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btssmutficslovingfan01 · 3 years

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Friendly Encounters- Chapter Ten

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: A friend challenges you to go out of your comfort zone and talk to one of the cute boys at the café. However, after attempting to flirt with one of them, they reveal that they are in a relationship with each other. It’s fine, though, because you’re all friends now!

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Romance

𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: Smut, Fluff

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Graphic Depictions of sex, Homophobic Parents

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 10.9k

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jimin x Reader x Yoongi

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Graduation day came rather quickly so as soon as you were done receiving your diploma, your father took you out to get some ice cream from your favorite ice cream shop. Jimin and Yoongi were also there, they made sure to stay out of sight since your father had no idea they were so involved in your life.

After that, he drove straight home so you could grab your things and go for an afterparty-sleepover at your friend’s house. What neither of your parents knew was that you were also going to another afterparty, at a nearby jock’s house.

You made sure to keep it a secret from your parents, and Jimin and Yoongi didn’t even know. They didn’t have to, you can still keep things from them. You have the right to secrets, all though it’s probably not the smartest idea for you to be sneaking out to another boy’s house in the middle of the night.

You and a few other girls get changed in the bedroom, slipping into some party casual wear before sneaking out the window. You finally reach the party, your hair tucked behind your ears to reveal your diamond earrings, another gift your father got for you.

“Hey Y/N. Looking good.” The host of the party checks you out, and you can’t help but blush as no boy has ever given you a compliment before. Besides your boyfriends.

“Thanks, how are you doing by the way? We haven’t been able to talk in quite a while, right?” He nods, before waving over a group of jocks.

“Yeah, let’s catch up later.” You watch as they start playing ball on the grass like a couple of dogs. Boys will always be immature, no matter how old they get.

“Hey, Y/N, there’s someone I want you to meet,” One of your friends gestures for you to come over as you cross the field, avoiding the football as the boys run after it like headless chickens. You finally reach the other side, seeing a handsome man seated next to her. “This is my boyfriend.”

“Hi, you can call me Finch. I have a stupid first name so that’s better.” He explains as you shake hands with him. The guy has a tight grip, definitely level-headed. You can tell a person’s character traits just from shaking their hands, so reading Finch is no problem.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” You introduce yourself just as a crowd starts blocking the balcony door. You were currently standing in the backyard, which had a pool, a hot tub, and blaring music. It was a pretty stereotypical party.

“Oh cool, the chaperone arrived. Caleb’s parents wouldn’t let him throw a party unless he had adult supervision even though we’re all legally adults, so he just invited his brother in-law. Well, his previous brother in-law anyways. His older sister passed away a couple of years ago. Her husband still visits their family though, insisting that it’s his job to look after them since she isn’t here.” The sudden rush of information seems too familiar for you to not draw the conclusion that the person Finch is talking about is none other than-

“JIN!!!” You hear Caleb’s voice boom from the back as he runs over and picks up the man to carry him over his shoulder like he’s a rag doll.

“Hey kid, put me down. I need to scope out this party so I can make sure the vibes are right. That’s what my crush told me to do, at least,” He pulls out his phone to show his brother a checklist. You were freaking out, half worrying about Jin telling your boyfriends that you were here and half worried about Jin leaking the fact that you’re dating two boys at the same time to your entire student body. You knew it was going to be negative either way, so you hid in plain sight.

When Jin finally walked over to your general area, you just happened to be making a pizza run. And so, you ran into him. “Whoa, you’re here? It’s a small world. What were the odds that you were friends with my dead wife’s younger brother?” You cringe at his word choice as he rubs his neck sheepishly, equally regretting the wording of that question as well.

“Pretty high, I guess. Listen up Jin, I need you to pretend like you don’t know me any more than just a customer. I don’t want anyone to know about my dating Jimin and Yoongi. Just say I’m a regular at your coffee shop, that’s all.” Jin nods, accepting the message more easily than you expected. You bite off a good chunk of pizza before proceeding to sit down and continue talking to your friends for the rest of the night.

༻• At Home •༺

You arrive back at your house approximately around 1 pm. When Jimin and Yoongi see you again, however, your father is in the room with you, so you can’t just run into their arms like how you normally do. You simply just wait until you excuse yourself to “change” so that you could say hello and tell them everything in the comfort of your room, the one place your father never entered. This was your personal space, the one place you could be yourself.

Even as Jimin and Yoongi continue chatting away on your bed, you’re calm as you ever imagined you would be, since your father is back home just so he can “ask” you about college. Although, you already know you’re going to the college his friend’s son is going to, Pelard University. You personally wanted to study business, so you were content with that choice.

Your father wanted you to get married to a wealthy boy and that was that. Yet, you’ve learned what true love is, and experienced a healthy relationship where you don’t have to hide things. Not to mention, they also taught you that you can love two people at the same time and have a working relationship.

Although it’s not the most conventional, you love them both, so much. You’re just not sure if your dad would see it the same way. Your mother understood, listening to you as the three of you sat down and explained it to her, but the main reason why she was so worried was because of your dad. He’s so traditional, believing arranged marriage is the key to a successful future.

You hated that mindset, he isn’t open to change, especially since he goes out of his way to ignore Jimin and Yoongi since they’re an openly gay couple. You’d rather die than have your father figure out you were in the middle of their “homosexual relations.” He only referred to them as that, “homosexuals.” Even the term “gay,” was something he didn’t allow you to say when you were in the house.

“So, are you excited for your celebratory dinner tomorrow?” Jimin asks as you slip on a dress from your closet and you rush over to your vanity to do your hair and makeup. You go with a natural look, since your dad hates modern makeup.

“I am, but who said you’re going? My dad is gonna make you guys uncomfortable, and I don’t want you guys to spend a minute with him alone. I’m not risking it.” Jimin puts his hands on your shoulders.

“If you don’t fight back, how are you supposed to break free? He’s chained you, kitten. That’s why he bosses you around and makes you do things you don’t want to do. You’re going to college soon and at that point he couldn’t possibly force you to marry some guy you don’t even know, right?” You push all your school folders to the corner of your study table before dumping stray paper into the recycling bin. All while Jimin is still poking the elephant in the room.

“Jimin, can you please put a pin in this? Just like how you didn’t want to talk about your parents, I don’t want to talk about my father. It should be pretty clear to you now what he plans for my future education. I’m sure that even Yoongi figured it out. He hasn’t said a word since I stepped foot into the house.” Judging by his blank stare, you can tell it has nothing to do with you. Or maybe you hurt his feelings without realizing it?

“You know my parents are a sensitive topic. I understand it’s the same with your dad, but at least I had the courage to stand up to them and tell them my truth. Yoongi was one good thing that came out of it.” A part of your heart pangs with guilt since you couldn’t casually bravado your love for Jimin or Yoongi with your father present.

Another part is stirring, one that had been brewing inside of you ever since your father forced you to go to such embarrassing dinner parties with boys that were less than desirable. The worst part about all of this is that your boyfriends live under the same roof as you, but your father couldn’t be the slightest bit bothered to get to know them. In his eyes, they were both failures since they worked at a café.

“You want to talk about it? Sit down, we’ll get to that. Let me first ask Yoonie what’s going on with him.” You pull your swivel chair up to the bed, as your second boyfriend sits up with his phone in his hands, his tired expression telling you everything you need to know.

“Huh?” He rubs his eyes, which are dry and cracked as if he stayed up all night long.

“What’s up? You’re not acting like yourself. Did something happen?” You ask your blond haired boyfriend as he curls up in your blankets, hiding his face from the world.

“I was thinking about what you said, the plan that you wanted to set in motion. I worked overtime so I could get more funds and support you guys, like a shadow, almost. While you appear as the perfect couple to the outside world, I could pull the strings and make you shine brighter. I was curious as to what you were thinking, since it seems like you don’t want to go with the original plan, which was marrying Jimin.” You remember back to when Yoongi was out working that one night and Jimin asked you if he was bad at sex. You told him that you’re not marrying him, with the intention of something else entirely.

“Well, obviously I don’t want to be legally bound to only one of my partners. It’s unfair. And right now, it’s dangerous for poly triads to be together in the open, so I think we should get wedding bands and have a staged wedding. We can tell our closest friends and parents but most of all, we could be equal without having a spare partner left out. I just feel like I’m not giving you enough attention, Yoon. The truth is that I fell so madly in love with you both that I was scared that I’d have to choose. I don’t think I could.” You wipe your tears away with your palms as both of your boyfriends squeeze you in a group hug.

“Kitten, we’ve been together for as long as I can remember. What makes you think I’d make you choose between Jimin and me? We’re both in love with you and we’d never put you in such a situation. And the only reason I’ve been busier than usual is because I was collecting extra funds and putting in extra effort at work so I could save money for the honeymoon. Only the best for my babies.” Yoongi chuckles as Jimin affectionately nuzzles his neck and you press a warm kiss to his cheek. Now most of your worries about Yoongi have disappeared. Now that brings you to a new array of issues.

“Now that we have that out of the way, there’s something I want to ask you. How are you gonna explain to your dad that you don’t want to get married because you want to be equally committed to two partners in your life?” You tap your chin at Jimin’s question. Honestly, you’re just going to go with the most simple answer.

“I’ll tell him the truth. If he says no, I’ll tell him to suck it up because it’s my life. You’re right Jimin, standing up for what I believe in does make me feel better.”

“Right?” Yoongi casts a glare at his boyfriend as you turn on some light music and Jimin pulls you in for a kiss. You dance the night away with your boyfriends before switching off the light and crawling into bed between them both. As you drifted off to the land of dreams, you were plagued by the thoughts of what could go wrong with your confession to your father. You were never honest with him, and you don’t know how he’ll react, except for the fact that he’s gonna freak out when he discovers what’s actually going on between you and the boys.

After twisting and turning for a considerable amount of time, you find yourself relaxing and calming down as Jimin buries his head in the nape of your neck and Yoongi snuggles into your chest, boobs be damned. Luckily you aren’t on your period so your chest isn’t as sensitive today.

The next day goes by a lot slower than you expected, probably because your father drains the fun out of everything you do together. You don’t hate the guy, but he makes it a lot harder for you to like him when he has the personality of a rock.

“Jimin, you are not wearing a cowboy costume to the steakhouse.” You catapult onto the swivel chair, your forehead throbbing with a diminishing anxiety of tonight and all the ways it could go wrong.

“Oh come on, I was trying to cheer you up. Really, nothing?” You’re too worried to laugh at his shenanigans. “Maybe I should dye my hair a new color. Then you’ll be in for a real surprise.” He winks at you, making your heart flutter while stopping simultaneously. If he dyed his hair again, your father would probably think even less of him. He’s already not a fan of their relationship, so Jimin is already ruining their chances of being liked. You’re the one in a relationship, so it shouldn’t matter what others think of your boyfriends. Jimin and Yoongi won over your mom with their personalities, so why couldn’t they do the same with your dad? All they have to do is be themselves and if he doesn’t like them because he’s too petty to admit that they’re the world’s sweetest angels, they needn’t try any harder. They’re perfect just as they are.

“Please don’t dye it hot pink. The last thing we need is Y/N’s dad throwing a hissy fit because you aren’t setting a good example for his daughter.”

“Who said I was dyeing it an unnatural color?” Jimin smirks before you could ask anything else. You had no clue what he was planning as he dragged Yoongi back to their shared room and locked the door, preventing you from following them. You decide to open up your phone and scroll through Instagram to see what your other friends are up to.

Speaking of, it looks like Caleb will be working at the steakhouse at the same time your family’s going for your dinner. You just pray Jin won’t show up and ruin everything even though he said he wouldn’t tell. You don’t want any hitches in the plan tonight.

You know quite a lot of people from your graduated class will be there, since some of the jocks and cheerleaders got together to celebrate their freedom from homework and other trivial things that regular teenagers worry about. You know that you already have a lot more worries, since you were juggling not one but two boyfriends, trying to keep your GPA above a 3.5, and even putting up with your father’s demands by sitting through all the awkward matchmaking dinners. Half the kids at your school didn’t even know how to make food, let alone sit through a dinner with younger boys ogling their covered breasts because they know they won’t be getting a taste of real pussy anytime soon.

You know tonight won’t be any different, since your father invited a colleague from work and he wanted you to meet his son. You feel slightly better knowing your boyfriends will be there, keeping an eye on you in case things go awry. Jimin and Yoongi knew once they heard you crying through the phone, that they would never let you experience that kind of humiliation ever again. Your mother has high hopes for you, since you seem to be breaking out of your shell and trying to make this relationship between Yoongi and Jimin work.

“Y/N, we’re driving you there. We got the clear from your parents, come on, Kit.”

“I’m coming Jim-” You’re blinded by his beauty. Beauty is not a term you can use for this, he’s just too perfect. Pink, plush lips lacquered with watermelon flavored gloss, with cheekbones highlighted by the shimmer powder from an expensive brand, and his eyebrows are so neatly spooled so that you can see every single individual strand uniformly cascading down his arch. Jimin is the definition of sex on legs, and you can’t believe that he is standing before you as he is. His normally blue silky smooth hair is sticking up, the pungent scent of hairspray filling your nostrils as he moves closer. His hair is a dark blue, much more closer to a natural black shade than ever. He looks picturesque, so handsome you just can’t tear your eyes away.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teases as you hiss at him playfully, lightly resting your hand on his plump butt.

“If you’re the cat, then yes. Also, when did I start dating a disney prince because damn.” An impish smile tugs at his lips as he pulls you to your feet, and he admires you even though you think you look like a sack of potatoes.

“You don’t look too bad yourself. Is that my sweatshirt?” You nod, playing with strings as your boyfriend affectionately kneads your shoulders.

“Oh God.” You freeze in Jimin’s arms as Yoongi appears in a casual pair of ripped skinny jeans and a plain white tee with a coat draping from his shoulder with a blue and orange patterned beanie draping from his newly dyed blond hair. It’s a different shade of blond, much lighter than the shade it was before. You could tell Yoongi was embarrassed by this, since he had a light blush dusting his cheeks and unlike Jimin, his posture was closed off. The way he carries himself is totally different. You still think he looks amazing, though. Both men look great, although you do make Jimin remove his pink sweater that he tied around his neck as a fashion statement. They both look handsome and ethereal while you still feel like you could look so much better. It’s a casual outing though, so you know you don’t have to worry about dressing up. Especially if you’re eating burgers and fries.

“Exactly what she said. You look amazing, Yoonie.” Jimin says something in Korean but from all your lessons that you had from him so far, the only thing you understood was “you” and “Yoonie.” You were terrified about everything failing that you failed to see the good sides, too. If all goes as planned, you would be walking out of here with all of your limbs still intact, and leaving the restaurant with the number of boyfriends you started with. Knowing Yoongi’s personality, he might not hit it off well with your father at first. After all, when you met him, he was always throwing dirty looks your way and being cautious around you because Jimin liked you more than he should like his female friends.

“Shall we go?” You ask, cutting through their moment for a minute. You didn’t want to waste any more time.

“Right. We’re going to have dinner with your parents, and your parents’ friends.” You clench your jaw, clear dislike in Yoongi’s tone as he walks ahead of you and Jimin.

“Sorry about him. He’s just mad because he wanted to bond with your parents. He’s not much of a people person, so…”

“Jiminie, it’s alright. He didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, he has every right to be mad. I would be too if one of your guys’ family brought in a guest despite you planning everything just for yourselves.” Jimin looks after Yoongi in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. You know it’s stupid, but you still can’t help feeling a little left out. Even now, as your boyfriends take the front seats and you’re sitting in the back, it’s so easy to forget that someone as insignificant as you has a place in their relationship. They’ve been together much longer than you’ve known them, that itself should be a sign that you aren’t the match for them. They’re just too high up for you to reach them. Of course, you’re never gonna tell them this.

Dinner is served, finally, and after an awkward 20 minutes of waiting for the Min family, you are introduced to their third youngest son, Noah Min. As soon as they walked into the restaurant, Yoongi’s eyes widened. His normally blank face was twisted into something more fear-filled.

“What are they doing here?” He hisses as Jimin tries to calm him down.

“We’re right here, you know? So rude, even after all these years you still never learned your place, did you Yoongi boy?” The woman who is the wife of Mr. Min, your father’s colleague, turns to Yoongi, as if she’s known him her entire life. And then it hits you.

Yoongi’s surname is Min...these people are the Min family, you are being set up with someone from the family that kicked their son out so coldly.

“I know my place is not with you, that much is certain.” You stay silent, chewing on a single fry as you watch the madness unfold.

“I see you’re still with that dancer. Hi Jimin.” He waves to her awkwardly, adjusting his chair so he was closer to the table.

“So I see you know each other. Is this your son? He lives in our guest room with his boyfriend. I had no idea you were even related.” Your father casts an expressionless look at Yoongi, immediately making the raging inferno inside of you flare up. Jimin grips your hand under the table, reminding you not to create a scene.

“Well, we practically disowned him after he decided to fall into the devil’s hands and take on that lifestyle.” You stand up, finally done with the way his family was badmouthing him right in front of you like you couldn’t hear everything.

“Dad, I’m sorry but I can’t do this. I’m not gonna let anyone speak badly about my Yoongi.” With your little slip of the tongue, your secret is out in the open.

“Your Yoongi? Pray tell, is that how you youngins’ refer to each other or is there something we should know about?” Yoongi suddenly coughs, clearing his throat before nodding to you and Jimin. Whatever he was about to say, you would follow his lead.

“It’s true that I am still together with Jimin. What I didn’t expect is that Y/N would walk through the doors of that coffee shop that fateful day and carve a place in my heart. It’s true, in addition to being in a relationship with this man, I am in love with your daughter.” Your father’s eyes widen and you’re sure he burst a blood vessel because the vein popping out of his forehead is not a good sign.

While Yoongi’s family remains neutral, except for his brother who is shaking in his seat, your father is muttering curses underneath his breath while your mom tries to calm him down.

“Well, for once you don’t disappoint me. Maybe now you could give us grandkids. I mean, that’s the only thing we were really worried about since your older brothers decided not to have any children with their wives and your two younger sisters are still in high school...now we accidentally set your brother up with your girlfriend, or tried to.” His father bellows in an authoritative manner.

Yoongi is not the slightest bit intimidated. His posture screams confidence and refinement as your mouth waters at the very sight. Seeing him look so calm is a turn-on.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe my brothers didn’t want kids to begin with and it’s none of your business judging them based on your shallow perception of reality? Your children don’t exist for you to control. I’m done being your little lapdog. I thought I said it then when I left the house but now I definitely want to make one thing clear: I don’t want anything to do with you.” He turns around and storms out of the restaurant, leaving you and Jimin worried about the rest. Tonight could not go any worse.

“Good riddance. The wife didn’t raise him right, that’s the problem.” Your father glares at you from across the table as Mr. Min continues talking out of his ass. You and Jimin decide to follow him, leaving the table in a hurry to track down your partner. You find him in the alleyway behind the employees entrance and a mysterious light is flickering over his head.

“Yoongi, you don’t have to come back. They don’t deserve to have you as a son.” You say as Jimin takes a seat beside him, despite getting dirt on his nice pants.

“Yeah. As much as it hurts, they are toxic and their goal is to crush your spirit.” Jimin says in a low voice, hanging his head down in anger. You can sense it, the slightest quiver in his consonants when he speaks, and how his breathing is a little bit ragged.

“I just never thought I’d see them again. I missed my mom, even if she seems cold now, she wasn’t always like that.”

“Yoongi…?” Before you can say anything else his lips are on yours, the warmth from his body heating yours. You felt a familiar fire in your core as he pulled away, clearly his mind wandering as you stare back at him with desire.

“Okay guys, that’s enough. Your families are in there, and they know about us. So, how about we just walk back in there and face them once and for all? I’m tired of running. Now that your dad knows, maybe he’ll come to understand you better.” Jimin sounds a bit annoyed, since you and Yoongi managed to change the mood so easily again.

“Let’s do this.”

༻• At Home •༺

“The three of you are dating?”

“Yes sir.”

“How long have you been seeing my daughter?”

“About six months, sir.”

“Have you forced my daughter into doing drugs, sexual activities, or exposing herself to fulfil your pervy desires?” Your boyfriends shake their heads as your father finishes interrogating them. “Alright, you’re free to go. Y/N, come here. I want to talk to you in private,”

You sit down beside your father, anxiety sky-high as you anticipate his every movement, analyzing his body language to think about what he might say next. Will he send you to Russia for college? Or maybe he will force you to marry that 12 year old who was too busy staring at your boobs to notice that it was well past his bedtime.

