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lumosandnoxwriting · 5 months

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you wanting me tonight feels impossible || George Weasley

Title: you wanting me tonight feels impossible Pairing: George x Reader Summary: running into an old friend just might be the thing you need Warnings: mentions of cheating but it does not take place between George and the reader! A/N: here she is, the next part! Honestly writing this fic gave me major nostalgia vibes, to me it feels like a fic I would have written back when i first started on tumblr and honestly im not mad about it.

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“Y/N?”

She turns at the sound of her name, eyes widening in surprise at who she finds standing behind her.

“Oh no way. George, hi,” Y/N greets. Her stomach flutters at the grin that spreads across his face, her mouth running dry at how good he looks.

The last time she’d seen George they were seventeen, and he was flying away from Hogwarts with Fred by his side. Most people had been laughing, overfilled with joy at watching the twins get one last prank over on old Umbridge before they disappeared into the night. And Y/N had been happy too, but she also found herself a bit mournful.

Her and George weren’t exactly friends she’d say, but acquainted in the way people from other houses were with each other after being in the same classes for seven years. They were friendly with each other in the halls and in classes, and the few times they’d been paired up for projects George had always been nice, and stuck around to talk with her about things unrelated to school or their coursework.

And like most girls in their school, she had a massive crush on him. Y/N had spent countless hours pining after the Weasley boy, doodling hearts around his name and imagining what it would be like to run her hands through his soft ginger hair.

So watching him fly away left her sad and mourning any chance she may have had with him.

To see him here now, older and more refined but still as handsome as ever, has her heart pounding, mind already going places she never thought it would go again.

“I thought that was you. How’ve you been?” George asks, holding his arms out for a hug. When she steps into his embrace he continues, arms wrapping around her middle. “It’s been ages, I never really see you around here.”

Y/N tries to keep her breathing even as George hugs her, not wanting to give away how much his casual touch is affecting her. She very much feels like that shy school girl she once was, no matter how many times she tries to remind herself that she is an adult now, and it’s perfectly normal for two acquaintances who haven’t seen each other in a while to hug.

“I moved abroad after graduation,” she explains as they pull away, hoping the blush on her cheeks isn’t obvious. “I was doing some work with magical creatures in Australia, but I started to miss home.”

Y/N decides to leave out the fact that what really prompted her arrival back to England was the discovery of her fiance in bed with a woman she considered to be her best friend, figuring that’s more of a conversation the second or third time they see each other. If they see each other again. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up.

“Don’t tell me you’re the new professor at Hogwarts?” George asks, a twinkle in his eye. When Y/N nods in affirmation, he laughs. “No way, that’s bloody brilliant. Fred and I are opening a branch of Wheezes up in Hogsmeade, I’m moving up there next week to run it. Looks like we’re going to be neighbors,” he finishes, nudging Y/N and giving her a wink.

“Guess so,” Y/N laughs, trying to dampen the butterflies in her stomach. “It’s actually quite a relief to hear that, I was a bit nervous about being up there with no company besides my old professors. I’m glad to have a familiar face around.”

George’s grin widens. “I’ve gotta run, but it was really nice to see you again, Y/N. I’ll see you again soon.”

Just as quickly as he was there he’s gone again, just like all of those years ago. But Y/N doesn’t feel sad. There’s just one thing she’s feeling, really:

Hope.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

The grin that spreads across her face is automatic at the sound of George’s voice, and Y/N has to take a few deep breaths to center herself before turning around to greet him. She’s excited to see a matching smile on George’s face, and it only fuels the butterflies that have started to flutter in her lower belly.

“George,” she greets, motioning to the empty seat next to her in invitation. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“I was hoping I’d run into you,” George starts as he takes a seat, shoulder nudging Y/N’s. “I was starting to think you were just a figment of my imagination.”

She can’t help the flush that takes over her cheeks, hoping it can be chalked up to the heat in the room from the crowded bar. Y/N has been up at Hogwarts for almost a week now, and while getting ready for classes and settling into her new suite at the castle has been time consuming, she’s been avoiding heading into Hogsmeade. It’s not that she hasn’t been dying to run into George again, because that is definitely something she has thought about nonstop since their last chance encounter.

It’s more like she’s been scared to see him again, scared that whatever old feelings their chance encounter dragged back to the surface aren’t returned. That she has been dying to see him again while George was off living his life, not giving Y/N and their brief reunion another thought.

But even in just these few short moments since he sat down, Y/N feels all those fears fading away. George is the one who sought her out, the bar is crowded enough that she’d have been none the wiser if he snuck in and took a seat somewhere else to try and avoid her. And yet he is the one who came over, the one who took a seat and decided to settle in at her side.

Y/N can’t help but hope that this isn’t one sided after all.

“Things have been busy up at the castle,” she explains, not totally lying. With only one week left until students arrive for the start of the year, even Filch has been on edge - constantly mumbling to Mrs. Norris as he mops the Great Hall for the fourth time. “This is the first night I haven’t been so exhausted that I fell asleep right after dinner.”

George chuckles, taking a sip of the firewhiskey Rosmerta has just placed on the bar in front of him. “I know the feeling. We did a bit of a soft launch this week for the new store, thinking it would be less busy without all the students around so I would have a chance to work out all the hiccups and get my new staff trained, but it was crazier than anticipated. So now I’ve spent the last few evenings working overtime to get everything sorted for our actual grand opening next weekend.”

“Look at you,” Y/N teases, bumping their shoulders together in a playful gesture. “Never thought I’d see the day George Weasley was putting in overtime. You sure you’re the same George who used to sleep through transfiguration?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” he drawls, giving Y/N a wink that makes her heart flutter. “I’ll have you know that I retained more information by sleeping through McGonagall’s lessons instead of daydreaming during it.” He pauses then, a more serious look taking over his features. “But in all honesty, it’s so different when it’s something you’re passionate about - ya know?”

Y/N nods when George looks to her for confirmation, prompting him to continue.

“You’re right, in school I couldn’t be arsed to do more than what was required of me to not get kicked out. Though I guess it doesn’t really matter on account of the fact that Fred and I never finished anyway,” he pauses to chuckle and take another drag from his glass. “But doing everything for Wheezes, it doesn’t really feel like work. Like obviously at the end of the day I’m bloody exhausted and some days my whole body aches, but in the moment when I’m doing it, or when I stop to think about everything Fred and I have managed to achieve, I don’t really mind it at all.”

Hearing George speak so passionately about his work makes Y/N fall just a little bit more in love with him, and at the end of his speech she has to take a sip from her own glass to give her some time to think of something to say that’s not some kind of love confession.

“I’m really happy for you, George. You’re clearly passionate about what you do, and I’m glad that you found that for yourself.”

George’s cheeks flush, and he takes another sip to try and hide it. “What about you, Y/N? Have you found your passion?”

The way he mutters passion makes Y/N’s toes curl, and she prays to Godric that the shiver that runs down her spine isn’t noticeable.

“I thought I did,” she starts, shifting uncomfortably. She figured this conversation would come up eventually, but Y/N had been hoping she’d have more time to reconnect with George before airing out all of her dirty laundry. “The work I was doing in Australia was incredible. I could swear some of the creatures out there were straight out of a muggle fantasy novel, they were nothing like we’d ever learned about at Hogwarts.”

“So then why move back here?” George prompts when she hesitates to continue.

“I came home early from work one day, one of our dragon’s eggs had hatched, and my boss let everyone go home to celebrate. And when I walked in I couldn’t find my fiance anywhere, until I went into our bedroom to change and he was there. In bed. Railing my best friend.”

The noise George makes causes her to pause, and Y/N gives him a sad smile before continuing. “I loved Australia, but suddenly I just really needed to get the fuck out of there, you know? Like it’s a huge continent and yet the only way I felt like I could put enough space between myself and that situation was to leave. So when McGonagall reached out about the position at Hogwarts I said yes and didn’t look back.”

“Holy fuck,” George breathes after a moment of silence, draining the rest of the liquid in his cup. “I’m not gonna lie, Y/N, that was the last possible thing I thought you might say. But holy fuck.” He gives her a look, motioning for Rosmerta to refill their glasses.

“I’m sorry those dickwads did that to you, cheating is probably one of the worst things someone could do to you,” he continues once their cups are full again. “I’m sorry about Australia too, I can’t imagine having to leave Wheezes behind, it takes a special person to walk away from that.”

Y/N shrugs, desperately trying to trample down the butterflies in her stomach at George’s casual compliments. No matter how many times she tries to remind herself that George is just being a good friend, her brain can’t help but interpret his actions as something more.

“I mourned the loss of my relationship and Australia for a bit, but I don’t know. Something about being back home at Hogwarts just feels right.”Something about being here with you too, her brain adds unhelpfully. “I mean, if I had stayed in Australia I never would have ran into you that day,” she chides, playfully bumping their shoulders together.

The grin that spreads across George’s face is earth shattering, and he lets out a laugh as he raises his glass. “I’ll drink to that. Cheers, Y/N, to old friends and new beginnings!”

As their glasses clink together Y/N can only hope that her new job at Hogwarts isn’t the only new beginning they’re toasting.

“Well I must say your workplace looks much more fun than mine,” Y/N jokes as she comes up behind George, giving him a grin as he twirls around to see her. “And miraculously it seems much louder as well,” she continues following a roar of laughter.

“Y/N!” George greets excitedly, his smile stretching across his entire face. “I was hoping I might see you here today.”

She can feel her cheeks flush, and takes a deep breath in to try and quell the butterflies in her stomach. “Of course, there’s no place I’d rather be on my first day of freedom.”

Since the day students arrived at Hogwarts, Y/N has barely had time to breathe - let alone sneak down to Hogsmeade. Between planning her lessons, actually giving those lessons, grading assignments and fielding student questions and visits to her office, the only thing Y/N has managed to do once she retires to her quarters in the evening is pass out face first into bed. And while her and George have exchanged a few owls here and there since their last encounter, nothing beats actually seeing him in person.

So when McGonagall asked for staff volunteers to chaperone the first Hogsmeade trip of the term, Y/N’s hand was first in the air. She’d much rather spend her Saturday meandering through the little village than facilitating weekend detention. And if she happened to wander into the new shop along main street that’s run by a familiar ginger boy - then so be it.

“I’m honored,” George responds. He gestures wildly with his hand, taking a step closer to Y/N so he can lean in closer. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

George leads Y/N around the shop then, pointing out different products and explaining what they do. He keeps a hand pressed to the small of her back to keep her close, and the heat of his palm sends tingles radiating through her body. She’s mesmerized by the way he talks about his work, and Y/N is almost too focused on watching his eyes twinkle that she’s not even sure what he’s actually saying most of the time. At one point he even leans in to whisper in her ear so she can hear him over the noise of the store, and the feeling of his breath brushing her cheek sends a wave of shivers down her spine.

It seems like only a matter of minutes before Y/N and George end up back where they started, and much to her surprise and joy, George doesn’t make a move to pull away. His hand stays firmly pressed against Y/N’s back, and she takes the liberty to lean in even closer to the ginger man.

“So,” George murmurs, lips barely brushing against her hair. “What do you think of the place?”

“It’s great, George,” she answers honestly, still in awe of everything Fred and George have managed to build over the last few years. “You can tell how much you really care about what you do, and the creativity George, your mind is incredible.”

A light blush coats George’s cheeks as he waves away Y/N’s praise. “Oh stop, it’s not like I’m a professor or anything,” he teases, giving her a nudge. “I’m just a silly guy with a brother and a dream - that’s all.”

“George,” Y/N admonishes, nudging him right back. “You really are brilliant, and anyone who’s ever made you doubt that is a git. What you and Fred have done is amazing, you’ve taken your passion for something and turned it into this empire that does nothing but bring joy to people. That took a lot of hard work, dedication and skill. It’s incredible George - truly.”

Neither one says anything, just letting Y/N’s words hang heavy between them. The noise of the shop has faded into the background, electricity so heavy in the air Y/N can feel it tingle on the tip of her tongue. George starts to slowly lean down just as she starts to tip her head back, their bodies moving closer of their own accord.

Eyelids fluttering closed, Y/N can feel George’s breath ghost across her lips - the only thought in her head a quietly whispered “finally.”

Just as suddenly as they came together, Y/N and George separate as a worried voice calls out. “Professor! Professor, come quick! John and Thomas are fighting again!”

“Duty calls,” George sighs, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear. He lets his thumb drag down across her jaw, pausing momentarily to lightly grapes her chin. “See you soon?”

All she can manage in response is a nod. Taking one more moment to mourn what could have been, she rushes away from George, cursing those damn kids to hell.

“Excuse me professor - do you have a moment?”

Y/N’s hand pauses mid scribble, fingers practically snapping the quill she’s holding in half as she looks up to find none other than George Weasley standing in the doorway to her office. The smile that spreads across her mouth matches the one George is wearing and she pushes the papers she’d been grading, gesturing for him to come in.

“I think I may be able to spare a moment just for you,” she teases. Y/N stands up from behind her desk, watching George closely as she comes around to stand in front of him. “How in the hell did you get in here?”

George chuckles, stuffing his hands into his packers as he gives Y/N a shrug. “Turns out the secret passages Fred and I used to sneak out of the castle are just as helpful when trying to sneak in to it.”

Y/N tuts, shaking her head as if in shame. “George Weasley sneaking into Hogwarts. What would Fred have to say about that?”

“Fred snuck out plenty of times to go and see a cute girl, I reckon he’d understand me sneaking in to do the same.”

George’s boldness surprises Y/N, and she suddenly can’t make eye contact as her cheeks flush pink. A single finger comes to rest on the underside of her chin, slowly tilting Y/N’s face up so she and George are looking at each other once again. Her body feels electric as their eyes meet and a shiver runs down her spine.

“Hi,” George greets breathily after a moment of silence. The smile he gets in response causes a torrent of butterflies to erupt in his stomach and he can feel his heart pounding against his rib cage.

“Hi,” Y/N responds, voice barely above a whisper.

If you had told her all those years ago that someday she’d be standing here right now with George Weasley with his hand pressed against the side of her neck as his thumb skates across her jaw line she would have called you crazy. It seemed impossible that George would even give Y/N a second thought, let alone sneak back into the castle for just a moment with her. All of her dreams are coming true - and Y/N is too tempted to pinch herself to make sure it’s all real.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” George starts. The words move quickly out of his mouth, as if he’s trying to get them all out before he loses the confidence he has managed to scrounge up. “Like since that moment I saw you at the potion shop all those months ago. My one regret from our school days was that I never got the nerve to ask you out. And then when I never saw you in the shop or around Diagon Alley I figured I’d missed my chance. So when I saw you that day, standing in the middle of a shop I’d gone to hundreds of times over the years it felt like, I dunno it felt like.”

“A second chance,” Y/N finishes for him, voice lit with disbelief.

George grins, giving a small nod. “Yes, exactly like that. And suddenly you were every thought that occupied my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about running into you again, and the interactions we had in school, what might happen between us now that we’d be living ten minutes from each other. You were just on a loop in my thoughts.”

“It was probably stupid of me,” George continues, eyes never leaving Y/N’s. “We’d had one conversation after years of not speaking and we were never really friends at school but I couldn’t help but feel-.”

“Hope,” she finished again. “And it wasn’t stupid of you, George. Because I felt the exact same way. Seeing you that day made me truly believe that taking that job at Hogwarts was my opportunity for a second chance. A second chance at finding my dream job, of finding my true home, of finding true love. You made me feel that George and I-.”

Except whatever Y/N was about to say disappears from her mind, as George takes the opportunity to interrupt her this time. Without a second thought he finally closes the distance between them, their mouths slotting together so perfectly it was like they were made for each other. Her hands find his shoulders as his find her neck, angling them so he can kiss her deeper.

And there’s still so many things they need to talk about and figure out. But in this moment the only thing Y/N can think about is George, and this weird but beautiful thing they’re about to discover.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley fic #gw #harry potter fanfiction #golden #midnights: an anthology

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bridgetserdocksketches · 3 years

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We're suffering tonight, boys

Lena isn’t avoiding Kara, okay? She’s just very busy. That’s all. What with being the CEO of her own company, running her own experiments, and this new little passion project she has a lot going on. Her absence in Kara’s life these past few days has absolutely nothing to do with the black eye she’s currently sporting. Don’t be ridiculous.

Though, in hindsight, she really should’ve known she’d only be able to bail on lunch with Kara so many times before she came knocking.

Lena’s knee deep in some complex coding, trying to figure out what went wrong with this last test and fix it, when she gets the call. She barely even looks at her phone screen before answering. Not that she needs to.

“Kara, hi,” she says warmly.

“Are you avoiding me?”

Well, shit. “What? No. Of course not.”

“Are you sick? You know if you’re sick you can just tell me, right?”

“Yes, I-- no, Kara. I’m not sick.”

Lena can practically see the pinch in her brow. The confusion painted all over her face as she tries to puzzle out what’s going on with Lena.

“Okay, well you skipped lunch three times this week. Is everything alright?” Kara asks.

“Yes, everything’s perfectly fine. I’ve just been busy,” Lena assures her.

“So you’re not avoiding me?”

Lena breathes out a sigh that borders on a laugh. “No.”

“Alright, then can you come let me in?”

Before Lena can even ask where she is or what she means (as if she doesn’t already know), there’s a knocking at the door. Not the front door, of course. No, that would be far too mundane. It’s at the back door. The balcony door. The one that Lena always leaves unlocked, but Kara refuses to open without being welcomed in.

Her immediate reaction is to get up and open the door for Kara. But then Kara would see the black eye that much sooner. And if she can stall for even a few seconds longer, she will. So instead, she simply turns over her shoulder (careful to keep her left eye obscured) and calls out to Kara.

“It’s open.”

Still wearing the Supergirl suit and wielding a takeout bag, Kara strides into Lena’s apartment with a little spring in her step. Because as far as she’s concerned, Lena hasn’t been avoiding her. Lena isn’t hiding a few secrets from her and has nothing out of the ordinary going on. She’s just a little extra busy with that passion project she has outright refused to share any information about with anyone. There is absolutely nothing for her - or Lena, for that matter - to worry about.

“I figured you didn’t eat anything since you skipped lunch, again,” Kara drawls, the barest hint of disappointment in her words. “So I brought you dinner.” She walks around to get in front of Lena, finally, and plops the greasy bag of Big Belly Burger down on the counter. “Voila!”

There’s a five second gap after the delectable diabetic nightmare is presented before Lena. Five charged seconds where Lena simply waits for Kara to finally notice. At first, she’s a little too proud of herself. A grin so broad and brilliant and downright beautiful it could be considered blinding spread across her face. But then those blue eyes of hers track a little to the left and they go wide. Her mouth falls open. Her brow pinches. And several emotions flicker over her visage all at once.

Her lips work around a few words, spluttering on air briefly, before she finally settles on “Lena!”

And Lena can’t help herself. “Kara?”

Kara blinks. “What-- When-- Who did this to you?”

Lena exhales deeply and leans back in her chair. “No one did this to me.”

Kara’s around on Lena’s side of the counter in the space of a heartbeat. Her hands cradling Lena’s face like it’ll break under the slightest amount of pressure as she examines her.

“What happened?” She demands.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Lena insists.

It’s almost believable, too. But then Kara’s thumb chances a little too close to her left eye. With a hiss of pain, Lena flinches from her hand. Kara’s brow furrows further and her frown deepens.

“Lena--”

“I’m fine, Kara. Really,” Lena says. She takes both of Kara’s hands in her own and pulls them down from her face. “It was just an experiment gone wrong.”

“What sort of experiment gives people black eyes?”

Lena breathes out an indignant little huff of air. “It’ll be easier to just show you.”

Kara’s gaze narrows. “Alright.”

Kara is right on Lena’s heels as they walk to the spare room. The room Lena has taken to calling the nursery, where Baymax is lying in wait. At this stage in his development, he’s pretty infantile at best. He knows a few key phrases and can identify a person as long as they’re standing in front of him. But he can’t hold a conversation and his object permanence is severely lacking. So, yeah. Lena’s gonna call his room a nursery.

Baymax is in his charging pod where she’d left him a few days ago (when their most recent test run failed spectacularly, leaving Lena with a shiner). There isn’t anything else in the room, though. Lena had removed a lot of it to make space for his assembly. Once that was done, she decided to keep the room empty after he broke her last laptop after a particularly nasty glitch. So the only thing in here, as far as Kara’s concerned, is some weird red luggage tucked against the back wall.

“What am I looking at?” Kara asks, the worry from before replaced with confusion and curiosity.

“Hopefully something that’ll help a lot of people,” Lena says.

It’s cryptic, she’ll admit. But it’s hard to explain exactly what Baymax is at this point. Because he’s not simply a robot anymore. He’s taken on so much more personality and life in just the few weeks since his first test run. He’s learning. Growing. Like a person.

So instead of explaining, Lena crosses the length of the room, kneels down in front of the charging pod, and activates the robot.

Later, Kara would say that Lena leapt away from the charging station as it booted up. Like she’d gotten zapped or something. Lena, however, would vehemently insist that she simply hurried away in case something went wrong. Either way, she now stands alongside Kara, watching with bated breath as Baymax comes back to life.

She counts the seconds it takes him to inflate. 23. They need to get that down. He needs to be faster. If someone is really hurt, he has to be able to help. It takes another 4 seconds for Baymax to fully boot up. His eyes blink to signify that he’s fully functional and ready to assist. A total of 27 seconds. They can do better.

Not that Kara notices. She’s staring open mouthed and wide eyed as Baymax awkwardly stumbles out of his charging pod. His steps are heavy, almost as if he thinks the floor is further down (just another thing to iron out). He stops moving about two feet away from them both. Lifts his hand limply into the air (the fingers not fully inflated or opposable yet).

“Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.”

And then he freezes. Standing right there. Unmoving and, to be frank, a little terrifying.

“Wow,” Kara breathes.

“Yeah,” Lena agrees. “He’s still got a lot of bugs to work out. Hence the black eye.” She gestures at her left eye vaguely. “But when he’s finished, he’s going to help a lot of people.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Kara asks.

Lena turns to her now. Her brow arched and a playful little smirk on her lips. “What? Is being Supergirl not enough for you?”

“Don't get me wrong. I love being Supergirl, but this.” She points at Baymax’s frozen form. “This will be able to do something I never could.”

Lena’s smirk falls into something softer. Something kinder. Kara finally looks at her now.

“Now, I’m not great with coding and all that… stuff. But I can help you test him out. No matter how hard he tries, he’s not going to be able to give me a black eye.”

Well, when she puts it like that…

“Do I… do I start now?” Kara asks hesitantly. She fidgets uncomfortably with the sign Lena handed her, then adjusts her glasses.

Lena smiles at her from behind her computer. “You can start whenever you like. But I do want to be done by dinner, darling.”

“Right.” Kara nods.

She looks away from Lena, her eyes landing on Baymax. And then she grins. That unfairly perfect grin. The one that is so infectious it’s a wonder the CDC aren’t investigating it yet.

“This is Kara Danvers,” She says, carefully enunciating each word. “And this is the first test of mine and Lena Luthor’s Baymax Project.”

She reaches forward, just like Lena showed her, and turns Baymax on. She grins again, up at the robot, and waits. Watches as he blinks, tilts his head down, and lifts his hand.

“Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.”

“Hello, Baymax!” She answers cheerily. “Would you please scan me?”

“Beginning scan now,” Baymax announces.

But that’s not what happens. No, it would be too simple if that’s what happens next. Instead, the entire system glitches. And both his arms start vibrating rapidly.

Kara’s face pales. “Uh, Lena,” she calls, not daring to look away from another rogue robot. “Is he supposed to be doing that?”

“No,” Lena says quickly. She looks between the two screens in front of her, trying to search for the error in his code to stop this from happening next time. “You gotta shut him down, Kara.”

“Uh-oh!” Kara exclaims.

Lena’s head snaps up. “Uh-oh?”

“Sorry about your laptop,” Kara says, as if it’s her fault Baymax broke yet another computer. Lena really needs to stick to her no-computers-in-the-nursery rule.

“It’s alright.” Lena waves her off, dutifully working away at the code from her tablet. “I’ll just get another one.”

“Next time I’ll stand between the two of you. That way I can better stop his renegade flying arms.”

Lena's gaze snaps to where Kara sits, finishing off the last of their fries (Lena’s fries, really. But they always share). “Next time? You still want to help after that disaster?”

“Of course,” Kara says earnestly. Then her face screws up. “But do you think we could make him look a little friendlier? A bit rounder? You know. Friend-shaped?”

Lena snickers. “Friend-shaped?”

“Yeah. Friend-shaped.”

Lena laughs lightly, and start typing again. “I think I can make that work.”

Wow. That got away from me

So this is how Kara ends up being the one to test Baymax. It's also part of what Baymax shows to Lena after telling her "Kara is here."

This scene (as in the video, not the ficlet) would serve as an emotional low point, if you couldn't tell. And it would be the moment where Lena decides she's going to let the Superfriends use Baymax to save Kara (instead of his actual purpose which is, you know, healthcare)

#still not sure if i'm going to write a whole fic for this #but there sure will be more stuff like this #probably #i dunno #this is both invigorating and depressing so i guess we'll see #supergirl #supercorp #lena #kara #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara zor el #baymax #bh6 #big hero 6 #big hero 6 au #bh6 au #ficlet #my art

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homoose · 4 years

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Weird is Good

Summary: A story about two people tryna make it through the age of COVID-19 in a country where people are fucking dumb lmao. My hc is that Spencer would be like wtf at all these science-denying anti-maskers. Also, two teachers just tryna make it through quarantine and remote teaching in a one bedroom apartment (this is taking place during a mandatory leave/lecture cycle).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: no warnings. reader is both a kindergarten teacher and a bruh girl with a pirate’s mouth. lots of Spencer x factz.

Word count: 3.1k

———

“We’re home for the next two weeks. ”

Spencer looked up from his desk to see Y/N kicking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and walking directly to the sink. “Starting when?”

“We get to go in on Monday to say goodbye to the kids and get any materials we might need. Then we’re home for two weeks. They’re calling it an early, extended spring break.” Y/N began her hand washing routine. As a kindergarten teacher, she’d always been a strict hand-washer. In the time of COVID, she had only become more zealous. She looked at Spencer. “Have you heard anything?”

“Since we’re so close to the end of the semester, the department head thinks they’ll try to finish out the year as normal.” He set down his pen. “I honestly don’t know. It will all depend on whether people follow the CDC guidelines. The spread of any virus is deducible mathematically, and SARS-COV2 is no different. Based on the outbreak in Italy prior to their lockdown, we can accurately describe its reproductive number, or Rt, to between 2.43 – 3.10.”

Y/N shut off the water and dried her hands on a paper towel. “In layman's terms, Dr. Reid.”

“The Rt tells how many people are infected by the contagious host,” he explained. “In the case of this strain, each infected person is infecting between two and three others. For comparison, the standard seasonal flu has an average Rt between 1.4 and 1.7.”

“So in other words, fucking yikes,” Y/N groaned. She moved to perch on the edge of Spencer’s desk.

“Indeed,” Spencer agreed. “We know how fast the flu can travel through an office or a classroom, so imagine if it was two times as transmissible. But it's also really important to understand that this number changes depending on the mitigations in place. Even prior to full lockdown, mask wearing and social distancing was somewhat common in Italy, so it’s likely the uncontrolled Rt is higher.”

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N scrubbed a hand over her face. “We’ll probably never go back.”

Spencer rubbed his hand up from her ankle to the inside of her knee. “The good news is there’s nothing special about this virus compared to others in terms of how it spreads— it’s just aerosols. So if everyone wears their mask, we’ll be able to keep the spread low.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It’s safe to say that everyone did not wear their fucking masks,” Y/N snapped. She watched from the couch as Mayor Bowser delivered the news that DC Public Schools would remain closed for the remainder of the year. “This is crazy. I mean, I knew it was coming because people in this country are absolute buffoons.” She looked at Spencer, fingers pressed to her temple. “But holy shit, are we ever going to be able to go outside again?”

“With schools and universities closed, people working remotely, and lockdown orders in place, the Rt in the US could stay low. But masks have to be worn at all times, and social distancing has to be strictly followed.” Spencer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I just— I can’t believe people are refusing to wear masks. The empirical, peer-reviewed data clearly shows—”

“This is ‘Murica, boy.” Y/N mocked. “Ain’t no tyrannical government gonna tell me what to do!” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, your choice to abstain from social media is paying dividends to your sanity right now.”

Spencer looked truly dumbfounded, setting his newspaper down in his lap. “But that’s just it. It’s not just in social media circles.” He gestured to the article in front of him. “This economist just argued for ‘reopening’ the economy using the justification of herd immunity. Herd immunity can be a plausible option for less lethal diseases. But this virus is not like varicella—the chickenpox,” he clarified at Y/N’s raised eyebrow. He waved his hands around in exasperation. “Putting aside the fact that one facet of herd immunity is vaccinating as many people as possible, its success completely hinges on the Rt of a disease. If you model a population based on an Rt of 2.5, herd immunity wouldn’t be achieved until approximately sixty percent of the population has been infected. Consider that the US population is currently 328 million, and sixty percent of that is 196.8 million. The current mortality rate for SARS-COV2 is 3.06 percent. 196,800,000 multiplied by 0.0306 is 6,022,080. Over six million people would die. It's simple mathematics.”

Y/N let out an exasperated breath. “It used to be that simple math and facts were enough. Now you’ve got basement scientists who think they know better than actual, literal scientists who’ve spent their entire lives studying these things.” She ran a hand over her face and gestured at the news conference still playing. “How long do you think it’ll be before we’re both trying to teach from this tiny ass living room?”

⧭⧭⧭

“Goooooooood morning, kindergarten! It’s Friday, and no Friday is a bad Friday!” Spencer smiled. As he poured his first cup of coffee, he hummed along with Y/N and 23 six-year-olds as they sang their morning song. Observing fourteen days of remote kindergarten from across the living room had given Spencer a new appreciation for elementary school teachers, particularly Y/N. She sang, danced, conducted science experiments, held puppet shows, read stories, led art projects, and fielded questions for four hours a day— three hours less than when they were in the school building. He was exhausted by proxy.

But he was also grateful for the opportunity to watch Y/N in her element. Even though they were at home, she still got dressed every day in bright, patterned sweaters and dresses— her Ms. Frizzle attire, she’d told him once. She was able to channel her personality into a kid-friendly version that her students clearly adored, never afraid to be silly or strange to get their attention and keep them engaged during the long days. He worked from home whenever possible, strangely happy to have the background noise of kindergarten over his quiet university office.

...

“Okay, but where do I put the biiiiiiiiiiiig number?” Y/N made a wide gesture with her arms. “Ariah, where should I put it? In the big box, yes! But oh no, my small number needs a friend. My three is soooooo lonely!” Y/N drew her mouth into a pout. “DJ, how can I help my three not be so sad? You’re absolutely right, let’s put that two right next to him in our number bond.”

…

“I’ve been waitin’ for a girl to mute,” Y/N sang into the gold karaoke mic. “I said, muuuuuuuuuute, I’m blinded by loud sounds. No, I can’t hear the friend who’s tryin’ to talk.”

…

“Oh boy. Kev, honey, we can— we can see you. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. We can see all of you. I can’t turn your camera off, buddy. You gotta— there we go.”

…

“Mute please, I need— I need everybody to mute, please. Oh my goodness where is that music coming from?” Y/N frantically searched for her index card with the picture of the mute icon, as the sounds of a highly inappropriate song blared through the computer speaker. “I know it’s so loud, guys. Why is my mute power gone?! This is why we need to make sure we keep our mute button on, kindergarten.”

…

“No sweetie, it’s not time to log off yet. I’m sorry, I know it’s such a long day. We have about an hour left. Do you guys wanna do a countdown? It’s the fin-al count-down! Do-do doo dooooo. Do-do-d-do-dooo…”

…

“Annnnnd, I should see all my friends on mute. William, hang on just a second. All my friends need to look at my picture, it’s an oval with a line through it… Okay, William, what did you bring to show us?” Y/N leaned toward the computer screen. “Grandma Kathy? O-oh, she’s— she’s in the—“ Y/N’s eyes widened. “Is that— is that an urn? Oh wow. Um, well, wow. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing that with us, William. Grandma Kathy, may she rest in peace.”

⧭⧭⧭

A week into Y/N teaching kindergarten from their living room, the university had announced its transition to online coursework for the remainder of the academic year. Spencer had to host his first zoom lecture, and he was absolutely dreading it.

“Spence, it’s going to be fine. It’s not like you’ve never been on a video conference,” Y/N assured him. She sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to let her in to his practice zoom.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t running those meetings. I just showed up.” He squinted at the computer screen. “Are you in?”

Y/N barely resisted the urge to make a joke, knowing that Spencer probably wouldn’t appreciate the innuendo. “No, you have to admit me.”

“What do you mean? How do I do that?”

“There should be a box with a button that says admit.”

Spencer gestured at the computer. “Well there’s a bunch of boxes— which one should I be looking at?”

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch. “IQ of 187 and can’t find the box.”

Spencer dragged a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t find this so difficult. I’m sorry you have to waste your time on this.”

“Hey, it was a joke.” Y/N grabbed his hand from where he was frustratedly pulling on his frazzled curls. “I’m sorry. That was mean and you’re already stressed enough.” She used her free hand to smooth his hair back into place. She scrunched her nose. “I love you and your limited technology skills. And honestly it’s kind of nice to have one thing I can actually teach you about.” She squeezed his hand, leaning over him to peer at his computer screen. “All right, let’s find that elusive admit button.”

When the day of his lecture rolled around, Spencer thanked all the atoms in the observable universe that Y/N had a break during his class. Within the first ten minutes, he’d managed to accidentally kick himself out of his own meeting and then somehow lose track of the screenshare button.

“No one can see me and I don’t know what happened to the screenshare option. It was there and now it’s just… gone,” he told Y/N.

She leaned over his desk, eyes tracking over the screen and mouse clicking around the desktop. “How in the world did you manage to block your camera?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even touch it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how it’s even possible to be this bad at this.”

