#i lied one more happy one before two days of straight fucking ow

[willowlived]

still into you - day two | coffee

sponsored by my watching black friday and getting emotional at take me back and thinking Hm... What if? Something something happens / any universe, so no spoilers! no triggers just some angst at the beginning :)

Peter Spankoffski was the one thing that Stephanie Lauter never expected to find. He made a surprise entrance, and every kiss, every touch, every dance, every smile, every moment there after had been a surprise and a gift. Never before in any sort of romantic interaction been so... gentle and caring. Never before had she ever felt like she loved someone like she loved Pete, and never before had she regretted not realizing it sooner and saying it the moment she had.

The one thing that had not surprised Steph when it came to Pete was the full fucking ride that he had gotten to a nice as fuck school that was not too far from the one that Richie was going to. It was then that she knew - or really, that she is sure that the both of them knew, that they were on a timer.

It was her that broke up with him. Pete, she knew, with the utmost affection, would not want to but Steph knew that they had to, or she had to. The week after Honeyfest. He deserved so much better than anything in Hatchetfield and Stephanie, well... She was not getting out of there for awhile. She had to free him. She had to let him chase the better things. True or not, she felt like she might be holding him back if they held on. They both had cried, but they both understood and they both had promise to keep in touch. For a year they had done just that but it hurt like fuck, so texts and calls began to get more distance and here they were, another year later and all of her updates about Pete came from Ruth- the pair of them living together, Ruth going to community college while Steph was working at Beanies. it was like everything that she had ever dreamed about when she was younger- away from her dad. comfortable.

-The one thing that was missing was the only thing that had come into her life unexpectedly. Life got busy and she tried to move on. When shitty dates weren't filling her time, she worked, she budgeted, she and Ruth cooked dinners and almost set their little kitchen on fire. Life was good and she was beginning to find a pattern that she was settling into.

Until a familiar voice easily broke that pattern. An oddly busy day hit Beanies but Steph, thank god, was finally on her fucking break- a break that was cut short when Nora asked if she could stop early and make a quick hot chocolate for a customer. With hesistance and tired energy, she stood to her feet, about to apologize for the delay when the customer in question talks first.

" Stephanie Lauter? "

Now, it was not the first time that she ran into this- People from Hatchetfield High visiting or someone that recognized the former Mayor's only child all grown up. But that voice...

" Peter Spankoffski?! "

-There he was, practically looking the exact same, dressed in his usual signature nerdy look that maybe she teased about but god it really does look like him. In that moment, her breath caught in her throat, time is forgotten, her cup, her job, as Steph is moving out from behind the counter, to give him a big tight hug.

To her surprise, he laughs, perhaps from awkwardness, but he hugs her back after a mere moment of hesitation just as fucking tight.

" Nora I'm finishing my fifteen. " Is all she says as she lets go, and despite hearing the groan in her bosses voice, Steph lets go and all but drags Pete outside.

" What the actual fuck are you doing back here?" She laughs, standing back to look look at him, trying to find anything that has changed over the two years. " I am not missing a birthday, am I? Is it some holiday, because I sure as shit might have forgotten and I want time and a half. " He laughs at her joke and this bittersweet feeling fills her chest. It's good to hear that noise again. She's missed that laugh. She did not know just how bad until now, but fuck.

" No. No...." It still lines his voice, laughter lining his words and she finds herself smiling. " It's Ruth's opening night and you know, first time in a show show I wanted to- "

" Surprise her? " She finishes with him, the both of them laughing a little, more of an awkward sound, and Steph looks away, smile still lining as her lips. " Well she's going to flip in the best way possible. She's been so nervous but I know it will mean the world to see you there. And well.. between you and me, the show is pretty good too. "

It strikes then and there, this sudden quiet, awkward, distance, and they both are looking at each other in the eye before they let out this similar awkward chuckle and look away. Steph exhaling as she tried to think on what to say. Memories fill in her head. Times before. Things that were and were not. It was hard to focus on the now with it. But neither of them could move.

" Well if you need a place to stay-? "

" Oh no. It's okay. Rich came too, we're sharing a hotel for the weekend. "

A pause, again. Steph thinks that she ought to just turn around, say that she will see him tonight, but it's Pete who breaks it.

" But I would like to catch up. Preferably when your not at work. " He notes with a smile and blush tinted cheeks. "Maybe we will all hang out after the show, but would you maybe uh... want to get coffee or something tomorrow? "

Her eyebrows raised, her face flushes, and she gives him a questioning look, almost silently asking if he was sure. What she was met with was a smile, hopeful, nervous, but unquestioning and unwavering. Stephanie Lauter, hence, smiled.

" Yeah. I'd like that too. Starbucks at 10? "

" It's a date. " a pause. " Wait, no! No it's not a date. I mean- "

" It can be whatever you want." Steph shrugged, giving him a little bit of a wink. " It's.. just good to see you. "

" It's good to see you too. " he smiled, looking at her with a lingering glance before tilting. " but I do need my hot chocolate. "

" Yeah yeah yeah. " She says with a laugh, opening the door, this feeling of weightlessness, familar butterflies in her stomach as she smiles widely up at him. " You are still such a nerd Spankoffski. "

And again he smiled. His gaze lingered. And again those same fucking feelings she had when he asked her to homecoming danced inside of her chest. A weekend. Two days. That wasn't much time, but it felt like all the time in the world. Even if she thought she had moved on it was clear that she had not in the slightest-

And maybe, just maybe he might still be into her too.

[queenshelby]

D*I*L*F (Part Eight)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,678

Warning: Pregnancy, Angst

Notes: Obviously not based on Cillian’s Real Life or Family. It’s all just fiction!

PLEASE COMMENT AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK.

Later that evening, when you finally arrived at your apartment after a horrible day at work, you were greeted by Robert who opened the door to your apartment pretty much as soon as you inserted the key.

“Hey Sweetheart” he said with a funny looking grin on his face before telling you that you had a visitor.

“A visitor?” you asked a little surprised. You didn’t expect anyone and, after you slid out of your shoes and hung up your coat in the hallway, you walked into the living room, wanting to see who it was.

To your surprise, it wasn’t someone who would usually visit you, like your grandmother or cousin. To the contrary, it was someone you didn’t want to see at all and this someone was Cillian.

Cillian sat there, casually, leaning against the back of your armchair and sipping on a cup of tea.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you asked angrily before wanting to show him the way to the door but, before Cillian could even respond to you, Robert had a quick question to ask you.

“How do you know each other?” he wanted to know, curious about your connection to a rather famous actor.

“Y/N is my daughter’s friend and the two of them had a fight. I am here to try and smooth things over” Cillian explained to Robert and you immediately thought to yourself that he sure was a good damn actor. He didn’t even flinch when he lied to Robert and you were somewhat glad that he had not told him the truth. There was no way you wanted anyone to know who the father of your daughter was and, whilst you still weren’t sure how Cillian got your address, it didn’t matter now.

“With that being so, do you mind giving us a minute of privacy Robert? I just need to have a chat with Y/N, lone’ Cillian requested in an almost demanding kind of way, thinking that he had a say in this house of yours.

“Yeah, sure man” Robert said nonetheless and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes when he said that. Apparently, he had forgotten something at the supermarket and needed to go and grab it anyway.

***

“How the fuck did you just do this? Ordering people around so that you can get your way?” you asked Cillian straight after Robert had left your apartment but Cillian wasn’t going to answer you. He had a different question to ask.

“Who is this guy? Your boyfriend?” Cillian asked with a somewhat dismissive voice, almost as if he thought that you weren’t entitled to be happy after all that had happened between you.

“Yes, he is my boyfriend. But, why do you even care? I was just a mistake, remember?” you said bluntly and with your arms crossed.

“I care because my child is inside of you and I don’t want some random guy fucking you while you are pregnant with my daughter” Cillian explained with an angry voice and you knew that this conversation wasn’t going to go anywhere like this.

“So, now you care, huh?” you asked, chuckling as you did and, before he could say anything else, you felt as though you needed to lie about Robert in order to get a proper conversation going between you. Whilst you no longer cared about this man, you owed this to your daughter and you knew that at least one of you had to be mature about this situation which, clearly, wasn’t going to be Cillian despite the fact that he was more than twice your age.

“But just so you know, sex is the last thing on my mine at the moment. I am 32 weeks pregnant and feel like an elephant” you pointed out, lying to Cillian and, whilst not recently, you and Robert had sex in the past.

The sex, itself however, wasn’t exactly good or enjoyable but Cillian didn’t need to know this. Your sex life wasn’t his concern anymore and it most certainly wasn’t any of his business.

“Eight weeks to go, huh? That’s not long” Cillian then observed more calmly and, for some reason, his demur had changed.

“Yes Cillian! Eight weeks to go. Now, why are you here?” you asked him nonetheless, not wanting to engage in small talk.

“I am here to apologise for what I said to you this morning. I am sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. It’s just that I didn’t know what to say and, the truth is, I still don’t know what to say. I am an idiot, okay? I am sorry” Cillian stammered, begging for your forgiveness.

“You are an idiot and you don’t have to say anything. As I said before, I don’t need anything from you” you told him once again, wishing that he would leave you alone after that, but he didn’t.

“Yes, you do” Cillian began to say. “You can’t stay in a place like this with the baby for too long. The apartment is too small and you are too young to do this on your own. Just let me help you” Cillian then said and you weren’t quite sure what to make of his offer to help you.

“I am old enough Cillian, trust me. Despite, what are you offering? Because, I don’t want your money” you began to say and Cillian tried to talk over the top of you once again.

“Y/N…” Cillian began to say but you didn’t let him finish his sentence.

“Do you want to be part of this child’s life? Do you want to see her every week and be a father to her? If you do, then that’s fine by me. I will allow it. But if you don’t then just leave me alone, okay?” you told him sternly. You didn’t want to be paid off and, unless he was prepared to be a father to this child inside of you, you didn’t want him around you and the baby.

“I guess I do want to be part of her life, yes” Cillian confirmed much to your surprise.

“You guess?” you chuckled. He didn’t sound very confident. “What about your wife? I doubt that she would approve” you then observed, cocking your eyebrow.  

“We are separated” Cillian then informed you and you began to recall that you had read about his separation in the papers somewhere.

“Oh, that’s right. You are with this actress now. Annabelle Wallis, is it?” you asked him and Cillian nodded reluctantly.

“I am, yes. But, we can figure this out. Please Y/N, let me be involved in our daughter’s life” Cillian asked, begging you again.

“Fine Cillian, I will give you a call after she is born and you can come and see her whenever you want and then, when she gets a little older, you can have her for visits” you suggested.

“No Y/N. I want to be involved now” Cillian said and his voice sounded like he was pleading with you. He was becoming more and more desperate.

”Do you even have a pram yet? A cot? A capsule for the car?” Cillian then asked and, when you reluctantly shook your head, he let out a deep sigh.

The truth was that you could afford any of these items yet and were waiting for second hand supplies from the community centre. But, of course, you didn’t want to tell him that since you had just told him that you can do it alone.

“Have you had your 32-week scan?” he then asked and you shook your head again.

You didn’t know where all of these questions were coming from and you felt somewhat overwhelmed.

“I am booked in for it this Friday” you told him reluctantly, knowing very well what his next question might be.

“Can I come with you?” he asked almost immediately and, whilst you felt rather uncomfortable about it, you agreed nonetheless.

“Yes. Sure” you sighed.

“Good and then, afterwards, we will go shopping. If she comes early, you will need all those things pretty much right away” Cillian pointed out to you.

“I told you that I don’t want anything from you. I am not taking your money for things like this” you told him again, this time more harshly.

“Well, perhaps you need to swallow your pride then because your daughter needs these things and, if you don’t go shopping with me and pick out your own, I will pick something for you and have it delivered to your house” Cillian said, crossing his arms in protest.

“And perhaps you need to stop giving orders, this is not how it fucking works Cillian” you spat.

“Fuck Y/N, I am just… You know what…forget about it. I will see you on Friday. I will pick you up. Just text me what time” Cillian said, which was yet another order.

“I will meet you at the clinic” you said, arguing with him again.

“No, I will pick you up. You probably shouldn’t drive anymore like this. You are too heavily pregnant” Cillian lectured you and you immediately rolled your eyes.

“Fine, 9 o’clock then. Don’t be late” you said and, just as you did, Robert returned with a small shopping bag full of treats and fruit.

Clearly, he had bought random things you didn’t really need just to get out of the house and you were grateful for it.

You didn’t need him to be there while you were arguing with Cillian and you most certainly didn’t want him to find out that Cillian was your child’s father. At least not until he came around and was prepared to truly make an effort for your daughter.

***

After Cillian had left however, Robert asked about what happened and, of course, you made up a substory.

It was too early to have this conversation with Robert, but Robert didn’t give up on the conversation.

“I cannot believe that you actually know Cillian Murphy. That’s pretty cool” he said, amazed by the fact that you were so well connected.

“Yeah, it’s great” you said sarcastically while rolling your eyes when Robert wasn’t watching.

“My sister has a massive crush on him even though he is in his forties. I don’t quite get it” Robert then told you and you wondered what he was talking about.

“You don’t get what?” you were curious and when Robert explained to you that it was odd for women in their twenties having a crush on a man in his forties, you couldn’t help but sigh in frustration. After all, Robert knew that the baby’s father was someone that age, someone who, when you had slept together, was married.

“I am curious Y/N, isn’t a little weird being with someone so much older? Why do some women like it” was the next question he fired towards you and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What do you mean by weird?” you wondered and Robert didn’t stop there.

“Well, you know, being with someone your dad’s age. It must be weird, right? I am sure there are other limitations too when it comes to intimacy. I personally couldn’t imagine having sex with a woman in her forties” Robert said in a dismissive kind of way and you immediately began to laugh and Robert didn’t know what was so funny.

He was oblivious about the situation and, like usual, he didn’t think about what he said before he spoke up.

“I think it depends on the person. Some men and women in their forties have a good amount of experience to share and that can be a good thing” you responded while secretly thinking back at the intimate moments which you had shared with Cillian. Even though you hated him for what he did to you, you recalled the sex having been amazing and unlike Robert, he worshipped your body and every part thereof.

There was nothing that bothered him about you and this was an aspect you were missing in your current relationship. Robert no longer seemed attracted to you and you wondered whether this would change after you had the baby.

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[tobi-momo]

A Misunderstanding

PAIRING: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

GENRE: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Reverse Comfort

WARNINGS: a lot of crying from both you and kuroo | cursing | mentions of sex | cheating (kind of? youll know when reading) | angst | mentions of drinking/being drunk | nothing is suggestive!! oh ya yall are married btw

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: ok ik this is long but this idea came from literally nowhere but i decided to write it thank you @combat-wombatus for helping me you helped put ideas in my brain<333 now i wasnt originally going for a happy ending but im really bad at angst so enjoy the shitty ending :)

“Please, Y/n, you know I didn't mean it,” he pleaded, his large hands desperately grabbing at your form while you push him away, your breaking sobs making his heart shatter. “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he begs, falling on his knees in front of your trembling body, not being able to tear his eyes off of your heartbroken ones. He needed you to stay. He needed to show you that he isn’t that guy and that he would do anything for you. It was a one time thing. He wasn’t even sober. It wasn’t him. It was the alcohol. He wasn’t thinking straight. Please forgive him, please, please, please.

But you couldn’t. No matter how hard or how much you loved him and wanted to, the pain that ripped at your heart every time you looked at him was too much to bear. So you didn’t. You turn your blurry, glassy eyes away from him as he grabs your hand and forces it into his; your lips quivering and knees shaking. You couldn’t keep the betrayal and agony inside, whining and weeping at him, your knees giving out before your legs slam against the floor, your head near the carpet as you try and keep your affliction at bay.

“Y/n, please,” he whines, tears streaming down his pale cheeks; his admission of his unfaithfulness drained the color from his face. “Please forgive me, I need you, I love you so much.”

“W-” you sniffle, not knowing what to say. You knew you didn’t have to say anything at all, that you didn’t owe him any words, but you just...you just needed to know. “Why,” your voice quivered and cracked, your throat sore, “why did you,” you take a long breath, grabbing your chest to try and stop the heartache, the sudden cramp that formed where it used to be filled with warmth and love, “do this to me? With her?” You look up at him once with wide, searchful eyes as you ponder the reasons and look for the answers in his empty pupils.

“I wasn’t thinking straight, baby, I didn’t know what I was doing, please,” his voice stammers, trying to get you to understand that he really didn’t know what he was doing. “I would never do this to you, I-” “But you did.” Your tone is no longer sad and confused, but angry and fed up. His head backing up quickly, not expecting the response. “You made a promise, Tetsurou, remember?” You glare at him with menacing eyes as you hold up the very finger he kissed and placed the ring on on your wedding day. The beautiful diamond ring that had his initials carved in the interior and little gorgeous jewels that made the walls sparkle once hit with the hot sun was no more; the dark, gloomy piece of rock and metal meaning nothing but lies and mistrust.

“No, Y/n, please. Don’t do this to me,” he adjures guiltily.

“Don’t do this to you?” Your voice laced with deadly venom, standing and backing up, wiping your mouth with your hand in annoyance, placing it on your hip. “You did this to me! You did this to us! You went out! You got drunk! You fucked someone else! And not even a random girl! No! You just had to fuck your ex!” Your voice cracked again before you inhaled sharply and covered up your struggle.

“Y/n, I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“And that’s an excuse?? What, so now you can go fuck whoever you want and say ‘I didn’t know what I was doing!’” you mimic, “so you can get away with it every time?”

He didn’t answer. He looked at the ground, understanding exactly where you came from.

“Hm? Are you gonna answer me, or sit there like a coward?”

He could tell fully well you were just saying this because you were hurt. You didn’t mean any of it. You loved him. No matter what, you will always love him. Trusting him was out of the box for a while, maybe forever. But he can’t lose you. He knew you were soulmates- he knew you were made for each other. There was a reason you guys made it this far and only had big problems now. He needed to find that reason and use it for himself to win you back. He needed you back.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, your dramatic hand gestures coming to a halt at his words, your figure coming to a stand still as you wait for him to finish. “You don't deserve this. You don’t deserve me. Please know that it was a mistake and that I’ll never do it again ever, ever, ever,” he repeats, wanting it to sound as sincere as he means. “Just please give me a chance to make this up to you, please don’t leave me by myself without you,” he sobs out, putting his head in his hands.

You knew you shouldn’t feel bad for him. But god-fucking-dammit are you feeling bad for him. You knew you still loved him, you knew he still loved you- that much was obvious. You couldn’t see him for a while, no. Could you guys work it out? Maybe stitch the wound? Wait until the scar is barely visible anymore? Would that even work?

“Tetsurou,” a single, hot tear dripping down your face as you point to the ground. “I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.”

“I know, I know, just please give me a chance to help fix this!” He cries at your feet, his body bundled in a ball of self hatred and guilt. “I can do it, baby. I can help things go back to normal.”

“I don’t think they ever will be normal again.”

He whines, trying to negotiate with you as much as he can. “Let me fix us. Let me give you my everything again, let me show you that I’m all yours and no one else's, please,” he moans in anticipation for rejection, knowing the chances of you agreeing were next to zero.

The next few hours are silent. Him alone in the bedroom. Crouching on the floor as he ponders your possible answer. You work in the kitchen, making food to satisfy your appetite. He could hear your sniffles from the bedroom and picture you wiping your tears as you carry the pots on the stove. God, he was the biggest piece of shit ever known. What the fuck went through his mind when he was fucking his ex? He only remembers some of it, them waking up in bed together after, only wearing undergarments underneath the sheets and him holding her waist as if she were you. He thought they had ended on good terms, knowing that they were better as friends. He rushed out the door, not being able to stay in the same room without getting sick. He knew what he had to do.

He opens the door to the living room, a slight creak gaining your attention as you stir the sauce in the pan. Your eyes are puffy, your lip still trembling as you try to turn away from him. He only takes about two steps forward before he stops, trying to find the words he wants to say.

“Listen, I know you said you needed time, and I’m not rushing you at all whatsoever. I want to give you all the time in the world to think this over. If you need, I can go to Kou’s house and stay there for a while. He won’t mind. I just want to give you the space you deserve.”

You nod in response, your head still facing away before he whispers an “I love you” before he slips out of the apartment.

~.~.~.~

The next few days were tortue. Not being able to sleep in the same bed he would sleep in with you, not being able to watch the same tv shows, not being able to even be in his presence at least once a day like you used to melted a hole of despair inside you: eating away at your emptiness, taking away the numbness that you so desperately needed right now. The feeling came back- the one that you tried shutting out three hours ago. It crept up at you, flipping your stomach and weighing your lungs down to the floor, your throat sore and dry. Your eyes wet with a blurry wall as your tears build up once again, missing your cheeks as you crouch down looking at the floor, falling on the tile. The droplets containing your anguish splatter on the ground, your raggedy whimpers echoing throughout the vacant apartment, making it all the more obvious he wasn’t there.

Knock knock knock

Was that the door?

Your wide, unbelieving eyes turned to the wooden door frame; the knocks getting louder and faster. You quickly stand up and try to collect yourself, preparing to have a long talk with Tetsurou. You grab the handle, turning it- the door opening with a tiny creak.

Oh.

“Hi! Kuroo left his jacket at the party the other day, is he here?”

Oh, that bitch.

“No. He’s not.” You deadpan, not finding her cheery, happy expression amusing.

“Oh no! Uh, well, here, can you give this back to him for me?”

“Stop smiling at me like you aren’t part of the reason he’s gone.” You snark, glaring at her with sharp eyes as she backs up, confused.

“W-what?”

“You heard me. Don’t act fucking clueless.”

“Excuse me? Who are you to talk to m-”

“Oh, cut the shit,” you roll your eyes, “I know you slept with Tetsurou, you don’t need put on whatever the fuck this is,” you gesture at her.

“What the hell are you talking about? What are you, fucking crazy?” Your eyes narrow in confusion, your disgusted scowl lessening at her words.

“Right. You probably don’t remember because you were blacked out,” you add sarcastically. “He told me what you guys did. Now you know. So, I would love it if you would just leave.”

“What are you- Me and Kuroo didn’t do shit last night. I drank like two beers and was hanging out with another girl the entire time,” she explains, looking offended. Your face loosens into an expression she couldn’t read. “He blacked out early and passed out on the couch while I was busy talking with the other girl.”

“Huh?” You whisper, your disoriented thoughts not aligning to a proper conclusion.

“I didn’t go to bed until like,” she thought back, “I don’t know, three in the morning? There were people passed out on the floor so I decided to take the guest bedroom with her. I was still awake when Kuroo came into the room, I’m guessing because he thought it was yours, based off of how he kept mumbling your name and shit,” she exhales, “he grabbed onto me once he got in and just clung.” You glower at her, huffing. She sees this, sighing before continuing, “Calm down, remember nothing happened. Remember that girl? She ended falling off the bed because I was scooting away from his clingy ass.” You look at her blankly, trying to fit the pieces together. “She ended up leaving the party completely,” she mumbled in embarrassment before you speak up.

“Then why did he tell me you guys had sex?” You mutter quietly, although assuming she heard since her head backed up while she quickly scoffs.

“I swear to God, that man. Listen.” You look up into her eyes- her genuine eyes. “Me and Kuroo didn’t do a single thing. I didn’t do anything to him and he didn’t do anything to me. I’ll have a conversation with him later because he is an absolute dumbass,” she breathed.

What the fuck?? You were just supposed to believe her?

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

“Me and him ended a long time ago. I don’t like him like that and I haven’t for a while. And seeing he was bragging about you the entire time at the party, he’s over me, too. Besides, I’m not even into guys that much anymore anyways,” she grinned and winked at you. The shock and realization hit you like a truck. She wasn’t even- oh my God. She chuckled at your expression; you ran away from her to the counter to get your phone, quickly unlocking it and tapping on Tetsurou’s contact.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mumble over and over. To tap the call button, listening to it ring as you bring your phone up to your ear, hearing him pick up the phone almost immediately after.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” He sounded worried. It’s only been about a week, he had hoped that you weren’t going to leave him.

“Get over here, right now, Tetsurou.” Your voice made it seem like it was urgent, so he quickly picked up his jacket from the couch, and you could hear the jingling of his keys as he grabbed them and opened the door, almost slamming it shut once he left.

~.~.~.~

“Y/n?” He asked at the open front door, wondering why it wasn’t closed. “Y/n, you have to be careful and close the door, we have them for a reason, you know,” he said as he walked in. Even after being at the line of a break-up, he still cares for your well-being. He didn’t even do anything wrong and he was still caring for you as a loved one should. He always did everything to make you feel comfortable and safe, so once he knew that he had slept with his ex he was completely devastated to his core. He didn’t want to do this to you, but you had the right to know.

“Tetsu.” You called. Already back to nicknames? This is good, right?

“Yes? Y/n?” He was scared, to say the least, feeling awkward and not knowing what to do. He walked scarcely towards your figure sitting on the couch, not caring to drop his keys and jacket on the counter. He had a feeling this might go wrong.

“We need to talk.” Shit. This is exactly what he didn’t want to hear. Hearing those words he couldn’t help but think that you were going to make him pack his stuff and go. “So, I talked with your ex.” You speak slowly, not wanting your words to come out wrong. You don’t want him to take any of this in a bad way at all. Yet his eyes widen drastically, his heartbeat racing and his nerves pricking him. “You are just one big dummy, aren’t you?”

What? What are you talking about?

“What?”

“You didn’t sleep with her. She told me everything that happened that night. She’s not even into guys anymore. Tetsu-”

This couldn’t be happening. Not only did he accuse himself of cheating, he accused himself of cheating with his ex, and that he cheated with his ex at a party, while you two are married. And then it turns out it wasn’t true? What the hell was wrong with him? He jeopardized your entire relationship because he was too drunk to know what was going on.

“Wait, what?” He yells, angrily sitting down on the couch, “so you’re telling me-” you nodded and hummed an ‘mhm’ in response. His hands find their way to his hair, pulling at the roots and scratching his scalp, his low grunts of pain and fury seeping out of his throat as he frustratingly comprehends what he just did.

You rush over to him, grabbing his wrists and pushing them down to his lap as fast as you can, making his eyes find their way to your blown out pupils. You can see the hot tears prickle down his cheek as he frowns at you, completely and utterly defeated.

“Tetsu, I don’t want you to hurt yourself, it’s okay,” you reassure, giving him a happy smile. He wanted to smile back, but he couldn’t control the broken sob that escaped him. “Hey, hey,” you try to grab his attention as he pulls his head down, crying. “It’s okay, baby, it’ll be okay.” You wrap your arms around his head, protecting him as you softly coo and ‘shh’ him quietly in his ear. ‘I’m sorry’ kept coming out of his mouth as he clinged to you, not being able to help his want to be closer to you. The realization that he just almost broke your heart completely and he had worried about divorce for this shit made him want to just rip his scalp out. He was so stupid. So, so so, stupid. “Tetsu, look at me, please. Look at me,” you whisper, bringing your hand to his chin, dragging it up so you could catch sight of his hazel irises. His eyes red and puffy, his cheeks wet and his eyes droopy, you couldn’t do anything but frown at the sight. He hated himself right now, not wanting to face the embarrassment and the humiliation of the situation.

“You don’t deserve me, I’m so sorry,” he whimpered in your arms, gripping them tighter and tighter for comfort- you knowing that he needed it right now. You had already pulled him into your chest, feeling his wet tears soak your shirt, your hands rubbing his back and your fingers gently grazing his throbbing scalp.

“It’s okay, I forgive you, Tetsu, you did the right thing by telling me you did it instead of hiding it from me, and then it turns out you didn’t do it at all.” Your cheeks start to feel hot, and you don’t even realize your sniffles until you could feel a dam break at your water line. You couldn’t stop them, the tears of relief. You didn’t want to stop them. You were glad that they were her, glad that they were for him, glad they were because you knew the truth, glad because you knew you two would be okay.

You looked back at your ring, watching it bloom like a flower in the spring, the meaning coming back to your marriage. It wasn’t just metal and rock anymore, it was a gorgeous promise.

“I love you, Tetsurou. Don’t forget that. You’re staying with me, alright?” you whisper into his hairline.

“Thank you,” he cries.

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[definitelyseven]

hurts so good | six

summary: growing up with Park Jinyoung was never easy and things are about to get worse when you’ve been asked to marry him

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve - final |

“Y/N!”

You turned to the left to see a familiar face. “Taeyong,” you called, surprised to see him. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?” you asked, worried.

He chuckles lightly before taking a seat next to you on the bench. “You’re the one in the hospital gown,” he reminded you. You laughed lightly. “I’m fine. I’m here with my niece.”

“Is she okay?” 

“Yeah she’s fine,” he smiled. There was an awkward silence between you two. After what you did to him, you thought he would hate you but here he was greeting you first. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” you lied. How could you tell him that you were miserable and that choosing to marry Jinyoung might have been the biggest mistake of your life? You quickly covered your left hand, slowly moving it behind your back. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” he answered. You didn’t want him to see your ring and ask about your marriage, ask how life was after leaving him for Jinyoung. You twirled the ring on your finger, attempting to take it off but it was stuck. “You okay?” he looks at you funny. You chuckled nervously before pulling the ring off. It slips off your hand and rolls onto the grass.

“Fuck...” you mumbled. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Taeyong asked, concerned.

“Yes I’m fine,” you assured him while looking around to find your ring. 

“Did you drop something?” he asked.

“I think she dropped this,” a familiar voice said. You watched the man bend over to pick up your ring off the grass. It was Jinyoung. You bit your lip, nervously. 

