Another World [1]

another world [1]

after your boyfriend, peter parker, is killed by the green goblin, you take on the mantel of spiderwoman. a few years later, you're suddenly shoved into a multi-versal war after being called to another universe to help a (smaller) version of peter. a familiar face leaves you shaken.

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader

CONTENT: NO WAY HOME SPOILERS!!!!!, mentions of suicide, angst angst angst angst, may parker deserves so much better and i apologize for putting her through this

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

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Here lies Peter Parker. Beloved son.

We shall meet again.

[Y/N] stands over his grave. There's a chill in the air, autumn has finally taken New York. She shivers, her coat a few sizes too big, and two hands make their way to her lapel to tuck the girl in tighter. May Parker let's out a sigh.

"We've got to get you a thicker coat," May says. There's a tired look in her eyes. The lines on her face seem deeper. She's pushing on fifty-two now. The grief has aged her far more. "You're going to freeze when December hits."

"This one was his, May," [Y/N] replies. The words make May take a temporary pause. "I can't just find a new one."

Wind sends the leaves skittering along the graves. The red and brown contrast greatly to the pure white bouquet of cleomes sat on the headstone. Spider flowers, [Y/N] thinks with a small smile. He'd appreciate the irony.

"I think Peter would rather you be warm and cozy in your own well-fitting coat than freezing to death in one of his old, worn, baggy ones," May eventually responded. [Y/N] wrapped her hands around her body, subconsciously pulling the coat even closer. She could still pretend it smelled like him if she tried hard enough. The warm scent of cinnamon with hints of oak and amber. The smell of home.

The older woman gave her a sad smile and comfortingly rubbed her back. "But, I understand. It's hard to let go of it when you can imagine it's him. You wouldn't believe how many of Ben's old flannels are still folded up in my dresser."

Quiet crept in again. [Y/N] could still remember Ben Parker's death, how Peter shut down, how May crumbled. How could that have been nearly eight years ago? May still had her days of darkness, when the grief became too much. She had lost a husband and a son. [Y/N] had watched this woman quite literally go through every mother's nightmare. How did she get out of bed? How did she go to work? How was she still breathing?

"How do you do it?" [Y/N] broke the silence, unable to hold her thoughts back any longer. "It's been three years, May, and I still wake up expecting him to be next to me. I still wait for a call, a text, letting me know he's going to be late to dinner again this week because he's gotten caught up with some robbery downtown. I come home from work and I wait. I wait for Peter to walk in with Chinese takeout, give me a kiss that takes my breath away, and sit down to explain his latest gadget idea to me. I look at the door and I wait. I wait it for to open and it never does."

A sob falls from her lips. Tears are streaming down her face openly now, though [Y/N] can't remember when they started. May embraces her, tightly, as if she's keeping the girl in one piece. They fall together as [Y/N]'s knees give in from the weight of it all. The ground is cold. The grass is dead. Peter's headstone has collected enough dirt to look beige. There is no sign of life, no sign of who he was. All of it is dull. It makes the sobs wrack through her body even harder.

The two women sit there for quite some time. May cradles [Y/N] in her arms, whispering soothing words in her ear as the waves of sorrow slowly become smaller and smaller. There's been a quiet understanding between them ever since Peter's passing. They were family now. Neither would ever grieve alone. Neither would ever be alone. This was not the first time May Parker had held her son's partner in her arms as she grieved the loss of her love, and it would not be the last.

"You won't believe me, but it does get easier," May speaks while gently petting the girl's hair. Her breath had finally evened out, she was fresh out of tears. "It took me almost three years to come to terms with Ben's passing. I'm still learning to live without him. Healing is not linear, darling. I know it seems like this is never ending, but you will make it through this. We'll both make it through this, together, hand in hand. I am never leaving you and you're sure as hell not leaving me on my watch."

[Y/N] let out a shaky laugh, pulling back from May to look level with her. There were a few tear streaks down the older woman's face and [Y/N] felt a pang of guilt. She hated upsetting May or making her worry even more than she already did. May gently pushed the hair out of her face and [Y/N] took her hand.

"I'm not going anywhere, May," [Y/N] replied, placing a gentle kiss on the older woman's knuckle. "I'd miss your meatloaf too much."

May snorted, standing up and helping [Y/N] off the ground. "Now, there is no point in lying to me to butter me up," She joked, brushing the grass and dirt off the girl's coat. "Why don't you come back to the house for a bit? I'll make some tea. We could finally take a crack at that pumpkin bread recipe you've been talking about."

As if on cue, the shrill screech of a police siren broke May's created facade of a peaceful night. The women shared a look, [Y/N]'s full of remorse while May's held sorrow.

"Duty calls." [Y/N] sighed. She really did want to try that pumpkin bread recipe.

There was a beat. May opened her mouth and closed it again, trying to find the right words to say. She didn't have to. [Y/N] already knew.

"I know, May," The girl spoke up. "He wouldn't want this for me, and you're right, but he also wouldn't want New York to be completely on its own. This city needs a hero, a symbol of hope. It's selfish, but this is for me too. Makes me feel like I'm carrying on his legacy, I guess. As long as there's a Spider, there's still a piece of Peter around."

It had been hard informing May of the double life Peter had been living after he passed, but what else could [Y/N] have told her? "Ah yes, your son died in a very tragic car accident and that's why his spine was shattered into pieces and I was left completely unharmed although I was also at the scene." Lying to May after losing him just felt wrong.

