#and everything else that comes with going to school i did

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 12

Summary: Wanda deals with the aftermath of your breakup.

A/N: This chapter is focused on Wanda. Big thanks to @a-cat-on-titan for an idea that made it on a part of the fic :)

Aint no mountain high enough

Ain’t no valley low enough

“Ain’t no river wiiideee enoough” Wanda dances around the kitchen, singing.

It’s never quiet around the house. There’s always music, or drilling or hammering. Because she’s taken into making (badly built) furniture. And pottery. And yoga.

To anyone else, it may seem like Wanda’s living her best life.

But Pietro’s not just anyone.

His sister is running away from her feelings, keeping herself busy just so she doesn’t have time to miss you.

“Oh, morning. Want anything for breakfast?”

“I’ll make something later, thank you” he refuses the offer, feeling better and finding his movements to be more confident after another month in physical therapuy. “How did you sleep?”

“Children, we’re late for school!” Wanda ignores him. That’s the one thing she can’t do. Sleep. She’ll rest for a few hours, but as soon as everyone’s asleep, Wanda gets too anxious. Her only solution is to put on a pair of headphones and paint or do pottery or anything else until it’s 3 am and she’s too tired to think.

Or dream.

“Billy, where is your soccer bag? You boys have practice after school!” Wanda says, trying to look for it. Kids, always misplacing everything.

“I don’t wanna go to soccer anymore! I already told you” he protests. Pietro looks up, prepared for another argument.

It’s been happening since you left.

“Sweetheart, you love soccer!”

“No, I don’t! I only liked it because Y/N helped me practice during the weekends and it was fun. I’m not going anymore”

With that, he leaves the house and heads straight to the car, slamming the door. Wanda knows he’ll be crying on the way to school and will refuse to hug her goodbye, the same way he’s done every day for the past month.

“Tommy, grab your stuff” the woman says, trying to pretend everything’s fine.

Unfortunately for her, the twins don’t let her pretend, showing how hurt they are and how much they miss you.

It’s just a phase.

“I have a meeting with Laura, I’ll come back later” she says goodbye to Pietro, hoping the car ride can be a bit better.

“Ok” is all he says, frowning.

There’s only one way to fix this. He just hopes his sister will find a way to forgive him after finding out what he did.

—

Laura is waiting with coffee and some biscuits. She’s always looking at Wanda anxiously, waiting for the moment that everything will finally collapse and she’ll feel all the things she’s avoiding.

So far, nothing.

“Hey! Oh, the boys are being so difficult lately. How did you manage with Cooper?” Wanda always walks in with a monologue ready, which never gives Laura the chance to ask her how she’s doing.

“I don’t know. I mean I don’t think that was a difficult age for him” she grimaces, thinking whether or not to tell Wanda this has nothing to do with age, and everything to do with her breakup.

“Is this the book? Oh my God, it looks amazing!” she changes the topic, knowing where the conversation is headed. As she opens to read the first pages, her smile fades. “Well, we need to get rid of that”

That as in, the dedication. The words that were written for you. Because you helped with the book, with taking care of the kids, with encouraging Wanda.

This was supposed to be a gift for you. Like the first book Wanda ever wrote, and she dedicated to the twins. And so on with every one of her family members.

You were the last piece of the puzzle. And she had hoped that someday she’d dedicate the next one to a baby girl. A daughter that looked just like you.

“Wanda…” Laura says, noticing the cracks in her friend’s perfect facade.

“Anyway! I have to go do some grocery shopping. I’m making coq au vin tonight”

“Do the kids eat that?”

“Sure!”

Of course they don’t. But chicken is too fast and she needs to be distracted and have a lot of dishes to clean and keep her mind occupied.

“Well, this is a first prototype. Once I speak with the publishing company we’ll get a date for the release” Laura says. “Hey, are you sure you’re ok?”

“Never been better” Wanda lies. “See you later, Laura”

Of course, the trip to the grocery store is not enough to calm her, not when there’s a woman wearing scrubs, looking exhausted and trying to figure out which baking powder is better.

“This one’s good if you want to bake cookies” she says, finding it hard to look away. “Sorry, you didn’t ask”

“No, that’s fine. Appreciate it” the woman nods, grabbing the one Wanda suggested and walking to another woman that is also wearing scrubs. They chat as they walk to the register.

Now Wanda regrets talking to them. What if they used to work with you? What if they tell everyone they saw her and she was being a weirdo talking to them first?

Worried about running into someone else, she hurries up with the shopping, and practically sprints to her car.

It takes her a few minutes to calm down. She forgets about the radio, until it begins playing.

One of your songs.

Wanda doesn’t have time to change the station, getting a call. She doesn’t really notice who it’s from, wishing nothing more than to disappear.

“Miss Maximoff? This is Tommy’s teacher”

Ok, that will distract her for sure.

“Is he ok? Are he and Billy…?”

“We’re gonna need you to come to the principal’s office, please”

—

A fight.

His sweet, wonderful boy getting into a fight. Well, that was a lie. And no one was going to mess with Wanda’s children.

“Sweetheart?” she approaches her boy, sitting outside the Principal’s office. His clothes are dirty, and his hair is full of weeds. “Who did this to you?”

“Miss Maximoff” Principal Coleman says, ushering her inside. “Please, sit down. I know this is pretty much new to you. Your kids have good grades, the teachers love them… but I’m sorry to tell you Tommy got into a fight today”

“Oh, but… he is the sweetest kid. I just can’t imagine him hurting anyone”

“Well, according to Daniel, Tommy was the one who started it” the Principal says, leaning back in her chair.

“Ok, why don’t we ask Tommy about it? Hear his side of the story”

“I already did but if you’d like to, be my guest” the woman says, standing up to open the door for Tommy. “Go on, tell your mom what you told me”

“I started the fight” Tommy mutters, looking at his feet. “I’m sorry”

“Are you ok? And Daniel?”

“Daniel only got a scratch on his arm. Look, this is a first time incident and Daniel’s parents were very understanding, so I’ll let you take the kids home and figure this out. But if it happens again…”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Principal Coleman. And you said, to take both kids?”

“Yeah, Billy’s pretty upset about it” the Principal says, opening the door for them. “He’s at the library waiting for you”

Wanda walks next to her son, her mind racing. This has never happened, there must a logical explanation. She tries to keep her cool, but when she sees Billy sitting at the library, pulling nervously at his hair, she feels like a girl again, lost and confused.

She doesn’t know what to do or how to make things better.

“Billy, let’s go home” she says, waiting for him to walk out. The boy avoids her eyes, rushing past them and running straight to the exit.

“Mom” Tommy says, but she’s too overwhelmed.

“Later, Tommy”

The ride home is silent. Wanda doesn’t even play music, holding on to the wheel until her knuckles turn white.

You’d know what to do to make it better.

But now you’re gone.

She barely has time to park before Billy runs out of the car, opening the door and going upstairs.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” Wanda says, still in the driver’s seat. Tommy looks away, shrugging his shoulders.

“Daniel was mean”

“That’s not an excuse to hit someone, you know better than that, Tommy” she scolds him. “You’re grounded, go to your room. We’ll talk about this later”

He steps out, his head down. Wanda is waiting for him to walk inside the house when she sees a woman with short, gray hair inspecting her garden.

“Hello. Can I help you?” Wanda says, clearly on edge. She’s not in the mood for any more surprises today.

And as the woman turns around, her jaw drops.

“Mom!”

“Hello, dear”

“Grandma!” Tommy runs back to her. “It’s you!”

“Oh, my! Look at you, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you! You’re so tall” the woman says, hugging her grandson. “Where’s your brother? Did you leave school early?”

“Uh… let’s all get inside. Tommy, tell your brother to come back down, please” Wanda interrupts, knowing she’ll get unwanted advice about parenting as soon as her mother knows what happened at school today. “So, how… I mean when…”

“Mama, I hope your flight was good” Pietro walks up to the door, wrapping his mother in a hug.

“You knew she was coming” Wanda says, feeling her blood boiling.

That little Mama’s boy.

“Don’t make a fuss, Wanda” their mother scolds. “I’m just here to help. And I won’t be staying in your house, your neighbor rents a room down the street. Mrs. Davies, you probably know her”

“Yeah, of course I do” she answers, but her mother is already walking inside, inspecting Pietro.

“Now, how’s recovery? You look so thin, bratan. Oh! You got a dog!” the woman exclaims, Sparky running around her.

This is so not how she expected her day to go at all.

—

Wanda’s not allowed in the kitchen while her mother cooks, and she can’t clean either because that was the first thing Ekaterina Maximoff did as soon as she set foot in the house.

The list of things she can do to get distracted is drastically reduced, so she locks herself in her study, pretending to sketch.

But all she can think about is you.

This is exactly why she doesn’t like to have free time. The memories of how you filled every part of the house with laughter and love are just waiting around the corner to remind Wanda how badly she messed up.

She decides to check on the twins, who should be done with their homework around this time.

But only Billy’s in his bed, playing with a Rubik’s cube you gave him.

“Hey” Wanda says, as she opens the door. “Mind if I sit?”

Billy just shrugs his shoulders, eyes focused on the different colors of the puzzle.

“Wanna tell me what happened in school? Did Tommy really start the fight?”

Billy sighs, and then looks up.

“Daniel said some mean things. Like…”

“Like… sweetheart, you can tell me anything, I promise. I just want to understand what happened” Wanda reassures him, squeezing his hand.

“Daniel said he heard his dad talking about you and Y/N. How it wasn’t right that you were with her and that he was happy she was gone. And then… he said maybe now that Y/N wasn’t around I…” Billy covers his eyes, trying to hide the fact he’s crying.

“Come here” Wanda comforts him, her heart breaking. She’s sorry to say this, but she doesn’t blame Tommy for getting into a fight with Daniel, not after he said all those horrible things.

“He said that now that Y/N’s gone I was going to stop being a weirdo”

“My sweet boy, I am so sorry” Wanda says, kissing the top of his head. “What Daniel said is not ok and his father should teach him better. I promise you I will talk to him about it”

“Don’t be mad at Tommy, he was just upset” Billy asks, wiping the tears. “He misses Y/N and so do I”

“It’s ok” Wanda hugs her baby boy, rubbing his back in a soothing motion. She feels Billy relax against her, hugging her like he used to do before you left.

Correction.

Before Wanda kicked you out.

“Do you miss her?” he asks, his voice small. He knows his mother doesn’t want to talk about you. It upsets her too much.

“Of course I do”

“It’s just… it feels like you don’t care, Mama. Like you don’t even remember her at all” Billy says, crying more.

“I know. I’m not the best at this, darling. I guess I just miss her so much it hurts, and I rather not think about it at all. It’s a silly thing grown ups do”

“Do you know if she’s ok?”

“I think so. I hope so”

“Do you think she misses us too?”

“I’m sure she misses you and Tommy and Sparky”

Truth is, Wanda isn’t sure you have any love left for her. Not enough to miss her, at least.

—

The food tastes like home. Like the summers in the country side, or the cold days of winter where Wanda played with Pietro until Mama called them home for a dinner of warm soup and bread.

“Delicious” Pietro comments after the first bite and Wanda nods.

“I can never get the sauce for the Chkmeruli right” Wanda says, trying to figure out the missing ingredient. “Your is so much better, just like grandma’s”

“I’ll teach you how to get it right” Ekaterina promises. “The secret is in the amount of ingredients. And something that we’re not telling anyone else”

“Alright” Wanda nods.

“Now, boys. Tell me all about school. And your hobbies. Do you play videogames?”

Wanda watches her family interact, laughing at certain things, and looking at her mother with fascination.

There’s a certain guilt that takes over when she understands she wasted three years of her life for something that could have been solved with an honest conversation.

One day, her mother will be gone and she’ll regret not having spent more time with her.

There’s also another regret in the back of her mind.

She wishes you had met her mother.

“Excuse me for a moment” she says, standing up from the table and walking to the bathroom. She covers her mouth to stop from sobbing, but there are tears in her eyes and a weight in her stomach that doesn’t let her sleep or eat or live.

Wanda fucked up so badly and now she’ll never see you again.

“Oh, God” she says, trying to breath, and fix her makeup. She can’t let the boys see her like this.

It’s been an overwhelming day, that’s all.

I’m fine.

“Is everyone done? I’m cleaning the kitchen” she says as soon as she comes back, picking up the plates and rushing past her family.

The cleaning keeps her hands busy and mind at ease, but she's still humming a song, just to focus on something that isn’t those awful thoughts she just had.

“I’m sorry” Pietro says, walking with the help of his cane. “I know it feels like an ambush, and I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but you’re not ok. The kids are always fighting with you, you do everything but talk about what happened and Y/N’s stuff are still in the garage. Maybe… fixing things with Mama can give you some perspective. I don’t know. I’m a burden most of the time, without being able to walk or do more around here. I just wanted to help”

Wanda keeps cleaning, never turning around to ackowledge her brother. He sighs, scratching the back of his head and turning to leave the kitchen.

“You’ll never be a burden, Pietro” is all Wanda says, finally turning to look at him. He smiles.

“Try to get some rest”

“You too”

“Oh, and Daniel definitely deserved to get his ass kicked”

“I agree” Wanda laughs. “Don’t tell the kids, though”

Pietro makes a motion, as if sealing his lips.

Their mom walks to hug him, saying goodbye for the day.

“You can sleep in my room, I can take the couch” Wanda offers.

“None of that. Mrs. Davies is excited over her very first guest and I won’t be the one to disappoint that sweet woman. Get some rest. Tomorrow I’m making borsch”

“You don’t have to cook, I can handle it”

“Of course I have to. Your brother needs to gain some weight!” the woman says, kissing her daughter in both cheeks. She says something in Sokovian about her children eating all that American food, walking out to Mrs. Davies house.

Wanda’s done with cleaning, and she goes upstairs to say goodnight to the kids.

“Hey. You’re not grounded. Ok?” Wanda says when Billy falls asleep, looking at Tommy. “Thank you for looking after your brother”

“I am older by ten minutes” he says, like Pietro always does. Wanda smiles, kissing his forehead.

“Sleep well, sweet boy”

And as she walks to her room, that feels so empty ever since that night one month ago, Wanda’s not sure how long she can handle pretending that one day, your abscence won’t hurt as much.

—

She could fix this.

You always fixed things.

Wanda had gotten the message. You disappeared, no calls or texts, not even to let her know where you were staying.

And when she tried to reach out, you never answered.

But now she was worried and scared, and most of all, sorry for the things she had said to you.

Wanda needed to apologize, to tell you how much she loved you.

But even if that was the only thing on her mind, she was standing outside the hospital, trying to gather the courage to come in.

“Wanda” a voice said behind her. Although it was familiar, Wanda was disappointed when she turned around and saw Carol Danvers.

“Hey… I was just… I was looking for Y/N”

“Oh. Uh… you haven’t heard?” Carol stumbled with her words, caught completely off guard.

“Heard what? Is Y/N ok?” Wanda’s heart began to race… maybe you were injured and it was exactly why you hadn’t replied to any of her messages, or answered the phone when she called.

“Yeah, uh… oh, crap” Carol looked over Wanda’s shoulder. “If I were you I’d run back to my car”

“What?” Wanda turned around, her eyes meeting Darcy’s.

“You!” the brunette barked, walking faster. “You’re about to find out why I got banned from lacrosse in college, Maximoff”

“Let’s calm down” Carol asked, stepping between the two of them.

“No! I will not calm down. I hope you’re proud of yourself, Wanda. You told Y/N everything she’s always been afraid of hearing. That you can’t trust her or the 'we’ll be better without you', fucking fantastic, really!”

“Darcy, come on, we should get back inside” Carol said, pleading with Maria to help her. But Darcy was not done.

“All this bullshit of making her move in with you and be a family for what? To kick her out just because you had a shitty day? Because she was saving a life?”