Y/N bumped his knee with her own, pulling up his camera settings and preferences. “Relax. You can’t be good at everything. It’s a refreshing reminder that you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us.” With a few rapid clicks, Y/N unblocked his camera and located the screenshare bar. “There. Crisis averted. I’m just going to share your whole screen in case you want to toggle between application windows. So just be aware that they’ll be able to see everything. And then you just click here when you’re ready to stop sharing.”

When Y/N turned her head toward him to check that he understood, Spencer grabbed the side of her face and caught her lips in a kiss. Y/N smiled against his mouth, heart speeding up as he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

“Um, Dr. Reid? Your um— your camera’s working now.”

Spencer nearly fell out of his chair, his cheeks about the color of the Leave Meeting icon. Y/N dropped her head, debating whether she wanted to laugh or let the earth open up and swallow her whole. She ultimately decided to compose herself, stepping back and giving a little wave to the sea of tiny, grinning zoom faces before slinking out of frame, miming sorry to one very mortified professor.

⧭⧭⧭

“Would you want to be our mystery reader next week?” Y/N asked, bookmarking the page of her novel and reclining back in bed. “You just have to pick a story to read. Oh, and think of four clues about your identity to give the kiddos.”

Spencer raised his eyebrow, continuing to read. “Any story?”

Y/N laughed. “Well they’re six, so maybe hold off on the Chaucer and Bradbury for now. A picture book would be preferable.”

“Did you know that the first picture book, Orbis Sensualium Pictus, or Visible World in Pictures, was published in 1658?” He looked up from his own book. “Czech educator John Amos Comenius wanted to create a book that would be accessible to children of all levels of ability. The educational theories he explored are actually still in practice in the field of early childhood education.” He turned toward her from his spot under the covers. “For example, when you have your students make a hissing sound and slither their arms when they produce the sound represented by the letter s? Comenius included an alphabet chart with various animal and human sounds representing each letter. He wanted to demonstrate that the incorporation of multiple senses could help increase learning.”

“I guess you don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Y/N mused. “300 years later, and we’re still using the same methods.”

“362, actually,” Spencer corrected.

She gave him a look. “Maybe we can save the Comenius for another time.”

“The genre of children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and philosophical story telling of all time.” Spencer returned his attention to his reading.

“...So is that a yes?”

Spencer smiled. “I’ve got a book in mind.”

“And clues,” Y/N reminded him, snuggling down under the covers and reopening her book. “We need some fun clues, mystery reader.”

…

“Kindergarten, we have a very special mystery reader this week. Oh man, are you ready for the first clue? The mystery reader loves jell-o! Raise your little hand if you love jell-o, too. Okay, kindergarten, I see you! Lots of jell-o lovers in the house.”

…

“Okay, clue number two! Our mystery reader works as a community helper— remember we learned about all different kinds of community helpers; firefighters, nurses, police officers. But if the mystery reader could be anything, they’d want to be a cowboy! How cool is that?”

...

“Clue number three for our mystery reader!” Y/N sucked in a gasp. “You guys. The mystery reader can do magic. Oh my goodness, I am so excited for Friday,” she sing-songed. “Will they show us a trick? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

…

“Okay, my friends, the last clue. The mystery reader loves reading. They read every day, and they’ve been reading since 1983! Yes, that was a very long time ago.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Okay, any last guesses about who our mystery reader might be?” Y/N questioned.

“I think it’s your dad,” a little voice called out.

Spencer made a choking noise from where he sat, slightly off camera. Y/N laughed. “The mystery reader is decidedly not my dad, Keyshon. Remember I showed you guys the picture of him— my dad’s a farmer, so he’s kind of already a cowboy.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, without further ado, drumroll please... Our mystery reader is…” Y/N pushed her desk chair out of frame to allow Spencer to roll in, holding her hands out. “Spencer!”

He gave a little wave, smoothing his hair, suddenly painfully self-aware and nervous about the opinions of two dozen six-year-olds. “Hi guys.”

“You’re the boy on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone.”

“Your hair is so fluffy!”

“Do you have a cowboy hat?”

“I like your sweater.”

“Can you really do magic?”

“What’s your favorite jell-o?”

“Whoa, okay, let’s remember our mute button,” Y/N, holding up her index card. “I promise you’ll get to ask Spencer all your questions after he reads the story.”

Spencer smiled at the excited faces beaming through the screen. “Yes, I’m on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone; I don’t own a cowboy hat, yet; yes, I really can do magic; and the red jell-o is my favorite.”

Y/N watched with interest as Spencer pulled out his book. He’d been secretive about his choice, so she was as curious as her students.

“This is one of my favorite stories. It’s written by Munro Leaf, and illustrated by Robert Lawson. It’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer held the cover up to the camera. “Ferdinand is the bull here on the cover. This story was written in 1935, which was a long time ago! Okay are you ready?” Spencer looked out on a sea of thumbs up, turning the page to the beginning of the story. “Once upon a time in Spain, there was a bull, and his name was Ferdinand.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Spencer read each page, recounting the story of the peaceful bull. He was an excellent storyteller, changing the inflection and expression of his voice to match each sentence. He held each page up for just the right amount of time, panning it so her students could see each detail of the black and white pictures. He added his own wonderings and exclamations here and there, and her students were decidedly enthralled. Her heart ached at how comfortable he was, how natural this was for him. She rested her chin in her hand, trying to keep her mind in the present— ignoring the persistent little mental image of Spencer as a dad.

“So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know, he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy… And that’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer closed the book with a soft smile. “I love this story. Ferdinand is a very special bull. What do you think makes him so special?”

“Ferdinand didn’t fight,” a little voice piped up.

“Yes!” Spencer agreed. “He practiced pacifism in the face of the persistent, ingrained militarism of his country’s culture.”

Y/N placed a hand on Spencer’s knee and gave a quick squeeze. “Right, Ferdinand chose not to fight, even though everybody else he knew wanted to.” Y/N winked at him before turning back to the screen full of kids. “All his friends thought he was kind of weird, but he just really wanted to hang out in the shade and smell the flowers, huh? Sounds pretty good to me.”

“He wasn’t bothered that the other bulls thought he was strange for wanting to be peaceful,” Spencer added. “Sometimes being different can be a good thing. The Story of Ferdinand reminds me that it’s okay to be yourself, even if other people think you’re weird.” His eyes met Y/N’s. “Because there will always be people who love and appreciate you for who you are.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminals minds self insert #dr spencer reid #professor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #homoose writes

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

nice guys finish last | m

synopsis. you thought you were over yoongi’s dick move of ending your engagement through his parents - not even a text when he disappeared out of your life. that’s why you agreed to the newly arranged marriage with his brother, namjoon, but on the brink of your wedding day, it becomes apparent that you haven’t really let go of the past as you tear up in front of your soon-to-be husband at the back room of the church.

◟alternatively, “we entered into this marriage for a mutual reason. not dreading to come home is more than i can ask for. so it’s okay if you want to see yoongi just... keep out of the spotlight like many in our shoes who found love outside of it have.”

pairings. husband!ceo!namjoon x doctor!reader x ex-fiance!producer!yoongi

genre. arraged marriage au. angst. fluff. smut.

word. 16.2k

content: age gap factor (namjoon is 5 years older than oc and yoongi is 7 years older than oc). pining. teasing. hoseok cockblocking.

warning(s): heavy adult content. mentions of cheating. hospital scenes.

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. story time.

“i don’t want to marry you at all. the person i love is someone else.” there are tears brimming in your eyes but if there’s anything the years of etiquette class namjoon’s parents forced on him taught him - he’d say he turned out okay - it’s to not mention to the crying lady that she’s crying. but he can’t help stare a little longer. admire a little too much.

the rays flooding through the window paired with the prettiest ivory dress he’s seen you in gives you an iridescent halo. you look like an angel descended from the top most heavens.

but not for him.

“i know,” he lets out a drawn out sigh, hand on his neck. he’s always been the awkward one between the two. if it was him - if it was his brother, he would say it without any ounce of self-reproach. but then again what does namjoon have to be sorry for? for being born? for being the second choice son to step into his brother’s shoes when the aforementioned man threatened to disown the family name if their parents refused to let him marry a girl of his choice who, according to the workers’ gossip, ‘he suddenly woke up one day and decided he was in love with’?

“it’s yoongi, isn’t it? you love yoongi.”

your eyes are prettier when you’re looking directly at him. the tears give them a kind of glow that makes him want to gather you into his arms and keep you there. the flushed cheeks affirms - despite saying it with full confidence, it was just - his hunch.

oh.

the ceremony proceeds rather smoothly. you’re still sniffling when your father passes your hand to him at the end of the aisle. the older man himself looks distraught. either he knows you’re against this marriage and hates himself for failing to put his daughter’s happiness before the guaranteed wealth that comes from marrying you off to the kim family or you’d gotten into a fight with him in a last ditch attempt to convince him to call off the marriage.

either way, you’re here now. the pastor’s words are muddled in your ears but it’s enough to take note of the end tone and the steely silence that ensues which could only mean it’s your turn to say those words.

“i do.” they’re the easiest to get over with.

after endless fights with your parents, going on two hunger strikes and running away to paris for a year - you know you’re in the endgame. and you’ve painstakingly and sorely lost.

he lifts the veil off your face, taking his time with setting it over your head. it’s no secret that kim namjoon is handsome. the kind of thick, textured-fabric-suit-wearing and sleek-back hair kind of handsome. yoongi was more of the hoodie-and-jeans and messy-in-need-of-a-trim hair kind of handsome. but he isn’t yoongi.

you screw your eyes shut, refusing to let the memories of your own wedding vows embed in your head. those beautiful pink full lips are as soft as they look. but they’re not kissing you on your pressed-into-a-straight-line lips. betrayed by your curiosity, your eyes flutter open only to gaze upon the smooth cream skin that wraps around his neck and just the gentle protrusion of his adam’s apple as he pulls way.

your newly-wed husband has just kissed you on the forehead.

adjusting to married life is as easy as slipping on your favorite shoes. it’s perfect. almost unsettling even. the beach house off the coast of the private island namjoon’s family owns is breathtaking. the sound of waves crashing against the shores is your constant companion as you work on your research. it’s a project you had to put aside when you graduated. the first year at the hospital is the busiest, or so your senior colleagues say.

namjoon strides into the kitchen sometime past noon, all fresh and showered with a fitting long sleeved shirt and trousers. it’s the most dressed down you’ve ever seen and yet for some people you know, it’s the fanciest they can get. sometimes you wonder if the standards have hit the ground or if namjoon’s so well-adapted into the routine of dressing up presentable enough to go to his office on an off day in case something calls for it.

“good morning.” you greet first, traces of the embarrassing tear-jerking wedding ceremony still lingers in the back of your mind - you’d tried to explain yourself on the way here in the boat but namjoon had easily blew your worries away with a light chuckle and a “i’d do the same too if i loved someone and had to marry another person.”

it’s not unusual for you to already be perched on the elegant gold sofa adjacent to the sliding doors that has the best view of the sea. the master bedroom is the other part of the beach house with spectacular view - you’d been entranced when you stepped into the room on your first day. but namjoon suggested you stay in the guest room, knowing there’s no way you would share a bed with him -

“or you can take this room and i take the guest room,” he added a moment later, probably because he saw you staring out the balcony, bewitched by the sea. that had broke you from your trance and you’d shook your head so much in protest, you were surprised it didn’t fall right off your neck. “n-no! i mean - i’ll take the guestroom.”

his parents had been nice enough to lend their private beach house for you honeymoon. you weren’t going to step over their son and conquer the master bedroom - even if technically, you’re now part of the family.

“morning.” he fixes you with that half-smile. the kind of smile you give to someone you’re in an complacent relationship with but nothing more.

at least you’ve got that going for you. and that’s a rarity coming from the gossips you’ve heard here and there about marriages found on the ground of convenience.

his eyes swipe over the ipad in your shorts-donned lap from his spot, leaned against the counter in the kitchen, pitch black mug of coffee with wafts of smoke coming out of it, “how’s your research going?”

“well,” you set the ipad down on the glass surface of the coffee table, it’s bare of anything besides your phone that’s been lighting up from the notifications. one from your mother, another from the group of friends you found in college, and the rest is from your strictly-women group from the hospital, “the world wide web is resourceful and all but it can’t beat the information in actual books - papers, you know?”

“ah, the traditional way of researching.” he chuckles, dimples digging into his cheek, enhancing his handsome features. you never knew he had dimples. not that you knew much about him - you’d only properly talked on the day of your wedding, in the back room and the first thing you said was -

you suppress the memories further down your thoughts. it works for the most part, but you can’t help the flush that spreads across your face. so the laugh you let out is a little strained and if he notices, he doesn’t show - like he pretends not to notice a plenty many things.

but alas, he knew your secret crush - was it still just a crush you had for yoongi? you’re not sure.

“what can i say? i’m raised traditional.”

that was two weeks ago. now, you’re back to working your ass off at the hospital, being grilled to the bones by your supervisor, getting reprimanded over being one minute late and then being told to run to the cafe five minutes from the hospital to buy your supervisors their favorite strawberry smoothie topped with sprinkles.

“kim seokjin, that dickwad.” jennie huffs, her cat-like eyes making it appear as though she’s plotting the man’s death. “he’s working you to the bones as soon as you get back.”

“he probably thinks i’m not that serious about my residency since my family has enough fortune to sustain me for my whole lifetime,” you can only laugh at that, her anger has sucked all the tiredness and annoyance you have for your supervisor right out of you. it feels refreshing, “all the more reason to prove him wrong.”

“enough about that asshole,” jisoo waves a dismissive hand off and you know what’s coming is far more terrifying: she blinks, eyes filled with stars and cherry red lips curling into the kind of smile that can only mean one thing, “how was it? the second son of kimcorp. were there rose petals on bed? candles lit around the house? a romantic, sizzling-”

“sorry, jisoo, i gotta go get ready for the dinner. i’ll buy you lunch tomorrow, okay?” you clasp your hands together apologetically when your phone buzzes with the reminder you set a week prior: 8am annual kimcorp dinner.

you breathe a sigh of relief as you shake off your white coat, draping it over your recliner before escaping to the washroom with a bag of makeup and the dust-proof cover bag of the outfit you’re wearing for tonight. by the time you’re touching up on your nude lipstick, your phone buzzes again but this time, the screen lights up with namjoon’s name on it.

“hey,” his voice is deeper through the phone - it’s the first time he calls you. there was never any reason for you to call each other but you suppose, he’s calling to make sure you’re not forgetting the dinner -

“i’m in front of the hospital.”

or maybe not.

“wh-what do you mean?” your cheeks heat up from the thought of namjoon waiting for you in his audi. the image, too domestic for your liking.

“well, you can’t drive so i thought i’d pick you up.” he says it like its the simplest equation to understand.

“namjoon,” the name feels foreign on your tongue regardless of how many times you taste it when you need to tell him something - to set the line straight, “i didn’t know you were gonna pick me up so i already told kyungsoo to pick me up. he’s probably already here. sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.”

“i know,” he says simply.

“e-excuse me?” while you’re beyond confused.

“i told your parents i’d pick you up so kyungsoo’s driving them to the dinner.”

“oh.”

wait. what?!

namjoon is confident in his driving skills - as he is with everything he does. he’s almost perfect. the line of his shoulders seem at ease as he stirs the wheel with one hand and the other rests on the gear, inches away from your scarlet clad thighs.

“why isn’t hoseok driving you?” the aforementioned man sticks to him like glue. everywhere namjoon goes, he goes. it’s a given since he’s the head secretary but anyone who’s seen them interact could tell there’s more than boss-employee relationship between them. they seem like close friends which is unlikely be given namjoon’s too-serious nature and hoseok’s joke-cracking every five minutes - but not impossible.

his face remains the same as he keeps his eyes on the road, humming briefly, “he had a thing.”

“can secretaries have a thing and leave their boss to drive for himself like that?” that doesn’t sound right. you may not be actively involved in fecam industries’ affairs but mr. jung, your dad’s secretary, spends more time with your dad than the two men do with their wives - that’s how demanding the business world is. but could hoseok get a free pass because of his and namjoon’s friendship?

namjoon chuckles, dimples and all and you can’t help but blush at the side profile. if anything, he has a sharp jawline and beautiful neck-

you push the thought as soon as it comes. neck? who finds necks beautiful?

“he had a date but it’s not until a couple hours,” the tone he uses is light and playful but underlined with a sort of bashfulness that you don’t know kim namjoon was capable of, “i told him to go home because i wanted to pick you up myself.”

your cheeks heat up all over again as you stare at him a little too long. so much so, the hand that’s been comfortably perched on the gear goes to the back of his neck in an unsure manner.

“i just needed to talk to you about something.” he explains, just as awkward as he was in the back room at the church.

“okay.” eyes turned to the road too, you can see namjoon breathing a sigh of relief from your periphery. that couldn’t have been because of you could it? was he nervous because you were watching him? “what did you want to talk about?”

he clears his throat, that natural ease in his tone returning, “if it gets uncomfortable - if anyone asks, we met because you were yoongi’s fiancee and we couldn’t help but fall in love. but you wanted to intern at a hospital in paris so that’s why we’ve only gotten married now.”

you take awhile to digest the information until something in your stomach doesn’t sit right with you, “you want me to... lie?”

his bottom lip gets trapped between his teeth just for the briefest moment as he thinks about it. he probably didn’t expect you to disagree but he admits his mistake faster than half the people you know your whole life would, “i’m sorry, i didn’t think it would weight on your conscience. i was thought it’d be hard on you if some ass- someone’s going to start a rumor about you but i didn’t ask how you’d feel about it.”

“i see.” you simply nod. it’s true that you’re the pass-up fiancee who got between two people who fell in love in college but the other is the son of a renown family and engaged while the other is an arts major from a normal working family. unable to let bygones be bygones, you decide to marry the younger brother to your fiance - or so the story goes. “but they already know i was yoongi’s fiancee and i ended up marrying you. i don’t need - no, i don’t want to explain myself to anyone.”

despite that big talk, your can feel the prickle of tears in your eyes. namjoon steals a glance at you and he never mentions the glassiness of your gaze - if anything, he smiles. it’s different than the usual smiles. this one, though wordless, says he’s following your flow. do what you like and if and when things get though, you can count on me.

dinner has yet started when you arrived. guests are still arriving and waiters and waitresses are carrying trays of champagne glasses around. in a distance, your friends wave at you to come over. you smile, hand falling away from namjoon’s since you needed to at least do that in front of the paparazzo that were waiting outside. eager, hungry for gossip about the wedding that shook south korea’s business world.

“girl, you are glowing.” yerin literally screams. it’s a secret to no one that she’s hinting on your recent marriage and private island getaway. but nothing happened.

“how are you girls? it’s been so long.” you side hug eunha, letting her arms wrap around your waist as you stand huddled together.

you haven’t seen them since you got back from paris. the wedding was attended by thousands of people - all of whom, your and namjoon’s family’s associates. but you had your hands full shaking hands and smiling next to your husband because these people matter to namjoon. or at least he has an interest over them. business deals. merges. trades. kimcorps carries out every kinds of business they can get their hands on. namjoon passingly mentioned about the work-in-progress for a private hospital.

you dread the likelihood of having to leave the hospital you’re working in right now for family-run one but you know it’s quite impossible to not get involved when you, yourself is a doctor.

“we weren’t the ones who went under the radar and came back and got married to the second son of kimcorp.” yuju huffs sulkily, cheeks pinked from the champagne she’s had but she isn’t that far gone when she clamps her mouth shut a second later, eyebrows furrowing in guilt.

sowon nudges her side anyway, mouthing her something as your gaze falls on the light caught in your black gucci heels.

“i-i’m sorry, ___ that didn’t come out right.” comes a heartbeat later, she sounds just as sorry as her words as you offer her a small smile.

“it’s okay, it’s the truth anyway.”

“stop that,” eunha suddenly gripes, her gaze boring into you and rips apart the barrier you’ve tried so hard to maintain, “we’ve been friends since elementary school, we know how whipped you are for that asshole so-” she sniffles while you’re left wondering if it’s her who had an ex-fiance break if off and had his parents relay the news on a bi-weekly dinner.

“she’s trying to say you can cry or get mad or curse that dipshit around us. don’t hold back.” sowon finishes, lips twitching as she enjoys watching the vulnerable state of the otherwise fiercest one among you.

something in your chest feels light. like a weight being lifted off your shoulders as you study the girl’s face one by one. sowon’s and yerin’s smirk, yuju’s nodding and eunha’s teary eyes.

“yoongi, he’s-” you take a deep breath and it feels almost dramatic as the second stretches on while you build up the hurt, the anxiousness, the disbelief that the man put you through, “-a fucking idiot.”

“you bet he is,” yerin’s basically screams, swiping a glass for you and holding hers up, “that fucking idiot.”

you tighten your side hug on eunha in an ‘i’m okay’ gesture as you clink your glasses together.

it’s a few moments later that murmurs start to spread around. the tension that comes with the latest arrived guest thick enough to command every attention in the room.

“she’s ballsy. coming here.” sowon offhandedly comments, eyes trained on the girl who has her hand on yoongi’s arm like an iron clamp. “right into the lion’s den.”

she may not have her parents’ money to groom her into the women you and the girls are. but maybe that’s why she has her own air. her poised steps, coupled with a cocktail creme laced dress and relaxed smile easily gives her an innocent cloak. someone friendly and good-tempered and can adjust well to her suddenly-plunged-into-money circumstance when she married yoongi. that must have been why you never heard any bad rumors about her even though there’s almost always at least one gossip enthusiast in these socials.

“ugh, i hate her!” yuju hisses, eyes more focused as she places her glass onto one of the waiter’s trays.

“i-i think i’m going to get myself some snacks.” with that, you slip past the guests until you’re at the end of the room, standing in front of the everything-you-can-eat table lined up with pastries only from the best bakes.

that moment, when you looked from her to yoongi, your eyes met. his hair is a little longer than you remember it, flowing in light blue tresses until just a few centimeters above his eyebrows. the first two buttons of his shirt is undone. her doesn’t wear a necktie - he despises how suffocating they feel. but he’s managed to keep on his blazer - he used to say they were hot and took them off and left them in the back seat of the car when you arrived at an event. he used to attend these events with you. just the two of you. for four years. you thought you’d keep doing so for longer after you got married.

“you know, they’re not plastic and made for display.” a voice breaks you from your train of thoughts.

“p-pardon?” you blink once. confused.

“the pastries,” namjoon lulls his head to the side where towers of tarts, macaroons, pavlova and sliced cakes stand tall and proud, “they’re edible.”

it takes a moment for you to register that he was joking - kim namjoon? cracking jokes?

his smile tilts higher when you chuckle. it’s brief but the look of relief oh his face lingers. he must have seen you escape from your group of friends. and this is his own way of checking up on you.

“thank you, namjoon.” you murmur low enough for only you and him to hear, lips tugging in the corners. “but i’m fine - i just - seeing him for the first time like this - it’s just unexpected. even though this is an annual dinner held by his family and he has every right to be here.”

“that’s her? the ex-fiancee?” a guest asks in a hushed tone somewhere a few feet away. but she’s not very discreet as she thinks she is.

“yeah, she couldn’t get the older brother so she went for the younger one.”

apparently, her company needs to attend classes on how-to-whisper-101 too.

“how mortifying. and the brother just goes with it?”

“he must have felt compelled to save her face. you know how nice and well-mannered he is-”

the low noise namjoon makes under his breath catches your attention. the muscles on his face is strained and twisted. it barely shows. just a crease between his eyebrows and the lack of smile. he hardly ever smiles from the tabloids and interviews you’ve seen of him so people might not notice the displeasure. but after a whole month of knowing namjoon, if there’s anything you can say for certain about the man, it’s the stockpile of smiles he has to offer.

“namjoon, it’s okay. i don’t care.” you smile, it’s forced and you know he notices it right off the bat but sighs anyway, shoulder line falling just slightly as he runs a hand over his sleek styled hair.

his lips move and you hear the words he uttered but somehow your mind couldn’t comprehend the information without going blank. “s-sorry?”

“it agitates me that they’re freely spewing bullshit like this,” he huffs, cheeks tinted pink at having to repeat his words. “it’s taking everything in me not to go over there and tell them their husbands have at least one business deal with kimcorp. and i can end it and it’d plunge their family into bankruptcy.”

“wh-why would you do such a thing?” the question comes out almost dumbly but if it did, he doesn’t say. he just... keeps looking at you.

you’re barely able hold yourself from squirming under his scrutiny, the smile now awkward in all places.

“if you don’t mind, can i kiss you?” his eyes widen just the slightest bit as he corrects himself, “on the forehead i mean.”

he clears his throat, eyes straying away from you as if he couldn’t bear to look at your face after that mistake. “just so i can prove to them i wasn’t forced to marry you.”

the light pinkish blush spreads to the tip of his ears and neck as he shifts his weight from one foot to another. you’re not sure why, but the sight in front of you is endearing and you find yourself saying-

“okay, kiss me.”

you didn’t specify where. and maybe, as the heat flares across your own cheeks when his arm band around your waist and a warm hand presses up against you cheekbone - maybe you want him to kiss you somewhere else.

the chatter stops and so does time. but it’s only for as long as namjoon’s full lips are on your forehead, kissing you for the second time. then, time resumes and murmurs begin to spread louder than when yoongi made his arrival. when the gravelly voice speaks from somewhere behind namjoon, you know why.

“get a room, will you?” yoongi’s tone is light - you’d taken a whole year getting used to it to know he’s being playful and not condescending.

“yoongi.” namjoon greets, unlike the elder man, his sounds better natured but there’s a sort of underlying detachment. his arm is still on your lower back almost as if he needs to feel that you’re here or he’d be completely detached. “i didn’t think you’d show up. you hate these events.”

the aforementioned man draws out a long sigh as though he’s been found out over a poorly told lie. “i don’t but naeun wanted to go - you know how things are with mom and dad. she thinks it’s gonna make them open up.”

it’s no secret your father and mother-in-law doesn’t talk about yoongi’s marriage - they never do around you but you thought they were being considerate. but what yoongi’s saying right now could mean his relationship with his parents are far more strained than you thought it’d be. especially since they had let him marry the girl of his dreams who’s clearly below their standards.

she - naeun - is standing somewhere near the exit, conversing with the notorious older generation that yerin duped ‘the wickeds’. for their ways of gaining wealth, for their poor treatment towards their employees, for socially shunning a young man - new money, for addressing one of them casually. she is ballsy.

“it’s been awhile,” yoongi’s directly addressing you now. the tug on his lips as playful as an old friend’s greeting. you don’t know how he can look at you like nothing happened. “you’re finally a resident now, huh?”

“yeah, finally.” you smile, the kind of smile that celebrates her triumph. the celebration part is true but the smile is every bit unnatural. but it seems to fool yoongi as he nods, proud.

somewhere in your chest, the strings on your heart clenches at the unchanging personality of this man. no wonder you like him.

before the conversation can tread further down memory lane, there’s an announcement to have the guests move to another room where dinner is being served.

“we’ll get going first then.” namjoon announces, guiding you by the waist as yoongi nods, waiting for naeun to come to his side before going in himself.

dinner went smoother than expected. yoongi and naeun showed up uninvited and were placed in the back seats where the people socially displaced guests are. you felt bad when you saw naeun’s distorted expression as waiters bring in chairs to the table for the both of them. but there’s nothing you could have done.

“you have an 8am shift tomorrow, right?” namjoon asks as you slip your heels off, wincing at when one of them brushes against the blisters. they’re gonna be a bitch to deal with tomorrow.

stretching your arms out as you walk up the stairs, you hum in confirmation. “mhm, and you have dinner with ms. yoo, right?”

it’s ironic how you know each other’s schedule despite not being anything more than two people sharing one house and happens to be married. guess you’ll chalk it up with the fact that you both respect each other enough to be aware of each other’s whereabouts - not the creepy kind of way but the share-me-your-live-location-so-i-know-you’re-safe kind of way.

namjoon was quiet until you take a left to where the guest bedroom-turned-permanent-bedroom is, “it got rescheduled.”

your hand hovers over the door handle as you crane your neck to look at the man on the top of the stairs. his bow tie is loosened, the button to his color undone and his blazer is draped over one arm - a telltale sign of a final end to the night. “i was hoping we could have dinner to together. after work.”

yes but you don’t usually go straight home after work. you usually spend time at the library either at your previous college or at the hospital. you’ve decided to continue your research no matter how taxing it may be since you came back from the honeymoon. namjoon knows and the fact he asks you to dinner anyway - it’s unlike him.

he’s the kind of person that would ask if you had free time and match his schedule to yours. not ask for your time.

“yeah, sure.” you say and you think you see his shoulder line sagging as if he’s just let out a long-held breath, “pick me up at 8?”

“yeah.” he nods, dimples showing as his lips curl at your answer, “at 8.”

only when the door closes behind you, do you let yourself slide down to the ground. heels lying next to your thighs and dress in need of being sent for washing. your cheeks are and neck and ears are hot. dinner? just you and namjoon? like... a date?

jisoo isn’t around when lunch rolls by.

“a patient got rolled into er this morning - couldn’t contact any of his family members. suho decided to go ahead with surgery but he reacted badly to the anesthesia so she had to make up for her suho’s mistake and monitor his patient.” jennie’s face scrunches at the other woman’s supervisor pushing the task on her. shoving a forkful of the cheese cake, she sighs as the medical professional side take over, “thank god the surgery went smoothly though despite all that.”

you hum in contemplation, comparing the well-established crazy bitch seokjin who pushes those under his supervision to their limits and suho’s less-than-extreme approach. you used to envy jisoo and jennie for getting suho as their supervisor but at the end of the day, with every push from seokjin, you get out of it stronger and wiser. “i hope she doesn’t forget to have her meals.”

the day ends faster than usual. of course with rounds and surgeries you have to assist with, you’ve always find yourself barely realizing the setting sun - the sign of that your shift has ended.

but you could have sworn it was 5pm when you last checked the time. an car crash patient had arrived at the er and you forgot you’d left your phone on your desk, running out to assist the critical patient. it’s only when you’ve plopped into your recliner, head thrown back in fatigue, do you notice the vibration of your phone.

namjoon’s name flashes across your screen. your eyes almost bulges out of their sockets as you swipe to the right.

the deep voice from the other end is as calm as ever, “hey, ___-”

“namjoon!” you almost scream with guilt, phone pressed between your cheek and your shoulder as you shrug the coat off one shoulder before using the free now free hand to hold the phone and shrug off the other shoulder, “where are you?”

“i’m at the parking lot. i couldn’t wait at the lobby because i was obstructing the other cars - i called you a few times.” he sounds almost concerned and your heart clenches tightly in you chest at the thought of him waiting for you for over an hour.

you burst onto the parking lot - searching for the sleek black audi until a red bugatti rolls over. you’re about to take a step back seeing as you’re almost standing in the middle of the road - when the driver on the other side of the car steps out. his usually gelled hair is mussed from the amount of times he ran his hand over it, cuffs rolled to just below his elbow, revealing the dark veins that run just below the skin on his arm.

namjoon fixes you with that eased smile, going around the gently purring vehicle and opening the door to the passenger seat for you. the arm which hand he uses to hold the door open pulls on the thin fabric of his button down in all the right places. so this is a the normal end-of-the-day look.

you always get back a bit later than him and by the time he looks up from his work that’s laid out over the coffee table, he would usually already have bathed and changed into one of those long-sleeved shirts.

the restaurant he initially booked for dinner had cancelled. naturally. so you end up in a barbecue place five minutes away from the hospital. this is where you and your colleagues go when to celebrate a birthday, promotion or finally-having-a-boyfriend/girlfriend.

the slices of meat sizzles on the grill, its marinated aroma wafting in the air. but your stomach churns with a different kind of sensation - guilt. “i-i’m sorry. because of me you had to wait an hour and got cancelled by the restaurant.”

then, he chuckles. it’s the same kind of good natured chuckle that reverberates every time you say something amusing - but you can’t see how any of this is.

his says your name. the syllabus rolls out of his tongue in waves but you chalk up the blush spreading on your face with the heat of the grill so close to you. he leans back against the backrest, sleeves filled out to the brim as he crosses his arms over his chest. “you were the one saving a life. all i did was wait.”

“y-yeah but still.” no emergency is foreseeable, otherwise you could have saved more lives than you do now. and it’s still not enough. “i forgot about you.”

namjoon nods, taking your words into consideration - as if he never thought about it that way. as if he truly doesn’t mind wasting his time over some woman he has to tolerate because he’s married to her. “cook me dinner then.”

“wh-what?”

“i don’t want you to beat yourself up and i know whatever i say is going to come off as me being nice.” the corners in his lips tugs upwards, “so make it to me by cooking dinner.”

once your brain is done registering what he said, you clutch your hands in your lap as though you’re clinging onto this one time chance to make up for your fault, “yes! i-i mean yeah, sounds fair.”

the smooth sound of his chuckle isn’t lost to the sizzle of the meat. to him, it must be a small matter but to you, it’s a matter of pride.

“this saturday then?” you offer, a bit too eager.

almost as if remembering something, he releases a long drawn out sigh, “business trip to tokyo.”

“next weekend?”

“mom’s home sweeter home fundraiser for the orphans on saturday. sunday?”

“night shift. how bout breakfast?”

“golf with seollyu’s director.”

a heavy pause lapses in the room. after a moment, namjoon reaches for the chopsticks, flipping the slices of meat over.

your shoulders sag, lips pursed in a pout. this isn’t an unusual occurrence in your years of being the daughter of your family. your father is devoutly involved in the family business and your mother is busy with her charity work. you’ve celebrated birthdays with the staff more than you do with them.

the glint of the chopstick that’s placing a piece of meat on your plate catches your eyes. you study the long nimble fingers to the vein that runs from the back of its hand and disappear somewhere below his arm before you gulp, meeting his eyes - did he notice you checking out his arm?

“we’ll figure something out.” if he did, he doesn’t say as he fixes you with an assuring smile, “but right now you need to get some food in you. eat up dr. ___. you did great today at work.”

this time, you really can’t blame the grill for the blush.

