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pedrospatch · 2 years ago

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Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You’re in Jackson with Joel and Ellie after Salt Lake City and the loss of somebody you failed to protect haunts you and leaves you wondering if the wound will ever heal—and how you’ll ever go on if it never does.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. child death, reader takes the life of a child. (TW) implied panic attack, implied SI, reader has a moment where she contemplates taking her own life, NO ACTUAL ATTEMPT. angst, soft, caring Joel. no age specified for reader, no physical descriptions of reader.

word count: 3.7k

2024

Late Spring

Jackson, Wyoming

You’d woken up early that morning, right before sunrise.

Eyes fluttering open, you blinked furiously into the darkness of the bedroom. Your bedroom.

Your bedroom in an actual house. One that didn’t have crumbling, dusty walls.

One that was an actual, real place to call home.

As you tried to move, the strong arm around your waist tightened and held you firmly in place.

Turning your head, you saw Joel’s face just inches away from yours. He was still fast asleep, his bare chest slowly rising and falling with each and every peaceful, tranquil breath he inhaled and exhaled through slightly parted lips. He’d finally stopped mumbling in his sleep.

You’d been in Jackson with him and Ellie for just about a week or so now, and you still hadn’t quite gotten used to it—waking up in a soft, warm bed with his arms around you.

Maybe you would never get used to it.

Being careful not to wake Joel, you slipped out of his grasp and sat up. Swinging your legs over the side of your shared bed, you planted your two feet on the cold, hardwood floors and stood up, doing your best to move around without having to turn the lights on so as not to disturb his slumber. You quickly but quietly searched around, using both of your hands to feel for the thin, cotton white tank top and dark gray pajama bottoms that had been discarded, strewn somewhere across the master bedroom the previous night by none other than Joel Miller himself. He had gotten rid of them as he’d hovered over you, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder so that he could spend the next several hours learning every single part of your body, almost as if he’d been getting to know it for the very first time.

It took you a minute, but you’d finally found your clothes, tugging them on before padding your way into the bathroom where you flipped on the lights and began running the water in the sink to brush your teeth—hell, even having a clean toothbrush and real toothpaste were sweet little luxuries that were also taking some getting used to.

You finished washing your mouth and splashed a bit of cool water onto your face, drying it off with a hand towel before turning off the sink as well as the lights. Leaving yours and Joel’s bedroom, you made your way downstairs into the kitchen. Joel and Ellie were also early risers, and they would be up within the hour. Since you were up, you figured it would be nice to have a hot breakfast ready and waiting for them.

First thing was first, you started an instant pot of coffee for yourself and for Joel, although truth be told it was mostly for Joel, as the man refused to drink anything else in the mornings. As it brewed and the dark brown liquid dripped slowly into the glass pot, you moved over to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. The sight of a fridge stocked with real, proper food was almost like a fucking dream. You reached for the small basket of farm fresh chicken eggs that you’d picked up from the community’s market earlier that week when you and Ellie had gone food shopping. You set it down on the counter and looked through the wooden cabinets, grabbing a large, white porcelain bowl to scramble up the eggs in. You held it in your hands, an odd feeling washing over you.

Oh yes, this would all certainly taking some getting used to, all of it of it would take some getting used to—having shelter, running water, food and clean clothes. Not spending every goddamn fucking day fighting just to survive.

You glanced down at the bowl you gripped in your two hands, and felt your heart squeeze painfully inside of your chest.

Any normal person would have been relieved to be in this safe haven. Happy, even.

But not you, because all that you could think about was Lily, and how she wasn’t here.

2023

Early Fall

Midwest United States

The bite mark was on her shoulder.

It was still fresh, but the clock was already ticking like a time bomb.

You knew that. She knew that.

Everyone in that fucking basement knew that.

“Please,” Lily begged you, clutching fistfuls of your jacket. “Please.”

“No,” You choked out, feeling like someone had just punched you in the gut, knocking all the wind out out of your lungs. You turned back and looked over your shoulder at Joel, who stood there with his jaw clenched tightly, his dark brown eyes fixed on the dirty floor. Beside him, Ellie was wringing her hands together, fighting back her tears. You turned back to Lily, somehow finding your voice again. “No. I can’t do it. I won’t fucking do it.”

You blamed yourself for this.

The house the four of you had chosen to occupy for the night hadn’t been completely cleared out. You should have known better than to even think about cutting corners, you should have checked every goddamn room from the ground up, twice. If you had been more thorough, you would have realized that there had been a clicker down in the basement, silent and still, that is until Ellie and Lily had gone off exploring the entire house in such of possible supplies and garnered its attention, riling it up. It had gone after the girls while you and Joel were upstairs, and although Ellie had managed to shoot it dead in seconds, the damage had been done—the clicker managed to sink its teeth into your twelve year old sister, infecting her.

“Please, please don’t let me turn into one of those things,” Lily sank down, falling onto her knees in front of you. Letting go of your jacket, she clasped her hands together in a pleading motion. “Please! I don’t want to turn, not like mom and dad did. Not like Sam did. I need you to end it here, right now before it’s too late.”

“No!” You bit out the word once again through gritted teeth, white hot tears burning your eyes. “I won’t do that.”

Joel stood there, not knowing what to say or what to do.

Hell, there was really nothing he could say or do, was there?

Lily was infected—it was already a fucking death sentence.

And while he understood that she wanted to go out her way, he also understood that you couldn’t even fathom having to do the unthinkable. That you couldn’t even think about putting a bullet in your kid sister.

“I don’t have the guts to do it myself,” Lily said, her voice trembling. “I barely know how to use a gun. Please, you have to do it for me.”

You stared at her desperate face, the first of every single fucking tear that you would ever cry for the rest of your life finally slipping out of the corner of your eye and trickling its way down your cheek.

It was what Lily truly wanted, but how could you take her life?

The child that you’d raised yourself for the last ten years. Life could be so fucking cruel in a world like this one, but this, this was something else.

Still, what other choice was there?

It was either end it now, or abandon her in this old, crumbling house, leaving her all by herself to lose her mind.

Lily didn’t want that, and if her one final wish was to die on her terms, then you had no other choice but to fucking grant it for her. It didn’t matter how hard it was going to break you.

She didn’t have another option, and neither did you.

“Okay.” The agreement finally left your lips shakily. Your heart slammed hard against your chest wall, and your entire body had gone ice cold. “Okay.”

“No!” Ellie screamed, shoving you out of the way so roughly that she almost knocked you over. She grabbed Lily and hoisted her to her feet, wrapping her arms around her. Ellie held Lily protectively against her side, eyeing the spot where she knew you kept your gun tucked in the waistband of your jeans. “No, please, there has to be something we can fucking do!” She thought back to Sam and how what she’d done with her blood and his bite wound hadn’t worked to save his life. She held Lily tighter, knowing nothing else could be done and that her name would only be added to the growing list of people that she’d lost.

“Ellie,” Joel said her name softly, the softest that anyone had heard him say it since she’d come into your lives.

Her brown eyes met his and a tear escaped her.

“Fuck,” she whispered, devastated.

“It’s okay, Ellie. It’ll be okay.” Lily placed a hand on her arm. As she did so, everyone caught a glimpse of the way it’d twitched. “I don’t have much time left,” she said, nudging Ellie. She turned to face her, and offered her an encouraging smile. “Keep on going, okay? Do it for Tess. Do it for Sam. Do it for me. Do it for the whole world. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the Fireflies. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the very end. Please.”

“I promise I’ll make it to the end,” Ellie whispered, pulling her into her arms one last time.

Joel looked at you as you took out your pistol with a trembling hand.

“M’so sorry,” he whispered, gently touching your shoulder. He then turned to Ellie and beckoned for her with his hand. As much as Joel didn’t want to leave you to do this alone, he knew he had to get Ellie out of there and out of the house. “C’mon.”

Helpless, Ellie meekly nodded her head without protest.

“Joel, be sure to cover her ears,” You instructed him quietly. “Even outside she might still be able to hear it.”

Joel gave a small, tight nod of his head. He walked over and gingerly touched Lily’s cheek in his silent goodbye to her before taking Ellie’s arm. “Let’s go,” he murmured, pulling her over towards the stairs. A few seconds later, the two of them were gone and the door of the basement shut closed with a loud, aggressive slam that you knew had to have come from Ellie.

Swallowing harshly, you went up to Lily. Taking her into your arms, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It felt abnormally warm, a sure fire sign that the infection was running rampant inside of her—that she was running out of time.

“I’m sorry ,” Your voice broke in the middle of your apology. You held her close, your hand cradling the back of her head as she nuzzled her face into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply for the very last time. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t keep you safe and sound like I promised I would.”

“Look at it this way.” Lily’s arms tightened around your waist. “Nothing or no one will ever be able to hurt me ever again. I’m gonna be safe up there in heaven with mom and dad and the three of us are gonna be watching over you. And Ellie and Joel, too.”

It was unbelievable. Here she was, fucking twelve years old and about to die, and she was trying to comfort you.

You held her even closer, nearly smothering her as the two of you began to cry in each other’s arms.

After a few minutes, Lily pulled away from you.

Her twitches were becoming more frequent with each second that ticked by.

“Please, let’s just do this before it’s too late,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her jerking hand.

You rigidly nodded your head, your legs feeling like jello as you took several steps backwards, leaving about six feet of distance between the both of you.

You lifted your arm, aiming the barrel of the gun at your little sister.

“I love you,” Lily offered you a feeble, watery smile.

“I love you too,” You whispered back to her before your finger finally pulled the trigger.

You closed your eyes, your heart sinking deeply as you tried to forget the way that she’d been gone before her body had even hit the cold, hard ground of that basement.

Instead, you tried to think of something else. But you just couldn’t.

Lily should have been here with you. With Joel, with Ellie. Her family.

Not dead, buried in a shallow grave somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere.

She would have been so happy here in Jackson.

Safe.

She would have been safe.

“She’s gone,” You told yourself, willing the fact to get through your thick skull once and for all.

As the image of your sister’s sweet smile came into your mind again, something in you finally snapped, like a rubber band that had been pulled too tight for far too long.

“She’s gone!” Your scream tore itself from the back of your throat. “She’s gone! She’s fucking gone and she’s not coming back!”

Taking the bowl in your hands, you flung it across the kitchen with all your might, watching it as it hit the wall and shattered into pieces. You turned back towards the cabinet, both hands reaching for anything and everything you could get your hands on—plates, bowls, glasses. Once the cabinet had been emptied out, you went for all of the dishes and appliances on the counter, throwing and breaking everything in sight. When you’d finally run out of items to destroy, you sank down to your knees right onto a pile of broken glass. As you did so, you noticed one particularly large shard of glass with a pointed, jagged edge.

