stares.

"Wow," He whispers to himself.

"Don't gawk at my sister like she's a piece of meat—Ow!" Seungmin turns pointedly to Chan as he holds the back of his head.

"H-hi," You choke. Your throat and mouth are impossibly dry. Almost you've been walking through the desert for days.

Jisung stands up, quickly fixing his shirt. His hair is neater than you're used to seeing. He styled it and yet, it still looks soft and fluffy. Part of you wants to run your hair through it. His outfit is simple: a black, oversized shit and a nice pair of jeans. Not much different from what he wears when he video-chats you. Except for the mask he’s wearing on his face.

“Hi,” he replies calmly, “I’m not gawking. You’re just a lot prettier than I imagined—Not that I was just imagining what you look like in my free time…O-or that I thought you wouldn’t be pretty. Wait that sounds bad. I just meant… I’ll just shut the fuck up. Shit…fuck—I mean—here, I got you these flowers.”

“Oh my god, he’s an idiot—Ow! What?” Hyunjin turns to Chan with a look of betrayal, clutching his head.

Jisung picks up the red and light pink bouquet that sits beautifully on the couch. It takes you a second to figure out which flowers they are. Red chrysanthemums and light pink peonies. Your birth flowers.

"...Unless you don't like flowers. Then I can totally just get rid of these for you. Or do you hate these flowers? Then I can get you another bouquet. I didn't know what kind of flowers you liked and I couldn't ask Felix so I just went with your birth flowers. But I know you don't like your birthday so you probably don't want any reminder of it...Someone, please shut me up," Jisung rambles, his face becoming as red as the chrysanthemums the more he talks.

"It's okay, Hanji! I love flowers and chrysanthemums and peonies are really pretty. Top tier flowers." You mumble as you take the flower from him.

Badum

It's an innocent touch. Your fingers graze his hand as you take the flowers from him. And yet, your heart begins to race and you can feel all the heat in your body going to your head. Now you're turning as red as the chrysanthemums. It's enough of a concern for Inuyasha to press his cool nose into your leg to let you know to calm down. A noticeable act that makes all three of your brothers turn their attention to you.

Snitch

"Here, Y/n, I'll put these in a vase for you." Seungmin gets up from the couch and takes the flowers from you.

"Do we even own a vase?" Hyunjin questions, looking around the room. None of you have ever brought home flowers before. Even if you did, it was always a single one that you'd just put in a drinking glass.

"I'll go buy a vase, that can be my makeup gift—Ow!" Changbin whips around and glares at Chan.

"You are grounded. You're not allowed to leave the house today. I'll buy the vase." Chan says quickly.

"I'm 25, what do you mean I'm grounded?" He shouts.

You clear your throat to tell Changbin to shut up. He's already started to get loud. And Changbin is loud—well, you'd still have one up on Helen Keller.

"Hanji, are you sick?" You ask, changing the subject from your brothers' antics.

"Me? No, why? Oh, the mask!" Jisung stands up straighter, rubbing his hand on the back of his head. "I wore this so you'd feel more comfortable wearing yours. We'll just look like a very health-conscious couple. Well, not a couple exactly! Don't want to get ahead of myself. Unless I fuck up today somehow...Someone, please stop me,"

"That can be arranged," Hyunjin says under his breath, moving out of the way before Chan can hit him again.

Inuyasha walks away from you and over to Jisung. All of you watch as Inuyasha presses his nose against Jisung's legs, making the five of you giggle.

"Oh hey, you must be dog Innie—Oh wait, I can't pet you, you're working...What...What is he doing?" Jisung questions as Inuyasha refuses to move.

"He can hear your heartbeat and is trying to tell you if you don't calm down, you're going to have a panic attack." You say simply, gently tugging on Inuyasha's lead.

He really is a snitch.

"R-right," Jisung clears his throat. "Anyway, Y/n, we should go. The bus will be here soon."

"Yeah, okay."

"I'll have her back by 6—7 o'clock at the latest," Jisung tells Chan as he stretches his hand out for you to take.

"Have her back by 6 on the dot or I'm hunting you down—Stop hitting me!" Changbin shouts at Chan.

Badum

You stare at Jisung's open hand. You know you should take it. You want to take it. But the idea of holding his hand might kill you. You blushed when you accidentally touched his hand. How are you supposed to hold it? You're almost certain that Inuyasha would give you away the second you touch his hand. Your heart might give out before that happens.

"Stay out as late as you want. Just keep us updated if your plans change. We were planning on doing cake and dinner tonight. But no worries if you two end up doing something." Chan explains, eyeing Hyunjin as he makes his way over to you.

