#reader series

robin buckley ~

sienna ; friends to lovers pining

after hours ; bartender rob !!

juna ; first love fluff

the subway ; post breakup angst

eddie munson ~

moonlight ; established relationship fluff

when did you get hot? ; high school reunion au

doomed ; friends to lovers with angst

rain ; second chance / reader & eddie are idiots

steve harrington ~

lover girl ; he fell first, black cat reader

kissing strangers ; fuck boy / frat boy steve

house tour ; blue collar steve x fell first reader

My principal, who is also one of the reasons I'm not staying at this school for another year, made it a big deal and practically scared me shitless that if anything was not to Mr. Stark's liking when it came to his daughter's education, it was on me to fix or else I'd be screwed.

It was a lot of pressure, considering this was a man who had saved humanity more than once and was likely to continue to rack up that number. 

But the pressure was quickly taken away when he showed up to meet the teacher, and he and his wife, Pepper, were nothing short of kind and supportive parents every teacher hopes to work alongside of. 

Now was he a little forward and slightly egotistical? Yes. But I was prepared, considering his reputation. Pepper balanced him perfectly and quickly put him in his place if he started getting a little too brash. 

And it was quickly shown during any minor and major holiday that they were big-time gift-givers and loved to shower those that worked with them with random treats and thoughtful, yet overpriced, 'appreciations' as they called them.

I remember getting a card during Thanksgiving break that seemed simple and like any other card a parent sends as a thank you, but inside was a gift certificate for a spa day. 

And no, not just a mani and pedi or a massage. It was an entire spa day treatment including; mudbaths, facials, full body massage, hot rock therapy, mani-pedi, acupuncture, and a list of other things I had never even heard of or knew as options. They had already paid for and scheduled it for me, and they had handed it to me like a Mcdonald's gift card. 

I didn't feel right taking something like that from a parent even if I knew they were billionaires and it was equivalent to a Mcdonald's gift card to them. So I attempted to give it back and handed it back to Happy, who usually picked up Morgan and told him it was a kind offer, but I couldn't accept it. 

The next day I had a bouquet of flowers waiting for me in the front office and a card that said;

"Sorry for leaving Tony in charge of your holiday gift. He doesn't realize how intense he gets in that department… But please do treat yourself to a spa day! I changed the package so that you and your sister can enjoy it together, and it's not nearly as overwhelming as the things he added to it. We appreciate all you do for our family. You deserve the pampering!"

It was a sweet gesture, and it felt rude to not take it after they had sent it back to me. I asked my assistant principal about it, who had Tony as a parent for the last 5 years, and she also said to take it. I wasn't used to the private school demographic as much, and she assured me that though it was nicer than what most parents gift, she's seen him gift more outrageous things that Pepper had to fix in the past. 

"I had to talk him down from donating a hot air balloon ride for our field day last year. A spa gift certificate is nothing compared to what I've seen that man do…" she had said. 

So though it still felt weird, I took advantage of it and took my younger sister to the spa, and we enjoyed the massages, mani-pedi, and facials we were kindly given.

All that to say, I've learned this semester that Tony was an ornery man. He reminded me of my father when it came to how he joked in conversations and how blunt he could be about his thoughts and ideas. 

I had thrown something back to him during our first parent-teacher conference by the complete mistake of not filtering my thoughts. And when I thought I was going to get fired, he let out a loud laugh and told Pepper, "Finally, someone who can dish it back and not get butt hurt," he had laughed with a giant grin. 

I apologized quickly and rambled about how he has remarks like my dad, and it was just a reflex to say what I countered with, and Pepper laughed too. 

"It's ok, Ms. Clark. Tony needs the sass to keep him in line as often as possible."

"Yeah, it gets boring when people walk on eggshells around you. Where's the fun in etiquette?" 

That got a quick eye-roll from his wife and a slap to the arm, which he laughed at, and we continued our meeting.

Since then, I have kept a professional demeanor around him, but I also don't hold back when he needs a quick sarcastic remark to put him in his place. 

Now his sliding a resume into Morgan's homework folder was also on the list of things I was not expecting. Right next to the custom-made Stark iPad he gifted me for Labor Day. (Which who gives gifts for Labor Day?)

The resume was an offer to be a personal tutor for Morgan once she got to middle school. She was in 5th grade right now, and she was a bright girl. I don't know why he was worried about her having the extra help, but nonetheless, he offered me a job to be her full-time one-on-one tutor for next year. 

He was willing to pay me enough that I wouldn't need a second job as a teacher. I would solely be Morgan's tutor, and the benefits and pay would be enough for me to work little hours for a salary that a top surgeon in New York would make. 

A part of me struggled with the offer. I knew money-wise it would take care of everything I struggled with; rent, medical bills, helping my sister through college, and the list went on. 

I should have jumped at this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work under one of the wealthiest and most admired men alive, but my heart could never accept something like that merely because it was such an outrageous opportunity to fall in my lap. 

I kept saying in the back of my head that I hadn't joined this career for the money. It was never about the money.

The only reason I took a private school job this last year (which a friend was kind enough to get my foot in the door for) was that money was tight, and I needed the slight boost that public school funding couldn't give me. But I wasn't giving up teaching; I was just moving to a different group of kids to teach. A lot more privileged and supported demographic, but I was still influencing kids' lives.

Though after the last few months, I realized it wasn't a fit for me. As much as I wanted to make it be that and push my morals aside to continue so I could keep paying for things without going into debt, deep down, it wasn't what I signed up for. 

I was meant to help the underprivileged and poverty-level kids. I was that kid that grew up with one parent working more than one minimum-wage job to make ends meet and the other being underpaid as a school teacher themselves for most of my life. The educators who aided and encouraged me to be where I am now made me passionate about the same efforts. 

With all that to be said, I was moving back to the public school in New York after this year, and Tony had found out. 

It wasn't that I didn't care for the kids at this school. I loved them. My group of 5th graders had become 18 of my own personal children. I wanted the world for them and everything in between. The difference was they could have the world and everything in between. They had access to those resources. 

The kids I was going back to had lived in a world I knew far better than the one I was in. I wasn't of major aid to my upper-class students as much as I was to the lower class. And at the end of the day, my job wasn't about the money; I continued to remind myself. It was about the next generation getting the support they needed and deserved. 

So when I saw that Morgan had left her sweater in the classroom before the break and I had the resume in my hand, I called and asked if I could come to talk with him about it. 

I hadn't been to the compound, and the size and security of it all was nerve-racking. The number of guards, levels of clearance, and private entrances I had to go through just to meet him in the lobby was intense. 

I couldn't help but marvel at the architect and the sufficiency the place ran on while walking up the steps outside into the building. 

People were walking around in grey and neutral-colored attire, and I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb with my bright red and checkered winter coat. Though I like neutral colors, I was never one to keep strictly to that. It was near impossible for me to pass up an accessory or statement piece that popped with color. Hence why I always got the comment, "Oh, you're an elementary teacher? You definitely have the wardrobe for it." 

Thank God I spotted Tony only a few seconds after entering the foyer because there were three different reception desks, which I'm sure went to all kinds of departments of the massive establishment, but I wasn't sure which one to approach. 

