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godslino · 5 months

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IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway.

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges.

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned.

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip.

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron.

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind.

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched.

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.”

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.”

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?”

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant.

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find.

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful.

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.”

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain.

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf.

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all.

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun.

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way.

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season.

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.”

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones.

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs.

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today.

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted.

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later.

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach.

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears.

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung.

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat.

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.”

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember.

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong.

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides.

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time.

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them.

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family.

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake.

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable.

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep.

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own.

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.”

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world.

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.”

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head.

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own.

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning.

“But I can’t.” you choked.

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you.

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair.

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend.

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night.

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles.

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?”

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you.

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.”

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.”

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder.

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?”

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going.

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking.

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?”

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater.

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder.

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin.

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others.

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it.

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub.

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear.

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias.

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by.

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm.

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating.

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this.

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting.

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view.

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers.

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance.

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything.

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does.

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible.

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused.

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away.

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes.

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust.

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile.

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench.

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul.

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?”

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!”

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back.

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?”

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with.

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate.

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him.

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt.

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest.

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.”

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set.

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays.

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight.

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets.

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat.

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh.

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face.

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further.

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine.

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out.

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything.

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat..

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him.

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm.

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics.

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot.

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.”

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points.

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?”

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home.

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true.

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin.

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick.

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life.

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles.

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him.

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home.

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways.

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover.

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs.

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip.

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand.

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual.

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet.

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass.

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon.

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no– I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment.

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.”

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair.

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I love you.” you say first this time.

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony.

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless.

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs.

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter.

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?”

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin.

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room.

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks.

You nod, slowly.

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds.

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.”

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock.

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving.

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around.

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded.

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked.

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle.

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving.

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere.

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored.

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks.

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say.

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.”

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals.

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place.

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips.

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

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ultralightpoe · 10 months

Text

Avoidance - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: Clearing out drafts and found this puppy, there is a part two but I have to edit it.. Enjoy!

Word count: 3833

Warnings: Angst.

Enjoy!

This was weird, and by weird you mean absolutely outrageous. You honestly had no clue when it started, but you had racked your brain for the past month to try and see where you had gone wrong. Something you might have said or done to make things this way.

You had to have done something.

Because a month ago Bucky Barnes had been your best friend on this earth, stuck together at the hip. A month ago your friendship had been forged by steel, you would rarely see one without the other. Dinners and sleepovers and missions together. It was Bucky and Y/n, Y/n and Bucky.

It had been a friendship that had started off a little rocky, since Bucky had been stuck to Steve’s side, quiet as ever. You had been a bit too much when he came to the compound, excited to welcome him and show him the best the new world has to offer since you yourself had been a victim of Hydra as well.

You had once been an excited scientist ready to change the world of medicine and instead had come out a mutant that could talk to plants. Years of pain and finally you were meeting someone you might be able to help.

But Bucky had not enjoyed your help, in fact he didn’t seem to enjoy you at all. When you first met years ago he would all but leave the room whenever you came in.

At first you felt pathetic, and a little bit annoying, but Bucky finally opened up. He apologized and explained that he was nervous, nervous to be around you and nervous that you would have recognized him.

Soon after that he came to you for cooking advice and movie nights, you showed him the plants and best healing herbs. You told Bucky everything….. Well almost everything.

You had never told him how you truly felt. How your heartbeat through your chest everytime he looked at you, or the way your lungs seemed to expand for easier air when he spoke to you. Never admit to the heat that filled your body every time you touched him.

You never admitted to loving him, but that was because you were sure that he would start avoiding you again just like he had when you first met.

Not that it mattered because he started avoiding you again anyways.

You think about the day you met him as you shuffle about your apartment in Stark Tower, barefoot on the cold floors as you try to let the nail polish dry easily and clean up the living room.

The compound smelled of heavy lemon cleaning solution and you couldn’t decide if you loved or hated the smell, but that didn’t really matter now as you dashed through the halls. Your shoes clapped against the freshly cleaned floors as you did your ebay to fix your lab coat and hair.

You were supposed to meet Steve and Nat at the quinjet landing pad 30 minutes ago, but had ended up taking a few more patients for the day before Mr. Stark had reminded you to clock out.

You were leading his new medicinal lead, a program that would offer access to better medicine to the people of the world. And though he loved working in the lab with you he often had to remind you not to overwork yourself.

You just wish he had reminded you a little sooner today since you were desperate to make a good first impression. And that wasn’t going to happen if you were late.

“No running in the halls!” Clint calls in a teasing manner which makes you punch his arm as you pass, nearly tripping yourself up since you weren’t paying attention but finally you were hopping up the stairs to the rooftop exit, covered in sweat as you hear the thunderous sound of the quinjet wings starting up again.

You push the heavy door open and gasp in surprise when Steve and a brunette stranger lean back with wide eyes, the door barely skimming the blonde’s nose.

“There she is, dangerous as usual.” Nat smiles, coming around to hug you as you shut the door quieter this time.

“Hey, I’m so sorry I am late-” You start, hugging your best friend before moving to hug Steve who lifts you a little when he hugs back, kissing your hair line before letting you go and backing up so you could see his friend. “You must be Bucky.”

You move to hug him, realizing your mistake a second too late when he backs up, his fists tightening at his sides while his arctic blue eyes widen like a caged animal, his jaw tenses. He had been prepared for a fight, so you take a step back, even out your lab coat and try to smile. “Sorry, I don’t know why I did that. I’m y/n.”

He nods, the quinjet taking off in the back which makes you and him both flinch, the wind whipping your hair around before Steve is pulling you by your arm as softly as he can to lead you both inside.

“We were just talking about getting something to eat-” Steve begins when they finally close the door.

“Oh, we could take him to that diner that you like Stevie. The one that has the old school food-”

“Maybe just us tonight.” Nat interrupts, casting a nervous look to where Bucky stands in the corner, jaw still tense.

You read the room easily, Nat must know Bucky doesn’t want to be near you right now so you simply nod, giving them one more smile before reaching your hand out to him. “It was great to meet you…..”

He ignores your hand and you have to awkwardly shove it back into your pocket before nodding, taking your leave as Nat mumbles to him in russian.

When you are sure your apartments are clean enough you leave for your lab shift a little early so that you could stop by Bucks apartment, nervous as can be when you make it there.

Reaching a hand up to knock lightly and wait, your feet shuffling on the floors as you rub at your eyes from the lack of sleep, trying to keep yourself awake. When the door creaks open the tiniest bit you pull your hands down quickly and try to act cool when you make eye contact with Bucky.

“Hey Buck.” You smile, doing your best to act happy. He stares for a moment, blue eyes flashing in excitement that gets your hopes up as he opens the door a little wider.

“Mornin’.” He grunts out, looking back to check the time before turning to you once more. “A bit early isn’t it?”

“Yes. Sorry. I was heading to the lab but I wanted to see if you still wanted to have dinner tonight? I get off at 5 but-”

“I’m a bit busy tonight, sorry Do-Y/n.” He clears his throat, using his flesh fingers to comb his hair back.

“You sure? It’s pancake night at the diner-”

“Not tonight. I will see you later, Y/n.” He sighs, giving you one last smile before shutting the door softly.

You stay there a moment, trying to calm your nerves as you hear a small thump on the other side of the door and assume he must have locked it so you simply sigh and walk to the lab where Tony is chugging a large cup of coffee.

“Morning dork.” He greets, smiling a bit as he nods his head to the box of donuts to the side. “Since you have been down lately.”

You didn’t want to admit to Tony that you had ‘been down’ because you missed Bucky, that would be embarrassing and might clue him in to your crush. So you give him your best smile, and kiss his cheek before moving to your station to begin working.

But you can’t get Bucky out of your head. All you can think is ‘what did I do? Why is he mad at me? How can I fix this?”

Anxiety claws at your nerves, and you are too far into your thoughts to notice the chaos that your anxiety is ensuing over the lab. That is until you hear both Tony and Bruce curse and jump back, glass shattering.

Your head snaps back to where they are both trying to regain their footing and find that the small houseplant Pepper had given Bruce for his birthday had grown tenfold. The vines covered most of the lab.

“Apparently the donuts did not cheer her up.” Bruce sighs, both of them turning to where you are standing with your hands clenched around a beaker and a pen as tight as they would go.

“I’m so sorry guys-”

“Can you undo it?” Bruce asks gently and you scoff.

“Can you undo damages to buildings when you-”

“I know I know. I’m sorry.” He laughs, waving his hands. “Hulk smashes, poison ivy grows plants-”

“I’m not-”

“She’s not poison ivy.” Tony snaps in your defense and you feel a wave a love for him before he ruins it. “She’s itchy oak.”

“You are so dead!”

Bucky was screwed. So unbelievably screwed.

This whole plan was tearing him apart, and he didn’t think he could hold out much longer, even smelling your shampoo this morning had him ready to crack. Pull you into his arms and never let you go.

But he couldn’t, Natasha had told him not to.

This started the day he met you, the day he fell in love.

He had been standing on the quinjet with Steve and Nat, trying to pretend as though he wasn’t losing his mind at all the commotion. The sounds of the Quinet queuing up behind them, the wind nipping at his cheeks and neck as he thought of all the spots snipers could be hiding in the buildings by them though Stark Tower stood tall enough no one should be able to shoot him. He just couldn’t help it; he was a soldier.

Nat seemed to realize his tension, pushing both men forward to the door before it swung open, a hair's breadth from Steve’s face. He hears Nat giggle and the quinjet start up again as his eyes finally land on you.

There you were, perfection in human form. Sunlight and warmth and…..just everything he could ever want.

His brain barely registered you moving to hug him before he moved back, tensing and letting the fear control him.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I did that. I’m Y/n.” You had said and he saw what looked to be nervousness covering your face as his heart lurched. Two seconds in and he was already ruining you.

All he could think was ‘monster. Monster monster monster.”

It took weeks for Steve to convince him to talk to you.

And he was so grateful he did.

The lab was bright, and there was not a speck of dust in sight. And yet, somehow, the room that should have reminded him most of Hydra didn’t feel like it. Rather than a cold brightness it was warm lights from the glass windows and the desks were decorated with plants and photos. Little knick knacks strewn about that showed that the people who worked in here were human, good and warm humans.

And then his eyes landed on your desk, where you currently concentrated on something he could barely comprehend, a beautiful cactus in a decorated pot on the shelf by you.

Wiping the sweat on his pants, and taking a deep breath in before he moves up to where you were.

“You don’t have to water cacti.” He blurts, gasping out when you shout in shock , the back on your head hitting the shelf.

“What?” You gasp out, rubbing your head.

“I read…” He takes a second to breathe in. “I read somewhere that you don’t have to water them everyday. They are self-sufficient.”

“Oh! Yeah, they like water every 2 weeks and of course sunlight but….” You trail off, turning to the small cactus that seems to stand taller at your attention. Then you turn back to him with a nervous smile. “What are you doing? Are you feeling ill?”

“Me? No. I was…. I was actually wondering if you would show me that diner you had talked about the day I came-”

“YES!” You blurt, jumping up and taking your lab coat off. “I am starving.”

He spent the next three hours with you at the diner, talking about everything in the new world that he had found.

Weekly dinners turned into hanging out every day. Which was amazing because Bucky felt like he could truly breathe when he was with you.

There was no Winter Soldier, there was no Soviet Soldier. There was no World War 2 sniper. With you he was Bucky.

But he fell in love with you, and he had no clue how to talk to you about that. He was terrified that you would never talk to him again.

Which lead him to this.

“Maybe you just need a break.” Nat suggested last month, watching him try to climb off the sparring mat and catch his breath.

“I do.” He snaps. “I don’t know how you are never out of breath -”

“I meant from y/n.” She corrects. “Just take a breather. You both are so wrapped up in each other that you forget to breathe without each other. Codependency hurts more when it’s forcefully torn rather than willingly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take a break on your terms. Just a breather Barnes. You are tearing yourself apart.”

“So what do I do? Just not hang out with her? I can’t breathe when I’m not with her-”

“That’s my point..” She sighs.

“I don’t get it… why are you mad?” Bucky asks, craning his neck to watch you shuffle around behind the couch, snatching the snacks you brought over and climbing over the couch before you are cuddled into his side and near his warmth.

“I’m mad, Buck, because you just admitted to an actual sin.” You mumble, allowing him to wrap you in the blanket and pull you closer. “How have you not seen it yet? Everyone has. Hunger Games is a national…..”

“National?” He asks, eyebrow lifting as he waits for you to finish your sentence, reaching a hand up to rub his thumb over your cheek, lovingly.

“Well I don’t want to say treasure because that just feels wrong since it’s a bunch of kids fighting to the death but everyone needs to see it once.” You gush and he can’t help but smile as you snatch the remote and start the movie. “I brought twizzlers so-”

He cuts you off by snatching the twizzlers and moving you both around so your head was laying on his chest and your legs intertwined with his own. “What’s with that guy's beard? And why is the other guy's hair blue?”

“Just you wait……”

“Did I say something to upset him?” You ask Steve, following him around the kitchen like a lost duck while he cooks dinner for the team tonight. “What did I do Steve?”

“I don’t think you did anything.” He sighs, giving you a pitious glance, before he starts chopping tomatoes. “Buck practically worships the ground you walk on, trust me I would know if you did something wrong.”

“I just don’t underst-” Before you could finish your sentence Steve watches as your phone rings and Yelena’s face pops up. You give him an apologetic glance before leaving the room, and right as you leave one door his best pal comes in another.

“Need any help?” Bucky asks, with Sam slinking behind him with a bag of chips.

“No junk food before dinner.” He snaps, snatching the bag and tossing it to the side which makes Sam groan out and move to grab a drink, stopping at the sight of the shriveled plant.

“Someone get rid of that before Y/n sees it.” He laughs, making the other two look to it.

“I watered that plant 30 minutes ago.” Steve gasps, “it was fully alive before she came in-”

“You mean…. You mean to tell me Y/n drained a plant?” Sam asks, casting a side eye to where Bucky stands with a worried look.

“Is she okay?” He asks, walking up and using his flesh hand to touch at the leaves before he picks up the pot and pulls it close to himself. “I’m gonna get rid of this before she sees what happened to it.”

“You should talk to her, Buck.” Steve sighs. “She’s worried that she did something.”

The rain beat against the window harshly, thunder rumbling in the distance as the smell of the spearmint candle you lit earlier fills the air.

Bucky wakes up slowly, exhaustion still filling his body as he swipes a hand to rub his eyes, lifting his head ever so slightly to see what had managed to wake him up. Vision blurry as he surveys the room for threats only to find you curled in on yourself with vines covering your arms.

Panic claws at him, moving forward to push the hair out of your face and wake you slowly, kissing at your forehead.

You open your eyes slowly, and he whispers to help ease your anxiety, kissing the corner of your lips as he rubs at your arms. “What’s going on?”

“Bad dream…” You mumble out, shoving your face in his chest.

“What were you dreaming about?”

“My cell.” His spine tightens as he remembers what you had to go through. The damp and moldy cell they kept you in, the years of abuse and torture. Of course the rainstorm would draw these memories out.

“Come here, doll” He whispers, pulling the blanket tighter around you both and keeping a tight hold on you. “Just stay with me, yeah? We’ll be alright together.”

You both fall back asleep, keeping a tight hold on eachother.

Three mornings later you find yourself prepped and ready to go for the mission, nerves racking through your body as you walk to the loading bay of the quinjet. With your duffel bag strewn over one shoulder and your gloves in your hand as you try to smile at Bucky.

“Hey Buck.” You start, watching everyone else in their suits. “Are you ready for the mission?”

“As ready as I can be…. Did you sleep last night?” He asks, stepping closer with a worried expression before thinking and stepping back.

“Not really. I was actually hoping to talk to you before the-”

“Alright Barnes. Are you ready?” Natasha asks, coming up behind him. “We need to talk about-”

“Wait, what?” You interrupt, heart clenching. “Are you…..wait are you guys teaming up this session?”

You truly didn’t want to seem lame when you asked this, but you were so confused. “Buck, we always pair up.”

Why did you feel like a middle schooler again?

“Well, sometimes things change. And Nat is down a partner since Clint is with his family.” Bucky blushes, looking between you and Nat as she narrows her eyes.

Feeling your eyes fill with tears you rush to go into the quinjet, dashing past Steve to find a spot.

The blonde narrows his eyes and marches to his friend, where Nat is already digging in. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Bucky asks nervously, eyes casting everywhere else.

“I told you to take a break, Barnes. Not cut her off.” Nat snaps.

“Why did you tell him to cut her off?” Steve asks, hands on his hips as he glares at the two of them.

“I didn’t say to cut her off. I said to take a break.”

“Why?!”

“Because he loves her!”

“Still not catching up.” Steve sighs. “Why take a break if he loves her?”

“Because she is never gonna love me back!” His friend snaps, “She controls plants and I’m a monster.”

“You’re not a monster-”

“We’ll talk about this later.” Bucky snaps and storms off.

The waitress at the old school diner recognized you and Bucky by now, smiling at you both as you walked in with your hands entwined. She nods her head to your normal booth and Bucky leads the way.

You eat dinner, listening to Bucky talk about his day before the waitress comes by with a sunday.

“The older couple sent this for you guys.” She smiles. “They said you were an adorable couple.”

Your face goes beet red, blanching out before you rush out. “We’re not a couple.”

Bucky gets embarrassed by this, the blatant rejection. Meanwhile you were worried about the fact that Bucky would realize your crush.

“D-Did you still want to watch Star Trek tomorrow?” You ask nervously.

“Actually I have to train with Nat tomorrow.” He sighs, ears going pink as he blushes.

The rain outside the quinjet was alarming, your nerves were beginning to get the best of you, but you were trying to remain cool as you avoided looking in Bucky’s direction.

With your leg shaking and Sam prattling off different codes you tried to focus on anything else but the rain, anything, just so long as you didn’t lose your cool right now.

You were nervous, because of the rain and the fact that you would be the only one without a partner, but most of all you were angry.

What had you done to Bucky to be cut out this way?

A five year friendship completely cut off with no explanation as to why. Treated like the scum on a shoe and for what? What had you done and why couldn’t he just talk to you?

“Y/n?” Sam calls, snapping your attention up to him as he peers at you. “You okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You fake a laugh, hands fisted into your sides as you hear a flash of thunder in the distance, thoughts going back to that moldy and cold cell they had kept you in. You could still feel the vines leaching across your body in an attempt to keep you warm, using all your strength just to grow them.

“Because Steve has been calling your name for three minutes.” Sam whispers which makes you turn to where Steve is standing with a deeply concerned look. Bucky and Nat sit together behind him, both of them holding concerned looks of their own.

Making eye contact with Bucky, watching his blue eyes melt at you, before an angry vile feeling loosens in your chest. You didn’t want any of their pity.

If he didn’t want to talk to you then so be it.

So you simply turn away and nod to Steve, turning to the front so you don't have to look at any of them.

If Barnes wanted to cut you out then so be it. You would cut him out as well.

Part Two

1K notes · View notes

novashelby · 2 months

Text

The Nanny Conundrum~A Tommy Shelby Smut

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Nanny!Reader (3rd person)

Warnings: Male masterbation, voyeurism. Meant to be kind of funny. A little cringe and embarrassing.

Prompt 93

Word Count: 2,791

Summary: Tommy Shelby just got a new nanny for Charlie. She's a sweet, delicate girl, but learns quite a thing or two about men while hiding for a game of hide n seek.

Please enjoy. I appreciate reblogs and comments. Likes are kind and thoughtful, and I appreciate you reading my work. However, reblogs really help writers out. So, please, considering rebloging.

Tommy was only delicate and proper with a select few people, and she was one of them, but he couldn’t help himself. Not even Satan himself could give her a rough handling. She was delicate looking, sounding, and acting. Like a daisy, really. And on top of it, she was so, so good with Charlie. Just two years old, losing his mother a few short months before. He was hesitant at first, not wanting to go through a whole hiring process. And so, he convinced Mary and Francis to take on the extra duty. Though, two aging women, their patience was waning. Enough was enough, Mr. Shelby was getting a nanny for the poor boy.

It was difficult for Mr. Shelby to find employees as many were aware of his antics. There were a few applicants…none did anything for him. They were old. Had no energy with a sharp tongue. Mr. Shelby didn’t want anyone with a sharp tongue. Then there was a quiet time with weeks in between; no applicants had walked through the door.

Until one day, someone did. It was a Sunday, too. Which got a work motivated man like himself excited. Mary had knocked on the door and he grumbled for her to enter. Behind her was a girl, not too tall and with a young face. He couldn’t make out her age, but her cheeks were round and blushed with youth. He noticed how when she smiled, her eyes would as well and she’d let out this delicate laugh.

It was right then that he knew. Unlike the others, he immediately slid back his chair and stood, straightening his blue white lined vest. Mary was surprised at the soft smile that tugged at his usually stiff lips. His stress lines seemed to ease, but most of all he turned gentle. Mary watched aghast how he waltzed around his mahogany desk and rushed over to her. Never had he ever shook a woman’s hand as such; both hands gently holding her right. “I’m Mr. Shelby,” he said, and Mary couldn’t take anymore. She gave her employer a pursed look, brow raised, and he mouthed what.

“I will take my leave, Mr. Shelby,” she said. “I must go to the kitchens and yell at the staff.” The young girl frowned a bit and turned to watch the woman leave.

“Is she alright?” she asked, turning her attention back to the man who was still holding her hand.

He was quick to nod and offer a smile. “Yes, yes! She’s fine. Don’t worry about her, eh? I think all women get a certain edge to them when they hit about seventy-”

“And men,” she giggled, putting a finger out.

Kindly, he chuckled back. “I think we develop that a bit younger. Anyway! Come! Take a seat, eh?” He walked her over to the desk, hand resting politely on her mid-back. “So, are you looking for a nanny position?” They sat across from one another and she handed over CV paperclipped together. His eyes quickly scanned it, grinning. “Nanny program in London, worked for the same family for 2 years, twenty years old, born in Boston to English parents, and the second oldest of six children.” He put it down and pushed it over to her. “You understand this is a live in position, love?” Love. A red rosy tint fell on her face and she had to look away shyly. She could not lie. Of course, Mr. Shelby was a handsome man smooth with his words. “You’d be here Monday to Sunday. Of course, you will have free time and vacation time. Sundays off.”

“The pay?” she asked. “A family in London has offered me six pounds.”

Six bloody fuckin’ pounds, Mr. Shelby thought to himself, a bit stunted. But nonetheless, he said, “I can offer ten, plus you’ll have a room, food, and free roam of the property. I’ll allow leave for all holidays, Sunday’s off, and early leave on Wednesdays. You’ll be allowed three sick days a calendar year-”

“I can start today,” she said, abruptly, far too eager to work for him. The benefits were like nothing she’d even been offered. He paused, smile dropping a bit, not used to people being so…interested. She coughed a bit and fixed herself in the chair. “Sorry,” she said, clearing her throat. “I can start today. If you would have me, of course.”

He nodded, “not today. Tomorrow. You’ll start tomorrow.”

Everyone liked her. She was like a breath of fresh air. A positive influence on everyone. Francis and Mary seemed more at ease and talked with less grouch. The kitchen danced when she waltzed in. The other maids enjoyed how she was incredibly courteous of the messes Charlie would make. Even John and Arthur started to look forward to coming to Arrow house. Despite their miserable to be around brother who did nothing, but demand this and that from them.

And Mr. Shelby, well...he found himself smiling a tad more when he saw her with Charlie.

She was a wonderful nanny. On top of the normal tasks, she actually played with Charlie and helped with his coloring and motor tasks. She’d sing to him and dance with him. And unlike most girls her age, she wasn’t opposed to rolling around in the grass with him. They’d sleep in the grass and dance in the rain with their shoes off. Charlie was in love with her! Mr. Shelby would watch from the window, feeling this pool of warmth within him when they’d run around in circles.

“Ah, look at her,” Francis sighed, putting the tea tray on his desk. “Her frocks are always stained with grass.”

Mr. Shelby flicked closed the blinds and sat at his desk, making up his tea with just a tad of sugar and milk. He enjoyed some honey as well those days. “It’ll rain soon, suppose they’ll come inside. She’s been reading to him a lot.”

Francis smiled. “Very good. Will you be heading to the stables? Should I prepare-”

“No, no,” he said. “I’m just going to enjoy my cuppa, eh? And you should take a rest.” A rest. That was also something new. Mr. Shelby was allowing staff to have much more rest since she came.

He finished his tea and went off to the stables when the two were coming in from their adventures from outside. After clean up time and a book, Charlie was still restless, wanting to run around and play. She pouted and poked his nose, “Charlie, I got a game for you!” His eyes widened and he giggled in excitement. She leaned in as if it was something special. “HIde n’ seek! I will hide. Okay? Has Charlie remembered his numbers?”

“One…two..three..eight…four…six…nine…five,” he counted off and she chuckled, telling him it was just fine enough. She picked him up and placed him facing the wall, explaining that he had to count to ten slowly and not move.

“I will hide somewhere, Charlie, on the first floor, okay?” she smiled, ruffling his hair before skipping out. She giggled as she heard his cute counting before opening and closing each door, unsure of where to hide before he stopped counting. She slipped into Mr. Shelby’s office, not seeing the harm when he wasn’t around. Under the desk, she crammed herself in a ball and waited.

She heard Charlie call for her in a laugh, running around the hallway. She could tell that he checked the bathroom first then her room before going back to his room. She waited and waited before the office door opened, and she grinned, getting ready to say you win! When Mr. Shelby coughed. Wincing, she wondered if she should climb out and explain that they were playing hide and seek or wait for him to leave, but to her annoyance, he took a seat at his desk. At first, he fumbled around with some papers before cursing under his breath, seeming frustrated. She was sucking in her lips to hold back any loud breathing. But what he did next was…shocking. There were no other words to explain it. Shocking. To her, at least. A young twenty year old girl who surprisingly lived a very modest and conservative life. Never had she even held hands with a boy, nevermind witness what she was about to witness. His hands went to his belt clasp and fumbled with the golden hoop before easily undoing his trousers. Peeking out was a pair of men’s white underwear. Maybe he’s just getting comfortable, she told herself, but was quickly proven wrong when he let out a soft groan and slipped under the waistband of his underwear. She watched, frozen. He rubbed himself a bit under his underwear, grinding his hips up at his hand. Soft groans and eager curses filled the room in a hushed manner. As if he was ashamed of doing such a thing in his own home. It was all new to her, and she watched equally horrified and curious while kicking herself for being so stupid. A million hiding spots and she chose the very one he had to wank in. Peculiarly, a small wet spot formed where the tip was. Stupidly, she wanted to just reach up and touch it, but the thought lodged to the back of her head when he pulled it out. There was nothing she could compare it to, being the first cock she’d ever seen. But her cunt ached in an almost fear-like response seeing the shape and length. The tip was glistening with a sticky substance that he didn’t hesitate rubbing his thumb against. “Fuck,” he let out, leaning back slightly. Between his thumb and index, he rubbed it before giving his cock three good tugs. How it dripped out in a long string before pooling a little tiny dot onto the floor next to her. Swallowing, she looked down at it…just a little dab. A droplet. For a split second, she considered touching it. Mimicking how he rolled it between his fingers just to see what it felt like. But she couldn’t do it. It felt grotesque…dirty. Sinister? That’s when she heard him spit on his hand, drawing her attention from the precum and back to his twitching cock. His spit ran down the shaft, wetting the chair.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunted, his hand wrapping around himself, twisting around. He moved slowly up and down, teasing the sensation. It’d been such a long time since he last rubbed one out. Though loving a good fuck, self pleasure was never something he needed to ease an urge. But he felt it that day. His cock consistently throbbed at the seams of his trousers. Not even a smoke and a drink calmed him. And so, he resorted to a good old school wank. Admittedly, it was quite nice. Alone in his element, just feeling himself. “Shit.” His started to roll upward, fucking his hand.

