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kookslastbutton · 1 year ago

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Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | ch. i

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, slight actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, loverstoexesto ?, unrequited love

word count: 3,328

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, mention of gossip columns and unequal treatment of how oc is portrayed post-divorce, hint of differences between men and women in the business world, oc struggling to be professional, both care about each other and are not toxic but oc fell in love, oc has the need to groom him a little out of habit, talks about Bam, feat, Namjoon and Taehyung, and sexual content

sexual warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, desk s*x, d*rty talk, oc is on bc, handjob, swearing, making out, neck kisses, clothed s*x, impulsive s*x, light praising, growling, some minor petnames (baby, Kook), mention of threesome, recalling of past sexual events

playing: Unkiss Me

a/n: uh…this one has been in my drafts and idk its kinda angsty but I decided I will share it. Enjoy! ��

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From the moment he stepped into your office, Jungkook could tell every ounce of color was drained from your face. All except for your puffy red eyes that is, which he knows you've been rubbing fervently to keep your tears from rolling down your cheeks.

He doesn't blame you for it though–you're his ex-wife.

Recent ex-wife that is.

For three years the two of you masqueraded as the perfect power couple; appearing completely in love to the public eye in hopes of forming an unshakable business partnership (transaction more like). You attended charity balls together, collaborated on several work projects, and attended countless corporate functions to establish both your presence in your respective industries.

That's right, you and Jungkook were in an arranged marriage and it would have flourished into a classic love story if it wasn't for one obvious detail–you're the only one that fell in love.

Despite all the times he's called you "stunning" when you dolled up for formal events or that you "feel so good" during late-night sex, Jungkook never truly loved you. He cared about you, did his best not to intentionally hurt you, and even tried loving you back; thinking he could fall for you with time.

But the most he could ever see you as is a friend, a beautiful friend, though a friend nonetheless. He knows how much it pains you, especially after you've held out hope that he'll want you the same way someday. This one embarrasses you the most which he wishes it wouldn't.

Well, Jungkook doesn't want to trap either of you in a loveless marriage any longer. So even if it means being the center of gossip columns for a while, he's giving you a divorce so you can find the right person to share your love with.

After all, you deserve it; you both do.

Today's day one of looking at one another as exes and it's bittersweet, to say the least. The only factor that would make this worse is if children were in the equation, but there aren't any.

"Thanks for letting me swing by __," he speaks first, doing his best to conjure up a genuine smile. The black floral button-up he's wearing suits him well and his smooth chest peaking out near the collar is far too tempting, yet you know better than to let your eyes linger.

"Of course," you answer and grab a small box from behind your desk. "These are 100% yours so I wouldn't keep them from you." Jungkook takes the box of belongings from your hands with slight hesitation. You're keeping a brave front for the sake of civility and professionalism.

He doesn't blame you for that either.

As a CEO of a large multinational corporation himself, Jungkook's no stranger to the age-old philosophy that that office is no place to let your personal woes get out of hand; you have a team to lead and a reputation to uphold. The latter is proving to be harder for you than him, however, being that the media is portraying you as some kind of she-devil, spinster, or worse of all—a cheater.

Jungkook plans to personally make sure those articles get removed from the public eye before the end of the week. (Not that he'll tell you though.)

"I still could have dropped by the house to pick these up if it'd been easier. I feel bad for interrupting your work day over a couple of old books, records, and dog toys." He watches you nod silently as he vocalizes the inconvenience of it all; he really doesn't have to but he does it anyway.

"No, it's alright. You haven't been to the house since you moved out, so I thought it'd be better if we met here instead." You pause to check the time. "If there's anything you think of that you might've forgotten later, just let me know. In the meantime, I have a meeting in twenty so..."

"He misses you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Bam, I mean." Jungkook throws the box under an arm and pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his camera gallery until he gets to one particular photo of a red and tan Doberman. "He hates the new place and all he does is sulk by the door."

Your heart's already struggling to settle down from the painful reality that the man you love is leaving you, let alone being reminded of another forced separation. Bam's the closest thing to a baby that either of you ever had and he was one of the few things that bonded you and your now ex-husband together.

Being Jungkook's dog, however, he couldn't stay with you. That means no more visiting the dog park, sneaking treats behind Jungkook's back, and snuggling together in the king-size bed after a stressful day.

"I'm sure he just wants his favorite chew toy that's been held hostage at the house," you joke lightly, thinking it simpler to spin the topic. It's similar to what Jungkook does when he uses flowery language to soften the cold hard truth of your divorce; that he doesn't love you and he can't ever. "Give Bam a lot of attention for me. I miss him too."

"Of cour—shit!" When Jungkook moves to slip his phone back into his pocket he loses his balance, causing the box with his belongings to spill out on your office floor. Naturally, you kneel down to help him clean up the mess. It's not until your fingers reach for the same item and come into contact with each other that you quickly retract your hand. "Sorry, did I shock you?" He asks gently and tosses the last item into the box before standing up.

"No, you didn't." You rise to your feet as well, until you're face to face with him. This time it's closer than before. His hooded eyes stare straight into yours and you can't believe it takes being inches from his face to notice how bloodshot his eyes are. "You look exhausted. You should go home and rest Kook." The petname is out before your brain tells you to stop.

Jungkook's eyes widen, the corner of his lip subtly quirking up for the first time since the start of the conversation. "Don't worry about me __. I probably get more breaks than you do. But thanks." He briefly glances at the ticking Snoopy clock behind you, a Christmas gift he gave you as a joke last year. "You still have that?"

You look over your shoulder at the small, Snoopy-shaped digital clock on your desk. Ten minutes until your next meeting. "It's cute and it makes for a great conversation starter with clients so I guess so. If you want me to give it ba—"

"Keep it," he interrupts. "Please, it was a gift and I'd like you to have it if you enjoy it." Jungkook gnaws on his lip before continuing. "Speaking of clients and business partners, I should make myself scarce now shouldn't I?"

"Yes. I do have that meeting soon." But once he leaves, neither of you is sure when you'll see the other again aside from the odd charity event. The Annual Winter Gala in December is one that particularly comes to mind.

Most high-ranking executives like yourselves attend the function to keep up appearances and to network with other professionals. Last year, you and Jungkook were the center of attention however now that you're divorced, you fear you'll be avoided like the plague—they always preferred Jungkook over you anyway.

"You're forming a new partnership with that actor, right? Kim Taehyung? I read an inkling about it online yesterday." He also read his whole biography too. The man is equally handsome as he is altruistic and kind.

"Nothing's signed and sealed yet. I'm sure you've heard that he's gotten dozens of other offers on the table. To be honest, I'm surprised you haven't nabbed him yet."

"Yeah, we don't need...wait sorry, let me rephrase that. We aren't ready for a new partner or merger yet."

You can read between the lines despite Jungkook's correction. His company is thriving more than yours in every way, so he doesn't need the help of a third-party endorser...like you. Well, you're not doing too shabby yourself and this isn't simply about fame and fortune you want to argue.

The head poking through your door stops you from following through on that last line.

"Mrs. Jeon—shit." Your secretary Kim Namjoon screws his eyes shut at his drastic misstep. "Ms. __, Kim Taehyung called and said he'll be a bit late due to unexpected delays during his filming today. He apologizes profusely but is on his way over now. Sajangnim," he bows at Jungkook respectively.

"That's fine, Namjoon, thank you. You can send him in whenever he gets here. Mr. Jeon was just about to leave and I had the rest of my day cleared."

"Of course. I'll let him know to come in." Your secretary nods and shuts the door. Jungkook shifts between his feet once Namjoon is out of sight, a habit he's picked up that tells you he has more to say.

"Was there anything else, Mr. Jeon?" You shuffle a few files on your desk, prepping for your meeting with Taehyung. At this point, you're not even looking at Jungkook.

"Mr. Jeon? I think I prefer when you call me Kook more," he mutters, allowing his line of sight to catch a glimpse of your lips. "Can I...kiss you? Before I go."

The question knocks the wind out of your lungs and you instantly lift your head up toward him. "Kiss me?" You gulp slowly, then shake your head. "No, I'd rather we not. Goodbye kisses aren't really my thing." You couldn't be a bigger liar, evident from the sudden churning in your gut. Having Jungkook's lips on yours was the best and worst moments of your entire relationship but you have to fight yourself....your innate desires that tell you to say yes.

"Okay, I understand. What about a hug?"

"Jungkook..."

"I'm sorry, I'm pushing. Thanks again for my stuff." He gestures at the box under his arm. "I hope your meeting with Kim Taehyung goes well. Maybe I'll see you both at the next Winter Gala." He makes a beeline for the door.

"Wait!"

Jungkook stills in his tracks as he watches you stride in front of him. He's unsure what you stopped him for until your hands reach out towards his shirt collar, smoothing the delicate material down. A light smile plays on his face as you do this, though he says nothing aside from a simple 'thanks'.

"It was bothering me the whole time." You finish fixing his collar and peer up into his Bambi eyes. Out of all the potential suitors, you wish Jeon Jungkook didn't become your husband. It's not like you got to keep him or anything.

Jungkook once again flickers his gaze toward your barely parted lips. And this time, you do the same for him. Before either of you have time to back out you lean forward and kiss him.

It's a hard kiss too. Painful but so inviting that neither of you pulls away.

With his free hand, Jungkook snakes a hand around your waist to hug you close. Having his fingers pressed against the small of your back is so familiar and all you can do is deepen the kiss.

You're obviously not the only one that gets a sense of pleasure from this because, in a matter of seconds, the box from under Jungkook's arm falls to the ground. He then places his second hand on the side of your neck and jawline which you lean into, exposing the other side of your neck.

"Jungkook," you gasp when his lips attach themself to the soft skin, sucking lightly. His teeth come out and nip too. "Wait, we can't do this, we shouldn't. Taehyung, he'll be here soon."

"That would have sounded so convincing if you didn't just moan the words, baby." He walks you backward until you're forced to sit atop your mahogany desk.

"Don't call me that." You allow him to push up your pencil skirt and spread your thighs until your panties are the only material he sees. You decided to go with black lace today, his favorite now that you think about it.

"Did you—"

"No, they weren't for you."

A brief growl leaves the man's rose-tinted lips. "In that case, we don't need them." He places both hands on your hips and brings you into another kiss, messier than before. His tongue shoves between the seam of your lips to lick every crevasse he can. He hasn't kissed you like this for months and to be brutally honest, he's missed it as much as you.

Jungkook hasn't been with anyone else since marrying you either, which means he's completely adjusted to your body, your preferences, and what turns you on. The same applies to you so while he's busy shoving his tongue down your throat, you palm his half-harden bulge through his trousers.

"Mm," he groans and bucks his hips into your hand. You smile at how well you've managed to draw a response from him. With a little burst of confidence, you hastily move to unbuckle his pants. "What are you doing?" He mumbles between kisses.

You decide not to answer, preferring to reach inside his trousers to take his length out. You make sure to pump it a few times until he's fully hard. Jungkook has a gorgeous dick, and that takes a lot for you to admit.

"Fuck, that's it." He says with gritted teeth, now watching your hand as it moves up and down his cock. "Get me how you want me."

"We don't have much time." You slide your panties down your legs and spread your thighs wide apart, which makes Jungkook's eyes dilate about 10 meters. "Fuck me, please." One last time. Make love to me one last time.

"Are you sure? I don't have a condom."

"It's okay, I'm on birth control. As long as you're still clean then its fine."

"I am. I got tested recently. But are you sure you want this?"

You glance at his pulsating length, tip leaking with pre-cum, and swallow hard. "Hurry."

"Fuck, okay." Jungkook wastes not another second and guides you flat on your back, his hands resting on either side of your body. The coolness of your desk has you shiver slightly. He then urges you to raise your legs until they can wrap loosely around his slim waist. And as if second nature, you link your arms around his neck as he eases him into you. He's able to bottom out without much effort thanks to how wet you've become.

"Oh god." Your back arches off the surface of your desk as Jungkook thrusts into you. They're only practice thrusts at first to get you re-adjusted to his size, yet the pleasure zipping down your spine already has your eyes rolling up.

You shouldn't be doing this at all. Your conscious whispers to again to which you blindly dismiss. You'll enjoy it now and tomorrow, start a new—another lie you tell yourself.

"Fuckfuckfuck, you're so wonderful for me," he chants while pushing his cock in and out of you, the speed of his movements picking up to an insane rate. Jungkook never had an issue with quickies so he's likely in his element now. "You know what this reminds me of?" He cocks a smirk and kisses down your neck.

"Hm?"

"That time when we were abroad for a weekend conference. Remember when we stopped at my second office to pick up some files? You were so horny that day that you pushed me into my chair and demanded that I let you ride me. It took the wind right out of my sails to see you like that, so confident and in control." He prys apart the top button of your blouse until he can slide the material down your shoulders. He doesn't take it off completely, favoring the chance to place kisses on your newly exposed area instead.

"I was beyond stressed that day. It was the first time I had to speak at that conference and you looked so good with your freshly slicked back hair. I couldn't stop myself—oh fuck! Right there Kook, don't slow down. Please." Jungkook grunts at the use of his petname and fucks you rougher, sweat forming around his forehead as his dark hair dangles messily over his eyes.

You manage to sneak a glance at the time on your Snoopy clock between thrusts. "Shit, I need to come soon, or Kim Taehyung's never going to agree to do business with me." The man laughs and buries his head on your shoulder.

"You never know, he could be really into threesomes."

"Fuck! Don't joke about that." You claw at his back and surprise both of you with the unexpected clenching of your pussy.

"You're right, I take it back," he groans and continues to snap his hips. "Looks like he's not the one who wants a threesome after all, considering your body's response to the suggestion. You wanna ask him if he walks in?" He whispers in your ear and you're embarrassed that your cheeks burn at the thought.

Of course, Kim Taehyung was sexy and you've rehearsed to yourself dozens of times not to let yourself get any crazy ideas about him. Still, one unrequited love is enough for you; Taehyung wouldn't want a divorcee. You shake the train of thought before it has time to go any further. "Make me come, Kook. Need you to finish too. It's not just Taehyung who could walk in at any second."

Jungkook grunts and continues to thrust into you, bouncing you up and down his thick length as the desk shakes underneath you. He feels you getting closer and closer by the sporadic clenching of your walls squeezing him. A big part of him doesn't want this to end but it has to....he doesn't love you. He only wants to make you feel good before he has to say goodbye. Both of you come just before Namjoon calls your office phone, giving you a heads-up that Taehyung's about to enter your office.

Jungkook shoves his pants back on while you button up your blouse and fold over your skirt. You decided to shove your underwear in your bag with the lack of time. No one has any business digging in there anyway.

"How do I look?" You turn around to get a quick once-over from Jungkook but he's already out the door. Now the person standing in front of you is Kim Taehyung who has nothing but the most genuine smile.

"You look lovely as always Ms. __. I'm so sorry I'm late by the way. I feel terrible about it so I brought you these." Taehyung whips out a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. "Hope you don't mind that I did a little research on you ahead of time. I found out these have a special place in your heart."

You smile and accept the bouquet with thanks. As you set them on your desk, a messages comes through your phone. You manage to give a quick look.

Unknown Number: Sorry I had to duck so fast! I know it looked rude but Taehyung was already opening the door and you were dressed so I thought it'd be better if I left. Hope you're meeting goes well! And thanks for everything today ;) if you need anything, you have my number.

You flip your phone over and invite Taehyung to have a seat. Business is business, and you have to carry on even if your heart has completely sunk to the ground. Kim Taehyung is sweet anyway, so you'll enjoy his company.

Too bad you don't realize how much he enjoys yours as well.

a/n: so, yeah... there's a potential for our Jk to actually love oc and not realize it but either way he does care about her (despite the impulsive sex). And yes, taehyung likes oc... it's like a double unrequited love 😔 okay bye lmk what you think, thank you! 😘

Also, lmk what you think about jk in this poll!

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#jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #bts smut #bts angst #bts au #bts imagines #bts fanfics #bts x reader #fic:guiltypleasures #kookslastbutton

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totalswag · 7 months ago

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heartbreak — RAFE CAMERON

authors note cheaters suck.

summary a week after finding out your boyfriend cheated on you with a girl from his college, your friends invite you to a bonfire. when rafe finds out about the breakup he gets upset.

warnings cheating, crying, cursing, anger, overprotective!rafe

You sat at the edge of the bed, running your hands through your hair, tears streaming down your face, wondering what you had done to deserve to be treated this way by someone you thought loved you unconditionally.

It started off with you on your bed, phone in hand, browsing instagram. A photo captured your eye and made your stomach sank. It was a photo of Lucas, your boyfriend, with a girl from school. They were at an event at the University of North Carolina, arms around each other and beaming warmly.

Lucas goes to University of North Carolina for school and football; one of the stars on the team. You stayed home at a community college then transfer to a four year afterwards.

Early today, you were scrolling through instagram like you typically do when you have nothing else to do. Your gut told you to go through Lucas following, so you did. Came across a girl name, Emily.

You clicked on her profile, your heart beating faster with each passing second. There were further images of her and Lucas, some more intimate than others. You had a dreadful twist in your gut as you went through the comments and captions.

"You've got to be kidding me" you mumbled under your breath in disbelief in what you were seeing.

Lucas had never mentioned Emily before, certainly not in a way that said they were more than friends. Your eyes began to sting with the fear of tears.

For the past few weeks, your boyfriend, Lucas, of two years has been acting strange towards you and taking hours to respond to your texts and calls. You started feeling like something was up before you went to visit him at college.

Lucas was home for the summer, and you knew you had to approach him about it. You couldn't keep the treachery inside you any longer. You took a long breath to calm yourself down, then texted him to come over. Within an hour, he was at your door, smiling and entirely ignorant of the storm rising inside you.

"Hey, babe," he said, leaning in for a kiss. You moved your head, and his lips brushed across your cheek instead.

"We need to talk," you said, your voice wavering despite your efforts to remain composed.

Lucas frowned, worry lines etched on his brow. "What's wrong?"

What's wrong? You cheating on me.

You opened Instagram, showed him a photo of him with Emily, and watched as his face paled. "Who is she?" you asked, your voice firmer now, rage fueling your resolve.

He knows he's caught.

"She's just a friend," Lucas replied, too soon and defensively. His gaze shifted away from yours, confirming your worst thoughts.

"A friend?" You could hear disbelief in your own voice. "Friends do not look at each other like that. Friends don't hide anything from their girlfriends."

Lucas gulped hard and ran a hand over his hair. "Look, it's not as you think. We...came close, but it didn't mean anything."

"Didn't mean anything?" You reverberated, your voice increasing. "Did you sleep with her?"

He paused, his gaze catching yours for a brief, painful moment before moving away. "Yes," he said quietly, the word like a stab to the heart.

Two years down the drain.

You felt the tears well up, but you didn't bother to brush them away. "How could you, Lucas?" "How could you do this to us?"

"Did I mean nothing to you? Two years of us being together mean nothing Lucas? I can't believe what I'm hearing from you" you ramble with tears falling from your face.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "That was a mistake. "I was drunk, and I wasn't thinking clearly."

"That doesn't make it okay," you said, your voice breaking. "You betrayed me."

Lucas leaned out to touch your arm, but you backed away, shaking your head. "I need you to leave," you murmured in a hollow voice. "I can't even look at you right now."

He simply nodded, knowing better than to dispute. "I'm so sorry," he said as he walked out the door, leaving you alone with your broken trust.

When you heard the front door close, you collapsed onto your bed blanket, shedding all of your tears. You never thought this would happen to you.

A week after the break up you've barely left your house; you wore comfy clothes around the house, ate, showered, cried, and cried.

Your friends texted you, wondering where you had been for the previous week. You needed to tell them since they knew you well enough to notice when you go missing for an extended period of time.

He doesn't deserve you.

He's a piece of shit.

Who does he think he is.

Later that night, as you sat cuddled up in bed, your phone vibrated with a message. It came from your friend Mia.

Mia: hey, there's a bonfire on the beach tonight. you should come. It'll help you get your mind off things.

You paused for a moment before deciding what to do. Anything was preferable to sitting in your room, rehashing the awful break up with Lucas over and over.

The beach was bustling with laughing and the crackling of a bonfire. You found friends quickly and attempted to immerse yourself in their presence.

When your bare feet touched the sand, you felt your body relax. Maybe coming here was a good idea.

"Hey, Y/N," Mia says with a grin, "I'm glad you made it, how are you doing?" She asks, concerned, examining your face for an answer.

"I'm alright just still getting over the break up" you stutter with your words, "this will help me get my mind off it."

Mia smiles, taking your hand, leading you to everyone else.

After thirty minutes, you've had one drink of Truly, talked with your friends, and are now sitting on the log, drowning in your thoughts after hearing Lucas' name mentioned.

"Hey, are you okay?" a familiar voice inquired, jolting you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Rafe Cameron, a close family friend, staring at you with concern.

Rafe Cameron has been one of your closest friends since middle school. You moved into the area a few houses down from Tannyhill.

You managed a feeble smile. "I'm fine," you lied.

Rafe lifted an eyebrow, obviously not buying it. "Come on, let's take a walk."

You followed him down the beach, the waves calming in the backdrop. Rafe came to a halt and turned to face you once you were a safe distance away from the flames. "What's going on?"

The dam had broken, and you found yourself telling him everything. About Lucas and Emily, about treachery and pain. Rafe listened quietly, his expression darkening with each word.

"That asshole," he mumbled when you finished. "I've never liked him." He does not deserve you.

You stared up at him, taken aback by the passion in his voice. "Rafe, it is not worth it. "He's not worth it."

He shook his head, his jaw tightened. "No one should be able hurt you without consequences. "He needs to learn a lesson."

"Rafe, please," you begged. "Violence won't solve anything."