"Listen, have fun. But if you need me or any of us for any reason at all, I'll have my phone on all day. One call and I'll be there." Hyunjin whispers into your ear. You silently nod before you bite the bullet and take Jisung's hand.

The two of you leave the house with Inuyasha. You walk silently, hand in hand to the bus stop by your house. You would talk, but you're too focused on keeping yourself calm to try to engage in any conversation.

"Y/n?" Jisung asks suddenly.

"Hmm?" You hum in response, still not sure if you should open your mouth right now.

"Before we go to the aquarium," Jisung turns to face you, "I was wondering if you would want to make one stop first?"

"Where?" You manage to ask, tilting your head to the side slightly.

"I know today's your parents' anniversary as well. So I thought, maybe you'd want to pay them a visit? And I kind of want to pay my respects to them too. Unless you don't want to, then we can just go...That was a dumb idea."

You stop walking, causing both Jisung and Inuyasha to slightly jerk back. Both of them turn and look back at you, concerned.

When was the last time you visited your parents' graves? It's been a while. More than a year. You stopped well before you stopped going outside. Three, maybe four years? It was too much after a while. For a long time, you didn't even know where they were buried. If they even were buried. The owners kept that information to themselves, not wanting to take you on the 2-hour trip to visit your parents. It wasn't until you were adopted by Chan that you found out where they were.

"Sure, we can go there first." You smile fondly at Jisung behind your mask. And still, with your one good eye exposed, he can tell that you are smiling at him.

You sit on the bench in front of the large aquarium tank, sketching all the different fish that swim by you that you can. You're not sure how long you and Jisung have been at the aquarium. Time doesn't seem to exist. And you're not sure if that's because of the lack of clocks or your company. You had to have been there for a few hours at least.

You walked so long that you had to sit down and take a break. Just for a moment. To give your legs a break. And for Inuyasha's sake. You know he's working harder than he normally does. Jisung was right. It's early enough that there aren't too many people around. But still, you were on edge. At least, for the first few hours.

Jisung has been good at calming you down, surprisingly. He kept your hand in his the whole time, giving you a reassuring squeeze every once in a while. Especially in exhibits where there seemed to be a crowd. Or maybe he held your hand for his sake, either way, you no longer mind it.

"Sorry, for making you wait," Jisung says hurriedly as he rushes back to you.

"I'm fine, Hanji." You chuckle. "Was there a line?"

Jisung hands you a drink, a straw, and a small food bag before he crouches down to Inuyasha's level. He places a paper bowl in front of him and opens a water cup, pouring some water for him. Once he puts as much water in the bowl as he can, he joins you on the bench, making sure to sit on your right side. He sighs as he pulls his mask down.

"Not really. It took me a while to find the food stand. And then I forgot where I left you so I panicked for a bit. And then I saw the gift shop—Oh yeah, happy birthday!" Jisung produces a brown paper bag with the name of the aquarium on it.

"You didn't have to get me a gift. The date and flowers are enough. But thank you," You put your food and drink down before taking the gift from Jisung's hands.

"To be honest, I saw it in the window and couldn't help myself. You looked so happy when we were with the baby seals earlier. It was easier to just get it now than to try to pay for it when we're at the gift shop later." He blushes as he watches you pull out the contents of the bag.

Inside the bag, there's a stuffed baby seal plush. Almost as adorable as the real thing. Your heart begins to swell in your chest at the idea of someone seeing something and thinking of you in a positive light. Someone other than family, that is.

"Thank you, I mean it. Seals...just remind me of home a little bit." You say softly, clutching the stuffed animal to your chest.

"Seals in Seoul?" He questions as he takes a sip of his drink.

"No, I didn't grow up here." You shake your head. "I mean, I was born and lived with my parents here. But the group home was in Pohang. Spent most of my life down there. I'm a coastal city girl at heart. We only moved down here because Chan had started his life out here to provide for us."

"So what I'm hearing is that you're a mermaid." He jokes.

"Basically. Except, I have legs and didn't have to give up my voice for it." You turn your head away from Jisung to lift your mask and take a bite of your sandwich. A compromise you've practiced all week to deal with.

"I'm glad. It's such a beautiful voice." He says softly. His eyes are soft and twinkling, his mouth sporting a small smile. It's the same look Chan has on his face when the five of you spend time together.

He means it.

"T-thank you," You sputter, choking on your sandwich. "You're from Incheon, right?"

"Yeah, but we moved to Ampang when I was 8. I moved back when...I was 16." His hand reflexively reaches for your back, rubbing soft circles.

"Malaysia? Wow, international man." You say in awe. The furthest you've ever traveled was from your hometown to here.

