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swan-of-sunrise · 4 months ago

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Taking Care of Business (Chapter Forty-Six)

Summary: Din worries about (Y/N) and her inexplicable illness but when he returns to Nevarro from a hunt, he's met with a stunning surprise.

Pairing: Din Djarin X F!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi guys! I promised you guys fluff in this chapter, so fluff you shall receive! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Forty-Six The Surprise (Previous Chapter)

From the moment they first met, Din Djarin knew that Captain (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was a strong, intelligent and courageous woman. She could out-fly seasoned pilots without breaking a sweat, draw her blaster quicker than any hot-shot gunslinger in the Outer Rim and strategize the most complex battle plans with nothing more than a few words of intel and her immense determination. In all the time he’d known her, she’d survived cuts, burns, sprains, breaks, concussions and blaster wounds and had come out on the other side of all of them tougher and stronger than before, and that wasn’t even accounting for the injuries she’d sustained as a smuggler for both herself and for the Rebel Alliance. Needless to say, Din knew that his wife could take care of herself on and off the battlefield, which was why her current bout of illness was worrying him so much.

At first, Din chalked (Y/N)’s cramping, headaches and fatigue up to anxiety; in between helping him capture bounties for the New Republic, the captain had been hard at work preparing her brand-new seamstress shop for its grand opening, setting up the shop’s inviting interior by hand and training a handful of assistants to work the various machines. She was thrilled to finally make her dream of practicing her mother’s trade a reality, but it was clear that she was also nervous about the new venture. It wasn’t until her near-constant nausea and vomiting began that Din started growing concerned for his wife’s dwindling health; he’d all but begged her to visit Nevarro’s health clinic for a check-up, his mounting worry even trumping his deep-rooted mistrust of droids.

Unfortunately, the captain’s scheduled appointment clashed with Din’s mission to apprehend an escaped Imperial informant and just as he prepared to inform Captain Teva that he was unable to accept the mission, (Y/N) insisted that he still go after the bounty and that she’d be fine going to the health clinic by herself. Din, less than pleased with the arrangement but unwilling to add to her stress by arguing, kissed his wife and son goodbye and left for Manpha; he used all of his well-honed bounty hunting skills to track down and capture the Imp in less than twenty-four hours, dropping him off on Adelphi for Captain Teva to legally apprehend on behalf of the New Republic and speeding through the Hydian Way back home to Nevarro.

“Welcome to Nevarro, independent trade anchor and Outer Rim Hyperlane port. Please state the purpose of your-”

“Jarsa, I know you know that I live here. You don’t have to ask me to state the purpose of my visit every kriffing time I return home.”

Din could practically hear the docking bay manager’s exasperated eye-roll before she stiffly replied, “And as I’ve already told you, Mando, if you have a complaint about our regulations then you’ll have to take it up with Magistrate Karga. Please state the purpose of your visit, please.”

After muttering a string of curses under his breath, Din heaved a sigh and replied through gritted teeth, “Returning to my place of residence. Happy?”

“You may now initiate landing sequences. Have a pleasant day.”

Din grumbled a biting insult in Mando’a as he expertly landed the N-1 Starfighter down onto their assigned spot and jumped down from the cockpit the moment the starship’s engines shut off; he strode through the crowded docking bay with purpose and once he reached the city gate, he spared a glance at the nearby designated speeder docking lot. After spotting their blue and silver land speeder docked at the end of the nearest aisle, he all but jogged through the city gate and hurried down the crowded streets, finally skidding to a stop in front of his wife’s half-finished seamstress shop.

Leafy branches of purple and white flowers framed the shop’s doorway and the large window displayed two empty dress forms, both waiting to be fitted in the seamstress’s finest creations, and above the window hung a sign written in Aurebesh: House of (Y/L/N). Through the window, Din could see a couple of shop assistants organizing a rack of fabric bolts and he felt himself begin to relax when (Y/N) walked into view; the captain was directing another assistant as he balanced on a ladder and installed a hologram projector above a vacant niche, her authoritative posture and the way she practically glowed with excitement warming Din’s heart and making him smile for the first time in days. She was dressed in one of her original designs, a lavender jumpsuit and flowing silver-colored embroidered cloak that synched at her waist, and her hair was pulled into a simple style inspired by her Naboo heritage; she looks a lot healthier than she did when I left, he thought with an inward sigh of relief, maybe she was right and it was only a simple stomach bug.

“Mando!” Din turned to see Greef Karga striding down the cobblestone street towards him while his protocol droid teetered close behind. “Back already? That might’ve been your fastest hunt yet!”

“(Y/N) hasn’t been feeling very well lately, so I wanted to make sure she wouldn’t be alone with Grogu and the shop for too long,” Din explained before nodding towards the shop in question. “Have things been quiet around here today?”

The High Magistrate chuckled. “It has, but I did receive a few reports of your little guy getting up to some mischief by chasing Kowakian monkey-lizards in the main courtyard; other than causing a little ruckus and delaying the cantina’s food shipment by a few minutes, there was absolutely no harm done.” Din bit back a wince at that; since (Y/N) had fallen ill, Grogu’s behavior had been more unpredictable than usual and while they believed that he was only concerned for her health, his antics weren’t exactly alleviating any of their stress. “However, I was hoping that you and your lovely wife could explain to him that that sort of behavior’s really meant more for the city’s playground and not its busy streets.”

“Of course.”

“Good! Now, I have some business to attend to down at the docking bay, something about a disgruntled dock manager…” In that moment, Din was grateful that his expression was hidden away behind his beskar helmet. “Be sure to give Captain (Y/L/N) my best!”

“I will,” Din watched the High Magistrate and his protocol droid stroll down the street and when they turned the corner, he heaved a weary sigh and turned to enter House of (Y/L/N). A pleasant jingle sounded throughout the shop the moment he stepped through the threshold, causing everyone to look away from their tasks and towards the doorway; Din’s eyes were trained on the captain as her features were brightened by a happy smile and he was only barely listening as she dismissed her apprentices for the day, too distracted by her shining (Y/E/C) eyes and the way her jumpsuit hugged her curves beneath the sheer silver cloak.

“I think we’ll go ahead and call it a day. Thank you for all your hard work today, and have a wonderful rest of your afternoon!” (Y/N) called after the apprentices, locking the front door and rolling the privacy shade down over the window before launching herself into Din’s waiting arms with an elated laugh. “I wasn’t expecting you back until tomorrow! How’d the hunt go? Any injuries? How’s Captain Teva these days?”

Din chuckled, gently set her back down on her feet but holding her close to him. “Puhoi daab, ner cyar’ika alor’ad. The hunt was successful, Teva sends his regards and I’m not injured, but I’m more concerned about you right now.” He pulled back and removed his helmet, setting it down on one of the workbenches before holding his wife at arm’s length and examining her for any lingering signs of illness. “How did your appointment go?”

“The med droids said that it was just my body responding to stress; they suggested I eat some ginger root, drink plenty of fluids and get some rest.” Din breathed a sigh of relief but when he opened his mouth to interject, (Y/N)’s finger moved to rest on his lips to stop him and she gave him a knowing smile. “I bought some ginger root at the market after my appointment, I already drank two bottles of water today and we can go home, just as soon as I put some things away and lock up.” She lightly tapped the end of his nose with her finger as her eyes twinkled with affection. “Ner atin beroya.”

Shaking his head in playful exasperation, Din leaned down and gave his wife another kiss before letting her go and watching her fasten cloth coverings over displays filled with bolts of material; he took a seat at the nearby workbench, knowing better than to get in the captain’s way while she worked in her element, and he glanced inquiringly around the shop. “Where’s Grogu?”

“Asleep in the backroom; that little womp rat spent the morning chasing Kowakian monkey-lizards in the courtyard, and then he scarfed down an entire pack of roasted Kajaka Root before passing out!” When Din snorted in amusement, (Y/N) turned around with her hands on her hips and shot him a pointed look, all while fighting back a smile of her own. “Din, we can’t just let our son terrorize the citizens and local wildlife of Nevarro; we have to try and discipline him.”

He tugged his leather gloves off and nodded. “You’re right, alor’ad. I promised Karga that we’d talk to him and try to reign him in a little, but I don’t know how effective we’ll be; Grogu’s older than the both of us, after all.”

While (Y/N) breezed past with a tray filled with spools of colorful thread, she briefly paused to press a chaste kiss onto his temple and crossed the shop to place it in an open cabinet. “If we put our minds to it, we can do pretty much anything…even if it means finding a way to convince a fifty-plus year old Force-wielding child to behave himself. It’ll be a slice of uj’alayi, you’ll see!” She stacked another two trays of beads and embellishments in the cabinet before calling out, “R5, could you come here and lock these cabinets for me, please?” The astromech droid rolled out from the backroom and stopped in front of the data port near the captain, using his scomp link to close and lock all of the shop’s cabinets. “Thank you, R5.”

The astromech released a string of beeps and whistles as he rolled away, and Din watched the droid leave with the barest of smiles on his face. “You know, I think R5 likes it here.”

“A seasoned Rebellion veteran like R5 deserves a peaceful retirement,” (Y/N) replied, a mischievous gleam in her (Y/E/C) eyes as she shrugged her shoulders. “Well, a mostly peaceful retirement; he does have to put up with a grumpy Mandalorian on a regular basis.”

“Mir’sheb. You really must be feeling better if you’ve got the energy to tease your poor husband.” Din chuckled as his wife rolled her eyes and moved an empty dress form into the closest corner.

Glancing around the workbench he was leaning on, he picked up the captain’s well-worn holo-pad and swiped through her newest design sketches, marveling at the artistry and imagination present in every little detail. “Oh, those are some new designs for an upcoming line of maternity wear.”

Din swiped away from a panel of blouses and trousers to see a panel filled with day dresses and nightgowns, and he smiled up at (Y/N) when she moved to lean against the workbench. “They’re pretty, alor’ad. Some of your best work yet.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” When he turned his attention back to the holo-pad, the captain’s fingers gently carded through his messy curls as she continued. “I still need to tweak the silhouettes and figure out which fabrics to use for certain designs. Luckily, I’ll be able to test them all out on myself before I decide which ones to produce for the shop.”

“Yeah, that’s-wait, what?” Din’s head snapped up and everything around him seemed to fade away as his widened eyes met (Y/N)’s; he was barely aware of setting the holo-pad down and turning in his seat to face her, his mind only able to focus on the soft hands cradling his face and the tears beginning to well up in his wife’s eyes. “…When you said you’d be able to test them out on yourself, did you mean…?”

(Y/N) nodded and smiled widely through her tears of joy. “I’m pregnant, Din. We’re gonna have another child.”

An overjoyed grin spread across Din’s face and with a laugh of delighted disbelief, he jumped to his feet and enveloped (Y/N) in a tight embrace that she was quick to return; the captain giggled when he suddenly lifted her off her feet and spun her in a circle, her sheer silver cloak fluttering around their legs and twinkling under the shop’s bright lights. When he set her down on her feet, she took him by surprise when her lips quickly met his in a passionate kiss; one of his hands held her cheek while the other slid down to rest on the curve of her waist, and he couldn’t contain his blissful moan as her fingers tangled into his hair. It was when Din noticed the captain’s knees weakening that he pulled away, chuckling at her noise of protest but making it up to her by pressing feather-light kisses along her cheekbone and forehead. “So that’s why you’ve been so nauseated and exhausted lately, isn’t it? How far along are you?”

“Five weeks,” (Y/N) replied, still a little breathless as she allowed him to brush and kiss her errant tears away. “The med droids prescribed me some prenatal vitamins and after taking them with a cup of ginger root tea, I’m feeling much, much better.” She kissed his palm and gazed up at him, her (Y/E/C) eyes sparkling with elation. “Are you happy, sweetheart?”

Din nodded vigorously, giving his wife a tender smile as his thumb delicately caressed the soft skin of her cheek. “I-I’m…Alor’ad, this is one of the happiest moments of my whole life. Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika riduur.”

“Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika riduur,” (Y/N) whispered back before standing on her tiptoes and capturing his lips in another passion-filled kiss. After several blissful moments, she pulled away and laughed a little to herself when Din chased after her lips. “And that’s just the sort of behavior that got us in this situation in the first place…”

“You said that you’re five weeks along? You know, I seem to recall an incident five weeks ago when you pulled me into the backroom and-” His wife hastily silenced him with a kiss and he chuckled against her lips as he readily kissed her back, leaning back after several heartbeats and moving his arms to hold her around the waist. “Are you happy, ner cyar’ika alor’ad?”

“I couldn’t be any happier, sweetheart.” Reaching down, (Y/N) took one of Din’s hands and moved it to rest on her abdomen; it was unchanged, free of any indication that the manifestation of their loving bond was growing within, but just knowing that their baby was there made Din’s heart burst with pure and unadulterated joy. “You should know that I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that Grogu’s known about his little brother or sister for quite some time.”

For a split-second, Din’s brows furrowed in confusion but realization quickly dawned on him. “Through the Force…wait, is that even how the Force works?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “I have no idea, but it explains why he’s been so excitable lately; the poor little guy’s been trying to tell us about the baby for weeks and we had no way of understanding him.”

As if he’d been secretly listening in on their conversation, Grogu’s floating pram drifted into the shop from the backroom and with a coo of happiness, he leapt into the air and landed in Din’s waiting arm; the child nuzzled his wrinkled green face against Din’s cowl before clinging onto (Y/N)’s jumpsuit, babbling excitedly as he stretched his clawed hand down towards her abdomen. “You excited to have a little brother or sister, kid?” Din and (Y/N) both burst into laughter at their son’s withering side-eye, and Din gave one of the child’s large ears an affectionate rub. “Yeah, I know, that’s a pretty dumb question to ask you. But now that we finally know what you’ve been trying to tell us, you’ve gotta behave yourself in public, okay? No more chasing the city’s vermin in the courtyard and stressing your mother out.”

Grogu responded by blowing a loud raspberry and somersaulting back into his pram, only to pull a small package of blue cookies out from under his blankets and begin munching on one. “Well, no one can say that you didn’t try,” The captain quipped, fighting a losing battle against the grin that was spreading across her face as her eyes sparkled with mischief. “After all, everyone knows that a bounty hunter’s negotiation skills are inferior to those of a smuggler.”

“Is that so?” Din smirked at their familiar rapport, wrapping his arms back around her waist and straightening his posture so that (Y/N)’s weight rested against his and their gazes were nearly leveled. “Any chance I can change your mind with a bubble bath and a package of Chandrilan chocolate?”

(Y/N) arched a playful brow at that. “You really think that bribery will work on me?”

“Of course, everyone knows that smugglers can’t resist a good bribe.”

“Mir’sheb!” Din chuckled at his wife’s exaggerated gasp of outrage, which was soon followed by a grin. “You’re lucky that I love you so much, Din Djarin.”

“Yes, I am. Right now, I’d wager that I’m the luckiest man in the galaxy,” He answered honestly and her eyes shone with tenderness as she held his face between her hands. “You and Grogu and this baby are my life, ner cyar’ika alor’ad, and I swear on all the stars I’ll never leave your side.” Tears filled the captain’s eyes and after pressing a sweet kiss onto his lips, she nuzzled her face into his cowl and tightened her hold around him; smiling to himself, Din briefly closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her head, savoring the feeling of holding his wife close and the sounds of his son’s content coos from his pram. “Ready to go home now?”

(Y/N) pulled away and her smile nearly took Din’s breath away. “I’d love nothing more.”

After slipping his helmet and gloves back on, Din followed (Y/N), Grogu and R5-D4 out of the shop and waited for (Y/N) to finish locking up before offering her his hand, which she readily accepted. As he walked hand-in-hand with his wife and watched in amusement as their dutiful astromech kept blocking Grogu’s attempts to steer his pram towards the city’s many food stalls, he sent a silent word of thanks to the Maker that after a lifetime of pain and loneliness, the universe finally saw fit to bless him with an aliit of his own and the promise of their clan’s suum ca’nara on the horizon.

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A/N: I told you there'd be fluff! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created two Spotify playlists, one filled with of all my favorite music from the world of Star Wars and the other compiled with all the songs I listen to for inspiration while writing this series, so if you’re interested in checking them out the links are down below!

Star Wars Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KuSKJhVOPPvxdJ9YHeo4M?si=2977ff31bf0c4bdd

Din Djarin/TCoB Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5HIv4pIIgtzRW3Nyv5x7ry?si=15e457550bd94966 Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty @sinon36 @seninjakitey @thatonedindjarinfan @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mostclevermiss @momc95 @welcometothepedroverse @sarahjkl82-blog @elinedjarin @ccomandercody @crowleysqueenofhell @goldielocks2004 @wondergal2001 @groovyqueer @impala1967666 @fluffy-canada-pancakes @icee228 @siimiasoi @uncle-eggy @amyg1509

#taking care of business #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #the child #baby yoda #greef karga #nevarro #naboo #star wars

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delcakoo · 1 year ago

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i’m sure most ppl expected this so i’m not gonna make a big deal out of it but!! yes i am going on hiatus for an unspecified amount of time.

it’s honestly quite simple, i’ve just been losing interest in most aspects of kpop aside from the music, which makes writing for it a lot harder than before. i also dealt with a lot of burn out for months and still forced myself to write which only made it worse. lastly, i’m an executive of two clubs at my school this year on top of all my classes, so finding time to write would be even worse than it was before :’) !

YEAh that’s kinda it! for now my works will stay up, moots can dm me for my disc/spotify!! even if we’ve barely spoken pspsps i wanna stalk ur music cmere 🤲 a special shout out to my emoji anons too, you’re all amazing people ilysm, especially those that have been stuck with me for so long <3 (u know who u are!!)

i’ll try and check in here every so often to chat, esp if a new comeback for enha/txt happens!! love u guys and stay safe <3 you may send an ask if u have any questions!

extra stuff i wanna say to moots below! (it’s all word vomits i’m sorry)

RAVEN. MY WIFEY. my BELOVED blr wont let me tag u but you already know i adore u sm playing roblox with u is so fun even if that one banana game was kinda ass!! 💖 thank u for being so so sweet when putting up with me all the time and raising our fav corgi daughter with sm love <3 i hope u get more confidence in ur writing because your fics are always so creative and well written, and in yourself too bc a certain mf thats name starts with J and ends with N is MISSING OUT. 🙄🙄 ok im still gna be annoying u all the time so. bye ig….. smooches

@seongclb katto u deserve an award for putting up with me in dms ilysm 😞 watching the promised neverland together brought me so much joy and i still have a ss of you calling gilda a tractor ok i love u!!!! i would read your fics all day any day u are so talented and ur photography skills are amazing, i hope we get to keep in touch WE SHOULD FIND ANOTHER SHOW TO WATCH TGTHER !!!!! i need to fix your lack of anime knowledge ‼️ PLS KEEP WRITING AS WELL ENHABLR NEEDS U!!!!

@soov reirei my gf i aspire to be as confident and funny as you, you’re literal sunshine and always make my day better even with just one interaction <3 thank u for being so welcoming my first days in walmart enha and raising sushiwon with me!! as well as entertaining me by dying in genshin every 3 seconds <3 (WE NEED TO PLAY AGAIN) oh and KEEP WRITING BB. i will rise from THE DEAD WHEN IT COMES OUT OK U CAN DO THIS ML!!

@haknom kangaroo karaoke keys we may have had only a few convos but they were all so fun like PLAYING BRAWL STARS WAS HILARIOUS we ate the house down in duo showdown idc. and beta reading ur fics was such a treat esp while watching u plan new smaus every other day 🫶 also your music taste is MUWAH gimme some more recs pspsps !!! KEEP WRITING OKKK?!