He took a big breath, clearly attempting to relax himself. "You're right," he finally replied. "But it irritates me that he treated you like this. You deserve to be valued, not taken for granted.

"Thank you," you said quietly, taking some comfort from his words. "I just...I just need to move on from this."

"You will," Rafe replied firmly. "And I'll be here to assist you get through it. Always."

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earthtooz · 2 years ago

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x : AVOIDANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: falling for blade was not on your agenda, so naturally you decide to distance yourself. however, the last thing you'd predicted was blade being upset with the sudden space.

warnings: 2.3k wc, FLUFF, ooc!blade probably bc i'm still trying to figure it out, kafka meddles with the two of you, gn!stellaron hunter!reader who has a past lol, NOT PROOFREAD, idiots in love bc i love that trope, bad writing

a/n: thank you to the anon who gave me this idea :D much appreciated, i had a lot of fun with this one when my angstier fics were draining me af. i hope you enjoy, apologies if it's a little low quality, but it's my child <3

when you first joined the team of stellaron hunters, you didn’t expect to get much out of it, especially since the team looked so cold, calculating, mischievous, and unforgiving, greeting you with vicious smiles and muddy eyes. preemptively, you assumed the most you would receive is acquaintanceship.

however, time has proven you wrong, because on the contrary, you have found comfort, friendship, and stability in the form of this mismatched group.

you never expected to find love either.

but you did, and it might be the worst decision your heart has ever made.

“y/n, there you are. kafka and i are thinking about going out to lunch. want to join?” silver wolf’s voice interrupts your train of thought, disrupting your peace in your private spot amongst the gardens.

“oh, hi silver wolf,” you murmur, shutting your book after shoving in a bookmark. “who else is going?”

“kafka asked blade and he agreed.”

the genius hacker doesn’t notice the way you tense upon hearing a certain swordman’s name. instead, you play it cool by opening up your book again, scanning the pages in hopes of ignoring the racing of your heart.

“i think i’ll pass on this one. thank you though,” you mutter.

“really?” the silver-haired asks, popping her gum before shrugging. “whatever you say. i’m off!”

“bye!”

hearing her footsteps fade, you slump in your seat, your memories with blade hauntingly eminent in your mind. you don’t recall when you fell for him, or why exactly, all you have in your recollection is a series of moments that you look back fondly upon with a full heart, love slowly seeping in to you and causing your affections to grow to the size that they reside at now.

when you had realised, the love had already grown too big to deflate, and dejection struck moments after; a big bang of butterflies in your stomach that all disintegrated straight after.

how brutal- perhaps this was an indication that blade was rubbing off on you too much, and you need to cleanse yourself of his influence.

love, although fickle, was not something that you avidly rejected. despite having lived like a hunted deer, your experiences have been fleeting, building your delicate heart for a life of meeting, falling, then leaving when you least wanted to, needing to run before an arrow pierced you- and certainly not cupid’s one.

but with blade, everything is different. there is no arrow to run from, not in the life that elio has foreseen for you. for the first time in your life, you can stop running away and try fall into the arms of love with little remorse.

it's just ironic that you fall into the arms of a man who should not be touched.

“y/n’s not coming with us today,” silver wolf reports after meeting up with the other two stellaron hunters.

“oh?” kafka hums, “usually y/n’s always willing to hangout, why’s that?”

“busy or something, i don’t know, i didn’t care to ask.”

the slight scrunch of displeasure in blade’s expression passes by the keen eyes of both kafka and silver wolf. if either of them had noticed then perhaps it would have been a topic of interest, but for the time being, the pair move on (faster than the third member), your unusual absence dismissed in favour of where to get food.

as the days turn into nights and elio issues more missions and mumbles more futures, blade feels as though he sees you less and less.

it’s not intuition more than it is you purposefully ignoring and evading blade in your everyday, though.

“good morning,” kafka’s voice greets when she walks in to the cafeteria, where you were eating breakfast alone. setting down your phone, you regard her with a mouth full of bread. “gross. at least swallow first.”

“screw off,” you murmur. “how did you sleep?”

“fine fine, i woke up in the wrong position though and my neck is killing me, but what about you? seems like you’ve been up a while.”

“i’ve been up since asscrack of dawn.”

the purple-haired regards you with amusement. “why’s that?”

“body clock or whatever,” you lie, staring down at your glass of water.

“i see,” kafka hums half-heartedly, as if seeing right through you. “well, i’m going to get some coffee, i’ll be right back.”

“mk.”

you’re left on your own for only a few minutes, waiting patiently in silence for kafka to return. the morning is cool and pleasant, and the smell of rain is still heavy in the air as the morning dew lightens the atmosphere. the weather will surely get hotter as the day matures, but for now, you enjoy the gentle caress of sunlight on your back.

or rather- you were enjoying the gentle caress of the sun, but the methodicalness of it all is ruined when you spot a certain figure with dark, long hair beside kafka.

suddenly the last thing you know is peace and calm, and the abrupt, painful scraping of your chair against the floor symbolises that.

“going somewhere?” kafka asks.

picking up your scraps, you avoid blade’s gaze. “yeah! i- uh, realised that i have some documents to drop off for elio by twelve or whatever.”

“won't you stay to keep us company for breakfast,” the purple-haired tempts, “it feels like it’s been so long since we’ve spent some proper time together.”

“has it?” you laugh nervously and kafka easily picks up the pitchiness of your tone. “i’ll make it up soon, i promise, i’ve just been overflowed with things to do.”

“alright. you be off then. don’t work too hard.”

“i won’t. my head is remaining tight on my shoulders, don’t you worry!” you reassure before scrambling away, feeling like your legs could not be any slower as you retreat away from blade’s scrutinising gaze. when you round the corner, you sigh a breath of relief.

it’s laughable and simultaneously admirable how dedicated you are about dodging every interaction possible, but for the record, you think you’re doing quite well. not that space was doing many favours for your heart, but persistence is key.

whoever believed that distance makes the heart grow fonder just clearly didn’t try enough, because yours feels like it’s about to hammer out of your chest with how fast it is racing, and the sensation is equivalent to something like pain rather than fondness.

“i’m worried,” blade mutters, gaze lingering on where you’d just disappeared. “and why does y/n talk like i’m not right here?”

“aww, are you upset?” coos kafka, taking a seat. the swordsman mimics her.

“why wouldn’t i be? it feels like y/n has been ignoring me as of late.”

kafka hums thoughtfully, swirling her coffee cup around.

“do you know anything about that?”

“nup. nothing at all,” she answers, feigning ignorance to the many suspicions that are bubbling around in her mind. the last thing kafka is, is blind, your unusual behaviour has not bypassed her perceptive eye at all, but she believes she has uncovered the reasoning as to why; said reasoning being a certain swordsman.

the revelation is definitely interesting, and she might just be able to give the push you both need.

“y’know what, bladie? if it concerns you that much, i’d say you go check up on y/n later,” kafka suggests.

“why not you?”

“i’ll be busy, but i think some support in dire times is just what y/n needs.”

“okay. fine.”

when blade gathers the courage to check up on you, like kafka recommended, the time is nearing 5pm. the sun is beginning to cool, the animals are retreating into their nests, and the big, bad, intimidating stellaron hunter is roaming around the archives, where you’re situated to work, hoping to locate you.

it takes a few laps around to finally find your placement because you’re fast asleep, only identifiable to blade by the jacket you hung on the back of your chair.

the sight of you hunched over your desk over a multitude of forms and papers causes a wave of concern (however much he can feel) to wash over blade, and suddenly, he does something completely foreign to him: dote over someone.

gently lifting your jacket to cover your shoulders, he stills when you shift a little, your eyebrows furrowing in your sleep. deciding to leave you alone, all blade spares is one lasting look at your vulnerability before leaving.

he wonders what it is that could be making you so frustrated.

(if only he knew).

a few days later, kafka confronts you about the suspicions that’s been creeping to the forefront of her mind.

“did you do something to piss a certain bladie off?”

kafka’s saccharine voice is laced with mischief as she leans towards you, chin resting on the palm of her hand. she certainly does not miss the way you tense up at the mention of the swordsman’s name and her smirk widens when you shuffle away, subconsciously turning away, as if avoiding the subject.

“i can’t think of why i would have,” you murmur, crossing your arms. “why?”

“oh, nothing, he’s just been complaining and crying a lot recently.”

“he does that all the time.”

“so he does,” your fellow stellaron hunter hums. “except he’s mentioning your name a lot more nowadays.”

you freeze. “what?”

“hm? did i say something peculiar?”

inhaling a deep breath, you steady yourself. you know what kafka wants out of you and you’re not going to give it to her despite how innocent and pretty she spins the web to look. after all these years together, you hope to have learnt a thing or two about how to avoid her snare.

“what is blade saying about me?” you quiz.

she blinks at you. “why so curious if you haven’t done anything?”

“can i not ask about something that involves my name? besides, he’s my friend, i want to know what he’s saying,” you lean against the back of the couch, trying to calm the involuntary shake in your legs. you despise that the slightest mention of blade can cause a bottomless pit to form in your stomach and it’s not because of how intimidating or threatening he is.

no, it’s because you’ve fallen for him, hook, line, and centre.

and blade would have to die before you ever tell him.

“mostly just grumbles about wondering where you are,” kafka expands, waving her hands about to match her words. “he asked silver wolf and i if you’ve been talking to us and when we said ‘yes’, he looked pissed! when i asked why he was being a sourpuss, he just stormed off.”

“so temperamental, that man,” she sighs. then, she looks back at you with those half-lidded eyes that have always gotten her what she wants, and in this case, they’re answers. “so tell me, y/n, what did you do to our bladie to have him all riled up like this?”

“nothing. absolutely nothing.”

“are you sure?”

“positive.”

“positive?”

you avoid her curious gaze. “positive.”

“maybe i phrased the question wrong. has bladie done something to you instead?”

panic settles within you. “no,” you lie through your teeth. “he hasn’t.”

“so if i asked you why you left breakfast so abruptly that day, you wouldn’t say that it’s because of him?”

“i had work to do, kafka, you know how busy my job gets.”

“i know, i know,” she persists, “then why weren’t you in a hurry before blade arrived that morning?”

you don’t know how to refute that, letting silence speak volumes instead.

“and why did you skip out on lunch with silver wolf and i? was it because we also invited a certain someone?”

“okay! fine, you’ve got me. what do you want to know?” you explode, tossing your phone on the couch in frustration.

“so it is about blade?” questions your coworker.

“yeah. it is.”

“what about him? did he do something to hurt you? you know he’s accidentally mean sometimes-”

“it’s not that, he’s nothing but a sweetheart.”

“so what’s the problem?”

“that is the problem! he’s just… he’s him.”

“is that bad?”

“for my heart, yes.”

“oh my- so you like him?”

you exhale exasperatedly, “don’t act like you haven’t already figured that out, kafka.”

the cheshire smile she then flashes sends shivers down your spine. for whatever reason, an oppressive feeling grows in your gut, resembling something like a warning.

“you’re right, i knew,” she flaunts. then, her gaze cuts to look behind you. “but i don’t think blade did.”

your heart lurches out of your chest with enough force to pull you off the couch and you stumble around to see that, lo and behold, blade was indeed standing in the hallway. the expression he wears tells you enough; he heard you, he knows.

kafka somehow sneaks her way out of the room, leaving you alone to deal with the face of rejection. it’s daunting being in the same space as him after so long, you almost forgot about the intimidating pressure that blade naturally exudes and projects in every space he enters.

“hi,” you start, looking away.

he stalks over to you, footsteps soundless before stopping a feet in front of you. instead of saying something, the swordsman merely gazes down at you whilst you keep your eyes glued to the side.

“can you reject me already? the silence is kinda killing me,” you snap after a few seconds, crossing your arms protectively.

instead of obeying to your request, blade does something completely unexpected; he very gently lifts your chin with his hand, and red eyes bore right into yours. is it odd to feel seen in your demise? because blade is looking- no, surveying you with such immense focus and clarity that your heart stills, frozen in position because it wants him to see the most picturesque part of you.

(he sees it, but he wants to know more of you. the pretty, the ugly, the likeable, and the unwanted.)

“would you like to go on a date?” he asks.

#this was awful </3 #blade x reader #blade hsr x reader #ren x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x gn!reader #blade x gn!reader #blade fluff #blade x reader fluff

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lxvsiick · 4 months ago

Text

THE STARS ARE ALL ASLEEP | HAN TAESAN X READER

PAIRING: idol! han taesan x non!idol! fem! reader

SUMMARY: The loss and regret Taesan feels, trying to hold on to the memories of Y/n despite the pain

GENRE: angst, breakup, taesan is kinda an ass, imagine, short story

WORDCOUNT: 5.9k

A/N: ngl, did i procrastinate during my lecture to write this? yes . . . i wrote this after listening to 星星都睡了 by PPlin x Zhen Li -- I'm basically giving you guys song reccs to listen to -- the song is really good!... enjoy the story!

★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆

I can take care of myself, you don’t need to keep worrying about me.

I don’t smile anymore.

The clock on the wall ticked away the late hours of the evening as Y/n sat curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, staring blankly at the TV. She wasn’t really watching, her mind too preoccupied with the events of the day. Work had been a disaster. Her boss had been harsher than usual, throwing out unreasonable demands and critiques that left her feeling drained and upset.

She sighed, glancing at her phone. No messages from Taesan. It wasn’t unusual—he was busy, always on the go with rehearsals, interviews, and performances. Being a famous idol meant long hours and even longer nights. Still, they shared this apartment, and she always tried to stay awake to talk to him when he came home.

Her heart lifted slightly when she heard the soft jingle of keys at the door. The lock clicked, and Taesan stepped inside, his hood pulled low over his face, slumping with exhaustion as he kicked off his shoes. He barely glanced in her direction as he made his way into the living room.

She straightened up on the couch, hoping for just a moment of his attention. “Hey, you’re home,” she greeted softly, forcing a small smile. “How was your day?”

“Long,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes as he walked past, heading straight for the kitchen to grab a drink. His tone was flat, his movements sluggish.

Y/n watched him, her heart sinking. “I had the worst day today,” she said, trying again to start a conversation. “My boss was being such a—”

“Not now,” he interrupted, his voice edged with weariness as he leaned against the counter, rubbing his temples. “I’m tired. I don’t want to talk.”

She froze, the words hanging in the air between them, heavier than she expected. She had been waiting all day to tell him about what happened, hoping he would listen, hoping she could find some comfort in his presence. But his dismissal felt like a slap to the face.

Her throat tightened as she swallowed her emotions. “Oh,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Okay.”

The silence stretched out uncomfortably as Taesan took a sip of his drink, still not looking at her. She tried to keep her disappointment from showing, but it was too late. The lump in her throat made it hard to speak, and the weight of the day, combined with his coldness, felt suffocating.

She stood up quietly, wrapping her arms around herself as if to shield against the sudden chill between them. “I’ll... leave you alone, then,” she murmured, backing away toward the bedroom. She didn’t wait for his response. He didn’t offer one.

As she turned, her steps slow and deliberate, her heart ached. This wasn’t how she imagined the night going. She had wanted to vent, to share her frustrations with the one person who mattered most to her. But now, she felt more alone than she had all day.

When she closed the bedroom door behind her, the click sounded louder than usual in the quiet apartment. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her hands, wondering if he even noticed how much she needed him right now.

Back in the living room, Taesan let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes as the weight of the day pressed down on him. He hadn’t meant to be so cold, but he was just too tired. Too tired to think, to listen, to be anything but worn out.

But in the silence that followed, something gnawed at him—a faint sense of guilt that he couldn’t quite shake, knowing she had wanted to talk, knowing she had needed him.

And he hadn’t been there.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

I don’t want to think about you all the time.

We tried our hardest to hurt everything between us, and now it’s impossible to repair.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, orange glow over the city streets. Y/n sat on the bench at the bus stop, nervously checking her phone for what felt like the hundredth time. Her heart was filled with a mixture of excitement and impatience—today was supposed to be special. Their anniversary.

Taesan had promised to take her on a date after his interview, a rare moment in their hectic lives where they could celebrate together. She’d dressed up, her heart racing with anticipation, hoping for some time alone with him. But now, as the minutes dragged on, she couldn’t help but feel the growing sense of unease.

She scrolled through her phone again, the unanswered messages staring back at her: "Hey, interview over yet?" "Are you still coming?" "Let me know if you're running late."

No response. No calls. Nothing.

She sighed, biting her lip and glancing down the empty street. The buses came and went, passengers getting on and off, but there was still no sign of him. Her excitement slowly deflated into something more like dread.

A cold breeze picked up, and she pulled her jacket tighter around her. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being stood up, but that couldn’t be true, right? He wouldn’t just forget their anniversary. He wouldn’t break his promise to her.

In an attempt to distract herself, she opened her social media, scrolling absentmindedly through the feed. That’s when she saw it—a post from a fan page featuring Taesan and his group at some event. There he was, smiling and laughing with his bandmates, dressed in an outfit far too formal for just an interview.

Her heart sank. The caption beneath the photo read, "Surprise appearance at the event! BOYNEXTDOOR looking dashing as always."

She stared at the screen, the image of him so happy, so carefree. She felt a knot twist in her chest, anger and sadness mixing together. He wasn’t just late—he had gone somewhere else entirely, without even telling her. He had time for an event but not for their anniversary.

Her fingers hovered over the phone, wanting to call him again, but she knew it wouldn’t change anything. He wasn’t coming.

With a heavy sigh, she stood up, her heart feeling heavier than her feet as she trudged back toward their apartment. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she ignored it, knowing it wasn’t from him.

The walk back felt longer than usual, her mind replaying the excitement she’d felt that morning—how she’d looked forward to tonight, how she’d thought this anniversary would be a rare moment where they could be like any other couple. But instead, she was left alone, walking home in the dim light, her hands stuffed in her pockets to keep warm.

Finally, she reached the front door of their apartment building. Pausing for a moment, she glanced back at the empty street, a small part of her still hoping to see him running toward her, apologizing for being late. But the street remained empty, quiet, just like the unanswered messages on her phone.

With a deep breath, she entered the building and climbed the stairs to their apartment. As she unlocked the door and stepped inside, the stillness of the apartment felt colder than the air outside. No flowers, no candles, no sign that today was any different from any other day.

She sank onto the couch, staring blankly at the wall, the weight of disappointment settling in her chest like a stone. All she wanted was to be with him, to feel like she mattered, like they mattered. But tonight, she felt more alone than ever.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You never cared about trying to get my forgiveness.

Don’t let us be covered in scars.

The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside. Y/n sat on the couch, her knees pulled to her chest, hugging a small black cat stuffed animal that Taesan had won for her on one of their early dates. Her eyes were red-rimmed, tears brimming but not falling. She stared blankly at her phone, an article open on the screen, the words blurring in front of her.

The jingle of keys at the door signaled his arrival. The door creaked open, and Taesan stepped in, exhaustion heavy in his posture. He looked worn from the day, his hair disheveled, still in his stage clothes. He let out a deep sigh as he kicked off his shoes, glancing toward her, not immediately noticing the tension in the air.

"Hey," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "I'm home."

Y/n didn’t respond, her gaze locked on him, her lips pressed into a thin line as she clutched the stuffed animal tighter. Her chest ached with the weight of everything unsaid.

He finally noticed her silence, his eyes narrowing in concern. "What’s wrong?" he asked, his voice more annoyed than gentle. He was too tired for this—whatever this was.

She didn’t speak at first, just held out her phone toward him, the screen illuminating her tear-filled eyes. He frowned, walking over to take it from her hand. When he looked at the screen, his expression immediately shifted.

It was a news article—another baseless rumor. His name splashed across the headline alongside another female idol, the two of them speculated to be in a relationship. There were photos from a backstage event, carefully cropped and captioned to imply intimacy where none existed.

He groaned, already dreading the conversation. "You’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath, tossing the phone onto the coffee table.

"Is this why you’re never around anymore?" Y/n finally spoke, her voice small but laced with hurt. Her eyes, shining with unshed tears, held a mixture of frustration, sadness, and fear. "Because of her?"

His jaw clenched, frustration quickly overtaking his fatigue. "What? No. It’s just a rumor," he snapped, throwing his hands up. "You really believe that crap? I told you not to pay attention to those things."

"But you’re never here anymore!" Her voice cracked as she stood up, still hugging the stuffed cat to her chest. "You’re always too busy, too tired, or too... distant. And then I see this and—" She broke off, shaking her head, tears spilling over now. "How am I supposed to feel? Am I supposed to just ignore it when you’re gone all the time?"

"I’m working!" he fired back, the anger rising in his chest. "I’m busting my ass for this career, for us—but you’re here, worried about some stupid tabloid story? Where’s the trust?"

"Trust?" she repeated, incredulous. "How can I trust you when you don’t even talk to me anymore? When you don’t make time for me at all? Do you even care about this relationship?"

Her words cut deep, but his frustration was too overwhelming to process the hurt beneath them. "Of course I care! But you’re suffocating me with all these doubts. Every time I come home, it’s something like this. You worry too much."

"I worry because I care!" Her voice broke, raw with emotion. "Because I love you, and I feel like I’m losing you—like you’re slipping away and I can’t do anything about it."

The silence that followed was deafening. They stood there, staring at each other, both breathing heavily from the intensity of the argument.

Taesan rubbed his temples, his voice lowering but still tense. "This is ridiculous. It’s just a rumor. I’m tired, and I don’t want to do this right now."

"You never want to do this," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, her chest heaving as she tried to control the sobs threatening to spill over. "Fine."

With a quiet, bitter laugh, she turned and walked toward their bedroom. "I’m done with this conversation. Go sleep at your dorm or wherever it is you’d rather be."

