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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year ago

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i can see you (miguel o'hara's version)

pairing: professor/mentor!miguel o’hara x graduate assistant!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4.5k

summary:

As Dr. Miguel O��Hara’s graduate teaching and research assistant, you’ve spent years pushing down the inappropriate thoughts you’ve had about the brilliant, gorgeous man.

But what happens when a late night at the lab and a scientific breakthrough leads to a breakthrough of a different kind?

author's note:

my first (but probably not my last) miguel o'hara fic based on taylor swift's song "i can see you" from speak now tv. if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or commenting and letting me know your thoughts!

content warnings/tags:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, no use of y/n, alternate universe - no powers, age gap (undefined), presence of power dynamics (teacher/student), author took scientific liberties (forgive her, its been 10 years since bio II lab), pineapple on pizza, potentially bad spanish translations, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), miguel picking reader up, unprotected p in v, size kink, choking, pet names, praise kink, competency kink, dirty talk. let me know if i've missed anything!

Translations you may need:

Universidad Estatal de Nueva York - State University of New York

Sí - Yes

Dios mío - My god

El Origen de la Genética Mutante - The Origen of Mutant Genetics

Mierda - Shit

Te lo prometo - I promise you

Lo juro por Dios - I swear to god

Arañita - little spider

Cállate - be quiet

Mirame - look at me

te sientes tan bien - you feel so good

Perfecto - perfect

________

You’re sitting in the front row, in the seat you’ve claimed as your spot, watching Dr. O’Hara pace in front of the projector screen that displays today’s lesson notes.

“And what is the hallmark of this mutant gene that demonstrates its incompatibility for transmutation?” He asks the silent room of undergraduates that have found themselves on the roster for his Mutation Genomics III course at Universidad Estatal de Nueva York.

A few hands go up around the room and Dr. O’Hara points to a student in the back who says, “Uh, it’s got a spiked protein arrangement that can’t be modified?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” Dr. O’Hara asks. There’s a sprinkle of laughter in the room and a smirk tilts his lips briefly.

“An answer,” the student says more confidently. Dr. O’Hara nods.

“Correct, but that’s not the whole picture,” he says. His eyes catch yours and he gestures for you to join him. Your eyes go wide as you stand and walk to his side at the front of the class. “I’m sure some of you that actually use your available resources to pass my class recognize my teaching assistant. And if you don’t, I recommend visiting her office hours during this section because this is her area of research.”

Your cheeks feel warm as everyone’s attention falls to you. Dr. O’Hara hands you the data pad and steps back, giving you an encouraging nod. You tap the screen, bringing the diagram up on the holo projector and making it larger.

“You’re correct that the spiked protein arrangement can’t be modified, but there’s something more limiting in this particular model. If you look at it from this angle—,” you spin the DNA diagram, “you’ll see something else hindering the modification process. What do you see?”

Hands go up. Dr. O’Hara points to another student who says, “There’s a gap jump. The spike protein would continue to travel across the gap jump and avoid any inserts.”

“Exactly. So, what’s the potential alternative?”

“Fill the gap. Target the spike protein in your modification cycle,” Dr. O’Hara finishes. “That’s all for today. Your exam next Wednesday will include this presentation, so don’t act surprised when you see the questions.”

A few students stop to speak with Dr. O’Hara as you gather your bag from your desk. His low voice calls your name, the timbre of it sending a shiver down your spine as you step up to his desk.

“You’re running a sequence right now, sí?” He asks, shuffling a stack of papers into order.

“Yes, it should finish around seven tonight. Sorry, I know that it's late for a Friday,” you reply. He waves a hand dismissively.

“I’ll see you in the lab.” His brown eyes flick to yours and your stomach swoops, heart skipping a beat, same as it always does when he looks at you.

Dr. Miguel O’Hara makes you nervous. Not only because he’s one of the most notable researchers in the field of mutant genomics, but also because he’s so handsome he leaves you breathless. He’s tall, towering over most men you’ve met, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist that are always covered by a suit and tie in the classroom or a lab coat in the research lab. His tan skin is complemented by dark hair and brown eyes that make you lose your train of thought when you stare into them for too long.

Which…is exactly what you’re doing now.

You clear your throat, stepping back from his desk. Had you been leaning closer? Christ, you hope not. You give him a brief smile before responding, “Yeah, see you tonight. Thank you, Dr. O’Hara!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Miguel?” He calls after you.

“Maybe when I’ve cracked the sequence!”

________

Miguel watches your hips sway in the jeans you wore to class today, the denim hugging your curves so well he has to bite back a groan. The door to the lecture hall slams shut behind you and he sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw in frustration.

You drive him crazy. Every class period you’re sitting in the front row, watching him as you tap your pen to your lips or leaning over your desk just enough to give him a glimpse down your blouse or dress. Or you’re in the lab, delicately handling samples and extractions with a level of competency beyond your years, your lip caught between your teeth as you analyze a sequencing output.

He looks forward to and dreads your impending graduation in equal measure, being free from the constant temptation but losing the greatest researcher he’s met in years.

Miguel finishes gathering his belongings as the door opens and the next lecturer comes in, nodding at him in greeting. As he steps out into the warm Nueva York air, he has a weird sense that something big is coming.

He just doesn’t know what.

________

Miguel is waiting for you outside of his double locked research lab that evening, suit jacket hung over his arm and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to reveal tan forearms dusted with dark hair. Your brain nearly short circuits at the sight, conjuring up images of those arms wrapped around your—

No, you think. He’s your mentor. Your handsome, intelligent, and very serious mentor.

He looks up as you approach, corners of his lips tilting the slightest bit. Or maybe it’s a trick of the light, you can’t be sure, but he presses his palm to the biometric lock and the heavy metal doors slide open. He steps inside ahead of you, putting his face in the frame of the security camera. A red laser scans his face and a light above the second locked door goes from red to green, the click of the lock disengaging echoing in the anteroom.

You follow him through the door and into his research lab. The fluorescent lights glimmer off the chrome equipment and pristine bench surfaces. A machine whirs, running the sequence analysis you’ve been waiting on.

“LYLA, what’s the status?” Dr. O’Hara says as he sets his belongings on the desk in the corner.

“Sequence will complete on schedule. Also, your specimen delivery is available in the ultra low freezer,” Dr. O’Hara’s AI assistant, LYLA, announces, feminine voice carrying through the room.

“I have a surprise for you,” Dr. O’Hara says, tugging on his lab coat as he walks towards the ultra low freezer.

“A surprise?” You ask, setting your stuff down at the assistant’s work space.

There’s the beep of a passcode being entered and the heavy freezer door being opened and shut. He’s holding a tray of cryovials, the contents varying in color. He sets the tray on a bench top near your desk and pulls one out, holding it up to the light.

“Isolated arachnoid mutagen,” he says. Your mouth drops open in shock. You rush forward, pressing in close to stare up at the vial with him.

“You’re kidding,” you whisper. He hands the vial to you, fingers brushing yours. You hold it between your thumb and index finger to inspect the suspension, red in color with tiny flecks of black. “Dr. O’Hara, this is insane. How did you even get this?”

“A guy owed me a favor,” he says. You glance up at his face and you’re suddenly very aware of how close your bodies are. One deep breath and your chest would probably graze his, and did you just imagine his eyes dropping to your lips?

“That’s one hell of a favor,” you murmur, stepping back. “You want me to work on the extraction?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“You say that like I’m not your research assistant. You can tell me to do anything.” Dr. O’Hara’s eyes go wide and you cough. “I mean, you know, lab related. Research stuff. Yeah. I’ll get started on this. LYLA? Power up the centrifuge and thermocycler, please.”

“Centrifuge is online. Thermocycler will reach optimal processing temperature in t-minus five minutes,” LYLA replies.

You set up all the necessary supplies and prepare the sample for the thermocycler, going through the motions that are now part of your muscle memory - extract, vortex, centrifuge, extract, wash, set in ice. You set your tray of samples into the thermocycler and remove your gloves to hit the start button.

________

Miguel watches you run the PCR test, fixated on the confidence with which you complete each step and your words from earlier continue to echo in his head.

“You can tell me to do anything.”

Dios mío, he thinks. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to will away the possibilities that anything could entail.

“Sequence results are available. Would you like to review now?” LYLA asks.

“Display,” Miguel says. You spin on your stool to view the hologram of the spliced DNA you prepared. He notices an issue immediately.

“Fuck,” you hiss, stepping up to the control screen and spinning the model. “There’s a deletion.”

“You knew there was a risk of that.”

You zoom in on the model DNA strand, a broken gap shown in the mutation. “I know there was a risk, but it should have worked.”

Miguel crosses his arms and watches as you bring up the transillumination image of the DNA you had attempted to merge with a human sample. “You wanted it to work. Science is finite. There is no room for should.”

You glance at him. You look like you’re about to say something when the thermocycler beeps and he’s left to wonder what you would have said as you busy yourself with removing your tray of DNA samples. He leans against the bench as you assemble the agarose gel for electrophoresis.

“Tell me, why do you think there was a deletion?” He asks.

“The mutagen was incompatible with the human strand,” you murmur, adding dye to your vials. “Just the same as it has been the last dozen times.”

You’ve loaded the wells of the gel with your sample and set it in the tank, closing the lid and turning on the power supply. Miguel takes the remaining tray of arachnid samples to the freezer while your procedure runs. He understands your frustration, he’s run his fair share of failed experiments after all.

After about an hour, the hum of the electrical current from the electrophoresis tank shuts off. Miguel, who had been reviewing a journal submission for El Origen de la Genética Mutante, joins you at the bench as you remove your gel and set it on the UV transilluminator.

“LYLA, scan and project,” you ask the AI assistant. Miguel stands behind you, looking at the DNA bands you’ve generated. He’s momentarily distracted by the fact that he’s so close he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume, something citrusy that reminds him of summer.

You jump suddenly, back colliding with his chest. His hands come up to grip your waist, steadying you as you turn to face him, face lit up in the brightest grin.

“Miguel, look. This arachnid mutagen. It’s a potential match for insertion!” You say excitedly. “It has the same length as the deletion seen with the scorpion mutagen.”

“LYLA, show the current projection against the scorpion scan,” he says. The two images appear side by side and it’s clear that the band of arachnid mutagen fits definitively in a space that appears void in the scorpion samples. “Mierda.”

“You see it, right?” You ask. It’s then that Miguel realizes he’s still got his hands on your waist. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching as your eyes go the slightest bit darker at the pressure.

“I can see it,” he murmurs. He wants so desperately to lean in closer, to back your body up until you’re pressed between the wall and his body, nowhere to go as his lips explore yours.

But he doesn’t. He drops his hands and puts much needed space between your bodies. He clears his throat.

“Prepare a combined sample,” Miguel says. You blink, checking your watch.

“It’s almost nine. Running a new combined sample would mean we’re here until close to midnight.”

“I’m familiar with how time passes, sí.”

“Are you sure you want—“

Miguel sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re on the verge of one of the greatest scientific discoveries in the last decade. Do you think I give a shit about having to stay late? What kind of mentor would I be if I told you, ‘Oh just wait until Monday to change the scientific world’?”

“One with a work-life balance, probably,” you reply with a giggle. Miguel raises his eyebrows at you. “Okay, okay, combined sample. I’m on it.”

As you rush around the lab, it hits him that you called him Miguel. Not Dr. O’Hara. He’s not sure what that means but he’s certain he wants to hear his name from your lips again.

_______

Dr. O’Hara orders food while your new combined sequence runs, begrudgingly agreeing to a half pineapple and half sausage pizza to split. You’re sitting outside of the lab in the empty hallway, pizza box between you as you eat the slices over grease stained napkins.

“What are your plans for after graduation?” Dr. O’Hara asks. You shrug.

“Probably get my doctorate. No one takes you seriously in this field without one.”

He frowns. “You’re on the cusp of a major breakthrough, one that could change our understanding of genetic modifications and mutants as we know it.”

“Yeah, and it’s coming from your lab. You’ll get listed as the first author, that’s how this goes.” You pick at your pizza crust, tearing the bread into tiny pieces that you sweep back into the box.

“I won’t let that happen. If this works, you’ll be the first name on that paper,” Dr. O’Hara says vehemently. “Te lo prometo.”

You smile, caught in his gaze for a brief moment before an alarm rings from his watch. LYLA announces, “Sequencing complete.”

Dr. O’Hara stands, holding a hand out to you. You grasp his broad palm and he pulls you up with ease, the force of it making you stumble slightly. You press a hand to his chest to steady yourself, marveling at how solid he feels beneath your palm.

“Sorry. Slipped,” you murmur.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with a crease between his brow and storms in his eyes. His watch beeps again and he releases your hand to silence it, the spell broken between you.

He unlocks the lab doors and you join him at the holoprojector, taking a deep breath. Dr. O’Hara brings up the sequence analysis, the hologram coming to life in the space between you. Your eyes scan the model, checking for gaps, deletions, frayed nucleotides, anything that could mean your procedure didn’t work.

You turn the projection this way and that, looking at it from every angle. You scan the result output reading, eyes jumping to the green SEQUENCING SUCCESSFUL text at the bottom.

You turn to face Dr. O’Hara, eyes wide with surprise. “It worked.”

“It did,” he replies.

“It worked,” you say again. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, your grin so wide it hurts your cheeks as you rush forward shouting, “It worked!”

Dr. O’Hara’s arms open to catch you, wrapping around your waist as he lifts you from the ground and spins you. He’s smiling, a rare sight for such a serious man, and it makes your heart pound in your chest as you stare up into his face.

“Dr. O’Hara?” You ask as he sets you down, his arms still wrapped tight around your back. “What—“

His lips collide with yours, stealing your breath from your lungs and your words from your brain as you melt against his broad body. The kiss is anything but gentle, with Miguel acting like a man starved as his tongue sweeps into your mouth.

“Dr. O’Hara—“

“Lo juro por Dios, if you call me that one more time,” he growls, lips trailing down your neck with wet kisses, “Miguel. Say it.”

“M-Miguel,” you whimper. He smiles against your neck before sinking his teeth against your pulse point, making you gasp.

“That’s right,” he says, lifting his head. His brown eyes have gone dark and he’s smirking as his hands find the hem of your blouse, fingertips ghosting across the skin of your abdomen and dipping beneath the waist of your jeans. “Tell me what you want, arañita.”

Rather than trust your voice, you bring your own hands to his shirt collar, working at the buttons of his dress shirt as he opens the fly of your pants. He slips his hand lower just as you reach the last button of his shirt, revealing the tight white t-shirt that outlines his impressive chest.

His fingers rub you over your panties and you feel your knees buckle at the delicious friction. Miguel chuckles, removing his hand to grip the backs of your thighs and lift you against him, your legs wrapping around his trim waist and your hands holding onto his shoulders. He sets you down by his desk, reaching around you to sweep the surface clean, pens and paper falling to the floor.

“In a rush are we?” You say with a laugh. Miguel raises an eyebrow at you.

“Cállate.” He kneels before you, lifting each foot to remove your shoes before turning you to face the desk with his hands on your hips. He grasps the waist of your jeans and shimmies the material down over your hips. When they’re pooled around your ankles, his warm palms grip each ass cheek roughly, spreading you open. “This pussy is even prettier than I imagined,” he groans.

“You think about my pussy a lot, Dr. O’Hara?” You ask innocently. A palm lands a smack to your ass cheek, heat blooming across your skin as you gasp.

“Don’t play dumb, baby, I know you’ve thought about this just as much. You think I can’t see it. Trust me, I can see you watching me in class with those pretty little lips wrapped around your pen, wishing it was something else. Isn’t that right?”

You gasp as he runs his thick fingers through your soaked folds, reaching forward only enough to graze your clit without giving it the attention you desperately want. He leans himself over you, his chest pressed to your back and his lips grazing your ear as he says, “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes,” you pant, the confession earning you that delicious friction, his fingers drawing messy circles around the sensitive nub. He withdraws too soon for your liking, a whine falling from your lips that he shushes, his warm breath on your pussy. You turn your head to look over your shoulder, surprised to find him on his knees.

As you watch, he spreads your cheeks once more before leaning in, licking from your clit to your entrance with a rough groan. Your head drops down, hitting the surface of the desk with a thump as he eats you out like a man who’s found water in a desert. The sounds echoing in the lab are downright indecent, deep groans of appreciation against your cunt and desperate whines from your lips.

“Miguel,” you moan, unable to keep your hips still as his tongue drives you closer to the cliff’s edge of release. “Miguel, I’m gonna cum!”

The man only grips your hips harder, fingers digging deep as he holds you still and doubles his efforts. The thread you’re hanging on by snaps, sending you falling into ecstasy as your muscles go tight and your breath leaves you in a shout of his name as you unravel.

He pulls away only long enough to stand and turn you to face him, lifting you so that you’re sitting on the edge of the desk, legs spread by his body. He wastes no time slipping two thick fingers inside of your still fluttering cunt, his grin sharp as he sets a pace that has you trying to wiggle away to escape the overstimulation.

“Ah, Miguel!” You yelp, trying to shut your legs. His free hand shoves one thigh wide, pressing it to the desk. “What–”

“Cum for me again, I need to see your face this time,” he demands. He curls his fingers, pressing against your front wall with each drag of his hand from your body.

“I can’t!”

“What was it you said to me earlier? I can tell you to do anything?” He curls his fingers harder, focusing his efforts on a spot that has you squirming, desperate to get away and to cum in equal measure. “I’m telling you to cum again, arañita, so be a good girl and do as I say.”

Your orgasm crashes over you in a wave, the tightness in your abdomen unraveling as you clench around his fingers. His movements slow as you try to catch your breath until he’s withdrawing, leaving you feeling disparagingly empty.

“Mirame,” Miguel says. You lift your head, pushing yourself up on your elbows and watching as he unbuckles his belt. “You made a mess, baby.”

You feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you notice the wet stains on the front of his gray slacks. The feeling is short lived, however, as Miguel unbuttons his pants and pushes them down his thighs along with his boxers, kicking them to the side as he reaches behind his head and pulls his t-shirt off. You’re blown away by how stunning he is, broad shoulders and chest that lead to sculpted abs and a defined adonis belt that draws your eyes to his thick and intimidatingly long cock.

“There’s no way that’s going to fit,” you tell him nervously.

“Why don’t we test that hypothesis?” He asks, taking himself in hand. You blink at him.

“Did…did you just make a joke?” Laughter bubbles up your chest until it’s spilling into the room, your shoulders shaking with the force of it. Miguel takes himself in hand, notching the broad head of his length to your dripping entrance and sliding inside the barest amount, just the tip, but it has your laughter morphing into gasps.

“Mierda,” he murmurs, gaze fixed where your bodies connect. “So fucking tight, arañita.”

You feel like he’s splitting you apart, the stretch deep and all consuming as he fits himself inside of you, drawing back after each inch and slowly thrusting back in and giving you more of his cock in the process.

“You’re so close,” he tells you. “You’re doing so good for me. Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels so fucking good, Miguel,” you answer honestly. “I’m so full.”

“Fucking right you are,” he growls. His hands shove your blouse up, bunching the fabric under your armpits to expose your breasts. He tugs the cups of your bra down before leaning forward, the last bit of his length slipping inside of you as his lips wrap around a pert nipple and his hand gropes the opposite breast.

Your back arches at all the sensation - the fullness and stretch of him inside of you, the warmth of his mouth and the pinch of his fingers. He moves his mouth to your other breast and looks up at you through dark lashes with darker eyes as he licks the taut peak while holding your gaze.

His hips draw back, the drag of each inch from your body exquisite torture until he slams into you, the force of it sliding you up the desk. You cry out, your hands gripping his shoulders and your fingernails leaving crescent shaped indents as you cling to him.

Miguel stands, his arms looping beneath your thighs so that the backs of your knees rest across his forearms, spreading you open as he picks up his pace. He looks down at your body like it’s his greatest discovery.

“Fuck, fuck, te sientes tan bien,” he growls.

“Miguel,” you moan, “please, please, please!”

“What are you begging for, arañita? Tell me.”

“Wanna cum, please, Miguel,” you beg. He drops your legs, reaching up to wrap a hand around the back of your neck, urging you to sit up. You keep one hand planted on the desk behind you, the other diving into his thick, dark hair, pulling at the strands.

He drags his strong nose along your jaw as he murmurs, “Greedy girl, but I’ll give you what you need. Won’t I?”

“Uh huh,” you moan in response. His other hand settles at the base of your throat and his eyes hold a question that has your pussy clenching around him in anticipation.

His palm creeps up, strong fingers wrapping around your delicate throat, squeezing the sides the slightest bit. Your eyes roll back at the pressure.

“Look at me,” Miguel demands, “look at me while I make you cum again with my hand around your pretty throat.”

You gasp for air as he pounds into you, your release sparkling at the edges of your vision. It explodes like a supernova across your nerves, your muscles tightening around him and making him moan, a deep rumble that you echo as his movements grow erratic.

He slams deep inside of you, cock pulsing and filling you with warmth as he groans your name, head dropped to your shoulder. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as the sweat on your skin cools and you run your fingers through his hair.

“That was—“

“Perfecto,” he finishes, lifting his head and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, one that has your heart pounding even harder than the lust filled ones from earlier. “It’s late. Let’s get this cleaned up and get you home. I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you argue. He scowls at you as you continue to say, “No, seriously, you don’t need to go out of your way—“

“Will you shut up for a minute?” Miguel asks. He holds your face in his hands as he says, “Get dressed. I’m driving you home.”

He steps back, the absence of him making you feel empty as you carefully stand from the desk on shaky legs. He hands you your jeans and you look around in confusion.

“Have you seen my underwear?” You ask.

“Hm? No, I don’t see them,” he hums, buttoning his slacks. The stain from earlier has blessedly faded.

You shrug, pulling your jeans on and fixing your blouse. Miguel cleans up the stuff he’d knocked from the desk, putting it all back in haphazard piles and grabbing his bag. He holds his hand out to you.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. He must sense the hesitation you’re feeling when you don’t immediately grab his hand because he steps close, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “No one will see us. It’ll be our secret.”

You nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. “Just this once?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, arañita.”

The most fantastic fanart by narutoss.ramen on insta that fits the vibe of professor! miguel:

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racefortheironthrone · 1 year ago

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TLT World Building: The Nine Houses and the Logistics of Space Empires

Building off my earlier post about stele-and-obelisk travel and the River, I wanted to talk about something that's been rattling around my mind for a while, which is subluminary travel and the logistics of the Nine Houses. One of the things that has been brought up as a criticism of Muir's world-building as far back as Gideon the Ninth is that the Empire seems to have very, very fast non-FTL travel, such that Gideon and Harrow travel the 3.3 billion miles from Pluto to Earth in an hour, without using a stele. How, it was asked, does an Empire whose military relies on swords and whose medical knowledge is incredibly uneven at best, accomplish a technological feat of that magnitude?