“I just… I know I screwed up, but if I could just talk to her…”

“Well, for that you’d have to get on a plane to Boston. Because Y/N quit” Darcy said, amused at Wanda’s shocked expression. “Yeah, my best friend left without a second thought because of you. Way to screw over everyone, Wanda”

“I didn’t want this to happen”

“That’s not good enough, unfortunately. You got lucky, because Danver’s here. But I’m being serious, if I see you again I’m gonna make an even bigger scene”

Maria went after Darcy, who was clearly pissed off, leaving Carol and Wanda outside of the hospital.

“Do you know if she’s ok?” Wanda asked, looking down.

“She doesn’t answer anyone’s calls or texts, Wanda. All I know is she quit one week ago and got on a plane to Boston”

“Right… Well, I better go” she said, biting her lip. “Thanks for keeping Darcy from killing me”

“Yeah, we’re understaffed with Y/N gone. So I can’t really let Darcy get arrested” Carol joked, though it was also one way of reminding Wanda her actions had impacted a whole group of people outside of her.

“See you” Wanda nodded, walking fast to her car. Chief Fury almost clashed against her, as Wanda was looking anywhere but the path in front of her.

“I’m sorry”

“Bet you are” the man grumbled, walking to the hospital.

Even another man in a motorcycle couldn’t keep from staring at Wanda, his blue eyes cold as ice.

So, Wanda got on her car, and left without lookig back.

She lost you. Forever.

—-

“Morning” a very upbeat voice speaks as Ekaterina walks down the stairs.

“Morning, Mrs. Davies” she says, smiling.

“Oh, please, call me Sharon. Would you like some coffee?”

“I’ll take some tea”

“Of course. Very healthy!” the woman says, getting everything ready. Ekaterina takes a moment to look around, admiring all the plants in the room and the flower wallpaper.

“Are you a gardener?”

“Only for fun” Sharon says, putting some biscuits in a plate. “Can I just say, I love your accent?”

Ekaterina smiles, but keeps from answering that. Though people were nice about it, she knew others had always been critical of her for not learning “proper” English when her family moved to America.

Which is why she was happy to return to Sokovia when things settled. The US was never her home, even if it was for her children.

“Was the family happy to see you?”

“Oh, yes. Especially my daughter” Ekaterina jokes, though it flies over Sharon’s head. Of course she doesn’t know that they have a complicated relationship. “I do hope she has been a good neighbor to you. I raised her to be kind”

“Oh, she’s great. Always baking stuff for everyone, the kids are very polite and well behaved too. She’s a great girl, just as Y/N. They were good together. I hope Y/N is doing ok” Sharon says, pouring every single detail that Ekaterina wanted to know.

Well, seems like it’s gonna be easier than she thought.

“Yes, this Y/N girl. Can you tell me more about her?” she says in a casual tone, and Sharon is happy to talk about you.

“Well, she moved to the neighborhood like two years ago. She’s a surgeon, always working. Honestly, very quiet but very nice. One time I fell in the sidewalk and she slept in the couch just to make sure someone was around in case I needed something”

Very impressive. It was the kind of thing that would make Ekaterina approve of anyone dating her children.

“And she was with Wanda?”

“Well… I’m not sure I should talk about this” Sharon hesitates for the first time.

“I’m just curious, as a mother…”

Ah, the mother card.

It works so well.

“Of course, you’re right! It’s not like I’ll tell you things you can’t figure out on your own” Sharon laughs, thinking of everything she remembers. “Well, Y/N lived across the street from Wanda, which is probably how they started talking. You know, young people understand each other better than us”

“So they were together?”

“Yes, I think Agatha saw them almost a year ago… on a date or something. And then, it was kinda nice to see Y/N around a bit more. Ya know, it was obvious she was spending more time at home, to help with the boys. They adore her. Always running around with her, playing. It was nice to see them all be a family” Sharon’s enthusiasm dies down.

“And then?”

“Humm” she says, sighing. “I honestly don’t know. The last time I saw Y/N she was walking out of the house and she got into her car. She didn’t have any bags or anything, so I just assumed she was going to the hospital… but then she never came back”

“And you have no idea what happened?” Ekaterina pushes forward, curious to check if the woman’s being honest.

“No, I’m sorry”

“Mudak”

“Oh, can I ask what that word means?” Sharon says, smiling. She loves learning new words.

“It means motherfucker” Ekaterina answers, her accent heavy.

“Wow, ok” Sharon giggles nervously. “You know who could have that information? Agatha. Yeah, her girlfriend works at the hospital. She’s kinda scary”

“Agatha or her girlfriend?”

“Both, definitely both”

“How can I speak to them?” Ekaterina says, trying to piece everything together.

She can manage scary. Especially when she’s looking for answers.

—

Billy’s in a mood again. He didn’t want to go to school, and he’s still refusing to go to soccer practice.

“Daniel’s gonna keep annoying me” he mutters.

“I will speak with his father today” Wanda says, driving them both to school. “I’m sure it’s gonna be fine, sweetheart”

“Y/N would kick his ass” Billy says in a low voice, but Wanda still hears.

“Don’t speak like that. And violence is not the answer”

“Yeah, well, Daniel’s a jerk, his dad too and I want to talk to Y/N. She’s the only one that can make everything right again”

“Enough!” Wanda shouts, pulling up to drop them off. “Y/N’s not coming back. You hear me? She’s gone. We don’t need her, we’ve been fine on our own our whole lives”

“You’re lying. I hate you” he says, running out of the car.

Wanda’s speechless.

This is the first time she’s had a fight with her sweet boys. The first time they’ve been mean or said something to hurt her.

She was expecting this as they got old, maybe 13. But now?

“Bye, Mom” Tommy says, walking after his brother. He’s nervous too. He knows he can’t get into any more trouble or he might get suspended, but Daniel’s not the nicest kid.

“Oh, damn it” she looks behind her to notice Billy left his lunch. “Kids!”

“Hey, Wanda” Richard calls for her. “Heard our guys had a little fight. I was hoping we could talk about it. Maybe over dinner?”

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. Is he really flirting right now?

“Yeah, I should actually…”

“No need to apologize, boys will be boys, right?”

“Apologize?” Wanda tilts her head, the way she always does when she’s pissed. “I wasn’t planning on doing that. And neither is Tommy”

“Well, he started the fight”

“No, Daniel was repeating the stupid things you say. Like how it’s wrong for two women to date. And he also insulted Billy” Wanda says, crossing her arms. “The way I see it, it’s the proverbial talk shit, get hit”

“Wow, ok, no need to get emotional”

“No, I’m not emotional. I’m just saying, if you ever say anything bad about Y/N or my kids and I get wind of it, I’m running you over with my car. See ya, Dick”

Fucking asshole.

Wanda can practically hear you say those words. Though you’d be a lot scarier, telling him all the ways in which he could get hurt using medical terms he wouldn’t even begin to understand.

You’d never let anything bad happen to your family.

Wanda decides to play the loudest music on the way back home. Yes, death metal from her emo phase -something you’d tease her for relentlessly before-.

As she pulls over in the driveway, her mother knocks on the window, making Wanda jump.

“Why are you still listening to that devil music? I thought that phase was over!”

“Mom!”

“Are you ok?”

“Fine”

“Yeah, I can tell”

“Ok, I don’t have time for this, I need to drive Pietro to rehab. Do you need anything from the store?”

“Yes, many things! Like actual paprikash. I can’t believe you buy US made. That’s why you can’t get the food right”

“Seriously?”

“Settle down, you two” Pietro asks, coming out of the house. It was a fun time, being a teenager and hearing his sister and mother argue over every single thing. They’re too much alike, that’s the only problem.

“Anyways, I will go to store, Sharon is letting me drive her car”

“Ok, does she know about the time you almost destroyed a McDonald’s with Papa’s car?”

“He said drive through, so I did!”

“Yeah, through the wall” Pietro laughs, earning a slap on the back of the head from his mother.

“You, go to your thing. And I’m picking up Billy from school today. He doesn’t want to go do soccer, so we’re going to get ice cream” Ekaterina says casually.

“It’s not optional for him! I’m the mom here”

“Just for a day. I hardly think it will affect him if he doesn’t run around like dog after a ball. Take Sparky instead” the woman says.

Wanda wants to scream into a pillow.

—

Ekaterina comes back from the store, but instead of parking outside of Wanda’s, she leaves the car right outside of Agatha’s home.

The investigation continues.

After a knock, a woman with dark, long hair and piercing blue eyes opens the door.

“You the OG Mrs. Maximoff” she greets, standing aside to let her in.

“I don’t know what those words mean. I’m Wanda and Pietro’s mother”

“Ooh, I love the accent. I love learning languages. My girlfriend is teaching me Spanish”

Before Ekaterina can answer, there’s a frantic knock, and Sharon walks inside the minute Agatha opens the door.

“I hope I’m not too late”

“I didn’t know we were having a party” Agatha says. She doesn’t really like visitors, and Mrs. Davies' enthusiasm and corny jokes are an acquired taste.

“Alright. What do you want to know?” Agatha leans back in her chair, intrigued by the woman.

Why not just ask her own daughter? Though, considering how Wanda’s been acting, she’ll probably refuse to answer any questions about it.

“Why did Y/N leave? Where did she go?”

“Ok, so… I need a minute because Rio was telling me everything in Spanish so I could learn. You know, using gossip as motivation” Agatha massages her temples, trying to remember everything. “Ok, there was a new doctor, something, something, cheating, slapping, break up”

“What?” Ekaterina says. “Are you saying that woman slapped my daughter?”

“No! Well, I don’t think so. Ah, screw it! Amor!” Agatha shouts, calling for Rio. “Ponte ropa y baja a contarles el chisme”

“Está bien” a voice says. A few minutes later, another woman joins them in the living room, wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

“You called?”

“Ok, so I kinda lied when I said I understood everything you said in Spanish. I do remember the name Natasha. And something about a kiss” Agatha smiles, and Rio can’t really stay mad when her girlfriend is looking all cute.

“So, a few months ago, Natasha Romanoff came to the hospital to teach a method developed by her mother. The Romanoffs are a very wealthy, very famous family of doctors. And everyone in the hospital kinda noticed that Natasha was flirting with Y/N”

“Did Y/N flirt back? Was she cheating on my daughter?”

“I meaaan, 50/50. The hospital was split. Some people believed that she was just being nice and others thought there were feelings involved”

“What do you think?” Ekaterina presses.

“I think Y/N was just being flirty but she never meant for anything else to happen. She’s just naturally personable. Even she can manage to make me laugh from time to time. So, I don’t know. There was a rumor that Natasha kissed her once or was trying to talk her into breaking up with Wanda… which, I guess has some truth to it, considering Y/N moved to Boston to work for the Romanoffs”

“I’m sorry, then who slapped who?” Mrs. Davies asks, confused.

“Oh, Y/N’s mother outside the hospital, but that's not related to Wanda. Darcy told me that woman is awful. Used to put Y/N through hell when she was a kid”

“Yeah, I know the feeling” Agatha mumbles and Rio places her hand on her shoulder, comforting her.

“I don’t like this Y/N” Ekaterina decides. “She was weak and got my family hurt”

“I don’t think that’s exactly accurate…” Agatha says, feeling the need to defend you. She knows you, and you’d never do anything to hurt Wanda. Not on purpose. “Look, I was looking for my bunny that night. Little shit likes to escape out of the blue. Wanda was the one who ended things. I heard that loud and clear. And yes, it seems messy, but I don’t think it’s fair to blame it all on someone”

“Yeah, Y/N really loved the kids and took care of Wanda” Sharon insists. Ekaterina sighs, crossing her arms.

“I don’t suppose anyone knows how to get in touch with Y/N”

Agatha, Rio and Sharon share a look.

“I could try” Rio offers, thinking Darcy might be in touch with you.

“Thank you. Now I go to pick up Billy from school. I appreciate your help”

“I actually need the car for a bit” Sharon asks, but the woman is already gone. “Oh, well”

—

True to her word, Ekaterina picked up Billy from school, while Tommy was supposed to ride with Sharon and her kid to soccer.

Wanda wasn’t really looking forward to practice today, in case Richard was there.

Thankfully, it seemed like Daniel was here with his mother, but Wanda’s stomach dropped when Susan walked up to her.

“Wanda, can we talk for a sec?”

“Yeah, sure”

They walked away from the rest of the parents.

“Look, I know what Daniel said and I already talked to him about it. He’ll apologize to Tommy and Billy, but I wanted to tell you personally how asahmed I am. Those awful things are all Richard and I really don’t want Daniel to be like his father”

“Oh… wow. I don’t know what to say” Wanda laughs, relieved. “Your ex had a very different approach to this whole situation”

“I know, he’s an asshole”

Both women laugh at that.

“I was going to say, he can speak to Tommy after practice, but I haven’t seen him today. Or Billy”

“Oh, Billy’s with my mother. But Sharon picked up Tommy…” though when Wanda looks around the field, she doesn’t see her son. Spotting Sharon, she runs up to her. “Hey, Tommy rode with you, right?”

“What? Wanda, he said he was feeling ill and that you were going to pick him up”

“No, that never… I-I don’t have any missed calls. No one from school told me anything. Shit!” she curses, her hands shaking. Her mother takes forever to pick up the phone. “Is Tommy with you? No, I know Billy’s there. What about Tommy? Ok, I don’t have time to explain, meet me at home now”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think to call you” Sharon says.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m sure it’s fine” Wanda repeats, trying to calm herself.

Her first instinct is to call you.

But then she has to think really hard on what to do, so she calls Pietro to make sure Tommy isn’t home by some weird miracle. Should she call the cops? The fire department?

Clint, he will know what to do.

“Ok, I’ll meet you at your house, it’s gonna be fine” Clint says.

“You good to drive?” Susan says, walking Wanda to the car.

“Yes. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding and Tommy’s in his room playing videogames”

“Well, ok, if you need anything here’s my number” the woman says.

Wanda goes over everything that could have happened. Tommy likes to visit the library, the park on Fullton street, the comic book store…

Clint’s already there when she gets home, and Ekaterina parks a second later.

“Billy, come here” Wanda kneels to look at her son. “Did Tommy tell you anything? Was he going somewhere?”

Billy shakes his head no, and Wanda insists.

“Sweetheart, are you sure? I promise I won’t be mad”

“I don’t know, I swear”

“Alright, I just spoke to my friend at the station. They’re gonna start looking for him. Pietro should stay here in case Tommy comes back or someone calls home. The rest of us could split and check places we know he frequents” Clint says.

“Billy, stay with uncle Pietro” Wanda asks. The boy nods, walking up the stairs to meet his uncle, who puts his arm around his shoulders.

“I’ll go to the arcade” Clint offers. “Ask if anyone’s seen him”

“We’ll go to the park” Wanda nods, waiting for her mother to join her in the car. She can’t even begin to understand what’s happening.

Wanda doesn’t know what to do, but she has to remain calm, because her son needs her.

—

Tommy’s begining to think this is a bad idea. He doesn’t have a lot of money and he doesn’t have a clue on what bus will take him to Boston.

He should be at soccer practice now.

He finds a cafeteria not far from school, and goes inside hoping he can get some free water.

“You alone, sweetheart?” the waitress says, concerned.

“No, my mom is in the bathroom” he lies and the woman doesn’t seem entirely convinced. Either way, she leaves him alone. Tommy takes the time to dig in his backpack for some extra coins that might be in there.

Instead he finds a letter and a couple of pins.

After reading it, he walks up to the waitress and finally tells the truth.

“I ran away. Can you help me find my mom?”

“Of course, sweetheart”

—-

“Where should we go?” her mother asks, and Wanda points in the direction of the lake.

“He liked to feed the ducks with Y/N”

“Ok, then”

They walk in silence, Wanda’s thoughts racing until her mother speaks.

“I lost you once. You were four or five, maybe, and we were at the market. While your brother picked out the apples, you decided to run after a chicken. And I was so scared, calling for you in the sea of people”

“Yeah. It’s an awful feeling” Wanda says, wiping away the tears.