He approached me with open arms and gave me a hubristic smile as I gave him a keen one in return. 

"The homework folder is meant to hold Morgan's work. Not your side hustles," I said with a raised eyebrow as I handed him a new folder with just the resume in it.

"It's work from a Stark; does that not count?" he said back, his grin never leaving. 

"Yeah, but the work I'm supposed to review is usually based on story elements and division facts. I don't think Morgan is worried about salary levels and insurance benefits at her age."

"With a work ethic like her mother and a brain like her mother… She'll be managing a place like this in no time," he placed his hands in his pockets, not taking the folder just yet. 

I handed off the sweater instead and held onto the folder, knowing I wouldn't be leaving with it either way. 

"That I can't argue. But she may want to get her math down before she starts something like that up," I held onto my tote bag with one hand and dropped the other with the folder. 

"Which is why I had that in her folder, so math and whatever else she needs help in, she can have you to h-." 

He was cut off when a tall, dark-skinned man approached abruptly. I recognized him as one of the Avengers but didn't want to seem shocked or freaked out, considering I was in their home, basically. 

"Hi," he said. 

Running to his side was a second Avenger I somewhat recognized, but he seemed more hesitant and nervous compared to the man with a sweet gap-toothed smile in front of me. 

Tony's light and teasing mood seemed to disappear with his interruption, and he took a breath before saying, "I told you I would help you after I talked with-." He was cut off as the man patted him on the arm and went to introduce himself. 

"Sam Wilson," he smiled kindly, offering his hand, which I smiled back and took. 

"Y/N Clark. Nice to meet you." 

Sam seemed to give his friend a silent look that communicated something else, and the blue-eyed man extended his hand as well. 

"James Barnes," he gave a tight-lipped smile like he was being forced to converse, but I returned a firm handshake and responded. 

"Mr. Barnes. Nice to meet you." 

I realized then I had seen this man earlier today at the coffee shop I stopped at before my errand here. I didn't have my head on straight at the time cause my sister had called saying that the repair man who was supposed to fix our balcony door had once again canceled and rescheduled. This was the fourth time now, and it felt like our apartment was crumbling beneath us with the 20 other things my landlord had kept pushing off. 

I thought I saw him staring then too, but like most strangers, I see in public, I just gave a brief smile and moved on with my day. Though in New York, I'm still learning that isn't a regular thing here. Many native New Yorkers could go the whole day not making eye contact with a single soul on the overpopulated streets. 

I brushed past the fact he was studying me like I was him, as if we were both looking for an answer to a question we didn't even know.

Tony turned all of our attention back to him as he introduced me to them briefly and promptly gave them death glares. Clearly, they were waiting on something from him, and he wasn't showing patience for what I assume were usual antics between the two with how they talked to each other. 

"Cyborge and Birdman, this is Ms. Clark. She's Morgan's teacher. Ms. Clark, these are two of my most impatient co-workers. Who I asked to give me a second before I talked with them…" 

"Thank this one for the interruption," James said while childishly shoving his friend to the point he teetered on his feet. 

"Just seemed rude to not introduce your colleagues," Sam gritted. 

"It's fine," I spoke up, attempting to break some of the tension building. And instantly, Mr. Barnes's eyes were back on me like they had been in the coffee shop. But I acted like I didn't notice and turned to Mr. Stark. "I was here to just drop off these two things anyway." 

I handed the folder off successfully this time since his attention was turned to the other two, and he took it while staring at them still. 

"Yeah, well, I had a few things I wanted to discuss without… This interruption." If looks could kill, his co-workers would be in a casket 6 feet under right where they stood. 

"I appreciate what you're offering, but I've already told you I have a job set with another district after this year."

James Barnes was grinning like a child who just got revenge, but why, I wasn't sure. 

"Yeah, but… Money." Tony said the last word like it was a magic word that would make me reconsider everything instantly and fold. 

"Money is great and all, but it's not what this is about, Mr. Stark." I couldn't help but laugh even if deep down I knew the risk I was taking not accepting his proposal. I went to readjust my tote on my shoulder as a nervous tic. "Maybe after winter break and I get some paperwork back from the new school I'll be at, we will better understand what I'll have on my plate."

"That sounds like a well-worded way to put this conversation off," Tony smirked. 

He wasn't wrong. I had worded it specifically as a way to keep it on the table for him knowing he'd never relent, but also to be able to walk away from the conversation and not get convinced out of my already made-up mind.

"It's Christmas break, Mr. Stark. Have a great vacation with your family, and happy holidays," I nodded, starting to turn out to walk, but before I was completely turned back, I looked at the other two men. "You two as well. I hope the world is kind enough to give you all a break as you deserve during this time." 

It was true. Crime and bad guys never ended, from what the news showed, and I couldn't imagine what big holidays looked like around here. 

"If I know anything about teaching, I know you'll need a break just as much," Sam shouted towards me after I was a few feet away, making me laugh.

"Happy Holidays," I said a final time before moving for the exit, thankful that the two men were there to distract Tony from trying to convince me to join his payroll. 

___________________________ 

"Oh sweet loving sister of mine, I'm home," I shouted in a sing-song voice but was abruptly cut off when I shut the door, and she stood on the other side like a damn statue. "Mother Fu-! Hallie!" I shouted after a scream let out of me first. "Why the hell are you acting like a Victorian ghost-child and standing there like that?" 

"Why didn't you tell me where you were going?" she said, quickly bypassing how she made my heart practically stop beating for 5 seconds too long. 

"I told you I was going to run errands," I answered vaguely, already knowing where she was going with this but not wanting to give her the advantage. 

"Yeah, errands don't normally involve going to the Avenger's Compound!" she shouted with her arms up as she watched me walk into the kitchen and follow me. 

"Jesus, lower your voice. We have neighbors," I grumbled, throwing my bag on the hooks on the wall and taking my coat off as well. 

"Answers, please," she crossed her arms like a mother who had just caught her daughter sneaking out to a party. 

"I had to drop off something that Morgan left at the school. I figured she'd want her coat for winter break," I answered honestly, just leaving out a few other details. 

"Like she wouldn't have a whole room for winter coats alone. Why did you really go?" Hallie continued to interrogate. 

I looked at her, and she was unwavering. I let out a huff of air, going to the fridge to grab a Dr. Pepper and the sweet cream to make my favorite drink after an eventful day. 

"I'm not lying when I said I went to drop that off," I said, pouring the soda into a glass and waiting for the foaming bubbles to go down. "And you know exactly why I didn't tell you I was going there." 

"You act like I'd go insane if I stepped a single foot on that estate," she groaned, pulling a stool out at our island/ kitchen table in the tiny New York City apartment we shared. "Even if Captain Roger's has walked on those tiles and maybe breathed in the same air and all…" 

"Here we go…" I mumbled, shaking the creamer bottle as I waited for what I knew was to come. 