So [Y/N] told her everything, about Spiderman, about the Green Goblin and the Osborns. And a few months later, when [Y/N] decided to take her late boyfriend's place and protect New York, the first thing she did was tell May. May, of course, pleaded with the girl not to go any further with the idea of Spiderwoman, but [Y/N] had her mind set. She was going to protect New York, not only for her home state's sake, but for Peter's memory as well.

May sighed. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop [Y/N] and there was no point in wasting both of their time. She'd been trying to put an end to this for two years now, but the girl was stubborn. Peter had called it "overly ambitious". May couldn't help but think that Ben could've put an end to this somehow, but it was just her now. She'd find a way eventually.

"If you need anything," May finally spoke. "I'll be home all night. I don't have night rounds at the hospital for the rest of this week. You stop by, no matter how late, okay? Peter's old bed is always there for you."

[Y/N] felt a pang in her chest at the mention of Peter's childhood bedroom. She'd spent at least four months after his death practically rotting away in his bed. There were so many memories from their teenage years in that room. She didn't know if she could face them again without deteriorating.

"Thanks, May," [Y/N] gave her a small smile. "I'll shoot you a text if I decide to stop by. In the meantime, pamper yourself. You work too hard."

The women shared a hug, May giving the girl a warm kiss on the cheek before they finally parted ways. [Y/N] watched May make her way out of the graveyard before leaning down to Peter's headstone. She gently sat her forehead against the stone and closed her eyes.

"I really, really hope you're proud of me."

──────────────────────

It was late. She'd been out for hours now, patrolling around the entire state of New York. Stopped a few break-ins, prevented some drug deals, the usual crime scene. It had been quiet ever since Norman Osborn's death. His passing was sudden, an apparent suicide. The news had sent [Y/N] into a fit of rage.

"That coward took the easy way out. After everything he's done, after Peter, it's over because of a fucking self-inflicted gunshot to the head? It was supposed to be me, May. I wanted to watch him bleed."

[Y/N] sat close to the top of the Empire State building. This had been her and Peter's hiding spot. She could remember the first time he had brought her up here, sometime during junior year, and the view had completely taken her breath away. Peter had taken her hand and told her he loved her for the first time. It truly felt like they could've conquered the world together.

She took a breath, attempting to let herself relax for the first time in a few days. She was exhausted; her head was pounding and her body ached. It was a lot more difficult to do the job that Peter left behind without any super-human abilities. She was extremely lucky all of his equipment hadn't taken damage, trying to follow Peter's notes and blueprints felt like reading a foreign language. It was a miracle she hadn't taken life-threatening injuries yet, though she had ended up on May's doorstep needing help getting patched back up more times than she'd like to admit. Thank God for May Parker.

The wind up this high was chilling. It seemed to bite, but it held a certain familiarity that brought comfort. [Y/N] wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the structure of the building. The red and blue of the suit reflected against the metal. She had managed to adjust Peter's old suit enough to get it to fit her smaller frame. She was cold. She never used to be cold up here.

Her eyes were getting heavier and it was dangerous to stay up this high, but she couldn't seem to care. She gave in almost at once, letting her eyes drift shut. I'll just rest my eyes for a minute, she thought. It's not like anyone will find me up here.

There was a brief moment of complete silence. No city sounds, no wind, she could barely hear the steady intake of her own breath. It was calm, almost as if she had made her way to the end of the world. A bright, nearly blinding light made [Y/N] squeeze her eyes shut tighter. What the hell?

The noise resumed. Cars honked, people yelled. [Y/N] rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the effect of the light, and noticed that the sun had risen. Had she accidentally fallen asleep and slept until morning? She'd have to send May a text. She always sent May an "I'm Ok! :)" after patrol. The woman must be worried sick.

[Y/N] made her way off of the building, slipping her mask back on and beginning to swing home. The sounds of Jonah Jameson's voice echoed through Times Square. Since when had he begun filming his episodes? She could've sworn the reporter only did his podcast.

J. Jonah Jameson sat at a desk, a stack of papers in his hand. His voice seemed to echo through the city. "Spider-Man continues his era of chaos with no remorse—"

That was weird. She had sworn everyone had switched to referring to the vigilante as Spiderwoman ever since the change had become more apparent. Also, when did Jameson go bald? He looked just... slightly off.

The reporter's rant on the hero continued. "When will you cease this meaningless destruction? After your betrayal to Mysterio, it's a miracle you have any public support remaining at all."

Mysterio? Who the hell was Mysterio?

The girl stopped, perching herself on the edge of a building and looking at the screen expectantly. She couldn't remember fighting a "Mysterio". There hadn't been a big bad in New York since the Goblin.

"It's time this little round of show-and-tell was put to an end," Jameson continued. "When will you face the facts? For the betterment of this city, you should be put behind bars. It's time you turned yourself in, Peter Parker."

[Y/N] felt her stomach drop.

The screen flashed. A photo of a teenaged boy was put on display. The words "PUBLIC ENEMY #1" were plastered over his face. Footage followed of the man Mysterio, accusing Peter of attempting to kill him. He revealed his identity and screen went to black.

[Y/N] could see Jameson's face appear back on the screen, but she couldn't hear a word he spoke. Something was extremely wrong here. She couldn't stop thinking about the boy that they had shown.

That's wasn't Peter.