@kynrki kimmy kimmy kim one of my first ever moots <3 your writing is always such a joy to read and your energy is amazing, thank you for giving me a chance when i was too shy to ask anyone else to be moots LMAO 🫶 plsplss keep writing you’re so gifted and deserve the whole world LOVEE UU

@bitehee cavvy my big sibling :((( i love u sm kshsdknd its been a while but i really hope everything has been well since you moved and you’re still being as cool as ever <3 im gonna replay a pokemon game in ur honor perhaps mystery dungeon 👁️ ? anyway i look up to u and think u are so cool, one of my fav hee stans ever ever!!! remember u have my disc if u ever wanna chat 🫂 !!!

@sunoksunny sunny <3 my other gf. i remember our first vc u had this goofy pfp i cant remember what it was but like u are so easy to talk to and funny?! and PRETTY??? your fits are always stunning and your singing is beautiful ugh the whole package fr… and. we need. to play. genshin!!! I REDOWNLOADED IT FOR U OK WE WILL DISCUSS THIS SOON!! ILY

@slytherinshua ZANNY. u are so easy to talk to we match each others energy so perfectly?!? I HOPE U AND TUALHA CONTINUE BEING THE COOLEST EVER and ur writing is top tier so pls keep going‼️ thank u for being so sweet to me as another one of my very first moots i appreciate u sm <3333

@flwrshee riri !!! we haven’t even been moots for long but i had to add u in here because u need to know that ILYSM. you’re like an adorable energetic little sister that always makes me smile T-T thank you for taking time out of your day to reblog my fics with so much sweet feedback and i wish u the absolute best always!! if u ever need anything pls dm me on disc i would love to chat with u more, and make sure to keep writing bc u have SO much talent!!!!

@wonieleles sia SIA i genuinely miss talking to u sm i NEED to come back to walmart enha :(( we don’t talk much besides our little interactions in the server but each time you make me smile. you’re so so smart and admirable, i hope you keep up the hard work bc i know you’ll go so far and HAVE MORE CONFIDENCE!! you’re so beautiful okay ily 😞🫶

@sultrybaby kel 😭😭😭💖💖 you’ve literally been a day one THANK YOU for always checking in on me even during your ridiculous NONSTOP EXAMS. 💀 another one of my big siblings on here fr you are such a real one and i care for u sm!!! i hope everything has been well for u?! pls feel free to message me for anything okay <3 I LOVE U SM thank u for sticking with me all this time 🫂🫂

i have so many moots so i can’t write smthn for everyone but i love u all okay <3 AGAIN if u wanna keep in touch thru spotify or discord dm me muwah

#delcakoo #so anyways… uh who watched the barbie movie!

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cve-th3mvsic · 9 months ago

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i should probably have an “intro” post

hi, i’m tobias ^^ toby is cool too

(i based this off of @stanleyvampire14 ‘s intro because i didn’t really know how to do one)

i have a side blog: [ @askblog-cvesocs ] if you wanna check that out ^^ i plan on posting at least once daily, but sometimes i may not get to it.

My pronouns page if you wanna check it out

i’m on an inactive spree at the moment. — i’ll post something from time to time. js to say somethin. but probably not very often.

— i don’t currently have the mental capacity to interact much, but if you would like to interact with me, feel free to<3 i’m very welcoming, i promise

(↑ mostly inactive as of july 30th, 2024)

More about me

• my pronouns: he/him, it/its

• INFJ-A (dunno if this means anything to you, but that’s okay)

• i’m 5’9

• i’m a sagittarius

• i am on the spectrum. i struggle with social cues sometimes. when i talk to people, it’s difficult to tell if they’re annoyed or uninterested when they are. — i use tone tags like (/j), (/nm) (/pos) (/lh) (/neu) and so on. i also separate things often — in text, ya know. like with brackets “[]” and parentheses, because it makes more sense for my brain. i will often ask questions for clarification, so if it may be a “common sense” kind of thing i ask about, i genuinely don’t know.

my brain works a lot differently than others’ do. i may not be able to comprehend things as quickly as others, so please bare with me.

• i always speak my mind. if i have an opinion on somethin, there’s a big chance that ima say it. — i’ll most likely say the first thought that comes to mind pretty often. just to say it tbh. (i do very often say the first thought that comes to mind, i’ll be like “i almost said ___. that’s crazy”)

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[more below the cut]

• likes:

[writing] — i have a story that i haven’t written yet. it’s called “shit talker”. if you wanna hear all about it, i can totally yap to you about it. — i’ve actually gotten some writing done lately, which i’m proud of! i’ve been working on it (the new rewrite) since september 5th, and so far i’ve got two (and a half?) scenes written.

—[my most favorite song artists]: [the shins] , [vacations] , [phoenix] , [ellie goulding] , [pastel ghost]

—[top 5 favorite songs (at the moment)]:

•| “When You Sleep” by my bloody valentine (this is my number one most favorite song of all time.)

•| “Girl On the Wing” by The Shins

•| “Sticks & Stones” by Jónsi

•| “Where No One Goes” by Jónsi & John Powell

•| “Don’t Save Us from the Flames” by M83

—[my favorite colors]:

•| green

•| purple

•| yellow

•| brown

(i can’t color the words the way i wanna ☹️)

• dislikes:

—throwing up/mentions of throwing up. i have emetophobia. i do not like the words vomit or throw up. they make me extremely uncomfortable and it even makes me feel sick. (even writing this is making me feel sick)

[i will let you know if i don’t like something or i’m uncomfortable.]

other things:

• i watched fruits basket. (the newer one, not the old one) I LOVE FRUITS BASKET IT MAKES ME SOOO EMOTIONALLL I LOVE ITTTT

• i like to write, or at least think about my story in my head. — i have a shit ton of ocs. i have like 30+ ocs, most of which only have a name and little to no background, but there’s still plenty of ocs that have yet to be cooked up. my brain wants as many as possible.. — i have 14 main ocs. they all have the most background and have lore.

• i love the sturniolo triplets (they’re fun and i love their humor so much)

• i roleplay. i honestly see it as writing with another person. — i haven’t written with other people very much, but i’d like to ^^ if you wanna rp or write with me, lmk!! if you haven’t noticed already, i type a lot. when i rp, i write as if i’m writing a book. i use more than one oc when i roleplay.

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last updated: (10/16/2024) — october 16th, 2024 — 7:26pm

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#introduction #introductory post #wahoo

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popculturebuffet · 1 year ago

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Mutant Month: House of Claremont: Avengers Annual #10: Rogue Rises, Carol Falls (Patreon Review for Brotoman.exe)

Hello all you happy mutants and welcome back to Mutant Month, my celebration of the X-Men and all things marvel mutant. Today we're taking a step back from the strangest heroes of all themselves: while they do cameo in this story and Charles plays a very imporant roll, the main focus is on the X-Men's sometimes friends, sometimes rivals, and sometimes guys who sit there and do nothing while genocide happened because of editorial not stopping to think how bad this would make them look, the Avengers.. specifically Carol Danvers, at the time Ms Marvel. While Carol is absent most of the story it's her being found half alive and mostly brain dead that kicks off the story, her scathing reason you suck speech to the avengers for the events of Avengers #200, and the writer of this book being so pissed off by the events of said issue he wrote THIS ONE in the first place.

For those who haven't heard of avengers #200... i'm truly sorry i'm about to tell you it exists. But since this story is a direct sequel/fuck you to the story, I have to. Apologizes in advance.

So Avengers #200 was the story of how Carol Danvers got mystically impregnated by Marcus, extradimensional son of avengers foe Immortus... WITH Marcus. Marcus then revealed he'd previously kidnapped Carol, made her fall in love with him with the subtle manipulations of his machines, his EXACT words, and then when he had to go back to his home dimension due to his presence destroying the world, took Carol back with him. The avengers all GLADLY sent her off with her rapist and hoped she'd be okay.

If your curious to view this nightmare for yourself, my review of it's right here`, and it's easily one of the worst things i've reviewed. And that's not in a general group.. i'm still not sure if this monstrosity or the transphobic episode of faimly guy where Brian vomits for 2 minutes straight because he slept with a trans woman is worse. It's a toss up. It's a straight up deadlock of things that PHYSICALY HURT to write about.

So as a sort of apology Brotoman, who comissioned the review of Avengers #200 not having any idea how bad it was, as did I as while I knew what happened reviews only prepare you so much, agreed to eventually have me review the direct response to that, this issue. As for why it's in X-Men Month.. well if you know Carol's history or x-men history.. then you know where Rogue got her powers.. and this is where not only that happens.. but Rogue debuts. So not only does this change avengers history.. but it's also VITALLy important to x-men history, to the point the issue is both int he x-men and marvel masteworks and their respective epic collections. It's simply too vital to both stories to ignore, especially the x-men's as Carol also basically joins the group for a while after this.

As I said this is a direct response from Chris Claremont about Avengers #200. Now any resonable person would hate this story, something i'd rarely say as tastes differ but this is

So I feel confident saying no one likes this and if they do their just being a trollish jackass.

But no one liked this story less than X-Men Maestro Chris Claremont. Chris was deeply attached to Carol and for good reasons: While Carol existed before him, debuting in Captain Marvel and then getting her own solo, the character wasn't exactly defined, first being a kinda sorta but not really love intrest to Captain Mar-Vell, then having this weird split identity gimmick and working at a women's magazine printed by J Jonah Jameson. It was clear while Marvel had the idea of "neat new womens superhero" that was about all they had.

Luckily Chris took on the book and quickly ended the split identity schtick and defined carol as we know her: Tough as nails, badass, miltary referree. He defined her backstory, the son of a sexist jackass who joined the Air Force to get an education after he refused because she was a woman. He defined most of her supporting cast, her skill and genuinely who she was. He even took her archenenemy mystique with him when he started writing x-men and to my shock Rogue was actually intended for an arc in Carol's book.. but the book got cancelled before it happened.

So finding out a character he poured his heart into was raped and her friends were just fine with it while also pouring a thick gravy of sexisim on top of the procedings.. didn't go so well

Shooter.. let Chris right the ship. Which says a lot as normally when editorial is asked to correct a creative mistake they either wait a bit so they can make money off correcting their own bullshit or actively refuse

Granted in this case, Chris Claremont was marvel's #1 writer at the time, with X-Men rising to be their best seller, with Chris having just finished the back to back classics Dark Phoenix Saga and Days of Future Past. It was clear the X-Men needed chris, wouldn't be the same without him and Chris had all the power in this negotation, while all Shooter could do is nod and say sure. While Shooter would ocasoinally flex his power on x-men for both good (shutting down the Colossus and Kitty Pryde thing) and bad (not letting Mystique and Destiny be publicly gay.. or letting Destiny be nightcrawlers mom and Mystique having shapeshifted into a man to make that possible. ), but it was stuff Shooter was willing to fight for where as here the writer of his biggest hit was asking to fix a huge mistake for him. And given jim was busy making mistakes of his own

Someday.... i'll deal with this mess someday.. but for now Chris had the greenlight to fix Shooter's mistake, and thus we got Avengers Annual #10. And as said, since he couldn't do the Rogue story in carol's book, he did it here a way to both set up Rogue as the next big threat for the x-men, and of course swerve it by them being forced to take her in, and Carol joining the team in a supporting role while not having her powers... then giving her a new more powerful set. The latter part was also likely always intended, it simply played out diffrently. It's hard to tell. What won't be is does this issue hold up on it's own and does it help wash the taste of avengers 200 out of our mouths? Let's find out.

Avengers Annual #10 gets right to it as we open with a woman getting pushed off a bridge.. thankfully she's quickly saved by one of the guest stars.. no not storm...We're in san francsico and Chris Claremont is still writing non- mutant books so...

Yup. As a nice bonus to this issue in addition to Carol and the X-Men guest starring, we also get the Startling Spider-Woman. As I mentioned in my review of God Loves, Man Kills, claremont really likes using everything he's worked on or has worked on. I see echoes of that attitude in Al Ewing's work today, finding ways to weave in your other books or tie off loose ends you never got to.

For those less familiar with her, Jessica Drew was experimented on by her dad and the high evolutionary, raised around Animal People, and then became a super heroine, with Claremont turning her into a detective after some hit and miss directions. I'm a fan thanks to Dennis Hopeless breakout run, so it was nice seeing Jess here. When we next see Jess she's waiting at the hospital, where she finds out her Jane Doe is carol.. and whlie not suprising to us given this issues place and history, it was meant to be a suprise at the time with the cover lady easily being any super being the avengers had met.

And before we move on, let's talk about that cover for a second because it's this weird mix of being both really eyecatching and an absolute hot mess. On the one hand the striking red, various panels of all the stuff and nice bit of building intrigue as they don't spell out what out of the brotherhood knocked out cap and iron man. On first look it's not too weird.

But when you really step back and look at it it's saying a lot of nothing. instead of going just with cap being thrown through a window or showing the various things happening to the avengers and then having jess and the x-men on the botttom it tries to showcase EVERYTHING in this issue and cram it all on to one cover, which is never a smart idea. Not helping is the large advertisment for a ten speed giveaway taking up a lot of real estate in an already busy cover. I don't mind covers homaging this, as it's a neat IDEA for a cover, the excecution is just sloppier than I remember and has diminishing returns: it does the job of catching your attention.. but then gets it for all the wrong reasons.

Anyways there's a problem: Carol's mental state is so withdrawn the staff psychologist assumed she'd been insutlationalized since child hood, and they can't really reach her. Thankfully Jess happens to be friends with the x-men.

That's something.. weird that happened with the passage of time. See due to Chris writing her early on Jess was friends with the x-men and her reason for knowing them is not remotely small: on a case she found former member Banshee's lost daughter Siryn, who'd go on to be a major part of X-Force and X-Factor and a faviorite of mine thanks to the latter. It's not the biggest foot note but it's something that almost never gets brought up. She's friendly enough with the x-crowd it's weird it dosen't get brought up apart from her skrull counterpart and wolverine being on good terms due to Jess also having been a close friend of logan's in his series during her powerless days. For instance in the solo I mentioned, none of the uncanny x-men visit her party. They just kinda fell out of touch. I mean Logan was dead at the time but I can't imagine Kurt Wagner would pass up free shrimp and pretty ladies. It's just not who he is.

At any rate Jess calls the professor for help, and we get a little bit of slice of life stuff with the x-men. It's something chris REALLY loved doing and that I honestly miss in modern comics: with how tightly packed the pacing is there isn't time for the x-men to say, be busy rebuilding the danger room after Kitty had to use it to murder an alien, which is the case here. It's fun seeing Kurt and Kitty slowly bond and also fuck up some machinery together trying to fix things. Charles heads down to San Fran, and the avengers have been notififed: Carol's identity isn't public YET , so it's just said their linked "somehow". Charles tells Jess in his mind that not only is her concious mind just.. gone but he was able to find out who did it: Rogue. Who at the time would've gotten a solid reaction out of fans as

As this is her intro. It's a good way to set up a villian though: have her take out a hero at Carol's level.. and a few more. YOu do have to thread this needle carefully: if you go too far, the villian comes off overpowered. Here , Rogue has just enough to be a threat, but not so much she's entirely overpowered, as we find out some drawbacks later.. and much later will find out permenanlty stealing Carol's powers and memories comes with the whopper downside of a whole other person being grafted to her brain.

And we first meet Rogue properly.. as she suprise attacks captain america. Which COULD be seen as cheap.. but Rogue makes a valid point after: she has Carol's memories.. and thus unlike most foes fighting cap , knows how he fights. And Carol being military herself meant she probably thought about how to take him down just in case someone possesed him, turned him into a werewolf or created a nazi clone. You know the usual.

Rogue then does what would become her trademark of taking the power with a kiss. This is also where we find out she stole Carol's powers for keeps, and as long as she dosen't touch someone TOO long can usually not take too much. This part.. is a bit out of sorts with her later deep fear of being touched, but I feel fits: At this point Rogue is a villian and is being encouraged by her moms to be evil. As such the ethics are likely being actively downplayed. Most memroies she's taken fade away and so does the guilt with only her first use of her powers with her childhood friend cody really bothering her. It's a case of her simply not having the downside of her powers HIT HER yet. Without any consequences, she has no reason to fear her power.

While the rest of the avengers minus thor and iron main wait for cap, Rogue leonardos him through a window. This gets them to contact Tony as Iron Man who plans to help.. but turns out the attack on Cap wasn't something random.. it was well planned, with Mystique waiting in hiding as the wasp to trick tony.. and slam some sort of doo dad that depowers the armor and leaves tony stuck inside it.

Finally for the big three, just as Thor turns out of being Donald Blake, Rogue hits him. Granted she docent know he's thor's mortal alter ego... but it still makes sense as he's their doctor. Before she can finish him though Jess shows up, having apparently travled to NYC to follow up on Carol's attempted murder.

We get a neat fight as Rogue really beats the shit out of the avengers, but like I said it's done in a way that dosen't leave her coming off OVERPOWERED. Yes she snatch's thor's powers.. but that's why: She has the combined powers of thor, cap and ms marvel with Steve, Carol and Thor's combined knowledge of their teammates. It makes perfect sense she easily floors them and only dosen't kill them because Mystique has other plans for her daughter. It's also a ncie way to show off her inexperience and deference to mystique: she stole three powers but dosen't know if she can do more, and balks out of a guaranteed win simply becaase it's not in the plan.. which sets up the brotherhood's defeat LATER by not finishing the avengers NOW.

With the avengers on the backfoot for now, Jess reveals that Carol disappeared from new york 6 months ago with avengers 200.. but resurfaced three months later in San Fran, living just fine. It's our first hint that Carol isn't exactly happy to see her friends again. She moved to a city with one other superhero, hasn't picked the mask back up, and didn't call them. And as we'll see later she has every reason not to.

The avengers reacap avengers 200, and after giving me some flashbacks, we get to the main point: This attack was cordinated, the avengers are now down their three strongest and most experienced members. The only good news is Beast, who was an avenger for a while, it's why he wasn't in the Claremont run outside of a few choice guest spots as by the time he wasn't, he got swept into x-factor, meaning beating Rogue won't be easy.

The reason behind hobbling the avengers like this? A prison break. See the brotherhood first appeared a few months before this in the landmark x-men story Days of Future Past, trying to assassinate bigoted senator kelly, our heroes winning.. but Kelly being an ungreatful bastard about it and turning around to be mutantkind's greatest pain in the ass for a while, trying to publish the mutant registration act.

The brotherhood at the time consisted of Mystique, master shapeshifter and Carol's arch enemy at the time turned x-men villian, Destiny, Mystiques wife who can see the futttttttooorrrrrr, the blob, the imovable object, Pyro, Australian arsonist and fire bender, and Avalanche, earthquake machine of the cool costume without a personality to match, with Rogue joining here. They'd keep the lineup minus Rogue for most of the 80's, transitioning from terrorists to being the goverment's go too hired goons

At any rate Misty was the only one to escape last time, so it's her job to break them out, with help from her wife predicting when, and Iron man being used as a blunt instrument. Though really he's more of an object. All that matters is he's blunt, hard and blunt.

So the brotherhood is broken out and costumed up... just in time for the avengers to arrive. Spider-Woman heads to fight iron man while a decent fight ensues: the main gimmick is destiny is tipping off the brotherhood before the avengers each move, allowing them to counter. It's a reminder of just HOW powerful Destiny is: her knowledge of the future isn't 100% , it's more propablities than full info or other wise she'd be invincible and our heroes could never win and it'd be really, really boring. But it's still potent enough and showed off well by chris claremont here: while the rest of the brotherhood get a great showing, their mostly hired goons. Destiny is Mystiques #2 for more reasons than that mouth thing she likes, and this shows it. The avengers are entirely on the backfoot because of her and it's telling the tide turns after Wanda gets a chance to attack her.. and more telling that it was only concidence she got a shot in on her and pure luck, as none of them KNEW destiny was doing this. The X-Men at least later have the advantage of knowing Destiny's the most dangerous piece on the board.