His eyes followed her as she disappeared down the hallway, her door closing softly behind her, though the emotional slam still reverberated through him.

He stood there for a long moment, his anger simmering down into guilt, exhaustion pulling at him from all sides. He didn’t want to fight, but it always seemed to end up this way. They always ended up like this—torn apart by his career, by misunderstandings, by everything he didn’t have time to fix.

With a heavy sigh, Taesan grabbed his jacket and keys, heading back toward the door. The silence of the apartment felt unbearable now.

As he stepped out into the cold night air, he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked toward his group’s dorm, his mind filled with everything left unsaid, wondering how they had come to this.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

When the stars in the sky all sleep, I feel so dark, my body feels inexplicably cold

The night air was heavy, thick with a silence that seemed to press down on everything. The small park near their apartment was a place once filled with memories—their late-night walks, quiet conversations, stolen moments—but now it felt distant, like something from another lifetime.

Taesan stood at the edge of the path, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his breath visible in the cool air. He hadn’t been back here in weeks, not since he’d started staying at his group’s dorm. It felt strange now, almost foreign.

His eyes shifted as he saw Y/n approaching slowly from the other side of the park. His heart clenched at the sight of her, though he couldn’t quite place why. She looked…different. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow, the dark bags beneath them evident even in the dim light. The spark, the warmth he always loved in her eyes, was gone. She looked like someone who had been carrying the weight of the world for too long.

She stopped a few steps away from him, the space between them feeling like a chasm.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked, his voice quiet but carrying an edge of tension. He already had a sinking feeling in his chest, but he wasn’t ready to confront it.

Y/n looked at him for a long moment, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out at first. She shifted her weight, wrapping her arms around herself like she was trying to hold herself together.

"I’m tired," she finally said, her voice flat, void of emotion. "I’m tired of waiting for you. Of waiting for us to feel like it used to." Her eyes met his, and the emptiness in them hit him like a punch to the gut. "I can’t keep doing this."

His heart stuttered in his chest, but he didn’t say anything. He just stared at her, trying to process her words, hoping this wasn’t what he thought it was.

“I’m done,” she continued, her voice firmer this time, as if she had rehearsed these words over and over in her head before finally saying them. “I don’t want to have to keep waiting on you, waiting for something to change. I feel like I’m always waiting.”

The silence between them was unbearable now, but he couldn’t find the right words to say. His throat felt tight, like any response he tried to form would only come out broken.

She wasn’t crying—there were no tears. She wasn’t angry. Just…done. It made it worse somehow. He would’ve preferred her to scream at him, to be angry, to throw something, but this quiet resignation was shattering him in a way he hadn’t expected.

“You’re not the same,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but sharp enough to cut through the air between them. "I don’t recognize you anymore. And I know you’re tired too. Tired of me, of this... You don’t need to say it. I can see it every time you walk out the door and don’t come back until late or not at all."

He wanted to protest, to tell her she was wrong, that things could be different, but the words wouldn’t come. Maybe because a part of him knew she was right. He hadn’t been present—not really. His career had consumed him, and in the process, he had let her slip away. He let them slip away.

She let out a shaky breath, her eyes momentarily glancing down at the ground before meeting his gaze again. "I loved you," she said softly. "I still do, but I can’t keep holding onto something that’s already gone."

His chest tightened painfully, and he took a small step forward, as if to reach for her, but stopped himself. He didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t even know if he could.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, though it was unclear if she was apologizing to him or to herself.

And then, she turned around, her figure illuminated only by the faint glow of the park’s streetlights. She didn’t run. She didn’t storm off. She just walked away, her back to him, her shoulders slightly hunched as if the weight of everything was too much to bear.

He stood there, frozen in place, his heart breaking with every step she took. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He could only watch as she walked further and further away, her silhouette fading into the distance until she was nothing more than a distant memory in the night.

The cold settled into his bones, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. He felt numb, like everything inside him had shattered and there was nothing left but the aching emptiness where she used to be. The night stretched on, and the only sound that filled the silence was the faint rustling of leaves in the wind, as the world around him continued on, unaware that his had just fallen apart.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

I don’t need the hottest and best car.

I don’t need to be the best pop star.

I want to express myself, but I messed up.

What’s there to lose! My heart’s already half empty.

The studio’s lights were harsh, reflecting off the mirrors that lined the walls. The steady beat of the music thumped through the room, filling the space with energy, but Taesan’s movements felt sluggish, disconnected from the rhythm. He was usually so precise, so in sync with the choreography, but today he couldn’t seem to get it right.

"Again," the instructor called out, clapping their hands sharply, frustration seeping into their voice. "You’re off, Taesan. Focus."

He nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow, though it felt like the sweat wasn’t the problem—it was the weight pressing on his chest. They started the routine again, but halfway through, his steps faltered. His foot missed the mark, his body off-beat. He felt his group members glance at him in concern, but he kept his head down, trying to push through.

"Stop!" the instructor barked, cutting the music abruptly. "Take five. Taesan, get it together."

He didn’t respond, just stood there, panting, his hands on his knees. The others slowly moved to the sides of the room to grab water or stretch. Taesan didn’t move. His mind was spinning, but not about the dance. His thoughts kept drifting to her—Y/n. The look on her face when she walked away, the sound of her voice when she said she was done, the quiet resignation in her eyes. It haunted him.

It was all he could think about.

He pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to clear his head, but it was no use. The more he tried to shake it off, the more the memories flooded back. The last argument, the tension that had been building for months, how he had shrugged her off when she needed him most.

“Hey, man. You good?” Jaehyun asked, cautiously approaching him with a bottle of water in hand.

Taesan shook his head slightly, forcing a deep breath. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though the tightness in his voice said otherwise.

“You’re not,” Leehan said bluntly, walking over with the rest of the group. "You’ve been off all day. What’s going on?"

He opened his mouth to respond with something dismissive, something to brush them off like he always did when things got too personal, but this time, he couldn’t. His chest ached too much. The guilt, the regret—it was all bubbling up inside him, and he couldn’t keep it down any longer.

“I—” His voice cracked, and he quickly looked away, swallowing hard. He hated this. Hated feeling this vulnerable, especially in front of them.

His group members exchanged glances, clearly worried.

“I miss her,” he finally whispered, barely audible.

“What?” Riwoo leaned in closer, frowning.

“I miss her,” he repeated, louder this time, though his voice wavered. “I miss Y/n… so much.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the usual energy drained as his words settled in.

“I screwed up,” he said, his hands trembling slightly as he raked them through his hair. “I didn’t realize what I had until she was gone. And now—” He paused, his throat tightening, the memories of their breakup flashing in his mind. “Now it’s too late. I hurt her, I wasn’t there when she needed me, and she left. I don’t blame her.”

His eyes burned, but he refused to let the tears fall. Not here. Not in front of them.

“I regret everything,” he admitted, his voice strained, raw. “Everything that led to us falling apart. I pushed her away, I was so wrapped up in my own life that I didn’t see how much I was losing her.” His hand clenched into a fist. "I thought I could balance everything, but… I couldn’t. I failed her.”

His group members stood in stunned silence. Taesan was always the one who kept things together, the one who didn’t let his emotions get the better of him. Seeing him like this, so vulnerable, so broken, was a shock.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I don’t think I can. She’s done with me, and I can’t blame her. I’ve been a terrible boyfriend… and a terrible person.”

Sungho stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, man, don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth,” he said bitterly, looking down at the floor. “I still love her. I never stopped. But she’s gone, and it’s all my fault.”

“You’re human, Taesan hyung,” Woonhak said, his tone gentle. “People make mistakes.”

“Not like this,” Taesan muttered, shaking his head. “She waited for me. She was patient, and I took her for granted. I should’ve been there for her.”

His group members shared worried glances, unsure of what to say. They had never seen him like this—so lost, so regretful.

“It’s not too late,” Jaehyun offered hesitantly. “You can still reach out to her, talk to her—”

“She’s done with me,” Taesan interrupted, his voice flat. “She said she’s tired of waiting, and I can’t blame her. I would’ve left me too.”

He slumped down onto the floor, leaning against the mirrored wall, his head in his hands. The silence stretched on for what felt like forever, the only sound being the faint hum of the air conditioning in the studio.

His group members sat down around him, unsure of how to help, but unwilling to leave him alone. They could see how much pain he was in, and it hurt to see their usually composed, confident friend in pieces like this.

“I’m sorry,” Taesan whispered again, more to himself than anyone else. "I’m so sorry, Y/n."

And for the first time in a long time, he let the tears fall.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Through the whole night, you’re no longer in my sight.

Maybe everyone feels the same, but time goes by too fast.

The air backstage was charged with excitement, a low hum of activity as the staff rushed around making final preparations. Taesan sat quietly in a corner, his hands resting on his lap, staring at the floor as the muffled cheers of the crowd reached his ears. The energy of the arena was palpable, but inside, he felt a familiar weight pressing down on his chest.

It had been a few months since the breakup. Since the day she’d said she was done. He hadn’t realized how hard it would hit him—how much he’d miss her. Even now, the thought of her still tugged at his heart, the hurt still raw even though time had passed.

"Taesan, you good?" Sungho asked, breaking through his thoughts as they finished a huddle nearby.

He glanced up, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, I’m fine."

They’d asked him that a lot lately, and every time he said the same thing. He had to be fine. He had no other choice. Being an idol meant putting on a perfect face, no matter what was going on behind the scenes. It was all part of the job, and he owed it to his fans to give them everything he had. But the truth was, no matter how much time passed, she never really left his mind.

A staff member approached, headset in place, clipboard in hand. "Five minutes until showtime."

His group gave a collective nod, standing up to stretch and prepare. Taesan rose to his feet, brushing off his outfit, and took a deep breath. He could feel the adrenaline starting to build, the anticipation of the stage waiting for him. This was his world now—his stage, his music, his fans. He had to focus on that.

But as his mind drifted back to her—her smile, the sound of her laugh, the way she used to wait up for him—his chest tightened again. The ache that hadn’t fully healed throbbed beneath the surface, a constant reminder of what he’d lost.

"Focus," he whispered to himself, closing his eyes for a moment. He couldn’t let this affect him now. Not here. Not when the world was watching.

The fans were already screaming, chanting their names, and he knew the second he stepped onto that stage, he had to be the idol they all adored—the one who smiled for them, who gave them his all, no matter what was happening in his personal life.

A deep breath. He opened his eyes as the staff gave the signal.

“It’s time,” one of his group members said, nudging him gently. "Let’s go."

He nodded, shaking off the last traces of his wandering thoughts. Putting on his best smile—the smile that had charmed millions—he stepped in line with his group as they prepared to walk onto the stage.

The music swelled through the speakers, and the moment the curtains parted, a wave of sound crashed over them. The roar of the crowd, the flashing lights, the sea of fans waving lightsticks—it was everything he’d worked for, everything he loved.

He couldn’t let them down.

As they walked out, the fans’ cheers grew louder, the energy electric. He felt it surge through him, pushing the heaviness of his emotions to the back of his mind. The stage was where he belonged, and for now, that had to be enough.

But even as he smiled, danced, and sang, giving his all to the performance, a part of him still carried her with him—her memory, her absence. He knew he had to move on, but it wasn’t that simple. She had been a part of him for so long, and the love he had for her didn’t just disappear. He was still learning how to live with that ache.

As the music thumped in his ears and the fans sang along to every word, he forced himself to be present, to let the performance carry him. But every now and then, between the beats, he could feel her shadow lingering in the back of his mind.

And when the concert was over, and the adrenaline faded, he knew she’d be there waiting in the back of his mind—just as she always had been.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Finally, the wounds have scabbed over, but am I still thinking about it?

The room was dimly lit by the slivers of moonlight that slipped through the half-drawn blinds. The quiet hum of the air conditioner was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. Taesan lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling with a contemplative expression. The shadows cast by the moonlight danced across the walls, but his focus remained on the blank expanse above him.

He was in his shared dorm room with Woonhak, who was already fast asleep, snoring softly. Taesan had been lying awake for hours, his mind racing through thoughts he couldn’t seem to quiet.

It had been five months since the breakup. He had made significant progress—he wasn’t as heartbroken as he once was, and his days were filled with the busyness of his idol life. But despite all that, thoughts of Y/n still occupied a corner of his mind.

He wondered about her often. What was she doing now? Was she happier without him? Was she moving on with her life, creating new memories, and finding joy in things that didn’t include him? The questions lingered, and even though he tried to push them away, they always seemed to return.

He remembered their last conversation, the look in her eyes when she had ended things. It wasn’t anger or resentment but a calm, resolute sadness. He had always wished he could go back and fix things, do better, be the person she deserved.

Turning his head slightly, he glanced over at the small bedside clock—it was well past midnight. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he shifted uncomfortably. The ache of missing her wasn’t as sharp as it once was, but it was still there, a gentle, persistent throb that reminded him of the love they had shared.

He recalled the little moments they had—walking in the park, sharing secrets, the way she used to laugh at his jokes, the sparkle in her eyes when she listened to his songs. Those memories were bittersweet now, tinged with the sadness of knowing that those times were in the past.

He wondered if she ever thought about him. Did she ever look back and remember the good times? Did she ever miss him, even just a little? The curiosity gnawed at him, but he didn’t have any answers. He had made the decision to give her space, to let her heal and move on, but it didn’t make the longing any easier.

He closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like to see her again, to talk to her, to hear her voice. He hoped that wherever she was, she was happy. He hoped she had found the peace and joy that they both deserved.

As he lay there, the weight of his thoughts became a little heavier. He had learned to live with the separation, to accept it as part of his journey, but that didn’t mean it was easy. The nights like these were the hardest—when the world was quiet, and the only thing he had was the memory of what once was.

Eventually, he forced himself to turn away from the ceiling, pulling the covers closer as he tried to settle into a more comfortable position. It was a futile attempt to silence his racing mind, but he knew that some things would take time to fully resolve.

For now, he would focus on his work, on the present, and try to hold onto the hope that things would get better. And maybe, just maybe, someday he would get the closure he needed. Until then, he would carry on, living his life while cherishing the memories of what they once had.

He finally drifted off to sleep, the thoughts of her slowly fading into the background, though never completely out of reach.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

I realize I can live without you, but I once decided to grow old with you.

How much loneliness and struggle remain pierced in my heart.

The crisp autumn air was cool against his skin as Taesan and his group members strolled down the street. Their faces were concealed behind masks and sunglasses, a necessary precaution to avoid being recognized. Despite their disguises, the atmosphere was relaxed, and they enjoyed the rare chance to go out incognito.

They chatted casually, their conversation punctuated by laughter as they approached a quaint café they had heard good things about. The cozy little place had a warm glow that contrasted with the chilly evening air.

As they reached the entrance, Taesan was the last to go inside. Just as he was about to cross the threshold, the door swung open and someone bumped into him.

Startled, he looked down, his heart skipping a beat when he saw who it was.

It was her. Y/n.

She looked different—brighter, happier. Her hair was shorter, framing her face in a way that seemed to enhance her natural beauty. And her eyes—those eyes that used to be so full of sadness—were now sparkling with a joy he hadn’t seen in a long time.

They locked eyes for a split second, and he felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite place—hope, regret, longing. He stood frozen, caught between the urge to speak and the overwhelming surge of emotions.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, her voice warm and apologetic as she quickly stepped back. She didn’t seem to recognize him, her focus more on the minor collision than on the person she bumped into.

“No problem,” he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper.

She flashed him a quick, polite smile before turning and walking away, her figure gradually diminishing as she moved down the street.

Taesan stood there, watching her retreat, his heart pounding. The moment felt surreal—seeing her like this, so changed, so content. It was as if the universe had given him one more chance to make things right, and he wasn’t sure if he should let it slip away.

“Hey, what’s taking you so long?” Riwoo called out from inside the café. “Let’s go!”

Still reeling from the encounter, Taesan snapped back to reality. He turned towards the café, where his friends waited, but something inside him urged him to follow her—to find out if this new version of her was truly as happy as she seemed.

Without a word, he pulled his mask and glasses off and turned on his heel, rushing out of the café. His group members called after him, confusion evident in their voices, but he ignored them, his focus entirely on the woman who had just walked away.

He sprinted down the street, glancing around, his heart racing as he searched for any sign of her. The sight of her figure, walking away with a spring in her step, seemed to guide him forward, pushing him to bridge the gap that had grown between them.

Every step felt heavy with anticipation, each breath a mix of excitement and anxiety. He didn’t know what he’d say or what he hoped to find, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a chance he couldn’t let slip by.

Finally, he spotted her again, standing on the corner, waiting for a bus. With a deep breath, he approached, trying to steady his racing heart.

“Y/n!” he called out, trying to keep his voice calm and steady.

She turned, a look of surprise crossing her face as she recognized the urgency in his voice. Her eyes widened as they met his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Everything around them seemed to disappear and it was only them there. Y/n’s look of surprise turns into a smile, her sparkling eyes meeting him.

“Hi.”

★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆

PART TWO VER.1 -- VER.2 | MASTERLIST

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emchant3d · 1 year ago

Text

part 2 of the steddie fight steve whump - now with as-promised eddie whump 💕 part 1 here

Eddie isn’t a good man.

Steve thinks he is, Eddie knows. He says it all the time. Eddie thinks that good men don’t need to be announced as good men, that their goodness is obvious enough without anyone pointing it out, but he doesn’t want to argue about it with Steve. He hates when Eddie doesn’t see himself like Steve sees him, so he just does his best to be the person Steve thinks he is.

He did a spectacularly shitty job of that today.

He took it too far. Cut too deep. Knew it the second the words came out of his mouth, didn’t even need to see the color drain from Steve’s face as the blow landed, but he was treated to the sight anyway. He watched the angry flush fade into a sickly pale pallor as those long pretty lashes fluttered and that plush mouth parted in surprise, in shock, before Steve’s jaw had snapped shut so hard his teeth clacked.

And then it was gone. As quickly as the hurt had been written all over Steve’s face, it disappeared in the blink of an eye, and Eddie hates when he does that, when he hides how he feels and refuses to share his hurt and sadness with Eddie, but can he blame him for concealing it? Can he demand to be shown it when he’s the one who put that expression on Steve’s face in the first place?

And the worst of it is - he’d felt a sick kind of satisfaction at the sight. And he hates himself for it now, with hindsight and self-awareness, feels disgusting for the way he’d reveled in the sense of victory he’d felt. He’d won. He’d hurt Steve and he’d won the argument by doing so, at least that round of it, had stopped their back and forth with one sentence, and he’d seen him fold in on himself and go ice-cold in a way Steve hasn’t been with him in a long, long time, maybe ever, not since they started this whole thing between them.

He’d taken the win while he had it, heard Steve say something about the guest room and rolled his eyes, Steve can be so dramatic when they fight. He’d turned tail and done the worst thing he could have fucking done, can’t even claim hindsight for this one because he’d known even as he was doing it that leaving then, when he’d been asked what he’d been asked and answered like he’d answered - he’d known it was cruel. Known it was salt in the wound, and he’d ground it in with a perverse satisfaction, slammed the door behind him and everything.

He took a couple walks around the block, chain-smoked half a pack of cigarettes, debated going to Gareth’s to rant and ramble and try to get somebody on his side even though he knows Gareth likes Steve more than he likes Eddie some days - his boy is too charismatic for his own good, won over all of Eddie’s friends with the slightest bit of effort.

He sat on the fucking curb and lost track of time quick, watched the darkening sky deepen until it was black and the streets were barren and his hands were frozen, until he’d thought himself into and out of every scenario possible, until all that was left to do was admit to himself how badly he fucked up.

Anger kept the guilt from setting in immediately, because he’d been so angry, so furious with Steve for - for–

He can’t even pick out what in particular pissed him off so much, and isn’t that rich? Because deep down, he wasn’t angry. Not really.

He was terrified.

Eddie’s been distant lately, he knows. He’s been taking more gigs and staying out later after them, he’s been working more shifts, he’s been hanging out with the band and saying he has ‘practice’ when really they’re just sitting around getting high and wasting time. Sometimes he doesn’t even give an excuse, just turns up late and acts like he can’t see the mix of worry-anger-hurt painted all over Steve’s face, he just wraps him up in his arms and covers his face with kisses and acts like they’re fine, like there’s not a tightness squeezing his heart so hard he’s afraid it’ll stop beating altogether.

He’s been pushing it too much. Disappearing too often. But he just doesn’t know how to explain it - the fear that settles bone-deep in him when he thinks about how happy he is for too long. If there’s one thing Eddie’s life has taught him, it’s that happiness and safety - all that shit is temporary. He’ll lose it eventually. It’ll get damaged somehow, he’ll piss someone off or do something wrong, he’ll break the delicate balance that’s afforded him a safety net and that net will disappear, and he’ll be left in a free-fall and forced to pick up his own shattered pieces when he lands, alone and hurt and starting all over yet again.

He’s so, so tired of starting over.

So he’s been trying to…delay the inevitable, maybe. If he’s not around, Steve can’t be tired of him, right? And that’s not fair to Steve either, but Eddie’s selfish at the best and worst of times and he’s been prioritizing getting himself through this, has switched to survival mode so thoroughly that he’s not been able to recognize the only threat he’s trying to protect himself from is him.

Self-sabotage is a habit that’s deeply ingrained in Eddie. It’s the only thing he knows sometimes, the defense mechanism that feels like coming home, but when you grew up in a home like he did, sometimes familiarity isn’t safe, not like it should be.

It blinds him to everything and everyone, makes it so he doesn’t recognize he’s even doing it until it’s too late. Until he’s pushing everyone away and hurting the people he loves, until the person he loves most in the world is standing in front of him and yelling in their living room asking if Eddie wants to be here with him.