I think we got an answer for that in Nona the Ninth:

“That ship’s not big enough for a stele. Don’t know if it’s big enough for subluminary travel, even. How did it get here?” Crown leant back in her chair, staring at the projector screen, head balanced in the crook of one golden arm. Nona noticed that her biceps showed even through her shirt, and that there were rubber bandages wrapped around one palm. She said, “Oh, that’s big enough for subluminary travel, Millie. See the double struts, and the massive exhaust? That’s a Ziz-class.” ...Crown continued, “The Ziz isn’t Cohort standard. And it’s not as big on the inside as you think. Look at the windows—see how there’re none on the back end? It’s mostly engine. Not plated either. It’ll get to sublume without many problems … but it definitely doesn’t have room for a stele. Camilla is right. It can’t travel by obelisk anchor.” Pyrrha said suddenly, “Crown. How’s the fuel consumption on a Ziz-class ship?” “Thirsty,” said Crown, brightening up at being asked. “Its cell would be totally drained after a day in subluminary. It only takes the powerful stuff too—thalergy-enriched, not just hydrogen blend. Hydrogen blend stuffs up the engine.”

The answer is necromancy. (Because of course it is.) The Empire infuses shuttle fuel with thalergy - and we know that the necromantic specialty of the Second House is to "drain thalergy from any living source and use it," so the Empire can treat thalergy as a fungible resource that they can extract, store, and then use somewhere else. Moreover, we know that the necromantic specialty of the Fourth House is "exciting thanergy into a state of fission" in order to produce explosions.

Since necromancy can easily convert thalergy into thanergy, I think that the Empire's higher-end shuttles are powered by necromantic pulse propulsion, such that shuttle fuel is burned to produce thrust, but then at the same time the thanergy is turned into a massive fission explosion behind the shuttle, producing even more thrust.

I think this also explains why the Second and Fourth are so disproportionately represented in the Cohort, because in addition to producing soldiers for the front lines, they're heavily involved with making the Cohort Fleets move. (I'm going to further speculate that the Fourth make up a lot of the Fleets' pilots, since that would fit their necromantic specialties, the nature of their planet, and their image as gung-ho "go fast" types.) This leads me to a few conclusions:

it explains why the Empire is so focused on short-term extraction; it's essentially stripping the thalergy for fuel to power subluminary transportation in the Dominicus system and beyond, in the same way that we're burning fossil fuels to power our economies today. There is a profound irony in that Mr. Environmentalist John Gaius has so precisely recreated the dynamics of the carbon economy through necromancy.

it explains how logistics in the Nine Houses work. If you can use necromantic fission drives to get from the outer edge of the Dominicus system to the core that quickly, than most of the logistical complexities of running a multiplanetary economy fall away. All you have to do is get your transport shuttle full of goods from the colonies to a stele at the edge of the Dominicus system, and then necromantic fission solves the "last mile problem" of getting your Necro-Amazon "just-in-time" deliveries to the hungry markets of the Third or the Fifth. You don't need to worry about the fact that you can't produce a lot of organic resources on thanergetic planets (especially ones that are space stations and the like rather than fully terraformed), because you just have everything delivered.

it similarly explains how logistics out in the colonies work. Even if you're at the edge of the stele network, necromantic fission shuttles can transport goods between planets in the same solar system with relative ease. It only becomes an issue when you're a ways out from the edge of the network, because that involves burning more thalergy-enriched fuel. Hence why Corona talks about "the Cohort movements didn’t make sense to her...shepherd planets got more costly the further the Houses extended themselves."

This makes me think of necromancy in a different way than I had before. Rather than just being about magic and warfare, necromancy is essentially the technology of the Nine Houses (aside from some legacy technologies that they have left over from pre-Resurrection), the tool that they use to solve all of their problems and make their society and economy and government function.

#the locked tomb #tlt #world building #necromancy #space logistics

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spiderlandry · 1 year ago

Text

connect — ethan landry

Description: Ethan is enamoured with the girl who beats him during a college trivia night.

Pairing: Ethan Landry x F!Reader (she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as a girl)

Warnings/Tags: non-gf ethan, fluff, probably super corny (you have been warned.)

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: the trivia is based off an episode of only connect. for the record, i’m not british i just love that show

There aren’t many things in college that really matter to Ethan besides his grades. Sure, he has his friends—but they understand his incessant need to excel in academics once he opened up about his aspirations, which more often than not have him holed up in the apartment he shares with his longtime roommate, Chad. They’ve been roommates since freshman year in the dorms, and Chad said he didn’t want anyone else to be his roommate, so they decided to rent an apartment for junior year. Being a good roommate is third in the list of important things.

However, the thing that takes second place is something that his friends don’t understand. It’s the annual trivia competition held by Blackmore’s Honor Students Society. Particularly, one held by the STEM students. This tradition, having existed since the society was founded, has been a loved custom.

Spanning three days, the winner gets a donation to a charity of their choice under their name at the end. It’s been vital for frats and sororities to win because of the reputation points earned for their society, but Ethan is not part of one; yet he still wants to win.

Often, he gets teased by Chad and Mindy while he prepares for the upcoming few days. But he lets them, knowing they’d agree to be his teammates like they always do. His team during the first part—the trivia bowl—has always consisted of him, Chad, Mindy, Anika, and Tara. They switch out teammates for different categories. It has worked all these years, there’s no reason for it not to work again.

Well, he’d be proven wrong this time.

The first day is by far the most difficult due to the amount of people participating: twelve teams.

The lecture hall is alight with excitement, nerves running through the crowd as the host gets on the stage. Ethan being the team captain, he sits in the middle with Chad and Anika on his left, Mindy and Tara on his right.

(After some trial and error, it was best Chad and Mindy didn’t get to sit together because of their banter, and if the arrangement was Mindy with Anika and Chad with Tara, it’s just Ethan fifth-wheeling.)

“Who’s ready to rumble?!” The host shouts, the boom of the microphone travelling around the room. They cheer in anticipation. “Alright! I’ll explain the rules for the quiz bowl, then we’ll get to introducing our teams.

“For this first day, we’ll play connections—the goal is for your team to find the connection between the clues we put on the screen,” he points to the big projector screen. “For the first ten seconds, there will be two clues. After that, the other two clues will be shown and there are fifteen seconds for your team to figure it out.

“The clues will get harder as it goes on. Every team has a bell, whoever dings first gets to answer. Now! Let’s get to introducing! From the front of the room, you—“ he points.

Chad speaks for the team, “We are the Fab Five, and we’ve got a champion with us.” He half jokes, shaking Ethan by the shoulders.

The host chuckles, “That’s right. Certainly a legend, Ethan Landry, who’s won the past two years. Think you can keep your streak?”

Ethan, confidently nodding, “Absolutely.”

Every other team introduces themselves. Nobody stands out, at least not for now. There are only some familiar faces to Ethan and that’s it.

It’s not until about halfway through the game, during a question that Ethan realizes he may have actual competition. Of course, he’s been confident throughout the past hour, his team in the lead with the most points, but there’s a close runner-up that answers from across the room.

The screen reads:

Audio CDs. Details of The Budget.

The silence in the room is cut with a familiar ding. Ethan looks to the source, spotting the one person who seemed to have an edge over his entire team. You.

“Red books,” You answer.

God, who are you? Ethan thinks. He shakes his head—he has to get it together. His strategy has been to focus on his team only, and he can’t stray from that now. His brows furrow when the host says you’re correct.

“This has been interesting,” the host smiles, “The Fab Five has tied with the Three Fates.”

Ethan looks closer, and indeed, there are only three people on your team.

You don’t seem to pay him any mind.

So the game continues.

Aqua Regis. Aqua Fortis.

“Alchemist names for acids,” Ethan answers.

Oscar Niemeyer, Brasilia. Charles Barry, London.

“Architects of parliaments,” you chime.

Meanwhile, his friends can definitely sense the nervousness radiating off Ethan. He isn’t usually concerned with staying first place, but he keeps sneaking glances to your position in the room and they’re beginning to think it’s not just about trivia.

All in all, their team still stays in the lead with two points ahead of yours.

The second day.

The host welcomes everyone back into the room, a few less people than yesterday. He leans against the podium, grinning as your team and Ethan’s are forced closer together, tables next to each other.

“The teams have been cut down to the top four who earned the most points yesterday,” he explains. “The other teams are invited to come watch, as well as anyone else interested as the game finally gets interesting.

“For the next hour, you’ll play sequences. The goal is to predict the fourth in a sequence—if you predict it with less clues on the screen, you get more points. Two seconds in between each clue. No need for introductions, let’s do it!”

Fear.

Surprise.

Ethan rings the bell. “Devotion to the Pope.”

“Three points to the Fab Five. Next!”

Observation.

Statement.

“Testing.” You answer.

“Three points to the Three Fates, well done.”

It goes on like that, with the other two teams occasionally answering. But mainly it’s just either yours or his that answers.

A game of cat and mouse. It gets under Ethan’s skin, the way you easily answer the questions while laying back in your chair all the while Ethan is probably bouncing off his seat.

Amidst the chaos inside his own head, a jumble of questions and answers, there’s something about you that stands out. In his own circles, he’d never seen or heard about you. Though Blackmore was a big college, the amount of STEM honors students they had was relatively small, with the university being known for its film programs. He needed to know who you are.

The game is over before he knows it.

Hours later, thinking about his choices and zoning out, his train of thought is interrupted by an object being hurled at his head.

“You okay?” Chad throws a pillow at Ethan, who is sitting on the couch. He catches it last second.

“Why?” Ethan hugs the pillow close to his chest as his roommate gets something from the kitchen.

“You just seemed fidgety today. At the trivia thing.”

Even after knowing Chad all these years, it surprises him that he notices.

“No, yeah. I’m fine. Nobody’s just come close like that before.”

“Well, Y/N’s smart.”

Ethan’s interest piques. “You know her?”

“Yeah. I met her at a party, last semester. She just transferred here. She was drunk, going off to me about this new thing they discovered in physics.”

“Oh,” is all he can say.

“What, are you nervous?”

“Why would I be nervous?”

“Tomorrow’s the big day. You’re gonna have to face her without us.”

“Shit.” He sighs. He was so caught up in beating you that he’d forgotten the last part of the challenge. He has to face you individually with other teams watching to see who gets the winning prize.

“You guys would get along, I think.”

“Are you kidding? She’s getting on my nerves.”

Chad tilts his head, akin to that of a confused puppy. “I don’t think you know the real reason, bud.”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying!” He shrugs. “She’s very pretty.”

And as his (infuriating) roommate walks away, Ethan can’t help but silently agree.

A few continuous buzzes from Ethan’s phone is what finally takes him out of a studying session. Picking up the device, the screen reads:

Quinn

can you come pick up ur notes

He groans. The sun had taken its place above, a contrast to when it was just dawn as he woke up to study for the final part of the quiz. It was probably a good idea to go outside, though.

On the steps of the Carpenter/Quinn residence, he taps his foot against the welcome mat impatiently.

The door swings open.

Here’s the thing: With the three people living in this apartment, it was a common occurrence for friends to be over. Tara’s got a big group that she knows, Sam has coworkers over, often Danny even opens the door or one of Quinn’s flings.

But out of all the possibilities, the last person in his mind to open the door is you.

Ethan’s smile drops, and you seem to notice it. “Oh, sorry.” You stand aside to let him in, yet he doesn’t move an inch. “Who are you looking for? You’re Ethan, right? Chad’s roommate?“

Just then, Tara’s voice booms from the other room. “Come in, Ethan!”

One second under your scrutinizing gaze is enough to make him stumble into the apartment, and he’s sure he can feel your stare burning the back of his head as he rushes to Quinn’s room.

He closes his sister’s door with a slam, making her jump. “What’s your problem, asshole?” She turns from her spot on the bed, facing him.

It takes a minute for him to catch his breath. “My problem? I should be asking you that!” He’s careful not to be too loud, his words coming out more as a whisper. “Why would you ask me to come here?”

“To pick up your notes? I told you.”

“No that—” He shakes his head, “That Y/N is here. Didn’t I tell you about that girl from trivia?”

“The one you have a crush on?” She laughs. “So? She’s friends with Tara.”

“Friends with—” His head tilts to rest against the wall. “You didn’t tell me she was here.”

“…I did. Didn’t you read my texts?”

Texts. As in plural. He fully opens his phone into the app, and lo and behold, the texts are there.

Quinn

the girl you have a crush on is here lol

where have u been

can you come pick up ur notes

She laughs even harder when she realizes his mistake.

“Please shut up, Quinn.”

“Why don’t you just talk to her? She’s nice!”

“Keep it down.”

“Fine,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “Your notes are on my desk.”

He picks them up and turns to leave, however not without an additional comment from his sister.

“I promise you won’t regret talking to her.”

He only grumbles, walking out. He has to face you again, though he’s sure if he’s fast enough he can avoid you.

Nope. Totally wrong.

You stop him before he exits the apartment, he shoots a stern look to Tara in the background when she audibly holds back a snicker.

“Hey, you.” You nod to him. “You’re my competition.”

He finally faces you. His eyes scan your expression, treading lightly as to not get lost in your eyes. “I am.”

You flash him a devilish smirk, “You think you’ll win?”

“I know I will.” He quips back, slowly gaining confidence. You slide in front of him, opening the door to let him out.

“See you tonight?”

“Good luck,” he smiles. “You’ll need it.”

Unbeknownst to him, it was Tara who invited you over just to psych him out. And it worked.

“The final day of this competition,” The host speaks to the crowd consisting of the teams who competed. “It’s been a close race between the Three Fates and the Fab Five.

“Per our tradition, the team captain of the two leading teams are to face off each other in a timed game of missing vowels.

“On my right is Ethan Landry, team captain of the Fab Five with twenty-two points,” He reads off an index card. “He’s an honors statistics major, in his third year here at Blackmore. On my left is Y/N Y/L/N, team captain of the Three Fates who have twenty, she is a double major on linguistics and anthropology. She recently transferred here from Rutgers University.“

The audience cheers. You and Ethan stare at each other intensely, like you can see straight through his soul.

“The objective of this game is to fill in the missing vowels of what’s on the screen. You’ll be given a category, the first one being endangered mammals. Thirty minutes on the clock, use your bell to answer, and best of luck. Time starts now.”

FRC NLPH NT

Your bell goes off before he can even think, “African Elephant.”

You have an advantage, he realizes. But he studied.

BLC KRH NCR S

“Black rhinoceros,” Ethan answers. You smirk—for a second he’s thinking if you hadn’t answered on purpose.

The game is back and forth.

RN GTN

“Orangutan.”

BC TRNC ML

“Bactrian Camel.”

He can feel the audience’s eyes jumping between him and you, and besides either of your voices and the host moving onto the next category, the room is unusually quiet. It’s not like any other year, he should have worked harder.

It does not help that you’re gorgeous, but it takes all of his willpower not to get distracted by your frustratingly enchanting smile and the crinkle of your eyes when you beat him—

You beat him, and he lost.

“Time’s up!” The man announces, and he meets you halfway on the stage to shake your hand.

“There’s always next year, man.” Chad pats him on the back pitifully, though he knows it’s out of kindness. “Look who’s coming,” His roommate gestures to behind him. He turns around, and of course you’re there.

Ethan can see your group exiting the room, and he can sense his group leaving, too. It’s just you and him now.

“You did well,” you say. And to his chagrin, it really does sound like you mean it. “Wanna get a milkshake?”

He tries not to show surprise. “With me?”

“The least I can do,” you nod.

“Lead the way.”

He hopes you don’t notice the beads of sweat on his forehead.

He can’t help but feel slightly guilty when you pay for his drink. Slightly. You did beat him.

Expecting to separate from you after that, he moves to leave but you catch his wrist. “Where are you going?” There’s a laugh brewing, but you hold it back.

“I’m—“ He pauses. “I thought—“

Thankfully, you get him. “No, I wanted to talk to you. Come on, I know a spot.”

The cold drink in his hand is surely a good distraction. He follows you into a small academic building, and you start making small talk with him. He really doesn’t mind, not when it’s you.

“Where are we going?” He finally questions when you lead him to a set of stairs.

“Rooftop,” you reply when you both reach the top.

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Illegal?” You open the door, ushering him outside as you follow.

The sunset is the first thing he sees. He’s drawn to it, staring in awe. Various pink and orange hues paint the sky.

“It’s not illegal,” you pipe up. “Blackmore just doesn’t allow it. It’s a liability.”

He knows that, though. “So how did you get us up here?”

“That’s for me to know.”

He mirrors your grin. “Come on, tell me.”

“Maybe one day.”

The implication of a deeper friendship with you makes his heart soar. Or something more than that.

“What does the competition mean to you? Do you just like the bragging rights?”

His brows furrow. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. That’s a lie, he knows. “I donate the money to this animal shelter where I got my childhood dog.”

It’s a moment of honesty that is unexpected, even for him.

“What’s the shelter?”

“Why?”

“So I can donate it under your name.”

Hm? “What?”

You chuckle, “I like your reason. It’s nice.”

“But you won.”

“And I get to decide,” you say.

He can’t really argue with that. So he does the next best thing, “We can do it under both our names. You keep the bragging rights.”

“What makes you think I want it?”

“You were teasing me!” He bickers.

You go back and forth again, this time without any prying eyes. You stay talking until your milkshakes are done, even more after that. The sun has almost gone down, with only a little bit of light left.

When it’s time to leave, though, neither of you want to. It’s an invisible string.

“Just text me the name of the shelter.”

“Text—“ he starts, “I don’t have your number.”

You raise your brows, as if asking something. “Well?”

Getting the hint, “…Can I have your number?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #scream 6 #scream 6 x reader #scream vi #scream #scream x reader #ethan landry fluff

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lost-in-fandoms · 2 months ago

Note

Hi friend, please give us more streamer Max AU! First interaction between them maybe??

part 1 here

Daniel blinks awake, groggily turning off his alarm and rubbing his eyes, blindly reaching for the water on his bedside table.

The room is still pitch dark, the night quiet outside.

2:55 am.

He grabs his phone, settling again onto the pillows and clicking through his apps until he can open the now familiar twitch app and navigate to Max's channel, just in time to see the starting soon screen appear as it goes live.

He knows this is ridiculous. He knows that he is not helping himself or his unstable sleep patterns by setting an alarm in the middle of the night to watch a guy stream from somewhere in Europe, but as long as nobody knows nobody can judge him either, so that's okay.

He yawns, scratching at his chest, watching people say hello to each other in chat as it comes alive.

He has yet to ever type something there.

In the two weeks he's been watching Max, he has managed to figure out what subscriptions and gifted subs are, Max's schedule (stream four times a week plus whenever he feels like it), and has started to recognise some usernames in chat. But there is something about actually typing that feels...revealing.

His username is generic, just Daniel_358, the number randomly chosen until twitch stopped telling him the username was taken, but that's still his name. Connected to his private email. And he knows he's not doing anything wrong, but it still feels forbidden, to wake up at night and spend about two hours just looking at Max.

The screen suddenly changes, switching to Max's camera, his pretty smiling face filling Daniel's small screen. Not for the first time, he thinks about setting up the projector, just to be able to see more.

"Hello everyone, it's Friday! And we're playing Minecraft today."

Daniel lets Max's now familiar accent wash over him, feeling himself smile back instinctively. Max looks soft today in the dim golden glow of his light, a faded sweatshirt almost covering the very short grey shorts he's wearing, and it makes Daniel wish he had Max right there, in his bed, warm and sleep rumpled in the sheets.

Yes, he is aware how weird that is too. He knows that it would maybe be less weird if he only got off watching Max's streams.

He has by now mostly figured out Max's deal. He'll play his games, talk with chat, and from time to time do something that will make Daniel's breath stutter in his chest. Touching his legs, squeezing himself through his shorts, raising his shirt to touch his stomach, trailing his fingers down towards his pants. One memorable time, he had pushed it high enough to touch his own nipple, a visible shudder traveling through him. Daniel had almost come on the spot.

The whole stream sometimes ends up feeling like a 2 hours long edging session, and he is so painfully hard by the end of it he comes as soon as he gets a hand around himself, waiting until Max has said goodbye to do so.

He doesn't always get off though. One time he had actually fallen back to sleep, Max's voice and Stardew's soft sounds lulling him straight into dreamland. But he always gets at least a little bit hard, something too sensual and alluring about Max for him to help himself.

Today though, Max seems more subdued. He still has his legs splayed open, miles of fuzzy skin on display, but he's focusing more on the game, even replying less to chat.

Daniel frowns, knowing he's not the only one who has noticed it, other worried messages popping up, mixed with a few more rude ones, telling Max to get on with it already.

"Sorry chat," Max says, finally acknowledging the messages with a small laugh. He takes a hand away from his keyboard, but instead of one of the usual teasing touches, he brings it up to his face, rubbing at his eyes and then dragging it down his cheek.

"It's been a long week," he adds with a sigh, before pushing himself to sit a bit straighter, pulling his smile back on. He's playing with the hem of his shorts now, pulling them high enough they completely disappear under the sweatshirt, but Daniel can tell it's an halfhearted attempt at best.

For the first time, he pulls up the chat, fingers itching to write something, but not knowing how to word it without being offensive. "You don't have to touch yourself if you don't want to"? Nobody ever actually acknowledges that bit out loud, he can't be that direct. "You don't have to stream if you are tired"? Would that feel like he's telling Max he doesn't care about his stream? He doesn't want that to be the first impression Max has of him.

Daniel_358: anything we can do?

He feels stupid as soon as he sends it, cringing at himself. What would he even do? He's on the other side of the world, a complete stranger.

And yet Max smiles, soft and sweet, and Daniel's stupid heart jumps in his chest.

"Hello Daniel, welcome in. You just being here is enough."

Daniel knows, he knows, that Max is just saying that, just a throwaway line to make him feel good, but at the same time he can't help but melt a little at the way Max says his name. At the thought of Max wanting him there.

He watches as a few more messages pop up, offering vague support, and sees the moment it gets too much for Max, his face closing off a little as he goes back to the game, trying to redirect chat's attention to it.

Without thinking too much about it, Daniel navigates to Max's profile down to the donate button. He's hovered over it often enough he doesn't have any trouble finding it, but it still takes him a couple tries to figure out how to properly go through with it.

A few moments later, a new alert pops up on the stream, startling Max (and Daniel, even if he knew it was coming) badly enough he accidentally falls out of a tree.

Daniel_358 has donated €358: for making it through the week and as good luck for the next

Max blinks. Pauses the game, then blinks again.

"I..uh...thank you Daniel for the donation? That's...a lot of money, mate," he stutters out, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. "Are you sure?"

Daniel_358: of course Daniel_358: you deserve it

Max's cheeks are red, his blue eyes wide, and Daniel's heart is still doing something weird in his chest.