BTS Reaction ¦¦ Baby Tries To Breastfeed From Them [Request]

Keep reading

MESSENGER; HRJ SMAU

[★]; YOU FIND A PHONE NUMBER WRITTEN ON THE MIRROR OF THE SULIM LIBRARY'S SECOND FLOOR BATHROOM. It's scrawled messily across the glass in erasable expo marker, the handwriting underneath almost closer to hieroglyphics than lettering— and what you thought it read, was 'SEND DUCK PICS FOR A GOOD TIME.'

(You suppose, in hindsight, it was a good thing this person's penmanship was so shit— because if you knew what it really said, you might have never stumbled across the oddly intriguing inbox of one Huang Renjun.)

info;

smau (with many written parts)

renjun x fem!reader

strangers to lovers

quotations means written, no quotes means text!

PART 1: DUCK DEALER

PART 2: PICS OR IT DIDN'T HAPPEN

PART 3: 2AM

PART 4: "COFFEE VS TEA"

PART 5: SPORT BALL

PART 6: "FACE TO FACE"

PART 7: STUBBORN

PART 8: "SHH!"

PART 9: ONE LAST TIME?

PART 10: QUICK THINKING

PART 11: BRIBERY ♥︎

PART 12: "SWITCH UP"

PART 13: BUNNY TAX

PART 14: WRITING ON THE WALL

PART 15: "TWO FACES"

PART 16: STUDDY BUDDY

PART 17: DAYS FLYIN' BY

[and more to come soon...!]

LAST UPDATED: APR 24, 2024

904 notes View Post

seoksoop

3 years ago

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥

13K notes View Post

seoksoop

1 year ago

binittori ♡

293 notes View Post

seoksoop

6 months ago

— inflection point ⟢

a jeongcheol poly series!

★ FEATURING; jeonghan x afab!reader x seungcheol

★ STATUS; complete ; adding side stories as requested

★ TAGS; established polyamorous relationship, fluff, angst, smut (MINORS DNI!)

★ NOTES; because i'm getting an influx of inflection point side story/blurb requests, i decided to compile everything into a single masterlist for easy access! this remains one of my personal favorites and i'd love nothing more than to share more of reader's daily life with her two hot and rich boyfriends :3c

— main story ✧

✧ part one ✧

word count: 5.7k words

summary: you love yoon jeonghan. no, scratch that. you fucking adore yoon jeonghan; so much that the moment he asks you to be in an exclusive set-up with his current partner, you accept the offer in a heartbeat. what you fail to consider, however, is who your boss’ boyfriend actually is.

tags: unresolved emotional tension, friends to lovers on the hannie side of things, lovers to exes to enemies to lovers again on the cheol side of things, established relationship, angst, smut

✧ part two ✧

word count: 8.3k words

summary: things make a turn for the worse (or the better?) when jeonghan leaves you with the most insufferable person on earth. but maybe a few weeks alone is exactly what you and seungcheol needed after all.

tags: unresolved emotional tension, established relationship, angst, smut

✧ part three ✧

word count: 7.6k words

summary: after reconciling with your first love, all seems well in your relationship thus far. but when you notice jeonghan distancing himself from you and seungcheol, you're determined to get to the bottom of it.

tags: established relationship, angst, smut

— side stories ✧

(🧺) smut (🎻) angst (🧸) fluff (☕️) crack

— getting rawed by cheol | 🧺 — when you're having a bad day | 🧸 — cheol locker room sex for good luck + hannie fucking his cum back inside you | 🧺

⟢ notes from kai: requests are perpetually open for this series regardless of whether i'm accepting general requests or not :3c that's how much i love this story LOL i can NEVER put it past me it seems.... altho i can't say whether i can cook something up right away when you request it, but i'll definitely consider each and every one! just slide into my ask and abuse the inflection point privilege~

1K notes View Post

seoksoop

1 year ago

yall gotta stop writing mark like he’s cool. he’s such a loser.

he’s not out here “you like that, dirty slut?” GIRL THATS ALL JENO.

232 notes View Post

seoksoop

5 months ago

bye bye, daddy | mark lee

synopsis: you and mark have a crying, upset toddler on your hands, and it seems there are only a few things that can make her happy, — like spending time with her daddy, and watching the grinch.

pairing: girl dad!mark x female!reader

genre: fluff, domesticity, established relationship

word count: 2.4k

contains: very loving husband and father mark. very patient mark. christmas themes, santa talk. daughter doesn't have a name, but he calls her "cookie". fluff galore.

author's note: christmas is around the corner so some of the future drabbles im planning to put out will be about christmas <3 meelings (mark feelings) are open (always) (so feel free to discuss anything mark related with me <3)

Mark’s keys jingle in his hand before he opens the front door, the delicious smell of dinner hitting his nose as soon as he steps foot inside the house. He knows this smell, the spices, the veggies, the sauces. You’re making a roasting — a dish he loves, that you cook very often during winters, because you know it’s one of his favourites.

He thinks he could kiss you, if only he could find you. Where are you?

He thinks you’re in the kitchen, but the roast is sitting perfectly inside the oven, the pan with veggies still cooking on the stove on a small flame, and the bowls with sauces and chutneys sitting on the kitchen counter far away from the edge, that you both know your daughter can reach to steal her mom’s delicious chutney — just to eat with her fingers stealthily by herself.

He throws the keys in the bowl by the entrance, finally taking his jacket off. He wanted to see you so badly that he didn’t even bother to do his routine when he came home, immediately going to look for you.

There’s something odd going on, he thinks, because your daughter is nowhere to be seen, or heard, and she’s usually at the door the moment she hears the jingling of his keys right before he tries to open the door. Not seeing you and your daughter makes him unsettled just a tiny bit, considering there’s the stove that’s still on and he can’t find you.