Picking it up, you grasped it so tightly in your trembling hand that you began to bleed as it sliced into your palm.

Was it even fucking worth it?

Being alive without her?

What was the fucking point?

The guilt of what happened to Lily would eat you alive for the rest of your life, especially here in Jackson, where you were living the very same life that you had wanted to provide for your sister for so many fucking years but never could.

Your eyes glazed over the sharp point of the glass, and then flickered to the thin, delicate flesh of the lower portion of your forearm—a gun would be so much quicker, less messy. It would be painless, and a hell of a lot better than nicking a vein and letting yourself bleed out on the kitchen floor.

But if the opportunity presented itself, why not take it regardless of the method?

Still clutching the glass, images of Joel and Ellie suddenly flashed in your mind.

They were family.

Your family.

As much as you wanted to put an end to the pain, you knew with every fiber of your being that Lily would want you to stay. If not for yourself, then for them. Because that was the kind of girl she was.

So good, so sweet. Full of hope.

Everything had blurred and your mind was lost in such a thick haze that it took you a minute to realize that Joel was shouting your name—the sounds of your screaming, of glass and porcelain breaking, it had woken both him and Ellie and they had ran down the stairs in a panic.

Ellie gasped your name and started towards you, but Joel grabbed her and held her back when he realized she was barefoot. “Careful, the glass!”

“Joel, fucking do something!” Ellie demanded, her eyes widening in horror when she saw the glass in your hand and the way that you’d been looking at your wrist in something of a trance.

Joel hadn’t been wearing any shoes either, hell, he’d barely managed to tug a shirt on over his head and it was inside out, but he quickly and carefully made is his way over to you. He crouched down beside you and immediately took your arm, giving it a shake so you would drop the shard of glass.

His warm touch brought you back to earth.

“Joel?” You squeaked out his name, your heart pounding.

You felt tears prickling at your eyes, and you opened your mouth to let out a sob, but nothing came out. Your cries were lodged in the back of your throat and you felt stuck in your lungs. You suddenly felt like you couldn’t take a breath and started to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, hey. Breathe. Look at me,” he said. He palmed the side of your face and gently, but firmly forced you to meet his gaze. Your eyes were wide, pupils dilated. “Look at me, I’m here. We’re both here, me and Ellie. We’re right here. Breathe for me darlin,’ just breathe.”

You frantically nodded, as if to tell him, I’m trying.

It took a minute or two until finally, your gasps for air slowed down.

When they finally did, you began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh baby. C’mere,” Joel murmured. He pulled you up to your feet and moved you to a spot that wasn’t covered in broken dishware. He held you against his chest, stroking your hair.

Ellie joined in, and they both just held you in silence until your wails of agony subsided several minutes later.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized through little hiccups. “I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t fucking be sorry,” Ellie immediately stopped you, her hand rubbing at your back. She pulled back and looked at the blood stain on Joel’s light gray t-shirt. “Oh shit, Joel. Her hand, look at her hand.”

Joel looked down, alarmed, but he remained calm. “Ellie, go upstairs into our bathroom. There’s a first aid kid under the sink.”

She nodded and whirled around, bolting out of the kitchen.

In the blink of an eye, she’d returned with a small white tin box with a red cross etched onto the lid. She handed it to him. “Here.”

Taking it in one hand, Joel used his other hand to guide you over to the kitchen table. He sat you down and then pulled a chair out for himself, taking a seat across from you.

“She going to be okay?” Ellie asked, worriedly.

“Doesn’t look too deep, at least not deep enough to need stitches. It should be okay,” Joel stated as he opened up the first aid kit. “Ellie, mind if I have a minute alone with her?” He saw her open her mouth to protest and gave her a look. “Please.”

She huffed, but nodded. She touched your shoulder lightly and left the room, though both you and Joel were positive she’d stick around out in the hallway to eavesdrop.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered hoarsely, breaking a silence that had fallen over the two of you. “I’ll clean this mess up—”

“You think that’s what I’m worried about?” Joel asked, placing your hand in his lap as he poured hydrogen peroxide onto a wad of cotton. He picked it up and gingerly started cleaning your wound. He sighed, shaking his head. “Funny thing is, I knew you’d snap sooner or later. But truth be told, darlin’ I didn’t think this would be the way you’d let it all out.”

You stared at him. “What do you mean you knew I’d snap?”

Joel looked up from your cut, his gaze meeting yours. “I know you like I know the back of my own fuckin’ hand,” he reminded you. “And I know what you’ve been carryin’ around after what happened with Lily. That feelin’ you’ve been bottlin’ up for months now. I know what it’s like to carry that kinda burden on your shoulders. It’s heavy, and at some point, you ain’t got no choice but to put it down.” He paused. “Only, I was hopin’ you would do so by talkin’ to me, not destroyin’ the kitchen of this house.”

“I don’t know what happened,” You admitted, softly. “One minute I was down here getting ready to make us all breakfast, and the next, I just fucking lost it.” You chewed anxiously on your bottom lip. “I just kept thinking about how Lily should be here with us. And how she would be, if I hadn’t failed her.”

Joel frowned. “You didn’t—”

“I fucking did, Joel. I failed at protecting my sister. I failed at keeping her safe, alive.”

Letting out another sigh, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against your forehead. He spoke, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Baby, you can’t keep blamin’ yourself for somethin’ that was out of your control.”

“But it was in my control, Joel. I should have checked every goddamn crevice of that fucking house, because if I had, Lily would still be alive. She would be here in Jackson with us, living the life that she always deserved to live.”

Joel leaned his forehead against yours. “Look, I know that nothin’ I say is goin’ to make it better. Nothin’ I say is goin’ to bring her back and m’sorry,” he said. “But you need to know that it wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could. I know that her bein’ gone hurts. Trust me I know that feelin’ all too well.”

Another tear slipped down the side of your face and he reached up, lightly brushing it away with his thumb.

Of course he knew the feeling.

The scar on his temple was a testament of how well he knew that feeling, of how he knew exactly what it felt like to want to end it all after losing someone so precious.

Only, he had actually tried to end it all.

Joel’s voice broke into your thoughts. “I need you to know that you’re not alone, baby. You ain’t gotta carry your grief alone. You’ve got Ellie, and you sure as hell got me. We’re both here to help you through anythin’ that you need, alright? We’ve got you—I’ve got you.”

“I know you do.” Your voice broke once more and you swallowed back another sob.

Joel brushed his lips against yours. Sitting back into his chair he lifted your hand and inspected it thoroughly. “Don’t think there’s any glass in it,” he observed. He started bandaging your hand with a roll of gauze from the first aid kit.

“Thank you, Joel,” You murmured as soon as he had finished patching you up. “And I’m sorry. Not about the mess, but about what I thought about doing.”

Joel reached out, cradling the side of your face. His thumb grazed the soft skin of your cheek. “I need you to stay, baby,” he whispered, his own voice thickening with emotion. “Me and Ellie, we both need you to stay. You understand me?”

You placed your hand on top of his, nodding as your eyes met his once more.

“I’ll stay,” You promised him.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tlou fanfiction #tlou imagine #joel miller imagine #joel miller hbo

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chimivx · 3 months ago

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That one fucked you over last year, this one is fucking you over this year, you had no idea she was involved with him, someone over here has been lying to you, you didn't mean to end up in that ones bed, he told you he loved you... Does anyone even trust anyone anymore?

👫 -> college!teez x fem!reader/oc {frat/sorority} #️⃣ -> 6k (part THREE of ten) ‼️ -> 18+, sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, heavy angst, infidelity adjacent moments, mean boys, mean girls, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

march 9th ~ saturday ~ last semester ~ 2:39 p.m.

“Do it like this instead.”

Tori’s quiet voice filled the air in the corner of the library you occupied. Around one of the black metal tables on the second floor of the Conoscenza you were surrounded by open books, notes, loose sheets of random paper blowing around, and a plethora of pencils and highlighters. Smack in the middle of the semester, with spring break less than two weeks away, it was crunch time. Grades needed to be high, you were about to be the upperclassmen of ITZ, and you needed to impress the current upperclassmen of ITZ.

Leaning over the blonde boy slouched over the table to her left, Tori laid an arm over his back for reassurance and took his pencil from him, marking some things on his paper that made his pout disappear. He stared at what she did, blinked a number of times, and sat up with a sense of shock. Gulping, he reached out his hands and grabbed her face, pulling her close for an abrupt kiss before he let her go to finish his work.

Tori, with a giggle, wiped the corner of her lips and shoved his shoulder, though he wasn’t paying attention any longer. “You’re crazy.”

Mingi turned his head from where he had it hanging over his book and shot her wicked smile. “You’re hot.” She had to slap her hand over her mouth to keep her laughter from echoing against the walls throughout the space.

Shaking your head while you marked your paper, you kept your smile to yourself. Their relationship had been the best thing to come out of Nasara thus far in the almost two years you’ve been here. In fact, joining ITZ and meeting the ATZ boys from the brother fraternity down the street from the sorority had been the best thing to come out of Nasara.

The classes were great, sure, and the campus was stunning, yes, but those boys… They were something else.

Yunho joined the fraternity this year, he and Seonghwa were freshman recruits last year just like you and Tori were. Mingi was as well, but he and Tori didn’t meet until recruitment was over and the sibling houses had the annual dinner. The look on their faces when they both realized they had the same last name… Priceless. They were close in an instant.

Turns out Yunho and Mingi were inseparable as well. Those two met freshman year, sharing a requirement class like you and Yunho had. Mingi was majoring in marketing like you and Tori, which made total sense for his involvement in the fraternity, quickly acquiring his role as Social Chair like Tori. The two had the brain power and the creative ideas on hand, they could whip them out of thin air, the roles were made for them.

Yunho was majoring in history, the type of major that’d have girls nodding off on the ATZ couches if he started yapping about it. Not you though, you quite enjoyed listening to the gorey details of why the world is the way that it is today, he had a specific way of telling it like a story, his own passion for the subject evident in his honey brown eyes. Some nights he’d call you if his homework sparked the verbal throw up, apologizing for the two o’clock wake up call, but I have to tell somebody about this or I’ll freak the fuck out!

He was at the ATZ house right now, having turned down the study and homework sesh invite Tori sent out to the group chat the four of you have. Something had come up with Mina, one of the ITZ freshmen recruits. They were getting coffee after her afternoon class, or something like that. It seemed like an excuse to ditch another hang out you girls orchestrated, he’d always show up to one, then wiggle his way right out of another.