They walk around the park for ten minutes before deciding he’s not here. Tommy’s nowhere to be found. He’s a ten year old, for God’s sake, where on Earth could he be?

Before she has time to think it twice, Wanda picks up the phone and dials your number.

“Hello?”

That’s not your voice.

It’s Natasha’s.

Wanda hangs up, and adds this to the list of shitty things that have happened to her in the span of two days.

“Mom, I can’t!” she finally breaks down. “I don’t know how to fix this. I miss her so much and I ruined everything and she’s never coming back. And now my boys hate me and I have nothing. All because I was so stuck in the past. And I lost her”

“Breathe. Breathe for me” Ekaterina pulls her daughter into a hug, while Wanda’s body shakes with the strenght of her sobs. “It’s ok. It will be ok”

“It doesn’t feel like it”

“Trust me” she says, waiting until Wanda calms down. After a few minutes, she wipes her tears and looks at her mother. Wanda’s about to say something else when her phone rings again.

“Oh, it’s Clint. Hello? Yes, where? Ok, send me the address and I’ll be right there” she hangs up, sprinting to the car. “He’s at a cafeteria not far from school”

“Thank God”

It’s only a five minute drive but to Wanda it feels like an eternity. As soon as she parks, she spots Tommy sitting at the counter, drinking a milkshake while a waitress talks to him, trying to ease his nerves.

“Is that your mom?” the woman says when Wanda gets inside. Tommy’s eyes widen, and he runs towards her.

“Mama!”

“Oh, Tommy. I was so worried about you”

“I’m sorry”

“It’s ok. I’m just happy you’re safe. Let’s go home”

—

The kids are safely tucked in bed, and Wanda’s having a glass of wine in the kitchen. She’d drink something stronger if she had anything at all.

Her mind goes back to the fact Natasha picked up your phone.

It doesn’t mean you’re with her. And even if you were, Wanda was the one that broke up with you.

Then why did it hurt so much to think you’d already moved on?

With a sigh, she goes up the stairs. Wanda can’t help but go into her children’s room, just to make sure they’re both safe.

When she asked Tommy what happened, he just said he wanted to go and see you. But then he changed his mind when he found something in his backpack. Though he wouldn’t tell Wanda what it was.

As the woman walks up to her children, she notices a letter tucked under Tommy’s pillow.

Could this be the thing he found?

Billy and Tommy,

Hey kiddos. This isn’t something I’m happy about and I never really wanted to write a letter like this one.

You might not see me anymore. I know it sucks, because I promised I’d take you to the state fair and Universal Studios when the school year was over.

The thing is, sometimes grown ups have a lot of complicated things going on. Sometimes things don’t work out no matter how much we try.

Be good to your mom, ok? If you miss me and want me to be less worried about you, just promise me you’ll love her extra for me. You are her biggest treasure and she’s such a great mom. Don’t forget you’re all each other have.

PS - I’m leaving my lucky pins with you. Please take care of them for me.

Love you three,

Y/N

Of course.

Of course it was you.

Even if you were thousand of miles away, you had found a way to help Wanda and keep her family safe.

Now she won’t be able to sleep at all, so she goes downstairs to the garage, full of boxes with your clothes and books.

For the first time since you left, Wanda allows herself to look at everything you left behind, and everything you did. The smallest things, like how you always forget to wear glasses to read, and you end up with a frown. Sunday’s crossword puzzle, always discarded. It’s not that you don’t finish it, the opposite. You know the answers to everything so fast that writing them is a waste of time.

Wanda pulls out your college sweatshirt, hugging it tight against her chest.

She misses you, so much it hurts.

As she puts on the sweatshirt, Wanda folds the sleeves, slightly long for her shorter arms.

When she’s about to close the box, she sees it.

A small box. For a ring.

An engagement ring.

She let’s out a gasp as she opens it.

You were proposing.

And all Wanda did was question your committment and your love for her and the children.

I’m such an idiot.

She doesn’t have much time to wallow, though. Wanda’s phone rings, and her mouth goes dry when she reads the name on the screen.

You.

Looking between her phone and the ring, Wanda doesn’t know what to do.

Should she tell you she found the ring?

Would it make a difference at all?

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Marriage Problems Chapter 2

Summary: They’ve been married for 19 years, their 20th anniversary coming up soon.  Older, busier, and stuck on the repeat of their daily lives, Y/N and Bucky are struggling.  Their marriage is good, but feeling rocky the last few years as they’ve settled into this stage of their lives.  Can they get their spark back?  Or is it better to do the unthinkable, and move on without each other?

Warnings:  language, forced kiss, eventual smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

Bucky rushed home after work that day.  The presentation had gone well, securing his bonus, but had run over the time he’d originally planned.  He had texted Y/N, but never got a response.  He got home as fast as he could, walking into the kitchen to find it empty.  Fuck, missed dinner, he thought, chastising himself as he unloaded his things and cleaned them.  He walked toward the sound of the kids’ voices in the front room.  They were all spread out on the floor doing homework, spouting off endless questions to Y/N, who was trying her best to help them while also mediating between Winnie and Becca, which seemed like a constant these days.

“Mama she won’t stop brushing her eraser shavings on my paper!” Winnie whined, trying to shove the eraser bits back toward Becca.

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” Becca whined back.  “Not everything I do is to spite you.  Maybe if you wouldn’t sit so close to me they wouldn’t land on your stuff!”

“Guys, please,” Y/N sighed, rubbing her eyes.

“Hello my loves,” Bucky called out, trying to distract them.

The kids all looked up at him with smiles on their faces, quickly getting up and giving him hugs and greetings before sitting back down.  Bucky moved over and around them to Y/N, kneeling down next to her.  She gave him a small smile in greeting.  “How did your presentation go?” she asked quietly.

“We got it,” he replied, smiling at her.  

“Congratulations,” Y/N’s smile widened.

It was one of the few real smiles he’d gotten from her in a while, and it made his heart soar.  Before he could say anything else the girls were bickering again, and James started firing off questions.

“Quit with the eraser!  Geez, do you just not get it so you keep having to restart?  How stupid can you be?”

“Mama, did you sign that form for the field trip yet?”

“I’m not the stupid one, you are!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“And I have that bake sale coming up, did you sign up for cupcakes?  Or muffins?  Your cookies last year were good.  Oh and my soccer uniform is all grassy, did you wash it yet?”

Y/N shut her eyes tight, trying to breath through the mounting noise.

“Guys,” Bucky said in a warning tone.

“Dad she’s being so annoying.  Why can’t you just leave me alone?  This is why you don’t have any friends.”

“I have plenty of friends.  You wouldn’t know anything about that because all the friends you have are just guys trying to date you.  How does it feel knowing that they don’t actually care about you, just what they can get from you?”

“At least I can get a date.”

“Mama, what does she mean what they can get from her?”

“OH MY GOD SHUT UP!” Y/N screamed, standing up fast and pushing away from them all, covering her ears.  “SHUT UP!  ALL OF YOU!  JESUS CHRIST!”  They all froze, staring at her in shock.  “No, James, I haven’t done any of that yet.  It will get done eventually.  As for you two,” she pointed at the girls.  “I know you’re both in a very weird stage of teen years right now, but if I hear one more mean thing said between the two of you I will ground you both for the rest of the school year, do you hear me?”  They both nodded quickly.  “I cannot stand this anymore.  This constant bickering, the noise, the incessant leaning on me for every little thing.  I’m so sick of the same thing day in and day out!  I’m done!”

Bucky stared at her in shock.  She had yelled at the kids before during rough moments, but this was different.  Y/N looked at them all with a deep look of disgust.  “I love you all very much.  But this is absolutely ridiculous, and I will not put up with it anymore.  I deserve better than this endless, repetitive, tedious bullshit!  Don’t I?”  Bucky stood up and walked over to her.  She had started crying as she spoke, and as he cupped her face in his hands she looked up at him, her eyes pleading and exhausted.  “Don’t I?” she cried.

“Yes, you do,” Bucky whispered, nodding as he leaned down and pressed his forehead against her forehead.  “Just breathe, pretty mama.  Breathe.”

Y/N sputtered, her hands in fists at her sides as she closed her eyes.  She let herself relax against him for a moment, but just as suddenly as it started she shook her head again and pulled out of his grasp, sniffing hard.  “I…I’m fine, I just–” she glanced at them all, her face twisting into a look of horror.  “I’m sorry,” she gasped, then turned and ran up the stairs.

Bucky watched her run, sighing when he heard their bedroom door shut loudly.  He turned to look at the kids, each of them with a look of shock and sadness on their faces.  “It’s gonna be okay, guys,” he said quietly, sitting down on the floor with them again.  “Mama just needs some time.  But she’s right,” he said, looking down at his hands then at Becca.  “Becca, if what Winnie’s saying is true, you need to find better friends.  Boys, especially at this age, aren’t worth it.”  She frowned and looked down.  “Winnie, you need to let Becca have her time away from you.  Just because you’re both close in age and go to the same school doesn’t mean you’re both the same.  She is her own person, and you are your own person.  Does that make sense?”  Winnie’s lips tightened, but she nodded.  “James, I know you mean well, but asking a lot of questions all at once is very overwhelming for Mama, and as much as she is willing to help you, she needs a breather just like everyone else.  Got it?”  James nodded sadly.  “As for all three of you, you’re old enough now, and your mom and I have taught you enough by now, to be able to handle yourselves more.  That means from now on you’re responsible for knowing your schedules, taking care of yourselves with your personal hygiene, cleaning up after yourselves, and as of now you’ll be responsible for getting your lunches for school ready, preparing your own breakfasts, and making sure you’re out the door on time for the bus.  Also, laundry,” he said, glancing at James for emphasis.  “Your clothes, your problem.  Do you all understand?”

They all nodded solemnly.  “Good.  We are going to have to work together to take the brunt of the work off of Mama.  She’s done too much for all of us for too long.  Which makes her an amazing mother and wife–” he stopped, nearly getting choked up on his words, before quickly clearing his throat.  “But it’s too much for just one person to handle.  We are a family, and family loves and supports each other, right?”  They all nodded again.  “Okay.  Are you all done with your homework enough for tomorrow?”  

“Yes,” they all said in unison.

“Great.  Then go get ready for bed,” Bucky said.  “Good night, my spawn.”

They all giggled and gave him goodnight farewells and hugs, gathering their things and putting them away before trudging up the stairs to get ready for bed.  Bucky sighed as he stood up again, stretching before looking around the main floor of the house.  It was mostly pretty clean, so he got to work cleaning up the last few little messes and things he could see that needed to be done, then ate the leftovers from dinner.  

When he was finished the kids had all settled down in bed, and he tucked them each in before heading to his bedroom.  Bucky hesitated at the door, unsure of how to broach what had happened.  He knocked lightly, waiting to hear anything, but after a moment of silence he slowly opened the door.  He peered in and found Y/N already in bed, her soft snores the only sound in the room.  Bucky walked in and closed the door quietly, walking over to her side of the bed and kneeling down.  She was already in her pajamas, and judging from her makeup free face and the puffiness of her eyes, she had cried as she got ready for bed and up until she fell asleep.  Bucky’s heart broke for her.  He and the kids had been leaning on her for everything for so long.  They had taken advantage of her.  She had been suffering silently because she felt like she could only depend on herself to get things done.  He reached up and gently wiped away the last bits of tears that were still wet on her face, then leaned forward and kissed her nose.  “I’m so sorry, pretty mama,” he whispered, nuzzling her cheek with his nose.  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.  I love you.”  

Y/N squirmed a little in her sleep at his touch, but didn’t wake, letting out a short hum as she readjusted herself.  Bucky smiled at her, fixing the blanket around her and tucking her in before getting ready for bed.

@cjand10 @sebastians-love @sherwoodforesttales @shanksstrawhat

[tangerineastronaut]

Hi! I saw you take requests.

May I request something with GOT7 Jackson Wang and best friend!reader, in which the reader starts developing feelings for him and start thinking he’s the one for her? <3

Friends, Just for Now | Jackson Wang (Part 1)

The one where your best friend can't keep his secret anymore (and you're oblivious).

Pairing: Jackson Wang (GOT7) x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, BestFriend!Reader, idiots to lovers Requested: Yes w.c. 6.6k (oops) Warnings: Cheating (not between jackson and reader), lots of profanity, nicknames, namecalling, minor injury, reader wouldn't know love if it smacked her in the head, holy shit they're kind of annoying af A/N: this was so fun to write, love me a good idiots friends to lovers. I'm also cheesy af, feel free to call me out. Please excuse any errors there may be, I usually proofread after posting. ❣️The love I received on my yunho imagine has literally made me do happy dances, I haven't posted anything on tumblr in 8 years and you guys are just literally the best. I love you all so much! Requests: Open (link below)

Part 2 is on its way!

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

🎧 FRI(END)S by V

“Come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen. You never listen.”

Two things went through your mind, though you refused to lift your head from where it was tucked against your knees. 

One, you hated that nickname. Pie. He thought it was so cute, and it probably would’ve died off had you not reacted to it the way you did. One missed smear of cherry on your nose 3 years ago and suddenly you’ve been christened. It was his favorite story to tell. 

And two, Jackson Wang was going to get his shit rocked if he didn’t leave you alone. 

“Fuck off,” you say bitterly, pulling further into yourself.

He was right. He had warned you.

You’d hoped Leejin was different, that the rumors were just exaggerated. Surely he didn’t cheat on every girlfriend…right?

“Wrong,” Jackson had laughed. “He’s a fucking dog, y/n.”

You’d rolled your eyes, and then Jackson said three words to you that had kind of hurt. Not kind of. A lot. They’d hurt a lot. 

“You’re not special.”

Leejin was so nice, he was smart and funny and headed for a successful career with his family’s business (so what if his parents probably paid off the school to make sure those student conduct violations never stuck). You wanted to be special. Spent 4 months trying to be. It wasn't an eternity, but you tended to put your whole heart into everything, and it almost always ended up like this.

But Jackson’s words rang true, painfully so, when you received a text from an unknown number earlier today—screenshots of messages between Leejin and some girl, including explicit photos. The unnamed person had said nothing else; you wondered if it was the girl from the screenshots, but you didn’t reply. You simply texted Leejin to go fuck himself before blocking him on everything, running straight home to your apartment, praying that Jackson wasn’t there. He was, of course, as you split the rent. You hated the look on his face when you barged in, nose red and snotty from crying.

It wasn’t smug, it was just…"come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen." 

You heard him sigh now, no doubt running a hand through his hair. It was blonde; you’d made fun of him at the time he'd dyed it though begrudgingly had to admit it suited him. But he was going to be bald before he was 40 if he didn’t stop tugging at it when he was stressed.

“Hey. Hey, stop. I hate it when you cry, you know, makes my joints hurt or something,” he says, kneeling beside you.

The fuck…? What does that even—

But you were too upset to stop, so he muttered under his breath, poking at your head until you whipped it up to slap him away. He looked like such a boy, hugging his knees and giving you a pleading look. Fine. Bastard.

You sighed and uncurled yourself, your knees screaming from the pain of turning into a human rollie pollie for the last half hour. Jackson sighed as well, no doubt relieved that you weren’t ugly crying anymore. 

He waited until your sniffles were a few minutes apart before moving, sitting criss cross on the floor. His brown eyes were soft, a rarity, truly, though you knew he was already formulating ways to tease you about this when it was more irritating than painful. 

“Done?” he asks, more to comfort himself than you. You sniff and nod, wiping your nose on your sleeve. Well, his sleeve. He made a face, realizing that you were wearing one of his sweatshirts, but made the apparent decision to yell at you later. 

“Don’t be mean to me,” you mumble, resting your cheek on your knee. 

“When am I ever?”

“Jackson, I swear to fucking—”

“I didn’t say anything, pie.”