"And so what if Natasha Romanoff has probably sat in the chairs or road the elevator that leads to what I assume are suites and apartments they have to themselves on the top levels?" she paused for effect as if waiting for me to confirm or deny as if I would know. But I just stared at her, and she continued without hesitation. "It's no big deal that Sam Wilson has probably flown the EX0-7 Falcon wingsuit in the field that surrounds the compound. Or maybe even hearing Steve playing an old jazz record. I know that cause there was a girl who used to live on his street when he stayed in the city, and she said there were a few nights that he would play all kinds of old songs with beautiful trumpet solos. Oh, and!" 

I absentmindedly poured the practiced amount of sweet cream into the Dr. Pepper, grabbed a straw to stir it, and took sips of it as I patiently waited for her to finish her fantasies. 

She went on about Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, and any other Avenger that came to mind until she noticed me stop sipping my drink and start to slow-blink at her. 

"Stop. I know that look," she pointed, stopping in her rant abruptly. 

"What the you-just proved-my-point look?" I fluttered my eyelashes at her and took another sip. 

"Shut up," she sneered, even though she knew I was right. 

As if he had just realized people were home, her small senior brown-haired and deaf dog came hobbling around the corner and yipped when he looked at me. 

"Hey, Chuck Norris," I sighed, and he came up to me, barking at my leg like I was an intruder in my own home. "I still don't think he's used to me."

"You say that like you didn't live with him for 10 years," Hallie laughed, walking over and picking him up with one hand and cradling him in her arm. 

"Three of those years were just visits back home. I figured after a month of you being moved in here, his memory would catch up to realize I'm still the same person when we first rescued him." 

Chuck Norris was a tiny little mutt my sister had found behind a dumpster in the parking lot of a Cracker Barrel close to where we lived when we were younger. 

The vet had said he was already about four or five when we brought him in, but he had no microchips or anything showing he belonged to someone. He was also malnourished from only eating scraps that fell out of the dumpster since he wasn't big enough to scrounge through it himself. So he came with a laundry list of things he needed fixing with his tiny weak body. 

We only ever had one cat growing up, so it was a responsibility my parents weren't too sure about taking on. But my sister being who she is, made a presentation the next night and was able to persuade them to let her keep him for at least a month to show she could handle it. 

After a month, they saw how special of a dog he was to her and how she was practically the only one he trusted, and they couldn't just send him to the pound after that. 

The laundry list of illnesses and help he was going to need to get him back on his feet led to a lot of medical bills in his future. But luckily, an old friend of mine I had gone to high school with went into Veterinary school and helped my family out a few times since we were still close. 

Now Chuck Norris lived here, and he didn't care that I, even if I was paying most of the bills, lived here along with him. He only trusted one person wholeheartedly in his life, and that was my sister. 

Now being 14, possibly 15 years old, his eyes weren't great, and he was almost a hundred percent deaf besides sharp noises he happened to hear every once in a while. I'm almost positive he had some form of dementia, too, cause he treated me like a stranger most of the time.

He must have been sleeping when I came in cause a lot of times, if he sees my walk in, he's at my feet barking and acting like he's going to be the one to bring an end to the big monster that teases and picks at his mom. 

As for the name… Don't ask. My sister's an anomaly, and that's the only answer I have to give for that.

"Back to the question at hand," my sister continued, and I groaned overdramatically before walking to the couch with my drink and turning the TV on. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to see the Tony Stark?!"

"First off, I think you answered that question when you went on your little tangent of extremely specific details. You've for sure daydreamed about the Avengers, you nerd," I started, looking up at her where she stood by the coffee table with the glossy-eyed brown mutt in her hand, who I couldn't tell was looking at me or the window that was behind me. "And second, who's to say I even saw Mr. Stark? I was just dropping off a sweater, and I could have very well just left it at reception and carried on with my day." 

"It's the fact you're saying it all as a 'could have' scenario instead of just saying you did," she deadpanned. 

She had me there, and that one was on me. 

"It's not like it's the first time I've ever met him. He is the parent of one of my students, so it's not a big deal to me anymore," I brushed it off and looked to the TV, and started mindlessly scrolling through the evening shows. 

 She immediately cut off my view by standing right in front of it.

"Move," I said, peeking my head around her body, which she quickly blocked again. 

"Once, I'm asking once, that I get to meet him," she bargained. 

"Eventually. Just not before the break. We're all tired and have been busy, him, I'm sure more than anyone, and I don't think the compound is where he wants to worry about crazy obsessed fans bombarding him," I looked at her with a big-sister stare. "Now, the whole thing is already over and done. Can I please just drink this and watch an episode of this documentary I've been waiting to decompress to all day?" 

As if I was asking too much and the universe needed to humble me, the coat rack I had hung my coat and tote bag earlier fell to the floor with a harsh crash. 

I didn't even look in the direction of the latest home improvement added to the list, but instead closed my eyes and sat up some. 

"Classic," I mumbled and started to move to the closet we kept our toolbag in, but before I could stand up, Hallie stopped me. 

"Don't. I bargained with the building repair man to come tomorrow instead of making us wait another week," she said, looking back at the damage. "He can do that as an extra fix for being an ass."

"How'd you manage that?" 

I looked at her, impressed, considering the guy was a nuisance and very much a man's man. In other words, "How could two girls on their own ever manage without a big strong man to come and save them when things fell apart?" I think he got off on being able to make us wait for him when it came to things we couldn't actually fix. Talk about a savior complex.

"I said I had to bake some cookies for one of my classes and said I would bake some extra if he came sooner," she shrugged. 

"You're a musical theater major. What class is having you bake cookies?" I gave her a weird look. 

"None. I just didn't want him to think I was baking them just for him," she said with a witty smile. 

"Attagirl," I chuckled, patting the couch next to me. "Just for that, I'll let you pick which documentary we binge tonight." 

"Why is it always with the documentaries?" she huffed, sitting next to me despite acting like she was upset with the option. 

"Don't lie and act like you don't get sucked in." I stood up and put the now half-empty drink down. "I'm going to change, but look through the ones we've already started and pick from those."

"Does Unsolved Supernatural with Shane and Ryan count?" I heard her shout as I turned into my room. 

Normally the answer was no, but I could go for something fun and not so serious. 

"Sure, but pick a good episode!" I shouted back. "Let Christmas break commence…" 

The tags have not been acting right as of lately, so if I tagged you and you did get a notification, please let me know! I'm trying to see if people are getting the notifications or not. Thank you!

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Bucky Barnes Tags:

He knew Daisy wasn’t feeling good and wished [Y/N] would let her stay until she was better. But Bucky truly wasn’t in the mood to argue with her anymore. It felt pointless.

A knock at the door broke him from his thoughts. He walked to the door and opened it to let [Y/N] in.

As soon as the door opened [Y/N] rushes in and spots Daisy on the couch. She rushed over to her, gently waking her up.

“Oh honey, how are you feeling?” She asks, kneeling down next to Daisy.

“Mommy, I don’t feel good,” Daisy groans, as [Y/N] places the back of her hand to feel Daisy’s forehead.

“I know honey,” she tries to soothe her.

“Daddy tried to call you, but you didn’t pick up,” Daisy whines.

“I know sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she apologizes, “I was busy.”

