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revrover · 1 year

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The Stranger - Pt. 2

Part One: The Stranger

Part Three

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 8k (lol whoops)

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Language, PLOT

Summary: Namor isn’t the only one who has been searching for his general. Thanks to you, Namora’s life was saved -- but when your connection to the two strangers brings you face to face with a hostile group of government agents, you find yourself in the crossfire of a much bigger conflict.

A/N: OMG first and foremost thank you for being here, thank your for coming back, and thank you for reading. This has taken me a bit longer to post because I’ve been pouring over it every day for a month, trying to get it just right. Comments, feedback and reblogs mean THE WORLD to me, so feel free to show some love and as always please be kind!

***I do not give permission to copy, plagiarize, or repost my work as your own in any form!

There is a growing unrest inside you.

Days have passed since your encounter with Namor after saving the life of his general, Namora. Two mysterious strangers who have left your mind reeling with questions, unrelenting and unquenchable as a flame that dares to spread like wildfire, consuming your thoughts entirely.

You repeatedly play the memory over in your head with no rational way to explain what you witnessed; her blue skin, his superhuman strength; the curious metal that outfitted both of their armor; how they disappeared into the vast open ocean.

"Something on your mind?" A fruit vendor asks, snapping you back to reality. You stand in the middle of the bustling village marketplace, doing your best to orient yourself quickly.

“Your head is — how you say…? — in the clouds, yes?” The vendor asks in her best English, smiling politely at you as she stands next to her cart, eager for you to buy something.

"Is it that obvious?" You joke with a tired laugh. "Two, please."

You scoop up a pair of fresh mangos and hand the woman some change from your pocket. She kindly accepts it with a nod of appreciation. Carefully sliding the fruit into your bag, you return a nod of your own.

You continue to walk through the market, the damp air carrying an aroma of local cuisine and sweat fills your lungs. Weaving your way in and out of aisles created by vendor carts, you feel a sense of calm as you watch the locals interacting with one another. There's beauty to be found in their sense of community.

Typically, you would gather your needed food and supplies and then be on your way back home, but today as your mind wanders, so do your feet.

Meandering down another aisle, your thoughts drift back to Namor, specifically the morning you found him on your front porch. You can practically feel the warmth of that sunrise as you imagine its light illuminating his dark eyes. You picture the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth when you asked him if he would come back, a moment you hold onto tightly. The memory gives you optimism that you will see him again someday and hopefully have the opportunity to ask him more questions.

Lost in thought, you hardly notice a small crate sticking out a few inches further than other accompanying carts in the aisle. Tripping your foot as you walk by, it nearly tumbles you to the ground. You manage to catch your balance and your breath before face-planting into the dirt. Immediately turning to apologize, you find an elderly man seated behind the crate, his back leaning against the wagon behind him and his eyes shut.

The man is slender and his head bald, save for a few wisps of hair above his ears. Most of his body is covered by a knitted green poncho, well-worn and fraying along the hem. To both your relief and surprise, he seems completely undisturbed by your clumsy collision with his crate of goods. Unsure if he’s even awake, you reach down to help reset any items on the crate you may have displaced.

Your jaw drops slightly as you see the contents on display. Spread out on a velvet brown tablecloth sits a small assortment of beautiful books, scrolls, and other documents. Admiring them, you reach out and push back one of the scrolls, revealing a gorgeous hand-sketched portrait of the island.

“Did you draw this?” You ask, impressed by the skill of it.

“Mmm,” He hums, shaking his head, "But I made very good trade with the man who did.”

You find his answer odd, though slightly amusing, considering he never opened his eyes to see which piece you were referring to. As you browse the rest of the items, a particular book stands out to you. It’s different from the rest of the collection — small and bound in leather, although the leather itself is worn and brittle-looking. You pick it up and inspect it closer. The binding is loose, the pages aged and tattered.

“Careful with that one. Very old.” The elderly man says, his eyes remaining shut. “Nearly 400 years. Got it in a trade with a visiting merchant from our southeastern sister islands."

How does he even do that? You wonder as you start delicately flipping through the pages of the book. You make it about midway through when you open to a particular page that makes you freeze, your heart nearly jumping out of your throat. Your eyes widen as you bring the page closer to your face.

It’s a crude drawing — basic, two-dimensional, and very old like the man said, but the likeness is undeniable. Depicted is the figure of a man. He dawns a grand snake-like headpiece and is grasping a spear. His body is adorned with jade and other metals. Sharp ears. Winged ankles.

"Excuse me!” you ask the elderly man with an exasperated breath, practically jumping over the crate as you lean forward and shout, “These!" You flip the book around to show him the open page, pointing excessively at the picture and the glyphs below it. "What do these say?!"

Your voice is eager and desperate, emotions you hardly try to hide.

The man's left eye slowly squints open.

“Only few are still legible.” He says, shrugging.

“Okay, yes, but the ones you can read, what do they say?!” You plead.

He sighs, opening his other eye and leaning forward slightly to get a better look. After a moment, he leans back against the wagon and closes his eyes again.

"King. Serpent. God. Monster."

You hang on to each word he tells you. Turning the book back around, you bring it back up to your face for another closer inspection.

"How much?" You ask, ready to make a deal.

The elderly man cracks one eye open to look at you for a moment as he considers his price, then wordlessly points to your arm with a feeble finger. You follow his gaze down to the small beaded bracelet around your wrist — the last reminder of your life before coming to the island. You hold your arm up to him, making sure you understand correctly. He nods politely, and without hesitation, you untie the bracelet and toss it to him.

"Nice doing business!" He says with a wide grin as he holds up the bracelet. You are already nose-deep in the book as you turn on your heels, quickening your pace as you head home where you can study more carefully.

Maneuvering your way out of the market to the outskirts of the village, you hardly need your eyes to guide your feet home. You take advantage of the remaining daylight to examine the pages as you walk, turning page after page and scanning for any information about Namor and his people. There’s little there, the book seeming to be a very old, mingled account of island history and lore. Seeing as you are not a historian and certainly not a linguist, it’s difficult to decipher. Still, you do your best to piece together what you can from the pictures.

King. Serpent. God. Monster.

The sky begins to dim. You can hear the faint roar of waves as you near the coastline. It’s too dark to see much detail on the pages now, so you carefully tuck the book into your bag as you step over the trunks of palm trees. The path beneath your feet gradually turns from brush to sand, and soon you find yourself walking along the familiar stretch of beach that leads you home. You stare out into the darkness, listening to the rhythmic pattern of ocean waves and breathing in the salty evening air. The moon hovers above the water, burning brightly as countless stars paint the sky behind it.

You continue walking in the darkness, but there’s an uneasiness building in your gut the further you go. You should be nearing home by now, but no lanterns have come into view. You always light lanterns before heading into town. They burn for hours in your absence so, by the time you return, you have light to guide you. All you see now are shadows and silhouettes that dance against the tree line, and every sound and indiscernible movement has you on edge.

It’s not until you are nearly a stone's throw away that the bungalow materializes in the night. Your stomach twists as the wind blows by you, rustling your hair and causing the snuffed-out lanterns hanging from your porch to creak as they swing back and forth. You hear shuffling, and small beams of light sporadically shine through the cracks of lumber that make up the walls of your home.

There is someone inside.

An alarm goes off in your head, screaming at you to get out. As quietly as possible, you begin backing away. Eyes fixed on the bungalow, you take one step back. Then another. Then another. Then — thud.

Your stomach flips and your throat tightens. While you pray you’ve miscalculated and miraculously made it to the tree line in three short steps instead of thirty, you feel the unmistakable presence of a body directly behind you.

“Going somewhere?” A deep voice growls menacingly. It belongs to a man, his tone gruff, although you can’t quite make out his accent. You do, however, feel the blood drain from your face as you slowly turn your head, finding what is quite possibly the largest human being you have ever seen. Dressed in black military-grade tactical gear and armed with enough ammo and firepower to take on a small army, you know there is no fucking way you are getting away from this guy.

The man grabs your arm and forcefully drags you toward the bungalow. Once up the stairs, he pushes you inside and releases his grasp. You rub your arm and look up to find another man standing in your kitchen, his back turned away from you as he stands hunched over your table. He’s dressed in similar tactical gear and has a walkie-talkie hooked to his belt. A lantern burns next to him as he seems to be pouring over some sort of map.

“Sir,” the man behind you bellows.

The man at the table straightens his posture and turns around to face you both. His hair is buzzed and his face is stubbly, with a thick prominent mustache that stretches across his upper lip. He seems a bit older, and by the ‘sir’ formality, you are fairly confident he is in charge.

“Ah, we were wondering when you would be back.” He says in a sly tone, his accent American.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house?” You respond in anger to the unwelcome visitor.

The man takes a sweeping look around the place, then his eyes come back to you.

“I think we can agree that “house” is a bit of a loose term.” He responds with sarcasm, a knowing look on his face. You continue to stare him down, unresponsive to his quip. The man loosens his shoulders and smiles at you. “Where are my manners? Agent Barrett.” He reaches his hand out, offering to shake yours.

You don’t move a muscle.

There is an awkward moment of silence, then Agent Barrett’s hand retreats. He turns, beginning to pace around your tiny kitchen. The room is in rougher shape than usual, clearly ransacked by whatever search was conducted before your arrival. The agent picks up a small roll of gauze from off the counter and holds it up.

“Tell me,” he says, inspecting the bandage material closely, “have you had any visitors recently?” His gaze quickly flicks over to you, an eyebrow raised.

Your pulse quickens as your blood turns to ice. Your mind immediately flashes to Namora floating wounded in the water; to Namor breaking down your door; to the two of them disappearing into the night. You put on your best poker face and shake your head.