Within the last couple of months since everyone’s been back from winter break the two of them have been closer than they were at the start of the year. Granted, they didn’t know each other until Mina attended the dinner after being recruited, so it’s plausible they’ve just grown toward one another since she’s been working with the sorority. It’s been great having Mina around, she was exceptionally smart and always on time. Always dressed nicely, she was cute too, you guessed. Her hair was always done, her nails were never chipped, and she was never caught lacking.

This is the third time he’s used her as an excuse to ditch you guys.

“Do you think Yunho likes Mina?” you asked, scribbling words at the very bottom of the page of your notebook, flipping it over to start fresh on the back of the sheet. Looking up at them, Tori and Mingi having gone very quiet, they were both looking back at you with squinted eyes. “What?”

“The freshman who always wears skirts?” Tori raised a brow, her eyebrow piercing catching the light from the large windows to your left. You nodded and Mingi let out a laugh.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” he said, catching a glimpse of Tori. “She’s exactly his type.”

“She is?” You scrunched your nose and Mingi rolled his eyes with a dramatic nod.

“Duh, hello,” he said, his raspy voice springing off the walls. “Have you seen her?” Exchanging glances with Tori who waited for an explanation as well, Mingi sighed. “She’s studying pre-law, she’s eighteen, she’s always in a skirt, she’s got that good girl look about her, and she works like he does.”

Tori was speechless, her lips parting without a sound. Narrowing her eyes in thought, her gaze traveled to the table. “I get it,” she whispered.

“Okay?” you sneered, shrugging your shoulders. Leaning onto the table, slapping your pencil down, you said, “I study marketing, I’m twenty, and I work like he does.”

Mingi shook his head, eyes going wild. “Do you want a date with Yunho!?”

“No!”

Several heads turned toward your table shutting you and Mingi up.

Taking a breath, you laughed within it and shrugged again. “He’s always ditching us for her,” you muttered.

Tori frowned, tapping your foot with one of hers. “He’ll come around,” she said, trying to ease the obvious upsetness you were trying your absolute hardest to hide. “Let him have a crush,” her eyes flickered to behind you, “You know what that’s like.”

Hands covered your eyes, the world going dark for all of three seconds.

“Guess who?” That soft voice could lull you to sleep any night.

Taking his hands into yours, pulling them from your face you whipped your head over your shoulder and smiled up at the dark haired boy nibbling his bottom lip. When you met his gaze, his slender upturned eyes sparkling toward you, he laughed that wonderful laugh that fed your smile.

“What are you doing here?”

Wooyoung laced his fingers with one of your hands and slid into the empty chair beside you. Scooting it closer he rested an elbow on the table and let his cheek melt into his fist.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, pouting his lips, toying with the fingers he held. His soft skin sent a chill down your spine, his thumb tracing yours with a careful tenacity. “And I knew you’d be here with these two.” Nodding his head toward Tori and Mingi both focused on their work. Wooyoung pointed his gaze to your fingers before they popped back up with a question. “No Yunho?”

Sighing, you shook your head. “Mina.”

Wooyoung tilted his head the other way and his other hand slid over your thigh, his body leaning over yours. “Awh, I’m sorry,” he breathed, his voice so low neither of your friends would be able to make it out. His honey colored skin, smooth to the touch, was unbearable this close. The curve of his nose, his full, round lips, insatiable.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, and he furrowed his brows.

“Not okay,” he mimicked your tone. “You want me to say something to him?”

“No, God, please don’t.”

Wooyoung shifted his jaw. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you squeezed your eyes shut for a second, “Don’t make me one of those girls, please.”

One of his fingers touched beneath your chin. Opening your eyes to look at him, he smiled once he had your focus, and he whispered, “You’re my girl, Ro.”

september 6th ~ saturday ~ 2:41 a.m

Pulling the door closed ever so quietly, not making a single peep, a single squeak, you exhaled through your nose and twirled on your wobbly toes to start down the staircase. The mission was to find Tori, acquire Mina, wherever the hell she may have ended up, and then bolt the fuck out of ATZ until further notice. You’d make it down the stairs, gather your friends, and nobody would ever know that you were ever here!

Except Seonghwa.

Still drunk, you felt great. Really, really great. Like, you’d need to thank Seonghwa for the full body factory reset. Later on when nobody would hear you, of course. Vice President Seonghwa made you feel things you couldn’t make yourself feel. Your chest warmed at the thought of it like you hadn’t just had it for an hour.

Pushing air from your lips as you turned, an electric jolt went through every vein your body possessed, freezing you in place in seconds. Wooyoung was standing at the top of the stairs.

It looked like he was heading down, his body was partially turned around the post where the railing began and the stairs went down. He had a hand on the post, the other hanging by his side. He looked good, and it sparked that dreadful feeling in your gut, the I like this boy feeling. Dressed in all black, head to toe, black baggy t-shirt, big black acid washed denim jeans, black sneakers… His hair was awful, hanging loose in waves around his face, parted in the center, framing his insane profile.

He was devastating, and he took you by absolute surprise. Usually one would hear him before they saw him.

Judging by the way he was looking at you, you took him by surprise too.

He definitely wasn’t expecting to catch you sneaking out of Seonghwa’s bedroom tonight, much like you weren’t expecting anyone to be there to catch you sneaking out of Seonghwa’s bedroom tonight.

Taking the smallest breath, putting your hands by your side, you grabbed fistfuls of blue fabric. Wooyoung let his eyes drift down your body. When they came back up your cheeks were flushed, your heart beating a mile a minute. He was unreadable as usual. The way his eyes were always pointed made it hard to assume what was going on in his brain even if being under his gaze typically made you blush.

This time, you did not like how it felt.

He didn’t move, and neither did you.

Standing in the hallway for what felt like an eternity, it wasn’t until you heard noise from the bedroom behind you that you knew you had to leave. You needed to walk away, to get the fuck out of the house.

But, he’s caught you. The boy with the biggest mouth at ATZ.

You knew what you had done. Now that you’ve sweated out some of the drunkenness, you were fully aware of what had happened. You had sex with Seonghwa. Just this afternoon you were kissing Yunho. And, all week you’ve been indirectly lying to every one of your sisters you’ve spoken too, especially Tori.

Yunho was a secret, and he always will be. How hard could it be to keep another?

Parting your lips, you took a breath and swore Wooyoung’s eyes widened.

“Please don’t say anything,” you whispered.

It took him a few seconds to process. He seemed to retreat inside himself for a moment, his eyes glued to yours. Taking in your appearance once more, he gave you the smallest nod, and waved you down the stairs with the hand at his side.

Exhaling heavily you hurried past him, gripping the railing with a vengeance, attempting to barrel down the stairs as fast as humanly possibly.

Halfway down, his voice shoved a knife into your gut. “Hey, Ro?” You paused and turned your chin, finding him leaning over the bannister, watching you. Without a change to his stoic expression, he sighed. “You look good.”

Oh, god. Oh god.

He didn’t deserve an answer. Whipping the other way you continued your pursuit down the stairs, ignoring the crinkling of your chin or the welling up of tears in your eyes. He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

Though, you’re unsure if these tears were really for him.

The bottom of the stairs had a few boys sitting on them, a couple standing in front of them. They were laughing, a red cup or a can in all of their hands. None were recognizable, so you plowed through them, using the shoulder of a boy with dark cropped hair and a beautiful jaw to guide you through. A noise was shared between two of them, the one you grabbed and the blonde one he sat next to. You didn’t bother to look back.

Dozens more people must’ve arrived in your absence. Pushing down the hallway toward the kitchen you were chest to chest or chest to face with most, the eyes following you as you brushed past the sweaty bodies. The air was hazy now, and getting hazier the closer you got to the kitchen, and the smell grew stronger as well, which only meant one thing.

Turning into the kitchen you dodged a sophomore with a cup in his hand, his entire body turning to watch you rush to the back of the room. A couple girls were sitting on the island, a boy leaning against the counter across from them, his arms folded over his chest and he spoke arrogantly loud. Both girls seemed into him for the time being.

As you passed through the space between them you heard him mention he was a part of the fraternity, clearly lying to the girls twirling their hair around their fingers. When they showered him with praises of admiration, you paused and backtracked. The girls, definitely freshmen, looked down at you from where they sat, their eyes lighting up. They exchanged whispers of your name, and the boy two feet away from them shot you a scowl.

“He’s lying,” you said, complete deadpan. Looking at the boy, he could pass for a member, he had the muscles, the face, the aura… But, he’s failed to get through. He’s tried twice. Yunho warned you about this boy before. “He can’t get in.” If looks could kill he’d have you on the floor. You smiled, then turned to the girls who hadn’t looked away from you. Putting a hand to the side of your mouth, you said loud enough for everyone around you to hear, “Think his dick is too small.”

Together the girls giggled, and the way they fell into one another reminded you of you and Tori. They were adorable, and they seemed nice. Clearly they already knew who you were, so you took two steps closer to them and put on your best sorority sister face.

“Will I be seeing you two soon?” you asked. Sitting up straight, they both composed themselves and nodded. You made it a point to scope out what they were wearing, making sure they noticed, not that you cared. It was for the bit. The bait. Pull the freshmen in, make them want to stay. On the outside of it all it’s a mystery, but that’s the ploy. “Good,” you looked them in the eye and smiled. Taking note that the boy had hurried off elsewhere, you cocked your head toward where he was standing and cringed. “Do yourselves a favor… From experience, stay away from the boys.”

The girl with shorter black hair and the cutest button nose lifted her hand for a quick second, catching your attention for a few moments longer before you rushed away. “Is there anyone else from ITZ here?” Her eyes were full of hope, as were her friends. “We’ve been coming here almost all week hoping to see you guys.”

You popped your bottom lip, expressing your regrets. “We haven’t been around,” you said. Because our president banned us from coming here. “We’ve been… busy.” That wasn’t a lie.

The girl nodded. “Oh, okay,” she said, sharing a look with her friend. “We’ll see you soon, then!” Both girls put on their best face, one you returned.

“See you soon,” you said, and then you were off, weaving through the kitchen toward the table where the nightmare of this night began.

“Vernon left, I told you already, listen dipshit.”

If you could hear him before you saw him that meant he was pissed.

Hongjoong stood behind a chair, his eyes flashing wildly around at the brothers and other boys sitting around the table. He looked nice, he typically did. He and Seonghwa were the two members to always show up and show out. Button downs, sexy slacks, impossible shoes and accessories to flash their money… He looked expensive, especially with his caramel hair pushed backward.

Grabbing onto the shoulders of ATZ’s Treasurer, Jongho, a massive boy in a denim jacket, Hongjoong shook him and leaned down to whisper something in his ear, his eyes pointed across the table at a junior who liked to hang around at these parties. The crappiest rolled joint you’ve ever seen was being passed around from boy to boy, from mouth to mouth.