Bucky walks over to them and hands [Y/N] Daisy’s bag. Daisy quickly shoots up into a sitting position.

“I don’t wanna go,” she says, her voice trembling.

“Daisy, love, we have to go home,” [Y/N] calmly says, sitting next to Daisy on the couch, “I have a car waiting downstairs for us.”

“I want to stay with daddy,” she cries, looking up at Bucky who was standing behind the couch.

Bucky was trying to stay out of it. Letting [Y/N] handle it, as she was the one who was so determined to take Daisy.

“Daisy, it’s mommy’s week,” [Y/N] tried to reason with her.

“I don’t wanna go,” she cried.

“Daisy please,” she pleaded.

“Daisy, why don’t you want to go with mommy?” Bucky speaks up.

“I don’t feel good and I want to stay with you,” she looks up at Bucky with teary eyes, and a flushed face.

“Don’t you want to go with mommy?” He gently asks her, going over to sit on the other side of her.

“No, I want to stay with you,” she cries out, latching onto his side.

“Okay,” [Y/N] sighs, “You can stay with daddy. I’ll check in to see if you’re feeling better tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Daisy nods her head.

[Y/N] stands up and places a kiss on top of Daisy’s head.

Bucky follows her to the door.

“So I’ll call you in the morning to see how she’s doing,” [Y/N] tells Bucky.

“Sounds good.”

“Also about earlier, I’m sorry,” she begins, “I never should’ve reacted that way towards you. I just felt so guilty about missing your calls and messages, and instead of putting myself at fault, I jumped down your throat.”

“I accept your apology,” Bucky said, leaning against the open door.

She stops at the doorway and turns to face Bucky.

“Also one more thing,” she pauses, “I would also prefer you not to hang out with Natasha.”

“You have to understand that I had no one to watch Daisy,” he tells her, “plus she’s still my friend.”

“She’s still your friend?” She asks baffled by his response, “After everything she’s done to me? You’re still friends with her? She called me a bad mother, Bucky.”

“I’m not trying to defend her [Y/N],” he calmly says, “what she said was completely uncalled for. You forget that I was the one who was defending you that day. Nat also knows what she did was wrong. She’s been trying to get a hold of you to talk.”

“Well I’m not ready to hear her out,” she crossed her arms, “and that should be enough of a reason for you not to.”

“Well that's not going to happen,” Bucky says, baffled by [Y/N]’s response, “I’m not going to alienate her simply because you want me to. We’ve been friends with Natasha for so many years. Yes, what she said was bad, she’s tried to apologize for the last month. I’ve had some time to think about the whole situation. I’ve come to the conclusion that she is sorry, genuinely sorry. I know Natasha well enough to know that that’s not who she truly is.”

[Y/N] scoffs and rolls her eyes, “Maybe we really don’t know Natasha as well as we thought we did.”

“We made her Daisy’s godmother for a reason.”

“That was before she showed us her true colors,” [Y/N] lowers her voice so Daisy can’t hear how annoyed she is with Bucky.

Bucky takes a moment to inhale and exhale, to recollect himself. To de-escalate this conversation.

“You know what [Y/N],” he says, “I’m going to respect your decision about not wanting to forgive Natasha, and I hope you respect mine as well. I’m making the best decision for myself, like you are doing for yourself.

“I’ll make sure that when I’m hanging out with Nat, Daisy isn’t around,” he tells her.

“Okay,” she gives in, “thank-you.”

“Of course,” he nods his head, he closes the door behind her as she leaves.

Bucky joins Daisy back on the couch and cuddled up with her as she started falling back asleep to Tangeled.

As he let himself relax into the couch, he felt himself grow more tired. The last few months have been incredibly draining. Hell the last twelve hours has felt like a week’s worth of issues.

He pulled his phone out to send Steve a quick message.

__________

[Y/N] walked through her front door, feeling exhausted.

“Baby, that you?” She heard Clark call from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” she walks into the kitchen, greeted with a pleasant smell.

“Where’s Daisy?” He asked, noticing she was alone.

“She wanted to stay with Bucky,” she sighed, going up behind him and wrapping her arms around his back.

“Oh, okay,” Clark says, continuing to stir what he was making, “Probably for the best not to move her while she’s sick.”

“Yeah,” she rested her head on his back, “What are you making?”

“Well I thought Daisy was coming, so I made some chicken soup,” he said, “It’s my Ma’s recipe.”

She let go of Clark, admiring the man in front of her. Not understanding how lucky she was to find someone as kind and caring as him.

“That’s so incredibly sweet of you,” she says, “Thank-you for that. Even if she isn’t here to eat it.”

“It’s honestly no big deal,” he smiles down at her, kissing her forehead, “Maybe I can drop some off for her later, or tomorrow morning if she still isn’t feeling well.”

“That would be great,” she said, but then paused, “Better wait until tomorrow though. I might’ve pissed Bucky off more than once today.”

“Why what happened?”

“I flipped on him when I couldn’t get a hold of him this morning,” she said, “then flipped again, when he told me who was watching her.”

“Who was watching her?” He asked.

“Natasha,” [Y/n] rolled her eyes. She walked over to the island and sat on a bar stool.

“Natasha?” He asked, surprised. He grabs a wine glass and a bottle of wine, and begins to pour [Y/N] a glass.

“Yup,” she nodded, grabbing the glass from him, and taking a hefty ‘sip’, “Apparently he had no one to watch her, and he couldn’t miss his meeting.”

“That seems understandable,” Clark carefully says.

“Does it?” She asks, “After everything Natasha said about me?”

“I can see why you’d be upset,” he says, “and I can also see why Bucky had her watch Daisy.”

“Devil’s advocate are we?” She raises her eyebrow, before taking another sip.

“I’m just saying, I get it,” he says, “You have every right to be upset. Given the circumstances of everything that has happened.”

“But,” he begins, “You can’t get mad about what Bucky did. He clearly didn’t mean to do it to be malicious towards you. Right?”

“Right,” she sighed, “he did say he was going to continue being her friend.”

“Okay,” Clark nodded, “that’s understandable right? I mean they’ve been friends for a decade right?”

“Yeah, but it still hurts that he would be friends with someone who said hurtful things about me,” she explains.

“And your feelings are valid,” he says, turning off the stove before turning back to face her, “but he is allowed to have whoever he wants in his life. He’s a grown man.”

“I guess.”

“Can I ask you this,” he says leaning over the counter across from her, “Are you ever planning on talking to Natasha?”

“I don’t know,” she says, looking down at her hands on the steam of her glass.

“I mean, do you plan to just stay mad at her forever?” He asks again, “I’ll support you 100% if that’s your decision. But I just don’t want you to write her off, if all you’re leading with are negative emotions.

“You have said before that she’s been trying to contact you to talk. Maybe sitting down and talking with her will help clear the air. You get to say what you want to say. And vice versa. Then if at the end of that conversation, you no longer want to be her friend, then at least you two had a mature conversation about it that wasn’t influenced by the heat of the moment.”

“I’m not ready to talk to her just yet,” she says, looking into his eyes.