"Thank you, then. It's...I of course appreciate it."

His voice sounds off, and for a moment Daniel is afraid he did something wrong, but then Max smiles, some tension in his shoulders disappearing.

"Well, Daniel just made the week better, so let's go back to chopping trees, yes?"

The chat explodes in a flurry of yeses and nodding emotes, and Daniel settles back on his pillows, feeling warm and satisfied.

The rest of the stream is more normal, Max going back to his usual teasing a few moments later, but for once Daniel doesn't feel like getting off, content with just watching Max's pretty smile and rosy blush. He still gets hard, he's not suddenly gone crazy (...or more crazy at least), but it doesn't feel as consuming as usual.

By the time Max says goodbye, Daniel is half asleep, curled up in his blankets, his phone laying on the pillow next to his.

When the screen goes dark he yawns, stretching slightly and dipping two fingers into his boxers, trying to decide if he feels like getting off or if he's sleepy and content enough to save it for the morning.

He's brushing a finger against the tip of his dick, still contemplating, when his phone dings, a new notification sound he's never heard before. Curious, he takes his hand out, reaching for it and unlocking it.

The twitch app is still open, now with a red number 3 next to the messages icon, and when he clicks on it he almost drops his phone again in surprise.

Player00Max: Hello Daniel Player00Max: I hope it is okay if i message you I wanted to thank you for the donation Player00Max: but it is a lot of money so I of course can reimburse you if you changed your mind

#yes i'm making him play minecraft on mouse and keyboard i will be damned if he isn't on java at least in my made up universe #apparently i can only write from 4 to 5 am this weekend sdfbsdj #and i don't even know how this is i haven't read it back #i'm just trying my best here but words are hard #daniel my parasocial buddy has never been normal a day in his life and i love him for it <3 #maxiel #my writing #i have literally no plans for this au btw so like i make no promises about adding more to it #i might or i might not #also typos aren't real xx #yes i spent more time trying to come up with usernames than writing most of this #streamer max au

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simdertalia · 1 year ago

Text

📌 ACNH Office Set 🧾

53 items | Sims 4, Base game compatible

Use the scale up & down feature on your keyboard to make the items larger or smaller to your liking. If you have a non-US keyboard, it may be different keys depending on which alphabet it uses.

Always suggested: bb.objects ON, it makes placing items much easier. For further placement tweaking, check out the TOOL mod.

Type “animal crossing office” into the search query in build mode to find quickly. You can always find items like this, just begin typing the title and it will appear.

As always, please let me know if you have any issues! Happy Simming! 💗

📁 Download all or pick & choose (SFS, No Ads): HERE

📁 Alt Mega Download (still no ads): HERE

📁 DL on Patreon

Will be public on August 1st, 2023

Happy Simming! ✨ Some of my sets will be early access from now on. If you like my work, please consider supporting me:

★ Patreon 🎉 ❤️ |★ Ko-Fi ☕️ ❤️ ★ Instagram 📷

Thank you for reblogging ❤️❤️❤️

@sssvitlanz @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters @coffee-cc-finds @itsjessicaccfinds @gamommypeach @stargazer-sims-finds @khelga68 @suricringe @vaporwavesims @mystictrance15 @public-ccfinds

This set is brought to fruition by my lovely Patrons who voted in the poll 💗

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love-at-first-sight-23 · 4 months ago

Text

Movie Night

WARNINGS: Plenty of smut, mentions of alcohol. Viewer discretion advised.

PLOT: It’s party time over with the Pogues! While inside grabbing extra drinks and popcorn, JJ finds you and can’t resist himself…

Crickets chirp and decorative lights make the backyard glow as you and the Pogues get ready for a movie night.

“Hey! Over here!” John B tosses a bag of Doritos over to JJ, narrowly missing Kiara’s head.

“Watch it!” She snaps and rolls her eyes at you. “Boys.”

Chuckling, you help set up lawn chairs in front of the large projection screen in the middle of the yard.

Once everything’s ready, you turn on the projector and the movie starts rolling. Settling down in a chair next to your friends, laughter soon fills the night. Beer and soda bottles, chocolate bar wrappers, and popcorn litter the grass.

“Hey y/n, mind grabbing us some more popcorn? It’s in the kitchen.” John B says to you.

“Why is it my job?” You complain.

“Because you do it the best.” John gives you his best puppy eyes. “Oh, and could you grab us a few more beers while you’re at it?” He adds.

“Sounds like he’s too lazy to do it himself,”Pope comments. His friend shoves him playfully.

Sighing, you get up and head into the house. As you wait for the popcorn to pop, you hear someone come in the door.

“Hey, babe,” JJ says with a smirk.

When you first came to the Outer Banks, you never dreamed of dating the one and only JJ Maybank, drop-dead gorgeous Pogue with golden blonde hair and sexy blue eyes to match. But then again, you were known for being irresistible too.

“Need something, Jay?”

“Oh, nothing,” he replies lazily. “Just, you know, you.” This is nothing new. JJ is definitely the flirtatious type, but with you he does nothing less than smother you with compliments and adoration every hour of the day. You don’t mind, of course.

He steers you into the living room, where he backs you into the wall and places hands on either side of you.

“JJ…?” You ask with a slight smile. “What are you doing…?”

“What I can’t resist doing when I’m around you.” And he crashes his lips into yours, forcing you straight up against the wall as he fills you with his heat.

As he pulls away, you kiss him again without hesitation, cupping his face in your hands.

Just then, Pope walks in, his mouth agape as he sees you two making out. You pull away quickly, blushing slightly.

“What are you-? You know what, I don’t want to know.” Shaking his head, he leaves the room.

“Oops.” You and JJ giggle at each other. “Guess we better get the snacks.”

Outside again, John B cheers when he sees the fresh popcorn and beverages and Pope eyes you suspiciously. You ignore him and get right back to having fun, downing several shots; JJ’s arm wrapped around your shoulders.

｡･:*˚:✧･:*˚:✧｡

Later that night, while the rest of the group is in the living room in their sleeping bags chatting, you and JJ sneak up to the bedroom, with the excuse of needing to use the bathroom.

Laughing quietly, you shut the door behind you. JJ picks you up by the waist and tosses you onto the bed carefully.

In a matter of seconds he’s on top of you, his lips pressed against your mouth and tongue traveling inside. You can sense his growing erection against his pants as you kiss.

Clothes are tossed aside as well as your bra and panties, and JJ begins massaging your breasts, earning a few moans from you. His mouth sucks your tender tits again and again, making them wet.

You move down to suck on his hard cock, trying to fit his entire member in your mouth at one time. You stroke the parts that remain exposed.

JJ moans out your name, eyes watering in pleasure. He slides one finger, then two, inside your wet pussy. “JJ…” you whine.

“Shh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay.” He slides himself in little by little, waiting for you to get used to his size. You arch your back in pleasure as he thrusts in and out, moaning into his mouth.

“JJ…” you gasp. “I’m going to… c-come…”

“Go ahead, beautiful,” he responds, his words coming out strained.

You reach your climaxes at the same time, hand covering your mouth to stop yourself from full-on screaming. Coming back down, JJ’s thrusts become weaker until finally he pulls himself out, breathing heavily.

After you lay on the bed, waiting out the overstimulation, you head to the bathroom to clean each other off.

Tiptoeing cautiously back into the living room, Kiara asks sleepily, “Where have you guys been?”

“Oh, nowhere,” you say together with grins on your faces.

#jj maybank #jj maybank outer banks #jj obx #jj x reader #jj x y/n #jj maybank smut #smut #jj obx smut #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank concept #jj maybank blurb #jj outer banks

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kingofpopmj · 7 months ago

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Hello hi, I love your writings so much, (im new to this and wrote my first writing on here, not confident on it, but it’s okay!) I wanted to request if you could write a Michael x insecure reader? I’ve been feeling down lately, and not the best on my self-esteem, if you could do that for me, it would be very much appreciated! Thank you for all your hard work! :)))❤️❤️❤️

Hi!! ASH! My lil piece of perfection.

I love you lil brother 🫶🏻

I hope you enjoy this! Fingers crossed it makes you smile!

You'll Be There For Me, And Care Enough To Bear Me

You found yourself standing in front of the mirror after undoubtedly the worst day of your life. There was nothing that felt in your control. Everything felt so overwhelming. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on your breathing, but even that was exhausting. It just all felt like too much. On top of it all, you study the image looking back at you, the anger and hatred boils inside of you. How would anyone ever look at you and think you’re beautiful when you can’t even see it in yourself. Out of frustration, you snatched the mirror off the wall, holding yourself back from smashing it into the ground beneath you, instead turning it around and leaning it against the wall. You couldn’t handle looking at yourself another second.

“There you are.” You heard Michael’s sweet voice, quickly you dried the dampness under your eyes. The last thing you want is for him to see you this way. It would certainly push you even further over the edge. “A little birdie gave me a call, said you had a rough day. I thought I’d plan a fun little night for us and surprise you with some of your favorite things.”

“You?” You tilted your head letting out a weak laugh.

“Well, yes.” Michael showed you the biggest smile and his eyes dazzled in that way you loved. He threw his hands up, jokingly presenting himself to you.

“That’s very sweet of you.”

“But! It doesn’t stop there.” He ran off quickly, you could hear his excited laughter echo throughout the house. When he reappeared you couldn’t fight it anymore. This man had you smiling, forgetting what had upset you in the first place. “What do you think my sweet piece of perfection?”

Michael stood before you, holding a stack of your favorite movies, favorite candy, blankets and a bulky cardboard box.

“What’s in the box?” You stepped toward him, crossing your arms teasingly.

“I thought we’d spice up our usual movie night, so I got an outdoor projector! I already set up the screen. It was challenging, but I think the duck tape is holding—”

“Duck tape?”

“Yeah—”

“It didn’t come with hardware or instructions?”

“It did.” He responded defensively before looking down at his feet.

“Duck tape was part of it?”

“No! Listen, I lost a few things— well most of the screws. Okay, all of them. I lost everything.”

The guilty look on his face was all you needed to absolutely lose control. You burst out laughing at the thought of Michael attempting to build something completely on his own. The fact that he even thought to do anything for you warmed your heart.

“I’m sure it’s lovely.” I said between laughs.

“You’re lovely.” He said, the serious tone causing shivers to travel down your spine. “I truly mean it when I say you’re perfect. You’re my favorite person. You make my life infinitely better.”

“Michael—”

“Now, let’s get a few things out in the open.” He walked over to the mirror, lifting it up and hanging it back on the wall.

“Please, don’t do—” Michael scooped you up, placing you directly in front of the mirror. He was right behind you, taking your hands in his.

“You’re beautiful. Inside and out. I’m going to remind you every second of every day because you deserve to know. You need to hear every single thing I love about you and I’ll repeat each one until you believe it, because it is the truth.”

“I’m not—”

“Your smile! Oh, your smile, it’s like finally seeing sunshine after days of rain. Your eyes! They shine like nothing I’ve ever seen before. They hold so much love and warmth. You are so amazing. I pray that one day you see yourself the way I see you.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, covering his mouth with your hand.

“Love, you have to get used to compliments if you’re planning on keeping me around. Honestly, even if you don’t want me around I’m still not leaving.” He smiled hard, tilting his head innocently. “You’re stuck with me.”

“You’re so persistent it’s actually annoying.” He hugged you tight as you laughed into his chest. “Thank you for always being here.”

“Thank you for accepting me into your life. You beautiful thing you.”

“You’re getting cheesier by the second.”

“I don’t care. I need you to know how infatuated I am with you. There’s no one like you on this earth. Everyday, I’m blessed to learn more about you, to love more about you.”

“Michael, that’s so sweet.” My vision became blurry as I studied his face in disbelief.

“Plus, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of a hot commodity, so the fact that you won me over speaks for itself. Someday, I’m going to be a great trophy husband.”

“You did not just say that.”

“Which part?”

“All of it!” You giggled as he pulled you into him tighter.

“You love me”

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

“You’re going to have to stop playing hard to get one of these days love.” His teasing tone causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“What’s poking me?” You interrogated, palming his coat, but he quickly pulled away concealing whatever he had in his pockets.

“Do you love me?” He asked in a high pitched voice. “Yes or No?”

“Yes.”

“Do me a favor. Remember that feeling.” Michael pulled out two cans of silly string. You stood still as he unloaded on you. When the cans were empty you just stared at each other. “I can’t tell if you’re mad or not.” He whispered. “Should I run?”

“Run. Run fast.” You kept a straight face, staring him down before stepping forward. Michael’s eyes widened and he spun around taking off. You weren’t really mad, but this was definitely more fun. When Michael ran outside you knew exactly what you were going to do.

You watched as he hid behind his favorite tree, deciding the grass was looking a little too dry and there was only one way to fix that. The sound of water immediately made your target panic.

“Truce! I give! I give!” Michael shouted waving his hands in the air.

“What was that?”

“Truce?” He had uncertainty written all over his face and you were loving it.

“Let me think about it.” A hand on your hip and the other on your chin as you pretended to ponder his offer.

“Let me help you.” Michael sprinted over, hugging around your waist and dragging you into the sprinklers with him. You weren’t expecting that. He got you. Again.

“I think I could accept a truce.” Your voice coming out somewhat confident even though you didn’t have the upper hand anymore.

“Have I ever told you how incredible you look wet?”

“Michael!”

“That came out much dirtier than I meant it to.”

“You’re bad.” You giggled, crossing your arms.

“I’m also dangerous. Any other bases we need to cover or can I romance you now?”

“Romance away.”

After cleaning yourselves up Michael brought you out to the outdoor area of Neverland that was now surrounded by flower beds. The giant movie screen illuminated all the vivid colors of the pedals. He stared at you basically jumping up and down as he waited for you to speak.

“Do you like it?” He asked impatiently.

“I love it.” You squeezed his hand, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.”

“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

#michael jackson x reader #michael jackson imagine

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alexissimsblog · 1 year ago

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930 Medina Studios 3br/1ba

A simple apartment reno for my "and they were roommates" savefile. Originally home to Austin Wentworth—the flat is now shared by him and two other buddies of his from high school/college.

I wanted to keep it simple, dark colors + greens with splashes of white/cream to fit all of their individual styles. I meant for this to be somewhat of a bachelor pad/hangout spot for their friend group so big open windows to let that natural light in was a must. Honestly, Medina Studios has some of the best lighting in San Myshuno.

Which is why I always have the lights off. There is one light in the living room but its a low light so it doesn't overshadow that natural sunlight :)

Download info under cut! ❥

PACKS NEEDED

growing together, highschool years, seasons, and bathroom clutter kit!

CC NEEDED

house of harlix - orjanic part 1

pierisim - MCM all parts

myshunosun - 2023 tranquil bedroom

clutter cat - sunny sundae part 1 (small candle)

sixam - artz living room (plant small)

novvvas - rahat set (eucalyptus plant)

myshunosun - 2022 dawn living

pierisim - david's apartment part 1

myshunosun - 2023 vanity nook

kaiso - rusti.co living

rvsn - back that glass up

harrie - coastal part 5

harrie - octave part 1

myshunosun - 2022 lottie

harrie - Kichen (nectar glasses)

pierisim - living room mini kit

charlypancakes - insomnia

Madame Ria - Basic Luxe Kitchen (plant 01 Fig)

rvsn - on cloud wine bottle

littledica - H&B wall curved tv

littledica - delicato lounge (focused on you wall light)

rvsn - sip sip hooray bar cart

redheadsims - nintendo switch

charlypancakes - miscellanea stuff pack

harrie - kwatei part 1

littledica - eco kitchen (ceramic farmer sink)

*after some testing please note that the update is causing the ceramic farmer sink from the eco kitchen collection to behave strangely for me. if you are also unable to wash dishes with it, please feel free to change it! :)

nickname - playstation 5

peacemaker - hamptons retreat

taurus design - lilith chilling area part 1

charlypancakes - lighthouse

pierisim - tilable kitchen

awingedllama - nostalgia living

sixam - home office (wall screen projector)

peacemaker - hudson bathroom (dynamic hamper)

myshunosun - luna bedroom

syb - fitness (boxing gloves floor)

syb - fitness (medicine ball)

peacemaker - kitayama bedroom

rusticsims- simple kind of modular life

MTS teknikah - amy's garden plants

syb - crossfit (gym bag)

zulf and hakrabr - lets get fit

syb - traveller

illogicalsims - home office

felixandre - florence part 3 (simowa luggage)

sixam - boho bathroom (botanical beauty stool)

house of harlix - bafroom

littledica - chic bathroom

pierisim - winter garden part 2 (i believe with the new update the windows will show up so yay)

OPTIONAL PACKAGES

zulf - bathroom kit becomes functional

basemental drugs - for ashtray

DOWNLOAD OPTIONS

EA ID: midsapphire

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galleryleadingsales1 · 6 months ago

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Best Power Station Solar Generator

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#power station solar generator #cordless vacuum for pool #home goods garden furniture #pool vacuum cordless #pool vacuum cleaner cordless #better home and garden products #kids & babies products #classic watch for man #classic watch #bathroom products #buy clothes #bathroom cleaning products #bath products luxury #online shopping for grocery #women's clothing for travel #women's clothing for work #women clothing for summer #chocolate 3d Printer #outdoor gas grill and griddle combo #4k hdr projector #full body chair massage #full body massage chair zero gravity #portable power station vs solar generator #curved projection screens #online shopping clothes #wholesale scandinavian style tv stand for homes #smart bed with multifunction #luxury bed with massage and storage in usa #buy touch screen chocolate 3D printer #buy scandinavian style retro wooden tv stand

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red1culous · 1 year ago

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The Language Inside

When she continues to ignore you, you knock the side of your knee against hers. She coughs to disguise the groan that escapes her lips. Reaching under the table to rub at her knee she shoots you a warning glare. One that you respond to with a glare of your own.

“Something you wanna share with the rest of the group, Romanoff?” Maria’s voice brings Natasha’s eyes to the woman standing in front of the projector blocking its light with her body. She has her arms crossed in front of her. She looks very upset at the interruption.

Before Natasha can respond Maria continues with her presentation. Nat’s face goes a deep red and she turns her face harshly towards you scrunching up her eyebrows in protest. You slide her a folded up piece of paper which she takes. You hear the huff of air she breathes out and almost feel bad for getting her into trouble.

Natasha sits motionless staring at the screen at the front of the room for a few minutes. Hill and Stark had been tag teaming a presentation about a fundraiser for the last 45 minutes and your mind had wondered after the first 10. To keep yourself amused (and to not nod off) you had decided to write notes to your girlfriend sitting beside you.

At first your scribbled notes were silly and innocent anecdotes about how sleepy you were or sketches of the team around the table. After reading them, Natasha would neatly fold them back and place them in the notebook she had on her lap.

Your attention now was on the latest note you had passed to her. She was still holding it pinched in between her thumb and index finger. Her hand was on her lap but she made no motion to read it.

This very much annoyed you.

You coughed once, twice, three times. When you cough for the fourth time she looks at you and slides her bottle of water towards you. You take it pretending like you really needed it but when your eyes catch hers you motion with them towards the yet to be read note.

She rolls her eyes but calmly unfolds the piece of paper and reads it.

A smile erupts on her face followed by a crimson that travels up her exposed neck. You flush knowing you did that to her. She clears her throat and takes her water bottle back from you. Quickly she takes a gulp of water suddenly feeling very thirsty, the blush cresting her cheeks.

She leans back into her seat and takes another few minutes to compose herself. Looking at her she was a picture of calm and peace. Nobody was the wiser. She reaches over and places one hand on your thigh squeezing once, and then again.

Maybe you had gone too far. Maybe, just maybe.

Your note reads:

Baby you should really wear a warning sign (plse turn over)…

On the backside of the note:

WARNING: MAY MAKE PANTIES WET. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

----

I have a taglist if you want to join.

@arcturusseer @readings-stuff @blackwidow-3 @justyourwritter69 @cutelittleakira @jareguiromanoff @sk1nnyftt @official-clint-barton @nattysredhair @black-kittycat18 @owloftheshadows @angryalpacachaos @iliketozoneout @marvelonmymind @wastdstime @lovelyy-moonlight

#The Language Inside #redfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader

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faeriekit · 1 year ago

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Health and Hybrids (IV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here and this is part four 💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Our boy is recovering from Bad Stuff in the Watchtower (involuntarily). Danny gets a bandaid for a variety of wounds that definitely are not covered by a little adhesive bandaid, but hey! Bart’s trying.

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Batman clicks on the projector screen. Everyone in the room has access to the slides and note-taking abilities on their tablets. The assembled heroes quietly select their app of choice, sit back in their chairs, and ready themselves for the meeting.

“Good afternoon. For everyone in alternate time zones, good morning or good evening as they apply. Before I begin the approved agenda for this meeting, there are developments on the base that everyone ought to be aware of.”

Click. The slide changes to a fuzzy image of an unusually dense collection of shadows in a typical medical-wing setup. The specific location isn’t clear, but the phenomenon itself is stark against the white walls and flooring. The static on the cameras is atypical for the quality of equipment used on the base.

“There is an extraterrestrial lifeform that has made Medical Wing C their territory. Yes, we know they are there. No, they cannot be moved at this time. Please do not try to take initiative in doing so. Please do not enter the aforementioned medical wing. If you see this entity outside of the medical wing, please leave, ignore them, or otherwise make your presence known. They are generally in search of isolation and seek to remain unseen. All known attempts at self-defense by this entity have been largely non-hostile so far, but we do not know how or if that behavior will change as they heal.”

Batman…takes a breath. Not sighs. The vigilante has more control than that.

“They are severely injured. The exact nature of their injuries are still unknown, based on their—unique physiology—“

Barry squints at the screen. Nope. The cloud still looks like a cloud.

“—But the identified fluids they secrete have been recognized as at least partially composed of red blood platelets and a modified plasma. Based on their aggressive self-defense, the persistent seclusion behavior, and their general lack of responsiveness, the injuries are considered deeply severe and require rest to treat. It is imperative that non-medical staff and on-base heroes maintain as little contact with the entity as possible. We are attempting both delicate medical treatment and non-verbal communication, which have both failed thus far. We have reason to believe that the extraterrestrial is sentient and capable of communication based on—“

Click. The next slide is an image of a nearly-obliterated craft of some kind—tinted glass, wings, debris everywhere, twisted shards of metal that look like they scrape like teeth. Charred black everywhere. Barely visible is a torn–through upholstered seat ten yards away.

A hiss breaks the silence in the back of the room. That’s nasty-looking wreck.

“—This craft. It is relatively rudimentary in its design, and would not have held up to prolonged space travel, but would have required complex intelligence to start and maintain transport. Basic testing has proven that its energy readings, while not precisely contiguous with the Speed Force, show that it has been in contact with extradimensional phenomena. A non-sentient life would not have been able to pilot it successfully enough to crash it—much less to avoid the farmhouse in its path. The result is that we have an extremely wounded entity with no shared form of communication. There have been worrying observations by their medical team, however.”