“There’s no one around here for miles,” you explain, trying to be as convincing as possible. “You should try more inland towards the village. Most tourists, if any, stick closer to town or retreat to the far side of the island where—“

“Oh, she’s no tourist.” Agent Barrett chuckles, cutting you off. It feels insulting as if your suggestion were so preposterous it was borderline humorous.

She. He is looking for Namora.

Setting the gauze down next to the sink, Agent Barrett turns and walks over to you.

“You’re certain you haven’t seen anybody unusual around here in the past few days?”

He’s standing much closer now. Something about him makes your skin crawl. You eye the gun strapped to his hip and doubt it is for self-defense. Again, you shake your head.

Barrett sighs and gives you a disappointed smile.

“Okay.” He says softly while nodding his head. He backs away from you as the room lingers in silence. You allow yourself to take a breath, but the relief is short-lived. “Looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

On Barrett’s cue, the large man behind you grabs your shoulder and kicks the back of your legs, dropping you hard to your knees. With his free hand, he yanks the bag off your other shoulder and tosses it to another man who emerges from the doorway to your bedroom. He catches the bag and immediately starts rummaging through it.

“Hey—HEY!” You shout, “What the hell are you—“

“A woman!” Barrett yells. “Pale blue skin. Very skilled swimmer. Four days ago, she single-handedly took down three UN-sanctioned vessels in the middle of the goddamn Atlantic! Three! Now where I’m from,” he crouches down to your level, aggressively getting in your face as he drops his voice lower, “that’s what we call an act of terrorism.”

Adrenaline overtakes your body as you feel your heart beat so intensely it threatens to break right out of your chest. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Barrett’s henchman searches your bag. He pulls out the mangos and tosses them on the floor. Then, he grabs the old leather-bound book. Turning it over in his hand, he looks at it for a moment and tucks it into his belt.

“She was wounded,” Barrett continues, calling your attention back to him, “and our intelligence indicates she washed up somewhere along this shoreline. That's where her trail goes cold. And as you said, there's no one around here for miles. No one, except you."

His implication is obvious.

“This woman, where is she?” He makes a last-ditch effort to convey a friendly tone, but you can hear his patience dwindling. "And please don't make me ask again."

You stare at him coldly, lips sealed together. You’re not telling this man a damn thing.

"Mmmm," is all he grunts, his eyes dropping to the ground. He heaves a heavy sigh as he pushes against his knees to stand up. Once on his feet, Agent Barrett stares at you for another moment before nodding his head to the agent behind you. The next thing you know, you are suddenly being pulled up by your hair, the man’s grip tight against the back of your neck as he turns and pushes you out the door.

Your hands clamor to his as you struggle against him to relieve the painful tension pulling on your scalp, attempting to release his grip on you. But the man is too strong and drags you down the stairs of your porch with ease. You make it a few meters down the shore when he shoves you down to your knees. Your legs make divots in the sand as your hands catch the rest of your body’s momentum. Hunched over, your knees and palms sting from the sand's friction.

You immediately tense up as you feel a gun press against your head, the cool metal barrel hungry to fire. Hearing footsteps approaching behind, you quickly swallow your fear to maintain composure. Agent Barrett walks past, turning to position himself directly in front of you again — only this time, he doesn’t crouch down to your level.

“Look at me.” He demands as he towers over you. His body language makes it clear who is in control. In the only act of defiance you have left in your arsenal, you keep your gaze laser-focused on the water straight ahead of you, refusing to give in to his instruction. Growing impatient, Barrett roughly grabs your chin. He clasps it tightly as he yanks your jaw upward, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“You’re going to tell me about your friend, and you’re going to tell me where she is, right now," he growls.

You stare at him, disdain in your eyes. You momentarily scan your surroundings and count nearly twenty other men on the beach now. It’s enough to make your gaze and your heart sink straight to the ground.

Even if you wanted to tell him, you don't have the answers Barrett is looking for. His face hardens as your lack of cooperation and unwillingness to talk becomes clearer and clearer. Loosening his grip and dropping your chin, Agent Barrett looks at the agent next to you.

“Do it,” he orders, leaving you without another word as he walks back up the beach toward the bungalow.

The gun presses even harder against your temple and you hear the irrefutable sound of it being cocked as a bullet rolls into the chamber. Your heart is heavy as your eyes begin to well with tears. You stare out at the ocean, the night swallowing the horizon save it for the piercing glow of the moon that cuts its way through the sky down to Earth. It’s a better view than most get in their final moments, you suppose. For that, you consider yourself lucky.

Time seems suspended as you feel the ocean breeze blow past you, pouring over your skin and filling your lungs as you deeply inhale these final moments. You savor the way the salty air envelops you like the comforting embrace of an old friend. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try fighting back the tears. Despite your best efforts, one single drop escapes, racing down your cheek as you accept your fate.

Zzzzziiinnng!

Where you expect to hear the split-second ring of a gun firing before getting your brain blasted out the side of your skull, you instead hear a high-pitched whistling through the air and the unmistakable slice of a blade penetrating flesh. The weight of the gun barrel against your head slides limply away, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground next to you.

Your eyes shoot open. You turn to see your executioner now lying dead on his back with a spear pelted through his chest. Your eyes widen in fear, then settle on the spear itself. A spear you recognize — because it’s the same one that was held to your throat only a few days earlier.

Namor.

He's here. Desperately your eyes search the ocean line, scouring the darkness for him.

"We're under attack!" Someone yells frantically from behind you. It is one of Barrett’s men.

"Open Fire! Open fire!" Another one shouts.

You immediately abandon your search for Namor, hitting the deck and covering your head as dueling bullets and spears fly over you. Hearing anguished cries from both sides, you peek out from over your arm and watch in horror as an agent a few meters away looks down at their dart-ridden chest. They drop to their knees, then fall forward onto their face.

Your head whirls around at the sound of another spear making contact with a body and dropping it to the ground. This agent is about ten meters away from you, and while your first instinct is to get the hell out of there — run as far as you can as fast as you can — you notice your little leather-bound book tucked into the belt of the lifeless body.

You tell yourself to leave it. You plead with yourself to leave it.

“Damn it,” you mutter in frustration to yourself. You are getting that book.

Before you can give it another thought, you are already army-crawling through the sand. The sound of gunfire rings in your ears as more weapons return their fire. You scramble to the body, staying low to the ground on your chest and abdomen. Once there, you reach out and grab the book, wrangling it free from the deceased man's belt. You shove it into your waistband when something behind you explodes, causing you to duck your head and shield yourself with your arms.

The battle is deafening and disorienting. The mix of adrenaline and shock threatens to override your entire system as you try to maintain your focus.

Keep moving, you tell yourself.

You lift your head, ready to run, but your breath catches and you freeze. Mere inches from your face, you find yourself staring at someone’s feet and feel the presence of their body hovering over you. You brush the stinging sand out of your eyes, pleading in your mind that this is not the end. Not now. As your vision sharpens, you feel a surge of hope. There in front of you are two winged ankles.

Your eyes shoot up. Standing above you, illuminated by the light of the moon and the rapid sparks of machine guns firing, is Namor.

He looks down at you, his stare intense as his nostrils flare and his chest rises and falls with each breath. Gripping the hilt of the spear, he effortlessly removes it from the body next to you with one pull, his eyes never leaving yours. The ongoing battle on the beach doesn’t deter his attention from you in the slightest. From behind him, a handful of armed warriors with pale blue skin come storming out of the ocean.

“Namora!” He calls, and one warrior immediately splits off from the group. While the others continue to push the team of agents to the far side of the beach, the general comes to Namor’s side and your eyes widen as you take her in. Almost unrecognizable from when you first met her, Namora is a sight to behold. Instead of weak and wounded, she now stands strong and commanding, fully outfitted in her armor of woven jade and metal. Dazzling lionfish spines adorn her head and neck, and she wears the same mesh apparatus over her nose and mouth as before. You are astounded when you squint and barely see a seam remaining where you had stitched her up.

“K'uk'ulkan.” She answers, standing at attention.

Namor’s eyes are still fixed on you. He hands the retrieved spear to Namora and then nods in your direction.

You become nervous, suddenly uncertain if the pair of them have come to you as friend or foe, watching as Namora tightens her grip around the weapon.

“Go.” Namor urges, and a wave of relief washes over you. Friend.

“Where are my goddamn reinforcements?!!” You hear someone shout into a walkie-talkie. You recognize the voice as Agent Barrett's.

“Go NOW,” Namor commands, his eyes flicking up in Barrett’s direction. The expression on his face becomes menacing as he strides past you, his muscles rigid and his pace purposeful. He pulls his own spear out of the larger agent who nearly executed you as he walks past the body, arming himself.

Without hesitation, Namora strides forward and links her arm under your shoulder, pulling you up to your feet and yanking you quickly toward the trees. Before you can reach them, however, more men dressed in black combat gear come pouring out of the thick foliage, ready to attack.

Three surround you as the others rush to provide relief further down the beach. Instead of guns, these agents come armed with batons and other blunt weapons. Namora whips you back behind her, placing herself between you and the approaching enemy. She walks toward the agents, rotating her spear in her hand. You’re surprised by how relaxed her posture is as she waits for the men, each one at least twice her size, to make the first move.

The agent to her right makes the first advance, lunging forward at Namora. She meets him with speed and ferocity, quickly sidestepping him only to grab hold of his shoulders. She uses them as an anchor to whirl herself around him, gracefully landing and her feet and then lodging her spear into his back. The man cries out in pain, but Namora quickly delivers the final blow as she twists the spear in deeper and shoves it upward toward his lungs.

No sooner does his body hit the ground when the two other men charge at her. Like a beautifully choreographed dance, Namora drops to her knees, sliding across the sand between them to duck under their attacks. As she does so, she nimbly summersaults back onto her feet and turns one hundred and eighty degrees. Back on the attack, she runs hard at them. You watch as Namora delivers a combination of charged punches to one agent, then springs back to avoid the swing of the baton from the other. To counter the move, she kicks the man above the kneecap with so much power it sends his whole leg backward and brings him to his knees. She grabs the sides of his head with both of her hands, thrusting it down hard against her knee. You feel the grisly sound of blunt broken bone deep in your core as his skull makes contact.