“He left because he wanted to,” Jongho said, hitting his president with a side eye. He was a sophomore like Mina, but with much, much bigger balls. No one messed with Jongho, he was ATZ’s main muscle. Kid didn’t fuck around.

“He left because he can’t fail a drug test, smartass,” Hongjoong hissed.

When it came to Hongjoong though, Jongho obeyed.

Stretching across the table, half standing, he snatched the joint from between the juniors lips and jammed it on the table, putting it out. The moans, groans and protests from the crowd around them were agitating, and Hongjoong felt it too. It took one snap of his head around the circle for everyone to shut up. Jongho smirked and sat back in his chair, turning his head your way as you approached their side.

“Get up,” Jongho muttered to the boy in the chair beside him, nudging his shoulder and waving him away. “Up, go.” A warning filled his tone, one he only showed once before things took a physical turn. Most knew, and if they didn’t, they were gonna learn.

“Jongho, it’s okay,” you said, attempting to give him and his president a smile. Hongjoong tipped his chin backward and narrowed his eyes.

“The hell are you doing here?” He had a way of making someone feel so incredibly small without even trying.

The boy in the chair disappeared in seconds, but was sure to take a look at you before he stumbled elsewhere, flinching as Jongho nearly jumped out of his chair with a fist clenched.

“Sit,” the sophomore said, nodding to the chair.

“I can’t,” you breathed, “I need to find Tori.”

Hongjoong remained unchanged. “Go find Mingi, she’s sure to be there,” he said, a curiosity pooling in his sharpened eyes. “What the hell are you guys doing here?” It was a genuine question.

“We… snuck out of the house,” you mumbled, and Jongho snickered.

“Is Yuna here?” Jongho asked, his straightened brows softening with his question. You answered him with a head shake and a tilted frown.

“Me, Tori and… Mina.” Her name came out of you in a whisper. Both boys snickered, their hands connecting to one another in some way. “I know,” you sighed.

“Yunho’s girl,” Hongjoong nodded, looking at you with a sharp turn of his head.

The words made your heart squeeze. “Yeah,” you pushed from your lips, flustered. “Yunho’s girl.” Jongho smirked.

“So, you’re here, and Yeji doesn’t know you’re here, and you’re not supposed to be here,” Hongjoong said, slapping a hand back to Jongho’s shoulder. The sophomore shot him his smirk, then it found you again. “I like this,” he said, matching his brother's face. “Where are you coming from right now?” Hongjoong nodded his head around, questioning your route.

“Why?” you asked, flickering your eyes from him to Jongho and back.

Hongjoong’s gaze traveled down your body some. His smile was small, then he shook his head. “Just wondering,” he said. “Tori’s in the living room with Mingi, Yunho and Mina.”

“Thanks,” you sighed, spinning around to exit the kitchen, missing the way Hongjoong looked at Jongho and tapped his neck, the amusement on their faces sparking laughter.

By the archway to the kitchen San stumbled inside completely shirtless with a boy beneath his arm equally as trashed as him. The two were mumbling to each other, smiling and giggling. Passing by, you grabbed Sans arm and gave it a squeeze. He looked up from his toy with his lip between his teeth, the knockout’s eyes drunk and utterly fucked.

“Aurora,” he slurred, facing you, bringing the boy with him. Taking a hand softly to your jaw he grinned, his head shaking, “I love you, I love you!”

Taking his hand in yours you returned it to him and smiled. “I love you,” you teased, leaning toward him. Glancing to the boy beneath his arm, the cutest blonde thing, definitely a freshman, you winked and started away from them. “Have fun.”

Yeosang was in the dark hallway just outside the kitchen, a girl inches shorter than him attached to his front with her hands on his arms. They were speaking things to each other only they could hear without a care that chaos ensued around them. The gentlest smile rested on his lips, the boy just as pretty as the one San was currently dragging around. One of his fingers pushed the girl's long brown hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. He was so entranced, he didn’t even see you pass by.

There was no time to say hi, you had to leave. Seonghwa probably made it back downstairs now, you were not sticking around to say goodbye.

ATZ’s living room was huge, much like the rest of the house. Through the archway to the right when one came in through the front door, it stretched all the way toward the back of the house in relation to the kitchen, separated by the hallway. Couches lived in the first section, crowded with bodies, male and female, either on top of one another or trying to get into whatever was happening on the inside.

This was the room the music blasted from. The boys got the speakers on the walls within the last two or so years, changing the game for every party to come. Lights dimmed in this room, everyone was lit up by the softest orange glow, making one squint to make someone out. Faces were blurry to you, and it’s partially because you were still drunk.

The air was sticky, hotter than the rest of the house, and everything smelled like beer or liquor. Making your way past the couches and hordes of bodies on them, you sunk through the more open archway into the second side of the living room where the tables of games were set up and the leather couches were pushed to the walls. Pushing through two guys who were moving opposite you, you clipped a shoulder on accident and whipped around to apologize, the tiny smile familiar.

“You’re good,” Vernon bobbed his head. His curly brown hair framed his forehead, his rich brown eyes peeking beneath it. “Tori’s in there, she was looking for you.”

“Thanks,” you said, then furrowed your brow. “Hongjoong said you left.”

Vernon rolled his eyes, huffing a laugh. “I’m going to my room. No one told me they’d be smoking. Just wanted Yunho to know where I was.”

Pouting your lips a bit, you said, “It was good to see you.”

His smile was charming, the most adorable smile of all ATZ. “You too, Ror. Tell Isla I’m thinking about her, okay?”

“Sure,” you nodded, and he was off.

“Aurora!”

A wave of comfort washed over you. Tori’s voice. Finally one you were fine with hearing.

Following the sound you found her beside Mingi in front of a table with red cups littered all over it, bottles laying on the floor around it. She had one in her hand and lifted it in the air as you hurried to her side. Bumping into Mingi’s chest, you latched your arms onto Tori’s and yanked her away from the table, her face screwing up in confusion.

“We need to leave,” you spoke over the music, both you and Tori nearly shouting at one another with how loud the chatter and music was.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, sipping her cup. Her hair was flipped to the side, the waves looser, fluffier. “Where have you been? Me and Mina have been looking for you for like an hour!”

Mina.

“Where is she?” Avoiding her questions you picked your head up to search over her shoulder. Her boyfriend was at the table flipping cups, knocking drinks back like it was nothing, shouting at his friends and banging his fists on the flat top when his side of the table won. Behind the table Mingi commanded there was a couch, the leather one you were stuck to a few nights prior. Through the mass of people you could make out a little brown bob. “Come on,” you mumbled, grabbing Tori’s hand.

She was throwing the questions at you again, telling you all about what she and Mingi have been doing and how much fun she was having, how happy she was to be back here. Pushing through a group of girls hovering by the end of the table, Tori made sure to let them know that Mingi was hers, passing by him with a kiss, grabbing a fistful of his hair, yanking him lower so he’d reach her lips. He parted from her with a whoop, pointing at her as she threw him a smile over her shoulder.

“When we came back down we found Yunho and Mina in here, and they said you left them,” Tori said, stumbling into your back as you redirected your path around the living room, avoiding the pong players.

Huffing, you shook your head and said, “This is Yunho’s house, I didn’t leave him anywhere.”

“What happened?” she asked, trying to turn you around. Pushing her hands away you shook your head again. “Aurora, you’re not okay.”

Whirling around, your hair falling into your face, you pushed it away with both hands and shot her a glare. “I saw Wooyoung.”

It was the first thing you could think of that was safe enough to get her off your case. Everybody knew about Wooyoung. He made the perfect alibi. No one would find out about Seonghwa. If people found out about Seonghwa, then Yunho would find out about Seonghwa. Sobering up now, none of this should have ever happened in the first place, and you regretted every second.

Somewhat.

“Oh,” Tori frowned, her brows softening above her big eyes. “I’m sorry. Did he say anything to you?” Clenching your jaw, you averted your eyes from hers for a moment, and opted for a headshake. “Did he see you?”

“Yeah,” you said, gulping, feeling a lump forming in your throat. “Tori, we…” She nodded, reaching for your hand, encouraging you to keep speaking. “We haven’t even been here a week and I feel like so much is fucked up.”

She tilted her head. “What do you mean? Wooyoung? Or, with the house?”

“Both,” you breathed, shrugging your shoulders a few times. “I'm so overwhelmed.”

Tori straightened out and held your hand tighter. “Okay,” she said, setting her gaze over to Mina on the couch next to Yunho. “Let’s go, we’ll leave. I’ll grab the kid, do you wanna head outside?”

“No,” you said, voice quiet. She glanced to the grip you had on her and then set off to the other side of the room, keeping you close by.

The sight of Mina hanging off of Yunho's lap was nauseating at best, you’re certain you turned green. Her hands were to herself, but he had one of his around her back, his fingers grazing the softness of her pink sweater. She leaned into him, but not too much.

It totally gave prude. Sorry, Mina.

Yunho, wedged on the edge, angled toward her, had his other arm along the couch, moving it as he spoke. His lips were moving a mile a minute, and his eyes were darting about. He was talking about school. He was telling her a story, and she was listening, eyes full of stars as he made her laugh.

Those were your stories.

Everyone hated Yunho’s stories, they called him boring. You were the only one who liked them.

She wasn’t supposed to like them.

“Hey, Mina,” Tori said, catching both of their focuses, Yunho stopping mid sentence. They looked up at her with smiles, Yunho’s faltering when he found you cowering behind your best friend. “We’re leaving.”

“Oh, sure,” she said, glancing over to her boy who had his eyes stuck on you.

Sitting forward, taking his arm from Mina he stood up with her and came closer to you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his brows worried. “What happened?”

“Do I look that horrible?” You tried to laugh, but he wasn’t having it.

“No, it’s just,” he paused, his eyes traveling down some of your body, eyeing the bare skin you were showing off tonight. All at once his energy shifted. His lips tightened ever so slightly, and his eyes flickered up to yours like you had slapped him across the face but Tori and Mina weren’t supposed to know. It was a quiet anger. “Nevermind,” he muttered, turning around.

“I’ll see you soon, I guess,” Mina said to him, having to tip her chin all the way up to look at him. “I don’t know when-”

He grabbed her face and kissed her.

Taking her by complete surprise, he cupped her cheeks, pressed his fingers up into her hair, and engulfed her lips with his own. Not once, not even twice. She melted into it, her entire body forming to his, her hands slipping around his back. You knew what these kisses felt like. You knew every thought going through her pure, little genius brain right now. He’s got her wrapped around his finger.

Just like you.