And that’s another thing, isn’t it? Of course Eddie wants to be with Steve. Of course he wants the comfort that comes with loving someone and being loved, but he can’t deny that that’s terrifying in its own right - that the idea of being tethered to something freaks him the fuck out. And he knows, he knows that’s part of the whole avoidance thing too - his heart searching for freedom where it can find it, loving Steve but being terrified of Steve at the same time, of what he means, of that string that keeps them together always, no matter what.

Usually the thought of that is wonderful and welcome and fantastic. Sometimes it’s something he absolutely cannot think about. And that leads him right back here, not fucking thinking and leaving Steve alone and acting like he’s done nothing wrong when he knows damn well he’s the fucking problem here.

Steve was yelling because Eddie hadn’t considered him. Eddie hadn’t thought of Steve, or his life with Steve, and Steve was angry about it. And he had every right to be. But all Eddie could see, could feel, had been a noose around his neck, a tie to something - to someone that felt like it was taking control.

Eddie had panicked, and he did what he does best - he ran.

Scorched earth, feet to the ground, bolted away from the issue the best he knew how, let himself sit in that self-appointed righteousness of finding an escape except he’d run from the one thing, the one person, he’d promised never to run from.

This is the downside of loving someone you know inside and out. This is the result of baring his soul to Steve and having Steve bare his back - he’s seen the delicate, vulnerable bits of that man and knows exactly where to strike.

Regret eats at him. How could he say that to Steve? How could he do this to Steve? Eddie knows his temper is mercurial at the best of times, knows his moods can change with the weather, but there’s no excuse for allowing them and his fear to take over like they had. It’s something he has to work on, he’s known it for a while, but this is the final nail in the coffin.

He’d thought he was past the worst of this, of his anxiety eating him alive and taking things from him, thought interdimensional monsters and almost dying and falling in love in the aftermath of it all meant that the mundane normal life shit would be easy, but the universe does so love to prove Eddie Munson wrong.

There’s nothing in the world worth losing Steve over. And sure, Eddie can be a coward, has cowardice in his goddamn blood some days, but if there’s anything worth being brave over, it’s the man waiting for him at home right now.

This is fixable, he tells himself. He’ll apologize. He’ll grovel and make it up to Steve and he’ll be glued to his goddamn side for the rest of their fucking lives if that’s what it takes. Anything to show him that Eddie didn’t mean it.

He wanders his way home with his metaphorical tail between his legs, hoping that he’s right - because Steve would be well within his rights to be tired of his shit by now. Steve would be more than justified in calling it quits over this - because it isn’t just one fight. This one fight was a culmination of issues and he sealed the deal with a fucking calculated attack and he has no idea what he’s about to come home to, not really, he’s just hoping that home still feels like home when he walks in the door, and he only needs Steve for that.

He doesn’t know what time it is when he makes it in. Just knows that the apartment is dark and shadowy and the only light in the place is in the hall, so he doesn’t call out to Steve.

For a moment he’s terrified that maybe Steve isn’t here, maybe he left, but he knows that’s his modus operandi, not Steve’s, and besides, the guest room door is closed. He remembers what Steve had said, stone-faced and monotone, ‘I’m staying in the guest room tonight,’ and Eddie hates that Steve isn’t in their bed, but at least he’s here. Hopefully he’s asleep - and he feels like a piece of shit for hoping for it because he knows he just wants to avoid this conversation, even if Steve getting some rest would be a good thing. His baby doesn’t sleep too well. Neither of them do.

He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up by the door, forgets to take his shoes off like always and desperately, desperately hopes that Steve will still be willing to bitch at him for it in the morning.

His heart is a stone that’s sunk down to his stomach. He doesn’t have words, had tried to craft something pretty to say on the walk home, but his theatrics won’t help him now and his sincerity is drowning in his guilt and he doesn’t know how to fix this. How does he apologize for this? Not just the fight today, but all of it? He’s got nothing but he knows he can’t let this sit like this, can’t stand it, can’t leave the two of them in this limbo and abandon Steve to whatever awful thoughts are swimming around in that pretty head.

He knows Steve. He knows his fears, his insecurities. He knows he hit them all like a fucking bullseye with a single sentence and the rest of his actions would have taken him down the rest of the way.

He left. He’s spent so long promising Steve that’s the one thing he would never do, that he’s a runner but never from Steve, and yet he’s slinking his way through their apartment after doing exactly that, hesitant and quiet as he can be but he’s terrible at being quiet, and he winces at the volume of the thunk that sounds when he pauses in front of the guest room and leans on the closed door.

He can’t hear Steve through it, but that doesn’t mean much - he could be lying awake, hoping Eddie just continues his path down the hall, hoping to be left alone and spared the groveling that Eddie knows he has to do. Could be that Steve doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t want to deal with him, just wants some peace after all the shouting they’d done earlier. Eddie wouldn’t begrudge him that.

But a bigger part of him, a worried part of him, knows that it’s unlikely.

No, the bigger part of him, the bit of him that’s tied to Steve Harrington’s heart, knows with almost certainty that Steve is lying on that unfamiliar bed wide awake. He knows he’s hurting, knows he’s upset, knows he wishes that Eddie would just come in and fix things.

He presses his forehead to the door like he can transfer his thoughts through osmosis - he thinks it’s osmosis, he isn’t sure, science was the least strong of his not-strong suits, okay - and have Steve just know everything he wants to tell him, and then he shuffles the rest of the way down the hall to buy himself some time.

He changes into pajamas as he goes over everything he wants to say, trying to work it into something coherent and level-headed, but at this point he’s debating just falling to his knees and begging Steve to not leave him, which, well - he’s had worse ideas.

He doesn’t want to lose Steve. But he knows he might. Has to accept that as a possibility. Has to face that and resist the urge to deny it, to own that he’s royally fucked up and might lose the most important person in the world to him, even if the very idea makes him want to rip his heart out of his goddamn chest.

Call him dramatic. It doesn’t make it less true.

He pads his way back down the hall, the familiar orange glow from the dimmed light less a comfort and more like he’s walking down to a fucking gate to hell, and comes to a stop outside the guest room. He takes a breath, braces himself, and then raises a hand, knocking gently.

“Baby? You in there Stevie?” he asks, and he doesn’t get an answer, but when he quietly opens the door he catches the motion of Steve ducking his head down. He’s awake, then. Pretending not to be, but that’s okay - Eddie can work around that.

He can’t make out anything but the rough shape of Steve in the bed - his own body in the doorway is blocking most of the light trying to illuminate the dark room. He knows the shape of that lump on a mattress, and he walks closer, almost reaching out - but he wouldn’t be able to stand it if he touched Steve and he flinched, or if he pulled away from his reach. So he pulls his hand back, and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, and takes a deep breath, letting the silence sit between them.

And Eddie’s a goddamn coward, can’t even look at his baby, keeps his back to him in the dimness of the room so he doesn’t have to see the anger and the hurt as he tries to apologize for a hurt that he never should have caused. And he can’t see him, but he can hear him - he can hear the little hitches in his breath, the stutters of it, the soft trembles that Steve is trying to keep steady, and each one is like a stab to the fucking heart, and he really cannot fucking take this anymore, so–

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve goes silent behind him. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” He wishes Steve would yell. He wishes his baby would get all his anger and his frustration out and they could move on, he wishes Steve would get so fucking mad and lash out because Eddie deserves it– and he tries to stop that train of thought before it gets too off track because that’s mean, Steve isn’t like that to him and it’s not fair to expect it from him. Even if it would make things easier if he could just hope for an easy way out.

He takes a breath, and starts where he thinks is best, the only starting point he can really think of.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Steve says, sharp voice a little rough, but it’s strong and it’s steady and something in Eddie relaxes a bit. Steve’s still mad. Eddie can work with mad.

“So you are awake,” he tries to joke, and it lands about as well as he thought it would.

“Yeah,” is what he gets back, and he lifts his head, tries to pick out the vague pattern of the popcorn ceiling above them in the dark. He can feel eyes on him, knows Steve’s staring him down.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and Steve makes a soft, gutted sound from behind him. “What I said - what I did–” he shakes his head. “It wasn’t right. I should have never–”

“If you’re going to break up with me will you just get it over with?” Steve interrupts, snappy and frosty but his voice cracks something fierce, and hold on, what.

“Hold on, what?” he says aloud, like a dumbass, but sue him, he doesn’t know how else to express the utter confusion taking him over right now.

Steve scoffs at him, and there’s a shuffle behind him but Eddie’s moving too, finally turning and - oh.

Oh, no. Steve pushes himself to sit up and Eddie takes him in, his reddened puffy eyes and the tense set of his jaw, clenched so it doesn’t shake.

“I don’t need you to apologize for breaking up with me,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest, defensive, shoulders up to his ears, weight shifted back like he’s two seconds from lurching away from Eddie to wedge himself in the corner like that’ll keep him safe. And it’s so odd - it’s so wrong - to see Steve, the fighter, the one who punches first, so defensive, but he supposes it makes sense when the enemy is Eddie, and god, doesn’t that just feel like a kick in the fucking teeth. “If you don’t wanna fucking be with me anymore I get it, okay, I don’t need the spiel, I don’t need the whole it’s not you it’s me thing, just - just do it and get it over with and I can - I can move out, I’ll get out of the way and I’ll leave you alone and–”

“Shut up,” Eddie says sharply, and then cringes at himself because come on Munson, a little gentleness would be good right now, but he’s off-kilter in a way he didn’t expect. Steve flinches a little, but he stands his ground, eyes wide as he keeps them on Eddie. “Shut up, I am not - you thought I was breaking up with you?”

Steve flails his arms a little, tossing them up. “Well - you - I mean–” he stutters, “why the fuck else are you here!”

“To apologize!” Steve freezes and stares at him like he didn’t know that option was even on the table. “Baby,” Eddie says, achingly soft, and he doesn’t stop himself from reaching this time, catching hold of Steve’s arm and pulling him close as he closes the distance between them both.

They’re on their knees on the mattress, crowded into each other’s space, and Steve won’t look him in the eye. “Steve,” he tries, but he just gets a minute shake of his head for his efforts. Steve isn’t touching him, fingers curling into tight fists in the space between them like he’s trying to keep himself from reaching out, but he isn’t pulling away from Eddie’s touch either so he keeps going. He skates his fingertips in a soft touch down Steve’s bicep, over his elbow, brushing along his forearm and feeling goosebumps pop up.

He takes hold of Steve’s hand, rubs the back of it with his thumb, watches Steve’s gaze dart to where they’re touching as Eddie maps out the familiar pattern of Steve’s moles. Freckled even here, on these warm hands Eddie loves so much, these hands that are shaking faintly in Eddie’s gentle grip.

“You don’t gotta look at me,” he says softly, and he squeezes Steve’s hand tighter, “but please - please, angel, just listen to me, okay?” Steve’s breath hitches again, but he nods, and Eddie will take what he can get as he clasps Steve’s trembling hand between both of his own.

“Steve, I’m sorry,” he says, watching what he can see of Steve’s face, orange light slicing over his features from the doorway. Those eyes he loves are fixed on their hands and he can’t tell if he’s watching in fear or hope or both. “What I said…I didn’t mean it, okay?” And it sounds hollow to his own ears, so he tries again. “I just - I wanted to hurt you, and…”

Steve gives a bitchy little eye roll and Eddie’s heart skips a beat, staring at his pretty, tear-stained face and clinging to that small glimpse of normalcy. “Well mission accomplished, I guess,” Steve says, bitter and sad, and Eddie groans softly.

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. Baby, I’m so fucking sorry. I can’t…I tried the whole time I was out to think of the right words to say but I just - I dunno how to explain it,” he says, frustrated with himself, and he feels the smallest little squeeze to his hand.

“Try,” Steve says, quiet, “...please,” and his voice cracks again and it feels like a fucking knife in Eddie’s stomach.

“I was scared,” he blurts out, and finally, finally Steve looks at him.

“...What?” His brows furrow, his mouth turns down, “scared of what?” “Of you,” he says, and that’s not quite right, and Steve’s face falls even more, looking nauseous.

“I’m sorry,” Steve croaks, and he tries to pull his hand away but Eddie just grips it tighter, “I’m sorry, Eddie, I shouldn’t have yelled like that or gotten mad and - and I would never hurt you, Eds–”

“Nonono, baby,” Eddie scrambles to interrupt, shaking his head so hard his hair flies around a little, “no, that’s not - I wasn’t scared of you like that.” He raises a hand, grabbing hold of Steve’s face, keeping their eyes on one another while he has the chance, “I meant - I was–” he makes a little frustrated sound, “...I was scared that I’d lose you,” he says, and God, fuck, thank God Steve is who he is and he knows Eddie how he knows him, because understanding starts to bloom in those bloodshot eyes.

“...And so you lashed out,” he whispers, and Eddie nods again.

“And so I lashed out.” Guilt paints his words. “And I’ve been avoiding you. Avoiding home. Staying away because - because if I’m not around then you can’t get annoyed, or tired of me, right? And that’s so fucking stupid, okay, I know it is, I’m a fucking idiot, really, biggest moron in the world, and a goddamn coward–”

“Hey,” Steve says sharply, and Eddie’s words die with a little whine in his throat. “You are not a coward. You’re the bravest person I know.”

“Dustin would like a word,” he shoots back, and Steve huffs, narrowing his eyes at him. Eddie gives him a small, self-deprecating smile.

“I just mean,” he soldiers on, “I’ve been doing wrong by you.” Steve looks away again. “And I’m sorry. I know I’ve been hurting you and I want to do better, Stevie, I do.” He squeezes Steve’s hand.

He watches as Steve rolls his lips in, biting them hard, his brows tight and his shoulders going tense again. Eddie wants to fill the space with his own chatter, pour out even more apologies, but he lets the silence sit - he lets Steve have the space to collect his thoughts, to think of what he wants to say.

Finally, he speaks. “It felt like you didn’t love me anymore,” Steve says, and Eddie can’t help the heartbroken little sound he makes.

“No,” he says fiercely, and he crowds into Steve’s personal space, takes his face in his hands and cradles his cheeks in his palms. “Absolutely fucking not, baby,” he insists, and Steve reaches up, covering Eddie’s hands with his like he’s trying to pull all the warmth from Eddie and into himself.

“What else was I supposed to think?” Steve asks, “you were just - you were gone all the time, and you never wanted to talk about it, and you were always busy with stuff that didn’t involve me and it was like you didn’t want to be around me anymore. And when we fought tonight I thought - I.” He cuts himself off, squeezes his eyes closed tight. “...I really thought that you might not come back,” he confesses, and Eddie pulls him even closer.

“You listen to me,” he says, soft but fierce, “and I know my word probably means shit to you right now, because I’ve been the biggest dumbass in the world and broken it, but I need you to hear me when I say this.” Steve opens his eyes, and Eddie stares into them. “I will always come home to you. Even if I’m being a fucking idiot. Even if I’m pulling a runner, if I lose my mind and bolt out of here again, I will come home.” Steve’s eyes go all watery, and Eddie gently catches the tears with his thumbs, brushing them from Steve’s cheeks.

“Swear,” Steve says, and there’s a desperation in his tone that Eddie wishes he could smooth away, but he knows that will take time. That will take dedication and patience and perseverance and goddammit, Eddie will use every ounce of all that he possesses if that’s what it takes. But for now he holds Steve’s gaze and he nods slowly, their faces just inches apart.

“I swear,” he tells him. “I swear to you, Steve Harrington, I will come home. And I will always, always fucking love you.”

Steve gives a little sob. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Eddie shushes him.

“No, angel,” he tells him, shaking his head. “You got nothing you need to apologize for, okay?” Steve looks like he’s going to protest, but Eddie just shifts, pressing his lips to Steve’s forehead and lingering there as his baby works to catch his breath.

“Can we go to bed?” Steve asks, and he sounds exhausted down to his bones. Eddie nods.

“Of course, baby,” he says, and he pulls Steve from the guest bed - fucking terrible thing that it is, taking Steve from their room, from their space, the safe little corner of the universe that they’ve carved out together between their sheets. He guides Steve down the hall, tired and stumbling a little, his pretty hair in disarray - his baby didn’t even change first, seems like he just curled right up after Eddie left, he’s still in his jeans and everything.

Eddie watches as Steve changes, stripping his clothes off with slow, lethargic movements, and for once they land in a heap on the floor - on top of his sneakers, and that makes Eddie’s heart do a funny little flip as he catches Steve’s hand to keep him from tripping over the damn things. A fond smile is teasing at Steve’s lips, and Eddie returns it.

They curl up together, close as they can get, unsure where one starts and another begins. Relief washes through Eddie as he gets Steve settled into the right bed this time. He buries his hand in Steve’s hair and Steve noses at Eddie’s throat, turns his head side to side in a slow rhythm that drags his lips over the same little sensitive spot on the underside of Eddie’s jaw. It’s not a kiss, not quite - just a touch. A reminder that Eddie’s still here. He’ll allow Steve to take as many reminders as he needs for as long as he wants.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Steve whispers, and Eddie wants to tell him once again that he doesn’t have to apologize, but he knows this is important to Steve. So he just nods a little, careful not to dislodge him from the warm space he’s settled into at the curve of Eddie’s neck.

“I forgive you,” he tells him, and a bit of tension leaves Steve’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I left,” he whispers, and he feels Steve’s lips part– “don’t say you forgive me yet,” he says before Steve can speak. “I got a lot more groveling to do, babylove, don’t you dare let me off the hook that easily. I was a fucking jackass. And I’m gonna make it right, and that’s gonna take time, and I know that, and that’s okay, because I’m in this for the long haul, alright?”

Steve is silent for a few moments, weighing Eddie’s words. Eddie can feel the brush of eyelashes against his skin as his baby blinks slowly a few times. Then, gradually, the last of the tightness in Steve’s frame melts away.

“Actually I was gonna say I’m going to get one of those toddler leashes,” he says. “That way if you try to bolt I can just yank you back.” Eddie snorts out an ugly laugh, and Steve’s chuckle echoes his own, and he rolls them both until he’s got Steve under him. He just stares at him in the darkness for a few moments, watching his smile fade into something small and private.

“I love you so much,” Eddie says, and Steve’s hands come up, slipping beneath Eddie’s shirt to rest on the bare skin of his back, fingertips tracing up and down the dip of his spine. “There’s nowhere in the world I wanna be than right here with you.” Steve hums softly and closes his eyes, and Eddie knows it’s going to take more than just a few pretty words to prove this to Steve. That’s okay. Eddie’s stubborn. He can stick with it as long as it takes.

“I love you too,” Steve says back, and Eddie leans down, nudging his nose gently into his baby’s. Steve’s scrunches up, and Eddie presses a quick kiss to it just to hear him laugh, then shifts, brushing his lips against Steve’s.

Steve sighs soft and warm into it, lips parting, and Eddie kisses him slow, devotion pouring out of him and into Steve. And he takes it all - gasps and moans quietly against Eddie’s mouth, lax beneath him, letting Eddie nip and bite and suck and soothe at his lips, his tongue, hand slipping to Steve’s side - not to start anything. Just to touch. Just to feel. To prove to himself that he’s still able to touch this beautiful man, that he’s still allowed this wonderful, dizzying love that he’s stumbled into.

They fade like that, both tired, Eddie’s weight slowly sinking down until he’s resting atop Steve. Steve’s arms come around him fully until he’s hugging him around the waist, and their mouths slip from each other’s to land in the spaces of their shoulders and throats instead, nosing into the warmth and familiarity of the person they love.

And things aren’t fixed - they aren’t perfect. But they’re working on it, and that’s enough.

#steddie #steddie fic #stevexeddie #steve/eddie #guys i'm sorry for not doing a tag list i was just too overwhelmed #but thank you SO MUCH to everyone who had a kind word to say abt part 1 and was so interested in a part 2 i hope you find this!!#my fic

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mooki3-bear · 4 months ago

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I Need You pt.2 (paige bueckers x black!reader

Part one <3

Summary: You and Paige finally unite

Warning: Just cursing

word count: 1757

Three months. It’s been three months since me and Paige went on our “break”.

The first month was the hardest. Just a lot of crying, bargaining, rants, and Chipotle. I sat in my puddle of despair, wondering what Paige was doing.

What she was thinking, hoping the thoughts were about me.

My worst thought was thinking that she had moved on to someone new, or someone that has always been there.

The second month was the month that I told myself to stand the fuck up.

This month had its ups and downs. I moved in with my best friend who welcomed me with open arms. She’s been more than supportive since the very beginning. She comforted me, fed me when I didn’t feel like eating, and took the remote from my hands every time I felt like turning on a UConn game (I'm healing slowly but surely).

I even picked up a hobby! I started taking a ballet class to keep my mind off of things! My bleeding feet are a VERY good distraction.

The third month is when I felt like a new and healed me. My skin was clear, my curls were popping, my body was giving. I felt better.

However, no matter what I did or how much better I thought I was…I can’t get her out of my mind.

“Come on! You’ve been stuck in this house all day! It’s getting sad Mookie” my bestie, Quenlin, says while ripping the blanket from my body.

“My dance class got canceled today and new episodes of my show came out. I just thought I could lay here and wallow all day” I moan while pulling my hoodie over my face. I turn my head to see Quenlin shaking her head.

“Girl, you smell like ten cans of ass and your hair looks a mess. You cannot let this girl get to you like this” She turns to open the curtains.

The blinding light burns my eyes as I wince and pull a pillow over my face. She rolls her eyes as she lays next to me on the bed.

“Let’s go bar hopping tonight! You love that shit” she yells as she shakes my aching body! She wasn’t wrong, bar hopping was probably my favorite activity. I lay there and contemplate whether I should get cute and have fun or lay in the imprint I have made in the bed and cry.