“And that’s fine,” he smiles, placing his hand on top of her’s, “Just think about it. Doesn’t have to be today. Or tomorrow. Or this week. Just don’t let time slip away from you.”

She gives him a small smile and nod, hearing what he was saying.

It was only the other night that you went off to kill the group of bandits. You closed your eyes at the memory, halting the shaking of your leg to let out a deep breath. Even sitting still in the tavern, your body ached. You won that battle, physically and mentally — but every battle created its scars.

Geralt’s voice jolted you out of your thoughts. “What time did she say?”

Jaskier looked over at you, then back to Geralt. “She didn’t give one. Just said it would be earlier.”

Geralt nodded, his eyes falling on you once more. “I’ll leave you here, then. I have a sword with the local blacksmith.” You nodded, partly grateful that he wouldn’t be watching you with his narrow eyes. Before he left, he looked at you once more. “Good luck.”

You nodded to him and watched him leave the small tavern, making it even bigger in your eyes. Jaskier seemed to notice your eyes grow wider, because he placed his hand on top of yours.

“Are you ready?”

“No.” You answered immediately, but you put your other hand over his. Even though you were freaking out on the inside (and out), you wanted him to know that you appreciated him being there for you, again and again.

Jaskier smiled, so you did too.

Still, the sound of the tavern door opening made your face fall immediately. Never in your life had that sound made you so devastated, made your stomach twist in ways it never had before.

You whipped your head to the door, eyes meeting Theo’s as she peered into the tavern. Her eyes met yours, lighting up as soon as she saw you. She smiled and sent you a thumbs up, turning to Jaskier and jutting her head to the opposite side of the tavern.

Your stomach flipped as Jaskier patted your hand, placing a swift kiss on your cheek before whispering, “You got this.”

You blinked, barely even listening to him. Your eyes were on the tavern door, then on the window beside it, then back on the tavern door. You didn’t even notice Jaskier join Theo at one of the further tables, already talking in low voices to each other. You didn’t even notice the tavern owner drop one of the cups she was cleaning, or the curses that fell from her lips afterward. You kept a stiff back, a stiff face, only blinking when you absolutely had to.

When she came through the door, you immediately stood up. Her hands were shaking, you noticed, but your eyes quickly rose to her own. It was as if the whole world stopped, as if no sound was being made within a thirty-mile radius. Your mother was here, in front of you, and this time, she knew who you were.

There were a couple of seconds of silence as you two looked at each other. The door had closed behind her, but the noise was lost to either of you. She blinked — once, twice — before finally rushing over to you, her arms wrapping you tightly against her.

You let out a small ‘oof’ as the breath was knocked out of you, but quickly recovered. Despite your stiffness, you raised your arms to her back, closing your eyes as you rest your chin on her shoulder.

Her smell was different than you remembered, but also the same. It was sweet, probably from her shop. She also smelt of a hint of lavender — suddenly, you remembered your father complementing her on the scent time and time again, to which she would use it more and more. Most importantly, though, she smelt like home.

You subconsciously tightened your grip around her, letting your head fall into her shoulder just as hers did yours. Tears pricked your eyes as your hands felt the simultaneously frail but strong feeling of her back. You didn’t know how long you two stood like that, but it felt like hours and seconds. You wanted to stay there forever, in the arms you never thought you would find again, but your mother eventually pulled back to look at you.

“You’ve gotten so big,” she said with a mix between a laugh and a sob. It was then that you realized you were smiling with a frown, the overflow of emotions hitting you all at once. This felt so strange, so foreign, but also so right.

You swallowed down a sob as your mother placed a hand on your cheek, wiping away an escaped tear. “I’ve changed a lot,” you said, your eyes tracing her features.

Your mother smiled the same smile she had when you were little. “No.” She shook her head, eyes tearing up once more. “No, you haven’t.”

—

As time went on, the tavern felt more and more like its actual size. You didn’t feel cramped, but comfortable. People still weren’t coming in, as it was quite early, but even if they did, you wouldn’t have noticed.

As soon as you and your mother sat down, she asked you what you remembered about that day. You hesitated, of course — everything still felt so strange, so dreamlike, that you thought if you spoke, the dream might disappear. But as you started talking, you became more and more aware of how real everything was; with your mother watching you with careful eyes, nodding after certain things you said, frowning at others — you didn’t need to pinch yourself any longer to know that this was actually happening.

Your voice was beginning to get hoarse from how much talking you did. You stopped yourself, finally almost at the end of your life story.

You licked your lips, glancing over at Jaskier for a second. “I only met Jaskier and Geralt pretty recently. But they’re the best people I’ve known in a long, long time.”

Your mother smiled, following your gaze to Jaskier. “He seems like a good man.” She said, a knowing look falling over her face. You felt your skin heat up, but nodded anyway.

“He is.” The fluttery feeling in your stomach evaporated, instead filling with a sort of dread. You almost didn’t want to talk about him — not after what he did to both of you. But sooner or later, it had to be brought up. “Not long ago — Rauf told me what happened. What he did to you.”

Your mother’s eyes hardened, but she placed a hand on your own. Her touch was warm, comforting — but her eyes said something else. “Is he…”

“He’s not here, don’t worry. He’s actually…not anywhere. He’s dead.” You paused, wondering how she would react to your next statement. You said it anyway. “I killed him.”

Your mother blinked, taking a deep breath in. With a stiff nod, she patted your hand. “I don’t like to wish death on anyone, but that man deserved it.” You snorted at her reaction, but she didn’t laugh along. “That must have been hard for you, though. He was all you knew.”

You bit your lip with a nod, but then frowned. “He was all I knew…until I found out he lied to me my whole life. After that…” You sighed, bringing your eyes up to hers. “After that he meant nothing.”

Your mother watched you carefully, then turned her gaze to Theo and Jaskier, who were seemingly bickering in the corner. “I had her not long after the attack.” She turned back to you with a tight smile. “I was pregnant. When your father died.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words. She didn’t need you to.

“Your father was a kind man. He was troubled, worked a little too much — but he was good. We were happy. And Rauf—“ She stopped, anger flashing in her eyes for just a moment. “Rauf was troubled as well. But he was an angry person, through and through. Selfish. He met me and he wanted to own me, not love me.

“After he took you…I thought I lost everything. I did lose everything. You were my baby, my…” She stopped again, tears brimming her eyes. She let them fall. “I missed you so much that I thought I couldn’t go on. I waited for Rauf to return, for him to let me see you again, even if that meant killing me right after.” She wiped the tears on her cheeks, turning to look at Theo once again.

“But then I realized I had Theodora. I had to take care of myself to take care of her.” She turned back to you, taking another deep breath. “I had waited long enough in our village. So I only took what I could carry and tried to find somewhere else, somewhere that people wouldn’t recognize me. It was only a few days after that that I heard about the attack.”

Your mother stopped, taking her hand from yours and placing both over her face. You gave her time to compose herself, to let the tears fall. After a moment, you spoke.

“It’s not your fault,” you said, and you believed it.

Finally, your mother took her hands from her face, wiping her tears along the way. She quickly took your hands again, leaning forward to look into your eyes.