Tearing your hand from Tori’s you disappeared into the crowd, bumping into the pong table taking out a few cups. Pushing past people, physically pushing them, you bit down so hard on your bottom lip to keep from crying that you’re certain you drew blood. Flying past Mingi, he called after you, but you kept moving. Nothing was going to be able to stop you.

Through to the first half of the living room, you kicked cans with your feet, dodging bodies like it was your job. People who recognized you tried to stop you, tried to ask you what was wrong. The rage made you blind, made you deaf to anything other than your rampant mind, the thoughts that wouldn’t cease.

Why the fuck did he do that?

In front of you? What the fuck happened?

Bolting out of the living room into the hall, you bumped face first into the chest of what happened. His arms caught you, and once he realized it was you, he dropped his hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I… Ror?” Seonghwa put his hands to your shoulders tentatively, dropping his chin to catch a glimpse of the tears streaming down your face. “What… What happened?”

“Hwa,” your words were jumbled, broken, a mess. “I don’t even know, I can’t think about it, he was in there with her, and he just, I don’t know…” You shoved your arms beneath his, wrapping them tight around his back. He slid his around your neck, one in your hair and the other over your shoulder. He let you cry.

Feeling him take a breath, he brought his lips to your ear and whispered, “Fuck him, Ror. He’s not worth it.”

Turning your head to the side, you sucked down a breath and shook your head. “I can’t, I can’t… I like him. I like him a lot.”

Seonghwa sighed, his fingers dragging through your hair calming you down. “I know,” he whispered. “They’re coming this way, Tori and Mina.” Letting him go in an instant with a step backward, you looked up at him and he pouted his lips. His hair, slightly disheveled, was pushed to the side. God, he was gorgeous.

“I’ll see you,” you muttered, gesturing to the door behind him.

His eyes did the thing that Hongjoong’s did. The thing that Yunho’s did. And, he smiled. “Call me, okay?”

“Aurora?” Tori shouted from behind you, the two girls closing in on you.

Returning his smile, you nodded and wiped your cheeks. “Thanks, Hwa.”

He stepped aside for you to pass by, bowing his head as he did. “Anytime.”

september 6th ~ saturday ~ 5:13 a.m

Seonghwa sat on the edge of his bed, pulling his shirt over his head, kicking his shoes off. Shaking his hair out as he threw the button down on the floor, his eye caught on the piece of fabric it fell on top of. Taking himself over to it, unbuttoning his pants as he did, he lifted his shirt and picked up the piece of lace with one finger.

Aurora’s.

His door opened without warning.

Closing his hand over the lace, the entire thing fitting in his palm, he lifted his head and shot the intruder a wild look. Yunho, shutting the door behind him, gave Seonghwa the nastiest look. Clearly there was a fire burning within him, the smoke pouring out of his ears as he took wide strides toward him.

Seonghwa didn’t flinch. Instead, he simply laughed at his question.

“Did you fuck her?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Yunho grit his teeth. “Rory,” he said. “Did you fuck her?”

Seonghwa, amusement in his eyes, wet his lips. “Why do you care if I did?”

“So you did,” he snapped. “You’re sick, Seonghwa, I saw her neck, you gave her that nasty ass hickey.” Seonghwa smirked, his teeth poking out from his lips.

He left his mark. That was his thing.

Messing with the panties in his hand, he shifted his jaw and thought to himself for a moment, then said, “I didn’t take you as a two timing jackass, Yunho.”

Incapable of holding his own in a match like this, Yunho blew air out his lips and shook his head. “What are you talking about? Rory’s a friend, I’m checking on her.”

“Are you?” Seonghwa raised a brow.

“I am,” Yunho nodded, taking one step closer. “She’s not gonna be one of your girls, Seonghwa, she won’t do that. You’re… weird, man. Putting that mark on them like they belong to you now, that’s sick.”

“Sounds like you’re a two timing jackass, Jeong,” Seonghwa said, voice so low it boiled Yunho’s blood.

“I am not,” he sneered. “She’s a friend.”

“Is she?” Seonghwa lifted his hands, taking the little lacey thong from his palm, hooking it on a finger. The way Yunho’s face shifted into a fit of blind rage made Seonghwa snicker. “Two timing jackass.”

He let him take it. Yunho snatched the lace from his hand and took three steps backward. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he exchanged a look with his higher up and sighed.

“What’d she tell you,” he said, quiet as ever.

Seonghwa started back for his bed, pushing his pants to his ankles as he did. “Enough,” he said, kicking his feet free. Rolling onto his bed he pulled himself beneath the blanket and searched for his phone. “She loves you, bro.”

He started to tap away at his screen, leaving Yunho to wallow in the shock himself.

“No, she doesn’t,” he breathed, tiptoeing to the door, toying with the fabric in his hand. Seonghwa hit him with a side eye and scoffed.

“You’re an idiot,” he said. “She’s been in love with you for a long ass time, Yunho. That’s why Wooyoung dropped her, he couldn’t get through to her. Aurora was the first girl he’s felt something for, and he had to hurt her. You know, I’m not even sure she knows she’s in love with you. This makes you a two timing jackass. How long have you two been fucking?”

Yunho glanced at his feet. “May,” he admitted, and Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

“Well, congratulations, she’s spectacular,” he released a breath and focused back on his phone. “I can see why half of you are obsessed with her.”

With a hand on the doorknob, Yunho shook his head and pulled the door open. “Don’t ever talk about it.”

Seonghwa looked at him. “What, you and Aurora’s affair, or me nutting in her?” The smile that pulled at his lips made Yunho curl his.

“Both,” he snapped, and flew from his room, the door slamming behind him, leaving Seonghwa in pleasantly satisfied laughter.

NU home ✧ nice for what masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ thank you for reading <3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

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literaila · 11 months ago

Note

PETER PARKER ANGST????❤️🫡🛬🤭😍🗣🙀🫡😀🫡🫶😀😟🫶😟❤️ (if you dont write it ill sob violently on the floor ☹️)

we could call it even

tasm!peter x fem!reader

summary:

"peter parker," she says, "you're like a legend around here."

warnings: unspecified angst, series, no fluff, no explanation

a/n: might i introduce a playlist entitled stupid boy which i listened to while writing this (and the other parts????)

there's a specific time of night that is appropriate to go to the market.

or inappropriate, depending on how old you are.

if you're in your sixties and sometimes feel like your joints are just notches that need to be oiled, midnight probably isn't your designed time for grocery shopping. seven in the morning is typically the best time for swollen lungs and--literal--broken hearts.

but if you're you, exhausted from running around all day, unpleasant from all of the people you've talked to, and trying to avoid anyone (everyone) you might know--and secrets you don't feel like sharing--then midnight is a perfect time. and perfectly normal, thank you very much.

you're not even sure why meyer's is open this late. there's no way the owner, jerry, is staying up until midnight to check out the lowlifes or drunk teenagers stopping by, and you know that these aren't prime business hours--evident by the crickets you can hear behind the 'fresh produce' section. maybe he forgets that it's open, and that susan--the only person willing to work here--is still on the clock. or maybe he's just taking pity on you. you don’t think he’s ever there, but maybe he hides around corners, noting the new lines on your face so he can report it back to every person in town. gossip is like a disease, and you’re never alone in a place like this. never quite at peace.

you look around the next shelf for jerry, or a gust of wind that follows him running away. there’s only silence. the echoes of your footsteps.

it doesn't matter why meyer’s is open. you're thankful for this time alone. or at least by yourself.

it's a welcome change to have no one judge you for your selection of deli cheese and baked goods. or the three containers of instant coffee you've hidden underneath it all. just out of habit.

tuesday nights are yours, and the market is your chosen domain.

usually, that is. usually, you're all alone. usually, you can run around on the carts and pick up anything you accidentally knock over. you can spill an entire bottle of wine on the floor and no one will blink an eye. jerry wouldn’t even be able to hear it from three feet away.

but tonight--on this tuesday when your feet hurt a little bit more than necessary, and your eyes are twitching at all of the lights--apparently you're not alone.

which you wished you would have realized before you started humming 'single ladies' a bit too loudly.

you wished you would have skipped shopping at all, really, as soon as you see his face.

his wide eyes--surprised and silvered by age, much like yours--and his open mouth.

in a different world, you would be shocked--shocked instead of scared--and you might run to him. you might ask him why he didn't tell you he was coming? what is he doing here? in a different world, you two would be the only people in the market and it would be fine.

it might even be great.

this subtle shift in autonomy wouldn’t hurt the peace you’re looking for on this tuesday night.

there wouldn't be this obvious horror story standing between the two of you, this looming presence. the history of a thousand lies, bruise after bruise, and scars so red that they could burn through the ground. glass shattered around your feet.

the lights might as well start flickering. you should probably call out "hello?" even though he's right in front of you, and if he was going to murder you, he probably wouldn't answer. a door should creak.

you should probably go.

you should probably run away before he can take a step closer. you don't look a threat in the eye and smile at it. you don't feed a stray cat.

it always comes back.

why is he here?

you take a step away. as soon as you notice him--behind, between, all over you--silence ensues. you might as well be at a loss for words. you don't have much to say to him.

not to that look in his eyes, or his receding hairline, or that peak on his mouth.

because peter would be here. at this time. and he would be trying to hide a smile, a smirk, when he's not even supposed to be within a five-hundred-foot vicinity of you.

actually, maybe you forgot to mail that restraining order.

but the words come out anyway because your body has always betrayed you when it comes to him.

"peter?" you blurt out, and just saying the word stirs the simmering feeling inside of you. just saying his name is enough of a warning.

"hey," he whispers and takes a step closer. you step back. he leans away like he knows his proximity is toxic. "sorry, i didn't mean to scare you."

i didn't mean to.

and yet.

you breathe and forget how to blink. he might disappear. "peter," you repeat, as a form of masochism. you don't breathe at all.

"sorry," he says, again. he doesn't say what for. there could be a million things.

"um," you choke out, looking around--away from him and his manipulative eyes. "what?" you laugh to yourself, hand running over your face. you roll your eyes back into your head and laugh again. you shake your head.

you look at peter, at his furrowed brow and inward stance, and you snort. look away from him before it's too late.

you're laughing like something is funny. it's not.

it's really not.

"are you..." peter is swallowing. you'd like to pretend that his voice is hollow and cold, much like that cave inside your chest, but it's not. you recognize that concern, that softness in his voice that used to be just yours. "are you okay?"

you almost giggle at him. it comes out as more of a cough.

you wonder if you look like a ghost. some remanent of who you used to be--the person that only peter used to know.

"peter," you sigh, and step away from your cart. into the shelf you've been backing yourself into.

you step away from him, still shaking your head.