Taeyong glances over at Jinyoung before chuckling bitterly. “It was nice seeing you, Y/N. My number’s the same,” he said, reaching over your shoulder and squeezing it lightly. 

“Care to explain?” Jinyoung said angrily. You rolled your eyes at him before walking past him. You didn’t owe him an explanation. “Y/N!” he calls again. 

“What?” you responded as you climbed onto your bed. 

“What the hell do you think you were doing?” he continued to interrogate. 

“You have no right to question me,” you spatted. 

“I’m your husband!” Jinyoung shouted. 

“Oh all of a sudden you’re my husband. That’s bullshit and you fucking know it!” you screamed at him. You tried to bite your tongue and not talk back but he had no right to interrogate you when he’s fooling around with every women that comes along.

“How long have you been seeing him??”

“Seeing him? Are you listening to yourself?!” you refuted. 

“You’re still thinking about him?” he asked, tone softening. You chuckle at his words, shaking your head in disbelief. “Answer me! I know you saw him the other day!” he shouted.

“I have been nothing but loyal to you since the day I married you,” you started to whimper. “But I can’t say the same for you.” He looks at you, dead in the eyes. He stays silent and at this point, you can only scoff at him “Get out of my room.”

Jinyoung slams your ring on the table. “You’re my wife. Don’t you ever forget that. I know everything and I have eyes everywhere.” You turned your back on him, not wanting to continue the conversation. 

You didn’t wait for Jinyoung to pick you up the next day from the hospital. You didn’t think he was going to after your argument. So you left yourself, went home, changed and went straight to the office. 

If he was monitoring you, you had to let him know you knew his secrets too. 

“Sorry I’m late,” you said entering the conference room where Jaebum, Jinyoung, Chaewon and a bunch of employees were holding a meeting. 

“Y/N,” Jaebum calls out. “What are you doing here? You should be in the hospital,” he asked, concerned. 

“You didn’t call me to pick you up,” Jinyoung said.

“I’m fine. What did I miss?” you asked. You didn’t really care about this meeting but you had to be here today. There was something important you had to do. 

“Okay dismiss,” Jaebum said. You watched as the employees got up one by one. You waited till it was just the five of you - Jaebum, Jinyoung, Chaewon, and Nayeon.

“There’s something I want to say,” you announced. 

“What is it, Y/N?” Jaebum asked. 

“I want her fired,” you said pointing at Nayeon. 

“What?” Nayeon and Jinyoung said at the same time. 

“What nonsense are you talking about?” Jinyoung said angrily. You scoffed at him.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Nayeon said, pretending to be innocent. “You have no right.”

“I’m one of your bosses,” you said through your teeth. “I can do anything I want with you, especially if you’re sleeping with my husband,” you finally revealed. You looked over at Jinyoung who was shocked that you knew. “Don’t be so surprised, Jinyoung. You should be more careful about fooling around in the office. The walls are thin,” you teased angrily. 

“Jinyoung,” Nayeon called. 

“You can’t,” Jinyoung defends, standing up. You followed immediately, standing up with them. 

“And why can’t I? I’m her boss-”

“And I’m your boss,” Jinyoung interrupts. “She’s mine and you can’t touch her,” he continues to defend. 

He said she was mine. He has never said that about you. He has never defended you like he defended her. 

You see Nayeon smirk at the corner of your eyes. You swallow your tears and quickly turn to Jaebum and then back at Jinyoung. “Well just my luck then - Jae’s your boss.”

“Don’t get in between this,” he warned Jaebum. 

You turn to Jaebum and Chaewon who was sitting awkwardly, waiting for this argument to blow over. “Jae, please...” you begged. “Jae,” you called again.

You knew Jaebum was on your side. He was always on your side. 

“She’s right. I am your boss,” Jaebum said standing up. “She’s fired,” he announces. “And next time, leave your personal life out of the office. It’s messy and not classy,” he smirked, walking away.

“You’re my husband. Don’t you ever forget that,” you spatted at Jinyoung. He glares at you before walking away with Nayeon. 

You made your way over to Jaebum’s office. “Jae,” you called before opening the door. 

He looks up at you before sighing. “Could you at least give me a warning next time?”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I had too.”

“You usually ignore these kinds of things. What made you speak up today?”

You let out a light scoff as you shook your head. “Did you know he has someone watching me?” He shakes his head just as surprised as you. “I couldn’t let him be the only one with secrets.”

“As happy as I am that you’re finally sticking up for yourself, how many secrets are you planning to expose? You know father would hear about this mess,” he kindly warned. 

“Let him find out. See who’s more embarrassed.” Jaebum shakes his head lightly. “Do you have any plans tonight?

“Why?” he asked looking up from his file. 

“You still owe me a date,” you reminded him of the bid from the auction night. Jaebum was always nice to you which made using him ten times more difficult but you wanted Jinyoung to hurt. 

This was the only way you could hurt him as badly as he hurt you.

[nerdzzone]

The Aftermath

Summary: Dealing with the fall out of their first night together isn’t easy for Whitney Taylor or Chris Evans, but given the complicated results of their frivolous activities, it isn’t something they can avoid forever.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part One: Luckless Romance

Note: I was originally going to leave Luckless Romance as a one shot, but I had some requests for a part two. I had it all planned out in my head anyway so I figured I’d write it up to explain more of where our two lovely character’s heads were at!

Please let me know your thoughts! Or if there’s any other parts of their story that you’d like to hear about!

_____

When Chris woke up, the first thing he noticed was the throbbing in his head.

The second thing he noticed was the warm body curled into his side.

His initial reaction to that sensation was confusion, but as the events of the night before quickly came back to him, he was filled with an unignorable sense of dread.

He'd fucked up.

He'd spent a year burying his feelings for her to protect their friendship and all it took was a few drinks and flirtatious remarks for him to risk it all. He cared for her, there was no doubt about that, but he knew she didn't feel the same way. Clearly, she was at least attracted to him, but he'd hazard a guess that her loneliness was the driving factor in why she'd chosen to indulge in the activities they'd partaken in a few hours earlier. She’d had no luck in the dating scene, so she'd settled for him and now, when she woke up, she'd break his heart.

She didn't want him.

She didn't want the life that he could offer.

She'd made it clear that she found the world of Hollywood exhausting when she'd talked about her discontent with living in L.A. and that was a world he couldn't escape from. Plus, his fans had given her a hard enough time when she was just a close friend. If she was to become something more, they would tear her apart. He didn't want that for her and he knew that she didn't want that kind of hassle in her life either.

But he couldn't stand to hear her say it. He never did well with rejection and rejection from this woman - who he knew was absolutely perfect for him - was more than he could handle.

So, after carefully extracting himself from her grasp without waking her, he left.

He felt sleezy and awful not even saying goodbye, but he needed to quiet the noise in his brain before he could face her and he figured she would probably appreciate his absence. He knew firsthand how awkward it was to let down a one night stand the morning after so, really, he was sparing her just as much as he was protecting himself.

The heat outside was stifling already and made Chris realize just how desperate he was for something to quench his thirst. They'd drunk more than he normally did and he was feeling the effects. Perhaps that was why his mind was so fuzzy and unable to process what had happened, but he figured it was a safe bet that he could pin that on his anxiety.

And there were only two people who had much luck soothing him when his mind started racing: his mother and his brother.

He knew his mother would be disappointed in him if he told her what happened. He'd poured his heart out to her several times about the confliction he felt with his feelings for Whitney, he dreaded to think what she would say about him finally doing something about those feelings in such a reckless way and he was definitely too hungover to deal with her reaction to how he'd handled things that morning.

So, that left Scott.

Pulling out his phone, he glanced at the time and cringed. It wasn't even six thirty yet and with it being a Sunday there was a good chance that Scott was in a worse post-inebriated state than he was, but he took a chance and hit 'call'.

It took a few rings, but eventually Scott answered, his voice still groggy from sleep.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Scott," Chris greeted him as he crossed the street. He needed to flag down a cab to get home, but figured the quiet park across from Whitney's apartment was a better place for this conversation. No extra ears listening in. "I fucked up."

"Chris, it's not even seven o'clock in the morning. How badly could you have fucked anything up this early?"

He sounded tired and Chris felt bad, but he needed someone to talk to.

"I slept with Whitney."

There was a moment of silence before Scott let out a cheer.

"Finally!" He practically squealed, but then he paused as he took in what Chris had said. "Wait, how did you fuck up? Did you not use your best moves?"

"What? No, nothing like that," Chris' brow furrowed in annoyance. "I fucked up by sleeping with her at all. She's one of my best friends, Scott, and now that's ruined. It’ll never be the same, if she even wants anything to do with me now."

"Did she not seem happy about it? What did she say when you left?"

"Nothing," Chris admitted. "I left this morning before she woke up."

There was a moment of silence as Scott processed his brother's words.

"Okay, I'm starting to see where you fucked up. You shouldn't have done that."

"No, I fucked up by sleeping with her!"

Chris' tone was snappy and uncalled for, but his headache was getting worse by the minute and he was feeling exasperated enough without Scott's judgment.

"Alright, alright, calm down," Scott sighed. "If you want my honest opinion, I think you're overreacting. You two have always had a 'will they won't they' vibe about you. She's clearly just as interested in you as you are in her."

"Why 'clearly'?" Chris questioned. "She's never acted like she sees me as more than a friend."

"Uh, yes, she has. She blushes and giggles like a schoolgirl every time you compliment her, she practically drools at the sight of you and listens with hearts in her eyes whenever you talk. She's got it just as bad as you do."

"Don't do that," Chris groaned. "Don't put ideas in my head that aren't true."

"It is true. I wouldn't lie to you about that," Scott insisted. "I think this is just your anxiety talking. Go back to her place before she wakes up, hear what she has to say and go from there. She might surprise you."

"I'll think about it," Chris lied, knowing already that he couldn't face going back. "Thanks for answering. I'll let you get back to bed."

"Don't mention it," Scott assured him. "I know you're stressed now, but I'm happy for you. It's about time the two of you came to your senses."

Chris smiled despite his disbelief in what Scott had said. He laughed it off and said his goodbyes before walking towards the nearest road to catch a cab.

He saw Whitney's message a few hours later, but he ignored it. He needed to get his head straight and steel himself for however she chose to let him down before he would be ready to talk to her.

It took days for him to get to the point of acceptance, but she never messaged him again. So, working on the assumption that she was relieved by his silence or didn't care enough to demand any explanations, he got on a plane and headed back to Massachusetts with plans to spend the next few months drowning his sorrows and pushing her from his mind.

-

Three Weeks Later

My period was late.

For the last ten years of my life, my period had arrived with impressive reliability and now, a few weeks after having unprotected sex, my period was late.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. There was no doubt in my mind that I was pregnant.

"It's not that easy to get pregnant," Hannah insisted as we sat in my living room, counting down the minutes until the pregnancy test would be ready. "A lot of people who actually want to get pregnant have to try for months before it happens. It seems super unlikely that you'd get pregnant from a random one night stand."

"Yeah, but it does happen to plenty of women," I pointed out. "And knowing my luck, I would get knocked up by a man who then flees the state without another word."

Hannah winced as I paced in front of her.

"Still haven't heard anything, then?"

"Nope, nothing," I sighed. "I haven't reached out again, but he made himself pretty clear by leaving before I woke up and then ignoring my text."

"I just don't get it. He was so obviously into you. I would have bet money that you two would live happily ever after."

"You did bet money," I reminded her. "I'm still waiting for that thousand dollars you promised me."

"You didn't accept!" She smiled. "I owe you nothing!"

While I didn't really expect her to pay me, I was going to argue the point, but the timer we'd set for the test went off and snapped our focus back to the task at hand.

"Oh god," I groaned. "You read it. I can't deal with this."

Hannah nodded and carefully picked up the little stick before looking up at me with a grin.

"It's negative!"

I felt a wave of relief, but it was quickly replaced with doubt. I felt like I was pregnant. My period was late for the first time in years, I'd had sex without a condom and I was nauseous and my boobs hurt. It seemed too good to be true that it was all some kind of coincidence.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah!" Hannah smiled. "There's two lines!"

Her words hit me like a truck as my stomach dropped.

"Hannah, two lines means positive."

"No, it doesn't," she insisted, reaching for the box. The fall of the smile on her face told me all I needed to know before she even spoke again. "Shit. Sorry, babe. You're pregnant."

I let out a groan as I flopped onto the couch next to her.

"This is a nightmare."

"Shall I get my shotgun?"

I raised an eyebrow at my friend.

"What?"

"For a shotgun wedding?"

I laughed at that suggestion, but shook my head.

"No, I don't want him to be forced into anything."

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "It doesn't really seem real yet."

"Are you going to tell him?"

I looked down at my still flat stomach and nodded my head.

"Yeah, I'll have to. I know it's still new, but I want to keep it so he'll have to know," I sighed. "If he even answers my calls."

"He will," she assured me. "Or we'll fly out to Boston and you can tell him after I kick his ass."

The image that statement conjured in my mind pulled another laugh from my lips as I felt an overwhelming wave of appreciation for my friend. I knew that no matter what, she was in my corner and that was a comforting thought even in the midst of all the uncertainty that was swirling around me.

"Thanks, Hannah," I smiled. "I really appreciate all your support."

"Of course," she reached out to squeeze my shoulder. "Are you going to call him now?"

"No, I think I'll do it later," I informed her. "I want to wrap my head around it a little bit first."

"That's probably sensible," she agreed as a grin slid onto her face. "Wow, you're gonna have a baby, Whit. I know it's scary, but that's really cool."

"Cool isn't the word that I'd use. Try absolutely terrifying."

My earlier smile was still on my face despite my bleak words as I thought about what she'd said. It was somewhat good news. Definitely worrying, especially given my situation with Chris, but I'd always wanted to have kids so it would have been a lie for me to say that I wasn't at least a little bit intrigued by the idea.

-

When Hannah left my house, about an hour after we read the test, I planned on taking some time to fully comprehend the news before I shared it with Chris. However, almost as soon as I closed the door behind my friend, I remembered the time difference. Chris was three hours ahead of me which meant that even though it was only five o'clock for me, it was already eight o'clock where he was.

I felt the anxiety bubbling in my stomach as soon as I came to that realization because I knew that if I wanted to call him that day, I had to do it right away and if I didn’t call him soon, I was worried I’d lose the nerve.

I took a deep breath and went straight for my phone, dialing his number before I could change my mind, but I was crushed when he didn't answer. I waited a few minutes and then tried again, but still, there was no answer and I let out a growl of frustration as I frantically typed out a text.

Hey. Call me as soon as you can. It's important.

I paced around my apartment, the reality of the situation starting to creep in now that he, once again, seemed to be rejecting me. 

I didn't want to tell him news like this over the phone, but I'd seen the paparazzi pictures of him arriving at the airport in Boston so I knew that I had no other choice. However, if he wasn't even going to answer my calls, I'd have to get the news to him another way. My mind immediately started racing with all the possible ways I might have to break the news to him as the panic of potentially having to do this alone started to rise.

But luckily, all those concerns were irrelevant when my phone lit up with Chris' name on the screen.

"Hey," I answered quickly before he had the chance to change his mind and hang up. "Thanks for calling."

There was a moment of silence before he replied.

"Sure," he kept his tone cool and steady, but there was an underlying tension. "What's up?"

The sound of his voice brought tears to my eyes. This was it. This was the make or break moment and I felt my palms start to sweat as it hit me just how devastated I'd be if it didn't go well.

"I, uh, I don’t really want to tell you this over the phone, but I guess I don’t really have much choice," I started. "I got some news today that you have a right to know."

It seemed obvious to me what I would be hinting at considering our current situation and the silence that followed my words led me to believe that he had a pretty good idea what I was going to say. When he stayed quiet, wordlessly waiting for me to continue, I took a deep breath and dove in.

“I’m pregnant.”

I hadn't thought much about how I was going to tell him, but I figured there was probably a better way than blurting it out that bluntly. I cringed slightly at my harsh delivery as his silence was almost immediately broken and he started spluttering and stuttering, stumbling over his words until he managed to blurt out one clear sentence.

"Is it mine?"

A burst of anger flashed through me at such a suggestion.

"Yes! Oh my God, Chris, of course it's yours!" I insisted. "How many people do you think I've slept with in the last month?"

Maybe he thinks you're a slut, the voice in my head taunted me. Maybe that's why he left without a word.

That thought was enough to get the tears flowing and, when Chris didn’t answer my question, I let out a sob. I covered my mouth to hopefully stifle the sound, but I knew he heard it loud and clear.

"Shit, Whitney," he sighed. "That was a dumb thing to say. You just caught me off guard."

"Well, how do you think I feel?" I hissed. "I'm scared, Chris. What are we going to do?"

This time there was no hesitation before he answered.

"I'll get the first flight out tomorrow morning," he informed me. "We can talk about it then."

"Okay," I sniffled. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry," he assured me. "It's just as much my fault as it is yours."

My emotions were overwhelming me by that point and I stayed quiet, knowing I'd fall apart if I opened my mouth to speak, but Chris didn't let the silence last too long this time.

"Are you, uh, are you gonna keep it?" He asked, sounding heartbreakingly similar to a small child asking his parents if he could keep the stray dog he'd brought home. "It's your call, but I'm behind you one hundred percent."

"I am going to keep it," I told him quietly. "But you only have to be as involved as you want to be."

"I want to be very involved," Chris answered quickly before letting out a sharp laugh. "Fuck, I'm gonna be a dad."

The sound of more laughter floated through the phone after that realization, but I couldn't tell if it was giddy or hysterical.

"You are," I agreed, feeling some relief from his reaction despite how complicated I knew things would be. "But we can talk about it all when you're here. If you really don't mind coming back."

"Not at all, this is important." He assured me. "I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll text you with the details as soon as I know."

"Okay, thank you."

He insisted that I didn't need to thank him before we quickly wrapped up the conversation.

There was a lot to say and a lot to discuss, but it wasn’t something to be talked about it over the phone. We needed to discuss it in person once we'd both had time to understand exactly what it meant.

And we needed to figure out what the hell we were going to do about us.

-

I thought having almost twenty-four hours to compose my thoughts would make things easier, but as I waited for Chris to get to my apartment I still had a lot of questions and concerns

But I had decided one thing for certain: we were better off as friends.

When we were friends, he didn't ignore my calls. When we were friends, he didn't run out of my apartment without saying goodbye. When we were friends, he hadn't broken my heart because I never gave him the chance. I was frustrated by his behaviour since the night we spent together and it made me angry. When I thought about it too hard, it made my blood boil and I wanted to tear a strip off of him for making me feel so used. When we were friends, I'd never felt more than a hint of annoyance towards him.

So, the only solution as far as I could see, was for us to stay just friends.

That would prevent any more heightened emotions and if we didn't do it that way, I would end up resentful and bitter. I didn't have much experience with children, but even I knew that those feelings would create a very toxic relationship for raising a child.

Which is why, as soon as he stepped into my apartment, I was on the defensive.

"I think we both know that we're better off as friends," I blurted out before the door was even shut behind him. "What happened was a mistake and now we just have to find a way to work together as friends."

Chris looked surprised, which I found surprising, but he recovered quickly and nodded his head. I'd be lying if I said that wasn't bittersweet. I didn't have the energy to argue with him, but part of me was definitely hoping that he'd put up a bit more of a fight.

"Yeah, I think you're right," he agreed after a moment of thought before changing the subject. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I shrugged. "A bit nauseous and very emotional, but nothing I can't handle so far."

"Good, that's good," Chris smiled. "Have you been to a doctor yet?"

"No, not yet. I have an appointment tomorrow."

"Can I-" Chris paused to clear his throat, looking nervous. "Can I come?"

I felt my heart flutter at the thought of him caring enough to want to come to a doctor's appointment, but I shut those feelings down as fast as they popped up. He cared for the baby, not for me.

"Sure," I nodded. "But it won't be very interesting. I think it's mostly just checking all my basic information so they can keep track and probably some blood tests and vitamin recommendations."

"Doesn't matter," Chris insisted. "I want to be there for it all. We're in this together."

Those words brought more tears to my eyes, but I blinked them back and looked away. In a move that I wasn’t expecting, Chris noticed immediately and took the few steps needed to put him right in front of me.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

His hands settled on my arms and the way he rubbed them would have been soothing if it didn't break my heart. How could this supportive, comforting man in front of me right now be the same man who slept with me and then never called me?

"I'm just overwhelmed," I choked out. "We really fucked up, Chris. How could we be so stupid?"

"I don't know," Chris sighed. "It was a dumb mistake, but we can make the most of it. We can do this."

"I know, I know," I took a deep, shaky breath to try and pull myself together. "It's just a lot to take in and I don't think it's really hit me yet."

"It is a lot," he agreed. "Here, let's go sit down."

I let him lead me over to the couch and then flopped down on it. He sat next to me, but we stayed quiet, neither of us really knowing what to say. After a few moments of tense silence, Chris finally spoke.

"I know this might be asking a lot," he started, the hesitation in his voice making me nervous. "But would you consider moving to Massachusetts?"

It wasn't an unexpected request. I knew Chris was happier there and considered it his home and I had told him how tired I was getting of living in Los Angeles. It was probably the better place for raising a child as well. I'd heard plenty of stories about Chris' childhood and it was pretty idyllic - full of experiences that children growing up in a big city like L.A. didn't often get.

However, it meant that I would have to leave my entire support system behind. All my friends and my family would be here and I would be completely alone except for Chris - who I wasn't even in a relationship with - and a child - who was hardly going to be able to provide much emotional support.

It seemed like the best option for everyone involved except for me and I wasn't sure that was a sacrifice that I was selfless enough to make.

I realized how long his words had been hanging in the air between us as I got lost in my thoughts and my head fell into my hands with a groan.

"I don't think I'm cut out for this," I whined, tears filling my eyes again as I felt a strange mix of emotions There was plenty of regret and with that came guilt because this poor child deserved a mother that didn't dread it's existence. "I'm not mom material, Chris. I don't have the instincts."

"It's all still fresh," he reminded me. "The instinct isn't instant. But I didn't mean to upset you, if you don't want to move to Massachusetts then we'll figure it out."

"No, no, it makes the most sense," I sniffled, lifting my head to look back up at Chris. "It's just scary. I don't want to leave my family and friends and I'll have to move soon if I'm going to so I can find a doctor, it's a lot to think about right now."

"It is, but I can ask Carly about a doctor. My family will support you one hundred percent."

I forced a weak smile, but I felt more nerves bubbling in my stomach.

"Have you told them?" I asked. "Does your mom hate me? I hope she doesn't think I'm trying to take advantage of you."

"No way!" Chris insisted with a chuckle. "She gave me a very stern lecture about being responsible, but I've talked about you enough for her to know you're not some crazed fan looking for a payout."

"That's good." I breathed out a sigh of relief. I knew he was incredibly close with his mother and I didn't want her to think badly of me. "I haven't told anyone yet, except Hannah."

"Downey's gonna kill me, isn't he?"

He shot me a sheepish look as he spoke, but I shook my head.

"Nah, I think he'll be thrilled. He loves babies and he's been teasing me about us getting together since the night we met," I informed him, watching his face for a reaction to that statement. There wasn't any. "He'll probably have a bet to cash in on as soon as I tell him the news."

"Well, that's reassuring," Chris smiled. "I think we'll have enough people who'll be mad at us..."

He was clearly referring to his fans and I cringed.

"What are you going to do about that?"

He shrugged.

"What do you want me to do?"

I took a moment to think before I answered him.

"I don't want you to publicly deny that the baby is yours," I warned him, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to bear hearing that even if I knew that he really had no doubts. "But I don't care if you don't make a big announcement. We can just let people draw their own conclusions."

"Making a statement might be better. It would stop the rumours from getting out of hand. There'd be an uproar, but it would eventually die down," he pointed out. "I'll talk to my team and let you know, but you should probably make all your social media private whatever we decide."

I didn't use social media much and I definitely never posted pictures of Chris, but even so I'd felt the wrath of his fans more than once after we were spotted out together so I knew how they could be.

I nodded in response to his instructions and another silence settled between us.

My mind was racing with questions that I wanted to ask. I wanted to know why he'd left, why he hadn't called, why he'd even slept with me if he really didn't see me that way. Part of me even wanted to cry and plead with him to give me a chance, to let me show him that I was good enough to be more than a friend, but I knew I couldn't handle the rejection. Whatever his explanation would be, it wouldn't change the situation and with everything else we had to deal with, I didn't have the strength for more heartbreak too.

-

When Chris left almost an hour later, we had a firm plan in place.

I would try to get out of my lease - or Chris would pay whatever fee I was charged for breaking my contract - and I would move to Massachusetts by the end of the summer to stay with him. I'd argued that point at first, but his reasoning made sense. He would be in and out once they started filming the last two Avengers movies so I would have the place to myself a lot, but when he was home he'd be able to help with the baby. After the first year, when the newborn phase was done, I would get my own place and we'd work out an official custody agreement.

He promised to come to as many doctor's appointments as he could and offered to pay for absolutely everything that I needed. I assured him that wouldn't be necessary, but I appreciated that he was already committed. Many men probably would have run for the hills in our situation or, at the very least, demanded a paternity test before they made any promises, but Chris was enthusiastic and supportive and I couldn't ask for anything more.

Well, I wanted to ask for something more. I wanted us to be together - I wanted us to be making plans to be a family, not to be co-parents - but I knew that wasn't what he wanted and I was determined to accept that. I needed to focus on counting my blessings and being grateful for what I did get out of our relationship instead of focusing on what was missing and unobtainable.

Even if it broke my heart and hurt me more than the loss of any other romantic relationship I'd ever had, I was going to make the most of it for the sake of our child. It didn't ask to be born into such a messy situation and it's safety and security were quickly becoming the most important things in my life despite the fact that it was hardly more than a bundle of cells at that point.

And as that thought hit me, I realized that maybe I wasn't as lacking when it came to maternal instincts as I had thought.

-

@maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker

[emilia3546]

Reflections - Nessian NSFW

Nesta has no idea why Cassian bothered to buy a new, floor-length, mirror, but once she figures it out, she can't get her mind off it.

*****

Nesta hadn't given the new mirror that Cassian had bought a few days ago much thought, until now. Full-length, plenty of empty space in front of it, she hadn't thought anything of it, not even at Cassian's undisguised glee when he'd come home with it, assuming it was just some stupid joke, but days later the mirror was still there. She'd only thought about it yesterday morning when he whispered to her,

"Want to know what it's for? What it's really for?" Nesta had nodded, slightly confused, but realized at once at the gleeful look in his eyes,

"You want to fuck me in front of a mirror?"

"I want you to watch me fucking you in the mirror." She'd flushed bright red at that, but Cassian had already slipped outside, raising an eyebrow at her before disappearing to training. Still, Nesta hadn't been able to shake that idea, he hadn't mentioned it since, and even with her book, it was like the mirror was watching her, but that was ridiculous. She glared at it, slamming her book closed, and Cassian chuckled from beside her, clearly happy to escape his book, well, the book she had practically forced him to read.

"Stop that."

"What?"

"Stop it, stop looking at me like that," she hissed, opening her book again, but gave up after reading the same sentence at least three times,

"Something distracting you?" Cassian grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes,

"I hate you."

"We both know that's not true," he laughed, and Nesta glowered at him,

"It is," she insisted, but yelped when he moved faster than she could register, flipping her underneath him,

"Then how come I'm the only one who gets to have you like this?"

"I don't know what you mean,"  she managed, but gasped and dropped her head backwards when he pushed her nightgown up, his hand so close to her sex, but staying just too far from it. She squeezed her eyes shut, this was what he wanted, and she wasn't going to lose, so she lifted her head again, "Who says that you're the only one?" She almost missed him move again, only noticing once his hand had curled around her throat. Her words died on her tongue, and she automatically grabbed at his wrist, not bothering to try to dislodge him, just ready to warn him if whatever he did was to much for her.

"I'm sorry?" The opportunity was too good to miss, even if his tone was dangerously low, even if the sensible thing would be to apologize, to save herself a punishment, she smirked as she spoke,

"That's okay, you're forgiven." She had underestimated him, underestimated how quickly he was going to react tonight, no sooner had the words left her mouth than Cassian's grip on her throat tightened. She could, of course, still breathe, but the lack of blood flow left her head roaring, the world fading as she panted, gently squeezing Cassian's wrist. He loosened his grip at her request, but still stared down at her with that unyielding dominance in his eyes, she'd lost, she'd completely and utterly lost.

"Try again," he whispered, and Nesta whimpered, her lie slipping away as she wriggled, Cassian raised an eyebrow, and she stilled, "What were you saying? That I'm not the only one who gets you like this?" He tightened his grip again, and she gasped out his name,

"No, please, I'm sorry, it wasn't true, it wasn't true." He released his grip on her throat, but kept his hand in place, holding her still,

"So you lied to me." She didn't have a clever response to that, "Well?"

"Yes," she whispered, "I'm sorry," she added after a moment, squirming under his gaze as he silently glared down at her,

"Oh we're definitely playing with the mirror now. Do not move." Nesta obeyed, laying still as he disappeared from her view, but shifted around at the sounds of rustling. "You can sit up now." She did, her gaze snapping towards the mirror, and she felt another rush of wetness at the sight before her. Cassian was utterly, gloriously naked, already hard and ready, a length of rope in his hands. It was an effort to stay still, to avoid rushing straight towards him, but this was part of the game, now she'd lost, she had to play the game, had to wait for his order. She grabbed the hem of her nightgown, pulling it over her head at Cassian's nod, "Come here," Nesta didn't need any more encouragement to practically leap up, but she caught herself in time, managing to maintain a steady pace as she walked towards him.