Alone…except for the sweet nanny under his desk, trapped in quite a predicament she wasn’t quite sure she liked. His hand started to move a bit faster with a better rhythm. He was flowing a stream of grunts, curses, groans, moans, and inaudible sentences. “Baby,” he cried, head rolled back, eyes closed. “Fuck me, c’mon-shit!” He hummed, running a hand over his face. She swallowed and panicked that maybe he knew she was there. Did he? Who was he talking to? But she didn’t move. She hardly even breathed scared he’d hear her. “Mmmmhm.” Pausing, he spit on his hand again before rubbing it all over. Just as he resumed his speed, he said something she could hardly believe. Her name. Followed by a, “just like that…good fuckin’ girl.” In shock, her eyes widened and her hands instantly covered her mouth. “Bounce up and down, right on my cock. Ride my fuckin’ cock!” His breaths became jagged while his hips twitched and jolted. He was close…so fucking close.

Meanwhile, the poor girl tried to block it out. But how could she? So close to a man jerking his cock, calling her name. Her fucking name? Imagining her bouncing on it. She couldn’t help, but wonder if this was his first time thinking of her like this. She hated to admit it, but her thighs were struggling to stay still. So, so tempted to rub them together to ease a surprise heat growing between her legs. “That’s good, baby, keep doing that….Ugh! Fuck!” He paused, edging himself. She noticed when he stopped, his hands clenched around it harder, shaking. Then he slowly went back to tugging and rubbing, easing back into the lost rhythm. “I bet you are so fuckin’ tight.” One hand slowly went between her legs to cup her aching pussy as she suppressed a whine. “Fuck, I want to corrupt that little fuckin’ cunt….Make you into a dirty little fuckin’ slut. My dirty slut…fuck!” He jolted upward, other hand gripping a chair arm before easing back into speed.

Make you into a dirty little fuckin’ slut. My dirty slut. Those words imprinted themselves in her head. His words were disgusting, filthy, and humiliating, but so fucking erotic. His possessiveness was like honey. It took so much effort to not ease her curiosities and reach her hand up to touch his cock. So, she had to just watch. Watching was so hot, but so torturous. When he started to get sloppy with his movements, she prepared for him to stop again, but he didn’t. “F-fuck!” He cried out, tugging one last time before a stream of white came from his cock. She was expecting it to be like the sticky clear mess, but no, his cum shot.

In fact, it shot at her…on her face. Frozen, feeling the warmth that landed over her eyelids and dripped down her face and over her lips. Appalled and embarrassed, how was she going to face him after that? With his excrement painting her face. He let out one last, “fuck,” before tiredly tucking himself away and buckling his belt. He took the handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands. Sliding back in his chair and standing, she was sure that he was going to leave, but no. He kneeled down to clean up wherever the cum landed, coming face to face with her…wearing it.

Never had he ever been so mortified, looking at the girl who seemed as if she saw death. His cum was right there…teasing at her lips. His nanny….Had she watched the whole thing? Heard every word? Of course. She had to. He swallowed, and said, “Um…this isn’t a great napping spot-”

“Mr. Shelby,” she stuttered out, tongue darting out almost instinctively, accidentally swiping the cum off. She winced as it tasted salty. His eyes flickered down to her quivering lips, widening. There was a bit of silence before she continued. “I was playing hide n seek-”

“In my office?” he asked, not exactly mad. More stunned and quiet than anything. He felt as if he was a young man again, ashamed of rubbing one out.

“I’m competitive. I didn’t think he’d look in here,” she responded with the same tone. He nodded slowly, reaching out to clean her face, but she took the rag and did it herself before going to hand it back.

“Keep it,” he said, slowly standing and grabbing for his whiskey. He didn’t even bother pouring it in a glass as he swigged it from the bottle. She crawled out from under the desk watching him gulp it like water. “Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he cursed, putting it down and turning to her. “Did you-”

“Yes,” she said before he could finish the quest. Nervously, she averted her attention off to the side, playing with her dress. His eyes skimmed over her, heart rate through the roof. His head was swarming with a whole bunch of conflictions. “Should I pack my things?” Mr. Shelby licked at his bottom lip and itched the arch of his nose. “Um…well, I think it is alright. You’re not the first woman to look at it. Probably not the last unless I drop dead right now…which is fuckin’ possible.” She bowed and tried to slowly back away when he looked over at her. “C’mere. I’m not done with you. As much as I’d like to jump out this fuckin’ window, you’re still my employee and you were in my office without permission. Why don’t you take a seat-no, no. Right here.” She nervously looked at where his hand was pointing. It was the desk. “C’mere,” he patted. “Sit on the desk like a good girl.” The words played back in her head and she did so…like a fuckin’ good girl.

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 20 days

Text

The Change

Summary: When a strange illness spreads across the world, the reader's father takes her away from society in an attempt to keep her safe. Ten years later the reader runs into some trouble when forced to be on her own one night but it's nothing an overly friendly sheriff can't help with...

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!reader

Word Count: 6,000ish

Warnings: language, attempted assault, minor violence, medical emergency

A/N: This is my first time doing Alpha!Beau and did a little twist on ABO for it. Please enjoy!

__________

Ten Years Ago

“Y/N!” You poked your head into the living room, giving your dad a smile when he stood there, back to you.

“Dad, I already got enough graduation presents. I mean it was just college, I didn’t need-“

He stepped aside, revealing the breaking news story on the tv.

Mystery Illness Affecting New York City Residents

He looked over his shoulder, frowning at you. “You’re not moving to the city next weekend.”

You scoffed. “Dad. I start my first adult job ever in two weeks. In New York City. I have to go.”

“No. Whatever the hell this is, it's happening there and putting people in the hospital. If your new job has a problem with that then tell them to kiss my ass.”

“What is wrong with you?” You stormed closer, furrowing your brow. Something was off. He was swiping a hand over his mouth, his eyes filled with dread. You glanced back at the screen with a swallow. “Daddy, do you know what this illness is?”

“No,” he said quietly, glancing down at you with a longing glance. “Tonight we need to leave town and go to camp.”

“Hunting camp?” He nodded. “But that’s in the middle of no…”

His face looked so much older all of a sudden, years and years of worry etched into the deep laugh lines around his eyes. “Why do you want us away from everyone?”

“Because isolation is the only way to guarantee you don’t get sick.” Paranoia. You should have called him paranoid. Said he was worrying over nothing. Said he was acting crazy.

But you simply nodded and excused yourself back to your graduation party with your friends, knowing it’d likely be the last time you saw them for a while. Or ever again.

“Dad,” you said that night as you packed up the cars, your father more frazzled than the time he lost you in the grocery store for all of eight seconds. “Should we call Em?”

“He’s the one that called me.” He shut the trunk, inhaling the night air deeply. “London. New York. Sydney. It’s global and it’s flooding hospitals. Em said small towns are next. I wanted you to have one last normal day, kiddo.”

“What exactly did Emmet say? Does he know more than what they’re saying?” you whispered, clutching your cardigan tight. “I thought he was in Africa doing that volunteer doctor program.”

“He is. But something…happened. People started getting ill and then acting crazy. Biting each other in the neck. Like animals.” Slowly you blinked, your dad pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know how it sounds, believe me. But I know my son and it’s the truth. He told me to get you safe.”

“Is he safe?” He closed his eyes. “Is he safe?”

“Emmet’s….” Your throat tightened, your dad wincing. “He called from his sick bed. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen. He said he loves us and we need to go before the whole world goes mad.”

Your bottom lip wobbled as he opened his eyes, gently shushing you. “Em isn’t dead, right?”

“I don’t know. His phone is dead,” he croaked out, wiping away your tears that threatened to fall. “But if what he said is true, the world will be incredibly dangerous in just a few days. We need to get you away from here before that happens.”

You wearily nodded, hugging him hard. “Dad.”

“Yeah, pumpkin?”

“We’ll be okay.”

“Yes we will. I promise.”

Present Day

“Fuuuuuck,” you groaned, the wind knocked out of you as one, no two, men pinned you down on the hard pavement of the pharmacy parking lot. The supplies you’d bought for your dad in the middle of the night were scattered on the ground. Half your mind grappled with how you needed to get those back to dad at the cabin while the other realized the men were trying to remove your pants and hoodie.

You snarled and kicked, hitting something hard, probably a shin bone.

A gunshot went off nearby and all three of you froze.

“On your bellies. Hands on your head or the next one goes through your spine.” The two men were rigid before rolling off of you on either side. You risked sitting up, backing away a few feet and turning on your bottom.

It was dark but even so you could make out the handsome brown haired man aiming a gun at the men. He had a presence about him, a calmness to the situation you weren’t expecting. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone, his jacket riding up so you could spot the shiny gold badge on his hip.

This guy was a cop.

Good news and bad news.

“Mam, are you alright?” You blinked, realizing he was talking to you between speaking into the phone. You nodded, the man humming, mentioning something about backup.

Shit. You had to leave before you got wrapped up in this. You started to gather up your dropped items as the officer handcuffed one of the men. “Mind if I borrow that?”

You froze, staring at him. He nodded toward your hand and the new package of zip ties. You handed it to him carefully, the officer quickly placing one on the other man.

“Thank you, mam,” he said, handing the package back. You nodded, shoving the package in your bag and crawling over between two cars, reaching for the bottle of pills that had rolled underneath. “Are you sure you’re alright, miss?”

“Never better!” you squeaked out, grabbing the pills and tying off the bag tight. You popped to your feet, the officer rising to his own. “Uh, thanks.”

You started to leave when he took two big steps over, catching your arm. “Whoa, whoa. These guys can’t do anything to you. Backup will be here in two minutes tops. I know you want to get home but we need a statement and you should get that scuff cleaned up by a paramedic. Hell, I can do it for you back at the station.”

You blinked slowly, the man’s friendly smile turning concerned as you weighed your options. “Alright. I think you hit your head a little harder than we both realized when they knocked you down. Why don’t you take a seat-”

You kneed him in the groin, the officer crumping into a heap and releasing you.

“Sorry!” You took off running to your car and peeled out of the other end of the parking lot before he could even get on his feet.

“Dad?” It was only twenty minutes later when you were entering the dark cabin, frowning that he wasn’t on the couch where you’d left him. “Dad!”

“In here for crying out loud!” You rushed over to the bathroom door, carefully nudging it open. Your heart seized when you saw him lying on the ground, his previously red inflamed leg now looking dark and swollen. “Did you get the-”

“Daddy, it’s broken. Why didn’t you say something?” He scoffed, forcing himself to sit upright against the tub. “Dad-”

“I’m not going to a damn hospital and becoming one of those…things.” He spit out the last word, venom laced behind it. You’d kept to yourselves the past ten years, dad only going to town in the dead of night to get food or supplies. Suffice to say, despite your best efforts, years of isolation hadn’t been great for his paranoia. Or your own.

He could never know that you were almost attacked. It’d destroy him after all he sacrificed for you. His home. His career. His life. Making sure you never got sick like Emmet had was his sole purpose.

“What if I drop you off at the hospital and…” both your heads whipped around when bright headlights shone through the windows.

“Someone followed you. Get the shotgun and-” You slammed the door shut on him, ignoring his angry shouts.

“Miss? It’s Sheriff Beau Arlen. We met just a short time ago. I’m doing a wellness check. Please answer the door.” You swallowed thickly, staring at the heavy wooden object. Shit, he’d followed you home. He was going to make you give a statement which meant being around other people long enough to get sick.

You glanced over your shoulder and sighed. Dad was no spring chicken anymore. Living in the woods and keeping up the land had kept him in good shape but he was getting older and there was no way he could survive a broken leg without help.

“Fuck it.” You stepped over to the door, frowning when you opened it. The man from before was standing there, a cautious smile on his face. “Hi. My dad fell earlier today. I think he broke his leg. He’s in the bathroom.”

“Okay. We can call an ambulance and-”

“He’s terrified of public places. Of catching the…sickness.” He raised his eyebrows, biting the inside of his cheek. “I know he needs a hospital but is there any way we can limit the number of people he’s around? Like a doctors office or something?”

He only cocked his head, eyeing you up and down. His nose twitched, inhaling sharply. You glared and subtly did a pit check. Okay, maybe you were a little sweaty but you’d nearly been attacked-

“How the hell…” Sheriff Arlen shook his head. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do to accommodate his…needs.”

“Thank you,” you said, starting to shut the door when he put a hand on it. You stared at one another, the sheriff’s nose twitching once more. “Please leave.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Visions of what the men from earlier had planned on doing flashed in your mind and you clenched your fists, ready to fight. “Oh, sweetheart I am so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You grit out, widening your stance. He frowned, shaking his head.

“Your father might be able to be treated at a doctors office but you need a hospital.” You narrowed your eyes, the sheriff holding up his hands. “You call it the sickness? The rest of us call it the change. Now it seems to me that you lack some education on the topic-”

“I know exactly what those men tonight were going to do. I know exactly what the sickness, change, whatever you want to call it does to people and I’ll tell you right now, I’m not getting sick and becoming someone’s fuck toy.” He closed his eyes, muttering under his breath. Slowly, they opened to reveal green orbs, softly watching you.

“Sweetheart, your body changed ten years ago whether you believe me or not. Judging by the fact your only interaction with other people has been your Beta father-”

“He’s not Beta,” you growled.

“-Or very few works at convenience stores at night, you have never been around an Alpha long enough to be triggered into your first heat-”

“I am not one of those-”

“Omega.” Your brain went fuzzy when the word left his lips, hand gripping the back of the couch hard. “We need to get you to a hospital. Your first heat is incredibly painful without medicine. I know, I have a teenage daughter-”

“Stop talking!” you shouted, suddenly feeling flush in the face. You wiped off your brow before grabbing the nearest object, a pillow, and chucking it straight at his handsome face. “You did this to me! You made me sick coming here!”

“You became Omega ten years ago, the same night I changed, the same we all did,” he said, looking down his nose at you. “Now let me help you and your father before I have two patients on my hands instead of one.”

“Get out!” The room spun, a strong pair of hands catching you the last thing you remembered.

Your body felt considerably cooler when you woke although the sterile scent filling your nostrils made you want to gag. Great, you were in the hospital. You turned your head to the side, your oh so favorite sheriff giving you a waggle of his fingers from the other side of room as he read his phone.

“What are you doing here?” you grumbled, sitting upright with a strain.

“I figured you don’t have an emergency contact besides your father on account the whole survivalist in the woods energy I’m getting.” You glared at him, the man leaning back in his chair, relaxing further. “Your father is alright but he’s in the ICU. I’ve been told he’ll need to go to a in-patient rehab facility to learn to walk on it.”

“What?” You threw back the covers and got out of bed, freezing in place when you caught his cologne. Your eyes fluttered, jaw dropping slightly. “Jesus christ what is that smell? That’s…fuck is this what crack is like? What kind of drugs did they give me?”

He chuckled, glancing up with a smirk. “Let me guess. Vanilla with a hint of tobacco. Fresh cookies, a campfire, the cool mist of rain and something fluffy you can’t quite describe?”

“How did you…” You said, daring a step closer. You had a million questions in your mind about your dad but all your body seemed to want to do was get more of that smell.

“Because I know what my scent is.” You licked your lips involuntarily, breathing hard. “Down girl.”

You immediately backed up, shaking your head. “I-I’m sorry. That isn’t like me at all.”

“It’s your first heat and I’m the first Alpha you’ve properly scented on one. You have urges. Nothing to feel sorry for.” Your cheeks burned as you returned to bed, sitting on the edge with your legs hanging off. “In a few hours, your medicine will have fully kicked in and then you’ll be fine. I have a teenage daughter and so you’ll get monthly heats but as far as I understand, it’s extremely similar to your monthly visitor you were already used to.”

“I’ve been having periods for years and it doesn’t feel like this,” you said, his scent tickling under your nose, turning you on more and more by the second.

“The…randiness fades. You’ll be fine,” he said, glancing at you. “You really don’t know anything about the change or what it did to us, do you.”

“I know enough.” He frowned. “Why is my dad in the ICU?”

“His leg is shattered. The surgeon said he suspects he broke it a few days ago. He’s lucky to be alive and still have use of it.” You closed your eyes, gripping the mattress. “He didn’t tell you he was injured until recently, did he.”

“He said he fell today and it was sore. I was getting some bandages and a painkiller at the store tonight.” You groaned. “The fucker. He’s so scared…”

You opened your eyes when you heard footsteps, the sheriff kneeling down in front of you. Gently, he took both your hands, offering a kind smile. “Yes, the world was scary for a little while when we didn’t understand what happened but now we do. There is no reason you and your father have to hide away in the woods away from the rest of us.”

“You called yourself an Alpha.” He nodded. You noticed how small your hands were in his, could feel the surge of power he held within them. “Like how in animal packs, there’s an Alpha sometimes.”

“Let me explain this to you in the most basic of terms.” You swallowed, his fingers sliding up to wrap around your wrists loosely. “People that were bad before the change are bad now and people that were good before are good now. All that happened last night was you ran into a couple of bad guys. They were Alpha but so am I. We are not animals and neither are you.”

“But you could bite me and make me…” He smiled, a tiny eye roll in there. “Excuse me? What was that?”

“What you’re describing is a crime. Consent is still very much a thing, little lady. Believe me, I have no problem putting Alpha’s in their place if needed.”

You raised your head, the man tucking your hair behind your ear. “Are you sure you’re not just an anomaly?”

“Miss, I have a fifteen year old omega daughter. If I thought that world was truly that far gone, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight. Now, do you see her in this room?”

You rolled your eyes, the man standing with a chuckle. “You’re going to be just fine.”

“So you’re here out of the goodness of your heart?” you asked. He bit is bottom lip, looking shy all of a sudden.

“You’ve had a long night and I remember how frightening it felt the first night I changed. The world is no more dangerous than it was a decade ago. But it never hurts to have a friend when life gets hard.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, a painful cramp ripping across your abdomen. He caught your wince and helped you to lie back down.

“Get some sleep. I’ll check on your dad for you.”

“Thanks. Oh wait.” He pulled up your covers and hummed. “Why were you at the pharmacy in the middle of the night?”

He smirked, patting your thigh. “I’ll check in with you in the morning, darlin’.”

Later That Morning

“Get out!” You flinched and backed out of your dad’s hospital room, closing the door behind you.

“He’s still angry, huh?” To your left appeared your sheriff, sporting a tan jacket and khakis, brown cowboy boots adorning his feet. You sniffled and nodded, the man giving you a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder. “Have you been discharged yet?”

“Yeah.” You sat down on a nearby bench, the sheriff joining you. You rubbed your palm with your thumb, skin peeling off eventually. He caught your wrist, gently moving it away. “He doesn’t want to go to a rehab center. He says he’s fine and I should take care of him until he’s on his feet. The part I hate is we both know it’s horseshit. He knows he needs help but won’t admit it.”

“Stay here a minute for me.” He entered your dad’s room, closing the door and remaining inside for a few minutes. The door opened with a creak, your sheriff waving you inside.

You frowned at your dad in bed, his arms crossed.

“I’m sorry for acting like a child,” he grit out. Your eyebrows shot up, gaze shooting to the sheriff who was giving your dad a friendly smile. But there was an undercurrent of authority to it that made your heart skip.

“Thank you?” you said. He sighed, quiet for a moment.

“I will go to rehab. I’m not your responsibility.” He cleared his throat. “I heard you’ve…changed.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Your gaze shot down, your dad tsking you.

“Sheriff Arlen….informed me of some things about the world. I think while I’m recovering maybe you…could get a job. Get back out in the world, not be stuck with me.”

You bit your tongue. What the hell was up with him? Did he not want you around anymore now that you were one of those…omegas?

“Mr. Y/L/N, we’ll let you rest. I’ll be sure to get Y/N home.” Your sheriff put a hand on the small of your back that sent a pleasant chill down your spine. God, he smelled even more alluring than last night.

Why did you kind of like it? How large his hand was, how comforting it felt. Maybe you were just touch starved after a decade of being alone.

“What is going on?” you asked when you were in the hallway. “Is he okay whatever your name is again?”

“Sheriff Beau Arlen. Call me Beau. Your dad and I had a small conversation. I explained a few things about the change and dynamic to him, told him I’d keep an eye out for you since he’s a tad paranoid. S’all good.”

You stopped, Beau leaving his hand on your back. He paused by your side, turning his head down. “I may have…sternly explained that you are the exact same as you were and that he can’t keep you locked away from the world. You’re a grown woman, you deserve to live your life.”

“And by sternly explained you mean scared the shit out of him.” Beau said nothing, only walked down the hall, urging you along. “Where are we going?”

“Home. I know you were discharged but you should still relax. I have some things to do but I’ll be by later on today.”

“You don’t have to come back. I’ll figure everything out on my own-“ Beau held up a hand before stopping in front of you, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans.

“Darlin’, I made your father a promise and I intend on keeping it.” He looked past you, licking his lips and making your nose twitch in response. “But first, we need to make a pit stop.”

You woke with a groan, jerking up in bed. A quick glance at the clock showed it was early afternoon. Ah, right. Beau dropped you off with some medicine and a book on the Change or so everybody referred to it. You’d taken a pill and fallen asleep a few hours ago, your body warm but otherwise feeling okay.

You clutched your blanket to your chest when something loud crashed beyond the bedroom door.

“I can’t believe they let you carry a gun,” said a young voice.

“Next time you get kidnapped, I’m letting them keep you,” he grumbled.

“Funny, dad,” the voice deadpanned. “Wasn’t it Cassie who found me actually? Hm?”

“Eh, eh, eh. Stop with the sass, child and help me make this.”

“Why are you helping this random lady so much anyways?”

“Just…cause it’s nice.” Your stomach grumbled loudly and you decided to risk exiting to the main part of the cabin. The door squeaked like it always did, two pairs of eyes on you when you poked your head out. “Y/N. How are you doing, darlin’?”

“Fine. Why are you in my house?” you said, glancing at the teenage girl standing in the sad excuse for a kitchen off to the side.

“Did you break into her house?” she asked, Beau looking back at her with a glare.

“Of course I didn’t.” He punched the bridge of his nose. “I told Y/N I would be back later.”

The girl looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “I apologize for him. He gets a little too into helping people sometimes.”

“Why don’t you go on the porch and do your math homework?” She stared at him for a moment, shaking her head with a smirk. “Emily…”

“I said nothing. But your scent did,” she sang song before slipping outside. Beau rubbed the back of his neck, a strong whiff of a nice scent, his scent, hitting you.

“Ignore her,” he said, still rubbing his neck nervously. You hummed, taking a seat at the two person table by the wall. “I hope you don’t mind we’re here. I figured you’d be hungry and Emily’s also an omega so she offered to talk to you if you’d like. She presented last year so she’s familiar with the growing pains.”

“You mean second puberty?” He chuckled, putting a casserole dish that didn’t belong to you in the tiny camping oven.

“It might not seem like it but we got off easy. You and I we just got a little something extra to figure out over a couple of months. She’s got to go through the whole deal.” You hummed, Beau wiping his hands off on a towel by the water pump and spinning around with a smile that made you relax. “So. How’s the pain?”

“Alright. Honestly it feels like a normal period, I’m just a bit warmer than usual.” You frowned, Beau’s face matching it. “You can skip the biology lesson since they gave me a run down at the hospital.”

“Will do. You get used to people’s scents pretty quick. It’s like personal deodorant and yes, you still need to use deodorant,” he teased, the air becoming thick. “Sorry. I’m intruding, aren’t I?”

“Well…if you were going to hurt me, you had your chance last night.”

“Those men…” He glanced down, stepping forward to grab hold of the back of the opposite chair and lean over top. Green eyes met yours, worry etched in them. “Did they explain the change to you at all, like what happened ten years ago, or just the body stuff?”

“No. I only remember people were getting sick and then my dad got us out of the city after my brother called. I’d just graduated college. I was meant to start my first adult job in NYC. So I don’t know what happened, only that my dad said the world was too dangerous for me.”

Beau pulled the chair and sat, biting his bottom lip. “It’s believed a highly contagious virus spread rapidly across the globe. A pandemic. This wasn’t an ordinary virus though. It didn’t cause illness, only…activated something existing within human DNA. What you remember from TV is when people got infected with the virus. I was living in Texas at the time. Me, Em, her mom, we all were floored. My ex was very warm but her fever never spiked high. Myself, I was exhausted. I could barely move for three days. Emily thankfully slept through most of it. She was only a little girl so it didn’t hit her as badly. When I woke up the fourth day, my ex was doing better and I felt much stronger.”

“And you had that thing on your dick?” He chuckled. “How the hell does that even work without absolutely destroying the person on the receiving end.”

“Because you changed too. Yours are just not as easy to see. You know child birth complications has gone down significantly the past decade. Women report far less pain too. We just…evolved as a species a little fast if you want to think of it that way. Most of us. There are a few people that were lacking in the genome sequence to be affected but by and large, we all became Alpha, Beta or Omega.”

You crossed your arms, tilting your chin up. “My brother is a doctor in Africa, one of the first places that got sick. He told us people were like animals. Biting each other in the damn neck and then I never heard from him again. Anything to say about that?”

He looked up, scrunching up his face. “Well you don’t seem to have a phone around here but I will track down your brother for you. Um, we may have also…gotten physical proof that we have souls and biting an omega in their bonding gland connects them to the alpha that bit them on a metaphysical level but it only takes if it’s consensual on both sides and fun fact the bond will break if one person doesn’t love the other one anymore, like a divorce, not that I would…know what a broken bond feels like,” he rambled out, clearing his throat. You blinked slowly, Beau’s face stuck in that awkward position. “I overshared, didn’t I.”

“Just…a lot to take in,” you said, rubbing your own neck and feeling a tight, hard lump. “Is that my-”

“Yes. It’s where our scents come from and I uh, I got to head back to work,” he said, quickly standing. He adjusted his pants and you noticed the bulge, giving him a glare. “No! No, it’s not…Emily!”

“What?” she groaned, giving you friendly smile when she came inside.

“I need to check in at the station. Please explain…things to Y/N. Heats, scents, true mates, that sort of thing. I’ll be back soon.” He left quickly, Emily raising her eyebrows.

“He’s kind of weird,” you said, Emily laughing before giving you a smirk. “What?”