“you could’ve told mom you couldn’t do brunch.” namjoon tells you in the elevator to the 15th floor of your in-laws’ house. it’s been three days since that night. he’s left for work but prior to this morning, he’d already made it clear that it was no problem at all picking you up from home.

he’s probably saying this because of the lack of makeup you’d put on. some pats of compact powder and bright red lipstick can’t hide the bags underneath those tired eyes. you’d spend extra hours reading about the defective genes and the fix to remodel them so every child born from parents from a history of relatives with inheritable diseases could live a life without the risk of said disease.

“i’m fine.” you wave a dismissive hand before stretching in the compact space in a last ditch attempt to wake yourself up and hopefully look fresher by the time you reach the floor. “’sides, i’ve been so focused on work, it’s nice to see mom and dad every once in awhile.”

you’ve gotten used to referring to mr. and mrs. kim as if they’re your own parents - in a way, they are. you’ve known them for as long as you can remember.

“you have to be at the hospital by noon, right?”

you hum in confirmation. though you insisted on grabbing a cab to the hospital since it’s on the opposite side of the office, namjoon had insisted better. “mhm, oh we’re here.”

a ding! echoes throughout the elevator when it stops, doors opening to a hallway with black and yellow walls and ceiling, paired with honey marble flooring. it takes a few seconds before the black door at the end of the hallway to swing open but instead of the warm smile of the elderly lady, a bring and vibrant naeun beams at the both of you.

“you’re here. come in.” she steps aside, the hem of her sundress fluttering as she moves.

your body tenses at the proximity of the woman who you thought you could avoid until a much later time. and from the barely noticeable lifted brows that namjoon does, you know he wasn’t expecting his sister-in-law too. if she’s here, so is yoongi.

“we picked these up on the way.” you hand her the paris baguette paper bag. you’d ordered a mix of fruit tarts, cinnamon rolls and macaroon. all of which you remember mrs. kim mentioning to be her favorites.

“oh! you shouldn’t have but thank you.” up close, naeun is much more prettier with a natural pinkish tint across her cheeks that makes her seem dreamy and glossed cheery lips that complements the gentle air she carries around. she passes the bag to one of the staff that’ll probably unbox them and plate them.

you offer her a smile - though a bit strained. and she must have noticed when she sighs softly, eyes darting to her fuchsia flats before looking back up at you with a furrowed brows. but even when she’s frowning, she’s pretty.

“i’ve been wanting to meet you and properly apologize for not being able to attend the wedding - i had an exhibition that day in prague and yoongi wouldn’t let me go by myself even though i thought at least one of us should go to his brother’s wedding.” she chuckles at the last part as if replaying the heartwarming scene of her protective husband choosing his wife over his family. you can feel every fiber of your body coiling and writhing - it takes everything for you not to leave through the door. would yoongi have done the same for you?

“this must be awkward for you, isn’t it?” her lips tug into a half-smile - a telltale that she’s equally uncomfortable to talk about this topic. “with you and yoongi being engaged before but now i’m the one married to him. but i hope we can put everything past us and be a family.”

but something in the way she talks - it’s as if she sympathizes. as if she’s saying it’s okay, you shouldn’t feel ashamed. but what are you supposed to be shameful of? of being engaged to yoongi before? of marrying his brother when said engagement fell through? perhaps you should have gave mrs. kim a hard ‘no’ when she pleaded with teary eyes for you and your parents’ forgiveness when she and mr. kim had to break the news over dinner two years ago. so you wouldn’t have to develop a hard skin and pretend you didn’t care about the ruthless rumors that have spread far and wide after your marriage to namjoon.

“oh? yeah, it was a long time ago.” you offhandedly say - it’s that moment, when her eyes twitches just the slightest bit that you realize it wasn’t all just in your head. she did mean to make you feel embarrassed when she started mentioning the engagement.

you join namjoon and mrs. kim at the garden while naeun follows suit a second later, taking the middle among the three seats. the elder woman’s eyes light up at the sight of you, her heels clacking against the wooden flooring as she crosses the distance and engulfs you in a hug. you hug back, smiling at the woman’s motherly warmth.

“___, my favorite daughter, what happened to you?” she cups your cheeks, brows furrowing as she seem to examine your complexion.

you should’ve used concealer.

“the hospital is working you to the bone isn’t it? why, it’s been awhile since i had lunch with chairman lee, maybe i should give his wife a call.”

that’s how it works when you have connections. if someone’s daughter or son fails to get into college or a job through regular exams or interviews, a dinner or lunch with the director of the institution will get the child admitted overnight. that’s probably why seokjin was harder on you than usual when you got back from your honeymoon - he must think you’re not serious about being a doctor. it’s not a secret he came from old money but he’d cut off all ties with his family when he started working. he has more ethics than half of the people you know.

“___ doesn’t like it when you do these things, mom.” yoongi grumbles - always the painfully honest one. the chair screeches as he pulls it and plops between naeun and namjoon while their father occupies the seat next to mrs. kim. it looks like they just came from mr. kim’s home office. and judging from the stiffness of their posture, the talk must have been a serious one.

namjoon’s shoulder line tightens just the slightest bit - you almost thought it was just a figment of your imagination but when you steal a glance at his face, you know he’s not too keen in having yoongi sit next to him. so you weren’t imagining it when he seemed like he was escaping yoongi by not waiting for naeun to come and walk with you to into the dining hall.

you’re not lost to yoongi’s familiar tone when he spoke on your behalf. but you’re not happy either. forcing a laugh, you push a strand to the back of your ear for the sake of doing something, “i-it’s not the hospital. i’ve been staying up late to work a bit on my research.”

a worker comes with the baked goods you brought. they’re plated on perfectly polished ceramic - you can easily see your forced smile in its reflection when the woman sets them down the table in front of you.

“research?” yoongi lifts one eyebrow at you. too casually. and it takes you back to those times when you used to visit him at his college’s library and you’d bring your homework with you whilst you slip in a few ‘what i did’s as he typed away on his mac but still managed to keep up with you and asked questions here and there. a sign that he’d been present and listening.

“___’s been working on researching how segregate defective genes during the fetal stage so the fetus won’t take on their parents’ inherent diseases when they’re born.” namjoon explains the simplified version almost as though it’s part of his day-to-day line of work. he grins at you, the corners of his lips tugging with pride - a gratification of being able to show you off.

“that’s good. you’re making a difference in this world.” mr. kim is the first to break the silence. and in the years you’ve known him, it means the highest level of flattery you’ll ever get from the man.

your cheeks are flushed red and you know well enough it’s not because of mr. kim’s compliment than it is his son’s. “it’s still just a research draft but th-thank you. mister-” the elder man raises his brow and you quickly correct yourself, “i mean, dad.”

he nods at the word, the slightest hint of smile disappearing under the cup of tea he brings to his mouth.

“but still, don’t push yourself too hard. working as a doctor takes up a lot of time already.” naeun fixes you with a worried gaze but something about her tone makes your stomach churn - it’s as if she’s playing down the time and effort you’d invested in your research and reminding you to focus on your paying job. even if you did downplay yourself when you were responding to mr. kim. before you can sort out the wave of emotions clashing inside you, namjoon seems to beat you to it.

“not everyone can do what ___’s doing. it’s okay if she wants to do more,” a hand slips under yours in your lap, reverting your gaze from the beautiful woman to the apparent difference in the size of yours and namjoon before you turn your cheek to him. it was a mistake because now you’re holding your breath as you come face to face. his body is leaned into you as he speaks, “i’ll just take care of ___ better.”

he turns to naeun, lips twitching upwards in a brief smile as if to enforce it more and putting a finality to the topic. but you’re left staring at namjoon’s sharp jawline until mrs. kim makes a squealing sound as she clamps her mouth shut in an attempt to tease you.

“gosh, is my baby all grown up now? he’s saying he’ll take care of his wife!”

the chuckle you let out is nowhere near natural or entertained. not when your insides are burning and you think your heart is going into overdrive from how fast it’s beating. and it doesn’t help that namjoon’s too casually playing along “of course, i only have one wife.”

“namjoon,” you take a second to gather yourself, hands fiddling in your lap as the car rolls to a stop in front of the lobby. the man fixes you with an inquisitive gaze. of course, who wouldn’t be wondering what’s up if their name was spoken with so much weight in them like you did with namjoon’s? “what was that? the wife thing?”

he stares into the street as he sifts through his memory before he fixes you with a gaze clouded with guilt, “i’m sorry. i got carried away - it won’t happen again.”

and that’s the thing. namjoon is too fast in admitting his fault. but you didn’t bring it up because you wanted an apology-

“no, i don’t mind.” you shake your head almost too eagerly before back tracking and clearing your throat, “i mean, it’s true. we��re married - i am your wife.”

the corners of his lips upturns at your last words and he doesn’t bother to hide it as he waits for you to finish - but how can you when he’s looking at you so tenderly like that?

“it’s just - too soon?” you curse yourself for sounding so meek but any louder, your heart might just jump out of your throat.

namjoon nods, that contemplative look settling on his face and takes away that smile only to return it with a dimpled grin. one hand slides in between yours and guiding the back of your hand to his lips.

“we’ll take it slow then.”

you can only nod, afraid that if you tried to speak, you would forget how to. the light rap on your side of the window catches both your attention. it’s the parking management. stealing a glance at the cars that are beginning to queue up behind you, you hurriedly gather your bag and hop out of the car.

cheeks flushed, you barely register waving back at namjoon when he leans over the passenger seat just to shoot you that dimpled smile and a ‘see you at home’.

you turn on your heels. the sharp click bounces against the white walls. a small smile spreads across your lips as you think about namjoon’s words.

yeah, the penthouse does feel like home.

this isn’t slow at all. you’re barely progressing.

it feels like everyday is passing by too fast what with the abundance of functions you’ve told namjoon you wanted to go with when you’re not working, to cramming some time for research and trying to find the time to at least make breakfast when you’re not on morning shift. though on some mornings, he’d beat you to breakfast and you’d wake up to the delectable smell of omelette or bacon.

“you must be thrilled about the new hospital, mrs. kim,” mrs. hwan is generally an agreeable woman along with her husband, the president of a small startup firm. they’re the first couple to approach you and namjoon since you arrived at the party. but that’s just it - the smiling, the talking, the eagerness doesn’t show in their eyes. it’s all about building connections while maintaining a good enough acquaintanceship. “are you going to be managing it directly since you’re a doctor yourself?”

“naturally,” the tug on your lips and the smoothness of your response is almost effortless. you’re no stranger to this scene - except back then, you would be standing next to yoongi. though your hand wouldn’t be tucked in his arm like yours is with namjoon. “though i still have a lot to learn, i hope the next two years will help me prepare to for eden.”

two years is the estimated time that eden hospital will be able to run. you’d finish your residency by then. all that’s left is to take the next step. just like your parents had planned for you as they’d planned many things. you never had the power to object.

mrs. hwan goes on to sprinkling empty praises while her husband laughs in deflated humor. they say the way to a successful business deal is through the wife.

once namjoon gets swamped by more people, you gently pull your hand away from his arm. you don’t miss the pleading look he fixes you when he notices your intention but you can only return a ‘you can do it!’ smile and slip away from the limelight.

the balcony area is dark, illuminated only by the fading light the pours over the floor past the door frame. you don’t expect the air to be this chilly at the beginning of summer but then again, namjoon did suggest bringing a coat - you were just too stubborn to because it would ruin the off shoulder look of your dress.

a sneeze escapes you a moment later as you hug yourself in an attempt to retain your body heat. but the warmth that engulfs you seems impossible to have come from just your puny palms - heck, your fingers were starting to feel prickly cold. there’s a sort of weight on your shoulders that wasn’t there before-

“idiot, you’re gonna catch a cold.” yoongi tuts from next to you - he has his hands in his pockets, all donned in crisp white shirt and checkered grey trousers and vest. all that’s missing is a matching blazer - the one that he placed around you just now.

somewhere in the recesses of your memories, you remember him taking off the muffler he had on and wrapping it around your neck when you showed up for your ‘christmas date’ with a pink nose and pinker ears - you could barely feel them. yoongi was that kind of person - the kind that acted like everything is a whole load of inconvenience and yet went to greater length to inconvenient himself for you.

“thanks. i thought i was going to freeze to death if i have to hide out here for another hour.” you tug the thick material of the blazer closer - the warmth of his heat feels just right.

“then you shouldn’t have come in the first place.” he must have noticed the higher-than-an-octave tone he uses before ruffling his hair - it’s the first you’ve ever seen him so unsure. is it really because of you?

“it’s fine. besides, what kind of wife would i be if i let namjoon get eaten by the pack of wolves by himself?” you chuckle at the fact that you’d done just that when you escaped the growing crowd of businessmen.

but when you notice the lack of humor on yoongi’s face, your own dies down. he’s staring at you with an indecipherable look. it’s not the bored expression he usually sports - not also the anger from the outburst just now. before you can say anything, namjoon’s lean silhouette appears in the doorway. you can’t see his face but his tone is strained. “we’re leaving, if you’re both done catching up.”

“so soon?” you know for a fact it probably hasn’t even been fifteen minutes - and you’re supposed to linger for at least two hours before leaving. that’d be enough time for namjoon to scout any potential business associate - the worthy ones at least.

“hey little bro.” yoongi waves, the disinterested look now returning but the way he phrases his next words oozes with revulsion. it’s no surprise. while yoongi hates these events - he’s probably here because of naeun, you heard the director of seoul’s annual art exhibition is here - namjoon strives off it. garnering attention and making the best of it by bringing in stockholders. “had enough of ass licking?”

you never understand the tangibility of the tension that feels the air when these two brothers are in the same room together - they’re barely able to remain civil in the presence of mr. and mrs. kim. anywhere without their parents’ watchful eyes, a fight would always be at risk of breaking out. whenever you were around, you’d be the one to interfere, whether it’s to tug on yoongi’s sleeve and tell him you’re hungry, or step in front of him just so he’d remember you’re here or right now-

“thank you, yoongi.” folding the blazer in half, you hand it back to the man - only that he’s not taking it back. momentarily, you wonder if you’d stained it with your lipstick or foundation but the lapels never touched anywhere above your neck. but deep in the crook of your conscience, you know it’s when his mind retracts back to you, to the present.

the sigh that escapes yoongi is a telltale of fatigue - you wonder if this is the first time of the day he came out of his studio. taking the blazer from your outstretched hand, he slings it over his shoulder, “don’t get too caught up with these functions. focus on your goal.”

your goal meaning what comes next in your career: the fellowship. you thought that information was lost on him, buried among the many things you told him just because you were comfortable telling him everything.

and as you watch him walk back into the lion’s den, you wonder, how didn’t you realize he was in love with someone else during the visits you paid while he was doing his masters and phd?

namjoon doesn’t say anything about yoongi in the car. but both his hands are on the wheel. knuckles a little paler from holding onto the wheel.

“you don’t have to be part of eden’s board of directors.” he huffs, as though annoyed but from the way he continues, you know he’s not annoyed at you. he’s annoyed at himself. “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to - i don’t want to force anything on you.”

and you know - you know more than anyone how conscious namjoon is of things. from the change in your mood to the people that tries to get close to him because of his status - that’s also why he didn’t kiss you on your lips that day. but a kiss was the prerequisite of a vow so he kissed you on the forehead. the area where his lips landed burns your skin as your cheeks flush from the memory.

“i know.” you hesitate for a heartbeat but reach out to cover one of his hands on the wheel still. to let him know that you’re not just saying that to ease the guilt.

when you pull away from the thought of how risky and distracting what you did was, the hand that you were lightly caressing pulls at yours, intertwining your fingers as he keeps them on his thigh. your entire body burns from the contact yet you’re sitting frozen in your spot. it’s the gentle squeeze on your hand that brings you out of your shell-shock state. a smile tugs on your lips subconsciously as you squeeze back.

the following week, you almost got into a fight with namjoon when he caught you dressing up prettily. he told you it was okay not to attend these functions anymore - the ones your tight schedule barely allow you to. fight was an overstatement. your feelings were hurt when he’d kissed your temple and said, “it’s okay, you don’t have to push yourself.”

well, you were but he wasn’t seeing the bigger picture. “can’t you see? i wanna spend more time with you and the only way i can is if we attend these functions together.”

in hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have thrown your strapless black diamond purse at him out of frustration.

but the following functions, you did spend more time together. he’d declined the usual advancement of business people the way only kim namjoon could pull off - with a dimpled smile and a hand around your waist as if to indicate that they were interrupting - and they were. they’d come up to the both of you while you were telling namjoon about a new skillet spaghetti recipe you’d wanted to try making for the long overdue dinner you owe him. and you’d expected someone to approach namjoon and take his attention away but you didn’t think he’d decline them.

“hm? i don’t think we have tomatoes or beef. should we go grocery shopping?” he suggests calmly as though he didn’t just turn down the chairman of tvn broadcast. the man had to do a double take in case he had mistaken namjoon’s smooth rejection.

you place a hand on his chest, restraining the urge to pull your hand away as if you’ve touched fire. you knew he goes to the gym for an hour after work and his shirts always seem a size too small around his arms but you didn’t expect anything beyond that underneath that shirt of his. you clear your throat when you realize his neck is craned so he could look at you - give you all the attention in the world, “you know, we can discuss dinner some other time - when you’re free.”

but neither of you are free. you barely see each other at home because of your unpredictable schedule and his that’s set in stone.

“then what would you rather us talk about right now?” a corner of his lips tugs upwards. if you first met him, you wouldn’t easily dismiss the smile as nothing more than because of his amiable nature. but you’ve been married for almost five months now and you clearly pick up on the playfulness that lights up his eyes.

“the desserts.” you announce too quickly in an attempt to avert his attention from what he’s thinking - one thing you’ve realized is that namjoon is painfully aware of your blushing fits and your avoidance to look him in the eyes. “they’re nice, aren’t they?”

all of a sudden, he’s scooping a forkful of the chocolate souffle he’d picked up from the desserts section while you’d opted for the luscious almond torte. a small smirk tugs on his lips as he holds the fork to your mouth the way he does during breakfast. he knows you have no objections of being fed like a child but he also knows where you stand with public display of affection.

“say ‘aaaaa’ and i’ll give you a treat, doctor ___.” and he loves to tease you. he’s taken to calling you that because of that one incident where he’d seen you discuss about a patient with one of the nurses while you were on your way to meet him. in his own words, he’d ‘never seen you this scary before.’

in your defense, it was five minutes till lunch break so it was still working hours and you were acting the way you usually did at work - but you’d understand. the person you are with friends and the person you are at work are two separate entities. suppose you’ve mastered separating personal business and work. namjoon seems to take pleasure in making that steadfast side of you squirm and blush like a tomato.

your fingerpads gently grazes the back of his hand as you hold the fork in place before taking it in your mouth. your eyes flit over namjoon’s for the briefest moment before taking a step back, licking the residue of souffle off your lips.

“they really are nice.” you murmur as you throw your gaze at the stage where a man sits at the piano before flickering back to namjoon.

you wonder why he’s so quiet all of a sudden -

the man in question still has the empty fork in the air, eyes wide and staring at you, you would’ve thought he’d seen a ghost. until you notice the dust of pink across his cheek and spread to the tip of his ears.

oh?

mrs. kim’s fundraiser is held at the school where the children attended. about four canopies were set up on the field. one for the children’s activities - you remember reading something about coloring, origami-making and storybook reading. the volunteers - possibly college students hoping to earn the graces of kimcorp’s president’s wife for an internship - already have the children huddled up in groups of three or four.

one canopy is specifically set up for a table of wide range of food - if there’s anything you like about these functions, it’s the abundance of food they never fail to prepare. as if spending a lot of money on a fundraising event is something to flex about.

the other two canopies are for the people of interest - acquaintances of mrs. kim and those who come with an ulterior motive be it to get sponsors for their own project, a business deal or simply to regain a higher social hierarchy by falling into your mother-in-law’s graces.

you press a light kiss on namjoon’s cheek before he’s whisked away by the second category. business men who jump at the sight of your ceo husband who got a fair warning from mrs. kim to “play nice. what’s gotten into you all of a sudden? these days i keep hearing things about you turning chairmen down! your father didn’t work this hard just to raise a stuck up son that could ruin his business in a matter of days.”

once you’ve had a slice of red velvet and tiny macaroons, you decide to hide yourself from the few people who try to do the same to you when namjoon is too preoccupied by the ones who claimed his attention first. just like preys on the top of the pyramid sinking its claws, the lower level preys couldn’t come close.

but one manages to follow you into one of the classrooms.

“nothing’s changed has it?’ yoongi stands in the doorway, tuxedo and brown loafers and all. hands tucked into both his pockets, he strides across the room and stops in front of the window that overlooks the light pink canopies and the people underneath them. “same old assholes using a charitable cause to proliferate their influence.”

the muscles on your face pulls your lips into a disapproving frown, “that’s how our parents manage to give us an education. a good life.” you don’t agree to the way they go about it but you give credit where it’s due.

yoongi scoffs, his shoulders jolting slightly. you can’t see his face as he stands with his back on you but you know he’s smirking that condescending smirk. the first time you saw it was when you were in your senior year of high school and yoongi was doing his masters in business and accounting. he’d looked down on the man who approached the two of you like he was scum just because everyone knew his company was wallowing in debt and he’s desperate enough to ask the lion who hates the jungle for help.

“always finding a middle ground. if you like what they do so much, why did you become a doctor? why didn’t you follow their footsteps, huh?”

you can’t help but let out a tired sigh. you’ve been here before. you’ve seen this. yoongi hates the world he’s born in and you understand why but you can never feel what he feels. “why are you here, yoongi? shouldn’t you be with naeun?” there’s a pause. a heartbeat before you decide to let yourself free. say what you want to say. “before the wolves get to her.”

“she’s fine.” it's almost offensive how haughty he sounds. he must either be aware of nauen’s innocence that makes the wolves eliminate the possibility of her being a threat or he just doesn’t care. the latter presumption makes your stomach churn.

did he also not care about you when you were together? when you went to these events as a couple?

“we should head back. it would be bad if anyone saw us alone like this even though we’re just talking.” and that’s that. you turn on your heels, making way to the door but before you can even take another step forward, lithe fingers wrap around your wrist.

“what?” it comes out harsher than you intend it. funny how you put on a face of a woman made out of steel when your knees can barely hold your weight the moment you feel his warm hand on your skin.

“i knew - i knew but i didn’t want to tie you down.” with his head lowered and his long hair, you can’t see his eyes for an idea of what he’s saying.

“yoongi, what-”

“i knew how you felt.” at that moment, his grip on you loosens. it’s almost as though it’s an overdue confession and the weight on his shoulders has finally lifted, “you only knew me - you turned down every boy that tried to ask you out in high school and college. you -you were only looking at me and i didn’t want that on my shoulders - i didn’t want you to turn down every opportunity to life - to dating, to heart break to - to sex with someone - several someone’s just because we were engaged.”

his fingers traces down your index finger before falling away. but you won’t tell him - you can never do it to namjoon - that it took all of you not to twine your fingers with his just because it felt like he was letting go.

your breath hitches in your throat when you turn your cheek towards him. the sight before you is something you’d never thought you’d see in your entire life. yoongi’s pink dusts his otherwise snowflake skin. the bored expression he usually wears is gone - almost as if he’s never worn it his entire life as something akin to desperation pools in those dark eyes. his soft pink lips are agape as though he wants to say something. and you wait, wait, wait but he never does.

so you turn your back on him, heels clicking against the ground as you slip past the door without a word. only when you’re at the end of the hallway, do you turn the corner, back pressed against the wall because your buckling legs might not be able to handle your weight.

those unsaid words - you can hear them clearly: i fucking regret letting you go.

the following week, you spend by drowning yourself in work and later working on your research until the library closes. by the time you’re pressing the 20th floor to the penthouse you both shared, you know for certain namjoon’s gone to bed. he values his sleep time. says it’s essential to keep himself in a good mood so others who work with him would be at ease. sometimes you want to tell him it’s okay not to think about others for once but the words lay buried the depth of your heart because you’re exactly like him. suppressing your feelings, smiling and saying you’re okay even though you’re not. the only difference is there’s a side of you that wants to lash out, do something worse to those who hurt you while namjoon does it from the good of his heart.

“it’s hard, being nice.” he says in between the clink of the stirring of the spoon in his coffee mug.

you look up from the peanut butter you’re spreading over your toast. “hm?”

he shakes his head, as if to say it’s nothing, i’m just thinking out loud. but the words he says next is enough to make your heart drop right to the ground. “yoongi told me.”

“wh-what?” it’s denial in your tone - the combination of those three words are simple enough to take you back to the school nine days ago. in side that little classroom.

“yesterday. he came over to the office.” he shrugs as if it’s no big deal but the tensed line of his shoulders is apparent no matter how casually he brings the mug to his smiling lips - that too. his lips are smiling but his eyes are not.

you don’t know when or how you started noticing the little things. sensing namjoon’s moods - his reactions and his retractions. you never realized you were so in tune with the things he does. all you realize is you’re already able to read him like a book - thick, best-leather book that was safeguarded by a lock.

“namjoon,” the clink of the butter knife being set on your plate resonates like a pin drop in a vacuum room, “nothing happened. i promise.”

“i know - i know you’d never do anything like that so that’s why i’m telling you it’s okay.” something in the way he looks at you make you bite your tongue - as if he’s asking you to listen even though you’re bursting at the seams. you’d do anything to prove that nothing happened even though you knew he knew. “we entered into this marriage for a mutual reason. not dreading to come home is more than i can ask for. so it’s okay if you want to see yoongi just... keep out of the spotlight like many in our shoes who found love outside of it have.”

he chuckles but it’s strained and tense, dumping the coffee into the sink because he couldn’t bear to stay in the kitchen any longer. you slip out of the high stool, feet padding around the counter and before you know it, your arms around his body. you feel him freeze under your touch and this is wrong - wrong on so many levels because he would have asked if he could touch you and you’re not reflecting the same amount of respect he had for you.

but for some reason, you can’t let go - you’re afraid if you let him walk out of the door, you’d never be able to grasp even a shadow of his existence.

“i don’t want to.” the words are muffled from your cheek pressing against his back.

a pause lapses between you when you don’t say anything else. no explanation. no reason. because you don’t know it yourself. you don’t know why your heart clenches in your chest at the sight of namjoon’s dismal smile. you don’t know why you acted on your instincts and hugged the man.

you don’t know.

“okay.” he sighs softly as a warm palm rests above your fisted hand. you wish you can see him - wish you can see what kind of expression he’s making because it’s killing you to not know what he’s thinking. “you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

that’s when the sniffle escapes you. internally, you curse yourself for being so emotion-driven. it’s not a good trait for a doctor to have.

namjoon calls your name. the syllabus rolling off his tongue makes your stomach churn with butterflies. “are you crying?”

you don’t expect him to say that. don’t expect the teasing undertone either. naturally, your respond comes a heartbeat later, “n-no.”

the body under your touch shifts. all of a sudden, you’re eye-to-eye with him. there’s a sparkle in them that almost makes you forget how to breathe. his dimples dig into his cheek as his lips curl into a smile whilst his large hands frames you face.

“wh-what?” you feel your brows furrowing, lips pursed.

“you’re too cute.” his thumb grazes your burning cheekbone feather light, “i want to kiss you.”

“then do it.” you don’t know the reason behind that angry, pressed tone but namjoon doesn’t seem to mind - or he knows something you don’t.

you don’t have the time to ponder on that when a pair of lush lips meshes with yours. the scent of the coffee he had engulfs your senses as one hand finds its way to the back of his neck and the other rests on his accelerating heartbeat. time seems to stop when namjoon’s kissing you. somewhere in the back of your mind, you distinctly remember something perpetually important but you couldn’t be bothered as his hands fall away from your face and finds the dip of your lower back and pull you closer until your bodies are pressed together.

somewhere in a distant, you hear the beep of the front door. hoseok’s voice booming across the hallway that leads to the living room and the kitchen where you’re at now.

“namjoon? you here? did you oversleep? man, i never thought i’d see the day our ceo is late to work.” hoseok’s footsteps stops at the end of the hallway, “oh great, you’re all dressed.”

he blinks, surprised at the sight of his boss who’s leaning against the edge of the sink - hands pressed on either side of the edge, doing absolutely nothing while you dip a butter knife into a jar of peanut butter and jelly but equally as out-of-it as his boss appear to be.

“y-yeah, let me grab my blazer.” namjoon pushes himself off, going around the counter and heading towards the stairs where his bedroom is until -

“it’s here.” hoseok points out.

“what?”

“your blazer. it’s this one, right?” the secretary loyally scoops up the thick maroon blazer off the couch and hands it to his boss who’s just barely recovered from what seems to be a trance.

he’d went down and tossed the blazer on the couch before making his coffee - before the kiss.

namjoon clears his throat, refusing to look at the man’s scrutinizing eyes as he thanks him and slips the blazer on. but he loses those eyes when he peeks over the man’s shoulder, mini-waving at you, “hey, morning, doc.”

you return the greeting, refraining a blush as you feel the ghost of namjoon’s lips when you fix his secretary a smile, “hey, hoseok. care to join us for breakfast?”

the man shrugs, eyes flitting over his boss who now seems ready to go, “thanks doc but i had some cereal and cold milk.”

he bids his farewell and escapes out of where he came from, letting the two of do what newly weds do before the other goes to work. it’s in that moment that he realizes with a chill running down his spine as he sat in the driver seat - that namjoon isn’t a bachelor anymore and he couldn’t come and go as he pleases and that he might have interrupted something. come to think of it, both you and namjoon’s cheeks were flushed...

“h-hey boss,” hoseok steals a glance of the man at the backseat through the rear view mirror. he almost chokes on his next words when the man’s eyes meet him but he persists like a man on a mission to not get fired , “y-you know, i’ve been with kimcorp. f-for a long time. i-it’s like my family a-and i’ll work harder from now on.”

confusion flashes across namjoon’s features for the briefest moment. he doesn’t know what makes hoseok say something so out of his character and shakily at that but it’s not the first time that his employee’s said something like this to him - of course, minus the stutter and all.

“that’s good to know, hoseok.” he says simply.

it’s been a week since you told namjoon you didn’t - wouldn’t see anyone. yoongi or not. when you told him you were going to meet yoongi at a cafe near his studio to give the man an answer - a hard no, there’s still some needling doubt in namjoon’s gaze as he reverts his eyes away from you. as though he was afraid that the illusion would fade away and he’d end up catching the smolder of passion he’d always seen you look at the man with.

he’s not lost to your feelings - in hindsight, it was pathetically obvious how smitten you were for the elder man. even your and his parents could see. and they’d foreseen many things but not having to plead and then beg and then finally, force you into a marriage you didn’t want with the brother of the man you loved.

your only regret was leaving without kissing namjoon goodbye - but it also felt like anything you said, any sort of assurance you offered would just be an act. until you tell his brother to stop.

“come to think of it,” you set the warm cup of latte down. it would have tasted better if the circumstances were different, “we never properly ended things. the only way i knew the engagement was over was through mom and dad.” his parents you meant.

he tilts his head to the side as a response - an indication that he’s listening. he’s dressed in plain white shirt and the darkest jeans. the bags under his eyes is an indication that he hasn’t slept in days - either it’s because of working late nights trying to make music or because of what he’d said to you.

you know he’d do this - detach himself from reality when things gets tough or when he’s stuck in a situation he doesn’t have control over. but you still had hope. still held onto the past seven years you’d spent together for him to regard you with enough respect to offer closure.

“do you love naeun that much?” and yet you still ask.

you meet his hollow gaze, not knowing the intensity yours hold until your fingerpads wrapped around aches and he lets out a heavy breath.

“she was different.” he says simply - almost tiredly, “she caught my eyes. we started talking and we found out we had some things in common. i thought she’s what i needed to get over you.”

“don’t.” the churning starts from your stomach and spreads across your body like a poisonous fog. “don’t use me as an excuse for leaving. you loved me as much as i loved you and you got scared.”

a lump forms in your throat as the memories, the inside jokes that built up over time, the comfortable silents spent - everything comes crashing in like tidal wave. you knew he loved you deep down. that was why the news of him getting married took a toll on you - so much so, you decided to leave everything behind and fly to paris.

“you could’ve pushed me away if you truly had no feelings for me but you kept me around and let me think we were going to have a happy future together.” his image is distorted from the prickles of tears in your eyes but you blink them away, “but you didn’t really know you were in love with me back then, huh? that’s why you got scared shitless and decided to leave.” you’re not sure if you’re choking on your words or if you’re actually scoffing. maybe both.

in that moment, you watch as yoongi’s expression switches from that signature boredom to realization and finally unbridled sorrow. he must feel suffocated - like he’s drowning in emotions the way you did in that suite you spent for two weeks in paris before you decided to buy an apartment and stay for good. and you would have if your parents didn’t call you back - recounted all their sacrifices for you to make you guilty enough to agree to the marriage with his younger brother. he’ll spend the same amount of time sleeping and waking up in his room and realizing he can’t turn back time.

“i fucked up big time, didn’t i?” he laughs dryly as he presses his palm to his face, hunched over the minute round table.

the latte is still half-full when you swipe your phone off the table and stand up. he doesn’t spare you a glance - he probably couldn’t bring himself to face you now.

‘you’re a fucking coward min yoongi.’ is what you want to say but for some reason, you leave the words to die on the tip of your tongue. you won’t - can’t wish him a happy life and propose to put everything past you. it’s not that simple and you’re not that forgiving. but namjoon’s easy smile flashes at the back of your head at this moment of all time and makes your heart clench painfully in your chest. their relationship is already strained and if you insist on prolonging this, it’s only going to end up hurting namjoon one way or another and the cycle will just keep going on with naeun getting hurt if she found out.

“you did.” your hand is trembling around the strap of your bag, “but it’s all in the past and i don’t blame you. things wouldn’t turn out the way they do otherwise. so just... live for the present, yoongi.”

his shoulders rise and fall a little faster than normal but there’s nothing you can do - and it’s better if you leave him to collect his thoughts. the censor at the door beeps as you pass through. it takes a moment for you to feel the morning air brush your cheeks and sunlight to seep into you. your chest still feels tight but in due time, you know it’ll lighten.

“hey, boss. you have a special guest.” hoseok peeks into namjoon’s office like the slyboots he is. the wiggle of the man’s brows before he disappears gives namjoon all the more reason to prepare for the worse.