“If you don’t drop that god damned nickname, it was one time, one little bit of cherry filling, I don’t even like cherry pie, you’re so fucking annoying—”

It was his turn to interrupt, but he didn’t. He just watched you, an irritating twinkle of amusement in his eyes. You scoffed and tucked your face away again, wishing he’d stop looking at you like that. Or at all, really. If there was one thing you’d learned after being friends with him for so long…the asshat had some eyes on him. Had this way of using his gaze to set the mood, able to stop your arguments or rile you up with micro expressions like an olympic gold medalist of manipulation. 

“Want some ramen?” he asks, tilting his head as though speaking to a kicked dog. You crinkle your nose without looking at him. “Want some cake? Some candy?”

“I want you to leave me alone,” you grumble. 

“Want a bath?”

You sigh, refusing to humor him with an answer he already had. He snapped his fingers like he’d just solved the equation of the century, having the audacity to ruffle your hair as he stepped over you unnecessarily to get to the door. You could hear him down the hall, the sound of the bathroom cabinets opening and closing, the water running, hopefully set on hot like you liked. 

“You're out of bath bombs,” he called. You frown. 

“I’m not, they’re under the sink.”

“Why’d you move them? Next to your menstrual equipment, eww.”

That’s why. You felt sorry for whatever unfortunate woman Jackson decided to wife up—the man was addicted to hot baths and cotton candy bath bombs. You’d have to move them again though, now that he knew about your stash. Besides, you’d sent him to the shop more than a few times when you were cramping and out of pads (and chocolate); he would not be impeded by them.

Jackson was waiting for you by the time you dragged yourself to the small shared bathroom. He bowed dramatically, gesturing toward the tub which was steaming hot, as you liked—a meal’s gotta cook. 

You mumble a thank you as he walks past, though he pauses in the doorway, eyes narrowed.

“Get naked, and give me my damn sweatshirt,” he says, pointing accusingly at you. You pout, immediately clutching your pearls.

“Is that why you never get laid? Jesus, would’ve thought you were smoother than that,” you huff. He impatiently tugs at your sleeve, rolling his eyes in that sassy way that always made you giggle and made him more irritated—a win win scenario. 

“It’s a $30 shirt, not a snot rag…pie.”

“You’re a snot rag,” you mumble. You turn your back to him, crossing your arms at the hem and tugging it over your head. You were still in a bra thankfully, though still covered your chest as you tossed the material at him. 

Jackson caught it smoothly, though he wasn’t even looking at the sweatshirt. You didn’t realize he was looking at you until you reached for the button of your jeans. His eyes weren’t lower than your lips, but he looked a little…off. You expected a joke about a food baby or maybe how pale you’ve gotten, but he says nothing. 

“Hello?” you say, shaking your head. “Is that all? Want my pants too? Gonna do my laundry for a change?”

Jackson blinks like his brain finally returned to his skull. He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head and backing out of the doorway. Before he closed the door, however, his eyes leveled with yours, so intense it made your breath catch in your throat. Was he mad? Over a sweatshirt?

“Leejin is a fucking idiot,” he says before turning on his heel and heading down the hall. 

You stare at the spot where he stood, even after he’s gone. The hell was his problem now?

By the time you’ve finished your glorious bath, you waltz into the living room like a princess. Jackson looks up from his place on the sofa, deadpanning and tossing his phone on the coffee table as he takes in the freshly purloined hoodie you're sporting.

“Gonna lock my closet,” he says, shaking his head. You beam at him, cutely crinkling your nose as you pad to the kitchen. You tug open the fridge, thinking maybe you could cook something simple for the two of you. It was kind of late to make anything grand, but you wanted more than ramen. 

The empty shelves make your eye twitch. 

“Seriously?” you huff, gesturing around. “Would it kill you to get groceries once?”

“You always complain when I do,” Jackson shrugs, flicking through netflix with the remote. “Got the wrong brand, got too many, didn’t get enough—”

“I always text you a detailed list, but whatever,” you grumble, low enough that it doesn’t provoke a response. “Since you’re a big man baby incapable of buying groceries, you can buy us something at the convenience store.”

“I am perfectly capable, thank you,” Jackson says, narrowing his eyes. 

“Of what? Weaponized incompetence? I agree, get dressed,” you hum. 

Ten minutes later, you’re walking side by side down to the convenience store. The apartment’s location was perfect—five minutes from campus one way, five to a 24 hour convenience store another. Perfect because you both had a habit of wanting to come home when you were drunk after a party, starved and craving foods that you’d regret the next day. 

The doors chimed a welcome as they slid open, allowing you inside. You made a beeline for the sweets, Jackson went straight for the energy drinks. 

You perused the aisle for a few minutes, making your choice and going to find your roommate. You rounded the corner and froze. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to block someone in real life. So while you’d never see Leejin’s social media posts, it didn’t mean that you wouldn’t run into him on a saturday night at the convenience store near your apartment. 

You feel a mix of emotions—anger, shame, disbelief among them. You knew it wasn’t impossible, it wasn’t even unlikely, as this store was one of only a few. But it felt so damn unfair that he’d happen to be here, hours after you found out about what he’d done. 

“Is that all you’re getting?” Jackson snorts, frowning as he eyes your bag of chips. But he notices your stillness, following your gaze to see Leejin, casually chatting on the phone as he looks at the protein bars.

You expect him to snort, maybe make a comment just loud enough for the other to hear before pulling you away, but Jackson surges forward so quickly he nearly knocks you over. You grab his arm, both to steady him and stop him from…whatever the hell he’s doing. 

“Where are you going?” you whisper, tugging him back with as much strength as you could muster. 

“He broke your heart and I’m gonna break his fucking face.”

He moves again, this time dragging you along on the linoleum floor. Fortunately, Leejin is too preoccupied with his call to notice. The thought makes your stomach twist, briefly wondering who he’s talking to. 

“You’re gonna get us kicked out, what’s the matter with you?” you hiss, trying to shake sense into him. Jackson yanks his arm away from you, dropping the energy drinks on the nearest shelf before storming off. You stare after him, mouth agape in disbelief. 

You arrive home 15 minutes later, having hid near the bathrooms until Leejin had left. You’d bought (and paid for, irritatingly) your snacks and Jackson’s drinks, but when you shove into the apartment, it’s empty. Lights off, no sign of him. You worry for a few seconds—had he waited for you and bumped into Leejin instead? But you surely would’ve heard something outside. You opt to text him and choose to believe he’s being broody and walking through the streets like a sad music video.

> what the fuck? is your deal? Where are you??

You’re confused and groggy when someone taps at your cheek, not realizing you’d even fallen asleep on the couch. You rub at your eyes, squinting, processing the sight of Jackson standing over you, t-shirt stuck to his form, beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks. 

You’ve had weird dreams about him before, ones that you’d rather never speak of again, and they usually start out like this. But this Jackson rolls his eyes in a way that sweet, sweet dream Jackson would never. 

“Get up, jesus. Your back is going to hurt,” he says. You slowly sit up, realizing he’s right. Apparently not only had you fallen asleep on the couch,  but you’d fallen asleep sitting up, sleeping in an unnatural slouched position. 

“Ow…”

“Told you.”

“No it’s…hey,” you snap, waking up a bit more now that you  remember that you’re actually pissed at him. “It’s your fucking fault, what happened to you? You just disappeared! I was worried!” 

You’re surprised to see Jackson bristle. He’s not shaken easily, least of all by you, but he glances to the side and tugs at his t-shirt, separating it from his damp skin. 

“Went to the gym. Figured I should cool off,” he says. You want to be pissed at him more, say something else, but your back hurts and you’re sleepy. Plus, you’re glad to see he’s alright. Mostly.

“Whatever,” you finally grumble, trying to stretch out your neck. “What time is it?”

“Dunno, around 2 a.m.,” he replies casually. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Great,” you huff. “You go shower. I’ll go roll over and die happy now that I know you’re alive.”

You stumble down the hall to your room, sighing at the sight of your unmade bed. What was the point if you were going to mess it up anyway? You hear Jackson follow shortly after, the bathroom door opening and closing. The shower starts, and you shuffle beneath the covers. 

You wake up not long after, whining in protest as you’re jostled. 

“It’s me,” Jackson says, rudely pushing you over. “Scoot.”

You wanted to shove him away, to point out that “scoot” should be said before you rob someone of their bed, but you can’t be bothered. Besides, once he settles next to you, you realize that he’s not wearing a shirt and he smells nice and clean. 

Sleepy, groggy, annoyed, relieved, you curl against him like a bunny seeking warmth. You feel him stiffen, though you think little of it. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, not sounding the least bit tired. You couldn’t say the same for yourself, unable to open your eyes as you reply. 

“Mm. ‘s warm down here. Night night.”

You hear him sigh, then shuffle, and then he’s rolled over to face you, offering a human-made cocoon that you happily burrow into. He’s soft and warm and smells like his manly body wash—and your shampoo, damn it. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” he says, soft enough to count but not enough for you to notice. 

Waking up tangled with Jackson was, unfortunately (?), not all that unusual. When you were upset, you found your way to his bed, and despite his protests you knew he didn't actually mind. It went both ways—you'll die before you admit that you like it, if only because he's a human heater.

You still feel groggy, squinting and fumbling around for your phone. Such a task is difficult when there's deadweight slung over your waist, but you manage, bringing the device to your face.

10:43 a.m.

Oh good. You slept 8 hours—and half the day away, to your brain at least. You toss your phone down, debating whether or not you should just go back to sleep. You choose instead to roll over, addressing the sleeping shirtless man keeping you pinned to your bed.

Your camera roll was filled with photos just like this, because Jackson slept like a baby. Literally. Hands curled into fists, face relaxed, head tilted to the side. His blonde hair is mussed from sleeping with it wet last night, and you dodn't hesitate to run your fingers through it for no reason at all. It was soft and surprisingly thick, but you weren't about to dial back on the baldness theory.

Jackson stirred, though didn't wake up, shifting to lie on his back. Freed from your restraints, you sat up and had to cover your mouth to stifle a laugh.

Of course the curtains parted like that, of course he was sleeping like a prince now, sunlight arcing off of his jaw—it even highlighted his stubble in an annoyingly poetic way. What kind of gods were kind enough to give him of all people that face?

He really was kinda...pretty.

No, not kinda. Jackson Wang was beautiful. You were his best friend, but you weren't blind. Maybe you'd become a little numb to his charms, but you'd seen what he could do to people with just a look, even without malicious intent. He was charismatic on top of that, though you were the only one who got to see the side of him that wasn't.

The side that stole your shampoo and commandeered your bed, anyway.

So fine, you knew he was pretty. But he was kinda sorta extra pretty right now, and maybe you wanted to remember it later.

You shifted to grab your phone—a never-ending quest for material to bully each other over—but the movement apparently jostled him awake. You sheepishly smiled as he blinked a few times, using the heel of his palm to rub the blurriness away.

"Really?" he asked, voice rough, eyes leveling to the phone in your hand. "Fucking creep."

"You have like a thousand pictures of me sleeping," you point out, narrowing your eyes. Jackson nods, rolling over and hugging your waist, his head resting against your hip.

"That I do—you're cute when you drool all over yourself. I'm working on a collage."

"Asshole," you mutter, prying his arms off of you. You make an attempt to escape, but as expected, you're smoothly hauled back down.

"Where you going?"

"I need to pee, wanna come with?"

"It's early."

"It's almost 11."

"Yeah, early."

Jackson grunts before you can reply, practically placing you in a chokehold as he rolls over. You have no choice but to go with him, ending up flopped over his chest like a dead fish.

He says nothing for a moment, and you wonder if he's fallen back asleep. It's not difficult to squirm out of his grasp this time, though rather than allowing you to slide off, the apparently-awake-Jackson moves both hands to your hips.

Your stomach does that funny thing it sometimes does around him, like a little alarm that says 'hey! getting too close!' Listening to this alarm had prevented a lot of mistakes over the course of your friendship, mistakes like wanting to kiss him when you were tipsy, noticing the way he looked after a long workout, hair plastered to his forehead, the fuzziness you felt that time your heating pad broke, and his warm hands wound up on the lower half of your tummy to stave off the cramps.

Mistakes like that.

His eyes open again, and you do your best to look irritated.

"I'm sorry about last night," he says, suddenly unnaturally serious. "I was just trying to cool off, and my phone died, so I didn't see your text until after I got home."

You're not really sure how to respond—it was always strange when conversations got like this between you, regardless of the topic. It was so jarring, so far from the usual cracked out nonsense. You decided to nod, then shake your head, then nod again.

Jackson was a badass, most people knew as much. He was trained in martial arts and practically ate protein for every meal. But despite this, he wasn't typically an aggressive guy. You'd only ever seen him throw one punch—an ex of yours a couple years ago who threatened to post a nude photo of you. Needless to say, the guy deleted them, made difficult thanks to the blood smearing his screen as it dripped from his nose.

"It's fine, I get it," you say. "Just...why were you so mad at him? Did he do something to you?"

Jackson blinks up at you, shifting so that he's partially sitting up on his elbows.

"I told you, y/n," he says, shaking his head like you're an idiot. "He broke your heart, I was gonna break his face. You should've let me get one hit in at least."

"He didn't break my heart," you groan, rolling your eyes. "It wasn't that serious, you know that. We'd only been dating for 4 months."

"...I watched you cry for an hour because someone stepped on a worm—"

"—that's different. It's literally a living little creature, what if that's someone's girlfriend, hm? What if she asked her boyfriend 'would you still love me if I was a worm' and he said yes except now they can't live wormily ever after because she's smushed all because some horrible person can't be bothered to step aside for a worm?"

Jackson stared up at you, blinking slowly, looking 175% done with your shit.

"What the fuck is wormily ever after?"

You sigh, leaning forward until your head is on his bare shoulder. You have half a mind to bite him, though you resist. You will be civil—for now.

"I don't know," you mumble. "No early birds, no hot sidewalks?"

"I....you're so fucking weird."

"Lots of guys are dickheads, but you were ready to knock him out. Really, Jackson, was that all? Promise he didn't say something to you?" you ask, voice muffled against his warm skin. Just one lil munch. It'd be good payback for him scaring the hell out of you last night.

Jackson exhales, and there's suddenly a hand tugging at your tangled mess of bedhead until you're sitting up, looking down at him.

"I wanted to kick his ass for the same reason that I never bring anyone home," he says quietly. His eyes are serious, no sparkle of humor in them, and it makes your stomach twist. You didn't like it when Jackson got serious.

"What? Because of me?" you ask. "I don't care who you fuck as long as I don't have to cook them breakfast."

Mostly true—you were afraid of walking out of your bedroom one morning and running into a really pretty girl, someone with perfect grades and clear skin, who has the audacity to be beautiful and nice. Someone only Jackson deserves. But you leave that bit out and give him a half teasing smile.

Jackson doesn't return it. He grunts, moving his hand up to tug at his hair. You slip yours beneath his, mumbling for him to stop doing that.

"You really don't?" he finally asks, swallowing hard enough that you see his throat move.

"Don't what?"

"You don't care who I fuck?"

His question catches you off guard, though not as much as the fact that he still looks dead serious. This seems like something the two of you should be laughing over—not something to talk about whilst you're currently straddling your best friend in your bed, who happens to be naked from the waist up.

"I mean...no?" you say, shaking your head in confusion. "Should I?"

"I don't know, should you?"

Should you? What the hell was that supposed to mean? You didn't like riddles, and this felt like one. You'd tried to stay out of his business over the four years you've been friends, though come to think of it...you'd never met any of his girlfriends after the first six months. You'd assumed he was so busy with classes and his extracurriculars that there just wasn't much time for anything past shallow hookups.

But...you couldn't remember a single time that had occurred. He was home every night, never brought company over for that purpose.

"Jackson," you say quietly, palms resting on his chest. When the hell did he get so muscular? There was a noticable firmness beneath your fingers, and you briefly considered billing Leejin for your services in making sure he didn't get the shit beat out of him. "I feel like this is an inside joke and I'm out of the loop. You're upset? Why?"