“Now I get why he’s being so extra. You’re his true mate.” You put a hand on your head, holding up a finger. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain everything.”

Three hours later, you were more confused than ever. Emily was only a teenager but she was a smart girl and had explained the change, what being an omega meant and all of it. You were stuck on one little tidbit though. She could smell that her dad, your sheriff, was connected to you. Like soulmates connected.

What. The. Fuck.

You were still trying to process that information when his red truck pulled up, Beau waving awkwardly to where you and Emily sat on the front porch.

“Emily, pack up your stuff. We should let Y/N-”

“No, no, Alpha boy. This is how it works,” you said, freezing him in his place. His shift shifted wildly, strong and heated, musky with need. “I know why you smell so good. Were you planning on telling me you were not in fact just being nice last night but you were physically incapable of leaving my side at the hospital. On account of the whole fated mates thing.”

Beau’s gaze shot to Emily, his eyes turning stern. “Oh no big boy. You don’t get to be mad at her.”

He put his hands on his hips, sighing to himself. “Would you like to have dinner with us?”

You felt like you had whiplash. Wasn’t he just about to argue something like you were too new to this world? Or no, we’re not mates, I was only helping. Or that it was only affection? Or that he couldn’t know?

“Would you like to have dinner with us?” he repeated.

“Wow,” said Emily besides you. “Her face is literally the what the fuck emoji right now.”

“Emily,” gritted out Beau. You held up a hand, Emily taking it and walking you down the two front steps.

“Have you ever been to Donno’s diner? Oh my god, they have the best food. Come on, let’s-”

“I’m sorry, I’m not…” you gestured to yourself. You were in sweatpants that were a decade old, a plain t-shirt and your hair was a frazzled sweaty mess. Beau gently took your hand from Emily, his touch telling your body to calm down, that everything was okay.

“If you’d like we can eat in private but you do not need to hide from the world anymore. You are gorgeous just as you are,” he said, voice soft. Emily tilted her head, looking him up and down.

“He totally means that too. I can smell it.” Beau growled, Emily returning a cheeky grin. “Do you want me to leave so you two can bone?”

“In the car ladies, in the car,” he said, grabbing your shoulders and walking you towards the driver side as Emily got inside. “I apologize for the sassy child.”

“Don’t. I like the sassy child,” you grinned, Beau’s face lighting up.

“Really?” You hummed, Beau turning bashful. “She’s a good kid.”

“Seems that way.” You put your hands in your pockets, inhaling deeply. “Today’s been…”

“I understand.” You glanced back at the cabin, frowning. “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.”

“I’ve always hated this place.” His large hand interlaced with yours, squeezing the digits. “I don’t want to be alone tonight but I’m not ready for…this yet. I will be but I need to…live a little first. If that makes sense.”

Beau only smirked, a glint in his eyes. “I have an idea.”

Three Weeks Later

“Morning,” said Beau, knocking on the door to the air streamer, aka your new living arrangements for the time being. Beau and Emily had a home built last year after her abduction, something to give her some more stability. With that meant moving his air streamer onto part of the property and having it sit empty for the past six months.

Which meant it was perfect for you to be close to them, you were in town for your new job and you could easily drive to visit your dad at his rehab center. Beau had even offered to let him stay in the house when he got released but thankfully your brother was in contact again and he was going to take dad with him to Seattle where he’d been the past few years.

“Howdy sheriff,” you said as you opened the door, leaning against the door jam. He offered a cup of coffee and your heart fluttered. God, he was so cute how he did that every morning.

“Emily insists on you joining us for breakfast at Donno’s and I couldn’t tell the poor girl no so we’ll be ready to go in fifteen.” He looked up through his lashes, a smidge of cockiness in it.

“Oh, we’re just going in fifteen, huh?” He shrugged, a strong whiff of his scent curling under your nose. Beau licked his lips as you absently scratched your neck. “I’m still in my pajamas.”

“You mean my pajamas,” he said, reaching out, tugging on the end of the oversized shirt that you’d taken from his room last night. Your stomach jumped as his knuckles grazed your bare skin, Beau stepping up into the airstream, making you walk back. A large hand rested gently on your hip, thumb stroking the skin lightly under the fabric of his shirt. “I had fun last night.”

“Me too.” You placed your hands on his chest, grinning up at him. “From what I’ve gathered, true mates bond immediately most of the time so I really appreciate you being patient-”

“Whoa,” he said, taking your arms in his hands, running them up to your shoulders. “Let’s get something clear, darlin’. You will never thank me for respecting your wishes and doing the right thing. You’re owed those things and sweetheart, I will wait as long as you need me to.”

“I never met anyone like you before.”

“Good,” he chuckled, leaning down and letting you press your lips to his. “Take as much time as you need to get ready.”

“I just need a few,” you said, reluctantly letting him pull away. “Hey Beau?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think I lost ten years of my life? Because I let my dad convince me the world wasn’t safe?” He pursed his lips, leaning back against the small counter.

“There certainly was a spike in violent crimes those first six months. There was a lot of fear. We went into a lockdown, loosened restrictions as the science caught up. Emily was homeschooled that first year and I barely let my ex leave the house. But we figured out that the evil bastards that’d do those sorts of things were always the type of people to do those things. It’s like how-”

“You’d love to bite my bond gland and so would I deep down but you’re not jumping my bones to do it because that’s not the kind of guy you are,” you interjected. He smiled softly. “It’s hard to feel like I didn’t lose time, you know?”

“I understand that perspective. But…I didn’t move here until just last year and there was a lot going on with that camping disaster and Emily and my ex and I wasn’t ready for you either until recently. This is how and when we were meant to find each other. We’re soulmates, we didn’t lose any time at all.” He reached out a hand and cupped your cheek. You nuzzled it, placing your hand over top. “I thought you had to get ready.”

“I do,” you said, closing your eyes. “My heat’s coming up soon. I like you being here.”

“Stay in the house with me when it starts. It’ll help.” He kissed your forehead, a strong sense of calm washing over you. “Don’t take too long, omega.”

“I’ll be right there, Alpha. Promise.”

________________

A/N: Read The Change from Beau's perspective here!

#beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen fanfiction #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen fic #Jensen Ackles #Big Sky #big sky fanfic #beau x reader #alpha!beau x omega!reader #abo au #abo dynamics #beau x you #beau x y/n #beau arlen x y/n

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schoenpepper · 12 days

Text

Here Kitty Kitty Kitty (Housewardens)

Intro: You're a wild little thing, aren't you? Let's see how the NRC dorm leaders deal with you, then.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, not much i think idk tell me if i should pop a warning somewhere, it's reaaally long

A/N: My goodbye gift before I die in college. Not that I'd be too busy though, my prof list isn't even complete yet. Hollywood lied to me about college it all sucks (not even started first day yet). Oh this was a request btw so I hope you like it anon. Even though I'm not sure I really followed through with the request I'm sorry.

Masterlist

Headcanon order (on the what he thinks of you part):

Fierce, reckless, territorial, soft to people close to you

You tried to tell Neige you weren’t interested in the National Arcane Academy Culture Fair, you really did. But your best friend is a lot less of a pushover than he seems to be, hanging onto your arm and pulling you right to the middle of the chaos. NRC is dark, dreary, and every corner seems to be black and covered with spiderwebs. Which, honestly, is quite the refreshing turn from the bright white glitter you’d gotten used to in RSA.

“Their science club is doing a cafe!”

The black-haired, starry-eyed boy points at a spot on the map. “It’s not too far from this place, maybe we can drop by and try out their treats.” he smiles happily. You look away (two years is not enough time to get used to the sparkles that magically appear whenever he beams) and sigh. “Where are the dwarves? Won’t they enjoy going to the cafe more than I would? I told you I was just fine sitting on a bench somewhere until the SDC.”

“Huh? Oh, you’re right. Where are they—” you pull him back as he turns, but not before he bumps into someone.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking…”

“Hm? It’s fine, oh hey, aren’t you that superstar on the news?”

The ginger is getting uncomfortably close to your friend’s personal space, so you get in front of Neige, shielding him from this nosy NRC student.

“Y/N!” Neige gives you a worried look, tugging on your sleeve, “I should apologize.”

“What? He said it’s fine already.”

“Ace, are you disturbing these visitors?”

At the sound of the new voice, the young man in front of you straightens up almost unnecessarily straight, back taut and expression nervous. A short student with strawberry red hair is accompanied by a tall student with glasses and green hair. The redhead seems very uptight, with the way he drags down this ‘Ace’ person to his level by the collar to chastise him from apparently ‘disturbing’ you. Neige waves from behind you, trying to stop them while making sure not to leave your circle of protection. “No, we bumped into him, it was my fault really.”

“Ah, I see,” he nods as he lets go of the other person’s collar, “my apologies that you had to see that shameful act. If you need anything, please let the culture fair committee members know, you will recognize them by this badge.”

“Cool, but we’re just going to the cafe. Thanks for the help, bye,” you cut the conversation short and pull Neige away.

“Y/N, that was very rude.”

You shrug, “What was I supposed to do? Didn’t you see that guy has an on and off switch for exploding like an active volcano? Did you want to be on the receiving end of his next outburst?”

“Don’t be so judgmental, Y/N, you barely know the person,” Neige sighs.

“I don’t need to know him.”

Exchange program:

It turns out that you did, in fact, need to know him. Neige somehow managed to convince you to sign up for an exchange student program between RSA and NRC, so you got sorted into Heartslabyul and the guy you insulted at the culture fair is now your housewarden.

Ace and Deuce are okay, if not a few cells short of a brain sometimes. You do enjoy getting caught up in their shenanigans whenever the dorm leader and his eight hundred something rules get a tad bit too stifling. At some point, their dumb (affectionate) tactics manage to work their way into your heart, so you begrudgingly call them friends.

You think Cater’s a good guy, if not a bit social-media-obsessed. You don’t mind having him nearby because he generally just chats about random things. As long as you manage to put up with him asking for a pic every once in a while, he’s not awful. Trey is a comforting presence. He may or may not have Pavlov’d you with the way he always has a sweet treat with him, making you calmer and more susceptible to behaving within his general vicinity.

Riddle is a whole ‘nother thing altogether; you make him mad. Er, madder than usual, at least. Something must be in the tea in Heartslabyul because you and the housewarden in the same room is a guarantee for a beheading. Usually you, but there have been a fair number of innocent victims who’d just happened to get caught up in your squabbles. Riddle is a flame and you’re a tankful of gasoline, always with a witty comeback or something else that’s sure to make every situation worse.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Think a dry, wooden cottage smack dab in the middle of the woods and a wildfire. That’s how you and Riddle get along. You’re hot tempered; pot, meet kettle. You’re sarcastic and snippy, traits that he most certainly does not appreciate. Every time he’s lecturing you about something or the other, you speak. And every word that comes out of your mouth makes him want to collar you.

…Another one? How did his dorm somehow get stuck with the most ‘act first, think later’ individuals? You give Riddle a headache, but don’t worry, he’s all too used to it. He will bail you out of trouble and every stupid situation you find yourself in, but also, he will assign you a 5000 word apology essay each time he does.

Riddle gets it. It’s a sign of disrespect when people touch your things without your explicit consent, and he’d get mad too if it was him in that situation. Does, however, do a double-take when he sees you tackle someone to the ground after you hear them insult Neige, screaming something about “your people”. Turns a blind eye.

Since…since when have you and that duo been so close? He’s not mad (for once). But he does feel rather…upset. You’re always such a spiky individual, so to see you almost melting into the couch, head on Deuce’s lap as he patted your hair and legs over Ace’s, it’s almost surreal. He’s not angry, no, but then why does he still feel unhappy?

Love story climax:

“I just don’t understand. Why do I feel so uncomfortable when I see Y/N together with other people?”

Trey hums from where he’s standing in the kitchen, letting Riddle know that he’s listening while whipping the bowl of cream.

“You’re smart,” Trey chuckles, “you’ll figure it out.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and looks back down at the chopping board, cutting off the top of another strawberry. It wasn’t an illness, but maybe if he diagnosed it like one, he could arrive at a proper conclusion. He mentally retraces his steps and every unpleasant feeling that had welled up inside him. He feels okay, good maybe, when he sees you. He gets mad when you retort while he’s trying to discipline you, but even then, he seems to have started to find it rather…cute? And he gets unreasonably anxious when you’re so close to your friends.

…No. No. Absolutely not.

Riddle Rosehearts is not in love with you.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

You still make him mad, but now instead of being collared, you just need to coax him a little and this strawberry shortcake is ready to fold like a collapsible tent. Make it up to him by being sweet and loving him lots, okay? If it’s to other people, he doesn’t really care as long as it doesn’t get violent. You are exempt from the apology letters though, congrats (he thinks that time writing them could be better spent with him).

Riddle probably needs heart medication at some point, you’re going to drive him either insane or to his inevitable death. He gets a lot more protective of you now because you’re his partner, but please please please at least try not to get hurt. Or try to consider if you might get hurt before doing something. Or how about this, you call him up before you make any decision at all?! Yeah. Heart attack.

Honestly, he probably doesn’t realize that you have a tendency to be overly possessive and territorial of him. Riddle isn’t exactly the type of guy to frequently get love confessions (he should be), you know? So the only time he nottices is when you catch him in the middle of equestrian club meetings or something, and he’s just a step too close to some newbie. Tells you to keep it down and assures you, his love for you is real and unchanging.

Happy guy. He thinks he’s silly when he gets so giddy at the smallest things you do, like kissing the back of his hand, but he can’t exactly stop the somersaults his heart does whenever you’re being so affectionate with him. Regardless, it’s quite rude to make public displays of affection, so be reserved and try to keep it all in private. Will blush at every little thing until like, two years into the relationship.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Neige’s words are cut short when you tackle the hyena beastman to the ground. He looks at you, horrified, and was likely about to chastise you before you pulled out a familiar leather wallet from the beastman’s pocket. “Thief,” you hiss, “you picked the wrong students to mess with.”

“Tsk, [laugh with me].”

The hyena rolls around and you’re unable to control your own movements, rolling with him. You’re lying on the ground when the magic snaps but he’s already running away, Neige’s wallet in hand. “Oh no you don’t!”

You weave through the crowd of students and booths, trying to keep your eyes trained on the mop of caramel hair that was zooming farther and farther away from you. You finally spot him by one of the stages, where he sprints by a tall lion beastman who catches him by the scruff of his neck like a kitten. You come to a stop, panting lightly as you glare at the lion beastman. “Is this guy a friend of yours? He has something of mine, so you better have him give it back quick or I’ll—”

“Ruggie,” The lion yawns, “no stealing during the culture fair.”

“Finders keepers!”

“Ruggie.”

“Fine.”

You get Neige’s wallet back and immediately turn tail and leave. These NRC students are freaks (no stealing during the culture fair? then it’s okay to steal any other time?).

Exchange program:

Something something it’s better to make friends than enemies. While not a saying you’ve ever given a fuck about before, it’s hard not to care when it led you to where you are now. Due to a mass voting in RSA for whoever to send to the exchange program, you’ve been bolted out as the sacrificial lamb (that’s what you get for always picking fights). Savanaclaw takes you in because you wrestle one of their dorm members to the ground on your very first day.

Jack Howl is probably one of the closest things you’ll see to another RSA student in this place. You get along well with him because he doesn’t take your quips at face value (or rather, he doesn’t care for your insults and dry sarcasm). Ruggie takes a bit more getting used to, but he’s a really cool dude when you manage to keep all your valuables away from arm’s reach.

And Leona…he’s like a stray cat. And you’re also a stray cat. And you’re in the same dark alley, coexisting together. You ignore each other most of the time unless the other gets a tad bit too close. It’s not too bad when the boundaries are in place.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

He’s too tired and sleepy most of the time to deal with your temper. Not as if you can do anything about it though, try as you might, you can never win against Leona. You can talk crap about how lazy he is or whatever, he doesn’t care, but whenever you even attempt to fight him you’re already subdued one way or another. Leona thinks you should pick and choose your battles well.

While Leona is a big believer of instincts, there’s a fine line between believing and charging in like a bull seeing red at the first tingle of a gut feeling. He’ll let out a sigh but still, he’ll fish you out of trouble and claim you’re bothering his naptime and he’ll totally leave you to fend for yourself the next time the consequences of your stupid actions find you (he will not).

He’s a lion, of course he’s territorial. So he understands your need to stake your claim on a certain place or item, as long as it’s not something he’d already claimed as his own. Leaves you about it. Territorial about people though? Same thing. Do as you will, he can’t muster the energy to care.

A low growl is emitted from his chest, pupils constricted into pinpricks, ears and tail stiff—Leona isn’t dumb. He knows that the instinctual actions of his body mean something, and in this case, it means he’s annoyed watching you be all buddy buddy with Ruggie. You, the little porcupine you are, laughing so easily with the guy you swore was your enemy, it makes him gnash his teeth in anger (envy).

Love story climax:

He can’t get you out of his head.

The few months you’ve been at NRC, you’ve started to become an existence that he didn’t mind constantly having around. He’d found you annoying at first, so why is it that now, just seeing you so happy with Ruggie is enough to drive him insane? He keeps his eyes closed but he can’t sleep. You’re still lingering in his vision, a hazy mirage by the moonlight of the savanna. Why can’t he stop thinking about you?

Why can’t he stop thinking about your hair and how soft it looked to touch? Why can’t he stop thinking about how incredible your skin would feel on his? Why can’t he stop thinking about your lips…?

Fuck.

Leona rolls over in his bed, burying his face in a pillow. Maybe if he suffocated to death he wouldn’t be haunted by thoughts of you. But, if you’re so willing to be close to Ruggie, why not Leona? He could be your…friend too. Do you already think of him as a friend? You tend to run to him with that stupid smile and chatter away even when he tells you to go away, is that a sign that you saw him as some sort of confidant? Whatever.

Leona’s not good with emotions, but he’s the farthest thing from a coward.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Okay wildfire, Leona likes it, but you need to tone it down a bit unless you want your ass handed back to you on a platter. No he’s not threatening you, it’s just that you should already know the folks in NRC aren’t scared of fights. No he doesn’t care that you’re not scared of fights. Stop picking fights. If you sass him back enough he will sling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

There’s a reason why he always has one hand on you, whether on your hip or the back of your neck. It’s not because he’s a clingy kitty (stop teasing, he’s not a cat!), rather, it’s so he can easily stop you when a situation arises and you decide on something he wishes you didn’t decide on. Now that you’re in a relationship, he’ll sit you down and start a long discussion on why you should learn to think before you act.

Let’s get something straight, you are part of his territory, not the other way around. He’s just as protective and possessive of you as you are to him, if not more, so pretty much everyone knows to book it when they see you two together. Any poor soul who has a crush on either of you quickly get the picture.

Tsk, you’re so clingy (affectionate). Unlike most guys on the list, Leona doesn’t give two shits about other people, ergo, he doesn’t care when you kiss or touch him in public. In fact, he encourages it. Go ahead, mark him up. But if he reciprocates, he’ll tell you he’s just doing what you’ve been doing, so you have no right to refuse.

You knew it was instantly trouble when the person he bumped into had all the tells of a bad mood. You push Neige behind you while he apologizes profusely to the stranger. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there, I’m so sorry!” His words obviously went unheard because this annoyingly tall NRC student only grimaced, and you know from experience that when someone bares their teeth at you, it means they haven’t forgiven your pitiful apology.

“You can’t see where you’re going, hah, maybe I should squeeze you ‘til your eyes pop out? Maybe you’ll see it then?”

Let it be known that though you were half this asshole’s size, that did not mean you were going to take this lying down.

“Hey, back off. He said it was an accident.”

You feel Neige tugging on your sleeve. “Hey, Y/N let’s just—”

“I don’t care if it was an accident, I’m in a slump and you just made it worse, y’know?”

“Well I don’t care if you don’t care. You better back off before I take your slump and shove it down your stupid—”

Another unfamiliar figure approaches, this one shorter than the asshole, with purplish-white hair and glasses, yet somehow looking just as dangerous with the kind smile he has on. He gives the guy in front of you a very pissed-off look behind the carefully maintained grin. You think he might be trying to whisper, but it’s not very quiet.

“Floyd! I told you to sell the drinks while Jade and I are gone, what are you doing here?”

“Ehhh, but I didn’t feel like selling drinks.”

They’re gone before you even know what’s going on.

The interaction only cemented what you’d known before you even got here; everyone in NRC is a weirdo.

Exchange program:

Apparently, someone’s great idea for a prank is signing you up to be an exchange student to NRC. So, hurray.

You’re plopped into Octavinelle because the very reliable headmaster of NRC drew lots from some magical (rigged) thing. It doesn’t take you too long to realize that the quick-to-violence guy you’d met a little while back is one of the frontrunners of the dormitory. Thankfully, your second meeting has Floyd in a better mood than before, and he decides that you’re interesting before bestowing you your very own nickname; catfish. You do not appreciate it.

Jade is easy enough to get along with, you’ve discovered it’s good to just do as he says and as long as he has nothing to gain from it, he won’t torment you (too much). Though, he does make your hackles rise every once in a while because dear Seven he gives you the heebie-jeebies, even despite the perfectly polite thing he has going on.

Azul, it takes you way too long to befriend. He starts off avoiding you almost entirely, like you’re a contagious disease (if only you knew). You’re not the type to suck up to anyone, and definitely not the type to force close proximity with someone who seems to hate you, so you leave him alone. Eventually, one potion explosion, two torn contracts, and one messed up lounge later, you and Azul become acquaintances. Friends, maybe. Uh, tentatively.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Azul thinks you’re unnecessarily high-strung. Well, where do you get the energy to always be so combative and hot-tempered? He’d rather stay away from people like you when business isn’t involved. He’s one to always keep calm and cool after all, he doesn’t think he’d get along with you at all.

Your tendency to act according to your nature and intuition and just general however you feel like acting, it’s an enigma for sure. Azul prefers a plan and at least three other backup plans, so you running headfirst into any situation makes him sigh and take another step back from you. Sevens know it might be contagious (does not call you stupid to your face, but to your back? Absolutely).

The first time he saw you almost bite Floyd’s head off for just touching your things without your permission, it was enough for him to put another strike on his record. Oh dear, you really are a handful, aren’t you? Does not realize your territorialism extends to people until Jade showed him what happened to the last student that tried messing with one of the dwarves.

Azul thinks he needs new glasses. Is that you? Looking so sweet and cuddly with your friends? Really? He gets flashbacks to when you almost scratched his eyes out that time he tried roping you into one of his contracts. Now seeing you all clingy with that celebrity, he feels…uncomfortable. It must be because you’re acting strange (he’s not jealous, thank you very much).

Love story climax:

“Yeah their food is crazy good,” you grin at Neige, helping him choose a few items on the menu, “as long as the bill is paid, at least.”

While Azul is flattered at your actions to recommend the Mostro Lounge to your closest friend who’d dropped by for a visit, there’s an annoying, itchy, gnawing feeling in one of his hearts that makes him unable to sit still. He pushes your original waiter aside and approaches your table with his little notepad, shooting you the most charming smile he’s able to give. He taps his pen against the paper to get your attention. “Y/N, I’m so glad to see you stop by again. I assume you’ll have the usual?”

“Oh, hey Azul,” he does not fail to notice the way your tone gets softer with him, “yes please. And can you add some other dishes for my friend here? Maybe two or three of your most popular ones, just so he can try them.”

Azul nods, jotting down your order. Then, he places a hand over his chest, grinning, “Of course, and just for you, it’s free of charge!”

It doesn’t take him long to confess now that he knows you like him too.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Thinks it’s hot 100%, he will die on this hill. While he still doesn’t appreciate you constantly getting into fights with other people, seeing you angry is so interesting to him. Also, you turn down the sarcasm with him, so he can fully enjoy seeing you tear someone a new one. Will not stop you unless it’s beginning to get physical.

His hair is about to turn white. Except, it’s already white. Anyway, the point is that you stress him out very much, as you being reckless means you tend to get into situations that isn’t in his Plan A. Or B. Or C. He bails you out of trouble with a calm smile and an eloquent speech, and it’s usually enough to resolve the situation. This doesn’t mean he likes you having virtually no self-control or self-reflection skills though, you’ll have to have a long talk with him (communication is key).

Azul thinks it’s cute when you let him pop your personal bubble, and he’s very happy to watch you try to pick a fight with anyone who gets too close to either you or him (keyword being try, he does his best to stop any actual fights from happening). He doesn’t mind you seeing him as part of your ‘territory’, as long as he gets something in return (and you don’t get too suffocating).

Watching you curl up into him whether in public or private gets him flustered, but especially in public. Angelfish, the big bad businessman has a reputation to uphold, you know? Still, he can’t find it in himself to push you off when you’re just so adorable like this, knowing how feisty you typically are. Do try to save it for private spaces though, he would also like to cling onto you shamelessly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

Something is off about the person Neige bumped into. Call it a gut feeling, or maybe it was the way the brown haired student was instantly alert, sweeping the white haired boy to a ‘safer’ distance before deciding on whether or not it was worth it to actually face you and Neige. You’re not sure what exactly is wrong, but your intuition is saying that this is not the kind of person your all-too-naive friend is supposed to fraternize with.

“It’s fine.”

His answer is curt, and he steers the other boy away immediately. You share a look with Neige, when you click your tongue and pull him along to find a map.

“They seemed nice.”

You hope there will not come a day when your friend is at the mercy of people with bad intentions, as it is very likely that he’d be eaten alive. “They seemed like bad news. Everyone here seems like bad news.” You reply, finally finding the botanical gardens where the cafe had been set up. You sit across from Neige at a table where some student takes your orders. Neige asks for a caramel macchiato with extra caramel and some macarons, and you opt for something a little less diabetic. “Don’t say that, Y/N. They didn’t even do anything to us, even though I was at fault for bumping into them. Isn’t that nice?”

You roll your eyes, “It’s nice that they didn’t, what, beat us up? Have higher standards, LeBlanche.”

“They seem like they’d make for good friends, that’s all,” he laughs softly.

“You think that of everyone.”

“Maybe you should give it a try.”

Exchange program:

Neige’s great plan to get you more “accustomed” to people is to throw you to NRC in the school’s newly-cooked-up exchange student program. You can’t stop him, because he really is only thinking of the best for you, but it doesn’t mean you have to like it, right? You get put in Scarabia because they have a lot of room.

Jamil is…okay. He’s a lot of things, but mostly, he’s not someone you’d ever find back at RSA. He’s a stressed out nanny most of the time, but there are a few moments when he feels more morally gray than people should probably be.

Kalim, however, you get along with splendidly. With him as your housewarden, you almost feel like you’re back with your normal circle of friends. Except Kalim is like, horrendously richer than them (and a bit more airheaded, though you think that could still be debated).

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Sorry, but most of your sarcasm is going to bounce right off Kalim’s head. He will not notice it unless you’re really blunt about it, in which case, why? It’s not easy to be mad at someone who’s so genuine all the time, and being unnecessarily mean to him is just, well, mean. It’s best to just go along with him. You can’t win against this type of person.