He drags his slippers on the hardwood floor towards the living room, and his heart skips a bit seeing you looking through the boxes full of Christmas decorations.

You and Mark love celebrating Christmas, and ever since you two got married you started establishing family traditions. And now you also have your daughter to pass everything on to. You’ve never skipped decorating the house, putting up a tree, Christmas films and singing carols and Christmas songs while baking cookies or cooking meals, and now you have your daughter to join in on the fun. And thankfully, when it comes to Christmas season, she’s just as enthusiastic as both you and Mark — and she’s a big Santa believer.

“Hi, baby,” Mark rasps from behind you, and you flinch, clutching a few Christmas lights to your chest. You turn around to look at him, your eyes big with what Mark thinks is fear by being taken by surprise, and he giggles. “I’m so sorry, did I scare you?”

You nod, putting the lights down carefully, and then wrapping your arms tightly around him.

“I didn’t hear your keys at all!” You sigh, your head falling in the crook of his neck. You inhale his scent, and you sigh once again. You always wondered how’s it possible for your husband to always smell so good, even after a busy and tiring work day.

“Maybe that’s why cookie didn’t come running to the door,” he laughs, pinching your back to make you raise your head from his shoulder. You know that’s his silent sign that he wants you to kiss him.

You giggle, grabbing his cheeks and bringing him in for a soft kiss. His lips are soft as always, and his nose feels cold while touching yours. You peck his lips repeatedly a few more times, before letting go of him.

“I think cookie is upset, that’s why she didn’t come down from her room,” you finally respond, and Mark takes a seat on the armchair between the many boxes full of decorations.

“Why?” Mark asks worried, and he picks up a few Christmas lights to untangle them.

“She wouldn’t tell me, but I’m guessing she’ll open up when her tummy is full,” you chuckle, and Mark laughs knowing that you’re right. You both know your daughter will forget about what made her so upset after she’ll eat something.

“What colour you wanna make it this year, baby?” He rasps, looking at the different boxes full with Christmas globes, while his fingers are fast at work untangling the strings full of lights. He really liked the white ones, but he knows you’ve always made it work no matter the colour. The year you found out you were having a baby girl you decorated the Christmas tree with soft pink globes and ornaments, and he loved it, even if he’s never thought pink could ever be a fit for Christmas.

You point at the blue ones, various tones of blue filling the huge box, but then you point your finger at the box containing the white ones, his favourites, and you let him know you’re indecisive. Blue is his favourite colour, but he really, really likes the white ones.

“You can choose what-” you’re interrupted by someone trying the front door handle, and Mark looks worried towards the from door, his neck lurching in its direction immediately.

Both you and Mark see your daughter wearing her warm hello kitty hat, open jacket around her small figure and her pink backpack hanging off her shoulders.

“Cookie? Where are you going?” Mark asks, still stretching his neck to look towards the front door.

Thank god Mark has the habit of locking the door as soon as he comes home.

“Bye bye mommy!” She blurts out, “Bye bye daddy!” She tries the door handle once again, but the door doesn’t open, so she’s left standing helpless in front of it.

Mark throws you a look, just to find you already looking back at him. You both look at her, and she doesn’t move for ten good seconds, before she turns around with tears in her eyes.

You both know not to panic, knowing that your daughter can be a little drama queen sometimes.

“Bye bye mommy and daddy? Where are you off to?” He asks her, seeing as she’s still standing there.

“The North Pole,” she explains, her voice trembling a bit.

“The North Pole?” You ask, and you and Mark look at each other once again. He raises his eyebrows at you, asking you what’s going on, but unfortunately for him, you don’t have any idea either. “That’s where Santa lives,”

“Yes,” she blurts out, tears streaming down her puffy cheeks, “I’m bringing him my letter,”

“Your letter? But it’s too early, cookie,” Mark intervenes, and it’s one of those times he doesn’t know where this conversation is going — and one of those very few times when he doesn’t know what’s going on inside his daughter’s head.

“It’s not! Yuka and Soo already sent theirs!” She speaks clearly this time, but she’s still full of rage, you can see it in her big expressive eyes, that she took from Mark.

It all clicks in your and Mark’s heads. It’s not the first time your four year old is influenced by her kindergarten friends, and it doesn’t matter how many times you and Mark tried telling her that she doesn’t have to do what everyone else is doing, she’s still a four year old child at the end of the day.

“Cookie, but you’re not Yuka, or Soo!” You explain, preparing your big Christmas traditions speech, hoping for Mark to jump in at some point, because she always listens to him and understands things best when he’s the one doing the explaining, or nagging. Even though the nagging part is almost never happening, coming from him.

“Mommy’s right, cookie,” Mark moves a bit in his seat, making eye contact with her, “We didn’t even set the tree up! We send the letter to Santa when we’re done with the tree here,” he points at the spot where you usually put the tree up. “But if you want to go to Santa’s house you can go, we’ll see you in January,”

She stays still for a bit, before she registers what her dad just said.

“January? But Christmas is in December!” She freaks out, eyes already brimming with tears.

“Yes, but Santa lives far away, by the time you'll come back me and mommy will have the tree already put back in the box,” he talks to her like he would to a grown up, and that’s what you love about Mark.

He’s such a good father, he always treats her as a human first, and child second. He’ll try to explain to her why some things are good, why some things are bad, he always challenges her development and skills by treating her like a grown up. You and Mark always encourage her to speak her mind, express her feelings and what’s going on inside her mind, to tell you all her worries and fears. As a writer, Mark always challenges her imagination and creativity, making her come up with stories and all sorts of plots that he sometimes uses in his own books, discussing things with her like he would with his editor.