"Why would I be?" he counters, irritatingly smooth. The hands on your hips squeeze once, like he's trying to talk to you in morse code. It's annoying.

"Quit," you mumble, biting your lower lip. "I'm trying. Stop being mean and just tell me."

He sighs, moving a hand to his face.

"If you don't already know, then it doesn't matter, alright?"

"Wh—"

You're cut off as he suddenly shifts from beneath you, leaving you tumbling to the sheets when he stands. Just like the last two times for some damn reason, he prepares to storm out of the room.

"Jackson, wait—shit."

You trip over the edge of your nightstand, catching yourself on your hands. Your lamp tumbles to the floor, thankfully not shattering on the carpet. Still, the ache brings tears to your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you sit down.

"How many times have I told you to push that against the wall!?" Jackson says, rushing over to you. You lean back against your bed, grimacing as you look at your knee. It's not the worst scrape you've ever gotten, but it is bleeding, and it burns.

"Hang on, pie." He leaves the room, and by the time he returns with the pack of bandaids and peroxide, you're covering your face with one hand and hugging your knee with the other.

"Hey, it's not so bad," he says, obviously in partial panic mode as he kneels in front of you and tugs at your ankle. He probably thought that's why you were in tears, but it was moreso the fact that he was being...just...weird, and you didn't like it.

You quietly sit there, hands over your eyes as he uses a cotton ball to dab at the blood. You don't even flinch, it doesn't burn—perks of having an MMA star for a roommate; he knew how to bandage a cut (a common occurence for your clumsy ass, unfortunately).

After a few minutes, he pats the side of your calf, and you finally uncover your eyes. There's a bandaid over the scrape now, and you let your knee fall to the side. Jackson is looking at you, and you nod.

"That's good, thanks," you mumble quietly.

"You sure?" he asks. You frown, nodding quickly. But his hand moves up to your cheek, cupping it as his thumb swipes below your eye.

Tears.

That alarm goes off inside of you, but Jackson doesn't move his hand, so you let it sit there and you feel your stomach tying itself into a knot. You're a little worried it's not gonna come undone.

"I wasn't crying because of that," you say, swallowing as you glance away shamefully. "I...I don't like this, Jackson. Feels weird. If I did something to make you mad, I wish you'd just tell me—"

"I'm not mad at you," he replies. You sniff, and finally his hand slips away, though only to rest on your uninjured knee. His fingers twitch, like he wants to do something but won't let himself. Slap you, maybe, for never listening to him and always ending up hurt because of it. You would, if you were him.

"You keep running away from me," you point out, a little surge of anger from last night returning. "You keep acting like I'm supposed to know everything you're thinking, and I don't, because you won't tell me stuff. I tell you stuff, the least you could do is text me a grocery list of what the fuck is going on inside of your brain, so I'm not sitting here thinking I'm gonna lose my best friend and roommate over something I don't even know that I've done. I'm sorry we ran into Leejin, it's not like I knew he was gonna be there. I'm sorry for thinking I was special in the first place and ending up where you said I'd be."

Jackson sighs and tilts his head, and you hate yourself for crying more. It wasn't a big deal, things were a little crazy after yesterday. You didn't even love Leejin, it had just...hurt? Your pride? No one wants to know they're less than a second choice. But Jackson had acted like Leejin was out for his blood, and every time he runs away, it feels like he's escaping you.

"You're not gonna lose me," he finally says, glancing down at the floor. "I just...I've got a lot of shit to work through, you know? It's not...it's not your fault though."

"Like what?" you ask, worry lining your brow. "If you'd just—is it money? Because we can figure out rent—"

"It's not money," he interrupts. "I promise, it's nothing like that."

"Then what?" You huff, a little more irritated than concerned. "Parents? Grades? Girl trouble?"

"Yeah," he nods, licking his lips. "That last bit."

"Girl trouble?" you ask, somewhat surprised. For some reason, the fact that he hadn't told you about a girl bothered you more than the idea that there was one at all. You shared everything with him; if he'd kept her a secret, it had to have been a little more serious.

"Do I know her?" you ask tentatively. Please say no, I don't want to go through a list of the hottest girls I know.

"Yeah," he replies. Fuck.

"Oh. How long have you been dating?"

"We're not."

"Then...?"

"She's an idiot."

"It's a mystery as to why you're single, really," you say, rolling your eyes. "So she's an idiot because she won't date you? Sounds kind of shallow on your end."

"She's an idiot because she keeps dating jackasses who don't give a shit about her. I don't give a damn if she ever chooses me or not," he says plainly. You frown.

"Maybe she's insecure?"

"She is. Very."

"Huh. Is she pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"Oh. Hm."

Well what the fuck were you supposed to say to that? Congratulations? Sorrows, sorrows, prayers?

"Okay..." you say after a beat. You were not good with advice, especially when it came to love, obviously. He didn't say love though. Infatuation, maybe. Still, you were not an expert. "So if she keeps dating jackasses and won't date you, why do you bother? Why not just forget about her?"

Jackson's eye twitches. You don't notice.

"Hard to forget someone you see every day, pie," he says. You scoff.

"Okay, I'm calling bullshit. I'm literally the only person you see every day."

"Mhm."

"Then you're lying?" you ask. Jackson deadpans.

"Please, for the love of god, never reproduce."

"Rude," you mutter. "Fine, so I know her, she's insecure, pretty, dates assholes, you allegedly see her everyday?"

"All of the above," he says. You frown, lips pursing as you rack your brain for answers, going through the hot insecure girls you know like a filing cabinet.

Wait.

Your eyes widen. Jackson's do the same, and then he smiles, like he's proud of you.

"Oh my god, is it Kim Sujin?" You ask, covering your mouth. "The girl with the—"

"Jesus fucking christ, y/n," he groans, running a hand through his hair. "Are you...you're fucking with me? That's what this is. You're not this dumb, right? Please say no. I feel like I'm in middle school right now, holy shit."

You open your mouth to argue, to insist he was being unfair (you didn't even like puzzles!) but he suddenly leans forward, palms cupping both of your cheeks. He pulls you toward him, nose inches from yours. You've been this close to him before, but you're suddenly dizzy now, a little out of it as you wonder if this is really happening to you—or if this is another sweaty-jackson-standing-over-me dream. Jackson, who has freckles on the tip of his nose and won't stop looking at you like that, the knot pulling tighter and tighter.

"Stop thinking before you hurt yourself. 'm gonna kiss you now, is that okay?" he asks.

Is that oka—?

"Kiss?" you mumble, swallowed up by those god damn pretty brown eyes. Jackson nods, head tilted, primed to kiss the cluelessness out of you, apparently. "Y-yeah, that's fine."

"It's gonna be...it's gonna be a lot, okay? Like not just a peck. You're fine with that?"

"Yep," you nod.

Jackson nods back. And then he kisses you.

He doesn't release your face, squishing your body between himself and the bed behind you. His lips press to yours, insistent and warm, though you can tell he's being cautious—if you wanted to push him away, you could. But you did not want to do that.

Because Jackson Wang was kissing you, and he's a really good kisser.

You briefly forget that you have hands, so when you remember, you waste no time in using them. One cups his jaw, feeling the edge of it press into your palm. The other fists his blonde hair, tugging it gently.

Jackson groans into your mouth, and that alarm in your belly turns into a fucking war drum. You feel the knot tighten and snap, and suddenly you're pushing him back, scrambling into his lap.

You kind of want more, kind of want to put your tongue in his mouth because he's warm and tastes good and you can only imagine how much better it would be, but he beats you to it. His tongue swipes over your lower lip and you eagerly open for him. He breathes in as soon as you do, and it feels like he's stealing your soul. Fuck it? He can have it?

It's messy, a tad bit desperate, definitely not the poetic kiss of rom coms, but you don't give a shit. It feels good, feels warm and right, like you've been kissing him in your head every day for the past 4 years.

By the time you manage to separate, you're trembling an embarassing amount. You'd blame the buzz on coffee if you'd had any, but you just hide your flushed cheeks and rest your forehead against his shoulder. You can tell that for once, Jackson's brain seems to also have short circuited, as it takes him a minute before he finally wraps his arms around you. You can hear his breath—as shaky as yours, thank god.

"Was that okay? Was it weird? Did I make you uncomfortable?" he asks, tilting back on one palm to look at you, his other arm secured around your waist. You sit up, shamelessly biting your lower lip, refusing to meet his eyes. He mistakes this for discomfort, all but shoving you out of his lap, hands flying to his hair.

"Fuck, I...I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to. I wasn't gonna...I'm so fucking sorry y/n, if you want me to move out—"

"You're gonna go bald," you mumble, a little blitzed out as you rest on your hands.

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Stop freaking out, okay?" you offer, finally looking up at him. God he looks...scared. Hair messy, brown eyes wide. So unlike his usual cocky self that you're a little shaken, caught between wanting to protect him and wanting to kiss him again.

"I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I?" he asks softly. That alarm is now everywhere, setting off in your chest at his concerned tone. You shake your head.

"No. I'm okay," you reassure him. "A little irritated."

Jackson's head snaps up, worry on his face. You feel guilty, so you quickly clarify.

"You said I'm not special," you say quietly, looking away. "If you were talking about me just now...why did you tell me that?"

He looks confused, like he can't remember (of all the things he's said to bully you—while you kept a detailed record). But he seems to finally recall the conversation, rubbing his forehead as his lips spread into a smile.

"What's funny?" you puff.

"I meant to him, pie. You're not special to him. Not that you weren't special at all, or to...to me," he explains, looking part amused and part shy. You soften a bit, unable to help but pout.

"Then you should say that!" you say, gesturing at nothing. "You can't just go around telling people they aren't special."

"I don't make you feel special?" he asks, dipping his head to meet your eyes.

Well, yes, but that's not the point. You choose not to reply.

Just like most things when it comes to you, however, he already knows the answer. He looks a little too proud of himself as he reaches for your wrist, pulling you back into him. You're not quite in his lap, but you lean heavily against his side, your chin resting against his chest.

"What if we mess it up?" you ask, looking up at him. He frowns, not understanding. "Us. What if...what if we mess us up?"

"I don't see how we would," he laughs. "We're practically married."

"Gross. We are not."

"We split the bills, pie."

"Most roommates do."

"We cook together."

"Most roommates do."

"My mother loves you."

"Your mother loves everyone."

"Not true. And my father loves you."

You pause, then squint.

"Your father has good taste," you say. Jackson rolls his eyes. He looks a little conflicted, like he can't decide what's too much, what's too soon.

"I do," he says quietly.

You hate that, for once in your life, you know exactly what he's saying without him saying it. And god damn it, you feel your eyes burning.

"Don't...ugh," you whine, looking away from him. But he's not having it, taking your chin and tilting your face up. You're faced with glassy eyes that make you want to die.

You hated it when he cried. Maybe you make his joints hurt or whatever, but you've only seen Jackson cry twice, once when his family dog died, and another when he was drunk and had convinced himself you weren't his friend anymore. Both times, you'd never felt so helpless. The way you feel now.

"Y/n, I—"

"Please don't," you breathe quickly, swallowing down your tears. You immediately panic at the look on his face, like you've slapped him. But you tuck your hair behind your ear and shake your head.

"No, I-I mean, I know you do, and I...I'm pretty sure I do too. I just...I can't say it now, alright?" you explain. "I'm sorry, I just—you know me better than anyone. I don't...don't wanna fuck it up, you know? I don't wanna lose you, I'm so bad, so stupid when it comes to this—"

"Hey, hey, shh..." Jackson says, gently shaking your chin. "I'm not upset, okay? Just relieved, a little scared. I don't want to fuck this up either, yeah? I want...I want what we are today and I want it tomorrow, even if that means we stay just like this."

His thumb brushes your lower lip. God, you want to kiss him again.

"No rush, pie, okay? I'll wait for you, even if..." he sucks in air and looks away, as though the idea hurts to even consider. "...even if it's never for us."

You want to kiss him again. Would that even be appropriate? After what you just said? After the emotions threatening to disrupt the foundation of your life for the past four years?

"Can...can I kiss you again?" he asks softly. You swallow and nod.

"Please."

[delulkpopstan143]

First Time

Han Jisung x fem!reader

Word Count:

18+ MDNI!!

Warnings: pet names, virgin!han & virgin!reader, jealousy, oral (f), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it 😤), pull out method, nipple play, let me know if I missed anything <3

Not proofread, if you see a mistake, no you didn’t.

You and Jisung have been friend since birth. Your mothers just so happened to be best friends who got pregnant at the same time, so it was hard to avoid each other. It’s a good thing you got along, if not, it would’ve been very awkward.

Now, you two are in high school and the last year of it in fact. This year was one of the more important ones but you also felt the need to relax a bit this year. This includes finally getting a boyfriend and maybe having sex for the first time? Who knows?

Right now, you are sitting on your bed, wrapped up in your favorite fluffy blanket, which just so happens to be the one Jisung gifted you for your 13th birthday. As you relaxed on your bed, curled up and watching a movie, you hear a soft knock on your window.

With an excited squeal you hop off of your bed and scurry over to the window. You open it up and smile brightly.

“Jisung! Did you bring the snacks!?”

He climbed into your room and sighed, “Am I a personal snack collector to you?” he deadpanned.

“Hmm…. Yes.” You tease before padding back to your comfy bed.

With another sigh he follows you to your bed and sits beside you. “You’re lucky I am such a generous friend.” He said while grabbing a bag of snacks out of his backpack.

“Hey so, you know how losing your virginity is a big thing now?” You ask suddenly, looking at him innocently as his movements come to a halt. “Uh.. Yeah? What at about it?” He responded while looking over at you.

“I was just thinking of trying to lose mine this year. But I don’t know yet.” You dismissed the thought quickly and shifted on the bed. Noticing that Jisung was just sitting on the bed without any blankets, you draped yours over the both of you, scooting over closer to share some warmth.

You didn’t notice the way that he had stiffened when you got closer. In fact you haven’t been noticing those little details recently. You used to be acutely aware of every move anyone made around you. But with Jisung it was different. You didn’t need to be so hyper focused on the little things he did. He’s your best friend after all, he’d never try to hurt you so you don’t have to be careful around him.

-❤︎-

You are currently at a party that Hyunjin was hosting. You and the rest of the boys helped him set up and you wouldn’t help but notice how much Minho was looking at you. But little did you know, you weren’t the only one noticing this.

As the party continued, so did Minhos staring. Eventually he walked over to you and offered you some beer, to which you declined. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders while talking to you. You had to admit, you enjoyed him hitting on you. No one had really seemed to show an interest in you.

And, oh, how you were wrong about that one.

Sitting on the couch was a fuming Jisung. He was watching the whole time, seeing Minho basically eye fuck you from across the room, watching as he fucking dared to put his hands on you. He gripped the cup of soda so tight it almost snapped and spilled all over him. After noticing how angry he probably looks, he let out a soft sigh.

For the first time that night he let his attention gravitate towards something, anything else. And what a bad idea that was. He looked back at you two to see that he was leading you to a separate room. “Fuck,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

He knew what was going to happen, you were going to let him fuck you. And Jisung wasn’t going to let that happen. There’s no way in hell that Minho will be your first time. There’s absolutely no way that will be happening. And with his hyung being more experienced in that field, he was sure that he wouldn’t get a chance if you guys did do the deed.

Everything was a blur to you, from getting pulls into the room with Minho, to Jisung barging in and yelling to “not do anything you’ll regret”.

You stared at Jisung as he glared at Minho in anger and slight.. betrayal? “What are you fucking doing, Minho?” He growled at his hyung, while you stood there confused. “Hmm? What do you mean?” Minho asked, feigning innocence.

“You know exactly what I fucking mean,” you could see the pure anger in Jisung’s eyes when he said that. “Get out of here, I need to talk to Y/N,” Jisung spat to the older male. With a scoff Minho left the room.

Jisung watched as Minho left the room, his anger mixing with hurt when he look over at you. “What were you going to do with him, Y/N?” he asked softly.