Mystique tries to kill Jessica, mostly because she's pissed Carol lived. Destiny warns her this will be their downfall.. and she's right. Mystique was a terrible choice to send for this as Jessica sees right through her nick fury disguise and Misty barely escapes , with Jessica bringing iron man back

With that the tide has fully turned: Iron Man goes with the genius strategy of hitting Rogue real hard.. and her feeling it tells her she's down to just Carol's power and Mystique tells her to retreat, the two of them feeling. Now.. tha'ts a solid marriage right there. Where you can leave your wife to get captured by the avengers.

We get more of the fight including highlights such as pyro makin ga giant firebird, his trademark and Vision and Jocasta using double laser vision to collapse the ground beneath blob. It's a decent enough fight, I just don't care about it a lot and it's one of the issue's main weaknesses: A lot of it's a fight scene and while there was good setup for it with Misty taking out a lot of their members, the people who did said setup.. have left at this point. IT's down to blob, pyro and avalanche. And while I like all three for their designs and they've had great development in later years... in this case their just three interchangable mooks. Destiny's the one really making them dangerous and with the people who actually personally hurt the avengers gone, it looses any emotional weight. It's just the avengers against some b-list super villians. I've seen this before, i'll see it again and while it's fun enough it just feels like padding. What Chris HAD to do to justify the issue. It would've been more intresting had they actually escaped. The avengers won, the brotherhood just had to retreat. But i'm guessing Chris wanted the actual escape in his own book, and knew it'd also be weird if these guys beat the avengers and the earth's mightest heroes weren't after them.

It's nice ot see the brotherhood in this sort of situation.. but I can see why we only saw them pop up more elsewhere after they became freedom force: it's a lot easier to have the heroes eat the loss or the villians loose when the villians are working for the goverment and thus wont' be going back to jail.

The ending of this annual.. is what we came for though, the big centerpiece. The only thing I can say bad about it is the art. See the avengers come to see Carol, whose staying with the x-men, and will be for the next 20 or so issues of their title. More on that in a moment. For whatever reason artist micheal golden.. decided to have her pool side so this scene of a woman talking about her sexual assault.. is done in a swimsuit.

The art in general is the book's weakpoint: As a critic while i'll point out stuff I dont' like I generally try to be positive. Something bad like Avengers 200 isn't my usual wheelhouse. i'll gladly REVIEW terrible media for money, but even then I try to be fair.

But while the writing is good as any Claremont story of the era... the art from Micheal Golden is just bad. It's bad. At best i'ts inoffensive and at worst we have Rogue's looking like she's a 4 year old who found mommy's make up

Wonder Man looking like he pulled everything , everywhere all at once and cannot move from this pose as a result

Or the blob breifly replaced with a wax statue by the ghost of vincient price

Now credit where it's do there are good shots like this one of wanda

Or beast easily out manuvering pyro and blob

But as you can see their still not the BEST shots, just decent ones. It puts a damper on an otherwise solidly written book.

Speaking of which, it's time for the moment you've been waiting for, the reason we're here. Carol has the x-men and Jessica go inside, she needs to speak with her guests alone. Before she does though there's one small moment.. but an important one

It's a small subtle thing.. but the fact Jess is still here despite this scene taking place weeks later... shows she was there for Carol's recovery. While she found out what happened.. she cared enough to stay by her side and help her.. and it was through that one of the strongest friendships in the marvel universe war born. While it takes Jess becoming relevant again to really take hold, the two have been best friends for most of modern marvel, only briefly having a falling out over civil war II.. and even that didn't last long. Jessica and Carol are each othe'rs ride or die, and that call goes both ways. While we never see these weeks their what built a bond stronger than any on earth.

But this is something Carol has to do alone.

It's an utterly heartbreaking scene, one of the best in Chris Claremont's long career on this reread. The pure PAIN in carol's voice comes through in print, a hard feet but one Chris makes seem easy. And while Golden's artwork still isn't the best... he does a damn fine job of capturing her pain without making it melodramatic: instead we see a person who was horribly violated, has her friends casually assume she was in love with her rapist and even has one loudly tell her "no we saw you you didn't see what you think we saw".. only for Carol to calmly and tearfully explain that no, she did. Marcus violated her, and they LET HIM take her with him. It's only through sheer grace of his instant death far worse didn't happen and by then he'd still done more than enough.

What i love is that while Claremont is very thinly calling out how horrible the writing was.. he dosen't let his understandable outrage hurt his ablility to make a good narrative out of it: many a comic writer can succumb to clumisly fixing what they deem a mistake or even when fixing an actual mistake, fumble the ball. Chris here however turns it into character: Carol calls them out, tearfully, but calmly and lets them know how bad they hurt her, how bad they betrayed her.. but right after also makes it clear theyc an learn from this. They HAVE to learn from this. And if they do maybe all of this will have had SOMETHING good come out of it. But that's their choice.

It gives Carol agency back after an issue that was determined to strip it away, mocking her for not wanting a baby that was forced on her, that left her to a "happy ending" with her rapist." She could wallow in anger, but chooses to move on. She's cutting the avengers out of her life for now.. but after all they've done she can't bare to have them in it, and that panel above, that one right there shows how badly they get that: they came expecting to get some closure.. and instead got the wakeup call that they lost that one. Their friend was in pain, needed help, and they ignored what she wanted, ignored her concerns.. and like marcus ignored her consent. LIke him they didn't care what she wanted or who she was, just waht this whole thing meant to them. And it's clear fromt heir expressions.. that won't happen again.

I also like how it ends: Wanda, the one of them who was the most supportive during this debacle (and was missing during the sendoff with captain rapist, rest in dust you miserable bastard), is the most broken up by it and tells her sorry.. and Carol wipes her tears and accepts it, knowing at least one person tried not to betray her. It's a fitting sendoff for Carol's time in the avengers, a time that wouldn't come again till the 90's, one that dosen't let the avengers off the hook at all and has them utterly raked over the coaals for their henious actions, but allows her to move on

The final scene is in the Quinjet, as most of the avnegers sit in stone silence as the weight of everything hits them.. but it's once again wanda whose the most affected

It's a hell of an ending, one that offers no easy comfort.. simply the promise that maybe there will be a better tommorow. It's not easy making a mistake.. but it's the harder step learning from it. And evne harder to live with what others have inflicted on you.

So yeah while the art is hit and miss.. this issue is still solid. THe last act really steals the show, and is one long callout by chris.. but again it's done perfectly in character, a way to bridge carol leaving the avengers and joining the x-men and to make the Avengers deal with what they did. To make sure #200 isn't just fixed, with Carol back and Marcus a pile of dust, but to make sure it isn't forgotten. It's easier in comics to just.. wipe away a bad decision, and sometims necessary. But it's ofen the better route to take a huge writing mistake and refit it for character.

As for Carol her story would continue: she'd basically join the x-men, helping them on occasion, then get shot up into space with them, with her powers reawakend and reformatted as the even STRONGER binary. But with her emotions attached to most of her memories gonCarol's place on earth was gone and she took to the stars. She'd regain those emotions and rejoin earth of course, rejoining the avnegers, leading them and eventually becoming Captain Marvel.

As for Rogue.. having Carol's Memories would nearly drive her insane, revealing her not as the callous monster seen here.. but as a scared 20 or so year old... and forced to turn to the people who hated her most for help. But that.. my friend sis a story for next year. For now .. we can take comfort that even with lows like Civil War II under her belt.. Carol has never been through something like avengers #200 again.. and god willing never will. Thanks for reading

#captain marvel #carol danvers #x-men #mutant month #avengers #ms marvel #iron man #captain america #thor #the scarlet witch #vision #hawkeye #jocasta #destiny #mystique #the blob #pyro #avalanche

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lydiawyattwriter · 6 months ago

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1 of my ideas for this challenge: https://www.tumblr.com/lydiawyattwriter/750486361469042688/the-old-nook-behind-the-lamb-and-flag?source=share

PART 1

Gwenno was putting one foot in front of the other, with great effort not to stumble on to the B road. She only had three ales and a cider, which is a lot less than she usually has on her Friday nights out in the Lamb & Flag. Although, she doesn't usually go out with an empty stomach. It was the most bizarre she felt since she gave birth to her son, Oliver. Like a popped balloon still intoxicated from the Nitrous Oxide.

She turned with a slight stumble, at the sound of Hailey and Jess cackled laughter. Her vision betraying her as they were blurred dark and glittery splodges disappearing down the path. Gwenno gritted her teeth in drunken resentment.

'B*****'s,' she snarled. They always left her to her fend for herself. Even though she bought the first two rounds. ' Not hang-in with 'em ever again,' she vowed to herself. Gwenno held her hand to her mouth as she felt something travel upwards.

She quickly stumbled to the abandoned games keeper shed and released the rising warm fluid, coming up from her stomach. Her skin was now clammy and her body shook, but her she no longer felt so intoxicated. It was a small relief but she still felt terribly ashamed of herself. She was a thirty eight year old mother, vomiting by a shed while her son was probably in his bed playing his Switch. Waiting for his Mum to come home and kiss him goodnight.

Worse than ashamed. She hated herself for being this stupid. If Derek heard about this, he would be all up in it. Presenting her as a s*** mother in front of his son.

She turned around and leaned her back against the wall. It was overgrown with climatous pink flowers and stinging nettles. Gwenno rested her head against the climatous as a cooling cushion for her throbbing head. The leaves felt cool and welcoming against her neck. She closed her eyes for a moment, when she heard something small tumble and thud to the thick grassy ground. Gwenno assumed it was just a loose bit of stone, but looked down to find something wrapped in a bin bag. She bent down and picked it up. It seemed to be partly sealed with duck tape. It felt heavy and possibly metallic under the packaging.

Gwenno felt around the shape and turned it over in her hands. A piece of tape was not properly sealed down. So she peeled at it and then stopped herself for a moment.

'What am I doing?' she wanted to put it down and go back home to forget that it was there. However, something was making her tug at the tape and tear the bag open.

The object was black and shiny and made her cold all over like a corpse. Her hands trembled as she threw it through the window of the games keeper shed.

A gun! A f*****g gun! What the hell is there gun doing around here. She walked towards her house with those exact words circulating in her mind. The gun was not the part that terrified her the most.

It was that it was covered in sticky crimson. Even the bags inside were caked in it. She looked at her hands as they felt sticky and found her fingers were now covered in it. Gwenno felt like her lungs were unable to take in oxygen and began wheezing and gasping. She turned on to her drive and her boots slipped a couple of times on the wet gravel and weeds.

Gwenno made it to her front door and fumbled for her keys using her jacket sleeves to stop her from getting blood on the door. She pushed through the door and locked it behind her.

'Ma? I thought you were gonna be back an hour ago.' Gwenno's heart sank as she heard feet making their way to the stairs. 'Lou had to go home.'

'Olly, j-just stay in bed. Honey, I will come up in a minute.' To her relief they stopped and started going back down the hallway.

Gwenno felt tears burn her cheeks. 'What do I do?' she whimpered and inhaled shakily. She wanted to call the police, but she was still drunk and smelled of vomit. Her son was also upstairs and would be horrified to see her in this state.

She needed someone though. Gwenno couldn't deal with this alone even if she tried. She took off her jacket and washed the blood from her fingers in the kitchen sink with a large amount washing up liquid.

Gwenno searched through her mind to think of people to talk to. Her brother is in the forces, but has been posted to Istanbul for three months and their parents are both gone. She couldn't deal with Derek right now let alone trust him. It had to be Sam.

They broke up a year ago, but she was still sore from it. He used to work on the task force in Cardiff and had experience with murder investigations before he quit. It would have to be him again. There was no choice.

'Why does this keep happening?' she whispered exhausted as she dried her hands. The tears still making her way down her cheek as the horrific image of the bloodied gun still remained fixated in her mind. The last time she saw him was at her parents funeral. She could remember his face red raw and her index finger being broken from his jaw. He left the wake shortly after. They could have still been alive if it wasn't for him.

Gwenno would have to put this behind her, if she was going to get out of this mess.

She got her phone out ready, unblocked Sam's phone number and rang it.

* PLEASE STAND BY FOR PART TWO IN THE NEXT COUPLE OF DAYS.*

I hope you enjoyed that. Any comments for improvement is greatly appreciated.

#writers on tumblr #crime fiction #drama

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thistleandthorn-rpg · 2 years ago

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Congrats and welcome back J with your application for Denver Evernever! Check out this page for what to do next and send us his blog within 48 hours! Welcome back!!

OOC INFO

Name/Alias: J Preferred pronoun: she/her Age: old Timezone/Country: cst RP Experience: a lot Activity Level: meh

IC INFORMATION:

Name: Denver Endeavor Evernever Designation: Switch Age: 21 Birthdate: February 23 Faceclaim: Colin Morgan Orientation: gay leaning bi Kinks: bondage, consensual slave/master, orgasm control Anti-Kinks: scat, vomit, impact play

Key Points: (

* Fiercely defensive of anyone he sees being bullied *broody and untrusting *Strong moral compass *No tolerance for hypocrisy

BIO:

Denver grew up in a compound where his father ran a religious cult. His entire life he watched his father "preach" about the importance of family and loving one another to his followers and then wring every ounce of dignity and independence from his mother behind closed doors. He vowed to never fall into the same trap. There was no saving his mother, as she'd fallen so completely into the manipulations of his father that she didn't even see she was being used. He couldn't wait to get out of his father's reach and the hypocrisy of his teachings. Academy didn't seem like it was going to be a drastic improvement but he hoped he would find like minded people to insulate himself against the pitfalls of the system. He was sure there was a way to do the system right, but time after time he witness people abuse their power and use each other in small ways, until he promised himself 'no more.' No more standing by while people around him were used, manipulated and abused. He harbored no delusions that he could over throw the system and didn't really care to. The system was good, as long as the people in it were kept in line. No, a mutiny wasn't the way. Misinformation and ignorance were the enemy and he's not afraid to fight them...or anyone who perpetuates them.

For the most part, Denver keeps to himself. He'd rather be painting a water color or reading a good book, than playing any kind of team sport. He doesn't like relying on other people or opening himself up to heartache but he's a generally pleasant, funny person who enjoys conversation and learning how other people's brains work. He prefers science over anything. Facts, logic, efficiency and learning something new are prioritized over most anything including ego. He's not afraid to be wrong but doesn't always consider people's feelings as much as he should. He's the kind of guy you either love or hate.

BIO QUESTIONS:

What are your feelings about the mark you have received?

Honestly, I'm kind of indifferent about it. In some ways I wish there was a clear path. In some ways I'm happy to have the choice.

How do your feelings on the system compare to your parents’ feelings on it?

God, where do I start? My parents views on everything are fucked. Well, my dad's views because my mom just mirrors anything he says. Dad thinks that manipulation is a way of life, I tend to think people should think for themselves. His "religion" and I use that word VERY loosely, "preached" the importance of reliance on other people and how you should look to others to guide you to moral correctness...of course he considered himself judge, jury and executioner with in his group. I don't disagree but you have to watch who you're letting mold your mind. He saw the system as flawed by a over bearing government and in some ways I don't disagree. But, we still could never see eye to eye. I don't think that a dom should control a sub's life or the reverse. I also have this radical idea that people shouldn't have to earn basic respect despite their mark. Wild, I know.

Where do you see yourself after you graduate?

alone probably

How do you feel about authority?

Necessary but often abused.

#accepted #j

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yanderechuu · 3 years ago

Note

do any of the teachers ever notice the things happening to y/n? (i headcannon Mic and Midnight as yanderes that would give advice to 1A lol)

yandere!Class 1A x fem!reader

[2.1K]

Summary: Aizawa is the first one you approached in regards to your certain predicament.

Warning: nonconsensual recording

│

Aizawa suspected something wasn’t quite right by the moment he saw you entering the class a minute before the bell rang, all haggard and teary-eyed, though you tried your best to obscure your disposition. He always knew you to often be in a state of discomfort whenever you were compelled to socialize, especially with your classmates, but now - you looked as if you reached your limit of holding the weight of the world on your shoulders, crashing down all at once as depicted on your crestfallen expression.

And when you showed up in front of the faculty room, timidly soliciting his presence, his suspicions were only further verified. Even with a pending question regarding subject matters in your mind, you weren’t one to approach a teacher to inquire about it, and if you did it was because the teacher was the one who would ask your attendance; never the other way around.

Present Mic was the first one to acknowledge you. He stood up from his office chair, waving at you comically. “Yo, (l/n)! Having trouble with English again?”

You never had a problem with his subject; he only insisted that you’d come to him in regards to that. “N-no, not really. May I speak to Aizawa-sensei?”

“Talk with me instead!” He enthusiastically spoke and headed over to you. “Come on, what’s the matter?”

“It isn’t your place to ask that when I’m here.” Aizawa interceded, clearly unimpressed by Mic’s antics. He failed to see the latter’s displeased countenance. “(L/n), what is it?”

You avoided eye contact with him, averting your view to the ground - that was alright. You were always like this, and he didn’t mind. Nothing out of place except for the fact that it looked as if you were about to cry any moment now.

“Can we- can we, um, talk somewhere more private?” You asked quietly.

His brows raised in wonder at your request. Nevertheless, he didn’t decline you, only nodding lackadaisically before heading towards the teacher’s lounge, where you followed him suit. He flicked the door tag to ‘occupied’ and entered the room after you, when he told you sit on the three-person sofa situated not quite on the farthest left of the space. Then, he settled himself on the chair across you.

“Well?” He asked, expectantly.

But you had once again your head above a thick cloud of anxiety. You knew that after the event with Momo in the girls’ locker room - where you had injured her against your will because she had been violating your personal space - your homeroom teacher kept a cautious eye on you in case you’d re-enact that incident. And it wasn’t just that incident that made him look at you like you were a criminal on the loose, either. Your classmates found and did a lot of ways to place you in Aizawa’s naughty list just so you wouldn’t snitch on their abusive (they’d call it affectionate) behavior on you.

That didn’t erase the fact that you were nevertheless his student; he cared for you no less than he cared for his other pupils, yet you were just too ignorant in figuring that out. All that mattered to you was that you’d voice out your current concern to him, but with your insecurities holding you down it seemed it would be more difficult than you had primarily foreseen it to be.

“I-I,” you stammered out, fiddling with something inside your pocket, “u-um, you see, t-there’s this, I mean, I can’t-”

He grew increasingly frustrated with your constant stuttering, and although he did understand your shy nature which largely affected your conversational habits, he only had so much patience to deal with it.

“I don’t have all day.” He stated, glowering at your form in mild irritation. “If you’re going to keep doing that, talk to the wall.”

You abruptly halted in speaking after that, only looking down on your lap, staring wide-eyed, grief-stricken at the revelation that perhaps he really did not want to heed any of your words because you were just that bad of a student that he had decided you were not worth much the effort to concern himself with. And maybe he was right - that your words didn’t matter because you didn’t matter; that there were more affairs he better be tending to than yours; that you were only making a big deal out of this when it truthfully wasn’t.

Oh god, you felt like vomiting. Self-deprecation was getting the better of you.

He stood up and sauntered to the exit, not bothering to spare you a glance. “Come back to me when you actually know what you want to say.”

It was a matter of seconds when you ran to him, pulling him back rather harshly by the grip you had on his sleeve. He turned around due to the force to see your head still hung low, avoiding his gaze as always - only, your shoulders were quivering sporadically, and occasional sniffs were heard from your person.

“P-please, sensei...” you voiced out, shaken and horrifyingly delicate. “I-I’m so scared. Please.”

While he looked at you with contracted irises, countenance now alert from your unexpected disposition, you pulled your trembling hand out of your skirt pocket, nervously disclosing to him from your palm a small, black device with a tiny yet prominent lens.