Maybe he might just kick you out like Yoongi’s parents did with him. The worst-case scenarios pop into your head as you bite your nails and rock back and forth on the balls of your feet. “As you know, I am very disappointed in you. However, I am glad you managed to find love on your own.”

“So you’re not mad?” You’re surprised by his tender reply, and how it almost seemed heartfelt, like he was recalling a pleasant memory. His eyes are filled with that mellow look you’ve only seen on Jimin when he gazes at Yoongi.

“No. Actually, I’m relieved. I never thought you’d find love on your own, that’s why I went through the trouble of arranging your love life for you. I’m your father first before anything else. This is just how things roll in our family. I’m sorry if you ever thought I was taking things away from you, I just want you to succeed and the only way I know how is pushing your limits.”

You’re surprised by his reply. You guess you did overexaggerate things just a smidge. Of course, some things are too good to be true but you wanted to believe that your father was a good guy, so you hugged it out and then went straight to bed.

Joined by Jimin and Yoongi in the middle of the night, the three of you cuddle until you’re warm again and you doze off to see a brighter tomorrow. Hopefully, you won’t have to face Yoongi’s family again.

“Morning dear, guess what? Pelard U sent you a new student pamphlet, isn’t that exciting?” Your mother is cheerful as always, handing you the envelope as you stretch your arms out.

“Sorry mom, I’m just having that weird tummy ache again,” You rest your hands on your belly as your mother glances at you strangely. “What? Do I have something on my face?” She quickly makes her way beside you, pretending to grab a fruit from the bowl in front of you as you rest your elbow on the counter.

“Don’t you think it’s strange that you’ve felt nauseated every day since last week? Maybe it’s time you took an at-home test. You know, just in case you might be-”

“Mom, no. I’m not pregnant, okay. I’d know if I was, like how you knew you were pregnant with me 18 years ago.” You yawn in between your sentence, deciding on stretching alongside the barstool at your kitchen island for support.

“Listen to me, the only way I knew is when I took this home test. Before getting a real test from the drug store, I did this test and then it came out positive. It’s the second-most accurate test in the world! If you are pregnant, you know I would support you, right? I don’t know much about your father though-”

“Mom, stop talking. Someone might hear you and ask us what we’re talking about. Drop it, I’m hungry. Maybe it’s just gas or period cramps.” You cut her off before she can say any more. You hated hearing her stories because it sounds so similar to how you, Jimin, and Yoongi are at the moment. There was a time when your parents were just a happy couple, carefree of the world around them. You know you’ll end up like them too someday, hopefully not disowning your daughter over something as petty as having multiple boyfriends at the same time (with their consent of course) unless she is cheating on a boyfriend she is supposed to have a closed relationship with. Or in case one of your daughters or sons confessed that they had a different sexual orientation than “straight.” Even now, you have a problem with assuming everyone you meet is straight, it’s hard when society forces heteronormativity on you.

You’ve only ever looked at men that way. Not because of what society tells you, but more of what your heart does. You’ve only ever had crushes on boys, felt attracted to boys, and chased after boys because of how you are. You know what you are, and no one can tell you otherwise.

“Hey guys I’m going out to the store today. Anyone want anything?” Your new black-haired boyfriend makes an appearance in his striking purple sweater and equally dazzling shoes. He looks like a highschooler, but a million times cooler than any of the boys you know. It’s only a bonus for you since your boyfriend puts as much effort into his looks as you take the effort to look good for him. It’s an equivalent exchange, you feel like you’re the best looking couple in the whole wide world.

“Y/N has the list. Stay safe, kids.” Your mom ushers you away as you grab Jimin’s pinkie and intertwine your fingers.

All you needed was Yoongi in between you and you’d be golden. Right now Yoongi was working a shift at Jin’s, since he said he was earning extra money for you anyways. You decided it would be a good time to set up the new equipment in Yoongi’s room, but you didn’t want to mess anything up so you turned to Jimin for help.

In return, you would have to help him buy groceries. That’s why you were at the store now, picking a pack of sausages and loading bacon into your cart. Jimin purses his plush pink lips as he runs his delicate fingers over his gelled hair. You see a guy checking him out from the corner of your left eye, paying him no mind as you loop your arm around his and rest your head on his shoulder like you always do. The public display of affection has the guy walking away immediately, seeing how bold you were in claiming your man so easily.

Speaking of, you were feeling more risky today so you turned to Jimin to help you explore your fantasies, since he was the center of nearly all of them anyways. (Excluding Yoongi, because the list would be endless if you included both of them)

“Next, we need car parts.” This is the most empty, deserted section of the store. You had no clue why Jimin needed to come here but you don’t question a thing when he pulls you in for a quick hug.

“What are we doing here? I don’t remember anything about car parts on the list.” Jimin smirks as you question him, his fingers playing with the belt loops on your shorts. Today your outfit was more summer-y, so Jimin wanted to take advantage of that.

“We’re not getting car parts. Wasn’t this on your bucket list?” It was. How did he know that?

“How do you-”

“-know that? Simple, I read your diary. I was bored, and I wanted to see what was going on in that beautiful mind of yours. So I read it, big whoop. Don’t worry, I’m just gonna fuck you here in the back of the store where no one can see us. There are no cameras around, and I’m sure no one is gonna come to this aisle either so just relax, baby.” A tight knot forms in your belly as he pulls down your shorts skillfully, pushing your panties down at the same time and revealing your plump ass to the world. Luckily there’s no one here to witness this.

“So wet for me already, I bet I don’t even have to prep you, I can just slide on in.” You let out a mewl as his cock makes contact with your ass, a pleasurable sensation between your cheeks alerting you that he was indeed slipping in. You feel a slight ache from the stretch, but as far as you’re concerned, that’s normal.

“Jimin, I’m so close.”

Thoughts of your conversation with your mother in the kitchen suddenly invade your mind, your orgasm disappearing as Jimin cums in your ass. You watch as his cockhead leaves behind white globs of baby juice, the same cum that probably did impregnate you. The possibility of having Jimin’s babies didn’t terrify you; it was actually comforting. What you were really scared about is what you would do in case you actually were pregnant. A baby isn’t a milkshake, or a coconut, or something to joke around about. Having a baby for a woman means the end of her freedom. That’s what you know from seeing your mother, and how sad she was that she got pregnant and started living for her child. You would have to repeat that process eventually as well, the thought occurs to you as Jimin smears his remaining cum around your cheeks and then pulls your panties and shorts back up like nothing happened.

“What happened? You normally cum so fast. It’s like the switch turned off.” Poor Jimin is left perplexed as he awaits an explanation as to what the hell just happened to you while you were in the middle of something you’ve always wanted to do.

You don’t know how to tell him. How do you tell someone you love that you think you’re pregnant with their baby?

You love Jimin, but was he ready to hear this?

“I think I should tell you when we get home. Come on, let’s check out.” He stops you as you start pushing the cart towards the next aisle, grabbing your arm firmly with a pout on his lips as you blankly look up at him.

“There’s no one here. You can tell me anything, I’m your boyfriend.” You knew he was too stubborn to let go of things here, so you decided to give up, for the sake of your sanity. He would drive you crazy if you didn’t spill the beans.

“You wanna know? This morning I felt sick again. I’ve been feeling this way every single day for the past week and I’ve opened my mind up to the possibility of being pregnant. It’s not a certainty, I haven’t taken a test yet, but I feel like there’s a reason why I feel nauseated every morning. And it’s not just bad burritos.” You giggle as Jimin pulls you into an embrace, reacting exactly as you hoped.

“Thank you for telling me. Just for that, I’m gonna buy three pregnancy tests from here so you can see your result and confirm or deny it. Easy as that, right?” You grab his arm, burying your face in his arm out of embarrassment as people passing by glance at your direction. Maybe you didn’t want to know and leave it up to fate? Then again you’ve heard horror stories about people giving birth in bathtubs and passing away from blood loss. On second thought, you didn’t want to think about having babies until you were at least 25.

“Is it your first kid?” The cashier is an old woman, she looks between you and Jimin as she scans the items one after another.

“Mmm, yeah.” She hands you the bags as you mutter a “thank you” to her and she quickly shrieks good luck at Jimin.

Both of you return the car, your head pounding more than usual. Today, your body just wasn't having it. You were also sweaty and sticky all over from your little rendezvous in the back of the store. You can’t believe you actually bent over and let Jimin do whatever he wanted for five minutes. He finished so fast you didn’t even have time to say “What the hell?” You don’t blame him, he was a little bit stressed when you went out for dinner only to find out that your dad unknowingly invited Yoongi’s rude family and you exposed your relationship with the two of them all in the span of one night.

You were expecting more, though. A rough, thorough fucking was needed in order to restore the peace. Jimin isn’t the type of guy to crawl between your legs and take you any time, even if he says he would, he’s acting out in the only way he knows how.

Way back when you first met, Jimin never had an off-day. Now you know that he probably took that frustration out on something—or rather someone else when he was stressed. You’ve never had that problem, since you were a Virgin up until Jimin ruined you with his perfect mushroom tip. The point is, once you do the deed, you can’t go back.

You craved sex, it has become a natural part of your relationship with Jimin and Yoongi. When their dicks aren’t buried inside of you, you’re using a sex toy Jimin bought for you to use as “training.” You’re sure Jimin feels the same way, even though he could just as easily rub one out, you wanted to take it into your own hands.

But first, you needed to surprise Yoongi. Jimin retrieves the boxcutter while you work on detangling wires in the back without unplugging them. You don’t want to make the mistake of accidentally deleting one of his songs, that plot is overused. Instead, you’re careful and with Jimin’s help, you finally attach the foam boards to the wall and fix up the high quality mic, which adds more of a professional look to Yoongi’s setup. With the last few touches, you’ve finished decorating Yoongi’s makeshift recording studio in the corner of the room.

“Done in a record of 30 minutes. Go us.” He gives you a high-five before belly flopping down into his bed.

“How long did it take for you to set up whatever was here?” You ask out of curiosity. It was unlike Jimin to procrastinate, but you know he also gets the day-to-day dose of fatigue like anyone else. Your boyfriend did a lot more things outside of work than anyone else you know. You’re glad he helped you set up Yoongi’s surprise anyways.

“I don’t know, maybe a month? Me and Yoongi were really lazy with unpacking since we’re used to moving around a lot. We got kicked out of our old apartment because the landlord found out we were a gay couple. She thought we were just friends but then when I explained it to her, she just pointed her index finger at the door and told us to get out.” You hated this behavior. No one should be discriminated against over something like that either. As long as it doesn’t concern them, people shouldn’t stick their noses into others’ business.

“I’m sorry Jiminie. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, you’re good. I might’ve stretched the truth a little. You see, we didn’t get kicked out because the landlord was homophobic, we got kicked out because Yoongi got a little too wild with his music and pissed off the neighbors. We had noise complaints every night! Ah, our lives were so different at 20.”

“Aren’t you 23?” You fold your arms, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as Jimin shushes you with his own. Right as your lips touch, the door flings open and in comes your other boyfriend. “Surprise!” You pull away from Jimin as Yoongi blankly fixates his gaze on you.

“Y/N, we need to talk. You too, Jimin. You need to hear this. Your mom just told me about the early morning sickness. Is it true? Are you really pregnant?” You bite your lip and swallow your spit as Yoongi is upfront about the whole thing.

“I don’t know. That’s why when we went to the store, we brought back a couple of things. All on Jimin’s behalf, of course, but it’s still nerve-racking to actually worry about this.” You were sure to use condoms and even snuck a couple of your friends’ birth control pills regularly during school. Now that you’ve graduated, you weren’t taking them regularly so it was only natural your body would react the way it is now. Maybe you were pregnant, even though you haven’t had penis in vagina sex in a little over a week. You hated it, the empty feeling. You haven’t even gone bare yet and you’re certain that Jimin and Yoongi have most definitely jizzed over each other. There’s no way they could look at each other with so much love in their eyes as they do if they haven’t done the most they possibly could in their relationship. If anything, they deserve to get married. You’d be happy with being their side chick since that’s what you were in the beginning anyways.

That’s also how your friendship with Jasmine and Jungkook came to an end. You were basically just a side chick to Jungkook, while Jasmine was the leading lady in that story. You’re so glad Yoongi blocked Jungkook the way he did, or else you’d still be trapped in that toxic relationship. You were also uncomfortable around him ever since he spread those horrible rumors about you around school. You’re sure Jasmine put him up to it.

You didn’t want to think about them, your current situation revolves around two men who love you equally. The three of you are partners and you do things together. Especially now since you’re worried about the possibility of being pregnant.

“Jimin and I will be here every step of the way. No matter what you decide, we’ll be here for you, always and forever, cream puff.” Yoongi smirks as you leer at him in confusion, since he gave you such a strange nickname out of nowhere.

“She kinda is like a cream puff. All flaky and tasty on the outside, while being filled with even sweeter goo on the inside.” Jimin makes it sound gross as you giggle into their shoulders, as they trap you in a group hug.

“I’m gonna go take the test now, Jimin why don’t you guide Yoongi through the new setup? It’s something I wanted to do for you, to show you my appreciation for you taking on the role of my boyfriend and mentor. You’re the best, Yoongi, and I’m sorry if I ever make you feel any less than perfect.” He rushes over to your side and before you can process what’s happening, Yoongi’s lips melded against yours, like he was made for you, you felt a cold shiver go down your spine and butterflies in your tummy. This man still gave you butterflies, even after six months of dating.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” You grin like an idiot as Jimin pushes you towards the direction of the bathroom down the hall, separating you from Yoongi as you act like teenagers in love for the first time.

“I love you too, Yoongles.”

So you found out that you weren’t pregnant, it was a big relief but also a bit of a disappointment. You ended up getting your period soon after, a big bright red zit on your forehead appearing to top it all off. It was like icing on the cake, since your boyfriends cheered you up saying there is no way they could be good fathers to the child you were supposedly carrying in your womb. In your heart, you wanted to have kids with them. Every fibre of your being was telling you that these were the ones. Your body was never wrong. Except for crushing on Jungkook.

“I finally got in touch with my family. My parents are still mad at me for running off but they were actually pretty cool with the fact that I was bi. Apparently 2 days after I left, my older brother came out as gay and they learned to accept him because it was a lot different than they thought it was. And my older brother is the most manly man there is. I didn’t know, because I don’t keep in touch with them but after I found out, I got his number and I started texting him again. I told him about you, because I want him to warm up to the idea of us being in a relationship. Right now, he just thinks you’re my best friend and that I’m still dating Yoongi alone.” Yoongi kisses his cheek affectionately before turning to you for a kiss.

“This is the most amazing gift anyone has gotten for me. Thanks, baby. To commemorate, I’m gonna eat you out like you’ve never felt before.” You gasp as he leaves a trail of kisses on your inner thigh, shoving your shorts down and pushing the seams of your panties aside so he could force his way into your entrance with his digits.

“Guys, really? You know your father is just a room over, right Y/N?” You let out a small whine, covering your mouth with one hand while propping yourself up with another as Yoongi licks down your exposed clit and a slurping noise resounds as he continues the motion, making your legs tense up from the pleasure.

“I know, but that’s what makes it even more exciting. The thrill of knowing I can get caught any minute, like when we were in the store earlier.” You grin as Jimin rubs his neck uncomfortably, he looks like he has something on his mind but he doesn’t want to ruin the mood so he stays quiet. Yoongi slides his fingers in effortlessly before kissing your clit so gently, you can feel the individual crevices in his lips as he moves his tongue up and down.

Jimin lets out a deep breath before crawling over to your side to kiss you, so that you could moan freely into his lips as Yoongi eats you out like a starved man. You could feel your clit hardening, an embarrassing thing that happened to you often when you were in the presence of your boyfriends. A lady-boner, is what you would refer to it as. Yoongi thought it was adorable, as did Jimin. Neither of the boys held it against you because it was a sure sign that you were equally as attracted to them. You wanted to bury your face in a pillow and shy away from them, as they were better suited for each other and you were the odd one out. Right now, it would be awkward to try and run as Yoongi’s tongue is quite literally up your pussy.*[¹]

As if sensing your thoughts, Jimin kisses your neck gently and then crawls behind you. He holds you in place, watching Yoongi as he continues lapping at your folds meticulously. Your mouth hangs wide open as you try to hold in another moan, Yoongi pushing you dangerously close to your breaking point as he so gorgeously sucks your clit at an expert level. The knot in your belly is only growing bigger, making you feel congested and awful. You were sticky and sweat clung to your body all over, yet your boyfriends were still determined to pleasure you. It reminded you a bit of your romantic getaway during spring break. It feels like it happened months ago when you just recently went on that trip. No amount of time could ever be enough for you to spend with your sweethearts.

“Cum, don’t be shy. You’ve been such a good girl for us today, kit.” Jimin whispers, making you turn a bright red as you push out whatever juices you were holding in. You felt so good, it was as if you just peed after holding it in for a long time. Of course, you didn’t actually pee on him. That would be nasty. Yoongi lies next to you, opting to kiss your forehead since he had post cunnillingus breath.

“Jimin, let me help you too. I haven’t done any work yet.” You close your eyes and you part your lips as Jimin’s rock-hard dick springs to life in front of you, making you growl as he teasingly taps it on the corners of your lips before pushing his cock between your swollen dry, cracked lips. Luckily the precum leaking from his tip solves the issue of your dry lips, since the semen stays moist and wet even as you continue sucking his cock. A bit of cum gets on your cheek and chin but you don’t mind, as long as it’s Jimin’s cum that’s painting your face a cream white.

He giggles, taking a picture of you with his phone before sending it to your group chat. Yoongi, who was lying beside you, decides to join in on the fun, being petty before settling for fingering Jimin and you at the same time. You didn’t expect his fingers to work so diligently, as he did briefly do that with you before but now he was fingering you like he does with his keyboard. He was moving as if he was playing keys on a piano that only existed on your genitals. You and Jimin loved the feeling of it, eventually Jimin cumming in your mouth and cheeks as you came on Yoongi’s fingers. Then, he pushed your cum back into you, motioning Jimin to get in front of you.

You marvel at how they switch places so quickly, suddenly Jimin’s tousled black hair shining as the dim lamp lighting hits it just right, and Yoongi’s face is a lot closer, so you could make out all of his well-defined features. One thing is certain; you’ll never get tired of staring at each of them. Yoongi follows your gaze, smirking as he catches your wandering eyes, and how you look at his dick in need. He easily swings his body forward so that his cock was just about stabbing you in the chin. You’re not gonna lie, no matter how many times you’ve had sex with these men, you do feel the slightest bit uncomfortable with Yoongi using your boobs as cushions. Yet, at the same time, you loved when he rubbed his nose between them, and slept on them, and just about anything else that people might find stupid and insignificant because that’s how you are.

“Yoongz, you’re slightly blocking my boobs….Getting hard to breathe.” You blink rapidly after he gets off you, now standing up and groaning as Jimin has buried his head in his ass. You sit up slightly, letting out a mewl as Jimin slides his cock so slickly inside of you.

“I love you both, so much.” You snuggle next to him as Jimin brings a damp washcloth to wipe you both down with. You closed your eyes after protesting him a good number of times, finally falling asleep in the arms of your coffee-making angels.

The next day, you wake up feeling sore. What’s new, it’s the usual soreness you feel from after “working out” with your boyfriends on select days of the week and weekends. With your father in the house, it’s much harder to carry out your more intimate activities.

You immediately panic, thinking that it was a school day, but then your worries subside when you see the date on your digital alarm clock. It was summer now, since school was officially out and you would be moving into your dorm at Pelard U soon as well.

That means you had exactly one summer to start working part time and also spend every ounce of freedom with your boyfriends without the parents interfering with your plans. You knew what you had to do, to make sure this thing with Jimin and Yoongi was set in stone.

Later that day, you stop by the country club. The only one in town, at that. You knew an associate that worked here, luckily from getting a contact at the party you snuck out to. It was a wonder you didn’t get caught by your parents, but you still had anxiety about them discovering that as well. Then again, with your father’s unpredictable behavior, who knows how they’d react? Maybe your father would give you $20 and a pat on the back.

You managed to track down Freddy, the same guy who said he was working at this fancy place since his parents were owners of the corporation, and he quickly got you a slot for a job interview on the same day. You came prepared, with your diploma from school, your credit information, and your ID. You were also wearing a pencil skirt with a top and a matching blazer. You opted to go with a classy school girl outfit, but it was professional wear, not casual.