“Well I wasn’t totally sure, but I was hoping to lose my virginity tonight. But that’s not happening, thanks to you,” you retorted. Who did he think he was to barge into the room like that?

“Oh, it’s gonna happen, thanks to me,” you didn’t have much time to register his words before he was inches away from you and his lips were pressed against yours in a firm yet gentle kiss. You could feel how much he’s wanted to do this, not from the suddenness of the kiss, but from the tenderness, and way it had so much emotion in it.

When he pulled away to look at you, he seemed as if he was about to cry. “You don’t understand how much I love you, Y/N. Please, be my girl, my love, mine. I’m so immensely in love with you it hurts my heart to not be with you,” he said gently while cupping your cheeks.

“Ji, I never thought you would feel the same way I do… I want to be yours too, baby. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine… I was just to dead set that you wouldn’t want me in that way I was willing to settle for less,” your voice broke as you spoke to him. You dreamed of this moment hundreds of times but never did you imagine to turn out like this.

“Y/N, will you let me be your first time?” Jisung asked softly, still cupping your cheeks. You nodded, and that’s all it took to him to press his lips against yours once more. This time the kiss was more urgent, more intense, compared to the first. The first kiss was him testing the waters, this one was a full on dive.

Not even a second later his tongue was delving inside your mouth, tilting his head to the side, to gain more access. The kiss got sloppier this way, the wet sounds coming from your mouths reverberating around the room. As it continued you felt the heat between your legs grow, not only that but you could feel his arousal pressed against your thigh.

You break away to catch your breath and he immediately attaches his mouth to the skin of your neck. His hands reach up to cup your breasts as he leaves hot open mouthed kisses on you the soft skin of your neck, kneading at the skin of your breasts through your shirt and bra. You gasp at his boldness but you’re not at all opposed to it. How could you be when he’s making you feel something you’ve never felt before.

In a blink of an eye he had your shirt on the floor and your bra pulled down so your tits fell out of it, for his viewing pleasure. You were about to open your mouth to speak but all that came out was a moan as he attached his lips to your sensitive nipple.

“Ji-“ you moan out at his tongue that starts to circle around the bud as his hand came up to play with the neglected one. For someone who’s never had sex before he sure seemed experienced. His thumb flicked and played with your nipple as he sucked on the opposite one. Soon he switched and started to suck on the one he had been playing with.

When he finally pulls away he looks you straight in the eyes before lifting you up and throwing you down onto the bed inside of the room. Hyunjin and set this room up just in case anyone wanted to have fun, and you must say; it came in handy.

“God you’re so fucking gorgeous,” he practically growled while slipping off your skirt to reveal your pretty white lace panties with a little pink bow on the top. He traced your slit through your panties, a huge wet spot already on the material. “So wet for me, baby,” he said before slipping off the panties and leaning in to lick a stripe up your slit. He moaned against your heat and began to eat you out, his hands coming up to hold the soft plush of your thighs.

You moan out and grip his hair, threading your fingers through the soft strands. “So good at that,” you whimper out as you feel an unfamiliar sensation build up in your lower abdomen. Soon enough you were both moaning out, him because of how fucking delicious you were, and you because of your first orgasm.

He pulled away and sat up straight, his eyes full of lust as he looked down at you, fully naked. Suddenly you felt hyper aware of every inch of your body but he was quick to make those thoughts go away. You watch as he leans into kiss you again, his tongue dancing with your own.

“Ji,” you say after pulling away, “Can I take your clothes off?” He nods and sits up straight and watches as you follow suit, your hands finding their place on the hem of his shirt and pulling it up and over his torso. You could come again just looking at his toned muscles.

After getting him fully naked your jaw dropped at the sight of him. Holy fuck was he just as hot as you’ve imagined. Your eyes fall down to his cock that looks painfully hard, precum beading at the tip of it. “Oh my fucking god,” you say before lying back down on the bed.

“You’re one hundred percent sure about this, baby?” he asks softly, his body leaning over yours and his tip already aligned with your sopping entrance. “Yes, I’m sure Sungie,” you plead and nod desperately. And with that he slips his cock in you. He moans at your gummy walls sucking him in along with you moaning at the foreign feeling.

He waits for you to adjust before rolling his hips back and forth. On instinct, your arms wrap around his neck, tears pricking at your eyes from the, once painful and now overwhelming pleasureful, stretch.

Once you both got used to the slow path he had set, he picked it up. His hips started to slam into yours at an ungodly rate, the wet noises and downright pornographic moans coming from the two of you were enough to trick someone into thinking it was a porn set.

Not very long after you felt that knot form in your lower abdomen again. “Sungie, I’m gonna come,” you moan out him. “Mhm, me too, babygirl,” he says breathlessly. Once he had said that you let go and came around his cock. He thrusted into you a few more times before pulling out and coming on your stomach.

“Fuck,” he mumbled as she flopped down next to you, his arms pulling you close. “I hope you know that this means we’re dating now,” he whispers tiredly into your ear. “Good, I wouldn’t want it any other way, my sweet boy,” you reply before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and laying your head on his chest, falling asleep due to the very eventful night.

Tagged: @jeonginsleftcheek

[cozmowrites]

Wonderwall: One

one

11:38 AM

you: hi ☺️

bkg: Who the fuck are you?

you: oh im (y/n)! mei is a bit busy with other students so ill help her and fix up what you need on your costume

bkg: I don't need your help.

you: oh okay

2:20 PM

you: you're looking directly at me but you're not talking

you: what is it you need? use your words

bkg: I'm looking for the crazy one.

you: mei is busy with the green haired kid and the robot looking guy. it's me or whoever else with their hands free so pick

bkg: I need my gauntlets fixed.

you: what about them needs fixed?

bkg: Can't you just figure it out? I don't have all evening.

you: feisty

you: im trying to help but i can't because you're not helping

bkg: The crazy one knows.

you: news flash, i am not mei

you: so are you going to tell me or not?

you: i can just hand over the project to someone else that mei trusts less or i can do it and you can tell me.

You looked away from your phone briefly as you watched his eyes avert from your form, annoyed at him for acting so childish. Especially for a third year. You looked back down to your phone to send him a quick text.

you: oh, so you're just not gonna look at me now, ok. have fun with someone else

bkg: Something inside keeps malfunctioning.

like what? mei told me you use that to store your quirk's sweat.

bkg: I don't know. Something isn't pushing the sweat out like it used to.

you: ill look at the problem overnight, but you won't see them until at least tomorrow after school

you: just set them on my desk and ill text you updates if i got them

You looked away from your phone briefly as he set his gauntlets down on your desk with a grumble. You rolled you eyes and added to your text.

you: don't grumble at me

(bakugou disliked your text)

Later that night, you worked in the workshop on his gauntlets, finding the problem after several hours. Before you could dive into it, you heard a text come from your phone. The bright light blinding you momentarily.

7:53 PM

bkg: Update?

you: some of your things in there are rusting, did you know that?

you: i can't fix it from the inside, i have to take it all apart and fix it like that

bkg: No way in hell.

you: bakugou, right?

you: the rust is all inside. you have to replace that every few months because of the moisture from your sweat.

bkg: The crazy one would be able to fix it.

you: im. not. mei.

you: get that through your thick skull.

you: mei gave me your information so that i could help you, and i could help her take off some of the slack.

you: she trusts me the most. do you fucking understand that?

you: i would be GLAD to hand you off to another student in the class.

you: mei didn't tell me you'd be a complete asshole but i should've known when i had seen you in the sports festival win for both first year's and second year's.

you: you're still so full of yourself, even after that big war

you: call me insensitive, but you can let someone else work on your gear and your costume just fine.

you: it's NOT that big of a deal.

bkg: Fine.

bkg: Do whatever you can to fix them.

bkg: Don't fucking break them.

you: why would i do that?

You took a moment to breath from the frustrated typing you just spent. Your breathing raged.

you: put more trust in me third year

(bakugou disliked your message)

You worked tirelessly all night. That's what you did, on all your projects, even student ones. You got no sleep what-so-ever and eventually, you watched the sun rise. It made your eyes and head hurt, but you were quite used to it.

6:04 AM

you: good morning 🌅

you: i completely tore everything apart last night and found more issues so it'll be longer until you get your gauntlets back.

you: on the bright side, i fixed a bunch of stuff mei did in a rush and made it more stable.

7:11 AM

you: your gauntlets are really heavy, do you really carry them around?

you: i thought you had bad wrists or something

you: there's a way to double the sweat storage without making it any heavier for your wrist you know

you: they just won't look so classic to your grenades or whatever

You decided to step away from your desk and head to the student's dorms to change and freshen up. Just since it'll be another day of school and you spent all night in at your desk in the classroom.

A little over an hour passed, and you were back at the classroom, the rest of the students working hard on their projects and gear for other students. You, however, stopped when you saw breakfast on your desk. You furrowed your brows, it was not from the cafeteria, rather bought from some fast food place. There wasn't a note or anything, but Mei saw you quickly and peered around the corner.

"Bakugou dropped that off for you by the way." She smiled and returned to her work area, busying herself once again. You couldn't ask her further what was up. Or if he had said anything when he dropped it off. You didn't want to bother her further.

8:26 AM

you: yo mei said you stopped by and left this shit on my desk

you: [image of food attached]

you: is this your way of paying for tearing apart your gauntlets?

you: either way, ill eat it ig

You didn't give him the satisfaction of a 'thank you'. He didn't deserve it, he treated you like shit.

12:03 PM

you: i got it mostly done. you can pick them up tomorrow morning.

(bakugou liked your message)

By the time evening rolled around, you fixed the gauntlets earlier than intended. It's evening and you haven't eaten since lunch (which was 6 hours ago). You can't decide whether to eat and just return the gauntlets after eating or to pay Bakugou back for the breakfast and return his gauntlets to him.

You ultimately decided.

5:07 PM

you: by the way, your gauntlets are heavy as fuck.

You switched to your dashdoor app and looked at options for food. No need to try and order food for anyone else, no one else was in here with you except for Yuka. Mei was out doing who knows what.

"Hey Yuka, Do you want anything? I'm ordering takeout." You decided to ultimately speak up. Yuka was a good classmate to you, and often covered for you, so you could pay her back with some food or something. 

"If you're offering, sure." She smiled at you, her voice soft and gentle, compared to Mei's or Power Loader's.

"What would you like?" You asked, genuinely curious in her taste in foods. You'd assume soft and sweet, but when she opened to answer, you were a bit surprised.

"Spicy. The spiciest they have." She smiled and turned back to her workspace. You ordered food for the both of you and when it arrived, you ate quietly. She would occasionally ask a question about what you were working on currently, only for her to nod or hum in response.

When you finished eating, you bid goodbye to Yuka and she did the same. You headed down the hall and past the hero course hall, kind of curious as to if Bakugou was still hanging around. You could give him his gauntlets, but that would result on taking a detour and all you wanted to do was get home. You ultimately decided to just go home, shaking off every curiosity you had about Bakugou. He was not worth a thought. You headed home instead.

The next morning was pretty uneventful. You settled in to your workspace and started messing with a project of yours's that you started, some old junk that maybe could be some laser detection or something. You weren't sure. You tore apart other old projects of Mei's because she gave you permission to do so, and want to try your hand at something different. It was just regular free time morning stuff. The door opened and the ash blond walked in, in his school uniform. Hands in pockets and all. You rolled your eyes and pointed to the gauntlets on the other half of your workspace.

"My costume tore." He gruffly spoke up, pulling his bag around from his back and pulling out a folded hero costume.

"Okay?" You replied, not interested in fixing it, or at least fixing it right away. "Not my problem."You don't take bullshit from anyone, especially not Bakugou. He was notorious for that, or so you've heard.

He shook his head and replied with a 'tsk', inviting himself into a chair. "I don't care. Fix it."

"Is saying 'please' so difficult? Maybe saying it will have me care a little more." You replied, going back to messing with this item if yours's. He tapped his foot impatiently.

"I need it by this afternoon."

"Great." You snapped back quickly.

He let out an aggravated sigh. A moment later, a message notification.

8:20 AM

bkg: Why can't you just fucking do it? It'll only take a few minutes.

you: where's the "please"? hm?

you: i only do nice things for people if they're nice back

bkg: You piss me off.

bkg: Fix it.

you: you piss me off too!

you: im glad the feeling is mutual

you: and i won't do shit

you: you said you need it by the afternoon?

you: you'll come get it at lunch

you: you are not my priority today

you: i gave you priority yesterday

"You texted me just to get the same answer." You spoke up making him snap his head up from his phone. You were right, all he did was get the same answer, but in text form. You shook your head and set down the laser sensor. "I'll give it to you at lunch."

He stood from his chair and moved out of the room without another word. You'll work on this other student's thing and then his in time for lunch.

+++

By the time lunch rolled around, you finished the fix. It was a bit more difficult than you had hoped. You're not one to see costumes, that's usually Yuka's thing, but she was not in the classroom usually until afternoon so you had to take what she taught you and remember it the best you could. You were better with hardware over anything else. You got your lunch tray through the line and walked over to where you saw the ash blond poking out from the crowd. He was sitting with 4 others that looked like they invited themselves there.

"Here." You set down the bag in front of him and he looked up at you briefly before a loud voice gasped.

"Oh my gosh, you're so pretty! You know Bakugou? You should totally sit down and eat with us!!" You looked over and it was the pink alien one.

====

read it all here:

wattpad

ao3

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 17: Sweetheart

Ao3 | 2.9k Words | Sweetheart's POV

Milo and Colm have a word. Sweetheart said ACAB. Porter has his teeth around the problem. Quinn performs surgery. Milo is pissed.

TW: Medical talk, discussions of surgery, discussions of injuries, discussions of gambling, alcohol use.

You weren’t exactly awake when you started hearing him, but you were fairly convinced that, the second Milo was near, you were aware of him. His hands, his long, rough fingers, brushing against your face, through your curls, pressing into the juncture of your throat, as if to prove to himself that you were alive. His voice, high and strained with panic, demanding to know what was going on, cooing your name, asking you to open your eyes, to look at him. 

You knew when he was gone again. You heard him fight it as his hands disappeared. 

“Don’t you touch me,” he snarled, voice growing distant, “don’t you touch me, you bastard, what the fuck were you doing there, huh?” 

You were somewhere else for a long time. Everything twisted up and down and around itself, tying knots in your concept of time and space. 

You knew when he came back. His hand was in yours and the world righted itself again. 

“Why did they call you?” Milo’s voice had gone tired and dark, tinged with a dangerous edge. The room was quiet around his question, save for the quiet breath and heartbeat of the machines that surrounded you. You counted the seconds before he got his answer. 

“We had a conversation in November.” Colm replied. He was somewhere off to your left, deeper in whatever room you had been stuck in. “I provided some information surrounding a figure of interest in their ongoing investigation.” 

“Cut the bullshit, please.” It had the bite of an admonishment, but you knew better. Milo was exhausted. 

“I made them promise to be safe.” Colm obliged. He sighed. You heard him scrub a hand over his stubble, the pops that rang up his back as he stretched in his stiff, rubbery chair. Milo’s thumb trailed over your knuckles, stung across the abrasions and bruises that dotted the delicate skin. You could feel his fingers shake in your limp hold. 

“Should’a called me.” Milo murmured. 

“They didn’t want to scare ya.” Colm replied. 

“What the fuck do you know about it, huh?” Milo snapped. His voice went sour and loud, too loud to be appropriate for a hospital. “You don’t know shit about us.”

The room was silent again, breathing gently around you. An alarm blared somewhere far off. A group of people ran by your room’s door, their sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. 

“You remember those nights that I wouldn’t come home until you were getting up for school?” Colm’s voice was low and harsh, barely audible over your own heartbeat echoing around the room. 