And most importantly, as parents, you always work hard to make her understand that she doesn’t have to do everything her friends do. She’s still a baby, your baby, but neither you nor Mark would ever forgive yourselves if you knew something happened to her because you weren’t cautious enough and good parents.

“So you better go now, if you want to reach his house before Christmas,” Mark encourages, falsely busying himself with the Christmas lights in his lap.

“But I can’t miss Christmas!” She throws a fit, panicking at the same time. She looks desperately at you, asking for help, but you know better than crossing Mark’s words and tactics. Parenting 101.

“Maybe you should wait a bit, cookie,” Mark turns to her once again, “Mommy is making some roasting, you should bring a bit to Santa as well, as a gift,”

“We have roasting?” She freaks out once again. The idea of missing the sauce and chutney brings her to the breaking point, and hearing her father instructing her to leave soon makes her cry immediately.

She starts sobbing, unconsoled and alone in the entry hallway, holding her white teddy bear, Sugar, tightly. Your heart breaks for her, but you know she needs to learn not to sneak out of the house in the future, and to always come to you or Mark if she needs help.

“Why are you crying?” Mark asks, finally putting the lights away, still as tangled as before. “Come to daddy, cookie,” he instructs, opening his arms, and the crying girl launches towards him.

The moment she feels her daddy engulfing her in a warm embrace, she starts sobbing uncontrollably, holding his grey sweater tight in her small fist. He pats her back, kissing her forehead trying to comfort her.

“I don’t wanna go!” She screams, snot already reaching her mouth, and between screams she licks her lips. You try your best to hold your laugh in, not wanting to distress her even more, but you know you and Mark will have the best talk later tonight after putting her to bed.

“Then you don’t have to go, cookie,” you reassure her, crouching down at Mark’s feet to get a better view of your daughter. “But what were you thinking? Sneaking out without telling me and daddy?”

“Sorry,” she sobs, feeling ashamed.

“Daddy will help you with the letter, but we always do it after the tree is up, yeah?” He reassures her, “Let’s do things the good way, cookie, the way we usually do, not the way others tell us to do, alright?”

“So you didn’t forget?” She whispers, fearing her father’s response.

“Forget writing to Santa? Never!” He makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, scoffing, all while looking at you. “Daddy will help you, like I always do!”

She stops crying, already sweating from wearing the big fluffy hat on her head, and Mark takes it off immediately, smoothing her hair with his gentle touch.

“Can daddy see the letter you wrote?” Mark pats her on the back to have her attention, gesture that’s the equivalent of the pinch he gives you when he wants your attention.

She separates herself from her daddy, sniffing briefly before reaching behind herself for her backpack. She takes a crumpled piece of paper out, handing it to Mark, who opens it so you can see as well.

Vertical, horizontal lines fill the otherwise blank page, only god knows what she meant when she wrote them. There are a few drawings at the bottom of the page, made hurriedly — you and Mark both recognise she hurried and wasn’t as careful as she usually is, desperate to finish it fast and leave to personally take it to Santa’s. A cat, a bunny, a bike, a few princesses scattered around, wearing all sorts of coloured gowns.

You and Mark already know what to get her for Christmas, but writing the letter for her will give you the confirmation of her wishes. You already smile thinking of Mark’s pretty handwriting filling the flimsy page.

“Can we watch the Grinch, daddy?” You daughter asks, licking the snot above her lip away.

You look at Mark, who’s already looking at you, and he makes a small movement with his head, pointing towards the kitchen, clearly giving you a way out before it’s too late. You’re very lucky to have your daughter obsessed with your husband, and you’re even more lucky to have a patient husband who loves your daughter incredibly much, she’s his whole world.

You take the opportunity to leave them alone, going back to the kitchen to keep an eye on the roasting and the veggies still cooking slowly on the stove, hearing your daughter from the other room, and how she’s chewing her daddy’s ears off talking about scenes from the Grinch.

And Mark, poor soul, he has to sit on the couch with his little girl, watching the cartoon as if he hasn’t already watched it thirty thousand times. He knows the jokes, the lines, it’s like he wrote the thing himself. And he wonders how his little girl doesn’t get tired of it, ever.

But hopefully, you’ll save him soon enough like you always do, bringing some lame excuse up just to save him. Hopefully, tonight you’ll need someone to stir your veggies.

947 notes View Post

seoksoop

2 years ago

SEVENTEEN Trade PC

Have: Hoshi attacca Op.3 pc 83

Want: DK, Dino, Jun, OR Woozi attacca any

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: can i have a hug? | hrj

summary | a series of routines between you and your boyfriend, renjun, shortly after moving in with each other.

genre | huang renjun x fem!reader. non-idol! au. angst with a cute ending, renjun is a bit protective

warnings | a lot of self doubt, jaemin’s girlfriend is awful and mean, y/n and renjun overset boundaries (if that’s a thing)

wc | 3.7k

a/n: renjun is the love of my life and i would do anything for him even w the military cut amen thank you god also suhyun isn’t based off anyone

TO BE HONEST, it would be a lie to say you weren’t expecting this. Despite that, there was a glimmer of hope, an all-consuming glimmer, that made you believe your moving into Renjun’s apartment would be more than it actually was.