“I’ll buy you Chipotle” and with those four words, I hopped in the shower, got dressed, and was ready to head out the door.

9:30 Pm

Me and quen were on our second bar of the night and I felt alive again. I had flashes of images of Paige in my mind throughout the night but I decided I would deal with that issue when I went home.

“Girl, can you go order us some drinks? I gotta piss real bad” Quenlin said, doing the potty dance at her grown age.

“Go ahead, and stop doing that shit” I laugh as she waddles off to the bathroom. I make my way up to the bar and order me and my friend vodka cranberries.

I twiddled my thumbs waiting for the drinks, when I finally heard it.

“Hey beautiful” My body froze when I heard the voice I had longed for so much but also dreaded hearing. I slowly turned my head to see the beautiful blonde that had been occupying my mind for months.

She looked so good, but also drained.

Words tried so hard to leave my mouth but nothing came out.

“You look good. Like, good. Guess the break up was good to you” She lets out an awkward laugh as I am still in shock but gain the ability to speak.

“Eh. It was ok for me. A lot of crying hehe” I mentally slap myself, who the fuck says that.

“Yeah, same” She looks down at her feet trying to figure out what to say next.

“Listen, can we talk, please? I wanna fix this. I-”

“Unh Unh! What are you doing here” Quenlin appears from thin air as she jumps in front of me to confront Paige. This breaks me out of my trance as I jump to defend Paige.

“No, Quen! It’s ok! Me and her are just going to talk outside” I put my hands on my best friend's shoulders to calm her down. She turns to look at me and then back at Paige.

“Fine, but if you try some manipulative shit, it’s me and you” she pokes piage with her finger before walking away. Paige looks back at me “I never liked her. I just want you to know that.”

I laughed as I walked to the door, Paige following close behind. When we get a good distance away from the bar we stop and just look at each other.

I can tell she’s trying to find words to say, I couldn’t find any either.

We stood in silence for a few more minutes before one of us finally spoke.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I made you feel like shit for so many months. You should have been my priority and I didn’t do that” Paige let out a shaky breath before looking down at the ground. I waited for her to continue but….she just stopped.

“Paige…that's not the only reason why I wanted to take a break. Yes, you ignoring me was a big part of it but there was so much more” She finally raises her head to look me timidly in the eyes.

I take a shaky breath before continuing. “It was the petty comments, the constant arguing, and the insecure feeling I always felt” I started choking up on my words, and the memories of me and the girl I love screaming at each other came flooding back.

“I'm sorry! I was just so stressed with basketball, the interviews, and the constant attention that I guess I got stressed” She quickly tried to defend herself, flailing her arms in the air.

“I understand how stressful that could be but…I would've been there for you. I could've listened to your rants, helped you during solo practice, and helped you calm down when you were nervous about an interview…but you shut me out and started bullshit arguments for no reason. I love you so much. I just wanted to help you” I felt a tear roll down my face.

I saw Paige’s face change from defensive to vulnerable in the middle of the conversation.

I let out a sigh as Paige drops her head, tears falling down her pretty face. “Paige, I love you so much. You’re probably the best thing that has happened to me in a long time” I take her hands in mine “but when we have an issue, you can’t just shut me out or brush it off. We need to talk. We need to express ourselves or else it’s just gonna get worse.”

Paige raises her head once more, looking into my brown eyes with her bloodshot blue eyes. “I know…I wanna be better for you baby. I will do anything to make it up to you. I just want things to go back to the way they were” She brings my hand to her lips, placing a tender kiss upon them.

I felt my skin turn hot as her lips connected to my skin, it’s kind of funny how we were together for so long and she still managed to make me nervous.

“I know it seems like an empty promise but I swear I will do everything that I can to make it up to you. I’ll communicate better and I will make sure to do everything that I can to remind you that you're the love of my…I can’t fucking lose you again y/n” she wraps her arms around my body, leaving another kiss on the top of my head.

On instinct, I wrap my arms around her to as I close my eyes to breathe in her perfume.

I was still angry with her but somehow I knew deep down that she was serious about wanting to be better for me.

She pulls back to look into my eyes before she places an unexpected but loving kiss on my lips. I felt like I was floating on air as my lips touched the ones that they have been craving for three months. With this simple act, she knew that I forgave her

As we pull away she rests her forehead on mine.

“Can we just start over please, I miss you so much” Paige giggles while also sniffling.

I let out a snort as I placed my hand on her cheek “Well we got a long way to go until we are back to the same place but, I think we’ll be ok”.

2 days later

“Ok! I think that’s the last of my shit” I let out a sigh of relief placing the last bit of my clothes back into me and Paige’s shared closet. I fell back into our bed, missing the smell of our sheets.

I let out a grunt as Paige ran into the room and jumped on top of me. “Jesus Paige! I think you broke one of my ribs” I try to push her off of me as I let out a laugh.

Paige keeps her position on top of me as she puts her face into the crook of my neck. “I'm sorry, baby. I'm just happy you're back” she sighs as she kisses my neck.

“Ew, can yall wait to fuck until after I leave,” Quenlin says as she brings me some more of my stuff in from the car. I laugh as Paige finally rolls off me with a dramatic groan.

I walk over to Quenlin take the box of stuff from her hands and place it on the floor. “Thank you for letting me stay with you,” I say as I hug her.

“Of course, anytime! However, if this shit happens another time me and Paige are gonna have to tussle. You hear me” she yells towards Paige.

“I love you too, Quen” Paige blew a kiss to her.

Quen rolls her eyes before giving me a kiss on the cheek and leaving.

“Why must y’all fight over me”

“Because you’re the most important thing to us, baby” Paige leaves another kiss on my lips before hopping back onto the shared bed that I will never leave again.

Y'all I am so fuckin sorry this came out so late! But here yall go <3

#uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn #wlw #paige bueckers #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige buecker #paige bueckers angst #paige bueckers x black!reader #masc lesbian #lesbian #bisexual #wlw fics #wlw fiction

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lycandrophile · 1 year ago

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some thoughts about top surgery recovery, as of 3 days post-op:

when they say using your chest muscles sucks afterward, i never realized exactly how much was going to be be limited. coughing, sneezing, hiccuping, laughing — all of it is terrifying right now. even talking for too long starts to put that kind of stress on my chest, and my voice isn’t as strong as it usually is. it takes me forever to fully empty my bladder when i’m on the toilet because i’m totally relying on gravity to do all the work (and shitting was effectively impossible without a stool softener even though i haven’t taken the pain meds they said i would need them for)…and don’t even get me started on figuring out how to wipe (hint: back to front while sitting, using my dominant hand to push my non-dominant hand far back enough). using the computer is also harder — i was planning on playing lots of baldur’s gate after, but for the first couple days i could only really go for a few minutes before using my arms that way got too tiring. having a mastectomy pillow has been an absolute godsend when i’m using my phone because i can prop my arms up on it and not really have to use any muscles at all to hold them up.

the biggest piece of not being able to use my chest muscles right now, which i’m writing separately because it’s been such a huge thing for me, is that i cannot sit up or back by myself at fucking all. like, if i sit on the couch and lean back a bit to sit against the cushion, it hurts to pull myself back up to fully straight — and if i’m leaning back any more than that, i just can’t do it at all and i’m stuck there unless my boyfriend puts their hands behind me and pushes my dead weight back up. i totally get why some people sleep in a recliner now because i’m completely at the mercy of having someone there to help move me around once i’m at any sort of angle. sitting back is mostly the same as far as what i can do, and arguably hurts worse to attempt at all, but my ability to do it seems to be coming back faster than my ability to sit up. if you’ve never had your mobility limited to that extent before, prepare yourself: the first time you’re stuck somewhere and the person who normally helps you doesn’t answer immediately can be really fucking scary (i learned that the hard way).

the anesthesiologist warned me that i might have a sore throat after surgery from being intubated, but i was not prepared for what “sore throat” ended up meaning for me. you know that feeling of swallowing something that’s too big and you can still feel it in your throat even after it’s down? it’s like that times 20, and further down in my throat. the worst pain i’ve felt in the last three days wasn’t from the surgery itself, it was from trying to swallow pancakes when my throat was at it’s worst. today is the first day it’s even started to fade, and even now, it hurts just to swallow my own spit. i don’t know about you, but that’s not what comes to mind when someone tells me “you might have a sore throat”.

on that note, the incisions themselves have really been the least painful part in general, probably because the nerves there aren’t reconnected yet. the vast majority of my pain and discomfort at this point has been from the drains and bandages — the drain sites getting sore or just randomly starting to sting, waking up feeling suffocated by the ace bandages, etc. it’s not because anything is wrong with them — the drains weren’t placed wrong and the bandages aren’t too tight, they’re just a huge pain in the ass to deal with 24/7. i can’t express how much i’m looking forward to getting the drains out and being able to take binder breaks because it’ll make things so much more comfortable.

my incisions are connected in the middle because my chest tissue was all really close together, and the part where the incisions connect is really the only part where i’ve felt any pain so far. i suspect it’s because the swelling on either side is making that part of the incision push together and press against itself, and then the binder pushes on it even more. it’s not a severe pain at all, but i do sometimes lift the center of the bandage off my chest for a second to give that spot a bit of a break.

i’ve already started getting some of the weird sensations associated with nerves reconnecting, and it definitely is wild. so far, it’s been mostly tingly feelings, sometimes like chills and sometimes more like a limb falling asleep. (weird observation: taking a shit makes my ribs tingle? i’ve got no good explanation for that one.) i’ve gotten a zap on one side and some buzzing feelings too. it’s pretty mild right now, probably because it’s so early on.

i’ve also gotten what i would describe as phantom boob feelings, especially on the first night. specifically, when i close my eyes, sometimes i’ll feel like someone is touching or jiggling the boobs i don’t have anymore. definitely not a super pleasant experience, but i think being out of it from the anesthesia still really helped me not be too upset by the worst of it. i’ve gotten a couple little phantom nipple touches too, but those were just split second blips of sensation that were far less bothersome in comparison.

i never realized that the classic post-op hunch is caused more by the binder than by the body itself, but we had to take all of my bandages off the night after my surgery to send pictures of something to my surgeon, and i was shocked by how much straighter i could sit with everything off. i was definitely still hunched, but it was more like a natural slouch and less like i looked like i was using an invisible walker. with the binder on, it’s super uncomfortable for me to try to stand straight at all because it feels like the ace bandage doesn’t come with my body and just drags everything down, and i’m always holding my mastectomy pillow or my hands to my chest while i walk around to stop it from feeling like gravity is going make the bandage tear my chest open.

every so often, when things are getting especially painful or uncomfortable or just generally difficult, i do start to wonder if i made the right choice. not because i regret getting rid of those things — not by a long shot — but because it’s a fucking hard process to go through. this is probably the hardest thing for me to admit, but the rational part of my mind knows it’s natural to feel that way once in a while. all of this is temporary and the relief from dysphoria will be permanent, but right now? this is my entire world and it doesn’t feel particularly temporary and i do have moments of “why do i have to go through all this when other people get to just have the right body from the start? why couldn’t i just live with what i had? why can’t i just be living my normal life right now?” no matter how sure you are of your choice, no matter how proud you are of being trans, this shit is hard and it’s okay to feel that.

i’m going to put the pictures of my chest one day post-op under the cut, because i think it’s pretty rare to see pictures from that soon after the surgery. they’re not gorey at all — the actual incisions are totally covered by steri strips and everything around them is clean — but still, if you don’t want to see relatively fresh surgery results, don’t look under the cut.

for all the discomfort and pain and limitations and other weirdness of recovery, every time i look at these pictures it reminds me of exactly why i’m doing all of this, and i’m so glad i kept fighting for this for so long. some people might never understand why someone would choose to go through this whole process, but i know it’ll be worth it in the end.

here’s my chest one day post-op! i think it looks super good and my surgeon said it looks like it’s healing perfectly (as much as it can be healing at one day). for reference, my chest was a DDD/F before surgery. i know this isn’t how my chest will look in the end, but i’m already thrilled with how things are turning out! i’ve truly never been more confident in my choice of surgeon — like, come on! look at that! she did so good!

#top surgery adventures #<- gonna start putting all the posts about my top surgery in that tag #top surgery #trans man #transmasc

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starkidmunson · 9 months ago

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glitter & crimson

Steve comes home from his first post-injury workout drenched in sweat and throws himself onto the sofa on his back. Robin winces as she watches him go, raising an eyebrow.

“That bad?” She asks, to which Steve groans in response.

“They want me to wear a bubble.” Steve responds, digs his hand around inside the gym bag still attached to his side and lifts out the full face mask.

“Wouldn’t be the worst idea, protect your face at least.” Robin observes, only to be met by a glare from Steve. His facial expressions are making a triumphant return as he regains more control over his face as the wound heals, and he’s taking full advantage of his bitchy looks whenever he can.

“Says the one not blowing hot air back into their own face as they work out.” He grumbles, flopping back and dropping the mask onto his stomach. “Everything hurts. You’d think I’ve been out for months, not just a few weeks.”

“How’s the headache?” Robin predicts, and Steve gives her another look before he sighs.

“It’s not bad, don’t overreact. It’s not the concussion.” He insists, ignores the way her eyebrow rises again and instead pushes himself up again. “I’m going to shower,” Steve announces, making a quick escape from Robin.

It’s not exactly that he’s lying, because he’s not. He doesn’t think anything he’s feeling is concussion-related. The soreness in his muscles is from suddenly being weighed down with his hockey gear again, after weeks without. It’s a similar feeling to the first workout of the pre-season. The headache is a little trickier to convince everyone around, so he’d avoided mentioning it and done his best to hide it at the rink. It’s no surprise Robin can just tell he has one, though.

He lets steam fill the bathroom before he steps under water so hot his skin turns pink. He lets the shower spray target the middle of his back, shifts so it settles between his shoulder blades, and rests his forehead against the cool tiles in front of him.

Eventually, he emerges back into the apartment in sweatpants, his hair air drying. Robin is setting a cup of hot tea down on the coffee table, her own tucked onto an end table beside her on the sofa. Steve smiles softly and mumbles his appreciation as he sits and takes a sip.

As he drains the cup, the headache eases a bit and he feels a bit more human than he had after returning home from his workout.

“You got mail from your parents today,” Robin eventually offers over the New Girl re-run neither of them are particularly paying attention to but have on for familiar background noise. Steve just grunts, uninterested, and instead busies himself checking any messages he may have missed from people he actually cares to give the time of day.

Dustin had demanded a “family dinner,” which Steve agrees to and warns Robin when to expect a full house. Max, traveling with the Blackhawks for a game tomorrow night, had sent him a detailed threat to not push himself too hard while working out. He responds with a video clip the trainer had taken of Steve nailing a series of wrist shots.

Steve tries hard not to be too disappointed that he hadn’t heard from Eddie. They’d texted about their plans for the day, Steve knew Eddie had said he’d be spending the day in his studio working on a few new tracks he was putting together. Still, though, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping he’d have found a text or two from the other in the time he hadn’t been looking at his phone, something that was quickly becoming a standard for the pair.

Biting back his pride, he decides to send the first text, figuring the other will answer whenever they’re wrapping up in the studio.

Steve: Hope you’re having a good studio session.

After a long few moments, Steve can’t help the little sigh he lets out as he buries himself into the throw pillows filling out the sofa beside him. Robin nudges him with a foot, eyebrow raised, and he shrugs back at her, turning his attention to the television. It isn’t long before he zones out, though, thinking and overthinking.

His injury has given him a lot of time to think about a lot of things; primarily what landed him off the ice. He’s only mentioned it to Robin, but he has been considering coming out to his coaching staff and league officials to give background on what seems like an otherwise unprovoked violent streak from Billy Hargrove. Steve learned, in the days he spent in LA after the attack on the ice, Billy had taken to calling him names and slurs with press and on social media. The trash talking had landed him another fine from the league, but it wasn’t slowing him down. It was more than enough to prove the attack was premeditated, if everyone who needed to know the background was read in on their history.

And while Billy was staying on the attack, his teammates were apparently squared up and ready to defend Steve in a way he probably should have expected but hadn’t seen coming. Each of the players who had gotten physically involved in fighting Billy after Steve had taken a stick to the face had made comments with press about how Hargrove plays dirty and mean. Several had also spoken out about Steve’s leadership and sportsmanship on and off the ice, throwing their support behind him through his recovery.

Coming out to the league and his coaches also had the potential to alleviate some of the anxiety he was feeling around his personal life. There had always been concern about coming out, getting kicked off the ice and ending up without the one thing he knew best. Long before he’d joined the league, his father had impressed upon him that he would have to settle and make sacrifices if he wanted to stay with the sport, but Steve wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to keep his sexuality bottled up and hidden away from the public.

In large part, it was easy to place blame on Eddie. The rockstar blew into his life and changed his perspective on what it was like to be a public figure, out and proud. Steve knew their status didn’t translate equally. Sports fans were different from fans of a band; Steve had joined a team with supporters who would cheer him on so long as he wore their colors and made them proud. Eddie’s fans had sought him out, decided to listen to his music and support him on their own. But for Steve to see Eddie carrying on with his life, not having to hide any part of himself or worry about not posting certain photos from their days in LA on social media (because what if they looked too suspicious and got people talking and asking questions?) was what Steve longed for.

Chicago was a pretty open-minded town; it’s why he and Robin had first moved to the city to begin with. But it still wasn’t a guarantee that everyone would continue to support the team if he did publicly come out. And Steve was working to reconcile that in his mind; to gauge how much he should even care about it. A part of him knew the greater majority wouldn’t give a shit as long as he still scored goals and played a clean, fair and exciting game whenever he hit the ice. But the thought of those few who might push back too hard and how it could impact his teammates - his friends - in the long term is still what ate away at him.

“I can hear how loud you’re thinking over there.” Robin eventually says while he’s deep in thought, and he shoots her a small smile in response. “Look, Steve, you have to do what you think is best for you. Who gives a shit about anyone else.” She says.

He wishes it was that easy. He knows it could be, but he cares too much about the fallout to stop overthinking. They fall back into silence again, until Robin eventually closes her laptop and leans close to press a gentle kiss to Steve’s hair.

“You’re the best at what you do and if people can’t see that around the fact that you like guys, then that’s their loss.” She says, gently, before excusing herself off to bed.

Steve lounges around in the living room for a while longer, before he turns off the tv, grabs a blanket and makes his way out onto the terrace. He wraps the sherpa around his shoulders and drops into one of the loungers out there, looking out toward the skyline. It’s cold, but not as cold as it’s been, and he’s always found comfort in the winter weather, anyway.

His phone buzzes, catching his attention, and he smiles softly at Eddie’s name. When he answers FaceTime, he’s immediately met by chaos. It sounds like three voices are talking over each other, Eddie’s closest to the phone, making a loud ‘shhh’ sound until everyone around him is silenced.

“Did you mean to call me?” Steve asks around a smile, and watches as Eddie’s face lights up as he draws his attention.

“I did!” He insists, though Steve isn’t entirely convinced. “Want to hear what the track I’m mixing right now?”

Steve raised his eyebrow, only half sure he knows what Eddie’s talking about, before he nods. “Let’s hear it.” He agrees.

“Told you,” Eddie hisses at someone just out of the camera’s frame; probably one of the Corroded Coffin boys. Eddie taps a few buttons below the phone, then a soft guitar tune starts playing. It’s not like anything Steve has ever heard from the band before, gentler and softer. Other instruments crash in, in a more typical Corroded Coffin sound, for what Steve assumes will be a chorus once there’s a vocal track, but it slows back to just a guitar for the next verse. Eddie pauses the song and lifts the phone up again. “Thoughts and opinions are encouraged.”

“It’s different.” Steve says, still a little in awe.

“But not in a bad way!” He hears Gareth’s voice from somewhere in Eddie’s studio, and Steve nods in agreement.

“I don’t think it’s in a bad way, either. Just different. It still sounds like you guys in that middle part, when all the instruments join in. But the guitar, that’s… it’s soft and sweet and gentle. It works nicely, not that I know anything about music,” Steve laughs, and Eddie gives him a little smile.

“I appreciate your opinion,” he says, seeming to inspect the screen. “Your face looks a little less colorful. How was practice?”

“Fine, I’m sore now, though.” Steve admits, shifts and cracks his back.

“Gross!” Jeff cries from somewhere around Eddie, and Steve can’t help but laugh again.

“You should get back to working, I’m gonna head to bed soon anyway. We can talk tomorrow?” Steve asks, and Eddie nods.