As the man’s head reels backward, blood pouring from his face, Namora seamlessly transitions between her two opponents, avoiding another attack from the third agent she had previously deflected with punches. Her attention back on him, she trades blows as they fight in more hand-to-hand combat. Between kicks, punches, and counter-punches, Namora strategically inches herself backward until she’s practically standing on top of the first body she dropped. Baiting her current opponent forward, she taunts him with the tilt of her head, exaggerated by her headpiece. It works like a charm. He charges at her, and swooping under him, she wraps around his chest and pulls him over the top of her, flipping him onto his back. In one calculated motion, she pulls her spear from the body of the first agent which is now easily within reaching distance, and drives it into the second.

It all plays out in front of you so quickly when the third agent with the broken nose — well, broken face, really — groans as he gets himself up, ready to have another go at Namora. She engages, but as she moves towards him you see a fourth man emerge from the trees, raising a gun to shoot.

“LOOK OUT!” You yell to warn her, but pure instinct has your feet sprinting forward to stop him.

You don’t process any thought or consider any tactic, you just hurl yourself at him. The two of you collide, crashing to the ground with all the power and momentum you can muster. You scramble for his gun and manage to knock it away, but he barrels you over him and slams your back against the ground. The impact forces the air out of your lungs, temporarily paralyzing you as you struggle for breath. The agent straddles your body, putting more pressure on your chest as he pulls a knife from his hip. With all your strength, you fight to hold his arm back. He breaks through your grasp and takes a swipe at you, but reflexively you deflect it away with your hand. The knife slices open your palm and you cry out as you try to continue pushing his arms back.

When he raises his blade again, a blur of orange lionfish spines come streaking across as Namora flies over the back of the agent and yanks him off of you. They tumble across the sand, but she quickly gains the upper hand by entangling him in a headlock. Clutching your injured hand and still struggling for oxygen, you look on as she tightens her grip around the man’s neck and then abruptly cracks it to the side.

The sound makes you sick to your stomach, but you also feel a sense of relief. And gratitude. Your chest heaves as you finally start to catch your breath, your entire body buzzing. You turn to see the dead agents Namora has so quickly disposed of, their bodies dispersed across the sand. She unwraps herself from her most recent kill and makes her way to you with haste.

As she reaches you, you hear the chaos and fighting continue further down the beach. Then, the faint sound of a helicopter approaching. Barrett’s reinforcements.

“There are too many of them,” you say in distress as you witness more agents pour out onto the sand to fight Namor’s warriors. Even if each one had Namora’s four-to-one kill ratio, they are still outnumbered. As the chopper blades get louder, Namora looks at you intensely, reaching out her hand.

“Come,” she insists.

She’s gotten you this far. You grasp her hand without hesitation and she pulls you to your feet. You edge closer to the tree line where you hope safety and concealment await you, but as you reach the lush landscape something pricks your ears. It’s not gunfire. It’s not the chopper.

Namora tugs your arm as she tries to usher you into the trees, but your focus is elsewhere. A faint, melodic breeze moves past you like a ghost, causing your mind to become hazy. As the sound grows louder, an indescribable melody rings in your ears that is both euphoric and dreadful. You don’t even notice the tension of Namora’s grip on your hand increase as your feet redirect you toward the water, compelled by its call.

“No!” Namora yells at you as she yanks your arm. The force of it snaps your attention back for a moment, and you watch as the agents who line the beach suddenly cease fighting and instead walk undeterred paths straight into the water. Terror fills you as they wade further and further out, the water coming up to their knees, then their hips, then their chests, until they are completely submerged underneath.

You shoot a glance to Namora, petrified and confused. Whatever is happening, she seems unaffected. Your thoughts and vision begin to cloud again, and you feel like someone else is controlling your body as the ocean summons you along with the others. Every part of you feels entranced by the chorus of voices in the air as their notes overwhelm your senses and leave you disoriented. Namora grabs you, practically throwing you over her shoulder as she runs into the trees. You become hard to carry, so she pulls you both into the cove of a sheltered root system at the edge of the foliage. Huddling next to you, Namora tightly wraps her arms around your head to cover your ears with her hands.

Pupils dilated, you desperately try to hold onto any shred of active consciousness before giving in entirely to the song. Your mind becomes infiltrated by it and begins to process what you see in pieces; men in the water, drowning themselves; gunfire raining down from the night sky; Namor, spear in hand, leaping into the air, taking impossible strides toward a chopper; the chopper spinning out of control.

You feel the heat against your face as the chopper crashes to the ground, exploding on impact. The last thing you remember seeing is Namor in the distance, standing on the sand. Illuminated by the raging inferno that burns behind him from the destroyed chopper, he is fierce, incredible, and terrifying.

A god. A monster.

The haunting chorus melody continues to consume your mind. Even with Namora’s help, you feel your body shift as it involuntarily attempts to get up. Namora squeezes her palms over your ears with even more strength and restrains your movements.

"No." She whispers fiercely.

You squeeze your eyes shut, covering your hands over Namora's as tightly as possible. Blood pours from your hand down hers, trickling onto your shoulder. The noise is too much, and as you feel yourself begin to scream, everything goes black.

——

Your feet drag through the cool sand.

That’s the first thing you see when you finally become conscious again. Your head hangs low in front of you, pounding as it bobs up and down. It’s still dark out, but you find your home lit up by more lanterns as you approach the pathway to your porch.

You glance to your right and left, discovering you are being assisted by two people on either side of you — Namora on your right and a much taller blue-skinned man on your left. His shoulders are wide and his head is outfitted with an armored hammerhead skull. Arms slung around both of their necks, your body is in a state of pure exhaustion as they get you up the stairs to the door.

As you start to step with your own feet, they are alerted by your recovered consciousness. Quickly, the man unhooks your arm from around him, steadying you against Namora. He retreats as you find yourself gaining feeling back in your body. Namora patiently waits for you to get your bearings, and when you do she opens the front door for you, ushering you to go inside. You follow her instruction, and there waiting for you in the bungalow is Namor.

Namor stands against your kitchen counter, the same place you stood when he first came crashing into your home. His arms are folded across his broad chest. Although his head is down, his eyes are flicked upward toward you, watching your every move. The flame of a lantern on the table glints off his irises, illuminating the dark stare that hovers just below his furrowed brow.

“Please, sit.” He says with a stern voice, his open palm gesturing toward a chair at the table.

As you sit down, you hear the front door close behind you.

Silence.

"Those men," he finally says, pushing himself away from the counter as he stands up straighter, “they were seeking information?"

You only nod, afraid to say too much.

“It’s safe to speak here. I’ve made sure of it.” He promises, sensing your reluctance to engage in conversation.

“They wanted to know about Namora." You answer cautiously.

Namor's expression grows even more serious. He subtly shifts his weight from side to side before settling back into the center of his powerful stance.

"And even with your life on the line, you said nothing."

You are unsure if he is making a statement or a question.

"Why?" He asks through a clenched jaw.

"Why?" You repeat back to him, caught off guard by the question. "Does it matter why?"

"Yes,” Namor says directly, raising his eyebrows. “Because I need to know if I put my spear through the right person.”

The seriousness of his statement hits you like a brick. Your mind flashes back to the beach, you on your knees with a gun to your head as Namor’s spear plows its way through the man next to you. How easily, you wonder, could he have changed his aim by just a few degrees if you had decided to open your mouth and spill what little information you did know to those men?

As you think about it, you also begin to ask yourself why. Why did you keep your mouth shut? Why did you help Namor and his people?

You take a deep breath as you consider your reasons, then lift your gaze to him.

“You barged into my home, broke down my door, and threatened my life. But even then, the motives behind your actions were clear — the love and concern for your people. These men,” your eyes trail away as you feel a wave of anger build up inside, "these men were driven by self-interest and self-preservation. It wasn’t hard to choose a side.”

His face is stoic as he listens to your answer.

“Plus,” you add, “I promised you I wouldn’t say anything. Twice.”

Namor looks at you the same way he did the night you met him. The look that tells you he is debating whether or not you are telling the truth. You are a witness testifying on the stand, and Namor is your judge and jury.

“Well, that is twice now you have saved my people. Again you have my gratitude." He says with a sigh, his expression softening.

You give a small smile, but it disappears when an unrelenting ache pounds inside your head, pulling you out of the moment. You reach up to rub your temple and suddenly feel a surge of pain coming from your hand, instantly reminding you of the injury you sustained from your face off against one of the agents on the beach.

“Shit,” You exclaim, pulling your cut, bloodied palm away from your face and looking at it.

"Here," Namor says, grabbing the roll of gauze off your kitchen counter as he moves in your direction. Pulling up a chair, he sits down directly in front of you so your knees are practically touching. He gestures for your hand. “May I?"

You consider his offer as you stare at the thick veins protruding from his forearm, binding themselves to his defined muscles like vines around a tree. Eyes darting back up to his, you cautiously nod your head to accept his help while simultaneously extending your arm to him.

Namor takes your injured hand gently in his own, cradling it as if it could shatter into a million pieces. Amazed by how his hand dwarfs yours, you feel a surge of energy in your chest when his thumb begins to rub along your wrist. He takes the roll of gauze and begins carefully wrapping it around your palm.

Calmly maneuvering each layer of the bandage, Namor's brow furrows ever so slightly as he slips deeper into a state of concentration. His grasp is firm but gentle, rotating your hand in tandem with the bandage and you take comfort in his touch.