“There was not a day that I did not think of you. Not one.” She sniffled and leaned back, but only slightly. “Even with Theodora, I would see you in her. I taught her differently from a young age. I taught her that people could be after us at any time. That’s why I thought we both should know how to defend ourselves. So I wouldn’t lose her like I lost you.”

You felt a pang in your stomach at her words. You knew none of this was your mother’s fault, that she had been wronged by Rauf. But still, part of you felt awful. If only Rauf hadn’t taken you. If only you could have been with your mother during these times, if only you could’ve looked after your sister and been there for them both.

“I should have looked for you.” Your mother said suddenly, her eyes distant. “I thought about it a lot. But I only knew that Rauf moved around a lot, and I thought—“ She looked down, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. “I was afraid that I would lose Theo as well. I was afraid, but—I should have looked for you.”

You grabbed her hands again, making her look at you. “But I found you anyway.” You tilted your head towards Theo, meeting your mother’s eyes once more. “Both of you.”

“You did.” She squeezed your hands, tears falling once more. “You did.”

———————————————————————————————————

Okay I actually teared up while writing this don’t @ me

He stepped out of his silver Audi, fixing his tailored suit as he closed the car door with a small slam. His genuine black leather shoes softly hit the pavement as he entered his favorite establishment. Tony Stark survived on coffee. If it were possible, he would have a permanent IV attached to him filled with the caffeinated liquid. Instead, he walks through the glass door of a small cafe he frequents, a location that naturally knew his presence by the sound of his feet entering through the door.

“Hello, Mr. Stark! How are you today?” The portly owner greeted him with a wide smile, her cheeks flushed from her work. Her left hand still wiping down the table in front of her, preparing for the busy day ahead. He turned, his signature sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, and smirked. “Hanging in there, Susan. I need my fix again. You know me, can’t work without that magical brown juice that keeps me up and amazing.” She shook her head, accustomed to his remarks. Susan continued on, placing the small advertisement of their new product coming soon in the center of the dark wooden table before she moved on to another project.

A deep sigh escaped you. Another turn around shift that has been slowly draining your energy down to zero. If you take anymore of this shifts, you might as well sleep here. Attempting to balance college and your part time job is becoming too much to bare, however you sluggishly dragged your feet forward. College loans won’t pay for themselves, no matter how smart you are. One week closer. Just one more week closer to graduation and then you can finally collapse. The small red bucket of sanitizer fluid swayed back and forth before you placed it on the faux marble counter, a thin blue fabric floating above the water. Your mind concentrated on the mountain of worries, not paying attention to your surroundings. Your back was to the register, now wiping the same spot between the blenders for the umpteenth time.

“Uh, can I get some service here?” There was a sudden spike in your heartbeat, surprised by the unexpected voice behind you. You turned your heel, quick to smile, and address the first customer of the day when you looked at the cheeky smile plastered on their face. “God! You almost gave me a heart attack, man!” You exhaled heavily, as your hand clutched the middle area above your chest. Tony chuckled, tipping his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose. His brown eyes bright with joviality. “Sorry, kid. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” “Yes, you did.” “You’re right, I did. It’s always fun seeing you jump. It’s my favorite morning entertainment next to annoying the crap outta Happy.” You glared at him, feigning annoyance before breaking into a grin, “Ha ha. What can I get you, Mr. Stark?” “Ugh, don’t call me that. You make me sound old.” “You are old,” You quipped. “… I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that and chalk it up to childlike humor. How old are you again, twelve?” He answered, pushing the sunglasses back up onto the top of his nose. You rolled your eyes playfully, “What can I get you, Tony?”

He shrugged indecisively, and lifted his head to look over the many choices available to him. He pursed his lips as he pondered what to drink. The options were limitless, his deep brown eyes jumping from beverage to beverage.

“Here you go, Tony.” You said, placing the disposable cup with its cardboard sleeve in front of him. Tony looked at the cup, then to you. Back to the cup and back to you for the second time. You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest proudly. You shrugged nonchalantly before your shoulders dropped down again. Stark was about to speak when you interrupted him, a smug expression on your face. “You always look at the menu, taking about two minutes before you give up and ask for the usual: Americano with an extra shot and a questionable shitload of sugar. I’m surprised you don’t have diabetes by now.” “Well, one: I was going to choose something different this time. And two: This is my sugar intake for the day. The rest of the day I stay somewhat healthy. I’m doing great for a 34 year old.” “Aren’t you 48?” “Shut up.” He mumbled before he turned his heel and walked casually out the doors as you laughed at his reaction.

You shook your head, your laughter dying down as soon as you found yourself surrounded by a swarm of hipsters ready with their orders of organic soymilk, non-fat, chai lattes. Your chest underneath the dirty green apron expanded, quickly letting out an aggravated groan and widened a false grin. “Here we go…” You said to yourself.

The miniature Captain America shield hit against your keys as you stepped foot into the apartment. It fell back into your right jacket pocket, placing the article of clothing on the hook adjacent to the entrance. Your body screamed for release from the aches and pains it suffered standing for eight hours on tiled floor at work. While your brain pleaded for relief after five more hours of listening to lectures about the history of engineering. Your day was yet to be done, however. Piles of readings that needed to be completed for the following class and essays that still were in need to be outlined. Your professors have conspired to torture you until you’re in cap and gown. Juggling both work and school hasn’t been an easy road but you were determined to endure it till the end.

“Hi honey.” A soft voice greeted you.

It was your mother. She sat nervously on the couch you’ve been inhabiting for the past six months. She smiled briefly before her nerves set back into her small face. With open arms, she welcomed you back home once you realized that several pieces of papers written ‘I.O.U’ was no longer satisfactory for your roommates or landlord. You were her only child, of course. She wasn’t going to let you live in the streets.

“Mom?” You asked, confused by the soft frown on her face. “Sweetie? We need to talk,” She patted the cushion next to her, then placed her hand back on her lap.

You stared at her weary face. The wrinkles around her eyes were more apparent than usual. Whatever was plaguing her, clearly was taking a toll on her. You felt concerned, your feet sped towards her without losing eye contact. Your hands took hers, “Are you okay? What’s the matter? Are you sick? Are you–” “Sweetie, I’m fine. Breathe. You look like you’re gonna pass out.” She chuckled. You let out a sigh of relief, “With you and Mr. Stark, I’m gonna get grey hairs before I even turn 25.” “You’ve met Tony Stark?” She asked, surprised. You nodded, “Yeah, I thought I mentioned him to you before. He stops by the cafe often.” “I guess this makes it a little easier than…” “Makes what easier?” “Well…” She began.

“…So. You’re saying that my dad is Tony freaking Stark?!” You shouted, incredulously. You stood up, the blood rushing to your head in a flash which caused you to sit back down. It was your mother’s turn to nod. “Does he know?” Your fingers rubbed your temples, groaning from the rapid equations in your brain, attempting to wrap this situation around it.