“‘Cause you were out gambling.” Milo had gone quiet. He didn’t sound afraid, not exactly. There was just a familiar trepidation in his voice that made you want to cry. You wanted to open your eyes. You wanted to wake up, to get out of this bed, to put an end to this conversation. Your body wouldn’t move. 

“No.” Colm snapped. “‘Cause I was at the overnight dry cleaner trying to get blood out of my suit.” Milo’s breath stuttered. You fought to grip his hand back, to let him know that he wasn’t alone in this moment. “I got hurt on the job. I saw people die. I killed people. And I didn’t want to bring that home to your mother. I didn’t want to scare her. Or you. I relied on people… on things besides you two to see me through that. Maybe it wasn’t the right choice. But you never saw me covered in somebody else’s blood, so I’ll call that a win for my parenting.” 

Something metal spun and clanked. A harsh swallow. You could hear the lace of Milo’s boot clanging against the frame of your bed as he bounced his leg a mile a minute. 

“You could have the decency not to drink in front of me.” Milo replied coldly. “Maybe then we could talk about wins for your parenting.” 

Colm started to respond, his voice gone harsh and mean. You felt the bolt of movement run down each muscle in your arm, through your fingers, so painful and strong that you thought you’d break MIlo’s hand when you gripped it back. Instead, your fingers barely twitched in his hold. 

It was enough, even with his father beginning to yell, to draw Milo’s attention back to you. 

“Sweetheart?” He asked softly. You heard his chair scrape the floor, tumble back, and fall as he stood. “Baby, are you with me?”

“Shit,” Colm breathed. Something metal hit the floor. Another hand slipped into your free one. “Come on, open your eyes, kid.” 

You tried to say Milo’s name, but all that came out was a rasping groan. You had been intubated. You could tell from the terrible, knee scrape sting that lined your vocal chords as they hummed back to life. 

“Come on, baby,” Milo cooed softly. You felt as one of his calloused hands slid up your cheek, tapping fingers bringing you back to life. “Lemme see those pretty eyes.” 

He asked so sweetly, and so you obliged. 

Your vision was dulled and fuzzy, and the scant lights of your dim hospital room burned across your eyes. As soon as they cracked open, you squeezed them closed again, but before you did, you caught sight of Milo’s beaming face. 

“Go get Ma.” Milo said, breathless. You heard Colm’s footsteps retreat without argument. 

Between the three Greers, you were fussed and primped over for the next hour or so, offered extra pillows and ice chips and more painkillers than you reasonably thought one person should be on. Marie recounted your arrival to the ER animatedly, somehow twisting humor in with the horror that still clung to the three of them. 

“I swear to God, when I saw my husband walk through those doors covered in blood, I was ready to kill him.” She laughed, retying the shoulder of your gown for the tenth time since she’d rushed into your room, calling doctors and nurses and a whole armada of medical professionals in behind her. You thought you’d probably been examined by everybody in the hospital at this point, from the surgeons to the janitors. Now, in the very wee hours of the morning, you were waiting for word from your surgeons to see how long you’d be trapped in this room. 

You had asked for David as soon as you got your voice back in your chest. Milo’s face had screwed up at that, confused, but acquiesced. You’d given David the run down over the phone, just the bullet points, promising to give him all of the details in person. The captain was getting off shift in an hour or so. He’d gone from his day shift to Milo’s night shift so he could be here with you. He’d been running on no sleep anyway, if his spouse was to be believed. You were sure that your report wouldn’t do anything to help him sleep at night. 

Colm had taken down your official statement despite your offer to wait for another detective. He was Homicide, not Violent Crime, and he had been drinking, but from what you could tell, his tolerance was working in his favor in this instance. He didn’t seem to be touched by the swigs he had been taking from his silver flask. 

Milo had to step out when you started describing the fight. His hands shook as he made for the door, Marie following quickly after him. 

“That’s what he said exactly?” Colm asked, his face gone stern with concentration. He had that look in his eyes, the same one that you got about you. He had his teeth around the throat of the problem. He was just waiting for the right time to clamp down. 

“Tell them that the next time they send somebody else to do their dirty work, they won’t walk away from me.” You repeated, eyes slipping closed. You could picture the words falling off of Quinn’s curved lips, the bright burn of his blue eyes. 

Colm whistled low, shaking his head. 

“This guy is a grade A freak.” He sighed. “I’m throwing some police resources your way. You’re officially consulting on a full fledged investigation.” 

“You know how I feel about cops, Colm.” You said. Your experience with the Police Department had been less than sweet, and Colm was quite familiar with your grievances with its practices. The deep rooted corruption in Dahlia’s Police Department was too much for you to overlook, and despite good people like Ansel trying to make a change, those good apples did very little to lessen the rot in the barrel. More often than not, good apples ended up like Colm; poisoned by the bad ones as the years went on.  

You’d given it the old college try, but you’d only managed to put a target on your own back in the process. 

“Then it’s a good thing it’ll just be me.” Colm smiled. “Besides, you’ll be doing most of your consulting from a hospital bed.” 

“If you think they’re going to keep me in this bed for more than a day you’re out of your mind.” You snapped back. 

“Oh, I think we’ll manage a bit longer.” 

You turned towards the door to your room as a tall, slender man stepped inside. He was clad in a navy button up shirt and tie, a pristine white lab coat announcing him as the Chief of Surgery in tight, hunter green embroidery. His shoulder length blonde hair was dotted with silver strands at his temples, tied back into a ponytail at the base of his skull. When he smiled, you watched as crows feet and laugh lines flashed across his features, lining his face handsomely. He was flanked by Marie, Milo, and another doctor in maroon scrubs. 

“It is good to see you awake and talking.” The chief said as he crossed the room, extending his hand to shake yours. “I am Dr. Solaire, but please, call me William. I performed your abdominal surgery late last night.” 

“Thanks for that.” You shook his hand, fucking freezing, and motioned towards your stomach. “Can I survey the damage? What’s the prognosis?” 

“Let’s take a look, shall we?” William snagged a pair of gloves from the dispenser on the wall and moved your bedsheets. Marie helped to move your gown aside, revealing a large patch of gauze that covered your entire stomach. “The initial puncture wound was not difficult to repair. Your attacker missed any major organs. It was merely a flesh wound. In time, it should leave minimal scarring both internally and externally.” You winced as the gauze was pulled back from your battered skin, and cast your eyes up to the fluorescent lights on the ceiling at the last moment. Milo’s hand slipped into yours, squeezing tight. Marie stifled a cry. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, muffled behind her hand. “I see stuff like this all the time, I shouldn’t…”

“It’s alright.” William reassured. “It is different when it’s the people we love.” 

Slowly, your heart in your throat, you glanced down at your stomach. 

You expected it to be Quinn’s name. That was what you were imagining, or at least a bunch of Q’s. That’s what he had carved into Ben’s chest, tattooed onto Trouble’s fucking face. But when you put your mind to it, this made more sense. This would certainly torture them more, which was his real goal at the end of the day. He had told you it was their mark, after all. 

In blocky, large letters, cutting from one side of your stomach to the other, Quinn had carved Tanker’s name– their real name– into you. 

You swallowed harshly. The cuts weren’t even stitched, left open and exposed. 

“The knife was dull,” the other doctor spoke up from his perch across the room, “and so the cuts are more akin to tears. The skin is uneven and ragged, notoriously difficult to stitch. The intention was to create as much scar tissue as possible.” 

“My colleague,” William waved his hand, “also Dr. Solaire.” 

“Family affair.” Your voice was absent of any joke. “I can handle a few scars.” You tried to sound certain, but your voice wavered slightly. Marie’s hand fell to your shoulder, squeezing it tightly. 

“You won’t have to.” The other Dr. Solaire said. He glanced at your stomach with that same look in his eyes that you and Colm got. Teeth around the problem, it seemed. “Not if you choose to follow my course of treatment.” 

“What would that entail?” You asked softly. Truly, you weren’t interested in any sort of experimental therapies or skin treatments. If you were going to scar, you would scar. Quinn had seemed to perfect the art of it, of carving his mark into people. You were no expert on scar tissue, but you had plenty of it scattered around. What was a bit more? 

“Two surgeries.” Dr. Solaire said. “And three pigment laser treatments. Including healing time, between a year and a year and a half of your life.” 

“That’s a lot of life.” You said. “And a lot of time for you to spend playing around in my guts.” 

“Please,” William said softly, “let Dr. Solaire walk you through the process. He is an expert on scar tissue.” You met his grey eyes steadily for a moment before nodding. 

“We would wait for the cuts to heal on their own, supported by suture glue and very careful attention.” Solaire bent to examine the cuts a bit closer before rising again. “Once the scar tissue sets, we could begin to work it out via surgery. I would split it into two separate surgeries, working from left to right. That way, you’d only be healing half of your stomach at a time. It is a very mobile area. We want to limit reopening as much as possible. Once we’ve removed the scar tissue, I’ll refer you to a pigmentation specialist who will focus on the changes of skin tone. The end result could, unless under very careful inspection, make your stomach appear completely normal.” 

You sighed softly. 

“That’s a lot of work.” You said. “Lot of time and surgery for a few cuts.” 

“Sweetheart…” Milo whispered. His dark eyes were brimmed with something heavy. 

“It’s worth it.” Dr. Solaire said. His accent, clipped and prim, rang in your ears. “The scarring will limit your movement. It’ll likely get worse and more painful over time. And besides all of the medical reasons, it’s just not fair, is it? Some bastard with a knife shouldn’t get to mark you up for life.” 

You blinked up at him. You were so tired. 

“There’s no reason to decide now.” William said amicably. He began to replace the gauze, taping it lightly over your stomach before realigning your gown and tucking in your blankets to boot. “You should rest, recover, talk it over with your family. It is your treatment, my dear. It will be here when you’re ready.” 

David arrived as the sun rose. You ran him through the attack again, beat by beat, detail by detail. His face went pale and slack when you peeled back your gauze to show him the cuts. 

“You can’t tell them.” You said softly. “I mean it. This will destroy them.” 

“How am I supposed to keep this from them?” He hissed. He turned away, pressed his face into his hands. You tapped the gauze back down. 

“If you tell them he carved their name into me, they’ll run right back to him.” You said. “You’ll give him exactly what he wants.” 

“He tried to kill you.” 

“No.” You shook your head. “He didn’t.” You’d had a few hours to think it through, and you were sure. “If he wanted to kill me, he could have done it in a second flat. My back was to him, David, he…” you swallowed, cutting that line of thinking off. “But he chose to stab me in my abdomen, by some miracle missing any of the number of internal organs he could have hit that would have killed me before the ambulance got there.” David’s face twisted, like the train of thought was making him sick. “He needed me alive to pass on his message. This wasn’t murder, David, it was surgery.” 

“He said next time, it would be.” David snapped. When he turned, you expected anger on his features. Instead, you were met with stark, plain terror. “Next time, he’ll kill you. Or me. Or-” his voice failed him. You reached a hand out to him, and he took it, big hand surrounding yours in heat. Everything hurt. You were so tired. David’s fear was heavy in your hands. You held on anyway. 

“I’m gonna catch him.” You spoke that solemn promise into the quiet of your hospital room. “I’m gonna put him away.” 

David didn’t say anything else. He held on until MIlo came back from the cafeteria, bearing food you couldn’t eat and coffee you couldn’t drink. The three of you talked, joked like you were on a double date and not in a fucking hospital room. David fell asleep, back bent awkwardly in a stiff, hospital arm chair. 

“He’s running himself into the ground.” You sighed as his breathing evened out. Milo hummed, perched at the foot of your bed, eyes flicking over David. “You’re pissed at me.” 

You’d known since before you’d even properly woken up, but this was the first time the two of you had been even halfway alone. 

Milo was quiet for a really long time. 

“Sometimes I wish…” he paused, as though he were choosing his words carefully, “I wish, when you needed help, you would run to me.” 

“I’m sorry.” You said. You didn’t know what else you could say. 

“I know.” Milo replied. He didn’t look relieved or resolved. “I know you are.”

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

MY SILENT VALENTINE

Pairings: Eric Sutton x Fem! Summary: Despite everything going on, Eric still wants to give you a special Valentine's Day Warnings: mention of tears. A/n: yes, I know he's supposed to be gay; I respect it, and I support, I just personally don't write for Male!reader and this is just a fic.

Valentine masterlist

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You sat next to Eric as he stared ahead of him, staring at the cracked tiles of the floor beneath you.

You leaned your head on his shoulder tiredly, stretching your legs out in front of you.

How you ended up finding him again in this city, you don't know, but you're glad you get to spend what might be your last days with your boyfriend.

You'd known each other for a few years, meeting through a friend he was going to law school with, a few days of texting and a drunken night together at a shitty pub, you decided he was quite cute.

He hadn’t made a move that night, even when you’d half-drunkenly tugged on his sleeve and told him he had the prettiest eyes you’d ever seen. He’d only laughed, shaking his head before helping you into a cab.

You thought about that now, the way he’d always been- reserved, careful, like he was holding something back. Even now, with the world in pieces, he sat still, shoulders tense, jaw tight, eyes fixed on nothing.

Your eyes flicked toward Sam, curled up a few feet away, breath too quick, too uneven. You knew what that meant. So did he.

Eric’s fingers twitched. His leg bounced once, then stopped. His whole body braced like he was already preparing to move.

You reached for his sleeve, barely a touch. He stilled.

Slowly, he turned his head. His expression was tight, set, but his eyes flickered- hesitation, exhaustion, fear. You exhaled softly, squeezing his arm once.

He leaned away as you let him go, facing Sam on the bench, grabbing a bottle and twisting the cap, bringing it to her lips as she layed on her back.

Her eyes were closed, and she looked on the verge of death, it made your heart ache as she leaned over and coughed most of the red-tinted liquid up, letting it dribble down her chin as Eric held her to make sure she didn't fall off her seat.

After a moment, he looked down at the floor to the notebook. Taking the pen, he quickly scribbled down the words 'what meds do you need?'

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The church was silent, but your heartbeat was so loud it filled the space where sound should be. The only other noise was Sam’s uneven breaths as she shifted in her sleep, too weak to do anything else. You sat in the dark, knees pulled to your chest, arms wrapped tight around yourself.

Eric had been gone too long. 3 hours- at least.

Frodo gone for just as long, he was sat on your lap when he jumped off and left just a few minutes after Eric.

You told yourself he was fine. That he’d come back. That he wouldn’t just-

Your fingers curled into your sleeves. The thought made your throat close.

The candles had burned low hours ago, leaving the church in deep shadows. The stained glass was nothing but black shapes now, no color, no warmth. Every small creak of the old wood, every shifting shadow made your breath catch, made your stomach tighten. You tried to stay still, tried to listen. For what, you didn’t know. Footsteps? A sign?

Or maybe- maybe nothing at all.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your forehead against your knees. He promised. He said he’d be careful. He wouldn’t just disappear, right?

Right?

You didn't know the time, you're not even sure you knew the day, all you know is that you'd be even more lost without Eric...and as much as she pretends, she doesn't need him, Sam probably would be too.

But then you saw a shadow.

Soft, hesitant. A shift of weight. A scuffed step against stone.

Your head snapped up.

Eric stood in the doorway, backlit by the dim glow of the city beyond, his silhouette stiff, breathing hard. His eyes met yours, wide and searching, and for a moment, he just stood there, like he wasn’t sure he had really made it back.

You moved before you could think, standing up to tiptoe towards him. He caught you, arms tight, solid, real. He smelled like sweat and blood and dust, his breath shaking against your hair.

For the first time in hours, you breathed.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. It would echo. It would ruin the moment.

Instead, you pulled back just enough to look at him. That was when you noticed his grip was still tight around a bag. He exhaled, quick and shallow, and knelt down next to Sam, unzipping it with shaking fingers.

Pulling out a box named Fentanyl Transdermal System, he held it up, making sure it was the right one.

Sam tiredly nodded and you took the box from him, seeing how his hands were shaking.

you took one of the bandages, quietly peeling it open before handing it back to him, watching as he careful applied it to her side, Sam holding her shirt up just a smidge for him to place it where she needs.