"Do you want to travel?'" He asks innocently, his hand still on your back.

You think for a moment. You used to think about traveling a lot when you were younger. Going somewhere, anywhere, that wasn't the group home. Somewhere beautiful and near water. But as time went on, the idea of moving far away diminished, plagued by the new amount of people who would mistreat you just because of how you look. It was hard enough moving to Seoul. Sure, people in Pohang were mean, but they were finally getting used to you. Leaving and having to go through all that again petrified you.

"Kind of. But I'm fine here I think. Do you?"

"I want to travel and live new experiences. And then write songs about them. Eventually, stop writing for other people and write for myself." He turns his attention back to the large fish tank.

"Can I listen to your songs one day? The ones you wrote for yourself?"

"N-no," His eyes are still trained on the fish tank.

"Why? Did you already write one about me?" You tease.

He doesn't respond, just quietly stares at the tank. His neck and ears turning impossibly red.

He absolutely already wrote a song about you.

You can't help but let out a hearty laugh, tilting your head back. At the idea that someone like Jisung wrote a song about you. That someone wrote a song about you in general. The whole notion of it all is silly. It's a normal thing. To go on dates and share life stories like this. You're finally doing something normal. High school you would be shocked. Hell, you from a year ago wouldn't believe you if you told yourself that you are on a date with someone like Jisung. Someone who exudes every definition of the word "attractive." His face, his voice, his personality—all of it is attractive. A man like this shouldn't exist. And yet, here he is. Out on a date with you.

Snap

You freeze as a cool breeze rushes to your face. You tilt your head upright, causing your mask to fall off your face. Your heart begins to jackhammer in your chest. What do you even do? Pick up your mask and quickly try to fix it? Search your bag for a spare, if you even managed to pack one? Try to see if the information desk has one?

But Jisung...you need to move. Do something, anything, before he sees. You take deep, shaky breaths as you try to calm yourself down. The walls feel like they're closing in on you. You wish, more than anything, for the glass of the large tank in front of you to shatter, releasing all 200,000 gallons of water. To be swept away by the current or drowned by it. Whichever would get you out of this situation faster.

badum

Inuyasha stops drinking his water and walks over to you, resting his head on your lap. Even with his grounding, you feel small. Like you're nothing but a speck of dust in this large room. Or at least, you wish you were.

"What's wrong...oh fuck..." Jisung quickly yanks his hand off your back. Almost like he touched a hot pan on the stop. But that's not what makes your heart sink to the pit of your stomach.

It's the look on his face. The way that his eyes are wide circles, transfixed with horror, unable to look away no matter how much he wants to as he looks at you. His lips parted in silent shock. You're not even sure he's breathing right now. It's the same look you've seen on so many faces throughout your life.

Badum

The two of you stare at each other for what feels like years. Jisung's eyes soften as you feel the familiar needle prick behind your eyes. Your breathing quickens as an immense amount of weight fills your chest. Almost like you're in the fish tank and your lungs are filling up with water.

Badum, badum

A tear escapes your eye as your body refuses to move. Jisung slowly raises his hand towards your face. You bite the inside of your lower lip to keep it from trembling. You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing to just disappear as Jisung's hand brushes your bangs out of the way. You quickly jump up, knocking down your drink. You tighten your grip on Inuyasha's lead as you finally gain some control over your limbs.

"I-I-I have t-to go," Your voice wavers, as you refuse to make eye contact with Jisung.

This was a mistake.

"Wait, Y/n—"

Your legs finally take you away as you run as far as they take you. Somehow, you find yourself in a bathroom. You lock yourself in one of the stalls, your back pressing against one of the walls.

You keep replaying it in your head. The feeling of Jisung's hand on your back. How quickly he pulled his hand away from you. The horrified look on his face. All of it burns into your brain. Leaving a permanent scar, like the one etched into your face.

Why do I have to fuck everything up?

You let out a pained, mangled sob as your body slides down the bathroom stall wall, not caring about all the germs on the floor alone. Your whole body shakes as you try to hold in your tears, not wanting to attract any more attention to yourself. Inuyasha climbs over your torso, resting his head on your chest. Your shaky hands fumble around your bag, looking for your phone. You pull it out once your fingers wrap around the cool, rectangular frame and pull it out. Through blurry eyes, you manage to unlock your phone and go to your contacts. You press the top contact name, praying that you dialed the right one.

click

The phone only rings once before Hyunjin picks it up. "What's wrong?"

You can already hear him moving around in the background. He must have been sitting around waiting just in case you called.

"C-can you come pick me up? P-please?" You hiccup, trying to even out your breathing.