She was still silent. She shook her head, worried that she has angered you. She couldn’t blame you. She has withheld this information for quite some time. “Why? Why have you kept this from me for so long?” You asked, exasperated. The secret was the least of your worries. It was the fact that your own flesh and blood omitted the truth. She’s not only the woman who gave birth to you but she was your best friend. Regardless of the fights they’ve caused, you’ve always told her the truth. This is different from, “oh, your fish is just sleeping,” or “eating your spinach is gonna make you strong like Popeye.” You knew the ins and outs of how you came to be but the origin was always vague. You see why now. “To be honest, I don’t know. I suppose because I thought it was for the best. It felt like it didn’t matter. We had each other, and we weren’t missing anything so it wasn’t like I needed him. Besides, at the time, he was a playboy. He had so notches on his bedpost, they were splinters. He wasn’t going to recognize who I was or even believe me. It was going to be more a fiasco and I didn’t want that in our lives.” She explained, tears welled in her coffee colored eyes. “Besides, it’s not the greatest feeling in the world to tell your only child they are the product of a one night stand.”

“Mom, I don’t care if you’ve slept with thousands of men. What bothers me is you’ve kept this from me when I’ve always been honest with you.” “Okay, don’t use my favorite musical against me… And it wasn’t thousands of men.” She grumbled. You gingerly wiped the pending tears before they fell as a smile surfaced on both of your faces. “… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” You shook your head, “It’s okay, mom. It’s nothing therapy and vodka won’t fix.” She lightly smacked your arm as she sighed in relief. Her thin frame stood up, as if lightened by the confession of her past. She walked towards the kitchen, today’s dinner on the top of her tongue until she forgot a fire question she herself had. “…..Are you going to tell Mr. Stark who you are?”

Your eyes stared at the entrance of the compound. This man has never been really subtle, huh? Just a big ol’ A slapped onto the building. Through the glass paned doors, you could see the hustling and bustling of the agents and staff while you contemplated even going forward with this idea. You weren’t even sure he’d be here. However, you knew this matter wasn’t something to be spoken about at the cafe and it wasn’t something that you can say casually while you handed him his coffee. 

“Here’s your usual, Mr, Stark. Oh, by the way, I’m your illegitimate child you had from a one night stand you probably have no recollection of.” You muttered, feigning a grin as you replayed the impossible scenario you had in your head. Your right s/c hand clutched the piece of paper with the address of the compound, crumbling it as if it would will your feet to finally move. It didn’t. The roar of an engine drew closer, and you whipped your head towards the direction. Your e/c eyes widened as the man in question came into your line of vision. How the hell are you gonna explain this? Would he even believe you?

Stark noticed a figure as he got to the compound, and quickly knew who it was. What he didn’t understand is why you were there in the first place. “Y/N? Doing deliveries now or is this some special perk for yours truly?” He quipped. However, his tone shifted when you fully turned to him, your face holding a nervous look in your eyes. “Hey, are you okay? Did something happened? Are you sick? Do you need-” Well, nice to know that the 21 questions panic mode comes from him, you thought to yourself, as you held up your hands to pause his interrogation. “Hey Tony. Yes, I’m okay. Yes, something did happen but nothing that required stitches. No, I’m not sick,” You answered in a monotone before you moved on to why you were really there. “Actually, there is something I need to discuss with you. It’s something really delicate that I knew I couldn’t explain to you at my job. Can we talk somewhere private?” “Yes sure, kid.” Tony escorted you into the building, his arm directing you to the elevators. 

‘Y/N!’ he pleads, grabbing at your hand to stop you from walking away, ‘Please stop!’

You spun, snatching your hand back despite the sting that came from the movement, ‘Don’t touch me, Hyo-eun!’

‘Please come back inside, baby. Please let me explain—,’

‘Explain what Hyo-eun? You cheated on me and now that bitch is blackmailing you and the label for money!’

‘Baby,’ Hyo-eun pleads, falling to his knees while his arms wrapped around your waist, ‘It was a mistake! We had just started datin—,’

Pushing him off of you, you swiped at the tears that fell and muttered, ‘I don’t care when it happened. I care that it did happen. I care that she’s threatening you with videos and photos of it happening!’

You and Hyo-eun had finally gone public about your relationship after a year and a half of dating; after it had been announced, the threats began to pile in – death threats for you, and blackmail for Hyo-eun. At first, you hadn’t been fazed.

The number of women who had come out and claimed Hyo-eun as their baby-daddy before and after the announcement was doubled, but you knew the truth and they had no proof either way.

That was until Choi Eul-soon came along with her videos of Hyo-eun’s head between her thighs, and the secret photo’s shed taken of the two of them when they had had sex, demanding money or else she would ruin his career.

Burying your face in your hands, you cried, ‘Fuck, Hyo-eun!’

Hyo-eun was in tears himself, still on his knees as he hung his head, ‘I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…I love you so much…’

You had already begun to walk away, your heart aching as Hyo-eun called after you, his voice breaking as he cried out your name.

~*~

‘You’re back again?’ Joon-kyung says in surprise, looking up from his phone to find you in the vacant boardroom, surrounded by files and papers all to do with the blackmail scandal. You’d spent nearly every day in that same room you’d stormed out of a week ago, working with the PR team and lawyers, and conveniently, had spent all that time avoiding Hyo-eun. As a small-firm investigative journalist, you were skilled in finding out facts and had made a lot of connections in the industry. Without Hyo-eun’s knowledge, you’d been working behind the scenes while Joon-kyung kept you updated on how he was holding up with the break you’d put your relationship on, having taken Hyo-eun in seeing as you’d kicked him out.

Working had given you a distraction but it didn’t change the fact that you missed Hyo-eun. It was the little things, like when he dried your hair, or fell asleep on your chest, that really made your heart ache.

Tears had gathered in your eyes as you thought of it which didn’t go amiss by Joon-kyung, ‘You okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ you say with a sigh, blinking them away as you attempted to reassure him with a smile.

‘You’re clearly not, Y/N. And if I’m being honest, neither is Hyo-eun.’

You looked down at the table with a frown on your face, instinctively biting on your bottom lip as Joon-kyung continued, ‘He’s not left the house for five days.’

‘He smells like Doritos,’ Joon-kyung mutters after you ignored his first comment, ‘And sadness,’ he adds.

You sighed, looking at Joon-kyung tiredly, ‘Then tell him to shower.’

‘He won’t listen,’ he argues, ‘You know he won’t. You know what he’s like when he’s in a mood. He becomes difficult…Can’t you just…give him a call?’

You picked up your pen and shook your head. While Hyo-eun had messaged you several times a day, you’d simply turned your phone on silent and thrown yourself into working, ‘Not until I sort this out,’ you say indicating to the article you’d written and would use in a counter-attack, if proved necessary.

‘He doesn’t even know that you’ve been helping! And Choi has practically withdrawn from her threats anyway! We have too much evidence against her. She knows she’ll be sued for defamation, illegal distribution of porn, extorsion and more...You’re just trying to hold off dealing with the real issue at hand, Y/N.’

‘No,’ you say, adamant as you circled a typo you’d made on the draft copy, ‘The real issue is clearing up this mess before it hits the media, and that’s what I’ve been trying to do,’ you defend.