Renjun values his alone time, and you know that. You’ve respected it for your whole relationship, and, honestly, it wouldn’t be too far off to say you held the same sentiments. You would even say that was half the reason you both fit together so well.

When you first brought up moving in together, you’d suggested separate bedrooms, claiming it might be better for both of you. It was Renjun who rejected the idea, saying it would just drive a wedge between you two and how much you hung out.

You were overjoyed then, but not so much now.

Glancing at your clock, which read 1:03 am, you were upset that you couldn’t fall asleep. You were exhausted, with your eyes hurting at every movement and your limbs stuck to the mattress, but closing your eyes and letting your mind run made everything worse.

You were on the left corner of the bed, and Renjun had squared himself all the way to the right. He hadn’t so much as touched you, only offering you a small “good night” and a smile. He’d fallen asleep quickly, too, as he always did, not giving you a second thought.

Renjun wasn’t very touchy (and, once again, you weren’t either). Still, a part of you had also hoped that he’d initiate even the slightest bit of skinship, whether it be hand-holding or even the slightest bit of proximity between you two. But, no, he was at least a foot away from you, maybe more, tucked into himself.

As you were realizing, it felt…bad. Even if he normally slept like this, even if you both weren't big into skinship, it felt awful. It felt like he was afraid to touch you, uncomfortable with touching you, even though you lived together.

You’d get over it, soon enough. You knew Renjun loved you—he’d let you move into his apartment, for free no less, for god’s sake—but, in little moments like these, it’s hard to wrap your mind around.

Usually, you like hanging out with Renjun’s friends. They’re a fun group of people, always having something to bicker over or joke about, and you never leave without laughing until your cheeks hurt.

Tonight, though, was terrible.

Jaemin had invited his girlfriend—a rare occurrence from him, as they’d only started dating recently—and he had no issue with any sort of affection, even in front of so many people. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, practically dragged her onto his lap, and hugged her for nearly the entire night, all of which were things you would hate to happen to you.

Still, you couldn’t help but compare them to how you felt now.

Meanwhile, the rest of Renjun’s friends were going on and on about your new living situation, poking fun at how you came in the same car and left in the same one. Haechan particularly teased you both, referring to you as the first married couple in the relationship. At one point, he assumed a mocking old-lady voice, asking “when are you planning to have kids?” which drew a long sigh from both you and Renjun.

Unfortunately, the lovey-dovey jokes on top of Jaemin and Suhyun made you want to drive a drill into your skull more than ever.

You were particularly quiet on the ride home, staring at the moon from the car window. You wondered if the moon felt lonely orbiting the Earth, in the way you somehow managed to feel lonely in the most loving relationship you’d experienced in your whole life.

Of course, Renjun picked up on your quietness almost immediately. “Are you feeling okay?” he had asked, linking your pinkies together as he drove. The touch, as simple and as common as it was in your relationship, sent an uncomfortable sensation down your arm.

“I’m okay,” you replied, trying to sound as chipper as possible. “They tire me out.”

He didn’t press more, humming in response. You knew he didn’t believe you, but Renjun also trusted that, if something was wrong and you didn’t share, you would know how to handle it.

When you got home, you practically slid into bed almost immediately. Your skincare routine was cut short and you put on your warmest pajamas, mostly in hopes that they’d make you feel more loved at night than Renjun did.

You were in bed before him, but, once again, you couldn’t sleep. Instead, you kept your eyes closed, even when Renjun was talking on the phone with Mark in a hushed voice, even when he pressed his hand to your forehead and told Mark “no, she doesn’t have a fever,” even when he crawled into bed next to you (yet still so far away) and whispered a quiet “good night,” even though he thought you were sleeping.

You thought things wouldn’t get worse than they already were. You convinced yourself this was temporary, this was okay, that you’d get over it soon enough.

Renjun’s friends had other plans, though.

Living with him meant seeing them a lot more. Renjun held a lot of importance to making sure his friends knew you, and that you knew his friends. Skipping out on their get-togethers often would make him upset, and you didn’t want to make him upset.

Hanging out with his friends, however, was starting to make you upset, ironically enough.

Somehow, Mark had come upon a large amount of very illegal fireworks (his friend Johnny had given them to him, which upset Haechan a fair amount, for some reason). Now, you were sitting in Chenle’s backyard—his huge, multi-acre backyard—lighting them off.

The only issue was Jaemin inviting his girlfriend again, and them being all over each other, as per usual. You and Renjun were sitting next to each other, sure, but you were about half a foot apart and hadn’t touched each other since Renjun helped you onto the ledge you both sat on.

The moment Jaemin and Suhyun arrived, she was sitting in his lap, and he was whispering stuff in her ear, and she was marveling at the colors, and Jaemin was looking at her like she was the world. The only issue was that you knew that you’d hate it, once again, but you couldn’t help but yearn for what they had, what she had.

Mark dropped his phone onto the grass once a big group of fireworks went off, evidently done recording that round. He looked at Chenle, saying something to him (which you couldn’t hear), just before running off towards where the rest of the fireworks were.

As silence overtook the group, Suhyun turned towards your ledge, suddenly staring you down. It made you more anxious, and it took everything in you to stand your ground and not twiddle your thumbs in discomfort.

You began to open your mouth to comment on the fireworks, but Suhyun filled the silence before you could.

“So you two are dating?” she asked, looking between you and Renjun. He looked over at her, giving her a wary look you could only describe as his signature just-shut-up look.