"i've got to--" you trip as you turn around and say to mostly yourself, "i've got to go."

groceries, and peter, be damned, you think, as you walk out of the building and prepare yourself to never ever come back.

it wouldn't be the first time.

you are having your daily debate with mrs. brooke about the amount of calories in each pastry, in which you tell her that you only measure the amount of pleasure someone might get out of each one—which earns you a lovely sneer—and that she should try the blueberry scone.

she always rolls her eyes at you, says something about watching her weight even though she’s looked the same since you were five years old and sneaking through her yard to catch the neighborhood cat. and then she leaves with a breakfast sandwich.

it’s actually one of the most enjoyable parts of your day.

here’s the thing about knowing every single person that comes into the shop: you know exactly what they’re going to order, and you know what type of conversation you’re going to have with them.

mrs. brooke always stresses about her breakfast, her smile a tense sort of pleasant, but by the time she leaves her head is held a little higher. if she chooses the sandwich instead of the scone, then she’s started her day off right. you used to feel exasperated by her indecisive nature, but now you find it kind of adorable.

mr. meyer—jerry—just comes in so he can complain about the surplus of options on your menu. he wants a black coffee, and he wants to complain. you always smile at him and ask if he’s sure he doesn’t want to try the raspberry green tea. he finds this less than humorous.

every kid wants some kind of hot chocolate—which you actually have an excessive amount of—and no matter what their parents say, you sneak some extra marshmallows in. and everyone pretends otherwise.

susan—your kindergarten teacher, now friend—asks if you’ve met anyone special lately. it doesn’t matter that the selection of single people your age is always the same. there’s got to be someone special, she says to you and leaves with a cider she tells everyone is a latte.

there are the people who want their lattes and mochas, those who want some alternative milk that they complain about—even though you’ve tried every brand on earth—there are the people who don’t ever buy anything, and just come in to pretend they want something and talk to you. they gossip about the other people in town as if you aren’t well aware of everything that goes on.

you roll your eyes, but you appreciate the company. things get pretty boring when you can guess everyone’s schedule.

but you like your tiny tea shop. you like the consistency. you enjoy the smiles you throw out, and the complaints you receive. it’s a routine, and nothing goes wrong. you're in control of this one thing, and that's just how you like it.

in control, that is, of course, until you see him when mrs. brooke is walking away.

“oh!” she says, pausing, her drink shaking in hand, her pink fingernails a smudge against the shadow suddenly coming from right in front of you. she is just a foot too close to him. “is that peter parker?” she asks, saying his voice like an omen, turning around so she can set her cup and bag down, and then hugging him so hard you can see her muscles working beneath her sleeve.

“hey, mrs. brooke,” peter wheezes out, a strangled smile on his aged face. his same eyes.

he is just as surprised as you at her sudden outburst, the cooing noises she's making as she attempts to crumble him.

“look how handsome you’ve gotten! and so strong. what are those new yorkers doing with you?”

“definitely not trying to squeeze me to death.”

mrs. brooke laughs, somewhat vindictively, and she turns back around to look at you, with wide eyes. “did you know he was in town, dear? why didn’t you say anything? i almost had a heart attack.”

peter clears his throat before you can throw any type of face on. any mask. “it’s a surprise,” he mock whispers, and his eyes dash to yours, then away, just as quick. “don’t tell anyone.”

“it’s not like they’d believe me anyway,” she scoffs, “you’re a legend around here.”

“i’m honored.”

she laughs again, then grabs her cup. “oh,” she whispers, too loud. her eyes are tight, as if she’s intruded. “of course. i’ll leave and let you two talk.”

and within a blink of an eye, she is running out of the shop, faster than you’ve ever seen anyone escape from here.

and peter is there, standing in front of you. his face is smooth, calm, his eyes roaming over your face like he still has the privilege of knowing any of it.

and your heart might be racing, if it was still there.

"hi," he whispers. it is quiet enough for you to feel it in your chest. his voice and the memory of it.

does he sound different? has he really changed that much in the last two years? is his face a bit worn? are his eyes a different color?

but it doesn’t matter what rattles through your head—when you look at peter, you just see him. your peter.

except that he’s completely different.

you clear your throat, looking away and pushing off of the counter. “what can i get you?”

peter blinks. “oh, um…” he looks at the menu above your head, back to you. “what—“ he swallows. “what would you recommend?”

“it’s all good.” your voice is clipped. you should’ve said pure brewed black tea, no ice, no sweetener, no cup. just to get him out of here. you should've recommended the starbucks three towns over.

he swallows, again. a hand rakes through his hair. “i… just a sec.”

there is a single second where you grant him the patience you would give every other customer—smile politely and let them know to ask if they have any questions. a single second where you treat him like anybody else.

and then you say: “do you want a mocha, peter?” with an anger that shouldn’t—can’t—be contained inside of you.

you wince at his name. the singe of his brand on you, going down your throat.

peter seems to watch this on your face, because he’s even quieter when he answers, “sure, that’d be great.”

at least some things haven’t changed.

so you grab a cup, writing his name on it, and move to grab the milk.

you turn around and pretend like you’ve just forgotten he’s there.

peter doesn’t take this hint.

“so…” he says, his feet are loud as they tap on the ground. “you still work here, huh?”

you barely grunt a response, spilling chocolate in the cup recklessly. if peter dies of a clogged artery it won’t be your fault.

“that’s nice. felix always loved you. and you loved working here, back in highschool.” you have to face him as you steam the milk, and you try not to pointedly stare. not to roll your eyes or hiss at him. “it’s different though. the decor, i mean. but nice. i like it. did you do it?”

“yes.”

you grab his cup, pouring the milk and shoving the cap on it. “here,” your fingertips burn as you pass it to him, and you don’t think it’s because of the drink.

“thank you.”

you both stand there; peter blinks and doesn’t leave.

he coughs. “i didn’t pay.”

“mrs. brooke would kill me if i made you pay for your first drink back home.”

“well, she knows where you live,” his lip twitches, but he doesn’t laugh.

and neither do you.

“is it just you here?” he asks. “no felix?”

“he sold me the shop a year ago.”

his eyes widen. “oh. oh! that’s great. congrats.”

“thank you.”

you don’t move your eyes from his face, because it’s suddenly not fair that he’s here. that he’s allowed to intrude like this.

“it’s good to see you,” peter relents, a fake smile playing on his lips.

you falter. your heart turns in your chest, just so it doesn’t have to look at him anymore. “i’m working, okay?” you say, whispering. “i can't do this right now.”

“right. yeah.” peter trips on a step back. his eyes are scanning your face again. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t—“ he blows out a breath. “i’m sorry.”

you nod. watch the ground as he stumbles over it.

“i mean it though,” he adds, like he hadn’t thought about it. “it’s good to see you.”

and then peter swallows. you blink at him.

when he turns around the bell rings as he pushes it. and peter doesn’t look back.

he’s right about one thing, at least. it is nostalgic.

"when were you going to tell me?" your mom asks, leaning against her kitchen counter--the same one you scribbled on as a kid, smiley faces still apparent. she's doing that fake smile thing. the one that makes you want to storm off and slam the door like some mistreated teenager.

you don't, but both of you know that you think about it. for at least five seconds

"tell you what?" you ask, instead, setting the groceries you brought for her on the counter.

"about peter."

your eyes close. he would follow you around, wherever you go. he's probably hiding in some vent, smiling maliciously.

there's that teasing voice in your head saying small town, small small town, but you just turn around, ignoring it, and her, and raise a brow. "peter parker?" you repeat, rhetorically. "twenty-six, new york. brown hair, brown eyes. lived here his whole life, has an aunt who lives next door, tried to steal our cat when he was nine..." you drawl off, making a point to smile. "ringing any bells?"

she throws a dish towel at you. "you know thats not what i meant."

"do i?"

you wipe the counter with the towel, then fold it nicely on the counter, all the while avoiding your mother's eyes.

but you know she won't leave it alone. the same way she hasnt left you alone once in the past four years, like she can dig your feelings up from whatever grave you buried them in.

there's a part of you that wants to crawl over to her and ask her to make you some hot chocolate, to watch some childrens movie on the couch with you. you want to be the little kid who would've depended on that knowing glance she's still giving you. the little kid who idolized her and wasn't afraid to admit the truth--even if you did steal that chocolate bar from under her sink.

but you're grown, and this doesn't matter. not in the long run, anyway.

you look up, expectant eyes. she has your same eyes, and meets them.

"linda told nancy, who told jerry, who told me over the phone..." she shakes her head. "but may was here earlier."

"yeah? how is she?"

"good, busy, i'm guessing, because you know how she dotes over him."

"yeah..."

you fold the towel again, running your fingertips over the embrodered flowers.

"have you seen him?"

you swallow, and nod absentmindedly. you're not going to tell her about the grocery store. "yeah, he came into the shop yesterday."

she taps your hand, and you let go of the rag. she hangs it back over the oven, the ebbing silence more like a threat, her hands falling to her hips. "why didn't you say anything?"

"it's not a big deal. he came in, ordered, and then left."

"and there were no words between the two of you?" she prods. "no wandering eyes? you just read his mind instead of taking his order?"

you grit your teeth, rolling your eyes. "he asked for a mocha and i made it for him."

"nothing else?"

"he said it was nice to see me."

she waves a hand at you.

"and i said that i was working." you sigh, leaning against the counter. "that's all."

"you're not freaking out?" your mom ducks her head so she can meet your eyes. her face is sullen, but her smile is genuine.

it's like talking to a counselor.

"why would i be freaking out? he had to come back sometime."

she scoffs. the little necklace your dad gave her dangles from her neck, and you watch it. "i don't know," she says, using the same voice you do when she tells you not to take a tone with her. "maybe because you havent spoken to him in the last three years?"

yeah, the same voice says, rough and patronizing, you haven't spoken to him in five years. why is that, again?

but you snort at your mom, a defensive smile making its way to your lips as you look at her. "water under the bridge," you say, dismissing it.

you don't want to talk about this with her. you don't want to talk about this with anyone.

because the only person who might actually understand is the same person who left three years ago. who came back with no warning at all.

"did may say when he got here?" you ask, voice escaping before you can stop it.

"just a day or two ago, i think. why?"

"is he here for the holidays?"

"yes. she said he plans to stay until at least january. he's between jobs, i guess."

"oh." you smack your lips and move away from her, back to the groceries, which is the reason you're here in the first place. you take out the milk jug, walking to the fridge, but a soft hand stops you.

your mom is smiling when you turn towards her. "you don't have to talk about it," she's saying, her voice smooth and comforting. "i don't--i don't know what happened between the two of you. i just mentioned it because may said he was talking about you. it..." she drops off, wincing.