“M-my room,” you heaved, “I-I saw this i-in my room, m-my closet, while- while I was dressing up, and I don’t know how long it had been in there but it probably already caught me bare and-”

You broke down in a flurry misery and shame, allowing yourself to fall to the ground but you didn’t - Aizawa seized you in his arms, his gentle, fatherly arms that could only do so much to console you from the horror of your reality. And he held your head as you cried on his chest, one little thing he could do after ignoring your situation and letting you think that your significance was less than the rest of his other students. At that moment, you were just so little, so fragile, so naïve he’d keep you in his pocket if he could. Why would someone do something as debauched as illegally recording your innocent self?

“I’m sor-sorry,” you sobbed, “I’m really telling the truth, p-please-”

“Shh, it’s okay. I don’t doubt you.” He reassured. Why were you apologizing? Were you that insecure of being a nuisance? No, no, you never were. Not to him. He reached for your hand to take the cursed device. “Since when did you find out?”

“J-just this morning.” You responded.

“Alright. Do you want to rest? This must have taken a huge toll on you.”

But you still had classes ongoing. Then again, you didn’t feel like looking at the faces of the prime suspects who possibly did you dirty, even when you knew that you’d have to eventually interact with them to get notes of your missed lessons. You were so tired from summoning the lot of your courage to confront your teacher regarding your problem, so you probably wouldn’t have the energy to listen to class discussion. Aizawa finalized your decision by pulling you up and guiding you towards the office of Recovery Girl who, after being briefed of your predicament by your homeroom teacher, welcomed you with a warm smile, telling you to make yourself comfortable in one of the beds in the infirmary.

He then made his way to 1A classroom, a newfound swelling of rage and disappointment in his chest, both forwarded to his class and to himself because only now did he realize that perhaps you were often so restless and apprehensive in the presence of your classmates because they did things that made you bury yourself in the deepest parts of your shell as a last attempt to revel in a sense of safety. Your timidity was not entirely derived from your own nature; it was also due to the maltreatment you were receiving from your classmates. Halting his steps by the classroom door, he looked through the glass window, seeing the class focusing on Midnight’s lecture.

Well, not quite. He could tell that your classmates were visibly affected by the lack of your presence, glancing at your desk from time to time as quiz papers were being passed behind - so they were in the middle of a test, he guessed. But that wasn’t his concern.

In impudent manner, he walked in amid Midnight’s talking, disregarding her face’s sudden morphing into vexation as the students gave him a look of confusion.

“Eraser, what are you-” she was rudely interrupted as Aizawa took the test reference papers from her hands. Something about Modern Hero Art History, he read. He faced his class with disdain, stating,

“Until someone confesses their crime of hiding a spy camera on (l/n)’s dorm room, all of you are receiving failing marks on this test.”

Quite suddenly, the class burst into violent upheaval, gasping, perking, some allowing the dreadful news of your situation to sink in, others letting out noises of complaint before actually taking consideration to the main point of Aizawa’s statement. Midnight stared at him in disbelief, but did nothing to stop his measures.

Momo abruptly stood. “I-is (y/n) okay? We should go check on her!”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Aizawa said. “All of you are suspects. You’ve no right to see her.”

“She probably just made that up get back on us for whatever fucking reason!” Yelled Bakugou.

“Yeah?” The male pro-hero disingenuously mused. He then picked up the spy camera and held it for everyone to see, before setting it down the teacher’s podium. “This was found on her closet. Would she risk recording herself naked just to prove that point?”

Noise died down thereafter, setting their sights solemnly at the device, the class collectively having the same thought in regards to the spy camera.

(Why hadn’t they thought of that? It could have been easier to check on you that way, since you almost always confined yourself in the privacy of your own room.)

“So? No one wants to speak up?” Aizawa asked, though expected the silence.

“Aizawa, have them approach you after classes. It’s embarrassing this way.” Midnight intervened.

“Well that’s the point. Get them exposed to the entire class, so everyone could realize how much of a perverted bastard one of these to-be heroes are. Good values, my ass.” He replied, not bothering to filter rather colorful vocabulary. “Where’s your dignity?”

He let a minute or two pass for the perpetrator to reveal themselves, but soon it became apparent that whomever they were refused to admit to their crime, willing to sacrifice the grades of the class for the sake of anonymity. That would be deemed useless, anyway, because Aizawa was already set on figuring out whom they were, no matter the extent he’d go to in order for that to happen. He’d expel them at once.

But he didn’t have the power to expel someone outside of his class.

“I guess that’s it for your test.” He sighed, disgruntled, picking up the small camera and sauntering his way out of the classroom after giving Midnight a look that he was dead serious with marking all of them a failing score. She stared at him in uncertainty, nonetheless abided by his decisions, albeit hesitantly.

Upon ascertaining his absence, Midnight turned to Class 1A, amusement and humor dancing on her seductive countenance.

“Naïve, hormonal teenagers,” she mused, “the closet, really? Couldn’t you have chosen somewhere less conspicuous?”

None of them bothered to tell her that they were truthfully unaware of the incident.

===

Hagakure Toru, stealth hero, entered your room silently in the nude, the only proof of her movements being a tinier, different spy camera she’d brought along with her. No, not the closet, you might find it again. It looked so painfully obvious on the desk, too, and neither in the bathroom due to its pale white interior.

But on the pencil holder situated atop your nightstand would do. You barely moved it, anyway, only having its purpose served as a decoration; something to fill the vacancy of the bedside table. After a few adjustments in camouflaging the device with the environment and making sure the lens displayed the area of your space, Hagakure checked its concealment one more time, before mechanically heading outside and back to her own dorm.

Her body collided almost violently with her room’s door, snapping her out of her trance.

“H-huh!? Weird... how’d I end up in my room?” She asked, receiving no answer from particularly anyone.

But Shinso Hitoshi could provide her one, if only he weren’t outside, staring at your terrace from five stories down your room, a gratifying smirk donned on his features. Now, the only thing he had to do was dismantle and relocate the gadgets wirelessly connected with the camera Aizawa had confiscated.

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atozfic · 4 years ago

Text

blushing red.

pairing. choi san x fem!reader.

synopsis. how did choi san go from wanting to protect you like a big brother to wanting to ruin you with his own two hands? ( part of the rainbow riots anthology series. )

warnings. college au, barista!san, brother!wooyoung, frenemies to lovers, angst, fluff, ossessiveness, pining, shit attempts at humour, too much cursing, san is a whipped idiot, reader is kinda a bitch, jongho is a fuckboy, wooyoung’s just trying to be a chef, okay?, mentions of alcohol induced vomiting, food, toxic traits and commitment issues, smut: dom!san, switch!reader, clit play, nipple play, thigh riding, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), one (1) spank, riding, protected sex, penetrative sex, kinda fluffy sex??, very brief aftercare, idk if there’s anything else.

word count. 11k

hyde’s input. if this flops, honestly don’t think i’d care because i had so much fun writing this. it was mostly self-indulgent. it’s not the best but i’m happy to finally be posting it, since it’s the first part of a larger series of oneshots involving the ateez members. feedback would be appreciated but also, i really don’t care if you don’t like this. i love it and my opinion is golden, so. /j

He’s seeing red.

And it wasn’t because of the countless red dresses that were scattered throughout the room, nor the messily done ties strangled around sweaty necks; the red cups filled with bitter liquids, nor the crimson flushed cheeks of guests.

It was a red themed evening, to which San could only think of how horribly cliché it was, and how perfectly suiting to the girl the party was being thrown in honour of, the human embodiment of what it meant to be red; to be passionate and courageous; angry and powerful. The very same girl he was watching swallow the tongue of some rosy cheeked, red haired punk.

As the drink in his hand parted his lips, a wave of intoxication slipping down his throat, San couldn’t help but think about how the boy was clearly all bark and no bite. He knew him- well, of him, at the very least,- this so called Choi Jongho. A notorious flirt; a ladies man; the kind of boy who you punch for even looking your little sister’s way. San was too prideful, he’d been told this by exes and friends alike, and it’s that very same pride that had him laughing aloud at the way the Jongho kid couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands; at how his eyes were wide open; at how he was using far too much tongue for it to be comfortable.

Maybe, San wondered, it was the perfect excuse to storm over there, tear Jongho and his wagging tongue away. After all, he couldn’t just stand back and watch you be choked to death by the kid’s kissing inabilities!

He opts for tearing the lid off of another beer instead of the head off of Jongho.

There’s a chance it was already past one too many drinks for him that night but San had never been good at controlling himself, of denying himself something he wanted. So he welcomed in the drink and finally looked elsewhere in the room.

The decorations told him this wasn’t the surprise party it was meant to be, because he knew your older brother well enough. Hell, there’s a high chance he knew more about the eldest Jung sibling than he did about himself. Wooyoung barely knew how to tie his own shoe laces, never mind the perfect ribbon, and he was more into getting baked than learning how to bake a cake. If San tried hard enough, he could perfectly picture you in the kitchen, an apron loosely tied around one of your usually effortlessly pretty outfits- one of those tightfitting sweaters you loved so much tucked into a loose fitting skirt, or a pretty little summer dress, or a stupidly oversized graphic tee you bought from the men’s department covering a pair of laughably short shorts; all enough to drive the blood straight out of San’s brain and down to his other head-, your hair a complete mess with the slightest bit of flour dusting your flushed cheeks as you squint to read at your phone, too stubborn to wear your glasses and too lazy to put in your contact lenses.

Yes, you’d definitely played a hand in setting up your own surprise birthday party and it suddenly had San wishing he was enjoying himself more. But, you see, enjoyment is a hard thing to feel when the girl you only recently accepted your complicated feelings for was swapping pints of saliva with some other guy across the room. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to speak to you once the whole night, not even a moment to wish you a happy birthday.

It wasn’t like San should have cared that much. You hadn’t even invited him, his reason for being there the very same one he had any time he came round your house: Wooyoung. The boy had more-or-less told him he was attending, whether he liked it or not, because “I’ll be damned if I’m stuck chaperoning this party by myself.”

San often thought Wooyoung forgot there was only really one year between you two. But, you were his little sister and it only seemed right he thought of you as the smiling idiot who would run over to him in tears every time you tripped over your untied laces and scraped your knee. The dimpled boy couldn’t stop himself from wondering when he’d stopped thinking of you that way.

Where he once had thoughts of protecting you from the corruption men and their intentions brought along, he now fantasized about being the man to corrupt you. If only Wooyoung were really capable of reading his mind the way he claimed he could, San’s medical bills would be sky-high.

“I don’t remember seeing you on the guest list, Choi.” The words were a little slurred, like their owner wasn’t quite aware of the fact they were speaking, but it was enough to make San jump where he stood, head turning away from staring off at some deflating balloon.

There you were, a sight for sore eyes. The lipstick you’d once been wearing had been diminished to no more than a tint of playful redness on your lips, the rest of it likely now painted across Jongho's tongue. Your hair was tied back in a neat bun and, though it was displaying your pretty little neck and your doe eyes, San thinks of how much prettier it was when it was an unkept mess, like all those mornings after sleeping over in Wooyoung’s room and coming down for breakfast just to find you and your bedhead angrily trying to scoop up the last few bits of your cereal.

“Guest list?” he scoffed, his frustrations coming out in the form of disinterest. “Do you think you’re the fucking queen of England or something?”

“Trust me, you’d be long ago thrown in a bottomless pit by now if I were the queen of anything.” Your reply was weak and that’s enough to satisfy him, because he knew you were irked. San knew you believed he was one of the most annoying things to grace earth and he revelled in it. Any boy with a set of lips and some smooth words could make you swoon, but no other could get you hot and bothered like Choi San. “Where’s your boyfriend? Ditched you to go socialize with someone besides you for once?”

“Wooyoung’s cleaning up your friend’s vomit from off of your parents’ carpet.” The horrified look that crossed your face was enough to coax a chuckle out of San.

The Jungs had never been overly strict parents during your childhood, never holding either of their children back from pursuing a hobby or from enjoying their youth, but there was always one rule they maintained: no party guests allowed past the ground floor of the house. And, even if Wooyoung and you were grown up, with your brother dearest no longer living at home and you spending most your weeknights in your cramped dorm room, the rule still stood firmly.

“Oh my god-” It was the first thing you choked out after a few minutes of silently spiralling in your own panicked thoughts. “They just got a new carpet. And it’s the whitest fabric i’ve ever seen. They’re going to kill us!”

“Us?” San scoffed out, liking the sound of it a little too much and in such a different context to the way you meant it. “Oh, no, this is on you. I’m not going down with you,” Though he’d have gladly gone down on you. “you’re big and ugly enough to face the consequences for your own mistakes.”

Despite saying that, his feet still seemed to carry him out of the room and trailing behind your fast walking figure. If he weren’t so busy trying to keep up with you, maybe San would have taken note of how, in a sea of red, you still managed to stand out, your ruby jumpsuit somehow just a little brighter, a little more intriguing, a little more alluring than any other piece of fabric in the house. Maybe San would have realised it wasn’t so much your outfit as it was just you in general who stood out.

But, alas, he’d now caught up to you on the stairs and he noticed the glassy shine in your eyes and the sudden look of complete sobriety on your features. Both in pace with each other, you reached the entry to your parents bedroom and stumbled upon the scene of the crime.

Kneeling on the carpeted floor, Wooyoung was scrubbing at a fresh stain, the scent of bleach and fabric cleaner not nearly enough to mask the scent of the drying vomit. There was no sight of the perpetrator, likely sent away long ago by Wooyoung, alongside whatever stranger she’d been in the middle of trying to seduce. It’s honestly a blessing she threw up. Better that than a pair of strangers fucking in the Jung’s marital bed.

“Are you both gonna just stare or are you gonna start helping me?” Wooyoung was pissed and you knew this just as much as San did. But he wasn’t going to show it yet, not until the mess was cleaned up and a plan was made. Then, and only then, would he begin quizzing you on how you managed to remember the stupidest details of your decorations yet you forgot to lock the door to the upstairs area.

San stepped in first, grabbing a load of tissues and kneeling down next to his friend, beginning to scrub at the dark spots. You soon followed suit and joined the pair. The three of you worked in silence, all hoping that if you tried hard enough, the evidence of the sin would disappear from right in front of your eyes.

The echoes of music from the party going on downstairs suddenly felt like a taunt to San, mocking all of you. Because, ideally, that was where you should all be. Down there getting senselessly drunk and bumping elbows with people who’s faces you knew yet didn’t care much for. Instead, you were thinking of ways to avoid your parents impending disappointment. Surely acquiring a new identity couldn’t be that hard, right?

San was the first one to notice a repeated sniffle in the room. At first, he tried convincing himself you were just coming down with a cold. But, the more the sound repeated itself in a perfect pattern, the sooner he noticed your tear streaked face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Hands had now abandoned damp towelettes, reaching up to wipe at hot tears. He willed himself to ignore the burn of your soft skin against his rougher hands. San looked to Wooyoung for help because, fuck, he may have known you since you were both in elementary school but his comfort was still no replacement for your brother’s. Woo was so busy trying not to blow his fuse that he couldn’t even think to stop scrubbing at the white fabric for a moment, so San took it upon himself. “Go back down to the party, okay?

“N-no, I can’t just leave this mess-”

“Y/N.” San spoke softly, his eyes trying to stare into your own, his hands gripping your shaking shoulders gently, as if letting you go would cause you to fall apart but holding you too tight would snap you in half. “You’re going to go and enjoy the rest of your birthday, do you understand? Woo and I will deal with this.”

The moment was much nicer than your usual exchanges as of recently, and for a moment San felt like he still was protective over you like when you were all younger. You were staring at him with this look of nostalgia, like you were trying to remember the times you’d ran to San crying over your scrapped knees, when you couldn’t find your big brother. How he’d treat your little wound the same way his mother treated his: a band aid, a kiss and a lollipop. Even Wooyoung had noticed the exchange, his hands froze and his eyes focused in on the way you two were staring at each other like you were the only people in the room. So, of course, San had to go ahead and ruin it.

“Your snot and tears are just gonna give us more stains to clean anyway.”

As San wiped at the table, he questioned how exactly people managed to make such a sticky mess of things in the few hours the café was open. It had become a never ending saga, each time he was stuck with the responsibility of locking up and closing for the day, he ended up spending far more time than acceptable cleaning the surfaces thanks to customers and their inability to clean up their own spillages.

It’s not like it costs them anything to use a napkin. But, then again, maybe San was just in a sour mood over how Wooyoung was too busy trying to convince his culinary professor to give him a better grade, by feeding him some chocolate gateau and sucking his dick.

A month or so had passed since the birthday party, and San hadn’t heard much of you. There was the odd mention of your name through the walls of the apartment he shared with Wooyoung, when you’d call your brother in the early hours of the morning and beg him to come pick you up from some frat house.

Though, there were two recent things about you that San knew for sure.

To begin with, you'd for some reason began to date the Jongho kid. A fact which Wooyoung confided to San made him uncomfortable one night on their sofa, between beers and cold noodles. San could only feign confusion when Wooyoung ranted about how much he distrusted the kid and his intentions with you, no matter how much he’d wished he could shout out his agreement in that moment. The second thing he knew was that you had still not thanked him.

San was struggling to pinpoint which fact made him more frustrated.

The radio played softly in the background of his labour and San couldn’t contain himself when a familiar song came on, swaying his hips in time with the beat, swigging the rag in his hand, mumbling the lyrics to himself as he became lost in the liberating feeling of being alone. No one to watch or question him. It made him work quicker, even if San didn’t notice this. He quickly finished up with the surfaces and was on to sweeping the floors, just like how the radio station moved on to the next song.

Any business open in the surrounding area must have been startled by the sudden scream of terror that came from the café as San, with the brush mid-dipped in his arms, came face to face with a puffy, tear stained girl.

Letting the brush fall from his arms, San tried to laugh off the embarrassment of being caught in his own little world. The radio still played in the background, but it fell on deaf ears the second he noticed the redness of your eyes.

“Sorry,” you mumbled out, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder as your eyes appeared to dart around the room, searching for someone. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just, uh... wondering if Wooyoung is here?”

Taking a daring step forward, San took note of the sundress you were adorned in, the red flowers painted on to a white background so fitting to the way he’d began to see you as something innocent with splashes of sin within you. “Nah, the fucker ran off two hours ago with the excuse of having after-hour classes.”

The scoff you let out was filled with defeat and your shoulders slumped a little, undoing that picture perfect image you tried to pull off most days, leaving you with nothing but your real emotions stained across your features and the sting of unfallen tears returning to your eyes. “Typical, he’s always busy when I need him most.” You mostly aimed the words to yourself but it doesn’t mean San was going to just ignore them.

The time he’d spent cleaning the counter became meaningless, San having set his sights on cheering you up with the one way he remembered always working when you two were younger. The radio quickly became drowned out by the whistle of the kettle boiling. His eyes found their way back to you. You’d sat yourself down in one of the booths, head in your hands whilst you appeared to be mumbling away to yourself. What San wouldn’t have given to be inside your head, figure out just what he needed to do to keep you away from any harm the world tried to inflict upon you.

Turning his back to you, San grabbed two mugs, the memory of hearing you complain to Wooyoung about how paper cups aggravated you fresh in his mind. He worked by muscle memory, not needing to think over the right amount of each ingredient to pour in. His shoulders relaxed upon glancing back at you for the third time, noticing you’d pulled your hands away from your face and were instead staring out the window. The water, finally having boiled, was poured into each mug alongside some milk and a sprinkle of salt to enhance the flavours.

With four long strides, San reached the booth you had claimed for yourself, sliding the mug into your line of view. His heart nearly melted like the marshmallows in the beverage when he saw the hint of smile take over your features. He felt accomplished, like he’d reached the goal he’d set out to achieve. It gave him the confidence boost he needed to slide in across from you.