“What made you want to apply at Cheeve’s Country Club in the first place?” The manager, a well mannered, rounded blond stands up from his seat, his hair slicked back with gel like he was an actor on a Disney show from 2011. His plastic blue name tag reads “David” as he leans forward while interrogating you. At least, that’s what it feels like, since he decided to shut the blinds and point the lamp directly at your face, completely neglecting the purpose of closing the blinds in the first place. Instead of blocking all the light out of the room, he’s directing it at your face. All you can do is smile through the pain.

“I heard about this place from a friend. Ever since then, I’ve wanted to work here just so I can get a taste of what life will be like once I marry my boyfriend.” You weren’t lying, you had a feeling with yours, Yoongi’s, and Jimin’s combined accounts, you could possibly rake in millions per year, especially with Yoongi’s musical abilities. He just needs to get discovered now.

“I know types like you. People who waltz in here pretending like they’re gonna own the joint someday. Let me break it to ya sister: Never gonna happen. Not unless you’re marrying a millionaire or unless you have a sugar daddy. But I doubt you have the abilities to get either of those so I’ll have to ask you one last question: When a customer asks you if they pay with Credit or gold bars, what do you answer with?”

“Gold bars?”

You end up going home with a new name tag and uniform. It’s a fancy tennis skirt and a plain blue tee with the place’s name and logo on the back. You hang the uniform up in your room before heading downstairs to have a sit-down chat with your parents. You’re pretty sure they are going to talk to you about something a lot more serious, considering that you are living with your boyfriends under the same roof.

“Sweetie, we wanted to talk to you about your decision. We accepted that you’re dating both of them, but who will you choose in the long run? They’re both suitable partners and I’m sure you’ll want to marry one of them eventually so just let us know now.” Your father is completely serious, not a hint of sarcasm in his eyes. Your mother is silent as a mouse beside him, no traces of laughter in her eyes either.

“What? You guys can’t be serious. You know I’m in this either all or nothing. I have them both now and it will remain that way. You have no right to force me to choose. Especially when there was never a choice in the first place, I am choosing both of them.” Normally you had trouble even looking your father in the eye and telling him what you want, but this time you were more than confident enough to be able to stand up for your men without hesitating.

“A time will come when they stand in front of you, demanding for you to choose. What will you say then? If they don’t agree with you, then what is your alternative plan?” You had never dared to even imagine what the hell your life would be like with only one man. Yes, sure at first you had a little crush on Jimin, but after getting to know Yoongi, you grew fond of them both, equally. You know after being with them for this long, you would want nothing more than to continue growing and being like this with them both.

“It won’t happen. I know you’re worried but mom looks like she’s been holding something in. What do you want to say, mom?” You ask, sitting down on the armrest of the loveseat parked awkwardly in the corner of the room as your mother clears her throat with a fake cough.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and I think it’s best if the boys move out of here. Just until you go to college, having you three in the same house is a bad idea.” You can already tell by the tone of her voice that your father put her up to this.

“I agree with your mother. You three are young and full of hormones. I can’t trust that none of you would act on them. Besides, those two have been together for a very long time. I’m sure they want to get to know you as well as they know each other, intimately, but just remember; no sex before marriage.”

You blush a bright red before murmuring a “dad,” and being ushered to the kitchen by your mother. She immediately pulls you aside after letting go of a breath, whispering in your ear with that urgency in her voice that you sensed when she asked you if you were pregnant.

“Remember, go along with everything he says. You know how your dad gets when you say no to him. Please get along, for my sake. He’s been driving me crazy these past few days because you were dating two boys who he presumed were gay. Now he looks at them like enemies, just try and understand him, even just a little.”

“Sure. I’ll try. I don’t like that my own dad is forcing me to pick my relationship, like it’s a choose your own story visual novel. It’s not a game, mom. This is real life, and my boyfriends are real people with real feelings. What’s wrong with him? Why does he think he can just walk all over me because we’re related by blood? It’s so pathetic, just because he’s unhappy doesn’t mean he has to make others miserable. No offence, mom.” You knew talking about your parents’ broken marriage was a touchy subject for your mother. She still smiled through the pain, somehow.

Your mother is a strong woman, she knows what she wants, most of the time. She gave up her entire life after marrying your father and having you, more focused on playing the part of homemaker and raising you. It wasn’t until recently, about 4 years ago to be exact, that she became a full-time nurse at the hospital. She takes odd hours and still makes time for you. You couldn’t ask for a better mother.

Your father however, was not happy about this. Ever since he got home he’s been making your mother toil and cook for him, forcing her to take days off just so she could wait on him, and just being downright awful to the woman who keeps this house together. You were surprised your mother hadn’t pointed out his behaviour yet. Then again, she always says, “That’s how it’s always been, ever since I married your father, after three months I knew I made a mistake.” Whenever you asked her about it, she would put on a fake smile and pretend she was okay, but you knew she was slowly dying on the inside. You talked to her about divorce multiple times but she insisted she would be right by your father’s side till the day death did them part. Yes, she is that kind of a woman. Your father doesn’t deserve her.

“None taken, just don’t bring it up in front of your father again unless he asks. Don’t tell him no, but don’t say yes either.”

“Um, okay?” You turn to go back upstairs to your room but you find Yoongi and Jimin at the foot of the staircase, frowns stiff on their faces as they hold heavy bags in either of their hands. “What are you guys doing? And why are you carrying those giant duffel bags?” Yoongi sighs, nodding at Jimin to go ahead and explain to you while he takes the giant backpack from his back and slings it around one shoulder before walking forward to load the car. “We didn’t want to tell you but now things have gotten to the point of no return.” You scratch your head. You weren’t sure if you heard him right, but Jimin was never the type to joke without giggling at least a little. He’s completely serious.

“Where are you going, Jimin?” You fold your arms, blocking his path as he sighs and pulls you in for a dramatic dip-kiss. After pulling you out of your daze you furl your brows. “Still doesn’t answer my question.”

“My brother just called. He said my parents want me and Yoongi to spend the week over there. He said they’re warming up to the fact that we’re a couple, and we can’t freak them out too much. So, we’re going down there. Thanks for being the best, Y/N. We love you, a lot. We’ll be back soon, alright?” You nod, gulping as he pulls you towards the car so you could see Yoongi off too.

“Goodbye, kitten. We’ll be back before you know it.” You close your eyes and kiss him sweetly before they drive off into the distance. You can’t believe it. Now, you’re truly alone.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

End notes:

[¹] It was a joke: Like ‘cat got your tongue?’ except in this case Yoongi shoved his tongue up the main oc’s pussy, like the word, cat? I know the jokes are horrendous but at least I’m trying to make something out of it.

For Reference, I was imagining Jimin like this (but his hair is bluer):

#jimin x reader #jimin x yoongi #yoongi x reader #jimin x reader x yoongi #yoonmin #poly #barista #bts poly #smut #throuple #coffeeshop #bts ff #yoongi ff #hyunglinenetwork #bts #18+

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from-home · 3 years

Text

𑁍 MARK LEE┊ 𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 / one ˎˊ˗

𑁍 summary : the one where mark lee time travels back and forth throughout the past and future with his crush, (y/n) ˎˊ˗

𑁍 pairing : mark lee x older!reader (by like three years lmao) ˎˊ˗

𑁍 word count : 6.7k ˎˊ˗

𑁍 genre : fluff, comedy (i hope??), minimal angst, time travel!au ˎˊ˗

𑁍 warnings : swearing, unrequited love (i know that shit hurts omg), my humour is ass, mark gives me slight second hand embarrassment in this, bad writing??, i gave up like halfway through this lol, first time writing a fic like this pls have mercy, it’s almost 2:30 am i'm too tired to proof read fuck ˎˊ˗

𑁍 a/n : first chapter of my first ever fic on here hehe - idk when the next chapter might come tbh but hopefully i’ll continue this series for my own enjoyment! in the meantime, uni still kicks my ass >:(( but anyway, enjoy and i hope that at least someone will find joy with this! ˎˊ˗

[ 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟬 : 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝟬 ]

when your pastor dad’s best friend was the biggest nerd in high school and became an eccentric scientist

O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,

What a beautiful Pussy you are,

You are,

You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!

If he could write like that, maybe Mark wouldn't need to be here in this boring literature class of his. Don't get him wrong, he liked writing, and he liked the way he could express his emotions through a pen and paper. But for the twenty-one-year-old boy who could barely sit still in one place without his mind wandering off into four different dimensions, it was hard to be interested in whatever the professor was rambling on about. Maybe Professor Jung was telling the story of how she met Dylan Thomas' widow's sister's friend's cousin, and how much of an artistic impact it had on her. She had told the story a good three times in the past two months - Mark kept count.

Yeah, writing was fun and all, but literature class specifically was boring and dull to him. "Oh but Mark, why take this course then?" one might ask. But one should also know that it was a necessary course if Mark wanted to earn his oh-so-coveted diploma.

Curse him for majoring in creative writing. His dad always did wonder why writers even bother writing when the bible exists.

But maybe one day, an hour and a half of John Keats would produce him some ideas for a romantic poem that he could write and gift off to his love of seven years... and counting.

(Y/N), the shiniest of all pearls and the most beautiful of all Mona Lisa's, the older woman and her beauty often left Mark stunned and helplessly in love. He first met her when he was fourteen, when she had been introduced as his seventeen-year-old tutor. She was so pretty back then, and still was now. In fact, it was as if she didn't age at all!

Someone who resembled a goddess like (Y/N) deserved only the most romantic of all romantic poems, and Mark Lee made it a mission to be the one to write it for her. He was so helplessly in love with her that he was able to channel his feelings for her into five different written forms: poems, song lyrics, an 'A for effort?' drawing of her, letters, and anonymous blog posts about how "unrequited love hurts".

Sure, those blog posts were anonymous, but as good as Mark thought he was at hiding his feelings for her, everybody in town and their ancestors' spirits knew about the big crush Mark had on her. But no one bothered to tell (Y/N) about her not-so-secret admirer and nobody bothered to let Mark know that his mysterious crush wasn’t as well-kept to himself as he thought it was.

But it was cute. Not the part where Mark slowly died on the inside as each day passed without his feelings being returned (that was pretty sad, everybody acknowledged), but the part where the adoration in his eyes were so clear for (Y/N). Legend went that he held stars in his eyes whenever his gaze rested on the older woman - like, actual stars from the galaxy. Or so the first-hand accounts go.

Mark Lee was a talented and hardworking boy, that much was a shared sentiment by everybody in town. He excelled at all subjects, mowed the lawn twice just because he thought he missed a spot, gave it his all at church every Sunday by rapping and dancing in the name of Jesus Christ until he was reduced to sweat and threatening to rip his dress shirt off - he was a jack of all trades. There were even rumours that whenever it was time for a 'Make a Wish' patient to... make a wish in heaven, he would dress up as Spiderman and visit them in the hospital to make their final dreams come true. So maybe that's why it was so endearing, his one-sided love for his noona. If there was one person who could jump over that hurdle of "just friends" and out of the friend zone, it had to be Mark, the boy who's always gave it his all in everything ever since he moved here from Canada when he was twelve. It was one thing to have this crush that you desperately wanted to be returned, but it was another to have the whole town cheering for you - it said a lot about Mark's character.

Which is why! There was no other perfect test subject for Scientist Kim, the local eccentric scientist who was obsessed with creating his "next big invention". He also happened to be the best friend of the town's pastor (weird combination, everybody knows), courtesy of their high school days and a misunderstanding over a carton of milk. The town's pastor also oh-so-coincidentally happened to be Mark's father, who had lived in Korea for all his life until he moved to Canada so his wife could give birth to baby Mark. He ended up moving back to his hometown, however, thus creating a new relationship between his best friend and son.

Now Scientist Kim - who liked to go by "Cabbage" as a homage to his idol, Charles Babbage - didn’t really care about Mark's painful one-sided love, but he knew the boy could never say no to his father's best friend from high school, so there was no one better to try out his experiments and inventions than Mark. Like, there was literally no one else at all - the whole town swore Cabbage was out of his mind and were still waiting for the day the newspaper would come out with a headline that he's been charged with involuntary manslaughter. Everybody would be disappointed, but not surprised. But such an incident hadn’t happened yet, so for now, Cabbage was still freely working hard everyday to successfully complete and unveil the invention that would propel him to "the front page of every science magazine and a Nobel Prize in Physics".

And it just so happened to be today, October 30th 2020, when Mark received a phone call from his dad's best friend in the middle of class. He was glad he kept his phone on vibrate, but god, was it distracting. To answer or not to? Why now of all times? Right, he forgot that some people don't have anything else to do with their lives other than... creating things that usually end up on fire by the end of it. You know, now that he thought back on it, the last time Mark willingly participated in Cabbage's experiment which involved some tinfoil, antennas, and laser beam machining, it left Mark's right shoe on fire - thank God he had brought a fire extinguisher over to Cabbage’s house with him.

Just that memory alone convinced Mark to ignore the call, nearly forgetting about it once it had stopped ringing if not for the fact he received another call just seconds later. "What is this, an infatuation?" Mark grumbled to himself, before glancing up at the front to see if Professor Jung was distracted enough for him to take this call without her noticing. It didn't help that he sat three rows away from the front. But she still seemed to be rambling on about how much she loved Dylan Thomas' works, and that was a sign for him to accept the call. He kept his voice to a hushed whisper, however, "Hello-"

"Mark! You have to come over!" There was no way Professor Jung did not hear that screech that came from his phone. He glanced up nervously, noticing his classmate's startled gazes on him. But his eyes wandered over to the front, and judging by how Professor Jung was now going on about Dylan Thomas' "attractive appearance", it seemed he was in the safe for now.

"Cabbage, I'm in class, so could you keep it down?" Mark hissed quietly into the phone.

"Right, right, sorry!" While he was still loud even after lowering his voice down, it was more than quiet enough for Professor Jung not to notice, thankfully. "Mark, I've just completed my latest invention. But this isn't just any invention, it's the invention of both my - and everybody's dreams!"

Mark would be mildly curious if not for the fact that Cabbage said that about every invention of his, but he figured that his dad was going to urge him to go anyway, even if Mark didn’t want to. "But he's my best friend, Mark!" Jeez, because how could he possibly say no to the power of friendship?

"Mark? Boy? You still there?" Cabbage’s voice pulled Mark out of his thoughts, and the boy could do nothing but sigh. This was just going to be like every other time - he’d be introduced to some machine that supposedly did one thing, said machine would catch on fire the next minute, and it would all result in Mark going home an hour later.

"Fine, I'll be there. After class in like, half an hour." Mark reassured the scientist, and he swore, he could hear something catching on fire in the background.

"Great!" He then heard rushed footsteps and... a fire extinguisher? "See you then!" And the call ended.

He just couldn’t wait.

When visitors would come to the humble town of Uicheon (의천), located just thirty minutes away by car from the bustling capital city, Seoul, the first thing they would notice was how much the town gave off Suburban American vibes, like walking through a town where the main characters of some random Disney high school movie lived. All single detached houses, varying in style from Country French to Cape Cod with recent contemporary and modern upgrades to those houses by residents who wanted to "spice it up".

Uicheon was a town seen by others where most of the population was upper-middle class. There was nothing wrong with that at all, and actually, the residents of Uicheon were both happy and welcoming of anybody and anyone who stepped foot into town or even took an interest in moving, no matter of their social or economic status.

If anything, the residents of Uicheon - the ones who've lived in the town for longer than ten years at least - were often worried that those who did show interest of moving in inevitably get... scared off. By one particular daunting house.

It was a beautiful town. No seriously, Uicheon had been mentioned on multiple "Top 5 beautiful towns just outside of Seoul that you should visit!" lists published on the internet. And in the beautiful small town where all the houses provide comfort and beauty, surrounded by flowers on nearly every available patch of grass like something straight out of a magazine, there stood a modern house - the only completely modern house in the town - its exterior all... black. Even the big windows were tinted black, and it was obvious that the house stuck out like a sore thumb. Sometimes, the local kids told stories of how the house was abandoned, and was home to a ghost with a vengeful spirit inside who wanted to steal your teeth. The residents of Uicheon had gotten used to the house's presence already, but it didn’t stop the mutual sentiment of "...really?" amongst them.

And currently, Mark stood in front of its black front doors, ringing the black doorbell and covering his ears as trumpets echoed from inside the house, playing to the tune of the guitar solo of Gun N' Roses' 'Sweet Child O' Mine.' Only seconds later, did the door swing open, revealing a robot, half of Mark's height. "SCANNING FACE... HELLO M-A-R-K, MARK." It greeted, well, robotically.

"Hey, Edison," Mark greeted the robot nonchalantly, walking in and shutting the door behind him, "where's Cabbage?" He asked as he took off his shoes and placed it on the nearby shoe rack.

"LOCATING THE DOCTOR..." Edison's eyes turned yellow, colour blinking repeatedly until it turned into a green light and stayed like that. "DOCTOR LOCATED - HE IS IN HIS LABORATORY DOWNSTAIRS."

Because was it really surprising that the house belonged to a guy who invented things for a living and went by the name of a vegetable in a bizarre way to honour his idol?

"Got it, I'll go meet up with him then." Mark informed, heading down the hall until he reached the black spiral staircase that led both to the third floor and bottom floor. It was really nice up there on the third floor though; Mark had been there before and it even came with a movie room! Too bad Cabbage rarely used it because he "doesn't have time for action sequences". So Mark, being the loyal lab assistant/test subject he was, headed down instead to the bottom floor, where he was greeted by a hallway that was lined up with pictures of old men on the walls. "My inspirations!" Cabbage would say. Among them were the likes of Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison (who he named his robot after, clearly), Nikola Tesla... you got the drift.

Regardless, Mark never stayed in the hall longer than he needed to - he wasn’t sure if portraits of old men who were dead by now staring at him was exactly his kind of vibe.

At the very end of the hall, all that awaited him was a grey metallic door that had some vapour seeping through the narrow space at the bottom of it. "Shit, I didn't bring a fire extinguisher today..." Mark cursed, grabbing onto the straps of his backpacks and readjusting it on his shoulders. "It's okay, Mark. He hasn't killed you before, so he can't kill you today...?" He wasn’t sure what the logic behind that thought was but you couldn’t blame him for trying to... reassure himself for whatever was about to come beyond those doors. It was funny to him; he had been the lab rat of many of Cabbage's crazy experiments and inventions, yet he kept coming back and every time he did, the jitters were always there.

Maybe it wasn’t because he was scared of death. Because he wasn’t - his father always drilled the idea into his head that God would welcome him with open arms when the time came. At the very least, if Mark died - most likely because of one of these experiments and inventions - he'd be bringing Cabbage with him. But hey, that was beyond the point.

If not the fear of death, then what? Maybe, just maybe... one of these days, one of Cabbage's revolutionary inventions would actually be successful. That for all of the craziness that's going on inside the mad scientist's head, it would finally pay off.

If only he knew when.

Mark reached for the handle and twisted it, pulling the door open and nearly coughing when a whole cloud of mist and vapour rushed at him. "Jeez, Cabbage, what are you doing this time?" Mark coughed into his arm as he took a step into the laboratory. He actually couldn't see the scientist at first, waving his hand around in hopes that he'd be able to swat away the mist and vapour. The space around him eventually did clear, though, revealing...

Nothing?

Instead of the usual grand machine that looked like it was taped together, Mark was greeted with... a clear space. The scientist was over at his desk just up a set of stairs that led to a second floor within the big room. "Cabbage!" Mark called after him, waving his hands to get his attention.

Whatever the scientist was busy doing, it was important enough to leave Mark ignored for a good five seconds. It left him pouting, though the scientist eventually did glance over at the boy, his eyes widening behind his circular glasses. "Mark, boy, there you are!" Cabbage sprang out of his seat, quickly rushing down to the boy he had called over. He held some sort of watch in his hands, like it was the most precious thing in the world. Jeez, since when did Cabbage wear Rolex? "Took you long enough! I was bouncing in my seat waiting for you to come over! But in the meantime, I was able to complete another one after confirming my calculations for the twenty-seventh time..."

One thing that nobody wanted to do was sit through Cabbage's rambling, prompting Mark to speak up. "Whoa, calm down, Cabbage. What's going on? Where's your invention?"

"Oh Mark, you're looking at it." Cabbage held out the watch and Mark raised an eyebrow.