‘Y/N,’ Joon-kyung sighs, ‘That’s not true and you know it – you’ve already called all of your contacts and asked for favours about blocking any stories to come through if it mentioned Hyo-eun. You’ve even prepared several counter-attack articles in case it does get exposed. You did all that last week. Now you’re just using this as an excuse to avoid Hyo-eun but still keep him near.’

Well.

He had a point there.

‘I know that with everything that’s happened, you’re hurt and upset…But I really do think that you need to sort this out. Properly.’

You sighed and nodded at Joon-kyung’s statement, only to later throw a pen at him as he announces, ‘—Which is why I told him you were here.’

‘What?!’ you nearly screech, ‘You told him? When?!’

Joon-kyung held up his phone and shook it, ‘When I walked in and found you here. Again.’

You weren’t ready to see Hyo-eun; helping him from behind the scenes was one thing, but actually dealing with your relationship? That was a whole other ball-game that you weren’t ready to play.

What were you even meant to say?

‘Hey, I know you had a drunk one-night stand with the devil when we had just begun dating and were going through a rough patch, but I really miss the way you play with my hair?’

You scoffed at the thought as you stood and grabbed your bag, ‘That was a dick move, Joon-kyung, and you know it,’ you tell him angrily.

‘If I have to play the villain, I will, Y/N,’ he responds without batting an eyelid, ‘Just sort out your relationship and stop confusing everyone.’

‘I’m not confusing anyone!’ you defend as Joon-kyung gives you a blank look, ‘Right,’ he drags out, ‘Because you showing up at Hyo-eun’s work place to help him whilst simultaneously telling everyone that you’re not together, isn’t confusing?’

Instead of responding, you stormed out of the room and slammed the door – something that was becoming a bit of a pattern for you, only this time, instead of chasing you down the hall, Hyo-eun was in front of you.

You knew why you didn’t want to see Hyo-eun; it was because he was your weakness – you could only act so tough around him until you began to crack, and your heart took over. You weren’t sure if you were ready to hear the whole truth of what happened, and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to control your loving emotions versus the rationality that told you to run as far away from him as possible.

And now you had no choice but to face him as he stood, just as surprised as you to be greeting one another in the same hallway in which you’d walked away from him.

Joon-kyung wasn’t lying when he said that Hyo-eun was a mess. His locks were clumped together and his eyes were red from tears. It looked as if he hadn’t eaten in days, and his uneven facial hair had made a ghastly appearance. One positive was the fact that he had clearly showered. The negative part was that he must have been in that big of a rush to get to you, that he had buttoned the dress shirt he wore completely wrong, leaving it uneven.

‘Y/N,’ he breathes out, not bothering to wait for your response as he pulled you into his arms and held you with an iron grip.

The familiarity nearly had you in tears as he clung to you with all he had, only pulling back to hold your face in his palms, ‘You’re here,’ he says as if assuring himself, ‘You’re here.’

To no avail, you couldn’t escape his hold, though you gave it a good shot, blinking back tears as he did his best to keep you near; ‘Don’t leave,’ he begs, ‘Please just stay with me a little while…Hear me out…’

Tired of fighting him, and your chest sore from the sound of his broken tone, you nodded in agreement and told him unsurely, ‘Only a little while…’

~*~

Locked away in his studio, Hyo-eun sat with his hands holding yours, his legs folded beneath him as he told you quietly, ‘It was when we had first started dating...when we weren’t official but everyone knew we would be,’ he says tiredly, ‘Honestly, I don’t remember a lot of it…I remember kissing her the night you’d told me that you were unsure about our relationship—’

‘Are you blaming your infidelity on my uncertainty?’ you ask him, not out of anger –okay, maybe a little anger– but curiosity too.

‘No, no, no,’ he assures quickly with a shake of his head, ‘Of course not…It’s just, we weren’t in a good place. I thought you were going to break up with me and I was a wreck…I had gone to Club 88 to let off some steam, and that’s where I met her. At first, I had pushed her away, but the more I drank, the sloppier I became and then it all happened so quickly. I had blacked out for most of it,’ he says truthfully, his head hung low.

You had pulled your hands away so that you could hug your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them as you tried to avoid picturing the events that took place.

‘I had honestly only thought that I had kissed her,’ he says quietly as you swiped at your fresh tears, ‘I didn’t remember any of the other stuff until she started blackmailing me and I saw the photos...’

Hyo-eun sniffed and wiped his face with his hands tiredly, ‘I thought that if I had only kissed her, it wouldn’t have been so bad…and then you told me that you were willing to try, and I loved you so much that I didn’t want to ruin a relationship we had only just started…So I didn’t tell you; I kept it a secret and decided that I would never wander far from your side. I never lingered around other women, I kept myself in-check, always, because it was the only way I could ever make it up to you. I had no idea that it would turn into this…I didn’t know what I had done,’ he tells you, his voice breaking as he let out a low sob, wiping at his face again.

The heart was a funny thing; like right now, it was aching – aching because you were hurt, aching because Hyo-eun was hurt, and aching because no matter how much of a toll all this mess had taken on you, you still wanted him.

‘How can I trust you?’ you ask Hyo-eun rhetorically; taking his hand in yours as he attempted to hide his face in the crook of his elbow and muffle his cries, you repeated, ‘How can I trust what you’re saying?’

It was quiet for a moment or two as Hyo-eun calmed himself, before he told you croakily, ‘I’d spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to…You are the only woman who has my heart, Y/N. I’m lost without you, and it’s selfish of me to ask you to put your faith in me, I know it is…’ he says, looking down at your entwined fingers, ‘But I think I’ll die without you by my side…’

You had begun to cry once more as he pet your hair and face gently, continuing, ‘I hate waking up without you next to me baby. I hate it. I hate knowing I did something so stupid, and let it hurt you so much. You are my every hope and dream and more Y/N. Even if it takes years to earn your forgiveness, love and trust, I’ll work hard every day until you do. I swear it,’ he says.

You couldn’t help but lean your face into his palm as his thumbs stoked away the falling tears; murmuring quietly, you tell him, ‘I love you, Kim Hyo-eun, even when I shouldn’t.’

His arms were around you in a second with your back to his front as he held you tight, kissing your hair and repeating, ‘I’m so sorry for what I did…I love you so much, I’m so sorry…’

Not wanting to leave his familiar embrace, you curled up against him and shut your eyes, letting the last tear drops fall as you told him in a low whisper, ‘This is your one and only chance…Please don’t fuck it up.’

His response was to hold you tighter, kissing your forehead as he promised through his silent tears, ‘One chance is all I need.’

That took me so fucking long to write, and has so many other drafts just to get to this! I’m so sorry about my lack of posting. Ya girl is currently working two jobs, planning a charity event, doing assignments and saving up for a surprise trip to Perth to see my parents. I’m so busy, y’all don’t even know.

Any requests made will most likely take a long time to do as I’m struggling to come up with fresh ideas for each individual, HOWEVER! Do keep tuned as I tend to find inspiration in strange things like water bottles, windows and all sorts of canny things, and stories may just pop up without warning xxxxxxxxxxx

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