“send them in.” he sighs, not bothering to hide his feelings in front of hoseok. they’ve been working side by side for a long time and friends for longer he knows his friend is aware of the contrasting definition of ‘special’ but this once, as he sees you walk through the door - he admits that him and hoseok may finally be of the same mind.

namjoon shoots up from his seat, clearing his throat and buttoning his blazer together the way he’s so used to doing it when he receives an unannounced visit from his father. “what brings you here?”

instead of shooting him one of your brilliant smiles, you drop your bag on the crisp white leather couch and run right into him. arms wrapped around his torso, he can smell your favorite floral shampoo from your hair but he can’t bring himself to hug you back. his heart is palpitating inside his chest and he can only pray for some miracle that you can’t hear it. which is most unlikely what with your head coming up just a few centimeters above his shoulder line and your ears being the same height as the beating organ in his chest.

if you notice, you're not saying anything about it.

“i met yoongi just now.”

namjoon doesn’t say a word for the longest time - it’s so namjoon of him not to. but it’s also not where you stand now. that day, when you partially admitted to liking namjoon and you’re pretty sure he felt the same - you’d seen a side of namjoon you never thought you’d saw. vulnerable. fearful. all because he thought he was going to lose you - and it felt like he’s always been prepared for it. it was just a matter of time.

the muscles in your arms contracts at the thought of namjoon being so ready to let you go - is it like that too, right now? is he expecting you to go back on your words and tell him you’re going to have an affair with his brother? you don’t know and that’s driving you insane.

and just when the muscles in your arm contract, just when you’re about to pull away, namjoon’s arms band around your body and a kiss lands on top of your head.

“did you tell him what you wanted to tell him all this time?” his voice is velvet and smooth and you can hear that easy smile as he speaks.

you nod against his chest. “it’s over. i told him to get lost.”

the chest vibrates against your cheek as rings of chuckles tumble out of namjoon’s mouth. it makes your body light up with a sort of fire. and for once, you welcome the heat spreading across your cheeks like an old friend.

he knows the last part is a bluff - it’s comforting that he knows without having you say it.

does he also know...

“after that i came here because i wanted to see you.” you crane your neck to look up at him.

true enough there’s that smile and gets wider when he meets your gaze. a hand comes to rest on your neck while his thumb grazes your chin as he presses his lips to yours. you think your heart might explode at any moment now as you kiss him back, your hand snaking to his shoulder but he stops your right hand, holding it on his chest. his heart beats the same rhythm as yours. his shoulder line heaving the same way yours do when the back of your thighs hit the couch and you finally break apart. but before you have the chance to gather your thoughts, his lips are on you again. the hand on your lower back pulling you closer until your thighs press on either side of his legs.

“let’s go home now.” he murmurs between breaths, “i might really go crazy if i touch another part of your body that’s covered in clothing.”

it’s in that moment that the door swings open.

hoseok bursts through the door with the photostatted files in his hand. there’s a skip in his step.

“hey boss! here’s the files you asked for.”

he looks between you - well your back - and namjoon. the ceo is fixing his tie with a hard expression while you’re standing facing the ceiling-to-floor window that overlooks the streets and several stores in the area.

d-did he just walk into you two fighting?

“thanks, hoseok.” namjoon swipes the files from his hand, walking back to his seat around the desk and dropping the files with a sharp pap!

“n-no problem boss.” he takes one frightened step backwards before turning around but before he manages to escape the lion’s den, you stop him.

“hoseok wait.” it comes out a bit rushed. granted, you’re not in any position to waste time. you dropped by even though you know you can’t afford being late to work but somehow you ended up at namjoon’s office anyway. the secretary seems to physically turn into a rock before shakily turn his cheek to you with a smile.

“uh, yeah doc?”

“namjoon, do you mind me borrowing hoseok for a bit?” the heat comes on full force as you turn to namjoon. he’s burning a hole through the files he’s flipping through but you don’t miss the pinked tips of his ears and the way his adam’s apple bobs at the sound of his name on your tongue, “my shift is starting at noon so i need to be there by,” you check the watch on your wrist, “now.”

the way namjoon doesn’t even look up from flipping the papers is how hoseok know for sure you’re fighting. “sure thing. oh and hoseok, no detours. come straight back once you drop ___ off.”

but to you, it’s because he’s flustered beyond imagination - you know, like you know how he’ll condemn himself for not being able to control himself like that. your whole body heats up as you slip into the back seat when the image of namjoon’s hooded eyes, reddened cheeks and half agape lips flash at the back of his mind. a part of you - the reasonable one - chides yourself for even thinking about ditching work and actually going home with him but another part wishes to indulge in the endless possibilities of what will happen if you did.

“____,” your name tumbles out of namjoon’s mouth in a breathy huff. naturally so. he hasn’t even caught his breath from when he finds you crawling over him like a woman in on a mission. now, the same exact woman his cuffing his wrists and holding them over his head with one hand while the other is undoing the buttons of his shirt while she kisses him in all the right places.

“wh-where did you even get cuffs?” his headboard is one of those pristine white cushioned ones meaning there isn’t any rails for you to hook him on and keep him in place. but you don’t need that because namjoon can barely move - all that time he spends at the gym has gone down the drain as invisible threads tie him down.

“oh these?” you let one corner of your lips tug deviously. it’s been six months since you got married and you and namjoon has never gone past the occasional cuddles and light kisses. the morning after that day when you dropped by his office after meeting yoongi, namjoon had declared his intentions to ‘do it right’ - like dates and getting to know each other better before anything else.

it was sweet of him. until you realized you barely had time for dates - only late night conversations that ended up with you on top of him but before things could progress, he’d do everything he could to avoid bedroom affairs. but over time, it gets a bit discouraging. so this is the last straw - there’s no wine or champagne for him to use as an excuse to carry you to your room. you’re both sober, and if he doesn’t want you -

“never mind where i got these.” the low sound emitting from his throat makes your heart skip a beat as your lips brush against the shell of his ear, “don’t you want me, namjoon?”

trailing hisses down his smooth jawline, you let your lips hover over his - it only lasts for a heartbeat before he closes the distance and starts kisses you like a famine beast.

“i want you,” he confesses when you pull away just to reinforce your control. he may be the one lying down with his hands bound but it almost felt like you’re the hopeless one here - almost. the a feral glint in his eyes sends hot waves down your core - you have to tell yourself to breathe. “of course i fucking want you ___.”

you hum in contemplation - taking just enough time to sit straighter and let your fingers undo the rest of the buttons and stopping just above his belt. the few times you laid together and he lets you lie on top of him - you knew he was brains and brawn. but you didn’t expect a perfectly sculpted body of adonis himself to be lying beneath you. the ridges of his abs heaves helplessly as he drawn in deep breaths.

somewhere on the edge of the bed where you’d tossed it, your phone vibrates - someone’s calling but that can wait.

you lean down, soft tresses brushing his skin as you kiss that spot that illicit a delicious sound from him the first time you discovered it. somewhere in the junction between his shoulder and neck.

“fuck.” his voice is raw and desperate and carnal as his body yearns for you. his legs bent at the knees, feet ground into the bed as he grinds his hip into you - the signs of his arousal painfully obvious.

you can’t help but giggle at the way he so vehemently yearn for you. somewhere on the bed, your phone starts vibrating again.

“y-your phone.” he manages to stammer out. it’s the third time it’s vibrating.

“don’t worry about it. the only people who would call me at this time is jisoo’s drunken butt dial or the hospital-” you sit back up, heat still pooling in your stomach when your hips grind against namjoon’s arousal in the process but the urgency in the way you swipe your phone off the sheets has stolen your attention.

clear as day, it is one of the two possibilities you’ve mentioned and it isn��t your quirky colleague.

when you first started working, you were of the ripe age and eager to help those in need. you loved your job despite the long arduous hours, missed meals and ungodly hour roll calls because at the end of the day, it was what you wanted to do - it was the one thing you wouldn’t let your parents take away from you. you fought blood sweat and tears to get where you are now.

and doctors don’t usually start a family until they’ve at least finished their residency - but you had to get married early to keep your end of the bargain. of course, you didn’t expect to commit to said marriage. you didn’t also expect to fall for namjoon either. and you certainly didn’t expect for him to still be here in the waiting area when you walked out of the emergency operating room, head lulling to the side as sleep begins to take him, arms crossed over his chest. he didn’t even get the chance to change when you hurriedly uncoffed him, informing him about an emergency at the er. he’d offered to drive you since you couldn’t drive and waiting for an uber driver to accept your request this late at night would take more time. you’d rushed out of the car with a ‘thanks, namjoon. i owe you one!’ thinking he’d go home and get some rest - there’s no telling how long these surgeries take after all.

when he leans too far to the side, his eyes flutter open softly before noticing the turquoise-clad body in his periphery.

“___, you’re done? did the surgery go alright?” he’s always had a way of saying your name. it makes your heart warm and your chest full as he stands up to close the distance between you - to cup one side of your cheek with his hand. though your delayed response may have been the reason for that.

“the surgery was a success.” you finally say, your smaller hand covering his, lips curving softly. guilt creeps up the creeks of your chest but gratitude washes it away. it wouldn’t have been very namjoon of him if he didn’t consider everything: how you’d go home once you’re done. if there’s even any uber working this late of an hour. your heart is swelling - you don’t think you can ever love him more than you do now but namjoon being namjoon, he’ll make you fall in love with him more and more until your heart is filled to the brim, “thank you, namjoon.”

and he gets it. just like that. the words that you’re saying without putting them into words because there are many ways to say it and a plethora of intrepreting it but namjoon gets it because his heart beats the same rhythm as you: i love you.

a dimpled smile curls over his lips as he places a kiss over your forehead, “should we go home?” he leans down to whisper into your ears, his tone changing dangerously, “and pick up where we left off, yeah doc?”

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mattholicguilt · 3 years

Text

cats in the cradle by Duck_Life

Fandoms: Supernatural [Gen, No Archive Warnings Apply] Words: 1,745

Tags: Claire Novak & Patience Turner, Cats, Psychic Abilities, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Friendship, Found Family, claire novak will see a stray animal and be like, is anyone gonna project onto this, and not wait for an answer

Summary: Claire helps Patience hone her abilities. Patience helps Claire track down a cat.

Written for SPN Women Week Day 1. Prompt: "skills"

Bub is missing again.

“Bub” is the name of a mean stray cat missing a chunk from his ear. Claire’s been leaving cat food out for the ugly old thing for weeks now, and whenever he doesn’t come running she panics.

So, for the third time, Patience finds herself enlisted in the search for a cat that Claire doesn’t even technically own. “If it’s gonna bother you this much every time,” Patience says, “why don’t you just take it in? You know, get him his shots, a collar, a microchip.”

Claire makes a face at her before turning back to look at the road. She’s been driving around the neighborhood slowly, scoping out every shrub and checking under every parked car. “Bub doesn’t want to be chained down,” she explains. “He’s a free spirit.”

Alright, well, Patience is too tired to unpack that right now. She lets it lie and looks out the passenger’s side window, alert for any signs of movement. “Maybe he was never a stray at all,” she tries, “and his owner finally tracked him down and brought him home.”

“Do you know that?” Claire asks.

Claire’s always asking if Patience knows things— what happened on Jody’s date last weekend, what Dean’s middle name is, whether or not Alex is the one who ate the last ice cream sandwich in the freezer. Patience keeps trying to explain that she can only see the future. “Psychic” might be a misnomer— her abilities are precognitive, not telepathic.

She basically gets previews, little spoilers about what’s to come. And though she’s been working at it, she can’t seem to get her psychic abilities to do the kind of reading and divination her grandma could do. She gets glimpses with no context, no backstory.

Missouri Moseley could walk into a room and feel every ounce of heartbreak, grief, hope and faith in the people standing there. Patience can barely pick up on it when Alex and Claire are pissed at each other.

Still, Claire brings her along whenever the cat goes missing. Seems to think her ESP can home in on missing animals. Patience keeps telling her otherwise, and yet here she is, once again. That’s the trouble with having no social life and no better plans.

Maybe she should join a book club.

Claire rounds the corner, eyes darting around for any sight of the mangy cat. The first time Bub vanished from Claire’s sight, all the neighbors seemed intent to help. They explained they hadn’t seen the cat, but hoped Claire would find him soon and offered baked goods and platitudes in the meantime.

But these things have an expiration date. You can only lose the cat so many times before the routine gets old and the neighbors lose interest.

“My educated guess ?” Patience sighs. “The cat’ll come back when it gets hungry. Just like before.”

Claire makes a tch sound and mouths “educated guess” under her breath. Apparently, because Patience is psychic she’s supposed to be omniscient. “So which is it?” Claire says. “Is he back with his ‘real’ owners or is he going to come home when he gets hungry?”

“Don’t be a jerk,” Patience says. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m helping you.”

“... Yeah. You are,” Claire says, ducking her head. “Sorry.” Her eyes scan the road ahead, looking for the telltale streak of a cat darting out from under a parked car or vanishing around a tree trunk. Still nothing. “Hey, Patience the Pet Psychic,” Claire says. “You should write that down, that’d be a great children’s book.”

“Very funny,” Patience says, rolling her eyes. She’s silent for a few moments and then says, “Cla-aire the Monster Slayer.”

“That doesn’t really rhyme.”

“Sure it does.”

When the sky darkens and the streetlights flick on, Claire drives them back to the house, Bub-less and dejected. “I’m sure he’s fine,” Patience tries.

Claire bunches her shoulders, the collar of her leather jacket looking like a cat’s raised hackles. Maybe, Patience thinks, that’s the connection— Claire in many ways resembles an angry cat. She and Bub might be kindred spirits.

“I’m just tired,” Claire says, yanking the keys out of the ignition. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Patience considers pointing out that Claire could at least ask instead of just assuming , considers reminding Claire that she has her own life outside of playing “pet psychic.”

But she doesn’t actually have anything to do tomorrow. Or the rest of the week. And as futile as it feels riding around looking for a runaway cat, it is something to do. And it makes Claire feel better.

And… straining her psychic muscles to pick up on any trace of the old tomcat is at least better than doing nothing and letting her abilities degrade. Over the last year, she’s been trying to find ways to train her brain, shape her psychic visions into something useful.

Jody’s supportive, but she, like most people, doesn’t know anything about being psychic. Kaia’s got a fraught relationship with her own special skills and usually chooses not to talk to Patience about seeing the future, and Alex is so entrenched in nursing and hunting that the few “normal” moments she gets at home are devoted to unwinding and relaxing.

Which makes Claire Patience’s most ardent supporter in developing her psychic abilities. A very grouchy, blonde and mostly clueless Yoda. What she lacks in background knowledge she makes up for in persistence.

“Hey, Patience, guess which hand?” Claire will ask, holding the last fortune cookie behind her back. “Hey, Patience, what number am I thinking of?” Claire will ask, perched on the arm of the couch. “Hey, Patience, heads or tails?” Claire will ask, flipping a coin to catch it in midair.

That’s not how it works. That’s not how any of it works— Patience can’t predict things at will. Her psychic visions operate on a schedule of their own, with no concern for Patience’s own convenience or comfort. One minute, she’s watching shitty reality TV while Alex nods off on her shoulder. The next, she’s watching Jody narrowly avoid being bitten by a vampire.

It’s a lot different from just guessing a coin toss. Still. Patience can’t help but think that her grandma would’ve passed all of Claire’s little tests with flying colors.

That night, Patience doesn’t dream about anything— at least, not anything useful. She has an anxiety dream about being lost in Aldi, roaming the aisles with increasing frustration. But nothing about the future. Nothing about Bub the cat.

She’s pouring herself a bowl of cereal when Claire stomps inside, the porch door swinging shut behind her. “Still gone,” she says darkly, grabbing the cereal box and her own bowl. “Food hasn’t been touched.”

“Claire,” Patience says, “why don’t we just go to the SPCA? You can get yourself a cat that’s not, you know—”

“What? Not damaged? Not a lost cause? Not hard to love?”

Whoa, Patience wants to say. “A cat that’s not missing ,” she finishes. “We can get him his shots and a collar and everything.”

“I don’t— I don’t just want some random cat,” Claire says. “I want to find Bub. I want… I want to find him and bring him home. I have to bring him home.”

“I know,” Patience says, and just like that she does . She does know.

She knows everything, feels everything, the aching loss in Claire’s bones that’s both recent and so, so old. Memories of Claire hitchhiking and stealing and conning her way through the country, desperately chasing a mother who was desperately chasing a dead man. Jimmy Novak’s voice in her head, his face seen through Claire’s eyes, Please, Castiel, take me. Just take me. Again, his forehead pressed to hers, Take care of your mom, okay, bub?

Bub.

Patience looks at Claire. Sees her, in a way she hasn’t been able to see anyone before. “Bub… ‘bub’ is what your dad used to call you.”

Claire squints at her. “Uh. Yeah,” she says. “Wait, I didn’t… I didn’t tell you that.”

“No,” Patience breathes, meeting her eyes across the kitchen, “you didn’t.”

Slowly, a grin spreads across Claire’s face. “Holy shit , Patience, you just… ? You just did that. You, like, read me.”

“I, uh, I didn’t know. That I could do that,” Patience says, caught between marveling at this new development and feeling self-conscious at intruding on Claire’s emotions and her past.

Claire doesn’t seem put off at all. She’s actually bouncing with excitement. “We gotta test this out. Oh my God. It’s like a whole new Pokemon evolution for you.”

“It’s not really. Like that. In any way.”

But Claire is already humming the Pokemon theme song. She grabs her car keys. “Alright, well, let’s go look for that cat. I’ve got a good feeling about today.”

“I read you, Claire, that doesn’t mean I can read the cat,” Patience reminds her.

“Yeah, yeah, but you can still help me look,” Claire says. “I don’t need your third eye, just the two on your face.”

“That’s… yeah, fine,” Patience acquiesces. To be honest, she’s buzzing with the knowledge of what she can do with her powers. If Claire’s happy to be her test subject, she’ll spend all day with the girl. “Just let me grab a coffee.”

“Ooh, me too. Wait!” She wiggles her fingers toward Patience. “Do you Know how I like my coffee?”

“Half-and-half. And enough sugar to kill you,” Patience reels off. “But that’s not because I’m psychic. I’ve just seen you fix yourself coffee before.”

“Y’know, I think the line between ‘psychic’ and ‘observant’ is thinner than you might think.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Patience says, and then pretends to stumble backward toward the table, overacting the part. “Oh, oh, I’m having a vision… I see you … making coffee for us…”

Claire rolls her eyes, but she dutifully sets her keys down and busies herself with getting the travel mugs out. “That’s not gonna work for everything, you know.”

“Aaah I see you bringing Jody’s suit to the dry cleaners next week. I also see you driving me to the science museum.”

“Hilarious.”

Patience smiles at her. It’s nice to have someone else get excited about her powers. It’s nice to be allowed to be excited about this, to learn a new skill and have it mean something good to someone besides herself. She doesn’t feel like a freak or a failure. She just feels… like a psychic.

She feels like her grandma would be proud.

#spnwomenweek #day 1: skills #patience turner #claire novak #spn #supernatural

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magnetothehedgehog · 3 years

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Dimension’s Ridge Announcement!

Hi everyone, With all the rise in Sonic media and the great releases coming up, such as The New sonic game in 2022,the sonic movie 2, sonic prime, and literally anything Idw has been releasing including their new side series “Imposter syndrome”, I am challenged to up my game and release information on my long running project in the works. Especially Since sonic prime and Idw is literally gonna blow out all the spoilers before I do if I don't start releasing stuff first. Since its been happening constantly, I gotta be a step ahead.

So, without further ado, I introduce you to the World of Dimension's Ridge.

Dimensions Ridge is My personal Alternate Universe that seeks to combine all aspects of sonic media. In fact, its super similar to the upcoming Sonic prime, archie and Idw Comics in this regard, with it possibly being a bit more ambitious, or at least equally as ambitious as Idw.

The Series will follow a number of favorite canon and non canon characters alike, but will also their universal counterparts and alternate universe selves.

The Main overarching plot line is that a Existence level Threat is putting everything in jepoardy. This Creature Known as an Existence Eater spreads its influence to a planet by releasing its minions into it, then after enough time, it comes to absorb the planet, thus erasing it from existence entirely, as if it had never been there in the first place. This has been happening for quite a while, until a few people caught onto it. They began leaving messages and warnings to others in a attempt to save them.

Being an existence level threat, this will take the combined effort of every Version of Sonic,Tails,Sally, Eggman and everyone else if they want anything to be left in the multi-verse. This Story is about how they all come together to do just that.

However that is the main plot. The story follows many minor or sub plotlines and stories that all connect and weave into this ultimate narrative. For Stories featuring Sonic and friends, Stories start off in the classic area and work their way into the modern area as the characters develop and mature, so we get to see and live their journey alongside them. For older characters and parents, I wanted them to have a more staple involvement in the series, even if only at the beginning. Their Adventures as the World slowly slips into chaos can be read in War on Mobius.

While there are Prequels to the beginning of the story, such as the “Rift War.”, the main storylines that kicks off all the other starts is one of my current productions “War on Mobius.”This follows the economical and political collapse following the Recent End of The Rift War and begins the Egg Empire's rise to Power.I would like to mention that The Egg Empire Now consists of the collective versions of Eggman all working together as a family. Egg Fam for short. But we have Great additions such as boom eggman, Ova Eggman, Aosth Eggman, Satam Eggman, Russian Eggman,Eggette, and a few custom additions such as Omelette and Scramble.

Things That happen in War on Mobius will be seen effecting or influencing the states of things in my Classic Era Story “Classic adventures.” and others ones such as “The Freedom Fighters.”

Alongside canon appearances of less known or scrapped characters and designs, such as Tiara and Honey the Cat, Readers can expect appearances of my own characters, both as counterparts to main characters, and also as people who drive the story forward and show interesting and dynamic opinions of their changing world. A few Such ones would be “Tribal Ties” Focusing on the Tribes of Echidnas, Bayblonians and Pangolins Tribes, all of which play a part not only in Mobius history, but also will play a vital part in its future.

After Classic adventures, comes one of my long running claims to fame and a personal favorite of mine from my early script writing days. Zone Runners. This takes place after the Events of Classic adventures and as the world has been influenced by the political unrest in War on Mobius. It follows the Group of People on the East Side of the World as they try to fight back against the Egg Empire, Newly risen Oscillators Group, and The Very lack of Sonic and Freedom Fighter there. This series will also begin unraveling some of the mysteries behind the existence eater and the ultimate narrative. Originally this concept came from the Fleetway comics, and ever since I've been completely inspired to incorporate this into my own series. If anyone was ever on Sonic Amino, they might have seen me post things related to it back in the day.

I also wish to be a more character focused series as a whole, one who focuses on the people collectively as opposed to just Sonic himself. I want it to as if each character us actually a main character and can save the day, and that the day is only won because everyone has done their part, whether powerful or powerless.

To that End, I have many characters stories intertwine, or lead to one another. Some characters will have branching off stories, while others will be closely intertwined, and always interact with each other, regardless of who the story is currently focusing on.

A few I'd like to notable mention is, Shadow's Ark, Silvers Sanctuary, and Heir of Sol. Focusing on the characters Shadow, Silver, And Blaze Respectively.

While I have a lot of other Titles for the stories respectively, I'd just to touch on a few more before I close.

Worlds collide finally answers the question in sonic media about two planets and the dimensional connundrum of sonic rush and sonic 06. While also bringing together multiple characters who were on their own paths, for the collected purpose of setting up how everyone will be needed much later.

Dimension Forces is, a reimagined Version of Sonic Forces, including a whole new team of villains to take on the heroes from our prior stories. I call them: Forever Force. The Main Three Hitters Being the Villains Infinite, Eternity, And Enigma. In this Story we'll get to see Whispers team in action, and also get to see new stories involving Gadget and His Brother Widget, and a host of other rising heroes soldiers and returning cast members.

I also had this Idea that the wisps were able to use their abilities on their own, except in smaller weaker versions then when they had a mobians help.Thus you could call in drill air strikes and other things to help you in battle, and the flew alongside you rather than in containers. I had these idea way long ago, but what do you know Idw beat me to the punch again in rise of the wisps. However I would just like to say before they do it too, that I had the idea of the wisps combining their powers, as if anyone played Sonic simulator, you would know you can actually combine wisp powers. If its the same type, its twice as strong with a bonus effect. If its different, you can combine the strengths of two different powers. Think how eggman used cube with laser in the boss nega wisp armor.

Speaking of Sonic Simulator! Thats another Story I have plans for. Following alongside the events of Sonic colors, Sonic simulator follows the group of hedgehogs abducted from Mobius and sent to eggman's interstellar amusement park as part of an organic experiment to take out sonic. Suggested by The Leader of the Oscillators, These hedgehogs will now have to work together to prove their worth to Eggman and as worthy adversaries of Sonic! But what of their past memories? What will happen if they remember? And if they do, can they escape? Find out! Also its follow up story leads to sonic lost world.

I'd also like to talk about the Idw Verse Mini series I have been working on! Getting Art from the Talented CatRage and getting to voice my Ideas to My Friends as well as My sister, I present my own Miniseries! Mimic's misadventures!

This story takes place between the events of Idw's Bad guys, and follows mimic's operations and struggles as he tries to complete his missions, and deal with people of similar caliber to himself. Will this mercenary manipulate his way easily out of another situation? Or has the Octopus finally met the one group who will send him back to the ocean? Find out!

Currently, this miniseries has 5 canon issues and one undecided.

1.Ghost Of The North.

2.Into the Spiders Nest

3.Hunt is on

4.Jaws of a Predator

5.Belly of the Beast

undecided: 6.Seaside Escapade.

Currently I am writing the script for Part 1 of Ghost of the North and hope to finish up the Audio drama reading for it soon.

So this is all the stuff I've had in production for the past few years! Along with my co writer Pinky heart.

Please, Please! Reblog or retweet this. It would mean the world to me. Also please! Ask as many questions as you'd like. I'll answer as many as I can, and would love to hear everyone's thoughts and opinions, as well as questions and inquires involving the series.

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faulty-writes · 4 years

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'Tis I - the original Bakugou vs Mirio requester! I have come with another idea, should you choose to accept it: Rescue training. yn is chosen to be the damsel in distress for the exercise. It's timed. Bakugou speeds through the course, is insensitive towards the 'victim', and flails her around like a ragdoll. Bakugou bombs the exercise even though he finished on time. Midnight then tells Mirio to show him how it's done. Mirio literally sweeps yn off her feet during the exercise. Baku is MAD.

[ This turned out much longer than I originally thought. But regardless, I hope you all enjoy the Mario save the Princess vibe. ]

Midnight smirked as she stood in front of Class 1-A., whip in hand and it was almost eerie how she looked at each student with those piercing eyes of hers. “Is that understood?” she questioned, having just finished explaining the exercise. Apparently, it was a simple rescue mission, of course when it came to any type of training. U.A. was anything but simple, you knew there had to be some catch and sure enough, there was.

“Excuse me!” Iida was the first one to raise his hand and get Midnight’s attention. “Forgive me, but you claim this to be a simple rescue mission, yes?” Midnight’s eyes sparkled with mischief and she smirked. “Correct!” she exclaimed as she pointed her whip toward him and a few of your classmates flinched in response. You watched Bakugou huff and cross his arms, you wondered if he was actually scared of anything.

Considering how odd things have been between you and him lately, well more specifically you, him, and Mirio. “You are to go through the obstacle course, which in this case is a castle. The point of this exercise is to use both your offensive and defensive skills. As well as test your rescue skills, for you see. One of you will be playing the hero and the other the poor damsel in distress!” she declared as she placed the back of her hand to her forehead.

For an R rated hero, she sure tried hard to be an actress. “How will the hero and the one to be rescued be decided?” Iida asked, with his hand enthusiastically in the air. “Hm…” you were standing in the front row and shivered as Midnight’s eyes settled on you. “For the first round, Y/n! You will be the damsel in distress!” you took a step back and your content expression twisted into that of horror.

“What?! Why me?” you questioned, though Midnight ignored you before pointing to Bakugou. “Bakugou will be the hero! Will he be able to save the lovely Y/n on time? Who knows, the rest of you sit back and watch his performance on the screen.” Midnight said as she pointed to a large oversized television that almost seemed to defy gravity as it hovered high above the training ground. Of course, the students would be taken to the observation room which was equipped with several televisions as well as communication systems.

You almost wanted to beg your classmates to stay, Bakugou didn’t exactly seem very compassionate for this type of exercise. Still, you watched as your classmates followed Midnight’s instructions and shyly looked at the ground. This was a little embarrassing, why couldn’t someone else have been chosen to be the rescue victim? Your eyes widened when you heard Bakugou approach you, “Hey, dumbass! Lift your damned head so I can look at you!” he demanded and in a way it both scared and offended you, Bakugou really needed some lessons on how to talk nicely.

Though according to Kirishima, the angry blond did have a soft spot, and when he did speak calmly. It was like he was a completely different person. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that. Yet, somehow you found yourself following his command and slowly raised your head. A shiver ran down your spine as you saw the smirk he was wearing and how his tongue came out to swipe across his lips.

He reached over and grabbed you by the shirt collar, pulling you against him. “Just watch, babe.” you narrowed your eyes at the nickname, why the hell did he call you that? “I’ll finish this course and rescue you quicker than All Might himself.” you gasped when he released you and began to walk away. You turned to look at Midnight who seemed almost as if she were coming off of a high of some sort, she loved youth and drama apparently. “Oh, now isn’t that spicy!? A challenge from the student, can he beat All Might’s record and complete this rescue mission?” she questioned before walking over to you.

“Time to get into position, you’ll find an elevator located on the side of the castle. Go on now so this exercise can start.” Midnight urged as she pushed you, “Alright, alright.” you grumbled before following her instructions, the elevator ride seemed to take longer than you wanted to admit. But once you reached the top you found yourself stepping into what looked to be a circular room. There were bars on the window and only one door. Naturally, you walked over and pulled it, only to find it was locked.

“That’s right.” you jumped at the sound of Midnight’s voice over the sound system. “Our damsel in distress is locked away, there is no escape from the room they are in. Which leaves the hero one of two options. They may climb the tower and try to reach their rescue victim through the barred window or they may infiltrate the inside and break down the door. But be fair warned, villains are around every corner.” Bakugou spread his legs and parted his fingers as small explosions sounded from his palms.

“Pff doesn’t sound like much of a challenge to me!” he declared before rocketing himself off the ground which left behind two large holes. If anything Bakugou was an expert at using his quirk when it came to projecting himself through the air and with multiple “villains” around, which were just more robots that U.A. seemed to like to use. It was an easy task for him to take them out with one solid explosion. Pieces of metal and wire were left in his continued path of destruction.

“Looks like Bakugou made it through the first level, but how will he handle the bigger villains that await him on level two!?” Midnight continued to narrate and you curiously ran to the window to see what was happening, sure enough, you could see the large explosions caused by Bakugou and even make out the pieces of metal that soared through the sky. Was he just planning to blast his way through everything?

Part of you wondered just how many robots U.A. had to replace the ones Bakugou was killing off without a second thought. Your fingers tightened around the bars of the window, “Looks like our rescue victim is enjoying the show! Don’t worry, your hero will come for you soon. That is if he can stand the final challenge.” you raised your eyebrow, final challenge? You gasped as you felt vibrations course through the castle, it was enough to send you off your feet.

“What is going on!?” you questioned as you tried to stagger your way back to the window, grabbing onto the bars as tightly as you could. Though it was hard to stand without your feet slipping from underneath you. Your eyes widened as you watched a large mechanical being come into view. It was at least three times bigger than the castle and in a way, it reminded you of the zero point obstacle you had to overcome during the entrance exam.

But as usual, once Bakugou had a goal set there was no stopping him. You hated to admit it, but that was one of the qualities that you happened to admire about the angry blond. No matter how bad things looked, he always seemed to keep going. “Oh! Looks like he’s going for an air attack!” Midnight said and your eyes frantically searched the sky, but the shadow of the robot made it hard to see as it blocked most of your view.

“Ah!” you cried out when a bright flash came, he really needed to learn how to control his quirk better. “Hah! Not so fucking tough without an arm, are you!?” Bakugou said with a twisted smirk before breaking the robot down piece by piece which seemed to awe and disgust the rest of Class 1-A. “Sheesh, he always goes in full blast. What’s up with that?” Kirishima asked before turning to Kaminari who shrugged in response.

“I don’t know, but you gotta admit. He gets the job done, though I’m not sure if I’d make such a mess,” he replied as he continued to watch the screen. Bakugou was now standing in the pile of what remained of the robot beast. He was panting softly and covered in a light sweat. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to collapse as he took one step forward. But then, he clenched his fists. “Y/N!” he suddenly screamed as he tilted his head up toward the tower.

“YOU’RE NEXT, BACK AWAY FROM THE WINDOW!” he warned before he focused most of his quirk to his palms and another explosion sounded before he flew off the ground, barely scraping by the stone that made up the tower. “YOU BETTER HAVE LISTENED TO ME, DUMBASS.” he growled as he latched onto the window with one hand. You gasped when you saw his figure and quickly pressed yourself into a corner, crouching down with your arms covering you.

It was no surprise what he was going to do next. He let out a loud cry as he reeled his hand back and sure enough, a loud explosion came. You felt the heat of it and the room filled with smoke which made you choke. But Bakugou had successfully melted the bars and though you didn’t hear him enter the room. You nearly screamed when he grabbed your wrist, his grip was a little too tight for your liking. “Come on, let’s go! Damn it!” he snapped before turning to run.

You stumbled to keep up with him as he decided to take the fast approach and jump through the window. You took note that the bars though now melted had jagged ends that still burnt a light orange. “Uh Bakugou, slow down!” you pleaded and tried your best to break yourself of his grip. But he only laughed, “Scared, are you?” he stopped at the window and turned to face you. “You’re only going to slow me down if you’re like this.” he noted with an angry pout, “So come on, let’s go!” he demanded before roughly throwing you over his shoulder.

You were in disbelief and pounded your fists against his back. “Put me down!” you demanded but he ignored you before climbing onto the window sill. “W-Wait a minute, you’re not going to…” you realized too late and let out a scream as Bakugou carelessly jumped out the window, your nails dug into the back of his costume which seemed to catch his attention. “Your nails are digging into my skin! Stop it!” he demanded and his elbow came to try and jab you.