Twinning! No, seriously, you’re two cookies cut from the same dough, with the exact same cookie cutter. You and Kalim are exactly the same in this kind of thing, and it drives Jamil absolutely insane. Sorry to say but whatever trouble you stir up you’re going to have to face yourself; Kalim is no help, he rarely even has to face the consequences of his own actions, much less yours.

Kalim is the kind of guy to unintentionally get too close, like, all the time. No he doesn’t mean it, but it also doesn’t help when your instincts go nuts because he borrowed a pencil without asking. He does notice that you’re very protective of your stuff, but he doesn’t really notice what he does most of the time, though he tries to respect your boundaries. Does not notice it translates to people.

Oh hey! You’re hanging out with Neige, that’s so cool, can he come with? No…? You want some time with your friend because he’s only visiting for a short time? That’s cool…yeah, he can give you guys space. It’s not very often that the Al-Asim heir finds something that makes him feel disappointed or upset, but this is certainly one of them. And the worst part is, he doesn’t even know why.

Love story climax:

You’re such a sight to behold.

Kalim wonders if Neige knows how lucky he is, able to touch you and hug you like he does. You don’t even fight back, only returning the embrace with a smile. There’s a sharp pain in Kalim’s chest and he wonders what he has to do in order for you to let him that close. He’s your friend too, isn’t he? It’s…so unfair.

“Kalim?”

Jamil approaches him with a worried expression. “Are you okay? You’ve been staring at the fountain for a while.”

He sees the change in Jamil’s face when he notices that it’s you sitting by the fountain. “I see.” The words make Kalim laugh. He rests his elbows on the railing and leans forward, resting his chin on his palms. Of course, Jamil would know. Jamil would understand. Jamil can see the blooming feelings in his chest that he himself took far too long to get.

He wonders if you know.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Being in a relationship does not make Kalim able to detect sarcasm. If you ever try to sass him, he will take it at face value. Anyway, now that you’re this close, it’s easier to understand that with his background, Kalim has never wanted for anything, and no one ever really says no to him. He has a tendency to not hear what you’re saying sometimes, only believing in what he wants to hear. You’re going to need to find some time to discuss this with him.

The only way that this would differ from when you were just strangers/friends with Kalim, is that Jamil is now kind of obligated to help you out when you find yourself in situations you can’t (and likely don’t want to) talk your way out of. At some point he just hypnotizes you to stay out of trouble, at least for a weekend, so he can breathe. Between you and Kalim, he’s probably about to overblot again.

Are you jealous? Kalim laughs it off and hugs you, promising he only loves you and no one else! It’s unlikely he understands the nuances, but Jamil assures you it’s better that way. Your protectiveness goes a bit unnoticed, if only because he’s used to bodyguards and being protected, and it’s also very unlikely that he notices your possessiveness.

Kalim lives for displays of affection! Physical touch, gift giving, words of affirmation—his most fluent language is every love language ever. You want to hug in the middle of a crowd? Sure, he might lose you in the throng of people, after all. Want to kiss? Why not? Make sure not to miss his lips, okay? Private, public, with an audience or alone, Kalim will love you and he will do it in a way that you will never doubt his feelings for you.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t—oh! You’re one of Vil’s friends, right?” Neige holds out a hand to the purple-haired boy for a handshake while you look on with a raised brow. “Um, Epel, I think, is what he called you?”

This Epel kid puts on a smile and shakes Neige’s hand, but it’s easy to tell it’s fake. He’s looking around nervously, as if to ascertain that no one sees him holding hands with Neige, and he takes it back as quickly as he’d put it out. “Right, I need to go, it was nice seeing you,” Epel laughs awkwardly and attempts to leave. He’s rooted in place once his name is called out by someone tall, blonde, and annoyingly pretty. You know from watching your friend’s works that this is the person who often played his rival; Vil Schoenheit. He does not give you the impression that he considers Neige a friend the way that Neige sees him go be.

“Epel, it’s time to go back for rehearsals,” he snaps at the younger boy, before putting on a perfectly practiced smile as he turned to Neige, “apologies for the trouble, we’ll leave you be now.”

And they walk away.

Your friend next to you is waving happily while you cross your arms.

(Clearly, that pompous-looking peacock has something against Neige.)

“It’s a shame, I wanted to introduce you to Vil, but he seems very busy.”

You scoff lightly, but at the very least, you try to mask your distaste. There’s no need for you to tell him that Vil likely hates his guts and the very dirt he steps on, not unless the other makes a move on it. “I don’t need to know anyone here,” you roll your eyes and hold onto his wrist, pulling him away, “let’s just find that cafe. Botanical gardens, right?”

“Right!”

Exchange program:

Due to a few…accidents, the faculty members of RSA have chosen you to represent the school in an exchange student program (they want you shipped off to NRC, like, bad). Pomefiore is the very lucky winner of the “which dorm should this kid be in” raffle, which means hell for you.

Epel is surprisingly funny. He’s probably one of the prettiest people you’ve ever met (and RSA is filled with pretty boys), yet his natural way of doing things is so crude, for lack of a better word. He feels good to chill with, and escape from all the prissiness that the dorm (and its housewarden) has to offer. Rook, though, you stay far away from. Sometimes when you’re alone, you feel like someone is watching you. And it’s probably him.

If there was anyone in this entire school that you absolutely loathe, it’s the world-renowned model actor blah blah blah Vil. He cannot stand your flippant attitude and you cannot stand his everything.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Vil does not know who Jesus Christ is, but I assure you that if he did, the name would be on his tongue 24/7. You don’t stand a chance in a verbal or physical fight with Vil, so you’ve learned to settle for making stupid comments behind his back. That he can still hear. He finds you very frustrating to work with, but he does love a challenge. You’ll learn to be more elegant by the time he’s done with you (you will not).

Part of the ‘does not give a fuck’ club. Whatever mess you find yourself in is your business, do you understand? He’s not one for spoon feeding, potato, so all your problems are your own to bear. Vil thinks that basing everything off intuition and instinct is straight up barbaric, but unfortunately for both you and him, you can’t be moved to Savanaclaw.

What are you, an animal? He can understand not wanting other people to touch your possessions, but must you hiss like some sort of raccoon? Fine, he’ll back off if he must. Your possessiveness of people doesn’t escape him, he just doesn’t think it’s any of his business. However, your actions now, in part, reflect Pomefiore which is under his rule and jurisdiction. Watch how you act.

It’s such an ugly feeling, and one that Vil refuses to define. And it’s Neige again, why is it always Neige? He knows you’re close but must you be that close? You’re always against people being in your ‘bubble’, so when he sees you all over that doe-eyed rival of his, it leaves him seething. Stop holding his hand, stop whispering so close to his ear, stop ignoring Vil…please…

Love story climax:

“Mira, Mira, who is the most beautiful of them all?”

Since he already knows the answer, why does he keep asking? Vil’s never pegged himself as a masochist. Then, what the hell is he doing to himself?

“Searching. The account with most comments tagged as beautiful, Neige LeBlanche.”

…Of course.

Why is it that Neige can get what he can’t have every single time? He works just as hard, doesn’t he? If not more. Neige is the protagonist, Vil is the antagonist. Neige is the hero, Vil is the villain. Neige is your best friend.

Who is Vil to you? Do you even think about him half the amount of times that he thinks of you? Is he a stranger? An acquaintance? A naggy dorm leader that you wish to avoid as much as possible?

He’s come second to your best friend one too many times.

He’s not giving up your heart, not to Neige, not to anyone.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Congratulations, you’ve been upgraded from annoying (derogatory) to annoying (affectionate)! While he doesn’t enjoy your cattiness too much, Vil does like a bit of bite. He’ll indulge you just a little, everything’s fine in moderation, after all. Just make sure you know when to tone it down, darling.

Vil is a responsible person, and he expects you to be responsible too. If you pick a fight all on your own, he has no qualms letting you face the consequences by yourself. But he’s not heartless. If it really is too much for you to handle, or if it’s not your fault, he’s more than happy to help you mediate things (or beat someone up idk).

Jealousy isn’t pretty, but he rather likes the color on you. This man is beloved by literal millions so you’ll have a hard time keeping him all to yourself. But if it’s any consolation, his love is all yours, alright? Vil wouldn’t mind a possessive lover just as long as you know your place. If you think of him as part of your territory? Well, why not?

Vil Schoenheit has a reputation to keep. He can’t just let you do whatever; he’s a public figure. So all your lovey dovey-ing will have to wait until you and him are behind closed, locked, chained doors with shut windows covered by heavy curtains, do you understand? If you do, then feel free to adore him as much as you want to. He will return your affection in kind.

“I didn’t notice you there, sorry!”

“It’s fine…gosh these normies are so clumsy, can’t even walk without tripping over their own feet…though I guess I’m not one to talk.”

Your sense of hearing has an impeccable range, at least, more than enough to hear this walking matchstick’s grumbling that he’d likely meant to keep to himself. You glare at him and push Neige back, rolling up your sleeves. This guy might be tall, but he’ll bend to your level with a nice kick at the groin. “What’d you call my friend, you blue-raspberry-flavored lightstick?”

“Y/N, stop it!”

He squealed, seemingly panicking as he backed away. “What the, I say a few words and you pick a fight irl? That’s so lame.”

“I swear to the Seven if another stupid word leaves your—”

“Threat detected.”

A cute, blue-haired (blue-flamed?) robot kid is pointing some pretty big laser guns your way, so you’re forced to take a step back, watching him slowly lower them. “Hello, please refrain from threatening my big brother, or I’ll have to annihilate you.” The kid warns you with a chipper tone of voice, but he’s glaring at you harshly.

“Y/N,” Neige whispers, “let’s just go.”

You weigh your options and decide that, even though you can probably take that six-foot gremlin, it’s very unlikely you’ll come out unscathed with the adorable death machine in the mix. You send the man one last glare while your friend pulls you away from possible homicide.

Exchange program:

The greenhouse going up in flames was definitely not your fault. Uh, totally unrelated sentence aside, you’ve been chosen to represent RSA to go on an exchange student program to NRC. Because no one from Ignihyde was at the meeting (physically), they couldn’t exactly turn you down. Most people ignored the panicking tablet, anyway.

Ortho is a sweetheart, you’ve found, when you’re not threatening to de-ball his beloved older brother. But the catch is that you can’t spend much time with him without also spending time with Idia. Which, ew.

Your housewarden is someone you barely ever saw. But you’ve taken it upon yourself to annoy him as much as humanly possible (no you’re not petty who said that), so you usually camp outside his door to spook him from ever leaving. This escalates to occasional talks through the door, which turns into him slipping you a controller, to him realizing you can’t play if you don’t see the screen, to actually letting you hang out in his room.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Make no mistake, Idia’s tongue is just as poisonous as yours, if not more. The combination usually leads to trash talk that once made Ortho splash the two of you with cold water. He thinks you’re funny, but you’re both petty so most verbal fights turn to you two swatting at each other like children.

Bro, don’t you have a strategy for every level? You can’t win if you just wing it all the time, y’know? Idia’s the type of gamer who spends several hours at a game’s wiki page just to find the best route to the finish line, so you being as you are kinda gives him a headache. And look, he’s not helping you out, okay? None of his business.

What…you chill in his room but don’t let him have some of your honey butter potato chips? That’s lame af, but like whatever. He notices the people thing when he sees you through one of the cameras (that he did not plant nuh uh) in school, about to commit murder because someone called Ortho things neither you nor Idia appreciate. Hey, he’s rooting for you.

It took him like three weeks just to be able to sit two meters away from you without you bitching about it, so Idia is, understandably, a bit peeved when he sees you practically when he finds you hugging Ortho. He shouldn’t be annoyed, it’s Ortho, for sevens’ sake! But it’s not like he can just stop feeling frustrated. He can’t stop feeling disappointed. He can’t stop feeling…wait, what is he feeling? Jealousy? No! Absolutely not!

Love story climax:

He has to look away when you turn your head, lest he get caught in the act of totally-not-staring. He tries to focus on the game and on the way his character is moving on the screen.

But why is it that he feels like it’s a waste of time?

He loves gaming! The online world is his passion, his everything. But when you’re sitting right beside him, he thinks he’d prefer to admire you, adore you, instead of beating his high score at Kingdom Odyssey: Rise of Dragonheart. He takes another peek at your pretty face, glowing by the light of the screen. Your features morph into one of excitement, and he feels his heart lightening too when he catches your bright smile.

“I won! You lost, suck it!”

He doesn’t even mind you gloating, because your smug smirk is just…

Ew. Gross. Blegh.

It’s like he got turned into a shoujo manga character right there. Idia turns back to the screen. “Dumb luck, noob. Next round it’s gg for you.”

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

He doesn’t fight with you as often…but he still fights with you. Nothing serious of course, but trolling each other has become as much of a love language as quality time is. Idia really does enjoy trash talking with you the most, if only because you turn it into a competition. When you lose, he makes you do something silly. Like uh, marrying his character in Sunfall Brookes…

Worry not! Idia, being the super awesome and totally cool genius he is, has whipped something up so that Ortho is behind you at every turn. He can’t support your stupidity irl most of the time, but having his little brother (who is fully equipped with deadly laser guns) back you up is probably good enough. So it’s fine, you’re fine, worse comes to worst Ortho’ll pick you up and fly you right back to your loving boyfriend (who may or may not be waiting to hear about your stupid actions).

While you do share your potato chips now, it seems to have become a bit more troublesome. Like, what do you mean does he love Moonkiss Eclipse the Magical Sparkle Girl more than you? Of course he loves you more (pssssst Ortho can you hide the body pillow before my s/o pops me into a body bag). Your main enemy will be the thousands of fictional characters that Idia loves, so good luck!

Idia’s not like, super great at public displays of affection. He’s not great in public, in general. Your clinginess and kisses and whatnot will have to wait until you’re back at either his or your room, ‘kay? It’s worth it though, you get to see a shy, blushy Idia with flaming pink hair.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“I AM FINE, HUMAN! YOU CANNOT INJURE ME WITH YOUR WEAK HUMAN BODY!”

Neige’s sheepish apology is met with a loud, annoying, obnoxious response. It makes you want to deck the green haired man in the face just for damaging your eardrums. “Hey, cut it out, will you? You’re loud,” you click your tongue, glaring at him, “and very annoying.”

“HOW DARE YOU CALL ME ANNOYING, HUMAN?! I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, ONE OF MALLEUS-SAMA’S MOST LOYAL RETAINERS, AM A FIGURE OF—”

You figure you’re unlikely to get anything useful out of this student whose head seems very deep inside his own ass. Just as you’re planning your escape route (or how to get away with murder), a voice that successfully stops the blabber arrives.

“Sebek?” a beautiful horned fae intercedes from the sidelines, “I thought you were with Silver and Lilia.”

“MY LIEGE!”

This is probably your cue to leave.

With your hand wrapped around Neige’s wrist, you whisk him far far away from this school’s legion of freaks. As good as the eye candy (the horned fae) was, another word from the green weirdo is bound to have you arrested after socking him in the gut.

“Y/N? Where are we going?” Neige asks hesitantly.

“To the cafe,” you answer curtly, “then after that we’re going right back for your SDC practice, okay? I cannot stand one more second with all these NRC students around.”

Exchange program:

RSA held a very, very random name drawing for the exchange student program, and surprise, it’s you! And apparently, during a housewarden meeting, Diasomnia offered to be your dorm during your stay (no one needs to know Diasomnia’s housewarden wasn’t there).

You start sort-of acquaintances with Silver, but he’s actually an amazing antithesis to you. Since, you know, you’re always blazing in your fiery temper and he’s just…asleep. Maybe not antithesis. Anyway he’s a good friend.

Being in the same dorm as Sebek does not make you tolerate him more. In fact, you butt heads so much that Lilia’s assigned someone in Diasomnia to always be watching the two of you when in the same room. Lilia is cool, he’s cute, he’s super fun. You get along nicely with him once you’ve gotten used to being jumpscared.

Malleus, to be honest, you barely ever saw. He’s a bit stuck in his own world, and it’s not as if you cross paths often in your schedule. He’s more a bystander in your world before something (a fight with one of his retainers, you can guess which one) happens, and you finally manage to call him a ‘friend’.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

My, you’ve got quite some courage, saying those things in front of the Prince of Briar Valley. Malleus doesn’t mind though, in fact, he welcomes it. He sees it as a sign that you’re friends. After all, none too many would do as you do and sass him, saying such crude and bold words. As long as you don’t cross a line, the fae prince will smile with a ready retort in light fun.

He thinks your antics are amusing, to say the least. But you know that thing where his superiority complex kind of comes out every once in a while? Yeah, he sees you as entertaining. Kinda condescending. The good thing about this is that he doesn’t get mad at the situations you find yourself in, plus it only takes a snap of his fingers to clean up your mess. The bad thing is that you feel like half a court jester.

Malleus understands your natural instinct to claim some place and things as territory. He’s a dragon fae, after all, and those myths and legends of their greed do hold some degree of merit. This extends to people? How interesting. Watches on with amusement as you tackle a student to the ground for calling Lilia ‘weird’.

In all his years of living, this is the first time that anything has made him feel this way. There’s a bitter taste lingering on the back of his tongue, and neon green sparks curl and flicker around his fingers. It’s out of his control, he can’t help it; you’re so unbelievably unlike yourself right now it’s driving him insane. Why would you cuddle with Silver under a tree like this? Do you feel something for his knight? Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Love story climax:

“Beloved.”

The word is strange, weighing heavily on his lips. And yet, as he watches your sleeping figure, mind almost subconsciously erasing Silver from the picture, he finds it to be a word befitting of you. Lovely. “It will be dark soon,” Malleus whispers, and the prince is brought to his knees next to you if only so that you may hear his yearning, “it is best to return indoors and sleep there.”

Your eyes flutter open; you are a vision he cannot ever hope to erase from his mind.

“Sorry, I was,” you let out a soft yawn, stretching your limbs, “I got really tired from PE. Oh, I should wake up Silver.”

Malleus can’t help the lightning that zooms across his fingertips. You didn’t seem to notice the term he’d used for you, still addled from sleep. You’re focused on gently shaking his retainer awake.

It matters not, for you will be his soon enough.

(How could you ever hope to be more territorial than a dragon, dearest?)

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Being assertive and straightforward with your words is a great trait of rulers, beloved (yeah, in a relationship means he’s planning for marriage babe, keep up). Sass and sarcasm will have to be taken down a notch though, although he loves you, the faes in Briar Valley are old and not very accommodating of your hobby of wordplay. He does enjoy it, however, so feel free to speak as you wish when the two of you are alone.

In this kind of situation, he babies you a lot more. It’s not really condescension though, he believes that you can handle yourself especially since he now sees you as an equal. But Malleus is highly, if not overly, indulgent of the one he loves. Sees no need to change it unless something big happens. Is more liable to clean up after your messes, this time out of love.

Malleus thinks you’re so adorable when you’re jealous, with the way you get so fussy and protective over him. It’s not as if you really have a reason for jealousy, the prince is less ‘lusted after by many suitors’ and more feared. At least, that’s what he believes. So you only have Lilia and Silver to comfort you after a long day of fighting with his many many admirers.

Have a sense of decorum, dear, a public place is not suitable for displays of affection. Or so he says, but really, who is Malleus to stop you if you wish to be loving and sweet? He’ll melt faster than you can even say his name. He will have to hold back on reciprocating temporarily, but rest assured he has a mental tally and will be repaying you threefold once you’re in his private quarters.

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #gender neutral reader #x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst housewardens

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sakuraryomen01 · 2 years

Text

Sex Exercise /Trainer Sukuna Ryomen x Reader/ [NNN Drabble]

warnings: based on a comic called "Sexersize" . reader is a little chubby . Sukuna takes place of your partner . sex gym . working out with Sukuna as the trainer . some slight gojo x reader . Sukuna trying to stay professional about being in Gojo's place . praise . counting . orgasm denial . multiple positions . some spanking . massaging Sukuna's back and chest (same going for reader) . foreplay . doggy, missionary, cowgirl . Sukuna also asks you out on a date >< . Gojo and Getou in the end are watching .

reader: female reader; slightly chubby

plot: smut + story . reader goes to a sex gym, having no knowledge of the actually training regimen

words: 5.860k

a/n:: first off, I'm so dang srry this it so long!! I didn't intend for it to make it passed the 2k mark but it did and I still and reeling over it @_@;;; anyways, I hope you enjoy the delayed by a whole month and a half drabble and I hope to soon post the whole NNN drabble Masterlist soon! Expect more drabbles and other drafts too ^^

. . .

Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy!

Wow, so this is the gym?

Your eyes looked up at the tall building, a sign that read the name of the gymnasium. It had a modern-esque style to it that made you think it was for VIPs only, though it looked as if normal people were also allowed entry by the looks of it.

Your friend told you about it, even though she also said it was against her contract with the place.

A gym that has confidentiality contracts? This definitely must be for high-end members then..

You had decided that you'd head on over to the gym three weeks ago, when your friend had let the place's name slip, to try it out. Even though you weren't a total foodie or ate more junk than you should, you had gained some unfavory weight and had been looking for a place to work out at for the last month.

This was just your last resort though.

You weren't big on working out around others so you had tried at-home workouts. Though, during the time, it didn't really feel right and you had gained a pound in the process. And when your friend went on and on about this amazing program she had been working at, it sparked something in you.

You wanted to check the place out and see about these contracts and training regimens that your friend loved oh so dearly.

OK, here we go...

Stepping into the gym was odd.

There was a totally different aura there than you had imagined, and there was an odd odor that lingered in the air. You heard some showers running in the back, you assumed was for the clients, and low grunts and other noises you had chose to buzz into the background.

A few more steps inside and you saw a very sexy looking receptionist with his hair pulled into a tight bun and black gauge earrings.

He was dressed like a classing trainer and the sly smile on his face told you he was probably hiding something. He was kicked back in his chair with his eyes glued to his phone, texting and chatting away with someone you probably didn't know.

Anyways, his obsidian eyes trailed up from his phone and landed on you. It sent a chill that was probably visible by the man's gleeful smirk. "Oh, hello."

"H-Hello.." You mumbled, walking over towards his desk. He quickly put his feet back on the ground and placed his phone face first on the desk beside him.

"Are you a new member? A client?" He asked, his smile never fading as he took in your chubby figure. "Or, are you looking for a membership?"

"Yes, I was hoping to apply today.." Your nerves were on end, fingers fiddling with your bag straps as the receptionist stood and made his way around the counter.

"Oh? Hoping to drop a few pounds?" He teased, holding his hand out as his smile widened. "I'm Getou Suguru.. I'm a trainer here but I'm filing in as the receptionist for a co-worker today."

You took his hand and shook it, your eyes looking up at his as a blush filled your cheeks. He's so charming..

"Anyhow," Getou said, removing his hand from yours and motioning to a set of stairs a little ways away. "I'll take you upstairs, go over the contract, and then show you around before you sign. The showcasing of the gym is so you know what you're getting into before you can make a final judgment."

"O-OK, sounds good." You nod, following the sexy trainer towards the stairs as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"How did you hear about us?"

"Oh, uh.. I saw it scrolling through gym names and took interest."

"Hmm.."

Climbing up the stairs and heading towards an office, Getou questioned you on and on about how you found their gym and filled you in on how it's not really your average work-out. You didn't understand what he meant after he had shown you the contract, and told you the rules, until you were walking around the gym.

"Oh, my!" You exclaimed, seeing the inside of one of the dark tinted rooms.

Watching a couple going at it as a trainer stood off towards the side and clapped her hands. "One! Two! Three! Give me five more in this position and we'll move onto the next!"

"This is a sex gym, if it wasn't obvious enough," Getou muttered from behind you, turning your attention towards him.

"We do a routine that's pleasurable for the client rather than make it a hard and tiresome workout they don't even enjoy. This is far better in our opinion and we don't like to have most of the public to know about it, hence the contract.."

Lifting the clipboard he had in hand, he gave that dashing smile and chuckled. "So, do you want to apply?"

. . .

"One! Two! Three! I want to see five more in this set!"

You let out a sob as you bounced in your fitness partners lap. Your clit hitting his pelvis in such a way it made you shiver, a tingle running up your spine as your trainer asked for you to switch positions. And although you were all in on this sexual program, your eyes couldn't help but wander to the trainer you were assigned.

His name was Sukuna Ryomen, and he was drop dead gorgeous.

His pink hair normally slicked back from his pretty and handsome face. Deep brown, almost red eyes that shined when he saw your form start to lack. His body was well toned and taken the utmost care for, looking amazing in his rather loose clothing that you thought was odd for a trainer.

Still though, your eyes couldn't help but glance over to him during sessions.

He was always staring down at your breasts and body, never your face. Sukuna always said there was a rule where all the trainers should not have relations with their clients past the sessions or outside the gym. Which made sense, but there was one day that made your doubt Sukuna's words.

It was about two days after you had started the program and you and Sukuna were well acquainted with.

It was a normal missionary position with a man you never met before, but he was really pretty. Remembering being at awe with this mole he had on his cheek and his hazel eyes. He looked adorable.

After Sukuna showed your partner for the day what to do with your breasts, you were both moved onto the actual sex of the session. After putting a condom on, the man slipped inside your walls and started the set.

Wet squelching noises rang throughout the room as Sukuna counted.

"One.. two.. three.. four... five... Good, good! Keep your hands on her hips, sir! Losing your pace now is also going to cost you another set in this position!"

"R-Right! Oh, God.." Your partner moaned, his eyes shutting tight as his hips picked their pace up. The steady rhythm of his hips jutting forward making your toes curl as Sukuna watched.

The embarrassed flutter of your chest only compelled you to look over like any other day, your eyes locking with Sukuna's. Once the realization of catching him looking at your face hit, your cheeks burned and you hide it from view as Sukuna seemed to be unbothered by the small moment shared.

Though, Sukuna was indeed bothered. Hot and bothered as some would put it.

He had been staring at your face for the last few minutes and being caught in the act was a whole new level of embarrassment on his end. Sure, you were the one that was blushing and probably tearing up at the idea that your trainer was looking at you during such an intimate moment, but Sukuna was dealing with a monsterous problem.

And the rest of that session was hell to witness.

Not that the sight of you bouncing on someone's cock was the hell to witness, it was the problem he had to deal with. Sukuna's eyes always traced back up to your face and watched you orgasmed and the way your body twitched and tensed once it hit you.

It was really sexy to watch, even for Sukuna.

But after that day, he became more stern with himself and set clear rules for himself. He couldn't let a boner happen during a session again.

As the weeks passed, Sukuna's mind began focusing on the sessions like always. Walking in and seeing the receptionist back at it with a coffee mug in her hand that was probably spiked with vodka and a glossy smile on her face.

"Morning, Shoko," Sukuna said, a bow to his head as he wrote his name down on the clipboard for trainers that day. "How's the throat doing?"

"Doing good, Ryomen," She said, a tease to her tone as she spun around in her swivel chair and played with a pen.

"Y'know, Gojo's been telling me about your sessions with that cute girl, Y/n. Says he's been dying to be partnered with her and kept bothering me so I booked him a session for today, if that's fine?"

"I don't care, just make sure he brings a condom," The rather grumpy man said, lifting his duffel bag once again and heading towards the man's shower room.