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, wondering if she’d miraculously forgotten that you both were introduced to her as a couple. She hummed in recognition, nodding and biting her lip. She looked as though she was plotting something, a certain emotion you couldn’t pinpoint flashing behind her eyes.

With the small upturn of her lips, she asked, “For how long?”

You weren’t looking at him directly, but you could’ve sworn Renjun rolled his eyes at her question. He looked annoyed that she even decided to speak to you, hell, he just looked annoyed.

“Three years,” he replied. Usually, when someone asked how long you’d been together, he was excited to answer, as if he was proud of the length of time. Now, he looked unhappy and angry, like he wanted nothing more than for Suhyun to shut up.

“Really?” she suddenly replied, her eyes widened and her brows lifted. This whole situation was off-putting; more often than not, when people responded to “three years” with “really?” their tone of voice was impressed, but hers felt surprised in a not-so-kind way.

You heard Haechan, who sat next to you, suck in a breath, like he was going to start speaking, but he never got the chance.

“Sorry, it just doesn’t look like you guys even like each other.”

The words were nails screeching on a chalkboard, a violin’s strings violently snapping in the middle of the song, a hammer flying through a glass door.

Your stomach tightened, and you tensed immediately. Without skipping a beat, Renjun said, “Excuse me?” with the most malicious tone you’d heard out of him in a while. She shrugged, looking back towards Mark and Chenle. Jeno hopped off the ledge instantly, looking back at Renjun and Haechan before jogging out towards the two stragglers.

“Hey,” Jisung suddenly piped in from his blanket on the grass, face contorting into one of apprehension. “Maybe let's talk about something else.”

Jaemin looked a bit shocked, his eyes widened and his mouth slightly ajar, but he didn’t try to say anything. In the tense silence, Haechan let out a loud scoff, drawing you to look at him. He had the same expression as Renjun—intense dislike, maybe even hatred—and you felt like you were missing something.

“What the fuck do you know?” Haechan spat, crossing his arms. “Just because they aren’t making out every second of the day doesn’t mean they don’t like each other.”

“What I want to know,” Renjun began with a tight voice, and, suddenly, you were scrambling, realizing he was very upset by the question, and Renjun was not easy to deal with when angry. You put your hand over his, cringing at the unconsented touch, but still hoping it would help in the slightest. “Is why you think you know anything about my relationship when you’ve met my girlfriend once before today? I suppose I’m not following.”

The sort of politeness in his voice was one you were accustomed to. When he was especially upset, he took on a sort of condescension, yet he lowered his chin to look up at whoever he was talking to. Jaemin, definitely not thinking straight, jumped to Suhyun’s defense at the sight of Renjun’s offense.

“Dude, chill out,” he said, visibly tightening his arms around Suhyun’s stomach. “She didn’t mean it like you think she did.”

Suhyun looked towards the speed-walking Mark, Chenle, and Jeno, puffing her lips out into an unassuming pout.

“No, I think she did mean it like that. Just like she’s meant everything else,” Renjun replied, and then the blame had shifted.

“Renjun,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “It’s fine. Just ignore it.”

Instead, he ignored you. Haechan did too, apparently, coming to Renjun’s defense.

“I guess she didn’t mean it, though, huh? When she called Mark a loser, or when she told me to go waste my time pining over another one of my friends.” He laughed dryly, rolling his neck in a circle. “Get a grip, Jaemin. Holy shit.”

“Guys.” Mark “the mediator” Lee appeared, but he’d shown up all too late. Renjun returned your hand-holding, but he did so to pull you off the ledge with him. Abruptly, you were exiting the firework hang-out, Haechan following close behind.

“Guys!” Mark called out once again, but Renjun didn’t look back, not until you were in the car.

Upset Renjun had made things worse at home.

When you’d gone to bed, he opted to stay up with Haechan in the living room. You’d never seen him so worked up, not like this. Part of it made you feel good, feel loved, but the other part of it made you feel worse than before.

You knew the reason she’d said that was your lack of couple-presenting activities, or, more simply, PDA. She hadn’t heard an ‘I love you’ or anything similar once, and, if you had to guess, the first time she’d seen you touch Renjun was when you were trying to calm him down.

In a way, she was right. It was bad to even consider it, but she was kind of right.

The sound of your front door opening and closing was loud, but you were glad Haechan was gone and Renjun was coming to bed. Taking one last look at the moon, you squeezed your eyes shut, curling into yourself. If you were lucky, sleep would come easy tonight, but this was one of the unluckiest nights of your life, so far.

Renjun opened the door to your bedroom a little too roughly, but he closed it very gently, so as not to disturb your fake sleep. There was the sound of clothes rustling, of belts being taken off and sweatpants being put on, but it seemed like he would be bypassing his usual, extensive nighttime routine.

Instead, he got under the covers right beside you, tugging you into his chest. Your eyes flew open, followed by a small “Renjun?” that escaped from your throat.

“Go back to sleep,” he mumbled into your neck, causing goosebumps to sprout down your arms. “I love you. Good night.”

And, for the first time in about two weeks, you fell asleep with ease.

Nothing had changed. You were hopeful it had, after that night, but once Renjun calmed down, everything was the same, and you were back to feeling the sinking feeling in your stomach all too soon.

There was something that had shifted, though, and that is how you ended up sitting across from Mark at a small cafe in the city. He was nervous, you could easily tell from the way he spoke to the way he walked. When he texted you, he was sure to inform you that this was about Renjun and Jaemin, nothing more, nothing less.