Click.

This slide is blank.

“We are now pursuing the possibility that the entity has been attacked or otherwise held captive by human organizations here on Earth. There are persistent triggers of aggression brought on by medical settings, adults, and more specifically, any present medical personnel and equipment.”

Batman pauses.

“Their medical team has informed me that their persistent fear has made treatment…difficult.”

There’s a snort from somewhere in the room.

“If you discover any evidence of possible extraterrestrial captivity or torture or experimentation among your usual cast of rogues, please forward everything you are able to base for further investigation. In this time period where the Lanterns are unavailable to return to Earth, Martian Manhunter has been notified of the need of his presence on the base, and will hopefully help settle this matter. In the meantime, as a reminder: do not enter Medical Wing C, do not engage with the entity in any way. Simply make your presence known, and they will flee.

“Now. Onto our agenda. First article: whoever has been taking the toilet paper from the supply closet, stop it. The league is not here to fund your lifestyle habit of two-ply toilet paper.”

There’s more food available more often.

It just appears at the foot of his bed. Like magic. Or, like…like a really, really fast human child.

Some of the packaged foods Danny can’t eat without swallowing them whole, wrapper and all. They’re just too fiddly to get with his claws—the solution is to just swallow it and let the whole thing dissolve in whatever weird ecto-acid is churning in his stomach at the moment.

The rest is fresh from the bakery—or, well the base, anyway, however this moon base gets their fresh foods. Muffins and croissants and sausage rolls and other things he would expect to see on a coffee tray or something.

…Danny prods his stomach.

He’s been too sore to notice, but this half-state of being a somewhat-physical half-ghost is super, super weird. He can eat, but it’s not processed like food is in his living body. Everything he can digest just gets incorporated. Everything he can’t just gets…

He looks down at the slowly growing puddle in his bed.

…Maybe ‘spit out’ is too generous a phrase. Expelled? Excreted?

Ew. Okay that thought is kind of gross and he doesn’t want to think about that while he can’t move away maybe.

He knows, instinctually, that he’s wounded, but this half-and-half state stops him from feeling the specifics. Knowing how, exactly, he’s hurt. Experiencing the majority of the pain and distress.

He curls up on his bed.

Danny hates it here. Not because it’s bad (it is) but because he wants to be home. He selfishly, desperately wants to be home. He wants his rocket sheets. He wants his room with its glow in the dark stars.

…He wants his dad to heat up soup and sit with him, like when he was little and had nightmares. He wants Jazz to sit on the edge of his bed and read to him.

Danny wants Mom.

…There is some other company here, though.

Sometimes, if Danny is mostly sated and kind of sleepy, the quick human buzzes in with a few of its age-mates. The two don’t get as close as the buzzing human can, because Danny can at least read the Excited!! or Nervous!! or Booored! energy on the human, which makes him more comfortable with letting it in close. Its friends seem to respect his space, though. They don’t go past his curtain, even if it’s open. They talk, but they don’t yell.

Danny thinks he’s getting the soft little bones back in one of his ears, but he can’t fully tell. He can hear that they’re chattering and he can hear which sounds they’re making, but he can’t understand any of them.

Auuuuughhhhh. He pushes the pillow more underneath himself. Does he have brain damage?? Is he…is he missing pieces of his brain??

There won’t be a concrete way to tell until he solidifies again. Gross. He doesn’t want to do that yet.

Or soon.

…Or at all, maybe.

Mom was so mad at him. Maybe he’ll be safe and he can come home if she…if he can’t be touched…?

…No. He remembers. Mom makes things for ghosts.

??Concern?Con??cern?

Danny looks up. Oh. He made the human vibrate all nervously. Danny’s fine. Well—he’s not fine but he’s not hurting more than usual or hungry.

The human is careful not to touch him when he doesn’t want to be touched, but Danny’s feeling generous. When the human puts its hands on the bed, Danny willingly brushes his knuckles up against it.

No claws. A peace offering.

The human goes suuuuper still.

…Uh. Did he break it?

And then it zoooooooms away faster than Danny can comprehend (he jolts) and sprints back with a whole lot of stuff in its hands, and a few things thumpthumpthump ono his bed. And.

Well. None of it smells like food? When he bites it, it doesn’t taste like food either. In fact the texture is…

Danny frowns. Turns over the object so he can see it better. (It doesn’t help.) Is that plastic?

Wait. Danny twists it in half. His wrists ache but the pieces rotate.

…It’s a rubric’s cube.

…Huh.

There are other puzzles too—things that taste like plastic and one that tastes like wood, which he might have dented with his teeth by accident. Whoops. Danny puts that one farthest away, in the hopes that he doesn’t accidentally damage it a second time.

…Huh. That’s. That’s nice.

Danny surprises himself and the surprised!surprised! human with a purr.

It’s not a lot. Not even monetarily is this little offering a lot.

But it’s more than Danny’s had in a long time.

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yoongsgguktae · 2 years ago

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paddle with me 02 | jjk

summary; jeongguk needs time to navigate his feelings. he’s strongly attracted to you—that he knows—but the torment you’ve put him through for years is hard to get over. pairing; jeongguk x reader genre; campcounselor!au | e2l | rivals | smut rating; M (18+) word count; 13.7k+ warnings; mentions of alcohol, cussing, outdoor intercourse, unprotected sex, oral sex betas; thank you thank you to @breadoffoxy and a friend of mine for reading through my first and second drafts. and thank you to @cutechim and @hobeemin for reading my outline so so long ago! i cherish you all 💜 a/n; IT’S BEEN 2 WHOLE YEARS, but it is finally here. Thank you for being patient with me, and thank you in advance for reading. I would recommend reading part 1 of paddle with me as a refresher since it’s been so long lmao.

PART ONE MASTERLIST READ ON AO3

—

Jeongguk scarcely notices the images on the canvas, everything is a blur, and the movie is reduced to a low hum in the background. His sights are trained on the poorly hung piece of fabric, but he is too distracted to focus on the scenes unfolding before him. The large linen sheet he is blankly staring at sags against the exterior of the dining hall. Its corners are loose, causing wrinkles to litter the images that dance across its surface, but no one seems to care enough as the camp counselors are all entranced by the movie before them.

They are seated outside watching a film under the clear night sky, another team bonding activity Namjoon likes so much. Yoongi had set up a projector and a surround sound system he brought from home while Hoseok and Jin hung the makeshift screen earlier that evening. The celebratory movie night is well underway with popcorn, alcoholic drinks, and small bursts of laughter.

Jeongguk shifts in his seat, and the bean bag slumps with his change in weight as he moves. He has been harboring a growing boner that has become increasingly uncomfortable under the constraints of his pants. His hand unconsciously passes over his bulge as his imagination runs wild with thoughts of your legs around his waist. He is captivated by the memory of your flowy skirt riding up your thighs as you moved in front of him all day while running the seminars since morning.

He barely focused on the standard discussions about staff policies, camp schedules, and safety protocols. For one, he has attended them for the past few years, and Namjoon insists everyone must attend every year regardless, but he was also aggravated once he learned that you were leading the seminars, the ones he used to do.

He remembered his lips lifted in displeasure as he lowered his gaze to the ground when you stood up to lead the discussions. Jeongguk was close to taking off to get some air, yet after catching your remorseful gaze a few times during your presentation, he realized you were not the problem—it was him. You had apologized, and there was no reason for him to be upset with you when it was not your fault anyway. You were asked to run them this year.

Jeongguk broke from his irritated stupor when you stopped mid-sentence during the discussion to bend forward and pick up your dropped pen. His eyes immediately traveled down your shirt, staring at the exposed tops of your breasts and sucking in his bottom lip as you stood straight. His tiny bit of annoyance faded as quickly as his dick started to harden. His attention had strayed entirely from the seminar discussions before him to lusting for you again.

The movie continues to play on the improvised screen before him, yet Jeongguk is far away. He is lost in his memory of you from earlier today, one that is about you in that skirt you have been wearing. His mouth hangs open, his jaw slack, and his palm unknowingly caresses his erection while zoned out.

Jeongguk comes to, mouth closing shut as he gulps. He adjusts his posture, sitting up a bit straighter while turning his gaze to the right, towards where you are sitting, with a large blanket across your legs. His eyes move up your figure to see the faint outline of a bruised mark on your neck. One edge of his lips turn up as his gaze sets heavy on the hickey, memories of him giving it to you. The sight alone gets him excited.

You are momentarily distracted from the film when you see movement in your periphery. The slight shift catches your attention since everyone has remained motionless, entranced with the film. You do not have to think twice, already knowing who it is. Feeling a set of eyes boring into the side of your face, almost palpable with how unrelenting his stare is.

Eyes never stray from the screen; you focus on the action in front of you. Your attempt to ignore him succeeds when you sense him shift his gaze back to the film. A brief moment of relief washes over you before you suddenly feel it again.

Is there something on your face? Why is he staring so hard? This time you cannot hold back your curiosity. You peer over at him in confusion, meeting his eager gaze immediately.

He raises his eyebrows, lips parting to swipe his tongue across them sensually. Your gaze slips downward to catch the slow movement, feeling a rush of warmth flood your cheeks. You feel weak at that small gesture, your body fully aware of his intentions. Your eyes close momentarily to regroup your senses before you level your gaze back with his. Eyebrows knitted, you mouth a ‘what’.

His smirk grows, the mischievous glint in his eyes more apparent. Jeongguk motions his head with a short nod and his eyes move in the direction of the small shed behind the group. A shed that lays untouched for most of the season until the grass needs to be mowed or when tools are sought out. It sits concealed by some overgrown bushes across the lawn, out of the way, and tucked in the corner of the main campground. A place very few people venture off to.

Your eyes widen when Jeongguk shifts in his seat, doing his best to rise without a sound. The bean bag slides underneath him, and he stands with caution. Not a single person becomes aware of his movements. You two are the only ones playing this dangerous game.

He starts to make his way toward the shed, giving you a sultry wink as he walks past you. Your face flushes once again. He wants you to join him.

Your eyes dart forward to the back of the heads of those in front of you, all too immersed in the film to notice Jeongguk leaving. A slight hint of panic rises in your stomach. You are afraid someone will discover him sneaking off, that he will be caught in the act.

After a few moments, with no one noticing his departure, you slowly get up from your cushioned lawn chair. You do not know where the confidence boost came from, but you have already committed to following Jeongguk’s example. The light blanket in your lap is abandoned onto your seat before you approach his direction with soft footsteps, proceeding to walk across the open field.

A fallen branch snaps under the weight of your foot, halting your movement as you let out a curse under your breath. The untimely coincidence occurred when the movie went silent; such terrible timing on your part. Increased awareness of your surroundings has you still, unmoving, and even holding your breath in case anyone hears. Once the movie volume picks up again, you turn around slowly with your feet planted on the ground expecting to see someone looking your way. All eyes are still on the screen during one of the intense scenes of the movie. You release a small breath and quietly rush towards the shed, not wanting to chance getting caught.

Your shadow bounces off the side of the shed. The movie illuminates a frantic and hurried outline of your movements as you swiftly head toward it. You turn the corner of the structure and make your way to the entrance. The rough texture of the rusty old door handle is hard against your palm. You pull it open while praying the hinges do not creak. With one step inside, your tongue can taste the dust in the air. It is dark and musty, clearly untouched for some time. Your vision starts to adjust to the darkness of the space.

You turn back to face the door, pulling it shut towards you. The hardware latches with a click just as an arm wraps around your front. A small yelp escapes you in shock when a hand snakes under your shirt while the other slams against the door right past your head. “You know, makeup doesn’t do much to cover that hickey of yours.” The words are close to your ears, almost like a shared whisper between two lovers, but the press of his body is aggressive.

Jeongguk has you cornered, his chest pressing his full weight on your back while he pins you against the door. His thumb starts drawing circles on your skin, sending chills up your body, his fingers slightly cold to the touch. In contrast, his warm breath crawls against your collarbone while he noses up your neck.

You lick your own lips, reminiscing how you received it in the first place. “It’s been four days and this thing hasn’t gone away.” The feel of his smile is warm as he drags his mouth over your skin. You continue, “It doesn’t help that you keep attacking the same spot either.” The hot breath of his chuckle makes you flush in excitement. It is almost like a threat, like he wants nothing more than to put you through this agony. He is having fun with this torture he is inflicting on you.

With one hand still roaming your stomach, he brings his other to his lips. His tongue spreads his saliva across his finger as he licks his thumb. Grabbing your nape with care, Jeongguk starts to rub the black and blue area you poorly tried to hide with concealer. This process is repeated before he brings you flush against his front and his mouth connects with the sensitive area once again.

A wince of pain pushes past your lips; he is relentless with his sucking. “I quite like it on you. It looks good,” he states before returning to the same spot after you crane your neck to give him more access, your body inevitably responding to his touch.

The attention to your neck has you light-headed, vision blurry as your eyes flutter shut, and the sensation runs down your body. Your head—clear of any and all thoughts—is full of just him and the feeling of his weight against you. His movements feel urgent and brazen, as if he is trying to prove a point.

Then the faint memory of this morning gnaws at your subconscious momentarily. You had glanced his way the moment you stood up. His jaw was sealed tight, probably from gritting his teeth, and he had cut his gaze from you the moment you locked eyes.

“You know it wasn’t my idea to present at the seminars this morning,” you whisper, “I should have made Namjoon give you the role of presenter since I know you’ve always done them.”

His palms graze along your body, slipping under your skirt, and Jeongguk hears your breath hitch as he reaches the curve of your ass. He gives it a squeeze, a warning to stop talking about it. His lips stop trailing down your neck, “It’s fine.” He focuses on your bare shoulder, lips grazing your tender skin.

“I could tell you were upset.”

Jeongguk huffs and his hold on you tightens, “I was not.”

He does not want to concede to your ridiculous accusations.

“Yes, you were,” you insist.

You push back against his body, and the attempt to get him to loosen his hold on you is futile. He effortlessly has the advantage with his large stature. Then again, the moment he feels your ass graze the bulge he has been carrying, he involuntarily relaxes his hold, letting out a hiss at the contact. Fuck, it is the simple things that set him off with you.

Jeongguk’s large hands spin you around, and your back connects with the door. His head lowers to your height, eyes boring into your gaze, and you cannot help but hold your breath.

“I said it’s fine. Drop it,” he spits through his teeth.

His hot breath fans across your face, and you can feel the annoyance radiating off his body in waves. He is being stubborn again, bottling up the emotions that hinder him from being honest with you. You roll your eyes with a heavy sigh. “You know, you should stop being so uptight and just accept my apology. I’m trying to say sorry.”

“Uptight?” His deep chuckle has the hairs on your arms stand on end. He rakes one hand through his hair and looks away momentarily. The sharp angle of his jaw is more pronounced while he clenches his jaw.

You yelp as Jeongguk suddenly tugs you off the door by your hips, whirling you around to shove you against the adjacent wall. One hand comes up to grab the back of your neck, forcibly angling your head to meet his eyes. “I said to drop it because I don’t care.”

You observe him while he holds you in place. His breathing has gotten more ragged, and you know you are the cause of it because of your persisting attitude. You have always been good at pushing him till he breaks, and you are not stopping now. “You are a terrible liar,” you whisper.

His eyes close shut, lashes fanning his cheeks, and he exhales through his nose. “I swear to God,” he pierces you with a maddening glare, only getting closer. He continues with his lips right above yours, “open your mouth again and I’ll walk out of here. Boner and all.”

The man is trying to have his way with you, and all you are doing is babbling. You need him just as much as he needs you right now, and there is no way you are leaving here without having him first.

Your hands grapple with the front of his shirt and wrench him forward. His lips meet yours instantly, mouths slotting over one another’s in a fervent kiss. The grip along your nape loosens as he winds his digits in your hair, and the stroke of fingertips along your scalp has you sighing into his mouth.

Jeongguk nuzzles his knee between your legs, his thigh coming to sit in the middle of yours, and caresses your clothed cunt as he thrusts it against you. Your needy moan compels him to press even harder, urging more strained pants to fill the tiny expanse of the shed while your tongues continue to entangle.

The cramped space is layered with dust and old grass clippings; it was the closest yet furthest spot to sneak away to without being noticed. There are better places to hook up, but it beats the abandoned outhouse from yesterday. He was desperate to get you away when he laid eyes on your form this morning; the skirt you have on fits your curves just right. He could not wait until the movie ended to have you since he has been restless since the seminars hours ago. The shed will have to work for now.

You let out a shaky breath at the graze of his hand creeping underneath your skirt again. The tips of his fingers skim up your thighs, briefly brushing over your pussy, making you whine until he meets the top band of your underwear. His fingers slip past the material and tug it without effort, dropping it down your legs. Your underwear falls around your ankles, lying discarded on the ground as you step out of them.

He captures your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a final bite before he breaks the kiss. Your skin feels hot to the touch as he sets his forehead upon your bare shoulder, taking a moment to get air back into his lungs.

With your underwear gone, his focus is back on your cunt. Two fingers dip inside, and he proceeds to coat them with your cream with shallow thrusts before he takes them out to glide them along your folds. “I love the feel of your slick cunt,” he murmurs against your shoulder. Jeongguk parts your lower lips, his middle finger slipping back and forth on your folds, reaching your clit and giving it the most attention.

Your choked hum exhales close to his ear. One arm embraces his neck, and the other holds onto his bicep for support. His smirk grows wide as he feels your body slumping back against the wall, your legs growing weak at the slightest touch on your feverish cunt. He loves to see you fall apart on his fingers.

The heavy pants escalate the moment he dives into your warm center again. One, two, then three fingers pulsate against your wall. He thrusts and curls them at a leisurely pace while your breath hitches. In response, you claw his back, and he can feel your nails digging and dragging across the heat of his skin. Your markings are proof of the pleasure he gives you; he wears them like a badge of honor.

Jeongguk raises his head from your shoulder after placing one more kiss on your collarbone. He slips his fingers out, bringing them up to his lips. Your eyes flutter open when he opens his mouth to receive your taste. Lips sealing around his fingers, he sucks them clean while never looking away.

“So sweet,” he moans around his fingers. He will never stop craving your taste. “Here,” he says, moving to invade your cunt once more, “have a taste.” He plunges back into your warmth, thrusting a few more times before pulling them out.

The tips of his coated fingers lay waiting against your bottom lip. Your mouth opens instinctively to receive them, and Jeongguk’s cock jumps at your willingness to obey his command. He presses down on your tongue, and with lust-filled eyes, he watches you suck yourself off his fingers.

“You love the taste of your own pussy, isn’t that right?” he asks while thrusting in and out of your warm mouth.

You groan in response, eyes closing shut as you slightly gag around his fingers from the force of his thrust. Another jolt runs down his pulsating cock from watching you drool. Seeing the saliva run down your chin gets him hot and needy.

In one swift movement, he pulls away and kneels before you. His knees meet the dusty floor while his hands run down your body and to your thighs. He hikes one leg over his shoulder, letting the balm of your foot rest against the delve of his back as he spreads you in front of him. With a broad hand pushing your hip back against the wall, you steadily balance on one leg underneath his aiding grip.

Jeongguk presses his eager nose against your clit, giving it a small flick with a shake of his head. “You smell,” he inhales your scent with an obscene sound, “fucking amazing.”

A small whimper drips from your lips at the slightest touch. You grasp at the window frame, grip tight to balance yourself while your other hand weaves into his hair to coax him closer. His mouth moves over the expanse of your pussy. Tongue out and flat against your folds, moving slowly up down but never quite reaching your clit on the up stroke. The heat of his breath feels incredible on your skin, and you shudder when he nips your clit with his teeth.

The surprise yelp you release is cut short when his mouth encloses around it suddenly. The cruel way he sucks at the engorged bud places you in a euphoric state. It is impressive how he has learned to listen to your body, knowing all the ways you like to be handled only after a few times being together.

Your grip struggles to keep you steady as your nails scrape against the window sill, leaving marks along the old, weathered wood of the rarely-used tool shed. The wall against your back is stiff and uncomfortable as you slide down the rough surface, no longer able to hold up your weight due to the overwhelming pleasure Jeongguk’s mouth gives you.

“Oh fuck,” you let out.

The buckle in your knee intensifies as you feel the building pressure between your thighs. Even with his aid, standing is becoming too burdensome, and your legs tremble.

Jeongguk takes hold of your weakening leg, tossing it over his shoulder. With his large hands, he grabs both of your plump ass cheeks, hauling you up while he continues to devour your cunt sloppily. You yelp in shock at the sudden change in position. The majority of your weight is held up by his shoulders as your back pushes harder, digging deeper against the splintered wall.

You reach out to the nearby shelf crowded with rusted hand tools while your other continues to grasp the strands of his long dark hair. Your arduous attempt to keep steady is all for naught as his tongue persists. The sounds of his feast echo off the walls of the small shed, and you cannot help but gaze at the sight of him while he consumes your clit.

The small amount of moonlight that shines through the dusty window illuminates his glistening face. His lips, swollen with the labored effort, makes him appear divine between your legs.

Your head knocks back against the wall as your eyes flutter close in ecstasy. The volume of your moans increases with each suction of his hot mouth. Your hips start to move on their own accord, following his rhythm, and you tighten your grasp while you ride on his tongue.

The whines emitting from between your lips halt when Jeongguk abandons his endeavor. His head raises, and his eyes lift to your now open and questioning ones. “You need to be quiet,” he says.

“It’s not like they can hear me,” it takes everything in you not to call him out on his trepidation. For someone who thrives in taking risks—someone who fucked you in the outdoor showers just a few days ago—why is he acting cowardly? The faint noise of the surround sound system blaring the forgotten movie can be heard in the shed. He is being dramatic.

His hand runs up your leg and between your thighs, fingers reaching for your pussy. “Don’t talk back to me when I’m the one on my fucking knees for you,” his stern tone sends a shiver through you while he inserts a finger slowly inside.

You clamp your mouth shut the moment his thumb begins to draw circles on your clit, and you let yourself succumb to the pleasure once again. “Sorry,” you meekly respond before taking a deep breath through your nose. As you settle into his touch, the subtle smell of cut grass grounds you momentarily.

What started as a slow caress picks up pace, and Jeongguk eagerly inserts a second digit. His two middle fingers slip between your folds, his palm facing downward. The pressure of his curled fingers is unfamiliar in the position, yet the sensation has you reeling in a blissful state. Your lips part slightly, and your breath quickens.

All concentration on keeping quiet is gone when your clit is engulfed by the warmth of his mouth again. Caution is thrown out the window as he keeps up a maddening pace with his thrusts, sending you ever so close to the edge. His other hand clamps around the back of your thigh to keep you open.

With your chest heaving deeply, your body begins to unravel, every nerve erupting at once. Your orgasm overtakes you and you cum against his mouth.