Studying his face, you admire each feature and detail closely. You see the traces of salt against the rich tones of his skin, and soon your willpower gives way to a desire slowly being coaxed inside you as you allow your eyes to trail from his face to his broad shoulders, down his muscular biceps, and finally to his strong hands as they work to take care of you.

Namor begins humming softly as he continues wrapping your hand. There's a warm timbre in his voice that resonates in your ears, drawing your gaze back up to his face.

"That song..." your voice trails off as you grow more entranced by it, unable to find the words to describe its intoxicating melody. But a surge of fear runs through you as you recall another tune, the one from the beach, its haunting cadence prickling the back of your mind.

"My people have many songs," Namor says in a tone equally rich to his humming, calming you instantly. "Each one with a meaning and purpose."

"What is the purpose of that one?" You ask quietly.

Namor’s hands stop as his eyes wander up to yours.

"It's a lullaby, meant to bring the soul peace." His eyes flutter back down as he resumes wrapping the bandage around your hand. "My mother would sing it to me when I was a child."

"It's beautiful." You say reverently.

A smile spreads across Namor's face, but there's a hint of sadness in it. He leans down to your hand and you can feel your heart beat faster as his mouth hovers mere inches above your skin. The warmth of his breath rushes against your wrist, sending shivers through you. With great care, he tears the gauze with his teeth before tucking the loose end into a fold of the bandage.

"It is," he agrees, staring down at your hand which he now holds carefully between his own. "Especially in a world where peace is scarcely found."

His voice is gentle, but there is a bitterness brewing beneath the statement.

"I have spent my life ensuring peace for my people. Protecting it. Preserving it."

Namor looks back up at you, letting go of your hand as he sits up straighter in his chair. The room is quiet as his words sink in and you drop your gaze to think. As you do so, your good free hand migrates to the leather book still tucked in your waistband, your fingers fiddling with the binding.

“What is it?” Namor asks, snapping your eyes back up to his. You swallow nervously, unsure if you should share what is on your mind. Then again, you may not get another opportunity.

Slowly, you pull the book out from against your side, opening it to its marked page before pushing it across the table to him.

“You say you’ve spent your entire life protecting your people.” You preface, hesitating a moment before asking your question. “Is that... you?"

Namor stares at the book in front of him, tracing the outline of his likeness delicately on the open page with his fingertips.

"A version of me." He answers.

"How...." you rub your temple as you do the unnecessary math in your head, already knowing the hundreds of years difference between the book and the man in front of you doesn't add up. "How is that even possible? That book is centuries old, I mean," you are at a loss trying to wrap your head around it all, coming up short with any logical explanation, “who are you?"

Namor looks up at you, then his gaze descends back onto the open book. He gives a sad smirk.

“You are one of very few to ever ask who I am instead of what I am." He strokes his jaw with his thumb and forefinger. "The answer to neither of which will be found in your book." He says, shutting it and sliding it back toward you. You reach for it, only he doesn’t take his hand off the leather cover right away.

"You must always be weary of your authors.” He warns. “The preservation of one's opinion over time does not make it fact, no matter how long ago it was written."

He relinquishes his hold, you finish sliding the book back to your side of the table. Namor searches your face as his eyebrows pull closer together, a rare look of vulnerability in his eyes.

"I wear the mantle of king and am the protector of my people.” He begins. “They are my responsibility by birthright, a charge I’ve dedicated my entire life to upholding.”

Namor proceeds to tell you the story of his people — how they were driven from their home by Spanish conquistadors, and how their gods provided a remedy for a foreign disease that led them to seek sanctuary in the ocean itself. He explains that his mother was among them, pregnant with Namor at the time, and how the remedy herb altered his very being in the womb. Mutant is the word he uses, the reason for his strength and abilities, as well as his slow aging. He then describes the horrors he had seen upon returning his mother’s body to the surface world after her death, and the vow he took to keep outsiders away from his people and his beloved city he calls Talokan.

"So you see," he says leaning forward as he places his forearms on his knees, his face even closer to yours now, "I am no god. Nor am I a man. What I am is a leader who loves his people. If that makes me a monster, so be it. I will see the world burn before I subject my people to its sins and savagery.”

It’s a lot to take in. You study Namor’s expression as his stare now lingers away from you, his mind somewhere in the past. You can’t even begin to comprehend all that he has seen or experienced, but you do feel a clearer understanding of why he is the way he is. Filled with compassion for him, you cautiously reach up and cradle his face with your non-bandaged hand.

"You're not a monster." You reassure him gently.

This brings Namor’s attention back to you immediately, his dark eyes searching your face earnestly as he takes a deep breath through his nose. The bristles of his scruff are rough against your palm, creating a warm friction when he leans into your touch. Namor closes his eyes and lets out a sigh so deep it's as if he's releasing a weight from his shoulders, one that he has been carrying for far too long. His hand comes up to cover yours, pressing it deeper against his cheek.

“K’uk’ulkan,” a voice calls from behind you. You drop your hand back down to your lap as Namor glances over your shoulder. The man with the metal hammerhead skull stands at attention in the front doorway, his body so large it consumes the space entirely. Namor nods at him, then looks back at you.

"It's time," he says, pushing himself up to his feet. “More men will be coming. Namora is outside — collect what you need quickly, she will take you to a safe place.”

The realization sets in, and your heart sinks. Your home is no longer safe and you can’t stay here.

Namor offers you his hand, helping you out of your chair and onto your feet. In doing so, he pulls you into him and tucks his hand delicately under your chin. He’s impossibly close as he tilts your face upward toward his own.

"I am sorry." He whispers, a soft and apologetic tone in his voice. He gives you a remorseful look, but all you can think about is how little space currently exists between his lips and yours. Namor’s gaze flutters down from your eyes to your mouth, but the moment is fleeting as he drops his hand from your chin and takes a step back.

“Go.” He says, encouraging you to get your things. It’s his last word before walking past you and exiting out the front door.

Left alone in the empty bungalow, you make your way over to your bag still on the floor from earlier that evening. You take it and march into your room, grabbing some clothes, your toothbrush, and other small essentials. You don't have much in terms of possessions in the first place, so it doesn’t take long for you to collect what you need.

As you exit your bedroom, you get ready to leave when you look over at the small book on your table. Namor insisted it held no answers for you, but you go to retrieve it anyway, stuffing it in your bag along with the rest of your belongings.

You take one last look around your home, once an unfamiliar broken place that over time became your haven and sanctuary. It breaks your heart to leave, but you know you must.

“Thank you,” you quietly whisper to the room, hoping in some way its energy or spirit or anything can hear you. You make your final exit, walking out to the front porch just as the dawn is starting to break over the horizon. Warm hues cast shadows of orange and red across the island, and you breathe in the early morning air. As you look out across the beach, you are surprised by what little evidence remains of the night’s events. No bodies. No fires. Just large divots in the sand and some smoke along the tree line from a few singed palms.

Namora is standing at the edge of the pathway leading to your porch, waiting for you. Descending the stairs, nerves prompt you to tighten your grip on the shoulder strap of your bag as you brace yourself for the unknown.

“I’m ready,” you say when you reach her.

Namora looks at you seriously, then nods her head. Reaching up to her face, she carefully removes the apparatus from over her nose and mouth. It is the first time you have seen her whole face, unobstructed by the peculiar covering. She’s just as striking without it, and you notice a beautiful jade ring pierced through her septum, echoing Namor’s. She turns the mask in her hand and guides it onto your face, sealing it against your skin.

“Come,” she tells you, turning toward the ocean.

You take one last look back at your home, then fall into stride behind Namora as the two of you walk into the water.

-- -- --

Tag List (I think this is how you do it? Sorry if not, still figuring this whole Tumblr-thing out): @looneylikesbooks @omgsuperstarg @chixkencxrry @vainillasmil157 @demoiseller @sodonuthideout @shoutaaizawas @stany0url0calwh0res111 @hjjks @duckwithsunglasses

#namor #namor x reader #namor x you #namor x gen!reader #Namor x y/n #mcu namor #namor fluff #namor fanfiction #namor fanfic #namor imagine #k'uk'ulkan #black panther wakanda forever #namora #namor of talokan #Wakanda forever #fanfiction

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sluttywonwoo · 9 months

Text

instead of you [part twenty-two] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex (mdni)

word count: 3.8k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

Shanghai was only an hour behind Tokyo so you were able to hit the ground running as soon as you landed. Unlike Japan, the itinerary didn’t allow for a day to rest and reset. Check-in at the new hotel wasn’t until later in the afternoon, but they let you drop off your luggage with them so you wouldn’t have to lug it around the city with you.

You passed your bags off to a woman who promised you they’d be safe in the closet behind the desk- not that you were too worried about your collection of t-shirts and Vera Bradley duffle bag that was nearly two decades old- before joining the Hans by the seating area a few paces away. The lobby was dressed with dark woods and jade tiles, accented with plush white furniture and expensive-looking plants. It was easily the most sophisticated place you’d ever been, and that was saying something considering you’d been on a fucking yacht a few weeks ago.

You felt extremely out of place in your travel sweats and beat-up sneakers. Even looking at the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling made you feel like you didn’t belong. You knew the Hans had a reservation under their names, you knew that you were being paid for, but you still felt like you could get kicked out for loitering at any minute.

“First things first we need to find a currency exchange place and then we can grab a bite to eat,” Dom explained. You tried not to wince as his voice echoed around the room. You were still getting used to these ‘family meetings’. “Are you guys hungry?”

There was a collective nod and then you all followed Mr. Han out of the hotel onto the bustling street. He used his phone’s GPS to navigate through the twists and turns of the city. Jisung grabbed your hand instinctively, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles like he always did.

Guilt bubbled up in your chest as soon as the warmth from his palm spread to yours. You hated the way you couldn’t even enjoy a simple gesture, something that was so commonplace for your friendship, without feeling like your stomach was turning itself inside out.