“Hey!” you cried out, the wind was causing your eyes to water and your hair was blowing around like crazy as you continued to fall. You instinctively let go in an attempt to get away from his elbow. But instead that sent you flying up and you let out another scream as you found yourself free falling. “Dumbass! What’d you let go for!?” Bakugou snapped as he tried to reach out for you, though the gap was too much.

Your panic wasn’t helping as your body spun around and before you realized. You had hit the ground with a loud thud and pain riddled your body causing you to let out a hiss. “Ouch…” you moaned out before trying to push yourself up, however, that’s when the ground began to shake again. “Oh no…” you yelped as you forced your body to sit up, your hand was desperately clenching your ribcage that radiated with pain and made it a difficult task to breath.

However, at that moment it didn’t matter. As seconds later, your breath hitched when a large shadow came and you trembled as you looked up. A scream caught in your throat as the mechanical beast reeled one of its sharp talons back. You knew what was going to happen next and much like before, you seemed to curl into a ball with your arms over your head. Just waiting for the impact that may or may not cause your death.

However, instead, you felt the heat of Bakugou’s explosion as the arm was severed. “Sheesh, can’t you do anything right!?” he snapped as he turned around to face you. Though you looked to be in bad shape, covered in dirt and a thin line of blood was seeping from your nose. Part of you wondered if it was from the smoke you had inhaled earlier.

But Bakugou didn’t seem to care about that and once more roughly grabbed you by your wrist and hosted you over his shoulder. You yelped in pain and hit his back with your fist. Trying to hold in the scream that was threatening to escape but Bakugou just huffed. “If you try escaping again, another robot is going to lock onto you. We need to make it to the exit, come on!” he snapped before he kicked off the ground.

Every time he took a step, his shoulder dug into your side and caused you more pain. You were in tears by the time he passed through the gate and a little surprised when he actually lowered you to your feet instead of just simply throwing you to the ground. “Well, you still have a few seconds to spare. So you completed the challenge, however.” Midnight walked over to you and lowered herself onto one knee.

She looked you over and took note of your current state which was a direct result of Bakugou’s carelessness. “You defeated the villains just fine, however you were sloppy with your rescue. You were careless when you decided to take the window as a means of entrance and injured your rescue victim. Not only that, but you also failed to ask if they had any injuries prior and you mishandled Y/n. That is, you decided to drag them by the wrist and throw them over your shoulder which is a horrible way to treat your rescue victim, and for that, you fail.” Midnight declared and Bakugou growled.

“WHAT THE HELL YOU MEAN FAIL!?” he snapped, his explosions sounding off. Midnight ignored him and looked to you, “Recovery Girl should be here any moment, after which we’ll be bringing in a special guest to show you all how a proper rescue is performed.” you swallowed and looked over as your classmates approached. Each one of them seemed concerned about your well being, but you couldn’t help but turn your attention to Bakugou who snapped at Kirishima and promptly stomped away.

Muttering something about how this was a stupid exercise. You disagreed and wondered if Bakugou was truly as bad as he seemed. He did put you through hell during the exercise, but was something else bothering him? You weren’t entirely sure, but you felt more or less relieved when Recovery Girl showed up and used her healing quirk to fix your injuries. You smiled, though you were still covered in dirt. At least the pain was gone.

“I was a little worried about you when I saw how Bakugou handled you, I almost wanted to hug you when that final obstacle came. I don’t like seeing you scared, Y/n.” you were too busy looking at your newly healed body that you didn’t notice when Mirio had walked over to you. “M-Mirio?” you questioned, seemingly in shock as you watched him smile at you. He was dressed in his hero costume and his cape blew gently behind him. “Yup, that’s me!” he declared with a large smile as he pointed to himself before offering you his hand.

“Looks like I’m up next to show your class how it’s done, but I’m really happy I get to rescue you, sunshine.” you couldn’t help the soft flush that came to your cheeks as he called you by that nickname. You wondered if he was just being nice or if that nickname was something special. Either way, you took his hand. “Well, well, well, I see you’re already acquainted with our brave hero.” Midnight said as she walked up to the two of you with a smile.

“Oh uh, yeah...we kind of are,” you admitted as you sheepishly rubbed the back of your head before looking over your shoulder. You could swear you felt someone’s glance on you. Turns out, Bakugou had taken a few minutes to calm down before returning. He took note that once more Mirio seemed to be trying to take his spotlight, he partly wondered what the hell you saw in the third year.

It pissed him off that you’d even spend your time with Mirio, he was just playing you for a sap anyway. What third year was interested in a first-year? He crossed his arms over his chest and followed the rest of his classmates back to the observatory room. He was practically glaring at the screen which showed Mirio doing some stretches before taking off. He had a determined glance in his eye, along with a smile that wouldn’t soon fade.

Unlike Bakugou, who blew the enemies to pieces. Mirio was more skillful and careful to avoid making such a mess. Simply phasing through them before cutting their heads clean off. He smiled as he watched them fall to the ground and proceeded to the next level. The higher the level, the bigger the obstacle. But Mirio took them down with ease, that was in part due to the fact he had more experience.

Still, the way he handled the enemies and villains was something to be admired. Their bodies laid in the dust before he reached the final stage which was the biggest obstacle in his way. A hint of worry came across his features as he noticed the large robot was near the castle where you were being held. He needed to make sure you were protected as well as figure out a way to take down the enemy.

“Hey! Down here, big guy!” he called, effectively catching its attention. He could hear the mechanical whirring of gears as its head turned. “Target acquired,” it spoke and stepped toward Mirio, the ground shook underneath its massive weight but Mirio wasn’t intimidated. In fact, he smiled and continued to lead it away from your location. Sure, you were still someone he had to rescue. But as long as this big fella was away from you and you were still “safe” for the time being.

He’d be more at ease. However, once he was far enough away. The robot tried to land a hit, but Mirio was quick. Easily dodging the clawed hand that crashed into the ground, causing dirt and rock to scatter. He then circled around the robot and proceeded to use his quirk to phase through the ground, effectively disappearing from view. He smirked as he came back up and directed himself toward the robot’s foot, punching clear through it and making it off balance.

Once the robot fell to the ground, Mirio jumped onto its back and ran toward its head. Though he had to be careful as the robot squirmed and tried to push itself up once more. Mirio made quick work of disabling one of its arms by phasing through it, but at the last moment. He deactivated his quirk and used his foot to slice the appendage clean off. Then he went in for the kill.

He jumped up and used his legs to create a large dent in the robot’s head. He could see the various wires sparking through the broken metal. But at least it was down for the count. “Thanks for the fight! But, I’m off to save my sunshine!” he said as he waved the dying robot goodbye before making his way back to you. He smirked and phased through the wall of the castle, taking note of the many stairs and low-level robots.

“Hm…” he tapped his chin, debating if he should waste his time fighting them to get to you. As romantic as that would be. He could always climb up the castle like Bakugou had. “Oh, looks like our incredible hero is making a decision, what will he do next? After such a performance, he’s sure not to disappoint!” Midnight just had to comment and you rolled your eyes from your position in the locked tower. Truth be told, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous.

Mirio and Bakugou seemed to be fighting over you an awful lot lately and you weren’t even sure where their affection had come from in the first place or if they actually had feelings for you. Bakugou seemed to be keeping his emotions at bay while Mirio was openly affectionate. If you ever had to make a choice between the two of them, you weren’t looking forward to the fight that would happen. You took a breath and crossed your arms before letting out a sigh.

“Sunshine.” you jumped when you heard Mirio’s voice and turned around. Almost snickering when you saw the way he was hanging onto the window, both hands were gripping onto the bars and it looked like his knees were bent which meant he was pressing both feet against the outside wall. “I’m glad to see you’re okay, are you injured?” he questioned, knowing that was an important aspect of rescuing someone.

After all, you had to make sure your rescue victim was alright or figure out a way to continue the rescue even if they were injured. You tried to bite back the smile coming before answering. “Yes, I’m alright.” Mirio nodded, “Well in that case.” you watched as he phased through the window and stood tall on his feet. His hands were on his hips and his smile was as bright as ever. He truly was the perfect picture of a hero and once more you felt yourself flushing.

Though from the observatory room, Bakugou was practically fuming. Clenching his jaw and his fists were coiled so tightly he was beginning to frighten his classmates. “Uh, heh. Bakugou are you…” Kirishima reached out to try and touch Bakugou’s shoulder but ended up stumbling back when Bakugou glared at him. “Shut the hell up, idiot!” he snapped before Jirou voiced her opinion.

“Sheesh, calm down. What are you so puffed up about?” she questioned before Bakugou turned his glare on her. “Shut it, lobes!” he snapped before crossing his arms over his chest, what the fuck did the third year have that he didn’t? He hated feeling as though he were beat, damn it. He had to figure out a way to win you over and quickly. “Here, I’ll carry you,” Mirio insisted before walking up to you, though you took a step back which made him pause.

He titled his head, “Are you okay?” he questioned and you almost felt ashamed for having stepped back. But you cleared your throat and nodded, “Y-Yeah. Sorry, I was just a little nervous. You’re not going to throw me over your shoulder, are you?” you questioned and Mirio laughed, almost as if he found your words amusing.

“Of course not, a beautiful rescue victim doesn’t deserve that treatment. I was thinking more of doing this…” he smiled as he approached you and gently placed his arm around you and leaned down before placing his other arm underneath your legs. You squeaked as you found yourself being lifted into his arms and pressed up against his rather muscular chest. You couldn’t help but blush as you looked up at him.

He was pretty handsome, but when he was playing the part of a hero. Somehow, he became more attractive. Was that possible? You weren’t sure, but either way. You found yourself staring at him for longer than you should and Mirio turned his head to look at you. “Here, wrap your arms around me. I would never want to risk hurting you, so I hope you hold on tight,” he said, his voice as cheery as ever.

You nodded, “U-Uh, of course.” you replied before doing as he asked, though you already felt safe in his arms which said a lot. Unlike the tension you felt with Bakugou, Mirio’s positive attitude could put anyone at ease. “Alright, ready? I guess we’ll do the same as Bakugou and take the window,” he said before jumping onto the ledge. He surveyed the area, more than likely that same final obstacle would appear.

However, that was only if the sensors were set off and with you in his arms. He couldn’t use his quirk to avoid them, though he would never risk your safety and leave you behind. Though he could still try and avoid it if the sensors were on the ground. “Oh, what a daring rescue! What better way than in the arms of your daring hero. Oh, youth! I love it!” you almost wanted to roll your eyes, Midnight was certainly excitable.

Still, you wondered what Mirio was planning and you felt his grip on you tighten. “Hold on tight,” he warned before he stepped over the ledge and pressed his feet to the outside wall. He focused his quirk on his feet to keep himself on the right path. Much like before the wind was causing your hair to blow all over the place and you tucked your head into the crook of Mirio’s neck. “Hey, it’s alright. I got you, you are safe. Sunshine.” he spoke gently and it made a shiver run down your spine.

He smiled as he neared the ground and deactivated his quirk, allowing his feet to become solid once more. With his cape flowing behind him, he released his hold on your legs though his arm kept you tightly against his chest. He reached over, grabbing the end of his cape, and used the wind to help him change direction. You held on tightly, your eyes wide as you felt yourself shift. Mirio was now running along the side of the castle, something that surprised you.

Was he just planning on circling around until he got dizzy? It was a silly thought but a moment later, you felt him kick off the castle and go flying into the air. You gasped when you felt his cape wrap around you and looked up at him, even in the midst of the motion. You could see that kind smile looking down at you and soon his free arm came back to hold you, keeping you secure as you two hurtled toward the ground.

You thought you knew what he was doing and braced yourself for the impact. However, Mirio used his shoulder to land and effectively kept you shielded as he rolled along the ground. He got up before you could register what was happening, despite the fact yet another earthquake came. “Uh Mirio…” you said, a tad worried as you clung to the front of his costume. “Just don’t look back,” he instructed, his eyes seemed to be focused on something else.

He knew that there were two options to complete the rescue exercise. One was to defeat all the enemies and the other was to make it past the safe gate which was decorated with the image of Principal Nezu. Mirio was determined to make it to that gate, even with the mechanical beast quickly gaining speed on him. “Come on…” you heard him whisper to himself as he forced his legs to go faster.

At this moment he was your hero and he took that title with pride. Of course, he got a little nervous as he watched the shadow of the robotic arm reel back. More than likely ready to smash both of you, Mirio clenched his jaw. Damn. Well, guess he’d have no choice but to deal with the final obstacle while keeping you safe. “I’m going to protect you, but you have to trust me. Okay?” he said, though you were a little scared as to what was going to happen.

Your arms tightened around him, almost as if signaling he had your okay. He took a deep breath and waited until the shadow of that arm grew closer and used his instincts to time his jump. As soon as he felt that do or die emotion, he quickly dodged and used the arm as a point of leverage. He grunted as he landed on it, you were in disbelief as Mirio ran up the length of the arm and once more jumped into the air.

“You won’t hurt my sunshine!” he screamed before bringing his leg up, though he didn’t give it his all as his foot collided with the robot’s head. You could hear something rattle around, more than likely that kick was just a temporary distraction. “Ah!” you cried out as you saw the ground approach. However, Mirio once more proved he could handle himself and landed on the ground with ease. Still, holding you close though you were beginning to worry about the state of his legs.

Still, he continued on. Much like Bakugou, he held that determination of never giving up. No matter how bad it looked. You were still wrapped in his cape as he passed through the gate and the rescue exercise was finished. “Wow did you see that!? He took care of two things at once! That robot and he made sure to keep Y/n safe, that’s so manly!” Kirishima exclaimed before Bakugou elbowed him in the stomach.

“Shut up!” he snapped before following behind Midnight. He growled as he watched Mirio put you down and begin to receive praise from a few students. Mainly the damned nerd Deku and his gang of idiots. He growled and failed to notice that he was using his quirk, angry explosions sounded from his closed fists which caused a dark line of smoke to seep out from between the spaces of his fingers.

“Uh, Bakubro...you alright?” Sero asked as he walked up to the blond, Kaminari was right behind him. But he looked less brave as he cowered behind Sero. “I’m fine! This exercise was stupid anyway!” he snapped before shoving the two boys aside and stomping away much like before. He hated feeling this way, damn it.

He hated having feelings for you, he hated feeling jealous whenever that damned Togata was around. But at the same time, it made him all the more determined. He’d figure out a way to steal your heart away and make you forget all about that damned third year.

#mirio x reader #bakugo x reader #togata x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha requests #Anonymous

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endof-theline · 3 years

Text

Day 8- Tropetember: 3 + 1

Day 8 of super early Tropetember, today is 3+1! There are three times Tony has said 'I love you' and there is the one time Bucky said it.

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32455063

There are three times Tony has said 'I love you' and there is the one time Bucky said it.

The first time was in the kitchen, Tony was slouched over the kitchen counter at two in the morning with an empty coffee cup in his hands. He startled when a hand touched his back before he quickly relaxed as he recognized the soothing cold of a metal hand, he lifted his head up enough to see Bucky stood beside him and released his grip on the mug when said man went to take it.

It was silent as Tony stayed hunched up and sleepy and Bucky carefully made two cups of coffee, moving around the kitchen with ease and the silent steps that were trained into him. Tony let out a groan when a hot mug was pushed back into his hands and the smell of coffee woke him up, his tired eyes opening a little more to look at the coffee Bucky made for him before looking up to the soldier.

"I love you" Tony mumbled before taking a sip of the boiling hot coffee, Bucky could only watch in horror as Tony didn't even flinch at the temperature "How come you're awake, nightmare?"

"Suppose you can't call them nightmares if it's something that you've done" Bucky said with a shrug and avoided Tony's eyes as the genius nodded along, both men were more than used too the mixture of nightmares and horrific memories playing in their sleep "What about you?"

"Fun mix of engineering binge and flashbacks, gotta create new stuff to make dear old Dad happy, right?" Tony chuckled but it was weak and humorless and Bucky, for a moment, stopped feeling the guilt of killing Tony's parents "S'okay, it happens a lot"

"What?" Bucky asked surprised and Tony just looked up through his eyelashes to assess Bucky's expression before he nodded slowly.

"Fall into engineering binge, start getting flashbacks to Howard and Obidiah, they come hand in hand really" Tony explained as he sat up a little straighter since it was looking like Bucky wanted to talk, and Tony was well aware that that didn't happen often.

"Howard forced you too?" Bucky kept his questions coming, finding it easier to prompt Tony to talk than have to think of something to say that could help or comfort the other man.

"Kind of, well, mostly yes" Tony considered it for a moment "I guess you could say that what he did to get me to work was forcing me to do it, I think Howard prefered to say he was persuading me or giving me a choice"

"What did he do to you?" Bucky pressed on with a frown on his face and Tony smiled a little to see the concern, it wasn't a secret why Tony had a bad relationship with his father in the team but it was to the media where Hydra would have gotten most of their knowledge at the time about Tony and his family.

"Forget you weren't here when I used to drink" Tony chuckled again but it was still that weak and humorless laugh from before "He used to beat me or threaten me or just say shitty things"

"You're making me not regret killing him" Bucky said plainly and slightly accidentally, his eyes snapped to Tony's when the other man burst out laughing, a proper, real, laugh. Tony laughed hard and a smile was spread across his face, taken off guard by the honesty from Bucky "You're not mad?"

"No, I'm not mad" Tony managed to stop laughing long enough to reply "I used to be when I found out, but the Bucky Barnes in front of me isn't the man who killed my parents, he's the man who makes me coffee and stays to talk to me at two in the morning. You were brainwashed and not in control of your actions, you were Hydra's gun and they pulled the trigger"

"O-Oh" Bucky blinked owlishly at Tony for a moment before letting a small smile slip onto his face "Thank you, Tony"

Tony just nodded with a smile before going back to his coffee, Bucky just watched him for a moment before turning back to his own coffee with a smile on his lips. The pair stayed up together for a while before agreeing to go relax, Tony crawling into his bed as Bucky went down to the gym to work out until Steve found him for their morning run with Sam.

The second time was in Tony's workshop, it had been days since the team had seen Tony and it was ten in the evening. Bucky had been fidgety about Tony going missing but if he brought it up, the team waved it off and told him that it was normal for Tony.

Bucky figured that Tony hadn't told the team why he disappeared for days, so he snuck away from the team and rushed to Tony's workshop as fast as he could without being spotted. FRIDAY didn't mention anything but the way she took him to Tony's floor and opened the doors without him saying anything, gave him a hint.

Tony was hunched over his workbench, hands deep in one of his gauntlets as he muttered under his breath. The bots were tucked away at their charging stations when they would usually be rolling around whenever Tony's working, but they seemed to know not to disturb Tony right now.

As soon as Bucky drew close to Tony, he could hear what the smaller was saying "Gotta finish this, can't let Obie see it, don't wanna be useless"

"Tony" Bucky cooed softly and didn't flinch when Tony snapped his head up and turned to face him, his eyes were bloodshot and his hair was crazy from Tony running his fingers through it "Hey bud, it's time to stop working now"

"B-Bucky?" Tony sounded so dazed and confused as he stared up at Bucky and when he nodded Tony just frowned at him "Why are you here?"

"To get you upstairs, it's time to stop now" Bucky kept his voice soft and calm to avoid spooking Tony and the man just looked between his work and Bucky "You've been down here for days, aren't you hungry?"

"But I gotta keep going" Tony said but he didn't sound like he was sure.

"Says who? No one is making you work apart from you" Bucky pointed out and he could see the moment Tony realised what had been going on, he folded in on him and covered his face with his hands. Bucky stood in front of him awkwardly before he heard the faint noise of cries which he quickly realised was coming from Tony, he quickly pulled Tony into a hug and held him tighter when he felt Tony cling to him.

"I love you" Tony sobbed into his chest as Bucky felt the genius sag against him "Thank you for helping me"

"It's alright, just keeping you safe" Bucky hummed as he moved one hand to start combing through Tony's wild hair, and smiled softly when Tony looked up to him through wet eyelashes "I got you, Tony, do you wanna get some food?"

"Yes please" Tony sniffled as he pulled away and wiped the tears off his face, though most of his tears were on Bucky's shirt "I ruined your shirt"

"It's not ruined and it's just a shirt anyways, doesn't matter" Bucky slung an arm around Tony's shoulders when he stood up and walked Tony out of the workshop, FRIDAY seemed to know what she was doing as she shut the lights down and closed the projects Tony had open.

Bucky stayed by Tony's side up to putting the genius in bed, and even then Tony asked Bucky to stay with him until he fell asleep. It didn't escape the man who had been trained as a killer for many, many years how much trust Tony had in him to be in such a vulnerable state and trust Bucky not to harm him.

It was weird and Bucky loved it.

The third time Tony said I love you was in the privacy of Tony's penthouse, it had been team night and once the team started breaking off to do other things or go to sleep Tony had invited Bucky up to continue watching movies with him.

Bucky didn't care for whatever film was playing, it was something Sci-Fi and Tony had said he loved it when he was a kid so Bucky was willing to try it out. Tony had promised to keep his mouth shut, but both of them knew it was a lie since as soon as it started Tony was chattering away about the characters or the flaws in the science and why certain things would be impossible, even if he wished he could build something similar.

"Do you like it so far?" Tony asked curiously and smiled up to Bucky, the childlike excitement on his face was more than enough to get Bucky to nod his head even though he had no idea what was going on "I knew you would! The others don't like it as much as I do and they hate watching it with me, but I grew up watching them!"

"I like watching them with you, it's hard to pay attention to it but you keep me filled in" Bucky smiled and laughed when Tony moved to cuddle into his side instead of sitting on the opposite side of the sofa "Getting comfortable there, Tones?"

"Yup!" Tony popped the p as he pulled the blanket off the back and covered his lap with it, humming when Bucky started to play with his hair.

"This alright, doll?" Bucky asked before freezing for a moment, the name had just slipped out his mouth without any thought. Tony wriggled for a second before he nodded and went back to watching the movie, Bucky tuned it out completely as his mind raced on why he had said that, where the name came from and why it didn't feel weird saying it.

By the time the screen went black, Tony had slipped down to lay his head in Bucky's lap with one of Bucky's hands still playing with his hair and the other Tony was holding carefully. Bucky's mind was still racing away but all his thoughts came to crashing halt when Tony tugged his hand gently to get his attention.

"I love you, Bucky" Tony said confidently and couldn't stop the smile creeping onto his face as Bucky just blinked down at him in shock "I'm not expecting you to say it back or anything, just thought you should know"

"I, uh, I really like you Tony" Bucky managed as his heart stopped but mind ran even faster as he realised what he had been feeling over the last few months "I really like you"

"I'm glad I had the right idea then, would you like to go on a date with me?" Tony asked like he wasn't laying with his head in Bucky's lap and holding his hand, his smile was shyly confident and when Bucky nodded slowly the smile only grew wider "Awesome! I'll get FRIDAY to have a look at our schedules and see when it's good, do you wanna watch another one?"

Bucky just nodded along again, still shocked about what had happened but excited to get that message from FRIDAY about their date. Tony went back to his chattering as Bucky stared at the screen without taking it in at all, his mind still running him in circles as all his current emotions started to make sense and his thoughts clicked into place.

He really liked Tony Stark.

The one time Bucky said 'I love you' was weeks after their first date and a few days after their fourteenth one, Bucky had kept track. It was in Bucky's bedroom and very late at night.

Bucky was hesitant to let Tony into his space in the first place, he settled into it and quickly felt alright with Tony being on his floor and in his living room, looking at his things and relaxing on his sofa.

They had watched some more of that Sci-Fi series Tony loved so much and Bucky was starting to get the appeal of now, although he wasn't sure if it was because he linked it to Tony or not. Tony was practically in his lap this time but every few seconds the genius was yawning or falling asleep against him, Bucky had offered to pause the film and watch the rest another night but Tony was stubborn so he yawned his way through it.

"Why don't you sleep here tonight?" Bucky offered and then realised what he said, Tony blinked at him in surprise as Bucky stared back with almost the same look on his face.

"That's sweet of you, Buck, but I can't sleep on sofas like I used too" Tony chuckled as he sat up to stretch and Bucky could hear as his back clicked when he moved.

"I didn't mean the sofa" Bucky muttered under his breath, not seeming to remember that Tony was still right next to him and heard every word of it.

"Are you sure? I know me being here must have been tough, I don't wanna make you do anything you'd be comfortable with" Tony asked as he turned to face Bucky who thought about it for a few moments, and the longer he thought about it the more okay with it he became.

"I wanna take my arm off if we do, not 'cause I don't trust you with it" Bucky said firmly and smiled a little when Tony nodded his head instantly "Alright, bedroom's through there, I'm gonna take the arm off so why don't you go get settled"

Tony pressed a kiss to his cheek, something they had done only a handful of times before, and headed into the bedroom. Bucky sat for a second longer to gather his thoughts before taking the arm off carefully and putting it away in the case, he quickly cleaned up his shoulder from the dirt and sweat build up before joining Tony.

Tony who had gotten into bed and wriggled to the middle, his head barely peeking out of the sheets. Bucky chuckled at the sight before climbing into bed as well, thankful Tony made them wear comfortable clothes. Tony wriggled to plaster his back to Bucky's chest and hummed when Bucky wrapped his arm around him to pull him closer, Bucky nuzzled into Tony's hair and hummed back at the scent of Tony's shampoo.

"This is really nice, we should definitely do this more" Tony mumbled into the pillow, whining when Bucky huffed out a laugh "Shuddup, you're warm and you cuddle me"

"Isn't that what you keep me for?" Bucky teased and laughed again when Tony hummed in agreement, the smaller was falling asleep rapidly and it made Bucky's heart melt knowing that Tony trusted him and felt safe enough to sleep so easily.

Bucky was surprised that he wasn't feeling as vulnerable as he thought he would be sharing his bed with someone, maybe it was just because that someone was Tony and Bucky's usual feelings and rules don't apply to him. Bucky loves Steve, but it feels nothing like this and he knew he loved his family back then and it still didn't feel like this either. He supposed this was how it felt to love romantically, how he's meant to feel towards Tony because it felt the same as when he realised how much he liked him, but more .

"I love you" Bucky whispered to the sleeping man, testing the words on his tongue and was happy when it felt right.

"I love you too" Tony mumbled back, Bucky knew that it was possible that Tony wouldn't remember since he was, apparently, on the very edge of sleep, but Bucky would tell him in the morning because Tony deserved to hear it.

And for the first time in his life that he could remember, Bucky felt loved.

#tropetember #eotl writes #fanfiction #winteriron #Bucky Barnes #Tony Stark

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jjyusmile · 4 years

Text

picnics and lavender | kevin moon

pairing: kevin x {gender-neutral} reader!

word count: 2,022

warnings: none! just fluffy keb

requested?: yes!

notes: soooo apparently I got a little carried away, but thank you @dinosvvrs for requesting this! eeeee kevin is a smol soft boy and I loved writing this so much hehehe enjoyyy

_____________________________________________________________________

he told you to meet him here. the slight breeze grazed over the dimly lit lavender fields that surrounded you as you lay on the plaid blanket you had brought, under strict orders from kevin.

your project took up most of your time. with your deadline coming in just a month, you locked yourself away in your studio for numerous nights on end. you had even become friendly with the out of hours security that roamed the halls of your department building. they often found you huddled over your work space with your face smushed against an abundance of utensils and papers.

it was some day in may, you knew that much. your phone ran out of battery a few days ago and you hadn’t had much human contact in a while. but your instruction to be where you are right now was left on a small folded note left on your desk this morning when you were out at the convenience store buying snacks for the day ahead.

meet me in the lavender field behind school at 11pm. bring yourself and your favourite blanket. i promise I won’t keep you too long. - mk

and so here you were.

11:10pm. and no sign of human life whatsoever in your near surroundings.

the overgrown trees on the outskirts the field were occupied by groups of students who hung out after hours. the dull chatter made the late hour feel less daunting.

your eyes wandered the field until approaching footsteps became louder from the direction behind you.

“it’s 11:11 – you gotta make a wish.”

a brightly lit kevin stood behind you with a huge smile covering his face. wrapped across his shoulder down to his waist was a string of fairy lights that illuminated his features that lifted in joy upon seeing you. a wicker basket was overflowing with snacks that dangled from his arm lazily. in his hand, he balanced two glasses and a bottle of champagne lodge under his armpit.

his eyes glistened like he was seeing you for the first time. edging slowly toward the blanket, he knelt and placed the items in front of you carefully. the wicker basket sat out of sight beside him as he pulled out an array of your favourite snacks – numerous variations of maki rolls, sticky rice, kimchi and your all-time favourite, cauliflower wings in different flavours.

“so what did you wish for?”

you pondered for a second – you were too distracted by seeing him for the first time in what felt like months to wish for anything.

“I don’t need to wish for anything. everything will come as it needs to, it all happens for a reason. what about you? what did you wish for?”

he looked up at you with sparkling eyes once more.

“happiness.” he paused. “for both of us.”

a warmth spread over your chest like molten lava cruising up the walls of a volcano. he had a way of doing this. he could say the most mundane thing and it was like your world had been set on fire. although you had only been together for two years, your love for one another began when you were in school together. your parents were best friends which ultimately granted you both the same path.

while your attention was on his last words, kevin had placed all types of snacks in front of you. the radiant colours that were spread in front of you echoed the words he always told you – healthy food, healthy mind.

his thoughtfulness never ceased to amaze you. the way he paid attention to intricate details that made his small gestures more meaningful.

he had wrapped the fairy lights that once hugged his body around the blanket which lit up your surroundings and highlighted his face with a golden glow.

you were biting into your last spicy avocado roll when kevin turned to you with a serious look that overtook his features as he took a sip of the bubbling liquid from the champagne flute.

“I take it all this time staring at a screen and being productive has made you a little forgetful, huh?”

from the basket behind him, he pulled out two homemade cupcakes that were decorated in dark chocolate icing. one had pale yellow cursive that read ‘happy birthday’ while the other had a small heart delicately drawn beside a single candle that kevin lit just as you realised what he was doing.

“happy birthday, my love.”

his smile was radiating as the flame flickered in the light breeze. you had completely lost track of time while immersed wholly in your project. you felt guilty that your boyfriend had gone through this effort when you had barely seen him in weeks.

your eyes filled with overwhelming tears as he gently nudged the cakes towards you in encouragement to blow out of the flame. you took a closer look at him to memorise this moment – the bright smile that adorned his features, the way his hair peaked out from under his beanie, the way the silver chains layering over his black sweatshirt were flickering in the light.

you wrapped your hands around his wrists to pull yourself toward him to lean closer to the cakes. closing your eyes, you pondered what to wish for. you had just told him only an hour ago that you didn’t need to wish for anything. but this time you didn’t want to be selfish – kevin became your whole world when you were only kids, and you wanted to give back to him.

you squeezed your eyes tightly as you blew out a quick breath toward the flame as you wished for every happiness for the boy in front of you, you wished for his dream of becoming a singer to come true, you wished for his goal to move to south korea to become a reality. you wished for everything you ever wanted for this man to come true.

as you opened your eyes, the glow from kevin’s face had disappeared but his face had come much closer to your own than it was before. his closeness showed that the glimmer of emotion in his eyes was overpowering as his dusty brown irises glistened close to your own.

he held your gaze with a cheeky smile on your face. “soooo, what did you wish for?”

you looked at him for a moment. in the years of your friendship and the few that you were together as a couple, he was so selfless when it came to you. moments like this made you realise how much he has done for you; he always paid attention and gave you everything you needed. your wish would be kept a secret between you and whoever was going to grant it. if he found out that you used your birthday wish on him, he would make you take it back and make another wish, selflessly.

“oh- you know. of course, a distinction on my project.” your eyes flickered across his face to see if he knew you were lying. but you were surprised when he leaned forward and placed a small peck of his lips on your nose. he quickly retreated and reached into his pocket.

“you don’t need a wish for that, silly – it’s already coming true, I know it!”

you scooted closer toward him with a slight nudge to his shoulder. “you’re the only one who has ever had faith in me, kev. thank you for tonight, I really needed it.”

as he turned his attention toward you, he snaked his arm around your waist to pull you closer and placed an envelope in your lap.

“what’s this?”

“it was the bucket list we made when we started college. I just wanted to give it to you today to remind you of all you’ve already done, and all you have left to come!”

you rolled your eyes at his mention of ‘we’ – it was your bucket list that kevin took upon himself to edit. his smile was back as you gazed at him, but this time it was shy. his thoughtfulness completely threw you every time, but it didn’t stop you reaching up to kiss him. kevin was caught off guard for a moment, but recovered quickly to return the quick kiss.

you pulled away and kept your eyes on him for a moment – he looked at you with an adoring look which you knew mirrored your own.

after a moment, you pulled away and reached for the envelope and opening it to see your future goals scribbled onto a scrap piece of paper.

my college bucket list! kevin moon’s love’s college bucket list!

☑ start college!

☐ get my driver’s license

☐ finish my final project with a distinction!

☑ go out to a club (update: I did not enjoy it because kevin wasn’t there)

☑ start journaling

☐ go for a picnic in a lavender field

☐ move to south korea – with the love of my life. with kevin ♥

the slight edits to it made you giggle at the memory of kevin hovering over you with a marker while you were writing this in your first year.

“go for a picnic in a lavender field … so that explains tonight.”

“well, I know you would have bene happy with a takeaway and a the office marathon, but I wanted to make you smile. and seeing you grinning right now means it worked…”

your hand shot up to cover your growing smile to tease him, but his own grin made you both crack completely losing control of your expressions. your cackles echoed through the field.

you lifted your glass toward kevin and awaited a clink from his glass. moments like this didn’t come very often – a moment where it was just the two of you with no distractions apart from the slight muffling of a hooting owl.

“thank you kevin. I’ve loved tonight.”

“and I love you.”

the flip in your heart proved that no matter how much time passed or how many times he said it, you would never get used to the fact that this man loved you.

the blush that grew across your cheeks were lightly brushed by the palm of kevin’s hand. you brought your own hand up to graze his and intertwined your fingers with his. the warmth of his hand made the bitter evening more bearable.