“Night, Stevie.”

~~~~

He hangs up the FaceTime, steals a pizza roll off Jeff’s plate, and re-opens the notes app on his phone. Scanning over the rambling notes he’d made himself about how he imagined the song would work out, he starts a new paragraph.

And he stares at the blank line before him.

“You’ve composed, like, 4 tracks and you can’t come up with a single lyric for any of them?” Freak asks, takes a pull from a joint burning in an ashtray near the sofa, and blows the smoke out away from the group.

“Very helpful insight,” Eddie grumbles, and Jeff leans forward.

“Do you want us to help? Like, do you have a theme for the songs, or is this just going to be your own little pet project?” He asks.

“Well, I guess it depends. If you want to drop a surprise EP or double album after the one we’re putting out, I’m probably going to need help. But if you’re cool with letting me sit on it, I can probably figure it out on my own.” Eddie offers.

Gareth twirls a drumstick between his fingers. “I think we let Eddie handle the love songs about Steve Harrington, and if he comes up with enough to make into something to drop, we drop them whenever he’s ready, and if not, we throw them onto the next album or whatever when he’s ready to release them.”

Eddie sighs and drops his head back against the rest of his swivel chair. “Can we stop calling them love songs about Steve?”

“Guess you have extra incentive to write lyrics to them, then,” Freak teases, and Eddie groans back, making the other boys laugh.

It isn’t much longer before they all excuse themselves to the rooms they claimed around the house. Eddie spends a few extra hours in the studio, working on as many lyrics as his brain allows and even sorts out bridge for the song he’d played for Steve before he heads off to bed.

He isn’t surprised to wake up the next morning to a text from Steve, who routinely gets up hours before Eddie and is always the first to send a text wishing him a good day ahead.

Eddie: Go easy on yourself on the ice today, you were up too late listening to headbanger music.

It’s a while before he gets a response, which isn’t uncommon. They both have their own lives which responsibilities to get up to. But Eddie would be lying if he said he wasn’t waiting not-so-patiently for Steve’s next response. Freak flew out this afternoon, heading back to visit family in Ohio, leaving Gareth and Jeff at Eddie’s. They’re playing video games in the living room when Eddie’s phone rings with Steve’s name and ID photo.

“Hey, how was today?” Eddie asks immediately, launching himself off the sofa and away from the boys and the noise from the television.

“Well, that’s part of why I’m calling,” Steve says, sounding a little out of breath and hair damp with sweat, glancing off camera before he flashes a charming smile down at Eddie. “What are you doing Tuesday?”

His brain short-wires for a second, thrown off course by the response. Is this Steve, asking him out on a date? That can’t be it, right? There’s no way, not with the back-and-forth they have going on. There would be more to it than that, and Steve seems like the kind of guy to give more than 4 days notice for a date that requires at least one party to travel several states. So Eddie does his best to quickly calm and compose himself, hoping he hasn’t taken an alarmingly long time to answer, before he responds. “I don’t know, what am I doing Tuesday?”

“I think you’re coming to watch the Blackhawks play the Predators in Nashville. I’m allowed to travel and suit up, but I probably won’t play just yet.” Steve is grinning, and Eddie can’t help but smile back.

“Hell yeah, I’ll be there!” He agrees, already pulling up the link to buy tickets for the game. “If I get shamed for wearing my Harrington jersey to a Preds game, you get to take the blame for me rooting against my home away from home.” Eddie teases, and Steve lets out a breathy laugh.

“Bring it on,” he challenges, finally seems to Eddie like he’s caught up and gotten back the quick wit and sharp humor which had been on a slight delay since the injury. A sign of recovery, Eddie’s sure and it helps to see him returning to normal.

They catch one another up on their days, and Eddie lets Steve listen to a few more of the tracks they’ve been working on over the last few days, but stops before the lyrics start in the only one he and Jeff have crafted words to so far, not ready for Steve to hear it yet.

As they’re talking, Eddie gets a notification he almost swipes away without reading, but Steve’s name catches his attention, so he drags it down and reads over the words.

“You okay?” Steve asks, and Eddie realizes the face he must be making is ridiculous.

“Oh, uh. I just got a notification about you?” he mumbles back, and texts the link to Steve.

Now it’s Steve’s turn to look confused as Eddie reads over the headline again.

Hockey Legacy Harringtons to Host Joint Fundraiser

Steve reads the words and seems to immediately understand them in a way Eddie can’t, and he closes his eyes in a heavy sigh. “I promise you, my life is not usually this dramatic.”

Eddie hates how miserable Steve seems all of a sudden; regrets passing the link on but knows he would have found out eventually and gotten upset anyway. “Dude, really, I don’t even know what that means, so it’s not a big deal.”

“It is, though. This is my parents, deciding that I’m worthy of being their son again because I’m getting a bunch of positive press after the injury. So my name gets to be included in the gala invitation, which I have been excluded from since juniors, by the way.” It’s still piecemeal, the information Eddie is able to take away from Steve’s explanation, but it’s enough to get the general gist of the issue.

“Ah. So, the dad who convinced you to self-sabotage is now trying to take credit for your sportsmanship?”

“Something like that,” Steve grumbles, and Eddie can see how he’s holding the phone differently, typing out a text. “I think I have to get Robin and we need to figure this out, sorry to jump off like this. But, I’ll see you at the Preds game? We can grab dinner after?”

“It’s a date.”

Eddie physically can’t stop the words before they’re out of his mouth, and immediately waits for a hole in the ground to open up and suck him in and put him out of his misery. But Steve just raises an eyebrow, smiles and shrugs. “Not yet, but. Sure.”

Then, Eddie stares at himself in the reflection of his phone after Steve ends the FaceTime call and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do with Steve Harrington, who keeps finding new ways to catch him off guard.

#glitter & crimson #starkidmunson writes #it's a little longer as an apology for how long it's been #steddie #rockstar!eddie munson #hockey player!steve harrington #simultaneously the slowest of burns and the most obvious flirting #anti-steve's parents

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 1 year ago

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comfort | kmg

i am feeling icky (physically and mentally and basically in all the ways, send help lol) and as always mingyu is my comfort human so i guess i was just feeling it. reader is mentioned to be an introvert. also reader is in a bad place mentally, lowkey is implied to be a depressive episode (self-insert? hi). kinda sorta from mingyu's pov. pet names used (honey, baby, my love). kinda sorta based on this song (How to Love You Today by Son of Cloud).

mingyu understands the difference between being introverted and being quiet -- after all, he's friends with hoshi, an introvert, who can blow his eardrums at a moment's notice. he's also dating you, and while you're no hoshi, you're definitely not a wonwoo, either.

more than understanding the difference between quiet and introverted, though, he knows you. so he knows that look you have in your eyes -- the hollow, dull look that steals over your features, sometimes for weeks at a time, while you struggle to feel anything at all. he sees it in you now as you stare out the window at the gloomy clouds gathering over the hills.

it's getting bad again. he knows it. you're usually so still when you sleep, and so splendidly expressive while you're awake, but recently that has switched -- your dreams are restless and your sleep-talking more vocal, and you spend more time sitting and staring than you do normally, your face blank and empty, your hands cold whenever he reaches for them. these are the kinds of days that sap you of your saturation, leaving you feeling listless and drained -- times when mingyu has to remind you in gentle tones to eat, to come to bed, to join him in the shower. your mind is not always kind to you, so mingyu has made it his personal mission to be so.

the worst part is, you've stopped singing. when you'd been "just friends", sometimes your constant humming and vocalizing would peeve mingyu when he was trying to concentrate, but after living with you for almost two years, he barely notices it anymore. in fact, he only really notices when you stop, and it's one of his first indicators that something is off about you.

he's been waiting for you to tell him what's going on. usually he can tell you're in a bad state before you can, but mingyu also knows that if he tells you he's noticed, you'll start trying to hide it from him. because you don't want to be a burden. (the thought of you ever being too much for him is laughable to mingyu. he loves you like it's breathing -- just an instinct, something he never even needs to think about, because it's just that easy. every person is heavy sometimes, so why was it so unreasonable for you, his most beloved and treasured person, to believe that he'd willingly carry you, no matter how heavy you got?)

so he waits, staying aware of you always, noting how the dark circles under your hollow eyes get more pronounced. and he worries, of course he does. but he also knows that one day, soon, you'll --

"mingyu?"

he's in the kitchen shredding lettuce for a sandwich for you when he hears it: that tiny voice you use when you're sort of kind of hoping he doesn't turn around to look at you. because you're on the verge of tears, or you look like hell, or a million other reasons that he couldn't care less about. so he turns around. "hey baby. what's up?"

"i...i don't feel good."

that's really all he needs. that's really all it takes, if he's being honest with himself. he goes to you where you hover in the doorway, afraid to take up space, and pulls you into his arms. "i know, honey. i've got you."

there's nothing like the feeling of having your tense muscles relax into him, the way your body releases all that angst as he runs a warm hand up and down your back. you lean your head against his shoulder and repeat, "you got me?" softly, almost embarrassed.

but even as mingyu's heart aches for you -- even as the tears prick the back of his eyes as he thinks of how you must've been suffering -- he feels so grateful. grateful that you trust him. grateful that you feel safe enough to do what he knows is so scary for you. grateful that you choose to do it despite everyone in the past who has made you feel inadequate for needing a hand.

he presses one, two, three kisses to your temple. "i've got you, my love. i've always got you."

#mingyu x reader #mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu really do be my emotional support celebrity liiiike #literally love him so much #seventeen fanfic #seventeen mingyu #seventeen #svt #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt fic #Spotify

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peppermintquartz · 6 months ago

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The second time Tommy meets Philip and Margaret is not under the best of circumstances.

Maddie is wrecked with worry, Jee is confused about why her daddy can't sleep at home and why her Uncle Buck isn't here, and Tommy himself is approximately three broken Kit-Kat bars from completely snapping.

So when the Buckley parents show up at the hospital, Tommy is not in the best of moods.

"Why are you here?" Margaret says when she sees him, instead of asking "How's my son?"

"Because I'm waiting for the outcome of the surgery," Tommy says, pretty curtly, but after fourteen hours following a full shift he is about to keel over. He's seated right now, having no further energy to pace, with his elbows on his knees, his head aching from the fluorescent lights and endless activity all around him, and his heart steeled against the worst possible outcome. "I mean, it's certainly not for the ambience."

"Maddie called and told us that Howard and Evan were in the building when it collapsed," Philip says before Margaret can react to the sarcasm. "We wanted to be here for Maddie."

"For Maddie, of course it's for her," Tommy says, and he is so beyond sick with worry that he can't force aside the irritation nor hide it with civility. "She's gone home with Jee-yun. I promised to keep her updated. If you're looking for her, I suggest doing so tomorrow morning when she's had hopefully at least an hour of sleep."

Margaret glances at the light above the operating theater doors and wrings her hands. "How long has it been? I can't bear this."

Tommy doesn't even look at his watch anymore. "Fourteen hours, thereabouts. Howie's just come out two hours ago."

A whole building. A three-storey building. Howie was on the top floor, so he was freed from the rubble first. Evan was on the ground floor. The 217 and the 124 had been on the scene, Tommy flying five casualties from the wreck directly to hospital, one of whom was his friend. All the while he had to internally battle the screaming need to claw apart the debris, with his bare hands if necessary, to get his Evan out of there.

Philip hugs Margaret. "He'll survive. He's always done so, since he was a kid. You know how it is with him. Scrapes and cuts and falls. He'll come out of this without trouble."

"I can't bear waiting here," Margaret whispers again. "You know I don't like..." She shuts her eyes and shakes her head.

"I know, I know it feels like it's Daniel inside, but it isn't."

And Tommy loses it.

Logically, he knows that Philip is merely trying to reassure his wife. Logically, he knows that they are trying; the mere fact that they are in hospital to check on Evan and Howie is a statement that they are trying.

Every other part of Tommy, however, explodes with incandescent rage.

"Daniel? Daniel?! Evan's in there, fighting for his life, and you can't even focus on that?" he spits out. "The only reason why I am even talking to you is because you made Evan. You brought him to this world. And you don't deserve him. Every day I see how much he loves, how openly and how bravely he loves, and to know that you both treated him the way you did... And now you come here, to the hospital, and you talk about being here for Maddie and, and thinking about Daniel, instead of your son who could've died today!"

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Tommy realizes that he's on his feet, his fists clenched, towering over two older persons who are shrinking away from his six foot two frame. Suddenly drained, Tommy licks his dry lips.

"Go see Howie," he says in a low voice. "You probably can't go in yet, but find out what you can to tell Maddie."

Philip clears his throat. "You'll let us know when Evan is out?"

"I'll call Maddie." Tommy sits again and stares at the wall opposite. Green. Dull, lifeless, bland hospital green. He hears the Buckleys walk away. "Philip, wait."

"Yes?"

"Sorry about the outburst. Also, you're supposed to call him Buck. Remember that."

Philip sighs again. "Of course. We'll see you later, when Ev- Buck is out of surgery."

#bucktommy #tevan #tommy kinard #evan buckley #i wanted some parent-related angst so #madney #mentions of chimney and maddie and jee #protective and bitchy tommy my beloved #yes buck would tell tommy about daniel obv why wouldn't he

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hwhimsypc · 7 months ago

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Too Busy Being Yours

Keigo Tamaki (Hawks)/Reader

Note: first smut (except that one omegaverse i did with my friend on Ao3, but please bear with me, this is probably bad.) Anyway!

Warnings: 18+ (pretty vanilla), Not proofread

Summary: You don't like Hawks, until a late night of unexpected, Passionate events take place.

Word count: 1857

Enjoy!

Your heels click on the floor as you try to follow Hawks’ quick steps. His long legs makes it difficult to follow him while wearing stilettos. The pile of papers are tightly pressed against your chest, as you desperately try not to drop them. You’re barely looking where you’re going, and almost hit two people. Hawks is pulling you along by your arm, and he’s the only reason you haven’t hit anything yet.

“Can you slow down?” You hiss between your teeth. He turns his head, a cocky smile perched on his lips.

“Can’t keep up?”

You roll your eyes. Hawks was always teasing you in the worst situations possible, when you were least in the mood for it.

“I told you we had to leave earlier.”

“Whatever you say.” He turns back. You’ll be there soon.

Hawks always had a tack for being late. Being his assistant was by far the most stressful job you’ve ever had. And his constant jokes and cheerfulness were draining sometimes. Even if it was uplifting when you’d had a bad morning.

You finally get to the interview, in a small apartment on a street corner. You stop to catch your breath, sweat immediately collecting on your brow. Of course, Hawks was irritatingly unaffected.

“See ya later, darling,” he winks, and you shake your head, ignoring him. You were stressed. This interview gave you a bit of time to focus on all the paperwork you were behind on.

You of course, don’t see Hawks’ smile quickly fading when he realises you weren’t really affected by his teasing. Funny. He wasn’t used to that.

Hawks rising in popularity meant more paperwork for you. And paperwork for a top 3 hero wasn’t something that could wait until morning. A headache had been forming behind your forehead for the past two hours and it was simply getting too hard to ignore. You sigh, pushing out your chair, getting up to get yourself another cup of coffee. Was this your fifth today? Your seventh? It doesn’t matter, anyway. The only thing filling your brain is heroes, interviewers and media. The tiredness wasn’t allowed to nudge its way in. You couldn’t afford that.

You’re so lost in thought, you don’t feel the presence sneaking up on you. Only when two warm hands grab your shoulders and you shriek, heart jumping in your throat.

“What are you doing here so late?” And oh, it’s just Hawks. You groan, pushing his hand away.

“Fuck off.”

You turn to walk away again, suddenly forgetting what it was you came for. But Hawks isn’t giving up so easily.

“Aww, come on, humour me.”

You’ve had enough.

You turn around, grabbing his collar in anger. Of course, he doesn’t budge an inch. But it certainly feels good, and you’re tired and irritated, frustrated and angry. And you just… explode.

“Don’t test me! This has been too long of a day… a week… a month… a year for that matter. You’ve tested my limits every day, for however long I have worked for you, I’m so fucking sick of being your plaything. You don’t respect me, you don’t respect my work-”

“Y/n.”

“You don’t seem to care for how I’m doing, just constantly putting more pressure on me. You never take a moment to stop and think. Maybe you’re not the fucking only person in the world.”

“Y/n.”

“Maybe, for just a second, could you care about someone that isn't you. And maybe, just maybe, would you think it isn’t my job to take care of you when you’re alone or sad, I’m your assistant for god's sake, you big!… fucking!… man baby!”

“Y/n! Oh my god, listen!”

You push him back. “But you never listen to me!”

Hawks’ eyes are wild. He looks flabbergasted, as surprised as you’ve ever seen him. But his open mouth slowly forms into a smirk. Your stomach drops. Whether it’s in anticipation, fear, or maybe even excitement, you don’t know.

“Oh but I do. About the things that are important.”

You tsk. “What things?”

He looks too smug, as he starts to speak.

“I know that you deeply hate the guy from block 1.”

You stare at him with wide eyes.

“I do not-”

He laughs. “Don’t play smart. You frown everytime he opens his mouth during meetings, and always object when he has an idea. It’s obvious.”

Obvious, yet only you’ve noticed.

It’s your turn to look flabbergasted now.

“Okay, so maybe he’s not my favourite person in the world, you’re right about that.”

Hawks smiles.

“And you never wear your hair up. I take it you don’t like the sensation.”

It had never really caught your attention, just how much notice Hawks took of you, compared to how little you took of him. You’re borderline speechless. This always happens to everyone around you. His fans, coworkers, but never you. You 're never affected. The man takes notice, and he suddenly seems closer than before.

“Cat got your tongue?”

If this were five minutes ago, you would’ve sighed and rolled your eyes. But now, you’re silent.

“I just- I didn't know.”

His fingers find Your neck and goosebumps travel through your whole body.

“Didn't know what? That I like you?”

Your immediate reaction is of course, denial.

“That doesn't make any sense. Why would a pro hero be into someone like-”

But you don't get to finish, as he suddenly pulls you close.

“I’m going to kiss you. That okay?”

You’re so surprised that you just freeze, staring up into his big, owlish eyes. You can’t tell what kind of emotion hides behind them.

“Okay,” you whisper, feeling the desire pull in your chest, more intense than you’d ever experienced. Before you get to take another breath, Hawks lips are on yours, soft and wanting, like this is the last time he’s going to kiss you. You really hope that’s not the case.

Breathing is the last thing on your mind as your mouths passionately move together. You’re clutching his shirt hard, and you can feel his erection growing against you.

“I wanna eat you out,” he says, biting your earlobe. The surprisement from all of this has still not entirely passed, but you’ve decided to just go with it.

“Please,” you moan, and it comes out a lot more desperately than you’d anticipated. You clumsy move towards your desk, his lips sucking eagerly on your neck as you both try to unzip your skirt. He hits a spot on the end of your neck that feels incredibly ticklish and good, and you moan a bit too eagerly as he desperately pushes all of the papers off of your desk in one swipe.

You feel a stab of irritation in your chest, and is about to give him a piece of your mind, before he pushes you down with practised ease. His incredible strength really comes to sight in a situation like this. It turns you on a lot more than you’d thought it would. you seem to get surprised a lot today.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

You’re pretty sure he’d be able to spread them just fine himself, but you still listen, flinching a bit when the cold air hits your aching cunt. You’re so wet already that it’s almost embarrassing.

He grips your thighs securely, kissing up your inner thighs. You’re so wet that you can feel the slick dripping down to your asshole.

As soon as he gets started, Hawks is unstoppable. He eats you out like he’s starving. You’re too gone to be embarrassed about the wet squelching sounds, as he eagerly sucks your clit with the confidence of an experienced man. Your legs are shaking, and you’re sure that there will be marks tomorrow from where his fingers grip your thighs tightly.

“Don’t, ngh- don’t stop!” you loudly breathe out, voice trembling as you, to your utmost surprise, suddenly cum. Everything feels overwhelming as he stops, lifting his head, his whole underface covered in your wetness.

“You’re acting like I would ever,” he says, a bit out of breath. You can’t deny your attraction to him anymore, especially in a moment like this. “You taste too sweet,” his voice drops an octave as he leans closer to your face, breathing against your lips. “You can’t imagine how long I've wanted to do this. I could go on all night, until you’re completely dry. And then in the morning, I want to fuck you until my body gives out.”

That would take a while, especially with the incredible stamina he has, you think, feeling as if you’re in some kind of pleasant haze.

“You don’t know how feral I am for you, y/n. It’s scaring even myself.”

You stare up at him in surprise, suddenly unsure of what to do. But you don’t need to be sure about anything, as Hawks leads you through it.

He pulls orgasm after orgasm out of you, as you wonder how you’re even able to take this. On an uncomfortable desk at that. But true to his word, you’re riding him like you’ve never ridden anyone ever before in his apartment a few hours later as the earliest sunlight start to stream through the curtains.

Hawks face is pulled back in pleasure as he slides his hands up your hips, shamelessly studying your bouncing breasts.

“You’re so good for me,” he grumbles, and you let out a pleased whine at the praise. The sheets under you are soaked, but with the way Hawks is praising and caressing you, you feel like you could go on forever.

His mouth drops open, and you can tell that he’s about to cum. You increase your pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin getting impossibly louder. You just hope the neighbours won’t complain tomorrow.

It’s incredibly thrilling, having the famous pro hero in the palm of your hand like this.

“I’m going to cum,” He warns, and not even a second later, warmth suddenly fills your belly as his white seeds coat your walls. You cum yourself only seconds later, resisting the urge not to scream as you feel his cum dribble down onto the sheets, your body spasming with the shocks. You hold back a wince at the distant thought that you’d maybe scratched his back a bit too hard. You’ll have to remember to ask him later if he’s okay. But for now, you can barely keep your eyes open.

“Can we stay like this for a little while?” He asks, and you nod faintly, resting your head on his shoulder. Not a single thought passes behind your eyes, only the warmth of your bodies sticking together and Hawks, Hawks, Hawks.

You didn’t care about the mess. Right now, you only cared about him. And that was enough.

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kryptznnn · 2 months ago

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♡/♛- It's Been A While [ II ]

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➸ INTERESTS; -mha!shouta aizawa x quirk-using!freader