"That small thing?" Mark narrowed his eyes at the watch in the scientist's hand. "Are you sure? Last time I came in for one of your creations, it was twice my size and almost killed me." But knowing the kind of person Cabbage was, Mark wouldn't be too surprised if this little watch managed to wreck havoc as well. How ironic it would be, for something so small to cause so much chaos.

Cabbage shook his head, meeting Mark's gaze with oddly serious eyes. "Mark, the creation I hold in my hand can - and will - change the world. If left in the wrong hands, everything could collapse. Society will crumble, the universe will be left in a never-ending stream of terror, reality will no longer exist, the concept of time will-"

"Okay, okay," Mark was left, once again, trying to calm down the frantic scientist, "Cabbage, deep breaths. Tell me, what did you create?" It couldn't be that bad that it left the older man going on some admittedly fear-inducing rant.

"A time travel machine."

One Mississippi, two Mississippi...

"Alright, I'll see you next time then, Cabbage." And almost immediately, Mark turned on his heel, prepared to just dip out of there.

"Wait, no, Mark!" The scientist called after the boy, grabbing a hold of his sleeve, "Please, hear me out!"

"Time travel, Cabbage!" Mark whirled around, disbelief painted in his features. "Do you even hear yourself right now? That's impossible! This is impossible! Listen, I'm fine with being your test subject but even I have to put my foot down somewhere when things get a bit too crazy!"

Despite Mark's reasonable concerns, Cabbage really didn't feel like letting his lab assistant slip away from the tip of his fingers, especially now of all times. "Come on, Mark! Twenty-seven times! I checked my calculations twenty-seven times! Don't let my hard work go down the drain!"

"Then do it yourself! Time travel yourself!" Mark exclaimed.

"I can't! I need you to go so I can stay behind and collect all the data while making sure you don't get stuck in the future or something!" Cabbage explained.

Unfortunately, Mark's face still showed utter disbelief. "You know, this really doesn't help your case, Cabbage!"

"Fine! We'll do this the fair way then!" Cabbage shouted, holding his fist out.

"Are you serious? Rock, paper, scissors?!" Mark cried out, covering his eyes. If there was one thing he couldn't say no to, it was rock, paper, scissors. Why? Maybe because he boasts a seven-hundred-fifty-two win record, with a mere twenty-one losses in the game. As you could probably assume, Mark was the undisputed rock, paper, scissors king in Uicheon, and only two kinds of people would dare challenge him in the game when it came to bets. Those who were bold and those who were desperate.

"I mean it, Mark! If you win, you can walk right out that door and never look back. I won't force this onto you. But if I win..." If Cabbage won, "you have to at least give this experiment a thought."

"Wait, that's it?" Mark uncovered his eyes, surprise in his voice. But hey, it wasn't a bad deal at all - in fact, the opposite. If Mark won - which he was pretty much guaranteed to - he could leave. If he didn't, he could pretend he thought it over and just say no in the end. "Well shit, say no more, Cabbage." And out Mark's fist went. “On shoot?”

"On shoot." The scientist confirmed, the two men placing their fists behind their backs.

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

Rock for Mark, and... rock for Cabbage.

"You got lucky." Mark rolled his shoulders back. "But this is it." And back their fists went behind them.

"Rock, paper, scissors... shoot!!"

Scissors for Mark, and... rock for Cabbage.

"I won..." Cabbage glanced down at his fist, mouth left agape, "I-I won! Against you!"

Yikes, better make that record seven-hundred-fifty-two wins to twenty-two losses now.

"I-I..." Mark was still in disbelief, for a totally different reason now, however. "I... I lost?" Under such circumstances too... but seriously! Time travel was a bit too much! "H-Hey, that doesn't mean I'm going to be going through with this! Remember, you said if you won, you'd let me think about it!" Mark reminded.

"Yeah, but only because I didn't think I'd actually win!" Cabbage snorted, shaking his head as he tucked the watch safely in the pocket of his white lab coat. "But I am a man of my word, so I'll give you some time to think about it. How about until the end of the day?" He suggested.

"That's a bit too soon, don't you think?" Mark frowned, not really liking the idea of being forced into a decision so quickly.

"Sorry, is that loser talk?" God, that damn Cabbage always knew how to get under Mark's skin.

"Fine, by the end of the day. But don't be surprised if my answer doesn't change." Mark warned. "Now if that's it, I'll be going." Mark huffed, turning around and heading to the door once more. This time, the scientist let him go, but not without some parting words.

"See you soon, Mark."

(Y/N) doesn't know where her life went wrong.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration and a dramatic one as well, but it didn't change the fact that instead of living out in the city and pursuing her dream as a world renown film director, she was stuck in her small hometown, working full-time at a film-rental store.

What was even the point of this store anyway? Everything was online nowadays anyway - who did the owner think he was, trying to compete with Netflix?

"One Mississippi, two Mississippi..." (Y/N) mumbled to herself from behind the counter, staring dully at the analog clock hung just above the front doors. An analog clock - what year was this again?

"(Y/N)," the voice of the store's owner, Mr. Yoon, was a less than welcoming disruption to her daily "clock-watching" (as she termed it herself), but at least it was a good way to remind her that the day was almost over, "did the kids all go home already?"

(Y/N) nodded, reaching below into the counter for a piece of paper with names and times. "Yup, Jungwoo and Sungchan just finished their shifts half an hour ago." She pointed to their names on the paper, "Signed out here."

"Great. You're in charge of closing up for today then, I have business in the city." Mr. Yoon informed, proudly readjusting his grip on the handles of his briefcase.

"Godspeed, Mr. Yoon." (Y/N) nodded, watching as the man left with a nod. And as the doors closed behind him, the female found herself alone in the store. All alone... which actually wasn't even that uncommon.

(Y/N); twenty-four years old, graduated from a local college two years ago with a degree in Film Studies with hopes of eventually entering the field of film-making and directing. She had high hopes, especially when she graduated. "To the city and A-list I go!" She could remember cheering that day in her car, diploma in hand and graduation gown still on.

But somebody must have forgotten to tell her that the university you went to mattered - and just how competitive the job market was for... pretty much every job.

Now this wasn't to say the college she attended was bad or anything, it just wasn't... one of the SKY universities. And before she knew it, when it came time for job hunting, the positions were constantly being filled out by "better candidates" and after a certain amount of "we regret to inform you"s, (Y/N) decided to go back home.

Home, in the beautiful yet small town of Uicheon. All she wanted was to make it big, live in a nice condo in Seoul and shop at luxury brands. Yet now, she found herself wearing what was possibly a ten-year-old uniform from the back storage with a name tag that was always tilted at a forty-five degree angle no matter how many times she tried to fix it.

But don't get her wrong! She hadn't given up yet - she absolutely would not! Her films might not be playing in theatres or at the Busan International Film Festival, but she still enjoyed writing up ideas and getting some of her co-workers to act out some scenes for her while she filmed eagerly with her trusty camcorder.

The Sony HDR-CX675; this bad boy cost her a good two months of saving up but God, was it worth it. Jungwoo in a wig and Sungchan throwing pens like they were daggers had never looked so good in HD until (Y/N) had gotten her hands on that beloved camcorder of hers.

"Should I film the clock or something?" She sighed, eyes wandering back over to the analog clock. At least she only had an hour left before the store closed, and she usually spent most of that time cleaning up anyway.

And so that hour began, dreadfully long until with only ten minutes to spare, the front door had opened, prompting (Y/N) to rush back to the counter from the storage room, though not without grumbling to herself quietly about what asshole comes into a store ten minutes before they close.

But it wasn't just anybody who came in - it was Mark, the boy who always complimented her hair no matter how lazy she had been to brush it that day. Still, flattery always earned some brownie points in (Y/N)’s books. So she wasn't hesitant at all when she had greeted Mark. "Hey, it's nice to see you here! Renting a movie?" She asked, resting her arms on the counter top.

"Yeah, looking for some Christian-friendly Halloween movie. For the kids at church this Sunday, since Halloween is tomorrow." Mark chuckled shaking his head.

"Let me see what I can find," (Y/N) grinned as she slipped away from the counter and to one of the shelves, "I'll be honest though, you're probably better off showing the kids some cartoon from Netflix or something."

As if Mark was going to tell her that he insisted to his dad on renting a movie, for he wanted to see and talk to the girl of his dreams who currently had her back turned to him. "Well you know us, terrible with technology." Instead, that was all he could muster up.

"I'll bet." She snickered jokingly, turning back to him with a movie now in her hand, "Toy Story of Terror sound good to you?"

"Better than showing them Scream." Mark shrugged before heading back to the counter with her. "I'll pay with debit."

"Mhm," (Y/N) nodded, taking his card and swiping it for him through the machine, "you know the usual, watch within thirty days and return it after those thirty days." She reminded him with a yawn. God forbid Mr. Yoon ever see that.

"Busy day?" Mark offered a small sympathetic smile as he took his card back as well as the movie. "I kind of get it. Cabbage called me in for one of his inventions today."

"Today?" She asked, watching as the boy across from her nodded. "What was it this time?" Everybody in town felt bad for Mark since he was the one always testing out Cabbage's inventions, but at the same time, at least it wasn't them?

"Gosh, you wouldn't believe me if I said it." He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "A time travel machine - or like, a time travel watch, I guess."

"Time travel?" The gasp from the female was expected; anybody would be surprised. "I always knew Cabbage was ambitious but definitely not to the extent of time travel!"

"Yeah, needless to say, I said no. Or like, I told him I would think about it, you know?" Mark frowned. "I just can't believe... time travel of all things."

"I'll be honest," there was a smile spreading on (Y/N)’s face, to the slight surprise of Mark, "the idea of time travel sounds so cool though. I'd love to try it out." When Mark had brought up what had happened at Cabbage's house, he didn't think (Y/N) would actually be... interested in the scientist's invention. Definitely not when it was so absurd. But she looked so cute, the way she stood up straighter and her attentive eyes as he talked about it. Gosh, he wished he could tell her that it wasn't worth the time. But her interest was clear, that much he couldn't ignore.

"Then... why don't you try it in my place?" Mark suggested hesitantly. He didn't want (Y/N) and her pretty little self anywhere near those dangerous creations, for concern of her safety. But she really seemed to be interested in this, and this... it was the least he could do.

"Alone? No thanks." She giggled softly, to the relief of the boy who had suggested it in the first place. "Maybe if someone else was with me though. Like a time travel duo!" Hold up - someone else?

"This is your chance, Mark!" His inner voice practically screamed at him. Anything for (Y/N), right? "But it's so dangerous!" His other inner voice tried deterring him from going through with what he was about to suggest. But for (Y/N)! "Then," Mark felt his heartbeat quicken, excitement and hope visible in his eyes, "you wouldn't mind if we did it together, would you?"

If his friends Johnny and Donghyuck were here, they'd definitely be cheering and slapping him on the back. It felt like he was asking her out, something he always dreamed of doing but never really having the guts to do so. Rejection was a scary thought, but as he watched the wide smile that spread onto (Y/N)’s face, he knew he had something to look forward to, even if through... this.

"Of course! it'll be fun!" Score! "Too bad only one person can go though, I assume." She frowned.

And for a second, Mark's hopes had shattered once again. But then he remembered something back at Cabbage's house, and maybe, just maybe, it wasn't over yet. "Actually, I think Cabbage mentioned making two watches." After confirming his calculations twenty-seven times. "Why don't we go together?"

"Seriously? You wouldn't mind?" Oh, what Mark wouldn't given just to see that wide smile on (Y/N)’s face every single second of the day.

And with a smile of his own, he nodded. "Of course not, noona."

Love has always been a motivation for man, ever since the beginning of humans. And as time continued on and advanced, a variety of factors had been added to that list of motivation, such as money and power. But one constant above all was always going to be love - something that had always been interpersonal.

So that was why Cabbage wasn't too particularly surprised to see Mark come back to his house later in the evening, this time, with a female companion. And judging by the look of awe on her face, it didn't take much for the scientist to connect the dots. "Mark, you came back!" Cabbage smiled down at the boy from the second floor of his basement lab. "With a friend this time?"

"Right," Mark cleared his throat, gesturing to the scientist, "(Y/N), this is Cabbage as you already know, and Cabbage, this is (Y/N), my friend."

"Hi! It's great to be here! Like, really great." (Y/N) was still enamoured by the many... things going on in the lab, though Mark couldn't blame her.

"Anyway Mark, have you given my invention a thought?" Cabbage inquired, standing up from his seat by his computer and leaning against the railing. "I assume that's why you're here, after all."

Mark nodded. "I have." He confirmed, biting down on his lip. "And I'll do it."

"You will?" The scientist's eyes widened, grin spreading on his face. "That's great!"

"But," Mark began, gaze falling over onto (Y/N) for a short second before back onto the scientist, "with conditions."

"Conditions?" Cabbage raised an eyebrow, pleasantly intrigued.

"Conditions!" (Y/N) suddenly spoke up with a grin, earning a look from the two. "Sorry, it just felt kind of intense so I wanted to ease tensions a bit." She coughed, glancing back and forth between the two. "Please, continue." She urged.

"A-Anyway yes, conditions." Mark cleared his throat before turning to the scientist once more. "I want (Y/N) to come with me. You have two watches, don't you?"

"I do." Cabbage nodded, fishing his hand into the pocket of his lab coat and bringing out two identical watches. "So far, they're the only two I have so I need to make sure that your friend will be extra careful with this."

"She will." Mark reassured without any hesitation. "I know she will, because she's (Y/N)." A man who was claiming everybody's hearts left and right - except for (Y/N)’s though, unfortunately.

Cabbage looked as if he was pondering on the thought for a bit before eventually nodding and making his way down the stairs. "Well, if Mark is vouching for you, I guess it should be okay." Cabbage nodded before gesturing for the two to follow him to the back of the lab, where large screen rested on the wall and multiple smaller monitors on both it's sides, resting on a glass desk. Below it were multiple keyboards, a few touch pads here and there with clearly different functions. It was like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. "This is where I'll be monitoring and communicating with you two while you're in whatever time period you land in." He explained, gesturing to his set up.

"What about the watches?" (Y/N) asked.

"I'm just getting to that." Cabbage nodded, reaching for the two watches once again. "Gather around, you two." He motioned for them to come closer. "It looks like a regular analog watch at first, but if you tap the clock face," he did what he had just said, the other two watching in awe as a small digital hologram had appeared in the air, just above the clock face, "it has information such as your battery life on the right hand corner, the date and time you're in, the option to video call me, and the option to switch time periods." He pointed out each detail on the hologram. "Now the problem with the switching time periods is that once you arrive somewhere, you're stuck there for, at a minimum, twenty-four hours before the voltage and particle energies recharge and allow you to travel elsewhere."

"Wait, so you're staying we might be stuck in a different time for a whole day?" Mark asked, a bit of alarm evident in his voice.

"Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find out the proper calculations to make the recharging process quicker but for the meantime... yes." The scientist sighed. "But hey, at least it's not twenty-five hours...?"

"Cabbage!" Mark groaned, running his hand down his face.

"I mean, twenty-four hours doesn't sound that bad." (Y/N) hummed. "I'd love to explore a different time period, really get to know what it was like!"

"See, at least someone's optimistic." Cabbage sent a not-so-subtle look over at Mark. "But anyway, I actually have a quest for you two."

"Ooh, a quest! I feel like I'm in a video game." (Y/N) giggled, and if it weren't for the fact that she was totally digging this right now, Mark would have just straight up left out of fear for his own safety.

"Exactly!" Cabbage nodded eagerly. "Since you two will be going to different time periods, I want you to bring back a memento of some sort from each time period."

"Anything specific?" Mark asked, wanting to make sure he was going into this with full details.

"Yes, for the purpose of analytic purposes due to their high amount of energy." Cabbage turned to the two, a suddenly serious look on his face. "A meaningful item to at least one person you encounter."

The two waited for him to say more, but nope, all he did was stare back at them. Mark ended up being the first to speak up. "Hm, I think you're missing the part where you, oh I don't know, tell us what you mean by ‘meaningful item’??"

"That will vary from person to person, Mark boy." Cabbage sighed, giving an empathetic pat on the boy's shoulder. "One person's 'meaningful item' might be a necklace that their mother gifted them, or maybe a letter from a lover for a soldier - everything in life is a variable anyway."

"Wait, then how do we know something is a meaningful item?" (Y/N) asked.

"That's where this last function of the watches come in," Cabbage turned his attention back to the watches, "this icon," he pointed to one of the icons on the hologram screen that resembled a heart, "will allow you to scan a person once you've talked to them. This only works one person at a time though, and it does drain a lot of energy from the watch battery. It'll allow you to see particles coming from objects, like sparkles. The more vivid, bigger and brighter the particles, chances are that's your person's meaningful item. So be careful with who you choose to use it on - once you scan that person, you'll have to find their meaningful item before you can use it again. Not to mention that the longer it takes for you to find the meaningful item, the more energy it drains." He warned.

"Talk about ominous, gosh." Mark sighed, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"It'll be exciting though, Mark." (Y/N) glanced over at the boy beside her, a grin spreading on her face. "We're in this together, after all!"

"Noona..." A shade of red coated Mark's cheeks as he stared down at her, eyes sparkling with adoration.

"Ahem, and me too." Cabbage interrupted, "Just, I'll be back here handling everything."

"Yes, of course, because where would we be without you, Cabbage?" Mark sighed, feeling a bit salty over the scientist's interruption during his and (Y/N)’s "moment".

"Love you too, Mark." Cabbage blew a kiss his way before handing a watch to Mark and (Y/N) each. "Are you two ready?"

"Wait, we're doing this so soon?" Mark's eyes widened, staring down at the watch in his hands with a bit of fear.

"Better sooner than later." Cabbage shrugged, helping attach the watch onto Mark's wrist and then to (Y/N)’s. "You guys will be fine, don't worry. I'm here, after all!"

"So reassuring, Cabbage." Mark grumbled, about to protest over the quick timing and suddenness of all of this if not for the sudden feeling of warmth in one of his hands. He glanced down at said hand, eyes lingering on the smaller hand that had clasped his own. And as his eyes wandered up to the hand's owner, he swore she was going to be the death of him.

"It'll be okay, Mark." (Y/N) squeezed his hand softly with a reassuring smile. "We're in this together." She repeated.

"Right..." Mark trailed off before taking a deep breath and nodding. "Together." He then glanced over at the scientist. "We're ready, Cabbage."

With an excited smile, the older man nodded before turning to his set up and taking a seat down in the chair. The sounds of his quick tapping against the keyboard keys had Mark worrying with every passing second, but as (Y/N) held his hand, he figured this wouldn't be a terrible way to die. "Adios, you two!" Cabbage called out before hitting one last button. Click!

And as a bright and large flash of light illuminated within the lab, Mark knew it had begun, especially with the way his limbs practically burned and his consciousness struggling to stay intact.

The things he'd do for love, huh?

#nct fluff #mark lee fluff #mark lee #nct mark fluff #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #mark lee x reader #nct #nct 2020 #nct fics #nct x reader #nct angst #mark lee angst

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kylo-v · 5 years

Text

Under the Big Top: Chapter 1

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/Tags: Minor Sexism

Synopsis: Reader gets her first murder case

*******************************************************

One week later.

It was your first case in a few months. The last one had been such a bust and word got around that it stifled your work for weeks. Thankfully Morrison had been kind enough to let you float by on some of his earnings, but that was wearing thin. Your stomach growled loudly as you approached the mildly extravagant mansion. It's even bricks and elegantly cared for shrubbery intimidated you slightly. You barely had a concept of this amount of money being a single working woman with sparse money making opportunities. All you had eaten in the last few days were a few cups of coffee, stale bread, and a handful of potatoes and carrots. God you were sick of potatoes. God you hoped your stomach would embarrass you during the meeting. Maybe he would even feed you. You made a note to yourself to not devour anything like an animal if offered to you.

You straightened the lapelles of your jacket and pressed down the wild strands of your long, long hair. Morrison had thrown you a bone with this case, not like it was much of his choice. The client had specified that he wanted a woman’s touch when it came to this one. You wondered what that meant… You knew it was a murder case, and pretty brutal as you had seen the pictures of the body, but nothing that shocked you to your core. Shaking the thoughts away and calming your anxiety, you reached for the lion headed door knocker and knocked three times. Still the anxiety crept back up your spine as you waited for an answer. You pulled a thread off your sleeve and refixed your cufflinks. You grimaced as you looked down and noticed your shoe was untied, but before you could bend over to tie it a penguin of a man opened the door. His nose was held higher than any other part of his body as he looked down his glasses at you with slight distaste. You were used to this at this point, men didn’t appreciate seeing a woman wearing men’s clothing.