There was already a few clients and trainers there that said hello, but the one that was assigned with you today was just making his way in as Sukuna got undressed.

Gojo Satoru was the owner of this sex gym and a close friend of Sukuna, sadly. Gojo was a constant bother and often loved having sex with the clients booked here, if they were hot enough and in his range.

Girls with big tits and fat asses didn't really get to him these days, and it was odd to see him go for more.. voluptuous women at the gym. And you, Sukuna's number one client, was the target.

"Oh, hello, Ryomen~" Gojo cooed, his large smile giving Sukuna a headache as he walked over. "How's my best trainer, hm? Not out fucking with some rando, right?"

"That's none of your business, thank you," Sukuna huffed, grabbing a spare towel and wrapping it around his hips. "I heard you bothered Shoko into booking you with my client.. that's rather shitty of you. Y'know I don't like looking at your cum face."

"C'mon, Ryomen don't be like that!" The white haired spawn of satan whined, his already naked form making its way behind Sukuna as he headed to the showers.

"I'm handsome and pretty, so I don't know why you don't get hard to seeing me cum!"

Sukuna gave a groan as he tossed his towel onto a nearby rack and started his shower. Grabbing some shampoo, he lathered it into his hair and started to wash his body. He closed his eyes and just pictured the session that's probably going to be happening shortly.

Gojo's cock teasing your small slit, the pink tip oozing pre into the condom as it pushed inside and stretched your pussy lips. His big hands grabbing at your tits, rubbing his finger around your nipple and teasing your clit with his other hand.

The thoughts that filled Sukuna's mind made him embarrassingly horny.

Seeing you for the last few days with other men, it had become torture. Why couldn't he get a chance to feel your insides around him? You looked like a fucking snack and he wasn't able to touch you other than for preparation during a session.

His mind wandered to the feeling of your breasts in his hands. The soft mounds that hung from your chest, squeezing and finding all the kinks and knots that needed kneading out before a session. A sigh left your fitness trainer at the idea of your plump mounds against his face, his tongue darting out to lick at the coconut oil he'd lather over your breasts.

Sukuna's cock twitched, a coo coming from beside him as Gojo pulled him back to reality.

"Ooo~ Someone's got a hard-on!" He teased, a finger wagging and pointing down at Sukuna's member.

The twitching length oozed with pre, dripping onto the tiled floor and washing down the drain. Sukuna's cheeks flushed pink as he reached over and bonked his boss, who gave a cry and whined about his complexion being ruined.

Damn, I really need to get laid huh?

Sukuna calmed himself for the next few minutes, took care of business and left the locker rooms with a fresh pair of gym clothes and let his shoes hang his fingers. He had watched Gojo hurriedly get dressed and run towards the training room where you'd meet him.

Sukuna begrudgingly followed him and slipped on his shoes before spotting you a little ways down the hall from the women's locker room.

"Hello," He said, a slight nod to his head as he walked over and greeted you.

You gave that same cute smile and followed him towards the training room. Sharing some small chat, Sukuna found out a little bit more about you. Apparently you were told that you needed to lose some weight in order to test this new drug that's going to be sold sometime soon. Regardless of his status in your life, Sukuna thought it was rather odd you needed to lose weight to test a drug. Whatever the reason, it wasn't his business.

You and Sukuna both got to the fitness session room, but Gojo wasn't anywhere to be found.

The fuck? Sukuna looked around for the white haired asshole, thinking he probably left for another gym-goer in a room nearby.

He always does this type of shit.

"Uhm, wh-where's my partner?" You asked from behind your trainer, a worried smile on your face as you sat on a tatami mat that you'd gotten used to seeing each day.

Sukuna gave a shrug and leaned against a wall, his clipboard being tapped by a pen in his hand. "He must've found another interest to train with today.."

Excuse me, what?

For the next thirty or so minutes, there was a silence building in the room as you both waited for Gojo to come into the room. Though he never came, and it was up to Sukuna to figure out today's session since there was no one else entering the gym at this time.

Sukuna glanced over at you and shook his head, turning to face the other way and pulled out his phone to dial the front desk.

"Yo," A cool voice drowned from the other line. It wasn't Shoko, it was Getou. "If you want me to change Gojo's spot there's no way I can. No one's available for your little client."

"..That was what I was going to ask for, actually," Sukuna grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a huff. "He didn't show up to the session and it's almost been half an hour."

"Sorry to hear that," Getou responded, without a hint of actually caring. Getou didn't run the place but he was pretty high up there on the position level. He's a trainer like Sukuna, but more asked for one. "Just fill in for him! Sooner or later, Gojo's dick is going to point him in the right direction and get him there. I got to go, some fatty is wanting to join up."

"B-But.. policy. I can't do that." Glancing over his shoulder at you, Sukuna pressed his lips together and looked away. "There has to-"

"I won't tell if you don't."

And with that, Getou hung up.

With an embarrassed and strained sigh, Sukuna lifted his shirt over his head and joined you on the mat, a blush burning in your cheeks at the sudden change.

"M-Mr. Ryomen?" You squeaked, your hand coming up to cover your lips and chin. This was beyond embarrassing, and against policy, wasn't it? "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to fill in for your partner today," Sukuna muttered as he tossed his shirt to the side and grabbed some oil that was meant for preparing the woman during each session.

"I just called the front desk and I've been told there's no members within your training range that are available. There's also, some new members I'm assuming, that'll be walking around with Getou. So, if you'd please remove your clothing, I'd like to get started."

With your heart racing, head spinning, and body aching, you took off your clothes quickly; well, what you had left anyways. All you were really wearing was a low cut and loose T-shirt with a sports bra, and some biker shorts with (some rather lacy) pink panties. The cold air of the room that was being blown from one of the ACs in the hallways wasn't enough to make your temperature go down.

It was almost like a dream had begun for you, seeing Sukuna's body start to be revealed with every second that passed by.

Taut abs and chest, no doubt worked on every week with his own workouts. Your thoughts started to swirl around what Sukuna actually looked like while hitting the gym, obviously one that wasn't a weird sexy gym of course.

"Your clothing, miss," Sukuna said, gesturing towards your shirt and shorts with a sigh. "You still haven't undressed."

"S-Sorry, sir!" You squeaked once your thoughts had cleared. Quickly stripping your shirt and bra, before you sat back down in front of Sukuna.

"Good."

Your ears began to burn as your blush made its way towards them, practically engulfing your entire face in a hot flush. Knowing it was noticeable, you tried to pat your cheeks down so that they weren't as warm. Sukuna though, felt like he was the one that should be truly ashamed.

I mean, he did think about his boss entering you and then wishing it was himself while in a shower earlier.

"Please, lay back so we can start with the massage." Sukuna instructed, opening the small bottle of oil and dripping some into his hand.

It was a golden liquid that almost appeared with honey, the smell being of coconut the only real hint that it was oily lotion and not a small snack for toast in the morning. Sukuna lathered the concoction all over his rough fingers before looking over at you and gesturing for you to lay once again.

With a nod, you laid on the mat, Sukuna soon climbing up and resting himself in your lap. Not really pressing his weight onto you and just hovering. He knew he was rather heavy and didn't want to get written up for crushing his client. After giving his fingers and palms another once-over, he reached down to cup your breasts in his his hands.

"O-Ohh.." He mumbled to himself, eyebrows raising slightly as it to twitch in surprise. Softer than expected...

Sukuna wasn't some fridged virgin, of course. He had his way around with a rather large group of women, but he hasn't ever felt tits as soft as yours. While squeezing out the knots and kinks in them, Sukuna's shaft had begun to harden. He knew you could see it pressing against the inside of his shorts, he saw your eyes flicker down to stare for a moment before he twisted your nipple and made you shudder.

"A-Aahh.." You cooed softly, your body shaking as Sukuna's warm hands squeezed and kneaded your breasts. It felt so good, almost too good; making you wonder how many times Sukuna's done this for a woman. "Mmmff.. Haa.."

"Finished with the breast massage," Sukuna announced, letting go of your chest and reaching to dry his hands on a towel nearby. He was lucky he brought one with him, there's usually one that's set inside the room prior to a session, but today was a rather strange day.

"Now, get on your stomach like always."

You nodded with a small whimper, you were quite enjoying the attention your chest was getting. In all honesty, Sukuna's palms felt better than your previous training partners. After you had turned onto your belly, and Sukuna was repositioned above you, you felt his hands returned to your skin and began massaging your shoulders and sides.

"Aahh.." You cooed with satisfaction, rolling your shoulders slightly into the cupped palms of Sukuna's hands.

"Feeling good?" He asked, chuckling at your movements.

Nodding, Sukuna moved down towards the center of your back, angling his hands outwards towards your sides and pressing down every few moments. Starting from the underside of your shoulder blades and down to your hips, Sukuna's hands expertly worked out the extra aches or strains you felt, asking every so often if it hurt once or twice.

As a few minutes passed by, you were instructed to do the same for Sukuna's back and shoulders. Making sure to take extra care of his shoulders and hips as he asked you to do. Eventually, Sukuna and you were both seated like you were before and Sukuna was looking over his clipboard for your session that day.

"Alright, today we're going to start off with a missionary position," He nodded, tapping his finger against it for a second. "After about 20 sets, we'll move to cowgirl and then doggy."

Face flushed after hearing the last few words, you gave a nod and glanced upwards towards your fitness trainer. Unable to tell if your heart was ready for it, you rested back against a small pillow that had been placed for your head. Sukuna placed his clipboard down onto the ground next to him, looking down at you for a moment.

"Let me get your underwear off," He muttered softly, reaching towards you and hooking his fingers under the waistband of your biker shorts. "I'll begin afterwards and use my mouth on your pussy, just like every other session."

"D-Don't say it like that," You blushed, looking to the side and feeling your pussy twitch at his words. "It's embarrassing."

Sukuna chuckled at this, discarding your lower garments and placing his hands on your knees. Looking back up at you and smiling slightly, an intense flush in your cheeks and ears making you warmer as Sukuna pushed your legs in opposite directions and moved his face closer to your privates.

"Thank you for the meal, miss."

Your thighs twitched under Sukuna's fingertips, tracing small circles and rubbing until his eyes met your clit and your slick folds. The urge to tease you was beyond comprehension for him, making him chuckle to himself at his own wants.

Seriously, been way too long..

Dipping his head between your thighs, Sukuna flicked his tongue out against your clit. Watching you twitch and whine underneath him as he kissed and began to suck on the trembling button. He wasn't going to lie, you tasted amazing.

You were sweet, so sweet you almost tasted like some kind of fruity dessert. Even though he couldn't think of the treat, he was very much enjoying it. Your lower lips were warm and felt good against his tongue, pushing it into your slick hole and cooing as your insides sucked his pink muscle in.

"O-Ohh.."

Sukuna flinched, hearing your mewls and moans catching his attention and making his shaft twitch again. A moan slipped from his throat and vibrated against your shaky opening, forcing another yelp from you. Moving his tongue in and out of your opening, Sukuna continued to rub and attend to your clit. Glancing once or twice up towards you, even though he wanted to abosultely wreck you at the same time.

Your pants and moans were getting him frustratingly hard, to the point that even his shorts and underwear were becoming stained with precum.

"Y/n, I'll be undressing completely as well," Sukuna warned, swallowing a shameful gulp down his throat as he sat up to free himself. "I'll be putting on the condom once you're fully stretched for me."

"S-Sukuna.." Your voice echoed, mewling as your eyes lifted up to look into his, making him stop short. "More, please.."

No, stop.. I'll want more than just this from you.

With a shaky sigh, Sukuna nodded and got his remaining clothes off, reaching over to his clipboard and grabbing the condom. Lifting one of your legs to his waist and your other following suit one your own accord. Ripping the small package open, Sukuna quickly put on his protection and looked up towards your face.

"I'm putting it in," He said, his body temperature rising at the sight of your flushed face. "Tell me if it hurts, Y/n."

"Alright, sir," You mumbled, your eyes locked with his once again. They seem to do that a lot..

"Ah, not 'sir' right now. Sukuna."

Leaning forward, Sukuna pressed his tip against your opening. Pushing it inside and groaning quietly as your walls began to envelope his cock. He was quite big, and he could tell it was having a little effect on you.

Your face was flushed, and your back was arching. Your hands were turning into fists on your chest, pressing your tits together as one lifted to your mouth, a whimper escaping. Watching your pussy stretching around his cock, Sukuna bit his lower lip as he began to make it past the halfway point.

He let out a breath once he was all the way inside, rubbing your hips and squeezing gently as he rolled his hips and began moving his cock in and out. "Ha.. 20 sets, Y/n. Fuu.."

Sukuna held onto your waist with a firm grip, licking his lips and starting to rock his hips into you at a faster pace. Your moans started to grow louder and louder, more frequently too. And Sukuna couldn't help but let a few low grunts and sighs out, you felt amazing.

Better than what he shamefully wondered about each session; feeling your plush and soft walls squeezing around him and practically begging to milk his balls dry.

Oh fuck, did he want to cum already.

"O-One.. two.. fuckk.. th-three.." Sukuna counted, peeking down at your fluttering pussy lips. "Shit, your pussy looks so good all wet like this."

"A-Aahh.. Sukuna.. mmfff.." Mewling underneath him as he began to pick up his pace. Feeling his cock bury itself deeper inside of you and knock at your cervix.

You weren't even able to hear Sukuna's counting as your tummy began to tighten and your pussy began to squeeze down on his length. It was so thick but felt so good, oh my god did you want to stay like this forever. Sukuna's dick was almost too good to be true, and with pretty and red it looked earlier, you felt that it couldn't get better.

"I-I'm gonna.." You whimpered, Sukuna's hand tracing up your hips and sides to your chest. Fondling the bouncing bubbles on your chest with a gentle touch, rubbing at your swollen nipples and sighing in content.

He'll have to do more than just fantasize about this now..

"Hold it, or we're doing another set," Sukuna warned, biting his lip as his eyes stared at your tits in his hands. They were so soft and warm, he wanted to lick and suck at your nipples, roll his tongue over the perky little buttons. "F-Fuck.."

Moments hesitation was all you saw before Sukuna's face plunged between your boobs. His hands firm on both sides cupped them gently against his face as he continued to squeeze and fondle them. He had begun to moan quietly into them, feeling that it was almost like heaven between your tits.

Feeling their soft flesh against his hands and warmth making his cheeks hot. Sending him over the edge was your pulsating walls inside, squeezing him for his worth and rubbing that special little spot inside that made your toes curl.

"A-Alright, haa.. Time to switch positions," Sukuna said, lifting from his little haven between your breasts and sitting up, pulling himself with much annoyance from your soft opening and resting back on the mat. "Cowgirl."

You nodded and climbed into the tattooed male's lap, your fingers grazing over where the patterns decorated his arms and chest while his hands placed themselves on your hips and rocked you against his front for a few moments before pushing you back down onto his cock.

He let out a sigh, happy to feel your warm walls back around him. Even if this was against company policy, Sukuna was happy that he was able to break the rules, for even a day. Laying down on the mat, your trainer began to bounce you in his lap before thrusting his hips up and sheathing himself completely inside.

"You're gonna have to move on your own, love," Sukuna said, his touch constantly moving around until it landed firmly on your ass. With a groan, Sukuna was pleased that the next position would be doggy. He'd be able to watch it bounce against his pelvis as he fucked a load into you.

"Come on, start using your legs."

Sukuna gave your thigh a slap, making you yelp and nod quickly as a blush filled your cheeks again. He smirked underneath you as you began to move your hips like instructed, watching your face morph from one after the other. Though, as you continued to roll and rock your hips against Sukuna's, his eyes began to roll back and he rested his head onto the mat.

Was it his lack of action or how tight you were squeezing him that gave him such an amazing high? He didn't know, but he really wanted more of it.

"One.. two.. th-three.." Sukuna counted, groping at your tits whenever he could, feeling his own orgasm near the second. It felt almost like torture not getting to come already, but he knew that he'd just cause another set for you. "Almost there, Y/n.. mmnn! Good f-form.. Fuck!"

There soon was mumbling outside, though your mind was fogging and you couldn't quite make out what the people outside were saying. Sukuna though soon pressed down on your tummy, pressing his cockhead against your g-spot and making your toes curl while you let out another string of long moans and whines.

Your pussy constricted like a vice grip around Sukuna's shaft, making him bulge inside of you until he couldn't take it anymore. Grabbing your hips, making you whimper and look down at him, Sukuna thrusted himself into you quickly.

Rapid and faulty thrusts, guttural groans leaving your fitness trainer as he sat up and nuzzled his nose between your breasts once again and his tongue darted out to lick up your sweat. Finding a nipple soon and sucking harshly as his eyes looking up and locked with yours.

"You can cum, Y/n," Sukuna groaned against your perky tit, lips suckling it sweetly and making a shiver run down your spine. "Cum. Do it; cum from my fucking dick inside you."

You mewled at his wors, hugging his head to your chest as your cunt milked him for all his worth. Creaming and gushing around his shaft until his own orgasm got the best of him. The shared climax filling the room with groans and whimpers from the both of you, no doubt surprising whomever was watching and talking outside.

Even you and Sukuna were taken aback by the sudden need to cum, but the afterglow was short lived as Sukuna flipped you around onto your stomach again for the final position.

Doggy.

"Shit," Sukuna muttered, pulling the condom from off his dick and tying it closed. He realized he didn't have an extra rubber on him and rolled his eyes.

Fuck Gojo and his 'one condom' rule..

"I don't have another condom, it's usually supposed to last longer than this. I'm sorry, but I'll have to go in raw."

Though a little part of him didn't mind having to go inside without protection, and thankfully he knew you were clean. He was too, which he told you before entering, and Sukuna watched as your opening twitched with pure animalistic need for it.

He was a little proud of himself for this, but slipped back inside all the same and grabbed your hips once again. It felt almost natural for Sukuna's hand to be here now, pulling you back and making you bounce against his pelvis until he started to thrust and press into you. Watching your ass jiggle and slap against his pubic bone, his hand coming down to pat it a few times before slapping and making your cunt squeeze oh so deliciously around him once again.

God bless Gojo's whorish nature!

"Another set, Y/n," Sukuna announced after a few minutes, checking his watch and seeing that the session's time was also almost up. His cock was twitching as his balls slapped your clit, forcing choked up moans and cries from your lungs.

You were open to admitting that Sukuna was probably the best lay you've ever gotten and ever will. "I-I'm gonna cum again.. Mmnn!!"

"Goddamn, me too."

With a couple more hard thrusts and snaps of his hips, Sukuna's cock gave a final pulse before he was force to pull out and finish on your back while your own climax hit you hard and made you spasm around nothing. Once the only sounds that filled the room were panting and sharp breaths or mumbles of incoherent words, Sukuna rested his head on your nape and peppered kisses all across your neck and shoulders.

The sudden affection makes you blush and squirm underneath him, turning to look back up at him. "S-Sukuna..? Ha.."

Sukuna's eyes looked up at your tinted cheeks before a smirk made its way across his features, a coo echoing from his hoarse throat as a shudder went down your spine.

"Good session today, Y/n," He said with a nod, his shaft beginning to soften against your ass before he removed it and began to wipe off his semen from your skin. "Now, let's go get some grub together yeah? Got anything planned after now, or no?"

"Wh-What do you mean?" Your heart flipped, eyes sparkling up at him. Sukuna soon finished cleaning up your body and flipped you back onto the mat, his nose inches away from yours.

"I want to make your sessions a little more personal, you can say."

As your face flushed and your trainer laughed, sitting up and offering to help you with your clothing and pay for lunch, Gojo and Getou were outside and had witnessed the whole ordeal.

"So," Getou said, glancing over at Gojo and raising a coy brow at him, watching his boss fume. "Should I write him up?"

"No..." Gojo muttered, his arms crossed over his chest while his own eyes turned into slits, staring daggers at Sukuna through the tinted glass pane. "He's just doing his job, I don't see the point in writing him up over my ass."

"Ah, you're too soft, Gojo."

And that started another spat that Shoko talked about to this day.

a/n:: srry this was so damn long omg.. i've been working on it for a while since i wanted it to be good, but jesus this is loooonggg!!! i apologise for making it have sm @_@;;; it's practically a chapter for a story or something. anyways, i have more drafts i want to get posted soon, and also the next chapter for Valentino!

Request Warnings: You may send in asks and requests for fluffy and smut episodes for NNN! Anyone and anything! (If I do not know the character/anime I will let you know and I hope to not disappoint.)

[ As of now, NNN Requests are CLOSED ]

Have a wonderful day/night and I hope to see you next time!

2K notes · View notes

queenshelby · 1 year

Text

Chemical Reactions (P. 4)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Smut in later parts, Age-Gap, Infidelity

Words: 2,567

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

Previous Parts: 1; 2; 3

Two weeks later…

Just over two weeks had passed since you took up your scholarship at Berkley and it has been seven days since you began researching for your thesis about dark matter under the supervision of J Robert Oppenheimer who, unfortunately for you, appeared to be somewhat preoccupied with more important matters these days.

For the weeks and days, he had been visited by a man of statue who appeared to be a general of some sort and, whilst you were curious about this man’s visits to Berkley, you already some idea about what this may be about.

For months there had been some talks in the scientific community about the fission reaction of atoms which ultimately gave rise to the possible creation of a new innovative bomb. It was only a matter of time until the army caught on to this idea and you knew from your time at Harvard that several professors had already been lobbying for an atomic bomb project in this regard.

You thus assumed that, finally, the program was going to implemented, especially since now Germany had just invaded Poland. You knew that, an atomic bomb like this could end the war and your presumption was that the army was recruiting scientists, including J Robert Oppenheimer, to build this powerful nuclear weapon before the Germans did.

As such, you did not bother him much these days with minuscule issues about dark matter and Dr Oppenheimer certainly kept to himself whenever he could until Tuesday evening came around and he finally decided to check on you in the lab.

Your POV

Unlike your very own professor, in the lab, you were an ace and experimenting to prove a theory someone else or yourself has come up with excited you a lot even though the theoretical part of physics was what you desired to be involved in the most.

Unlike many other students in your department at Berkley, you had a high attention to detail when it came to experimental physics and since working with hazardous chemicals at high or low pressures required some planning and special precautions, you enjoyed to use the laboratory after everyone had left.

You often spent hours in the lab following your lectures for the day and today was not any different when, at 7 o’clock at night, you were still occupied by your attempts to create a chemical reaction similar to that of a star exploding.

Thus, when Dr Oppenheimer approached you from behind, just as you put the centrifuge you were using under negative pressure and connected it the exhaust system, you startled.

You were concentrating too hard and did not expect to see anyone at this hour in the laboratory, especially not him, your very own supervisor who had been too busy for your research in the past two weeks.

“Holy shit, you startled me” you thus spat as you dropped one of the glass vials on to the concrete floor which, luckily for you, did not contain anything but some pH solution.

“I don’t believe that I ever heard you swear like this, Miss Y/LN” Dr Oppenheimer said with some amusement in his voice before gathering a small broom and helping you to clean up the mess you made because of him, which was a gesture you appreciated.

“My apologies Dr Oppenheimer. It’s just, you don’t seem to be here often these days and I am behind with my research already, so…” you stammered as, together, you cleaned up the broken glass and, before you realised it, his hand was on top of yours, caressing it gently.

Immediately, you felt that same tingling again on your skin which, just a few weeks ago, you felt on your neck when Dr Oppenheimer adjusted the clip on the back of your necklace. It was an intense and rather pleasurable sensation which, ultimately, made you blush.

“There is no need to apologise. If anyone had to apologise, it should be me, for neglecting my engagement as your thesis supervisor. Unfortunatly, there have been some more pressing matters that required my attention” Dr Oppenheimer then said as he was letting go of your hand and raising back to his feet before helping you up as well by using his right hand.

“I figured” you barely stammered while allowing Dr Oppenheimer to pull you to your feet before, with a slight blush, walking towards the utilities room to dispose of the broken glass vail and to obtain a new one.

“You figured?” Dr Oppenheimer then asked somewhat confused by your statement as he followed you into the utilities room.

“I have seen an army general visiting your office twice last week and my presumption is that you have been recruited to build this goddamn bomb, which every physicist in this country has been talking about for months” you asserted with little to no reluctance before also voicing your concerns about it. “Do you really think that this is a good idea?” you wanted to know, seeing that such bomb could easily be a device of mass destruction and, just as you spoke the words, Robert pushed you further into the corner of the utilities room while closing the door shut behind you.

You then suddenly felt his warm but strong arm pull you against him before covering your mouth with the palm of his other hand.

“Shh” he whispered before shaking his head, indicating for you to stop talking and, by that point, your heart was pounding hard with adrenaline.

He must have thought that someone was listening in on you and presumed that the laboratory was bugged by government officials, but none of this mattered to you now as you felt heat everywhere now while his body was touching yours.

The feeling of his body against yours was so intense that you couldn’t even murmur a response into his palm and thus you simply nodded, which is when he spoke again.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, but you sure have a creative imagination” Dr Oppenheimer said, brushing off what you had alleged while still holding his arms around you and embracing the sparks of electricity emanating from each other's bodies.

“Now, about your research on dark matter, how does Sunday sound for a catch up?” he then asked as you looked up into his bright blue eyes while he looked down at you with a look of concern and a hint of desire.

“Sunday?” you murmured in response as you could not even manage to speak proper words just yet as you stood there like this for what felt like hours, but it could not even have been more than a minute or two.

“Yes. Sunday. I am away until then” Dr Oppenheimer then said as his arms finally fell from around you and he cleared his throat.

“And, I am leaving for a period of two weeks after that for which Dr O’Connell will be taking over as your supervisor. He will be a good mentor for you but I want to see where you are at with your research before he gets involved” Dr Oppenheimer then announced which broke your trance and you quickly stepped back, almost tripping over your own feet.

“Dr O’Connell?” you asked with surprise while you looked down at your feet, trying to avoid those magnetic eyes of J Robert Oppenheimer.

“Yes. I am afraid so” he confirmed, which is when you finally managed to look at his face again. His eyes were clouded with indescribable emotions and, clearly, so were yours.

“I understand” you eventually confirmed nervously. “Sunday it is but, since the university facilities will be closed, we will need to meet somewhere else” you managed to point out while your eyes began to water slightly from the overwhelmingness of everything that just happened, making you look like a fool.

Dr Oppenheimer, of course, noticed and his face changed from indiscernible to concern once more.

“You will do just fine Miss Y/LN. I have no doubt about it” he reassured you before suggesting the library as a meeting place which meant that, unbeknownst to him, you would have had to copy your calculations from your big chalkboard in your room to several pieces of paper.

“How about the Chevalier residence instead?” you thus suggested, causing Robert to furrow his eyebrows.

“I do not consider this to be a good idea Miss Y/LN. It would be highly inappropriate” Dr Oppenheimer pointed out, but you interrupted him.

“Haakon and Barbara are in San Jose for the weekend. You are friend of them both, so I have no doubt that they wouldn’t mind you visiting me in their absence. That is, of course, if your wife allows it” you explained with a little smirk on your face and your sudden sense of confidence surprised Dr Oppenheimer.