Jisung noticed, of course he did, your hand tensed as soon as he took it and even if it was barely perceptible he was too observant, too in tune with you to miss it.

“You okay?” he asked, eyebrows creasing together in worry.

“Just feeling a little sick is all,” you replied. It wasn’t a lie, you did feel nauseous. You just hoped Jisung couldn’t tell there was something else you were holding back.

“Do you need to sit? We can stop for a bit and meet the others later.”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you assured him. “I don’t want to get lost.”

“We have our phones, we won’t lose them,” he pressed.

“I probably just need something to eat, and we’re stopping for lunch soon. I’m ok, I promise.”

He looked like he didn’t quite believe you, but dropped it anyway.

You waited in line behind the rest of Jisung’s family at the currency exchange place where you traded your yen for yuan. You didn’t have much on you, since most travel sites warned against carrying a lot of cash on your person when in a new place. The Hans always insisted on paying for you too so it wasn’t like you needed it either.

After everyone had gone through the queue, you stopped for lunch in a square with about a dozen street vendors peddling different kinds of food. They were all swamped with customers, businessmen and women dressed in suits waiting to get their meals before inevitably having to return to the office. There were families wandering around too. Mothers struggled to wrangle their small children in strollers or their arms as they stood in line at the various stalls, calling for the older kids who were playing in the fountain.

You and Jisung chose a kabob cart to try while the other members of his family split off to get their own thing. You let your best friend order for the both of you as always while you scouted a spot to sit. The square was full of tables and benches scattered about. Some were shaded by trees, others offered unobstructed views of the skyline across the water. You opted for one that was surrounded by a couple of other close tables so everyone could sit somewhat together.

“Thanks for finding a place to sit, y/n!” Dom exclaimed as he approached you with Minho right on his heels. “Perfect amount of shade and sun.”

“I had to fight off some pigeons for it,” you joked, earning a laugh from the older man.

“I commend you for your bravery, pigeons can be quite brutal.”

“Especially city pigeons,” Minho added, coughing awkwardly when you made eye contact with him.

“Minho was attacked by pigeons once,” Dom said suddenly. You didn’t have time to ask any further questions before Jisung was returning with your food, giving you an apologetic look.

“You weren’t boring her, were you?” He shot an accusatory glance at his father.

“No more than you usually do,” Minho answered smugly.

“Minho, please don’t start. We just got here, and since we’ll all be staying together I’d rather not have to listen to the three of you bickering all week.”

“What do you mean we’ll be staying together?” your best friend asked worriedly, voicing exactly what you were thinking. “Did you mess up the reservations again?”

Minho’s smile had also fallen and he was wearing an expression of concern similar to his brother’s. Dom sighed, running a hand across his forehead.

“I was going to wait until your mother returned with Felix to explain, but no. We’re all staying together in the penthouse of the hotel for the week. You all will get your own rooms and such, but we figured that since we’re on a family vacation we should spend time together as a family. We can have meals together, we can cook- or rather, Jisung can cook for us, and we’ll all be sleeping under the same roof.”

The two boys nodded in understanding, though neither looked thrilled. You knew that if Felix were around he’d have some smart comment to make, but since he wasn’t, there was just silence.

“Don’t look so thrilled,” Dom chided. “Minho, you’ll get your own room and so will Felix. That should be exciting to you at the very least.”

“Wait, really?” he asked, eyes much brighter than they had been a moment earlier.

His father nodded with a hum, just as Felix walked back up to your group with Nikki trailing a few paces behind him. Both of them had their hands full of food that they dumped on one of the empty tables and started dividing between each other.

Felix looked up when he noticed the silence and tilted his head in confusion. “What’d I miss?”

After lunch, you traveled together to the Oriental Pearl Tower. The number of fucking landmark towers in the world was… too goddamn many in your opinion. There seemed to be one in every city you’d been to, and you thought it was a little excessive.

You debated going to the top of this one just so you wouldn’t be a downer, but both Jisung and Minho were quick to shut it down.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Minho grumbled under his breath, still loud enough for everyone to hear.

“He’s right,” Jisung agreed. “It’s not worth it to make yourself miserable. I’ll stay down here with you, baby.”

You pouted, but didn’t put up much of a fight. You knew Jisung didn’t give a fuck about the tower so you let him keep you company at the bottom.

“We should stay in tonight,” he suggested, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. “Since you’re not feeling well and everything. I can cook you dinner back at the apartment and we can watch a movie or something.”

“Do we not have plans tonight?”

“Do you ever look at the itinerary?”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

Jisung just chuckled. “Brat. But no, we don’t really have plans. They’re kind of up in the air. Everyone can do their own thing if they want to. I think I heard Felix and Minho talk about going out, but I don’t think we should.”

“If you want to, you should!” you urged. “Don’t stay in because of me.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’d much rather spend time with you than those idiots?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Ji...”

“I’m just being honest! We can go out with them tomorrow night, or the night after that! I just don’t want you to overdo it. Especially since we’re going to be out all day tomorrow.”

“Fine, you win,” you gave in. “Promise you’re not just staying in because you feel like you have to?”

“I promise.” He held out his pinky as if to seal it. You looped your own pinky with his despite the gesture being a dramatic formality and grinned. “I don’t really feel like being a wingman anyway.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, they’re trying to pick up girls tonight?”

“Emphasis on the word ‘trying’,” Jisung scoffed.

“Come on, they’re handsome guys,” you said, though you didn’t quite know why you were defending them.

“Sure, but it’s their personalities that are their downfalls.”

“You’re so mean!”

“You’ve met them!”

You opened your mouth to respond but came up short. Jisung smirked knowingly and you both burst into laughter.

“Well, what are your parents doing tonight?” you asked once you caught your breath. “Are they also going out on the town?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I can cook dinner for the four of us if they decide to stay in.”

“That sounds nice,” you mused, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder.

“It could be… my mom would love the opportunity to get us alone. I’m sure she has loads of questions for you.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

“It is a bad thing! It’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not. My mom would do the same thing if the roles were switched.”

“Okay, but that’d be easy. Your mum already knows me and she loves me.”

“She wouldn’t if we were dating.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because she knows you’re a whore.”

“What the fuck? No, I’m not.” You gave him a look. “Okay, well does she know her own daughter is a whore too? Arguably a bigger one than me.”

“Weird way to say I get more bitches than you, but alright.” Jisung rolled his eyes at you and gave you the finger, but you just laughed. “I don’t think she knows that I’m a little slutty-”

“A little!?”

You ignored him. “But even if she did, she still wouldn’t like me dating you. She’s very protective of me.”

Your best friend stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. “I feel kind of betrayed. I thought your mom and I were pals.”

“You are. As long as you keep it in your pants around me.”

The penthouse at the hotel you were staying at was even bigger than you imagined it would be. There were four bedrooms, the primary and three guest rooms on the other side of the apartment. Your luggage was already waiting for you in the foyer along with some toiletries and towels.

“Y/n and Jisung should have to stay in the middle room,” Felix had exclaimed as he claimed the room at the very end of the hallway.

“What, why?” Jisung demanded.

“Because it wouldn’t be fair if only one of us had to share a wall with the two of you, that’s why.”

Jisung clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. His parents were right across the living room and they could probably hear every word. Not for the first time, you were mortified by Felix’s inability to keep his mouth shut.

“What the fuck, bro,” Jisung muttered.

“You asked.”

You and Jisung did end up taking the middle room. It turned out to be the biggest of the three so you lucked out. You’d still have to share a bathroom between the four of you, but it was nice to have your own space to get away. It wouldn’t be like Tokyo where you could never let your guard down.

Jisung took you with him to the market to shop for ingredients for dinner. The market was overwhelming but beautiful. It was full of life and vibrant color. The stalls were pushed so closely together under an array of tents that it was difficult to tell who was selling what, but somehow Jisung figured it out. He led you by the hand through the crowd, being sure not to lose you. Watching him speak to the vendors, asking questions about the cuts of the meats and getting advice on what was in season… watching his fingers linger over the different fruits and vegetables, trying to gauge which was the ripest and best for the dish he was planning in his head. It was refreshing to see your best friend in his element. He hadn’t had the chance to cook in forever, and you could tell he was excited to.

It was a chance to show off in front of his parents too, you realized. You could tell he wanted to impress them. He’d cooked for you at least a hundred times, but this was an opportunity to show his parents everything he’d learned in school and prove to them that the degree they were paying for was worth it.

By the time you got back to the hotel, Minho and Felix had already gone out for the night. You had no idea when they’d be back, but that was the least of your worries right now. You were much more concerned about the questions from Nikki that Jisung had warned you about.

Should you study? You still had the stack of flashcards in your backpack. You might be able to squeeze in some last-minute cramming before dinner.

“She’s not going to quiz you,” Jisung said in the elevator on the way up to the room as if he could read your mind.

“How’d you-”

“You’re biting your lip like you do when you get nervous.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

You shrugged. “I just don’t want you to be worrying about me when you’re trying to focus on dinner.”

“I always worry about you,” he said casually. “But I know how to multitask.”

You helped Jisung carry the groceries inside and put them away. He’d gotten a lot of food for the rest of the week in addition to what he needed for the night.

“Do you need help cooking?” you asked, suppressing a smile.

Jisung whipped his head in your direction, panic in his eyes, before realizing you were joking. “Hilarious.”

“Who said I wasn’t serious? I could be your sous chef!”

Aware of his parents in the next room over, Jisung smiled weakly and shook his head at you. “You’re very cute, but we both know you’d set this kitchen on fire.”

“Whatever, I’ll just sit over here and watch.”

You seated yourself at one of the barstools tucked underneath the island and rested your head in your palms, watching Jisung do his thing.