“I’m Private Investigator (Y/N) Caulfield. I have a meeting with Dr. Thompson this afternoon,” you say with confidence. You had rehearsed this at least twelve times in the mirror this morning and internally patted yourself on the back when you didn’t stumble over a single word.

“I know who you are. Right this way,” the man said with slight disdain as he moved himself to the side to allow you to step into the mansion.

The mansion might not have looked lavish on the outside, but the inside was a different story. The walls were papered with purple and red patterns that reached to the tops of the high ceilings. The furniture was all made of heavy, polished mahogany and decorated with accents of gold. You were directed to a grand staircase and greeted by a cinnamon colored cocker spaniel. She approached you cautiously and barked in response when you attempted to reach down and pet her.

“She bites,” the man, who you now assumed was Dr. Thompson’s butler, barked in the same tone as the dog.

“Now, now, Abraham,” a voice broke the awkwardness. At the top of the stairs was a sloppily put together man, “Is this anyway to treat our guest?” He was an older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and beard and tired, aged blue eyes.

“My apologies, Dr. Thompson,” the butler replied, straightening himself but unable to hide the weariness in his tone. You glanced at Dr. Thompson and noticed his misbuttoned jacket and uncombed hair. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days but given the nature of this case, you understood his disheveled appearance.

“Let’s talk in my office, Mrs. Caulfield. Come on, Maggie,” he beckoned the cocker spaniel who followed him obediently.

“It’s Miss Caulfield, Dr. Thompson. I’m not married,” you huffed slightly. This was something that always annoyed you but couldn’t be helped, you supposed.

“Oh, my apologies, Miss Caulfield. I was under the impression that Morrison was your husband,” he replied as he held the door open to his office, allowing you inside. Maggie cut you off first and darted in to hop into her dog bed seated by the desk.

“Yes, that is usually everyone’s first impression…” you sighed slightly while you take a seat directly across from Dr. Thompson’s chair. You took a quick glance around the room. Fine, leather bound books and scattered items collected on the bookshelves around you and paper files were stacked neatly on the desk in front of you. The walls were littered with diplomas, awards, and a few pieces of unremarkable artwork of landscapes. Hanging at the opposite wall of the desk is a taxidermied boar’s head with wonky eyes and you have to control an outburst of laughter at the state of this poor creature, whose one eye is looking to China and the other to Antarctica.

“My first big kill. I used a Wincester ‘94 to clock the bastard in the skull,” Dr. Thompson said with confidence when he caught you staring at the boar’s head for far too long.

“I don’t know much about animal hunting, Dr. Thompson,” you said politely, not looking to engage in any more small talk.

“Right, right…” Dr. Thompson gaped for a minute but cleared his throat as he took a seat in the large armchair on the other side of his desk.

“Onto business,” you say as you pull out a hand notebook and a pen from the breast pocket of your jacket.

“Are you aware of the nature of this case, Miss Caulfield?” Dr. Thompson asked cautiously as he reached down to pat Maggie on her little sleeping head.

“I am. These types of cases have not stopped me before. Murder, 23 year old female found in the woods, mutilated and dismembered. Police investigate and rule it murder by hitchhiker but the culprit is never found.”

“Good, Morrison updated you well.”

“Thank you, I did all the research myself,” you retorted casually without looking up from your notes. Dr. Thompson couldn't help but smile slightly.

“Do you know why I asked you to get involved, Miss Caulfield?”

“No, sir,” you said as your stomach growled with slight persistence, though you ignored it.

“I requested you because this case is...sensitive,” Dr. Thompson pursed his lips nervously. He reached down and opened a drawer in his desk, after a moment of shuffling around he pulled out a file folder. He laid the folder on the desk and retrieved two small, black and white pictures from it and handed them to you. Each photo was of a blurry portrait of a man, who at first glance could have been mistaken for one person but closer inspection proved otherwise. Both men had the same brisk white grey hair though in one picture one had it slicked back as opposed to down in the other. As you examined closer you realized these men were brothers, not just brothers but twin brothers. You could tell by the face structure, but the one with long hair had a stronger jaw and a small twisted mustache. He was smirking cockily in the photo, while the other man had a piercing and serious gaze. It sent shivers down your spine in an uncomfortable way.

“These men are called Dante and Vergil Sparda. They run a circus by the name of Devil May Cry. The body was found not even a mile from the circus grounds though police could make no connection between them and the murder. Many of the eye witnesses claimed that they saw a man wandering around the campgrounds that they didn’t recognize. The police wanted to wrap the case up quickly and just pinned it on this supposed "interloper". Appearantly they have other things to worry about than the murder of a "whore",” Dr. Thompson said spitefully. You glanced up at him through your lashes and could see his hands clenched into fists on the top of the desk.

“She meant something to you…” you said in a calm tone while you carefully slide the two photos back to him. His fists unclenched and he visibly intended his shoulders. He sighed and nodded his head regretfully.

“She was my lover…” Dr. Thompson paused, “I...I tried to get her out of that lifestyle and bring her here but the man she worked for wouldn’t let her and we would have to meet in secret. I loved Marie, I truly did...” His voice cracked slightly and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Your eyes softened with sympathy and you bit your lip gingerly. This was the shit that really got to you…

“And you think these men are involved somehow?” You point to the pictures lying untouched on the desk. Dr. Thompson inhaled deeply to compose himself and nodded.

“The night before Marie was murdered, she told me that she would be gone for a few days while she and three other girls entertained here,” he opened the file folder from earlier and handed you a flyer from the circus. It depicted a black lion roaring with the words Devil May Cry circus coming out of its mouth. Scrawled across the bottom is the location of the grounds and dates. It seemed that they would only be stationed in their current location for 2 more weeks, and there was no telling where they would go after that.

“Marie wasn’t murdered by an interloper, she was murdered by someone or something on these grounds,” Dr. Thompson said deadly seriously, “It’ll be dangerous, so make allies. Are you still up for this? I’ll pay you anything, please.”

You pondered for a moment. The stakes in this case were much higher in this case than any other one you had had before, but the paycheck was nice and something seemed to...pull you in. Your stared at the picture of the black lion for an extended period of time. It’s shadowy fur seemed to glisten with purple and it’s fierce eyes drew you in with its amethyst intensity. For a moment, you had to remind yourself it was just a drawing.

“Why me?” You asked as you gathered the flyer and pictures into the file folder to take with you. Dr. Thompson smiled sadly at your quiet acceptance.

“I just wanted someone who would care…” he said solemnly.

After half a payment in advance and a few signed contracts, the case was yours. The gold in your pocket weighed heavy in your trousers and tugged your suspenders tight against your shoulders. You didn’t care. You had enough money to buy ten pairs of suspenders if you wanted! You laughed gleefully and marched proudly towards the end of the driveway where Morrison was waiting for you in his car.

“Seems things went well,” Morrison smiled cockily, the smoke from his cigarette swirling the inside of the car.

“You betcha! First case in months and it’s something worth my time,” you said as you climb into the passenger seat of the clunky old Model T. You splayed the file folder in your lap and scanned over the notes once again. It contained police reports, eyewitness testimonies, and a few extra photos of the workers. You picked up a photo shoved between a bundle of papers clipped together. It showed a dark haired man with plush lips and calm eyes. The picture was a full body and showed off his neck and arms that were covered in intricate tattoos. Sat atop his shoulder was a mighty bird with a piercing gaze and at his feet was the same black lion from the flyer. Again you felt that same pull you felt earlier when staring at the drawing of the lion. You flipped the photo over and written on the back was just a simple letter.

V…

What was this pull? You didn’t know, but you were determined to suppress it.

#v devil may cry #devil may cry 5 v #v/reader fanfic #v/reader

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blankdblank · 5 years

Text

Forgotten

Prologue

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78

X Thranduil - @evyiione, @sweetlytenacious25, @tigereyesf

Four years later and your feet landed on the station ground again wearing a pale blue dress with ¾ sleeves with black buttons down the front and a matching thin belt over your middle, exposed fully with your hair pulled back in a long loosely curled ponytail. Walking closer your smile grew as the smiling Bur Brothers who each moved closer to give you large hugs welcoming you back home again and claiming your bags once again before driving you back to the usual diner where you eased into the same booth as always between the pair. Nearly everyone stole a chance to stare at you taking in the small shifts in your features they had once found so unflattering on you before, traits that only added to the fact you were so far from what a Dwarf would find attractive.

Settled back into your usual menu habits you ate ignoring the stares reaching up once again to brush back your beaded bangs behind your slightly pointed ear and glancing up to spot the Li Brothers strolling in from their first visit home from University only to trip over a set of chairs before you broke your gaze. Straightening up again they set the table and chairs right again before turning to claim their normal table with their Cousins who all stared at you as they passed before their Uncles and Aunt dropped in and froze before turning to walk to your table.

Her smile grew with a soft gasp as she said, “Jaqi! You’ve-.” Her mouth was promptly covered by Thorin’s hand as he smiled saying, “Welcome back. We’ll be over there.” Practically dragging his Sister away after as he and the men behind him stole another glance at you.

Nothing had really changed, once again you were the center of attention with even the Elves’ lingering gazes taking each detail of your change. Once again through the days you’d found yourself back at work in the shop with Bifur and Bofur. Soon using your degrees and licenses to expand on their business to include tractors and other heavy machinery along with large ships and their motors that required the purchasing of the lot next door with a dock on the side for ships to park their for maintenance.

With your hungry mind ‘you could have done or been anything’, that’s what everyone always said, but all you wanted was to go home. Back to the two men who loved you as their own and accepted everything about you. So the day you opened your shop the Brothers were thrilled, including the elder Durins who now had a shop in town they could use their skills to help the small farming and fishing village to maintain their machines that helped them keep their livelihood.

With your first day you were flooded with work, a work load soon eased with the Durins pooling together to help you through it, all while another mini bomb was being dropped. The town diner was being shut down leaving only the town pub, that would soon take the weight of the cooking and social mingling for the town as the diner was being traded for an extension for the town’s Doctor/Vet’s offices. Soon enough with all the changes you were swept back out of focus while news bubbled back from the universities. Kili, Dis’ baby boy had gone off and fallen hard for the next Elleth in his long string of them, while Fili had found himself a steady girlfriend who could put up with his hectic law school schedule.

…

Softly rain trickled down over the surface of the lake behind your shared cottage in your fourth lap across the vast stretch. For all the work your town had given you they at least understood your need for a break leading to them holding their repairs for weekdays when possible. So your weekends were left to you to do as you pleased, mostly being either reading, or in the latest days finding out that your godfathers were attempting to hide their girlfriends’ leaving in the morning after ‘sneaking in’, only their nights were far from unnoticed by you without any trace of Elf standard soundproofing. Their beloveds were free on Fridays, so Saturday mornings you would pull on your swimsuit and shorts tying your hair back on the path to the lake.

You weren’t the best swimmer but you could pull off a tolerable freestyle when not being timed at least. On your path across the lake in the darkness between the moon sinking and the sun beginning to rise a glint of blonde hair in the window of the manor across from your shared cottage appeared in the stolen moments you took to inhale. Once again he stole a glimpse of the strange Elleth living amongst Dwarves, one who none in the town would delve too greatly into your personal past, but yet still remaining somehow close to him without so much as a word shared. Alone he lived seeming to enjoy the silence, but not the irritation at reactions to his joint venture along with the town Vet who did greatly need the space to improve their single room shops, now improved to a staggering three each.

Even though it was a hated decision, it did ease the traffic flow problems for both aiding in the healing of the animals and townspeople. Evenings he seemed to always be up and wandering, adoring the moon and starlight, just as you did at least until you began swimming. No matter what his eyes would be trained on you in your path, however his gaze seemed to be far more distant as his mind wandered to who knows where in your steady movements, at least until he had to leave for work. The silent agreement you bore to allow the other their peaceful mornings was held at least until you had returned to work later that day out of sheer boredom.

A crash sounded when a group of curly haired boys came running through the shop giggling as they pretended their action figures were battling out against some foe only to end with them bumping into a row of shelves that splintered when colliding with the tractor you were working on. The largest piece fell slicing through the top of your left forearm knocking it into the frame of the engine hold on the tractor you were inspecting.

In their freezing wide eyed at the damage they had caused as their guardian, a brunette in a button down shirt tucked into his clay stained jeans darted inside calling out, “Boys!” In a glance over the men in the shop he missed Frerin’s darting to your side subtly wrapping a clean towel around your bleeding wound, “I am so sorry! I will pay for the damages!”

Dwalin shook his head stating, “Nah, nothing past a few far from useful shelves anyways. Needed replacing, did us a favor really.” Using his body to block your injury from sight.

Wetting his lips he watched Frerin grin at him then add, “You know, we’re late for lunch actually, should just catch Bofur from the wood shop to order another.”

Thorin behind a bare engine wiped his hands on a cloth from his pocket asking far more anxiously than he hoped, “How can we be of service?”

In a half turn the Hobbit motioned his hand to the van outside, “It started making this knocking sound a few miles back, and started smoking just down the street.”

Thorin nodded feeling the man’s eyes on him in his walk to the van mumbling as he watched the last bit of smoke escaping through the cracks in the hood, “Hmm.” When he raised the hood he felt the man at his side ignorantly peering in at the engine missing your being led down the street with bound arm fixed safely in Frerin’s hands to the empty clinic.

The silver painted office echoed with the sound of the bell above the door announcing you and drawing the familiar blonde from the back office as a brunette aid stood with lips parted at the blood soaked cloth between Frerin’s hands.

With a weak smile you locked eyes on the Doctor in his path to you as he asked, “What exactly should I expect here?”

Frerin squeezed through the doorways along with you into the first office, there you sat on the chair and rested your wounded arm above the sheet the aid set out as you said, “Some boys ran through the shop, knocked over some shelves, cut me.”

He nodded while you eyed his framed diploma on the wall reading ‘Oropher Greenleaf’ and stated, “Metal shelf?”

Frerin shook his head, “No, old wood shelves.”

Oropher listed the supplies he would need that the eager aid hurried to collect for him. Tenderly Frerin eased his hands back allowing Oropher to fold back the towel with one hand while his gloved hand moved to shift your arm finding the bleeding now mostly stopped. Another glove was added and the pliers were claimed to start removing the few splinters revealed as the aid sprayed some saline in the cut, once clean he gave you a numbing shot and started to stitch the cut as he stated, “Not that bad of a wound. Appeared far worse than it was through the rag, though it usually does.”

Weakly you chuckled saying, “Didn’t really hurt, just had to sneak out so we wouldn’t scare the boys.”

While he reached halfway through the cut his eyes darted up to your face and he asked, “Have you lived here long?” Your eyes met his and he added with a weak chuckle, “My grandson must be nearly your age.”

“Nine years, give or take. Just turned twenty.”

He nodded and chuckled, “He is sixteen. So eager to be off to school already. My son can barely keep him focused through dinner past his planning for it.”

You weakly chuckled then stated, “Give him a couple weeks away from home, he’ll realize how badly he misses it.” His eyes met yours smiling softly as you did, “Graduated early, went off to trade schools, had to come back. Nowhere else felt right, plus, I missed the quiet.”

Oropher chuckled lowly looking to your arm to finish the stitches off with a secure knot, “Some people rarely appreciate silence. I think I just might be able to convince my son just yet that some silence might be exactly what he needs to recover from the hospital he got hired at.”

“You don’t miss the city?”

He grinned, “I miss our home. My wife, we lived there for, what seemed like ages. A cousin was sailing and left us the house his gran left him, she would loved it, all under the stars.” His sentimental gaze dropped to the tray again as he turned to get another syringe and a vial of antibiotics he filled then injected into your arm before coating the stitches with some cream and a bandage he covered with a wrap. Then stated while his eyes locked on the silver in your eyes understanding how he felt at ease with you recognizing it from his wife’s easing his smile out again. “I will write you a prescription for antibiotics and a painkiller.”

“I should be fine without the pain meds.”

He chuckled again, “Alright. You know where I live if you change your mind.” You nodded and he stood removing his gloves to fetch his prescription pad while easing the pen in his pocket out through his aid cleaning up and taking the bloodied towel with him.

“Thank you.” You stated by the door and gained another smile from the man as he watched you leave through the door making the bell sound again while he settled on dropping by on you gradually to watch how you healed.

Out of the clinic you walked to the pub, where Drarn greeted you happily. Moving from his usual spot behind the bar to bring you a set of sodas asking for your orders and grinning at your sticking to your usual experimental order as one of the few in town to not complain of his non dwarfly tendencies to include spices and seasonings to his recipes. After you returned with the usual sandwiches for the others you both froze in the doorway spotting Thorin still leaning over the hood of the van, tools in hand, with the Hobbit beside him as Dwalin kept the boys occupied showing them how to properly oil and clean their bikes that were in the back of the van.

At the tractor again you nearly laughed aloud hearing the Hobbit state after patting Thorin’s arm timidly, “I am always so fascinated by engines and complicated mechanisms.” A once over the shop away from the stunned Thorin, who was still staring directly and helplessly at the Hobbit, later the Hobbit asked, “How big a job do you imagine this would be?”

A stammered estimation was given and the rest of the van was emptied into Dwalin’s truck outside to give the family a lift to their new cottage nearby. In their absence Thorin burst into a panicked frenzy exerting the energy from the Hobbit’s overly physical attentions to him for the short visit leaving his mind in a spree of expectations and hopes at a possible attraction to him. For all his strengths Thorin had never been the calmest in romantic situations and the first steps were especially the hardest.

By late afternoon, upon returning home, Thorin and Frerin spotted the moving van full of Dwarves. Once cocky in their second stop for lunch along the way, now flinching back at the shouts of the Hobbit carried across the fields about not having any cooking or eating supplies to feed his boys leaving them in a scramble to unload the truck, not realizing there were children involved in the move.

The morning after a long walk later with the boys at his sides on their bikes with wagon of supplies behind him, it ended at the empty forge long since empty when the previous owner had left. With keys in hand he unlocked the door eyeing the run down forge behind dust coated glass walls showing glimpses of the street outside.

With the door open Bilbo led the boys in scrubbing the place from top to bottom before another truck rolled down the street. Little by little shelving kits were left inside while scattered boxes of supplies and packed sculptures both complete and in progress were unloaded. Unpacked fully the truck left while Bilbo began inspections on the forges and made a few small repairs before he turned to the first of the shelf kits and sighed realizing he’d not have time to assemble them that night. A knock on his door frame made him turn catching the B brothers in the doorway with their workers and eager smiles through Bofur asking, “Just the shelves to assemble?”

Bilbo’s lips parted and he stated, “I, I can’t afford-.”

Bifur waved his hand, “Not many people moving in these days. Just trucks moving out.”

Bofur nodded motioning his crew in with another grin, “Have to keep an eye out for our neighbors around here.” Bringing a smile to the Hobbit’s face as he joined in on the assembling and arranging as best he could. By days end the shelves were filled and his small shop was ready for him to continue his sculpting the next day helping to meet his deadline for his latest show.

…

Morning came and brought with it curious stares of the five Hobbits in town to peer out the kitchen windows spotting you in shorts and a sweater on a stroll around the edge of the lake’s edge in your inability to swim. Each day brought more and more chances for Bilbo and Thorin to see one another, but one after another they were interrupted by the boys or guys from the shops leaving them distantly staring at one another pining for the day they could be something more. An uncommonly empty morning you sat in the cottage after the night out from the brothers had granted you the cottage to yourself, a couple days after getting your stitches. Over tea you stared aimlessly at your finished oatmeal bowl until a knock sounded on the glass paned door revealing the Doctor with medical bag in hand.

Weakly you smiled at him taking the bowl to the sink as you did, and opened the door to hear him saying, “Miss Pear, I wished to give your arm a once over. Thought I might spare you the trip to the clinic to avoid the boys seeing.”

Stepping aside you asked, “Would you like some tea?”

With a soft grin he replied, “That would be lovely, thank you.”

Another mug was poured and he entered claiming a seat at the table where you set his mug then watched as you grabbed the bowl of sliced fruit in the fridge you set between you to snack on as he unwrapped your arm once you had sat down. “I didn’t think you did house calls.”

He chuckled saying, “I thought I’d make an exception for you. We are neighbors and all.”