“let’s go home.”

as you walked back to kevin’s car hand in hand, you fiddled with the dimly lit lights that kevin had wrapped around your body to ensure that he ‘didn’t lose you on the way back’. he stopped just outside of the passenger door to open it for you. he placed the wicker basket in the back with the empty containers and blanket before untwining the fairy lights from your body.

“you know… once you’ve checked off ‘picnic date with the best boyfriend in the world’ off your list, you should think about which one you should check off next. you can’t keep scrounging off me.”

he closed the door behind you as you got into the passenger seat leaving you dumbfounded. opening the envelope again, you looked for the next logical thing on the list.

I’m in the middle of finishing my project… I can’t move to south korea just yet…

as the driver’s door opened and your boyfriend got into the car chuckling, your gaze fell on the next check on your list:

☐ get my driver’s license

you rolled your eyes and huffed as kevin’s muffled giggles surrounded the car while attempting to get out of your threatening grip.

“just drive, idiot.”

your tone was mockingly annoyed, accompanied by a loving smile directed at the man you loved most in the world. his hand reached for yours and he pulled it to his lips placing a kiss on your knuckles. your intertwined hands balanced on the gear stick as oneus’ kiseki started to echo through the car. the scent of lavender flowers that once overwhelmed your senses got fainter as kevin pulled out of the parking space and you headed home with all smiles.

#kevin moon #the boyz fluff #the boyz #the boyz au #the boyz scenario #requested scenario #kevin moon fluff #kevin moon au #kevin moon scenario #moon hyungseo #moon hyungseo fluff #the boyz kevin #the boyz kevin moon #kpop scenario #kpop au #deobiwritersnet

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adapted-batteries · 3 years

Text

Making Art

Fandom: The Librarians

Rating: General/sfw

Relationship: Flynnstone

Word count: 7274

Summary: Instead of never leaving his hometown, Jacob goes off to college under the guise of getting the only degree his dad values, petroleum engineering, but of course also majoring in art history. In “Survey of Native American Art,” he meets someone who he only knew before as “guy who basically lives in the library stacks.” Of course, Fate decides he needs to suffer through a group project with him.

Alternative summary: What would happen if Jacob Stone went to my alma mater and met Flynn there?

Also posted on my Ao3.

-----

Jacob thought well and hard about how he was going to convince Issac to let him go to the University of Tulsa. There were several hurdles he had to overcome: Pa was a University of Oklahoma man, and here he was wanting to go to the nerdiest school in the state; he already knew more than enough to run the oil business, why would he need to waste his father’s money on a useless degree; if Jacob went to Tulsa for four years, he couldn’t keep cleaning up his father’s messes, and there was a real risk of Isaac running the company into the very ground it drilled.

He had solutions to all of these things. The University of Tulsa had the best petroleum engineering degree in the Plains, and he’d always be a boomer sooner fan. And, while his high school grades weren’t too spectacular, his test scores and essay application for the Presidential Scholar program at TU got him a full ride. All he needed was Isaac to let him go and then not kill his company, and he’d be set.

Isaac didn’t need to know about Jacob’s ulterior motives. Tulsa was over 100 miles further from home than Norman was, for one, and Tulsa had a budding humanities program that Jacob really wanted to get invested in. He’d suffer through the engineering degree, but what was going to get him through it were the other courses he had in mind to take out of the humanities, languages, and arts departments. If he was lucky, he’d weasel himself a position of some sort at Gilcrease Museum just so he could learn even more from their displays and get into their archives.

When his acceptance letter came in the mail, Isaac read it with disdain. “When’d ya apply to that place? OU not good enough for you hm?”

Jacob kept the kitchen counter between himself and his father. “No I, well, I wanna do good for the business, and TU’s got the best oil program in the state, you know.”

“I didn’t need no fancy engineerin’ degree to make money,” Isaac countered, eyeing Jacob.

He kept himself from flinching from his father’s glare. “No, but now days you gotta have one to get started. Besides, couldn’t hurt to have one to spread our reach.”

Isaac tossed the nice letterhead on the counter. “Hmph. Well, how’re you gonna pay for that? I can’t just shill out that money.”

“I’ll, I’ll figure it out,” Jacob supplied. He’d already sent off his extra application for a full ride scholarship, which he hoped his more than qualifying exam scores and a 15 page, single-spaced analysis on Choctaw artwork and mythology would be convincing enough to award him.

“Fine, but I’m not co-signin’ any loans.” Isaac fished around in their refrigerator for a beer. “John’s off takin’ care of Sylvia, I need you on the rig Saturday.”

“Alright,” Jacob said. He had planned to spend the evening reading some books he had picked up from the town library, but that’d have to wait. After his dad wandered over to his worn recliner and he heard the click and buzz of the TV, Jacob sighed and set about making them dinner.

---

That August couldn’t get there quick enough. There were many, many times he thought about not going. He’d miss all his friends, his home town, and his pa. But, by the time he loaded up his truck and drove two hours northeast, there wasn’t any backing out now.

When he arrived on campus, he felt very out of place, but that feeling quickly faded once orientation week started. By the time classes started, he didn’t ever want to leave. His experience from oil rigging he already had carried him through his engineering classes, so he could devote himself to his other pursuits. Language courses, literature, history, art, those were the subjects he spent near all his time on. This also meant he spent a fair time in the library.

During his second year, a new student seemed to be competing with how many hours they could clock in the library. He was a nerdy sort, Jacob thought, which meant he was going above and beyond the above-average level of studiousness the student body already had. They quickly established a routine around each other. Jacob would go to his study carol he’d staked the previous year, the leftmost one in a set of three in a forgotten corner of the stacks no one except this new person seemed to want to go to. The newcomer took the study carol two down from him, rarely acknowledging Jacob’s presence.

Their schedule he figured out within the first two weeks of class. Mondays and Wednesdays Jacob would get there first, the new guy coming about an hour later and staying while Jacob left for class. Tuesdays and Thursdays the newcomer was there before him, and would leave around two hours into Jacob’s studying. Fridays the guy wasn’t there at all, at least not when Jacob was, but he practically lived there Saturday, no doubt not going to the football home games.

The beauty of studying in the stacks was that no one talked like they did in the study areas. The hum of the air vents, the scratch of his and the other guy’s pencils, the flip of books, and occasional footsteps of a seeker of knowledge comprised his sound track. He and the guy even alternated who stood and waved their arm to reactivate the lights when they timed out.

Without realizing, he had learned a fair amount about the guy from just studying near him. He was either dressed like a stereotypical professor, or a bedraggled grad student, which predicted how late he had stayed up the night before (confirmed by how prominent the circles under his eyes were). He had notebooks for every subject, and he studied near every subject, though a good amount of the books he hoarded were Native American ones. When he was frustrated, he might mumble under his breath, but most certainly made his hair even more wild by running his fingers through it. When he was hyperfocused, he'd sit on one foot, scratching furiously in a notebook.

Jacob never learned the guy’s name until the next semester when he had a class with him. Jacob had gotten himself into an upper-level Native American history course, filled mostly with history majors finishing their degrees and grad students. Not wanting to seem too eager, he chose a desk one row back from the front row. People he knew from previous history courses meandered in as it neared time to start the class, and some he chatted with, asking how their breaks were and such. The professor walked in right on time, a stack of syllabi on top of a binder in one arm, an insulated travel mug in her other hand.

Dr. Mashunkashey had begun going over the syllabus when the door to the classroom opened, revealing the guy from the stacks. He looked a bit disheveled, running late from somewhere it seemed. “That’s a two for two for not showing up on time to the first day of my class, Flynn,” the professor said, but she didn’t seem that annoyed by it.

“Sorry, I stayed up too late reading,” Flynn replied. “I got a bit carried away following sources referenced in Reclaiming Diné History.”

“Of course you did,” Dr. Mashunkashey said with a laugh, handing him the last syllabus. “Go on and have a seat.”

It turned out the easiest seat for him to take was the one right in front of Jacob. Jacob gave him a nod, which Flynn returned quickly, and then sat down. Jacob focused himself back on the syllabus on his desk, but his mind kept drifting to the man in front of him. He’d caught glimpses of the books Flynn read in the study carrel, and they were quite all over the place in subject matter; any given day he might have had a botany book, or a German biography, or something on Egypt. And now here he was, sitting right in front of him, apparently having spent the previous night doing the same thing Jacob did, though at least Jacob’s morning gym sessions meant he was never late to class like Flynn was.

The sound of a bunch of pages flipping snapped Jacob back into reality. The professor was explaining the main project of the class. “You’ll each focus on a particular tribe’s art, and an era within that. The paper requirements are in the syllabus, standard format. Images are welcome, but don’t shirk on your words because of them. Then, for the second part of this grade, you’ll work with a partner to make some form of art, combining the styles of both of your papers.”

Flynn raised his hand, but Dr. Mashunkashey shook her head. “Yes, Flynn, you’ll have to work with a partner.” Jacob stifled a laugh when Flynn’s shoulders slumped, but apparently not enough as she glanced at him before looking back at the syllabus. “The art component can be anything. Music, painting, writing, whatever, so long as you both incorporate themes from what you highlight in your paper. Since art can take time, and you might want to coordinate what art styles you’ll be using, go ahead and pick your partner.”

Jacob started thinking through the people he already knew in the class, but Flynn startled him out of his thoughts by turning around. “Do you want to be partners?”

“I, uh, sure,” Jacob stuttered. The professor had apparently been watching Flynn to see who he’d pick, and Jacob saying yes surprised her, based on her raised eyebrows. "Do you know what you're gonna do your paper on?"

Flynn didn't hesitate to respond. "Hohokam culture."

"I'd been thinking of doing Pueblo myself, so that should work well," Jacob said.

Dr. Mashunkashey cleared her throat, getting the class to quiet down. “Okay, now that you all have partners picked, we’re gonna get started.” She moved behind the computer and proceeded to give her introductory lecture on Native American art.

---

When the class came to an end, Jacob packed up his notebook and walked around the side of Flynn’s desk. “Hey, since we’re doing a project, we should exchange numbers.”

Flynn had been still scribbling something down, so it took a beat before he looked up at Jacob. “Phone number, yes, that’s a good idea.” He fished out his phone from a worn messenger bag stuffed with books and notebooks, handed it to Jacob, and then went back to writing.

Jacob waited for him to say more, but he didn’t speak, so he opened the phone and texted this is flynn’s number from Flynn’s phone to himself. Flynn was still writing, so he cleared his throat to get his attention. “Uh, here’s your phone.”

Flynn looked up a bit faster this time and took the phone. “Great.” He looked as if whatever was in the notebook was reaching out and trying to drag his head back to it, but he was now trying to fight it, looking at Jacob like he was trying to memorize Jacob. “Um, I’ll...see you around, in the stacks.”

He hadn’t imagined Flynn would be so awkward. “Sure, probably will.” Taking it as a cue, Flynn gave in to the pull of his notebook. Jacob wandered up to the professor; he had a habit of chatting up his professors after the first class, and today was no exception. Dr. Mashunkashey had just finished talking to another student when he walked up.

“I’ve heard good things about you, Mr. Stone.”

“And I’ve heard good things about you, too,” Jacob replied. “I wanted to take your class on Osage history last semester, but it conflicted with a class I needed to take.”

“I’ll be teaching it again in two years, so you’ve got some time,” she replied. Mumbling came from where Flynn was, making them both glance at him. “So you’ve got Flynn as your partner...that should be interesting. Do you know him from somewhere?”

“Yeah, I met ‘em in the library,” Jacob replied.

Dr. Mashunkashey laughed a little. “That sounds like the place to find him. Well, I look forward to your paper. Daniel, Dr. Griffith, liked your final paper so much he couldn’t quit talking about it.”

Jacob’s ears reddened a little. “Oh, well, I’m glad he enjoyed it.”

“Are you considering grad school?”

“Well, I’d uh, been thinkin’ about it, yeah.” He wasn’t about to tell her that he was also doing an engineering degree to take back home.

“If you want to talk about it, stop by my office anytime. There’s definitely fellowships out there for students like you, if finances are a concern.”

Jacob couldn’t help but perk up at that. “I’ll take you up on that. See you during office hours.”

---

Flynn, it turned out, was kind of the worst. Jacob wasn’t in a rush to get the project going, considering it wasn’t due until April anyway, but Flynn wanted to get started right away...at 3am apparently. Jacob hadn’t seen the string of texts until the next morning.

Flynn 3:04 AM: Can you do pottery? There’s a ceramics studio in Phillips Hall, I think I can get access to it.

Flynn 3:05 AM: There’s a few designs that would work for my time, depending on what works with your era.

Flynn 3:07 AM: You could decorate half and I’ll do the other.

Flynn 3:15 AM: Are there specific techniques your people used in their pottery making? We should use a traditional method.

Jacob didn’t reply right away. He went about his morning routine, and was on his way to the gym when his phone buzzed again.

Flynn 8:07 AM: What do you think about woodworking for our project?

Jacob groaned out loud, no one close enough to hear him. No wonder the professor was shocked he said yes to Flynn.

Jacob 8:08 AM: We have months to do this project. There’s no need to start so early.

Jacob shoved his phone in his pocket on do-not-disturb, intending to ignore any messages for the duration of his workout, but now that Flynn got him thinking about it, he sent off one more text.

Jacob 8:09 AM: I think pottery would probably work best. I’m sure we can manage it between the two of us.

Flynn responded almost instantaneously.

Flynn 8:10 AM: That’s what I was thinking. Though if we really wanted to incorporate both, we could also include the woodworking.

“Lord,” Jacob hissed, earning a confused look from the bleary-eyed student working the desk at the gym. He took his student ID and apologized. “Sorry, thanks.” It wouldn’t be that bad, so long as he didn’t let Flynn get under his skin.

Despite his efforts, Jacob’s workout was overshadowed by his loud thoughts. It wasn’t that he hoped Flynn would be cool, but, well, from months studying silently next to each other, Jacob had wondered what he would be like as a friend. He wanted to know what went on in Flynn's brain, what made him tick, what he did outside of class and studying. But now, he realized, Flynn was a brilliant mess of an academic who breathed school 24/7.

---

Flynn hadn’t been in the library Monday afternoon, and Jacob hadn’t gone to the library Tuesday. He hadn’t gotten any texts from him either, so by their second class on Wednesday, Jacob was curious what Flynn had been up to. That curiosity grew when Flynn showed up with a new notebook he hadn't had on Monday, already a quarter of the way filled with notes. "Jacob! So I talked to Kelly, er, Dr. Mashunkashey, and she talked to the art department, who then talked to the main ceramics professor, and he emailed me back saying we could do our project in his studio."

Jacob was kind of shocked at how fast he’d contacted people. “Well, that’s good.”

“I think we could start working on it, hm, next week?” Flynn looked down at Jacob expectantly, as he’d yet to take his seat.

For whatever reason, Jacob got an odd feeling in his stomach, but he ignored it. “I wasn’t plannin’ on gettin’ goin’ so soon, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt. I’ve only read about their pottery techniques, not done them, so extra time might be a good idea.” Flynn was practically vibrating with excitement at his response, which made Jacob laugh before he could stop himself.

Flynn thankfully didn’t think he was mocking him. “Great! The studio is open for us Friday afternoons.”

“I can do that,” Jacob replied. Flynn somehow smiled at him even more than he was, and well, Jacob couldn’t deny it felt nice to have that joy aimed at him. It didn’t last long though, as Flynn sat down when Dr. Mashunkashey walked into class. Flynn turned around in his seat and started going through his notes on the techniques he wanted to try until the professor had her powerpoint up and running.

Flynn wasn’t as insufferable as he thought, his excitement contagious, but Jacob realized this project was gonna be tough for another reason: he was falling for Flynn.

---

Jacob hadn't done any ceramics since art in high school. Flynn said he could, as apparently he minored in art to add to his many degrees, Jacob found out. It unnerved him a bit, to know that Flynn already had 2 Ph.D.'s and 3 masters in Egyptology, two ancient languages, Chinese history and physics, and that Flynn had no plans on stopping from acquiring more. All Jacob had was a high school diploma, though he had a lot in his head from the books he devoured and the time he spent out on the oil rigs.

The ceramics studio was thankfully empty when they arrived. The room was open, old windows hinting at a time when the space used to be an engineering workshop when the art building used to be the engineering building, which the engraved stone above one entrance still said. Shelving with a variety of in-progress and complete works lined most of the walls, with tables in the center of one half of the room, and space for throwing wheels in the other. It smelled like wet earth, and for a moment, Jacob imagined he was out on a new rig after a rain.

The professor who taught ceramics classes gave a basic rundown of the room, clearly with the dual purpose of informing them of where things were and sussing out just how skilled they were. Flynn's rambling at various points about technique and clay types seemed to satisfy the professor, who left them to their devices.

Flynn took a hunk of clay out of the plastic bag and started rolling out coils on top of a drywall square. "Okay, were there specific techniques you need to incorporate from your time period?"

"Well, it was coil-based, like yours, though the clay they used had a different composition ‘cause of where they sourced it," Jacob replied. Flynn had set him on making the base, so he was rolling out a slab to index finger thickness with a rolling pin.

It was clear Flynn had worked with clay before. He already had several coils made and covered to prevent drying out while Jacob hadn't even gotten to the right thickness yet. "Dr. Kanhg couldn't get clay with the mineral composition we needed, but he does have matte glazes we can use to make the clay look the right color, give it the more reddish hue," Flynn said. His eyes then flicked to Jacob's work, brow furrowing. "You're rolling it too thin."

Jacob had been paying attention to his clay, but then he had gotten distracted by Flynn working, how delicate yet firm he rolled out the coils under his palms, the way his hair flopped a bit with his head bent down. Jacob had rolled his clay out all right, to about an ⅛ inch thick divot in the middle with over an inch thick edges from not flipping his slab. If he was making a mini half-pipe, he would've done a fine job. "Uh, sorry, I'll start over." He went to smush it together when Flynn yanked the clay out from under his hands.

"If you do that you'll dry it out with the oil from your hands," Flynn snapped like Jacob was supposed to know that. Flynn folded it twice and then started slamming it on the drywall slab to combine it.

"I've only done ceramics once in high school, man," Jacob retorted, puffing himself up a bit on the stool he was sitting on.

"Clearly it shows," Flynn replied, salt in Jacob's wounded ego. Flynn, not very gently, shoved the drywall square with the now condensed clay over to Jacob. "Pay attention this time."

Jacob grunted at him, not trusting himself to say anything good, and rolled out his slab again. This time he kept his eyes glued to his work, ignoring the pinprick sensation of Flynn's judgemental gaze on him. He rolled it out well enough, and used a large yogurt container to trace out a circle and cut it out.

No sooner than he finished sliding the knife around the trace he made and started to pull the excess clay away, Flynn snatched the circle and started working it to attach the coils. "I was gonna do that," Jacob growled, watching Flynn flip the edges up with more speed and evenness than Jacob would have.

Flynn didn't look up at him. "And I'm sure you'd have to do it twice too."

"You don't know that," Jacob muttered, watching Flynn. He looked around the studio, feeling useless, so he said, "Is there something I can do? It's half my project too."

Flynn stopped working, glaring at him for a moment before softening his expression. "Have you made a coil pot before?"

"No...but I think I can do it from watching you," Jacob said.

Flynn narrowed his eyes a bit, but gently slid the partially done pot across the table to him. "Pinch and smooth down on the inside to connect the clay, but don't push too hard or you'll warp the coil below."

Jacob got halfway done with the coil before he punched through accidentally with his finger, making a hole. "Well fuck," he said as Flynn let out a frustrated sigh. It was going to take forever if he kept working, so he passed it back to Flynn. "Sorry."

"Since you're just going to mess it up, let me make it," Flynn said with exasperation. "You can decorate, if you won't mess that up too."

"Just ‘cause I'm not some genius like you and I mess up sometimes doesn't mean I can't do it," Jacob barked. For an instant he reminded himself of his father, and he cringed a little. He’d startled Flynn too; where Flynn had been repairing the hole Jacob made, there was now a rip again. “Sorry, I, uh, look. It took a lot for me to get here, and I wanna learn just as much as you do, but if you’re gonna treat me like I’m an idiot, I’m just gonna leave.”

Flynn didn’t respond at first, so Jacob started packing up his things and leaving. “No, wait!” Flynn grabbed his forearm; thankfully Jacob hadn’t rolled down his shirt sleeve yet. “I’m not good with people.”

Jacob huffed. “You don’t say.” He glanced at Flynn’s clay-dusted hand, still holding him, which made Flynn release him.

“I mean, school, learning, it’s everything to me. I don’t want to mess this project up. It has to be perfect, everything does, because that means I understand it.” Flynn went to rake a hand through his hair, but at the last second realized his hands were not clean, and stopped himself. “I just want one group project to go right. I hate group projects, but I need you to prove to Dr. Mashunkashey that I can work with people. She says I need to be able to do that if I want to be a professor.”

Jacob was not expecting Flynn to open up to him like that. Nor was he expecting the warmth in his chest when Flynn said he needed him, but he pushed that aside before he did anything reckless. “I’m willing to put in the effort if you are, but you have to let me do some of the work. I’m not gonna flake out.” Jacob hadn’t realized just how spooked Flynn was until he relaxed, tension released from his shoulders.

“Okay.” Flynn looked at the in-progress pot for a moment, then said, “I’m going to finish fixing the hole, then you can try again. You have to be gentle with it.”

“I know.” Jacob sat patiently, waiting for Flynn finish the repair. Once he did, he pushed the pot to Jacob. He started adding a new coil, but after a couple pinches, Flynn stopped him.

“You’ve got to be gentler than that,” Flynn said. “Can’t you feel when the clay is giving too much?” Without warning, Flynn took Jacob’s hand, looking at his fingers. “Oh, of course you can’t, you’ve got calloused fingertips.” He glanced up at Jacob. “Guitar, I assume?”

Jacob was doing all he could to contain himself. “Uh, yeah, and probably from years of working on an oil rig too.”

Flynn nodded thoughtfully at the addition, clearly filing it away wherever he was storing facts about Jacob. He hadn’t let go of Jacob’s hand, and this time Jacob wasn’t going to do anything to make him. “You’re pushing too hard, and thus thinning the clay too much at the join, that’s why you punched through,” Flynn explained. He then moved Jacob’s hand back into position, but this time, keeping his hand on top of Jacob’s. Their hands together almost didn’t fit into the pot, but Flynn made it work. “I’m going to press down so you can feel how hard you can go without breaking it, okay?”

Jacob nodded, not trusting words at the moment. Flynn proceeded to work the clay through Jacob’s hand, somehow just as good as he was before. Part of Jacob’s brain noticed that he didn’t push near as hard as Jacob had been when trying to be gentle, and filed it away, but most of his brain was focused on how intently Flynn was watching their hands work, and then how intently he was looking back at Jacob when he stopped. “Did you feel the difference?”

“Uh,” Jacob cleared his throat when it came out husky, “yeah, I did. Thanks. You really know your stuff.”

He noticed Flynn blush a little at the compliment. “Good. Uh,” Flynn realized he was still holding Jacob’s hand and released him, “now you try on your own.” After Jacob satisfactorily did a whole coil, they alternated until they reached a stopping point a third of the way through. “We need to let it dry to leather-hard before we add any more, otherwise it will collapse.”

Jacob vaguely remembered that leather-hard was a term to describe the texture of somewhat dried clay. “Alright. How long is that gonna take?”

Flynn considered the room a bit, thinking. “Today’s a humid day, so it would probably be best to wrap it with a paper towel and leave it in a plastic bag, then check it tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Jacob went and gathered the plastic and paper towels while Flynn fiddled with a coil. “I guess we can come back Monday afternoon?”

“That should be good, yes,” Flynn replied, swaddling the base of the pot with paper towels. He took a strip of plastic and wrapped the rim, and apparently noticed Jacob watching him. “This will keep the top fresh so when we come back, we can continue working it.”

Jacob nodded. He helped Flynn clean their area, replacing tools and wiping down the table. Done with their tasks, they awkwardly stared at each other across the table for a few moments before Jacob said, “Well, guess I’ll see ya Monday then?”

“Yes...see you then,” Flynn said, and then without warning, he rather hastily left the studio.

Jacob watched him go, then sat back down on the stool he’d been sitting on. “Oh Lord.”

---

He felt kind of guilty when he pulled up Clayton’s contact on his phone. He’d not been great about calling like he’d promised when he left Lawton, but Clayton always told him he knew college was hectic and to not worry about it. Still, as the phone rang, Jacob felt bad about calling just to talk about his personal life.

“Hey, long time no call, eh?” Clayton said as he answered.

“Yeah, sorry man. Some of these engineerin’ classes I should’ve tested out of, but they don’t really do that here,” Jacob replied. He was in his apartment, laying on his bed.

“I bet you could test out of half of that degree,” Clayton said with a laugh. “So what’s new with you?”

“I was gonna ask you that first,” Jacob said, feeling his face heat up already.

“You know I’d tell you the same as a few weeks ago, ‘cuz nothing new’s happened,” Clayton replied. “Plus,” Jacob could hear the smile in his voice, “I got a feelin’ you’re gonna ask for advice about somethin’.”

“How’d you, ugh, never mind,” Jacob scoffed, really blushing when Clayton laughed at him again. “Yeah, I got a...situation.”

Clayton sighed. “And who is he?”

Jacob sighed. “He’s in my Native American art history class, we’re partners on the group project, but I actually knew him before it.”

“...Wait, is this the same guy who you studied with in the library?”

Jacob shook his head, yet again surprised by how well Clayton could read him, even over the phone. “Studied near, but yeah. Turns out he’s doin’ a Ph.D. in Native history.”

"So he’s closer to your age?”

“I think so, though he might honestly be younger than me. The man’s got like five degrees already,” Jacob said, not bothering to keep the contempt out of his voice.

“So you went and fell for a genius, huh?”

“He’s a smartass,” Jacob said, but after a moment he added, “yeah, I have.” He was super fortunate to have such a good guy as Clayton he could call his best friend. He’d fallen for him too, briefly, but Clayton didn’t feel the same, and then Clayton decided it was his job to be Jacob’s wingman.

“And does he feel the same?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think so at first, but now…”

Clayton chuckled. “Then tell me what happened.” Jacob explained the happenings in the ceramics studio. “Well, he sounds awkward, but I think it’d be best to ask him directly.”

Jacob knew Clayton was going to say that, but he still felt shocked. “I can’t just ask him!”

“Why not?” was all Clayton said.

“‘Cause, well, if he doesn’t, this whole project is gonna be awkward.”

“Isn’t it already though?”

Jacob thought a moment. “Well, I guess, yeah. But I also don’t wanna get distracted before we finish this project. It’s worth half our grade.”

“So you’re just gonna pine away in silence for three months?”

“It might not be three months...Flynn’s too focused on doing this project as quick as we can.” Jacob hadn’t really considered that until now. “If we get the project done quick, then there’s nothin’ stoppin’ me from askin’ him after.”

“That’s the spirit. Let me know how it goes, you know I wouldn’t mind drivin’ up if you needed it.”

“Thanks, Clayton.”

"Anytime, Jacob."

---

Jacob decided that getting the project mostly done was the priority. This meant he had to suffer through two more equally awkward handbuilding sessions before their pot was ready for the first firing. At least in class, Flynn’s back was to him, except when they had class discussions. By the time they started glazing their pot, Jacob swore Flynn knew exactly how he was making him feel.

Glazing was just as messy as he remembered in high school. Flynn didn’t care about the state of the table, or himself, so long as his strips on the pot were perfect replicas of various designs he picked. Compared to the pot making, Jacob turned out to be the better painter. The hardest part for him was picking the designs he wanted to use.

Jacob was halfway through a strip when Flynn asked, “Where did you learn how to paint?”

Jacob snickered a little. “Same as most everything else, self-taught.” He glanced at Flynn, who currently had smears of blue underglaze where he’d wiped his forehead. “Are ya goin’ for war paint too?”

Flynn narrowed his eyes, confused. “What?”

“You got underglaze on your face,” Jacob said, pointing at Flynn’s forehead with the brush.

Flynn swiped at his forehead, making the smear worse, which just made Jacob laugh harder. “Oh yeah? Well-” Flynn decided to go for direct retaliation and swiped at Jacob’s face with his orange-covered brush across the table “-Now we match!”

Jacob tried to dodge, about fell off his stool, and Flynn’s brush ended up tapping the end of his nose. He knew better, he really did, but Flynn had worn him down the past week, so Jacob got off his stool, holding his brush out like a rapier. “You’ll regret that,” he growled.

Taking the challenge, Flynn got into a much more trained en-garde stance. “I rather think you will!” Then, without warning, Flynn jumped around the edge of the table at him.

Jacob realized that he was outclassed, but gave a valiant effort anyway. Quickly, Flynn had him giving up ground, forcing him to the sink that sat in the middle of the room between the tables and throwing wheels. “You’ve taken a class on fencing, haven’t you?”

“Lessons, when I was a kid, but yes, I’ve been trained,” Flynn replied, spying for an opening to tag Jacob. Just as Flynn lunged, Jacob dodged left, letting Flynn catch himself on the sink. Flynn shook his head, a mischievous grin on his face. “You, you’ve got some fight experience too.” He took a swipe, forcing Jacob closer to the finished projects shelf. “But not formal, no...brawls, that’s what you get into.”

Jacob took a jab at Flynn, gaining a foot of ground, but Flynn quickly forced him back two. “Not been in a scrap in a while,” Jacob said, trying again to swipe himself some room.

Seeing Jacob essentially pinned, his left blocked by the stoneware clay reclaim bin and a table, Flynn went for the killing blow. Jacob knew how to read people in fights, and Flynn had gotten to the “confident of a win” stage, so Jacob ducked at the last possible second. This meant he was out of range of the brush, but Flynn was now barreling straight for the shelving. Without thinking, Jacob jumped back up, wrapping his arms around Flynn’s waist as he did and pushing him back away from the shelf.

“I was going to stop myself,” Flynn quipped as Jacob released him.

“I know overshooting when I see it,” Jacob retorted. He hadn’t stepped away from Flynn, nor had Flynn stepped away from him. They were less than a foot apart. Flynn’s eyes were dark, no doubt from the adrenaline of the fight; Jacob assumed he looked a similar state of riled up. He caught himself glancing at Flynn’s mouth without thinking, and was about to step away, until Flynn mimicked him, glancing at his lips.

Jacob closed the distance between them before he could think of reasons why he shouldn’t.

Flynn kissing him back made him forget any of those reasons.

An odd wetness on his forearm made him pull away. Flynn’s paintbrush had made an orange stripe on his arm. He looked back to Flynn, eyes even darker than they had been. “Guess we should finish the pot.”

“Uh, y...yeah,” Flynn said eloquently. “I didn’t know you…”

Jacob laughed under his breath. “You’ve been driving me crazy the past three weeks.”

Flynn’s eyes went wide. “I thought you were angry at me.”

Jacob closed his eyes, a smile on his face. “You really weren’t kiddin’ when you said you’re bad with people.” He opened his eyes when he felt Flynn shaking his head, nose brushing against Jacob’s. “Well, maybe I can teach you a thing or two,” he murmured, giving Flynn a tease of a kiss before pulling away again. “But we really should finish the pot.”

Flynn took a moment to adjust his focus. “Right, yes.” He stepped away, smoothing out his shirt in an effort to make himself look less flustered. He walked over to the pot, but turned back to Jacob following him. “So, we’re doing this?”

The fact that Jacob was now finding Flynn’s awkwardness really endearing was a testament to just how hard he’d fallen for the genius. “I am if you want to.”

Flynn nodded...and nodded some more before he responded, “Okay, good, yes, I very much want to do that again.”

Jacob laughed. “Well, we can make out as much as we want after we finish this pot, ‘cause the next firing is two days from now and it needs to dry before then.”

The motivation of more set a fire in Flynn’s belly; he attacked the pot with his brush, clearly caring less about perfect replication and more about finishing in the same general design so he could go do better things. Jacob put a little more effort into his, and thus was still painting when Flynn finished his underglaze design and cleaned his materials up. Flynn managed to sit there for 30 seconds before he interrupted Jacob. “How much longer will you take?”

Jacob glanced over at him, an eyebrow raised. “Why, you got somewhere you gotta be?” Flynn squirmed on his stool, making Jacob feel the heat of satisfaction in his chest. “I’ll be done when I’m done. I might just reward ya for your patience,” Jacob said with a smirk.

Flynn practically melted under his gaze, ears going red. “Okay...fine.”

It was just too fun seeing the effect of his words on Flynn. “Can you wait a little more for me?” Jacob rumbled, letting his voice get low and gravelly. “I’ll make it worth your while.” Flynn shuddered, making Jacob smile.

After Jacob slightly more hastily finished his strips, Flynn practically threw himself at him. Jacob had to make himself shove Flynn off him. “Hey, I didn’t say you could do that,” Jacob growled more than he had meant to; Flynn shuddered a bit. “We need to clean up, and not make out in a public classroom.” Flynn looked like he was enjoying getting told what to do too much, red flush on his face and neck, but eyes definitely staring Jacob down. “Look, once we clean up, we can go to my apartment, alright?”

Flynn, also very aware of how he was affecting Jacob, moved back into Jacob’s space. “You took entirely too long to say that,” he said, voice low and a bit breathy. Flynn leaned–not to kiss Jacob again, but to grab the dirty paint brushes on the workbench, making Jacob lean into empty air. Flynn looked at him expectantly. “Well? We better clean up then.”

“You little…” Jacob shook his head, smiling deviously. Flynn preened as he dramatically walked to the sink, knowing full well Jacob’s eyes were on him.

They could’ve been perhaps more thorough in their cleaning, if they weren’t both busy imagining what they were going to do to each other once they got to Jacob’s apartment.

---

The next class, Jacob had intended to play it cool, meaning acting like nothing unusual happened between him and Flynn. That fell flat when Flynn, arriving just barely on time as usual, strode over to Jacob with a dopey grin on his face. For a moment Jacob was terrified Flynn was going to kiss him in front of the whole class. Thankfully, Flynn just patted Jacob’s hand, purposely drawing his fingers away sensually, and then sat in his seat.

Once his brain restarted, Jacob looked around as discreetly as he could manage. No one seemed to have noticed, expect Dr. Mashunkashey, who was watching him with curiosity. Thankfully, she started class, and Jacob did his best to take notes and not reach out and pet the back of Flynn’s head.