"I'm already on my way there. What happened?" You hear a door open on the line. "Give me my keys."

"I just want to go home." You sniffle.

Why am I like this?

"I'm coming to get you right now." You hear the familiar jingling of keys. "Hyung, shut the fuck up for two minutes. I'm trying to figure that out. Y/n, where are you?"

Badum, badum

You take another deep, shaky breath. "The bathroom...at the...the...the aquarium."

"Where's...fuck, what was his name again? Ji..Ji..Jisung! Where's Jisung?" He asks quickly.

Badum, badum

"I-I don't know. I ran away." You mumble.

"You ran away? What did that jerk do?" Changbin asks this time. Hyunjin must have put you on speaker.

Badum, badum

"Nothing! It was me. I messed everything up...Why do I always fuck everything up?" You lean your head down against Inuyasha's, burying your face in his fur.

Inuyasha lets out one, loud bark that echoes around the otherwise empty bathroom.

"Innie, shh, please," You whisper, squeezing your eyes shut as tightly as you can.

You hear rustling on the other end of the line and some hushed whispers.

"Hey, Sunshine, you said you went to the aquarium? What'd you see?" Seungmin asks softly using the nickname he gave you when you were kids. He only uses it in dire situations.

Badum, badum

"I don't wanna talk about fish right now, Minnie. I just want to go home...I should have listened to Jinnie." You mumble.

"We're almost there. Just tell us what you saw." Chan says calmly.

Badum, badum

They're treating you like a child. Like when you were small. It's fitting, it's exactly how you feel right now. Small, and broken like you did all those years ago. This has to be some sort of cosmic punishment. You should have known that this wasn't going to end well. Not while there's some immovable force actively working against you.

"Hey...Y/nnie? You still there?" One of them asks. You're not entirely sure who. You don't really care anymore.

"Trying to remember how to breathe." You respond quickly.

"I made a cake. Or tried to, Hyunjin and Grandpa took over because they're control freaks. And I was going to at least lick the spoon but that tiny gorilla manhandled me."

"Don't want cake." You mumble.

"I didn't make it for you. I made it because I wanted cake. It's going to taste like shit though since I was attacked. I wouldn't eat it. We're going to get food poisoning again."

"Seungmin, shut up, that was one time," Chan says in the background.

They keep you on the line while you sit in the bathroom waiting for them. Every few minutes, you have to decline an incoming call for Jisung, not wanting to deal with him. You're not sure how long you've been sitting in the bathroom waiting. Hours? Impossible, you don't live that far from the aquarium in the first place? A few minutes? Maybe. If Hyunjin is driving, it's possible.

You're out of tears and you're not sure you even have legs anymore. You've been sitting on them so long, that you can't feel them anymore. You're tired, having worked yourself up like this. But the sound of everyone talking to you on the phone helped calm you down a bit. You just really, really want to go home.

"Y/n?" Chan's voice echoes in the bathroom.

You let out a sigh of relief as your hand reaches up to unlock the stall door. You try your best to move out of the way so the door can swing open. Inuyasha walks out the door, revealing you to your brothers and Chan.

Their concerned eyes fall on you. Your tear-stained face is red and splotchy. Your eyes are swollen and tired. Hyunjin is the first to walk to you. He crouches down to your eye level, resting his hand on your cheek.

"Hey, let's go home." He says gently as this thumb brushes under your eye.

"Can't stand. Legs numb." You're tired. Too exhausted both mentally and physically to speak full sentences.

Hyunjin walks into the stall, positioning himself so he can hook your arm around his neck and pull you up. Changbin, realizing what's happening, walks towards you and crouches down.

"Wait," Seungmin says quickly, yanking off his jacket. He shoves Changbin out of the way so he can tie his jacket around your waist. He quietly moves out of the way so you can climb on Changbin's back.

Once he feels like you're secure enough, Changbin slowly stands up. Seungmin's jacket gives you enough coverage in the back. It wouldn't have mattered much, you had shorts on anyway. You bury your face in Changbin's neck as he starts to leave the bathroom. Chan walks out first, holding Inuyashsa's lead. Both Seungmin and Hyunjin are on either side of you. Seungmin's hand falls on your back, rubbing soothing circles on it. You tighten your grip around Changbin's neck a bit as you choke back another sob. It would appear that you're not out of tears.

"What happened to your mask?" Seungmin asks.

"User error," You joke weakly.

Ring, ring

The ringtone you set for Jisung rings again. You have no idea where your phone is, it's definitely not in your hands. You don't really care where it is, to be honest. You just want to go home.

"She's fine, we got her," Hyunjin says cooly before hanging up.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Taglist

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