Carefully he pressed his fingers around the cut noticing it had healed just as quickly as he had hoped by his past experiences with his wife, son and grandson’s healing times stirring his grin to widen, “I don’t usually take long to heal.”

He shook his head, “I’d think not.” Your brow rose, “You remind me of my wife is all. Her kin rarely take past a couple of days to heal minor wounds.”

Softly you asked, “I remind you of your wife?”

At your timid tone he chuckled and stated, “Merely a few traits I’ve noticed from afar, please don’t misunderstand me, you are breathtaking, however when my Taule returns from her excavation trip, been a rough few years without her, you might get to see a few of them yourself when she visits on her days off from the city.”

In an even softer tone you repeated disbelievingly, “Breathtaking?”

His eyes met yours with brow raised catching your honest shock at the term, “Truly you must have grown around Dwarves to not realize. You are quite stunning by Elven standards, even if the Dwarves cannot or will not acknowledge it.”

A weak blush grew on your cheeks in your smile to yourself he chose not to point out, allowing you the time to let the truth sink in for you as he neglected to point out how flattered a man of his tolerable appearance would be normally to make a woman of your caliber smile like that. With scissors in hand he cut the stitches and eased the ends free to drop in your trash can you brought over for him before he added another layer of the cream saying with a grin, “Shouldn’t scar at all. Just keep up on the antibiotics to be safe.” You nodded and he cleaned up and relaxed through the rest of your tea, starting the first of years of random drop ins and offers of tea gaining him a firm friendship with you alone in this city.

Pt 2

#Thranduil x Reader OC #bagginshield #Kili x OC

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ontherockswithsalt · 5 years

Text

The Fortunate Fall

aka I Don’t Know Why I Wrote This.

A/N: Hey, was a highschool!Joble AU missing from your life? No? Well here’s one anyway lol. This is the first part of a two-part short story (a two-shot?) that I felt like writing.

This one’s in Noble’s POV and I appreciate that his ass needs saving no matter the universe. Language warning applies. Word count: 1,821

“It's just fucking stupid, that's all,” I complain.

Jamie glances up at me from the spiral notebook on his lap as I pace his room.

“What, you think I'm an idiot? You think I'm not gonna graduate just because of some paper?”

“I didn't say that,” he maintains. “Mr. Craig said that.”

“Yeah well Greg Craig can suck my dick,” I mutter, glancing up the tower of Jamie's CDs sitting next to his stereo.

I hear his mumbled “Nice” from the floor behind me. “What do you normally do?” He wonders. “Bullshit your way through your assignments, or do you actually read?”

“There's something to be said for the art of bullshitting,” I argue. “It'll probably get me farther in life than understanding Paradise Lost. You like Radiohead?” I turn and hold up the jewel case for OK Computer.

He lifts his gaze once more. “Yeah.”

I look at him and consider it for a moment. Not what I would have guessed.

Jamie only turns his gaze back down for a second before it self consciously finds mine again. “What?” He exhales a soft laugh.

“Can I put this on?” I propose, feeling the curve of a persuasive smile at the corner of my lips.

His cheek twitches a little before he returns a faint shake of his head. “Sure. And then this draft is back on you, alright? I'm almost done.”

“What do you think so far?” I question as I eject the disc and switch it with my pick. “You're awfully quiet.”

“... A flawed contradiction of a villainous hero,” Jamie recites. “--The Devil glorifies freedom but remains the prisoner of his own ego.”

His voice with my words makes some kind of heat flicker in the pit of my chest that I tell myself to ignore while I concentrate on finding the track I want.

“Did you write that?” He asks. “Or was that Amy?”

“What do you mean was that Amy?”

“Isn’t she your girlfriend?” He murmurs. “Thought she wrote all your papers for you.”

I swallow hard, reaching up to scratch the back of my head while I turn around. “She's not my girlfriend. We broke up a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

I shrug. “I wrote it. Is that so hard to believe?”

He lets a moment -- filled only with the mellow hum of the dreamy song -- hang there before he shifts back against the side of his bed. “It's pretty good.”

Breathing out a quiet laugh, I lower my weight to join him on the floor. “Pretty good.”

“I mean compared to some of your horseshit I had to read earlier in the semester.”

My brows pull together, half offended, half amused that Jamie would attempt an insult when we hardly know each other. Outside of forced tutoring sessions at the library, and this particular time, at his house, we run in completely different circles.

I scoff but a smile surfaces on my face anyway. “Look, I know this shit. I just have better things to do.”

“He knows it, but he had better things to do,” Jamie echoes. “Cool, maybe they'll print that on your diploma.” He glances down as he crosses out a line on the notebook, then writes something in the margin. “You know it doesn't make a difference when it comes to your transcript, don't you? Whether you don't understand and can't do the work, or you do know and just choose not to work, either way, you fail. So if you can do the work, why let yourself fail?”

“Believe it or not, not everybody cares about their fucking transcript.”

“Then what's the point, Noble?” He shrugs, tossing my notebook to the floor before he stretches back. “I mean why even show up to school at all? Why are you here wasting my time?”

“Your time?” My eyebrows raise.

“You think I don't have better things to do? You have one AP class, I have six. And varsity track. And I work. And somehow I've been in charge of making sure your ass graduates.”

“It's a heavy burden, huh?” I quip. “What, am I supposed to have sympathy for you?”

“I don't want sympathy.”

“You think any of that matters ten years from now?” I narrow my gaze at him. “AP classes and your transcript and how far up your teachers’ asses you got in high school?”

“I don't know. Look me up in ten years and we'll see.”

Adjusting, I scoot down to rest on my side, propping my head up on my hand and I have to laugh. “I will. I'll call you when I get out of rehab and see how you're doing.”

A reluctant grin grazes his face, pulling at his cheek and it amuses me. He shakes his head. “Good to know you have a plan.”

I study his face for a moment, the way it changes with his smile as he glances away. I reach out for the pen that he dropped and tap the end on the notebook. “So what's the verdict? Good enough?” Then I slide the pen behind my ear.

Jamie glances over at me and tilts his head. “I made some corrections. I think you need to expand on your argument in a couple of the paragraphs.”

“But overall--” Then I blink up at him from where I lay across the floor, my eyebrows jumping with a convincing grin. “Thumbs up?”

Another huff of amusement blows out from him. “You need an A on this paper to bring your grade up.”

“Yeah.”

“It's not there yet.”

A frustrated grunt escapes me and I turn to roll into my back. Reaching over, I undo the top button on my rumpled white uniform shirt that I'm still wearing before I manage to sit up.

“I know you have better things to do,” He reminds me. “But--” Then he picks up the notebook and tosses it in my lap. “Don't just drop it. Because it's good. Get it done, alright?”

With a bored nod, I grasp the notebook and slowly get to my feet. “Awesome.”

Jamie shifts to stand up and without a thought, my arm reaches out. His hand clasps mine and with a flexed tension in my forearm that he matches, I tug him upright. From his own momentum, his chest collides with mine before he works his way a step back.

I swing my hand out to smack the side of his arm but somehow, damn that got my heart all hot.

“Ah… I'm gonna take off,” I announce before I bend over to retrieve the beat up paperback.

We make our way downstairs, through his big, quiet house. His kitchen glows, warm and dim from a single lamp on a far counter and I glance around for signs of anyone else. I know Jamie has a few brothers or sisters or a few of each, I can’t remember. But I know they’re all older and out of the house.

I hear shifting and movement from a room across the way and figure his parents are still up.

“Jamie?”

“Yeah mom.”

“You wanna come in here?”

I glance over at Jamie and point a thumb to the door, shooting him a hopeful look that I can just slip out.

He wordlessly reads it and shakes his head before tipping it toward the adjacent room, giving me a murmured, “Come on.”

Leading me to a study, he stretches into the doorway and I peer in from behind him to see his mom and dad sharing sections from the newspaper between two arm chairs.

“This is Noble Sanfino.” Jamie introduces with a quick gesture over his shoulder.

“Hi, Noble,” his mother smiles.

I see his dad lift his chin over the paper before he folds it closed. “Sanfino,” he echoes with this contemplative note that I definitely don’t miss.

My mouth is suddenly parched and I swallow hard standing just opposite this imposing man who everyone knows is some big deal police captain or Marine or both. I don’t know, but I’ll pass on divulging any more information. Instead I silently summon some kind of will that he isn't able to figure out the joint I smoked on my way over here… And the other one in my pocket.

“Uh, yes,” I confirm. “Noble. Nice to meet you.”

“He's in my English Lit class,” Jamie explains. “We were working on a paper.”

“Is that your Nine-Eleven outside?” His father questions.

I clear my throat. “Yes, sir.”

Blinking hard, he merely responds with a nod. “Quite a car.”

“What's the paper on?” His mom cuts in.

“Um, Paradise Lost,” Jamie pipes up. “John Milton.”

“Oh boy,” she retorts and reaches out to take the section from Mr. Reagan.

“Felix Culpa,” his father muses.

His wife hums a soft little laugh as she folds the paper. “The fortunate fall, huh?”

The fuck?

Jamie drops a hand hard on my shoulder and starts to turn me out of the room. “Exactly,” he mutters. “It’s pretty brutal. Come on.”

I manage a some semblance of a goodbye before I head to the door in the kitchen. With a simple see ya later, take it easy exchange, Jamie sees me out, closes the door between us and I blow out a heavy breath as my hand dips for my car keys.

Out on the driveway, I tug open my black Porsche and sink inside. There’s a heat along the back of my neck, in my throat that I can’t get to go away. Cops make me tense in general, so it’s no surprise that Jamie’s dad gets me all uptight, just sitting there. But it’s something else.

Something about Jamie’s quiet confidence in class. He has this way of making everybody feel like an asshole. But when I’m alone with him, he elicits some kind of… calming honesty from me and it’s like he doesn’t even try.

I struggle with what that means for a moment. Why I go home and wish I could keep talking to him when up until this year, I’d never bothered. Like maybe there’s some other tie I have to him that I can’t remember.

With a shake of my head, I push my key in the ignition and twist my wrist to start it. But I’m only met with a gritty, unpleasant rattle and I let go. A brief wave of dread dips through me and my brow furrows at the unfamiliar noise. I stretch my fingers and take hold of the key once more, turn it and the engine fails to come alive, stuttering a hopeless scratch once more until I release it.

“Goddammit,” I whisper and sink back against the leather seat.

My gaze flicks over to the book on my passenger seat, then the brick house in front of me. Drawing a deep inhale to my chest, I push open the driver’s side door and sigh, “Quite a fucking car indeed.”

...part 2 for another day...

#jamie x noble #highschool!joble au

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valkyrieofsmut · 5 years

Text

Engel de la Gargouille Section 2 part 6

Engel de la Gargouille (Gargoyle’s Angel)

Kurt Wagner/ Nightcrawler x Female OC

Types: Smut, Angst, Mutual pining, Pregnancy, Romance, Love, Insecurity, Long as hell…

Overall series warnings: Smut, bit of violence, swearing, German (translations provided, but I have bad grammar… Sorry native speakers…) (Will be added as they come up) Chapter warnings will be added individually as well.

A/n- Very awkward woman in the beginning here, trying to flirt but so awkward and causing sexual tension... Poor Kurt trying to stop his imagination... Stuff...

Sorry I’ve felt like hell for the last little while guys, I really want to have things on time and stuff. I’m letting you know now that I still have to write most of the next chapter, so it might be a bit late, as I only really have about three or four days to write it.🤦‍♀️ Please be patient with me! 🙏

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Story!

Angeline hurried along the corridor, making sure that she’d be on time for the class that she was sitting in on to get a refresher for her tests.

Part of what she had wanted to do when she came to America was get her degree, she was too old to get a high school diploma, but she could still get a certificate of completion, so that’s what she was going for.

She didn’t want to be useless like she had been before; sitting around and doing nothing at her mother’s house, or here, her only contribution to the team her ability to fly and follow orders.

When she had looked at herself in the mirror and sworn to never be that useless little sex object again, she had strengthened her determination to do the things she’d wanted with her life. She didn’t want to be the draw on everyone’s resources because she couldn’t take care of herself; she had gotten her drivers license shortly after Brandy and the other girls had left, just so she had it and didn’t have to fly everywhere; there weren’t as many places out here that she could fly to without bringing attention to herself.

Angeline’s lips turned up in a smile as she saw Kurt slowly meandering down the hall. She had a moment to flirt, surely, there were still a few minutes before the bells rang. She reached out and touched his back, and he turned, looking down to her. “Bonjour,” she greeted.

“H-hallo,” he returned.

“Kurt, I was wondering- I have a question, and I thought maybe you would be able to help with it.”

“Ah, well, I will do my best,” Kurt told her a little nervously. Angeline smiled to him, and he felt his heart skip a beat. “What is your question?”

“Ah,” Angeline hesitated as her mind panicked.

She hadn’t thought of a question! Why did she have to say she wanted to ask him one when she hadn’t thought of one to ask him?!

“Ah- well, I have heard of some things that are confusing, some American sayings, I’m sure you would understand, having been here for so long,” she said, trying to flatter him a little, and she could tell it worked a tiny bit as his spine straightened with pride. “I was wondering- what, um... What the difference between a tongue bath and a sponge bath is? I have heard both, but I’m not sure what the benefits would be to cleaning oneself with one’s tongue-” she cut herself off as she realized she was rambling about weird, semi sexual things, and didn’t really have a question about them, except whether he was willing to stand there and think about it with her, and Kurt took half a step back.

Kurt felt his pulse thud in his chest, his interest in Angeline’s topic of question stirring a bit lower than his mind.

This wasn’t good.

She would certainly think he was a dirty pervert if she caught that he was reacting like this to a question she was asking without understanding, one, that her question was not as harmless and innocent as she surely thought it was, and two, that his mind was suddenly thrown into imagining doing both with her.

Her beautiful, jewel clear, blue eyes were staring up at him, still expecting an answer.

“Ahm, I-” Kurt cleared his throat and took a step toward his classroom. “I don’t think I could tell you,” he told her. “Please excuse me, Angeline; the bell is about to ring, and it would be bad form for the teacher to be later than the students.” He gave her what he hoped was a genuinely kind smile, and quickly let his agile feet carry him away through the crowd.

Kurt ducked through the door to his classroom and ran his hands over his face. He was lucky that Angeline couldn't sit in on his class for a refresher like she had done with a few of the others, since drama counted as a fine art, and she didn’t need that credit.

Not only was her asking “innocent” questions like that getting him hot, and jealously vengeful when he thought that someone had probably asked her about if she wanted a tongue bath, he was certain that the urge to make up some reason to dress her up as an angel would overcome him, and then he was pretty certain that he wouldn't be able to focus on whatever they were supposed to be doing, as he would be too distracted fantasizing about taking her, absconding with her to his room and holding her down while he did, and made her do, dirty things that ruined her purity.

Then he would very obviously have an erection the entire class.

What was going through his mind?!

He had no idea, except that the thought of ruining her purity, making her as dirty and base as his thoughts were, appealed to him greatly.

When he watched shows, read books or plays, he always sided with the hero, saving the princess, thwarting the evil, those were his goals- why was he suddenly the evil?! Why did he want to tie her up and kiss her, bite her, make her submit to his will? Make her say she’d never want anyone but him?

Kurt felt dirty thinking these things.

He didn’t want to hurt her, he didn’t dream of doing anything she didn’t agree to, but- he just really wanted her to be his! And for some reason, the thought of making her level of purity as low as his perceived level was regularly made him daydream about her.

About how he’d lay her across his bed and tease her, show her all of the techniques he’d learned, and make up some new ones just for her-

“Scheisse,” Kurt groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair as he went through the door at the side of his class that lead to his office.

Now he was hard anyway, and had to quickly calm down before class started.

… … …

Logan sat on the side of the kitchen, swigging from a coffee mug as though the liquid inside was room temperature, though there was steam rising from the rim. “So, you talked to the Elf, yet?”

Angeline’s brows raised at him and she tilted her head. “I have spoken to him. You yourself said that you have seen me do so.”

Logan gave her a look, but she stood without saying anything. “I meant about that specific thing,” he told her. She still didn’t move. “You gotta stop acting like a coy little child trying to get her older sibling’s friend’s attention.”

Angeline’s brows raised. “You think of yourself as my older sibling?” She teased.

Logan snorted derisively. “No.”

“Oh, I was confused by what you said. You do think of Kurt as your friend, don’t you?”

Logan grunted, “‘spose…”

“‘Spose….” She mocked in her best cowboy voice. “‘Spose you think of me as an annoying little girl, as well.” Logan grunted, sounding like an agreement. “Oui. I thought so.” Angeline reached to the fridge and stared inside, looking for the comfort of a glass of orange juice, but finding that the jug that had been there had disappeared. “I certainly have tried to speak to him.” Logan chugged a bit more coffee as he watched her turn around to face him. “I have been trying to talk to him for nearly a year.”

Scott entered the kitchen, and she inclined her head to him in greeting, which he met, though a bit standoffishly.

Logan stood and grabbed the pot of coffee, filling his mug with the last of it before roughly placing it back on the machine, and wrapping his hand around Angeline’s arm, dragging her with him out of the room and down the hall, leaving Scott to complain to the empty room about his inconsiderateness.

Logan pulled her down the hall, getting to a room and looking around to make sure that no one was inside before pushing her in and following, closing the door behind him.

Angeline’s wings stood back a little, her tail tensing to be at the ready.

True, Logan had never tried anything against her before that wasn’t training, but she knew that with his strength and his healing ability, he could probably hold her down and manage to make her do anything he wanted her to do.

If it was night, if there was water there, if she wasn’t eating less than she needed so that she could better control her healing on her ears, if she had any bank of endless strength to pull on, she would be a lot less nervous, but she didn’t.

He was the only one who could make her feel nervous this way, as well; being the only one who could physically out match her without help.

“Relax,” he grumbled. “I ain’t plannin’ nothin’ on ya.” He looked away in disgust. “Just want ta talk.”

Angeline nodded, folding her arms, but not relaxing her body. “Of course, makes perfect sense to push someone smaller than you into a room alone just to talk.”

Logan shot her a grimace. “Shuddup an listen.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, and followed his posture, leaning back against the arm of a chair as he did the same across the room.

“You know he wants to talk to you, right?”

She shook her head. “He has stopped running away as soon as I see him, but he still won’t talk to me. Three sentences or so, and he runs.”

Logan grumbled to himself. “So grab him, don’t let him run away.”

“With my tiny hands?” She asked, holding them up.

“No lies, Angeline. We both know that you’re stronger than you pretend to be. I don’t know what happened to ya that made you the way you are, but I’m tryin’ ta- I want to help… my friend.”

Angeline’s eyes softened and her body relaxed. “Then tell him, whenever he’s ready, I’m here. I don’t know how he has ignored me jumping around like a monkey, trying to get his attention, but he has. Did you ever think that maybe he isn’t interested in me?”

“He is-”

“Maybe you’re just trying to help something that isn’t there,” she interrupted. “Maybe you’re confused and he likes someone else.”

Logan shook his head. “Pretty good at lying to yourself, huh?”

Angeline let out a soft, sad chuckle. “I was, but now I’m trying to be accepting, honest with myself. I’m trying to understand that even if I had feelings for someone, just because I try to get their attention, it doesn’t mean that they’re interested in me.”

“He is interested in you,” Logan told her.

“No.” She shook her head sadly. “Have you seen the way he looks at me? Like he can’t stand to see me. Like he can’t wait to get away…” Her eyes glazed over and she zoned out. “If I want to be with someone- I want real- I need it to be real. Not this messed up infatuation with physical beauty that other boys have…”

Logan could hear the desperate need trying to crawl into her words from her chest. “Maybe you should give him a chance to show you-” he cut off, not sure what to say to describe how Kurt felt.

Angeline gave a watery smile. “He’s the one who keeps running away, Logan. Not me. I want to be happy. I’m trying to be happy- at least, not miserable…”

Logan gritted his teeth and furrowed his brow. “What do you think is keeping him away?”

Angeline laughed derisively. “As strange as it is, Logan, I think he hates my wings.”

“Bullshit-”

Angeline’s self loathing laugh grew louder. “Oui, I knew you would say that- but he looks at them and is so disgusted every time, I don’t know what else to think.”

Logan rolled his eyes, groaning to himself internally about these two blind idiots and what he’d gotten himself into.

… … …

Kurt pulled a soda out of the fridge and walked down the hall, pausing to look in on the kids in the entertainment room.

They were watching a movie, or playing many of the various games or other things around, and it didn’t seem like anything there needed his attention, so he moved on, headed to the library.