“I can’t remember the last time I had hot chocolate.” You confessed, after taking your first sip of the drink, nose scrunching up as the sweet heat burnt your tongue.

“That’s sad.” He wished, for a moment, he’d said something else. But the sound of your snorted laughter, different to the laughs laced in politeness you gave to other people, had his chest further swelling in pride.

“You and Wooyoung hang out too much, you’re starting to sound like him.” In all honesty, it wasn’t the first time he’d been told that very same thing. But it stung coming from you. He didn’t want to be just another version of your brother, not in your eyes.

But San’s desire to comfort you took precedence over any of his complicated feelings, so if playing the role of your brother was what the job required, he was willing to cut off some inches from his own height and dye his hair the same root-killing blonde as Woo.

“Speaking of that troll,” Another point in favour of San: you laughed again. “wanna tell me what you needed him for? Full offence, you burst in here with the face of a toddler who’d had it’s toys snatched.”

San caught the sugar packet you’d thrown at him with ease. “Why are you such an asshole?” The words were more of a whine leaving you, followed by a groan. “I know you think that you owe it to Wooyoung or whatever to treat me like your own little sister but you don’t. I just... wanted Wooyoung because I wanted his comfort and, i don’t know, maybe a goddamn hug from him would have been nice. But it’s whatever, the moment’s passed.”

He decided against replying, feeling nothing he said would matter much. You were clearly still upset, there was no need for him to try dig further into something you didn’t want to talk about. So he kept quiet and never spoke once, until he noticed you’d finished your hot chocolate.

“Get up.” He ordered after beginning to slide out of his seat, grabbing the two dishes. It would have taken him a few minutes at best to wash them, dry them, put them away but you were his priority. Whoever had the opening shift could deal with them.

You’d done as he asked, standing up and readjusting your bag. Unbeknownst to San, your eyes followed him around the room, for once, as he done the last few checks of everything being in it’s place and everything locked up where it was supposed to be. The blonde peaking out from under his dark hair was something you were sure he didn’t have at your birthday.

You’d began to notice little changes in him in the recent months. His face had gotten a little sharper, his arms a little buffer, his smile a little more charming. In all the years you’d known him, you’d never cared much about what he looked like or how he acted. He was always just there, the boy who your brother hung out with. Now he was becoming an enigma, like a puzzle you’d solved once before but now something was off about it. A couple pieces had been changed and you couldn’t figure out when it had happened.

Had he really changed or was it something in you, giving you a whole new outlook on his features?

“Are you coming or what?” San snapped you right back into reality, the lights now turned off in the café and the cold wind from outside floating in through where he stood holding the door open. Flustered, you rushed past him out the door and San enjoyed the lingering scent of your shampoo. But the sight of you already beginning to walk away had him quickly trying to lock the door, nearly cursing when the key got stuck for a second before finally rushing after you. “Uh uh, you’re not going to wallow in self pity back in your dorm. C’mon, let’s go.”

“This could be considered kidnapping, you know.” Your words were contradicted by the way you willingly let him take a hold of your wrist, dragging you in the direction of his car. “Can I at least know where you’re planning on dumping my body after you murder me?”

Shooting a wink over his shoulder, San chuckled. “You’ll see.”

“Would you stop staring at me like that? It's fucking creepy, dude.”

Similar to the sugar packet, San caught the fry you threw at him with ease. He shot a smile your way after popping the potato treat into his mouth and you wondered if his dimples had always been deep enough to swim in. “I'm trying to figure out if you're really that much of an idiot or just naïve.”

“For someone who offered to help, you're not doing a good job.”

The car journey had been interesting, to say the least. With the radio cranked up at a volume too high to drive safely with, San was a man on a mission. A mission to put on the performance of a lifetime. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his head bopped to the beat, his lungs forced him to sing along to every song. At first, you'd simply sat in the passenger seat, trying your best to not let him see how you were stealing glances at him. But then you were pulled under by his waves, his energy intoxicating your own. The smile he gave you as he pulled up to a red light, his attention completely on you, was enough to make any embarrassment slip away and it became the green light to let loose, joining him in his one man show.

He'd pulled over at a familiar place, the Neo-Cade. Somewhere you could recall celebrating many birthdays, where the boy- no, the man sat in the drivers seat next to yours had once taken a punch to the face whilst foolishly trying to stand up to a group of older boys teasing you and your friends.

It had taken five days to get the blood out of his school uniform.

Memories aside, San had taken the incentive once again to grab onto your wrist and, a little more willingly this time, you let him. Despite how you both walked shoulder to shoulder, his hand remained holding you, as if you'd somehow drift away from him in the sea of families filling up the neon-lit arcade. After a few botched attempts at beating him in skee-ball, and a successful attempt at outracing him in one of those driving games- to which you'd laughed in his face over the fact he was the one with the driving license out of you both-, San convinced you to grab a bite to eat in the small dining area. It was a hotspot for preteens on their first date, parents attempting to avoid their screaming children and, now, you two, who were somewhere between strangers and life-long friends.

“Watch it. I’m your ride home, princess.” He would have been lying if he said he didn’t find some thrill in the way your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed at the sudden pet-name. What excited him more was the fact it wasn’t the first time he’d called you that but it was certainly the first time you’d given him that reaction. “Listen, when you tell me you got stood up by a guy who’s a known womanizer, you can’t expect me to not judge you a little bit. I thought Wooyoung had done a better job at teaching you how to stay away from assholes.”

“Considering who his best friend is, Wooyoung isn’t exactly leading by example.” You mumbled before biting into your burger, irritated that he actually had a point more than anything else. “Ugh. Look, I know it’s my own fault but I just got caught up. In my defence, Jongho really did seem interested in me. The dude literally pursued me for two months! But the second I agree to a date, he’s suddenly changed his mind? Guess the chase was the only thing he wanted.”

“You’re not the first girl he’s led on, it’s what people like him do best.” San’s eyes seemed more apologetic this time, as if he didn’t think you were a complete idiot. Maybe a little naïve, yes, and stupidly blind to the fact someone was sat right in front of you who would chase you to hell and back. Blaming you for falling for someone’s charms wasn’t something he could do, though. “You know what we need to do?”

If only San knew how your nerves tingled with excitement at the word we. “Enlighten me, Bok Choi.”

It was his turn to throw a fry at you, which you failed to catch and hurried to pick up from the floor, a few parents glaring at you both, likely questioning what a pair of college kids were doing throwing food at one another. “Didn’t you promise your mum you’d stop calling me that in Junior year?”

“I guess things have changed since then.” Neither of you had the guts to admit you weren’t referring to the awful nickname.

“Anyway, we need to get you to that whack-a-mole machine and have you picture Jongho’s face on them. You’ll get the high score in no time,” The conversation came to a pause as a crash rang out through the area, the image of the young waitress that had served you both profusely apologising to a larger gentleman covered in pizza sauce becoming the centre of attention for most, if not all, people sat at a table. “which would win us a free milkshake to split.”

“Why would we be splitting it? I’m the one who put in the effort.”

“And I’m the one who put in the money. It’s a collaborative job, not just a feature.” There were so many things he’d had to work himself up to do this evening: sitting across from you in the café, offering to comfort you, holding you by your wrist. But his next move didn’t even process itself properly before he was doing it, hand reaching over the table to swipe at the sauce painting the corner of your lip, his eyes locking on yours when he brought his dirtied thumb up to his mouth.

A cold sweat broke out on the back of your neck, your mind sending you into a spiral of thoughts of San in compromising positions, cleaning more than just a little sauce off of his fingers. It’s embarrassing how much he’d affected you, and completely against your nature to let him know. “You’re gross, you know?”

You never ended up winning that high score, nor the free milkshake that came with it. Neither of you cared. You were too lost in reliving your childhoods, hands cramped from the amount of intense labour they’d endured by the time closing hours arrived.

The drive back to your dorms was more mellow. The music acted only as background noise to your exchange of drunken Wooyoung tales. San had nearly swerved out of his lane when you told him about the time you’d woken up to find Wooyoung, drenched in the stench of cheap alcohol, flirting with his reflection in the mirror.

It was bittersweet to step out of his car. Even if you were beginning to feel a little tired, you weren’t exactly ready for the night to end. And neither was San. Maybe that’s why he offered to walk you to the entry of your building, and why you so eagerly accepted. The disappointment when he doesn’t take a hold of your wrist is something you could address some other time.

“Well done, Choi, I actually feel better” And you really meant it, both of you having come to a stop outside the entryway, bashful smiles on each of your faces.

“Had to prove to you I’m just as good at the job as Wooyoung is.” The words felt wrong in his own mouth and, this time, he didn’t miss out on the way disappointed look on your features. When you suddenly leapt forward, arms crashing around him, it felt too good to be true. The memory of you in the café, ranting on about your reasons for being there and wanting a hug from Wooyoung, gave him the courage to wrap his own arms around you.

“Thank you.” You spoke so softly into his chest he nearly thought he’d imagined it, if it hadn’t been for the way he felt you say it. His reply was non-verbal, a tightening of his arms to pull you even closer, no fear of the fact you’d very easily be able to hear his heart beating for you. “For tonight, and for taking the fall for the vomit in my parents room. I don’t know what you done to make them think you can do no wrong but they were far more worried at the thought that you’d possibly drank too much, than their stained carpet.” Finally, the thank you he’d been waiting for had been gifted to him.

It ignited a fire in him, awakened the sleeping dragon filled with desire in his heart. There’s no way you didn’t notice the beating of his heart, hitting so hard against his chest it could almost escape right into your embrace. But San wasn’t nervous. In fact, he was feeling more confident than he had in years around you, pulling back just enough for you to notice and gaze up at him. The only real thing that crossed his mind was how beautiful you looked, eyes filled with wonder and joy, smile etched with happiness; a happiness he’d brought you; and how, if he were to be struck down dead in that moment, San would die a happy man.

“San.” You breathed out his name, the sound becoming tangled and lost between you both.

Your eyes remained wide open unlike his own as he brought his forehead to rest against yours, exhaling out the last pieces of his resistance. “Tell me to let go of you, Y/N. Tell me to let go and I’ll wish you good night. I’ll drive home and I’ll never bother you again as anything other than your brother’s friend.”

The first kiss was experimental, your own eyes fluttering shut as you planted a peck against his jelly pink lips, unsure of if it was to shut him up or to just kiss him. It was enough to have his own eyes snap open, staring at you in disbelief. His lips stung, kissed by your poison and now needing the antidote. A couple of seconds felt like years, he had to regain his composure and kiss you. The second, third and fourth kiss were similar to the first, teasing pecks exchanged until San’s hand wound it’s way up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking over your bottom lip before he finally gave in to the carnal need, head tilting at the perfect angle and lips smashing against your own.

Your knees weakened under the weight of his kiss, head buzzing as he nipped at your lip, practically begging you to let his tongue in. The satisfied groan that left him as the kiss deepened had your mind spinning, wanting to do anything in your will power to illicit more noises from him. You’d kissed plenty of people in your life and they were all beginning to pale in comparison to him.

“Could you guys, like, move?”

You both shot apart in an instant, ashamedly staring at the girl who rolled her eyes and pushed her way through the doors, books in hand and an earphone occupying one ear. The electricity between you had gone out, the spark dead and leaving you both to bask in its wake. That same silence from the café returned and, standing no more than two steps away from you, San felt the distance between you both more than ever. He was fighting to apologise, claim it was the heat of the moment and he hadn’t been thinking straight. But he couldn’t lie to you like that. It’s all he’d been thinking about all night, many nights before too.

“Well, uhm, thanks again. Okay, bye.” You’d raced away from him, running from the tension and all the things you wanted to confess, leaving San to wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted, if you were allowed to bring him up to your dorm.

There were times where even San questioned his decisions. Like now, waking up to a pounding in his head and the distinct memory of having thrown up in the back of his poor friend’s car. He mentally noted to send the guy some sort of apology gift, having turned what was meant to be their first night out together in months into his own personal pity party, leaving his tall friend- and his even taller friend- to have to clean up after San like he cleaned up after his two year old son.

The realization of how long he’d slept- the time on his phone reading that it was ten o’clock at night- had him falsely promise he’d never touch another drop of alcohol. In a zombified state, he pulled his aching body out of bed, groaning as he stumbled over his trousers from the night before. For a moment he thought he’d gone mad, a sudden laughter track ringing in the distance as if they were mocking him. The thought dawning on him that it was just Wooyoung watching something in the living room was definitely a relief.

Three stumbles, two rinses of his teeth and one sold out concert in his shower later, San stared into the mirror of his bathroom and saw something that resembled a human. Tying the string of his grey sweatpants and shrugging off the idea of a t-shirt, he made his way out into the living area, expecting to find his roommate spread across the couch only to be let down at the sign of emptiness. The television played on but Wooyoung was nowhere in sight.

A Jung-like scream pierced the air, causing San to jump back and let out his own, much quieter, scream.

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?! This is literally my apartment, what are you doing here?” San shot back at you in an instant. If his head weren’t ringing and he wasn’t so confused, he’d be thinking about how nice it was to see you, after two weeks of wondering if the arcade, and everything that came with and after it, had just been some lucid dream of his. That hurt less than the thought of you regretting the kiss.

“I was helping my brother organise our parents anniversary party,” you paused, eyes slowly moving down his body. The air felt colder upon remembering he was stood half naked in front of you. “but then he got a call from some girl and ran out, promising he’d be back in an hour tops. That was almost two hours ago.”

“Oh.” If there were an award for lamest thing said, San would be a strong contender. He crossed his arms over his chest, in an attempt to cover at least something, but it just drew more attention to the fact he was shirtless.

“Don’t worry, I was about to leave. I’ll be out your hair in a minute, I just need to grab something from Woo’s room.” The words enter one ear and leave through the other, not really translating properly in San’s brain until you’ve already pushed past him.

The panic settled in quickly from there, the overwhelming knowledge that he wasn’t ready to let you walk away this time hitting him like a train. You quickly emerged into his line of view once more, purse in hand, and the only thing he could think to do was to step in your way. When you attempted to move around him, his hand found it’s way to your wrist and all movement stopped between you both. It was silent, until another laughter track rang out. And then San was angry.

At you, at himself, at the fact you were both too cowardly to stop this cat and mouse game.

“So you’re just going to keep avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you!” Your reply was too quick, that guilty look dancing on your face. You sometimes forgot how well he knew you, how he’d seen that look on you before as you tried to convince your parents you hadn’t been the one to clog the toilet with “snacks for the toilet monster”.

“I called you a few days after. And again two days after that. You just magically missed both?” It was risky to ask. You were both students, with schedules and assignments through the roof, but San liked to believe he meant a little more to you than just an accident or a coincidence. Your silence told him everything he needed to know, hand letting go of you at last and stepping out your way. “Go then. Let’s just be strangers from here onward, since I can’t seem to win. If I’m your friend, you ignore me. If I’m your enemy, you hate me. If I try to be...” he couldn’t bring himself to say it. “then you ghost me. So, we’ll just not know each other from now on.”

“I can’t do this to my brother.” He hated you for remaining so unbothered, face emotionless as you stared him in the eyes while his own was fighting back a frown. It made him feel vulnerable and pathetic. “I’m selfish but not enough to risk the friendship that means more to him than most things.”

Your worries made sense, which only made his hatred worse.

“So you admit there is a this?” His pointer finger darted between you both.

“Yes? No... I don’t know, San!” Your resolve began to slip a little, exposing your feelings beneath the stoic mask. “You called Jongho a player but it feels like I’m being played by you. Nothing I feel for or about you should ever move past just this, friends. We both know that, yet you’re continuing to torture us. You’re the one who decided to play the knight in shinning armour, swooping in to help a damsel in distress! You’re the one who drove us to that arcade, who drove me home! You’re the one who kissed me!”

“You kissed me, Y/N.”

“Shut up!”

In any other circumstance, he would have laughed at your pathetic whine. He’d have thought about the many other ways he could get you let out the same noise, and then he’d wallow in the guilt of remembering Wooyoung was right next to him while he’d sat thinking of you committing sins with his naked body. “Make me.”

He didn’t expect you to actually do anything. It was an empty threat, a dare to do what you’d already made clear couldn’t happen between you two. One can only imagine the surprise on his face when your lips landed on his.

It was different to the last time, in front of your building. While that one had been all nervous breaths and smiles of relief and the euphoria of not being rejected, this one was filled with anger and desperation and your cold hands on San’s warm skin. When his hands drifted down your spine all the way to your thighs, it was instinct that drove you into wrapping your legs around him, lips glued separating only for a moment as you stared down at him from the new position.

You both could have stopped, should’ve stopped. But San was too far gone to think rationally, to think about all the things he should and shouldn’t do. Again, he’d never been good at denying himself from indulging in what he wanted. And he wanted you, a fact which he stated against your mouth.

“I want you too.” It was all the go ahead he needed, lips trailing over your jaw and making their way down to your neck. When his lips latched onto a certain spot, sucking gently between kitten licks, a moan escaped you and he swore he almost dropped you in shock.

A couple seconds later, and the desire to make you moan as many times as possible, San found the will power to pull his lips off of you and concentrate on getting you both to the closest seating area. He dropped himself down onto the couch and adjusted you on his lap, the tent in his sweatpants becoming more obvious by the minute. The giggle you let out had his intentions pausing, his lips shooting up to kiss the tip of your nose and his dimples appeared alongside the smile he shot at you.

You rolled your hips against him, barely dragging your clothed self over his hardened member, and San shot back into action, face buried in your neck and a hand on your hip, guiding you over his thigh while his other wandered under the hem of your t-shirt, dragging the fabric up and off with your help. Like every other inch of you, San found the sight of your breasts beautiful, held perfectly in the red lace that was straining against your hardening nipples. When the fabric slipped off, your own hands having reached back to unclasp it, San nearly told you to leave it on, loving the way the delicate fabric decorated your body. It took one proper look at you naked from the waist up, grinding against his thigh with your lips parted for him to realise he much preferred you with no bra. He nestled his face between your breasts, eyes shut as he inhaled and centred himself in the moment.

He hated how he wasn't the first to trace your skin. How his were not the first lips to latch themselves on to your neck. How he wouldn't be the first man who'd attempted to put his feelings of love for you into actions of lust. And it was so fucking wrong, so toxic of him to think like that. Because you were so much more than the people you'd been with, so much more than the lips you'd kissed. But as his lips latched on to your taut nipple and his hand inched further up your flimsy skirt, San couldn't seem to find the part of him that gave a shit about what was wrong or right.

There was only you, you, you. You with your sweet smiles and your pretty outfits, with your witty words and your beautiful puzzle of a brain. And your damp panties.

“San.” He thought of how he might just explode at the way his name sounded on your abused lips, not even above a whisper but it sent his mind down a spiral of ways he could get you to say it again, maybe louder than last time. His hand finally pushed your underwear to the side and touched you. And, fuck, you were practically pulsating with want. San fought every urge in his body to just fuck you like this: in the middle of his living room, your legs straddling his own, panties pushed aside and your skirt fluttering upwards each time he bounced you on his cock. But no, there was no way he'd risk putting you both in that position of being caught by your own brother and his best friend. Besides, San wanted to drink you in, savour you, take things as slow as you both could handle because it could easily be the first of many times for you both, or it could be a one time mistake that would drive you away from him forever. Though the idea of living without you sounded painful, so did the idea of going back to before this moment, to not knowing where he stood in your life and you in his.

“Shit,” He groaned out, his middle finger slipping in to you. The way your walls squeezed against his digit was enough to knock the wind out of his lungs. He couldn’t wait to stuff you full to the brim, whether you were under him or above him. He just wanted to be sheathed balls deep in you. “say my name again.”

“Make me.” You spat his earlier words back at him, a daring look in your eyes. It was enough to encourage him to slip in a second digit, slowly beginning to fuck you on his fingers.