He tipped her chin upwards, one hand in her hair, the other tugging her waist against him, and Nesta moaned when Cassian tugged her head backwards, gripping onto his shoulders as he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. She couldn't breathe fast enough, not with the way he was kissing her, hard, fast, so much that she almost couldn't match his movements. He was faster than her, catching her off guard when he nipped at her bottom lip, making her jaw drop further. He allowed her all of one breath before surging back towards her, claiming her lips so thoroughly that she had no doubt of what she wanted,

"No one else," he snarled, "No one else get to have you,"

"No one," she panted, still trembling in his arms, "I'm all yours," she whispered, and Cassian spun her around, and tugged her backwards against his chest, so that she was staring into the mirror. She tried to turn away, but Cassian gripped her chin, turning her head back to the mirror, forcing her to stare into her own eyes. She automatically moved back, but found herself pinned still, Cassian's arms around her waist, she could only see him in the mirror, see the way he was grinning, the way his lips were now slightly swollen, a deep flush creeping down his chest, not that she was in any better shape. With her hair unbound, he'd been able to mess it up enough to make her look truly desperate, if her red cheeks and panting breaths hadn't already given her away.

"Good girl," he murmured, and Nesta saw herself melt under the praise, saw herself sink into his arms, and didn't complain when he slowly leaned back, supporting her with one arm as he lowered them to the floor. He snatched up the discarded length of rope, and steel gathered in Nesta's veins again as she made to crawl away from him, from where she was sitting between his legs. While he was distracted she could snatch back control, but he wasn't really distracted, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, dragging her backwards with a yelp until she was pressed against him again. He locked his ankles against hers, dragging her legs open, and gently guided her head back so that it rested on his shoulder. She drew in a deep breath, but twisted her wrist out of his grip when he caught it, but forgot about the other one, and she huffed when he looped the rope around it, losing her concentration on evading him, and struggled against him for a moment when he caught both, before giving in and glaring at him through the mirror as he bound them together in front of her. In front, not behind, because he wanted to be closer to her, to touch her.

Nesta's eyes flickered shut at the first light touch across her stomach,

"Eyes open," Cassian reminded her, "Watch." She did as she was told, her gaze fixed on his hands where they rubbed circles across her skin, rising higher to knead her breasts in time with her ragged breaths,

"Please," she whispered, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice, and apparently failing, judging by Cassian's chuckled against the skin of her neck,

"Awwww, can't take it?" He tugged on her earlobe, and sped up at the same time, "That's too bad," he hummed, "How badly do you want it?"

"Bad. Please, Cass, please, please," he hummed wordlessly, as if considering her plea,

"You're so pretty when you beg, sweetheart, I want to hear some more." Despite his words, he did dip his hand to brush against her clit, leaving her wriggling, and rocking her hips against him, until he pulled away. She sobbed in desperation, biting her lip to keep from squealing,

"Please," she muttered again, "I need you," no difference, "General," she crooned, and almost laughed at the way Cassian's hands froze momentarily before continuing, "Please, General, I need your cock inside me, I need you to fuck me, please," she tried to sound teasing, but it still came out as a weak whimper,

"Fuck," Cassian muttered next to her ear, his head dropped into her neck as he pressed gentle kisses against her skin, his hair as messy as hers now, a dark angel, her warrior. "You see what you do to me?" He whispered, "Only I can have you, but only you can have me," she was still processing his words when he slid two fingers through her sex, coating them with her wetness, "Oh, you are desperate aren't you, Nesta?" He teased before sliding a finger into her, then a second, pumping them in and out a few times, his other hand keeping her head from falling back, forcing her to keep watching as she rode his fingers, her hips bucking almost uncontrollably now. She screamed his name when he curled his fingers inside her, already hurtling over the edge, and kept screaming as he kept moving inside her, dragging a second climax from her as soon as the first had finished, then a third, then a fourth. Nesta sobbed with pleasure when she came down from her fourth climax, trying to squirm away, trying to push his hand away,

"I can't," she gasped, "Please,"

"You can, and you will. You lied to me, you owe me another four before we play," No, no, no, eight was the number for lying, but she'd hoped he'd just spank her, this was so much harder, and she sobbed again when he pushed her towards the edge. She couldn't do it, it was too much, but she screamed her pleasure again when she came a fifth time, her body no longer responding to her commands to wriggle away from him, to escape the overwhelming pleasure arcing through her at each orgasm. She could hardly see through the tears blurring her vision, but she knew that she was absolutely wrecked, could feel the way her body was loose and pliant against Cassian's, how easily he could move her around, his fingers reaching deeper inside her as he stretched her out, "One more for me, sweetheart, one more, okay," Nesta nodded, and wriggled as her muscles tightened, coiling in her stomach, until Cassian bit down on her neck, sending it all rushing outwards, washing over her in a great wave, leaving her screaming and crying in pleasure.

Cassian gently stroked her hair, rubbing soothing circles against her ribs as Nesta struggled to fill her lungs again and again, spooling herself back together piece by piece, panting as Cassian untied her wrists

"Good girl," he murmured, and Nesta mumbled something incoherent, earning a chuckle from her mate, "So beautiful, so fucking gorgeous," he hummed, and kissed the top of her head. He meant it, Nesta knew he meant it, but the praise still made her squirm, still made her automatically think he was lying. "You did so well, sweetheart," she melted under the adoration in his voice, twisting in his arms to look into his eyes, "You okay?" She nodded, and buried her face in his neck, sighing happily. "Color?" Cassian murmured, and she twisted her head sideways to mutter,

"Orange, I just need a minute."

"Are you done?"

"No. I just need a break," Cassian held her against him as she breathed, and breathed, and breathed, her mind-stilling exercises helping her to relax, to bring herself back to her body, to the present, to Cassian. Once she was ready, she leaned back into him, dragging his face back to hers, her heart cracking at the gentleness of his movements, the worry in his eyes when he pulled back, and lightly kissed her nose. Nesta grinned, and kissed him again, nipping at his bottom lip to turn the kiss into something more, something more demanding. That familiar smirk returned the moment Cassian released her lips, and Nesta shifted her hips against him, chuckling at his muttered curses. She shot him a glance over her shoulder, "Green," she trilled, and leaned forwards onto her forearms, lifting her ass in silent demand. Cassian rose behind her, running a hand down her spine, sparking shivers wherever their skin met, and pushed her legs further apart. Nesta dropped her head onto the floor, suddenly grateful for Cassian's foresight to put a rug there, softening the hard floorboards.

"You're supposed to be watching," Cassian murmured, and Nesta yelped when he pulled her head up, her hair wrapped around his wrist, his hand fisted in her hair. She gasped when he tugged again, lifting her off her hands for a moment before letting her back down, "Now watch, sweetheart," he whispered before slamming into her in one thrust. The sound that left Nesta's throat was one of pure animalistic need, and she couldn't look away, not as he pumped his hips against hers, not as his eyes dropped half-closed with pleasure, not as she unraveled, screaming his name with each thrust. He released her hair to grab her hips with both hands, pulling her backwards at the same time as he thrust forwards into her, Nesta screamed wordlessly, stars filling her vision with each thrust. She lost track of exactly what she was saying, what she was begging for, but Cassian gave her everything she could have asked for, and then some. She came twice more, screaming his name, but still begging for more, until he finally groaned her name, and came himself after one last, harsh thrust. Nesta had already slumped forwards, her ass still in the air as his release slowly dripped out of her. She could never tire of this, of him, not if they had a million years, and she must have said as much, because Cassian eased her into his lap, still panting himself from the force of his climax,

"Now I'm done," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck as they sat in silence for a few moments, comfortable, safe in each others' arms. Cassian was still running his hands up an down her sides, as if he needed that contact, that reassurance that Nesta was okay, as he did every time. She kissed his jaw, "I love you," she mumbled, her heart aching at the undisguised worry in his eyes, "I'm fine," she wriggled back slightly, "See? Fine," still, Cassian would need to check for himself, but Nesta could do this for him, "I will always love you, you know that, right?"

"I know," he ran his lips across her jaw again, "But it does help to hear you say it,"

"I can say if every five minutes if that's what you need to believe me." He chuckled at that, and ran his gaze over her again,

"You sure you're okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine," she took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly, proving to him that she was recovering fine, still remembering his panic when she'd come one too many times, and hadn't been able to catch her breath. Cassian had made sure to watch her breathing ever since, and she couldn't bring herself to tell him that she'd tell him if she was struggling, even if Madja had said that it was just because she had been tired. Cassian was still holding her to his chest, waiting until her breathing had completely returned to normal before carrying her across to the bed,

"Give me one minute, okay?" Nesta nodded, and Cassian moved quickly to the bathroom, coming back in less than the minute he'd asked for, finding Nesta alert, and glancing around the room. She relaxed again the moment he reappeared in her vision, "I'm sorry," he murmured, "I should have had this ready in here,"

"It's okay," Nesta muttered, "You're here, that's all I need," Cassian kissed her forehead again before gently cleaning her up with the washcloth he'd gone to fetch, but protested when she tried to do the same, claiming that he was fine, but Nesta just glared at him until he caved. She was still wobbly on her feet when she stood, and she didn't miss the note of satisfaction in Cassian's gaze when he noted that fact, but she ignored it, careful when she reached his back. "Do you want me to do your wings?" Cassian nodded, and Nesta swiped up a towel, quickly drying the areas she'd washed straight away, and Cassian dropped his head forwards, his eyes falling closed, a low groan sounding in his chest, not one of pleasure, but contentment. Nesta placed the bowl and cloths to the side, smiling when Cassian slipped under the covers, opening his arms to her. She slipped underneath one, half-laying on his chest, with Cassian holding her tightly against him, one hand around her waist, the other cradling her head. She sighed happily, and snuggled into him, giggling when he wrapped his wings around her, leaving her head free, her breathing space. She mumbled again that she loved him, but she was already slipping into sleep, hardly registering his chuckle as he stroked her hair softly until he too fell asleep.

[yourfangirlfriend]

It’s Nothing Serious - Chapter 5.5

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

A./N: 18+ as always.

This took a while to write but may be my favorite so far. 

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

Here’s the thing about Eloise: she’s surprising.

That first morning when they met, he had expected her to look away and shuffle out of the lobby, leaving him and Gabby to the post-coital pleasantries. The old woman who lived there before would always cross herself and look down when she saw him with one of his women in the mornings. Her, though- looks him straight in the eye and says good morning, with his name he didn’t tell her, then waltzes out with a smile on her face like she just put him in his place. Maybe she did.

   Then she’s there, again, after he gets a bullshit call from the office to come in. He almost doesn’t notice her, he’s so focused on getting a cigarette to calm him down. He’s got a curse ready when he realises his lighter is out of fluid and it’s the only fucking one he has, but then there’s a voice.

  “Need a light?”

  He looks over and it’s the same woman from the morning. She’s cute. Big eyes, long eyelashes like one of those dolls his cousins had as kids. The pencil skirt she’s got on is tight, tight enough he can’t help but wonder where she keeps the lighter she extends out to him.

  “Thanks,” he tells her. She waves him off, swinging the small purse from her opposite side to drop the lighter in. They stand there for a moment in the silence before he decides he owes her a formal introduction.

  And she gets him again.

  “My moms the author.”

  “What?”

  “I’m fucking with you.”

  It makes him smile.

    He wakes up earlier the next morning. Then the next. Then the next until it’s a routine. Usually, he’s not in the office until 9, but now that he knows there’s someone next door, he’s noticing more, like the sound of feet scuffling on carpet in a hurry and the squeak of a wardrobe swinging open. And once he starts to hear them, he can’t tune them out. It makes him anxious, listening to someone bustle around him as he lays doing nothing. He doesn’t like being unprepared.

  So he starts to get up earlier. Which means he leaves earlier. Which starts to mean he runs into her. When he starts to get shit at the office for it - look who’s here, what, the brothel stopped offering continental breakfast? - he tries to sleep in again. He’s determined to, but he can’t. Hearing someone so close busy themselves around him while he just lies down drives him crazy.

  So, he gets ready early now.

The coffee shop on the way to work is happy for the new business.

—————

He only stood outside smoking that first time because of the smell. He had left something in his fridge too long and the power cut off while he was at work, and now the whole apartment smelled rotten. He has tried smoking inside, fill the air with smoke, but it only made him sick. He decided he’d smoke outside until he’s numbed his senses. He doesn’t smoke outside to run into her. It’s just what happens.

  The second day the apartment still smells. The third day, too. That’s when she joined him for the first time, siding up beside him like they had been meeting there for years. After that, if he discovers that if he doesn’t have at least one cigarette outside, it’s all he can smell when he walks in.

  So, he smokes outside now. With her.

  Her and her little questions.

  He doesn’t mind them. Not at first. Not if it was just small talk. But she takes his answers and runs with them. He’s not just from Laredo, he’s from the part of Laredo she knows because she visited once when she was 11 and she remembers Señora Garza’s discoloured hands as they made sandwiches in his corner’s BBQ stop and is she still alive? Does he miss the food? She misses the food in El Paso. Had he ever been? She doesn’t blame him. It’s a long drive.

  What’s annoys him is that he answers each one. What annoys him more is that he catches himself asking her questions too. What annoys him the most is that he thinks about her answers even after she’s snubbed her cigarette and gone inside.

  So, he gets up earlier, because he can’t stand the sound of her getting ready around him. He smokes with her, because if he doesn’t smell the night air and her perfume and the smoke all he can smell for the rest of the evening is his fridge. Now he’s a guy who asks stupid questions, who listens and laughs at work stories. He’s still working out the ‘because’ for that one. He thinks it has something to do with the pencil skirts. Hopes it does, anyway.

    ———————

  He just needs to fuck her.

  That has to be it. He just needs it out of his system. Not the best circumstances, considering she’s his neighbor, but he’s lived with worse before. It would be worth it for the extra sleep and the money he’d save on coffee and cigarettes. For the self respect he’d regain once he stopped lingering outside around 5:30 every evening to smoke (also the time when she’s usually turning down the street, coming back from work).

  And she is cute.

  So that Friday, when she’s walking up the stairs - in another fucking tight pencil skirt - he’s ready with an invitation. And it goes much better than he thought. He’s a pretty confident guy, but even he has to admit having a pretty woman tell him she’s masturbated to him, all while her cheeks have a rosy flush and she’s so endearingly embarrassed yet daring, yeah, it makes his face flush. It also makes him realise maybe she needs this out of her system just as badly as he does.

  So he gets them another drink. He inches his fingers up under the hem of her skirt. And when she asks if he’ll walk her home, his hand is only a little clammy when when he reaches out and takes hers, leading her through the bar and out into the night.

  The sex is good. Really good, if he’s honest. But most first time fucks are, aren’t they? Well, first time, second time, and third time, in this case - like he’s back in fucking college. He blames the drink. He blames the pencil skirts. He blames the way she teases him in turn and the bites she leaves on his neck after he calls her baby.

  Before she leaves she makes him promise it’s not going to be weird, that she’d miss their smoking sessions, that they’ll be friends.

  He thinks back to all his friendships with women. Despite that, he tells her yes.

  Friends.

  ————-

   He’s never been a particularly good friend, either.

  Maybe that’s why when she comes out that Sunday afternoon, when his mind is still replaying the events from that night before, he snaps at her. Because she’s a fucking third grade teacher, and she’s sweet, and that pisses him off. Because her world is so far away from his. Because if she saw a kid get murdered, she could cry or scream and wouldn’t just have to press it down and just deal with it like he has to, because its just another part of his job. So when she comes out, her hair a mess and a big oversized sweater on her shoulders and those big eyes looking him up and down like he’s a real person and not the husk he feels like, he loses it.

  Mind your own fucking business.

  He stalks off, letting his feet lead him to the nearest brothel. He asks for Vanessa, and she takes him up to her room, but once his jeans are off and he realises he can’t. That in addition to feeling like shit about the night before, he now feels bad because he was so needlessly cruel. And even though Vanessa tries her hardest, and god, that girls hardest try is the best in the country, he pulls his limp dick from her mouth and pays her full price anyway, apologising as he fixes his jeans and leaves.

  He tries to shower. He tries to jerk off. He tries to down a glass of whiskey, then two, then a half a pack of cigarettes. But when he’s not thinking about how he’s a monster for the night before, he’s thinking he’s a dick for that afternoon. It gets to be too much. Maybe because of the drink or the guilt or just old fashioned masochism, he’s at Eloise’s door. When she stands before him, her arms crossed and waiting, biting back at him with his own words - mostly just minding my own fucking business - he nearly falls into a pathetic string of apologies there. I’m sorry. You’re good, I’m bad. I shouldn’t have bothered you. You deserve better friends.

  But then she lets him come inside. She lets him be a sad sack on her couch. And when he tries to leave, to protect her from the bullshit that’s spinning around in his head, she reaches out and grabs his hand, telling him to stay. Because she’s there, and she’ll listen, or she won’t if that what he wants, and that’s what friends do.

  Friends also, apparently, give you really good head, and let you work your anger and sadness and fear out by fucking them raw on their couch. Then, they let you fall apart to them, like a fucking kid, until they pull you against their warm body and press a soft kiss, much softer than you deserve, against your temple before lulling you into the best sleep you’ve had in months.

  When he wakes up and sees her still under him, her hand still in his hair as she sleeps, he has to remind himself who he is before he does something stupid, like curl his body around her closer or pull the blanket around them tighter or stay and make her coffee. So he slips out of her hold, gets dressed, and spends the next thirty minutes outside her unlocked door, until he finally hears her stirring and knows she’ll be safe alone.

  When Gabby comes over later, he makes up for the night before. Does his best to remind Eloise and himself who, exactly, he really is. Not soft. Not scared. And certainly, not a good friend.

  ——————

  She doesn’t let him off that easy, and he’s too stupid to untangle himself. It would have been so simple to just keep walking through those doors when she called out to him, keeping his down and ignoring her. To be the asshole. But despite himself, he’s pulling his cigarettes out and standing beside her once again. He’s asking about her day at work, about the kids (whose names he remembers- he doesn’t even remember some of his cousins’ names). When she turns to head back inside - her leaving him! - she squeezes his shoulder as a way of goodbye. It’s friendly, something he’d do to a colleague, but it makes his chest light in a way not even two more cigarettes and a guilty conscience can weigh down.

   ...

   He just needs to fuck her again.

   Surely, that’s the problem here. It’s not that their talks have gotten longer, or that her perfume lingers in the hallway, or that she makes him laugh more than anyone has in a while. It’s all because she’s been leaving the second button on her blouses undone, and he can see the faint mark he left not even a week earlier. It’s because she keeps wearing those fucking skirts. And also, he is loathe to admit, she’s probably some of the best sex he’s had in a while.

  So, he’s not expecting her to turn his invitation down. He’s especially not expecting her to look that good in that short black dress she’s wearing when she offers him a drink. The hour before her friends- her real friends - show up, his hands are itching as he watches her throat when she throws back drinks, or the v of skin that the fabric cuts over her breasts. He can already see her night ahead of her— bunch of empty headed lotharios pushing up against her, grinding on her on the dance floor, shouting offers for more drinks in her face. She’ll come home completely disillusioned and drunk, and really, it’s the friendly thing to do to offer her an out. Whatever she’s looking to find tonight is already next door.

  Well. He thought.

  When he pops his head out later that night, ready to generously extend his offer of companionship again, he’s not expecting to see some man- a fucking kid, even- pressing her up against her door, his tongue shoved down her throat. When she turns and sees them, he’s suddenly feels like a high school principal who just caught two teenagers making out at prom. She’s only a handful of years younger than him, but seeing her like this now, with some young, muscled hot heat sucking on her neck - you want a picture or something?- he’s never felt older.

  So, like the old man he is, he tries to go to bed and sleep the humiliation off. Only, this time, he’s the one pulling a pillow over his ears to muffle the moans coming from the other side. Whoever Issac is, he must have a 12 inch dick or vibrating fingers or both, because he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a woman be this vocal. It only hurts his ego a little bit (a lot a bit) that he had her in a similar position just days earlier with a much less vocal response. By the time they start again, less than thirty minutes later (fucking twenty year olds) he’s throwing the covers off him and stalking to the dresser for his cigarettes, deciding a night on the couch would be better than having to lay there and listen to her breathy little moans or his ugly grunts. As he comes to stand in front of the mirror, however, he catches his reflection in the light and frowns when another, girly gasp permeates the wall. Despite himself, he wonders how much better Issac looks naked, how he’s probably got a good back and defined muscles and not the body of a middle aged smoker with bags under his eyes and a small but present belly. For a moment he allows himself to wallow in self pity. But when another breathy shriek breaks him out of his trance, he huffs and snatched the cigarettes from the dresser, marching towards his living room and away from the noise.

  The next morning, when he catches her in her sundress (that he just knows she’s not wearing underwear beneath), he tries to mimic her cool demeanor from the previous week, when the tables were turned. There’s a look in her eye though, like she knows, a hunch that’s proved right when she saunters up to him and pulls the cigarette from his dumb speechless lips, taking a long drag and maintains eye contact with a smug little smile.

  Oh Javi, it’s not serious .

  When he’s jerking off on his couch ten minutes later, he imagines she and that sundress are on top of him, and what he does with his fingers turns that smug little smile into a breathy ‘o’.

   —————————

  More than anything, he’s pissed when he’s shot. The one time he didn’t wear the tactical vest and he gets clipped. He hates being fussed over, and Murphy’s being such a mother hen about it- he even calls his estranged wife and asks her to rattle off advice to his partner over the phone, like he hadn’t just spent an hour getting patched up. No drinking, no “rapid movements”, and you really should stop smoking.

  He picks up a pack on the way home.

  Murphy offers to stay with him, but the idea of having Steve hover over him is almost more off-putting than being shot again. So he sends his partner upstairs with his half of the take out - fucks sake, I’ll be fine- and goes into his dark little apartment. He shovels the luke-warm food in his mouth and sits in the silence and tries to think of anything else but the fact he’s been hearing music from next door, or how it’s already 8 pm on a Friday, and that if she’s home she probably doesn’t have plans, which means it would be really easy to knock on the wall and ask if she wants to share a drink he shouldn’t have. Her, a woman he shouldn’t be inviting over in the first place. Even if she is funny and biting and caring in a way that still makes him feel like he can breathe.

  Without thinking, he’s by the wall, fist raised and ready to knock, before he stops himself.

  There’s only one way this can go, given his track record, and she doesn’t deserve that. She’s sweet. She’s funny. And smart. Pretty. She could do a hell of a lot better on a Friday night that sit with him. If he were a good friend, he’d leave her alone and simmer by himself.

    ——————

  “Isn’t that shirt supposed to be white?”

  Javier has never been a particularly good friend.

  ——————

  When she falls asleep on his arm, her legs kicked out under the coffee table covered in ash and alcohol, he’s still up. He lies awake and stares at the ceiling, too aware of the weight of her head against him to relax into sleep, lest the sudden movement wake her and she leaves- which right now, under the safety of booze and cigarettes and hours of laughing, he can admit to himself - would be the worst thing to happen today.

...Jesus, the way that sounds.

Maybe, if he weren’t so drunk, and if he hadn’t almost died, and if she hadn’t come over and asked him questions about his mom and made him laugh and tried for thirty minutes to convince him to buy an actual boat, he would be able to snap back to himself and think clearly.

  But, right now, her head is on his arm, it’s dark outside, and Javier is warm.

  ——————

  She tried to leave. She had done her friendly duty- deposited him in bed, forced him to drink water, made sure he hadn’t choked on his own vomit in the middle of the night. She was almost free of him, but then he just pulled her down beside him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He wasn’t thinking. He should have just let her go, shouldn’t have invited her over in the first place.

  He waited for her to push back against him. Payback, maybe, for sneaking out on her the last time. Or just common sense shining through. But instead she pulled the comforter over them both and threw a leg over his middle, cuddling into his shoulder.

  Against his ear, she mumbled “These sheets better be washed.”

  ——————

  He woke to sound of someone knocking on his door. Eloise had somehow flipped her body diagonally, the way all women seem to do when they’re deeply, deeply asleep. He rolled out, careful not to wake her, before heading to the living room and unlocking the door.

  “Wow. You look like shit.”

  Javi sighed. “What do you want?”

  His partner held up a paper bag. “Took your bandages with me last night.”

  He reached out and took the bag, giving him a nod. “Thanks,”

  “You have a party?”

  Javi looked over his shoulder to the mess of a coffee table.

  “Allowed to celebrate cheating death, aren’t I?”

  “Uh huh.” The other man nodded to the pair of jeans on the floor. El has discarded them the night before after declaring them “too restrictive” when she had insisted on showing him how to do - and failed to execute- a handstand. “House call?”

  “Goodbye, Murphy,” he closed the door in his partners face, but not before hearing a muffled chuckle from outside. Stalking forward, he dropped the paper bag on the couch before picking up the bottle of pills and rattled them in his hand. He made back for the bedroom, thinking he could get away with sneaking a few while she was still out cold. He needn’t have worried, it turns out.

  “Give me two.”

  “These aren’t Tylenol, they’re real-“

  “Javier. Shut the fuck up and give me two.”

  He shut the fuck up and gave her two.

  ——————

  “I don’t want to eat. I want to smoke and go back to bed.”

  “You can smoke and eat. They did it in the 50’s all the time.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You’re supposed to eat with those pills, Javier.”

  “I’ll eat later, give me the pack.”

  “No. You’re having a piece of toast.”

  “You’re not my godda-what the fuck are you doing? Turn off the burner—-DON’T-“

  ——————

  Sucker.

  A goddamn sucker.

  Why else would he be pouring over a bunch of papers written by kids who could barely write?

  Why else would he check so often if he was doing it right? Like this actually mattered? He started off giving most of them a lucky break, but when he saw how concentrated she looked, biting the end of her pen and circling words with a flourish, smiling to herself when she gave a check or drew a little happy face, he slowed down. Now he was thinking more about comma use than he had in his entire life.

  It’s worth it, though, when she’s sat in between his knees, head bobbing up and down on him as she sucks him off. When she looks him in the eyes as she jerks him, smiling before licking up along the side, he almost comes embarrassingly early. He decides that he’d gladly spend two hours grading shitty sentences if it means he can watch you deep throat him every Sunday afternoon.

  He won’t draw smiley faces though.

  He had his limits.

  ——————

  He’s not too sure what possessed him to kiss her like that. Sometimes after they’re done and she’s pulled her clothes back on, she’ll bend down to the bed and give him a peck. Other times she just leaves with a wave. Once she slapped his ass. He liked that goodbye quite a lot.

  But this time, he’s reaching out and catching her lips in a kiss that’s much more than thanks for the fuck and the cigarettes, get home safe. Something in his body bypasses his brain, and it takes a lot of conscious willpower than it should to finally pull himself back, even more so when her mouth chases his.

  Later, when he’s sober, he’ll explain it away as a thank you for the weekend. Or that he was still horny. Or a combination of both.

  Either way-

  “Get home safe.”

  —————

  So maybe that’s why he decides he should really be giving you rides to work. Safety.

  That’s reasonable. That’s a friendly thing to do.

  The dinners are harder to explain to himself. He tries to reason you’re both saving money on groceries this way. He read somewhere in one of those awful magazines that the embassy has on waiting tables, the kind that haven’t been updated in years, that food waste is a problem in America.

  But saving the environment isn’t why he sticks around for fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, an hour after they’ve both finished your cigarettes. It’s not a bleeding heart for the whales that makes him hold his breath for her answer when he asks her to come in for a drink. It certainly has nothing to do with the urgency with which he bends her over his kitchen table, scattering the empty take out containers onto the floor, before hiking another fucking pencil skirt up over her hips. He wishes it explained it. Because then it would be easier to dismiss the way his hand begins to fall on her knee during the early morning commutes, or the way he can’t relax until he hears those three ridiculous knocks after she leaves him in his bed.

  He chalks it back up to her safety and tries not to think any deeper than that.

   ——————

  “Are you mad? ‘Baby?’”

  There’s something incredibly sexy about a woman who can beat you at your own game. There’s also something very, very sexy about how her mouth pouts around the word, sardonic and mocking as her tone is.

  He’s only got himself to blame. He made the first move by dismissing that 70s nightmare. She had walked past him that night at the bar multiple times, staring through him when he had waved. His rational side told him she was distracted by her girlfriends and the music and just didn’t see him, but the other side- the side he often found himself on when it came to women- was pissed. Maybe that’s why he picked up the first hot body that made eye contact with him, strategically leading her over to the bar where he could keep and eye on Eloise’s back- fuck, she did look good in a backless shirt- while keeping his new friend entertained. Just like he had wanted, one of her friends pointed him out to her, and she made for the bar minutes later. He was surprised when she struck up conversation with Miguel, Colombia’s answer to Sunny Bono if he’d ever seen one, and a little insulted, too, if he’s being honest. If she was going to try and make him jealous, she could have picked someone who didn’t look like his parody. So when - ah fuck, what was her name, Maria? Lourdes? Doesn’t matter - went to the restroom, he took the chance to intervene and ruin her little game.

  What he didn’t expect was that she’d hit back harder.

  “Are you mad? ‘Baby’?”

  No. Not mad.

  Impressed. Challenged. Uncomfortably hard against his jean’s zipper. But not mad.

  But she likes being fucked rough, so he plays along. He grabs her by her hair, pushes her into her apartment, and takes her up against her door. When she’s just about to cum, he pulls out of her and tries not to laugh when she whips around with that crazed, angry look in her eye. It doesn’t take much (who is he kidding, he was never going to leave) before he’s got her bent over the sofa, pumping into the wettest, tightest cunt he may have ever felt in his life.

  The most unforgivable thing, though, and the moment that played through his mind as he drove home the night he should have died, was how she deposited herself on his lap afterwards. How those slender fingers reached out and took his cigarette, like she always did, and smiled through the smoke down at him. Naked and confident and so fucking pretty.