Jeongguk moves his lips softly around the clit, to the labia, and around the seeping hole of your pussy. He is gentle with his licks and does his best to clean you up. He sets one leg down, then the other, and watches you slump back against the wall as he gives you time to regroup after the intense orgasm.

“You good?” he asks, rising from his kneeling position.

“Mmhmm, very good,” you sigh.

His bulge is more apparent now that he is standing. He attempts to adjust his hard-on before leaving the shed. Jeongguk steps back and reaches into his pants to fix his boxers.

Your hand reaches out to grab his wrist. “Can I?” you ask.

He stops short at his attempt. Pleasing you and watching you unfold because of him gets him off every time. He did not have any expectations from you, but even he needs his release after something as explosive as what he just witnessed.

“Yes, please,” he says.

He allows you to pull at the strings of his sweatpants, hurriedly untying them. Your fingers slip inside the waistband, circling around his waist to pull them down to rest at his thighs. You start to descend, dropping your knees to the ground before him; however, he grabs you by the elbow to coax you back up.

You glimpse up at him with eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly open to question him, but he seizes your thighs and lifts you off the floor. Your breath catches in your throat while your arms wrap around his neck at the sudden change in position, and he feels your nails scrape against the skin of his back.

Your nails only deepen as he abruptly spears you with his cock. Your wet center readily takes him in without a struggle.

Both of you grunt in unison when your back hits the wall again. Legs wrapped around his waist, his arms holding you up by your thighs, he rams inside you. The swell of your breasts peeks out from the confines of your shirt, bouncing with every thrust of his hips.

Jeongguk tugs down at the low neck of your shirt, releasing them for his viewing pleasure. With your shirt under your breasts, they are lifted and spewed out. With eyes trained on your bust, the bounce of your supple tits fuels his thrusts.

The shed begins to creak as the force of his hips rocks you. Pulling you off the wall, your hands quickly grab ahold of his shoulder. He turns on his heels, trying his best to concentrate on holding you upright on his cock without slipping out of you. His feet swiftly kick away a hammer lying on the ground while trying to maintain balance as he holds you in mid-air.

“Hold the shelf behind you.”

You loosen your grip around his neck, arms blindly searching for the shelf. Once you grab hold, Jeongguk impales you deeper with no plans of slowing down. The sound of skin slapping and your collective grunts powers his search for release.

Your tits bounce with each forceful thrust. You look mesmerizing with your messy hair, mouth slightly hanging open, and eyes brimming with tears. His hips stutter at the sight of you coming undone on his cock.

“Look at me,” he says. With eyes hooded over, you meet his. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours,” you whisper in response.

"Say it louder," he demands.

"Yours!" you shout.

“Fuck,” Jeongguk grunts. His hold tenses around your thighs. “You look stunning… fucked out on my cock like this… absolutely beautiful,” he grunts between every jerk of his hip. He sputters through his own release, warming your center, filling you with everything he had.

He rides out his high with shallow thrusts of his cock, slowly descending from the pleasure. But even so, with his mind clouded with bliss, Jeongguk’s thoughts cannot help but stray to the nonverbal agreement you struck days before.

—

Jeongguk finds himself seated in front of the sweltering bonfire again. It had been several hours since the group returned from the canoe trip and gathered for another round of drinks like the night before. Everyone is a bit tipsy, a few drinks in, and the chatter has increased while the night sky has grown darker. It is only the second day, but it has become the usual nightly routine while campers have yet to arrive.

A freshly opened can in his grasp while he recalls earlier events from the day. It is his third one of the night, and the light buzz in his head tells him he still has a ways to go until he is drunk. The goal is to forget what happened today at the river, at least for tonight—to drown his feelings.

He had witnessed you turn and walk to your bunk while he was trying to get Hoseok off his case. He did not hear from you again until dinner later that night. You sat at the opposite end of the long dining table with wet hair and an oversized shirt, freshly out of the shower. You were ignoring him, keeping your distance, and going out of your way to avoid him. You must have been hiding until dinner was ready because he did not see you for hours.

You were obviously upset at his refusal to talk after returning to camp, but it was not so much a rejection as it was a knee-jerk response to your sudden question. Can you blame him? The hesitancy to trust you comes naturally to him after all you have done. Jeongguk has spent the past few years loathing you. How was he expected to throw away the emotional wound you have left on him all this time over a single hook-up?

Despite that, the somber expression that painted your features hit him like a ton of bricks, sincerity in your eyes that he had never seen before. But he was still struggling to come to terms with genuinely forgiving you. Yes, he told you back at the river that he forgave you, but the white lie slipped past his lips too quickly. Jeongguk was not entirely convinced that you were remorseful of your past actions—not yet.

He breaks from his thoughts at the sound of your laugh.

You are sitting across from him again, with Jimin’s arm across your shoulders this time. The rise in body temperature has nothing to do with the fire in front of him but everything to do with how you are snug against his frame. Jeongguk’s posture becomes rigid at how you two are so casual in front of the entire group.

The pair are laughing along with Jin’s retelling of an interaction with a camper’s parents last year. “She saved my ass! That mom was going to wring my neck because I let her son jump off the high dive,” he explains as another round of laughs erupts from the trio.

Jeongguk stretches the knot in his neck, irritated. He has been ignored all night, yet you easily socialize with everyone around him while continuing to act like he does not exist. One would think he would be used to it after all this time, that he would prefer it this way, but something has changed for him. It stings.

“She should honestly be the one to handle parent complaints. They all love her,” he continues to say about you.

He would usually be irked with Jin’s praise, but that is not the issue tonight. He observes how you lean closer into Jimin's body as you laugh, your hand slaps his thigh, and Jeongguk catches your gaze mid-chuckle. You waver, sitting motionless like you were caught in the act. He scoffs to himself before raising the forgotten can to his lips, the beer still cold on his tongue. What is going on with him?

The way he downs his beer has the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. Suddenly Jimin’s arm around you feels heavy as Jeongguk holds your gaze over the rim of the can. He lowers it down in his lap again, using the back of his hand to wipe across his wet lips.

His clenched jaw is evidence of the anger you gather is raging within him. This is the moment he would typically stand to leave, to escape. You are waiting for him to get up and storm off, but he stays unmoving, his attention not straying away from you in the least. Your face flushes with warmth, and you avert your attention down to the can in your own hand, flicking the tab to keep yourself busy, focusing on the sound it makes as you drown out the people around you. The sound of their voices becomes muffled in the background.

You used to gush under all the praise, soak it in and flaunt it outwardly on purpose in front of Jeongguk. But things are different now. You no longer want to be in the spotlight after learning how much he despises you because of it. The desire to mock him ceased to exist the moment he carried you into the water after the most mind-blowing sex you have ever experienced.

The way he gently cleaned you, took care of the aftermath of your escapade, had your stomach churn with desire. A desire to be wanted by him beyond a physical way. His act of tenderness made you believe he wanted that too.

But you were left a fool. His rejection hit you hard, a big slap to the face you were not expecting, and took you by surprise. You were, and still are, confused at how Jeongguk has shown interest in you but then seemingly wrote you off when you arrived back at camp. As if it meant nothing.

It is embarrassing to think you gave yourself entirely to a man who expressed no interest in you as soon as reality hit him. You have concluded that he made a mistake, that he probably regrets everything because it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with you afterwards. It is humiliating how you thought he may have wanted more when his actions say otherwise.

Avoiding him since you got back has been your only escape from heartache. You cannot bear the thought of another rejection. The time between now and when you arrived from the canoe trip was spent hiding in your bunk, but then something shifted in you when you laid eyes on him during dinner. As you locked eyes with him, you became angry and irritated. How dare he use you like that and act as if nothing happened.

You sit here now in front of the fire, him just on the other side, and you want to scream and tell him off.

The group around you start to rise out of their seats, pushing you to take a deep breath to settle the rising anger. You did not notice how long you were stuck in your head and how much time had passed. People were yawning and collecting their empty cans; it was late.

“I’ll grab some water to put out the fire,” you say out loud while the others start to head to their bunks. Grabbing the water jug from behind your seat, you walk to the lake's edge. You squat, setting the jug in the still and cold water. The sound of frogs in the distance keeps you company as the liquid spills into the container. The water fills to the brim, so you tip the jug to dump some back into the lake. The sound of footsteps behind you is masked by the sound of the water dribbling into the body of water before you.

You stand startled as you feel a presence behind you, heart hammering in your chest and turn only to find Jeongguk stalking towards you with long strides. Glancing past his shoulder, you realize everyone has left, and it is just you and him. Well shit, there goes avoiding him.

His hands reach out, fingers brushing your grip around the handle. “Give it to me. I’ll put the fire out.”

“No. I can do it myself,” you spit, shaking your head and huffing from the exertion. The jug full of lake water takes a lot of effort to carry, the weight of it heavy under your drunken grasp. You swing it into your other hand, switching arms due to the burden. He reaches for it another time. “No, I got it.” You step to the side and continue walking toward the bonfire.

Jeongguk sighs and spins to your retreating figure. Needless to say, you are struggling with the heavy load, but you are being stubborn about it. He takes steps to reach you and extends his hand again. “Just give it to me,” he says as he grabs your hand. The jug slips from your hold as you yank it away from his reach the moment his skin touches yours. It meets the ground with a hard thud, the water pouring out of the container and into the soil.

He meets your irritated scowl. “Can you fuck off?” you bite in his direction. Your shoulders stay tense as you grab hold of the jug again, heading back towards the lake to refill it on his account. Jeongguk rolls his eyes and kicks at the sand beneath his feet. None of this would have happened if you could stop being so stubborn. He was merely trying to help.

He hangs his head while you walk past him, taking a deep breath before turning in your direction to catch up with you. With his hands in his pockets, he strolls by your side as you return to the fire again. “Why are you being like this?” he questions.

You scoff in return, your steps not faltering in the least as you continue to walk with him beside you. “Why am I being like this?” You return his question with one laced with sarcasm, and he has to hold himself from rolling his eyes again, a quick-witted response on the tip of his tongue before you continue. “Honestly, I’m a little upset that you completely blew me off earlier.” You move the jug to the other hand.

He glances at your side profile, baffled by your accusation as if he did not hear you correctly the first time. “Blow you off?” he stammers. His hands come out of his pockets, raised in the air. “How could you expect me to have an answer so quickly after what happened?”

You two reach the bonfire, the flames' gleaming light across your skin as he meets your glare. “I need time to sort it out in my head first. I don’t know what else you want me to say,” he reasons. He has never felt so conflicted before, and now you think he hates you.

“Well, I don’t know. You responded pretty quickly to my kiss and fucked me without any hesitation.” His face reddens at the statement, involuntary jerking in response to your words. “Didn’t think it would be hard to get an answer from you,” you continue.

Before Jeongguk can respond, he follows the rise of your arm as you lift the container above the flames, tipping it over and allowing all the water to spill over the raging fire. The sizzle of the wood increases as the fire goes out before only minor strains of the dying fire are heard. A cloud of smoke surrounds you two briefly, but your eyes never drift from his.

“You and I both know that wasn’t planned,” he says, looking away while the smoke settles. He clears his throat, aware that you continue shooting daggers in his direction. “We were both caught up in the moment.”

The container falls from your grip, the loud impact startling Jeongguk and making him face you again. You stand straight with clenched fists and ask, “So you’re saying you made a mistake and weren’t thinking straight?”

His eyes go wide momentarily. “No. That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Shit. “I’m saying that I need time to sort out my conflicting feelings.” He winces immediately as the words come out of his mouth. Your eyebrows pinch together and the corner of your lips turn down, the pain across your face evident.

Before he can apologize for his poor choice of words, you cut in. “Conflicting?” you look off to the side, hands coming up to fold in front of your chest. “Whatever. Go ahead and take your time to figure out your conflicting feelings. Then get back to me.” Refusing to hear yet another excuse from him, you sidestep him again and make your way to your cabin, accidentally kicking the empty jug in the process.

His choice of words hurt you, and he should not have said it that way. It made it seem like he was not interested in you, but you were making assumptions about him that were incorrect and unfair. Jeongguk steps around the container, nearly tripping over it as he follows behind you again in a rush. “Are you really going to act like a child until then?”

You turn your body to face him, your feet continuing to move backward in the direction of your bunk. “You know what, Jeongguk,” with your hands raised, “yes, I will. I will act like a child until you figure your shit out.” You spin on your heels and climb the porch of the cabin.

He scurries to catch up, taking the steps two at a time. His hand grasps your arm before you can open the cabin screen door, tugging you softly and turning you around. “What do you want from me?” he huffs, hand running through his hair roughly. Despite his curt tone, his eyes are soft, and the wrinkles around his brows pull together in worry.

“I would like for you to be honest with me, Jeongguk. Your actions tell me one thing, but you verbalize something else entirely.” You can hear the way your voice sounds defeated as you utter what has been bothering you since the canoe trip earlier that day. You have to force yourself not to pout, to put on a false bravado while maintaining eye contact with him.

He looks away, face taut and lips tight before replying, “Our relationship isn’t really conventional, is it? We’re not exactly friends. We’re the opposite, honestly.”

Another stab to the heart. Does this boy not know how deep his words cut you? “Then why did you kiss me back there if you hate me so much?” you sneer, the quiver in your voice apparent, unable to hold it in this time. You curse yourself for showing weakness, briefly shaking your head while gazing down at your feet. Damn him and your inability to keep your emotions in check.

“I’m attracted to you, ok?” He almost yells, his voice intensifying as the confession stumbles from his lips. The air hangs heavy around you two, and you witness him tugging at his brown locks in frustration. He breathes, lowering his voice to continue, “But I don't know how I feel beyond that. I'm still trying to figure out my emotions. It’s not every day that I have sex with someone just for the fun of it. I’m not that type of guy,” he explains.

“You're attracted to me?” you whisper. Your fingers reach for the edge of your shirt, grip tight around the fabric. You must have heard him wrong, tricked by an over-active, sleep-deprived, and twisted imagination. You should feel elated to hear such words from him, but it simply makes your stomach sink.

He furrows his brows. “Well yeah. I thought that much was obvious.”

For a fleeting moment, the panic you have been feeling returns to your chest, and you feel utterly bare, as if he could see right through your facade and that he would call you out on it. You scoff, “Yea, because you saw me naked. Why else would you be attracted to someone like me?”

The memory of your previous relationship comes forth, an ex-boyfriend who made you feel worthless and insecure. But before you can fall back into that dark place you fought hard to escape, Jeongguk steps closer, pulling your attention back to the present.

Your back meets the cabin door as you retreat from his approach. “Can you stop playing stupid?” he spews with hot cheeks and nose flaring. His blood is boiling at your foolish response.

He observes how you look down at your feet, struggling to maintain eye contact with him after what you said. Your vulnerability is strange to witness. In his eyes, you are the most fearless and assertive woman he knows, but to have you standing silent in front of him while making self-deprecating comments in jest has him stunned. This is not like you.

He can see it now, see the hurt he has caused you over how he handled what happened earlier that day. He brushed you off too quickly, and now you have conjured all these negative narratives about his behavior. Since you walked away after returning to camp, you have had the entire night to create this false sense of insecurity for which he is responsible.

He did this to you. He pushed you away.

Jeongguk spans the distance, reaching for your face. One palm cradles your cheek while the other grasps your nape, fingers gently threading through your hair. He angles your head to meet his gaze. His heart pumps erratically in his chest while you grab onto him. Your soft fingers curl around his wrist, and you lean into his touch. “Please. Please don’t talk about yourself like that.” His voice is soft in contrast to moments ago. The need to comfort you, to erase the doubt that runs across your features, is the strongest emotion he has felt towards you yet. This frightens him.

The warmth of his mouth finds yours without warning, making you gasp in surprise. Jeongguk’s hold of your face slides down to your hip, pulling you tight against him as you kiss him back with eyes fluttering shut. Since the canoe incident, he has yearned to taste you, a secret he would never admit to you—a secret he has not even admitted to himself until this very second.

Your desire does not go unnoticed by him as your hands reach for his shoulder to bring him closer, urging your body against his and erasing all distance. Your body's heat feels so blissful that his fingers curl deeper into your skin, making you moan against his mouth. That sound, your sweet and breathy moan, goes straight to his dick. He has never felt so hungry for someone the way he is infatuated with you.

He moves to explore deeper into your mouth, tongue darting out to flirt with yours while he presses you further into the door, his hard cock pressing into your body as he leans into you. Your hand wanders into his long hair as you respond desperately to his kiss with a whine, tugging softly. He deeply groans in approval at every swipe of your tongue on his.

He draws your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling away and meeting your forehead with his, stepping back to give you room. Both of your breaths are haggard, chests rising erratically as you two try to regain air in your lungs. Jeongguk opens his eyes to see yours slowly flutter open, lust swimming in the depths of your gaze.

The certainty that you want him just as bad is evident in the way a mix of sighs and whimpers involuntarily spill from your lips when Jeongguk moves to kiss the expanse of your neck, and you arch your head to expose more of your neck to him. His lips trail down to your collarbone to leave wet, open-mouth kisses. “Can I have you again?” he whispers into your skin as he continues to run his lips along your shoulder.

Your hands meet his firm chest, compelling him to step back. A sudden moment of panic washes through him as you push him away. Did he read your signals wrong? But you stun him when your hand grasps the front of his shirt and opens the cabin door behind you. Your pull on him almost knocks him off his feet before he finally follows your steps inside your private bunk.

—

You cannot help but feel your stomach drop while you fixate on how he hastily pulls his sweatpants over his hips. His large hand moves to tie them in place after laying around his ankles during your hook-up in the shed.

Hook-up.

You must remind yourself that this is all this is—this exchange of your bodies and pleasure is not laced with any emotions. At least, that is what you have to keep telling yourself. After another round of sex following the confrontation a few nights ago, you two have been discreetly meeting for sex almost daily. It was not an arrangement per se. It just happened. Nothing would have prepared you for this. For one—his stamina is incredible, and no one told you how hard it would be to have casual sex without it getting messy. You can see yourself falling but do not know how to stop it.

Jeongguk’s muscles strain as he reaches for his shirt on the floor. He pulls it over his head and pats away the collected dust. You are simultaneously putting your skirt back on and fixing your shirt to busy yourself. You feel self-conscious every time, never knowing what to say after all the dirty things he whispers in your ear as he spears you with his cock. These exchanges are becoming more frequent, yet you still have not figured out how to make it less awkward post-sex.

He finds your underwear hooked over the lawnmower's handle, grabs it, and shoves it in his back pocket before you have the chance to ask for it. You look at him in question. “I’m sorry, do you want to wear your panties that were on the dusty lawnmower?” he asks with a slight grin and one eyebrow raised.

A flush creeps across your cheeks. Returning to the movie without anything underneath your skirt while his load slides down your inner thigh makes your face feel impossibly hot. How his eyes twinkle with mischief makes you realize how much he enjoys this. “It’s fine. I can wear it.” You reach your hand out, waiting for him to hand them over.

He shakes his head, that smile never leaving his lips as he grabs your hand and pulls you to him. His head coming down next to yours and his mouth near your ear. “Raise your leg,” he commands, his hot breath fans your neck. You place your hands on either of his shoulders for balance as you do as you are told.

Jeongguk retrieves your underwear from his back pocket. He plucks away a piece of grass and holds them before you, encouraging you to step into them. You raise one leg, slip it through the opening, and then the other. You feel his hands brush your legs as he helps slide the thin fabric up your thighs, over your ass, then securing them around your hips.

His hand cups your cunt suddenly, long fingers fondle your engorged folds, and you immediately let out a whimper at the touch. “You’re dirty in more ways than one now,” he snickers before pulling back with an even bigger smirk. He turns and heads to the shed door, opening it wide so you can pass through first, but you are rooted in place.

You are thankful for the darkness as you feel your face flush.

“Come on. We got to be back before the movie ends,” he reasons, laughing at your shocked state.

Feet finally moving, you walk past him and through the opening. Jeongguk follows shortly after, shutting the door quietly behind him. With light steps, you two head back to the makeshift outdoor movie theater; everyone is still too engrossed in the film to notice your arrival. You sit back in the seat you had abandoned, picking up the blanket that had since fallen on the ground during your absence. Luckily, an intense fight scene is playing, masking the sound of your return.

Jeongguk takes his respective seat just as he catches Taehyung slightly turning his head to make eye contact with him. The corners of his lips rise, a knowing smirk plastered on his face as he raises his eyebrows suggestively. Jeongguk curses under his breath, the tip of his ears turning red in response. He focuses back on the screen before he glances to see if Taehyung is still looking at him.

He catches his gaze again. This time, Taehyung shakes his head with the same smirk and turns back to continue watching the film. He takes a deep breath, embarrassed for getting caught, yet he is thankful that it is Taehyung, of all people. Any other person would give him shit, probably stop the movie and make a scene.

The film ends, and the clean-up crew stays behind to take down and deconstruct the theater. Jeongguk observes you heading back towards the cabins with Yoongi and Seokjin in tow while he waits to help dismantle the screen. If he is honest with himself, he was hoping you would turn around to mouth goodnight or even a wave, but you continue with the guys and head into your bunk for the night.

A tap on his shoulder grabs his attention, and he turns to find Taehyung creeping close. “So, how long has that been going on?” he asks under his breath.

Jeongguk’s fingers tighten around the fabric, visibly wincing in embarrassment. Again, he finds himself in a predicament that he cannot escape. He glances around him, gauging to see if anyone else is listening or paying attention to them. They are all busy packing away the sound system or moving the chairs back into storage.

“It’s nothing serious. We uh,” he looks around and continues under his breath, “We’re sort of just hooking up.”

“Oh?” Taehyung says too loudly. “It’s about damn time.” His hand comes down to pat him on the back, congratulating him.

Jeongguk folds the sheet in his hands, smoothing it down and setting it on the table. He clears the doubt creeping up his throat. “Yea, but it’s not as simple as you think.”

He has been struggling to understand the way he feels about you. These emotions are repeatedly brought up following your hook-ups; after it is all said and done, he wants more. But that is just it—more of what?

“Hmm,” Taehyung looks beyond the cabins and into the woods, “Do you want to go to our spot and talk about it?”

The tension in his body releases at his words. What a relief it would be to talk to someone about how he has been feeling. Immediately he takes him up on his offer, nodding in response. Taehyung jerked his head toward the direction of a large boulder at the edge of the lake that had become their designated spot. Abandoning his task, Jeongguk follows behind his friend.

The boys take the small dirt path through the woods, a testimony to how frequently they have visited this site over the years. Taehyung walks ahead and reaches the boulder first, climbing up the side. Jeongguk mirrors his actions and sits perched at the top, facing the expanse of the lake with Taehyung right beside him. The camp is no longer in view, the light of every cabin dims between the trees, and they are secluded.