“My wife too, is away, staying with her mother for the time being” he explained before agreeing to your suggestion, but you would not just leave it that.

“Did you and your wife have a fight?” you asked out of curiosity, which is when Dr Oppenheimer shook his head and chuckled.

“We always fight, but that is not the reason. She is staying with her mother because I am busy and am travelling a lot these days and she needs help with our son, Peter” he then explained before stepping away from you again, increasing the gap between you.

“Now, I am afraid, I must go. I have another pressing engagement this evening” he told you and you had a sneaky suspicion that your professor was making the most of the time his wife was away.

“No doubt you do, professor. I shall see you on Sunday” you said with a slight chuckle, seeing that you already knew about his numerous affairs, including his on and off relations with Jean Tatlock.

Robert’s POV

It was later that same day, at around 8 o’clock that Robert went to a place that he had not visited in about three weeks, namely the apartment of Jean Tatlock’s in downtown San Francisco.

Ever since meeting you, he avoided her and whilst he did so subconsciously, he gave it some thought after Jean had addressed the fact that he had been ignoring her calls.

After almost three weeks, she now expressed a great desire to see him again and, considering her poor mental state, Robert reluctantly agreed.

As always, Robert brought her flowers which she disposed of rather quickly and just as she asked him inside, Robert began to explain to her that he was not there to see her for the usual reasons.

This was meant to be his final visit and he knew that, by ending their affair, he would likely break her heart. She would be devastated and that was something that concerned him a lot.

“I am not here for that Jean” Robert thus said just as Jean attempted to kiss him in a haste while pulling against his tie and suit jacket.

“And yet, you finally answered my call. Why?” she asked almost angrily, rolling her eyes before pushing Robert aside and pouring herself a drink. Clearly, she was confused and Robert had to provide an explanation to her.

“Because we need to talk Jean. This has been going on for far too long” he told her while adjusting his tie and jacket again. His facial expression was more serious than usual and that, in itself, concerned Jean.

“Oh my god Robert, after all those years you want to end it?” she asked as tears shot into the corners of her eyes. She shook her head in disbelieve and then smashed the glass she was holding onto the hard wooden floor, spilling her drink along with it.

“Jean, please…” Robert said calmly, trying to console her by reaching for her hands, but Jean pulled away.

“There is someone else, isn’t there?” she asked angrily, causing Robert to sigh deeply.

“I am a married man Jean, so yes, there is someone else, my wife” Robert tried to explain but Jean shook her head angrily and pointed her finger at him.

“No Robert! I am not talking about your wife and neither are you” she said sternly as slowly, but surely, her emotions got the better of her. She began to yell at Robert and, seeing that Jean was so upset, he did not know what else to say to her. He was lost for words.

“Who is she?” she then wanted to know and this is when she received yet another response from her lover that both, confused her and made her fume with rage.

“She is a woman who will help me change the world” Robert acknowledged somewhat reluctantly, causing the tears in her eyes to increase rapidly.

“You know that I love you, Robert. In fact, I never stopped loving you even after you married Katherine" she pleaded while trying to comprehend the situation. For years, Robert had maintained his affair to Jean even after he married Kitty and now this was going to be over because of someone else?

"And I have loved you too, but you have destroyed that love for me Jean. You pushed me away repeatedly and now I am finally it. I moved on” Robert said a little too honestly and with a lack of emotion in his voice, causing Jean’s reaction to worsen.

"I have said I was sorry, Robert!” Jean screamed almost hysterically while stepping one step towards Robert and pushing her hands against his chest, forcing him against the wall.

“So am I Jean. I truly am” he told her while cupping her face. Her tears were clouding her eyes and he sealed her faith with one final kiss before leaving her apartment for the last time, until she would call him again several months later.

Note: Unlike in real life, Jean will not kill herself in this fic. In fact, she will reappear in a few later parts, causing some havoc for the reader.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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iheartnerdz · 4 months

Text

💬 About Last Night (Miguel O’Hara x f!reader)

Summary: You and Miguel seemed to had a fun night last night, you storm out, and avoid him at all costs. However, you can’t find your phone, but you can’t face him yet; so you sneak back to his dorm hoping he’s not there to get your phone back

Content warning: 18+ and mentions of sex

A/N: First fanfic! I hope you guys enjoy ♡

Next chapter

— Chapter 1

Sunlight filtered through unfamiliar curtains, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. You stirred, blinking against the light, a dull ache in your head reminding you of last night's festivities. Groaning, you rolled over, expecting to feel the familiar embrace of your dorm bed, only to find yourself in a much less familiar bed.

Panic began to set in as you took in your surroundings: a neat, minimalistic room with posters of various scientific formulas and bands pinned to the walls, and faint smell of expensive cologne. This was definitely not your dorm room. You tried to recall how you got here, but the details of last night were fuzzy.

A deep voice broke the silence, causing you to jump. "Morning, sunshine." You turned to see Miguel O'Hara, one of the star students in the biochemistry program, leaning casually against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. "You were great last night."

Your eyes widened in horror as his words sank in. Great last night? What did that mean? Before you could process further, a scream erupted from your throat. The scream seemed to echo in the room, and you scrambled out of bed, your limbs tangling in the sheets.

Grabbing your shoes from the floor, you bolted past him, muttering incoherent words. You raced down the hall of the dorm building, your heart pounding in your chest, cheeks burning with embarrassment. The few students who were awake at this hour gave you curious glances as you darted past, but you paid them no mind, focusing solely on getting back to the safety of your own room.

Slamming the door behind you, you leaned against it, trying to catch your breath. Your roommate, Lily, looked up from her laptop, her eyebrows raising in surprise. "Where have you been? And why do you look like you just ran a marathon?"

"Do you remember anything from last night?" you asked, your voice shaky.

Lily frowned, closing her laptop. "Not really. We went to that party at Sigma Chi, and you were with me until you went to get another drink. After that, you kind of disappeared. Why? What happened?"

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain the bizarre situation. "I woke up in Miguel’s bed."

Lily's eyes widened. "Miguel? As in Miguel O'Hara, the guy who fucks anyone in sight? What happened?"

"I don't know!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in exasperation. "I have no idea how I got there or what happened. He said something about me being great last night, but I don't remember anything!"

Lily's expression turned serious. "Okay, let's think this through. Did he seem...I don't know, weird or anything?"

You shook your head, trying to recall the brief encounter. "He seemed amused, like he found the whole thing funny."

Lily stood up, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We need to get to the bottom of this. Maybe he can explain what happened. You should talk to him."

The thought of facing Miguel again made your stomach churn. “Absolutely not.” You aspirated as you headed to the bathroom.

“Y/N!” Lily exclaimed.

“No! Screw him!” You slammed the bathroom door.

You undressed and looked in the mirror. Seriously? How did I manage to mess up this bad? You step into the shower and turned on the water.

The hot water did little to wash away the anxiety swirling in your mind, but it did help you feel slightly more human. Once you were dressed in fresh clothes, you felt marginally better, but the prospect of running into Miguel still loomed over you.

Chemistry class that you have with Miguel has ended, and you successfully avoided him like the plague. However, your relief was short-lived. As you reached for your phone to check the time, your stomach dropped. Your phone wasn’t in your backpack. In your hurry to escape Miguel’s dorm this morning, you must have left it there. The thought of going back filled you with dread, but you couldn’t just leave it.

That evening, you decided to sneak into Miguel’s dorm while he was likely to be out. You waited until it was late enough that most people would be at the dining hall or hanging out with friends. With a deep breath, you made your way to Miguel’s dorm, praying he wasn’t there.

The door was unlocked, much to your relief, but not surprised either. Easy access for girls, I guess. You slipped inside, closing it quietly behind you. The room looked the same as you remembered, and you quickly began searching for your phone. It wasn’t on the desk or the bedside table. You checked under the pillows and around the bed, but it was nowhere to be found.

Just as you were about to give up, you heard the doorknob jiggle. Panic surged through you, and you dived under the bed, holding your breath. The door opened, and you saw Miguel’s shoes step into the room, followed by another pair of shoes—strappy heels. Your heart sank.

“Nice room,” the girl said, her voice light and flirtatious.

“Thanks,” Miguel replied. “Make yourself comfortable.”

You could see their feet moving around, and then suddenly, the bed above you dipped as the girl slammed him down.

“Easy there,” Miguel chuckled.

But the movement had startled you, and you let out an involuntary yelp. The room fell silent.

“What was that?” the girl asked, her voice tense.

Miguel’s voice was cautious. “Sounded like something from under my bed.”

You froze as you saw Miguel’s shoes approach the side of the bed. He crouched down, peering under it, and his eyes met yours. You gave him a cheeky smile, despite your racing heart.

“Oh hey there, lovely weather we’re having here, huh?”

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel 2099 #miguel x y/n #miguel ohara fanfiction #spiderman #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #first fanfic #fanfic

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johnwickb1tsch · 2 months

Text

Sympathy For The Devil ~ Donaka Mark x fem!Reader

please allow me to introduce myself, i am a man of wealth & taste... -the Rolling Stones

Summary/ Warnings. Um… Donaka Mark is a scary rich asshole–with a soft spot for you. If you’re squeamish [or righteous] you’re not gonna want to read this. Voyeurism. Predatory behavior, manipulation. Power IMBALANCE. Eventual NSFW. Eventual line between dubcon and noncon is gonna be microscopic, y’all, this man plays gAmes… Reader is shy, but tough, in her way. Also, when I say Reader is small, I’m more implying just compared to Donaka. I kind of assume most of us would be, no matter your body type. 🥵

Big Fat Author’s note: This is a Donaka Mark x fem!Housekeeper!Reader fic based on the brilliant @discoscoob ‘s bot, which is SO fun to play with and I really recommend it. I fell into a rabbit hole for daaaaays. I’m in CAI Anonymous now. Seriously it was a problem.

I guess you could call this a little experimental hybrid fic written with AI. I was curious. And after working on this for weeks I don’t think the writer’s union really needs to worry about AI coming for their jobs. The bot’s writing is shamelessly fun but clunky, you delete more than you keep, it’s a lot of work to edit, and you really have to lead it by the hand for anything to actually HAPPEN.

THAT SAID it is sO entertaining, and once in a while he’d do something i wouldn’t have ever thought of, I felt like the lab rat hitting the button for the treat over and over again, LOL. Disco really knew what she was doing when she programmed the personality of the bot! It was also helpful in keeping a character on track. I think AI could be a useful tool generating ideas, breaking writers block, or something to bounce ideas off of, but not for the grunt work of actually writing a story that has any soul in it. Isn’t that a relief? I made an outline and basically ran the scenes through like a simulator to see what the bot came up with. And when I didn’t like it I made it do it again, LOL, the Donaka bot probably thinks i’m a bossy c*nt.🤣

So….I hope you enjoy, and a HUGE THANKS to Disco for giving me permission to even do this, you’re the sweetest my dear, and the Queen of the Bot Creators in my book!!

And and…it’s been a LONG ass time since I’ve been to Hong Kong. I did some research to refresh my memory but please bear with me. All mistakes are my own. Why do we say that? Who the fuck else’s would they be? 🤣 Obv. this is set c 2013, when Man of Tai Chi came out, before the crackdown in 2020. Oh, and, I have no real idea about work visas, i made that shit up... just roll with it. 🙃😘

One. 一

The first time you meet your new employer, Donaka Mark, you aren’t really even paying attention.

It’s because you have on headphones, and you’re intently focused on sweeping the floor while listening to your upbeat girl power rock mix–so you don’t hear him yelling at someone over the phone threateningly, and you don’t notice when his gaze locks on to you like a tiger who has just spied a tasty little deer.

You are oblivious, as he comes up behind you, appraising your figure with narrowed eyes. You seem small, next to him, but most women do. He decides he approves of his assistant’s choice in hiring you. You’re a sight he won’t tire of for a long time.

Donaka leans on the door frame, his dark eyes fixated on you, taking in your every minute detail, the way the muscles in your arms move, the shape of your face, the curve of your hips and your little feet. His expression is stoic but behind it are a million thoughts running through his mind, he can’t take his eyes off you and after a few moments he finally speaks, his dark tone cutting through the music. “You’re new.”

Your music wasn't so loud that you were unaware of outside sounds. Standing up straight, you sweep off your headphones to face the commanding voice. "Yes, sir?"

Donaka notices he towers over you, and he likes that. His dark eyes shamelessly take in your innocent eyes, your lips, your curves. His gaze lingers almost long enough to make it uncomfortable, but not quite.

“Have you been informed of all of your duties?” Donaka asks, his tone and gaze both demanding and intense, making you feel small.

"Yes, Mr. Mark."

Donaka smiles at his name on your lips, the way you say it, the way you look up at him with your wide eyes. He likes it more than he’d like to admit, but he knows how to mask his emotions well. Even though his expression is still stony, there’s a hint of excitement in his breast as he leans off the door frame and takes a few steps closer, but still maintains a respectable distance. “And you can handle them?”

"Yes, Sir."

Donaka nods, his dark eyes slowly and shamelessly trailing over your figure again. “Good.” Donaka murmurs, his dark and intense tone making his next sentence more of a demand. “I need to be able to depend on you. I like things just so.”

You tilt your head, feeling like you’re missing some subtext, or that you’re the butt of an unspoken joke. "Your house will be clean, Sir.” Between you and the two other girls on the household staff, surely you could manage.

Donaka smirks at your naïve reply, his dark eyes still fixated on your face as he takes another step closer to you, almost like a predator stalking its prey. “I trust that it will…” Donaka purrs, his voice low and smooth, his dark stare intense and demanding. “Let me show you the rest of the house…”

You’d already received a walk-through with his assistant, but you are more than intrigued to receive a personal tour from the big man himself. There is something captivating about him. It's not just his good looks. His presence commands your attention.

Donaka can feel you watching him as you follow him down the hallway, the way you’re intrigued by him, the way you’re staring. It fills him with satisfaction, like you’re a new prize he’s added to the shelf of his collection.

He’s aware of the effect he has on people. Men fear him, women want him. Yet you don’t look at him with the same blatant hunger he’s used to from the opposite sex. You’re curious, but not ready to fall down on your knees yet.

He would see how long it takes to change that. He glances over his shoulder at you as he leads you through the house, his dark eyes looking you up and down again. You follow close, taking two steps for every one of his, his legs are so long.

He can’t help but feel somewhat amused, enjoying the way you have to scurry to keep up with him. He can’t help but think how easy it would be, to pick you up, and to pin you down…

Donaka Mark’s home is an achievement of luxury architecture, dark, modern, yet filled with Chinese elements of style. Ceiling-high tinted windows afford a breathtaking view of the bay. His living room is like a museum filled with priceless artifacts. Antique carved ivory elephant tusks, beautiful Ming vases and exquisite stone Elder statues, silk scrolls and bladed weapons. All of it you will be expected to keep tidy with a painstaking hand. You think it’s possible your practically useless degree in art history and former employment in a gallery may have given you an edge in his assistant’s selection of hiring you.

He seems to genuinely enjoy your interest in these things, telling you about them at length. There is a large Qing dynasty vase in cobalt blue and gold enamel designs of clouds, cranes, and bats you cannot tear your eyes from. It looks…familiar, and in person, utterly enchanting.

“You like that one?”

“I like bats,” you admit, shoving your hands in your apron pockets so that you do not forget yourself and touch it with your bare fingers. You will be wearing gloves, when you detail these items.

He lifts an eyebrow at that, seemingly amused. “Oh?”

“They’re cute. And…they’re good luck.” In Chinese culture, at least.

“Most women I’ve met find them sinister.”

“I think…they’re just misunderstood.” You can’t help looking up at this intimidating man through your eyelashes at that. You swear you didn’t mean to start double talking with your new boss–it just falls out of your stupid mouth, and you feel his attention upon you sharpen.

He’s used to women looking at him in a certain way, women staring up at him with lustful hunger. The way you look at him feels different –like you truly see him–he’s not sure what to make of it yet, and that is certainly new for Donaka Mark. “Misunderstood?” he repeats, his dark gaze intense, looking down at you from his lofty elevation.

"Sure. They have a reputation for being scary, but really they eat mosquitoes and pollinate plants. Without them whole ecosystems would collapse."

Donaka hums at your words, finding it surprisingly endearing. He’s usually used to women fawning over him or at least trying to seduce him, but you’re here lecturing him about bats. His smirk remains on his face as he watches you fidget nervously, his dark eyes fixed on you. You look back to the vase, and then it dawns on you. “Oh my god…is this the piece that sold at Christies last year for like…1.5 million dollars?” You take another cautious step backwards, as though you might shatter it if you breathe wrong. You saw it in an article–the gold enamel had been so distinctive against the blue. Sacrifice blue, the same as in the Temple of Heaven in Beijing.

Only after the question falls from your mouth do you realize how gauche it is to ask, your hands flying to your lips. “Forgive me, it’s none of my business.”

Mark, however, just continues to look at you interestedly. “You follow auction results?”

“I follow…art news,” you confess.

He nods, his intense gaze starting to become uncomfortable. “Actually, it was 1.8 million. You think I overpaid?”

You feel like this is a test–or a trap. It was a nice job, for the day it lasted…

“Well…it doesn’t seem you bankrupted yourself?”

He snorts in answer, shaking his head.

“Does it make you happy?”

He lifts an eyebrow at that, as though the thought hadn't even occurred to him. “It made me happy to outbid a Sheikh’s son and a Mainlander plastics tycoon for it,” he admits.

Ah, so he was invested in the thrill of acquisition–not appreciation for the object itself. You shouldn’t be surprised.

“I see.”

“I’ve disappointed you.” It’s not phrased as a question.

You shake your head, though maybe it does a little. Looking around his home, you’d thought Mark had exquisite taste–but he probably has an art buyer like every other obscenely rich businessman needing to acquire items for the sake of cachet.

“Does it make you happy?” he asks, and there is an unexpected hint of playfulness in the question–delivered on a knife’s edge.

“Yes,” you admit. Frankly you’re stunned you get to see it like this, without a glass barrier or sensors or alarms. It’s usually the only way people like you get to enjoy art like this.

He smirks at you. “Then it was worth every penny.” He’s being sarcastic, of course, but there is a glitter of something in his dark eyes. It’s there and gone, like ripples in a pool–it makes your heart skip in your chest.

“Let me show you the rest of the house,” he invites, before placing a hand on your lower back, his fingers large and strong against your soft skin as he gently guides you away from the vase and to the next room.

His light touch makes you aware of every nerve in your body. It's not quite improper enough to complain about--you’re sure he’s well aware of that.

And…there's the fact, deep down, that you like it.

The span of his big hand on your spine makes you feel impossibly small, and protected, and that is insane, of course, because you are just the maid.

He shows you the library, filled with built-in bookcases that make you drool, his office with his huge carved ebony desk that makes you think impure thoughts…and then, his bedroom.

He isn’t oblivious to the way your reaction changes as you enter the room where he sleeps.

He can see the way your eyes roam and your expression changes, the way you look at the massive bed against the far wall, the way your eyes widen when you look at the expensive rosewood furniture and the stunning view out the wall of windows that can be brightened or obscured with a dimmer switch. He watches you intently as he takes in your every reaction.

He's all business on the surface, specifying clean sheets every other day, laundry, and daily detailing of the bathroom. But it's hard not to keep looking over at the bed, even out the corner of your eye.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, but he doesn’t push it, staying just this side of the line. You don't linger, and he shows you a more private lounging area filled with a long leather couch, additional chairs, and monitors, all black at the moment. There's something almost sinister about all the screens, and you wonder what all he's watching.

“You must really like movies?” you ask hopefully, and he senses the wariness in you. Your intuitiveness gives him a small thrill–he likes it, that you’re smart enough to be afraid.

“I like to watch all kinds of things,” he tells you, almost like a dare for you to guess what that means. “But mostly…I use these for business. I run a security company, I assume you’re aware?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Donaka decides he loves hearing the submission in your tone when you call him Sir. It’s almost like a promise to keep him happy, to do exactly as he says.

He asks you to keep all the screens clean, and to dust the cords and routers and be careful not to unplug anything.

Then your attention turns to a meditation area, a massive sand sculpture on the wall and the floor, flanked by natural stacked stone. “Wow, been a while since someone vacuumed here,” you crack, earning a reluctant huff of laughter from the man behind you.

“Maybe…leave that alone, for now,” he requests, then his hand is on your back again, guiding you out.

Though it’s not going to be your area of responsibility, he shows you the garden next. It's a beautiful, manicured space. Two Rottweilers patrol the grounds. They look fierce, but one immediately comes up, sniffing you and leaning on your leg for a pet.

Donaka blinks as his reputably ferocious and staggeringly expensive pure-bred guard animals roll over at your feet for a belly rub. Delighted, you pet them both, speaking to them sweetly. They grin up at you, their dagger-like canines glinting in the sun.

He is never one to be moved by anything sentimental, but something about the sight of you like this inspires a warm twinge in his chest–heartburn, he reasons.

“Let me guess,” he says acerbically. “They’re just misunderstood?”

You press your lips, trying to suppress a smile, and failing. "Animals tend to like me?"

He can honestly admit, as he watches you crouch down to administer a belly rub, that he’s never been jealous of a dog before.

Sensing that maybe you’re not doing the dogs or yourself any favors with this severe man, you try to shoo them off. "Ok, babies. Go back to being fierce again. Shoo."

Donaka snorts with amusement as he watches you attempt to gently shoo these dogs that are nearly as big as you are. Suddenly he whistles sharply, administering a sharp command in Cantonese. That is when the dogs jerk to attention, and trot off to patrol the grounds again. He turns his attention back to you, taking in your slight expression of surprise, clearly caught off guard. "That was impressive,” you admit. “What did you say?”

“I told them to get back to work,” says Donaka with a smirk.

“Ah. I guess I better learn that one.”

“Will I be needing to reprimand you too, Miss y/n?”

You’re not sure why his dark stare calls up a boiling heat inside you at that moment. You press your thighs beneath your dress, under the guise of standing up straight. You’re afraid…he knows all too well.

“I…certainly hope not.” You’re pretty sure that you’d pee yourself if this intimidating man raised his voice to you.

“Have you learned much Chinese since you’ve been here?” he asks conversationally, just as you assumed it was time for you to get back to work.

“I can count to ten, and say thank you,” you admit, a little embarrassed. Obviously, you intend to learn more. “The essentials for international travel.” You’d originally come to Hong Kong to teach English, but when you saw the pay attached to this job listing you couldn’t resist the opportunity. Teaching was ok, but you hadn’t anticipated how expensive this city would be. You’d only made enough to cover your basic expenses month to month, with no room to save or do any fun activities or side trips to the mainland. This position paid three times as much–and you were beginning to understand why.

“Hmm. Have you traveled much?” He seems skeptical, and you don’t really blame him.

“I’ve…been all over the world,” you admit, albeit it was on a shoestring. “I wanted to be a travel writer.”

“Wanted to be?” He is a man who picks up on subtlety immediately.

It’s a dream you’ve all but given up on, after publishing a few articles, but all in all it was more slog than triumph. You’re not cut out for the grind of periodical work, the stress and the deadlines. It sucks all the joy out of writing for you. You shrug with a little sigh.

“I hope you will remember the NDA you signed to work here?” he asks, his dark eyes roaming your face, taking in your every micro-expression. You would really hate trying to lie to this man. Good thing you’re not a corporate spy. He’d probably…string you up, and do something unmentionable to you.

Why the thought titillates you more than scares you, you have no idea.

“Of course, Sir.” He seems satisfied with this. So why do you have to add, “I won’t tell anyone your guard dogs are suckers for a belly scratch.”

He frowns down at you, stepping in close so that you have to crane your neck to look up at him. It’s intimidating as hell, and you know he knows it too. You admit that you are shaking in your shoes under that look, until a smirk breaks his intense expression, and the relief you feel is palpable.

“I would appreciate that, Miss y/n.”

Donaka savors the satisfaction he feels in flustering you, enjoying the way you swallow, watching the muscles in your throat. He imagines what his hand would look like there, on your delicate skin, your pulse fluttering against his strong fingers. He would literally hold your life in his hands��and the moment you surrendered to him, he would so enjoy rewarding you for it…

He finds himself caught up in this little daydream, while you stand before him, practically hypnotized like a mouse before a hungry snake. “Y/n?”

“Sir?” you answer quietly, and he revels in your deference. This was going to be fun.

He speaks Cantonese again, softly this time, the language beautiful and whispery on his tongue. You find yourself staring at his lush, pink, lips, and it takes you several moments to realize he’d said the same thing he’d told the dogs: get back to work.

Flooded with embarrassment, your face on fire, you stutter, “Yes, Sir.”

With a dark chuckle and his hands in the pockets of his designer suit, he watches as you practically flee back to the house.

The Smithsonian article about this vase...

Aesthetic post about Donaka's house...

Part 2 -->

#donaka mark #donaka mark x reader #donaka mark x you #donaka mark x y/n #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #julias deranged donaka x housekeeper fic

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agustdef · 1 year

Text

Will You

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Black!Reader

Genre: Fluff; Idol AU/Idolverse

Word Count: 3k

Warning: Light Language

Rating: PG-13

Beta Reader: @hobeemin

A/N: This was due to idk and I have so many ideas that I simply didn’t write a ff that ended up posted for much too long. So here’s to hoping to finishing these ideas.

“And without further ado, I am more than happy to introduce you to our keynote speaker Ms. YN LN.”

Clapping fills the room, and Jungkook joins in a beat late. His mind wandered as he’d listened to the other speakers for almost an hour. They’d all had interesting things to say, but something about being in a room with all these people with a person at a podium felt too much like school. Plus, a few of them seemed just to enjoy hearing themselves talk.

He refused to admit that to YN, though.

His beautiful girlfriend tried to give him an out when he said he’d come with her for this event. Told him how boring it would be and that she didn’t mind if he just did something else until she was done. Of course, he pushed for it, and she relented with one final warning about how he’d be bored as hell. To a degree, he’d known that going into it, but he wanted to support her. And to see her in her element.

Though they both work in the same industry, they’re on different ends of it. Jungkook as an artist and occasional writer, while YN worked legal. Their first encounter was when an American artist friend of his invited her out to dinner as a thank you for helping him with a contract issue with his label. They’d made him promises and tried to backtrack when it was time for the new contract. YN worked at a firm that specialized in that kind of thing, though they usually worked with smaller artists. His friend had been her big break, bringing in business and a promotion.

Of course, Jungkook was too much of a punk to ask her for her number at that meeting. He was too nervous about if it was forward, and he didn’t want to mess with the mostly professional nature of the event. But he got her card, and that was enough.

Until they kept bumping into each other at the more business-like industry events. Well, half bumping into each other and the other half him hunting down her name on programs and making sure to show up to those panels or events. It made him feel like a little bit of a stalker, but to combat that, he finally got his shit together and asked her out after running into her at a restaurant.

Grateful to not be turned down was an understatement.

As they got to know each other, he felt himself fall hard and fast. She was perfect. Not in how one thinks when they hear the word, but in how that worked for him. That made their relationship work through the lows as well as the highs.

I love you slipped out of his mouth five months in.