  “Baby,” she had called him, and it sent a jolt through his chest. “I would have asked which pharmacy you want me to pick your meds up from.”

  When they were in her shower an hour later, inadvertently testing just how non-slip her bath mat really was, he replayed her voice in his head. Baby, baby, baby.

   ————————

  He knew before he even stepped out of his car where he was going. And that scared him.

  He wasn’t this guy. He had made sure of it. It was best for everyone. It made him good at his job. He saw fucked up shit, did fucked up shit, but he never made it anyone else’s problem who wasn’t already there beside him, watching and participating. He managed it with drinking and denial and never hanging a picture of his mother up, afraid to meet her eyes and recoil at what she would think of him, even though she was years dead. If it was really bad, he went to see one of his girls- they weren’t stupid, they wouldn’t ask questions, and he always tipped them for it.

  He didn’t talk about it. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to have his hand held or a shoulder to cry on because if he started now, he didn’t know if he could stop. And that meant he’d lose the hard shell that made him able to keep doing this goddamn job every single day, and that would mean everything he had done, all the fucked up decisions made for the greater good, whatever that meant anymore, would be for nothing.

  But now, he’s standing in front of her door, hands shaking at his sides, trying to decide what he’s more afraid of: being alone or letting her see him like this. He had gone to her, maybe stupidly, after he saw the kid get shot, but that was different. That was an explanation for being a dick. This was seeking comfort. Intimacy. The antithesis of the system of drink fuck repress and repeat that had served him so well for the past ten years. He should have turned and walked to his apartment. He should have gone out the door to the nearest brothel and made a fool out of himself in front of some girl who saw this shit thirty times a day. He should have never started smoking to Eloise in the first place, because that led to talking and that led to sex and that led to the inconvenient, humiliating feeling that now filled his chest whenever he saw her or smelled her perfume and drove him to do stupid things like stand on her doorway at midnight ready to fall apart. If she was smart, she’d be asleep or ignore him. It’s what he deserves.

  But he knocks.

  And she comes running.

  ———————-

  He doesn’t do tender. Not like this.

  He doesn’t like to be taken care of. He’s the one who takes care of people, in his own messy, selfish, fucked up way. It makes him feel like he’s failing at the one thing he’s supposed to do - be the strong one, protect the innocent, whatever crap they peddled about his job. To be weak like this feels like admitting defeat, to admit that something finally got to him in a way he may not be able to bounce back from.

  He’s ashamed when he walks in and pours himself out like he does. He’s even more ashamed that he couldn’t just deal with this on his own, and his first instinct had come to her and fuck up her night. It’s almost like he can see himself from across the room, and he wants to reach out at stop his dumb ass from falling apart so spectacularly like he does. She doesn’t deserve this, and it’s not her responsibility. He worries that by doing this, he’s wrecking the only safe harbour he’s got left in the country. She is fun and light and blow jobs and laughter and good tequila, and he’s poisoning what they have by being so disgustingly raw in front of her.

  He waits for her to finally break and tell him it’s finally too much. That he’s a shithead cop who has done nothing but annoy her since they first met. That maybe he’s getting all that he deserves, at last, for all the awful things he’s done, and she rightly doesn’t have any sympathy for a man like him. This was fun, Javi, but I didn’t sign up for this.

  But that’s the thing about Eloise. She’s surprising.

  So when she reaches his hand out, he doesn’t quite believe her. She has to reach down and take it herself before he’s standing up and following her down the hall, not completely in control of his own body. He’s dumbstruck as she undresses him, so softly, like he’s something that could break underneath her help. It’s not until he’s pressed against her and she’s kissing the top of his head that he finally, finally lets go and lets himself believe that maybe he can have this, just for tonight.

So he pulls her closer, and he lets a sob rock through his body, and he tries not to cry when he feels her grip him tighter in response.

   When he wakes up, he knows he should let her sleep. She’s got work tomorrow and he’s got to go back to the embassy with a straight face and determination to get back to work. He had his moment of weakness, and now he should leave her alone. Slip out of her hold and her apartment and, if he was a good man, out of her life all together.

  Javier’s never been a particularly good man.

  So he reaches for her and cups her cheek. When her eyes flutter open and she says his name, so soft and so full of concern, his chest expands.

  He’s not good with words. Not the ones that matter. So he does what he is good at. He pulls her against him and kisses her and tries to treat her as gently as she treated him, like somehow if he could do this right, she’ll know. From the way she keeps her eyes on his as he pushes into her, he thinks she does.

  He wishes he was better. He wishes he could just tell her these things during the day, when he’s thinking straight, not just when he’s emotionally cored out. She deserves someone who can use their words, who don’t need to be at their very bottom and most needy to realise something that’s been growing inside them all along. He hates that in the morning, he’s going to look back at this and cringe at just how intimate and vulnerable he let himself be around her, that he’s going to have to brick himself back up just so he can get back to doing his job. He wishes, pathetically, stupidly, that the entire world could just be this dark bedroom and the noises she’s making and the way she feels around him.

  When it’s over, he falls against her, still entangled and unable to let go quite yet. He tells himself he’ll roll off her before he goes to sleep, because staying like this, surely, would be too much. But then he feels her fingers on his back, running up and down his spine as he lays against her, breathing in the faint smell of perfume that still lingers on her skin.

  In the morning, he’ll have to deal with this. Have to decide what lie he’s most comfortable with telling himself. But for right now, he can admit this is what he wants.

  Sometimes he can be pretty surprising, too.

--------

taglist: @fuckoffbard

[starlightxsvt]

Hellion

pairing: Jeonghan x female reader

genre: fluff, suggestive, idk what this is

warnings: cursing

word count: around 1.5k

A/N: Firstly, happy birthday to the Jeonghan, our con man. I know I'm a day late so forgive me for that. Secondly, I've no idea what the hell I wrote. I've cancelled two other drafts I wrote for his birthday cause none of them were coming together and in the end I've decided to post this shit. Anyway, your feedback would be really appreciated in this mess of a story :').

"What's Jeonghan doing here?" You hiss to Mingyu who has a hard time prying his eyes off of Chaeyeon. "I invited him. I never thought he'd actually come. I'm surprised too." He replies.

"Wha- why would you invite Jeonghan to my birthday party!" You glare at him to which he rolls his eyes, "Come on now, he's in our friend group. And college is almost over. You don't know when you'll see him again. Ogle him while he's still here." He smirks.

"What did you just s-"

"Oh come on, don't act like I don't know that he's your secret crush. Maybe make up with him and if you're lucky you'll get some good dick as a birthday present." Mingyu chuckles at your open mouth before scurrying away to avoid your wrath. You glare at his retreating figure before inhaling sharply. And before you can stop yourself, you start to look for him.

You spot Jeonghan at the large porch in the back of Mingyu's house, sitting in one of the porch seats while sipping beer. He looks dashing as always, his black hair messy, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight, his cheekbones getting a prominent shine. You sigh.

Jeonghan was an exhausting person to be around and maybe, he'd say the same for you. You've known him since highschool and after a particular incident of him spilling his banana milk all over your brand new scarf, you decided to call it war. To this day you believe that he did it on purpose because you told your homeroom teacher that he slept during his class.

After that it was like an unspoken rule- you two would bicker whenever you were in the same space. It only infuriated you that he was so good looking, smart, famous and the fact that you had some feelings developing for him. Each time you saw him with a girl you'd feel a bitter feeling all over and you could only hope that those feelings would pass over time. But no they didn't, they only grew- the small branches had formed a tree now, the roots planted deep in your heart.

"How long are you going to stand there and stare at me?" Jeonghan calls, without turning behind. You clear your throat before walking to him, "Didn't expect to see you here, fuck face."

"Can you not call me names for a day please? You're just jealous I'm good looking." He remarks drowning the can of beer.

You snort, "Haha. You wish, loser." You plop down beside him. "I see you've finished quite a few cans. What's up? Got ditched?" You poke him.

"What do you care?"

"You're ruining the mood here with all these sad aura around you. Go drink your sorrows away somewhere else, this is my party."

"Yet you are sitting with me and my sad auras."

"I came to tell you that," you scoff, crossing your arms over.

"Parties are not your thing, I know. And Mingyu wasn't shy on inviting people. It feels more like his birthday than yours." Jeonghan comments, still staring ahead. His words are true and they infuriate you. You can't help but get defensive, "What do you know, sad boy? I'm enjoying myself just fine."

"And yet you are sitting with me and-"

"Stop saying that, will you!" You snap. Jeonghan chuckles before looking at you. He unabashedly eyes you up and down, heating your cheeks up in the process.

"Nice dress," he murmurs. His words catch you off guard and you glare at him, "Stop staring at me, pervert."

"You were staring at me earlier."

"Seriously? Can you stop for one goddamn second?"

"You're the one who started it."

"That's it. I shouldn't have come here," you stand up to leave but to your utter surprise Jeonghan grabs your hand, sending your heart to a frenzy. "Wait."

You swallow nervously, heart thudding loudly in your chest as Jeonghan lets go of your hand and meets your eyes, "Sit down, I've a gift for you."

You frown, "You have a gift for me?" Jeonghan nods before sitting straight, setting down his can. "Before that, I need you to know something."

"W-what?"

"I really didn't spill my milk all over you intentionally that day." He meets your eyes.

You can't help but laugh out loud partially because he's still concerned about that and partially because you believe he's lying.

"Listen here, sad boy, I've put that well past me. And I know for a fact you did it on purpose so don't-"

"You didn't, ___. We've been fighting over that for our whole goddamn lives. And no, I'm not lying. I've no reason to. I never cared if you told our teacher shit or not." His chocolate orbs bore into yours and you swallow. The air surrounding you suddenly becomes thick and you start to feel jittery and maybe a slight amount of guilt. Is he really speaking the truth?

"W-whatever, I don't care anymore." You say, sitting down gently beside him.

"And yet you still hold a grudge against me," Jeonghan sighs. "Besides you're not even fun to fight with."

"What did you say?"

He laughs, his eyes forming crescents and the sweet melody echoing in the air. You quickly look away before he catches you staring, "I don't have all day. Where's my gift?"

"Yeah, right." From beside him he produces a bag that you didn't notice before. He hands it to you and you tentatively peek in, half expecting a bug to jump out.

To your utter surprise, a scarf that looks identical to the one he ruined lies there. A small gasp leaves your mouth.

"I bought it that day after I stained yours. I was going to give this to you as an apology but dear lord, you were on my ass the second I got to class next day." Jeonghan speaks and a blush coats your cheek leaving you feel vulnerable all of a sudden.

"I don't know what to say," You whisper more to yourself. Jeonghan chuckles, "I know, you're touched. It's okay, we're even finally."

You bite your lip and exhale loudly before meeting his eyes, "Thanks." Jeonghan moves his hand in a dismissive wave. "I thought I'd finally give it you, call it a truce. We'll probably never see each other again after this month and I wanted to depart on good terms."

Your throat constricts, an overwhelming sadness enveloping you. He's right, you two would probably never see each other again. His dad owns a huge business and he'd probably go abroad to manage it.

"You're right, let's call it a truce," you whisper staring at the scarf in your lap.

"Come on now, don't look so sad, sad girl," Jeonghan teases you and you roll your eyes. He's still the same.

He hands you a beer, "Have a drink with me to sign the truce." You quietly laugh, taking the can from him. You two share a comfortable silence, staring at the night sky, the music from the party fading into the background until Jeonghan decides to break it.

"I know you like me, ___." The words slip past his lips like it's the most casual thing ever. You choke on your beer before looking at him eyes wide like saucers, "W-what!"

Jeonghan slightly turns to face you, his features calm, "You don't have to act. I've known all along."

Oh. My. God.

Heat spreads all over your face like wildfire. Your first thought is that Mingyu told him. You chew your lip as you see no way out. "W-who told you?" You squeak.

"I've figured it out myself," He says nonchalantly, resting his head on his hand as you stares at you.

"You-you did?"

"Mhmm."

You fumble with the hem of your dress before murmuring out, "I-I should get going." You need to escape him. Forever.

But Jeonghan isn't done. He casually goes on, "I've always thought you were pretty. Even when you get red after losing an argument." You blush furiously as your palms sweat.

"You know I really had no intention of picking a fight with you but you...you were so desperate to bring me down. You always speak too much and I often think about the many ways I could shut your loud mouth. Such a shame, we would've made a great couple."

Your face feels like it's on fire by now. You swallow before nervously laughing, "I s-see what you're doing here...You're trying to p-prank me, asshole."

Jeonghan runs a hand through his hair, sighing, "See? There you go again, running that damn mouth." Your lips press together as you clench your fists, thinking of a way out. In the blink of an eye Jeonghan scoots closer to you and leans in to capture your lips in a kiss.

A squeak leaves your mouth as Jeonghan tilts your head, cupping your cheek. You want to pull back, smack him, call him names but you can only moan as his mouth slots against yours perfectly. Your tongues clash as you grab a fistful of Jeonghan's shirt, moaning.

When you pull back for air, you're mortified, wanting to be swallowed up by the ground. Jeonghan is totally calm as he takes in your messy state licking his lips.

"Do you want to continue?"

"W-wh-what?"

"I said do you want to continue this? If you don't want to I'll leave. If you do then you're coming home with me. Which one is it gonna be, ___?"

You bite your lip. Oh my God. This can't be happening.

You grit your teeth as every ounce of your resolve disappears, "I...I want you."

The smile on Jeonghan's face is victorious, a smile you've seen million times before, a smile that makes you week in the knees. "Good girl." He says encasing your lips in another kiss before standing up holding out his hand. "Come along, sweetheart. I'm gonna ruin you for any other man. Even when it's morning you'll only be thinking about me," he whispers in your ear before tugging you out of the porch- your heart hammering in your chest as you squeeze the scarf on your hand.

Fuck, you owe Mingyu a fruit basket or some shit now.

A/N 2: Also, that video of Jeonghan exercising made me 🥵🥵 this man is so infurating. I was literally dehydrated from watching that video.

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Second Chances - Mark (Midsommar)