"what?"

"it might be good to talk to him. put the water under the bridge."

you roll your eyes, nose twitching. you don't need to say anything, you won't. your mother is just another town gossip, and her opinion has no sway over you.

even ask the words sink in.

"now put the rest of those away," she says, ruffling your hair, "i know what happens when you take your 'breaks.'"

you push her and put the milk in the fridge.

you're mopping the floor when the bell rings, and a cold brush of air trails goosebumps up your skin.

it's late enough in the season to no longer smell like the leaves falling onto the ground, or the grandesur pine needles showing off their lifespan. it's cold in the shop now, and you have three coats in the back.

but the person who walks in is only wearing one. one you recognize from several years ago, with the holes in the sleeves from when he jumped over your fence and sprained his ankle. the stain on the front when may threw a plum soaked rag at him and you'd laughed so hard that you'd fallen to your knees on the floor and couldn't breathe.

peter's face is wain. his eyes are cautious as they meet yours.

you're not used to anyone coming in at 5:55. everyone knows you close at six, and the few people who'd dared to come in and order a drink a minute before you flipped your sign have learned their lesson.

but peter hasn't learned anything.

"i know," he says, like tracking your mind. "you close at six. may told me."

"okay."

you're still holding the mop, sure that his footprints would leave mud all over your floors.

"i don't want to buy anything. or--" he breathes out, hands wringing at his sides, probably from the cold. "i will. if you want me to. but that's not why i came. i wanted to see if you..."

he does a sweep over you, and his words fall in the air, as if he's just realized something.

you look down at the snowflake apron your mom bought last year. it's not that dirty.

you look back up, brows furrowed, and peter's expression matches yours. "yes?" you prod, feeling that anger simmer in the core of your chest. but you've been rude enough to him.

your mom's words ring out in your head.

it might be good to talk to him.

peter swallows, whatever emotion on his face fading. "i wanted to see if you would go to dinner with me. or take a walk. or--or i'll buy you groceries, since you left yours the other night. it doesn't matter. i just want to... talk to you."

"you want to talk to me?"

peter nods. "i can wait outside, while you finish." he waves a hand, like an explanation. "it doesn't have to be long. just five minutes?"

you watch peter, his face a world of feeling that you can't recognize anymore.

and maybe that hurts the most. not him being here, not the distance or the time you've let edge you apart, but the fact that it's changed things. peter has changed and you've just let that happen. he's got a life seperate from you and there's no one to blame. he'd reached out enough, initially. months of letting his calls go to voicemail and ignoring may when you saw her in the street.

putting yourself back together in the misshaped way you are now. peter probably doesn't even recognize you--not like this.

maybe it's your fault.

but you find yourself nodding anyway, ignoring the guilt seeping through the cracks of you. you nod, and peter's face changes.

it's not the first time you've noticed his eyes, or watched relief ease into him, but it's just the same.

"yes?" peter asks, his voice rough and dry. you look at that jacket again.

"where's your coat?"

"my..." peter looks down with you. "oh, my coat. all of the ones aunt may kept were too small, and i thought--" he scratches his neck. "well, i forgot how cold it gets."

you nod, slowly.

peter nods back.

you stare at him a moment longer, and then break away from his unfamiliar gaze.

"just give me five minutes. i just need to put this away, and grab my stuff, and..." you swallow.

"okay. great. do you want to me wait outside, or should i?" he gestures around, looking as uncomfortable as you've ever seen him.

"you can sit. just--don't get any dirt on the tablebases."

"okay. thank you."

you nod, one last time, and look away from him.

your heart runs circles around peter as he sits at one of your tables, his long legs not fitting beneath it. it taunts you again and again as you try not to notice him breathing, try to ignore him completely.

you dup the mop water, spilling it on your shoes. you wipe down the last counter, the syrup sticking to your hands like a scar. you walk around the shop trying to find something else to do so you can avoid this as long as possible. your feet are cold and your hands feel abnormally dry. maybe you need to go home and shower. maybe you shouldn't be doing this at all.

you sit in the office for a moment, wishing you could watch peter without him knowing. scope him out before you hear what he has to say.

and--

okay, maybe there's a part of you that's been waiting three years for this.

that dream where he's there even though you don't want him; that moment when he apologizes and you forgive him automatically, because your heart has always been small and fragile around him; that fantasy where peter comes home and he's the same teenager you used to walk around town with at two in the morning, the same brown eyes laughing as you both slipped on ice and fell on top of eachother.

you won't deny that you've thought about this before. what you might say to him if you got the chance.

but as you grab your bag and hang your apron around the chair in the office, the words have gone some place else. what could you say to him to make any of this make sense?

still, you clear your throat when you walk out, feet aching from standing all day. you blink at him as he struggles to get up, pushing your chair in, the legs scratching on the floor the only sound between the two of you.

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moo-blogging · 6 months ago

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Nothing in my head but a soft and loving evening with Levi (modern day).

It had been busy. Work was hectic and limitless. Levi had to travel away for an emergency meeting. You didn't even get to say goodbye to him. He called you when you were doing overtime, packing his things and promising to be back as soon as possible. You wished him luck and hung up.

Day 1 was okay without Levi as you fell asleep immediately.

Day 2 you came home with a net of tangerines. There was a pop-up farmers' market on your way home from work. The shiny, orange coloured tangerines managed to grabbed the attention of your tired eyes and you stopped to pick them out. The tangerines were slightly larger than your palm. They felt firm and fresh as you squeezed them. You instinctively held it to your nose and inhaled a soft soury scent of the tangerine. That night, you peeled and ate 2 tangerines by your kitchen counter in semi darkness.

Day 3 you stared at the tangerines and wondered if you had over-bought it. The bring coloured tangerines looked so distinct against your white countertop, welcoming you for a bite. You'd love to, but you didn't move. Instead, you checked your phone and read Levi's message for the 15th time. "Will be back asap. Love you y/n" you stood up and made a bowl of instant noodles.

Day 4, Levi came home. The moment you received his message that he had touched down at the airport and was coming home in half an hour, you heart leaped with happiness. You turned the lights on and took a fruit bowl from the cabinet to carry the tangerines you left two days ago. You placed the bowl of tangerines on the coffee table, waiting for your husband to come home to you.

When Levi walked through the door, you threw yourself at him. Your arms around his neck, your chest pressed against his, your heart finally finding its one and only beating partner. Levi pulled you in tightly as well, inhaling you into his chest. Your scent recharged him after days of emotional drainage.

"Have you eaten?" You asked. "Yes, on the plane," Levi said as he dropped his bag and coat onto one of the ottomans. He saw the bright tangerines. "You bought tangerines?" He asked, eyes lit up. You nodded and grinned. Levi's face mimicked your happiness. He unbottoned two of his upper shirt buttons, and idly rolled his sleeves to his elbows. He sat down heavily on the sofa and took a tangerine into his palm and started peeling it.

You sat down on the floor beside him, leaning against his leg and watched as Levi's delicate long fingers peeled the tangerine. How his thumb dug unti the eye of the tangerine, peeling firmly as the sweet and soury scent of tangerine engulfed your senses. The soft peeling sound of the tangerine brought calm to your nerves.

You looked up and watched your husband, whose face was tired but still handsome, focusing on the tangerine. Levi's eyebags had darkened, you noticed. It must have been tough for him too. The sweet frangrance of tangerine mixed with Levi's scent of sweat and the mild smell of detergent on his clothes put your mind at ease. This is home, you thought.

Levi's eyes shifted toward you and instantly, you lifted your face and were greeted with Levi's lips on yours. You closed your eyes, savouring the kiss from your husband. You pulled away just to watch Levi's dreamy silverish blue eyes and you leaned in to kiss him again. He kissed you back deep and passionately, pulling and pushing as you conveyed your love and yearning for each other while being apart.

Reluctantly, you pulled away, your sheepish grins mirroring each other's. Levi looked away first, peeling the last peel of the tangerine and offered you a slice of its flesh. You gently took the piece into your mouth and chewed onto it. The tangerine was sweet and juicy. You locked eyes with Levi as you slowly ate the tangerine while Levi put a slice into his mouth. You smiled at each other as you shared the tangerine. Levi feeding you piece by piece, and you watched him as you leaned on his leg.

"Another one?" Levi asked as he gave you the last piece. You nodded. Levi reached for another tangerine in the bowl. You were pretty sure the tangerine was sweeter and juicer when you had it with Levi.

#i want tangerines #levi ackerman #levi fluff #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou #levi x y/n #midnight thoughts #levi x you #aot x y/n #levi ackerman x you #ceo levi

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cromulentenough · 3 months ago

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seeing north korea discourse on my dash and i don't have much super informative to add but just to say, watching the k-drama 'crash landing on you' was super interesting and i strongly recommend it.

It's a south korean drama heavily involving north korea with some north korean protagonists (it's got a bit of a romeo and juliet type thing with a south korean and a north korean falling in love, but even as someone who gets bored with romance plots it has enough other stuff to be worth it).

It seems very much like propoganda aimed AT north koreans more than ABOUT north koreans (although i'm sure there's some of that).

There's a 'north korean audience insert' type character who is a north korean who is a big fan of smuggled south korean shows, and he acts as the exposition dumper meant to explain south korean culture and terms to the other north koreans for example.

it doesn't mention or show kim jong un etc., the highest up you get are a few generals, one of whom is an honorable and upstanding person and on the side of the protagonists. The villains are corrupt in 'everyday' ways, and the heroic north koreans are patriotic and don't want to defect.

It has an undercurrent of 'south korea is nicer than you've been told, sure we have some corruption and inequality just like you guys do but we're not so different, look at all the things we share (it's still nicer to live here though :) ) can't wait for the inevitable reunification when we can all get along :) :)'.

Very interesting to see that perspective on north korea which was very new to me.

(it's also just one of my favourite k-dramas in terms of being very entertaining and funny generally apart from all of that).

Also as with many k-dramas, the ways they like to fit in absurdly blatant product placement is super fun. (there's products being sold to the common people in black markets, which the south korean protagonist can use her knowledge of to get ahead, but also my favourite is one of the corrupt officers offering instant coffee packets as a decadant bribe).

#recommendations #crash landing on you

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mariees-love · 10 months ago

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miguel’s off day

miguel x gn reader (fluff, .5k words)

On a rare day off in Miguel O'Hara's busy life, he decided to spend it with you, his favorite person. The bustling city of Nueva York provided the perfect backdrop for a day of unexpected adventures.