➸ BACKGROUND; - after an attack at the high school you studied in, you were requested by your work firm and the firm of that school to work as a teacher there for extra security, incase an attack were to occur again to protect the students (and teachers). Unfortunately, it won't be as easy as you expected when you rekindle with old friends, and a specific someone.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc. 3.1k, stress, anxiety, house break in, romantic tension, uhh idk classic shi

➸a.i; -omg new chapter woo, working on other works, might post double today or tomorrow.

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♡/♛- It's Been A While [ I ]

♡/♛- It's Been A While Masterlist

You took a deep breath as you were seated in your chair. Classes had finally ended for the day and the students had left. It honestly shouldn’t be legal for teachers to have to be here before and after all classes, but you couldn’t fight it.

Somehow working as a teacher was more draining than your government officials job, you hadn’t felt pain like this in your body for months. Not to mention the fact that your medications has caused you to start the day off slightly out of it.

This might’ve been the worst first day ever, well at least in your opinion. The others had all popped by and asked if everything was alright constantly through the day, well everyone expected Shouta.

It wasn’t surprising honestly, you had expected him to avoid you by all costs, especially after this morning’s altercation. It felt strange seeing him after so long in person, as if there was something unfinished between you two.

Sure you’d seen him in photos your friends would post with their nights out, or on television, but this morning was entirely uncalled for. Thinking back at the way he looked at you sent shivers down your spine, although it was cold and harsh his gaze had a glimmer of sadness in it.

Maybe he felt the same way that you did, remorse maybe? Or was he actually just trying to push you away as he wanted nothing to do with you anymore? It didn’t feel like he didn’t though, but it was hard to read him when your mind wasn’t clear.

You sighed heavily, muttering to yourself as you began to arrange your belongings to leave before hearing a knock on your door, making you turn your head towards the entrance.

“Hey! We’re going out to eat soon, you should come with us.” Hizashi said, you smiled softly at him and shook your head, politely declining his request as you had things to do later. More specifically going back to your firm and reporting your work from your boss and going into any leads he had for you.

Before you were able to hear anymore of Hizashi’s protests, you quickly threw your coat over your shoulders and headed out the door with your bag. Quickly stopping as you hear something fall onto the floor by him, you turned around.

Your pill bottle had fallen out of your pocket, before you were able to open your mouth or take a step forward he had already picked it up. He read it aloud and placed a finger on his chin as if he was thinking, you already knew this was going to unfold into him prying into your business and asking thousands of questions.

You huffed, quickly snatching the bottle from his hands and turning back around, strutting down the hall to leave. You could hear his complaints behind you, but honestly you didn’t care, and he knew better than to follow you. Just as you were making your way out you crossed paths with Shouta, you kept your head down the entire time, squeezing the bottle in your hands.

As you made your way back out to the parking lot you found your keys, quickly unlocking your car and sitting inside, frowning to yourself as you put your pills back where they belonged. This was not going to be easy for you in the slightest, it seems like after one occurrence two more have to show up and it’s suffocating.

“I’m only here for the greater good of the students, and to help the firm arrest those within the League of Villains.” You reminded yourself, starting your car and pulling off, soon connecting your phone to the car and playing music from your playlist. Attempting to cheer yourself up a little, you began to hum and sing along, smiling softly as you continued to drive yourself back to your apartment.

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You had gotten out of your car, leaving your belongings inside and locking your car. As you made your way up the stairs and to the front door of your apartment you had prepared to use your key, only to find your door left slightly open. You paused, thinking to yourself if you had left the door open as you left, only to find the doorknob beaten down and what seemed like footprints dented into your door.

Someone was inside your apartment, and by the looks of it, it must’ve been recent. Knowing your neighbors had been gone recently as they worked in the afternoons, if they were here, they would’ve heard or said something. You reached down by the large plant decorations you had placed on both sides of the door, grabbing your pistol out of the one on the left and a silencer head from the one off the right.

Quickly assembling the pieces together, you opened your front door slowly to its full extent, placing your pistol in head first. You made sure to make as least noise as possible, your breathing completely shallow as you focused your senses on your hearing and grip of your weapon.

After checking all rooms in the house you hadn’t found anyone or anything. Everything was left perfectly in tacked, except for your door of course. Nothing had been out of place or dug into, not even your bedroom or desk, which was strange. Well, not strange entirely, it made you come to a quick realization, whoever came here was here for you, and whoever they were hadn’t left that long ago. You made your way over to your sliding door that led to the balcony, which was completely open.

You decided whether or not to shut it, soon leaving it, knowing law enforcement would arrive after you reported the incident and they’d say you’d be interfering with their work. You sighed, placing your weapon in the back of your pants around the waist, pulling your phone out from your pocket and calling them.

Soon after their arrival you stepped out, answering any questions they were to ask and telling them all you had known. You had also mentioned the fact you had cameras inside of your apartment, along with a doorbell which had one. When pulling up the footage however there was nothing to be seen from early afternoon up until around 10 minutes before you had arrived home.

So, this wasn’t any ordinary person or ordinary break in, this person knew your home and you, personally. This was bad, very bad, your apartment was no longer safe for you or anyone else close enough to you that knew you lived here. You bit down on your bottom lip as you thought of who or what might’ve caused all of this, just to draw straight blanks.

Other officers and detectives soon snapped you out of your thoughts, asking you more questions and if you’re willing to write reports or come down to the station along with them, to which you obliged. Thankfully they were taking this more seriously than they should, as your work in government was considered highly important, so a break in like this with no clues left behind meant something, and it was something you’d never understand anytime soon.

On your way to the station, you wondered exactly who or what group could’ve been behind you, and for what reason. Within your profession there were countless quirked criminals you’d help arrest or stop, there’s no way any of them were actually intelligent enough to find out where you live and if you had cameras. Surprisingly enough, whoever it was that had broken into your apartment must’ve not known you’d be working at UA, because at the time they’d arrived you would’ve been at home resting or cooking before then.

Maybe you weren’t seeing far enough into this, the entire country could have been your enemy, but who exactly could it have been? There’s no way the same person who broke into your apartment crashed your security cams; they had to have had external help. You were meant to be someone who worked underneath the radar, so for something like this to happen to you so abruptly means someone close to you must’ve tipped them off. Either that conclusion or the possibility of you having a stalker on your hands, whatever it was made your head throb out of anxiety.

You really couldn’t get a break, now working at UA was the least of your problems. You had a group out there currently on your tail, unable to figure out if they want you for something or if they want your dead body as a trophy. You had to now triple check yourself, your surroundings, and who you trusted. Not to mention now you’d have to look at new places to move into and live permanently in, as your current apartment is a liability.

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You walked down the hall, reading the room key you had been given at the front desk reading ‘252’, soon finding the door and letting yourself in. Sighing as you placed your bags onto the floor, too tired to even scan the area for anything out of place or unclean. You dug into your pocket, reaching for your phone and quickly unlocking it, going to your contacts and dialing your second to last called number.

“Hello?” The voice said, you kept your composure, ready to hear any sort of slander or scolding from your boss.

“Hey, sorry I couldn’t make it today and speak with you, first day was pretty rough but nothings happened, seems fine.” You spoke, walking around the room towards the window, peeking out the blinds before closing them and the curtain.

“Yeah, I already heard what happened. I’m glad to hear you’re doing better now at least; your safety is a priority.” He spoke calmly, earning a shocked look from you, it was obvious he had already known what had happened as all police reports of his own agents go through to him, but it’s the first time you might’ve heard him sympathetic for your situation.

“Thank you, sir, I’ll be keeping a low profile for a while until I can find a more secure place to stay.” You spoke, nodding to yourself as you awaited his response, you could hear him chuckle over the phone.

“I’ve seen that you’ve hidden your current location from everyone and everything, you even shut off the services on your devices. I’ve taught you well.” He spoke boldly, earning a smile from you, he sounded more proud of himself than you honestly.

You two only spoke for a couple seconds after before you yawned, earning another chuckle from him as he wrapped the call, saying to head to bed as you had a long day awaiting you tomorrow. You only agreed and thanked him, wishing him a goodnight as you began to unpack a small amount of stuff from one of your many bags.

You prepared yourself for bed and changed your clothes, wrapping your hair and placing it within your scarf/bonnet and charging your phone. You soon laid underneath your covers and honestly it didn’t take much for you to fall asleep.

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“I swear I’ll be there soon, I only overslept for a little while, my GPS says 5 minutes!” You shouted over the phone, earning a disapproving grunt from Nimuri, who had called you to find out where you were, as everyone was in the teachers lounge except you.

“While you’re doing nothing do you think you could save me something to eat? I haven’t had anythi-“

“Is she almost here? I thought you wanted us to talk” You heard a gruff voice in the background of the call spoke, knowing that voice could only belong to one person.

Shouta

Why was he so close to Nimuri? Was he listening in on your call? Did Nimuri put you on speakerphone? Without thought you placed your hand off the wheel for a quick second, hanging up the call. You quickly shook the thoughts out of your head, now speeding down the road to get to work, soon making it in 2 minutes and beating the estimated arrival time of 5.

You parked your car and picked up your bag, checking in your rear-view mirror at your reflection before leaving and locking your car. You soon made your way inside, only 7 minutes left to spare before the bell had rung and make your way to your class.

“Y/n, finally girl” you heard Nimuri speak, making her way over to you and hugging you. You hugged her but left your face above her shoulder, careful to not get any makeup on her white suit. You walked into the teachers' lounge with her, keeping your head down as you sat in the spot she had reserved for you with your food.

Creamed coffee and a bagel with cream cheese, honestly if you weren’t about to die of starvation you wouldn’t have even eaten it, but you did. As you thanked your friend for preparing it for you, questions started arising from her and the others, only Shouta remained silent.

“Why are you so late? You’re never late to anything, and you look tired as hell” She stated, pointing at your furrowed brows and weak eyes. Honestly if you had more time to do a full face of makeup, she wouldn’t have been able to tell you were tired. You shrugged it off and took a sip of your coffee, pointing back at her.

“I went to bed super late, had lots to do” you answered shortly, taking a bite of the bagel. She now made her way over to you, scanning your face as the others began to ask why, especially Hizashi, repeating his question.

“My apartment was broken into yesterday after work, so I had to find another place to stay.” You answered without thought, finishing your food and coffee and getting up to throw them out. The entire room was left surprised by your answer, now questioning even more of what had happened to you and if you were alright.

You only nodded, cleaning off your face for any crumbs and reapplying your lip gloss, grabbing your bag from the table. You looked back up at the room, who all glanced at you with pitiful expressions, making you raise a brow.

“It’s truly not a big deal, I’m here to work, not gossip about my personal life. There’s no need be concerned when everything is already handled with.” You said professionally, making your way to leave the room as the bell rang.

Well, that was awkward enough, honestly, they shouldn’t have even known that’d happened. This could’ve jeopardized your placement even more which was bad, what happened to treading carefully. Any idea of that or keeping a low profile had been thrown completely out the window. Well it wasn’t entirely bad, it’s not like they know you planned on living in a hotel for next week, or had been paying in cash for whatever you had to buy since yesterday for safety measur-

“Y/n” you heard a voice from behind you speak softly, you stopped dead in your tracks right in front of the entrance of your classroom. With a sigh you turned around, keeping your eyes plastered down as they made their way up to see-

“Shouta.” You spoke in surprise, unaware to think of why he had called you or what he was doing right behind you. “Good morning, did you need something,” You played off, looking around the hall and behind you, holding your briefcase with both hands.

He looked at your face then your figure, looking off to the side and placing a hand on the back of his neck. Seeming anxious as if he had something to say but couldn’t find the right words to say it. He had always been like that, ever since the two of you were friends and even when you dated.

He would never say or speak his mind unless if it was pushed or forced out of him. Which is what made it so surprising when he was the first person to confess to you back in high school, wanting to date you.

“I’m sorry that we got off on the wrong foot, it’s nice to see you again and I hope you’re doing well. I’m sorry to hear what happened to your apartment.” He spoke slowly, unable to look you in the eyes, as you scanned his face trying to read him.

He swallowed as if there was more to come after his comment, so you held your tongue. As he opened his mouth you looked down slightly, watching his Adam’s apple flex before he wet his lips and spoke.

“The others brought up an idea and said that I should follow it through to help you out after what happened...” He said, now nervous, his body gave him away, but his voice remained at ease and gruff. “I have plenty of space at my place, if you’d like you can stay with me for the time being.” He said, his statement sounding slightly like a question, you stood there looking at him wide-eyed.

What

You were baffled, there was physically nothing you could say in the moment. Trying to wrap your entire head around what had just happened. He’s asking you to move in with him? Is this out of pity or something else?

Your coworker who gave you a cold look and did his best to avoid you yesterday is now asking you today if you’d like to move in with him, in his apartment, after not seeing each other in person for years.

Your ex-boyfriend is asking you to move in with him because your apartment was just broken into, and you have nowhere to stay. Regardless of how the situation goes you couldn’t possibly just say yes and go, you’d put him in jeopardy by whoever was after you.

This was a hard pill to swallow, it was unexpected, unplanned and messy. Right now, the offer was nice yes, but the person who was giving it to you and your relationship with them was bad. If the others had put him up to this it wasn’t funny in the slightest, nor amusing.

You weren’t even clouded with anxiety or anger it was pure confusion. You exhaled deeply, shutting your eyes before opening them, looking over at him. His eyes already glued on yours awaiting an answer.

“Give me some time to think about it” You responded, entering your classroom and shutting the door, resting your head and hand on the door before turning around and placing your bag on your desk and welcoming your first class of the day.

What a series of unfortunate events in just the span of two days.

You needed to find a solid answer for Shouta, and you needed to find it fast.

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Taglist: @getoisinnocent

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn

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fluffyfantasticducky · 1 year ago

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How to Cure Pains and Heartaches

☆ Pairing: Loki x Reader

☆ Synopsis: After such a bitter end, Loki has no choice but to fade away. To his surprise he awakens in bed where he will be taken care of. Why? What do they want of him? Who's that lovely mortal?

☆ Word Count: 6,266

☆ Notes: Loki being a swooning darling, he's recovering from injuries in a fix it AU where he survives the attack on the Statesman and he gets to live on earth.

☆ Warnings: Mention of Loki's trauma and torture courtesy of the Mad Titan, fuck you Thanos. Mention of gaining weight (but it isn't given a negative conotation).

No one could deny Loki had gone through a lot of stuff, simply his Asgardian nature and the amount of exposure he had had with war from a young age would (rightfully) horrify most Midgardians, plus the pressure of being royalty and the responsibility it demanded with him.

In retrospect, Loki always knew his amount of responsibility were no way near as high as Thor’s, which allowed Loki to get some relief by following his nature as God of Mischief. But still: meetings, war council, royal balls, and in general trying to keep an image of perfection to most of Asgard other than Thor’s group and his parents who truly knew of Loki’s more playful nature, it was quite draining.

And that was before the true horrors.

That one trip to Jotunheim had been the source of over a decade of disgrace. Knowing all that battle would cause, he never would’ve let those three other Jotuns into the vaults of Valaskjalf.

After that, it was tragedy after tragedy. And the worst of them happened in the Sanctuary II.

At first, he thought some bounty hunters had recognized him, given they seem to know who he was, and the only reason they spared his life was because it would be about a matter of time until they’d bargain his life with Odin.

But after several months where he was starved, and his only contact was to be tortured, where the Black Order tore his body apart bit by bit, breaking bones, tearing skin only to throw him back into an isolation cell, where all that kept him together was his pride and the thought that Heimdall could see him and start a rescue mission, thing he learned years later couldn’t be done.

And when he didn’t cave in, they shattered his mind as well, using the Mind Stone on his scepter, giving him no choice but to submit. Everything bad in his life prior to that point seemed to be blissful field trip.

And for many years later he thought he would spend the rest of his life suffering to atone to the horrors he unleashed onto Jotunheim and New York. And by the time the Sanctuary II intercepted the Asgardian escape ship on its way to Earth, and he felt himself fading from reality… nothing had proved him otherwise.

At least he had protected his brother…

…

Who would’ve thought that the next time he opened his eyes he would be laying in a hospital bed, flowers by his ankles and a cervical collar? He had a thousand questions. Where was he? Who brought him there? Why had he been saved? Why couldn’t they let him just die?

Just when he thought it was another round of the same type of torture the Black Order inflicted on him, the door opened… Only about a few hours after waking up, and just in time when his stomach started growling.

The first time he saw you, you felt like a vision. Beautiful and most of it all, kind.

“Loki how are you feeling?” you smiled at him, as you stepped inside the room with a tray of warm food. The smell made his mouth water. “Were you waiting for long? Sorry, I didn’t hear you wake up.”

Loki was quietly staring at you. Not only because his throat was dry, but because he had no idea who you were or what were your intentions.

But you didn’t seem bothered by his silence. You just let out a little chuckle.

“You seem more active today” you smiled, “Usually you can only stay awake for a few seconds. Are you hungry?”

Loki wanted to be proud and say nothing, but his body’s needs were stronger, and a rather loud growl of his stomach gave it away how hungry he was, making his cheeks flare up in embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, I would be hungry too if I hadn’t eaten anything in 5 years” you spoke compassionately, but with a hint of humor.

5 years?!?

“How long have I been here?” he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse beyond recognition, and it hurt to speak.

“Oh, you poor thing, you must be thirsty” you said as you reached his food tray and grabbed a cup of water with a straw and placed it just before his lips. “About your question, a few weeks, a Stark satellite detected a faint life signal and Thor went to find you.”

You spoke in such a humane manner that Loki couldn’t help but lower his guard a bit, and he opened his mouth as you helped him drink.

The water was cold and fresh, it felt so relieving that he couldn’t hold back a sigh when he finished drinking, that only happened when the cup was empty.

You let out a soft giggle at the sight of him. It was then that he recognized you, sort of.

He vaguely remembered your laugh, it was faint, but if he pushed himself to think about it, it was there. He never saw your face, but the sound was familiar, so he concluded it must have been previous visits while he was still unconscious.

It was a pretty sound… innocent, pure.

“You mentioned my brother…” Loki asked. “Is he…?”

As he made his question, you set a table before him and the tray on top of it. It was a huge bowl of soup, and one of mashed potatoes. His stomach growled once again.

“Thor has been visiting you every day practically without exception” you told him. “He talks to you, keeps you updated about his life. Last week he came with Doctor Foster, it seems they started seeing each other again. But we’ve notified him you’re finally awake.”

You sat beside him on the edge of the bed and grabbed the spoon on the tray and started feeding him the soup. It was so warm, and the flavor was rich, that his eyes started watering. What cruel trick was all this kindness? When would this all go South?

His forming tears didn’t go unnoticed, and you cupped his face, your soft fingers caressing his cheeks to clean his tears.

“You don’t have a fever, does it hurt anywhere?” you asked.

“No… I feel per—” he choked on his words, “I feel perfectly fine… all things considered.”

“I’ll monitor your reflex later, but first focus on eating” you said gently. “You need to regain your strength.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, he was so hungry that if he had had more strength, he would just hold the bowl and chug it all down. By the time he was onto the mashed potatoes he was a lot stronger, the second meal was just as tasty, seasoned just right to make him want to keep eating until his stomach popped.

He even let out a soft little breathy burp, which made you giggle again.

“Don’t eat so fast!” you scolded him with a happy tone.

He found it in himself to laugh softly along with you.

“5 years without food, I remind you” he joked back. “I’ll eat as fast as I can.”

“You were blipped 5 years... you didn’t age a day.”

“Blipped?”

You spent the next few minutes filling him in what had happened. Thanos won, and half of the universal population vanished, for them it was only a few minutes at most… while the rest of the universe aged 5 years. Five years, where everyone thought he was dead, where he was dead.

Now, Loki wanted to cry. The amount of relief that washed over him made him rest back.

“Finally… I’m free…” he sighed. “It’s over… he’s gone…”

He tried covering his eyes when he noticed the sting coming from his left arm, he noticed a cast neatly wrapped around it.

“Your neck injury was the most concerning, but your arm and ankle were badly wounded as well” you explained, and he noticed another cast covering his foot from arch to his ankle. “Although your foot is mostly healed by now.”

He put some attention to his bandaged foot and wiggled his toes, which thank the gods responded perfectly.

“It’s a bit itchy” Loki pointed out.

“I’m pretty sure that’s normal” you chuckled and grabbed a pencil from your pocket, and sneaked it in his cast, and scratched his sole. “Here.”

But the touch, while it somewhat alleviated the itch, it had an unexpected tickly feeling that caused Loki to yelp and jerked his foot back.

“Hehe-hey!” he giggled.

“I’m sorry” you apologized with a soft chuckle.

“You’re lucky I’m too weakened to put a dagger to your throat” Loki spoke, but he noticed he couldn’t get rid of the amusement in his voice.