Warning: Major spoilers for the movie, drug use, this fic is dogshite, toxic relationships, and just overall fucked up situations

~~~~~~~~~~

(my gif actually)

“Dani, do you really think it’s a good idea to go?”

Dani sighed heavily when you asked that exact question for the fourth time while she was marking her calendar for when their flight to Sweden would take place. “Yes, Y/N. I’ll be fine. I’m fine.”

You knew she wasn’t fine.

“I just, I do think getting out of this tiny little apartment would be good for you...but does it have to be on the other side of the world?”

Dani scoffed. “It’s not on the other side of the world, babe, it’s just across the Atlantic.”

“It’s far enough.” You pouted. “Plus, going with that guy isn’t a good idea either.”

“You’ve known Christian as long as you’ve known me, Y/N. You should know his name by now.”

“I do know his name, I just don’t like saying it.”

Dani frowned. “He’s my boyfriend, you’ve gotta learn to accept him at some point.”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t give you what you need, Dani. He’s terrible at supporting you all the time. He’s an asshole.”

“It’s my relationship. Not yours.” Dani snapped, quickly sighing in frustration and sitting next to you. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“No, I’m sorry. I...just want what’s best for you, that’s all.”

Dani smiled weakly, placing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in for a side hug. “I know, babe, I know. I gotta believe this trip to Sweden is exactly what we need.”

“I really hope so, for your sake.”

Dani subtly wiped away a shed tear off her face, faking a wide smile. “So, did you decide if you wanted to go to the party tonight?”

“Depends, is Mark gonna be there?”

“You know he is.”

“Then no.”

“Come on, Mark’s a good guy.” She’s stifled a chuckle.

“Girl, you can’t even keep a straight face.” You laughed.

“You used to be date him and actually enjoyed spending time with him, ya know.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Please, it’ll be fun! Pelle and Josh will be there too, it won’t just be Mark.”

“Josh is a smart ass who gets on my nerves. I mean, who the hell studies anthropology?”

“Hey!”

“Oh hush, you’re studying psychology.”

Dani rolled her eyes. “Okay, Ms. Environmental Scientist.” She said, making you chuckle. “So, are you coming to that party with me or what?”

You didn’t really enjoy going to parties...like, at all. Even if Dani invited you to one, you always made some sort of excuse to get you out of going. But ever since the incident with her family, you felt you needed to spend every waking moment with her, mostly out of fear that you’d lose her forever. You probably spent more time with Dani than her so called boyfriend. 

You felt selfish for feeling pained that Christian was the first one she called when she got the news. You knew her family, actually made an effort to get to know them unlike Christian, and always saw her parents as your own and her sister was always kind to you. You felt like you lost a lot too, but you didn’t allow yourself to feel that way for long, not when they weren’t actually your family. If you were being honest, you haven’t allowed yourself to grieve at all. You spend most of your time taking care of Dani, never having the time to do anything for yourself.

The company Dani kept also was one of the reasons you never wanted to go to one of those parties. Pelle was nice, you could actually see him as a friend. Josh was a know-it-all. To be fair, you were a know-it-all too, but at least you didn’t brag about it every chance you got.

You couldn’t stand Christian. You always saw how awful Christian treated Dani, and how she just took it. One day, you actually almost got into a psychical fight with him for how he gaslighted her. Dani didn’t talk to you for a week after that, and after that, you tried not to let your anger out because you didn’t want to lose your best friend.

Mark...god, Mark could be so annoying. You used to be a couple, it’s true. But after seeing him not do anything about his “best friend” mentally abusing his girlfriend, you couldn’t just stay with him anymore, it just didn’t feel right. Plus, him being way too overprotective was not something that you liked in a person. It was heartbreaking since you actually liked him a lot, you could’ve truthfully say you loved the guy.

You didn’t dislike Mark as much as Christian, but he constantly got on your nerves after your break up. But Dani always reminded you how insecure he must’ve been after the fact. Doesn’t excuse his behavior, of course, but it did help keep your anger in check whenever he tried to push your buttons. If he wasn’t such a dick, you probably would’ve seen an actual future with him, that could’ve been happy.

Yeah...you really didn’t want to go to this party. But seeing Dani’s almost pleading face, you couldn’t argue with her.

So, you were dragged to the last party you would attend before Dani and her friends were shipped off to Sweden, until she got back.

You could see the obviously look of annoyance from Christian when you and Dani entered the apartment. He took Dani to the one of the corner’s of the room and you could faintly hear their conversation, “Why’d you have to bring her, Dani? She almost punched me in the nose last time...”

Your fists clenched instinctively, making your nails dig into the soft flesh. It hurt, but at least it kept you from socking the dude in the face like you’ve always had the urge to do. A dull glared expression settled on your face.

“Aw, is someone happy to see me?”

You immediately rolled your eyes when you heard Mark’s voice, him walking up to you with a shit eating grin plastered on his pale freckled face. “No, I think she’s probably thinking up ways to kill you, friend.” Pelle joked, making you smile a little.

“Honestly, he’s not that far off.” You shrugged, half joking.

Mark scoffed, rolling his eyes, brushing off your hurtful comment with a bitter smile. “Why are you even here? We didn’t invite you.”

“I’m here for Dani.”

“Well, we didn’t explicitly invite her either.” Pelle smacked the boy behind his head so you didn’t have to. “Dude, ow! Hey, it’s not my fault Dani’s a buzzkill.”

Almost as if you could only see red, you were about to punch the ever loving fuck out of his handsome stupid gorgeous face when Christian came up and pulled you out of the room.

“What the fuck do you want?” You hissed, forcibly pushing him away from you.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m not looking for a fight. Okay? I have to ask you something.” He sighed.

“Spit it out then.”

“Do you want to come to Sweden with us?” He asked monotone, not hiding the glare directed to you.

“Wow, you must really want me to go.”

“It was Pelle’s idea. He thinks it would be good for Dani.”

“Since when do you care what’s good for Dani? Oh, wait, you don’t. It seems Pelle cares more for her than you do.”

“I care about Dani, okay? I care. That’s the only reason I was convinced to ask you. Please, just...she needs you. She’s your best friend, you don’t want to let her down, do you?”

Gaslighting. You knew that Christian wouldn’t be able to convince you without his number one douchebag power to make your heart bleed more than it already does. He didn’t even have to ask a second time.

And next thing you knew, you were on a plane headed to Sweden. Of course, they had to torture you with booking you a seat next to Mark. But you could handle it for Dani.

“God, I can’t wait to see all those Swedish ladies.” Mark mused, a slight smirk on his face, knowing that comment would upset you.

If those Swedish ladies had any sense, they’d stay away from the giant man completely, is what you wanted to say. But deciding to keep your comments to yourself, you just tried not to gag, rolling your eyes and keeping your eyes trained out the window, seeing the ground getting farther and farther away until your flying above the clouds.

“Silent treatment, huh? I always took you for a social butterfly.” He teased.

You took a deep breath, turning to look at him with a sickeningly sweet smile. “You do know there’s a mosquito flying around your head, right?”

The smirk on Mark’s face quickly went away, turning into a panicked expression. “Where? Where?” He almost shouted, flailing his arms around his head to swat away the imaginary insect. His panic made you laugh. You felt evil, but you convinced yourself he deserved it. When he heard you laugh, he quickly realized you lied. “Not fucking funny.” He pouted, running his hands through his hair, still paranoid.

You sighed when he kept a frown on his face, still looking around for that fake fly. “I swear, there’s no fly. This is the cleanest plane I’ve ever seen in my life, okay? There wouldn’t be any bugs in here.” You never could stay mean for long, even if it was Mark. The small grateful smile Mark gave you made it worth it, and suddenly felt your heart yearn for him against your will.

Many hours later and you finally arrived in Stockholm, only to be told you guys had to travel four more hours to get to Hälsingland. “Oh my god!” Mark whined, like a little bitch you might add.

Thankfully, you always came prepared, sticking some ear buds in and blasting music at full volume to avoid possible small talk and annoying remarks from the two frat bros. You really loved your preparedness after taking your ear buds out for one second only to hear Mark talking about seeing some video about a woman with three clits, what a moron, a cute moron...

You looked at the time, it was nearing 6 pm, but the sky was still blue as ever. It was a bit unnerving, but you tried to ignore the sense of dread you felt when you guys finally arrived to one of your destinations.

You tried not to laugh as Mark pulled his socks over his jeans and walking in a panic to try to avoid potential insect threats in the grass. “Dude, just fucking walk!” Josh fussed.

“Don’t you see all the bugs?!”

“I’m sure all those bugs are much more terrified of you than you are of them.” You voiced.

“Yeah, well, what if they’re so scared that they gang up to attack me in retaliation, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, speeding up your pace to catch up with Dani. Pelle introduced his friend, Ingemar, and his friends, Simon and Connie. They seemed like good people, until they pulled out the shrooms.

It’s not like you hated drugs, you smoked pot pretty much every other day before bed, but shrooms looked hardcore compared to grass. You did not want to partake. But Dani surprised you when she accepted the offer of the tea. “Do you think that’s a good idea, Dani?” You asked concerned.

“She can think for herself.” Christian voiced with a happy and calm tone, but you didn’t mistake the threatening undertone in his voice.

“Hey, it’s okay. Promise.” Dani reassured. You just didn’t want her to have a bad trip or anything, it’s not what she needed, as if you actually knew what she needed. You didn’t even know what you needed half the time. “Are you going to?” She asked, her hand holding onto the bag of shrooms outstretched to you.

“Oh, no. I’m good.” You backed away slightly.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Mark asked mockingly. “You gonna be a pussy?”

Your eyes narrowed in annoyance. If only looks could kill...You grabbed the bag, popping a couple mushrooms in your mouth, immediately cringing in disgust at the taste. You chewed quickly and swallowed, almost regretting the action as soon as you did so. Since when was Mark of all people able to successfully peer pressure you into doing something you didn’t want to do? The fuck?

“There’s a nice place to sit over here, guys!” Pelle voiced, motioning the group over to a tree in the middle of the field.

It didn’t take that long for the drugs to kick in. You’d never taken shrooms before, but you definitely noticed when you came up due to how the world around you was starting to look warped, almost like nature was breathing. You felt more appreciative of nature in that moment, and with Pelle talking all philosophical like, it wasn’t hard to relax into the sweet embrace of the drug.

You looked over to Dani, she was the most calm you’ve ever seen her, but you weren’t sure if that was a good thing. You snapped out of the thought, not wanting to hyper focus on a drug. “Oh fuck, a new person.” Christian groaned.

“What? I don’t want new people right now!” Mark whined.

“Now who’s being a pussy.” You mumbled, loud enough for him to hear it.

“I’m going lay down. Everyone else lay down too.” Mark settled on the ground, still breathing heavily. “Guys, do it, it feels so nice. Josh, Y/N, can you lay down please?”

“Fuck off.” You spat while Josh did as he was asked.

“Y/N, please, lay down.” You furrowed your brows when you heard the desperation in his voice, almost like he was going to cry.

“Jesus, fine.” You huffed, laying down on the soft grass.

The sun shining through the leaves of the trees was enough to put you back into a relaxed state, almost giggling at the warped rays of light. “This is nice...” You whispered to yourself.

You jolted when Dani stood up all of a sudden. “I need to go for a walk.” Dani voiced, the waver in her voice clear as day to you.

“Dani, are you okay?” You stood up, wobbling slightly, Dani’s figure waving as she walked away.

“Fine, I’m fine.”

You wanted to follow her, but were you capable enough to give her support if you were high as a kite? It didn’t matter at the point. You probably stood there trying to decide for about five minutes before you actually starting walking in the same direction Dani went, but then it was too late. You didn’t see her anywhere.

Walking into the woods, you immediately got lost in nature, enjoying the colors that seemed to be amplified from the drug. You smiled to yourself, not even the arms wrapping around your shoulders could force your mouth to pull downwards. “Hi.” Mark whispered, giggling as he tightened his embrace.

“What?”

“What?”

You turned yourself around in his arms. “Why’d you follow me?”

“I’m not allowed to see what my friend is doing out in the woods?”

“I’m looking for Dani, and we’re not friends.”

Mark pouted. “We used to be more than friends. Why’d we ever break up?”

You frowned. “Cause you excused Christian’s behavior towards Dani. Plus, you were always a dick.”

“Rude. And to be fair, I’ve been trying to convince Christian to break up with her. They should’ve called it quits awhile ago.”

“The first thing you’ve said in your entire life that’s actually correct. How’re you an undergrad again?” 

If you were sober, you would have never let Mark lean in and kiss you. At least, that’s what you hoped you would’ve done. But his lips were so soft and he was so gentle, you almost wished you were sober to experience the kiss better. It almost felt nostalgic in a way, even though it hadn’t been that long since you two broke up. You had to stop yourself from leaning back in for more when he pulled away.

“You reciprocated.” Mark smiled softly, caressing your face gently.

“Did I? I didn’t mean to, sorry.”

“I miss you, Y/N, a lot. I know you miss me too.” He whispered.

You shook your head and quickly walked away, not feeling like talking about...well, your feelings. Sobering up quickly after that, you kicked yourself for allowing that to happen, even if you happened to enjoy it very much.

You pretty much avoided Mark after the encounter in the woods, you were too awkward to confront your problems with other people, in that regard anyway. But thankfully, six hours after finding Dani peacefully sleeping off the drugs, it was time to hike through even more woods to get to Pelle’s village. 

“So, we’re stopping in Waco before we go to Pelle’s village?” Mark joked.

Yeah, the all white clothing everyone wore did put you off just a bit, almost giving you Jonestown vibes. But they were so nice, taking your bags and giving you strawberries. They seemed like okay people.

You looked over to Mark, rolling your eyes as you saw him exhale smoke from his vape pen. Even in the presence of strangers, he still had no respect apparently. Josh even had to stop him from eating prematurely during one the first meals of the day. The ritualistic part confused you, but you just wrote it off as culture shock.

Sitting in between Dani and Pelle, you almost hit yourself for not remembering a very important fact. “Happy birthday, Dani!” You grinned. “I can’t believe I forgot, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” Dani rubbed your shoulder. “Pelle actually gave me a drawing, which was incredibly sweet.” She said, causing him to have a slight blush on his face.

“I actually did get you something, but it’s in my luggage. Make sure to remind me tonight. But what about Christian?” Dani frowned. “He forgot...of course he did.”

“It’s not his fault. I forgot to remind him, that’s all.”

“Dani, you shouldn’t have to remind him.” You scoffed. “Let’s just hope he remembers soon, else I’ll have to castrate him.”

“Anyway, what’s up with you and Mark? You’ve been avoiding him ever since we hiked here.” She whispered.

You internally groaned. “I always avoid Mark.” Dani just gave you an unimpressed look. “Can you like, stop being a mind reader for once in your life?” You whined.

“What happened?”

You sighed, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “We kissed...” You quickly put your hand over her mouth to stop her from squealing like a school girl. “Shh. It was when we were both high. Didn’t mean anything, at all.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that right?”

The conversation didn’t sway your decision to not stop avoiding Mark, you were going to avoid him for as long as possible and not even Dani could convince you to do otherwise. But you kept thinking about that kiss, and you suddenly found yourself wondering if there was any shock therapy places in Sweden.

Walking around the village a bit more by yourself to try and get some more bearings, Pelle joined you with his usual calming smile. “How are you liking it here so far?”

“It’s pretty interesting, I’d say. Living in New York never really gave me opportunities to be in nature, so this is great. I probably never wouldn’t come if it weren’t for you, Pelle.”

Pelle nodded. “I felt it was best for Dani, considering. She needs someone she can count on.”

“Yeah. It’s great that you’re looking out for her, it’s like you should be with her instead of Christian.” You cringed. “Oh god, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Damn it.”

Pelle chuckled nervously. “It’s okay. Speaking of couples, are you and Mark-”

“Nope.” You quickly interrupted. “Not a chance.”

He hummed in thought. “I don’t mean to pry. It’s just, he told me about what happened...”

You groaned. “That little shit.”

"You know, I think you should give him a second chance."

You laughed. "That came out of nowhere."

"No. It didn't. Mark has always had a thing for you. And I probably shouldn’t tell you this but, he always talks about how he regrets how things went between you two. He still cares about you.”

You frowned, the feeling of missing the bastard starting to bubble up in your heart. “We weren’t good for each other. He needs to grow up.”

“Yes, I do agree he’s...a bit immature.” 

“An understatement, Pelle.” You snorted.

“Personally, I am a big believer of second chances. I just think what if I die tomorrow, would I be happy with my choices in life? You never know when that time will come.”

“Jesus, since when have you been so dark?”

“I’m serious, Y/N. You don’t know when you’re gonna die, so I’d try to live life without regrets.” He smiled calmly.

You kept thinking about what Pelle said well into the night. You had trouble getting over the creepiness of his statements at first, but you knew he meant well. You did miss Mark, more often than you’d admit. You hated that you kind of agreed with Pelle about the whole regret thing.

The next morning, you woke up with a terrible headache. Thinking way too hard for hours on end wasn’t good for your brain. But, it did give you some perspective on how you’d go about interacting with Mark. You admitted to yourself that you did want to be with him, but you also didn’t want to rush into giving him another chance, knowing that just a smidge of eagerness would give the man an overinflated ego.

“What was the name of that activity you said last night, Pelle?” Dani asked.

“Ättestupa.” He answered.

“Sounds fun.” You said, half joking. “Wish we knew what was going to happened, but you seem to love surprises.” You directed to Pelle, a cheeky smile on your face.

From afar, Mark couldn’t help but glare at Pelle. To anyone one else, you were just being friendly, and if Mark had any sense at all, it would’ve just been a friendly smile to him too. He couldn’t help but feel jealous, but even he knew he had no right to be jealous since you two weren’t together. Maybe that was his problem, he thought, being too overprotective when you were in a relationship with him. God, he knew being an immature bastard would bite him in the ass one day. He just didn’t realize someone important to him would be scared away in the process.

The brief eye contact the two of you made threw you for a loop, that sense of longing for one another.

“Can you two stop eye fucking each other, please?” Josh voiced rudely. Strangely, it didn’t phase the two of you. Josh only rolled his eyes. “Fine. Miss breakfast then.”

You eventually forced yourself to look away from Mark, the both of you following the rest of group outside for the meal. Of course, the only seat left was next to Mark. How convenient...

Mark was silent as you stood next to him, taking short glances at you and the ground nervously. “Somebody should tell those girls they’re walking stupid.” He joked, trying to lift some of the tension. It didn’t work. 

A boy rung a bell, an old man and woman walked two their assigned seats, and everyone only sat down until they did. Another rack of culture shock moved through you were the couple started chanting in what you assumed was Swedish, but it was honestly hard to tell.

After that, you just ate your food in silence. You were annoyed that you were too awkward to even look in Mark’s direction. But eventually, he cleared his throat to speak. “Did you sleep well?”

It was odd, hearing him sound so timid and quiet. “Uh, I guess so. I don’t really remember falling asleep.” You chucked nervously.

“So...yesterday-”

“Please, don’t.” You interrupted with a huff.

“I think we should talk about it at least.”

You bit your lip in thought, silently agreeing with him. “Not right now. Maybe after, whatever Ättestupa is. Okay?”

He sighed, nodding his head. “Fine. Fine.”

Mark stayed behind as you, your friends, and the rest of the Hårga journeyed to wherever this activity was taking place. You all were standing at the bottom of a cliff, waiting. “What’s this activity supposed to be?” You asked, but no one gave you an answer.

You sighed, crossing your arms around yourself. Whatever was supposed to happen was taking a long time, you almost felt bored. But soon you really wished you’d stayed behind with Mark back at the village.

Everyone watched as the old woman stood at the edge of the cliff, holding her arms outstretched to the sky. You could sense Dani hyperventilating, and you also felt a feeling of dread. You had no idea what was happening, and it scared you.

You let out a loud gasp as the woman fell from the cliff, her body falling onto a stone platform below, her face hitting it hard enough to completely mutilate any recollection that this woman was a human being once. Her face was caved in, it almost didn’t feel real.

You were in silent shock, not comprehending anything else around you, even with how loud Simon and Connie were freaking out.

All you could do was watch as the old man did the same, walking off the cliff and hitting the platform leg first.

“Oh my god, he’s still alive...”

All of the Hårga cried out when they saw the poor man was still alive, sharing his pain that he must’ve been feeling. A few members of the village ended his suffering, taking a large mallet and caving in his face like his partner in the senicide.

One of the elders, Siv, said that taking their own lives was a great joy and that this ritual had been done for many years. You couldn’t believe how barbaric these people were when they were so nice at first. Why were all these people so unfazed by seeing their own people die violently in front of them?

All you could do was follow everyone to the village in silence. You did the same as Dani. You needed to be by yourself right now. You sped walked to the woods surrounding the village, leaning against a tree in exhaustion. Did that really happen, you asked yourself. 

You slid down to the ground as you let the tears start flowing. You didn’t want to be in this place anymore, how could you? You thought back to what Pelle said. He knew that the ritual was happening and he didn’t warn you guys at all. Why would he do that?

“Y/N?” You heard a voice call out. You didn’t answer, you didn’t trust your voice not to come out distorted from your sobbing. Finally making his way through the clearing, Mark saw you hugging yourself on the ground in tears. “Are you okay? I...heard about what happened.”

“No. No, I am not okay. I just saw two people jump to their fucking deaths!” You tried not to cry.

Mark was never good an emotional support, so he simply walked over and sat next to you as you cried. You didn’t know how he managed to pull you onto his lap without you noticing, but you didn’t find it in yourself to care, so you just held onto him like your life depended on it. You didn’t want him to let you go.

“I wanna leave this place...” You mumbled.

“I think that’s understandable.”

“How’s Dani? Did you see her at all?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“I don’t want to leave without her. I gotta find her.” You wiped the leftover tears from your cheeks, standing up with along with Mark. “Will you come with us?”

Mark didn't expect you to ask that. “You want me to go with you?”

“I have a bad feeling about this place. I don’t want any one of us to stay here, but I want you and Dani to come with me at least. I...I still care about you too.” Mark blushed as soon as you said that, making you chuckle lightly. “Seeing those poor people die...I don’t want to live with regrets, I already have enough of those. I don’t want to give up on us without trying to make things work. I admit, I gave up on you too easily. I don’t want to do that again. Okay?”

Mark couldn’t help himself, he soon planted a passionate kiss on your lips. You smiled into the kiss, you weren’t afraid of opening yourself up to him anymore. You wanted him, you’ve always wanted him. It just took a rough wake up call to remind you of that.

You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, standing on your tip toes to meet his lips easier. You felt safe in his arms, him holding you so close that the world and the messed up situation you both were in seemed to fade away. But you knew you were limited on time. You both pulled away breathlessly, wearing smiles on your faces.

“I love you.” Mark said, shocking you. “What? Live life without regrets, right?”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, you’re right. I love you.”

“Now, let’s get outta here.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Yes, I left it open ended on purpose. I’d like to think that they escaped the Hårga. But if they didn’t, at least they’re together lmao. 

Whenever I feel bad that Mark died in the movie, I just think to how he must’ve put up a fight since that cunt who led him away had a busted lip. Did he deserve it? Yes, probably. But...but...he was a cutie pie🥺

Also, I’m trying to write a fic with Kenny from We’re The Millers, but IT’S SO HARD. Kenny, in general, is hard to write since he’s so...well...himself. Another thing is that the plot is all over the place and my mind keeps bouncing between a bunch of ideas so, it’s literally starting to look like gibberish. But i’m trying

[redhoodedwolf]

“Oh shit I just spilled you coffee everywhere” sterek prompt

The first time Stiles made coffee for his boss, he was halfway to a panic attack, which was a weird thing to be anxious over. Except for the fact that his boss was Derek Hale. And Derek Hale liked his coffee made by one person in the office only, and that was Erica Reyes, his old assistant.

Stiles had always been told he was shit at making coffee. It was the one thing he’d lied about being good at in order to get this job.

Thankfully, Erica still worked for Hale Corp, just under a different position, so Stiles had struck a deal with her. She would have Derek’s coffee ready for him every morning so he could pass it off as his own. In return, he had to keep her up to date on all Derek gossip, apparently the one fun thing her new job lacked.

Easy decision. Stiles shook his soul away, but he got Derek his coffee every morning, and had even seen him smile a few times.

All was well for a few weeks, up until Jackson Douchemore came back from an extended business trip. Stiles knew Jackson from outside of the job, because he was friends with Lydia. Jackson also knew Stiles and knew exactly how to ruin his day, just because he could.

Feet from Derek’s office, Jackson rounded the corner, an evil look in his eyes, and proceed to trip Stiles, sending him and the coffee to the floor.

“Whoops,” Jackson crowed.

Derek stuck his head out of his office, stopping Stiles form either punching Jackson in the face or just melting through the ground and ceasing to exist.

Jackson’s triumphant look cowed under Derek’s glare. “Whittemore, call maintenance and have them clean this up before it stains too badly. And bring Stiles your extra shirt.” Jackson opened his mouth, probably to protest, but Derek added, “Now,” and the blond was gone.

“You okay?”

Stiles looked up at Derek and tried to ignore his brain adding angel wings and a halo to Derek’s figure. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Sorry about your coffee.”

“It’s fine. Just rinse out the mug and make it again, after you get changed.”

“Right.” Stiles froze. “Wait. Again?”

Derek smirked. “The company is doing well enough that every employee can have more than one cup a day. It won’t break the bank.”

“Ha! Right!” Stiles jumped to his feet and took the plain white button up that Jackson threw at him as he passed. “I’ll just go change and do that!”

He swiped the mug from the floor and raced for the kitchen. Depositing the mug in the sink, he swung around the corner into the Men’s and undid his shirt, wincing at the stain that would never come out. Stiles was keeping Jackson’s shirt forever, he owed him a new one anyway.

One problem solved. Now...

Stiles stared at the mug of steaming coffee. Easy part done, he just had to press the buttons on the machine. Now came the cream and sugar. How many spoonfuls of sugar does Erica usually add? Three? Dammit, he should have taken notes!

Creamer was easier, at least. He added until the coffee looked like the right lighter shade, then stopped, stirring it all together. Okay, maybe the coffee was a touch lighter than usual, but maybe Derek wouldn’t notice and would just be happy he had coffee at all? Right, sure.

Stiles was going to be fired over coffee.

To amuse himself, Stiles played a funeral dirge in his head as he trudged to Derek’s office, eyes peeled for sneaky Jacksons.

Stiles knocked on the office door, and Derek called him in.

“Coffee!” Stiles declared, lowering the mug onto Derek’s coaster at the corner of his desk.

“Thanks,” Derek said, a small smile given to Stiles. His eyes flicked down, then back up. He cleared his throat. “Shirt looks good on you.”

Stiles glanced down. It was maybe a bit tight. Stiles had shoulders where Jackson had none, so it stretched a bit (it was probably fitted, the rich bastard), but it was wearable for sure.

“Certainly nicer than anything I can afford,” Stiles agreed.

Derek reached for the mug and Stiles flinched back.

“Right, I’ll just...” he jerked his thumb behind him to the door.

“Actually if you wait just a second, I just have to moved the files onto this flashdrive, but then could you take it down to Argent for me?”

“Sure, no problem,” Stiles rushed to say, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Derek brought the mug to his lips, tilted it to sip, and Stiles stared.

Derek glanced up, lips detaching from the mug’s rim. “Everything okay?”

“Yep!” Stiles squeaked.

Derek took a long drag of the coffee this time and then sighed. Stiles’ shoulders relaxed. Somehow he’d managed it. Miracle of miracles. 

Derek handed him the flashdrive seconds later, and Stiles was out of there.

*

Jackson had not given up, it seems, on his venture to get Stiles fired through coffee, because he struck again the week after.

“Oh, was that yours? My bad, I thought it was old so I dumped it,” Jackson said, Derek’s mug upside down over the kitchen sink, the last drips hitting the metal basin with a sad plop.

“What the fuck, Jackson?” Stiles hissed, looking back to see if Erica was still around and could remake the mug she’d expertly crafted, but she was gone. He tore the mug from Jackson’s hands. “Seriously, go to therapy. It’ll do you wonders.”

Stiles violently threw a new pod into the Keurig and shoved the mug under the spout before turning back to the snake of a man. “Who knows, maybe Lydia will take you back then.”

Jackson’s face shut down, and he turned and left the kitchen without another word.

Not letting the guilt get to him, because Jackson deserved what he’d said, Stiles reached for the sugar and creamer, once again going to guess Derek’s flavor combination.

It looked to be the correct shade this time, and Derek hadn’t said anything against it last time, so maybe he wasn’t such a coffee snob?

“I bring good juice and good news, both piping hot,” Stiles declared upon entering Derek’s office.

Derek stared at him for a moment, lips parted, before his mouth snapped shut and he gestured Stiles to come forward. “Hot. Yes?”

“The good news is that someone is going to be calling today about her United States debut,” Stiles sang, setting Derek’s mug down on its space.

Derek’s eyes lit up. “Cora?”

Stiles nodded. “Mhmm. It’s already in your schedule and everything. I scheduled it right before lunch, in case you want extra time to talk with her about, you know, logistics.” Stiles waved a hand.

Derek took a gentle sip of his coffee, eyes slipping closed, clearly happy to discuss his sister’s joining of the company. Stiles may have stared at the happy-bliss look for too long. He averted his eyes just in time.

“Thank you, Stiles.”

Stiles shrugged his shoulders, hands shoved into his pockets. “Just my job.”

Stiles left the office then, closing the door behind him and taking a steadying breath. His heart should not be going so wild. Derek was his boss. It was totally unprofessional.

“Stilinski.”

Stiles’ spine went ramrod straight, and he turned towards the sharp voice of Jackson, ready to give as good as he got, when he saw the other man’s face and he paused.

Jackson wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You really think therapy will help me get her back?” He sounded like a broken man. 

Stiles groaned loudly and slumped over in half, head pressing against Jackson’s chest.

Derek popped his head out of his office, asking what the noise was about.

Stiles didn’t have the energy to move off of Jackson’s unfairly sculpted torso, just waved his hand in Derek’s direction. “Just releasing my pride.”

Jackson awkwardly patted him on the back, and Stiles raised his head enough to give him a tight-lipped smile.

Derek said nothing for a moment, but then his office door closed swiftly with an audible click.

“Okay, dude, let’s reconvene at lunch, eh? We’ll talk it out then.”

Jackson nodded tersely and then turned around and went back to his office. Stiles wanted to groan again, but apparently Derek didn’t like it, going by the practical slam of his soft-close door, so he held back and decided to save it for later.

*

The third time was truly all Stiles. He’d grown out of his clumsy ways after high school, but he still had the occasional twitch that caused a commotion.

He supposed he could blame Derek too, but he couldn’t blame another man for his reactive emotions. 

It had been two weeks since Jackson and Stiles had met for lunch and Stiles listened to Jackson for perhaps the first time in his life. He’d recommended a psychologist, gently suggested anger management classes, and promised he’d put in a good word with Lydia and assured Jackson that she was single and wasn’t interested in anyone else. 

Since then, Jackson had gone back to mostly ignoring his presence, which Stiles was fine with. But they greeted each other in the halls when they passed. The one time Derek and Jackson were having a meeting and Stiles had come in to deliver mail, Derek had stared with wide eyes at the smile Jackson gave him when asking how his day was going. 

So that issue was solved. Stiles thought he was in the clear. Shame on him, really.

He held Derek’s mug securely in his hands, reveling in the warmth from the drink. It had been a cold walk from the bus this morning, and the coffee was finally zapping the lingering cold from his phalanges. 

Stiles raised a fist to knock on Derek’s door, but heard someone’s voice first. And not Derek’s.

Now, Stiles was Derek’s assistant, so he had a right to be a bit nosy into who was ruining his perfect schedule for Derek, right? 

Stiles unashamedly pressed his ear against the door.

“You should take him,” Derek said, then added something else Stiles couldn’t catch.

The other person in the room laughed, and Stiles realized it was Cora. She did start work on Monday, so it made sense for her to be here to get everything squared away. Still...

“... can’t be his boss anymore...”

“Why?”

“Cora... better suited...”

“Sure, that’s why...coffee?”

Stiles startled, the voice much louder than it had been, and he didn’t step away in time before the door opened. The mug flew from his hand, thankfully away from other people, and once more the carpet was stained. 

“Oh no! I’m so sorry, Stiles!”

Stiles recovered the thankfully unbroken mug from the floor and stared dejected at its emptiness. “Nope, that was all on me. I was, um, not paying enough attention to hear you?”

“I’ll call maintenance. You go bring my brother his lifeblood,” she joked. 

Derek stood in the doorway, face surprisingly blank, and Stiles wondered if Derek had guessed he’d been eavesdropping. 

“I’ll be right back, Stiles mumbled and escaped. Because the look on Derek’s face was worrisome. Why would Derek need to hide his emotions regarding their conversation from Stiles, unless...

“Shit, I made him shit coffee twice and now I’m sacked!” Stiles shouted to the sink. Thankfully, the kitchen was empty, but the sink gave him nothing to work with. 

Screw it, he was already a gonner.

Stiles mixed the coffee haphazardly, not even sure he’d added sugar. Maybe he’d grabbed the salt. Either way, Derek deserved it for shipping him off to Cora because of two bad mugs of coffee. 

“Here,” Stiles offered, voice terse, holding the mug out to Derek a few minutes later. He refused to set it down on principal.

Derek was keeping his neutral face mask on, which pissed him off even more. Still, he took the mug gingerly and then stared down into it.

“Drink it,” Stiles challenged.

“Did you poison it?” Derek asked, eyebrow raised.

“Do you know of a reason I would poison your coffee, Derek?” Stiles asked batting his eyelashes innocently. 

Derek blanched, but clearly had nothing to say. He brought the mug to his lips and took a careful sip. He smacked his lips afterwards and set the mug on the coaster. “I think I’ll live,” he declared, a few seconds later.

“It’s shit,” Stiles spat, throwing himself into the chair across from Derek’s desk. Might as well get the transfer done sooner rather than later.

“The coffee? Tastes fine to me.”

“How can it?!” Stiles exclaimed. “I made it!”

“I’m not picky about my coffee, Stiles,” Derek argued, which. 

What?

“But... when I was interviewed, I was told that getting your coffee just right was first and foremost.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Erica interviewed you, didn’t she? I think she went with that excuse to weed out the weaklings, or something.”

So, Stiles had been plying Erica with Derek gossip for months while she just made a random cup of coffee?!