If that didn’t explain why he put himself through this boredom, nothing, else would at least not in a way that made sense. His members still sometimes looked at him crazy with how he felt about her and how he could only sometimes find the words to explain it in a coherent way.

“I promise to try not making this too boring for y’all. I can not, however promise it won’t be boring at all. My line of work has to have some pitfalls besides all that paperwork,” YN joked.

The entire room laughs. It’s not the funniest thing in the world, but the way she delivers it and the energy she exudes as a person gets to people. It’s why Jungkook lets out a laugh that’s a little too loud and draws the attention of those around him. And of YN, though she doesn’t look his way to make that clear. He just nose from the way she pauses for a second longer, and her smile widens.

Embarrassed isn’t even the right word for him at the moment. Part of him wants to flee the room, but he stays in his seat. It helps that anyone who side eyes him switches to being shocked to see him there. Being identified as a member of BTS is what he can handle; being embarrassed is not, despite what his variety show content and the lives over the years might suggest.

To let the feeling pass, he focused on the stage. Well, on YN.

“For those who don’t know me, I’m YN LN, and I've been working at Heights Law for the last six or seven years,. We specialize in fair contracts for indie artists. From things with their label to tours, merchandise, the people they hire, and even contracts between members if it’s a group. About thirty-five percent of those we work with don’t even have a label they’re signed to and don’t want to. And then about twenty percent of our clients are more mainstream artists looking for the same services.

We don’t work with any sort of label because we feel it ties us to worrying too much about keeping on their good side when trying to figure things out. And while we are not on a mission to do anything that would be, for the lack of a better word, line crossing with the people we are trying to get to sign the contracts, our clients come first. That’s made us stand out in a way y’all may have heard about a time or two. I’d like to personally apologize for making you sit through articles about a certain label trying to screw over up and coming artist Minx and all the weird things that were honestly not so weird about her tour rider.”

Again laughter, but with some whispers and grumbles thrown in. That entire situation had everyone in the industry confused as hell, and for the last few months, they thought Minx was trying to be greedy until everything was settled and it was shown that all her asks weren’t as crazy as they’d seemed. Even Jungkook found himself looking at YN like she’d lost it with every new bit of information that was released. He’d asked her about it, but she gave him a look, and he had to wait out the outcome like everyone else.

“And for this, I think Minx is the perfect situation to discuss. I mean, when else will you see how things can go when a former lawyer turned pop star wants to sign with the label she used to work for but knows all their tricks.”

That was all it took to have people enthralled. After everything settled, everyone still had a million questions about it, but they were still waiting for someone at the firm to answer them. Jungkook had the fortune of dating YN around the time, so he got her to tell him, and Minx had invited them somewhere and told him more. So, he knew everything.

Which meant he could just stare at her. He didn’t think of himself as the type to be much of a creepy person, even if him trying to run into her wasn’t a clear indication of that. That and that looking at her was one of his favorite pastimes.

YNs cute.

He would and did use a million words to describe her. But the first thought in his brain when he saw her was how cute she was, and he felt his heart triple in size from that alone. Her genuine smile and soft features do a lot to counteract the fact that she’s only an inch shorter than me, which throws people off when they meet her and had only seen her face before.

Those legs of hers, when she wears heels, drive Jungkook absolutely feral. And he has to fight off the thought of them as his mind spirals. He focused instead on the light tint of pink pushing through the brown skin because of all the bright lighting, the way there’s a stray piece of hair not as curly as the rest that she swears isn’t from heat damage, and she can fix, the soft red of her lips, and the way every part of her body seems light and open as she talks about a subject she loves. A look he’s familiar with and is how he knows she looks at him.

More than anything, Jungkook is sure that YN loves him as much as he loves her, and like a revelation, he knows how much that is. How much space that love takes up in him, to the point that sometimes it feels like it’s overflowing. Right now, it feels like it’s overflowing.

“Questions?”

That one word pulls him out of his head, but he looks at YN with a clarity he didn’t have a few minutes ago, let alone a few hours ago.

Someone clears their throat, but his eyes don’t leave her.

“Why not just go with what the label wanted? I mean, sure, Minx had the background, but that shouldn’t make her any different than any other artist. Should she not be thankful to get into the place twice on different sides of it?”

There was agreement in the crowd, but it died out quickly with everyone else's quietness drop quiet.

Despite the shift in vibes, there’s a smile on YN’s face.

“Why do you think that? Is it because others don’t have that same knowledge? I can see how that could be seen as unfair because it is. But because she has the background,, she used it to help herself best,, which made it so we could best help her and those in the future. However, I can assure you that they changed their contract language a lot since then. Height and many other firms who deal with them and this kind of thing all saw a shift for the better and for the worst with them. So, while you may wonder why Minx didn’t simply take what she should be lucky to have gotten from them, I hope you’re settled by the fact that unless the rare thing happens. Someone else does the same thing, no one else will be able to give the insight on how to best make the next contract work for the client in the way she did.”

The response is assertive, sarcastic, and professionally annoyed. It doesn’t leave room for anyone to say anything that doesn’t make them look any more like an ass. But the man at the podium opens his mouth a few times to try and figure out what to say. In the end, he walks away from the mic with his head down. Jungkook is sure that if it weren’t for pride, he would walk out of the room altogether.

“Any more questions,” YN said after a moment.

There’s one that Jungkook has. One he needs answered, but he finds himself glued to his seat.

Several people go up and ask their questions, all of them better than the first one, though some of them toe the line. There are also a few that Jungkook would deem flirting, but they don’t bother him. Not with the thoughts swarming around in his head.

Before he knows it, she answers the last question, and everyone is dismissed. A few linger to talk, but with this day being so packed, everyone wants to rush off to the next talk or event happening.

He sits in the seat for about fifteen minutes before she walks up to him, and when she puts her hand on his shoulder, he looks up at her startled, even though he watched her approach him.

“Ready to go?”

Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes as he stares at her. He feels all over the place, but none of it’s uncertainty or doubt.

“I have a question,” he managed.

“Huh?”

“I have a question. I didn’t get the chance to ask it in there. I was… I’m nervous to ask it, and I couldn’t do it in there.”

YN frowned. “You can always ask me anything, my love. No need to be nervous about it. Plus, I’m sure yours is better than some of the bullshit I get asked in general when it comes to work.”

For a moment, Jungkook says nothing. All he can do is stare at her and try to keep his breathing normal. The latter is the hardest part, but YN takes his hand in hers and squeezes it tight.

Taking a breath, he gets to his feet, takes both of her hands in his, and stares into her eyes. He’s more than sure about what he has to say.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

Question nor answer was said with any hesitation. However, Jungkook could tell that YN was still trying to process what was happening. He was too, but that wasn’t important now.

After a second, Jungkook released one of her hands, and with the other firm in his grasp, he led her out of the room. He hears her ask a question, but it doesn’t fully register in his brain. All his focus is on weaving through the crowd of people and out the door of the convention center. The place isn’t as isolated as some can be, so he walked past the parking lot where his car is and made his way past the hotel they were staying at.

“Where are we going?”

“Jungkook?”

“Jay?”

There’s a loud exhale too, but Jungkook paid it no mind. He’s on a mission.

“For goodness sake, Kookie.”

YN matches his pace though she’s clearly confused by what the hell is happening. He knew he should say something, but couldn’t find his words just yet, so he kept walking until ten minutes later, they were in front of a popular celebrity-use jewelry store.

A few of the things he bought for himself and others - YN included - were from here, so he had a code that they gave him to get in. The door buzzed them in, and the moment that they walked in, there was a person there and ready to help. Though it might not be obvious to most, it was clear from the knowing smile on the woman’s face she knew what was up.

Didn’t stop Jungkook from being so flustered, though.

“Hi. Engagement rings. I mean, we would like to see engagement rings.”

Without a word, she directed them to the back of the store. They followed close behind her, and when they entered the room, she’s taking them to another person is setting down a tray of rings, with others sitting on a cart behind him.

Yeah, she knew.

Once everything is on the table, the man leaves, and they’re directed to sit. The woman who welcomed them stands on the other side of the table.

“This is a collection of all the rings we sell in the store. Though there are others, we can have custom made if what you see in front of you isn’t the right fit or you want a mix of styles. There’s a mix of the traditional sort and the non-traditional. Some are even without diamonds. Please, take your time to look through them and see if something catches your eye.”

Then she’s gone, and all the sound goes with her.

“We’re doing this?”

“You asked me.”

“True.”

Jungkook finally turns and looks at her, and despite all the nerves he’s feeling about if she’ll take it back, there’s a smile on her face. And a lack of anxiety like what’s going through him. Though he can tell, she’s a little thrown off by it all.

“I did. And I want to.”

“Then we better start looking, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

All the tension that was once there leaves the room, and they both turn their attention to the hundreds of rings in front of them. It’s an overwhelming site, but they dive into them. Jungkook tries to get YN to try some on, but she says that she doesn’t want to just yet, so they set them on the empty tray right in front of them.

Each one feels perfect to Jungkook, but not right. More of the diamond rings that look how he’s used to seeing American engagement rings look like end up on the tray, which isn’t much of a shock with YN’s usual preferences.

A tray marked as morganite is second to last, and Jungkook almost avoids it, but then one ring calls to him. His eyes zone in on it, and he reaches for it just as YN gasps. His neck nearly breaks when he turns to look at her, but the slight pain means nothing as he follows her gaze to the ring he was reaching for.

Without another thought, he picks it up, takes her hand, and slides it into place. Though it’s a little loose, it fits her finger. The oval champagne colored gem is on a white gold band and surrounded on either side with diamonds that fan out, almost like leaves on the stem of a flower. They wrap perfectly around her finger and stop before they reach the palm side. Everything about it is YN. Is them.

“Perfection,” YN whispered.

“Yeah.”

And like the whirlwind that this was, Jungkook was happy to find that they had the same ring, the right size, on the premises, and he paid for it right then and there. It only left YN’s finger so they could clean it, and then it was on again.

They walked out of the room, and both were on a cloud. All those nerves Jungkook felt before were gone, but something else replaced it.

“I guess we have a wedding to plan. I can’t imagine when we’d even have it,” YN said.

“Now.”

Not the least bit startled, she turned to him with a raised brow.

“Now?”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe?”

Silence sat between them for what felt like forever, and then YN turned her attention back to the jeweler.

“We need to see wedding bands, too,” she said, then turned back to Jungkook. “And you need to start making phone calls.”

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harlowhockeystick · 8 months

Note

wordless apology being accepted

pretty pls need this with sidney, can be coach!sidney or not, whatever you wanna do 💞

february prompts | coach!sidney x fem!reader

remember how y'all said you wanted the angst....yeah...

"hey, ryan's doing great in practice. he is the best kid a coach could ask for, really," sidney gave his players parents praise in the stands. it was thirty minutes until puck drop. occasionally before games sidney would go up in the bleachers and talk to parents while he could. he wanted to keep the relationship with his player's parent's strong, knowing that he was for their kids just as much as they were.

he sat next to y/n right before going back down to the bench on the ice. his hand subtly rested on her thigh as he listened to you talk about all you did that day, the parent meetings after class. he wished that he had time to actually talk to her, had time to sit with y/n and hear her go into more detail. but mid season he has to find a little bit of time to sit with her where he can.

"carter's getting better every day. i talked to the coach from arizona state today, he called wanting to know about him." sidney said, taking some of the popcorn she held in her hand. whipping her head to make eye contact she felt a few butterflies fluttering about in her stomach, college coaches already?

"but he's a freshman? are they even allowed to reach out when they're freshmen?" those were the questions that y/n was able to put words to, but in her head she had a thousand and one roaming about.

"all i told him was that he's everything a good program needs, he'll only get better with time, but to give me a call in a couple more years. coaches can go look and scout players as young as they want, but typically they don't get offered until they're a junior," sidney explained, "but if they're good...which carter is, then yeah. they can call, i got calls when i was in the eighth grade."

y/n felt intimidated, she isn't ready for conversations with college coaches and she knows carter isn't either. y/n just wants carter to enjoy the innocence of it all before dollar signs get thrown in his face.

"ten minute mark, i better get down there. want me to meet you guys at the restaurant?" she nodded her head and gave him a kiss on the cheek for good luck. by now parents had put two and two together of y/n and sindey's relationship. she had been approached and so has sidney, but for the most part it's been supportive. a few rumors here and there, but how can they complain when their son has the best coach in the country?

sidney starts to walk down the steps and takes a second to get somewhat of an outside perspective on warmups. hands in his pants pocket watching the opposing team but his thoughts were interrupted when a man approached him.

"i have a, uh, question," the man seemed nervous. he was stuttering over his words, not in a drunk way but he was extremely anxious over something. "can you maybe tell me," he took a breath before moving on, "which one my son is?"

sidney was taken back- no, he was floored. is this a joke? is this man serious?

"are you joking with me man?" sidney asked, taking a half step back to face the mans body with his. but from the way sidney looked in his eyes, they were nearly glossed over with fear and intimidation. the man shook his head as he looked on the ice again.

"i've been out of his life, i haven't been a good man and i'll be the first to admit that but, please i gotta start somewhere. saw his picture in the paper and i recognized him from the letters and stuff my mom sends me- his name's carter."

sidney pulled his lip between his teeth. he felt his leg start to shake and his stomach coil from anger, his hands grew sweaty as he balled them up in fists. he looked this man, this small weak man in the eye, he leaned into his level, "your son is number eighty in black. now get the fuck out of my arena before i have you kicked out, you fuckin-"

before sidney could say what he wanted to he felt y/n's hands on his chest pushing him back, "go to the bench, i'll handle him."

sidney looked down at her then back at the man behind y/n. he was still raging with anger on the inside, but did as told and walked down to the bench. when he got down there he watched as she talked to him a little bit before walking him out of the arena.

"what the hell are you doing here, john?" y/n finally asked as they stood out in the cold. she had kept in vague contact with john, trying since they divorced when carter was five to get him to come by at least once. for a birthday, christmas, or even an easter. but he never did.

occasionally he would send a gift card or a card with some cash, but y/n wasn't fully convinced it was him. she had her suspicions that his mother did it. she was involved in her grandson's life; she repeatedly apologized for her son's actions and for his absence. she was just as disappointed as anyone else was.

"'cause i feel horrible, y/n." was all he could say. it was all he had been thinking the past year. "i...i started going to therapy, and i've been trying to get the courage over a year and i just...i wanna be involved. i wanna be there, i wanna get to know my son."

"well you should've thought about that before you walked out on me and your son with your secretary, john. you should have thought about that before you chose a woman who was barely twenty years old over your wife and your child, you had the chance but you lost it."

y/n had so much more to say. she had thought for a long time what she would say if she got the chance. she often rehearsed in her head all that she would say, all that she would yell and scream at john for. she thought about all of it.

"y/n just give me a chance!" john shouted, taking a step closer to y/n not caring about the people who were walking past.

"no. it's not my chance to give. if carter wants to meet up with you then i'll get with your mom, but i could care less. to me you're a fucking loser, john." she felt tears begin to fall down her cheeks as she looked the man she loathed in the eyes for the first time since she last saw him after the divorce was finalized ten years ago.

"leave, just leave. this isn't how carter would want to see you for the first time in ten years anyway," john ducked his head and walked toward the parking lot. y/n turned and went back into the arena to where she was sitting.

a few parents asked her if she was okay, those who knew her and carter's story giving her a hug and a pat on the back. she was appreciative of those around her who supported her and her son.

y/n could barely focus on the game that had already started when she sat back down, her perspective and head space too foggy to even comprehend the game unfolding before her. all she could do was think about the worst days of her life replaying over and over in her head. she was replaying the minute she found out about john's affair, when she packed up her and carter's things and went to her parents house for the time being. she was replaying the divorce meetings, the arguments, the tears.

she was replaying having to explain to her five year old son where his dad went and why he wasn't going to be at home anymore. y/n hadn't gone into full detail with sidney about all of this yet. their relationship was just a few months old and she wanted to protect carter as much as she could. y/n knows and trusts that sidney was and is a good man, but she wants carter to tell what he wants to, not tell for him.

but now she will probably have to.

she went ahead and sat in sidney's office, she walked down there a few minutes before the last period ended. she knew that carter had a couple of points on the board, but y/n couldn't remember how he got them. her mind was full of remembering the worst years of her life with her ex husband.

she sat in a chair next to his desk, silently staring at the mess of practice plans, rosters, and scheduling papers strung along his desk. he walked in and shut the door behind him with a thud, plopping his game folder down on his desk. he didn't sit down, he stood with his hands in his pockets looking down at her as she remained sitting.

"you okay?" he asked. she could tell that he was tense, she couldn't figure out why though. they had won the game, the boys played well, and he didn't have anything to worry about. why was he so tense?

y/n nodded her head in response.

"i'll uh, make sure that he doesn't come to another game again." sidney sat down in his chair, resting his chin on his hand. there was an awkward tension in the room. sidney didn't know much about her past marriage, she didn't reveal too much to him. but now he had more questions than ever, he wanted to ask but it was clear she wanted nothing but to keep everything bottled at the moment.

"he seemed like a dick, don't know why anyone would want to marry him." sidney muttered, moving a few things around his desk. but y/n heard him loud and clear.

"what did you just say?" she asked, speaking for the first time since he walked into his office. oh no. he registered what he said, he didn't think before he spoke. he just let his thoughts flow freely off his tongue, shoulda held that one in.

"i- i didn't mean it, y/n i-"

"no, you think i don't regret being married to a man like that? one who was a complete horror of a man? who cheated, who left his wife and child? do you think i'm not embarrassed?" y/n felt tears brim her eyes and she stood up in front of him.

"y/n you know that's not what i meant," he stood up with her and walked around the desk. he put his hands on her shoulders but she slapped them away walking toward the door. she quickly opened it and headed toward the stairs. he thought about running after her but he didn't want to cause a scene. walking back into his office and closing the door he took a spare hockey stick that sat in the corner of the small space and smashed it as hard as he could against the wall, solving his anger in just that moment.

he fucked up.

sidney saw a text from carter which had him gathering his keys and putting shoes on his feet.

hey mom hasn't stopped crying since we got home, you know something i don't?

sidney picked up a to-go order on the way to her house, he knew that she wouldn't have eaten anything since leaving the arena. when sidney walked into her house he saw carter sitting at the dinner table eating a bowl of soup watching youtube videos on his laptop. "everything okay?" sidney asked, dumb question.

"i don't know, when i got in the car she was crying. i asked what was wrong and she just shook her head, i thought you guys broke up or something. did you?" carter asked, pausing the video.

"no, we didn't. it's not my place to tell you what happened, but i'll go talk to her." sidney patted carter on the back and walked toward the back master bedroom. he softly knocked on the door, he tried turning the doorknob but she had it locked. "y/n?" he softly asked, knocking again.

he heard sniffles and light footsteps across the wooden door. she unlocked the door and opened it. his heart softened at the sight, her eyes were puffy and her lips were chapped, she wore soft clothes.

walking back to her bed she got in it, pulling the covers over her legs. sidney sat at the foot of her bed and handed the greasy paper sack to her, his form of an apology in that moment. she took the bag and looked inside, a little grin coming on her lips as she saw the bag was full of fries.

she ate the fries in silence, her brain is dull and her head is hurting from crying for two hours straight. sidney sat on the bed with his hand on her leg, just hoping she feels comforted by his presence. he thinks she is, since she didn't take the bag of fries and kick him out.

she sat up, setting the now empty bag on her bedside table, leaned forward to take his hand in hers. sidney scooted closer to her on the bed when she folded her legs. then she gave him a kiss on the cheek, accepting his apology that came in the form of fries.

"i'm sorry for what i said y/n," he whispered again, pressing his forehead against hers. "it slipped out, i shouldn't have said it, i didn't even mean it i-"

"shh, you're forgiven sidney." y/n placed both hands on either side of his face, keeping her forehead against his. she sniffled and sidney parted for a moment, pressing his lips against her soft skin, taking both of her hands in his.

"you don't have to tell me anything about your marriage right now, but i promise, you say the word and i will make sure that he never steps foot anywhere near you or carter again." he tucked some hair behind her ears and kissed the top of her hands.

y/n shook her head, "you don't have to do that." she scooted back toward the pillows that leaned against the headboard, sidney moved on the bed to sit next to her. he put his arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head while she laced her fingers with his.

she told him everything that happened in her marriage; she told him about the way john would speak to her in such degrading ways, how john never really made efforts to go to carters special events, how he would make excuses and say things he's in preschool how special could it be? she explained how she found out about john's affair and the messy divorce. right after the divorce john left the state and she never heard from him until five years later. y/n explained how john's mom still keeps in contact with herself and carter, and that she sends john letters and cards with pictures of carter.

sidney felt himself boiling with anger inside, how could someone be that bad of a person? why would anyone want to do such a thing?

"this was the first time in...years that i had seen him in person and it just brought back, everything." tears began to flow through once more and sidney wrapped both arms around her and pulled her in as close as she could. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

#my asks #j's writing #coach!sidney #sidney crosby #sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby blurb #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl blurb #it's not february yet but im still posting this

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thefallennightmare · 1 year

Text

Ménage à Trois-seven

*gif created by me(thefallennightmare). simply give credit if you use*

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+ only please, swearing, angst, fluff.

Summary: Bucky has a proposition for Reader, something involving Steve. This trio, however, never expected for their lives to change after that night the way it had.

A/N: holy moly this is a long one. enjoy!

Tags(open): @matisse030502 @buckystevelove @floral-recs @inlovewithametalarm @buckies-dolle @cjand10 @matchat3a @kamaria-sweet-writes @pono-pura-vida @miikayywhocares @kunaikunari @mousee555 @akmenia

The car ride was a thick quiet even with the crowded back seat. I sat next to Steve, who sat in the middle, and on the other side of him sat a well-dolled-up redhead with dark red lipstick, her eyes glancing over toward Steve occasionally. I did my best to keep my gaze out of the window, my mind filled with so much of what was about to come from Steve that I couldn’t focus on the surprise passenger.

Was this a good idea? Him becoming this super soldier? None of it made sense or sounded like the best idea, his best idea. If Bucky were here, he would slap Steve upside the back of the head; something I’d like to do right now, especially with the eyes that he and the redhead are making.

I swallowed the large, jealous lump in my throat because there was no need to feel that way. Steve was simply being nice to her, that I knew because Steve placed his hand on my left knee the second we sat down in the car's backseat. Neither of us expected a third party with us so we were both shocked when we saw the car pull up.

“Who’s that?” I asked Steve.

He sighed gently. “Peggy.”

The same Peggy that had been with him during his time at basic training. The same Peggy that had a hand in choosing him for this program.

I ought to wring her neck for that.

Steve assured me he had no feelings toward her but failed to mention how gorgeous she was.

“Hey.”

His soft voice brought my attention away from the window, and I responded with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you alright? I don’t think you’ve said one word since the car picked us up,” he mentioned.

I nodded while trying to smile at him. “I’m just nervous for you, that’s all.”

Steve brought my hand up to his lips and left a few pepper-soft kisses on the inside of my palm. “You don’t have to worry about me, doll. I’ll be fine.”

All I could do was ignore him, not wanting to give my brain an excuse to think of whatever this procedure was. So I thought of Bucky instead and what he was doing right at this moment. Who was he with? Was he thinking about them?

Was he even alive?

I squeezed my eyes shut tight to force that thought out of my mind. Bucky had promised me in his most recent letter not to dwell on that thought. If I did, it would make things difficult for me when all he wanted was for me to keep a smile on my face.

“I got beat up in that alley,” Steve’s finger pointed in front of my face. “In that parking lot. And behind that diner.”

With a quick follow of his finger, my heart pinched at the memory he had spoken of. Steve got beat up in the alley we had passed and thankfully, Bucky had found him before he became worse for wear.

Peggy blinked. “Did you have something against running away?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, not liking the difference in the tone of her voice.

“If you run away, they’ll never stop.”

Steve looked down at his hands so I reached for them, covering them with my own. It was the talk of that town that he was always standing up against the bigger guys, and bullies, and he would never back down. If he didn’t fight for the smaller guys, who would?

The car came to a sudden halt, and I peered through the window, confusion etched into my eyebrows.

“What are we doing at an antique shop?” I questioned.

Peggy simply motioned for us to follow her out of the car and when we were on the busy street, my eyes took in the two bodies that leaned up against the car behind us, one of the man’s fedora hats pulled low over his eyes while the other had his hat pressed against his chest. When their eyes met mine, goosebumps pricked over my skin and fear filled me. Something about these guys didn’t sit right we me.

“Steve,” I laced our fingers together to pull him to a stop. “Are we safe?”

He left a soft kiss on my cheek and some of the fear slipped away. “I promise we are. We need to trust Peggy. She wouldn’t steer us directly into danger.”

I scoffed. “Trust her? I met her an hour ago.”

“Y/N,” Steve sighed. “Can you please do this for me?”

It was my turn to let out a sigh. Even though I had a bad feeling about the entire thing, I gave him a curt nod before allowing him to drag me inside the antique shop. At the sound of the bell ringing above the door, an older lady with sandy white hair stepped through a curtain.

“Wonderful weather this morning, isn’t it?” She said.

Peggy nodded. “Yes, but I always carry an umbrella.”

Before I could even wonder why they were talking about the weather, the older lady stepped to the side of the three of us to walk through the previous curtain she had walked through. It was only a few steps until we came to a stop in front of a bookshelf.

“I’ve got a bad feeling” I muttered mostly to myself.

Steve, however, gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

My shoulders jumped at the sound of something unlocking, and the bookcase in front of us slowly opened. Peggy didn’t bother to look at us, only kept her gaze forward as she walked down this short hallway. I took in the few people wearing lab coats, and we walked passed a table that someone was sitting behind; she gave us a small smile. She, along with a few others, was wearing almost exactly what Steve was wearing.

Steve was dressed up in his army uniform which meant that wherever we headed was some kind of hidden military base. Why was it hidden? What were they so afraid of others finding?

The doors in front of us opened, and we stepped out onto a balcony, the peeling green railing was there for me to grasp as I stared down at the many more bodies below. As the sound of us, all of their movements halted and stared up at us.

A small gasp fell from my lips. “Is that Howard Stark?!”

Peggy cleared her throat, annoyed at my sudden enthusiasm. “Yes. We’ll be using his technology for this procedure.”

I continued to stare at the billionaire that stood out in the middle of the scientists and it wasn’t until Steve pulled me along that we descended the steps. An older man with balding grey hair and round glasses perched high on his nose closed the distance between us with an extended hand toward Steve.

Steve’s hand dropped mine, and I frowned at the sudden loss of warmth.

“Good morning,” the man smiled.

A bright flash blinded us and after I blinked a few times, I noticed a photographer in the room had taken a picture of Steve and the man.

Steve turned towards me. “Y/N, I’d like you to meet Dr. Erskine.”

My jaw slacked slightly. This was the man that offered Steve this baffling opportunity? This was the man that was changing Steve, my Steve, the one that I had fallen in love with. Into some kind of super soldier? What would this mean for him IF it had worked?

“Ah,” Erskine smiled brightly. “Mr. Rogers talked a lot about you during his time at camp.”