The morning sun painted the sky in hues of pink and orange as you strolled through the streets, hand in hand with Miguel. He was dressed casually, a break from his usual Spider-Man 2099 suit, showcasing a side of him you rarely got to see. His smile was contagious, and you couldn't help but be captivated by the joy radiating from him.

"Let's start the day with something sweet," Miguel suggested, leading you to a charming little café. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries welcomed you. You shared a cozy corner, sipping coffee and indulging in delicious treats. Conversations flowed effortlessly, a mix of laughter and quiet moments that spoke volumes.

After satisfying your sweet tooth, Miguel proposed a visit to the city's futuristic park. As you walked through the serene greenery, Miguel pointed out the advanced technology integrated into the surroundings. However, his attention was more on you than the marvels of the future, cherishing the simple pleasure of spending quality time together.

The two of you stumbled upon an outdoor market filled with vibrant colors and eclectic stalls. Miguel insisted on trying exotic snacks, and you couldn't resist joining in the culinary adventure. From futuristic fruit to peculiar pastries, each bite was a shared experience, creating memories you'd cherish.

Amidst the lively market, a street artist caught Miguel's eye. With a mischievous grin, he pulled you towards the artist's stand. Miguel convinced the artist to draw a playful caricature of you both, capturing the essence of your relationship in whimsical strokes. The finished piece became an instant treasure, a reminder of this special day.

As the sun began to set, painting the city in warm hues, Miguel suggested a rooftop escapade. The view from above was breathtaking, skyscrapers piercing the sky as the city transformed into a sea of lights. Wrapped in each other's arms, you shared dreams and aspirations, basking in the tranquil moment.

The day wouldn't be complete without a touch of adventure. Miguel, ever the thrill-seeker, proposed a friendly race across the city's rooftops. The wind rushed past as you swung and leaped from building to building, laughter echoing through the night. The cityscape became your playground, and for a moment, you felt as invincible as Spider-Man himself.

Exhausted but elated, you found yourselves perched on a quiet rooftop, catching your breath. In the soft glow of the moon, Miguel gazed at you with genuine affection. "Today has been perfect," he confessed, his words carrying the weight of his feelings.

As the night embraced the city, Miguel and you shared a sweet, lingering kiss, sealing the day's magic. In the quiet moments that followed, surrounded by the city's heartbeat, you realized that sometimes, the best adventures are the ones shared with the one you love.

#spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman atsv x black reader #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv fluff #atsv miguel #spiderman atsv #atsv #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel fluff #miguel o’hara fluff #mariees love

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shift-shaping · 4 months ago

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a list of ingredients

enaste awakens to a gentle morning among her clan.

rating: t

pairing: solavellan

warnings: food

previous fics | 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

Warm morning light fell in through the curtain covering the entryway to Enaste's side of the aravel, waking her slowly but surely. Outside she heard halla hooves stepping carefully over stone, crunching leaves and gravel underfoot as their tender led them out to graze. The smell of a cooking fire tickled her nose. A toddler shrieked with joy before being hushed. The furs beneath her were so soft, the mattress stiff but yielding, her pillow cool against her face. She curled into herself, tucking her feet under the woven blanket she'd received as a gift long ago.

It was almost as though nothing had changed. She could close her eyes and pretend the last couple months were only a dream. Soon she'd rise and join her uncle and his apprentices for breakfast, have a drink of hot, bitter coffee smoothed with halla milk. She imagined the duties she would have to attend that day: checking in with elders about their supplies, studying with her Keeper, teaching the youngest children how to read and write and count and share. Healers would seek her guidance on matters of fertility and childbirth. She would meditate among the tall yellow grass and learn how to use her magic to best serve her clan.

She would have meals of shellfish and wild herbs and mushrooms and game. Harea would make jokes that made her cringe and she'd tie flies as she listened to the hunters talk about their latest catches. They'd speculate about where they'd go next --to the cool, rocky southern cliffs? Or the savannas to the north? One of the hunters said he'd seen black-and-white striped horses there once, and Harea told him he was full of shit.

"Da'len!" Her uncle's voice just outside the aravel stirred her from her dozing. She mumbled a sleepy good morning in reply. "You should get up, there's hearth cakes and coffee."

"Mmmm coffee..." She smiled, eyes still closed.

"And someone--"

"Noodle!" Her eyes snapped open. She barely had an instant to recognize her brother’s voice before he burst into the aravel and landed on top of her. She squirmed, not prepared for him to throw all of his weight on her, but he was too excited to pull back. He hugged her tightly, burying his face in her hair. "I missed you so much! I can't believe you're here!"

She tried to hug him back, but he had her awkwardly pinned. "I missed you too, Hallin, but I--"

He pulled back just enough for her to see him. He was a bit more tan than he was the last time she'd seen him, and his thick black braid looked even longer. Otherwise he was the same as always: a slightly taller, slightly younger, green-eyed mirror of herself. "How could you leave us, Esa?"

She grinned despite her awkward positioning. "That's exactly what Harea said."

"Let her up, boy!" Roshan said as he joined them in the small space. "You're going to crush her and the shems have made her flat enough already."

"Hey," Enaste said, offended. Hallin scooted off her, giving her room to sit up. "I'm not that skinny."

Roshan rolled his eyes and jabbed his finger towards her. "This is what shemlin cooking gets you. You need real food."

She frowned. "I'm stuck in the middle of the mountains, there's not exactly a bustling seafood market."

"It's not just seafood, da'len!" He replied, genuinely exasperated. Hallin smirked. "They can't even make a good roux. Even the way they prepare game is so --boring! You need grease, you need spices, you need--"

"More onion," Hallin finished, and Roshan gestured to him in agreement.

"We have onions at Skyhold," Enaste yawned.

"Not properly prepared," Roshan said gravely.

Hallin shifted to sit more comfortably, and Enaste rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "What about okra?"

Enaste squinted, then shook her head. "I don't think I've had okra there." Roshan made a sound like he'd been wounded, and Hallin grinned.

"Choko?" Hallin asked.

"Oh, definitely not," Enaste responded, pretending not to notice her uncle's display. Roshan made another wounded sound and stumbled exaggeratedly into the aravel wall.

"But you must have calas."

"Not really, but there are doughnuts." Roshan groaned in pain.

"Surely someone can at least make a gravy!"

Enaste smirked. "Not like our gravy."

Roshan dramatically collapsed to his knees, one arm braced against the frame of the entry. "How can they treat you so cruelly... My one and only niece, being starved by shems..."

Hallin smiled at her. "At least you can eat well while you're here."

Roshan looked up at her, brows raised, suddenly breaking character. "Actually, speaking of: I spoke to your spy person. Clown?"

"Jester." Enaste took the tie from her hair that she'd used to hold it up while she slept and began untangling the dark locks with her fingers.

"Jester! I told them that you need real food, and I gave them a list of ingredients to tell your people to find for you. Then of course you'll need a good cook, a Dalish cook, but that I'll have to work on." He stood with a wince. "Maybe one of my apprentices, if they can prove worthy..."

"You're so hard on them, uncle," Hallin said. Enaste gestured to her comb, hanging on the aravel wall just over his shoulder, and he passed it to her. "They're going to mutiny one day."

Roshan scoffed. "Not if they know what's good for them." He scrunched up his face and stretched his back. "Which is me, by the way."

Enaste grimaced as she worked through a knot in her hair, then flopped her head down to tie it all up again. "How was your hunt?" She asked.

Hallin hummed, leaning back against the wall. "Mostly uneventful. Spent far too long trying to catch a big fat boar Doshiel said he saw."

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "That would have been so good though." Her mouth watered at the thought.

"I know, but honestly?" He shook his head. His voice flattened. "Dosh is full of it. He needs to lay off the hari, it's making him see things."

Enaste smirked as she finished tying up her hair and grabbed an old mirror from behind her bed. "So there was no boar." She pulled a few pieces of black-and-grey hair free to frame her face.

"No," Hallin snorted. "We saw like two tracks that were maybe from a boar, but nothing else. Couldn't even tell how old they were, and certainly no scat."

Enaste tore some mint hanging from the ceiling and worked it through her teeth. "So what did you get?" She mumbled.

"The shems have ruined your manners, too," Roshan griped. Hallin tore another piece of mint off and threw it at him, making him flinch. "Hey! Don't waste herbs!"

Hallin grinned at Enaste. "I found some mint. So we have plenty."

"You still shouldn't waste it," Enaste chided, but she was smiling, too. "Actually, though, what did you get?"

"Fish, mostly. Some smaller game." He startled suddenly. "Oh!"

"What?"

"No, wait." He slowed himself down, putting his hands out in front of him. "Finish getting ready and come outside, you'll love it."

"What is it?" She pressed.

Roshan looked confused, frowning at Hallin. "The lo--?"

"Don't spoil it!" Hallin cried, and Roshan laughed.

"That's right. Just know you'll be eating well tonight, da'len."

Enaste had a guess, but she didn't mind being patient if it meant she'd get to eat her uncle's cooking later. Besides, breakfast smelled amazing enough. Her uncle and brother left so she could finish getting ready, and for the first time in months she put on the robes she'd worn as First.

She tried to, anyway. The order of the layers, the tying of the knots, everything came back to her as soon as she began dressing. It should have fit her like a second skin; her fingers knew exactly how to tie and fold so that it was a perfect fit for her body. The muscle memory was there, and most of the muscles were too.

It was everything else that had melted away.

Feeling how loose her old clothes fit finally, tangibly confirmed for her what her family had been teasing her about: she had lost a lot of her shape over the last couple months. Her body was harder now, just muscle and bones and skin. She picked up the mirror she'd used to fix her hair and held it up to her face. There were so many more mirrors in Skyhold than there were in her clan, so she saw her face often, and the woman looking back at her was perfectly familiar.

But looking closer, in this mirror, with its copper-colored stains and ancient smudges, made her wonder. She pushed at the soft flesh of her cheeks. Had there always been so little there? Had her jawline always been so sharp? Her chin this narrow? Her eyes so gaunt?

Had she always looked so much... Older? She ran her hand back over her hair. It had been streaked with grey since she was a teenager. Perhaps I have.

She heard the voices of children outside, the playful laughs and shouts and childish threats. Their minder tried to calm them down for breakfast. Roshan loudly but jokingly played the big scary Dread Wolf to keep them out of the cooking area.

She folded her leggings over on her hips so they wouldn't fall down and tightened the knots on her robes. Maybe bringing one of her uncle's apprentices to cook her real food at Skyhold wasn't such a bad idea. Just the thought of eating his cooking all day made her lightheaded with excitement. Or maybe that was just the malnutrition.

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#solavellan #dragon age #enaste lavellan #clan lavellan #glimpses #i have changed the order of this and the next chapter #enjoy enaste and her goober family

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