But, wait.

“If it’s not my coffee-making skills, why are you firing me?”

Derek’s eyes went wide. “You were-- Eavesdropping, Stiles, really?” He sighed heavily. “Also, you’re not getting fired. I’m suggesting you transfer over to Cora’s assistant because she’s working in a division that suits your job advancement better. This was never a permanent position for you at Hale Corp, Stiles. You’re far too smart to organize my calendar all day.”

Stiles’ head was reeling. “Wait, so... wait. I’m. You think I’m smart?” he squeaked.

Derek chuckled and stood, walking out from behind the desk. “Yes, I do. And so does the company. But I also think you’re very attractive and if I’m your supervisor I can’t do anything about it. So?”

Derek leaned over Stiles, arms bracketing him in as the clutched at the arms of the chair. 

Stiles swallowed thickly, eyes bouncing all over Derek’s face, looking for any sign of a joke.

“How--” he cleared his throat and felt his face burning in embarrassment over the crack in his voice, “how fast can we get the transfer paperwork done?”

Derek grinned. “Fast enough that you’ll be under Cora by Friday night. Say six thirty?”

“Rather be under you Friday night, but yeah, Sounds great,” Stiles spoke on a exhale as Derek rocked closer, the foreheads touching. 

“Gross.”

Stiles sighed heavily. “Jackson,” he snapped, eyes sliding closed as he felt Derek pull back. “I thought we were done with the bullshit.”

Stiles turned in the chair to look at the blond who simply shrugged. “I already got Lydia’s forgiveness, what more do I need you for?”

Dammit. Lydia was fickle in love. Then again, who was Stiles to judge?

“Forget it. What do you need?”

“It is the middle of a work day, in case you forgot,” Jackson pointed out, and Stiles felt the urge to punch him rising.

“I’ll be with you in a second, Jackson,” Derek said, managing to sound not pissed off.

Jackson backed out of the office, but left the door wide open. 

Stiles glanced back at Derek. “Look, I know he’s the illegitimate son of your wild and estranged uncle, so technically, despite the fact that he was adopted into a different wildly rich family, he is Hale by blood, but does he have to work here?”

“You should meet Peter’s illegitimate daughter.”

Stiles scrunched up his nose. “No thanks.”

Derek smirked. “Get back to work, Stiles. We can iron out Friday’s details later.”

Stiles grinned, bubbling happiness filling his chest. “I’ll pencil it in.”

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hello, first of all, I love your work and I am so thankful that you literally keep this ship over water (lol). I would like to ask if you could write a fic where Sirius and James are enemies and Sirius then tries to seduce James (for whatever reason, maybe he tries to get something?), but falls in love on the way. When James finds out he's obviously angry, so bit of angst. I leave it up to you, but I would like a happy ending!

((A/N: Most of this fic is dealing with the fallout of James finding out, not the build-up to it, just fyi. This is a vague historical AU, where they're both lords at court or somthing. Bit of a warning for starting a relationship under false pretenses.))

Sirius didn't start his day with it in mind. He didn't sit alone in his room and come up with a scheme for how he could achieve his goal.

He was going about his day as normal, and when him and Potter traded insults, he ended it by whispering in his ear. Sirius didn't get close to people. Physically, he didn't get close. He liked his space. He didn't want people to touch him. Potter knew this, so he knew that it was out of the ordinary when Sirius leaned in and put his mouth by his ear.

He did it to throw Potter off. He didn't have any intention behind it other than that. He left him behind with a smirk and called it a victory. He thought that would be the end of it.

The next time he saw Potter, he was looking at Sirius warily, like he expected for something else to happen.

Looking back, Sirius had no excuse for it, other than that he thought it was amusing. It didn't take long after that for Sirius to fall head first. He knew that it was a mistake while it was happening, but he didn't do a damn thing to stop it.

*

"What the hell is this?" James asked.

Sirius blinked, closed the door, then squinted to try and make out what James was holding. Paper, obviously. Maybe they were letters? But there was a black seal on some of the envelopes on the desk behind him, and the only people that used black wax-

He stopped cold, all the blood draining from his face and leaving him ghostly pale. The only people that used black wax was in his family. Sirius thought he'd burned those letters when he couldn't find them later, but evidently, that had been a failing of his searching skills. He swallowed thickly. "It's not what it looks like."

James looked down at one of the unfolded letters in his hands and started to read. "'Sirius, good work on keeping the Potter heir distracted. Do whatever you need to to ensure he doesn't learn of-'"

"I know what it says," Sirius interrupted, his fear making him rude. "It's not true."

"Have your lies always been so transparent? You've been making a fool of me for months, and these letters are the proof."

"James, I swear it's not what it looks like," Sirius pleaded. "I know that it seems unbelievable, but if you would let me explain, I swear you'll understand."

James looked at him, expression unreadable. Then he said, "Fine. Explain."

Sirius opened his mouth, and nothing came out. He didn't know what to say. All he'd had in mind was that he couldn't let James walk out of here, because if he did, it would be for good. "I- okay, when it started, it was- I didn't know you. You were an enemy of my family and I didn't think about it, but-"

"So when you said that this wasn't what I thought, what you meant was that it's exactly what I thought," James interrupted, voice hard.

"It started out that way, but I fell in love with you."

Silence.

He hadn't said it to James before. It wasn't really something that was said in their family. It was supposed to be implicit. He was pretty sure that James knew how he felt, but he'd never said it to him until now. His heart was beating a mile a minute in his chest, nerves making him jittery. He already regretted saying it, sure that something horrible was about to happen, simply because he'd said it. "Ever since this stopped being casual, I haven't... I haven't been manipulating you this entire time. In the beginning, yes, I- I had ulterior motives, but it's not like that anymore."

James kept looking at him, expression unchanging. "That's it?" he asked eventually.

"What do you mean?"

"That's your entire explanation? That the letters are all correct except for the ones you've gotten in the last month?"

"Well..." Yes, honestly. That's all he had in his defense. "It's been more like a month and a half."

James tossed the letters behind him carelessly, allowing some of the letters to fall to the floor as he got to his feet. "How marvelous of you to correct me," he said flatly. "Instead of five months of you pretending, it was only four and a half." His throat worked, but it was several seconds before he said anything. "Consider your work done. I'll be leaving the capitol in three days."

"What?" Sirius said numbly. Surely he'd misheard. "What did you say?"

"I'll be leaving. I will no longer be in a position to hinder your family's plans. You can pretend we never met."

There was a ringing in his ears, but he knew that he'd heard every word precisely as James said it. "In three days? No, it will take you more time than that to make the preparations."

"My staff was instructed to prepare two days ago. Rest assured, I will be gone when I say." James started to brush by him for the door, but he stopped when Sirius clamped a hand around his upper arm so they were standing right beside each other.

"Two days ago?" Sirius repeated. He hadn't known about the letters then. He'd had no reason to suspect that there had ever been anything amiss in their relationship, and yet he'd still made the decision. "You told me you loved me," he said, voice wobbling as tears sprang to his eyes. Before he'd had reason to doubt Sirius, he'd still been planning to leave him.

"Don't- for fuck's sake, don't do that," James said, sounding upset for the first time since Sirius had walked into the room. Before had been a cold anger, but he'd been in perfect control-- like a mask. This was real, and Sirius knew how to talk to James when it was real. "You played me perfectly, I admit it. You don't have to rub it in like this."

"I'm not rubbing it in!" Sirius screamed, turning to face him instead of letting their shoulders go in a straight line across. "You told me you loved me, but now you admit that you were going to leave me? After promising to always be by my side? You made these plans before you found out. I lied to you, and I tricked you, and yes, it was horrible of me but I thought you were my enemy and I acted in accordance with that. You spoke of love and still ended it in betrayal."

"I did not," James snarled, whirling to face him in kind.

James had never been angry with him before, and he relished in it. If this was to be the end, he would have it be memorable.

"You were supposed to come with me. I came here to ask you to come to my home with me, and instead I found that," he said with a violent gesture to the desk.

"What?"

"It doesn't matter anymore," he said dismissively. He made to leave, but Sirius grabbed hold of him desperately.

"It matters to me."

"I don't care about that anymore, either. I don't have to tell you anything. I don't owe you an explanation. I'm going to leave and then- I won't see you ever again."

"That's not what you want," Sirius said. Then, anxiously, "Is it? I mean, we-" deep breath, don't puke "-we love each other. You can't throw that away."

James took in a shaking breath, sounding as if he were about to cry, though his face didn't look the part to match. "I don't trust you anymore."

Sirius flinched, hand jerking away from James.

"It doesn't matter that I love you as if nothing's happened, because I wouldn't be able to trust you."

This time, when he tried to leave, Sirius didn't stop him.

*

Sirius knew that if this didn't work, he'd be completely humiliated. A Black did not get on their knees and beg, but that's exactly what he did.

"Don't leave me," he pleaded, looking up at James.

James's eyes were wide in shock as he looked down, and his mouth was agape. Clearly, he hadn't expected for Sirius to do something like this.

"What do I need to do for you to forgive me?" Sirius asked, and he was sure he sounded as desperate as he felt. "I will do anything."

"You-" James stopped, eyes darting around. People were staring. "Get up," he hissed.

"I will stay down here for as long as I need to prove to you that I'm serious about this and about you."

"Fine, you've proved you're serious about this, not get up."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. He wasn't sure he believed him. The choice was taken from him when James reached down and drug him to his feet.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked in an undertone.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," Sirius said honestly. It made him feel a little jittery, but not half as much as saying the word 'love' had. Besides, James already knew that he was the best hing to happen to him. He'd known that from the first time they spent the night together, even though Sirius had still been trying to manipulate the situation to his family's benefit back then. "I will do whatever it takes to make sure you don't slip out of my life." He swallowed thickly, worried that, despite his best efforts, this wouldn't work. "I mean it, James. Whatever it takes. Tell me what to do, and I'll do it. Whatever you want me to do, name it and it's yours. Give me a chance, and I'll be able to prove that I'm capable of regaining your trust."

James wanted to believe him; Sirius could see it in his eyes. He wanted to accept, but Sirius didn't know what else to say to make him believe that he was being sincere. He had nothing else to add. He'd told James everything that he'd meant to.

"Please," he whispered. It couldn't make the situation worse, but he didn't really expect for it to do anything. After all, it was just one word, and it was one that he'd ignored plenty of times when someone said it to him.

But James caved. Not much, but it was enough. A little dent. His defenses had the slightest crack, and he was letting Sirius through. "You'd have to come home with me. I can't cancel my plans; I already wrote home and said that I'd be-"

"That's fine," Sirius said, pairing it with a weak smile-- weak, because he didn't know how happy James would be if he started grinning like a loon. "I'd be happy to go with you. You don't need to change a thing for me."

*

"I need to know one thing," James said. It was late, and Sirius had been half-asleep when he answered the door.

"Mhm?"

"When we started talking about the future, did you mean it?"

Sirius had avoided all questions about what they were and how long they'd be doing it when he hadn't cared about James. It was only after he'd fallen for him that they'd talked. He didn't need a single second to think it over before answering, "Yes. Every word."

"You don't make this easy, you know that?"

"I thought me caring would make this easier."

"Well." James cracked a smile. "It does. It's easier than if you didn't care about me, and I know I prefer it this way."

"I do too," Sirius said, rubbing at one of his eyes. "But like, it's late, and I'm tired, so can we finish talking about this in the morning?"

"I don't think we need to talk about anything else." He hesitated, then asked, "Can I stay with you tonight? Just sleeping, I promise."

Sirius nodded, a bit too enthusiastically.

James didn't say anything about his overly happy reaction, but his smile widened knowingly.

Once they settled in, he pressed a kiss to Sirius's hair. "I love you."

“You too,” Sirius said, because it was easier to say, but he did mean it.

[severetimetravelnerd]

I Don’t Know (ft. G Dragon and MINO) (8)

Part 8

Jiyong finds out what happened with Jae and Yuna tries to talk to Mino.

This series will be updated once a week, every Friday! No specific time though lol. It’s an AU where Jiyong has a younger sister and you’re her best friend! Featuring my OC Mirae as the Best friend. Just saying, it’s not related to any of the scenarios I’ve written so far. Please do leave me some comments or asks! I love receiving them! It’s also a bit of a love triangle situation, so yeah :)) There will be eventual smut in this series.

(I don’t own any of the images used. All credit goes to the original owners.)

I only write on this blog on tumblr, so if you see my work on any other platform, please let me know immediately.

Also, just clarifying. The Jae here is not Park Jaehyung from Day6. It’s just the name.

Happy New Year Folks!! :)) Here’s to hoping 2021 is a better year for everyone :) I sincerely hope everyone had a great day and have great years of happiness and health ahead :)

Taglist:

@kwonnansi​

@unabashedturkeytreeslime​

@happiestgirlontheeastcoast​

@yee-hawwwwwwww​

@slayergroupie0128​

@herewecomeitsjekki​

@happygirl327​

@to-all-the-stories-i-love​

Please comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list:))

Word Count: 3753

WARNINGS: cheating, slight violence(punches to the face), sexist remarks, smut (overstimulation and safe word usage). 

——————————————-

You started coughing violently before walking out of the room, excusing yourself. You walked straight past Minho, not even realising that there was someone standing there, but that was okay, because Minho didn’t realise you walked past him either. Yuna had turned around to see if you were okay and she saw Minho. Minho was so lost in staring at her, overcome by a rush of anger and sadness, he didn’t notice Jae excuse himself to check on you. Jiyong did though.

You ran to the bathroom and got there just in time before another violent coughing fit hit you. Why Jae of all people? He was the one person who working with was worse than working with Jiyong. And on top of that, Yuna came with him. Jae had been cheating on you. You didn’t tell anyone that was the reason for your break up though. When people asked, you just said you drifted apart, but it was actually because you caught him with another girl. He was drunk and they were making out, going to their bedroom when you walked in.

5 years ago

“Jae?”

He turned and smirked at you, pulling you into a kiss seconds after making out with that other woman.

“Y/N, babe. Wanna join?”

You started to feel sick. Nauseous.

“Anyway, you’re cheating on me with Jiyong.”

His eyes furrowed.

“Why do you look so sad? Oh. Okay, fine. You can invite Jiyong to join us too.”

Voice strained, you asked,

“How long Jae? How long have you been cheating on me?”

“Ever since I figured out that you were cheating on me with that bastard. I think it was at Sohyun’s wedding?”

You nearly fell right there. He had been cheating on you for three months? Because he thought you were cheating on him with Jiyong? Jae jolted you out of it by grabbing your phone.

“Let me call him to join us. I have a bunch of questions for him anyway.”

“What?! Jae, no!”

“Hello? Jiyong?”

“…What the fuck Jae? Why’re you calling me from Y/N’s phone? Is she okay??”

“Yeah, she’s fine. I actually wanted to ask-”

You grabbed your phone back, choking on a sob.

“No, Jiyong, it’s fine. Don’t worry. He’s just drunk.”

“Y/N, are you sure? You don’t sound okay.”

You couldn’t hold back the sob any longer.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Everything’s fine. It’s perfect.”

And you cut the call. You turned to look at Jae and the very uncomfortable looking girl.

“Jae, we’re done. Don’t ever contact me again.”

You walked out to go to your car and cry. Jae never apologised. Nor did he follow you to your car. He just didn’t care. You don’t remember much of what you thought that night. But you did remember thinking that even if you could go back in time and change that one night at the wedding with Jiyong, you wouldn’t.

 ---

All those memories came rushing back, and you started feeling nauseous again. That’s when you felt very familiar hands brush back hair from your face. His touch made you feel even worse.

“What’s wrong Y/N?”

“Jae, get away from me.”

“But my poor Y/N looks a little unwell.”

“Get the fuck away from me.”

Jae laughed and took a few steps back.

“I was not expecting to see you here Y/N. Good to know I was right though.”

“Right about what?”

“About you and Jiyong, of course. Not going to lie, I felt slightly guilty about that night after seeing your reaction when you saw me with her, but now, I feel like I’m more than justified.”

You were about to say something, but Jiyong’s voice interrupted you.

“What night?”

You panicked when you saw a very angry Jiyong standing in the doorway. Furious, he repeated,

“What night Jae?”

Jae looked between the two of you and laughed.

“Oh, you never told him? Come on Y/N, you should have. At least you would have felt better after he beat me up.”

“Why would I beat you up?”

Jiyong’s eyes slowly travelled to you. You knew he was trying to ask you whether you didn’t tell him something, but didn’t want to voice it, scared he would cross a line.

“Well, after Y/N here found me in bed with another woman, I asked her to join us. I also told her to invite you. After all, if I could invite someone, she could also invite the person she was cheating on me with. That’s why I called you that night.”

Jiyong looked murderous. You knew he would want to kill Jae. Right there. But he kept looking at you, hurt more than anything else that you didn’t tell him.

“Your girlfriend caught you cheating. And you invited her to join?”

Jae shrugged.

“I mean, I wasn’t the only one. She had been cheating on me with you for ages.”

Jiyong was about to lose it. You could see that. But you weren’t bothered. Because you were also about to lose it.

“Jae, get the fuck out.”

“Why Y/N? Does seeing me here bother you?”

“Yeah it does Jae. Because I haven’t beaten up someone since middle school and you’re about to make me change that. So, before I do, get out of here you piece of shit.”

“Ha. That’s rich coming from someone who pretty much just slept their way up.”

There was an eerie silence after that. Jae was looking away and smirking. You stared at him, shocked at his audacity. Jiyong stared at you, willing you to let him kill Jae. You turned to Jiyong. He was begging you to let him punch Jae. At the very moment you nodded to Jiyong, too tired to do it yourself, Jae opened his mouth,

“What? Nothing to say to that? I guess it’s true.”

Jae didn’t know what hit him when Jiyong’s fist met his face. He stumbled to the side when Jiyong grabbed his collar and punched him again. And again. And again. Until he felt your hand on his shoulder. Although he was still mad, he dropped Jae’s collar and looked at you, wondering what to do. Jae lay there coughing up blood and wiping his bloody lips. You glared at him.

“Leave him be Jiyong. He’s a model. You can’t mess up his face more than this.”

And you grabbed Jiyong’s hand and walked out.

Jiyong looked pissed, but also confused.

“Where are we going?”

Without turning back to look at him, you muttered,

“Look at your hand. You caught it in Jae’s nose piercing. It’s a mess.”

And sure enough, when he looked down, his hand was a bloody mess. You pulled him into the infirmary and whipped out your phone. Your tone was calm when Somin picked up the call.

“Hey. Jiyong tripped over something, so we’re in the infirmary. We’ll get back to the meeting in a while.”

You turned to him and your voice was pretty disconnected when you spoke.

“Sit.”

You grabbed a first aid kit and started disinfecting his hand. He hissed when the disinfectant touched the wound. You didn’t say anything, but you become a lot gentler.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Jae?”

“I don’t know. This was when I liked you. I didn’t want you pitying me, or being mean to me because you felt like he had a point.”

His voice softened.

“I wouldn’t have done that.”

“Really? Can you really say that? Because you were very mean to me otherwise.”

“I’m sorry. I owe you an apology. A lot of apologies actually.”

“What are you apologising for?”

“For being mean to you. For hurting your feelings. For saying what I did when you confessed. For leaving you alone that night. For taking you for granted. For constantly snapping at you. For pushing you away to the point where you felt like you couldn’t tell me about your toxic ex because I would make it worse. For snapping at you when you called me Ji simply because I was scared it would give me hope for something that I didn’t think would happen because I li-”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

You looked up, meeting his pleading eyes.

“Jiyong, I’m in a happy, healthy relationship. I’m happy with Minho. Please just be happy for me. I haven’t completely forgiven you for everything, because Jiyong, I’ll be honest. You scarred me. For years, I thought something was my fault. I thought I wasn’t enough and that’s why you hated me. And you never cared. I’m treating you normally now because we have to work together for a while. That’s it.”

He looked so painfully resigned that you couldn’t help your heart from hurting.

“Yeah, I know. That’s enough for me. But please don’t cut me out of your life. You’re someone very important to me.”

You backed away after bandaging his hands, leaving Jiyong feeling rather empty from the loss of contact.

“I don’t know Jiyong. We’ll see.”

 ---

While Jiyong was pouring his heart out to you, Yuna excused herself saying she was going to follow you, but she shut the door behind her and went up to Minho. Eyes regretful, she grabbed his sleeve,

“Hey.”

“Hey? Really? That’s what you have to say to me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Minho.”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t you want an explanation for why I did what I did?”

Minho stopped breathing for a second. That was the one thing he desperately craved. He needed to know why he wasn’t enough. She knew.

“Minho, it wasn’t because of you. You were amazing. It’s just. I met Jiyong years ago, at a fan sign, and he helped me out. He probably doesn’t remember it, but I fell for him.”

His voice broke.

“So, you dated me to get to Jiyong hyung?”

“Minho, but please. I love you. Please. Please can we try this again?”

“You love me?” He laughed. “What bullshit. If you did, you never would have done what you did.”

“Minho please. I’m so sorry. I’ve never regretted anything more.”

He pulled away from her.

“I have a girlfriend. Leave me alone.”

And he walked off. What was odd however, was that she didn’t seem too upset about that as she kept an eye out for Jiyong to return. Minho managed to walk away, but the moment he closed the door behind him, all he could think about was what she said. And how you had liked Jiyong. And known him for years. And how she dated him to get to Jiyong. Fucking hell. Why Jiyong of all people?

 ---

You somehow managed to get though the day, the only good part of which was seeing Jae stammer as he lied about tripping somewhere. The moment you walked out of the office though, you called up the one person you needed to see.

“Hey Mirae. Wanna get some coffee together?”

“For you to offer me coffee, you must be really out of it. What’s up?”

You smiled. You needed to just relax with your best friend for a while.

“Nothing much. Just... it was a long day.”

“Sure. I’m home right now, so you can come over if you want.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in ten. Keep some sweat pants out for me.”

 You lay back relaxing on her couch, blissfully wiggling your arms in the oversized sweatshirt and comfy pants she gave you.

“I’m stealing these.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

You sat up and sipped on the lemon tea she made you and you could almost feel the tension leave your body.

“Okay, spill.”

You took a deep breath and turned to face her.

“You remember Jae, right?”

Her expression turned wary.

“Yes, I do. Asshole.”

“Yeah, he’s playing Jiyong in the MV. And Minho’s ex Yuna is playing… the girl.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You recounted the day’s events for her, leaving out the bit about him turning up at your apartment drunk and you buying him breakfast the next morning. Mirae always hated Jae, so you knew she’d be mad when she found out, but she just remained silent. Then you told her about what Jiyong said, or rather almost said and how you cut him off.

“He never really cared about me anyway.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

You stared at her, dumbfounded.

“I definitely wouldn’t say that.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“He’s gotten you home when you were drunk on more than one occasion. He’s taken care of you when you couldn’t walk straight. He took it upon himself to cheer up the woman he loved after her boyfriend was an asshole to her at Sohyun’s wedding. He’s comforted you whenever he felt you needed it. Granted, he didn’t know his behaviour caused it most of the time. I have never seen him as worried as he was the day you fainted and he carried you home. He keeps your confession in his wallet. Women don’t stay with him because he can’t stop thinking about you. You’re the only one who can comfort him and cheer him up when he’s feeling low. You managed to get him to cut down on his smoking. He sleeps well only around you. Y/N, you matter to him. A lot.”

“What… Love? Mirae, I thought you didn’t like the thought of us together.”

“I didn’t. Because he didn’t realise he liked you and you never called him out on shit when he was mean to you. It was bad for both of you. Worse for you though. But now, he’s changed. You’ve changed. And now, I think it’ll be better. I don’t know whether I’ll like it, but it’ll be better now. You’re happy with Minho though, so I’m not saying to break up with him. I just want you to know that… things are different now. He still has a lot to make up for. Years of him being toxic aren’t just going to disappear. But even though he told me not to tell you, I feel like you have a right to know about the things he’s done for you over the years. I may be harsh on him, but he’s my brother. And you’re my best friend. And in the end, I just want both of you to be happy. You don’t have to be happy together. Just…be happy.”

You stared at her in shock. She sighed.

“I know. I know you never knew about any of this. And maybe I should have told you earlier. But you were just beginning to get over him when you cut him out of your life and that was what you needed then. Now, things are weird. You’re working with him but you’re in a happy relationship with Minho. He likes you but he’s not trying to make a move on you, although his album is literally about you.”

“I liked him for all these years and he never said anything?”

“He liked you before you liked him. And he didn’t say anything because he was an idiot. And he was scared. And that made him an ass. Don’t get me wrong. He was a Grade A jackass, but I think you should know this.”

You couldn’t comprehend all of this. You felt overwhelmed by this crushing pain. All those years that you liked him, he liked you back? Instead of all those years of questioning yourself, the two of you could have just been together? You felt some anger, but more than anger, you just felt sad. In a barely audible whisper, you said,

“Mirae, tell me everything.”

She looked up, clearly concerned, but she told you everything. About how he started liking you ten years ago, how he convinced himself he didn’t, how he took care of you that night when you were drunk, how he went back to search for you at the park. And with every word, your heart hurt a little more. You liked Minho. It wasn’t even a possibility that you would break up with him after gaining this information, but it really twisted a knife through your heart when you thought of all those years. You stood silently after Mirae was done, gathering your things to leave. She jumped up, worried.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. I just really need a little time and space to wrap my head around this.”

“You okay?”

You turned and gave her a sad smile.

“Not exactly, but I’ll get there. I just need to think about this.”

 You got home, showered and napped. You needed time to rest and recover. It had been a very long day. You just wanted Minho to come home soon, so that you could cuddle with him and maybe have a tough conversation about everything you found out today. Oh shit. You’d also have to tell him about Yuna. And you didn’t want that. It did seem like he would be home late though.

Minho was in his studio, trying not to think too much about everything that happened when he heard a soft knock on the door. He opened it and nearly slammed it shut when he saw Yuna standing there. He would have too, if she hadn’t stuck her foot in there to prevent him from doing that.

“Can we talk Minho?”

“What do you want Yuna?”

“Yuna? Sweetheart, whatever happened to baby girl?”

He stared at her in disbelief. She walked past him and made herself comfortable on the couch.

“Minho, I need to apologise for everything that happened a few years ago. It was horrible. And if I could, I would turn back time to prevent that from happening.”

“Yeah, but you can’t, so what’s the point of all of this?”

“Minho, please. You’re the only man I’ve ever been happy with. And you know that we were happy together. Please. Let’s give this one last shot?”

Minho remained silent and Yuna took that as an invitation to move closer to him. She gently put         her hand on his thigh and starting tracing patterns.

“Minho, baby, please. I’m sorry.”

Minho’s mind was clouded. He was so mad that Jiyong hyung was so involved with his girlfriend. He was mad because of their history. He was mad because of his history. He was hurt by everything. At the back of his mind, a small voice told him that he knew that his chemistry with Yuna was unbelievable and he had never had better sex, but still. The thought of you, smiling as you hugged him after a long day couldn’t let him give in. He was tempted. So tempted to not stop Yuna’s hand that was trailing upwards but then he remembered the one time he saw you cry because of a movie. It was just a sad movie, but he had promised himself that he would never be the cause of those tears. He grabbed Yuna’s hand and turned to her to tell her to back off when he kissed him. He was too shocked to do anything about it, so she deepened it. The moment Minho realised what was going on, he pushed her off him.

“What the fuck Yuna?! I told you I have a girlfriend.”

She just looked away, not answering him.

“Get out. Get out of my studio right now and never come back.”

---

Minho got home a while later, exhausted, stressed, nervous, guilty and jealous. Not a great mix of emotions. His jealousy only amplified when he saw you working on a concept for Jiyong.   Not fucking Jiyong again. You were so deep in thought you didn’t hear him, so when he hugged you, you jumped.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“What’s wrong Minho? Long day?”

Minho stared at you for a minute, hating how the only thing he could think of was the way Jiyong stood before you protectively. He didn’t reply, instead leaning in to pull you into a deep kiss, his hands travelling down your legs and wrapping them around his waist.

“Yes, it was. Will you help me forget about it?”  

“Okay.”

 Not long after that, you were lying face down on the bed, with tears streaming down your face as Minho’s fingers pumped into you. He was giving you your fifth orgasm. It was too much. Way too much. It has crossed from pleasure to just plain painful. Something was wrong with him that day. He was usually very responsive to your non-verbal cues. He seemed preoccupied and angry. You barely managed to croak out,

“Minho?”

The speed of his fingers increased.

“That’s master to you.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You cried out.

“Minho, stop! Popcorn!”

It took a minute for it to register that you had just used your safe word with him. Once it did though, everything stopped. He immediately stopped, moving away from you. You fell to your side, tears still streaming down your face. You were shaking and you couldn’t keep your eyes open. It hurt so much.

“Oh fuck.”

He tried to wrap a blanket around you but you flinched at his touch. His face fell, but he moved away. God, it hurt so much that you flinched, but it was his fault. He should have checked in on you more. You slowly covered yourself with the blanket and waited till you stopped shivering.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. Fuck. I’m really sorry. I should have checked in on you more.”

You shook your head.

“It’s okay. You didn’t mean to. And it’s over now. We just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He was unsure when he leaned closer, moving some hair back from your face.

“I’m sorry.”

You just gave him a slight smile and held his hand.

“I accept your apology.”

“I’ll get you some hot chocolate?”

“Yes please.”

And Minho left for the kitchen. While your body still hurt and you were exhausted, you weren’t mad at him. You just wanted to know what was troubling him. You were snapped out of your thoughts when a notification popped up on your phone.

It was from Mirae.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I thought he was better than that. Remember, you can always just come and stay with me for a while.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. What was Mirae talking about? Who was she talking about? Did Jiyong do something? You opened your browser to try and figure things out when you realised your boyfriend’s name was trending. And your heart stopped when you saw why.

“BREAKING NEWS: WINNER’s MINO and Model Yuna dating!”    

---

[avengerscompound]

It’s You and Me - Chapter 9

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  1556

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Mentions of past abuse

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back.  Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you.  For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down.  Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father.  Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 10: Now

You had fallen into a slightly uneasy truce with yourself.  The part of you that had been adamant that you not fuck up any kids’ lives had been soothed down by the part that was really enjoying being back with Clint again.  Some things made it easier to compartmentalize.  Children weren't by default terrible and the problem you had was never hating kids.  It was hating your childhood.  Besides, if there were any kids you were going to love instantly it would be Clint’s.  Maybe it was never going to be in a motherly way, but they were his and you loved him.

Clint seemed to be making sure you never got put into the parenting role.  You were never the babysitter or decision-maker when it came to things they should or shouldn’t be doing.  If they wanted to go out for ice cream he’d decide if they could on his own and then ask if you wanted to as well, instead of asking you what you thought about the idea.  That made things easier too.  It meant you could avoid the step-mother role even if it did occasionally haunt you.

Cooper, Lila, and Nate seemed to take to you dating their father pretty well.  They were good kids generally speaking, but the concern that they might see you as a step-mother worried you.  The two older two definitely seemed to treat you as an entity in the house that they needed to be aware of.  They didn’t come to you to ask for things, but they didn’t straight up ignore you.  They’d say good morning when they saw you first thing and goodnight when they went to bed.  If they were getting themselves a snack they might ask if you wanted some and they’d make general conversation about music or tv shows with you.  However, it wasn't the same level of excitement as when they were with Natasha Romanoff, who they were very close with, or the same level of deference when Ebony was in the room.  You hoped that didn’t mean they resented you, or they thought you didn’t like them.

Nate, however, seemed to be completely different.  He’d seek you out more and want to share things with you, like what his favorite toys were or the pictures he’d drawn.  He’d come and sit on the couch with you and flop himself against you.  It was a little scary considering how you felt about everything.

Clint kept pushing for you to join the Avengers, taking you to the Tower and ‘randomly’ having you bump into people who would then lecture you about using your abilities for good.  It had the opposite effect than desired.  The longer the lecture went the less you wanted to be subjected to further lectures about anything ever again.  You still kept going in - partially because it was funny to see how frustrated Clint was when you’d say no, but mostly because now you were burned, you were very interested to see where this data you’d helped steal went.  Not that they’d tell you anything.  You weren’t an Avenger, so you weren’t privy to that kind of information.  It seemed to have something to do with the circus people, and you were curious to know why none of them had approached you about their underground dealings.

That was all for weekdays though - unless it was the end of the world, Clint was home on weekends.  That didn’t mean you were free from him trying to recruit you.

“So you’re just not gonna get a job?”  He asked.  He was sitting beside you on the couch with Lila sitting in front of him while he put her hair in a halo braid.  There were some half-formed plans about going out in the afternoon, but everyone was just taking their time.  You were eating cereal despite it being 11.30, Cooper was still in his pajamas, and Nate was hanging upside off the side of the couch with only his underwear, a t-shirt, and one sock on.

“Maybe I already have a job,” you teased and he looked at you with his eyes narrowed.

“You don’t, do you?”  he asked.

“No.  I don’t,” you agreed.

“The Avengers have really good medical, and a great 401K,” he said.