He got through the door and turned, walking toward the shelf that held the book he was looking for; the sequel to the one he’d just finished. He traded the books on the shelf and took a drink of his soda while reading the back of the new book and heading toward the relaxing and reading area.

He nearly choked on his drink as he looked up from the cover, seeing Angeline kneeling on the table against the window. He had frozen, and quickly tried to recover, stepping back behind the shelf and peeking around it at her.

She was kneeling on the table, washing the windows. Her large, white wings were furled tightly behind her, probably to keep her cool in the autumn heat, making it so he could see her tank top and how it nearly hugged her body, tight on her chest, but looser around the rest of her. He could tell that it was due to the fact that if she had gotten a larger size, it probably would have started falling off of her slender shoulders.

His eyes traveled down her arched back, seeing her tail wrapped around the top of her pants like a belt, and he wondered if it really was holding them up when he saw how form fitting the hips of the pants were versus how loose the legs were; he knew how strangely women’s clothes were shaped thanks to Kitty and Rogue always dragging him shopping.

Angeline leaned back and forth with the cleaning, and Kurt could see her toes peeking out from the hems of her pant legs and smiled, though he didn’t know why, except that maybe it was because he thought it was cute.

His eyes eyes traveled back up and watched her body move for a moment as she cleaned, then made their way to her face.

Her bright blue eyes were focused on the window, making sure she got it clean as her headphones cord swayed with her. He wondered what she was listening to.

He could sneak up behind her without much effort while she was listening to music, then he’d slowly get closer to her, nearly touching her before he kissed her cheek. She’d be startled and turn to him, see that it was him and laugh, kiss him back, but on the lips this time.

He’d wrap his arms around her from behind, his body between her wings and his arms under her wing joints, bury his nose in the back of her shoulder as he pressed against her, brush her hair out of the way as he kissed the back of her shoulder, then her neck.

Longing grew in his chest.

He really wanted to do that.

These innocent fantasies were plaguing him, more than the inappropriate ones were.

He supposed that it was a little pathetic to think of her in all of these situations, nothing more than his girlfriend, but it was something he really, really wanted to be a reality.

Too bad she didn’t want to spend any time with him, especially in that way…

Kurt shook his head and looked away from her, feeling his heart throbbing sorely against his ribs.

He had to stop thinking of her like this in these sweet little moments; as his. No matter what he wanted, she was far too beautiful to ever want to be with him, him and his freakish, furred, blue body…

His eyes stared at his arm where they’d landed. An arm that he’d imagined wrapped around his precious angel- Angeline, he really had to stop thinking of her as his- wrapped around Angeline more times than he could remember, not all of them innocent.

His cheeks heated at the memory, and he peeked around the shelf at her again.

She was nice, as far as he could tell, sweet and friendly, but he was certain that she wouldn’t want him thinking about her in this way. She for certain would not want him thinking the other things about her- the ones that came to his mind in the dark of the night.

She would think he was a pervert, that he was disgusting and dirty- and wasn’t he? Thinking those things of an angel?

He pulled back behind the shelves, closing his eyes and sighing. She would, without a doubt in his mind, at the least be disgusted and avoid him, if not hate him if she knew that he had those thoughts about her.

Kurt opened his eyes, taking a drink to clear his mind before peeking for one last glance at his- Angeline, before turning and making his way out of the library, away from the temptation to make an ass out of himself by talking to her.

… … …

Angeline sat at the table in the kitchen, drinking a large glass of orange juice and eating a slice of the chocolate cake that had been for dessert. There was the largest smile on her face as she felt her chest bursting with happiness.

She had passed the exams to get her high school completion certificate, and they hadn't even seemed as hard as she thought they would; she'd thought that with only a few days of sitting in on the basic classes she needed and never having gone to a real school, she would have to take the test three or four times before she would pass.

She had to thank Professor Xavier for his help, since he was the one that had figured out how to get all of her tests and credits to count toward it, letting her use Danger room training and sparring with Logan as gym and health credits, working in the garden with Ororo and a few tests about plants as botany, which counted as her science credit, writing essays and taking tests for the books she fed her appetite for reading with as English credit and foreign language since her native language was French, and he let the studying and testing for her citizenship in the US count as social studies, since it met all the requirements, she did tests in math, and easily passed any test they gave her for dramatic arts, and managed to play the one song she remembered well enough on the piano for her arts credit.

She took a bite of the cake and savored the flavor, feeling proud of herself for the first time she could remember.

A shadow fell across the table and she looked up to see Jean. “Congratulations; I heard that you got your completion.”

Angeline nodded, covering her mouth. “Oui,” she answered when her mouth wasn't full. “Merci.”

Jean chuckled. “So, what's harder about being bilingual? The speaking, or the understanding?”

Angeline blushed. “The reading,” she said quietly.

“Really?” Jean asked, her brow crumpling in confusion.

Angeline nodded. “I spoke French first, and I started learning and speaking English when I was four, but I lived in France, so everything was written in French.” As well as her mother not allowing her the read anything that wasn't required for “school”, which was mainly scripts. “I had some basic skill at it, but I have gotten much better since I came here.” She smiled, not mentioning that her basic skill came from her stepfather turning on the subtitles on the American movies that she watched with him so she could learn easier.

“I thought that it would be the slang, for sure,” Jean commented thoughtfully.

Angeline chuckled. “I know most of the common slang. Actually, I grew up watching movies from America, so I have never really had a problem with that.” Or she didn't, until she ran away from home, and somehow during the three and a half years she'd been on the street it seemed that the entire slang vocabulary had changed or become obsolete, at least, in New York.

Jean smiled. “I heard you played the piano for part of your arts credit.”

Angeline nodded.

“So you have been bilingual basically your whole life, you know a lot about plants, and you play the piano, it sounds like you had an interesting childhood.”

Angeline held her smile in place. She had no idea.

“Do you have any other hidden talents?”

Angeline took a drink of her orange juice to stall for time. She didn't mind them knowing about her interest in plants, or that she could play the piano a little, and it was obvious that she was bilingual, but she didn't want to talk or think about her entire life in France; she'd rather forget it, focus on making a happy life here with the X-Men in America, besides, who knew if her mother and stepfather were still looking for her. “Ah! I can barely play the piano,” she laughed, sounding modest, though she was speaking the truth. “I really only remember that one song, and I'm surprised about that, honestly; I haven't played since I was very young. I thought I was going to have to write the notes on the keys!”

Jean laughed with her and gave her another smile, reaching into the fridge and pulling out the bottle of water she'd come for. “Well, I have to get to training. You have a good night, Angeline.”

“You, too, Jean,” Angeline told her, giving a small wave, then going back to her cake.

Maybe some day she'd feel comfortable enough to share more about herself, but she didn't know if she saw that happening, and she knew that it certainly wasn't today.

Tag List!

If you’d like to be on any of my tag lists, please let me know! Also starting up my Ao3!

@racheo91 @a-book-pressed-rose @tephi101 @keldachick @Randomfandompenguin @Avacadobutthole @mannls @screeching-student-unknown @lilypalmer1987 @pingu89 @gifsbysimplysonia @omnomsauruswrites @mybloodtypeiscoffee @lizfawn @badassbaker

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supergirlimaginesfic-blog · 7 years

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Lena Luthor x reader (Yesterday, our history; today, for now)

Request: Lena x reader : lena gets jealous after seeing someone kiss you at one of her gala

a/n: guess which garbage monster decided to make a little childhood friends to present time drabble. THIS garbage monster decided to make a childhood friends fic, because I want it and I think it kinda fit this particular scenario. You’re a little bit of a big time fairtrade coffee mogul, it’s obscure and I’m craving coffee currently, so naturally this is what I come up with. Forgive me if it seems like I’m just spouting out terms... it is most definitely because that’s exactly what I’m doing LOL

For SOME reason I was in some grand mood to write something a little angsty and piney... for what reason? I truly could not tell you. Apparently I’m due for one of those again. Thanks for reading y’all!! :D

- - - - -

If you were to be candid and outright, you would readily admit that you resented the business world. You’re self-aware enough to understand the privilege of working hard and watching it pay off, and living comfortably is something that’s never been foreign to you.

You weren’t born into all the wealth you had now - you were proud to say you toiled for what you could call your own. In spite of the leg up you knew you got from certain family members, it humbled you and you never took your gains for granted.

As you found yourself standing in a giant room among the people who you should consider your peers, it went without saying you were jaded and unimpressed.

Where you could, you tried to withhold judgement; after all, not everybody was insufferable and irritating with their prestige, though you also knew a lot of them believed they were destined for it.

Self-worth is a subjective commodity, and where one person draws motivation could be quite strikingly different from the next. Still, you had enough interactions (far too many, you concede) with these kinds of people to be intimately aware of a certain unspoken but commonly held truth: if they’d lost all their money and power in an instant, it would be more than their net worth that’s lost.

Even so, you didn’t necessarily loathe the wealthy elite so much as you just can’t find many people worth respecting despite the all-encompassing competitiveness to have the unwarranted abundance of it.

Life, you know, is saturated with this mentality in general, and it only aggravated you now because you knew you were intended to befriend these people and maintain good rapport.

You wish it wasn’t so easy to give in to the sentiment of othering yourself whenever you contemplated your fortunate circumstances, yet you could count on your one hand the number of true allies you could rely on and vouch for personally.

When you glanced at the L-Corp gala invitation that you found in your mail, it was not your first thought to dread another night of reluctant obligation, but rather of one old friend you were much too aware of not having seen in years.

You wouldn’t say you were avoiding her - not entirely, anyway. You were simply distracted with the course of your life and needing to better it for yourself. You had a never-settling unease about not being good enough, and though this was a noble insecurity to have, it proved relentless and omnipresent.

Throughout your boarding school experience, Lena Luthor was as unassuming as she was brilliant. Though now, you surmise, she entertains the facade of grandeur, and you’ve still yet to put together how to reconcile what you know of a young Lena and what you’ve seen of her now.

You’ve always admired her from afar; that much wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise, however, was the inexplicable draw that possessed the two of you and created an otherwise unlikely alliance of mutual understanding.

You were the new kid of freshman year, having missed three months of the beginning of school to relocating with your aunt and her family from Central City. Lena was the youngest acquisition of the Luthor family, and that particular news followed her like a shadow.

Still, you watched as she prospered in spite of it and just as you felt yourself falling into her gravity, you also somehow caught her in your orbit.

The two of you were an anomalous pair, you in your modest willingness to remain indeterminate and ordinary and her with the effortless dancing on the precipice of obscurity and greatness.

Even then at that young age, you had the distinct notion of not wanting to hinder her in any way you possibly could - even then, she would scoff at your foolishness. For as much as a friend could love you, she did. And for as much as you were pining for her successes and happiness, you did.

You dreamed often and you played often together, and as much as you did you also studied and philosophized and aspired. The adventure of youth was indeed a journey, and you would never change the reality of having Lena in your corner for those formative years if you were faced with the decision to start over.

You hadn’t thought much of it then, but the only time you ever stood up against anyone or anything was when someone by the likes of Veronica Sinclair gave Lena trouble; and there is much that could be said about that now in retrospect.

Lena gave you loyalty as fierce as your own, and though it often went unspoken, you knew you’d both felt it.

It was only with little sadness that you watched awe-struck and proud as she walked to the podium to receive her diploma, and you knew she would be heading off to MIT.

As for yourself, you would charter the route that just like any other wide-eyed, hopeful teen your age imagined for themselves would most benefit from in the long run. Your aunt, with her modest conglomerate of companies in a wide array of sectors, only asked of you to do what you could do best.

You’d graduate from an Honours International Development Studies program and sought after your pipe dream to not change the world, but to merely help it.

For years, you would hear stories from the wind of the Luthor scion and Jack Spheer trying to find the ever elusive cure to cancer, and you’d heard that they were making breakthroughs with their nanotechnology.

Even then, you’d felt rather inadequate, and much to your displeasure you found that in a room full off big business moguls and politicians you still felt just as small as you always had.

It was with great bemusement that you remember you’d finally accepted an invitation from L-Corp as you looked around you at the filling ballroom, and you’re usually not so absent of mind.

You begin to realize just how out of place you feel as you watch pairs of people filing through the entrance, all figures of prominence and varying levels of affluence trying to take up the most space in the room. You feel so very unprepared and not at all in your element and you almost regret your decision to go about this event alone.

It’s only for a few hours, you concede, and you’ll take your leave the very second it’s socially acceptable to do so. You wonder if you can even evade Lena again, though it’s becoming more and more evident how unlikely that will be. You don’t have the excuse of being in another country altogether to justify your absences.

Perhaps you’ve made a big mistake by coming here tonight.

You don’t have the time to ponder it further, however, when you feel a presence sidle up beside you.

“Now, I don’t usually act so brash and forward, but I must simply know why exactly it is you are without company this evening.”

You don’t recognize the woman when you turn to face her. At first glance you see she is conventionally beautiful with her dark brown eyes and an angular face.

She’s wearing a deep green gown and she seems the epitome of refinement. She seems rather young, perhaps only a few years older than you, and somehow much more... everything.

“That is, unless it’s only a matter of time before she makes her appearance and I learn yet another lesson regarding my presumptuous inclinations,” she adds.

You smile politely and already feel yourself get reluctantly pulled forward into the game of social obligation. Still, you are curious.

“Well, Miss... you would be correct in your observations. I’m afraid I don’t recognize you, and if I ought to then I apologize-”

“Beckett, and it’s absolutely divine to make your acquaintance.”

You have exactly milliseconds to both process and react to her moving in close to kiss you just near the corner of your mouth, and if there’s any look of astonishment and utter confusion on your face, she’s ignorant to the display.

You’re left stuttering and stumbling on words, and you’re vexed at just how out of touch you are with how to behave in these events and how to deal with such forwardness in general.

“Miss-”

“Oh, please, call me Alona, we can allow ourselves to be on a first name basis.”

“Right, yeah- okay-”

“I confess, I know quite a lot about you, (Y/N). You’re making rather significant waves that are crossing into my circles. I am most curious about your story.”

You’re still silent, standing before a woman and her force of nature as she glides easily from thought to thought, almost taunting you in a way to keep up.

“It’s the most inspirational anecdote. Your aunt, Theresa Everett, she’s such a character too. I’ve had the pleasure of knowing her while she was still active and the most prominent in 2013. And now, you’re an entrepreneur! You’ve really separated yourself from all that, haven’t you?”

You inhale shakily as you scramble to recollect your thoughts - there’s very little reference points you can bounce off of, but you force yourself to believe it’s enough. Having to talk about your work, at least, is something you enjoy and you don’t have to think too hard about that.

“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily word it like that. It’s not so much of a rebranding as it is just really focusing and cutting back the excess of resources at my disposal. I’ll take what I need and no more or less, and it’s proven to have worked out if the exponential growth of the farms I’ve overseen is any indication.”

For her part, Alona looks attentively at you, and if you weren’t so overwhelmed by her larger than life introduction you would perhaps be more than willing to indulge her conversation and speak in depth of your work.

You think there’s a hint of impudence to her when she smiles at you, but the observation is moot by the time you’ve detected it.

“I’ve always thought so highly of you, and it is so refreshing to see I’m not wrong in my high regards. What is it now, you have locations in Peru, Guatemala, Colombia if I recall correctly?

“I truly, truly commend you for your upholding the ethical crusade. It’s apparent that every single one present in this room has something similar in common with another, and perhaps this is what you and Ms. Luthor share; the unfailing resilience to chase a simple dream.”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly in contemplation and you regard the woman carefully. There’s an agenda hidden somewhere - there always is, and you’re just about close to scratching the surface of it. You’re suspicious, and part of this game is to do everything you can to make sure you don’t show it. You consider your next words as carefully as you can, but you’re just steps over the edge.

“And still I wholeheartedly believe a simple dream is the one distinctive catalyst that provides solutions where there might be questions, and curates possibilities where there are only hypotheticals.”

You inhale sharply and feel the broiling of your intensity and mild agitation. You think to try to reel yourself in - you’re well aware of the flurry you become when you get going about correcting people who are just so very wrong.

“But respectfully, I decline your belief in my upholding some crusade of ethics - as far as I’m concerned it’s pretty rudimentary that we treat every individual involved in our business relationships with the same amount of respect as we are given by default as the ones with the monetary resources. Business is a mutual give and take. It’s our responsibility to foster all aspects of the whole to benefit from the sum of all the little parts.”

Alona smiles at you again, and you’ve no doubt now it’s positively devilish in its scheming.

“I am so awed by your passion, how remarkably you guard your tenets. That tenacity should be harnessed. If you need any assistance in the form of governmental influence, which I’m sure you will no doubt encounter if you haven’t already, I will personally see to it that I have some sway in your favour.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Beckett, I can assure you we are quite self-sustaining at this time and it’s actually beneficial that we’re on the fringes of politics-”

Suddenly, you think you feel the air escape your lungs and your eyes widen almost comically. There’s a far off part of your brain that’s mostly shut off currently, but you can hear a distant echo of this is some bullshit movie moment, come from the depths of your mind when you finally see her.

You begin to think just how wrong you were to ever have stayed away from her. You think you should be rewarded for your ability to have ever done so at all.

Lena is so much more than you ever remembered of her. You’re only minutely aware of being cut off mid-sentence before you realize it was you who stopped talking altogether. You think you feel your jaw go slack, and Alona at least takes note when she acknowledges the new presence.

“Lena, you’ve outdone yourself as always.”

“Alona, your attendance always pleases me,” she says in greeting.

You can feel the distinct tension of various things left unsaid in your little trio, and when neither woman broaches the physical boundary tethering you all together, it’s Lena who decides to start severing the tie.

“How is Mr. Conroy? I’m sure Johnathan is doing well?”

“Yes, quite. He almost didn’t want to make it today, I’m sure you can understand, what with the last L-Corp event being quite the target for trouble.”

Alona smirks mischievously in delight and you can only watch in slight horror at the show you’ve inadvertently become an audience for.

“Of course, that’s justifiable. I almost thought it’d been best if we all just stayed home,” Lena says cuttingly.

“Oh, but here we are. Your bravery has always impressed me, Lena.”

Lena just smiles sweetly and she’s a considerable distance away from you - at least, as much as what you perceive suggests. You can just feel the tug of her and not a single part of her body is touching yours, and yet you feel the fire of your skin ablaze by her presence alone. She might as well have been playing matches on your being.

Somehow, and this has always amused you, watching people recognize the notion that they’re not wanted anymore becomes potent enough to become an entirely new entity, and you love watching how they react.

Alona decides to take her leave, but not before she kisses you on the cheek in departure and bids you a good evening, and you really wish you’d learned to expect the unexpected as if you hadn’t experience this same conundrum just several minutes ago.

You barely register that Lena’s sweet smile falls into a scowl. You’re not quite sure why exactly it is she has such a disapproving glare. You refuse to indulge the possible reasons why it would be there.

Even after Alona is gone, you and Lena don’t share a word for the next few moments.

When she finally looks up at you, she’s no longer glowering at some inconsequential woman you happened to have encountered, and you can see the imperceptible widening of her eyes as if she’s really taking you in.

You wonder if you should assure her that your presence isn’t a trick of reality - you can hardly believe it yourself, but Lena breaks the silence.

“You’re a lot taller than I remember,” she mutters teasingly.

“And you’re more radiant than ever.”

In spite of the long years absent from each other’s lives, the familiarity of Lena makes you feel both parts nostalgic and something akin to a return - like a conversation that picks up where you’ve left it as if it never ceased at all, and in a way, that’s exactly what you two are.

“It’s good to see you’re just as much of a kiss-ass as you’ve always been.”

You smile at her remark, and it’s decisively more than you can ever say you’ve had as of late; this alone should be cause for alarm.

“Naturally,” you grin. “To what do I owe this pleasure of your exclusive attention?”

“Don’t you know I only ever host these events to draw you out of whatever cave it is you’ve hidden in all these years? I should be asking you that same question.”

You see a flash of something like hurt and hesitance in Lena’s eyes. You know it because you felt it yourself. You think perhaps she can see it in you too.

There’s a compulsion in you to apologize, but for what, you couldn’t even begin to articulate.

There’s just too much and all the same, there’s very little to answer for at all. You wouldn’t change the way your life has turned out. Though, you can’t speak for Lena.

“I’ve been away,” is all you supply, and you marvel at your uselessness.

Lena smiles at you in a way that you can very much tell says, well no shit, but the fondness that’s there regardless has distracted you.