“If you insist, princess.” He laughed as your walls clamped down on him. “I knew you got turned on by me calling you that. Cute.”

“Don’t call me cute,” Your sentence broke off in a moan, San’s thumb ghosting over your clit as his fingers worked you up. “when you’re fucking me with your hand, loser.”

“Then don’t call me loser.”

You’d began to grind down on his hand, hips meeting each pump of his fingers and lips whining at each stroke of him thumb on your clit. San was about ready to cum untouched in his pants just from watching you. You clamped down on his fingers a few moments after he’d introduced a third one into you, your orgasm washing over you without a single warning and soaking your panties, along with San’s hand, beyond repair.

Whilst you worked at calming your breathing down, San brought the hand coated in your slick up to his mouth. The sweetness of you on his tongue had his eyes rolling back, a satisfied noise escaping his chest. “Taste even better than I thought, pretty girl.”

“You thought about that? Pervert.” You leaned down, lips pressing against his own gently and he was sent back to the night outside your dorms, the soft hesitancy in both your actions bringing his heartbeat to a halt.

“Don’t act like you’ve not thought about my dick, I saw the way you checked me out earlier.”

Your hand trailed down his torso teasingly, stopping at the hem of his sweatpants as you stared into his eyes, lip caught between your teeth. “And if I have thought about it, then what? You gonna let me see it?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” He’d already moved to the edge of the couch, hands reaching to grip you properly and securely against him before he stood up again, sight set on getting you both to his bedroom.

“Deal.”

The many fantasies of seeing you splayed out on his bed, staring at him with your cheeks flushed as his teeth pulled your panties down were nothing compared to the reality of it. His hands pulled them off the rest of the way, lips delving down to pepper kisses along your thighs. Your scent was so strong, so close, he could almost taste you on his tongue. Which he did, muscle darting out to lick up your slit.

“Are you going to keep teasing us both or are you gonna get your stupid cock out and fuck me?” He chuckled against you, nose bumping against your clit and sending a jolt up your spine.

“So impatient and dirty-mouthed. Maybe you need to be taught a lesson in patience.” He tutted, lips back on your thighs.

“San, I swear to god, I’ll leave and find someone else to get me off!”

“Alright, alright, calm down.” Though he laughed, there was a spark of jealousy and a rush of worry. There was no way in hell he’d have let you go find someone to take his place. He rose from between your legs, tumbling off the bed and practically ripping the drawer next to his bed open, grabbing one of the silver foiled packets. Turning too quickly, his foot collided with the corner of the unit and his leg shot up in pain, curses leaving him all the while he shuffled back over to the bed.

“Did you just stub your baby toe?” You laughed from where you lay, breasts bouncing with the sounds you emitted.

“Oh, shut up and go back to begging me to fuck you.” He settled himself on top of you, eyes rolling as he nestled himself in your neck. You smelled like cherries, and cotton candy dreams, and sweat born from desire. His cock brushed against your folds, your wetness lubricating him as San exhaled. “Tell me you want me.”

His need for your approval had the heat pooling in your abdomen worsening, a rush of pleasure shooting through your veins at San’s begging to be wanted. And not just by anyone, but by you. Hooking a leg over his naked hip, you hadn’t even noticed when he’d discarded the last of his clothing but you’re glad he had. Everything about him was a work of art, his golden skin scattered with moles all over, smooth to touch and warmth radiating off of him. You almost lost yourself in the moment, till you heard him repeat his pleads, needing to hear your consent before he opened the condom and got to work.

“I do.” You weren’t expecting the whisper that left you, lips planting themselves on his cheek. “Want you so bad, San.”

“Me too,” He was entranced, a smile worth a thousand words creeping onto his lips as he pulled back from your neck. The ripping of the foil packet rang out and you watched him roll the rubber over his member, pumping himself a couple times to relieve some of his tension, head thrown back and neck exposed as he struggled to keep his cool. “wanted you for so long, Y/N.”

“You have me.”

The burn of the initial stretch became meaningless when San apologised through kissing you over and over, nestling his cock deeper each time till it was hard to tell where he ended and you began. Your pleasured moans spurred him on, hips colliding against your own increasingly faster.

“How’re you so tight?” Was the first sentence he managed to verbalise, groans and whimpers otherwise playing through the whole room. “Did that Jongho kid not fuck you properly?”

He dodged the pillow thrown his way, arm scooping beneath you to roll you over and into his lap, sitting you on his member while his mouth went straight for your breasts, your hands tangling in his hair for some leverage. “Nice to know you’re also annoying in bed.”

“You love it.” He mumbled, tongue swiping over a nipple and a hand reaching between you both, fingers pressing on your clit only for him to giggle at the way your eyes shut and you squeezed around his cock.

“Not as much as you’ll love this.” Your hands pressed on to his chest, gently shoving him back down onto the mattress and forcing him to peer up at you through hooded eyes, hands gripping your thighs as you began to roll your hips, the tip of him brushing over your sweet spot over and over.

“Keep doing that and I’m gonna cum, princess.” He hissed, teeth clenched when you returned to bouncing yourself on his member, breasts bouncing along with you and a hand on his abdomen.

“Isn’t that the whole point of this, genius?” The slap against your thigh had you squealing and the hand beginning to control your movements had you seeing stars, pushing you down to perfectly meet each time San’s hips thrusted up from the bed.

When he reached utopia, a cry of your name bursting forward at the same time he fucked his cum into the condom, you came crashing down on to him, your own orgasm hitting you with such force your legs shook and your mind went blank, coming to only once you felt a dampness between your legs and saw San, having rid himself of the condom, cleaning your own mess up, lips plating a kiss against the side of your knee. He tossed the towel somewhere into the dark room, pulling the sheets back and pulling you under with him, head settling onto your chest and a relaxed sigh coming from him.

Time passed, you weren’t exactly sure how long exactly, and silence, comfortable and welcomed, settled in the air. The sound of his breathing and the warmth of his protective hold around you dragging you into unconsciousness, teetering on the edge of falling asleep. But San had to go and speak, thinking you were off in dreamland, and unknowingly ruin it all.

“I love you.”

San was glad he'd gotten the morning shift, seeing how the café was quickly filling with the usual afternoon rush hour, students and business people alike eager for a taste of caffeine during their break. His hands messily undone the tie of his apron, dumping it in to his bag before he slug it over his shoulder, waving at one of his co-workers. His feet carried him back out to the counter, where Wooyoung was smiling cheekily at a group of younger customers. He’d been extra energetic all day, the knowledge that he’d finally handed in his resignation letter and the prospect of his new position working in a real restaurant tinting the blonde haired boy’s world in rose coloured hues of red.

As for himself, life had been grey. Dull and boring, with flashes of red hot anger aimed at no one and everyone all at once. Waking up to an empty bed had been his routine for so many years, however, when he came to and found himself alone in his room that morning, no trace of you other than your scent on his sheets, it had shattered him. After the heartbreak came the hatred. Now, it had been three weeks and there’d been no sign of you.

San told himself it was better that way.

He held the door to the café open for a couple of local girls he recognised from the campus opposite from his own, flashing a polite smile as they skirted past him. The smile dropped from his face when he caught a bit of their conversation.

“...Jongho’s still going after her, from what I’ve heard. Apparently Sua spotted them getting handsy at the last Cix house party, though Y/N denied it when I asked about it.”

He’d gotten in his car with the intention of going home. He needed a warm shower and a drink. He needed a distraction, anything to not think of you pressed up against the stupid red haired boy who’d sent you running into San’s arms just to snatch you back. Perhaps you two deserved each other, a match made in hell. When he’d started heading towards your campus, he didn’t realise. Not until he spotted you, stood at the curb of the parking lot, in some sort of heated discussion with Choi Jongho.

San hated you for looking beautiful even in a pair of stained jeans and a worn-out hoodie.

“I really don’t need a ride, it’s fine. I’ll get the bus.” You seemed exhausted, your back turned to San and not noticing how he’d pulled up next to you both, making his way out of the car.

“I told you I was sorry, Y/N. Things came up, I didn’t mean to leave you hanging.” Jongho sounded anything but apologetic, and his burst lip and bruised knuckles done nothing to ease San’s discomfort. “Now will you please just let me take you home? Or anywhere else?”

San intervened at last, not liking the way Jongho had stepped closer to you. He cleared his throat, catching both of your attentions but he stared right past you, eyes on the now black haired male. “She’s got a ride already, don’t worry.”

If Jongho protested, San didn’t stick around long enough to hear it, grabbing onto your wrist. It wasn’t gentle like the other times, his nails digging crescents into your skin before you snatched it out his grasp, disbelief on your face at the fact he’d shown up out of nowhere and was playing the role of your saviour, yet again.

The drive back was awful, to say the most. There was no music, no stolen glances and no shared smiles. Only silence and the hum of his engine. Your eyes were glued on the outside world, past the window of the car, and his were on the road, chest slowly rising with each scarily calm breath he took. It felt like sitting next to a ticking timebomb, waiting to explode when the timer ran out. Nothing happened though, San simply pulling the vehicle to a halt outside your dorm building and waiting in silence for you to leave.

You almost wished he’d yell at you, tell you he hated you. You certainly preferred that over this. Your hands opened the car door, and the cold air from outside warmed you up more than the freezing atmosphere of the car.

“You know,” San whispered but you heard him, hand freezing on the door, your back turned to him and one foot out the car. “I didn’t think you’d actually pick to be strangers.”

What could you say to that? What could you possibly say to explain why you’d left, when you still didn’t know yourself? The anxious feeling had been too overwhelming in the pit of your stomach, forcing your fight or flight response. Clearly, you’d gone for the second option, sneaking out of the apartment in the early hours of the morning and breaking both your hearts in the process.

So you got out the car and done what you did best: walked away.

He always liked the way love songs sounded through the speakers of the radio.

There was a charm to it, the way the sound travelled through the air, kissing the atmosphere and warming even the coldest of hearts. It invited romance in with open arms, daring the universe to bring love into the listener’s life.

For the first time in his life, San groaned and shut the radio off, sick of all the songs about love.

“Yeah, yeah. We fucking get it, it started with a whisper...” He grumbled out in response to the song that had just started, sighing in the peace and quiet of the empty café. He’d just about finished cleaning up for the night, the only thing left to do being to check the register and lock it all up.

Two nights had passed since he’d dropped you home and now even his car was infected with the smell of cherries, dancing past his nostrils each time he inhaled. But the hatred had dissipated, leaving only pain in it’s path. He wasn’t angry at you for not wanting him the same way. That would be selfish of him. He was just hurting from the way you’d pierced his heart with your claws and ripped it out his chest, running off with it into the night.

He’d get over it, with time and a lot of rebounding. Maybe a little bit of praying to a deity he didn’t even really believe in. The most important factor was that it had all come crashing down before Wooyoung even knew something was happening.

San could at least keep one Jung by his side.

The bell above the door rang out as San finished counting the register, snapping it shut just in time to greet Wooyoung with a scowl. “Took you long enough, dude. Thought you said you’d have my car back by noon and it’s now-”

You stared back at him from the doorway.

San rubbed at his eyes, wondering if all those late nights were getting to him and causing hallucinations. You and your burgundy nails were still there when he removed his hands. “Wooyoung’s not here, sorry.”

“That’s okay.” You squirmed under the weight of his stare, swallowing the lump in your throat when he steps out from behind the counter. It was criminal, you thought, for someone to look so good in black jeans and a button up shirt. “I didn’t come here to see him.”

“Then why are you here, Y/N?” He bit back the temptation to ask if Jongho had once again stood you up, leaving you running in desperation for comfort. But it felt mean and he wasn’t sure he wanted to push you away. He didn’t exactly want to pull you closer either. Still, he found himself copying you when you took a step closer.

“I don’t know.” It was disappointingly simple. He wanted a reason behind your appearance, wanted you to give him the incentive to ask you to leave. Not just the café but his life in general. Because keeping him around just to string him along was becoming exhausting.

Sure, he was willing to chase you to hell and back. But where was he supposed to run to when you disappeared along the trail, nowhere in sight and a linger of your shampoo in the air?

There was a time, summers past now, when both your families had gone on holiday together, off to some pension house down by the sea. San remembered how he’d woken up and found you sat out on the front porch, staring up at the skies. It was the first time he’d ever looked at you. Not as Wooyoung’s little sister but as you, Y/N. He hadn’t understood at that time, why exactly his palms were sweating when he sat down next to you or why he wanted to sulk when you confessed to the crush you had on your brother’s other friend, Kang Yeosang. But when you let your hand take a hold of his own, both quietly staring up at the starry sky, he knew exactly why his heart felt all fuzzy. He’d been seventeen back then and anything seemed possible.

Now an adult, the fuzz in his heart was becoming daggers, piercing his fragile self. He wasn’t sure he could rely any longer on the hope that you’d someday want him back.

“Well, I was just closing.” He wanted you to leave, to stay, to do something other than stare across at him. You stayed silent and San felt he had to speak again, to stop himself from saying what he actually wanted to say. “Wooyoung’s on his way, if you want to wait for him.”

“I don’t want to wait for him.” You’d gotten closer and, one moment of weakness was all it would take for San to have his arms around you. “I just wanted a hug.”

The weakness fought against San’s resilience but he wasn’t moving. He wasn’t crossing the threshold, tired of being the one always having to cross the bridges you put up. He didn’t have to this time, luckily, because you reached forward and wrapped your arms around him, head falling against him and arms holding him to you. He let his instincts take over, enveloping you in his embrace, eyes closing to bask in the way your warmth rolled over him.

“I don’t want to be strangers, San.” He felt the hum of your voice, pulling back only when he felt you do the same. “I heard what you said... And I screwed up. I’m sorry. It just hit me all of a sudden and I didn’t know how to cope with it. I love you too, I’m sorry you had to wait to hear that.”

His silence was unnerving, each second that passed of him just staring down at you, no readable expression on his face, felt like an infinity. “You’re lucky you’re worth the chase, princess.” For the first time, he initiated the kiss between you both. There was no rush, no urgency to have one another pressed together, no desperation. It was the feeling of completion, at last, lips melting together and hands tangling around one another. When San pulled back, his lips were glistening red, inviting you to steal another kiss, so you did. “Wooyoung is going to kill me, isn’t he?”

You both jumped apart at a familiar voice ringing out from the doorway. “You have about exactly four seconds to run, Choi.”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

#ateez smut #choi san smut #ateez oneshot #choi san oneshot #ateez series #choi san series #ateez x reader #choi san x reader

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folkreid · 3 years ago

Text

what if they don’t like me

I WOULD LIKE TO MAKE IT CLEAR THAT IN NO WAY AM I TRYING TO MAKE JJ SEEM LIKE A BAD PERSON OR ANYTHIJG I LOVE HER

Today's the day! I'm so excited. I'll be meeting Spencer's team. We've been dating for almost eight months, the team barley found out about me. Spencer wanted our relationship to be private, he said if the team found out about me they would ask too many questions.

I'm so excited to meet them! I can not wait. I met his mother maybe four months ago. She was lovely.

I finish off my makeup with some lipstick. Okay I look good. Right amount of cleavage, right amount of makeup. My heels aren't to high which is really good, I could hardly walk in them.

Spencer comes from behind me wrapping his arms around me. "You ready my love?" he asks putting his head on my shoulder. "Yeah I am" I reply with a sigh. "What's wrong babe?" he asks noticing my dreary mood. "What if they don't like me?" I look at the mirror, looking at him. He kissed my temple. "They're going to love you" he whispered.

I nod. "Okay i'm ready". He grabs my coat handing it to me, I put it on over my dress. He holds my hand as we walk to his car together. He opens my door, I sit down and he closes it for me.

The drive is mainly silent besides the radio. I hum along to the song that was playing trying to relax my nerves. "Why are you bouncing your leg?" he puts his hand over mine that was on my thigh.

I didn't even notice I was doing that. "I don't know"

He squeezed my hand. "Are you still nervous?" he asks looking over at me for a second. "Kind of, what if they question us because of my age"

Spencer and I were 10 years apart. He is 30 and i'm 20. We've gotten a lot of negative responses about our age gap. Mainly from my family. My mom didn't approve. My sister said I was dating him because he was older and I needed male validation since my dad wasn't in my life. Why are they so terrible. I'm happy with Spencer, I don't care how old he is.

"Hey, I don't care what they think of us, i'm happy alright" I nod slowly.

We arrive to the house. Woah it's a really big house. Spencer said the house was big. I didn't think it would be a mansion though.

Spencer comes over to me and opens my door.

I get out and hold his hand. I feel myself getting nervous. I have some issues with being around people. I get social anxiety pretty badly. I don't go out anymore, last time I went out to eat in public I had a panic attack.

We walk to the front door of the house.

Spencer knocks on the door, we wait for someone to answer. An older man answers. I'm guessing the owner of this house. "Spencer you're here!" the man smiles giving him a hug. I stand there awkwardly. "Uh Rossi this is Y/n, my girlfriend" he introduced me. I wave to him. "You don't shake hands either ?" he asked. I do shake hands but I usually feel really uncomfortable being touched. "I-I um" I stutter. "She does but she gets kind of uncomfortable with people she just met" Spencer explains. Rossi nods and welcomes me in. "Come in Y/n" he smiles.

I walk in and see two other men and three women. One of them was very colorful. Penelope I presume. Spencer leads me to the group. "Guys this is my girlfriend, Y/n. Y/n this is Hotch, JJ, Derek, Emily, and Penelope" both Emily and JJ give me weird looks. Penelope runs over to me and hugs me. "Oh my god! I've been so excited to meet you" she squeals. I look over to Spencer feeling slightly uncomfortable. "Garcia, Y/n isn't really fond of touch" he tells her. Penelope pulls away looking sorry. "I am so sorry angel" she says. "No it's totally fine" I whisper, they could hardly hear me. My parents used to scream at me about not talking loud enough.

"Okay well let's eat" Rossi says. I sat down at the end of the table, Spencer to my right and no one on my left. We begin to eat, I slightly here JJ and Emily whispering. I hear them say my name. I begin shifting in my seat. Spencer noticed and holds my hand under the table doing the dumb thing. "You okay love?" he whispers. "Yeah I um, I just need to use the restroom" I tell him. He nods. "I'm going to show Y/n the restroom" he excuses us.

"Here it is babe" he says. "You want me to wait for you?" he asked me. "No it's fine Spencer" he nods and heads back to the table.

I sit on the corner of the bath tub with my face in my hands. I just need to calm down. Breathe in and out. In and out. I feel myself calm down after about three minutes. I go look into the mirror. Do I look like I cried? No okay good.

I step out, I stop at the corner when I hear my name mentioned. "How old is Y/n" I look over the wall to see JJ asking about my age. "She's twenty" he casually says. I adore him. He's never made me feel bad for being younger, or not being as smart as him. "Spencer that's a child" Derek told him.

I walk out to the table. "I'm not a child" I say. They all look over to me. I take my seat next to Spencer. "I would never take advantage of someone younger than me" Spencer says. "Spencer we know but she's so young" Emily comments.

"I'm right here you don't have to refer as me as she" I sternly say. Hotch, Penelope and Rossi just watch this unfold. JJ rolls her eyes at me. "Okay well Y/n, why are you dating such and older guy, if you aren't dating guys you're age theres a reason why" Derek said to me.

"I um- I don't care if Spencer is two years older or twenty years older, i'm happy with him the age doesn't matter" I say holding Spencer's hand. "Are you sure it's not to maybe make you feel better" the blonde said. "What are you implying" Spencer snaps.

"That she has daddy issues and you're just there to fill that whole in her heart" Emily continued off of JJ's comment. "I think if they're happy we should leave them alone" Penelope speaks for the first time since the conversation started. "Yeah but he should be happy with someone his own age" JJ said. I get up and walk outside.