Jeongguk sighs, his hand coming up to ruffle the hairs on the back of his head while he sits crossed-legged. “I’m assuming you know what happened during the canoeing trip four days ago?” He peers over to Taehyung, thankful that the sun has settled, and he cannot see his face flush with humiliation.

Taehyung laughs, leaning on his hands as he throws his head back in amusement. “Of course I do. That’s all everyone talked about for the next day or two.”

“Great.” He rolls his eyes. Of course, the whole damn group would know about it. Hoseok and his big mouth. He should not be surprised at how quickly the news had spread among the camp counselors. Nothing is kept secret for long.

“Yeah. Namjoon had informed us of his plan to put you two together that morning.” Jeongguk’s head snaps to gape at his friend. “We knew something, good or bad, was bound to happen.”

This was a complete setup. The boys went behind his back and planned this whole thing without telling him. “You couldn’t have warned me?” He looks at Taehyung intrusively and shakes his head as his friend laughs. “Whatever dude. Thanks for the heads up.”

“You never would have agreed to it in the first place. Of course, it had to be kept a secret.” Taehyung sits up. “But hey, looks like it worked out in the end. No?”

Jeongguk stays silent, mewling over the rhetorical question. He cannot deny that things have been going well since then in terms of extracurricular activities.

“Do you regret it?”

He picks up a lone branch off the boulder's surface as he considers the question. The atmosphere around the two is getting more serious now that they’re talking about feelings and all, something Jeongguk has a hard time with. He twirls the branch in his hand as he responds, “No, but it’s more of what happened after that caught me off guard.”

His shoulders slump forward while Taehyung stays quiet, waiting for him to continue wordlessly. He has always been a great listener and never pushes the conversation, which he appreciates.

“Well, first and foremost, she apologized to me. But it was what she said after we got back,” he sighs, glancing at Taehyung before gazing back at the lake. “She asked me where we go from there. About us,” the branch in his grasp snapped in two, “and I didn’t have an answer for her.”

“You left her hanging?”

Jeongguk throws the broken branch into the lake, watching as the ripples race across the surface. “I asked her to give me time because I’m not—or at least I wasn’t entirely over the bullshit she’s pulled on me for the past couple of years. It’s difficult to overcome my hatred for the stuff she put me through. But I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m attracted to her, that I like the feel of her lips on mine.”

Sounds of crickets, frogs, and the occasional fish breaking the surface, fill the silence as he processes that last sentence. The hairs on his arms involuntarily stand on end as he ruminates about your kiss, how soft and delicate they were. However, he cannot help but feel an unsettling churn in the pit of his stomach.

“The only time we spend together alone is when we're fucking. We sort of agreed to this arrangement in the meantime.” Jeongguk shrugs. “We both have admitted being attracted to one another, and it’s been nice and all, but–”

“To be honest, it sounds like you're leading her on though,” Taehyung cuts in, picking up a small rock and toying with it in his hands.

Jeongguk sighed deeply at the thought. “Yeah, I'm realizing that now. I'm starting to feel like I want more,” he admits aloud, speaking this truth for the first time. He has been struggling with this idea for the past few days. The more time he spends with you, albeit it is typically all physical, he finds himself looking forward to the next time you two get to be alone. This time, not only for pleasure.

However, an inkling of doubt still passes through his mind when he considers what a relationship with you would be like. “I’ve never dealt with someone like her before. Someone who would challenge me. I’m used to people being fake nice to me, using me for my status. To have this girl, who doesn't know me or my upbringing, challenge me in every aspect—it intimidated me, to be honest.” He places his head in his palms. “God, I could never let anyone know about that. People would think I'm weak.”

“No, it doesn't mean you're weak at all. She is intimidating.” Taehyung laughs. “She’s a strong woman, and I think that allures you. It’s what attracts you to her.”

He raises his head, hands passing through his hair before bringing them into his lap and relaxing his shoulders. “Yeah, you can say that.”

Again things go quiet around them, while an owl in the distance hoots in the middle of its nightly routine, Jeongguk ponders on that notion. Perhaps Taehyung is right. Independence and assertiveness are qualities he admires in you. However, it was not like that before. He felt replaced when you first stepped into the picture, and he struggled with his jealousy over the attention and responsibility you took away from him.

Taehyung throws the rock he has been playing with into the lake, inevitably breaking the silence. “You should talk to her soon. Especially before the kids arrive on Sunday.”

“Yeah, I will.” He needs to resolve this problem soon. Things would only get messy once the kids arrived.

Taehyung turns to look at him, meeting his eyes with sincerity. “While we can’t control what memories stick with us or not, we can control what we choose to focus on,” he begins, “We can choose to focus and ruminate about past wrongs committed against us, or we can move on from it and make new memories.”

Jeongguk slowly nods, taking it in. He brings his knees to his chest and looks out onto the lake while Taehyung’s words repeatedly play in his mind.

Taehyung rises, wiping the dirt from his rear and stretching his arms over his head. “Let’s head back?”

Jeongguk looks up at him and motions a hand up to him. Taehyung grips his hands and helps him onto his feet. The pair climb down the rock, taking the same path back to the campsite.

—

Jeongguk finds himself alone in the same spot the following evening, on top of the boulder and eyes fixated out onto the lake as he sits with his thoughts. The sun has long since gone down, and the moon is a tad brighter than yesterday, glistening on the lake’s calm surface.

The counselors had called it a night after an exhaustive hiking trip earlier in the day, and he was the last to get out of the shower. He had made his way to his own cabin to follow suit, but Taehyung’s words rang through his head the entire time he lay in silence, and he felt restless, unable to sleep. He had slipped out of his bunk after tossing and turning for over half an hour before he reluctantly got up to get fresh air.

Jeongguk’s gaze would meet your figure as he observed you throughout the hike. He saw how you interacted with others, in awe of how social and outgoing you are. You get along with everyone around you, this he has always known, but he has been more attentive lately. His stomach fluttered when you approached him and wordlessly shared your trail mix with him; the smile on your face when he accepted your offer made his ears hot.

The small action affected him tremendously, and he has not stopped thinking about it since. He is finding that these types of gestures are easy to appreciate coming from you and that it is not difficult to push aside the past resentment he had harbored for years.

He has often caught himself thinking of the possibilities of your friendship had he not been so envious of you. Many ‘what ifs’ have plagued his mind since last night’s conversation.

Taehyung is correct; making new memories is far more effective than continuing to mull over the past.

The rock beneath him begins to feel uncomfortable as he has been sitting out here for some time and not realizing how late it has become. He contemplates heading back and trying to sleep, but the sound of someone setting a canoe in the water catches his attention. From his position on the boulder, Jeongguk can see the camp’s dock extending far into the lake and witness someone climbing in there.

The person begins to paddle to the center, the movement creating ripples along the water’s surface. Who would be out here this late?

Jeongguk stands, stretching from his stiff position, and begins to head back to try and catch some sleep. Whoever that is must want some time alone, and he does not want to intrude. He clears the woods after walking the path back to camp and glances one more time out to the lake to observe the figure in the canoe.

The moon’s light illuminates your figure; he can see your face more clearly from where he stands now. He stops in his tracks. What are you doing out there? He thought he saw you head to bed after he got out of the shower and that everyone was sleeping by this time.

Curious to know what you are up to, he takes light footsteps towards the dock, where several empty canoes lay anchored in the water. The opportunity to discuss the chaos in his mind, the ones he started to unpack with Tae the night before, presents itself at this moment.

You sit idle in the middle of the lake, a place of isolation and room to think. The temperature is warmer than expected; you expected the air to be crisp without the nightly bonfire. Removing your sweatshirt to get more comfortable, you move to sit in the hull of the canoe and use the piece of clothing as a pillow while you lay back to admire the night sky and mull over the current status of your relationship with Jeongguk.

Relationship? It is nothing close to what you would consider a relationship, more like a nonverbal understanding between two people who cannot openly communicate their real feelings. You know this, and you have acknowledged it, but juggling your emotions around him is becoming exhausting. With every touch of his lips on your skin and the roam of his fingers along your curves, you are falling deeper and deeper into something beyond lust.

Yet, you have never felt so lonely, ironically enough, because he may not feel the same way. It is simply an exchange of pleasure; he probably enjoys getting his dick wet and does not want anything beyond a physical relationship. He never gets too intimate, there is little to no kissing between you, and he never spends the night. An unsettling feeling always drops in the pit of your stomach every time he starts to fasten his pants back on. His boundaries are clearly set without having to be voiced.

Jeongguk’s demeanor changes around others. He typically stays on the opposite end of any group activity, as if he is trying to put the most distance between your bodies when around the counselors. He never sits beside you, walks beside you, and avoids talking to you directly. The limited interaction in a public setting is a big contrast to when you are alone. He is all over you, engulfing you in his stature, and you have his complete and undivided attention.

Sex. That is all it is to him.

It sucks. You want more, and it is starting to hurt whenever you get together, but you cannot seem to stop taking the opportunity to have him at every chance. You do not know how much longer you can take this exchange before you regret ever giving yourself to him, waiting on the day he admits not wanting anything more beyond the hook-up.

“Hey.”

Frightened by the sudden voice, the canoe rocks beneath you as you jolt and sit up, startled. “Holy shit,” you almost scream. You meet eyes with Jeongguk’s familiar, nearly obsidian ones. His lips' ends are curled into a soft smile, suppressing a laugh.

His attempt is futile as he lets out a breathy chuckle. “Sorry for startling you.”

Gripping the edges of the canoe, you pull yourself up from the hull and onto the seat as you collect yourself, trying not to outwardly cringe at your obnoxious screech. The blush across your cheeks feels hot while you glance at Jeongguk, only to see him rotating his boat to sit parallel to yours. He sits opposite you, both on either end of your respective canoes, facing one another in the middle of the lake alone. The moon is high in the sky now, signifying how late it is.

“I wasn’t expecting someone else to be in the middle of the lake at a time like this.” You tuck some hair behind your ear, trying to settle the frantic heartbeat in your chest.

Jeongguk places his paddle down before turning his attention back to you. “I saw you paddling out here by yourself. I thought I’d leave you alone for a bit before coming to interrupt.”

“What are you doing outside your bunk so late at night?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Same as you. Thinking. Clearing my head.” Jeongguk pushes a sigh past his lips, a hand running through his hair.

You nod, looking down at your hands and picking at your cuticles while a silent pause settles between you two. Everything around you goes quiet except for the occasional sounds of frogs croaking in the distance. You wonder what he means by clearing his head and why he seems troubled by it. Is he tired of you yet? The topic of his ‘conflicting feelings’ clouds your mind.

“I think it’s time we talk about us,” he says, breaking the heavy silence.

And there it is.

Your eyes immediately move to him in shock, but you quickly divert your attention to the woods behind him, not able to look him in the eyes. With no audible response, you nod for him to continue while you clutch your sweaty hands.

“I want you to know that I don’t regret that day.” he pauses, a blush creeping on his face. “You know, the day out on the river.”

The hazy fog of your first hook-up briefly passes through the front of your mind; now you are also blushing. Your flitting gaze shifts to your hands, the lake around you, and the camp close to shore—you are looking everywhere but at him.

“And all the times we’ve been together since,” he rushes out his words as if reassuring you.

Your ears feel like they are on fire; you want the world to swallow you at this very moment.

Jeongguk coughs, clearing his throat before drawing a breath that releases the tangled knot of words in his heart. “But more importantly, I want you to know I’ve forgiven you. Forgiven you for all the bullshit.”

Your head jerks in his direction. “I—” you start and stop suddenly as he raises his hand to halt your train of thought.

“You don’t need to explain yourself. You’ve already apologized, and I heard the sincerity in your voice. I’m ready to move past it all,” he explains. “I also acted like an ass towards you, and again I apologize for it.”

“I know. I don’t blame you.”

The relief you feel, you feel like a heavy weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Can I ask you something?” you question. He nods, motioning you to continue. “That night last year, when it was just the two of us. Do you remember?”

He nods again. “The last night of camp.”

“Yea.” You pause and look away. Maybe you should not bring this up. Perhaps you are reading too much into it. Your mouth feels dry, and the fluttering feeling in your stomach builds as you contemplate the following few words. You return your gaze to him to see him watching you intently, hanging onto your every word. “Why did you let me in? Telling me about your home life, family, and so-called friends. You hated me, yet you opened up that night.”

Jeongguk regards you solemnly as you go back to fiddling with your fingers. That kind of hurt, being reminded how he openly hated you. “Because I overheard you complaining about your mom earlier that night. I empathize with you.”

That night was when he realized that you’re just a regular person. Beyond his hatred, he could see that you also hurt.

“Oh.”

Jeongguk explains further, “I know what it’s like to have unrealistic expectations put on your shoulders, and I thought it could comfort you knowing you’re not alone.”

With your arms cradling your midsection, you look down at your feet. “And it was comforting. You were comforting that night.”

Your mind immediately goes back to that moment your gazes met while talking. That was the first time his eyes were not full of hatred or anger; they were soft and relaxed. He spent the entire summer sending you scornful looks and scrutinizing your every move, but at that moment—the end of camp—you finally saw him like other people did.

The following few words leave your lips without much thought while you lift your gaze back to his face. “If we’re being honest, I wanted to kiss you then,” you tell him, looking down at his lips quickly and then back to his eyes.

“Yeah, I know.” Jeongguk mirrors your actions and peers down to your lips, ones he has become obsessed with lately. They pinch together in haste while your brows crease together in confusion.

“You knew? What—”

“Because I wanted to too. I just didn’t have the balls to actually do it.” He sees the ends of your lips lift, then he realizes what he said. Poor choice of words on his part. “Shut up.” Jeongguk chuckles.

The curve of your smile rests in a straight line after a few moments of shared laughs. With a small voice, you tell him, “I wouldn’t have guessed with the way you greeted me when I arrived at camp.” You look away for a moment, out onto the lake, before you continue, “I thought perhaps we could have reconnected, but you were so quick to insult me that I thought that night meant nothing to you. That what we shared meant noth—”

The words fail to leave your mouth when he grips the edge of your canoe to pull you forward, dragging you closer to him. Your body jolts, but he grabs your hand to balance you.

“I’m sorry for my brash response to you that day. It was extremely immature of me.” He was trading insults with you not long ago, going at each other with no remorse or sympathy. Now he is holding your hand, thumb gently sweeping along your knuckles. “Isn’t it strange to think that just a while back, we were always fighting?” he asks.

“Like cats and dogs”, you quip, “I didn’t ever think we’d be here like this.” You brush your hair off your shoulders and sit up straighter. He can see your mind running, overthinking like you always do. “Where do we go from here?” you whisper.

This moment feels like déjà vu, bringing him back to the day of the canoe trip. This time, he will not leave you hanging as he did.

“Come.”

Jeongguk grips your hands, drawing you to get up as you shakily stand in your canoe, moving one leg at a time to climb over into his. He lets go of one hand to grab your hips, never dropping your hand as he helps you over by carefully pulling you forward, grip tightening as both your feet land steadily in front of him.

Effortlessly he brings you towards him, craving to have you near. Hands moving down from your hip to the back of your thighs to pull you onto his lap. Once again, he finds you straddling him in a canoe. The hairs on his arms stand on end as you snake your arms around his neck for balance. Your fingers feel cold to the touch, making him shiver in your embrace.

Your body is close but he pulls you closer with his hands on your lower back, fingers moving under your shirt to feel your soft skin. The bit of light shining from the bright moon allows him to gaze into your eyes. The silence is comfortable as the abandoned canoe slowly starts to drift away.

Taeyhyung’s words echo in his mind. Leading you on was never his intention, and he only realizes now that he was doing precisely that. All along, he has been thinking about himself and how he may not be ready for a relationship in his final year of school. His life responsibilities will only grow after graduation. Being in a relationship was at the bottom of the list. The next few years are already mapped out for him by his parents; adding a girlfriend onto that would only serve as a distraction.

But everything changed in a span of days. His routine summer camp job did not start like any other ordinary summer; things were different this time. His priorities have been slightly altered after that incident on the riverbank a few days ago. The idea of a relationship is not so bad anymore.

At this very moment, while your warm breath fans across his face, Jeongguk has arrived at the conclusion that he has come to develop feelings for you—that much he is sure about now. He lifts his hand, fingertips brushing against your skin as he sweeps back a strand of hair behind your ear. Maybe whatever he feels is not seasonal; perhaps he wants to have you this close beyond the few weeks of camp.

You feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach the moment he clears his throat. You have been anxiously sitting in his lap for some time with nothing but crickets in the distance, waiting for him to say something as you were too nervous to speak up.

He is playing with the hem of your shirt, diverting his gaze. “I don’t know what the future holds once camp is over,” he begins, “but for the time being, I would like to be with you.”

A wave of euphoria overcomes your body in an instant. Your heart hammers in your chest while your breath hitches in your throat. This time you heard him loud and clear.

“And I don’t mean just sex. I want to actually get to know you better. Like your favorite color, or what type of music you listen to, or where you—”

You cut Jeongguk’s rambling short by reaching for his face. Cool palms against his warm cheeks to pull his jaw upward, so he faces you, eye to eye. The feeling of his hands shaking against your lower back is obvious, he is nervous. “I would like that too,” you say.

Your hands drop to his shoulders now that you have his full attention. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, eyes big and full while he takes in what you said. You take your time to run your fingertips against his skin, up his forehand, playing with the baby hairs along his hairline.

Jeongguk’s hand clutches your wrist, halting your movement. He leans in and captures your lips. You have never kissed him like this before, soft and gentle. You melt into his embrace.

He pulls away, “Also, I’m sorry for being so possessive over you yesterday. I shouldn’t be claiming your pussy—”

“Jeongguk.” You throw your head back, a loud laugh escaping your lungs.

—

The screen door shrieks as Jeongguk nudges it open. He steps out of your cabin, closing the door behind him while you sleep soundly in your bunk, wrapped under your cozy blankets. It has only been a few hours since you two went to bed, but he wanted to leave your cabin before anyone else woke up.

That idea quickly goes down the drain the moment his feet land on the steps, and he hears the sound of someone whistling from afar. Looking up, he glances at the picnic table across the row of cabins. The rest of the group is already up and eating breakfast together, all huddling and scarfing down food, but their attention has strayed from the meals in front of them and to Jeongguk striding out of your cabin.

He makes his way over, shyly walking with his head down and face hot as they continue to holler suggestive comments. The tips of his ears turned hot with every step.

“We all know you’ve been fucking for the past few days. Yall aren’t as sneaky as you think,” Yoongi says. Hoseok snickers and reaches over the table to high-five him as Jeongguk shakes his head and sits on the bench across from Taehyung.

Namjoon slams his cup of orange juice on the table and points directly at him, trying to suppress the ends of his lips from curling. “Once the kids come on Sunday, you two need to be more discreet about your rendezvous.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, grunting and leaning over the table with his arms crossed and head down. This could not possibly get more humiliating. But it does as the group continues with the smart-ass remarks and taunting behavior for the next few minutes.

The chatter around him dies down. With full stomachs and chores to do, the camper counselors get up to start their day, leaving Taehyung and him alone at the table. He peers up to see Taehyung come closer, elbows on the table and leaning forward with one eyebrow raised and a smirk etched on his face.

“I see the talk went well.”

He coughs, pulling at the collar of his shirt with his face and neck feeling incredibly warm. It is hard stopping the corners of his mouth from rising, a smile that he cannot hold back. Yeah, he could say the talk went well—really well, but he’s keeping those details to himself.

Their heads snap in the direction of your cabin at the sound of the door swinging open and then slamming back shut. You take the steps down quickly, feet meeting the ground before you look over to them and meet eyes with him, a small smile appearing on your face as you head towards the dining hall for breakfast.

Jeongguk finally responds to Taehyung's observation, his gaze never dropping from yours. “We’re going to take the summer to get to know each other.”

—

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MASTERLIST

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wndaswife · 2 years ago

Text

young fidelity

「 wanda maximoff x gn!reader 」

tags: smut, angst, fluff, mentions of trauma, depictions of violence, blowjobs, degradation, some slightly boring avenger mission details, sub!wanda maximoff, dom!reader. MINORS DNI.

word count: 10 872

summary: Even months after Ultron's death, you haven't forgiven Wanda despite her attempts to become close with you. You plan to get by with little interaction when you are partnered together for a mission, but she has other intentions.

“We’ve received signals of active HYDRA technology in northern and eastern Nunavut. There are approximately two bases north and two in the east,” Steve announced to the conference room. “But because of the nature of the province, it’ll be much easier to split up into pairs — take down each base together, separately.”

“Nature of the province?” asked Sam.

Steve pulled up an image of Nunavut’s map onto the projector. About a third of the province in the northeast was dispersed up into dozens of distinct sections of land.

“North can mean this,” he said and circled about twenty different patches of land before doing the same for the right-hand side of the province, “and East can mean this.”

He continued, “It would consume too much of our time to travel between each patch of land to the other. Fortunately, what we can tell for certain is that these bases are small. The signals they’re sending out are from HYDRA technology nonetheless, but the signals are weak and the technology is outdated.”

“A base of about ten or less,” Natasha noted, leaning back in her seat with her arms crossed and facing the projector screen.

Rhodes added, “Or much less.”

“Exactly,” Steve conceded. “We’ll head out in two days, give ourselves enough time to pack for the climate. Here are the pairs I’ve outlined…” He continued to announce the mission’s partnerships, but the back of your neck prickled with the feeling of being watched.

You looked over your shoulder to see Wanda’s eyes on you. She looked away quickly when your eyes met and she shifted in her seat, crossing a leg over the other and looking up to pay attention to Steve.

“Then lastly, Wanda and Y/N.”

At Steve's words, Wanda’s head lifted slightly in piqued interest and you looked back at him.

“Why do we have to pair up at all?” you questioned immediately. “Each of us could easily take ten or more on our own.”

“I know that’s right,” Rhodes agreed cockily before exchanging a nod with Tony, who considered your commentary comedic.

“These areas of Nunavut, of Canada, are unexplored territory,” Steve answered. “The weather conditions are extreme up there, and the terrain may not be safe or predictable enough for us to go out in it individually. This will be a quick mission, three days and no more, during which a portion of it will be trying to map out the province. The actual overtaking of the bases will take much less time.”

You weren’t able to find a way to object to that, so you sank down in your seat, something bitter brewing in you at the thought of having to work alone with Wanda.

“We’ll be picked back up the same way we’ll arrive — by the Quinjet in an isolated area at the edge of Nunavut where the land is much less dispersed, closer to the centre of the province but not nearly as populated,” Steve said, and with that, he concluded the meeting.

When Wanda stood from her seat, she spent a few extra moments tucking her hair behind her ear, adjusting her rings, and playing with her sleeves as an excuse to wait for you to walk ahead first so she could approach you.

But Vision met with her first and she looked over at you hesitantly, worried that she’d miss you leaving the room.