“Of course,” she says, and then, “how’s Theresa doing? She’s well, I take it?”

You’re thankful for the cop out and you take it.

“Yeah, she’s thriving as always. She asks about you often still.”

You barely register what you’ve said before you can even think to take it back.

Lena looks rueful when she replies, “I’d almost be shocked if she hasn’t kept up with the news as everyone else has.”

It takes everything of your being to will yourself not to hug her.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“No, I do.”

You begin to realize the depths of your struggle, and the profoundly evident lack of knowledge you once had of your best friend’s life makes itself ever present all in one booming crash in your chest.

You grapple for something, anything to reach out to her.

“So... how’s Jack?”

Lena inhales sharply and her lips purse slightly, “he passed away.”

You feel it more than you hear it - the fall of something in your gut hanging in suspension in your lower torso.

“Fuck, I’m sorry-”

“It was either him or Supergirl,” she states softly.

You fiddle with your hands awkwardly. You’re becoming painfully aware of just how invasive your entire body feels in relation to Lena, and you wish you could just disappear or at least transport your being to some other timeline that has nothing to do with the current one.

You think to blame yourself entirely, of course when you concede that Lena has finally found someone worthy of her, the universe decides to muddle it up eventually.

You worry about just what that could mean for you.

“That must have been almost half a year ago. Often I wonder just how much more I can be put through the wringer before I snap. It feels like it’s simply a matter of time before I become everything I’ve always feared.”

You snap out of your reverie of contrite at Lena’s admission.

“You know you’ve always been above that. Plenty of times, you could have done just that, but you never have. And I think it’s because you’re just not capable of it. I’ve never once seen something you weren’t capable of handling.”

Lena sighs deeply, “I don’t think I want to find that breaking point.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to,” you say affirmatively.

You’re both silent in contemplation. Lena looks softer, and you wonder about it as you parse through the memories of the Lena you once knew and what you’re getting now.

Even if you didn’t know her as you did, you still believe entirely that she looks absolutely magnificent. She can fill an entire room without a single word, and you realize then with sneaking suspicion this is just how she’s managed to infiltrate every corner of your life you thought you’d abandoned.

The familiar sensation of pride swells in you again, and a sort of daze falls on you as you smile at the contentedness it gives you. It’s almost enough to distract you from the sad exhaustion you can see hiding just barely veiled within her eyes.

“So, coffee is it?” she asks.

“What?” you think you feel your entire body snap into another awakening as you hurl back into the conversation.

You see the slight uptick of her lips form into a smirk, and you don’t bother to resist thinking about how much you’ve missed it.

“Your business? Fairtrade coffee now, I suppose you never really intended to succeed your aunt?” she prompts, slightly teasingly.

You think you can smack yourself for your misgivings.

“Yeah, that- yeah. Right. I mean, I wasn’t always so deeply taken by what she had her companies’ shares in. It could be said that I’ve rebuilt, but really I’ve just tried to involve myself in areas that interest me and I can invest entirely in; not just monetarily either. My whole heart’s in it, and it’s much easier that way.”

Lena looks contemplative as she deliberates your words, and then, “it seems if it becomes personal that the stakes are so much more higher and there’s so much more at risk, do you find that to be the case?”

You tilt your head in consideration, you try to not give credence to the inexplicable longing you suddenly feel at having Lena so close, yet so very far.

“Arguably, maybe people’s expectations of me have deviated. The risks are only as substantial as the reward. The company’s interests may be refocused, but mine, at least, remain unchanged.”

Lena studies you meaningfully and you feel your body come alive under the weight of her gaze.

“I have always admired your determination to chase after your aspirations. I’ve also always envied your freedom to do so,” she says wryly.

You give her a small smile, “it took me a while to get where I am now. I haven’t always gone after what I really desired.”

Lena glances at you, and when you catch her eyes you hurry to distract yourself with more words, anything to keep you from falling apart for just a little bit longer.

“It takes a lot of trial and error, and without a doubt it’s taken its time... though it goes without saying that the answer sometimes has been right in front of you all along.”

At some point, you think your words have stopped having a singular meaning and you think they’ve become latent with more complex, underlying feelings you feel the least bit prepared to address.

You add hastily, knowing you ought to say it if it weren’t already evident, “for what it’s worth, Lena, it seems as though you’re doing great for yourself.”

Perhaps, you believe, she’s always appreciated your uncanny ability to understand what she needs to hear, to listen to what goes unsaid for her. Even now, you think you’re not just imagining it anymore and you can see the vulnerable adoration in her eyes.

Lena smiles at you, muted with the quiet tones of a lament for time lost and of time yet to lose. Still, you see the endless gratitude that goes unuttered but entirely indisputable.

“When will you be flying off again?” she asks.

“Not for another few weeks.”

I missed you, goes unsaid.

“If it weren’t already plain, it should be mentioned just how much my evening has been made now that I got to see you.”

I’m proud of you, goes unsaid.

“Well, rest assured I feel exactly the same way,” you say earnestly.

I thought I’d lost you, goes unsaid.

There’s a tension palpable enough to cut through, and you feel it stifling you quickly, filling you like concrete.

You’re tired of the feeling of having unfinished business with Lena - for as long as you can remember, your story has never felt quite finished, and you don’t suspect either of you are willing to let it get to that.

“(Y/N), this doesn’t have to be farewell.”

The sentiment doesn’t help in maintaining your pretense of composure.

“No, I don’t want it to be.”

Not again, goes unsaid.

“Then why waste any more time? We may not know the future, but at least we have now.”

I won’t give in to the fear of having lost you wilfully again, goes unsaid.

Lena’s eyes make a slow descent from your eyes to your lips, and you can feel the slow drag of them trail to your bowtie. She lifts her hands and fixes it, taking gentle care in lingering more than a stranger would.

Lena’s not a stranger though, not entirely.

She’s grinning fondly at some secret joke.

“You always refused to wear just a regular tie. You thought it was too conventional.”

You grin at her observation, “I was a pretty pretentious kid.”

“Well, that’s quite alright, you looked much better in these anyway,” she smirks.

You feel the rising warmth of a blush rushing to your cheeks. Somehow, you think you’ve experienced equal parts death and renewal all at once. Somehow, you know you’ll both do better this time.

#lena luthor x reader #lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor fic #katie mcgrath #lena luthor fanfic #katie mcgrath imagine #dating lena luthor #supercorp #supercorp fic #supercorp fanfic #supergirl imagine #lena luthor x you #supergirl imagines

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nyklifsondiviiportfolio-blog · 7 years

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Division II Retrospective

Nyk Lifson

Hampshire College 2017

Taking Invertebrate Zoology was a great class. We spent a week studying cephalopods and then I got to dissect two sepia officinalis, common cuttlefish. This was a fantastic learning experience where my interest in my own personal gender exploration is realized in marine life. Dwarf male cuttlefish in many species participate in mating rituals where they flash “female” patterns to appear female to pass by large male cuttlefish to deliver their sperm packets to impressed females. Queering of gender happens more often in invertebrates, which is something that binary science does not teach. In school systems we still label parts of plants as having female and male reproductive organs which makes no sense. There are not even two genders within humans, intersex people exist. But, we are taught that this is unnatural? Slipper-shell snails of New England are hermaphroditic and often both reproduce and send off sperm. This is a very common endemic mollusc, yet these are not common facts that are taught? Instead charismatic megafauna is what conservation focuses on. But, what about transgender organisms?

Homosexuality and the blurring of gender lines are extremely common even within mammals. I was able to continue looking into these studies. I feel like this is important work, not that anyone is going to trust studies anyways because radicals will not even believe in climate change. But I am not studying why people stay willfully ignorant, I am lucky enough to be studying parrotfish with supermales and land snails that change their organs to reproduce whenever a mate crosses their path. Humans are the ones lacking in evolution, stuck in a binary. That is why my Div II is still called getting weird underwater. I leave division two needing two more class requirements and a project to complete The Five College Marine and Coastal Science Certificate.

I did not study enough film in these past two years, and that is one of my bigger regrets. I had tried to get into the claymation class being offered this past spring, but messed up my scheduling. I am imperfect. I am not the most organized person. I also am not the best when it comes to due dates. I work on these skills every day, but can only achieve so much when working a job, playing rugby, being a signer, and a full time student. I took Video 1 with Lucretia Knapp, it was a Queer film class where I learned to make a rotoscope. I filmed in interesting abandoned locations and made a music video for my non-binary friend and invited other trans* friends to come into the woods and make art with me. I got to break some bottles, splatters some queers with blood, and had a great time. The editing process went not as well as I planned due to an unforeseen concussion I got playing rugby my 1st spring semester of Div II. I finished my classes that semester and then went abroad over the summer, so everything worked out. Both videos I made in this class I will have links to in my portfolio.

The more important skills I learned in my time at Hampshire are that I am a survivalist. I can and will flourish. I am capable to continuing on. I have to do more work than others to grow and I try hard every day. I will not let my past or who others think I am stop me from living. I will not let people, places, or unknown languages be barriers to my discovery and thirst for knowledge.

One important part of my growth was that I realized I am an alcoholic. This really stunted me at Hampshire. Many professors told me to take a semester off. I know myself. If I went on medical leave I would not have come back. I would not finish school for years. I wonder what would have happened if I had transferred or left, but I did not. I stuck with my education. I want a degree because no matter what happens to me in this world, no one can take my education from me. I am privileged to have family who can pay for part of my schooling and to have access to a liberal arts college like hampshire. Many of my friends in Kentucky went to state schools and then fell through the cracks. I am grateful to Hampshire. That being said I became the jaded older student I knew I would be. Hampshire is still an institution, so it is inherently racist/sexist/ableist/homophobic/and transphobic. That can be seen in my mostly white professors and being misgendered in evaluations. That is felt on campus. This is all relevant because I withdrew from classes each semester because I had too high of expectations for someone in recovery. I always want to learn more than my workload can truly handle.

Around 4am the night before my Prose Poetry final portfolio was due I realized how little I have done in the last two years. This was startling. It washed over me. But now in the light of day I see that is not true. I can argue why this should not matter due to being a Hampshire student. I have had a job this year while working, being in recovery, taking classes at three colleges, and living in a trump era. It is difficult to write job applications when all I really am interested in academically is queer fish and dragons. Oddly enough, I just want to be a firefighter or first responder, which is not what I am taking classes for.; I want to someday have enough money to house multiple foster kids. I will most likely not have a legal gender in my home state. And my average life span to beat is 26. I know this is supposed to be about my academics, but I don’t want to go to graduate school.

After reading A Cyborg Manifesto by Donna Haraway and Embracing true monstrosity, I gave my character, Iphis wings to fly. I wrote in a dragon myth after learning about Queer dragon-based creation stories from Ancient Ghana. I have inspected my everyday colonialism. Sitting in a mostly white class in Massachusetts. Every cryptid is dragged through the dirt. Looking at geographical mountain ranges and local reptiles in the area. Dragons are a powerful myth in mosts cultures around the world. Dragons live among humans. Some humans are dragons. We are constantly trying to build from trauma and hurt others. I took took risks and did research for my upcoming DIV III. I am planning on taking an oceanography class next summer. I also am taking two marine science classes next year. I have to live in the science world to have a say in it. But I have a proposal for my research project. I want to draw a coloring book of queer sea creatures. Ones that science talks circles around to make sense of a gender that does not matter. I could title it “Nemo was a lie” but I won’t. Clownfish always have one that is the largest that can lay eggs. They change systems for this rule. The rest are at a certain age changing to what binary-biased-science deems, female.

A degree is one of the few things in life no one can take away from me once I obtain. I could lose a house, car, children, pets, the clothes off my back, but never the knowledge I cultivate. My life may be taken away but never my schooling. I owe it to those who are not fortunate enough to be given the opportunity to go to a liberal arts school, or college in general. That is the argument I have used to stop myself from dropping out. The animosity I have experienced from students and administrators on this campus has made me want to leave on a multitude of occasions. I live off campus and no matter how many times I am offered to drop out I march on towards an oval diploma. Because learning never ends. Neither does my passion.

I took many classes in preperation for Division III and have been seeking literature for reference in my free time. I have continued to study androgyny in fiction and how race intersects with feminine and masculine imagery.

In my Prose poetry class I did my presentation on Audre Lorde; a black lesbian, poet, and activist. I read speeches and her compilations of poems late at night in the Mount Holyoke Library. My other presentation was on Yusef Komuntakaa and two of his works. He mainly deals with the vietnam war and experiencing cross-generational diaspora.

In Professor Susan Loza’s class I learned about marginalized monstrosity. I read Octavia Butler, Ursula Leguin, and this fantastic article called Punks Bulldaggers and Queers. I wrote about the consumption of bodies and queer people of color. Constructed bodies through diaspora and trauma. I think this needs to be a requirement. Being open minded and respectful of historical oppression that is the elephant in the room in everyday life.

In Dragon Myths--Global Symbols of of Power at University of Massachusetts, Amherst. I gave a presentation on Both South African cryptids and Eastern European myths. In addition I researched in my free time each week background information at every myth would read. I strengthened my research skills by looking through an anthropological lense. We asked questions about how the victors of colonization might have changed these stories? How do local religions and systems of power influence oral story-keeping? How can typography and endemic species influence these mythological creatures? How do bias’ come into play? How could translations have changed from the primary source?

Learning for learning’s sake is rewarding but hard to explain why my education isn’t a waste of time. I have hated school passionately since I was in middle school. I went to both private and public learning institutions and both seemed full of bull shit. But maybe that is just life? It is not that I do not want to gain knowledge, but the way that normalized education systems go about it makes me want to rip my hair out. That is why I am so grateful to Hampshire. I have been able to follow my interests with very little push-back and a whole lot of understanding. I am not planning on going to graduate school and I sure as hell did not think I would make it this far at any institutional learning facility. The fact I am finishing my third year of college alive, with my head held high, is a goddamn miracle. I was thinking of how to change my Division two contract to seem professional and like I know what I am doing. But, in the last three years the glimmer of truth has show through to the surface; no one at this damn school knows what is going on. So, instead of lying through my teeth, here is a full account of what I have fought tooth and nail to learn.

Invertebrate Zoology with Stan Rachootin was incredible. I missed plenty of class due to it being at 8:35am at Mount Holyoke twice a week and then 9am on Fridays, but I only missed one lab. We studied molluscs for two weeks and one those consisted of cephalopods. Considering in depth interest in cuttlefish, I was overjoyed. I dove into my studies and made it out with an A- in the class. I got to dissect not one, but two sepia officinalis and a multitude of other inverts including a lugworm and a scallop. Stan lent me reading materials on cephalopods including an anatomical guide for sepias. I gained insight into sequential hermaphroditism and how common it is among marine invertebrates and fish. This has sparked a personal study of mine compiling a list of queer marine organisms. There are so many clear instances in science where the gender binary is a hindrance upon data collection. I hope to unpack and then rearrange that data in my own research on creatures such as parrotfish and moray eels.

I was in over my head in my Conservation Biology class at Amherst College. I made that decision, though. I wanted to be in a 300 level class where I was the only 2nd year compared to the seniors and juniors. My writing was not that great. I was battling my addictions and myself that semester. I missed a presentation and turned in a paper with horribly done citations. I did give two well thought out and researched presentations, one in a group and one by myself. My teacher was not quite impressed with how I presented my work. My final research project was on cuttlefish conservation. No shock there. That class required a post a week on our readings and to read many wordy articles to be discussed in class. I held my own in a room with more experienced Amherst students. Most importantly we all learned how to look for bias and statistical flaws in scientific articles. Which, in turn, helped me in my research.

I am studying video, yes I am including this even though I only took one film class. I still am passionate about film. I have been doing projects on the side and tried to take multiple classes but either they clashed with my schedule or I was unable to get into them. Independently I have made vlog pieces and an animation. I continue to study film outside of class. In Myth’s of America I did a final project based on Emily Dickinson. I went out into the woods in the pioneer valley for my own work and then experimented with found footage. This piece was a discovery in collaborative work and got me through the grieving process over my past self and my grandfather passing away that semester.

I took a Queer Film class with Lucretia Napp. It was a positive experience. I learned how to make a rotoscope animation, which was very exciting. Then I made a music video for my friend with all non-binary representation in the footage. There was a lot of fake blood and a lot of queers, which is the epitome of a fun film shoot. I was recovering from a concussion I received while playing rugby, so my editing was not my best work. But, I overall am happy with the way it turned out and Cass Hoke, the musician and a dear friend, loved the outcome. In addition, I was exposed to a lot of queer documentary and short film work that I had never seen before. Those influences benefitted my end project.

Creative writing, the book that is a little bird trapped in the cage of my soul and has been begging to fly out. I just needed the key, and that key was Nell Arnold. Being in a room with her I felt like a fraud. I am no artist, and as you can see I have no understanding of grammar rules. Yet, I found myself lucky enough to be one of the 16 people chosen to be in her group. I got to explore characters that I would be friends with. But mostly, I got to listen to Nell. I had never been in a room with someone who made me feel like a better writer by sharing the same oxygen. Her diction is on point and she is ever-so-eloquent. I worked my butt off in that room, editing peer work and trying to not be afraid to write from perspectives that I struggled imagining.

Both of my classes with Thom Haxo were for my mental health. He is the same flavor crazy that I am, so we got along smashingly. I found a niche where I produced upcycled artwork based on my creative writing. I was able to create performance pieces where I would read out loud and interact with the art physically while bringing viewers into the story. This helped me with figuring out my process in designing characters. I am not in school for my art because that is more of a coping skill than something I want to study, but I plan on having illustrations as a final part of my DIV III. Thom’s class boosted me in my confidence with my work and to not be afraid to go with what feels right.

In Susanna Loza’s class I kickstarted my research for my division three. I read Cyborg Manifesto by Donna Haraway, Wild Seed by Octavia Butler, and The Left Hand of Darkness, and many other valuable works. My final paper looks into depictions of androgyny in science fiction and fantasy. The saddening part was how little representation I found in both research and actual literature I could read. I was hindered by emotional setbacks, rendering me unable to fulfill the amount of time I needed for research and actually writing my paper. I am not pleased with my end work, but I am so glad I was able to spend time in a theory class looking into what I am most interested in. This was a valuable class that opened my awareness and I worked more on my multicultural perspective. Cyborgs are androgynous, aliens can be, scifi full of asexually reproducing being is trans*.

Why did I withdraw from so many classes? First you must know what add drop looks like for me. I start out being enrolled in as many classes as possible, show up to the first class for all of them, and then withdraw from the ones I do not need/like/or can not make it to. After that I often will stay in a larger class load than I can handle because I am optimistic in my goals at the beginning of the semester. I am paying enough money that I try to get my money’s worth from school. This goes south about midway and I will realize that I have either not gone to a class or am unable to keep up with the demands. I withdrew from RAD because it is a gendered self defense program that is partially taught by a cisgendered male. I never went to a single class because of those two reasons. I withdrew from Oceanography because my seasonal depression made it difficult to get out of bed at the ungodly hour of 7am to catch a bus in the morning. I am disappointed in myself because I needed to take Oceanography to for credit in the Five College Marine and Coastal Science Certificate I am working towards, but hopefully I will take the needed class over the summer.

I regret not being a Teacher’s Assistant for Pat, because she is doing great work at Hampshire. Lemelson is a cis-male dominated space that tries to be inclusive, but like most shops, falls short. She is being payed not enough to do so much. I took glass blowing from her and realized that my hands are amazing tools. Pat has been fighting the patriarchy in shops for years by teaching and creating like a badass. I had wish I had had enough spoons to TA that class, but I really needed to take care of myself. The bond we could have explored is a loss I still am saddened by. This is one of my bigger disappointments.

I am proud of myself for:

Being a Signer of the QCA

Asking for help (writing center/talking to teachers)

Taking classes at all five colleges

(mostly) Navigating the PVTA

I realized that my goals from DIV II were actually just me knowing what I wanted to do during my DIV III. The road to my final projects was confusing and a journey, but I do feel like I cam out the other end with skills for my future. These past two years I have acquired so much self-wisdom, but that is hard to put into an academic context, even though it happened within an academic bubble. So what did I do? I wrote, read, and remained undead. I dreamed and hung out with starfish. I am my biggest critic. But, I have accomplished so much in spite of all of my pitfalls. I am prepared to write a book and make a coloring book my last year. I gained some maturity and learned some valuable life lessons. I figured out my work ethic and found my voice.

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