“Perhaps I should take the chance to really make you laugh then.” You smiled, twirling the pencil on your fingers. “Given you can’t do anything to stop me.”

“Don’t even think about it!” Loki blurted out, “If you even dare to… to…”

He felt his cheeks flush. It had been so long since he had been tickled, it felt silly, plus he was quite vulnerable right now.

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to upset you” you assured him, “…yet.”

You let out another soft laugh at the indignation in his face.

“Do you not know the consequences of crossing me?” Loki asked, “Are you that ignorant of the capabilities of the God of Mischief? I have terrorized this realm, Midgard bows before my power! I could finish you with a single hand.”

“What would you get out of it?” you asked bluntly. “You live here now; you would only lose.”

He looked at you and opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Not only was he too weak right now to even keep that threat, but truly besides that little tickle you had been nothing to but kind to him, and even that had been with the intention to help him.

“Do you truly not fear me?” Loki asked after another moment of silence.

“Should I?” you asked with a happy smile.

Perhaps he found that little grin of yours to be too charming, it could be the fact that you had his food and water at your mercy, or it could be the fact that you were a purely friendly presence, which he hadn’t had in… he couldn’t remember for how long. But he truly didn’t want you to be scared of him.

“I suppose not” he finally said.

“Predictable.”

Loki let out a laugh.

“You’re a funny little one” Loki smiled.

Just then a loud noise came in as if something huge was stomping their way through the hall. Which proved to be not far off because soon a large blond figure tumbled onto the door frame.

“Brother…” both Asgardians said in unison.

The older brother’s eyes filled with tears as he rushed to the bed, and with the last self-control he possessed, Thor didn’t tackle the raven haired into a bear hug. Just… collapsed on his knees by the side of his bed.

“You’re awake…” the God of Thunder burst into messy sobs. “…Alive.”

In other times, Loki would’ve found Thor’s reaction ridiculous, mockable, or annoying… but after all they had been through and seeing the streak of his own hair tangled in one of Thor’s braids… he let out a soft sob as he gently reached to place his hand on Thor’s head.

“Ahem!” you cleared your throat to make yourself present. “As long as you’re careful with his neck, you two can hug.”

You smiled and left the room to give them space. Both brothers let out a laugh and Thor cradled his little brother in his arms, supporting his head as if he was a baby as his other hand was squeezing Loki.

“I told you the sun would shine on us again” Loki spoke softly.

“You idiotic, insincere, irresponsible, impulsive, inconsiderate fool!” Thor scolded him, sounding more relieved than anything.

“Oh, good, you ran out of insults that started with an I” Loki laughed.

“I beg you, brother. Never give me a scare like that again” Thor begged.

“In my defense, I didn’t fake it this time” he whispered.

There was an awkward silence as none of the princes knew what to say to each other, there was so much to say, but… where to start?

“I… heard you started seeing Doctor Foster again.”

That made Thor smile as started telling Loki what he had done with his life, how Asgard was doing, which was what finally broke Loki, hearing Asgard managed to live on was that finally burst into tears as he hugged his brother again.

The two brothers talked for hours, and for the first time in years, if not ever, Loki felt the conversation with his brother be purely lighthearted. He was so lost in the chat that it took him hours to notice…

“You’ve gained weight” Loki pointed out.

“Quiet, you imp…” Thor snorted. “It’s been tough these last 5 years.”

“I… did not mean to be judgmental” Loki assured him. “It just… I’ve been out for so long…”

“Well, don’t get used to this, I’m already exercising again, and I’m renouncing to beer… aside from social events” Thor said happily.

“Oh? I didn’t know you drank” Loki tilted his head. “But… good for you.”

Thor’s face darkened, making Loki immediately regret his comment.

“It was… Very rough five years…” Thor said again. “I suppose time wasn’t kind on me.”

Loki felt a pang of guilt settle on his chest, after Ragnarök he truly had no intention to pull another stunt like that. For once, he had every intention to stick by Thor’s side.

But at the time the Sanctuary II intercepted their ship, all Loki could think was protecting Thor. Because he knew that if anything happened to his brother, no one else would’ve had a fighting chance against the Mad Titan. But he had been reckless.

“I— I’m sorry brother…” Loki apologized, and Thor smiled at him. “How’s Asgard?”

“It’s been difficult as you may imagine… but, you know… us Asgardians are stubborn, we’ve managed.” Thor smile. “Little Asgard is thriving!”

“Oh, I’m painfully aware, you’re all a nightmare” Loki joked, making Thor laugh again.

Despite his sarcasm, something in the way Thor said us Asgardians made Loki smile, by now Thor knew very well his true nature, and yet he still treated him as one of his own, like his brother, maybe not bound by blood, but by something stronger.

The conversation kept going until Loki’s stomach growled in hunger, but by then the sun had set a while ago. And it didn’t take long after when you had stepped in the room with a tray of food and Thor excused himself for the night.

The meals were simple and soft for a good while, porridge, broths and soups, sauce-less pastas, yogurts, Jello, but having a pretty mortal such as yourself literally feeding him and tending to his every whim made his recovery quite pleasant. Especially when he started eating solid foods again and the meals were a lot tastier.

“You’re healing quite fast,” you told him as you checked monitored his ribs for any soreness. “I’ve heard injuries usually take maybe 3 or 4 times longer to heal. …In the best of circumstances, but Stephen said your bones are practically all healed now.”

“If someone can pull out a miracle like that, a god should be the right place to go” he joked as he kept holding his shirt up so you could.

“That’s fair, also having the best doctors and technology at our disposal helps, doesn’t it?” you quipped.

“Do not underestimate my divinity, mortal” he said dramatically.

“Oh, yes, forgive me, your godly-ness…” you bowed just as dramatically.

“You’ve been gaining weight” you said as you prodded your stomach.

He let out a yelp.

“Rude” he said cheekily.

“No, I mean, you were practically nothing but skin and bones when we found you” you assured him, “I mean you seem healthier now. You must be in your healthy weight again by now.”

“Do not flatter me” Loki smirked.

“Flatter you?” you gasped out a laugh. “Nonsense, it’s been my care the reason you no longer look like a malnourished cat!”

He did not expect you to start prodding and squeezing his belly, instantly causing him to burst out laughing. Curse his gut for being this vulnerable to your playful fingers.

“Nohohohoho! Don’t!” he whined between cackles. “Stohohohop!”

“Oh my god!” you laughed and gave him a small breather “I didn’t even have to do anything… But if you insist…”

“W-What…? Insist…?”

“I won’t stop…”

“W-What? N-No! PLEHEHEHEASE! NO! STOP!” Loki begged despite his pride, but the way you kept squeezing his belly, giving his skin soft pinches made him wheeze out shaky laughter was too much. “NOT MY— NOHOHOHOHOHO!”

You started focusing on the patch of skin around his belly button, which surprisingly enough was even more ticklish than his navel itself. He started digging his heels onto the mattress as he arched and squirmed on the bed.

“Okay, okay!” you squeaked out as you grabbed his ankle, forgetting your playful attack, to settle him back on bed. “Easy there… you’ll hurt your foot again.”

He was more focused on catching breath, but he still felt you helping him stretch and move his ankle to check if he hadn’t hurt himself in the middle of his squirming.

“You’re… huff… huff… the worst nurse…” he groaned.

“Ask for another nurse who can deal with you” you chuckled as you gently tickled his sole making him let out a giggle.

You weren’t exactly part of the medical team, but after everything that had happened, the Avengers were understaffed, and every task that Tony’s technology couldn’t fill in were done by the Avengers themselves, his brother and Maximoff twins helped with cleaning, Bruce and Clint cooked, Tony handled the finances (in more than just been the Compound’s sponsor), and so and so.

You were a lab assistant, although, not in the medical field. Yet, given your friendly nature and bond with the God of Thunder, Thor himself had entrusted you to look after his most precious thing, his little brother. But under normal circumstances, you’d be working with chemicals or mechanics by the side of your mentors and the Spiderling.

Although now, you had been tasked solely to look after Loki, given no one else was capacitated to deal with him and you seemed to understand each other, and Loki even had friendly interactions with you. Or well, friendly for Loki.

“Get up!” you whined pulling him by his healthy arm.

“I don’t want to” Loki protested.

“Why not?” you huffed defeatedly as you let go of him.

“I don’t exactly feel excited to be sat on a cold table to be prodded and squeezed and all to get stabbed.”

“Injections aren’t the same as getting stabbed, you big baby” you laughed, as you poked his sides, causing Loki to jump and swat your hand away.

“It’s a sharp metal piercing my skin, isn’t it?” he defended himself as he crossed his arm across his chest. “Call me a baby if you please, but it doesn’t excite me being pierced by your tiny blades.”

“L-Loki… are you afraid of needles?” you asked with an amused smile, he could tell by your tone that you were holding back laughter.

“I am not!” he scoffed.

“Oh! You are!” you smiled immensely.

“Is this funny to you?”

“N-No… Don’t worry, it’s cute. I used to fear needles too, you know, when I was five.” You grinned.

Loki’s ears perked up.

“That was a lie” he smiled cockily.

“What?”

“That’s a lie” he repeated himself. “You either still fear them or just recently stopped doing so.”

“Wha— that’s…” your cheeks turning pink were the last tell.

“God of Lies, don’t bother denying it. I can tell when some lies to me” he grinned triumphantly. “Don’t worry, it’s cute.”

You huffed as you smacked the back of his hand.

“And here I was going to tell you my trick to control my nerves” you huffed.

“Which is…?” Loki asked, partly to tease you, but deep down actually wanting to know.

You shuffled through your bag and pull-out headphones and handed them to him. Loki forced himself to ignore the way your hand brushed against his when you handed them to him.

“Just close your eyes and listen to some music” you smiled, “it helps with a lot of things. But if you need to you can hold my hand and squeeze it if you get scared.”

He smiled at you. “Thank you.”

“Tell you what, if you’re brave, I’ll make sure you have your favorite ice cream for dessert today. How does that sound?” you offered.

“I’m not a child you can’t bribe like that” Loki rolled his eyes, “… Two bowls.”

You nodded and helped him get up and walk to get his check up and vaccine. Given how long he had been in bed, he was still doing some rehab and needed help to walk longer distances.

And he did take your word and held your hand all the time, although he did notice it was you who squeezed his hand when the needle came out. He had even forgotten to put on the headphones by the time the needle was out. And you did keep your word of spoiling him with his favorite ice cream.

“The second bowl is gonna melt, so you might as well eat it with me…” he mumbled between bites.

In a few months Loki was practically fully recovered and soon he was starting his rehab trainings. And of course, he had already picked a sparring partner.

“Do not go easy on me” Loki stated the first time.

“Oh, you like it rough then?” you grinned as you two circled around each other on the sparring mat. “Duly noted.”

He was not one new to flirtatious exchanges. He had been alive for over a millennium, and he had had plenty lovers before. But for some reason your banter made him flustered and tied his tongue into a knot.

“If I wanted it rough, I’d pick literally anyone else, agent” Loki excused himself. “You couldn’t take me if you tried.”

“Couldn’t I?” you grinned, noticing his cheeks flare up.

Damn you, you tenacious and annoyingly perceptive little thing.

“In a fight, you pest” Loki huffed.

“Ah, bummer” you smiled cheekily.

And while it was true that your human strength wasn’t a match for his regular god-like standards, you actually provided an interesting challenge. Besides, he was still recovering so using his full strength wasn’t an option anyway. You were fast, and you jumped around him like a rabbit and landed the softest blows as he spun around you trying to follow or even read your patterns.

“What’s wrong, is the mighty God of Mischief unable to catch up?” you smiled as you poked his ribs lightly before sneaking away.

You didn’t expect Loki to yelp.

“D-Don’t!”

Your face was puzzled for just a second, but as soon as it had happened, you had put two and two together and grinned in an almost cartoonish way.

“I think this training just became more fun” you smile as you poked him again.

“Do not even think about it!” he huffed, as a nervous smile twitched its way into his lips.

“What happened to not go easy on you? I’m just obeying.” you grinned and started chasing him after.

The way you wiggled your fingers with a mischievous in his direction awoke something primally playful. And as a bright smile appeared on his face, he started running away from you.

“You will never catch me!” he called as he ran.

You laughed and ran after him.

He would never admit it out loud, but the way he felt in that moment was rejuvenating, he hadn’t done something so silly and non-transcendent purely for the sake that it was fun. But you were ditching training to chase him around under the threat of tickling him if you caught him. All for the sake of playing with him like a kid despite both of you being young adults. And even more surprising is that Loki found himself eager to play along, even if the idea of getting tickled made him nervous.

Which… eventually did happen, curse his weakened stamina and aching ankle. That day he also learned to fear when you threatened him with tickles, you were devastating when you wanted to be.

“Nohohoho!” he laughed as your fingers dug onto his stomach. “This is ehehehe cruel!”

By the time you had caught up with him you had already reached the living room and he had tumbled onto the couch.

“Oh my gosh, you’re so ticklish!” you giggle, your finger swirling around his navel.

“Ehehehehe! Get away from there!” he laughed. “Oh Norns! Stop it!”

“C’mon, Loki, you’re a big guy, you can take it!” you giggled and kneaded his belly sides with your fingers with terrifying skill.

But you were kind enough to give him a break.

“Gods abohohohohove, I’m begging you, dove!” he whined. “Don’t torturehehehehe me like this!”

But it somehow served to strengthen your bond. Loki already had a good concept of you, you were a kind and generous person. You were one of the few people he could’ve called a friend. But seeing you weren’t completely disciplined and were willing to break schedule to have mindless fun was relieving. He feared that living in a S.H.I.E.L.D. building would mean they expected him to become a soldier.

So, he started looking for you out of the designated times you had together. He had come to really like to come and annoy you when you were working, playing with your pencils, hiding your stuff, and of course tickling you to distract you when he was craving your attention… which happened pretty often.

“Lohohohoki!” you whined. “I’m wohohorking!”

“I’m not saying you should stop” he grinned as he skittered his fingers along your ribs and sides, just gently scratching over your thin shirt. “Take this as a test of your focus.”

“Nohohohoho, Loki!” you wheezed. “Ihihihit’s so bahahahad! Stohohohop ihihit!”

“Mm~ I’m not sure” he purred in your ear, knowing damn well how much it made you curl up in a ball. “I kinda like hearing the noises you make, they’re… what’s the word? Cute~”

You screeched as you hid your face with your hands, muffling your laughter. Norns, you were so precious. He may have been teasing you when he said you were cute, but he meant it.

You were a lovely company, helping him heal by doing his routines and rehabilitation regimes, while he reviewed the files regarding New Asgard. You massaged his healing ankle while Loki read the documents that were handed to him.

“This is absolutely atrocious!” Loki scoffed smacking the files. “What is this, Infinity Conez? Who approved this? Look at this! Thanos getting the Infinity Stones is a universal tragedy, but to my people more than anyone!”

“Well, that’s why Thor created the New Asgard Council” you reminded him. “He gets help ruling Asgard, and Asgard gets a group of capable people leading them. You have voice and vote.”

“They will hear about this” Loki said firmly. “I will not allow my people to see that when they go to the market! That’s just disrespectful and heartless!”

“I agree with that” you nodded. “I’d be hurt to see something that traumatic turned into an attraction, there must be a better way to make an ice cream store. What about B-Ice Frost?”

“B-Ice Frost?” Loki asked.

“Yeah! A rainbow bridge themed ice cream store that actually gives a nod to your culture” you suggested. “The logo could an ice cream cone with rainbow sprinkles.”

“Hmm, I’ll notify that suggestion,” Loki nodded as he wrote it down. “Thank you.”

Months into knowing each other and spending a ridiculous amount of time together, and Loki started noticing how being around you boosted his mood, he couldn’t stop thinking about certain details about you, like the way you played with your hands when you were nervous, or how you scrunched up your nose slightly when you smiled at him, how your eyes sparkled when you were assigned a new project you had been excited for, the butterflies in his belly when you placed your hands on him even to greet him or help him stretch before training. And…

Oh Gods… he was falling in love with you.

For a while he didn’t know what to do with himself. He tried carrying himself normally. But it was overwhelming the way he felt about you, it took one look in your direction, and he felt his heart racing. Trying to avoid you didn’t work either, because his entire being craved being around you, so that didn’t last too long. So, at some point, he stopped fighting it. He knew there was no way a being as good as you would even look in his direction, he was a monster, who had done unforgivable things to your planet.

Surely, your kindness had a limit. Surely, once he was fully healed, you’d forget about him. In fact, Loki feared the day he’d be considered fully recovered and you’d abandon him.

“C’mon, lazybones. We’re late for training” you grinned as you pulled him from the couch.

“I do not feel like training today” Loki yawned as he stretched out his arms to you as an invitation to hug him. “Why don’t we watch a movie? You can choose.”

The way your resolve faltered was beyond endearing. Even if you two weren’t anything, it was common knowledge you were what they called a cuddle bug.

“Loki… it’s important you do your rehab exercises” you said softly.

“I am not in the mood for training” Loki repeated.

“Oh, is that how it is?” you said in a playful yet menacing tone. “I’ll have to persuade you then.”

“What? N-No! D-dohohon’t!” Loki burst out laughing when he felt your fingers over his belly. “Nohohoho! Not thehehehehere!”

“Get up!” you teased him as your fingers pinched the sides of his stomach.

“I don’t wahahahant to!” Loki laughed as he kicked the cushions with his heels. “I’m comfortable hehehehere!”

“It’s important you do your exercises, it’s part of your rehab!” you insisted. “C’mon, doctor’s orders.”

“I dohohohon’t follow a mortal’s— ahaha orders!” he wheezed when you found that damned spot below his navel.

“Then I’m not stopping, you’ll spend the evening as a giggly wiggly worm.”

He had to give you something, you knew exactly how to make him squirm. His hips were bucking trying to stop you and his hands were pushing your wrist, but he wasn’t used to dealing with a normal human’s strength, so he didn’t want to risk hurting you.

“Pleahahahase! Cut it— OW!”

Immediately you jolted and stop everything you were doing, cupping your hands over your mouth and looking at him horrified.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” you asked.

“Yes, I’m quite alright. My back aches… that is all.” He assured you as he sat back up.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful, you’re still recovering.”

“Oh no, the back pain has been with me for quite a few years already” he said, wanting to ease your conscious.

“What…?”

“Well, yes. The Black Order aren’t exactly kind when they force you into their lines.” Loki said simply. “The pain comes back every so often.”

“I’m sorry…” you look at him. “Can I help?”

“Unfortunately, there’s nothing you could d—”

You surprised him by sitting behind him and started rubbing his shoulders, softly at first, feeling him.

“No wonder you are sore, you’re stiff like a board” you said feeling around his spine, soon starting to add more pressure.

He let out a few groans, it hurt a bit at first as you undid the knots of stress of his shoulders. He sighed as he soon felt himself slipping away.

“C’mere” you spoke with utmost softness, as you helped Loki rest on his stomach just to keep massaging his back. “Hehe, you take up most of the couch, I kinda forget how tall you are sometimes.”

“Sorry…” he yawned no even filtering his thoughts.

“It’s okay” you said amusedly, “it’s not a bad thing.”

Your hands rubbed his back with gentle and caring touch. You were so kind and meticulous. Your skill might be up for debate, you were good, but someone much pickier could argue there were professional masseuse that were much better. Perhaps that was true, but no one else had touched him so lovingly, so selflessly. You took your time, and he even noticed every so often you stopped to stretch your fingers that grew tired, but you didn’t complain, you didn’t stop.

He didn’t know when or for how long, but when he woke up you were still massaging your back.

“You snore when you sleep” you spoke in the softest voice, he didn’t want to get his hopes up, but you seemed endeared. “Had a nice nap?”

“Probably the best nap I’ve had since I was maybe 150 years old.” He said, letting out a chuckle at your confusion. “I was still a toddler by then.”

“I’m glad… you really seemed like you needed it” you said softly. “Do you feel better?”

He let out a yawn and stretch, rolling over on his back to look at you.

“Much better, thank you” he smiled politely.

“No problem…” you said with a shyness that was unfamiliar for him, he even got to see the pleasure to see a lovely blush adorning your cheeks. “Um… w-well… I’ll go to… you know…”

“Ah, of course…” he muttered as he saw you run off.

He was a little bit disappointed, but he tried not to think too much about your attitude for the sake of his sanity. Of course, he failed. It was the only thing he could think about

It made him build up the courage to go out for town and buy a bouquet. He thought about red roses, but he saw a bouquet of violets and purple sweet peas and white roses, he just knew that was the one.

He even used his phone for a change to ask you to meet him in the compounds garden, he hated using his cellphone. He had asked Banner to let him use his therapy flower greenhouse. He calculated the hour for the prettiest sky colors to ensure a romantic setting for his love declarations.

Minutes earlier his heart was thumping so loud it was drumming in his ears. He felt his mouth dry, and he was sweaty.

“Loki?” he finally heard your voice as you walked in.

“Over here!” he called as he set his bouquet, behind him, barely hiding it behind himself. “H-Hi… Thanks for coming.”

“No problem” you smiled. “I didn’t know you wanted to try Bruce’s gardening therapy. That’s really good.”

“N-No… I— Uh… I just wanted to… have some privacy.”

“Oh?” you asked as you sat behind him.

“I just… wanted to uh, give you this… as a thank you” Loki said, handing you the bouquet. “You’ve been exceedingly kind to me for months, helping me heal, keeping me in check, and that massage the other day… it really helped me feel better.”

“It’s been my pleasure. You’ve been a lovely patient” you said sweetly as you smelled the flowers.

“T-That’s not the only reason why I wanted to… see you here…” Loki barely spoke out, his mouth felt dry, and he felt lightheaded. “You’ve been a delightful company and a wonderful friend… I can’t say that about a lot of people, and probably even less can say the same thing about myself…”

“That’s not true.” You cut him off. “You’re funny, well-mannered, smart, educated, charmingly stubborn, and a stimulating company. There’s not a boring moment with you around.”

Loki’s cheeks flushed at your sweet words, you weren’t even trying to, but his heart fluttered.

“T-That’s why I mean, you are… a— uh… this is ah— not easy to say… but you… um… I appreciate you.”

“I like you too, you’re a lovely friend” you said sweetly.

“N-No… I am not trying to be friendly” Loki said in a quick gasp of courage. “I-I would like to f-formally court you.”

“Court me…?”

“I think here on Midgard it’s addressed as dating…” Loki said, bracing himself for rejection.

“I’d love to.”

“What…?” Loki asked.

“I’d love to go out with you” you said, gently kissing his cheek.

Loki grinned happily.

“Tomorrow at 8?” Loki offered, “I— we could go to a nice restaurant, I’ll take you there. I could ask for a chauffeur to take us… we— we could…”

You surprised him with a little poke on the ribs, that cut him off with the urge to giggle.

“8 is perfect, I’ll drive us to wherever you like” you smiled, “Just pick a restaurant. But, how about tonight I take you for a nice dinner inside and a movie on the lounge room?”

“I’d like that, very much” Loki smiled softly as he pressed his forehead against yours.

He saw you intertwine your fingers with his own, causing him to smile. You lovely thing. It was a lovely sensation. As you pulled him up to his feet, so he’d follow you inside. Which he did with a bright smile.

What a lovely life he had found on Earth.

| MASTERPOST |

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