He finished sorting the groceries and then washed his hands before searching the kitchen for a cutting board and various cooking utensils that he’d need. Back at home, your best friend had a collection of ridiculous aprons that he’d don as he cooked. Your favorite was one that you’d gotten him for his birthday one year. It had your face on it and said “she loves my meat”. One of his roommates had spit his drink all over their rug when Jisung opened it at his party, and you considered that a job well done. It was the apron Jisung wore the most, and you knew it was secretly his favorite, even though he’d never admit it.

He hadn’t packed any aprons for this trip, though, so he was stuck with the t-shirt he was wearing with nothing to protect it- not that he’d need one. He wasn’t very messy in the kitchen. The aprons were more for show than anything else.

Jisung filled a pot with water and set it on the stove to boil while he chopped vegetables. He was so fast that you could barely see the blade moving.

He’d whipped up a meal in under an hour and served it to you and his parents like you were in a restaurant. He circled the table with a bottle of wine, offering it to each of you as if he were your server.

“How about a nice red for you, miss,” he suggested, holding the bottle out to you so that you could read the label.

You giggled. “Do you recommend it?”

“I’ve never had it,” he admitted, not breaking character. “But the chef says that it pairs perfectly with beef.”

“The chef that looks just like you?”

Jisung winked. “That’s the one.”

“Well, in that case, I trust his judgment. I’ll take a glass.”

“Excellent choice.”

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Nikki said once he’d poured you a glass. She was smiling warmly at her son, completely enamored with you and Jisung’s little display. Your heart swelled with pride at the realization. Maybe you weren’t so bad at acting.

“Excellent choice,” Jisung repeated as he filled his mother’s glass. “And for you, sir?” he asked, addressing his father.

“Do you have whiskey?”

“I believe I do,” he answered thoughtfully. “Let me go check.”

You already knew he did. He’d stopped in a liquor store on the way back to pick some bourbons that he thought his dad and brother would like.

You watched him disappear back into the kitchen and went back to your meal, smiling to yourself in satisfaction.

“I know I’ve mentioned this before,” Nikki whispered quietly, “but I’m so glad you were able to join us on this trip. It’s been so lovely to get to know you, and I’ve never seen Jisung so happy.”

Your cheeks grew warm at her comment. The feeling of pride in your chest threatened to be replaced with guilt as it bubbled up in your stomach, but you pushed it down.

“Thank you for inviting me,” was all you could muster.

“We’re happy to have you,” she assured you, grabbing your hand firmly.

“What are we talking about?” Jisung asked loudly as he reentered the room, handing his father a glass of whiskey, neat.

He shot you a look that asked if you were ok and you nodded minutely.

“We were just talking about your wonderful girlfriend,” Nikki explained, “and how happy we are to have her with us on vacation!”

“Mom,” Jisung groaned.

“She didn’t embarrass you entirely,” Dom interjected, coming to the defense of his wife. “She didn’t even mention airplane stickers!”

“Wha- airplane stickers?” You looked to your best friend for an explanation, but he had his head in his hands.

“I cook you all a nice dinner and this is how you repay me!” he cried.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused. What are airplane stickers?”

“They’re what Jisung thought menstrual pads were when he was little.” Dom clapped his son on the back affectionately as Jisung groaned even louder.

You brought your hand to your mouth. “You didn’t.”

“I’d never seen one before!”

“We came home and there were ‘airplane stickers’ all over our windows,” his father continued.

“Aw, babe,” you rubbed his thigh comfortingly, but you knew he didn’t miss the devilish glint in your eye that told him you’d never be letting this go. “That’s kind of cute.”

“It’s kind of humiliating,” he corrected you.

“That too, but you didn’t know any better. I’m sure lots of kids do that.”

Jisung ignored you and stood from the table, collecting your plate along with his. “Anyway, I’m going to start the dishes. Does anyone have any for me to take?”

Jisung’s parents invited you to watch a movie with them after dinner, but you politely declined, retiring to your bedroom instead. Jisung flopped on the bed as soon as the door was shut behind you and screamed into a pillow.

You chuckled as you unclipped your bra and pulled it off from beneath your shirt, joining him on the bed moments later.

“And they wonder why I never bring anyone home!” he hissed.

You rubbed his back soothingly. “It could’ve been worse.”

“How?”

You paused. “I don’t know.”

“Oh my god.”

“Come on, it’s not so bad. I could’ve told one of my stories about you.”

“Half of those are illegal.”

“Exactly.”

You managed to coax your fake boyfriend out of sulking and took turns getting ready for bed and showering in the bathroom before settling in your room together for the night. You flipped through channels on the tv together, but nothing good was on, so you decided to spend time reading your books instead.

You didn’t even realize how late it had gotten until you heard the front door open, signaling Minho and Felix’s return. You traded looks with Jisung who then checked the time on his phone and showed you that it was past one a.m.

His parents had likely gone to bed hours ago, but you could still hear them talking like everyone wasn’t trying to sleep.

They’re drunk, you and Jisung mouthed at each other at the same time. He rolled his eyes but you just smirked.

“That’s gonna bite them in the ass come morning.”

“Yeah, and we’re going to have to be the ones to deal with it,” he muttered.

He had a point. You hadn’t thought about that. And you didn’t think a hungover Minho or Felix would be pleasant to deal with.

You tried going back to the page you were on in your book, but were distracted again when you heard their voices approaching. They were in the hallway now, saying goodnight to each other.

Then, you finally thought it had gone quiet when you heard a third voice. A female voice. You couldn’t make out what she was saying but you could tell immediately who responded.

“Yeah, this is my room.”

It was Minho. He’d brought a girl home with him.

“No fucking way,” Jisung whispered, verbalizing what you both had to be thinking. “He actually did it.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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add yourself to my taglist here!

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meeeeeeese · 11 months

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Moose's Guide to Quick and Easy Gold

So I get the vibes in the community here that a bunch of people don't really know all the tips and tricks to making easy money, so I thought I'd do a writeup on some of the small ways I make gold in Guild wars 2

Trick 1: You have wealth you don't know about

An inportant thing about Gw2 is that a lot of the wealth it gives out isn't in actual gold but in materials that you can then sell for gold. For a lot of people I think its easy to just click 'deposit all materials' and then forget about it. For me personally I have only 100 gold in my wallet but If I were to empty out my material storage I'd gain an additional 300 or so gold. The site GW2 efficiency is really helpful for telling you what high value items you might be holding on to, though It takes a bit of setting up.

Trick 2: Sell Orders!

Admittedly this is something I'm bad about, but if you can delay your gratification, but when you sell something don't fulfill someone elses buy order and instead, set up a sell order. I'll give you up to 10% more gold out of everything you sell

Ok now onto the acutal wealth generation methods

Trick 3: Send your least favorite character to the New Kaineng Jumping Puzzle

Jumping Puzzles in EoD reward jade runestones from their final chest, which go for 80 silver on the trading post.

Find the wiki page to get you through the jumping puzzle here, though there are often commanders on the New Kaineng lfg offering teleport to friend transport to the end of the puzzle. Basically you get a character to the end chest and every reset log in on that character and get your free! runestone, almost a gold for ~30 seconds of work

(as a note you only get the runestone once per day per account so don't send multiple characters there)

Trick 4: Leivas Hands out Gold, make sure to collect it

Ok not actually but he may as well. So this guy who hangs out in Arborstone, once you've gotten the Globalization mastery, will sell you 5 antique summoning stones every week for a grand total of 10 green prophet shards, 10 unusual coins, 100 imperial favours, 7000 karma and 1 gold. The summoning stones can then be sold on for ~3 gold each, netting you a profit of 14 gold for going up to an npc and pressing 'f' (or whatever your interact key is)

Trick 5: fast and profitable metas you should be doing daily

Let me introduce you to my favorite wiki page:

the event timers list

This lists out every meta event and world boss that'll be happening soon and all of them will give you at least something, and the meta's from HoT onwards awards you a hero's choice chest that'll contain at least one of these valuable materials to choose from: amalgamated gemstone (60 silver), jade runestone (80 silver), ancient ambergris (1 gold 70 silver) or an antique summoning stone (3 gold). It should be noted the last 3 only appear in the EoD meta's, for all other times choose the amalgamated gemstone.

With that aside there are 3 events in particular that you should try to get done that'll take 10 minutes or less

first up is the Legendary Ley-Line Anomaly, the naked man. The timer's page tells you which zone it'll spawn in and when it does you have to seek it out and murder it. Mounts are very recommended because this thing dies fast. Anyway when you kill it, it drops 2 things: a mystic coin (1 gold 20 silver) and some vendor trash worth 50 silver, pretty gold for 5 minutes of work

next is Dragonstorm. It happens once every 2 hours starting from the eye of the north and affords you the opportunity to beat up Ryland. If you join the public option you join a crowd of up to 50 other people and its easy enough that you could even afk if you wanted (though that would be very rude). Anyway once you murder the champions and blast the dragons you get to watch them share a passionate kiss as the die and you then get 2 gold straight up, 6 memories of aurene (worth 1.5 gold in total) as well as a chance to win the lottery and get ascended weapons or, even rarer, the very expensive eye infusions

Finally is Tequatl the Sunless, a world boss in Sparkfly Fen that awards you 1 gold straight up as well as a chance at an ascended weapon as well as a bunch of materials and unidentified gear

speaking of which all the other events give unidentified gear too and they aren't actually terrible rewards, you can get a pretty penny from selling them.

Trick 6: Daily Rewards

Firstly, just logging in every day gives you a sadly decent amount of income, mostly in laurels and mystic coins. Coins can just be sold if you're after cold, laurels can be spent on a variety of stuff. And if you're looking to turn a profit, HERE are the best ways to do so.

Also, do your daily achievements people, sometimes they're a pain but the daily completionist gives 2 gold as well as 15 achievement points, more than most other achievements in the game. Also they drive you towards content you wouldn't do otherwise (the daily achievements are the reason why I've done most of the jumping puzzles). Also If you're bad at any of the dailies on offer, usually a bunch of other people are also trying to do dailies and they're often willing to help. I see mesmers porting people through the daily JPs all the time.