I shifted on my feet, nervous. “Good things, I hope.”

He nodded. “Only the best. You seem to have quite the hold on him.”

If it was any other time or place, my heart would have swelled at the words but now as I stared at the contraption in the middle of the room there was only one thing on my mind.

“What is that?”

It looked like some kind of torture chamber, somewhere for Steve to lie in and get god knows what done to him.

Dr. Erskine sensed my doubt and came up next to me as I walked around the chamber-like bed.

“Mr. Rogers will step inside where we will close him in and administer the serum,” he explained.

My feet froze, locking eyes with the doctor. “Steve’s claustrophobic, he won’t step inside this thing.”

“Doll,” Steve began.

“Have you tested this serum?” I asked with my arms crossed over my chest.

“No, not recently,” Dr. Erskine admitted.

My eyes bulged. “Not recently? So what you’re saying is you do not know if this serum could kill Steve?”

He nodded, and I groaned while giving Steve my attention. “You want to do this?”

It was Steve who nodded now before grasping my hands and pulled me into him. My eyes peered down at him, only slightly, because the heels of my shoes had given me an extra half inch on him. With his small stature, I thought for sure Steve wouldn’t like it if I was taller than him but he never minded. He loved the way the straps of my heels wrapped around the soft skin of my ankles.

He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingered on the nape of my neck.

“You’re not going to change my mind, Y/N. I’m doing this.”

I let out a shaky breath and reluctantly nodded. “Bucky is going to kill you once he finds out. You know that right? Then he will kill me for allowing you to do this.”

That caused Steve to chuckle low. “I think we both know that Bucky wouldn’t ever lay a finger on you like that because of something I did.”

I blinked, my eyes burning with tears. “There’s a chance I lost him. I can’t lose you.”

My words had trailed off with the rush of wet tears slipping over the skin of my cheek but Steve was quick to wipe them away. He hushed my cries with his soft lips to mine in a short but passionate kiss.

“We didn’t lose him. It’s Bucky we’re talking about. He doesn’t give up easily,” Steve reassured me. “And you will not lose me. I will be fine. If I didn’t trust Dr. Erskine, I wouldn’t be doing this.”

All I could do was nod, broken eyes gazing at our feet. Even with his words, Steve couldn’t ease my racing heart. Every vein in my body pulsed with fear; the fear of if this would work and the fear of being alone. Steve’s finger lifted my chin, and we shared another kiss, this time more deeply and I wrapped my arms around his back, reeling him into me. Our chests caved into each other and I could almost feel the beating of his own heart against mine.

Someone cleared their throat which caused Steve to pull away. Peggy was staring at us with an annoyed glint in her eyes.

“Are you ready, Steve?”

He nodded.

“Good. Take off your shirt, your tie, and your hat,” Dr. Erskin said.

Steve did as he was told and when he stood shirtless in front of me, I took in every inch of his skin, ingraining this picture into the confines of my mind in case somehow this procedure didn’t work and it would be the last time I would see Steve.

His hair was messy thanks to his hat and a few strands were falling into his eyes, the bright blueness of them shining back at me. Under the skinny and frail skin of his chest, I watched it rise and fall with each breath he took. The freckles that peppered his skin caught the light from overhead as he laid back down on the bed. I reached for his hand, bringing it to my lips.

“I still don’t feel good about this.”

Dr. Erskine smiled. “Mr. Stark, how are our levels?”

My heart jumped in my throat as the billionaire slinked up beside me, flashing me a bright teethed smile from underneath his mustache. “Levels are one hundred percent. Good.”

He then shrugged down at Steve. “We might dim half the lights of Brooklyn but we are ready, As well ever bed.”

I didn’t miss the way Howard Stark shifted on his feet, unsure of his own words.

With a quick kiss on Steve’s forehead, I cupped his cheek, “I’ll see you soon.”

Steve nodded but even though he was being strong for me, I knew deep down he was afraid. I could feel the way his face shook inside of my hand.

I gave my best smile and followed Dr. Erskine’s orders to go sit upstairs in the viewing deck, alongside Peggy and other men in suits that seemed to fill the room quickly. There was one seat left in the front row, directly in front of the large window that peered down at Steve. I slid into the chair before Peggy even had the chance to glance at it, not bothering to say hello to any of the men. My knee bounced as I bit my nails, nervously. All I could think about was Bucky and how he’d react once he found out about Steve.

Would he be upset like I was? Or would he become aroused at the new Steve?

That thought had just now appeared in my thoughts. Steve said the serum would change his appearance as well, how we didn’t know. We wouldn’t until it was over.

I grimaced as a loud feedback sound from a microphone pierced loudly in my ear. Dr. Erskine was tapping his finger on a microphone, his voice echoing around us in the booth.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Today we don’t take another step towards annihilation but the first step on the path to peace.”

This is what they wanted to use Steve for. As a way for peace?

I scoffed loudly, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Peggy who sat behind me.

Dr. Erskine continued as a large metal tub wheeled in next to Steve. “We begin with a series of microinjections into the subject’s main muscle groups. The serum infusion will cause immediate cellular change.”

Nurses around Steve pulled six blue vials out from the metal tub and hooked them up to the chamber he was lying on.

“And then to stimulate growth.” Dr. Erskine’s voice began again. “The subject will be saturated with Vita Rays.”

With his hand on Steve’s shoulder, he began a countdown showing the procedure was about to begin. My heart pounded so hard against its cage in my chest that I could barely breathe, my throat closing in on itself. I felt dizzy as the whole room spun, so I gripped the sides of my chair tightly to hold me down in place. The chamber rose to a parallel position, the three sides of it closing over Steve, not before they had injected the serum into Steve.

Dr. Erskine knocked on the door. “Steven. Can you hear me?”

“How’s Y/N? Is she doing alright?”

All eyes from the view booth stared at me and I slunk back into my chair, a hue of red creeping over my skin. Even when Steve should only worry about himself, he couldn’t stop thinking of me.

Dr. Erskine looked up at me and I gave him a thumbs up, showing I was alright, given the circumstances.

As they proceeded, the building rumbled low and a bright light coming from the chamber blinded us up here.

“Vitals are normal,” one doctor said.

The higher Howard Stark raised the pressure of the Vita Rays, the brighter the light shined and it wasn’t until I heard Steve’s scream that I raised to my feet, running back onto the balcony. Peggy’s voice called from behind me, trying to halt my movements.

“Turn it off!” I yelled down at them.

Dr. Erskine was pounding on the face of the chamber, yelling Steve’s name repeatedly.

“Turn it off!” I bellowed once more, tears pricking my eyes.

He turned on his heels, ready to do as I asked until Steve’s voice echoed. “NO! I CAN DO THIS!”

“Steve,” I cried. “Please.”

I fell to my knees, resting my forehead on the cool metal of the railing as Howard Starks voice called out that they reached one hundred percent. The surrounding electricity buzzed and hummed as the light inside the chamber pierced my eyes. Sparks shot off from all the technology in the room until suddenly, the power of the chamber cooled to a quiet hum.

Slowly, I rose to my feet as everything around me quieted down.

“Is he alright?” I asked Peggy.

She stared at me with uncertainty and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

My feet raced down the stairs and I yanked my arm away from a guard who tried to stop me. Dr. Erskine held up a hand, saying it was alright.

“Steve?” My voice quaked with worry.

Suddenly, the doors of the chamber opened, and I feared the worst, Steve’s mangled and contorted body waiting to fall into a heap on the ground.

Only it didn’t. The man inside was still Steve but different. His muscles had doubled and the definition of his abs was the first thing that caught my attention. He was breathing heavily, eyes closed, and it was when he fell that Dr. Erskine caught him that Steve awoke. His eyes fluttered open, gazing around the room. Howard Stark was on the other side of him and by now everyone in the view deck had filled into the main area, astonished that it had worked.

The noise of the happy chatter was muted in my ears as I continued to stare at Steve, unable to move because yes it may have looked like him but was he still my Steve?

It was my name falling from his lips that had snapped me from my frozen state.

“Where’s Y/N?”

Dr. Erskine found me among a flood of people and reached for my hand, dragging me closer to Steve. Now, even with my heels, he had towered over me by at least a foot. His chest look larger now close up and I raised my hand to touch it but reeled back, unsure.

“Doll,” Steve cooed. “Are you alright?”

His eyes didn’t miss the way mine were wet with tears. His hand reached for me but I took a step back.

“How do I know you’re Steve and not some kind of monster?”

Steve flinched but composed himself quickly. “I met you when you were 16 when you first started dating Bucky.”

I raised a brow, still not convinced. “So? Anyone could know that?”

He chuckled. “Under that black dress you’re wearing that skimpy-.”

My hand clamped over Steve’s mouth, hushing his words instantly. I didn’t need everyone in the room to know what color underwear I had worn today.

“Shhh!” I hissed, eyes boring into him.

Even if his body had changed, those eyes were still the same bright blue I remembered.

“I can’t believe it worked,” I admitted with a long breath.

My hand traced over the skin of his chest and stomach, his hard muscles tensing under my touch. I swallowed a moan and pressed my legs together.

Steve cupped my cheek. “I told you it would.”

I ignored his always-right attitude. “How do you feel?”

“Taller,” he smirked.

Even with everyone around us, congratulating one another, it felt as if Steve and I were the only two in the room thinking the same thing. We needed to feel each other, Steve in his new body, as soon as possible.

Suddenly, a loud boom echoed around us, and glass fell on top of us like rain. Steve wrapped an arm around my shoulder and threw me to the ground, himself protecting me from whatever had blown up. Once the ringing in our ears stopped for a moment, Steve looked me all over.

“Are you alright?”

I nodded, lips parted to speak until two distinct gunshots muffled Dr. Erskine's words. I watched in horror as his body fell to the ground, Steve running over to his side. He poked Steve in the chest twice, the silent action being enough for Steve to understand.

He looked over at me. “Stay here.”

Before I could even protest, Steve ran after the mystery shooter leaving me among the chaos.

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ronwestbreeze · 2 years

Text

TO YOU , WORLDS AWAY | PART ONE : CHAPTER ONE

pairing: jake sully x human!fem!reader

summary: in which the story starts and finds you in a place of malevolence. a reluctant return to hell's gate leads you to meeting jake sully

warnings: none!

word count: 3.6k

author's note: finally posting this! there's no schedule for how i'm going to release these but i hope to be at least consistent! just no demanding me to post the next chapter or to finish, that doesn't help much with writing. anyways, hope you guys enjoy!

italics is speaking in na'vi

AO3 | masterlist | next

Powder covered your hands by the time the radio next to you came to life. Last time that radio came on, Dr. Grace Augustine had, very heatedly, called on you to fix one of the link units. Some genius had thought it was a good idea to kick at it in anger, knocking a few wires loose. Didn’t do any real damage but that guy never slipped into another link unit again. He’d have Grace to thank for that. And his temper.

That had been months ago. You hadn’t been back in Hell’s Gate since then.

Surprisingly enough, it was Trudy. “Hey, Doc. Mind comin’ to look at one of the computers in the lab? I think one of those science geeks broke a monitor or somethin’.”

Without looking up from your work, you reply, “Then buy a new one. My job is to fix shit, not consult about some stupid monitor.”

There were muffled voices further away as the radio cut in and out a few times. Seconds later, Trudy finally spoke again, “Uh, my bad, it’s not a monitor. It’s some….uh…power box, I guess. Glitched out on the geeks, now they don’t have power in a few of the computers.”

It took a moment for you to respond. Both because of the weak radio signal in the middle of the forest and because you had to take a few moments to program your newly robotic arm helper to finish off your new invention, which you had been working on for nearly half a year now. Project Pandora is what you called it.

“Trudy,” you finally say, picking up the radio and pushing the chair away from the desk and toward the small window on the other side of the little space, “why are you, a pilot no less, asking me about computers in a lab?”

There is a hesitant silence on the other end. But after listening closely, you realized there was another muffled conversation going on further away, one that the radio couldn’t really pick up.

Eventually, Trudy’s voice reached the radio again. “I told you she’d see right through it.” It sounded as if she was talking to someone and that someone was muttering something further away from the radio. Trudy sighed before continuing, “Look, Doc. I’m gonna be blunt with you. Parker’s too much of a pussy to do it himself so he got me in here to reach you.”

You clicked your tongue, “Why am I not surprised.”

“He’s scared of you.”

“More than Grace?”

There were louder muffles, almost audible if not for the static from the radio. “Parker wants you back at the gate…and to tell you that he’s not scared of you.”

After a while, the radio finally cut off and you sat there. Outside the little window was the forest of Pandora, your view for the past few months. And really, you would like to keep it that way from now on. Being away from Hell’s Gate has brought you a sense of peace and a sense of forgetting. Although, the forgetting was harder said than done.

No matter what you did, there was nothing that could make you forget what these humans were doing to Pandora, what they planned to do, what they already had done. It was a bunch of bullshit really. The RDA complained that they weren’t making any progress with the Na’vi, the people of Pandora, while at the same time attacking them and threatening to take over the land by wiping out the indigenous.

You had come here to learn about this species and quite possibly one day live among them, not take over. Which is why you separate yourself from Hell’s Gate after the incident. But it seemed no matter what you did to keep away from them, somehow you were always brought back in.

It had to be him behind it. That man was stubborn enough to keep you in his control just as you were stubborn enough to find any way to stay far away from that place.

“Doc?” Trudy’s voice came in through the radio. With a frown, you looked back at your robotic arm and the invention, deep in thought. “You there?”

With a sigh, you replied, “There’s no other engineers up there? Mechanics?”

“Most of them are workin’ on those AMPs. Parker wants you. The best of the best, you know?”

You frown, “Doesn’t sound as great as it did years ago.”

“Don’t think too much about it. You’ll be in and out. Then you’ll get to go back to your little lab in the woods and stay secluded like the hermit that you are.” Trudy teased in an attempt to lighten your mood. And you did try to smile at the joke, just a little bit, but the thought about going back, about stepping your foot back into that place, somehow he’d win.

“I could say no.” You try, even though you were getting up and sliding your boots on. “Tell him to find some other unfortunate engineer to do his shit.”

“You could.” Trudy agreed. “That would definitely make Parker pop a vein. But if we sent in someone else that isn’t you, it sure as hell wouldn’t get done quickly or right. So there’s that.”

“Hmm, I’d say let them rot.” You grumble as you grab your mask and place it on your face.

Trudy laughed on the other end as you stepped out of the lab. The air was fresh on your skin but poisonous to your lungs. Still, it did feel somewhat nice stepping out of your stuffy lab for once. Being surrounded by beautiful forest. The beauty of Pandora still never failed to amaze you despite your grim attitude as of lately. There was something so special about this planet, something you never felt on your home planet, Earth.

You just wished the circumstances were different.

“You’re a genius, Doc.” Parker praised as you closed the power box.

“Is that all?” You asked dryly, rolling your sleeve back down as you began leaving the dark room.

The administrator followed after you as you sauntered through the halls, ready to go back to the forest and your private lab. “Yeah, well, I believe that should be all. I knew you could do it the best too, my guys are useless when it comes to this stuff.”

“Stop kissing ass, Selfridge.” Both you and Parker turned to find Grace waltzing down the hall toward the two of you. A smirk was on her lips when her eyes landed on you. “Tinkers! Never thought I’d see you come out of your little hole. How long has it been? Three? Four months?”

Despite where you were, you gave a small smile, “Hi Grace.”

Parker excused himself immediately much to your relief, going back to his usual spot, which was overseeing all the link units of the Avatar Program. You raised your brows at how quickly he left but you figured it was mostly because he didn’t want to hear Grace go on and on about the beauties of Pandora. Parker was the type of guy who only cared about what profited him the most. And the last thing he wanted to hear was how innocent everything was. Would make him lose track of the most important goal.

And for that, you despised that man. Parker must’ve sensed your dislike for him and found it intimidating, especially when it came to calling on you for favors such as fixing an electric power box.

Behind her were three other men. One of which you knew by Dr. Patel, the other two you guessed were new.

Grace crossed her arms, not bothering to introduce the two other males behind her as she spoke in a lowered voice, “Coming back this time around?”

You shook your head, “No. Just here for a small fixer upper. I should be heading back soon actually.”

“You sure?” Grace then gestured to the two behind her, giving you an exasperated look, “Could really use someone familiar out there. To the land and the people.” You didn’t respond right away which the scientist noticed. “Forget about Quaritch, you know you want to get back out there. Your avatar’s waiting—”

“Who's the newbies?” You addressed Dr. Patel, earning a glare from Grace at your efforts of quickly changing the conversation. It was something you definitely weren’t going to discuss here and especially in front of the new people who were watching the two of you a little too closely for your liking.

Dr. Patel smiled at you in greeting before gesturing to the two other men. “This is Norm Spellman, our new biologist for the team. Fellas, this is Dr. Y/N L/N, our best engineer at RDA.”

The tall lanky one stepped forward and offered his hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor, I’ve actually heard a lot about your work here. Well, your mother’s work, I should say.” Grace rolled her eyes as you tried not to wince at the mention of your mother. But of course, Norm didn’t notice and kept going, “Also, very sorry for your loss. Your mother was a brilliant mind, the best of our kind—”

“Alright, Spellman.” Grace gave him a pointed look before nodding over to the man in the wheelchair, “You remember Tom Sully? Well, this is his worse half, Jake Sully. He’s unfortunately replacing Tom in the program.”

“Thank you for that, Gracie.” Jake retorted just as quickly.

“Fuck off.” Grace glared and nudged your side. “Ignore him, I do.”

Yes, you did hear about this. Tom’s unfortunate death led them to scramble for a quick replacement. You never met Tom yourself so you never had much of an attachment to him. Neither did Grace but you could tell that wasn’t the only thing annoying her. If you had to guess, Jake was probably drastically different from his late brother and Grace didn’t have much patience for that.

Still, you offered him a kind smile. “Ma’am.” He nodded to you, offering his own hand which you shook.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sully.” You glanced from a pensive Grace to Jake. “I imagine you know a lot about the program similar to your brother.”

Jake tilted his head, “I watched a Netflix special once.”

Grace scowled, Dr. Patel coughed to cover a smile, and Norm shifted on his feet awkwardly, watching the two of them.

You found yourself grinning for the first time in a while., “I don’t know, Augustine. I kind of like him. “

Grace rolled her eyes, “Whatever. We’re heading over to the link units. It’s about time the two of you get acquainted with your avatar form.” She then addressed you but in Na’vi surprisingly. “And when will you bring out yours? Don’t try to change the subject this time, Tinkers.”

Feeling Jake’s curious and confused gaze on the two of you, you answer in a quick hiss, “Drop it.” Then you turned to Jake and smiled, “S’ nice to meet you, Mr. Sully—”

“Jake.” He nodded toward you with a little smile of his own. “You can call me Jake.”

Your smile grew, “Alright, Jake. Welcome to Pandora.” She pointed at Grace with her thumb, “Don’t let her ruin the experience, yeah? She can be a little twitchy sometimes.”

“Go back to your hole, Tinkers!” Grace called over her shoulder as she continued down the hall with Norm and Dr. Patel following after her.

“Right up your ass, Augustine!” You shot back with a smirk before sending Jake a wink.

Jake, despite his previous stoic expression, found himself grinning at you. “Nice to meet you, L/N.”

“Y/N.” You corrected, moving around him to head the opposite direction. “Or Doc, either way, don’t be so formal. Especially with me.”

He nodded, “I’ll make sure to remember that.”

With that, you watched as he rolled away in the direction the others went. Once the company was gone, your shoulders sagged a bit, slightly exhausted from the small interaction and because of the busy environment of Hell’s Gate as you made your way out of it.

Just as you were about to reach outside and grab your mask, one of the soldiers, Wainfleet, blocked your exit while sitting in one of those AMPs.

“Doc! Leaving so soon?” He grinned down at you.

“Move, dipshit.” You say bluntly, gripping the mask in your hands while glaring up at him.

He shrugged, grinning cockily down at her. “Can’t do that, Doc. Colonel heard you crawled out of your little hole you’ve been hiding in the past few months. He wants to see you.”

“Tell him to eat shit, ya know, like in all the messages I replied to.”

When you tried going around him, he stepped in your way, aggravating you more.

“Look, cupcake. We could either do this the easy way or the hard way. Easy way, you go and see Colonel yourself or hard way I drag your tiny ass over there.”

At this point, the more you gripped at the mask, the more it was possible it could break in your grasp. So you hooked your mask back onto your belt, seething eyes never leaving Wainfleet. It was possible to shut down the AMPs in your current height. You’d done it before but it was with someone who lacked experience controlling those things.

Wainfleet on the other hand was often training himself in them, which would lead to a more difficult and quite possible deadly attempt at escape.

Which meant, unfortunately, you didn’t have much of a choice.

With your dignity burying itself into the ground, you followed Wainfleet further into the Armor Bay where multiple more AMPs were lined up along with the ships and planes the pilots controlled.

When you arrived at the small gym room where Quaritch was currently benching, Wainfleet left you alone but you didn’t move to further enter the room. All you did was scowl and stand in the doorway with crossed arms, waiting for him to acknowledge you.

And you knew he knew you were there.

“I was wondering when we’d get the chance to talk again.” Quaritch finally said, putting down the weights as he sat up. He grabbed a towel next to him and began wiping the sweat off his sweat. “Are you finally done with your tantrum?”

He wanted you to snap, rise to the provoking. But you remained silent, your jaw clenching just a bit as your eyes narrowed in on him. Quaritch was watching you closely as well, probably waiting for you to react.

“Ah, the silent treatment. Guess I should’ve expected that too.” He threw the towel to the side before looking up at you with a smirk. “Thought you made a vow never to set foot in here again. Made a whole dramatic scene about it too—”

“What do you want?” You ask simply.

Quaritch now scowled at your indifference or rather rebellion, you couldn’t really tell. “I want you to get your act together. I don’t have time for you throwing fits like a child because you don’t get your way. This is a mission, Doc, and your job is to—”

“My job was to help the people.” You hissed, stepping only a few feet into the room. “To build a connection with them. That was your orders. That’s what you asked me to do. And what does the RDA do? Fuck it all up by shooting a bunch of Na’vi, leaving them for dead!”

Quaritch rolled his eyes, “You’re still on that?”

You seethed, “You don’t even understand what you did! You would think thinking smartly would crossed your thick fucking skull—”

“That’s enough from you!” He barked in his Colonel voice. “Disrespect me like that again and I will boot you right off of this planet as fast as I got you on it, you hear me?”

“Do it then.” You challenged, hands shaking from anger. “You’ve had plenty of times to get rid of me. If you find me so much of a problem, why am I still here?”

You half expected him to keep shouting at you, yell at you into submission like he does his subordinates. But instead, Quaritch chuckled as he stood up. “Moments like this, you remind me of your father. Good man, acted just like you. Which was what made him the best soldier. Which made him a good captain.”

He was changing the conversation, he was trying to have power over you without being forthright about it. He had done this before whenever you tried arguing, it was his way of shutting you down without getting into a fight.

“You’re a smart cookie, Doc. And I know you’re smart enough to realize your value to this team. To the program.” He flashed his white teeth at you. “You and I both know I can’t get rid of you that easily. And I won’t. I made a vow after all.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering just where this conversation was going. Every time he brought up that damned vow it usually was followed by something for her to do. A favor. Something to keep her distracted.

“So let’s put the whole past to rest—”

“I rather not—” Quaritch cut you off just as fast as you did.

“And focus on the current future. Have you met Corporal Sully?”

You frown, suddenly remembering Jake’s charming smile. “What, he’s your new little puppet now?”

Quaritch wasn’t phased by the comment as he sat back down on the bench, “He’s got promise that kid. I tasked him to get to know the Na’vi people and learn their ways, to gain information for me.” You scoffed in disbelief as he continued. “Since you’re so well versed in their culture, I want you to give him some pointers. A tutor if you will.”

“Like hell I will—”

“And yes, you can decline.” Quaritch began lifting the weights again, “And then the RDA can take your little secluded lab away, destroying everything you’ve worked on. I’m sure that would be smart.”

This was where you had to control yourself. Your reaction. Your anger. You remembered a certain project that you were just nearly done with. Something you had been working on dedicatedly ever since the incident. If Quaritch or any of the RDA were to discover it, you were sure you would be exiled back to Earth.

Or quite possibly killed.

“What do you say, kid?” Quaritch noticed your silence.

With a scowl, you gritted out, “Fine.”

From the bench, the Colonel grinned, “Good girl! Now we can really get to work!” He placed the weight back down and stood, “Let’s go tell Sully the good news.”

When arriving in the link room, you lingered behind while Quaritch approached one of the link beds that was just opening. Jake happened to be in that one as he sat up, immediately spotting the Colonel walking toward him.

“Sir.” Jake greeted, briefly glancing your way for a moment longer before turning back to the Colonel.

Quaritch nodded in greeting and gestured to you, “I assume you’ve already met, Dr. L/N, the best of the best in the Avatar Program.”

“What do you want, Quaritch?” Grace cut in as she pushed open her own link bed. She noticed the angered look on your face and raised her brows, silently questioning you.

“She’s going to be showing the ins and outs of the Na’vi, she’ll give you some pointers to better prepare yourself for the program.” Quaritch winked as he clapped his hand on your shoulder. “You do best following her lead, might keep you alive, Corporal.”

Jake nodded, eyes alight, “Will do, sir.”

Quaritch’s grip on your shoulder tightened, “Take care of our boy, will you, Doc.”

Carefully, you reply, “He’s in good hands…sir.”

Grace narrowed her eyes at you while Jake frowned, finally noticing your change in behavior compared to your earlier brighter demeanor.

Satisfied, Quaritch gave you another rough pat on your back before leaving you with Grace, Jake, and as soon as he came out of his link bed, Norm.

“Tinkers.” Grace brought your attention back to her. She gave you a meaningful look before speaking in Na’vi, “What happened?”

Instead of responding to her, you nodded toward the three with an impassive expression, “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

You needed some time away, to calm down, to reevaluate some things. If only you had left as quickly as you had planned to, none of this would have occurred. You wouldn’t be feeling so helpless right now as you stalked through the halls, practically glaring at everything around you. At this rate, you wished that bastard dropped you back on Earth. At least you would be far away from this shit.

“Hey, Doc!”

A part of you wanted to just keep going and ignore Jake Sully when he called for you. But you stopped anyway despite yourself and turned to find him rolling toward you. He stopped a few feet away from you, frowning at your guarded behavior. “I know I’m not well informed about all of this the way you’d like but I’m sure I can catch on fast—”

“Let’s get one thing very clear, Sully. I know you’re working with Quaritch. I know you’re planning on lying to them, gaining information for him to use or whatever the hell he’s planning. I don’t want any part of it.” You shoved your hands into your pants pockets glaring at the surprised man. “You’ve aligned yourself with a dangerous man, Sully. I hope you understand what you’re doing here.”

Just as you turned to walk away, Jake called out to you again, “So is that your advice then? As my tutor?”

“No. Not all of it.” You glanced over your shoulder at him and shrugged, “Try not to die, Jake.”

taglist: @luvvfromme @sully-stick-together @dazedshoon

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