On the way out of class, Dr. Mashunkashey stopped Jacob. “Jacob, can you talk for a moment?”

Jacob looked to Flynn, who was all but dragging him out of class to “work on the paper” which Jacob knew wasn’t what he was planning. Flynn didn’t seem to think anything amiss, so he said, “I’ll meet you outside,” and left the classroom.

“Everything okay with your project?” she asked, glancing at the door. “I know Flynn can be a bit...much, so if you need me to talk to him, I can.”

Jacob went a bit red, but tried to power through. “Oh, uh, nah, everything’s good. We’ve even started making our art piece.”

Dr. Mashunkashey seemed a bit surprised with his response. “Well, that’s certainly a change. I look forward to seeing what you two make together.”

Jacob’s brain of course heard “seeing you two together” and had to blink a few times to refocus himself. “I, uh, think it’ll be pretty good. It’s been a long while since I worked with clay, though that’s apparently one of Flynn’s many damn talents.” Jacob kicked himself internally, cursing in front of a professor like that.

Dr. Mashunkashey, to Jacob’s surprise, gave a hearty laugh. “I wouldn’t say it’s often I teach students who have more degrees than I do children. Though I think you could put Flynn in his paces from your papers so far.”

“Oh, I don’t think I could be as good as him,” Jacob retorted, pausing as he briefly considered what that would entail, “I’d have to quadruple major or something.”

“Well, I don’t want to keep you. Flynn seemed pretty eager to get to work.”

“Yeah...he really likes to work on things when he’s focused on them,” Jacob replied, pointedly making his way towards the door so he didn’t have to directly look at the professor. “Have a good day, Professor.”

“You too, Jacob,” she said with a wave.

Flynn was apparently waiting to pounce on him in the hallway, which Jacob had briefly pondered if he would, so he braced his arm to keep Flynn off him. While it did keep Flynn from macking on him, Flynn also took his arm and entwined his own, and started walking down the hall. “What did she have to talk about?”

“Oh, uh, she asked if we were doing okay–I mean, our project,” Jacob stammered, glancing down at their arms.

Flynn didn’t seem to care and just kept walking towards the stairs. “Oh, well I bet she was surprised to hear I’m not procrastinating on a project for once. Speaking of projects,” Flynn leaned to speak lowly into Jacob’s ear, “I was thinking we could move our research to your place, or mine.”

“Uh huh,” Jacob chuckled. “Well, I suppose we could do that.”

They did not, in fact, work on their project that morning.

---

In the end, they got an A on their papers, project, and presentation of said project. And Dr. Mashunkashey won her bet against her colleagues that Jacob and Flynn would get together by the end of her class.

-----

Post Notes: Sorry for the quick ending, I’ve been sitting on this fic since February and never finished it, so I figured making an ending and getting it out was better than it sitting in my google drive forever. Also, when it comes to ages, I saw them both as a bit older than your usual 18-22 college students; for both they’re at least 23 or so, Jacob from working with his father, and Flynn from doing other degrees.

The University of Tulsa doesn’t have a Native American studies program (they really should though given location and history of the school), but they do have a well-known petroleum engineering program, which is what gave me the idea of how to get Stone to school. Considering Flynn’s all about ancient history studies, surely the ancient American people he knows about too. And I’m assuming Jacob grew up somewhere out near Lawton, OK, based on the mileage he gave in “And What Lies Beneath the Stones” since the actual town Wagoner (Wagner was what they used in the episode) is about 45 minutes southeast from Tulsa.

#the librarians #the librarians fic #flynnstone #flynn carsen #jacob stone #librarians fanfic #fanfic #a. l. writes

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collectsfallenstars · 4 years

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WARNING: Absolutely long post

IN DEFENSE OF KIM EUN SOOK'S "THE KING: ETERNAL MONARCH"

The King: Eternal Monarch has been getting mixed reviews 10 episodes into the season and it has boggled my mind as to why this has been happening. It’s a grand project, has a robust storyline, beautiful cinematography the likes of which is done for full-length films, and has a love story between two adults who behave like adults and not in perpetual high school. It is very different from most Korean dramas I have come across, and that alone is reason enough to watch it.

Granted, I have not watched many of them so maybe I don’t really know what I’m talking about. But what I am sure of is that I get tired of things very easily when they’ve become predictable.

See, before watching The King: Eternal Monarch, the last Korean drama I watched was Something Happened in Bali back in 2004. Then coronavirus happened, billions of pesos were to the government but no mass-testing happened, ABS-CBN shut down, people speaking against the government were being put in jail, and I thought, hmm let’s go to Netflix to escape. K-dramas with beautiful autumn colors should do the trick.

I watched maybe one or two series in full but soon found myself giving up on the ones that came next. Watching them one after another made it clear that they were built like romance novels – no matter how different each premise was for a series, they always followed a pattern. And patterns, while they may be dependable, can sometimes be boring.

And then I decided to give The King: Eternal Monarch a try even though the binge-watching monster inside me disagreed with it. So there I was last week, Netflix open and a lunch of Sinigang na Baboy with rice laid out in front of me.

The series opened with a serene view of a bamboo forest, wind blowing gently through it, and the voice of a man talking about the legend of a bamboo flute back when monarchs ruled Korea. Oh, a historical series.

1 minute and 40 seconds later, it cuts to a man covered in blood, in a police interrogation room in modern day Korea. Oh, it’s also detective fiction. Gotta watch out for red herrings then. Oh but wait, the man covered in blood, Lee Lim, is supposed to be 70 years old but he doesn’t look a day over 30. I mean, yes Korean genes and skin care are magical but not to this extent. The idea of immortality is introduced which suggests that the series has supernatural elements too. This means world building for these magical elements and forming rules that govern them. (I mean, Bram Stoker and Anne Rice made their vampires perish under the sun and Stephanie Meyer chose to make them…sparkle.)

And then 4 minutes in, we get a flashback to winter of 1994 in the Kingdom of Corea. Uhm. Typo? No? Lee Lim, the bastard son of the former king, murders his half brother, the current king, in order to steal the bamboo flute that grants the owner much power. The king’s young son, 7 year old Lee Gon, witnesses his father’s murder, struggles with Lee Lim, splits the power laden bamboo flute in half, and nearly dies if it weren’t for a mysterious figure coming in to save him. The mysterious figure drops an ID card with the name and picture of Lt. Jung Tae Eul on it and Lee Gon clutches it along with half of the bamboo flute. Lee Lim escapes to the forest with only a broken half of the bamboo flute. He comes upon a pair of obelisks, passes through it and lands in Korea with a K. Lee Lim comes face to face with the face of the person he had just murdered, except he isn’t a king anymore. He’s just an unkempt unemployed man. We now have the introduction of parallel worlds and doppelgangers. It had only been 18 minutes into the first episode.

I put it on pause, finished my lunch quickly, cleared the table, and settled down on the couch to watch. I did all that before resuming to watch it because it clearly wasn’t the kind of K-drama you could easily watch while eating, glancing up and down between the screen and your food, missing bits of the subtitle here and there and not paying any mind. Because of its structure, the kind of story it wants to tell and the breadth of its narrative, it demands your full attention.

I get why people find it difficult. I found it difficult. But it was infinitely exciting. It’s as if someone laid out a puzzle with a thousand pieces, a maze, Connect the Dots, Spot the Difference in front of me and told me to play with them all at the same time.

What kind of story did the writer, Kim Eun Sook, want to tell? She began with the murder of the parents of Lee Gon by his bastard uncle, Lee Lim, who feels he has been deprived of power for too long and intends to take it all for himself. It becomes a story of both sides seeking justice for their own separate tragedies. To flesh out this story, she has to give Lee Lim a plan for world domination and give Lee Gon a defense strategy in place, as well as an active pursuit to entrap his uncle. She has to give them motivations, conflicts, moments of doubt and triumph. If this were the only story she wanted to tell, a linear storyline with flashbacks and flash-forwards should be enough. Throw in a romance, love triangle, one final obstacle, 2 chaste kisses, 1 passionate kiss, 1 tearful kiss, 1 reunion kiss and you will arrive at your happy ending.

But Kim Eun Sook wanted to do more. She expanded Lee Lim’s plan for world domination into two parallel worlds. Adding science fiction to the mix complicates matters because you will have to build another world that is visibly different from the other even if they are parallel to each other. Audiences should be able to tell one apart from the other quickly in order to keep up with the story. The difficulty that The King: Eternal Monarch faces is that the Kingdom of Corea and the Republic of Korea look almost exactly alike. It takes almost a few seconds to recognize the Royal Seal, or the European inspired trams running in the background to ascertain that the scene is in the Kingdom of Corea. But once the characters appear, it becomes easier to tell which world we’re dealing with. Jung Tae Eul and the police force belong to Korea. The Royal Staff and family, Prime Minister Koo and cabinet members belong to Corea. The only ones to traverse between both worlds are Lee Gon and his uncle.

Therein lies one of the criticisms for Kim Eun Sook’s work – the pace is too slow. I would argue though that the pace is just right when you’re creating two worlds, with very different characters in each, whose stories run parallel to and interweave with each other. It is very easy to place all evil characters in World A and all good characters in World B. But that’s lazy writing, and also ugly.

Kim Eun Sook humanizes and fleshes out a significant amount of the supporting cast with such care, developing them alongside the major characters. Usually in dramas, the side characters will get hints of a back story in an episode or two, and then have just one episode dedicated to them. Kim Eun Sook did so much more and in effect, her two parallel worlds became so concrete, with real, moving characters contributing their bit into the two separate forces of Lee Gon and Lee Lim that are about to clash. It creates anticipation, excitement, and spreads your heart out amongst many characters instead of investing your emotions into just the main leads.

But aside from the science fiction element, Kim Eun Sook also takes on the task of writing detective fiction into her already robust narrative. Lee Lim is essentially building an army of doppelgangers from the Republic of Korea and planting them in key positions in the Kingdom of Corea. He then takes the dead bodies of these Corean citizens and dumps them in the Republic of Korea, leaving Lt. Jung Tae Eul and her squad in the police force with a trail of unsolved cases. Detective stories are by themselves difficult enough. You begin with a dead body, a search for clues, weeding out which clues are significant, chasing a lead, failing, planting and then ignoring red herrings, closing in on a suspect, interrogation, a surprise turn of events, and so on until the murder is solved.

But Lee Lim didn’t leave just one dead body in Korea. There’s an entire army of them and Jung Tae Eul has to be on the trail for some of them in order for her to work with Lee Gon in order to solve them and in turn, help him uncover his uncle’s evil plans.

This brings us to one of the major criticisms of this drama – the romance between Lt. Jung Tae Eul and King Lee Gon. Apparently, there’s not much of it as it has taken a backseat to the struggle for power in Corea by the Prime Minister, Lee Lim’s murderous spree and body switching between the two worlds in a bid for a two-world domination, and murder investigations that Jung Tae Eul and her squad must carry out in Korea.

Would I like to see more of the actors Lee Min Ho and Kim Go Eun on screen? Why, yes of course! But as early as the 1st episode, it was already apparent that this was not going to be the usual K-drama. They weren’t going to meet cute, fall in love, fight their feelings, work on a murder mystery on the side, finally confess, become a couple, fight the final boss side by side, and then live happily ever after. Fantasy, science fiction, and detective fiction all seem bear equal weight with romance. It was different, and I found that absolutely interesting. And just because romance doesn’t dominate 80% of the story does not mean that the romance is lacking.

The first episode tricks you into thinking that there is very little romance in this drama. The lead characters of Lt. Jung Tae Eul and King Lee Gon meeting each other for the first time in the last 6 minutes of an episode that was 1 hour, 12 minutes, and 15 seconds long. What can possibly develop and deepen in 6 minutes? Not much, right?

But what happened in the last 6 minutes? Lee Gon rides into Gwanghwamun Square on his white horse after having crossed over from Corea and into the parallel world of Korea. He creates a slight commotion what with his royal handsomeness and almost ethereal white horse. Lt. Jung Tae Eul reprimands him. Lee Gon recognizes her as the woman on the ID card his savior had left behind 25 years ago. And in dramatic fashion, he alights from his horse, walks towards her, stops, and then engulfs her in a tight hug. He tells her, “I’ve finally met you” and the episode ends with a shocked Jung Tae Eul in the arms of an almost reverent Lee Gon.

In Kim Eun Sook’s other, wildly popular work, Goblin: The Lonely and Great God the first meeting between Kim Shin and Eun Tak also had that moment of finally finding the one they’ve been searching for. But for the Goblin, his bride’s existence was merely functional, as he needed her so he can finally die in peace. So their first meeting was your typical first meeting in K-dramas. There were no feelings yet, but they develop from there. So the whole drama then became a stage to establish the growth of their relationship that would give him the will to live instead of dreaming of death all the time.

But now, in The King: Eternal Monarch, the first meeting isn’t an easy blank canvas.

Lee Gon bursts into the first episode, already halfway in love with Jung Tae Eul long before he’s even met her. As a child, Lee Gon had held on to Jung Tae Eul’s image as his a savior. There is deep gratitude. As a young orphaned monarch, he held on to the idea of her to ease his loneliness. His first duty as a king was to bury his father and learned to cry only in the privacy of his own room when he was 7 years old. But somewhere out there, there was someone who had cared for enough for him to have saved him. This thought sustained him as he grew up.

And at this point in the first episode, we’re working with the idea that time travel hasn’t been introduced yet. Which means we’re treating time as a straight line, allowing Lee Gon and Jong Tae Eul to age at the same time. So if Jong Tae Eul had been 25 years old when Lee Gon was 7 in 1994, then she would be 50 years old and he would be 32 in the present year, 2019.

Then, as a man in his 30’s, he still keeps on searching for her. But in his head she is frozen in time as the 29 year old woman in her ID picture, and at this point he might possibly be half in love with her already. And when he finally meets her in the flesh, he had spent nearly all his life loving her in different iterations. Finding out that she hadn’t aged as he thought she would have gives him another possibility of loving her as a man would a woman.

Now the audience has to grapple with this idea, that he had loved her for 25 years already, prior to seeing her in the flesh. But then if you add the idea of time travel as hinted at by the 10th episode, then this first meeting becomes heavier. Not only would he have loved her for 25 years, but he also would have loved her for 25 years multiplied by the number of timelines he had crossed as a time traveller.

That’s why their first meeting had to happen in the last 6 minutes of the first episode. Everything that happened in that first hour and 6 minutes, all the murders, plotting, collision of worlds, and clash of doppelgangers in the past 25 years had to happen in order to bring Lee Gon and Jung Tae Eul to that fated meeting at Gwanghwamun Square. Kim Eun Sook had played with the idea of destiny with Goblin: The Lonely and Great God’s Kim Shin and Eun Tak. Now she takes the same idea of a fated meeting between two souls, Lee Gon and Jung Tae Eul, and proceeds to tear them apart with time loops, parallel worlds, and a frozen dimension to test how their love can endure all of that.

There can be no slow burn; there is no chase that starts with attraction, denial, bickering, jealousy, no you-make-me-worry-so-much love confession that is so often found in K-dramas. The lovers don’t even have that poor girl-rich boy/immortal-mortal or whatever uneven power dynamic that’s so popular in dramas. I guess that's what most people inevitably look for because these things were built to be formulaic.

But now you have a writer who is trying to build a bigger, more ambitious story, who is willing to take some risks with that formula in order to tell a love story that can transcend time and universes. The stakes had to be raised higher, the backdrop made grander, in order to hold a love story as epic as this. How can this not be romantic enough?

There are six more episodes left in this series. Quarantine has been extended. Give this series a chance.

#the king eternal monarch #kim eun sook #kim go eun #lee min ho

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converse-luke · 4 years

Text

G is For... (A to Z part 7)

A/N: It’s been for freaking ever but I finally got my new laptop!!! So here is the next part of A to Z, which I finished Monday but since my laptop decided to die I couldn’t post. This part is different from the other parts so read the warnings.

Warnings: Safe-wording, sub luke, group sex, tears, slight bondage

Group Sex

It’s been a week from hell. Not that Sophie knows that. Luke’s barely seen her. The only times he has was when he would crawl into bed after hours at the radio station. She always wakes up a little when he snuggles against her, pressing a kiss to his curls before falling asleep again. He’s sitting in a studio, rerecording an add that had gotten corrupted somehow. There are three empty coffee cups on the desk despite the ‘no drinks allowed’ sign outside the studio.

He’d much rather bang his head against the desk until he passes out than redo this add. Luke takes another sip, his coffee went cold a while ago but he doesn’t have the energy to care. His phone buzzes, it’s Sophie asking if she should go to bed or pick him up. Luke wants to tell her to pick him up, he’s so fucking tired. The urge to not bother her almost wins but he ends up asking her to come.

He’s on the brink of falling asleep when the door opens. “Lu, time to go.” Sophie presses a kiss to his head and takes his headphones off.

“I’m almost done.” Sophie looks at his screen, she doesn’t understand most of what she sees but knows he’s no where close to being done.

“Baby, it’s almost three in the morning.” His eyes flick to the clock at the bottom of the screen. Luke grumbles a little but saves the project and gets up. “Go clock out, I’ll clean up.” He shuffles out, sleepily laying against the wall once he’s done. Sophie squeezes his arm when she’s done, leading him to the car.

The next thing Luke knows he’s waking up in bed. Sophie’s gone, a sticky note on his bedside table letting him know she’s at work. He slumps back onto the pillows and tries to fall back asleep.

It doesn’t work. Luke’s phone starts to ring not even five minutes later. Resisting the urge to scream, Luke picks up. It’s his boss asking him to cover someone’s shift. And for some godforsaken reason Luke says yes.

Sierra’s there when he gets home. Luke whines as he drops his bag and kicks his shoes off. As he trudges to the bedroom Sophie gives him a look. “I hope you’re not planning on leaving that mess for me to clean up.” Her tone makes his back go straight. Luke turns around, cheeks burning as Sierra giggles. “Well?” Sophie’s nails tap against the counter impatiently.

“Sorry Miss.” Luke shuffles back to the doorway and cleans up the mess he made. As he goes to collapse in bed Sophie stops him by grabbing his face and kissing him. “May I go to bed Miss?” The submission comes easily. Sophie’s gaze softens and she presses a much softer kiss to his lips.

“Go get some rest baby.” Luke quietly thanks her, not even getting undressed before falling asleep.

When he wakes up he knows Sophie took care of him. He’s no longer in his jeans or socks and is tucked under the covers with a throw blanket over his shoulders. Luke stays snuggled in bed for a little longer.

Maybe a little too long because the door opens to their bedroom and Sophie slips inside. Luke watches her through half closed eyes as she sits down next to him. She smiles and runs her fingers through his hair. “Did you get a good night's sleep?” He nods, still wrapped around his pillow. “That’s good baby boy.” Sophie keeps her voice soft, still running her fingers through his hair.

“Is Sierra still here?”

“She is,” Luke hums, eyes fluttering closed again. “Ah, ah, ah, no going back to sleep. Remember what we said we were doing today?” That makes Luke’s eyes snap back open. Sophie’s grip in his hair tightens slightly. Luke swallows, eyes staring widely up at Sophie. This week made him completely forget that they were having a threesome today. “I’m gonna let you get ready and have something to eat. Meet us in the guest room.” Sophie presses a kiss to his lips before leaving.

As Luke gets ready he can feel his heart starts to race. He’s still exhausted from this week. But maybe he needs this. Needs Sophie to ground him by putting him in his place. Luke slowly walks to their guest room, only in his boxers. He opens the door, finding Sophie sitting on the bed braiding Sierra’s hair. They don’t notice his entrance, Sierra seems to be in total bliss while Sophie fixes her hair. Luke watches them, a small smile forming on his face. “Are you just gonna stand there all day?” Sophie smirks while she ties off one of Sierra’s braids. Luke shuffles over and sits next to Sophie. She’s still focused on braiding Sierra’s hair. “Take your boxers off.” Luke slowly shimmies out of his underwear while Sophie ties off the braid. Sophie stretches her arms above her head, the hem of his Guns & Roses shirt rising to reveal the lacy edge of her panties.

He sits back, his legs spread slightly while Sierra crawls up the bed. “Hey pretty boy,” she sits between his legs, cradling his face in her hands before pressing her lips to his. Luke sighs as she pulls away. Sierra’s kisses are different than Sophie’s, softer and guiding where Sophie’s are hard and dizzying. His eyes dart to Sophie, almost missing her take her shirt off.

“Those are new,” Luke remarks before he can stop himself. Sophie laughs lightly, moving towards him to kiss to his cheek. She presses herself to his back, nipping at his neck.

“You wanna touch Sierra baby boy?” Hands snake around his waist, lightly trailing down his stomach and to his cock. “Go ahead and touch her, but you gotta tell her how many times you got off to her body first.” Luke’s breath catches in his throat while Sophie strokes his cock.

Sierra’s eyes glimmer in amusement at his embarrassment. “Three,” he burns red all the way to the tip of his ears. She giggles and kisses him, her tongue slipping into his mouth. When Sierra pulls away she takes hold of his wrist, guiding it into her baby blue panties. Luke brushes his fingers over her clit before sliding two into her. She hums in pleasure when he pumps them, taking off her bra with one hand. Luke watches Sierra drop it off the side of the bed.

With his other hand he grabs her breast, thumbing over her nipple. Sophie sucks a hickey into his skin. Luke tenses for a second, staring up at Sierra. He’s not sure if he likes this. Luke pushes the feeling to the side, hoping it’ll dissipate as they continue. Sophie’s hand pinches his nipple and tightens around his cock. A moan bubbles out of his mouth and eases the tension in his shoulders. “He’s so noisy,” Sierra giggles as she grinds against his fingers. She guides his head towards her other breast, his lips wrapping around her nipple and sucking. Her hand stays in his curls, keeping him against her. Luke curls his fingers inside of Sierra to hear her moan.

The sound echos through him, sending shivers down his body. Sophie’s hand twists around him before squeezing his balls. Luke moans, his eyes fluttering closed. “You’re making Sierra do all the work baby, I don’t think that’s very fair.”

“Sorry Miss,” he mumbles.

“Take your fingers out.” Sophie moves away from his back, leaving his cock heavy between his legs. He’s still kept in place by the hand in his hair. When Sophie returns she pulls his hands behind his back. They’re tied tightly together and he’s pulled away from Sierra.

Sophie pulls Sierra down the bed and the two whisper between each other. They giggle and then Sophie lets Sierra pull her into a kiss. Luke’s eyebrows shoot up as he watches Sophie get pushed to the bed. Sierra hovers over her, turning her head towards Luke. “I’m gonna make her cum and then I get to have my way with you.” She presses a chaste kiss to Sophie’s lips, trailing them down her body until her lips are at the edge of Sophie’s panties. As Luke watches his body tenses up again. He exhales heavily to try and relax but it doesn’t work.

Sierra slips Sophie’s underwear down her legs and flings it onto the floor. The whole room is silent. Luke’s not used to it, Sophie’s almost always talking to him when they do this. He goes to whine as he watches Sierra dip her head between Sophie’s legs. But Sophie’s reaction stops him. She arches off the bed, eyes closing in pleasure as a moan leaves her. He’s never gotten her to react like that so quickly. Luke shuffles on the bed, flexing his hands in the rope. Despite the moans filling the air his cock softens.

Maybe he’s being greedy wanting all the attention on him. Sophie spends so much time focused on him it’s only fair she gets attention as well. But he’s not feeling any better. He feels more exhausted than ever as he sits tied up and naked on the bed. “Sophie,” he quietly murmurs her name but doesn’t catch her attention. She’s so caught up in the pleasure Sierra’s causing her carmel eyes have wrenched closed. Sophie pulls on Sierra’s braids to get her attention. Sierra quirks her lips into a smirk, her hands sliding up Sophie’s body to grip her hips. She pulls Sophie against her thigh, making her grind on it. Sophie falls apart quickly, almost as quickly as Luke realizes they’ve done this before.

His heart drops into his stomach. He bites his lip and watches the fondness radiate off of them. Luke closes his eyes and shakes his head. Exhaustion crashes against him, the sudden surge of it causing him to tear up. He’s grounded but in all the wrong ways. Luke shudders and tries to blink away the tears. “Sophie,” his voice is tight, she looks up at him, mouth dropping as a tear dribbles down his cheek, “red.”

The reaction isn’t instant like he thought it would be. He hears Sophie gasp as he hangs his head. The bed creaks and he feels scissors slide against the rope. He flexes his hands before wrapping his arms around his knees. Sophie’s hands are checking him over, trying to see if he’s physically injured. “Luke, Luke darling what’s wrong?” She tips his chin up and wipes his tears away. He hiccups, lip trembling.

“I-I don’t know,” he lets Sophie uncurl him from the ball he turned himself into. Her eyes are gentle, concern filling them as more tears slip down his cheeks. “I can’t, I can’t do this.” Sophie shushes him again and wipes away more of his tears.

“That’s okay, it’s okay sweetheart. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Shhh baby, it’s okay.” Sierra wraps a blanket around his shoulders, her touch makes him jump. She backs off, sliding a robe on before leaving the room. Sophie pulls the blanket around him tighter so he doesn’t feel so exposed. Tears are still steadily flowing while Sophie tries to wipe them away. As her thumbs brush against his cheeks Sophie can see the dark circles under his eyes. Everything hits her like a bag of bricks. “Oh Lu, have you gotten any rest?” Luke sniffles, eyes darting up to meet Sophie’s briefly before he shakes his head. “Alright then, lets go back to our room and you can get some sleep. Come on sweetheart,” she leads him off the bed, letting him put his boxers back on before they go into their room.

Luke’s still teary eyed when she gets him tucked into bed, his head starting to have a dull ache. Sophie presses a kiss to his forehead, lightly dabbing a cold washcloth on his cheeks to soothe the blotchiness. His eyes track her as she slowly puts it back in their bathroom. “Soph-Sophie?” Luke’s voice cracks as she turns around. “Please don’t leave me.” Tears slip out against his will. She hurries back over, sliding into bed to pull Luke flush against her side.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Thin fingers tighten in her shirt while Luke buries himself in her. “Get some sleep baby.”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” The insecurity in his quiet question makes her heart crack.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Luke has nightmares the whole time he’s asleep. Sophie doesn’t sleep at all, not that she needs to, it’s the middle of the day. Instead she watches Luke toss and turn, settling when she puts her hand on his back. There’s a knock on the door, Sierra’s head popping in a second later. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” she wanders in, sliding next to Sophie on the bed.

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s exhausted, he’s been working so hard this week. I should have realized how wiped out he was.” Sierra tips her head on Sophie’s shoulder, her hand trailing to Luke’s curls. He nuzzles deeper into Sophie’s thigh, sighing contentedly. “I feel like shit.”

“Why Soph, this isn’t your fault.”

“I should have noticed that he wasn’t doing well. If I had noticed he wouldn’t have safeworded.”

“Honey, it’s okay, you’ll take care of him. He just needs some time to regain his energy.” Luke moves around in bed, the nightmares seeming to have gone. “I’m going to go home now okay, so you and Luke can have a chat alone. Take care of your boy.” With that she leaves, closing the door softly. Sophie lets Luke sleep for as long as he needs. Finally able to get some real rest after the nightmares have passed.

When his eyes open again they flit around the room before landing on Sophie. “You stayed,” he genuinely sounds surprised while his fingers trail along her thigh.

“Of course I did Lu, why wouldn’t I?” He shrugs, taking a deep breath before looking into Sophie’s eyes.

“Thought you would want to be with Sierra.” Luke curls back around Sophie’s thigh, cheek resting against it.

“What do you mean Luke? Why would I want to be with Sierra?”

“You have more fun with her than you do with me.” A small tear escapes, trailing over his nose and landing on Sophie’s thigh.

“Luke you’re not making sense.” He sits up, sniffing and wiping away the tears.

“She barely touched you and made you moan louder than I’ve been able to in that time.” He sniffles again, wrapping his arms around his chest. “So why aren’t you with her?” The question makes Sophie’s mouth drop open.

“Luke,” she sits on her heels, going to cup his face. He jerks away. “Luke, I love you. I want to be with you, not Sierra. She’s my best friend.”

“Who you’ve had sex with.” Sophie doesn’t show the surprise on her face.

“When I was in college, because we trusted each other to respect the other’s boundaries.” Sophie puts her hands on her thighs. “Why is this bothering you?”

“It’s not because she’s a woman, I know you’re bi and that’s never bothered me. But she-why would you ever want to be with me when you have someone like Sierra right there?” Luke rubs his eyes as more tears slip out.

“Luke,” Sophie reaches forward to touch him, he lets her. “Luke darling, I love you endlessly. And I love Sierra too but she’s only my friend. I’m not with you just for sex, I’m with you because you make me immeasurably happy.” She kisses him, just a quick brush of their lips together. Luke still looks puzzled when she pulls away. “What’s wrong sweetheart?”

“Why did you pick Sierra?”

“I trust her, she’s seen you in a scene before so I wasn’t worried she’d disrespect your comfort for her pleasure.” Luke hums while Sophie runs her fingers through his sleep mussed curls. “We’re not going to do anything like that again okay? If you don’t enjoy it then there’s no point.” While her fingers run through his hair Luke pulls her close so he can rest his head on her shoulder.

“I think I like being the only one pleasing you like that.” Sophie strokes the back of his neck while he rests against her.

“Alright sweetheart I understand. Don’t worry I’m all yours.” She can feel Luke’s smile against her skin. He presses a small kiss to her neck.

“They can look, don’t want them to touch.” Luke breathes out.

Sophie giggles quietly, her hands drifting down Luke’s body until they firmly squeeze his thighs. All Luke can do is gasp lightly as she flips him on his back. His thighs are still spread open as Sophie teases him by leaning forward until their lips are almost touching. “I think it’s time you get some special attention baby boy.” Luke tries to chase her lips for a kiss. He stops when Sophie squeezes him through his boxers.

“Oh,” Luke’s heart rate gets faster, “yes please.”

Taglist (message me to be added or if you’re username has changed): @buggy-blogs @dukehoods @singt0mecalum @sleepwithdeath @calumsmermaid @babylon-corgis @turtoix @httpspook @madbomb @irwinkitten @5sos-microwave @findingliam-o @flannelpunkcalum @boyfriend-cal @sexgodashton @prettybabycal @redeserts

#converse-luke works #my work #A to Z #lh smut #sd smut #poly!sos #Luke Hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings blurb #5sos smut #sub!luke #luke hemmings #luke hemmings smut #5sos fanfic

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scarletwillowtree · 4 years

Text

The Soldier and The Artist ch4 (soulmate AU)

Pairing: Bucky x artist!reader

Warning: slight angst

Word count: 2,146

Summary: In a world where your soulmates first words show up on your skin once you meet, it’s not entirely common to actually meet the one you’re destined to be with. Though you’ve always held out hope, you never believed you would meet them, especially after you got your words but haven’t seen the man since. Now, working closely with The Avengers for a project Tony Stark himself requested you for, you’re closer to your soulmate than you ever expected.

A/N: Yes, hello! I am aliiiiive! My apologies to my readers, it’s been rough going for me for a while, but I have returned. Originally this chapter was VERY different, and the way I wrote it honestly made me hate the direction the story went, so I scrapped it and now I’m much happier. Chapter five is being rewritten as it’s the epilogue I had planned, but we’re almost there! I hope you enjoy my lovelies.

masterlist

As I watched Bucky walk off the jet, I could feel my heart speeding up. My face flushed as I felt my lips part and a harsh inhale past my teeth must have been heard by Steve still standing next to me as I could see his head turn to me from my peripheral vision. But none of that mattered. Not Steve, not the fact that I was standing on the roof of the compound still, not even that I was still dressed in my paint stained clothing.

All that mattered was Bucky, the man from the coffee shop, my soulmate. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from his steely blue ones as he made a beeline for me, never looking away from me. Once he finally reached us, I expected him to move for Steve, his life long best friend.

Surprising everyone in the area, Bucky reached out and pulled me into his arms where I immediately melted into his embrace, feeling him press his face into my hair with his mouth near my ear.

“I’ve been waiting so long for you, doll.” He whispered gently, his arms squeezing me slightly tighter as he did. We stood there for what could’ve been minutes or years, before a throat clearing to the side of us caused me to pull back enough to see who it was, Bucky’s grip loosening enough for that to happen but not letting me ago entirely.

“So uh, you two know each other?” Steve shifted awkwardly as he looked between me and his best friend, still wrapped in each other’s arms. Beyond Steve I could see who I guessed to be Sam and Thor standing there, both wearing teasing smiles while looking at the group that had gathered.

Looking back up at Bucky, I felt a warmth blossoming in my chest as my next words spilled from behind my lips with no fight or filter.

“We’re soulmates.”

***

After a lengthy talk in the communal kitchen, several cups of coffee, and a very awkward walk from the hangar, Steve sat across the bar from Bucky and myself. Everyone else had cleared out already after the initial announcement, too tired to unpack the full story yet.

“Gotta say, I’m happy you two found each other. Bucky here wouldn’t shut up about what you’d be like when we were younger (Y/N).”

“Alright punk, that’s enough about that. Why don’t you get lost for a while?”

Steve raised his hands in mock surrender as he stood and moved to leave the kitchen. At the last moment, he turned to face us at the bar, a genuine and soft smile on his face.

“Hey, (Y/N), treat him right okay?”

I smiled and gave him a nod in response before he finally left the room. I turned back to Bucky to see him shaking his head as he grumbles under his breath too low for me to understand.

“What was that, Buck?”

His face flushed as he looked up at me, his words only coming out barely above a whisper as his eyes darkened from their brilliant ocean blue.

“It’s not you he should be worried about.”

“What do you mean by that Bucky?” The worry in my chest began spreading quickly, hoping this wouldn’t be one of those instances where a soulmate rejects the bond.

“I’ve...I’ve done a lot of bad (Y/N). I could understand if you choose to leave, I’m damaged and I’ve hurt so many people...it wouldn’t be fair to you to be stuck with someone like me...with a monster.”

I felt my heart crack at his words, a few tears building on my lashes as I took a shaky breath before softly saying his name. When he didn’t look up, I placed my hand gently on his chin and raised his eyes to finally meet mine, the pain in his shining bright as fear mixed with it.