Trick 7: Spirit shards can be converted to Gold???

I admit, this isn't something I do myself but if you're accumulating spirit shards like I am there are methods to turn them into gold

They're listed HERE

(again, this isn't something I've tried myself, I can't vouch for how well it works and all the methods require a starting amount of gold. But if you're desperate it might be something to consider

But I want more Gold, how do I get it?

If your looking for serious gold farming there are probably better guides than this but here are a few pointers to start raking in the money

1: As far as I understand, Drizzlewood Coast is the most profitable activity in the game, gold per hour wise. Runs take a while and you kind of have to pay attention to maximise gains but, if gold's what you want this is a good option.

2: Look for meta trains, I notice them happening a lot around reset, basically its a group that goes from meta to meta doing them in sequence. There are a few guilds that do them every day so if you see a train, chances are its on at the same time every day. I find them to be pretty chill, offer some nice variety in content and offer good rewards as well.

3: Fractals. Yeah I know this is getting into endgame content but doing T4 fractal dailies every day gives you around 20 gold straight up, a bunch of materials worth even more gold and a decent chance at ascended armor and weapons (and so many ascended trinkets, seriously at this point they get auto-salvaged if they drop)

Apart from that, pretty much everything in this game gives you some amount of rewards, even if they aren't entirely obvious, so don't stress too much, provided you aren't roleplaying in the serrated blade or whatever (Though good on you for having fun!) you're likely earning some amount of income. Even if it's only in materials

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 gold farming #There are better guides scattered throughout the internet #searching up 'Gw2 best ways to make gold' will probably yield results #though make sure to choose recent results to avoid outdated guides #but dammit I wanted to write something down myself #so I did. Enjoy #If you have any other tricks feel free to let me know

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commander-winterberry · 10 months

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CAFÉ ENCHANTED: FESTIVAL OF SPICES (RP Event|NA)

When: Friday, July 28th, 7pm EST (one hour before ingame reset| Runtime ~4 hours) Location: Labyrinthine Cliffs

—–

With the annual Festival of the Four Winds, Café Enchanted invites visitors, culinarians, chefs with extraordinary talent to the annual Café and Skiff Market at the beach, promising fun and prizes for those that wish to compete and attend.

From a thrilling cooking contest to a raffle, Café Enchanted offers a unique menu tailored to the spectacular summer at the Labyrinthine Cliffs!

Fragrances, Spices, Fruits and Seafood!

This year, we summon people who dare to test their skills of culinary talent in a unique cooking challenge!

We are looking for 5 daring combatants to sharpen their knives and ready their aprons in a cooking event. You will all be given a list of the same exotic ingredients, which you will select from to prepare and combine into one dish - One amazing enough to knock the judges off their seats!

Want to try your luck? Then come join our event’s raffle!

Each ticket costs 5 silver, all you need to do is whisper the Commander (Yvalris) during the event before the raffle! You will be given a number of your entry! Near the end of the event, the winning numbers be picked from random dice bot and will be announced. Join for a chance of winning a cute mini, a chair or a weapon skin! (In case you have to leave earlier, we will mail the reward to you!)

Vendors wanted!

Interested in offering your wares to the people or want to support the festival? We always welcome jolly cooperation from any business! Feel free to contact us through DM’s or in-game Mail.

Event rules and link below.

Cooking Contest Rules:

This event can only be entered through pre-registration; for the form see below. The contest will start one hour after the event begins. We only take 5 contestants for the event!

For this contest, you will have 10-15 minutes time to write an IC preparation of one dish. You must use the given mystery ingredients, but can choose which ones you want to use. Contestants are free to make a dessert, savory meal, or appetizer of their choice from the ingredients they select.

After the timer ends, each of the contestants will be called forth to post their description (how you made it + how you present it) of the dish’s preparation and present it to the Jury who will then pick the three winners.

In case you cannot participate in the event, please notify one of our staff members prior to the event, which then your place will be given to another player before the contest.

Enter the registration! First come, first take the spot!

Below is the registration format as the contest has a limited number of entries!

Character Name or Chef Alias: Ingame ID: Please send your registration either through in-game mail at either avaestroms.5421 or DapperComedy.4350

Cooking event rewards:

Possible prizes are: Gold, Weapon skins, backpack, a chair, or for the grand winner: Your named and credited dish will be featured on the Café’s Menu until the next seasonal event!

—–

Event rules

Keep it lighthearted - Be kind and have fun to other roleplayers!

No explicit stuff - Keep it safe for work!

Treat other roleplayers with respect - be polite, non-offensive and use appropriate language - Breaking this rule will result in OOC warning

The bimonthly open venue Café Enchanted welcomes everyone to a lovely atmosphere with music, and a safe environment for Roleplay, Chatting or Relaxation. A little bit of everything, the café offers a tailored menu with exquisite snacks and drinks. Come join and unwind from a long day of adventuring, meet new people, and share your story for the evening. We hope to see you at our pop-up café soon!

Venue’s menu, calender and contact (content warning description and pics of food): cafe-enchanted-menu.carrd.co

Disclaimer: This event is for fun and roleplaying. Please do not harass any of the staff or guests during the event and raffle.

#café enchanted events #guild wars 2 #gw2 #gw2 rp event #gw2 rp #gw2 event #gw2 roleplay

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happy-lemon · 11 months

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No Rules Legacy Update

After 10 generations, multiple moves, and a very robust story progression, my legacy save is well and truly fubar. When I sent Dylan to Egypt, I got the same vendor notification over and over. In France, I saw the exact same NPC sim twice. The game is lagging, even after merging cc and resetting the town, which it normally does not do. It takes Dylan at least 30 sim minutes to change clothes, go to work, get in the shower, or go to bed. And sometimes the sims have a weird melted look before fully rendering.

I've tried googling some performance tricks, but think the save is too broken to fix. The most painful part, really, is that I will likely have to sacrifice all the keepsakes. I'm especially sad to lose nine generations of family photos and all the bottles of nectar that have been aging since Noelle's generation.

UPDATE: I put everything in Dylan's personal inventory before saving him to the library, so the only family heirlooms that were lost were a couple of festival photos, which I don't mind losing.

I've managed to save the Malan Hall dormies to the library, along with my current Dylan, so they can still be friends in a fresh save. I'm not bringing his siblings, so we'll just have to imagine them happy and thriving in Isla Paradiso. And even though Sims 3 mermaids aren't immortal, we're going to pretend they are, so Mara and Mason will live happily forever, together under the sea.

It's also likely that the apartment renovation storyline will fall to the wayside because the routing in St. Claire is kind of a nightmare, and I'm kind of in love with this house by @theplumdot which sits on the lot where Keahi lived in Sunlit Tides. I feel like it's kind of a full circle for the legacy for Dylan to live there with (HOPEFULLY, DYLAN) Zoya and their family since that's where Nara was born.

UPDATE: I realized that if I move them to Sunlit Tides, I will have to annihilate the entire population and let SP repopulate because there are so many people who have appeared in earlier generations. So, I'm trying a fresh St. Claire.

TL;DR: Game is borked, starting a fresh save with my legacy characters.

#ts3 #ts3 problems #sims 3 #sims 3 problems

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danshive · 9 months

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My Rule for Cheating Via Mods (Single Player, Obviously)

I think I've decided on a rule for me personally when modding games with "cheats". It is a very simple guideline that determines whether it will improve my fun when playing the game.

It's the "were you already cheating this without mods" rule. If yes, the mod is fine.

Here are examples in Skyrim:

I quicksave, hit vendors, and reload to reset their inventories. Therefore, a mod that increases their gold amount, and how much inventory they have to sell, is fine.

I quicksave before pickpocketing. Therefore, a mod that guarantees pickpocket success is fine (though there's the slight "can't fix" flaw in that it makes things that should have 0% chance pickpocket-able)

I just wait 24 hours if I want to turn into a werewolf again. This isn't really a cheat, the game wants you to get a ring to transform more frequently, but it feels like one, and I've never once had a moment of "oh no, I can't get to a place to wait, no werewolf for me". It's just a time sink, so infinite werewolf transformations is fine.

Those are the three I can think of for myself, anyway. Item duplication would arguably be fine, but the fact that it's sort of hit or miss, and takes a bit, keeps it from being abused to the point of absurdity. I prefer not having an easier way to do it.

#dan shive says stuff #skyrim

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lucasthecoffeshopguy · 23 days

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yesterday i spent hours duplicating items and resetting my default vendor (quicksave punch load quicksave punch load etc.) to get back up to 33k gold, and I'm now coming back home to my beautiful farm and realizing that I should probably figure out what potions ingredients to plant instead of having a bunch of filler cabbage and potato

#skyrim #ougghghyuughhhhh

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lunarbuck · 2 years

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Reset - Eight

Возвращение на Родину

Pairing: The Winter Soldier x f!Reader

WC: 3k

Warnings/Tags: somnophilia, oral (f recieving), mentions of infertility, fluff

series masterlist | my masterlist | ao3 | @hydravictrix | fic playlist

AN: i'm sorry this update is not only late but short :/ i hope you still enjoy it <3 thank you as always to @purpleshallot for being an incredible beta, this fic would not have been posted if not for you my dear

please feel free to send me any requests for one-shots /drabbles /headcanons you have for this series!! we’re almost done with fic so i can post them once the series is over :)

chapter 7 / chapter 9

Куколка

"How'd you know this was here?" you ask as James pulls the car around to a little private jet hangar.

James shuts off the engine and sighs, running a hand through his hair. It's gotten so long that it's almost always in his eyes. "I worked in Madripoor for a bit and had to come through here a few times. Figured it'd be worth a shot to see if anyone left their jets here." You nod, climbing out of the car and following James into the building.