I sit on the curb crying into my knees. "Y/n" I hear a voice perk. I look over my shoulder to see Penelope. "Y/n come back inside please, we don't want anything to happen to you" she says implying to the fact that it was dark outside and there were suspicious men on the news around this area.

"Maybe you don't want me to get hurt, the others hate me" I cry into my shirt. "Please just come inside". I give in and walk back into the house.

"You guys made her cry! For what?! Just because she's younger than me!" I see Spencer yell at the three who were questioning me. Hotch and Rossi were in the back having some drinks.

"Spence" JJ starts. "No I don't want to hear it Jennifer!" he storms my way grabbing my hand and pulling me to the car. "Goodbye Y/n" Penelope called from the front of the house. I look back and give her a quick wave.

I get into the car and Spencer starts driving. He was gripping the stealing wheel hard. He was mad. "Spence?" I whisper. He hummed in response. "Are you mad at me?" he looks over to me the second those words left my mouth. He puts his hand on my thighs stroking it gently. "Of course not my love, i'm mad at them" he gently told me. I nod. "So now what?" I ask. "Now we just ignore what they have to say. I'm never going to leave you, I love you so much" he smiles. "I love you too" I hold his hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked me. "I'm fine, I liked the way you yelled at them" I slightly giggled. He smiled. "I will yell at anyone any day to defend you" he reaches over and kisses me. We were at a red light.

—————————

THE NEXT MORNING

I hear talking in the kitchen, I wonder who it is. I go over and peek over the corner. It was Spencer and JJ. "I'm sorry for saying shit to your girlfriend Spence" she apologizes. Spencer just takes a sip of his water. "The truth is, I guess I was a little jealous" she laughs. He choked on his water. "J-Jealous?" he asked.

She nods and slightly laughed. "Spencer, I love you, like more than a friend love you" she confess. I feel my self get sick to my stomach. He told me when he was younger he had a crush on her. What if old feelings come back. I rush to the restroom and vomit into the toilet.

I hear footsteps rush to me. "Are you okay" Spencer acts. I slightly sob, i've always hated throwing up. I look up at Spencer and JJ was standing next to him with her hand on his arm. "I'm fine" I mumble. They both stand their for a moment. "Can you guys get out please!" I snap at them. They leave and I brush my teeth and go back to the kitchen.

"Do you think Y/n is pregnant?" JJ asked Spencer. "No there's no way she is" he sighs. "What if a condom ripped or something" she said touching his arm once again. I don't care if she was trying to comfort him.

"No, she can't be because we've never had sex" he mumbled. Her facial expressions changes to shock. "Oh" she simply says. I clear my throat making them notice me. "Are you okay babe?" he asked. "Yeah i'm fine, JJ weren't you saying something earlier?" I ask. She looks at me confused. "What are you talking about Y/n" she tilts her head. I cross my arms. "Spencer I love you, like more than a friend love you" I mock her voice. She clenched her jaw and looks towards Spencer. "I'm gonna leave" she grabs her things and walks out the door.

"Why did you do that!" he yells at me. "Why are you yelling at me?" I head towards our bedroom. "Talk about what she said, now it's going to be awkward around her!" he screams.

"Well you're the one who was letting her be all up on you! After she said that when you guys came to check up on me she was holding your arm! A-And you used to have feelings for her and you probably still do" I cry.

I see his face soften. "Babe" he starts. I look up at him. "I didn't even realize she was touching me, I was to focused on you" he tells me.

"Really?" I say hopefully. "Yes baby" he hugs me and kisses the top of my head. "I don't have feelings for her, you're the only person I love okay?" I nod.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #criminal minds imagine #derek morgan #criminal minds #angst

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deldeldel90 · 2 years ago

Text

Warning for: Death and heavy angst

It started with a small clear of his throat, then it turned rougher - long, drawn out fits of coughing. He would tell her it was okay, not to worry.

(It wasn’t okay. His words did not do anything to make her worry less.)

His eyes grew less lively everyday, his sparkles dimmed, and she could feel his energy being sucked out his soul.

Jack would deny it, he’d laugh softly whenever she brought about his sickness. “I’m not sick for as long as I’m with you, my darling,” he would say. “When you are beside me, I am the strongest man in all of the kingdoms.”

Leelathae would blush, covering her face with her hand. “Be serious!” she scolded, “this is no time for joking.”

“I can assure you, Lilith, my love for you is no joke.”

She wished she kissed him more. Felt his lips on hers one more time, their entangled bodies dancing together.

Leelathae was awoken by the disgusting smell of iron, and his desperate coughing. He sounded like he was trying to breathe again, his entire body was trembling.

The world was blurring around her, as she wrapped her arms around him, patting his back in the way she once saw her mother do to a choking child back on the island.

(Hold him tight. Don’t let him go. Get whatever inside out. Rock him slowly.)

“MOLLY!” she called out, “ANYONE! THE KING- MY HUSBAND- HE’S HURT! GET- GET OVER HERE!”

“L’elyth,” he sputtered, "..s hurts. I l'uh you. L- love. Your… your hair smells nice. Li'ek flowers."

Leelathae fought the strong urge to cry.

"Keep talking," she said, trying to keep herself steady.

Jack makes a strange reaching noise, and she can hear his shuddering mutters of pain. She couldn't pick up the actual words, as her desperation grew and grew.

Still, at her request, he slowly begins to speak again, "Gwe- Gwennie 'ooks just li… like you. She's beautiful, j- just like you. Lori'anna and Mah'e-a."

He goes quiet.

"Don't stop," she pleads. "Tell me. Tell me everything. Pleasepleasepleaseplease-"

"Lilyth.. I see light."

One more cough. One more cry. One more heartbreak.

And it all happens in one minute.

Jack dies in her arms, clutching her with all the strength he had, until all the life slowly left him, and his body slumped down. Leelathae did not stop holding him, not even when she heard Miss Molly gasp in shock, as the night had passed, and a new, welcoming dawn approached the sky.

“H-he’s so cold,” she held him tighter, voice cracking like glass that’d just been shattered with an unforgiving blade.

“My Queen, he’s dead.” Miss Molly reached out to touch her, but she hesitated.

Leelathae inhaled sharply, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. “You can’t- Molly… Let me hold him a little longer, please.”

("Let me love the man who saw me, who cared for me when I was just a ghastly looking commoner," she wanted to say. "Do the impossible, please, and let me feel his heart beat again.")

She does not abide by her wishes. Her husband is taken, fussed over by servants and doctors alike.

There’s blood on her nightgown. There’s blood everywhere, in fact. It feels hard to believe that the blood is her husband’s.

The love of her life is taken away, and it doesn’t feel real.

She was conginatated at Jack's funeral. The proper ruler's crown was given to her just minutes after his casket was lowered.

Leelathae is no longer just a queen, the wife of the king. She's the primary leader of the entire kingdom, and she will have no one to help her.

It does not matter that she doesn't have a speck of royal blood in her, she is their ruler until she dies, and one of her children takes her place.

She felt so sick, the shining, iron crown on her head felt so heavy. Maria grips her hand tight.

"Where's Father?" Her precious, beautiful daughter asks. So innocent, Leelathae fights the urge to vomit.

She finally chokes out, "he's away, darling."

His funeral has many attendants. The entire kingdom is in mourning. Jack's mother sobs so loud, she's practically screaming. Jack's father is pale, almost lifeless, had it not been for his heaving breathing.

In the back of her mind, she wonders if they all think this is somehow her fault. She wonders if it is.

Miss Molly hugs her on her left side, whispering, "I'll take the kids back, so you can have some alone time."

Leelathae can feel shivers go down her back, her black veil

Purple lilies decorate the grass, the somber environment clear as dry thunder reigns above them.

"It's not fair," she mutters, leaning down on her husband's grave. "You were so young. You were so loved. Why, my dear? Why?"

Her tears do not fall peacefully. They spew down her face like a neverending rainfall, as she clutches the flowers she brought - orange lilacs (similar to the ones from where they first met at her island), red roses (they always reminded her of him. So passionate, he would always surprise her whenever he'd pick up impossible projects, and he'd get them done somehow, because he cared so much that he made those things happen!) and honeysuckle (which he would always bring her - no matter when or where).

She must look crazy, mumbling softly to herself and all that, but she doesn't care one bit. Leelathae loves - always will, because to her, he is not dead - her husband.

Leelathae hears footsteps behind her. She sniffles, glancing through her bleary eyes to see who's there.

It's the Plaid king.

He does not say a word as he passes, but he gives her a look.

It's a look of someone who is equally distraught. Someone who shares her pain in a similar way.

Two weeks later, Leelathae would send an invite to his kingdom, asking for him and his beloved wife to join her for tea.

"King Leland, Queen Isode," Leelathae respectfully said, her hands in her lap. "It is my honour to welcome you both to the Pastel kingdom."

King Leland doesn't speak.

Queen Isolde sips her tea.

Brushing off the strong feeling of rejection (almost the same kind she felt back when Jack brought her into this mystical, cruel land), she continued, "I… I know you knew Jack before he tragically passed."

Ten seconds go by. Complete silence, except for the hushed bustle of the servants.

"I didn't know him," Queen Isolde finally said - her voice soft. "He seemed like a good man, though. A kind man."

Leelathae feels more surprise than she should at her words.

"He was," she and King Leland spoke at the same time, their voices overlapping.

King Leland's red - like a lunar eclipse moon - eyes slowly move to the plate of macarons. He reaches for one.

"I knew Jack. He was.. Jack was my best friend," King Leland picks out a blueberry macaron. "I loved him more than anyone could ever imagine."

The chocolate foundation is rather noisy, as Isolde dips her strawberry in it.

"I loved him too," Leelathae is overcome by a sense of oddness. King Leland never liked her - she was sure he hated her, in fact. "It doesn't feel real, even after several weeks, that he's dead."

"Still feels like he's going to come back, doesn't it?" He sounds so understanding it hurts her heart, he speaks softly, almost too softly.

It's not right. This isn't the right world. Everything about this is so wrong.

Queen Isolde asks for iced tea, and Leelathae can't help but giggle, surprising everybody in the room (including her).

These visits become a regular occurrence. Even Leelathae, herself, doesn't know how. It just… happened, as natural as the trees outside when they sprouted from the earth.

Queen Isolde has become more lively. She gives silly nicknames to the kids, and, admittingly, most of them are too ridiculous for them to stick. But one does; Jamie for Leelathae's only son, James.

The tension between her and King Leland had not entirely disappeared in the five months they've been coming to the Pastel kingdom, though, but their alliance had been getting better.

King Leland gives her smiles every now and again. They talk about Jack together - the memories that are burned into both of their lives.

She isn't alone dealing with this. She may not have her family, but she has her… friends.

Quern Isolde hugs her once more, talking right into her pointed ear, "how have things been, Lilyth?"

Leelathae would respond a neutral answer - nothing too good, nothing too bad - and… it's normal.

Life is normal, yet something feels so off, as if she's living someone else's life.

King Leland's always had a hearty guffaw, laughing so freely. Lorena runs into the room like a small rabbit would, "Mom! Blaine's been climbing the treeeees!"

Leelathae did not lock her children up after her husband's death. She let them explore, under the eye of Miss Molly, who always let them get away with trouble.

Gwen liked to stay indoors, blankets surrounding her, as did Jamie, both because of his love of sweets and his love of his twin sister that he could not stand to be apart from her.

Maria adored singing in the corners of the outside life, jamming along to Blaine's piano. Her voice was lovely, and the kingdomfolk would always listen to her heavenly melodies.

Lorena was always playing in the woods, and she liked making Leelathae proud, whether that be by reporting her stories of hearing or seeing strange people in the woods, or following every rule she could.

Before King Leland can speak up, Queen Isolde does, "let him, dear. As I remind my husband, he's just a boy. Let him play."

King Leland's face changes in a spilit second from shock to something akin to joy. "Indeed," he reaffirms. "But tell one of the maids to get him icecream after. He'll need more energy after all that climbing."

Leelathae watches the both of them in wonder.

It surprises her to her very soul, one fact; everything is so normal, for one exact reason… because they all have each other to help nuture the healing they all need.

Today was the anniversary of her husband's death.

The entire kingdom goes back into grief, wearing muted pastels, singing in low voices their kingdom's song.

Leelathae was planned to give a speech at the townhall, but as it turns out, her voice was so warped by her sudden (and unpredictable) cries that she found it was easier to have the speech rescheduled until 7:00PM, where lanterns would light up the dark night, and her children would be tucked into bed.

Flowers bloom in harmony. The sky does not cry as violently, settling on a light downpour.

Leelathae watched the somber dances of boys and girls - the same one that was practiced all those years ago, according to the history books.

Birds chirp, strangely friendly, landing on the shoulders of unsuspecting people.

Just as Leelathae ends her speech, pledging her heart and soul to the Pastel kingdom, a butterfly touches on the tip of her nose, tickling it.

Leelathae laughs, eyes crinkling.

It feels as if that butterfly was Jack, giving her a warm embrace.

The crowd's applauds erupt, akin to fire blazing on a freezing day, some even standing up, many grinning.

The butterfly does not fly away, it hovers over her shoulder. Leelathae feels tears run down her face, facing the kingdom, her appearance forgotten.

Leelathae holds the hands of both Gwen and Jamie. Gwen was a sweet little girl - no, she was her sweet little girl. She could become friends with anyone, it seemed. Jamie was hyperactive, and got on well with Lance the best, just like Lorena did, when it came to the Plaid boys.

Lorena was adventurous and full of courage. She learned to fight without any training, smart in all the ways nobody ever thought about.

Maria… Maria would always be her darling. Her name meant everything Leelathae felt when she gave birth to her, and that was what made her special. She represented hope, change, and most importantly, the bravery to speak out when challenged by an invisible sword.

Her two eldest children were spending the day with the Plaid family, which meant she was alone with the twins that day.

Not quite alone, she can't help but think of the past.

Leelathae still feels the touch of her husband from time to time. Still can feel his skin brush against hers.

A blissful sigh escaped her lips, "oh, Jack. Do you see their smiles? I hope you do. You made these children with me, and I hope you know that they love you just as much as they do me. They make you Father's day cards each year, and I tell them stories about what a great man you were."

She paused, Jamie stirring awake, grumbling.

"Thank you for everything." she leans her head back, basking in the sunlight, "let there be butterflies in our future, ones just as beautiful as you were."

Leelathae had loved before, and she would always love again.

#cursed princess club #cpc angst #cpc oneshot #cross posted on ao3 #cpc gwen #cpc jamie #cpc lorena #cpc maria #cpc leelathae

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kallikrein · 3 years ago

Note

NO YOU ARE THE BEST!! (Lol sorry this is the best way I can think of to reply 🤣)

Seriously!!! YOU ARE THE BEST!

You probably don't remember/have no idea, but on the first post that I've made about wakasa and smoking habits, you reblogged it, and your tags?! 💕🥺😳😱🥲 I literally posted, went to bed and the next morning when I woke up, I saw your tags on my post. You! An amazing writer that I've read fics from (yeah haha sorry I was too shy to comment/reblog back then haha 😬), leaving notes and reblogging that post I had made!

You had no idea how shocked/happy I was that day!! (I can't even describe that feeling!) ❤️ So thank you!! 🥺 (and so yeah, you are the best 😊)

MOCHI (no you’re the bestest) :(((( that smoking hc is really good!! it’s not even a headcanon anymore, but a mfing canon?? wakui, get out. we’re gonna type waka’s personality and habits now /j lmfkskskf LOVE THAT WE BOTH HC HIM THE SAME WAY PLS WHERE WERE YOU WHEN HE FIRST APPEARED YOU COULD’VE GOTTEN ME MARRYING THE MAN FOR REAL 😩 I LOVE YOUR CHARACTERIZATION ON HIM <3333

aaaa pls don’t call me amazing. I DONT FIND MY WRITING AMAZING — JUST GOOD OLD BASIC WORD VOMITTING LMFKSKA STOP IM GONNA CRY HUHU YOUR SUPPORT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME :(((((((

of course i will support anyone, especially those who write for waka cos let’s be real waka lives in my mind rent-free. so having new content about him is always welcome 💜💛 such simp behavior hahdhshshdhf

THANK YOU SO MUCH MOCHI. YOU MAKE MY WRITING EXPERIENCE HERE MORE WHOLESOME 😭 MWA MWA MWA MWAAAAA <333

#[ 💌 ] — from mochi #BEST PERSON AWARD GOES TO YOU

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years ago

Text

Love and Medicine ~ 7

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,400ish

Summary: Clint has feelings. You try not to cause too much drama at work.

You immediately began avoiding Steve after Gamora caught you two in the car. You need not need her, or anyone else, thinking that you were sleeping with him to get ahead. Having no desire to get ready for work, you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, as your alarm buzzed.

Outside in the hall, Clint was nervously walked towards your door with two cups of coffee.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just ask her out?” Valkyrie suddenly asked, popping out of her room.

“Ah!” Clint jumped, slipping the coffees on him. “Val!”

“She’s right, ya know?” Scott added, stepping out of his room. “Just ask her out. It’s not like it will be awkward when she tells you no.”

“I hate you both,” Clint grumbled. He leaned into your door, able to hear to slam on the snooze button for the third time. “She’s gonna be late.”

“Maybe not.”

“We should wait for her.”

“Definitely not,” Val shook her head. “I’m not her mother, and you are not her boyfriend.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Scott added.

“Stop, both of you, okay?” Clint said, frustrated. “I told you I’m not interested.”

“Life is short, Clint,” Val said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Do you really want to die before you ever ask her out?”

“I do not want to ask her out.”

“Do you really want to die a liar?” Scott said.

“I’m not… I’m not dying.”

~~~

From the parking garage, you rushed towards the building. Late for work. As you wait for the elevator, you see Steve coming toward you.

“Crap,” you mutter.

“Crap?” Steve repeated, having heard you.

“Hi. I’m late.”

“Hi, late. You’re avoiding me.”

“You’re right. But I can’t do this right now. I’m late.” You hurried towards the stairs, only for him to follow you.

“Okay, but are we going to talk about this?”

“No.” You marched up the stairs.

“About us and Gamora and what she saw?”

“I don’t need to talk about it. I experienced it. Naked.”

“This is getting complicated.”

“Complicated for me. Not necessarily for you. I’m the intern sleeping with the attending. Gamora isn’t even speaking to me anymore!”

“Not that, that’s a bad thing. If I was a better guy, I’d walk away.”

“Yes, you would.”

“Do you want me to be a better guy.”

“Yes. Now,” you reached the level of the locker rooms, “I’m late. Please leave me alone and get to my job.” You opened the door. Steve caught it, keeping it open as you walked away.

“Take your time! Think about it!”

“Think about what?” Tony asked, walking over to Steve. He looked to where Steve was looking, watching her rush down the all. “Ooohhh… I get it now. Well, at least she’s talking to you.”

“The date go bad with Pepper?”

“It didn’t go at all. I was pulled into a surgery and completely forgot about it.”

“Yikes.”

“I think I’ve blown it.”

“Me too, Stark. Me too.”

~~~

“That was definitely worth being late,” Natasha sighed as she put on her pants.

“Thanks,” Bruce smiled shyly, doing the same. “Is this a… should we talk about this?”

“Yeah,” Natasha slipped her shirt on, “definitely. Just, I’m late.”

She rushed out of the on-call room and straight to the locker room, where you were getting ready.

“You’re late,” you stated.

“So are you,” Natasha responded.

“I know, and I can’t afford to piss off Gamora any more. Do you think she told anyone?”

“About you and Captain McDreamy?”

“Yeah.”

“No, he’s her boss too.”

“If they find out, what can they… Can they kick me out? Or—“

“No…. Well, I don’t think officially. You'll just get edged out, blacklisted, banned from his surgeries, passed over for chief resident. It’ll be humiliating, but you’ll live.”