“Yeah because no one ever lasts long enough to cash out,” you snarked.

“She doesn’t have to be an Avenger if she doesn’t want to dad,” Lila said.

“Yeah, Clint,” you agreed.  “Listen to your daughter.”

“Gee, thanks for your help, Li,” he teased.  “You should see her though, she can shoot an arrow while doing a handstand while riding a horse.”

“You can do that,” Lila said, sounding bored.

“Wow,” you deadpanned.  “Ruined the only cool thing I can do with your over achievement.  Thanks, Clint.”

He pulled a face at you and was just about to say something when his phone rang.  He stuck a bobby pin in Lila’s hair to hold it in place as he answered.  “Yeah? - No, but I can’t… Fuck!  … Are you shitting me right now?  Ebony is off today.  I think she went… no, I get it.  Yeah.  Okay.”

He hung up the phone and got up.  “Gotta go in.  Can you watch them?  It’s an emergency.”

“What?  But Clint…”  You argued.

“Dad, you haven’t finished my hair!”  Lila yelped.

“You can finish it, right?”  Clint said to you as he grabbed his keys and tried to evade Lucky who was now dancing around his feet.

“Clint!”  You yelped.

“You know I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t have to,” he said and kissed Lila on the top of the head and then you, before blowing a raspberry on Nate’s tummy.  The little boy squealed and fell off the chair in a heap.  “Thanks, sugar.  I’ll owe you one.”

“The biggest one ever!”  You shouted as he ducked out the door.

Lila sighed and started to unwind her hair.

“I can do it,” you said.

She rolled her eyes.  “You sounded really excited about the idea.”

You flinched.  “I’m sorry… it’s not… I’m not… I can do your hair.”

She looked at you like she was trying to get a read on you.  “We don’t want you to be our mom either you know?”

“Lila!”  Cooper scolded.

You ran your hand down your face.  “I know.  I know… that’s… that’s part of the reason I’ve been the way I’ve been.  I don’t not like you guys.  If anything it’s because I like you a lot and I hate that you lost your mom.  But I don’t want you to think I’m trying to be your mom or take her place.”

“Well, good,” Lila said.  “We don’t want that either.”

“You want me to do your hair and I’ll be real with you?”  You asked.

She nodded and moved into position.  “So here’s the thing,” you said, as you started taking up where Clint had left off.  “Me and your dad… we had pretty crappy childhoods.  The people who were supposed to care for us - they hurt us instead.  And I guess… your dad decided that when he grew up he’d have a family and make sure they never got hurt the way he was.  But I decided that I didn’t want to risk ruining any kids' lives.  We ended up breaking up and going our own separate paths and they went just like that.  I never had a family and he got married and got you guys.  But now we’re back in each other's lives and I care about your dad.  I always have.  And I am really scared that that’s gonna mean you guys get hurt and I’ve been trying really hard to just… let you be so it won’t be me that hurts you.”

“You really never wanted kids?”  Cooper asked.

You shook your head.  “Not because I don’t like them though.  I think you guys are awesome.”

“You can be our friend if you like?  We have a mom.  She might have died but she was still our mom.  But we also have an Auntie Nat and an Auntie Wanda and an Auntie Kate and an Ebony.  You can just be whoever you are,” Cooper suggested.

You smiled and laughed softly.  “You’re pretty smart, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Cooper joked.

“Friends then?”  You asked.

“Yeah, friends,” he said.

Lila nodded.

“Okay, but here’s the thing,” you said.  “There’s a thing that friends have that adults in charge don’t.  You’re allowed to tell me off.  Okay?  If I overstep, or I do something that upsets you, you can tell me. I won’t be mad and because friends can’t punish each other the way your dad can.  Right?”

Lila turned her head and looked at you. “Right.  Okay.”

“I’m sorry I’m dating your dad,” you said lamely.

She laughed.  “No, you aren’t.  But that’s okay.  He… it’s been a while since he’s not just been faking being happy.”

You smiled and went back to fixing her hair.

“You should tell us about the criminal stuff you’ve been doing if we’re friends,” Cooper said.

You started laughing.  “I’m sure your dad would love it if I told you about that.”

“Come on,” Cooper begged.  “You said we have to tell each other stuff.”

You laughed harder and shook your head.  “Okay… where should I start?”

// NEXT

[serendipitywrites]

Deceptions and Daisies (4)(m)

words 4.5k this chapter is pure smut and angst 🤡 (p.s. sorry this took so long, life has been crazy lately and I had some writers block I had to work through. Anyways, hope you enjoy!)

chapters (one, two, three )

After that last ‘fight’ you and Wooyoung had, you’ve been spending a lot of time with San. 

he’s been stopping by after classes just to say hi, or even bringing your favorite snacks, since he, unfortunately, knows that you tend to forget to eat when you’re stressed. Sometimes he doesn’t really need a reason, he just likes to just relax with you, talking about everything and yet nothing.

He’s come to learn a lot about you in the past few weeks and you’re always amazed at how well he can read you and your emotions. You’ve been feeling so bare and open around him, and surprisingly it’s been a welcoming feeling, it’s been nice to just be… well, yourself again. It might be too soon, but he feels like one of your closest friends already. Honestly, San has even been around more than Wooyoung lately.

Your boyfriend would often visit his ‘ex’ and ‘just a dance friend’ then rather see you, it felt like.

although, after you had confronted Wooyoung, you feel like he has been putting in at least a little more effort for you both. It may seem pathetic to some, but you weren’t ready to give up, not after eight months of being happy and loving him. You admit you were feeling close to giving up, but after talking things over for hours and hours, you decided to give him another chance. Obviously, not everything was perfect and you weren’t expecting that, but the ups and downs are always what made you both stronger together, at least you feel that way.

‘Woo.. you’re so different lately. Are you really here with me? even when we’re together lately, I just feel so… alone’ insecurity laces your voice.

He sits across from you on the couch, letting your words sink in.

He looks at you and instead of denying it this time, he just puts his head in his hands and exhales.

He looks up after a few seconds, looking uneased. 

‘I don’t feel like myself lately.. and I guess I was just hoping you didn’t notice’ he confesses.

‘Really? because It’s all I notice. I thought we didn’t keep things from each other, Woo’ you say surprised, mumbling the last words softly. 

And for the first time in a while, he isn’t looking defensive over your honesty.

‘y/n, I haven’t been.. completely honest with you.’ he sounds anxious and you stare at him nervously, waiting.

‘I’ve been seeing Hana after work sometimes.. when I don’t come here’ he sounds ashamed, and in your current state of mind, he should be ashamed. You didn’t fall in love with this Wooyoung, the one who lies.

‘Why? Why are you seeing her, Woo? No more lies or we’re done, I swear. I can’t keep doing this’ you try your best to sound confident and not let your hurt show.

He looks at you with guilt and swallows hard ‘I swear we aren’t doing anything, not like that. We’ve just been talking and I’m helping her to dance’ he says like he hopes to convince you.

‘Then why? And why do you look so guilty?’ you implore.

‘...She said she still loves me’ he confesses.

Your heart sinks. You weren’t an idiot, you could tell there was something deeper left between them, but it still really fucking hurts.

‘And do you love her?’ you ask weakly. 

‘I love you’ he replies quickly and with certainty. 

‘That’s not what I asked, woo’ you feel your eyes start to water and you try desperately to keep him from noticing.

He stares at you so softly yet cautiously ‘y/n, listen to me. What I had with her.. It wasn’t ever really as genuine as I thought at the time. If I’m honest, I think we only got together because she was lonely. Besides that, she is my past and you are my now. I want this, I want you, and I want us.. For a long time, if you’ll still have me’ he meets your eyes.

Your chest is aching. 

even if his words are reassuring, you know you can’t just keep forgiving him so easily.

‘I want us too, but I can’t keep going on like this. I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt anymore when you are with her more than me. I’m not dumb, Woo. I knew you were with her and I just... I can’t. This isn’t me, i’m not some cliche jealous girlfriend’ you trail off in a frustrated tone, feeling some tears drop from your eyes and meeting your cheeks. This isn’t how the talk was supposed to go, but is anything ever easy lately?

He pulls you into his arms and rests his head in the crook of your neck. ‘Just one more chance, I’ll do better. I’ll be the boyfriend you deserve. I’ll be good for you.’ you feel yourself tremble in his hold. his voice heavy with emotion, he breathes hotly onto your neck and presses a wet and gentle kiss against you ‘I love you, y/n’ you sigh and try to hide a slight sniffle ‘I love you too.. Please don’t make me regret this’ 

San tosses a french fry in your direction, it pulling you from your thoughts.

He sits at the edge of your bed with a small fast food bag, staring at you expectedly.

You can tell he just got out of class by the way his hair is slicked back and his cheeks are still a bit flushed. He's dressed in a loose tank top, which must be some of his workout clothes. He must have come by straight after teaching and that thought makes you all tender for some reason. It’s just that you know that San likes to go straight home after work or school, but instead, he went and got you some food and chose to spend time with you. It may seem little, but it means a lot to you. It’s your day off from work and even if you told him to just head home and relax, having him here feels really nice. You’ve spent the day in your pajama shorts and a baggy shirt and if it was any other friend then you’d feel nervous and under-dressed, but you know that San doesn’t care.

‘If you don’t eat your fries, then I will’ he shoves some fries in his mouth messily, being an absolute goof.

You toss the fry back at him and it hits his chest, he looks at you offended. ‘Shush. Now where’s our ketchup?’ you tease him and he smiles, his dimple showing.

He tosses you the bag softly. ‘Yes, princess, and I got your extra ketchup too. You know, I get some weird looks for taking over 25 ketchup packets, so you owe me.’ 

You scoot towards him and hug his back ‘you’re the best, Sannie, you know that?’ you say in a sing-songy voice. You suddenly feel your breasts rub against his back through your thin shirt and you stiffen, feeling embarrassed. You’re just hoping that he didn’t notice. (He’s just thankful you can’t see the blush on his face) He nudges you off of him and you fall back gently on your pillow ‘I mean something I actually want’ 

you poke his back with your socked foot in offense ‘Hey! I give good hugs. you’re sweaty anyways, so fine, whatever’ he laughs at your sassy behavior. ‘Come sit with me?’ you pat the pillow next to you, he obliges. 

he rests his head against your headboard and shuffles a bit to get comfortable.

'so..' he tilts his head at you 'is Wooyoung coming over later?' 

you nod a bit shyly 'yeah, he has tomorrow off so he's going to spend the night.' you smile, getting excited to spend some time with your boyfriend. 

He gives you a small smile of acceptance ‘so things are back to normal?’

You shrug ‘I mean.. no? But he’s trying, we’re trying. He hasn’t been seeing… her as much’ you mumble carefully, not wanting to say her name. He understands, he doesn’t like her either. 

‘She hasn’t been around the studio either. Maybe Woo finally stopped being an idiot.’

You chuckle ‘that idiot is my boyfriend, but yes, he’s an idiot, my idiot’

You both finish snacking and put on some anime on your laptop, watching it together on your bed. You’re both resting against your headboard when Sans phone goes off. He says to ignore it but then his phone keeps buzzing over and over, he sighs, looking irritated, he runs his hand through his blonde hair ‘I’ll be a minute’ he says sounding agitated and heads out of the room. You figure it must be important, so you pause the anime and wait for him. 

After a few minutes, you get bored and grab your phone. You notice a few messages from Wooyoung.

Woo ♥ Can’t wait to see you, sweetheart

Woo ♥ Just a couple more hours ♥

Woo ♥ Want me to bring any food or snacks?

You see that his last message was about ten minutes ago and you decide to reply

sent Just bring yourself ♥ I just got some food, but thank you~! San brought me a burger and fries 🥳!

You get a response pretty quickly after sending that, surprisingly.

Woo ♥ Why is San there? Tonight is supposed to be our night.

Is he actually jealous right now? You aren’t sure what is going through his head so you send him another message

Sent Because he’s my friend? and he wanted to see me. We’re hanging out before you come over then he’s heading home, not that it even matters.

You send back, feeling slightly irritated. 

Woo ♥

I just wanted you all to myself tonight, sweetheart. I can’t wait. Besides San has a date tonight, I'm sure he’ll be leaving soon. 

You read his message over again, feeling taken aback a bit.

Before you have time to reply to Wooyoung, San makes it back in the room. He puts his phone on your dresser and relaxes against your pillow, he exhales tiredly.

Does he really have a date tonight? And why wouldn’t he tell you? 

‘Everything okay?’ you ask him softly.

‘Yeah.. Yeosang just keeps trying to set me up on these blind dates and he doesn’t take no for an answer.’ he sighs. 

‘I take it you got roped into one?’ you chuckle, feeling a weird sense of relief that he chose to share this with you. 

‘This would be the third actually, He keeps picking his sisters friends and it’s already so awkward when we see him and his sister at parties, I guess she doesn’t take me not wanting to date her friends so easily.’ he looks tired. 

You pat his head gently ‘i’m sure when the right person comes along, you’ll know’

He’s laying on your pillow while you have your back rested against the wall, your laptop sits in between you two. 

He meets your eyes ‘I think so too’ he smiles, so damn sweetly. God, that dimple makes you so soft and you swear that he knows. 

You both settle and watch some more anime, after a few episodes, he decides to head home, looking tired from his long day. 

‘Be safe?’ you’re at your door telling him goodbye.

‘Always, princess’ he bows all cheesily. 

You punch at his arm for teasing you and he catches your hand. ‘Too slow’ he laughs.

‘Once I get better reflexes, you’re done for’ you respond with far too much sass. 

He’s still holding onto your hand when he pulls you in for a hug. The position you’re hugging him in has your arms wrapped around his neck rather than his waist. His arms wrap loosely around your waist.

Somehow, this hug feels… different

Your heart starts to beat faster. Of course, you don’t let yourself think too much into it, you can’t. Besides, this is San, one of Wooyoungs best friends. 

He pulls you closer and your face rests against his shoulder.

‘I’m here if you need me. I’ll stop by again soon’ 

You both pull away from the hug tenderly.

‘Same, but I think you need might need me more, you know, to rescue you from your dates’ you offer and he gives a small laugh. 

‘I’ll remember that’ he waves with a grin and heads out, the door clicking behind him. 

You’re really glad he came over today.

After waving him off you head to the bathroom to take a shower before Wooyoung heads over, which should be in about an hour.  The shower is calming yet exciting. Just knowing that you’re about to see your boyfriend has you so energetic. 

After getting out, you put on some vanilla lotion (knowing that it was Wooyoungs favorite) and blow-dry your hair, you dab on some light lip gloss to finish it off.  You decided to put on a sheer baggy sweater with a tank top underneath, knowing that you look cute. You kept your sleep shorts on, though. they are your favorite after all. 

You pick up your apartment a little before he heads over, and of course feed your fish baby, Clem.  Sometime after you finish cleaning you hear a knock on your front door and your heart jumps. Excited but anxious to see your boyfriend.

You pull open the door to see a tired and sweaty looking Wooyoung in front of you, in his hands he holds a small bag and a single red rose.  You already feel yourself grinning at his antics.

‘Really? Are you trying to impress me, Mr. Jung?’

He smirks ‘depends, is it working?’

You pull him into your apartment and plant an aggressive kiss on his lips. 

After pulling away, his lips try to chase yours again immediately.

‘So impatient already’ you tease.

‘It’s been 3 days, baby. I’m past impatient at this point.’ he whines and puts his bag down.

He hands you the rose and you blush a little bit.  ‘Thanks..’ you mutter feeling slightly shy and he just softly kisses your forehead.

He heads towards the couch and pulls you with him. You end up sitting in between his legs as he lays on the couch. His black fluffy hair is parted so you can see his eyes.

‘You’re so pretty, sweetheart.’ he says with affection and you turn your head, feeling shy under his gaze. He notices and you being shy and pulls you down on his lap for a kiss.

You’re truly in awe of this man and god.. you’ve missed this so much. Just the both of you, no drama, no lies, no Hana, just the both of you being with one another.

With you on his lap and kissing him he eventually starts to slowly grind into you, his bulge already thick and hot. You realize soon after that he isn’t wearing anything under his loose joggers.

‘Really, Woo? Nothing under here?’ you ask in surprise and reach your hands down to where the outline of his briefs would be and he just smirks at you and grips your hips.

‘I missed you, sweetheart..’ and you let yourself fall into him, getting lost in lust and feeling some wetness drip out of you.

He puts his hands under your shorts and massages the swell of your ass with his fingers. You shiver at his touch, whining in his hold ‘really? Already?’ not expecting sex this soon.

‘Really’ he replies, voice thick with arousal. Suddenly he moves one of his hands lower and cups you through your panties, feeling the hotness of your cunt radiate. You moan needily and he slips a few fingers inside your panties, running his fingers through your obscene amount of wetness. It takes him far too long to slip the first finger inside of you and when he does, you absolutely crumble against him. You feel yourself soaking his hand and you couldn’t care less. He has two fingers curling against your insides and you want nothing more than to sit on this mans thick dick and have a mind-blowing orgasm. 

Of course, he doesn’t let you cum yet, he just teases you until you’re about to scream in frustration. So, you find yourself reaching for his pants with a whine, trying desperately to get them off of him and you hear him chuckle at you. ‘Shut up.. Need you..’ you say deprived.

After a few more minutes of kissing and him having you at the precipice of an orgasm, he has enough and tugs your shorts off aggressively and with zero care where they end up.

He pulls your sweater off and you practically rip his shirt off of him.

‘Please?’ you whimper, him under you, watching you already fall apart for him.

He lowers his joggers just enough for you to get to his dick, moving quickly. You can tell he’s eager to get inside of you. 

‘Shit’ he says breathily when his dick rubs against the slit of your wet and puffy cunt. 

‘Condom?’ he asks gruffly and it surprises you. You and Wooyoung don’t use condoms… You haven’t since you both got tested, two months into your relationship. Also, you’ve always been on birth control, but you’re far too drunk with lust to think properly or question him so instead of replying you just grab his dick and angle it towards your entrance and drop down on him.

The moan he lets out reverberates through your apartment. He fills you up so perfectly. His thickness stretches you out and before dropping down on him again, you bring your fingers down to where you are both connected and whimper at the feeling. He must get be getting impatient, because he grips your hips hard enough to bruise and thrusts up into you, fully sheathing himself inside of you.

Sweat drips from his forehead as he starts to fuck you harder, and after a few minutes he gets impatient and you get on your knees for him, anxious for him to get back inside of you, your wetness dripping down your thighs. You both sigh in relief when he finally gets back in.

He’s pounding you from behind and you feel his fingertips already bruising your hips, but you honestly love it. The way his cock drags against your insides has you nearly in tears and you whine, pushing back on his cock. He catches your hips mid-thrust and helps guide you back onto him even harder. The meat of his thighs slaps against your ass so deliciously.

He’s grunting behind you, holding onto you possessively ‘yeah? Like my cock, sweetheart?’ he asks huskily. You trail off in response, sounding a pitiful mess, almost in tears ‘yes, the best’ tears fall from your eyes and you can tell from behind you that he’s getting close already. ‘No one can make you feel this good?’ he asks again, his tone dominant and intense, his voice deep. ‘Just you..’ he knows how easily he can make you fall apart. you grip your hands harder onto the couch and you’re having a hard time thinking straight with him fucking you so hard, just then he reaches his hand towards your front and starts to rub circles onto your clit. You are delirious at this point. He knows that you’re close and spreads your legs further, giving him room to abuse your puffy clit. Your peak is coming and you can’t form words at this point ‘only I can make you feel this good’ he whispers in your ear with certainty and determination. You’re not exactly in the right state of mind to wonder why he’s being so dominant, with your orgasm at arms reach. You’re whining and writhing under him, and with a slight pinch to your clit you find yourself cumming on his cock. You practically scream form the strength of it and he moans loudly behind you, fucking into you ruthlessly, his sweat dripping on your back. Just when you think he’s about to cum, he pulls out of you and finishes outside of you. Moaning loudly, he milks himself onto your ass. You feel cold all of a sudden. 

Why did he pull out? He is obviously oblivious, basking in his afterglow.  But you’re laying there confused.

‘Thanks, baby.. I needed that.’ he grabs some tissues to clean you up and softly flips you on your back on the couch. You see him all flushed and red from fucking you, his hair curled slightly from sweating. ‘...I did too. You didn’t come inside, though’ you say with a pout, feeling almost silly. He smiles at you ‘was my little slut wanting to be filled up?’ you turn to your side and he senses your mood slightly shifting, he comes to sit next to you on the couch. You’re still laying there mostly naked with his cum still dripping down your thighs. ‘I wasn’t even really thinking. I just know it can get messy’ you turn to him ‘well, don’t do that.’ he chuckles at you. ‘Never again, my love.’ after that, you both take a shower together, he rubs your back and kisses at the back of your neck, which has you giggling and pulling away. Being ticklish isn’t exactly romantic, you feel like.

He stays in the bathroom a bit longer and you decide to get your laptop and put on something for you both. 

You hear a buzzing coming from the living room, realizing it’s Wooyoungs phone. With things being more at ease now, you feel comfortable grabbing his phone and heading to the bathroom door to knock ‘Woo, your phone is going off. Is your hair dry yet?’

After you say that it buzzes again and by accident you see who it’s from, only seeing a snippet of a couple of messages. 

Hana Are you done yet?

Hana I miss you.

The last message is what shocks you the most.

Hana Why won’t you just tell her already??

You drop his phone loudly as he opens the bathroom door, some steam coming out.

‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ he sees you looking pale-faced and stunned. He looks worried.

Ha, worried? You thought.

‘I saw your messages’ You say bluntly. You’ve had enough with being timid and calm about this. You’re done.

He suddenly looks nervous ‘my messages?’ he asks, looking confused.

‘Yes, your messages. Now get the fuck out of my apartment’ you say with conviction.

He just stares at you, his jaw slightly dropped.

‘I don’t think you read what you think you did’ he says calmly.

You scoff at him, looking at him like he thinks you’re some sort of idiot ‘really? Because according to Hana you have something to tell me, what might that be?’

‘Look, y/n, we need to talk but -’

You cut him off in frustration ‘I can’t with these lies. I fucking can’t anymore’ you break off and feel some tears of frustration fall out of your face, which you try hiding from him. ‘did you really come by just to fuck me and then leave me?’

he looks baffled ‘what are you talking about y/n?’ 

a few seconds pass and he decides to try again.

‘Can we please sit down and talk?’ he asks exasperatedly.

‘Why? So you can tell me that we’re over, or that you did in fact cheat on me?’ ‘I trusted you, I really did. You knew what I went through.’

Instead of responding he just stares at you sadly. He has the audacity to look guilty, to look upset at this.

‘Please leave.. Please. I can’t do this, not tonight, not any more’ 

‘y/n, please listen to me, just hear me out-’ he tries to explain, at least you think he’s trying to explain, but you can’t bear to even hear his voice right now.

‘Please! Please leave!’ you wail.

‘I can’t leave you like this, I can’t.’ he says desperately, trying to reason with you. His body trying to inch closer to you and you pull back quickly, not wanting to be touched by him.

You let out a wet laugh 

‘Sure you can, you’ve done it before.’ you know it was a low blow, but you honestly don’t fucking care how he feels right now.

‘Leave. I’m calling San.’ he scoffs at you, looking far too pissed off, something changes in his aura at the mention of his friend. ‘what a fucking surprise. The moment I leave, you call San, just like clockwork. You know for getting mad at me for spending time with someone else, you look pretty fucking hypocritical.’ he seethes.

Before you can even think it over, your hand meets his cheek. He stares at you in complete shock. ‘I would never do anything to betray you, Wooyoung. I love you so fucking much it drives me insane. I let you in, I never do that. I would never stoop that low. oh, and San? Your best friend? He’s a good person, and fuck you for thinking that he would do something so malicious’ you say then fall onto the floor and break into a sob. Barely able to breathe. this snaps Wooyoung out of his sudden anger and again, he tries to come comfort you and you just beg him to leave. Regretfully, he gives up and leaves, knowing that he can’t do anything to help you, not now. he did this to you, and as much as he wants to comfort you, he doesn’t deserve to. he tells you how much he loves you and how fucking sorry he is before he leaves in shame and remorse. You need time, he’ll try to give that to you. in the meantime, you’re left on the floor, in an absolute mess, having trouble breathing from the strength of your cries. 

After catching your breath finally muster some energy to call San, trying to calm down enough to talk.

He answers after a few rings ‘Hey you, I was just thinking of you, I saw the weirdest goldfish at the -’ 

He stops talking when he realizes that you aren’t responding and he just hears harsh breathing on the other line.

‘You okay, princess?’ you just sob in response and that was all that he needed. ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes. Just breathe. Can you unlock the door for me? That’s all you need to do.’ he says gently. ‘Unlocked already’ you sniffle.

‘Just ten minutes.’ and he hangs up after a minute, promising to hurry.

There was some slight traffic, so San ends up getting there about 20 minutes later. The sight he finds upon entering the apartment is you on the floor, at the edge of your bed, curled into a circle with a bra and your sleeping shorts on, hickeys covering your neck and chest.

He doesn’t even need to ask to know that whatever happened was Wooyoungs fault.

He carries you as softly as possible to your bed, doing his best not to wake you since he knew whatever happened - you’d need the energy later to deal with it.

All he knew, was that he was about to break his friend’s nose.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Happier | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:  Tom never expected to run into you again. And he didn’t expect to see you happy with someone. He wasn’t prepared.

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending, former relationship, Exes, exes meeting again

-

Tom’s head ached with a nagging feeling since his mother called earlier that morning, requesting he pick up the cake for Emma’s birthday. He couldn’t place the source of dread so despite his feeling he agreed to trudge across town to pick up the cake.

The bakery was a bustle of color, sound, and smells. It smelled like chocolate and sugar and Tom inhaled deeply. A familiar voice cutting through the din and the sugar interrupted his sensory bliss.

“Thomas?” you called out through the crowded bakery. You recognized that mess of ginger hair and lanky frame anywhere. It had been years since the two of you last spoke. That conversation did not go well.

Tom spun in place to come face to face with you. His heart dropped into his stomach. It had been two… no three years since that fateful morning. Your hair was shorter and your smile wider. You were making a beeline in his direction and Tom slapped on that winning smile.

“How long has it been?” Tom greeted you into a hug, his arms enveloping you into his chest. His heart raced against your chest.

“Three years.” Your voice muffled in his sweater. Tom pulled back. “And some change. Your hair is longer.”

“For a role.” Tom pressed a finger to his lips. “Top secret.”

You nodded at him with a smile. “What brings you on this side of the city?” You pressed your hands flat on his chest in shock. “You haven’t moved, have you?”

Tom chuckled. “Nope. Still in the same house. I am here picking up a cake for my mother. Emma’s birthday is on Sunday.”

“How is your mother?” you asked, not seeing Tom’s feet shuffling in discomfort. “And please give Emma my birthday wishes.”

“She’s well and Emma will be pleased to hear from you.” Tom’s lips pulled tight. He didn’t see how to end the conversation. “How are you doing? What brings you here? You don’t care for sweets.”

Now it was your turn to fidget uncomfortably. “Well, actually… I’m.. here… I’m here to…” you giggled, running your fingers through hair.

“Darling!” A tall man came behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He kissed your cheeks. “I thought I had lost you to the crowd.” He sized Tom up and down with narrowed eyes.

“Simon, this is my old friend Tom.” Tom blinked but made no other face at the words “old friend”.

The other man extended his hand to Tom. Tom shook the hand, squeezing hard. Simon shook out his hand. “Pleasure. Quite a grip there.”

Tom smirked as you continued with introductions. “Tom, this is Simon. My fiance.”

Tom couldn’t hide his face this time. You were engaged to be married, and he had missed his chance to make amends. As soon as you spied the furrowed brow it was gone, replaced with that Hollywood smile you knew he used when he was having to do something unpleasant.

“Congratulations!” He reached out and squeezed your hand. Your eyes softened, an unspoken apology. “I take it you’re here for cake.”

Simon pulled you to his side, possessively. “Only the best for my girl.” He pecked your lips, an unusual display of affection for Simon.

“Of course.” That tight smile again. “I won’t keep you two any longer. Congratulations again.” Tom grabbed the box containing Emma’s cake and exited with a wave.

Simon turned to you. “You never told me you knew Tom Hiddleston.”

“I didn’t?” you feigned shock, damn straight you didn’t tell your fiance you dated Tom Hiddleston for the better part of two years. “Surely I mentioned it before.” you giggled.

“I think I would remember that conversation. How did the two of you meet?”

“I can’t even remember. I think it was at some charity event.” you lied.

You can still remember that night as clear as you remember today. Tom in his tuxedo, black velvet coat, you in a dress cut too low. The laughter, the drinks, Tom taking you home. The first of many kisses.

You tugged at his arm. “Come on, love. I think they are ready for us.” Simon smiled at you and let the conversation drop.

-

Tom hurried home and put the cake into the fridge before taking Bobby out for a walk. He needed to clear his head. Tom believed he was over you. At least that was what he kept telling himself whenever his love life was brought up. He surmised he always wished deep down inside the two of you would reconcile. He could give you what you needed from him. But that was nothing more than a pipe dream now.

Bobby barked as they rounded the corner and Tom’s house came into view.

“What is it, boy?” Tom leaned down to scratch behind his ears. “It’s just home.” Bobby tugged at his leash.

Tom glanced up to see a figure knocking on his front door. He squinted to see it was you. Bobby pulled him along, desperate to see you and receive hopefully a treat or two like when you lived with Tom.

“Wait!” Tom called as you turned to leave, picking his pace up to jog to catch you. You grinned at the sight of Tom jogging to meet you. Even in his casual clothes, you could tell he had kept up with his fitness.

“Sorry. I left you a note.” You pointed at the folded piece of paper under the door knocker. Tom reached for it and read it as you walked away again. Tom caught your wrist to prevent your escape. He tucked the note into his pocket.

“It is me who owes you an apology.” His voice soft, his eyes downward.

“No, Simon was quite rude. He didn’t—”

“I don’t mean for today.”

“Oh.” Your breath caught in your chest. “It’s water under the bridge.” You bent down to scratch behind Bobby’s ears.

“Not for me. I said hurtful things that day. Things I never got the chance to take back. You never returned my phone calls.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Not even for a moment.” Tom chuckled darkly. “You look happier.”

“I am. I really am.”

Tom’s eyes welled up with tears. “What does Simon do?”

“Finance. He is home by 6 every day. Like clockwork.”

“No six months movie shoots.” Tom blinked. Tears fell to his cheeks. You reached up to wipe them away. He caught your wrist and pressed his lips against the palm of your hand. You sighed.

“No paparazzi. No rumors. It is normal.”

“You are meant for more than just normal. You are extraordinary, my love.”

Now it was your turn to have tears fall. “I’m nothing special. You know that. Just a simple girl living her life.”

Tom stepped forward and cupped your face. His thumbs swiped the tears away. “Not to me.” He leaned down and kissed you. His lips tasted salty. You threw your arms around his neck. When the two of you parted, both you and Tom were breathing heavy.

“Give me best to the family.” You pushed away from him, like physical distance would help. It didn’t.

Tom nodded. “Best of luck on the wedding.” He stepped back too, Bobby at his feet, confused.

“The wedding yeah. Thanks!” you raked through your hair and Tom did as well. A nervous habit for both. “Simon doesn’t know.” you blurted out.

Tom smiled and laughed. “I figured as much. He was too friendly at the bakery. Will you tell him?”

“Some day. Goodbye, Tom.”

“Goodbye.” He stepped forward. “You really do look happier.”

“I am. And someone day you will be happier too.”

You kissed his cheek one last time before turning your back on Tom and your past. With quick steps, you walked away leaving Tom in a mix of emotions.

“But not today, my love. Not today.” Tom pulled on the leash. “Come on, Bobbers.” He opened the door and threw the note away at the first opportunity, not needing any more reminders of how he fucked up the best thing in his life.

[heartsck]

mischa & daci - late night feels

(this is a long thread we did on google docs so all under read more, also tw abuse, violence, death, daci having emotions on main)

@sodaparticles

daciana

A heartrender was meant to know her own body, her own mind, know it and control it such that she could then control others. It was one of the most fundamental tenets of her order, and something Daciana had always thought she was rather good at.

So why couldn’t she sort through the messiness in her mind now?

As she often did when she felt overwhelmed, although she would never admit this, she sought out Mischa. Wrapping her kefta over her thin nightgown, Daciana grabbed the bottle she’d been saving for saints knew what, and then followed the all too familiar path to his room. The halls of the little palace were empty, everyone tucked away for the night, but she didn’t care.

Daciana lingered outside his door for a moment, hearing his heartbeat like a metronome and the melody from his piano. She could picture it easily -  Mischa lost in the music with his long, graceful fingers dancing across the keys, perhaps his eyes were closed. He was probably at peace. She gave him one more moment of this, a slight twinge of something in her chest over her constant need to be the center of attention, and then pushed open the door.

He looked up at her, but she couldn’t say anything. Not now, not yet. The heartrender stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, setting the bottle down on top of the piano and slipping off her kefta with a level of care that did not match her current somewhat manic energy. She draped it over the back of a chair then rushed forward, joining him on the piano bench and kissed him - hard & desperate. One hand snaked around his neck while the other clutched at his shirt - too needy and too distracted for how she usually was.

It didn’t work.

After a moment, or maybe it was several minutes, she broke the kiss with a gasp that might have been a sob. Daciana leaned forward, pressing her face into his chest so he could not see that she was crying.

mischa

“Are you…. Are you okay?” he never thought he’d ask her this question. If anything, the roles would be reversed, and even then he wasn’t sure she’d be as he was. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling back just enough so he could see her face. Seeing the tears staining her cheeks, his chest suddenly felt hollow and his voice was soft and as comforting as he could manage. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong, Daciana?”

It was late, as late as it always was when he managed to gather the motivation to practice on the piano. It was always a constant for him, and he was grateful he was able to even have one in his room. Sometimes he thought he was beginning to become a snobby grisha like some of the others. Usually he wanted to forget everything about his past, but this was one thing he wanted to keep in the present. He could easily recall the nights he would play for his other siblings while they all danced or played with him, or it was background music for the bickering they would always do. Never a moment of peace in the Essen household. So he became Mischa Baluev, and became his own peace. Only it never really worked the way he wanted it to.

He sighed, messing up for what felt like the hundredth time. He was beginning to become frustrated, or tired; or both. Before he had the chance to completely give up and just go to bed, the door opened. He looked up at her, the other constant that had developed in his life. He forgot how he lived before her. Every moment she wasn’t around was a moment he was not in peace. He was always searching for her now, everywhere he went. Everything reminded him of her, and though most things went unsaid between them, he had a feeling that tonight would be different. She seemed different.