You began heading forward but instead of leaving, you started a conversation with Steve.

Now sure that she could spend a few moments talking with Vision without losing sight of you, she entertained his commentary on the upcoming mission despite not being included in the list of Avengers that were going.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” you told him, leaning back on your heels nonchalantly as you attempted at repressing what felt like a raging wildfire set ablaze in your chest.

Steve turned off the projector and started storing away some of the wires. “Two days isn’t enough to prepare, is it?” he questioned suddenly.

“No, two days is fine, I think,” you said.

You continued with a quiet tone, aware of Wanda and Vision conversing only a few feet away, “Wanda isn’t trained to go out with only one other person yet. She’s not ready for this.”

“She’s been doing just fine during training and other missions,” he reasoned.

“But she’s always supervised, and always with people who can support her if she screws up.”

With a smile of slight inexplicable amusement, he replied, “Then you can train her.”

Your fingers twitched at the mere suggestion.

Then, a voice chimed in from behind — Wanda’s. “No, I can fight. I’ve been training for months,” she insisted.

From the corner of your eye, you could see that she’d stepped away from Vision and was now standing by the edge of the table, only two or three feet away from you.

Wordlessly, you left the room, overcome by her very proximity.

Wanda followed after you, initially silent. She spun her rings around her fingers, watching the back of your head as she trailed behind you.

“So… when are we going to start training?” she eventually asked.

You walked through the hallways, heading straight to your room and avoiding having lunch until you were sure Wanda was no longer following you like an aimless puppy.

“I thought you said you didn’t need training.”

Suddenly filled with joy because you had actually answered her instead of ignoring her like you often did, Wanda sped up and joined your side.

“No, I never said I didn’t need training,” she corrected. “I just said that I could fight. But I would like to train with you. Before our mission. I think it would help. When can we start?”

“Not now,” you replied.

“Then when?”

You reiterated stubbornly, “Whenever I feel like it.”

Wanda bristled and she said wrapped her hand around your forearm. You tore it out of her hold and she looked at you, shocked at your resistance to be touched by her.

She swallowed and straightened in spite of herself then said, “I’m just trying to do my job”

“It’s not your job to bother me.”

“I’m not trying to bother you, I’m just trying-"

“To do your job,” you interrupted. “Right.”

She stared at you silently, unsure what to say yet not wanting to walk away from you.

“Is that how you rationalise things?” you inquired, your eyebrows furrowing together. “Is that how you rationalised what you did?”

Now feeling desperate for your validation and worn from the way you’d been avoiding her since the battle on Novi Grad, Wanda opposed, “I know that you’re angry, but everyone has forgiven me for what I have done. You are the only one who hasn’t.”

“You want to train?” you asked out of the blue.

It took a moment for Wanda to realise what you were asking and to decipher if you were being sincere in your question. When she supposed you were, she nodded cautiously.

“Then let’s go,” you muttered and turned to walk the other way, down to where the gymnasium and training room were.

When both of you changed into the proper clothes for training, you met Wanda in the middle of the holopad. You programmed a few rounds of holographic HYDRA members to attack her, and a few other adversaries the Avengers had previously fought to fill the time.

Wanda strapped on her sensory gloves, designed by Tony to signal to the holopad where she directed her powers and with what magic she used for the holograms. It had been helping her with her training to a great extent as it allowed her to use the technology in the training room as every other non-magic-wielder did.

She stepped onto the ten-by-seven metered platform and you set the tablet down by the staircase.

You noticed her looking over at you before the holopad flashed white once, signalling the beginning of the training session, and Wanda then looked away from you.

It began slowly at first, several scientists running at her from different directions and Wanda’s red magic flowing out of the centres of her palms and darting out from the tips of her fingers. Her magic made contact with the holographic foes, Wanda’s sensory gloves connecting the direction and intensity of her magic to the location of each moving hologram. They scattered into tiny pixelated squares when her magic came into contact with them, floating up and dividing into smaller geometric shapes before disappearing entirely.

The speed of the enemies quickened and with it Wanda’s reflexes.

This was the first time since the final battle against Ultron on Novi Grad that you’d seen Wanda’s fighting. Several months have passed since then, and she improved substantially. You’d never say it aloud, and you looked away from the brunette to avoid even admitting it to yourself, but she would be the perfect partner for the mission to Nunavut.

Eventually, the holopad flashed white, indicating the end of the training session when Wanda defeated the enemies you programmed her to fight.

She stepped off of the platform and stood in front of you, a glistening sheen of sweat on her body. She was panting softly and you blinked inquisitively for a moment at the grin on her face. “Come on,” she said and took your hand before pulling you up onto the holopad with her.

Wanda positioned you on one side of the platform and she stepped back from you. “So, what will you show me?” she asked.

“I don’t know how to train someone with magic.”

“We can go hand-to-hand,” Wanda suggested, running her palms down her sides. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

When you did nothing but stare at her, perhaps out of scepticism or curiosity at her mood switch, she added with a laugh, “What? Are you scared?”

There was not a single person in the compound but you who knew this side of Wanda; a playful side of her, one that was presently unburdened by the weights of her losses and the solemn monotony that cast over her like a stagnant shadow when she was with anyone other than you.

There was a feeling of laxness that settled within her in your company, a freedom she felt with you that she hadn’t been familiar with since her time with Pietro.

You chose to think little of this lest you fall victim to Wanda’s deceptions as you had when you first met her. The very recollection of that moment of weakness awakened chills up your spine and formed a terribly large pit in the centre of your chest.

“Okay,” you said. “Fine. A quick skirmish, that’s all.”

If she was lucky, she’d sometimes walk in on you training and watch you for as long as possible while being as inconspicuous as she could manage. She’d watch the way you fought and moved your body, the confidence in your strikes and flexibility of your limbs. You were nothing less than inspiring.

In many ways, Wanda idolised you.

The corners of Wanda’s mouth tugged upwards before she made an attempt to repress her giddiness to have a serious one-on-one with you. She raised her fists and bent her knees, eyes darting down your form to correct her posture accordingly. She took notes from you where she could.

In training skirmishes, the objective was to take the other down, get them off their feet and cause them to lose balance.

You watched Wanda’s footing, the way she rounded and approached you by subtly cutting away at the inches of space that lay between the two of you.

Despite the sternness of her brow, there was a vague outline of a smile on her lips.

Your attention on her incomprehensible smile sullied your focus on the skirmish; Wanda extended her leg and in one swift movement, rounded your body so she stood outside your line of sight. Her knee lifted to nudge your thigh forward and throw you off balance but you turned quickly, a hand wrapping around her hip.

Before you could push her back and move your legs out of her range of contact, Wanda’s foot raised and she knocked the back of your knees forward with the length of her shin. You tumbled backwards, and with your hand gripping Wanda’s hip, you pulled her down with you.

Her arm extended past the side of your head, a wispy lock of red magic coursing out of her palm. The burst of magic slowed the speed at which you fell, breaking your fall and letting your back meet the ground softly.

It was only when the brief panic of falling backwards abated that you heard Wanda laughing. Stands of dark hair were falling in her face, her expression light and free of the burdens that normally followed her around like a shadow.

When her laughing settled into a fit of giggles, she opened her eyes and looked down at you, her gaze flickering between your eyes and your parted lips. She pushed her hair back and she lifted herself up with the heel of your hand placed on the platform by the side of your head.

Her chest parted from yours but her hips stayed pressed against your own, your legs intertwined and her other hand resting on your stomach.

You removed your hand from her hip and let it fall to the floor underneath you, damning yourself for the way you watched every movement of her soft lips.

“Come on, you’re not even trying,” Wanda teased. She used her hand by your head and the other on your stomach to prop herself up, slipping off of your body and getting on her knees by your hip. She then proposed, “Let’s go again.”

“I promise I’ll go easy on you this time,” she jested and extended a hand to you.

You sat up on your own, Wanda’s hand dropping into her lap. “I said we’d only do one,” you reminded her and stood up. “We’re done.”

Following you, Wanda got onto her feet. “You’re such a sore loser,” she joked with a laugh and trailed behind you as you stepped off the holopad. She unstrapped her gloves from around her hands and set them by the tablet.

“What will we do next?” she asked.

“Nothing,” you told her, picking up your things and heading to the gym exit.

Wanda’s smile fell as she heard your stern tone. “But we’ve only just gotten here. There’s still so much I want you to show me before we leave,” she reasoned, speeding up and trying to get your attention as you walked ahead without regard for her trailing behind you.

You told her with finality, “Get someone else to show you.”

You exited the gym and Wanda decided to stop following after you. She watched you speed away, hands by her side as she stood alone in the training room.

Dejectedly, she wondered if she had done or said something wrong — something to drive you away. It seemed she couldn’t do anything right around you when it was you she desired companionship and intimacy from the most.

You exchanged not even a word with Wanda for the remainder of the day, though dinner was filled with yearning stares from her across the table and never any words, partially because Vision filled her time with endless conversation. He was fond of her, and you often wished she would’ve glommed onto him instead.

The following day, you saw Wanda for a short time during a meeting in which Tony outlined the rest of the mission.

Deliberation between Tony, Agent Ross, and the provincial officials of Nunavut resulted in the Avengers’ permission to enter and explore their grounds granted they limit any destruction of the land and would provide the required funding necessary to repair any damage otherwise caused.

After the events on Sokovia, it was also decided that it would be best if the mission went as smoothly and as covertly as possible. This meant that the Quinjet would only take them as far as the edge of the northeast to lessen chances of being seen in the air, and would be stationed in an isolated space until everyone returned from their respective missions.

Additionally, government action would be taken to set a seven-mile radius around the Quinjet prohibiting any public access and ensuring the mission stay entirely under wraps.

Comms would stay open during each individual operation and after three days or less, they’d all meet back up at the Quinjet to depart as simply as it had arrived.

Everyone was working on their preparations for the rest of the day — going over Nunavut’s map and geology, Tony refining communication technology to guarantee they work throughout the mission despite the distance that would be between the team throughout it.

The evening before the morning of departure, you were preparing for bed when a quiet knock came at your door.

Wanda was at the door holding a saran-wrapped dish of some type of pastry in both hands. “Hi,” she greeted with a tiny smile when you opened the door. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, I’m just getting ready for bed,” you answered.

“I made blinis,” Wanda said, holding up the plate of what looked like a small stack of thin pancakes.

You stared at the dish for a moment then questioned, “At eleven in the evening?”

“Ever since moving here I’ve developed a bit of a habit of cooking when I’m nervous,” she explained, fingers tapping against the rim of the plate.

Then she continued, “You can save these in the fridge if you aren’t hungry.” It was a kind gesture, though you were convinced she hadn’t made them with you in mind.

You hadn’t spoken with Wanda since her training session. You wondered how she was doing with her practice and wanted to ask what was making her anxious. But you withheld your questions, having learned from experience the faults of coming to Wanda’s aid.

“Thank you,” you uttered and took the plate from her. Wanda seemed grateful that you accepted her dish and smiled at you when she transferred the plate to your hands.

An awkward silent moment passed between both of you. Wanda inhaled, her shoulders raising as she readied herself before asking, “How are you feeling? Are you nervous?”

“No,” you answered. “I’m sure it’ll be like any other mission.”

There was a strange look of despondency that struck momentarily across Wanda’s face at your response. She smiled at you then nodded.

“You have always been so strong,” she said, her gaze softening as she ventured through your eyes with her own. “I knew it from the moment we met. You’re different from them. Strong-willed. That’s why it was harder for me to-”

She cut herself off, her mouth closing to ensure she doesn’t slip up and let the next few words out: ‘That’s why it was harder for me to take over your mind.’

You looked at the floor between the both of you and took in a breath, then nodded. “Thank you for these,” you told her, lifting the plate of blinis up.

“O-Of course,” she replied and tugged at the hem of one of her sleeves. “Then, goodnight.”

Wanda headed back to her room in deep remorseful thought, tugging at her necklace and going over her conversation with you. She hadn’t meant to bring up bad memories, let alone the one that caused the divide between you and her, one that could not be crossed or mended no matter how hard Wanda tried.

She had only intended to compliment you, to offer to you in her hands what she stored so close to her heart — an affection and admiration for you.

But she failed to reconcile things with you.

Again.

That night you dreamt about your time with Wanda, before the fight between Ultron, the twins, and the Avengers.

You met Wanda before the rest of the team had even heard of the twins, a few weeks before their retrieval of Loki’s sceptre.

It was a strange series of events.

As was typical before the sceptre’s retrieval, you monitored any signal of its usage, any similar waves of power or sighting reports. After detecting a faint ring of energy in a mountainous plain of isolated land in Sokovia, you chose to go out on your own. What you saw on the monitors was a completely empty plot of land, but upon arrival you discovered a heavily-guarded compound stationed at the foot of a mountain and reaching an astounding height, and a young girl sitting by the edge of it, near the still water and under the waxing moon.

You never told any of the team about her nor her twin brother whom you never saw before the Avengers travelled to the HYDRA research base to retrieve the sceptre.

Wanda knew little of Loki’s sceptre, only that it was kept in a heavily protected sector of the compound. Despite the time you spent together, which eventually ended up being every night after the base’s scientists retired for the night and you were on your own in the lab, you couldn’t avoid telling your team about the sceptre’s location.

Retrieving it was part of something larger than your budding friendship with Wanda, though you still refrained from telling them anything about her and Pietro and their enhanced capabilities.

When the Avengers breached the HYDRA research base, you held no ill will to Wanda. The both of you were simply on opposite sides of a conflict that was long-running and complicated. You continued seeing each other though things became largely difficult once Ultron found the twins.

Though for a moment before the Maximoffs teamed with the android mastermind and they were unsupervised and not experimented on for the first time in several years, everything was blissful with Wanda despite everything else that had been going on between Ultron and the discourse within the team.

You saw her for hours at a time instead of a few fleeting minutes. You could travel anywhere with her rather than having to stick to the research base for the entirety of your time with her. You talked about anything that came to mind, sitting by a remote riverbank or under an evening sky discussing everything from Wanda’s childhood to your time with the team.

You cared for her and Pietro where you could, organising for them to stay in an unoccupied safehouse the team owned and keeping their activity there off the monitors.

When you returned to visit her one morning, their place was cleaned out and you found no trace of either twin. It was only until the Avengers made contact with Ultron that you realised where they had gone, who they had aligned themselves with and on what side of the battle they chose to fight for.

The team took a hard hit, each one of them falling victim to Wanda’s mind tricks, yourself included. She knew what specific memories to conjure, what fears to incite, what nerves to press on. She knew it because you’d told her all of it. She asked you for the best way to take the Avengers down and you told her — willingly.

You could never forgive her nor yourself for becoming the weak and unsuspecting piece in her game.

None of your teammates blamed you for what happened and made an effort to convince you that you had no hand in the Avengers’ collective loss. But you blamed yourself in spite of that. It was your fault.

You skipped breakfast with the team in the morning, your dream weighing heavily on you and the recollection of your blunder from months ago eating at you again as you recalled you’d have to spend the next three days with Wanda. Your mistake did not bring you as much guilt as it had months ago, but rather it made you angry. It made you bitter.

Despite having missed breakfast, you met up with the rest of the team by the foot of the Quinjet as planned. You packed a single bag full of your things, making sure to pack light to make sure travel wouldn’t be so tiresome.

Natasha recapped everything that happened while you were gone in the morning, which wasn’t much. Steve took some of the bags into the Quinjet while everyone else buckled themselves in.

Wanda, who was yet to be seen, finally arrived.

“Y/N, I’ve been looking for you,” she said, slightly breathless when she stood beside you. “I thought you were still in your room, so I was going to get you.”

You weren’t sure what to answer her with and you considered ignoring her and boarding the jet. But if you wanted anything from the mission, it was to come back to the Quinjet successful and to have minimal conflict with her.

So you answered with an acknowledging nod, “No, I just got here.”

“Are you okay?” she asked, placing a hand on your upper arm. “You skipped breakfast.”

“I’m fine. I wanted time to myself.”

“But-”

Natasha intervened, beckoning the two of you over and saying it was time to leave.

Wanda looked over at you, concern still drawn across her expression. But you ignored it and walked ahead, boarding the Quinjet with Wanda following silently behind you.

The high speeds the jet could reach allowed for the trip to Nunavut to be no longer than three hours, which wasn’t all too strenuous as trips often were before the latest Quinjet models that now incorporated several rooms and even a kitchen.

Despite the room on the jet, Wanda stayed in one place for a majority of the journey. She got up twice for the kitchen, but largely sat around the main seating deck where you were. No conversation took place between the two of you though you did catch Wanda looking at you several times.

As planned, the Quinjet landed in its designated spot.

Comms were secured and designed to reach the very northern tip of Nunavut to the very east, though bases were expected to be no further than six-hundred kilometres out, allowing for the team to exchange updates throughout the mission.

After double-checking each other’s supplies and going over the mission plan once more, you each set out for the HYDRA bases.

High-speed snowmobiles charged for week-long usage were supplied for travel. You drove the vehicle while Wanda clung onto you from behind. You had the company of Rhodes and Tony for the first forty minutes before they branched off, following the signal of their assigned base.

Though it was snowing heavily and there was nothing but blinding white plains and mountainous terrain in the distance for as far as the eye could see, the tracker Wanda held grew stronger as you travelled further into the snowy Nunavut.

She fed you directions from behind every so often, arms wrapped snugly around your midriff.

You couldn’t see the way Wanda laid her head against your back, often forgetting to give you directions as she hugged herself close to you, feeling the most secure since the two of you last spoke before she partnered with Ultron, even if you didn’t converse very much. It’d been quite a while since the two of you spent so much time alone together.

“It’s ahead, Y/N,” Wanda told you after fiddling with the tracker and ensuring it was working properly.

“Ahead?” you repeated. “Already?”

Wanda replied after a moment, likely adjusting the antenna of the tracker and double-checking the screen wasn’t broken. “It seems like it,” she said finally.

You sped ahead, eager to get the mission over with and head back to the Quinjet.

“There’s something strange about the signal… It’s getting stronger. Stronger than the signal back at the compound.”

“I know visibility is pretty low right now, but I can’t even see it. How is the signal that strong?” you told her. “Are you sure it isn’t picking something else up?”

Wanda assured, “It has the same signal impression, so it’s definitely the same base they picked up. But the technology they’re using is a lot stronger than what the compound detected.”

“Stronger… So, modern technology?”

“Which means more scientists,” she figured. “And the signal is only getting stronger. There’s maybe a lot more than ten scientists, Y/N.”

You looked ahead, letting the sound of the blowing wind and snow null things out momentarily as you considered the options. “How many more?” you asked Wanda.

She estimated, “If I were to guess and assume that the signal was only to get stronger before we arrived, then maybe thirty of them. I think we should wait for one of the others to finish. I don’t want to go in without knowing what’s waiting.”

“You said thirty of them.”

“But that’s only what I think. I’m not Tony or Steve, I don’t know how to read this as well as them. I’m not as experienced either.”

You heard the twinge of self-criticism in her words but you kept quiet about it, looking ahead and focusing on driving forward when your mind couldn’t detangle itself.

When several more moments passed without a response from you, Wanda’s arms squeezed gently around your waist. You felt the reassuring pressure of her embrace through your layers of winter gear.

“What are we going to do, Y/N?” she asked.

You gnawed at your bottom lip. “It’s only been about two hours since we left the Quinjet,” you uttered, shouting above the noise of the wind. “Even if we waited for help, it’d probably be at least eight hours until even Stark and Rhodes could meet us, and they’re the closest to us right now.”

“So we meet them instead? Come back together?”

“No,” you answered. “There’s not much else we can do but power forward for now. We’ll map out the base, try and get an estimate of how many scientists we have to deal with, and if things seem to be in our favour we’ll continue with the plan. If not, we’ll wait.”

There were several small safehouses scattered around northeast Nunavut built covertly by SHIELD decades ago. The plan was to clear out the HYDRA bases, avoid casualties if possible, rest in the nearby safehouses whose coordinates were also programmed into the tracking devices, then head back to the Quinjet as soon as the journey could be made. If you had to wait for help, you’d have to do it in one of the safehouses.

The both of you chose not to alert the team of the base you were approaching for fear that it might distract them and take them away from their respective missions. They would be updated only in the case that the base would be too much to handle without help. There was nothing to gain in telling them what wasn’t absolutely necessary.

Wanda guided you forward for the next thirty minutes, her arm squeezed even tighter around your waist then it previously was. “We’re approaching,” she told you then looked past your shoulder.

You squinted through the thick blanket of snow, looking for a light or an outline of a building, anything for you to pinpoint where the base was visually.

“Can you see it?” Wanda asked.

“No, I can’t. Are you sure we’re close? Maybe we’re still a few miles out.”

Then in an urgent demand that made you break the snowmobile so hard that you nearly fell out of it, Wanda blurted out, “Stop, stop!”

After catching your breath to calm your thumping heart, you looked back at her. “Holy shit, what?” you gasped.

“The HYDRA base should be right here,” she said. At the sight of your mistrusting expression, she lifted up the tracker and showed you the blinking red dot representing the base and the smaller blue dot that represented the snowmobile. They overlapped each other, meaning that it should’ve been right in front of you.

You got off of the vehicle and walked ahead, squinting and looking around at the snowy plain. Greys and whites stretched on for as long as you could see, and it was all you had been seeing for the last three hours.

Wanda got off of the snowmobile too, wrapped up in a heavy layer of winter gear and walking up to you as a circular ball of jackets and scarves. “Do you think it’s really out here? Maybe the tracker got water damaged or something.”

“I don’t think so,” you replied, stepping through the blinding white sheets of blowing snow.

The young witch ran up beside you, afraid to lose you in the hurricane-like winter. She buried her face further into the shelter of the scarf, leaving her eyes uncovered to allow herself to follow you closely.

“The signal and… now this,” you continued apprehensively. “There’s something that isn’t right with this base, and not just because we can’t see it.”

In the white expanse of snow that went on for kilometres more and mountains that lined the horizon, there was a single outlier.

You approached what looked like a metal pipe coming out from the ground, uncovered by the snow despite the way it had been coming down for the last three hours. A steady release of steam bellowed out from the pipe. You removed your glove and steadied your hand on top of the steam, only for it to be warmed. The snow that fell on your hand melted on-contact.

“Look how strong the signal is now,” Wanda mentioned, pointing to the edge of the screen.

You lifted the tracker up again, looking back down to those overlapping red and blue dots.

“The base is underground,” you told her, your eyes running across the snow you were standing on, then further down where you were sure the building stretched out below.

Eventually, an entrance was found after wandering through the shadowed tundra — a snowy stone walkway and a metal door rusted from years of usage and neglect.

“Should we… go in?” Wanda asked you, clinging to the sleeve of your jacket with both hands. “Is it safe?”