He silently pants as he pulls away, leaning his back against the bench, his head leaned back as he wiped his forehead, stretching his legs out.

His hand landed beside yours as he looked up to the ceiling. You took it, gently squeezing, silently thanking whoever would listen to you that they brought him back to you

Eric looked over at you, his eyes heavy when he pulled away, grabbing something from his bag. You heard a pen come in contact with paper and thought he was trying to say something before he handed it to you.

A heart shaped card with a bright red background stared back up at you, a cherubic little angel with curly hair and delicate wings is depicted in a soft cream color, playing a trumpet displayed in the centre.

You smiled as you opened it, finding his shaky writing beneath the 'happy valentine's day' already provided. It was three simple words that he had written beneath, three small words that you hadn't been able to hear from him for a couple days now, which is probably why you felt a tear fall from your eye.

You may not remember what day it was, but Eric did, underneath every spec of anxiety that rattled your boyfriend's bones, he always took the time to do something for you.

You stared at the card for a while, then back at him. His face was unreadable, tense, like he didn’t know if he’d made a mistake bringing it back.

You shook your head, a small, shaky breath escaping you as you held the card close.

It was perfect.

You leaned closer to him, pressing your body up against his, seeking any warmth in him to give you comfort.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing a chaste kiss to your head as your curled up next to him.

Closing your eyes, another tear fell down your cheek, slowly rolling down to your chin before he wiped it away.

"I love you too" you mumbled under your breath, hoping he'd hear it.

He did.

You swallowed a lump in your throat as you stared ahead.

You noticed all the candles, melting onto the floor, you noticed all the people, shivering and hugging themselves for warmth, you noticed every grain of dirt on the tiles, the blood smeared on the walls, every piece shard of glass from the windows and every whisper fallen onto somebody's lips as they comforted a friend, a family member, lover and even a stranger.

You noticed all of it.

But you didn't notice the tears rolling down Eric's face.

He was so scared, petrified, even, but at least you were still in his arms, at least he still had the chance to tell you- write to you- that he loved you.

It just so happened that Valentine's Day would fall upon an alien invasion, but that didn't mean he still couldn't give you a second of happiness, even for a minute.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 32

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 600

Masterlist

———————————————————————

 "Hola, bella!" 

Marion stood at my door, arms wide open. It was Friday night, and my high school friend—Marion, a Parisian lawyer—had come to spend the weekend with me. She was one of my closest friends: a fiery ball of energy, sharp-tongued, and devastatingly funny. I was thrilled she was here; she would be a perfect distraction.  

We spent Friday night chatting over sushi and a bottle of white wine, laughing and sharing secrets. I told her everything about my love life and my story with Lucy in great detail. She wasn’t from this city and could be discreet. Talking about it for the first time felt incredibly liberating.  

Marion was stunned from start to finish.

 "Wow, you! I’m learning so much here! I’m sad about you and Alessia; I really liked her. But this story—tell me, from Persian rugs to Alpine weekends—she’s something else!" 

 "You know her?" 

 "No, I’ve seen her in the papers once or twice! You’re going to end up with a major political figure, Ona. Maybe even at the Élysée Palace!"  she joked.

I shrugged with a smile.

 "We’re far from that, as I explained. After yesterday, with her comment... we’re nothing, really." 

 "Oh, come on, Ona. Sometimes you’re a bit touchy, you know." 

 "Me? Not at all,"  I replied with a pout that made her laugh.

The evening was a balm for my soul. Friends are always the best remedy.

---

  The next morning, the doorbell woke me at 9 AM.   Half-asleep, I had no idea who it could be. Marion was beside me, still drowsy. There had never been any ambiguity between us, apart from a drunken kiss at a high school party years ago. She had been with one of my friends, an architect like me, for years. I had even introduced them.

I opened the door to find Lucy standing there, smiling broadly, a bag of pastries in hand.

 "Ona, breakfast? I brought croissants!" 

That’s when Marion appeared behind me, wearing shorts and a tank top, smiling brightly. Lucy wasn’t aware Marion was visiting; it had been a last-minute plan, and I had forgotten to tell her.

 "So, we have company?"  Marion said cheerfully.

Lucy’s face instantly darkened, her expression now icy as she threw me a pointed look.

 "Come in, Lucy! Uh... this is Marion, an old friend! Marion, Lucy Bronze!" 

Marion stepped forward to kiss Lucy on both cheeks. The contrast between Marion’s lively demeanor and Lucy’s frosty mood couldn’t have been starker.

 "The Mayor! I’ve seen you in the papers! Coffee?"  Marion offered enthusiastically.

We sat in the kitchen, eating pastries over coffee, chatting. Marion’s outgoing nature filled the room. Lucy, however, seemed uneasy, casting questioning glances my way. Marion, meanwhile, grew increasingly tactile with me—touching my arm, wrapping her arm around my shoulders—much to Lucy’s visible irritation.  

I knew Marion was amused by the situation, testing Lucy’s reactions with every suggestive gesture. To be honest, I found the situation entertaining too.  

Lucy’s demeanor became colder by the minute. Her responses grew curt, and she left abruptly, throwing one last annoyed glance my way without saying a word.

 "Well, I didn’t make a new friend there!"  Marion said once the door closed.  "Sorry, I couldn’t help it. Her reaction was just too funny!" 

 "You’re terrible,"  I replied, laughing.

 "Did you see her face? Her eyes were practically shooting daggers! When you said yesterday that you two were nothing, forgive me if I have my doubts!" 

A few minutes later, I received a text from Lucy:

 Nice to meet your girlfriend. 

The message dripped with sarcasm. I chose not to reply.

The weekend was shaping up to be eventful.

[sickly-qt]

Remy's Turn

Wow, look at that. It seems Remy has caught the bug... Different caretaker this time around. This isn't my best work and I didn't proofread this but I hope you all enjoy nonetheless.

~~

“Are you okay?” Finn asked, standing in the doorway of Remy’s office, his hands in his pockets.

Remy lifted his head from where it was laying on his desk. 

“No. What’s up?” He leaned back in his chair.

“The quarterly meeting is in a couple minutes.” Finn took his hand out of his pocket and gestured toward the conference room. “Uh, sorry. Did you say no, you weren’t okay?”

Remy pushed himself up from his desk, smoothing out his shirt and taking a breath as he tried to will his nausea to subside long enough to make it through this meeting. 

“Yeah, I feel awful. I caught whatever hell virus has been taking out everyone in my house one by one.” Remy took another breath and ran his hand through his hair. “Is everything okay with you by the way? You weren’t in on Tuesday.”

Finn shifted on his feet and put his hands back in his pockets, “Oh yeah, uh, Drew was in the hospital Monday night… We didn't get home until late and I wanted to make sure she was alright so I stayed home Tuesday. I know the timing wasn’t convenient with the quarterly stuff coming up but I just-”

“Don’t worry about it. I have 2 kids, I know family comes first. Drew’s okay though?”

“Yeah, Drew’s fine.” Finn ran his hand through his hair, “Everything’s okay.”

“That’s good, now let’s get this meeting out of the way so I can go home.”

Finn kept an eye on Remy as he talked through his presentation, swallowing hard at the end of his sentences. He put up a good front, Finn probably wouldn’t have even noticed the signs that he was sick if he hadn’t spoken to him before the meeting.

By the time Remy was finished with his part of the presentation, he felt horrible. His stomach was in knots and he was freezing, but there was sweat dripping down his back. Finn gave him a look when he sat back down and Remy ignored it, sitting back in his chair and taking a deep breath. The hard part was over, now he just had to sit and make it through the rest of the meeting. 

Finn was up, giving his presentation with his team when he noticed Remy quietly get up and leave the conference room. 

There was only about 15 minutes left in the meeting and no one else seemed to notice him leave with the back of his hand pressed to his mouth. 

By the end of the meeting Remy hadn’t returned, leaving a different partner to wrap up. When Finn finally left the conference room he swung by Remy’s office to find it empty. Next he went into the bathroom that was between the conference room and Remy’s office thinking that was the next most likely place to find him. 

“Remy? Are you in here?” He called quietly. He walked further into the bathroom and noticed that one out of the two stalls were closed. Finn grimaced as he heard a grating retch and the unmistakable sound of vomit splattering into the toilet. He sighed and knocked lightly on the stall door.

“You okay?” He waited a beat, and when he got no response other than a couple more productive heaves and some rough coughs he continued. “Can I get you anything? Water? Should I call Mila?”

There was still no response, but then the toilet flushed and the stall opened. Remy was pale and clammy and his dress shirt was sticking to him. 

“I’m alright.” He said unconvincingly, walking over to the sink and rinsing his mouth out before splashing water on his face.

“No offense or anything, but you look like you can barely stay on two feet.”

“Yeah, I have to go home.” Remy mumbled, closing his eyes and leaning heavily on the bathroom sink.

“Do you want me to call Mila to come get you? I can’t in good conscience let you drive home like this…”

Remy shook his head, “She’s still coming back from this… thing.” He gestured toward his stomach and then muffled a burp into his fist. “She probably went back to bed after taking Lee to school.”

“Then I’ll drive you home, you can’t drive yourself and you sure as hell can’t stay here.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” 

“You’re not asking, I’m offering… well more like telling.”

Remy sighed, but eventually agreed to let Finn take him home. He returned briefly to his office to collect his things and shut everything down before telling his secretary to cancel everything for the rest of the day, and tomorrow as well. 

Finn was waiting for him down in the lobby, by the time Remy stepped out of the elevator his nausea was back in full force. Expelling a significant amount of his stomach contents, not offering him long lasting relief. 

“You’re not looking too hot.” Finn said as they walked out of the building. 

“Can we please not talk about it?”

They walked to Finn’s car in silence, stopping once on the way for Remy to projectile vomit into the gutter. 

“Alright, get it all out before you get into my car.” Finn said, patting Remy gently on the back and smiling awkwardly at the passerby. 

“I feel like now’s a great time to mention that I get wildly motion sick.” Remy said hoarsely. 

“Yeah, great.” 

Remy walked into his house and kicked off his shoes at the front door, shedding his tie and unbuttoning his shirt on his way upstairs. Mila was exactly where he thought she would be, tucked in bed, sleeping off the remains of her bug. He stripped his dress shirt and pants, changing into a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before collapsing into bed next to Mila.

“Mm, Remy? What are you doing home?” She said sleepily, rolling over to face him.

“Sick,” He mumbled. “I puked at work, Finn brought me home.

“I’m sorry, Love. Do you need anything?”

“Sleep.”

Right when Remy closed his eyes, his phone started ringing. He grabbed it off the table and answered it without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello? Remington Paxton.” 

“Hi, Mr. Paxton. This is the school nurse. Leah appears to have come down with the bug going around, she got sick after lunch. Could you come pick her up?”

His eyes opened and he sat up, “Uh, yeah. I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and fell back into his pillows, sighing heavily and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, “Fuck.”

“Everything okay?” Mila asked, lifting her head.

“I’m going to need to borrow your car.”

[sanccharine]

true vision | jh

pjo au

pairing: daughter of zeus!jihyo x mortal!reader

genre: action

word count: 0.7k

warnings: swearing and blood

a/n: more pjo stuff yippee ! thanks to my lord and saviour indigo (@eternallyghosting) for correcting my shitty english

“You wanted to see my powers, right?” Jihyo yelled, her voice having to carry over the dozen skeletal soldiers emerging from the ground, clawing and crawling, as the crowd dispersed in a panic. 

You didn’t have time to wonder what the others saw, you know they didn’t see the animated bones like you did. But you were far too captivated with Jihyo. The smugness in her voice, the confidence you’d come to loathe as you spend the rare few months when you went to school, and coming to miss her endless energy when she leaves for some camp over the summer. 

“You’ll believe me now!” She laughed, her head tilting back at the sky, the same previously cloudless sky that slowly darkened—and you swear, Jihyo was floating. 

“I do believe you, you asshole—!”

A palm, with a grip too firm, clamped above your elbow. With a harsh tug, you were pulled, almost stumbling back. “Come on, mortal. You don’t want to be here—”

“Shouldn’t you help her?” you asked, placing your own hand over her wrist in hopes your captor, or saviour according to her, would let you go. You open your mouth again, wanting to say some colourful insults but Soyeon’s strength was not something you could overpower. 

“Trust me, she doesn’t need my help,” you could hear the disdain in her voice. Biting, but even still, you knew she respected Jihyo… at least enough to protect you. “You’re in danger, mortal, you can see.”

It was hard not to roll your eyes at that statement. Having known Jihyo for two years, you’ve heard that exact sentence just enough. Jihyo often regaled her quests and missions, but never had any monsters she speaks of attacked you. As long as you can remember, you’ve seen strange things with imaginary friends turning quickly to creatures under your bed, you figured it was all in your head. Ignorance is bliss, after all. And then Jihyo appeared in your life, for better or worse, confirming that everything you’d seen was real… of course, she couldn’t make sense of your very strange dreams that would occur from time to time. 

Regardless, the point is, you’ve never been attacked. And you certainly didn’t need protection from Soyeon. 

You looked over your shoulder and your eyes widened at the sheer amount of skeletal soldiers, all grotesque and malformed as they rose from the cracks of the earth. Struggling again to pull yourself free, your mouth open, Jihyo’s name on the tip of your tongue…

But you never said her name. Well, you couldn’t hear it, if you did say it. Nor could you see, really. 

Not over the blinding lightning bolt that struck the ground, followed closely by thunder. 

You were certain your heart stopped. Nothing else could explain how your whole chest seized at the sensation. 

Blinking away the white and blurry spots in your tear-brimmed eyes, the first of your senses to return. Soyeon was saying something to you, she’d stopped dragging you away to check on you, though her voice was barely audible over the ringing in your ears, like a never-ending dial tone. The burning smell was the next sensation, a sharp and dizzying odor, like chlorine. Electricity… that was the scent. Even if you couldn’t quite place the exact smell, you felt it. The way your hair stood on your arms and your tongue felt like lead. The static in the air around you, charged and dangerous. 

A tear trailed down your cheek, as your vision lost its bluriness and Jihyo came into focus. 

Hovering almost two meters above you, hands raised while lightning crackled around her. The ground wasn’t dissimilar with the cracked pattern where the lightning had struck, skeletal soldiers charred beyond recognition. Jihyo, she—

Soyeon gripped your jaw to turn you to her. You’ve never seen her so worried, not over you. Though you still couldn’t hear her, she was realizing what had happened. You found yourself turning back to look at Jihyo. Seeing her. 

And almost as if she knew you were watching her, Jihyo looked over her shoulder. Her eyes a striking white-gold in glow with a striking bared grin to match. Smugness. Confidence. Power. 

Another lightning strike shook the ground, but this time the image was clear in your eyes. 

One you’ve dreamt so many times over. Seen so many times over!

Like a vision.

Another tear dripped down your cheek, but you raised your hand to wipe it away. 

Crimson smudged across your fingers.  

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: percy jackson aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa !! yeah that's all. hope you have a good day/night :]

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

[kerosene-saint]

so many things happening in my life in the next couple months and it feels like my life is turning around compared to how I felt this time last year which was complete and utter dread and burn out in every sense of the word

[pollen]

i've been diving a lot deeper into adhd symptoms and comorbidities and misdiagnoses and whenever i tell my boyfriend something i learned that sounds like me he responds with something like

[thelastspeecher]

apparently one of my cousins was just accepted into a master's writing program at an Ivy League school

and that's why I almost never go on Facebook 🙃

[outer-edges]

r/regretfulparents is my hellscape. i know most of them are just going through hard times and venting and probably don't actually regret it but like. i genuinely think motherhood would be my most awful prison. the whole sub is like the scariest horror game the internet has to offer for me.

[weezerlvr228]

flippin boobahs!

[our-lady-of-mcr]

everytime i think im done ranting i remember something else LMFAO this one is extra long i hit tag limit god mf damn