“I don’t know what to do,” he sighed, putting his head in his hands. “They’re at each other’s throats, even though this should be something they get over easily. Hyuck is taking Renjun’s side, and so is Jeno, but the rest of us are pretty much neutral. It’s causing a lot of drama. I don’t know.”

“In the kindest way possible,” you began to respond, taking a big gulp of your coffee. “The problem here seems to be Suhyun and not Jaemin or Renjun.”

“I guess so, but…was the comment really that bad?”

In a burst of sudden discontent, you frowned. “I think…I think the issue is that she was a little too right.”

Mark furrowed his brows, suddenly confused. “I mean, right about what? You and Renjun orbit each other like…like two colliding stars, or something—god, that was a little cringy of me. But, seriously, I can’t see how she was right.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you decided, at the moment, Mark was someone you could trust. He would know how to drag you out of the situation you were in, you were sure of it. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“Renjun and I, like, barely even touch each other. The last time we even kissed was three days ago, and it was only because he was going to be gone for a long while. It’s like…moving in with each other made us afraid of each other,” you lamented, looking down at your hands. “We share a bed, but he sleeps as far as he possibly could from me. Like, the other night, I felt uncomfortable even holding his hand. We are stepping over boundaries we had set like two weeks into our relationship. I guess Suhyun must’ve picked that up somehow, but…I don’t know.”

Mark was quiet for a minute, and, when you looked up, he seemed to be deliberating something. “That’s why you’ve been so out of it, then? Not because you're feeling bad or something is going on at work?”

“…Yeah, that would be why.”

“I get it. It makes sense now, why he got that angry and why things have been weird. I’m not saying I like Suhyun, she seriously is awful, but it makes sense.”

“What—what should I do?”

Mark thought for a minute more, tapping his chin. “Okay, here’s our plan. I break Jaemin and Suhyun up using Jeno, and you ask Renjun for a hug. How about that?”

You and Renjun used to ask each other for hugs a lot. Back in the first year of your relationship, it was commonplace for you both, and the answer was always yes. Then, during your second year, there was less asking and more just-doing. The third year brought a weird type of hesitation that came with living with someone else for the first time, not in the way of a roommate, but in the way of a lover.

You didn’t expect to be nervous to ask Renjun for a hug ever.

You were coming home from a movie you’d planned on seeing in the Cinema weeks in advance. You were quick to shed your wet raincoat, hanging it on the hooks next to your front door. Your shoes came off and you stretched your arms out, glad to be inside your warm apartment and no longer out in the rainy cold.

This was when you decided you’d ask Renjun for a hug. Even if you were so nervous you could die, you would ask him for that hug, no matter what.

When you put your purse down, you began hyping yourself up internally, screaming at yourself to just go for it, that he was your boyfriend, and you’d done much worse than a hug before. So, with a brave pivot, you stared at Renjun with conviction, and he stared back with confusion.

“Yes?” he asked, dropping the keys in the little bowl you had for them.

“Can I have a hug?” you forced out, ignoring how your throat tightened and you oddly felt like crying. He stared at you for a moment, before his mouth turned up into a big smile.

“What? You don’t have to ask me for a hug, loser,” he said, approaching you. He drew you into the allotted hug, rocking you back and forth with him. “We stopped asking so long ago. What prompted that?”

“I don’t know,” you lied, squeezing his waist as hard as you could. You couldn’t lie—Renjun gave very good, very warm hugs. He smelled of wood and the ocean, like the quiet beach town you’d both fantasized about living in. His sweaters were always warm and soft, engulfing you into a blanket-like embrace.

“You could…hug me more, you now. Maybe at night, and stuff. Like couples in a movie,” you suggested, burying your face into his neck. Renjun suddenly went quiet as you rocked around the room.

“Oh,” he finally erupted, squeezing you back. “Oh, I get it now. That was it.”

You didn’t say anything, even as Renjun erupted into a fit of little giggles. Through his chuckles, he said, “God, we are so stupid. I thought you were about to break up with me. I thought I’d done something. No, we were just being dumb. I have to tell Mark.”

“We aren’t dumb, we just respect each other too much. Isn’t that a good thing?”

Renjun unwrapped his arms from your waist, taking your face into his hands. “I guess, but not when it was driving us severely apart,” he mused.

Gently, Renjun pulled you into a kiss. It was reminiscent of the first few kisses you’d both shared, all of which were well-timed and disgustingly romantic. It was slow and soft, with no ill-intent behind either of your actions. It was filled with unspoken love and minty undertones, the softness of his lips and the warm feeling of his hands on your cheeks.

When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but feel a bit blue. You’d unknowingly deprived yourself of your boyfriend for so long under the guise of “respecting his boundaries,” and now you just wanted to spend your time with him eternally.

“I love you,” he spoke in a sing-songy voice. It was much happier than the last time he’d told you he loved you.

“I love you too,” you replied with the same tune, smiling like an idiot. “Also, Mark is going to try to break Suhyun and Jaemin up.”

“Thank god,” Renjun breathed out, leaning his forehead against yours. “Did you know she practically harassed Chenle to set them up? She’s seriously awful. But, I’m going to text him to wait, so I can make out with you in front of her right before Jaemin leaves her for good.”

“I’d hate that,” you laughed. “Maybe we can hold hands or something.”

“No, she’s going to have to sit and watch. Just to prove a point.” Renjun planted another short kiss on your lips, pulling away for good this time. You followed after him, realizing he was just going to start dinner and wasn’t going to do anything special. “You can have a hug whenever you like, my dear. Just say the word, and I’m there.

thank you for reading!

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