In concealed irritation, you took your arm away from her and opened the door. A warm burst of air hit your face and you kicked away the inches of snow behind the door to allow yourself enough space to step inside.

Wanda followed after you, her cheeks tinting a soft pink when the door closed behind her and the two of you were immediately developed in the warmth of the underground bunker. She pushed her hood back and removed her gloves.

The entrance den was small, giving off the illusion that one had found a storm cellar instead of a research base of an underground terrorist organisation.

You walked forward despite Wanda’s quiet whispers of forewarning, across the slotted floors that made visible piping from below and a leaky cement foundation that made you wonder how old this base must be.

As you walked deeper into the bunker, the tracker’s coordinates of the technology that was sending out signals became more precise. It was stronger, quicker, and indicative of transmitting hundreds of gigabytes of data every few minutes. It wasn’t nearly as fast or efficient as the monitors Stark found in Sokovia’s research base where Wanda and Pietro were stationed, but perhaps only a few models behind.

Voices could be heard from around the corner, and the tracker specified that their primary monitor was but a few metres away.

Wispy tendrils snaked around Wanda’s fingers as she readied herself for any sudden attacks.

Carefully, you unzipped your jacket and pulled out a thermal camera. The base didn’t seem to be well insulated, which was likely why they had to make up for it with the amount of heating they used. Fortunately, this meant that the thermal camera could detect individuals through the wall you were hidden behind with ease.

They were positioned poorly around the lab, as if not under any suspicion that someone might intrude their base. There were six people walking on a levelled platform a few metres up by the ceiling, rounding the room’s perimeter and doing nothing in particular. Five people circled around the southern area of the large room, and there were seven in the centre where the lab monitors were.

You expanded the thermal camera’s range until it reached the outer borders of the bunker and found no outliers.

“Eighteen of them?” Wanda whispered, looking over your shoulder as she stayed close to the wall. “Why so few of them for such advanced technology?”

“For somewhere so far out and underground, maybe they had to overcompensate,” you supposed.

Wanda looked around, then at the details of the ceilings and elevated levels. “It looks like this used to be a bomb shelter repurposed for HYDRA,” she observed. “Pietro and I were experimented on in something similar.”

You bristled at the mention of their experimentation. You recalled the hours spent with Wanda as she talked about what Strucker did to her and her brother, the inhumane treatment and the trauma she received from it.

“If I go from up top and bring them down, we can move in on them in the middle of the lab,” you proposed, fidgeting with the thermal camera and looking up at the elevated floor above the staircase ahead.

“Wh- We’re going to separate?” Wanda whispered.

You reasoned, “We’re not going to take on eighteen of them coming in from one direction.”

“But where will you go?”

“Stay here and wait until you see me come through right there,” you said and pointed at the wall wherein the entrance to the lab’s elevated walkway could be seen beyond it.

Wanda stared at you as if to survey whether you were being sincere and looked away when you met her gaze. “Okay. I’ll wait here,” she uttered and stepped back, away from the view of anyone in the next room while having a clear view of the walkway.

Without another word, you turned and went back up the staircase you descended. You took a left and followed the path down to where the other side of the room became visible.

Wanda watched you intently, ready to come to your aid if you were to suddenly need her help. Her eyes darted between you and the walkway in the other room.

You weren’t much for combat, so you helped Tony design weapons similar to Natasha’s Widow’s Bites. Vial-like ammo were ejected from small silent guns, attaching to a target’s exposed skin, preferably the neck, before releasing a toxin and attacking and incapacitating a target’s nervous system for up to an hour. From complete stupefaction to a remarkable loss of one’s senses, they were perfect for a swift in and out.

The first four people went down quickly with the other two fleeing for the stairs. They made to escape through the exit Wanda was waiting in but were quickly paralyzed with a wave of her fingers.

At the sight of you jumping down from the walkway, Wanda kept the scientists in the lab from escaping while you stunned four of the ones by the corridor and knocked the fifth unconscious.

You quickly disposed of the empty gun and switched to the other, landed two vials on two different scientists while Wanda clouded the minds of the last five.

You eyed them when they dropped to the floor.

“They’re just in a trance,” Wanda explained suddenly when she saw you looking at them. “I haven’t done anything to their minds.”

She hadn’t used her magic to brainwash anyone since her and Pietro’s fight with the Avengers, and certainly not after her argument with you.

Ignoring her, you moved to the monitors and took out a USB before extracting data from the primary console. The parts were easier to navigate because they were older, but there was a lot of data to extract. You’d get data out first then corrupt what the base had left.

Wanda was flipping through their files as you did your own work, looking up at you occasionally and eyeing your body for any sustained injury.

The monitor screen flickered on when you moved the mouse accidentally, and on it was a file that caught your eye. Though it was in Cyrillic, it was easy to read — The Enhanced.

A gasp came from Wanda that startled you and you looked over to her to see she was holding a file in two hands.

“What is that?” you asked.

Her words were firstly a jumble of stutters, but she eventually answered you. “It’s information on me and Pietro. They were studying the experiments on us.”

You looked at the file on the monitor.

The Enhanced.

She read from the file and thought out loud, “Underground and in an old bunker like this, they were trying to replicate the experiments, make new weapons and reuse the progress that Ultron made with the Mind Stone.”

After making the connection, Wanda looked around at the research base then at the scientists on the ground. Her hands trembled and she dropped the file, running her fingers through her hair and scratching at her palms to ground herself.

“I cannot be here. We have to leave,” she told you.

“Just a few more moments, Wanda, this is almost finished.”

But she insisted angrily, “No, we have to go now! You do not understand the kinds of things these people do. I cannot be an experiment again. You cannot.”

She suddenly reached her hand out and placed it on top of the USB. The progress percentage on the console boosted up rapidly. Its internal wires glowed a dim red, an advanced version of Wanda’s neuroelectrical manipulation.

Within seconds, the data finished extracting and Wanda ejected the drive and placed it in your hand.

“Let’s go now,” Wanda told you hurriedly and took your hand, rushing the two of you up the stairs and down the walkway.

You left the way you came, but when you turned to get onto the snowmobile parked just outside, Wanda was still standing by the exit.

“Wanda, what are you doing?” you called down to her, the loud blowing wind encapsulating the two of you once again.

“We need to get rid of this base. Forever.”

You walked back over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Limited casualties,” you reminded her.

When she turned to you, her eyes were filled with tearful fury. “Let me do this,” she said sternly.

You stared at her for a few moments before nodding and letting go of her.

A gas pipe was snapped in half, so it blew out into the bunker.

With shaky hands, Wanda sped up the release from the heating pipes, bundling them up into a focused ball of hot steam so its temperature rose.

It continued to rise until the metal from the pipes and walls distorted from the heat, and you were sure Wanda’s wrath on its own contributed to that ball of heat’s temperature.

At the first sight of a spark and a quick lick of a flame, Wanda shot the ball to the side at the expelling gas without warning.

It happened within seconds; the bunker filled with purple flame and rushed right up to Wanda’s face.

You reached over her shoulder and shut the bunker door before wrapping your arms around Wanda and moving her away. Her back made harsh contact with the stone wall adjacent to the door when you pushed yourself against her body, protecting her from the explosion.

The purple flames cooled into orange, bursting out from the frames of the door and turning the snow on the ground to water.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out, your heart racing.

You looked back over to Wanda, whose face was flushed pink with parted lips. She was no longer crying but her eyeliner was smudged beneath her waterline. She was looking at you though you could see the reflection of the flames in her green eyes.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

Her mouth closed and she swallowed. She blinked and simply nodded in response.

You nodded and said, “Okay. Good, okay.”

You stepped back from her and zipped your jacket up then put your gloves back on.

“We should head to the safehouse now,” you advised. “Update the team then get some rest, and we can leave for the Quinjet tomorrow morning.”

Wanda only nodded again. She watched you as you ascended the steps and mounted the snowmobile. She fitted her hat back on and then her gloves, and caught her breath as she followed after you.

She took her seat behind you on the snowmobile and wrapped her arms around your waist.

“Ready?” you asked.

She nodded, feeling the back of your jacket against her cheek. “Ready.”

You held the tracker in your other hand as you drove to the nearest safehouse. Tony and Rhodes wouldn’t be there, for their nearest one was thirty miles south. But you didn’t dread being alone with Wanda as much as you did before.

A part of you that hadn’t been awoken since the last you spent those evening hours awake talking with Wanda sparked a modest flame. Recollections of your time with her spread out during the last few months came to you in the blinding white plains of the Nunavut tundra.

On the way back to the compound after a mission a few months ago, Wanda had stayed with you in one of the rooms and tended to your injuries. She was surprisingly proficient in bandaging you up and keeping you elevated, and while you sat in quiet disdain for her, she reminisced aloud about how she and Pietro had to care for themselves for most of their life on their own and how caring for someone else often made her think of him.

The journey to the safehouse was a twenty minute drive. The building was larger than you envisioned.

You dug through the depths of your jacket for a key safely stored for the safehouse and opened the garage. It was miraculous that it still worked.

The team was reassured that the buildings were safe from being built with any malicious intent during SHIELD's active operation, and were nearly forgotten until the exploration of Nunavut was proposed.

You stepped off of the snowmobile and had Wanda unlock the door and take the bags in while you pulled the vehicle into its proper storage inside so it wouldn’t be frozen outside by the time you left in the morning.

Locking the door behind you when you stepped into the house, you shedded off your layers and hung them from the hangers, moving your boots to the side beside Wanda’s.

The place felt brisk the moment your jacket came off so you wandered around looking for a thermostat. From what you were all told, each safehouse came with three bedrooms and bathrooms, a common room, and a kitchen.

You found the kitchen first, then a hungry Wanda who was standing by the counter with canned tuna and a glass of tap water.

“Are you hungry?” she asked you, offering you the can of tuna.

Looking around, you took the fork from her. “Where did you find this?” you inquired with a laugh.

“There’s some food here, but they’re all raw or canned. Made to last, I would think,” she noted and took out another can from the pantry before peeling the top open. She took a fork from the counter.

“I turned on the heat when I came in,” she told you. “It should get a bit warmer in a few minutes.”

You looked through the pantry and took out a box of macaroni and cheese, then turned on the oven, feeling the prongs heat up. “Do you want to share some pasta?”

“Yes, please.”

Within forty minutes, you’re sitting on the common area couch with Wanda in silence, eating cheesy boxed macaroni.

For the first time, you felt strange looking back at your history with Wanda before Ultron. It twisted something in your stomach and made your shoulders tense.

Looking at her docile expression, unsuspecting and delicate as she sat across from you, legs crossed on the couch as she ate with you. The dim lamp from the corner of the room beside the broken television cast the silhouettes on her face you often used to follow with your eyes when she laid beside you in the plot of grassy land in front of the hideout she and Pietro used for a period of time after Strucker vanished. It was warm – the last few weeks of summer.

It was March now, months since the battle on Sokovia and even longer since the last time you spent this kind of time with Wanda.

Wanda put her empty bowl down and took a sip of water. She wrapped her fingers around the cold glass, her thumb running over the ring on her index finger.

“I know you don’t like me,” she uttered suddenly, “so I would understand if you never forgave me for what I’ve done to you.”

You looked up from the bowl in your lap and at Wanda, who was looking down at her fingers avoidantly.

“But I will always look up to you,” she continued. “You are so brave and kind. You are what I had wished I was becoming when I worked with HYDRA, and when I allied with Ultron. But I made a mistake. And I keep making mistakes.”

“You’re doing okay,” you told her suddenly before you realised what you were saying.

Then you added, “Everyone thinks so.”

Wanda looked at you, studying your face for what felt to you like quite a while. “When I looked inside your mind,” she said, “I saw something pure. I feel the same for you as I did before, if not with more gravity. I want to know more about you and these things I can feel that you love.”

“What do you want to know?”

“This Shakespeare — I have read him and understand very little of what he writes about, or rather how he writes. I made my own way through several acts of Hamlet but found I could not pretend I found any sense of enjoyment in his writing. His works are enjoyable to you?”

And then you were laughing a kind of laugh that made you place your bowl on the coffee table to avoid spilling it over.

Wanda smiled as she watched you, the crinkling of your eyes that she found pleasing to look at and the unrestrained sound of sincere joy that came from you, especially when it was because of her and no one else. She laughed, quietly and with a few chuckles.

“That was funny?” she asked, still smiling.

You nodded and answered, “Yes.”

But she continued to look at you, anticipating an answer.

“He writes strangely, but because he lived from quite a while ago when the English language was different,” you said. “But also because he was an artist, and like any other artist, his work can be interpreted. Overtime, it’s become easier for me to understand his age of English, but the poetry of his works have become no less interesting to me.”

“What’s interesting about it?”

“There’s an eloquence to his style of writing, I think,” you thought aloud. “And for certain works like Hamlet, for example, it’s tragic and ironic, with beautifully written characters, all within a bound book of one of the most artistic styles of writing I’ve come across. He’s-”

Wanda leaned over, the sudden act making you halt your words and look over to her, only for her hand to find the side of your face. Her lips met yours in one swift movement and her eyes fluttered shut.

Her nose was decorated with freckles.

You stumbled back in your seat and Wanda’s hand lifted to your knee.

She parted from you, looking down at her hand on your knee and her fingers slowly retracting from your cheek.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered, her cheeks flushing.

Carefully, you took the glass away from her and placed it beside her empty bowl. Wrapping your hand around her wrist, you pulled her closer to you until her other hand was forced to remove itself from your knee and lay itself down on the couch by your hip.

You kissed her with a sudden ferocity that made her breath hitch.

“Wanda,” you breathed.

She moved closer to you so she was sitting up on her knees in front of you.

Your hands moved down her body, arching her back with your fingers pressing into her sides so you could kiss up her stomach then between her clothed breasts.

With a pleasured sigh, Wanda’s hands came up to the sides of your head, her fingers playing with your hair and urging you to kiss her body.

Now irritated by the distance between you and her bare skin, your fingers hooked around the collar of her long-sleeved white shirt and yanked down.

Wanda hid a grin in your hair and kissed the top of your head.

You kissed the swells of her breasts, burying your face in her chest and nipping at her delicate skin. You craved more and your fingers pulled down her bra, exposing rosy nipples. Your tongue ran up one of them and they hardened at your contact.

“I like that,” Wanda said, an arm wrapping around your neck and pulling you closer to her.

“Yeah?” you answered, looking up at her from between her breasts. You kissed up her chest and neck, running your tongue up her pulse point and making her squirm. “What else do you like, pretty girl?”

She blushed at the pet name and hid her face against the side of your head.

“Anything, Y/N,” she answered. “Anything from you.”

You wrapped your arm around her ass and picked her up from the couch, making her giggle and wrap her legs around your hips. Your other arm was wrapped around her waist.

Wanda kissed your forehead and your temple while you peppered kisses against her throat.

You carried her up the stairs and towards one of the bedrooms Wanda pointed at. You flicked on the lamp on the nightstand and lowered Wanda onto the bed.

She pulled your shirt off when you leaned over her while you unbuttoned and slipped her jeans off. Her legs were smooth and you couldn’t help but run your hands up the sides of them, gripping at her soft thighs and her hips.

Her shirt was pulled off next while you took your pants off.

You tucked your hands under her ass and you lifted her further up the bed, which made her laugh. You leaned back down when she was laid in the middle and kissed her.

Her hands ran up your stomach and undressed you until you were bare on top of her. You unclipped her bra and wrapped your lips around one of her nipples, kneading her other with your hand.

Her back arched up against you and she wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you close.

“Gods, you’re beautiful, Wanda.”

She shuddered when your hand ran down her bare stomach and you grinned against her cheek when you realised how sensitive Wanda was.

Your free hand pinched one of her nipples between your thumb and index finger and she yelped before burying her face in your hair.

You slipped her panties off and dragged your fingers through her folds that were already slick with her anticipation.

Wanda’s cheek warmed your lips when you kissed them for she was flushed, overwhelmed and embarrassed being exposed for someone like you. She idolised you, regarded you with high praise and adoration.

To have you kiss breasts and call her beautiful, to touch her in a way she hadn’t been in years. But even her first time had been rushed, a decision made at the snap of her fingers.

Your fingers were brought to your lips and you licked her juices from them. Wanda’s eyes widened at the act and you grinned down at her. You ran a thumb over her bottom lip and kissed her, her flavour melding between your dancing tongues.

You reached down between your stomachs and jerked your hand around your stiff cock. Wanda’s eyes followed your hand and her lips parted at the sight of you. You pecked her lips, amused at her awe.

A hand ran up her cunt, collecting her slick and coating yourself in it.

“Are you ready, Wanda?” you asked, looking up at her.

She nodded eagerly, hugging her arms around your neck tightly. “I’m ready.”

You entered her with a long groan, feeling her soft walls squeeze around your cock. Her eyes were squeezed shut, shaky whimpers leaving her.

“Y/N,” Wanda groaned. “That hurts.”

“You’re so tight,” you told her. “I’ll be careful.”

She opened her eyes and pulled you down to her so she could kiss you. “No. I want you, please. Harder.”

You wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting the lower half of her body from the bed and angling her hips down against your thighs.

With two hands on either of her hips, you pulled her up and down, fucking her on your cock as Wanda’s mouth fell open, broken moans and cries of pleasure singing from her throat.

She reached a hand down to you and you took it, interlacing your fingers as you dug your other hand’s nails into the side of her ass.

Her ass slapped down against your thighs and you could only stare at her in admiration, watching her breasts bounce on her chest with every thrust into her, the sounds that came out of her that were for you, the sound of your name on her tongue that was moaned in a way that no one would ever have the pleasure of hearing for their own names.

Your hand moved between Wanda’s hips and you laid your hand flat against her lower stomach while your thumb began drawing circles around her clit.

“Oh my, Y/N!” Wanda cried. “Oh, I feel so strange.”

She was quite sensitive, nearing her climax so soon. You kissed up her stomach and let go of her hips, laying her flat down on the bed and mounting yourself over her. You kiss her and massage one of her breasts.

“Let me see you, Wanda. Come for me.”

Wanda buried her face in your neck, her hot breath panting against your chest while your thrusted into her and grasped harshly at her hip to maintain a strong hold on her delicate body while you fucked her.

She babbled out a mess of half-finished words and her walls tightened around you.

You lifted your head to see her and Wanda’s head was thrown back, her fingernails digging into your upper arms as she came. Her orgasm washed over her in heavy forceful waves, making her shudder and tighten her knees around your hips.

There was a certain pride in making Wanda come, a young girl so often taken by timidity and whose inner feelings were unshared with those she did not find solace in. To have her shudder under you, hands grasping desperately at your body while she cried out your name sent bursts of warmth up your chest.

She took your head between her hands and pressed shaky kisses to your face, up the bridge of your nose and against your cheekbones, to your forehead and finally back down to your lips. “Let me get you off,” she whispered.

You switched positions with you now laying on your back, Wanda on her knees by your ankles. You reached down and ran your fingers through her hair in admiration, then down her cheek. Wanda smiled at you and kissed your hip.

She firstly took your cock with both hands, flicking the tip of her tongue against your tip. She ran her tongue through your slit gently then wrapped her lips around you, hands jerking you slowly.

When she had you with your head thrown back and your cock stiff in her hands, Wanda let go of you and kissed up the length of your shaft.

“Y/N, you’re so beautiful,” she said, looking up at you from below. “The most beautiful person I’ve ever been lucky enough to know. I haven’t treated you as I should. I do not deserve your patience, and certainly not any permission to see you this way. But I hope to show you how much I adore you. Because I do. I truly do.”

“Wanda…” you uttered quietly, ready to protest before she wrapped her lips around your tip again and bobbed her head down.

She took a few inches at a time and you felt her throat open up for you as she moved her head down. One hand rubbed at your thigh and the other was placed atop your hip. She adjusted her position, kneeling and arching her back to get as low as she could, her ass stuck up in the air. She inched further down, relaxing her throat until her nose brushed your lower stomach.

She took your hand with hers and placed it against the back of your head.

You took hold of her hair and pulled her up along your cock and back down. You could hear Wanda’s mouth attempting to accommodate you with every entry into her mouth. She breathed through her nose, her grip tightening around your thigh as she drooled around your cock.

You pulled her up further occasionally so her lips reached only your tip, allowing her space to breathe before pushing her back down.

Wanda never protested, only looked up at you with sheer determination to bring you pleasure. She did gag at the depth you were fucking her throat in, though still that seemed to please you and Wanda was satisfied.

After ten minutes, you pulled Wanda off of your cock, wiping the drool from her chin and uttering, “Good, Wanda. That was good.”

But she was drunk on the taste of your cock, the pre-cum she was treated with occasionally when she curled her tongue around you a specific way and sucked at you with a certain velocity.

“I want more,” she objected and kissed up your cock again, her tongue running up your veins and kissing your tip, running it through her lips and sucking at it teasingly. She rubbed her cheek against your wet cock then ran her tongue up it.

So you took her head between both hands and positioned her over your cock. She parted her lips instinctively and you jutted your hips up into her face, thrusting her throat down onto your dick at a speed vastly different than before, your speed having increased tenfold.

Wanda grasped the blankets and scratched at your hips while she tried her best to take you as deep and fast as you wanted, using her for nothing but your own pleasure. Her eyes filled with tears and her saliva coated the base of your shaft.

Your hips bucked up into her face and Wanda looked up at you, studying intently the line that formed between your eyebrows and the way your eyes squeezed shut. She flattened her tongue and wrapped it around your cock, flicking it side to side where it could fit.

“Wanda- Fuck, I’m coming!”

You shot your cum down her throat, your hands on either side of her head pushing her back gradually to fill her mouth with your cream, then finally you pulled out altogether to cum onto her face.

With the tip of your cock, you rubbed your cum against her lips and cheeks. Wanda smiled and kissed your shaft proudly.

You wiped it off her face and ran your coated fingers through her messy hair while Wanda swallowed what she could, licking your cum from her fingers too.

“God, you’re fucking filthy.”

Wanda grinned and climbed up.

You wrapped your arms around her body, kissing each other’s tired faces.

She twirled your hair around her fingers and with her cheek pressed against yours lazily, she whispered, “I’m tired, Y/N.”

“Sleep,” you answered and put a hand to the back of her head, letting her rest her head on your chest. You kissed her hair damp with sweat, and rubbed her smooth bare back as she dozed off.

You muttered confessions of your adoration of her against her head, kissing her forehead in her sleep and eventually covering your bare bodies in thick blankets.

For now, she wouldn’t know how you admired her, her intelligence and her kindheartedness, her strength and her beauty. The green of her eyes and the softness of her smooth curves, the feeling of her lips and the smoothness of her skin.

But perhaps she would know at some point or another, and that brought you joy – a future you could imagine with her.

You pulled Wanda against your chest and kissed the top of her head.

A future with her.

The very thought comforted you, and you fell asleep soon after her.

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