“I have to end it. I definitely have to end it… I have to end it, right?”

“Y/N, shut up.” Nat headed out of the locker room.

“What?” You chased after her. “Did you seriously just tell me to shut up?”

“Oh, please. You got a hot doctor who like to make you open up, and say "ahh." It's the American dream, stop whining about it.”

“No. No good can come from sleeping with your boss.” You two arrived in front of Gamora.

“Natasha, you’re late,” Gamora stated, unhappy.

“So is Y/N,” Natasha replied, pointing at you.

“When we walk in this door, you will maintain decorum,” Gamora continued, ignoring Nat and you. “You will not laugh, vomit, or drop your jaw. Are we understood?” She walked to a door.

“Why would we laugh?” Val asked quietly.

“Oh, just you wait,” Peter replied.

The interns followed Gamora into a patient room. On the bed, there was a heavier woman with an extremely large tumor bulging out fo her side.

“Good morning, Miss Anderson,” Gamora greeted.

“Good Morning,” Miss Anderson, the patient, replied.

“What is it?” Scott whispered.

“Tumor,” Nat responded.

“Good morning, Millie,” Peter smiled, walking around to the other side of the patient’s bed. “How are you? This is Dr. Gamora and some of my fellow interns.”

“Dr. Quill, we refer to patients as ‘mister’ and—“ Gamora began to reprimand.

“I old him to call me Millie,” the patient interrupted. “Miss Anderson makes me feel old and fat, which I am, but why have to feel that way?”

“Good morning,” Dr. Banner greeted upon entering, eyes lingering on Natasha a beat too long.

“Millie, this is Dr. Banner,” Peter stated.

“Dr. Quill, give us the run down.”

“Millie Anderson is a 43-year-old woman who presented last night with progressive shortness of breath fo the past three months. Found to have a very large tumor of unknown origin pressed against her diaphragm. Stable vital signs. Scheduled for CT this morning, sir.”

“Thank you, Dr. Quill.” Banner turned to Millie. “Are you at all claustrophobic?”

“I’ve been housebound for the last year,” Millie replied. “How claustrophobic could I be?”

“Alright then. Dr. Valkyrie is going to take you up for a CT. It’ll give us a better look at the tumor, and we’ll know how to proceed.”

“Could someone tell my dad? He’ll worry if he gets back and I’m not here.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And would it be possible for Peter to take me instead? I mean, he… he’s just so fun to look at.”

“Millie,” Peter laughed, clearly trying to gain favor.

“Sure,” Banner said. “Sure, Miss Anderson. Excuse me.”

Dr. Banner left the room, with Dr. Gamora and the interns following.

“How much do you think it weighs?” Scott asked.

“60 pounds,” Clint answered.

“More,” Val said. “She’s carrying a whole extra person.”

“This one’s going in the books,” Natasha said. “I’ve got to get in.”

“I almost did,” Val glared at Peter.

“I was on call last night when she came in,” Peter said. “I’m never leaving this place again.”

“Let’s move, people,” Gamora said. “Miss Anderson’ surgery, should we choose to proceed, will take most, if not all, of the surgeons off the floor. Which means you people will have to work extra hard not to kill anyone, cause we won’t be there to fix your mistakes.”

You and the others listened to Gamora’s orders while Natasha slipped away to talk to Bruce.

“I really want in on this,” she whispered to him.

“I thought we weren’t talking,” Bruce replied, eyebrow up.

“I’m not talking. I’m just saying.”

Bruce sighed. “Find her father, get a family history, and I’ll tell Gamora.”

~~~

“I know you both think I like Y/N,” Clint stated as him, Scott, and Val walked up the stairs. “But I don’t like Y/N.”

“What?” Val questioned.

“No. I like Y/N. Obviously, I like her. She’s my roommate. I just… I don’t have a thing for her.” Scott and Val shared a look.

“Okay,” Scott said.

“It’s just this morning… I know you two were probably just teasing. But I don’t want you to say anything like that to her. Because, you know, we live together and that’d be awkward.”

“Clint, stop talking,” Val ordered.

“Okay, then… It’s just—“

“Seriously, dude,” Scott stopped in front of Clint. “You’re making this all worse. Just stop.” Scott peered behind Clint where you were making your way towards them. “Or you could just be honest with yourself and us and ask her out now.” Clint looked back to see you almost there.

“What are you guys standing here for?” You asked. “We’re going to be late meeting Gamora.”

You and Val continued on your way with Scott watching Clint watch you.

“Liar,” Scott muttered, shaking his head.

The two guys caught up with you and Val. The four of you met up with Gamora in another patient room. Inside the room, a man is trying to walk but was having difficulty. Steve was also in there and a younger woman.

“Morning,” Gamora greeted.

“Mr. Jones, this is Dr. Gamora and her fine staff of surgical interns,” Steve introduced. Steve, yourself, and Gamora all exchanged glances.

“Welcome to hell, kids,” Mr. Jones stated.

“Who’s presenting?” Gamora asked.

“Edward Jones,” Clint stated, “is a 63-year-old man admitted for pain management for Dyskinesia. He's been stable since last night, and responding to the bolus injections.”

“Val, possible treatments?”

“For Parkinson’s disease?” Val questioned. “Um, deep brain stimulation has shown—“

“Not for Parkinson’s,” Steve clarified, “for spinal pain.”

“Oh, um…”

“Instraspinal catheter,” you stated. “That way, he can have constant pain medication.”

“Excellent,” Steve smiled. “This is Dr. L/N. She’s gonna prep you for the procedure and assist.” His pager beeped, causing him to look down. “Excuse me.” He left.

“You make yourselves busy,” Gamora said, following Steve out. “I’ll catch up with you.”

She followed Steve to the elevator. Where they end up alone.

“Gamora,” Steve greeted.

“Excuse me?” She responded.

“Well, that’s your name, right? It’s on your jacket.” She wasn’t impressed. “Alright, fine. Dr. Gamora then.”

“You think you're charming in that talented, neurotic, overly moussed hair sort of way, good for you. But if you think I'm going to stand back and watch while you favor her—“

“I don’t favor her. She’s good.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“You know, can I point out that, technically, I'm your boss?”

“You don't scare me. Look, I'm not going to advertise your extracurricular activities with my intern. However, the next time I see you favoring Y/N L/N in any way, I'll make sure she doesn't see the inside of on OR for a month. Just for the sake of balance.”

~~~

“Okay, Mr. Jones,” you said with a smile. “We're going to get you more comfortable, okay? I'm going to go downstairs and I'll be back up shortly.”

“Okay,” Mr. Jones responded.

“Okay.”

You left, with the younger woman from the room following you out.

“Excuse me,” the younger woman called out, causing you to turn your attention to her. “I’m sorry, doctor…”

“L/N,” you smiled.

“Dr. L/N. I’m Lucy, his daughter. My dad seems to like you. He’s always liked your type. Is that rude? I’m sorry. I’m so tired.”

“Is there something—“

“I was wondering if you would talk to him.”

“About?”

“Brain surgery. The doctor mentioned it, and I've read about it online. If it worked, it could help with most of his symptoms, not just his pain.”

“Is he a candidate? I don’t—“

“He is, but he's afraid of it. Surgery on his back, he can understand, but his brain...And there are risks. But his quality of life…”

“There isn’t any.”

“And, it keeps getting worse. I'm getting married next month. I already lost my mom. And I want him to walk...I want him with me. Maybe that's selfish, but...you don't know what it's like having a parent...Watching him…”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.”

You immediately left in search of Steve. You watched outside a room where he was talking to Gamora and Banner about Miss Anderson.

“Dr. Rogers,” you called as he walked out. “Mr. Jones, the Parkinson's patient, is he a good candidate for DBS?”

“Yes,” he replied, “but he’s not interested.”

“Okay, but I think it's worth talking to him again, pushing him.”

“We're talking about a brain surgery that is performed while the patient is wide awake, a risk of paralysis, a risk of death. And, the patient doesn't want it. It is not my job to push him into anything and it's definitely not yours.”

“Okay.”

“And since you’re clearly uncomfortable with my decision in this case, it's probably best you don't scrub in.”

“But—“

“It’s a minor procedure. You won’t be missed.” This took you by surprise. “I’m good here, Dr. L/N.” With your mind reeling, you walked away. Steve turned to Gamora, who had been watching. “You know that you’re a bully, right?”

“So I’ve heard,” Gamora replied.

~~~

You and Val were sitting in a corner of the cafeteria, eating lunch.

“It's just that he blatantly favors me in front of her and then blatantly dismisses me,” you complained to her.

“How do you know he was favoring you?” She asked, which you didn’t answer. “Look, you've got a brain. You got into this program. Just because Rogers wants to munch your cookies doesn't mean you didn't deserve what you worked for.”

“But he’s making me look bad. I have to end it.”

“Right.”

“It’s over.”

“Sure.”

“Is it true you get to scrub in on that tumor?” Peter asked Natasha, appearing out of nowhere with Val. They both sat down at your table.

“Don’t sit here.”

“You get to scrub in?” Val repeated. “How psyched are you?”

“On a scale of one to ecstatic, ecstatic.”

“It’s unbelievable,” Peter complained. “You know what I think? I think Banner wants to get into your scrubs.”

“Why are you sitting here?”

“He kicked me off that surgery for the same crap most of you pull every day.”

“You know what.” Natasha held up her fork. “If I stuck this fork into his thigh, would I get in trouble?”

“Not if you make it look like an accident,” you answered.

“Hey!” Clint greeted, coming up with Scott.

“Thank goodness,” Peter exclaimed. “I’m drowning in estrogen here.”

Clint sat down next to you, studying you. “You look… is everything okay?” He asked you.

“Rogers is a jackass,” you muttered.

“Really?” Val questioned. “I think he’s kind of great.”

“He reamed her out in front of Gamora,” Natasha said.

“Why?”

“Cause he’s a jackass,” you repeated.

“Well, bad days are… bad,” Clint said. “Maybe tonight, uh, if, you know, if you drink alcohol, I mean… we could, all of us, I mean, go out and rink alcohol… because of the bad day.”

Your pager beeped. “I’ve got to go.” And you left.

“Dude,” Peter laughed at Clint once you were gone.

Clint groaned and rested his head on the table. Scott panted his shoulder while the others laughed.

~~~

Steve had called you to Mr. Jones room. You stood near the door, watching.

“How’s your back?” Steve asked Mr. Jones as he checked him over.

“Still good,” the patient responded.

“Good.” Steve turned to Mr. Jones daughter. “How are you? Good?” She nodded as he turned his attention back to her father. “Can you lean forward for me? I just want to check something. Does that feel okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Right here?” Steve pressed along Mr. Jones’ back. The man grunts slightly and Steve looked up, finally noticing you. “Mr. Jones,” Steve took his hands off the man, “have you given any more thought about the other surgical options we discussed this morning?”

“What? Why would I? I already told you no. I'm letting you cut into my back, but that's not enough for you. All you guys ever want to do is cut.”

“Dad,” his daughter scolded, “just listen to what he has to say.”

“I already listened.”

“Sir, there’s a very small window of opportunity here,” Steve stated. “You know, once the Parkinson's progresses to a point of dementia, there's, you know, you're no longer a candidate for DBS.”

“And when I'm no longer a candidate, is that when you people will leave me the hell alone! What? Do I have to start drooling, and forget my name to get a little peace and quiet?”

“Alright,” Steve nodded. “I’ll check back with you later. Try to get some rest.” Steve left while you lingered a bit longer, just more in the hallway.

“Dad, you’re being unreasonable,” the daughter said. “The doctors are only trying to help you.”

“It’s my damn life, and it’s my damn brain,” Mr. Jones stated. “You want me to let them cut up my brain while I'm lying there awake, for what?”

“Dad!”

“I'll be at your wedding. I will sit in the back. Your uncle will walk you down the aisle. I know it's not perfect, but it's life. Life is messy sometimes.”

“I know that.” The daughter walked out and Mr. Jones looked at you.

“If she knows, then what the hell are we still talking for, huh? Why in the hell can’t she drop it?”

“It is your life,” you said, stepping further into the room. “But it’s her life too. And you have a chance to get better here. And all she's asking you to do is try.”

~~~

Mr. Jones agreed to the DBS. But you needed to hurry and find Steve, before the man changed his mind. You found him scrubbing in for Miss Anderson’s surgery with Banner and Gamora.

“Dr. Rogers,” you called.

“Yes?” He responded, looking over with his red, white, and blue scrub cap on and a mask.

“Mr. Jones has agreed to DBS. Only if we do it today. If he leaves, he won’t come back.”

“Don’t worry, Steve,” Bruce said. “It’ll take hours before we get around to the spine. I’ll page you.”

“Alright, then,” Steve said, shaking off his wet hands. “Let’s do it.”

Steve walked out of the scrub room while Bruce walked into the OR, leaving you and Gamora alone.

“Dr. Gamora. I didn’t know… I din’t know that he was my boss, when I met him,” you said. “I really didn’t know.”

“I don’t care,” she responded.

“Really? Oh, well, you sort of seemed to not be talking to me, so I—“

“You see this, what's happening right here? This is the problem with you sleeping with my boss. Not whether or not you know him before, but how it affects my day. And me standing here talking to you about your sex life affects my day. And the longer this little fling goes on, the more favors you get over the others, who are fighting tooth and nail just to make it through this program without any assistance. When those people start finding out what's going on and they don't want to work with you and talk to you or look at you, and they start bitching and moaning at me, the more it affects my day. So, no, Dr. L/N, I don't care what you know, or when you know it. Are we understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

~~~

“Neuro sponge,” a male nurse said, handing a sponge to Steve.

“How you doing, Mr. Jones?” Steve asked.

“Alright,” Mr. Jones responded.

“Drill bit’s charged,” the nurse announced.

“Where’s the girl doctor?”

“I’m right here,” you responded, stepping closer. “Can’t you see me?”

“I’m shaky, not blind. Anything goes wrong here, I’m blaming you.”

“Okay, in that case, I'll stay where you can see me. Now we just have to drill a hole and try to find the spot that controls the motor function.”

“You can't see my brain from there. Aren't you supposed to be learning something?”

“I’m good,” you grabbed onto his hand, “right here.”

“EEG waves look good,” the nurse stated.

“Okay, Mr. Jones. Just take a couple of deep breaths,” Steve told him. “Focus on the pretty girl. Okay, this is going to sound really scary, but try and relax. You shouldn't feel a thing.”

Then Steve began to drill into Mr. Jones’ head. After a few hours, Steve asked you to have Mr. Jones try and mimic you.

“Just keep trying, Mr. Jones,” you encouraged. “Mimic my motions. You can do it.”

“Oh, damn it!” His body was too shaky to mimic the motions.

“Take a breath and try again. The probe is almost in. You’ll know when we find the right spot.” Mr. Jones tries again, to find that he stopped shaking and was able to mimic you. “Well, how about that?” You smiled, though it was covered with a mask.

“There it is,” Steve said.

~~~

After the surgery, you and Steve brought Mr. Jones back to his room and met back in the hallway.

“I know you’re probably asking yourself why I took you off the surgery,” Steve said. “Gamora was on the warpath. I was trying to protect you.”

“You trying to protect me is why she's on the warpath,” you replied, the both of you heading down the hall. “You can't do me favors. You can't ask me to scrub in when I haven't earned it.”

“Okay, okay.”

“And you can't treat me like crap when I haven't earned that either.”

“Okay.”

“I can take care of myself. I got myself into this mess, and I’ll—“

“And you'll get yourself out?”

“I don’t… I don’t know that yet.” Steve’s pager went off as you arrived at the staircase. “Don’t let me keep you.”

“You did great work here today.” He smiled at you then headed off.

“Dr. Rogers,” you called after him.

“Yeah?” He turned around to face you.

“Sorry I called you a jackass.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. Twice.”

Steve chuckled and continued on his way. Tony had heard and seen the exchange from behind. He came up beside you.

“You both are love sick idiots,” he said.

“And you aren’t?” You responded.

“Yes. But I blew it.”

“Dr. Potts will give you another chance.”

“How do you know? Did she tell you that?”

“No. I just know from experience.”

~~~

You decided to go to the OR gallery and watch Miss Anderson’s surgery. Peter was up there watching as well.

“Wow, it’s unbelievable,” you said, looking at the mess down below.

“Right,” Peter agreed.

“How did she live like that?”

“Watch what you say. You never know who's listening.” He looks down below, then laughed. “Look at Scottie. He looks like he's about to fall in.”

“Are you really as shallow and callous as you seem?”

“Oh, you want to go out for a drink later and hear about my secret pain?”

“Does that line ever work for you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Oh. Must be because you look like that.”

“Like what?” You laughed at him. “So is that a yes?”

“No. I can't. I’m… seeing someone.”

“Look, if you don't want to go out with me, just say so. No need to lie.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I don't want to go out with you. But I think I really might be seeing someone.”

Suddenly, Val entered the OR below. And you could hear everything that was happening.

“Mr. Collins, the post-op heart patient in 2114. I had to open his sternotomy bedside,” Val stated, almost panicked.

“You what?” / “What?”

Peter quickly left the gallery and you stood up to watch from the glass.

“He had cardiac tamponade. His chest films were clean this morning,” Val explained. “It just... It happened fast. He was in PEA. There was no time.”

“Go ahead,” Steve told Bruce. “I got it. We’re okay here.”

“Okay.” Bruce hurried out with Val.

“I need some retraction. Pull back on the retractor. And someone page Hill to help… Never a dull moment here at the medical center.” A blood vessel burst, suddenly, squirting blood all over Steve and Gamora. “Oh!”

“Oh!” Gamora exclaimed.

“Get right in there!”

“She can’t afford to lose this much blood. We need more blood.”

“Get me some suction here. I can't see what I'm doing. Clamp, clamp, clamp, please. Is there any blood in the rapid infuser?”

“We’re waiting on two units,” the female nurse stated.

“What do you mean, waiting?”

“Well, we didn’t anticipate this much blood loss,” Gamora replied.

“They’re on their way,” the nurse said.

“We prepped a double supply. We’ve used it all.”

“What did you cut?” Steve asked.

“Nothing. It just blew. She came in with too much damage. The artery walls are too weak. Ten units of o-negative.”

“I cannot see. Lang, give me your hand. Push right down here. Pull it towards you. Suction! Suction!”

“The pressure’s dropping,” a nurse stated.

“She needs blood. Where the hell is the blood?! Somebody grab that. Push it back, Lang. Come on.” Everyone is breathless as they move Miss Anderson more onto the table. “Oh, God. Just squeeze it off right there. Here we go… Some suction, please, in here, now. Come on. We're losing her now. Look at this. Look at this. Come on!” He started CPR, with the flatline of the machine going. "Oh, come on! Come on!” He continued with the CPR. "Come on!” After a few more times, Steve breathlessly stopped CPR. “Time of death is 11:42.”

~~~

Natasha found her way to an on call room after Miss Anderson’s surgery. She was stretching when Bruce entered.

“I'm not doing you any more favors,” he stated. “This was it.”

Natasha scoffed. “I've been holding up 50 pounds of tumor for the past 12 hours. My back's going to need traction, and the patient died anyways. And you think you did me a favor?”

“Look, I'm just… What is this… that we're doing here? What is it?”

“You need a definition? You really want to be that guy?”

He watched as she continued to stretch, then he locked the door.

~~~

You waited in the parking garage for Steve to leave the hospital. He walked up to you.

“I, um, know this place where they’re an amazing view of the sunrise and ferryboats,” you told him, pulling out some beers from your bag.

“I have a thing for ferry boats,” he smirked.

“I remember.”

He took a hold of your hand, leading you to his car.

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #gamora x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x reader #scott lang x reader #valkyrie x reader #peter quill x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #steve rogers imagine

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