He stayed quiet as she took off the kefta, approached him, and sat on the bench, not wanting to ruin the moment with a stupid joke like he often did. As always, the silence between them was a comfortable one, but he could sense some type of tension radiating from her that was unusual.

When she kissed him, he tried to match her energy, but failed. Through furrowed brows, he placed his hands on her shoulders, almost pulling away before she did it for him. Confusion and horror mixed on his face as she broke from the kiss and still, said nothing. When she burrowed her face in his chest, he didn’t say anything for a moment. What could he say about something he didn’t even know was really happening?

daciana

She could not recall the last time she’d felt so untethered, like all of the benchmarks she’d built her life upon were suddenly gone and she was lost in some squallar’s storm. Daciana did not know what was worse, the conflicting emotions over her mother’s death or the utter helplessness from feeling so out of control. She hated them both.

She loved the way he looked at her.

Mischa looked at her like she was the only person in the room, even across a crowd. He looked at her like he saw every part of her - the good, the bad, and even those parts she kept buried deep behind all that hard glossy armor. He looked at her and she felt seen. She felt safe. But now, there was something else, concern ghosted across his face but he did not speak. Daciana felt the slight hitch in his breath, or maybe his heart, when she kissed him and she almost thought she’d gotten away with acting like everything was fine.

Until his hands moved to her shoulders, pushing her back in the same breath as she pulled away. Mischa knew her all too well, she’d forgotten that in her grief and confusion. His chest was warm, his heartbeat steady even though she could feel it ticking upwards with concern. When he spoke, she broke - the tears running freely onto his shirt and then her cheeks as he gently pulled her face up to look at him.

“I -” she fumbled for her words, she never did that, and her voice was raw, desperate. “My mother died. Or maybe he fucking killed her. And Sacha can’t talk about it, but I need to because I have no idea if I am sad or relieved or angry - no wait I am angry, I’m so fucking angry but I don’t know how to deal with it. And we have to fucking go back there and pretend to be sad and pretend she didn’t sit there passively everytime.” She let out a choked sob, then reached for the bottle of liquor she’d brought.

“Drink with me?” Daciana made sure her body still touched his, needing the reassurance of his steadiness, then uncapped the bottle and took a large pull. The heartrender grimaced, she did not drink often, and certainly not like this. She took another, then pressed the bottle into his hand. “I don’t know how to deal with this, Mischa.”

mischa

The way she acted scared him. There was no other word for it, and he didn’t know if he liked being scared when it came to her. Everything about her always screamed I got this, her confidence and ruthlessness was what drew him in in the first place. Mischa wasn’t used to this version of her. He was used to petty, distant remarks followed by the tip of her finger tracing his shoulder down to his arm with the flutter of her eyelids as she charmed her way into his heart. This stuttering, vulnerable girl was one he did not know. It scared him, but did not scare him away.

He could tell how hard she tried to keep her face stone cold with no expression. He could sense the lump in her throat as easily as he could sense it in his own, because seeing her this way made him just as upset. He would burn cities down for her, bury his own people for her. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to see her happy, or at the very least, normal.

Mischa thought he was hearing things as she spoke, trying to process everything before she was on to the next thing and shoving a bottle of alcohol in his hand. Sad, relieved, angry; emotions he didn’t know Daciana Zhirkova knew, but she proved him wrong again and again every day. She spoke so fast he didn’t know if he even caught all of it, but he still tried, noticing how she kept her body weight against him.

“Every time?” he dared, not used to feeling like he had to be careful around her. He tried to maneuver so he was looking her in the eyes, his hand instinctively pushing her hair back and smoothing it down in an attempt of reassurance. He didn’t know if it was futile, but he still tried. Mischa didn’t know how to help her, or reassure her. He didn’t know his parents, and he supposed he could just make up a story about them, but he didn’t want to lie around her. He didn’t want the relationship he wanted with her built around lies.

Mischa sat quietly again, trying to think of the right thing to say. Was there even a right thing to say in this situation? He watched as she downed some of the bottle, taking a tentative sip after her. He wanted to be fully comprehensive for this. “Gonna go out on a limb here and say she wasn’t…. The best mother?”

daciana

Rationally, somewhere, she knew this was too much to unload on him at once. He didn’t owe her anything, certainly not the kind of emotional support she was asking of him. But Mischa did not tell her to leave, he did not pull away or act in any way that would make her feel unwelcome. Daciana wouldn’t realize how much she’d needed this until much later.

She couldn’t answer his first question, not right away, and only shook her head quickly. His hand was gentle against her face, that bit of affection nearly broke her focus - Daciana had to squeeze her eyes shut to focus all her power on stabilizing her erratic heart beat. She watched as he took a small sip, then grasped at the bottle again and downed two more large gulps.

Very few people (read: almost no one) knew this, but Daciana Zhirkova was an incredible lightweight. More than two drinks spread out over a few hours and it went straight to her head. It was why she did not drink much, if anything at all. But this was different, and somewhere she knew she was safe with him. The alcohol seemed to wrap her mind in a cocoon, pushing against that hard glossy armor and finding the weak points, the places she could let a bit of her hidden self through. It was the only way. Daciana stood up quickly and paced as she spoke.

“Father is a heartrender like me, and mother a tidemaker. It was just me and Sacha, always has been, and we knew early on the only way to matter was to be grisha,” she glanced at him, “and the right kind of grisha.” Running a trembling hand through her hair, Daciana continued to pace. “I’d been like, I don’t know - affecting myself and Sacha for most of our childhood even before I really knew what it was. He got it the worst, and he always stood up for me - took it for me.” She finally stopped pacing and took a heavy breath.

“Father said he knew before he could walk.” She pulled up the hem of her nightgown over her hip to point out a shiny burn scar across her ribs. “I think we were five or six, and he wanted to see if we were inferni. Sacha must have been too traumatized for it to manifest then, or we were too young.  There were other scars but I was able to get rid of most of them, or cover them up with tattoos,” she rubbed the back of her neck absently. “She never did anything, never said anything, never protected us. She only seemed to remember us when she was drunk and only when we were very little. Like I can’t even tell if those memories are real or wishful thinking.” All the fight seemed to leave her body at once, and Daciana sank backwards to sit on his bed.

“Bit more than you thought you were getting into, yeah?”

mischa

Throughout her entire monologue, he stayed quiet. He didn’t know too many things, but he knew when to be silent. Eyes glued to her the entire time, never once straying. Mischa changed his expression, keeping the pity out of his eyes. He’d hate it if someone pitied his story, and knew her well enough to know that was the last thing she needed at that moment. His heart stung, his body was hot with anger. She could protect herself, but saints did he want to protect her from everything the world made her in that moment.

Mischa didn’t know when the lump in his throat burst and a small sob made its way through his lips when she lifted her nightgown to show the scar. He looked away immediately, rubbing the palm of his hand over his face. The tears that swelled in his eyes were from anger, and he had to swallow it down because he knew Daciana didn’t need that either. He knew better than most that she was entitled to her secrets, Saints knew he had tons of his own, but the ones she’d told him almost made him keel over.

He stood from the piano bench once she plopped back onto his bed, laying back next to her. He leaned on his elbow, leaning over top of her to look at her-- really look at her, as she lay there. This was the most vulnerable he’d ever seen her, and while it broke his own heart, it was nothing compared to what she had to be going through at that moment. Again, he brushed her hair away from her face, letting his fingers brush the stray tears away from her cheek and brushing his thumb over her bottom lip.

“You could have told me you killed a bunch of poor children and I’d probably still follow you around like a lost puppy,” Mischa said softly, chuckling just the same. Only for a moment, before his eyes returned to the seriousness they were moments before. All at once everything seemed to make sense. “What do you need from me, Daci?”

daciana

He did not look at her with pity, which was the one thing her frantic mind clung to as the secrets and shame spilled out from her lips. This was exactly why she did not drink, she talked way too much, rambled and spiraled and was utterly weak and she hated it. But now she did not feel the burn of shame that she expected, did not feel the need to knock him out and flee as far away as she could. Instead - she wanted to talk more.

“I don’t know why I can’t get rid of the burn, I mean it wasn’t even the worst of them just -” she paused, pressing her fingers into the scar and then winced slightly - too much. “And I’d rather die than ask a healer for help. I couldn’t deal with their pity.” She scoffed, a bit of her old cruelty seeping back into her voice, “Yuilya has probably seen all of Sacha’s scars, I doubt he told her the truth but I couldn’t stand it if she looked at me with that fucking self rightious pitying face.”

Daciana hadn’t been paying close enough attention to him to notice the shift in his tone, the slight sob or the tears - too wrapped up in her own grief and anger and trauma. But she saw how he rubbed his face, and for a moment feared she’d lost him. Still, Mischa stood and joined her on the bed, settling close and leaning over her with that protective, burning gaze she had come to rely on. A few more tears leaked from dark eyes but he brushed them away. Instinctually she leaned closer, her hand drifting up to clutch at the bicep of his hand now brushing across her trembling lip.

“The children had it coming,” she whispered, half laughing and half crying while trying to regain a bit of her old self - not this vulnerable trembling thing. She hadn’t been that girl in almost twenty-five years, not since she learned of her power and found her strength at the little palace. Maybe the suddenness of her mothers death and the conflicting emotions brought back the shy, weak little girl she once was - maybe had always been.

“I don’t know -” she whispered, fingers digging into his arm. “I don’t even know what I need from me. I just can’t be alone, I would fully lose it.” Daciana swallowed another sob then inhaled, holding her breath in until she felt even more lightheaded and exhaled. “Drink with me, please, and stop looking at me like I am made of glass.” She gave a half smirk but it did not reach her eyes. “I never drink like this, aren’t you interested in what other secrets I have?”

mischa

Mischa understood her, to the most basic extent. He had not learned all of her secrets, was not sure he ever would. He was content with this, because even if she never shared something like this with him ever again, he knew he was comfortable having her know him completely. He understood her intentions, though not always clear, it was easy for him to grasp. Even more so now that he knew some of her past, as much as it broke him to hear.

With the most innocuous intentions, Mischa leaned down and just barely brushed his lips against hers before leaving a trail of kisses across her cheeks to melt the tears away before laughing softly against her skin. “Those fucking kids definitely had it coming,” he joked back, leaning back again with a stupid grin on his lips. His thumb caressed her chin, the fingers on his other hand playing with her hair, smoothing it across his bed. He kept quiet and let the words of vulnerability she had spoken hang in the air for moments to come.

He laughed softly. “You’re not made of glass. You’re made of fucking titanium, woman,” he joked, shaking his head. With a few swift movements, Mischa pushed himself off of the bed and grabbed the bottle she had brought in with her, laying back in the position they were in before he moved. In another pathetic attempt to make her smile again because Saints, did he love her smile, Mischa brought the bottle up to her lips and tilted it so it poured into her mouth slowly before taking a swig of it himself.

Mischa sighed, smacking his lips together and leaning back on his elbow with the other hand flesh against the bottle, holding it against his chest, acting as if he were thinking deeply about what he wanted to ask her. Then, he shook his head. “Not unless you want me to know. I could tell you some of mine, maybe? Deep, deep stuff goes on in here.” he tapped the tip of the bottle against the side of his head playfully. If he wanted to be his honest, true self with her, then he supposed it was worth starting at the beginning.

daciana

Daciana let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when he kissed her, even just lightly. Anyone else, she thought, would have pressed her further or would have coddled her and suffocated her until she couldn’t stand it. But Mischa was a soldier, a spy, just like she was. And one did not become skilled enough to survive in this line of work without a bit of trauma, a bit of history. She smiled.

“No, I am blood and bones and muscles and spite and cruelty and rage and everything else they say I am.” She moved her hand to his chin for just a moment. “Tell anyone of this weakness and you’ll never walk again.” Daciana innately knew she did not have to threaten him, but it felt more like her old self to do so - even if somewhere deep down they both knew she wouldn’t follow through.

“Yay,”  she opened her mouth obediently (she was only obedient in bed) and swallowed the alcohol with a shiver but less of a burn. Mischa took a sip himself and she nudged the bottle closer to him. “You have to catch up. It won’t matter though, another secret - I might be a lightweight.”

“Secret for a secret - it's your turn,” she nodded solemnly but suddenly realized she was invading his space, taking up his night, and unloading her trauma on him. In a rare moment of selflessness, Daciana reached out to cup his cheek. “You don’t have too, I bothered you with all my mixed up messiness. You don’t owe me anything.”

mischa

It was fair-- a secret for a secret. He knew it, but he had spent two decades rebuilding and rebuilding himself over and over through every person he met. He never thought he would truly be open and honest with someone about where he came from, how it shaped him into the man he turned out to be. The only person who knew who he was, where he came from, were his siblings and the general. With his siblings, he didn’t have to tell them anything. They knew just as he did the hardships that came with the life of being an orphan. And the general, well; the man was terrifying, and Mischa doubted he cared much where he came from as long as he did his job as a spy.

“Lucky for you, I don’t see it as weakness.” he said softly, a smile on his lips though it did not reach his eyes. Mischa smiled as she cupped his cheek, though it was a sad smile, and almost immediately he became detached. The softness in her tone didn’t shock him like it usually did. He was now too worried about being honest to think of how Daciana’s character changed slightly when she drank. Maybe she wouldn’t even remember anything he says in the morning, if he was lucky.

In a moment of fear, maybe even cowardice, Mischa sat up and kept his back to her. Maybe that would make it easier, but even still his heart pounded through to his ears and his limbs felt cold. He took a shaky breath, basically inhaling a long swig of the alcohol and coughing when he choked on it. He needed to take a minute, hoping he didn’t scare her away as soon as he opened his mouth. Here goes nothing.

“Baluev isn’t my last name,” a good starting point, no? Mischa shook his head, sighing frustratedly. His leg began shaking, a tell of how scared he was. He’d never really shown her this side of him, just as she had never shown him the side of her he saw minutes before. “I mean…. I chose it. It’s my last name, but not officially. The name on my…. Adoption papers says Essen,” he felt years of lies and storytelling fall off of his skin as if he were shedding it, though he knew in the morning it would only build up again, a new, shinier skin of stories he’d tell the first sucker to ask where he came from.

“I don’t know my real parents. They died in the fold, I guess, abandoned me when I was a baby. That’s what they tell me, anyway,” he shrugged, avoiding her eyes as much as he could. Was he shaking? He felt like he was shaking. “They left me, so I grew up in an orphanage. No one knew the extended family of a random baby left on an empty skiff.” he wasn’t the Mischa he knew anymore, let alone Daciana. He was back in the orphanage, being picked on by shitty little kids who would grow up to be otkazat’sya. “No one liked me there, hard to believe, I know,” though it was a joke, there was no playfulness in his tone. “That’s what the scar is from, on the back of my head. Surprised I didn’t bleed out on the forest ground, to be honest.”

He let the words hang in the air a bit, maybe giving her a chance to walk out and leave. When she didn’t, he continued with a sigh. “When I was 8 or 9, this guy came by the orphanage. Saints knows why, I guess he pitied me, the poor bastard. He took me in, Edmund Essen, along with four other straggly kids. Some of them are here, in the palace,” he dared a glance over to Daci, but scared himself into looking back toward the floor. “I guess I’m…. embarrassed? I don’t know. I make up stupid stories, fanciful backgrounds to….. Make people like me, I guess. Who wants to befriend a pathetic little orphan, you know?” the last few words died on his lips as barely a whisper, his eyes closing as he awaited the damage he’d just done. Mischa expected the worst, preparing himself to lose the one person he actually gave a shit about in this hellhole.

daciana

“Still doesn’t mean you can tell anyone,” she pouted, but it wasn’t all that serious. His face was warm in her hand, and she wanted to let it linger there a bit long, perhaps try to pull a bit of that fire into her own body. Daciana felt the shift in him before he pulled away, but stayed quiet. It was something she’d discovered in gathering information, people tended to speak to fill silences and if one was patient enough, the details would eventually come out. She tried not to think like that with him, but couldn’t help herself - anything he was this hesitant to say was something to store away in case she’d ever need it. At her core, Daciana was a selfish person and would always find a way to protect herself, her position, and her brother.

Before Mischa even spoke, Daciana felt his anxiety flood his body - his heart rate spiking and tremors that matched her own from before. She knew enough about the human body to recognize physical remnants of trauma, enough about trauma in her own life. Without even thinking the heartrender pressed her hand against the center of his back, slowing his heart rate and triggering what she knew to be calming. She’d always done this for Sacha when he was upset, trying not to show weakness in front of their father, stepping in front of her to protect her. It was a habit that now seemingly included Mischa.

He hadn’t mentioned much about his family before this, and she’d never pressed because she was the exact same way. But hearing him lose the confidant, cocky voice she was so attuned to and trust her with this truth jumbled her emotions almost more than her mother’s death. She was angry, fucking angry, that he’d lived so long without knowing how powerful he was. Her hand, now warm from his skin, drifted up his back and traced the scar she’d felt before on the back of his head but she wouldn’t try to fix it. Sometimes people liked their scars, or needed them.

“You’re not pathetic,” she whispered, sitting up behind him and pressing close, her head resting on his shoulder. “You never were. We aren’t responsible for the shit choices our parents make and the situations they put us in, it took me twenty years to figure that out.” Daciana didn’t speak above a whisper, not daring to give her insecurities any more power than they already had. Her arms slipped around his torso, pulling herself closer to him, focusing on the feeling of her heartbeat beside his. It didn’t change the way she saw him, he was still Mischa, her Mischa, all fire and flirtations and cocky smirks but also soft hands on her body and comfortable silence, a lightness and ease she found nowhere else.

Only now, and it would be a very difficult thing for her to admit, she realized she trusted completely and utterly like no one else.

“Was he kind?” she asked, “your adoptive father? I don’t think he pitied you, you have this like -” here she had to pause, moving around from behind him to crawl into his lap. Her fingers, cold again, closed around the bottle and she took another big swig, drunk Daciana craved touch. “This like thing about you, that makes people want to be near you,” she took another sip, the only reason she would ever consider saying what she did, and stared at him with somewhat glassy eyes. “Like charisma or something, warmth that people wanna be near even if you are an asshole sometimes. It wasn’t pity.”

mischa

For pretty much all of Mischa’s life, he’d built this facade around himself. It was all based on this inane idea that people would push him away or dislike him based on where he came from. He assumed that only because of how he was treated before the adoption; sneering side eyes and hurtful comments made about him when he walked by. Did he try too hard? Was he annoying? Not as annoying as all the other kids his age. Nonetheless, Mischa internalized all of it. How could he not? When you tell a child he isn't worth the effort, he believes you. When you tell him he talks too much about something he gets excited about, he believes you.

When he was adopted by Edmund Essen, Mischa was already six feet deep in that mindset. When you add trauma from your own life along with the trauma from the lives of four other kids, put them in the same house to grow up together, something is bound to set on fire. Or maybe they worked just well enough. It varied based on what happened to them during their lives. Sometimes Mischa wished he’d never been adopted at all, maybe then he’d have actually ended up dead by now.

But then he remembered the good things he’d achieved, without lying about his origins. He was one of the most skilled in combat, he was a spy for the general. Daciana. No matter how the two ended up, their relationship would always be one of his greatest acquisitions.

When she wrapped her arms around him, he flinched. He seemed to have forgotten where he was as he explained it all, his mind back in that dark place he was in all those years ago. When he came back, he was sitting on the bed, slouching over and the arms of the woman he loved was wrapped around him so tightly he thought he might dissipate if she let go. He still couldn’t bring himself to look at her, his own vulnerability still too fresh for him to really dissect, keeping his eyes closed as she offered him words of comfort he never thought he’d hear from her, knowing she most likely told herself the same words growing up. He wished he’d known her sooner.

He wanted to reply in the same cynical way he always did, but he wouldn’t shut her down the first chance he got just because she knew more about him than anyone ever had. It was scary, having someone know your entire truth. He didn’t know how to deal with it. When she found herself in his lap, his arms went around her like they always did. Mischa forced himself to look at her, the glassy eyed girl that had a personal space problem when she drank. He almost wanted to laugh.

“As nice as he could be when you adopt five kids,” he shrugged, laughing softly. As she continued speaking, his eyebrows shot up though he wasn’t as drunk as her, he still didn’t expect her words. “Daciana Zhirkova, was that your own personal way of asking me to marry you?” he teased, though the hollow feeling in his chest that he had just lost all of his own protection was still very comprehensible in his own mind.

daciana

When he flinched she nearly broke. And suddenly there it was, another crack in all that hard glossy armor. Sacha had always been one - her twin soul and shared heart, he knew her before she was even born and would always be a willing weakness & strength. Then there was the child she’d never truly gotten to be but always seemed to slip back into when she and Sacha were forced back to the house that would never be home. The perfect daughter, quiet & obedient, daddy’s little soldier who barely hesitated when he commands her to kill. She hated that weakness, that crack more than any.

But now, there was Mischa. The thought of him in pain, being hurt by others, was so foreign and unbearable she couldn’t comprehend. Mischa - who was one of the only people in the little palace who could actually hold his own against her, so quick witted with those biting comments to her own causal cruelty because they were always playing the same game even if no one else was. He was suddenly another crack, and one she willingly accepted.

His arms slipped around her and she felt like she had him back, having drawn him from the dark place in his mind with the sheer force of her will. Daciana smiled when he laughed and took another sip from the bottle. Saints she never drank this much, she shook her head lightly in an attempt to clear it then settled against his chest. She wouldn’t press him on that answer, not now at least. He’d tell her in time, and if not, well - he was still the inferni she relied on.

She laughed and it was the most genuine she’d had in a long time.

“Did I fuck up and give you too much dopamine or something?” She pulled back slightly, shifting in his lap to straddle him so that they were eye to eye. Daciana set the bottle down on the bedside table and placed both her hands on his cheeks, blinking slowly to try and focus through her haze. “This is why I don’t drink, I’m no good, I can’t focus.” She laughed again but it was harsher & almost cold, she was unable to even focus her power enough to read his heart rate for truthfulness, all she could feel was it's comforting rhythm.

“You wanna be stuck with me for the rest of your life? I’m not a nice person, Mischa, I’m not that girl and I could never be her. I’m cruel and cold and selfish. I’m a fucking monster, just like him, just like he made me.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a second and trembled. “I think that’s why my mother hated me, cause I have his eyes and his power and I was too young and afraid and desperate for approval that I let him turn me into this.”

“I was thirteen the first time he made me kill,” her hands dropped from his face and into her own lap, her eyes followed. “It was someone local to the town we grew up in, he was challenging father’s position. It was at the market in the middle of the afternoon, he threatened Sacha if I wouldn’t do it. And it was so easy to just reach out and fuck with the man’s heart, too easy.” She closed her eyes to keep from crying. “I didn’t feel bad at all, I was more angry over not being in control and terrified that he might hurt Sacha. How fucked is that?”

mischa

Mischa couldn’t help but feel that all the armor he’d built up over the years was broken into tiny pieces, spread out over the floor with no hope of being put back together. But it was his own fault, wasn’t it? He wanted complete honesty between them, he wanted her in his life forever, no matter the cost. And if the cost was to strip away all he was and give himself over to her, then so be it. That was what love was, what trust was. It hurt like hell, but he wanted Daciana more than he wanted to lie for the rest of his life.

Hearing her belly laugh so genuinely only confirmed it. He would give up everything for her and all she had to do was ask. If someone told him all those years ago he’d find someone he wanted to be around 24/7 he would have laughed right in their face, yet here he was.

“I’m thinking you’re the one with a little too much dopamine right now,” he teased, the smile from hearing her laugh still plastered on his lips. When she straddled him, he only pulled her closer, then rested his hands on her thighs. At her question, Mischa’s face turned stone serious and looked her right in the eyes, his voice not wavering for a single second. “Yes,” and it was the truth. He’d fought this hard for her so far, he wasn’t giving up that easily. Could he see himself marrying her? In time, yes. The answer to that question came as easy to him as breathing did.

“You’re right,” he nodded, the serious tone still hovering over his voice. “You aren’t nice. Not even a little bit. You were forced to survive in an environment that was set against you since you were born. You are selfish, but you aren’t a monster. Not even close, Daciana, and if it takes me telling you that every single day for the rest of our lives for you to believe me, then I will.” his fingers lingered beneath her chin, bringing her eyes up to meet his.

“Despite the hatred you grew up around, despite being cruel and cold and selfish, you are so much more. You don’t need to have the entire world’s best interests at heart to be a good person.” Mischa knew it would be hard for her to believe, but he wanted her to hear them. And of course, it wouldn’t have been very much like Mischa if he didn’t immediately break out into a smile and replace the seriousness in his voice with a joking tone. “Now, with all of this being said…….. Will you marry me?”

daciana

She shook her head slowly when he said that she was the one with too much - too much alcohol for sure, but she found she liked how easy the alcohol made telling him things. Because part of her had always wanted to tell someone, to be fully seen and known and still have him look at her like that. Sacha knew her, of course, down to her marrow and knew her before she was even born. But that was different, he would always be there and had suffered the same. Mischa looked down at her bloodstained hands and took them in his willingly.

“Saints, maybe we are both mad.” She shook her head again, but let his fingers guide her chin up so that she was looking at him. Daciana didn’t know if she expected to find fear or pity in his eyes, but certainly not the burning look he gave her now. It melted a bit of the ice that had taken up residence between her ribs. She brought her hands back to his chest and lightly focused on the sound of his heartbeat - steady and true. “Or drunk, I’m drunk and you’re mad.” And maybe that was the reason she said what she did next, or a reckless pent up sort of energy that was a side effect of constantly feeling the need to be in control. Or maybe she just loved his smile.

“Ok,” she whispered, clearly shocking them both. Daciana leaned in and kissed him softly, almost too soft for her and without all the desperation from earlier. “But just for us, not a big thing, no fucking ordeal or whatever. We keep each other's secrets & always fight side by side. You keep me from spiraling and I won’t let you forget how powerful you are. Deal?”

mischa

Mischa was unable to help the soft laugh of disbelief that fell from his lips. Even as she kissed him, he couldn’t fully kiss her back-- was he going crazy? Did he hear what he thought he heard? Did Daciana Zhirkova, the most ruthless woman he’d ever met, renowned for her merciless ways, accept his marriage proposal? The one he wasn’t even serious about? Saints, she must have been completely wasted.

Of course, it was what he wanted, but not like this. A bad man would have taken her acceptance and ran with it, putting a ring on her finger and trapping her with him forever. Perhaps a worse man wouldn’t have joked about marriage at all when she was in as vulnerable a state as this, but Mischa never claimed to be good. He did, however, know Daciana. And he knew that if they were to really get married like this, unexpectedly, on the night Daci had gotten knews of her mother’s death, she would regret it. He knew if he took advantage of her vulnerability like this now, he’d lose the trust she had in him and maybe never earn it back again. He wouldn’t lose her so foolishly.

“No deal,” Mischa shook his head and pulled away, flopping back on the bed, leaning on his elbows and looking up at her. Of course he would make it seem lighthearted, but in truth he meant every word. He just hoped she was too far gone to notice the seriousness behind them. “Not like this. You don’t deserve a drunken proposal. Wouldn’t really be off to a good start, would it?”

daciana

He laughed at her, and the little part of her that had thawed at the idea of him wanting her froze over again. She shouldn’t have been this stupid, this fucking reckless. Her mother was dead, Sacha had sent a letter and her father hadn’t even bothered to tell her himself - yet all Daciana could do was hang on to Mischa and convince him to do things he didn’t actually want. Because he knew her well enough to know that this was rare, yes she was affectionate and touchy around him but she’d never been this raw and open. Had it been a mistake? Would he use this against her? Daciana’s mind raced as he hesitated to kiss her and then leaned away.

“Oh,” she didn’t move from where she sat straddling him even as he leaned back, only dropped her gaze back to her hands. The rejection stung more than she ever thought it could, heat rushing to her cheeks and turning them red. Fuck she hated this, she hated feeling so vulnerable - this was exactly why Daciana had tried to avoid feelings for most of her life. “Fuck, don’t hate me  I didn’t like mean anything.” She brought her hands up to cover her face, to hide the tears. “I’ve never felt this disconnected, I mean even neglect and abuse is better than nothing or absence. I don’t know how to react to this death and I’ve ruined, like, the only good relationship I have.”

“Don’t,” Daciana shook her head, tears still leaking from her eyes. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. I’m fucking horrible we both know this, I deserve nothing.” She hated how much she felt at this moment, she hated the weakness and the pain and utter loss. Mischa would look at her differently, she knew he would see the cracks in all the hard glossy armor and not think she was good enough to be his partner. She let out a half choked sob and then leaned forward and rolled off of him, curling up in a tight ball on the side of his bed with her back towards him.

“I know I’m a monster,” she whispered through the tears, “but I didn’t think I’d lose you this easily.”

mischa

Mischa was used to messing things up, saying the wrong thing around her. He should have known, but how could he have known? He’d never seen her in this state before, he didn’t know how much differently his words and regular demeanor would affect drunk Daciana rather than how they affected sober Daciana. His heart sank, and a frown immediately molded onto his face. Shit.

“What?” he asked in disbelief, not knowing what else to even say. How could he process this? What was he even processing? He knew her words and ramblings were just showcases to what it was really like inside of her head when she was sober, she was showing him who she was and what years and years of damaging blows looked like. He hated how he struggled to find words of comfort for her as she rolled off of him and curled up on the other side of his bed. So instead of words, he let the silence linger and then rolled over next to her.

He didn’t move her, didn’t force her to look at him. He let her go through the motions, and began trailing small kisses up her arm and to her shoulder. He sighed softly, resting his forehead against her shoulder and mumbled against her back. “Do you know how much I want you?” he said softly. “You couldn’t find the words to describe how much I want you. All of you, all the time,” by now he had pulled back, placed his hand on her shoulder to pull her back so she was laying against the bed and he was looking directly at her on his stomach. “Agreeing to marry me isn’t even on the list of things you could do that would scare me away,” he chuckled, though his tone was nothing but serious. If he had to comfort her all fucking night, he would. If she didn’t remember the words they spoke on this night, then he’d remind her every day for the rest of their lives if he had to.

“I love you, Daciana. Every part of you, with every part of me. There’s no scaring me away. Monster or no monster, you’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

daciana

This was what happened, this is what happened when one opened themselves up to another person - when one let weakness overcome self preservation and rational choices. Daciana wouldn’t let herself make this mistake again, she hated to even know that Mischa had seen her this vulnerable. Maybe he wouldn’t remember in the morning, hopefully she wouldn’t remember. But she knew she wasn’t that fucked up to not recall every second of this night.

For a moment, she thought he left. She was always too much, had always been too much - and so maybe he’d had enough and decided to just leave her alone in his bed until she’d gotten her shit together enough to pretend nothing had happened. But like she’d always been able to, Daci felt his closeness - his affection - before he said anything. She choked out another sob, her body trembling with more emotion than she’d permitted herself to feel in decades - it was almost painful. But she let him pull her back towards him, quickly wiping tears from her eyes.

“Make me that list then,” it was just a whisper, but it was all she could manage before the full weight of his words sunk in. Love. He loved her, all of her. It wasn’t something she was used to, something Daciana could even really understand fully. She loved Sacha, of course, loved him as she loved herself and he the same because he had always been a part of her. But the idea of someone else, someone who’s veins didn’t share the exact same blood as hers willingingly and openly carving out their heart and placing the vulnerable organ in her bloodstained hands - with utter trust and devotion.

“I -” Daciana swallowed thickly - what could she say? What could possibly be good enough to match I love you? Nothing - she could not offer the hollow, burnt out space between her ribs in exchange for his heart. It could never be enough. But part of her, maybe the little girl she once was who still hoped, felt something stir in that empty cage of her ribs. “I can’t love you the way you deserve to be loved, I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears still burning in her eyes. “But I want to, and I trust you more than anything, and I’d do anything for you. I just - I can’t say it, not now. But I’d die for you, and to me that’s more important than love.”