“James Buchanan Barnes, what you did as another person was beyond your control. Being damaged is part of being human, you just got a really bad lot in life. But look at what you’ve done to turn it around! You save lives and prevent wars now. From what Steve has told me of you, you are an incredible person with an amazing heart and you’d give anything for those you love. You. Are. Not. A. Monster. Okay?”

By now a few tears had fallen from your eyes, and his as well. He grabbed your hand from his chin, placing a kiss to your palm before letting out a shaky sigh.

“So...you’re not leaving? You’re not scared?”

“Bucky, the only thing that scares me is that I won’t be good enough for you. I’m just a normal person who loves to paint. I’m not skilled or super in any way.”

He laughed lightly at you, shaking his head as he stands and hugs you where you still sit, placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, doll.”

***

As the weeks flew by, I continued the portraits and spent every spare minute with Bucky I could. I had been saving his portrait for last, even though I’d already had it mapped in my head from the first conversation we had that day in the kitchen. He’d tried to sneak peeks of the other paintings, but hadn’t been successful as I wanted them to be a surprise for everyone.

Now that I’d finally come to his portrait, my time at the compound was almost at an end. I had spoken with Tony and was welcome at any time, and I planned to stay an extra two weeks at the compound before flying back to DC. Back to my life.

As my mind became lost in the strokes of greys, steely blue, and streaks of gold I thought back on my time here. I had come to view these people as good friends, maybe even a second family. Thinking about having to leave them caused a weight in my chest that made it hard to breath.

Finally finished with the final painting of the collection, I set my brushes aside to be cleaned, knowing they wouldn’t dry too soon with the oils smeared across the canvas and my hands. With a heavy sigh I moved to a nearby table and grabbed my phone, knowing it was time for my weekly update with Hannah.

She’d been so excited for me when I told her about Bucky, nearly exploding at my over the phone in typical her fashion. For someone so small, she sure was one hell of a force of nature all her own.

“You better be calling to tell me you’ve finally slept with that fiiiiine hunk of man you get to call your soulmate, lady.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but we are actually taking it slow and he’s been a perfect gentleman, Hannah.”

She snorted into the phone before I heard the telltale sound of the bay doors in the workshop we shared back home. Didn’t feel like home anymore, not with Bucky being here.

“So, judging by the timeframe I guess you’re done and coming home soon, huh?”

“I’m planning on staying an extra two weeks actually...not ready to say goodbye just yet.”

“I can understand that boo. Good thing we run our own company then, right? No need to ask for the vacation time!”

“That’s true. I miss you Han. I hope things go well while I’m still gone.”

“Well, as it happens it’s vacation time for me too lady, so no need to worry about the company! Just relax, and in to weeks we can both come back refreshed, okay?”

“Alrighty. Thank you! I gotta go, but I’ll call soon okay?”

“Love ya, ya weirdo!”

With her final affections given in her typical fashion, Hannah hung up. I gave a sigh before heading out of the studio and to my designated room, which had been moved to the one next to Bucky’s once he came back. I hopped in the shower, letting the nearly scalding water pour over me and wash away the paint and stress of the day.

Soon enough I had to face the music and get out, wrapping myself in a large and fluffy towel before padding my way into my room. Over my weeks here, the room had really become personalized to me, I even had an easel in here near the window overlooking the city. I quickly dressed in some leggings and a longer tshirt, aiming for comfort more than appearance.

I headed back to the studio, cleaning my brushes first in the sink in the corner, laying them next to it to air dry before making my way back to the easel with the latest painting. I smiled softly, this was truly a masterpiece in my eyes, whether it was because of the subject of because I poured every ounce of emotion I had into it I wasn’t sure.

I began moving the paintings into the common area where Tony intended to hang them, moving fast to get them all up. I managed to somehow get all 10 hung before anyone came out, no small feat in this place since they were all back from missions for the moment.

“FRIDAY, could you ask everyone to come here please? Non-emergency though.”

“You got it, (Y/N).”

***

Not long after they’d been called, I watched as all 10 of my friends stared into their portraits. The emotions written on their faces were enough of a response for me, I didn’t need them to voice how they felt.

Tony’s was in brilliant and bold colors, reminiscent of a peacock. With vague white lines indicating the iron man mask overlaying his face and the arc reactor in his chest glowing with leds embedded in the canvas from behind.

Wanda’s painting was a black and white portrait of her smiling wide, a red stream flowing through the background as a ghostly transparent silhouette of her brother Pietro framed her position on the canvas.

Steve’s painting was a mix of charcoals and paints, his pose of him mid laugh at some silly story he’d been telling me of him and Bucky as kids. He looked carefree and relaxed, years younger than his guarded self.

Vision had a black and white painting as well, with silver and gold foiling filling the background and a few lines in front of him creating an intricate circuit board that seemed to stem from the resin crystal emulating the stone in his head.

Clint’s painting had been done in various darknesses of coffee, as nothing could fit him better. He was pictured mid sign, his hands blurred to capture his swift and erratic speech as best I could in a slice of time.

Nat was the only one with a full body, necessary for the ballet pose her body was held in. Reds and black dominated the painting, a peaceful smile on her lips as her body contorted in a graceful way. The tulle attached to the canvas gave depth to her painting more so than I had expected.

Bruce had another black and white portrait, his shy smile painted on his face and his glasses sliding down his nose. Behind him stood a whiteboard with equations I could never make sense of filling the space, though the shadow he cast on the board was undoubtedly that of the Hulk.

Thor had a greyscale painting too, with a pale blue and lavenders accenting it as the edges of the lightning surrounding him and flaring away from his eyes. He was dressed in his royal armor as always, but he wore a cocky smirk on his face, the same he usually sported.

Sam’s painting was made of varying metallic materials in the colors I needed, the textures letting lights shine off it in various ways depending on which angle you viewed it from, making it look like he was composed of fireworks. Like Steve, he was also laughing in his picture, that mischievous twinkle to his eye you’d seen plenty after he played one of his many pranks during your week together.

Finally was Bucky’s painting. His eyes were full of warmth and love, the unending depths of that steely blue leaping from the mostly grey painting. His face was framed by his long hair, and from behind that extended a halo of glittering gold. In that same gold paint a golden heart rested on the sleeve of the Henley he wore stretched tight across his muscles.

There were no words they could find to truly express how the paintings made them feel, but the tight hugs and repeated thanks I received were more than enough to tell me.

Now to enjoy my time before I have to go home. Before I have to leave Bucky.

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

next chapter >

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#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky imagines #bucky #soulmate au avengers #bucky x soulmate!reader #soulmate au

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movedvalkyriesryde · 5 years

Text

Fourth of July Part One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader; Steve Rogers x Platonic!Reader; Sam Wilson x Platonic!Reader

Summary: The Fourth of July is hard for some people but you try and make it a little bit easier with some not so simple editing.

Word Count: 2898

A/N: Its a long one but I actually really like how it turned out. I have an idea for a part two which focuses more on Bucky and reader so let me know if ya’ll want that and I’ll write it up. Love you all remember feedback is always appreciated and requests are open!

A/N 2: This is for all those non-Americans because we gotta stick together

Masterlist

Part Two

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

Not being American meant that many dates occurred in the year that held little to no significance to you. Even after making America your home you still found it hard to get into your system all of the holidays the country celebrates in honour of itself. So when you stepped into the dining area of the compound for lunch on July 4th you were taken aback with the container of American flag coloured cookies, the pile of flags that sat on the bench alongside them and Sam who stood there wearing an Uncle Sam t-shirt.

“What’s going on?” You stepped in further peering into the slow cooker that was producing one of the best smells you’d ever come across. “Happy Fourth of July Y/N,” Wanda smiled at you from her spot by the bench while she continued chopping vegetables. Realisation hit you and you smiled realising that it was your favourite American holiday, Fourth of July, the main reason for that being, fireworks.

“Are you coming with us to the park tonight?” Vision looked up at you. You smiled at him, knowing that you would never miss an opportunity to watch fireworks light up the sky.

“Of course, are we all going?” Sam shook his head in response.

“Cap and I won’t be there, we’re going to the cabin to get away from the fireworks. Bucky usually locks himself in his room so he won’t be there either.” You nodded slightly, a small oh coming out before Sam walked out with a mouthful of stolen cookies. You followed him out, making a left towards Steve’s office.

You hadn’t been apart of the team for long, working your way up the ladder at Stark Industries Tony saw potential in your computer skills and ingenuity. He promptly brought you into the compound to help with suit modifications and the upkeep of the compound’s technical services. You weren’t exactly an agent and it took some time for some of the team to accept you into the tight family that they were, one in particular still not fully accepting you, but you enjoyed the challenges it came with and the opportunity to work with incredible people.

“Steve, can I talk to you?” Steve looked up from his notebook at you leaning into his office, he nodded, reaching a hand out as a motion for you to take a seat.

“Do I need to apologise for Bucky being a jerk again?” He smiled softly at you, knowing the two of you had had a rough start, Bucky not quite seeing the point in you joining the compound.

“Oh no not at all actually I was just wondering if the simulation room was booked this afternoon?” Steve sat back, going onto his computer to bring up the simulation room timetable. “Nope it’s all free,” he shook his head before looking back at the girl in front of him. You smiled at him, standing from your spot.

“Awesome. Uh also, Sam said the two of you weren’t joining us today. Is that because of your time in the war and the whole fireworks thing? If you don’t mind me asking,” you rushed out the last sentence, not wanting to offend or pry to far into the soldier’s past.

“Uh yes it is. Bucky also, he locks himself up but Sam and I like to get out into the country,” Steve smiled at you, appreciating the concern that seemed to come through your voice. You nodded slightly, a small okay coming out before you walked towards the door.

“Is it the sound or the light?” You turned back, an idea had already brewed in your mind but you wanted to be sure first.

“The sound mainly, sometimes the light if its too bright or close but really its that sound.” You nodded again, offering Steve a thank you before leaving the room to go to Tony’s lab where he kept the simulation editing software. You can work with the sound being the main problem.

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

Tony was leaned over his tablet, a frustrated frown on his face when you walked in. He offered you a brief nod but ignored any other movement you made, this was common, he was used to you waltzing in and out to grab whatever you needed. It was when you sat at his computer that he looked at you, curious as to why you, the computer expert who had an entire lab of computers, was in his lab using his.

“Whatcha doing there techie?” The two of you had a special bond, you were friends, you had a common interest in inventions of oddities and Tony enjoyed having someone who wasn’t constantly up his ass about if he’d eaten that day or when the last time he showered was when in the middle of a project.

“A project” you muttered, keeping your back to him while you began work.

“Is this a personal project or what because I can’t have you doing personal projects on my time techie,” he laughed as you spun around offering him a look that he knew meant ‘get off my back’.

“For your information it is a project that I think will raise team morale.” You spun back around in your chair, continuing to work on the computer.

“Bullshit but whatever,” Tony muttered under his breath, the two of you continuing to work in silence.

It wasn’t in fact ‘bullshit’ like Tony thought. This project was to raise team morale. You wanted the entire team to be able to enjoy the Fourth of July, not thinking it fair that three had to miss out because of their PTSD. You were going to create a firework show simulation with no sound. Fireworks were one of your favourite things to watch as a kid, you were always in awe when you saw them and so knowing that three of your friends (though it could be argued Bucky wasn’t exactly your friend you still thought of him as such) weren’t able to enjoy the same beauty that you loved hurt you and you were determined to change that.

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

You worked right into the afternoon but finally it was ready to be tested. Knowing Steve and Sam would be leaving any minute now you quickly ran down to the garage where you found the two putting their bags in the truck.

“Hey! Wait I need you to come with me before you go it’ll only be a second,” you rushed trying to pull Steve’s arm to drag him back inside.

“Y/N we don’t have time we’re running late as it is.”

“It’ll just take a minute please you have to see it before you go,” you looked between the two men, pleading them both to follow you before they left.

“Fine but we can’t stay long we gotta get going.” Steve was the first to fall into step with you, Sam following quickly after closing the car door and huffing at the idea of being even later than they already were.

“Whats this about Y/N? Wanda already gave us a bunch of food for the road,” Sam queried in the elevator, they stepped out and you lead them to the simulation room, letting them step in first.

“If I’m right you need to stand about a foot in front of the back wall there,” you pointed towards the back wall for the men to move towards. They looked at each other before moving to the spot.

“Y/N are you sure no one else could do this?” Steve questioned while you stood at the control panel to the side of the door downloading your new simulation.

“Yes it has to be you I made it specifically for the two of you and Bucky,” you turned to them making sure they knew how important this is to you. The two men agreed, a quick okay we’re ready and then you pressed go.

The room began to transform around them, the ground became grass, trees were spread out across the field in no particular order and groups of people were sitting on picnic blankets interacting with each other. But there was no sound, no wind, no birds, no chatter.

“What is this?” Sam looked at you with an eyebrow raised, you shushed him, pointing up towards the sky. Then it began, small fireworks in all kinds of colours began to slowly light up the sky, you couldn’t hold the smile that spread across your face while you watched on, it worked. But then you began to worry, Sam nor Steve had said anything and you were scared they didn’t like what you had done. So you turned to look at them, about to tell them that it was just a theory and if they want to leave they’re more than welcome. However when you turned around you knew it was okay, Steve stood there, his hands on his hips, a smile spread across his face, you could see him mouth the word ‘incredible’. Sam had sat on the floor leaning back on his hands, you could just make out the water in his eyes while they were glued to the makeshift sky above him.

“This is - I can’t believe this. I haven’t watched fireworks since I was a kid,” Sam was baffled at the sight before him. He hadn’t been this close to a fireworks show since before he enlisted, he never thought he would see one again.

“It’s not quite finished yet, that tree keeps glitching and I’m not sure if I should add music or not but I wanted you to see it before you left,” you piped up. The two looked at you, amusement on both of their faces.

“You did this for us?” Sam asked from his seat on the floor.

“and Bucky, I don’t like the idea of you having to miss out on such a beautiful sight. I thought maybe I would edit the fourth of July so you were able to enjoy it too,” you nodded at him. Sam laughed to himself, shaking his head.

“You’re going to show this to Bucky?”

“If I can get him out of his room, yes.” Steve sat next to Sam on the floor, the two looked back up at the sight above them neither wanting to look away from long periods of time.

“Piano” Steve breathed out.

“Piano?” You asked, looking at your tablet to find a soft piano that you thought might fit the atmosphere of the simulation.

“That’s the music you should have when you show Buck,” he spoke before turning to Sam, “I don’t really want to go to the cabin anymore.” Sam lay down putting his arms behind his head.

“I say we stay here. Y/N can get us some dinner when she gets Bucky,” he winked at you.

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

You stood outside Bucky’s room, it had been half an hour since you left Sam and Steve watching the firework display. The rest of the team had already left for the festivities in town, none aware of the show going on in their own home. You held a picnic basket in one hand filled with what food and leftovers you could find in the kitchen, it seemed fitting, a picnic. Your other hand was repeatedly knocking on the door until finally Bucky swung it open, an annoyed look plastered on his face.

“What do you want I already told Wanda I’m not -,” he stopped when he saw you standing there, a soft smile and a picnic basket.

“I know, I was wondering if you would join me?” You’d always been nice to Bucky, your philosophy was that everybody deserves kindness and Bucky, even with his history, was no different. To Bucky though that frightened him, you were always nice at him, you’d never shown any annoyance towards him, or at least to his face, and that scared him. He didn’t think he deserved someone being kind towards him for no reason. He thought you must have some ulterior motive but after talking to Steve about it he realised that was just who you were and he decided that your kindness shouldn’t be wasted on him. So he avoided you and any attempt you made to be nice or friendly towards him, even when he wanted nothing more than to accept it knowing it would make you happy. That’s why he closed the door in your face. Not because he hated you like you thought, but because he didn’t deserve you making him a picnic.

“Bucky goddammit I am sick of this! Steve and Sam are waiting for us in the simulation room, you don’t have to eat the food I made, you don’t even have to talk to me, but just come to the simulation room!” You yelled through the door before stepping back, preparing yourself to be yelled at right back. Bucky rubbed his hand over his face, pushing back the hair that had fallen out of his bun. You had never yelled at him, always brushing off his attitude but this time you were determined to get him into that room. He knew it must have been important for you to yell, especially given that Steve and Sam should be at a cabin in the woods right about now. If Sam and Steve were there then maybe it would be bearable, maybe you were just doing this to make him feel included and he appreciated that, really, he did. You took a deep breath, deciding that he probably wasn’t going to come out now, maybe sending Steve to get him would change his mind. So you began to walk back to the simulation room when Bucky opened his door and began trailing behind you but never catching up until you reached the door.

“What is this exactly?” He asked as you paused the show, a chorus of boo’s and oi’s came from inside and Bucky raised an eyebrow at you.

“Go and sit next to Steve,” you handed him the basket which had an assortment of food and blankets in it and pushed him towards Steve who was now sat on the ground against a tree towards the back, Sam was still lying in the same spot you had left him in.

“What the hell is this Rogers?” Bucky grumbled taking a seat, Steve just shrugged in response. You walked over to the men, plopping down on the other side of Bucky who began handing out food and blankets. Sam stole two, one as a pillow and the other to keep warm leaving two left. Bucky handed you the last one, you gestured to share but he shook his head, sitting next to you made him nervous enough, he wasn’t about to share a blanket.

“Will you lot hurry up and start it up again?” Sam called from his spot, you laughed, taking a deep breath and pressing play on your tablet. Then the show began again, this time accompanied by a soft piano. Bucky looked at you questionably but your attention was on the sky. He saw it first out of the corner of his eye, bracing himself for the sound but nothing came. You felt him tense beside you, expecting him to stand up and leave but when he looked up his body relaxed completely and you heard a breath of air leave him. His body sank into the tree behind you, his arm pressed against yours. On his face was the biggest smile you had ever seen Bucky show, he licked his lips and you swear you could see water in his eyes.

“You did this?” he breathed out, tearing his eyes away from the fireworks to find you already looking at him, a giant grin on your face to match his. You nodded quickly.

“I didn’t want you to miss out.�� Bucky knew you meant the three of them but he couldn’t help but hope you meant just him, that you did this for him because as much as your kindness frightened him and as much as he didn’t think he deserved it he wanted this to be his, he wanted to hug you and kiss you just for thinking of him.

Hours passed, Sam was sprawled on the floor having fallen fast asleep, the rest of the team was driving into the garage wondering why Sam’s truck was still here, you had fallen asleep on Bucky’s shoulder and he hadn’t moved an inch since, too scared to wake you up. He and Steve were still awake, at times reminiscing about when they would go to the carnival and watch the fireworks when they were teenagers, how Bucky would always bring a girl to impress her. The night was a moment of peace that the men needed and they were so grateful that you had given it to them. You shifted against Bucky, wrapping your arms around his right one, he looked down at you smiling to himself.

“She did it for you you know,” Steve whispered to his friend knowing you were determined to get Bucky to like you.

“She said she did it for all of us.”

“Maybe she did then,” he chuckled lightly enjoying the familiar sight of his friend with a girl on his arm, “but she wasn’t nervous to show Sam and I, she held her breath when she showed you.”

#bucky barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky imagine #bucky au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #sam wilson x reader #steve rogers x reader #sam wilson au #steve rogers au

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 5 years

Text

Jigsaw // Red: Part Two

Nothin’ Good Comin’

A/N: I re-watched all of season 2 before finishing this. So now my pain is your pain, sorry. Time for Billy to get some revenge.

Warning: murder, death, violence, mentions of sexual assault

Word Count: 3,259

Prompt: (i have a feeling this is the furthest thing from what you were hoping for, anon. But...I just can’t see Billy fluff like that so I hope you don’t hate me! Thank you for sending a request!)

The light came in through the curtains, the silver-gold brilliance of the sun’s first rays marking the early start of a new day. Normally, Billy would have been awake for an hour or two already, moving about in the semi-darkness, performing his morning routine; workout, coffee, shower, news. He liked starting his day before the world did, feeling like it gave him an edge, a sharpness that he could use to his advantage, and he took advantages whenever he could grab them. But it wasn’t a normal morning. It hadn’t been a normal night, either, the two of you lingering in the limbo between sleep and wakefulness, neither of you willing to close your eyes for too many minutes. Instead, the hours were spent committing everything to memory- the way he felt your moans through your kiss, your chest pressed to his. The soft flutter of your eyelids and the way it felt to sink into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, twined with his or thrown over his shoulder. The way his name sounded and what it did to his heartbeat and his breathing when you sighed it into his ear. He wanted to etch you into his bones and tattoo you into his memory. Every freckle, every eyelash, the distinct weight of your body draped over his, the gentle warmth of your breath on his skin, all of it, all of you.

You brushed your fingertips over his eyebrow, tracing the curve of his orbital bone until your light touch found the birthmark between his cheek and lashes. The fingers of your other hand were threading through his hair, long dark strands spread out over the pillowcase. He didn’t dare open his eyes, the lids shutting even more tightly as you lowered yourself over his chest, lips finding his and fitting together seamlessly. Each kiss that you left him with erased every pair of lips that weren’t yours from his memory, his palms forgetting the feel of anyone’s skin but yours with each press and pass over your back. Billy savored every second of closeness, every last shadow as the night melted into morning and painted the patterns of the window frame on the sheets, holding you like it was the last chance he’d ever have, like he couldn’t get you close enough.

In a way, he couldn’t. Somehow, against any natural instinct or ingrained behavior and contrary to what he thought was better judgement, somehow in the time between getting back to you after his last deployment and the dwindling hours left before he’d be torn away again, Billy Russo had fallen in love with you. And that love presented itself in the form of a dull emptiness that was only quelled when he was with you. It was an ache that he always seemed to have, but he’d shoved bullshit and bravado into it for years, packing it down and trying to fill the deep gouges that his life had scraped into him through neglect and abuse. It stung, like rock salt being pressed into a bleeding wound, but he grew up learning how to grit his teeth and bear it, letting it make him hard, calcified and sharp. With you he’d felt something he never had before; comfort and happiness and ease with himself as he was in the moment. With you, that ache was filled and soothed, the calluses shaved away from the jagged edges around his heart, leaving it less protected and more open than ever before.

“Good morning, Billy,” you mumbled sleepily against his lips, slowly breaking the kiss to melt against his side with a sigh. You trailed your fingertips up and down his chest as you tucked your face into his shoulder.

Billy stayed silent, concentrating on the sound of your breathing, the warmth of your body, the smell of your shampoo. It’s the last good morning for a while, gotta make it count. He tightened his hold on you, flexing his arms and pulling himself closer.

You wrinkled your forehead when he still hadn’t said anything a full thirty seconds later, lifting your head to look at him through the curtain of your hair. Swiping it aside, you propped yourself on your elbow, his hand resting on your hip, thumb slowly circling around the bone. “Hey,” you reached for his face to make him look into your eyes instead of where he was touching you. “Look sharp, lieutenant, what’s wrong?”

Billy stopped the motion of his thumb to bring his hand up behind your neck, fingers combing through the hair at the nape. She knows what’s wrong. The ache throbbed but was immediately healed as you dropped your lips to his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his eye. “Nothin’,” he fibbed, returning your kisses with one of his own, lips brushing the tip of your nose. “Just tired.” He grinned. “You kept me up all night, I’m gonna have to sleep on the plane.” He knew he wouldn’t.

The smile that you answered with lit the room more than the early morning light that was spilling in. “Had to remind you what you’re coming home to, Billy.”

His chest tightened. Home. The word, to him, had always just meant The States. His apartment was just where he stayed. The few foster families he’d been placed with and the group home he’d spent most of his childhood in didn’t count. They were obligatory, state mandated and regulated constructs designed to make unwanted kids forget that the world didn’t give a shit about them. But home was something he could finally have, because he had you. He tugged you down on top of him. “Like I could ever forget.”

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

He bolted upright, your name on his lips, breaths coming quick and shallow, and sweat beading on his brow despite the chill in the drafty old warehouse. She… Eyes darting over the dilapidated couch cushion, he searched for any sign of the phantom warmth he still felt leftover from your touch in his dream. A sound somewhere between a sob and a grunt, between anger and despair forced its way from his mouth and he gripped his head with both hands. She’s gone. It was a dream, she’s gone. Another harsh sound escaped him as he stood from the couch to pace the cracked concrete floor. The sky outside was still inky black, illuminated by neons and streetlights. He figured that he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep, but waking up in the Hellscape that his reality had become after the juxtaposition of your body over his and your breath on his skin that his tired, fractured mind had conjured would make it impossible for him to get anymore rest, impossible to do anything but move. Before he knew it, he’d tucked your photo into the pocket of his now sweat and muck ridden sweatshirt, pulled his hood up over his head, and barreled down the steps and out into the night.

He didn’t know where he was going until he was sitting on the dented aluminum bleachers, the cold seeping through the thin scrub pants he wore. The distant hum of engines rumbling over the crumbling streets of the boroughs and the muffled shouts from the housing projects behind the ball fields finally drowned out the teasing whispers leftover from his dream. His left knee bounced erratically as he let go of the illusion and focused on the moment. Staring at the dusty home plate on the other side of the chain link fence, the gears started turning, slowly at first before gaining traction, and a plan started falling into place. I know how to flush ‘em out…Frank…Madani… I know how to get their attention…then I can make ‘em pay. He pulled his sweatshirt more tightly around himself, leaning back on the seat behind him and stretched out his long legs on the one below. He found the photo in his pocket, fingers gliding over the glossy paper, and he nodded off, sirens wailing three bridges away as a lullaby.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

The sunlight bore into his closed eyelids, slicing them open as birdsong filled his ears and he woke with a start and a gasp. Wide eyes taking stock of his surroundings, he recalled the events of the previous evening, recalled the plan that he’d formed. With a sniff through flared nostrils, Billy cracked his neck and rotated his left shoulder until it popped, releasing the tension that always built up as he slept before standing from the bleachers, hands shoved in his pockets and filthy socked feet carrying him out of the park and around the corner. It was early enough on a Saturday that not many people were out in this part of town, unless they were still straggling back home from the night before, drunk from bars or yawning from overnight shifts. He found the blue MTA sign for the bus that would take him where he needed to go, and stood there quietly waiting for it to come into view. A woman was sitting on the bench under the covered bus stop, but she had no reaction to Billy’s arrival. Typical New Yorker, blinders on and headphones in, doesn’t wanna know how scared she should be. The air brakes puffed as the bus turned the corner, and the woman stood right behind Billy, close enough that when she gripped the rail to board, her fingers brushed his.

He found a seat and took it silently, forgoing fare in favor of a glare that the bus driver didn’t have the energy to deal with, and stared straight ahead at the seat in front of him, the oblivious woman taking a seat a few rows behind him. Before the doors closed and the bus took off, a young man reeking of stale beer and the heavy smell of whiskey staggered by, shooting a look in Billy’s direction, and laughing as he fell into the seat right behind him. Billy narrowed his eyes as the guy leaned around his seat, nearly falling out of it as the bus began moving.

“Look at you,” he was right beside Billy’s ear, arms leaning on his knees and sunglasses perched on his head. He snickered drunkenly. “The hell happened to your face? The hell are your shoes?” Billy narrowed his eyes and cracked his knuckles. The jerk looked around, trying to get the attention of their fellow riders. “Look at this Edward Scissorhands lookin’ fuck. What’s the matter, Ed? Mommy put your face in a blender?” He laughed then, and shoved the back of Billy’s head, a low growl barely audible coming from somewhere in his throat. “You are one sorry sack, buddy. A real fuckin freak.”

The bus stopped then, and the man stood, laughing as he staggered back out. It wasn’t Billy’s stop. But it was close enough. With a devilish grin he stood and followed the guy down the aisle, the driver letting out a sigh of relief at Billy’s departure. Down one street and through the alley of another he followed his new friend- who happened to be of the same build and size- until they were alone, between two buildings, the man stopping and flicking open a decent sized pocket blade. In a whirlwind of motion that came more naturally than breathing, Billy blocked the attacker’s stab, peeling the knife from this hand by bending it back over his wrist and letting it clatter to the floor. In less than fifteen seconds he had his arm snaked around the asshole’s neck and a grip on his mandible. With one hard crack he snapped the man’s neck and dropped his limp body to the ground. Thanks for the new duds, asshole. Billy stripped off the last remaining vestiges of his hospital stay, clothing himself in the dead man’s jeans, shirt, boots and jacket, plucking the glasses from his head and bending to pick up the dropped blade. Pulling the photos from the pocket of the sweatshirt, he tucked them in the inner pocket of the black, faux fur-lined coat, making sure that he kept you with him as he continued on. He walked back out of the alley leaving his dirty clothes and the corpse of the idiot who pissed him off behind him. That was a good warm up. Back on track.

It was just a few more blocks and he didn’t mind the walk, preferring motion to stillness and questioning how he ever stood being holed up in some sniper post for days at a time. Before he knew it, Billy was walking up the front steps of a rundown old house that felt disgustingly familiar. He made quick work of the lock, letting himself in as he used to, and took a seat at the kitchen table, waiting for Arthur to waddle out from his bedroom. A half empty bottle of shitty amber liquor stood on the table next to an ashtray and yesterday’s paper, a stickball bat propped against the wall in the corner. Fucker still has that? Unbelievable. His lip curled and he shook his head aggressively, recalling the three times he’d spoken about Arthur in his adult life: once with Frank while they watched Jr.’s little league game, once with Madani while he was using her for intel, and once with you, the only person who’d truly understood.

.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

“I didn’t… I didn’t talk about it for a long time. Didn’t know how to- didn’t know who to talk to, ya know? Didn’t know who to trust. Didn’t know- Hell, maybe there was somethin’ wrong with me, right? Maybe I did somethin’ wrong and that’s why-“ He sniffed, nose wrinkling as he shook his head. “Took me a while but I figured it out. Grown man calls you pretty…you know nothin’ good is comin’.”

“That’s fucked, Billy, I’m… “ your hand found its way into his, and he flipped his palm over so that you could twine your fingers together. “It makes me sick that you had to deal with that I… “ you shook your head but your eyes stayed focused on his. “I know what that’s like, not knowing who to trust… thinking you were wrong… this was someone who was supposed to…who you were supposed to look up to and…” you exhaled, anger and heartbreak written on your face.

“Hey,” he shrugged and pulled you closer to him, running his other hand up and down your bare spine as you lay tangled in bed. “It’s okay. Bastard got his, and I’m alright.” Got you now, the rest I can deal with.

“Yeah,” you kissed his cheek just above the hairline of his beard. “Yeah y’are Billy.”

.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

The exchange was quick- a few questions about his face, a few denials of any past wrongdoing, Arthur’s fat, wet frog lips glistening as he took a sip of his boozy coffee. The insistence that he’d been unfairly punished finally shattered what was left of Billy’s calm. Unfair. This asshole doesn’t know unfair. This asshole doesn’t know punishment.

“I was happy to love you kids,” he snarled at Billy. “And some’a you” he said it with disdain for the fact that Billy wasn’t one of the some, “were happy to love me back.”

It happened in a flurry of chairs scraping over the linoleum, mugs shattering on the floor and muffled, fearful sounds from the old man. Billy grabbed for the stick, snapping it over his knee easily to leave two jagged, splintered ends. He plunged one straight through the layers of fat over Arthur’s heart to pierce the muscle and cease its beating, ridding the world of one more piece of shit and leaving a nice big crimson puddle of blood, knowing that Madani and Frank would read his message loud and clear. The satisfaction of bleeding the lousy life out of his childhood abuser mixed with the vengeful rage resulting in a dizzying high that made him feel strong for the first time since leaving Krista in a heap on the floor of his hospital room. He helped himself to a leftover sub sandwich in Arthur’s fridge, found a small wad of cash crumpled on a side table, and left the scene, closing his jacket to cover up his shirt, drenched in blood.

Kicking the other half of the broken stickball bat towards the lumpy form of Arthur’s body, Billy exited the house through the backdoor in search of somewhere he could stake the place out. The house next to Arthur’s had been condemned, deemed unlivable, the tool shed in its yard looking more structurally sound than the house itself. Perfect. He hopped the short fence easily, throwing a look over his shoulder to ensure than no nosy neighbors were peeking through their curtains. Satisfied that he hadn’t been spotted, he slipped into the shed and waited, knowing that as soon as Madani got wind of this she’d be there with all her justice and her jealous hatred, knew she’d find her way onto the crime scene even though she didn’t belong there, knew she couldn’t let go of her desire to see him behind bars. Not gonna happen, Dinah.

Only a few hours passed by, Billy silently staring through the window of the shed, belly full and adrenaline levels back to normal, fingers grazing over that glossy photo in his pocket as he waited. When he saw her go into the house, he grinned. So predictable. He’d purposely left Arthur’s kitchen curtain open so he could see what was going on inside, his eagle eyes not needing the scope of a gun for accuracy. Billy had taken a lot of damage through the years, but his eyesight was still as keen as ever. He watched Madani pull her phone from her pocket and make a call that he knew wasn’t to her superior. Yeah, that’s right Madani, call your dog. Call Frank to clean this up for you. A few more minutes went by before he saw her leave, and he exited the tool shed to follow her. The first car he tried was locked, but a second, older model was left open, the owner probably hoping for someone to steal it for the insurance. Billy was happy to oblige, hotwiring it before Madani had even pulled out of Arthur’s driveway. Keeping his distance, he trailed her all the way back to her place, the edges of his brain tingling and stinging with memories of being there, of being with her and wishing it was you. I’m sorry, it should have been you. It always was, for me.

She parked her car and he watched her nervously check her surroundings, one hand near her waistband on the gun she never left home without. He gave her a few minutes before exiting the stolen car and finding the stairwell, climbing unseen to her floor. He opened his jacket, wanting her to see his shirt and how it had gone from crisp white to deep red, wanting her to know what she was in for as soon as she laid eyes on him. He knew she had locks on her door, and he knew she’d bolt them behind her. But he knew it didn’t matter- he knew he’d be able to break the door down, throwing all of his weight and the weight of his hatred, the weight of his anger, the weight of your loss straight through the bolts and locks. Nothing was going to stop him from getting through that door.

Nothin good is comin for you, Dinah. Nothin good at all.

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