Inside, you see an old jet covered in a thick layer of dust. You can tell it didn't get much use even before Hydra's takeover just by looking at it. James pulls open the door and examines the controls, mumbling to himself as he checks them.

You look over the jet's exterior for any damage, but you don't find any. Hope starts to brighten your thoughts. If James knows how to fly this jet and it works, you can be in Vietnam by tonight.

You watch James go through the motions of inspecting the jet. Though his movements are rehearsed, you wouldn't describe them as robotic. They are muscle memory, almost like a dance.

It comes to you in small moments like this; the realization that James is so much more than a soldier, so much more than the man that Hydra made him.

He catches your gaze, and you see hope in those bright blue eyes of his. Hope. It's such a fleeting, delicate thing. But despite it all, he is hopeful, and you can't help but smile at the sight.

"It can fly?" you ask, curling your fingers into fists with anticipation.

"Yes." Your heart speeds up in your chest. Leaving the United States for Vietnam will change things. You'll know no one there, have no friends, no family. You'll only have James.

Once you leave, there's no going back.

You chide yourself. You've been past the point of no return for so long. The moment you admitted your attraction to James, the moment you gave up on hope for Steve's return, the moment you let James into your mind. You fell off the deep end a long time ago.

James helps you climb into the jet and straps you in. His hands linger on your hips, your ribcage, your neck. He sweetly cares for you in a way you know he wasn't trained to.

This isn't the Winter Soldier. This is James.

Maybe it's not the James that Steve knew, but he's still in there. Little pieces of the man he used to be.

James readies the jet for flight quickly, fueling it up and opening the hangar with an expertise you should have come to expect from him, and then you're off.

Hanoi is beautiful. Maybe it's just because of the change of scenery, but you swear that the colors here are more vibrant. Hydra's cancerous touch hasn't tainted this city, and you breathe better knowing that.

There are people out, living their lives in a way you haven't seen in years. It takes you a moment to adjust to the nostalgic yet unfamiliar feeling of it all.

James stands by your side, a protective hand on the small of your back, as the two of you weave through the streets. You can tell he's on edge because of the number of people around, but you soak it all in and feed off of the energy of the city.

The flight was almost four hours, and the sun is setting by the time you and James find somewhere to stay. A little hostel that hasn't seen many tourists in recent times.

Right outside of the hostel are a few food vendors. You don't know where James got the money, but he pays and even tips the vendor after getting food for the two of you.

You sit on the porch of the hostel, watching the nightlife of Hanoi emerge as you eat. It's almost funny to watch James eat his Phở; the chopsticks and soup spoon look comical in his metal fingers, but he uses them like a seasoned pro.

"Where do we go next?" you ask James, stirring your own soup around with your chopsticks.

"There's a village close by, only 10 or 15 minutes away. I think it's a good option." You nod, savoring the flavors of your Phở. You've had it a few times in the States, but it was never this good.

"And then what?"

Silence sits heavily between the two of you. You'd never spoken about what your future together would look like. Would James even want to be with you now that he's truly free of Hydra? He doesn't seem to think of you as his prisoner anymore, so why would he feel any obligation to remain with you?

"And then we live."

"You want to stay together?" James' eyes dart to yours, clearly taken aback by your assumption that he'd just leave you behind.

"Of course I do." You can tell you hurt his feelings by asking that, and your heart tugs in your chest. Careful not to spill your soup, you shift to press your side against James. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling him relax beneath you.

"What does the future look like to you?" He takes his time responding. You know what those Hydra documents said and how he reacted. Maybe the plans he once had for the future had to change.

"It looks like you, принцесса. It looks like you and me in whatever you'll let me have you. I want to make you happy; I want to give you the world." He stops himself, but you can tell he wants to say more.

You rub circles on his knee with your fingers, encouraging him to continue. "Those documents," he starts, voice tight. "If what they say is true, then I cannot give you everything."

He means children.

The Hydra documents explained that because of the serum, James is infertile. Your stomach turns at the thought of them performing those tests; you know he did not go into them willingly.

Part of you had already come to terms with this knowledge; Steve was also infertile. The night he'd told you, he'd cried. Steve wanted children more than anything and knowing that he wouldn't be able to killed him inside.

Steve tried treatment after experimental treatment, but because of everything else the serum did to his body, he was resistant to them. You'd told Steve that you didn't care that he couldn't have children. You loved him either way.

Now, as you sit beside James, you want to say the same thing.

"You don't need to give me children to make me happy, James," you say softly. "We can be happy in our own way." You feel him nod, but you know he probably doesn't believe you.

"It is probably for the best that I cannot have children. What kind of father could I be?" You can hear the disgust in his voice, and it sparks anger in your gut. You sit up and grip James' face with both your hands, forcing him to look at you.

"Don't talk like that," you say sternly. "You didn't have any say in the shit they did to you. How do you know you'd be a bad father? You care about me, right? You keep me safe? How do you know that it would be any different with children? You don't. You don't get to talk like that." James' eyes widen at your tone; you've never really spoken to him like that. But he nods in understanding before tipping his head forward to touch his forehead to yours.

"You would be a wonderful mother," he whispers. Your heart tightens in your chest, it aches slightly with what could have been, but the ache dissipates because what use is it to mourn what never could have been.

James looks at you, confused and concerned about what you might say next. You're not sure where your confidence in his ability to parent came from, but you stand by it.

He's been through so much, suffered so much; he deserves the joy and happiness that children can bring to life. It would be difficult, he'd have a lot to learn, but something in your gut is screaming at you that he could do it.

You hadn't given much thought about what it would be like to raise a child you and James had created. What they would look like, and what their personality would grow into.

All the lessons the child would learn.

The world is fucked up and horrible, but a child could be the light at the end of the tunnel.

You sigh and let the conversation fade.

You have James, and that's enough for you.

James

Мой ангел is tired, so she goes to bed before I do. Once she is settled in the room, I step back outside.

It has started to rain, and the moon faintly illuminates the rolling gray clouds that crowd the sky. I cannot tear my mind away from what she said earlier.

I know that мой ангел would have wanted children if things worked out differently. She probably had plans for a family with the Captain before I'd ruined it all.

She has so much love inside of her, so much empathy. She would make a wonderful mother. Her children would grow up to be just like her; kind and sweet and beautiful.

Before her, I had never thought of children. They were merely an inconvenience, a hazard. But when I found her, when I realized that my life would never be the same without her...

To think of something that could be ours, not Hydra's, not SHIELD's, but ours. It makes my head spin and my heart tighten in my chest. Would they look like her? With her beautiful eyes and bright smile? Would they have my dimpled chin and dark hair?

I had never thought of such things before, but now, my heart yearns for them. It is almost like a cruel punishment for all of the pain I have brought onto this world.

Whatever divine power at play does not see me fit to have such joy.

It isn't until the sun is rising that I realize how long I have been away from her.

I return to the bedroom and lay in bed beside her, holding her close to my chest until she wakes. As мой ангел's breathing changes, signaling her starting to wake up, I shift around her and settle myself between her legs underneath the blanket.

She fell asleep just in one of my shirts and her panties, and it is a beautiful sight. I place light kisses along the waistband of her underwear before carefully sliding them down her legs.

I watch her face for any discomfort or confusion, but all I see is a pleasant smile on her features.

She stretches lazily and settles back into the pillows with a sigh as I trail my fingers along her inner thighs.

Моя куколка, always one to please me, opens her legs more, and my mouth waters at the sight of her bare before me. I cannot hold myself back.

My tongue finds her clit, and I slowly lave over it in gentle circles. She tastes sweeter than any fruit; I can't get enough of her. Back in the compound, when I fantasized about what pleasure I could have with a woman, it was always about her pleasuring me. Me taking my pleasure from her.

This is so different. The way that I yearn to taste her, to see her writhing on my fingers and my cock, it's so new. I need her to feel as amazing as she makes me feel; she deserves it.

I have never wanted to make anyone feel anything before. Still, I know that I will not leave this bed, leave her beautiful thighs, until she is begging and pleading for me to release her.

I feel her fingers tangle in my hair and tug. Even in her sleep, she is so powerful and strong-willed. I let her guide my head and tongue where she wants me and as her grip tightens, I know she is waking.

"James," she whispers, voice filled with sleep.

"Принцесса," I reply, lightly biting her inner thigh.

"Please don't stop." So I don't. I pour every piece of me into her, working her up higher and higher until she is so close to that edge, just about to fall over it.

When she comes, her whole body reacts, tightening up into a ball of energy that she unleashes upon me. It is beautiful.

I come up for air, emerging from beneath the blankets to мой ангел panting and blissed out. A smile tugs at my lips, and I wonder if life can truly get better than this.

That is all I thought about last night as I stared at the homes of other people, as I imagined the two of us here in this new place.

Моя куколка finally calms her breathing and tucks herself into my chest. She is warm against my skin, but I welcome her, running my fingers along her back and neck.

I have never had a home. Houses, places I've lived, of course. But never home. Now, I hold her in my arms; I feel the press of her cheek against my chest, and the ache in my heart eases. She is my home.

When she is out of my sight, out of my reach, I feel what I can only describe as homesickness. It is a new feeling, one that makes me hurt all the way down to my long-lost soul. She is the only remedy.

The drive to Bat Trang is quick but beautiful. Мой ангел gazes out her window the entire time, and every time I glance over at her, I am taken aback by her beauty.

Before her, I never knew such beautiful creatures could exist in such an awful world.

We arrive in the village and leave the car; I want to walk around with her.

The village is known for pottery making, and as we walk around, I see мой ангел's eyes light up at the sight of all the different creations. She wiggles her fingers when she sees a woman forming a beautiful vase. I hope she takes up pottery making.

As we get further into the village, we are greeted by people working outside their homes. Мой ангел smiles, and I can see her settling in already.

Before we arrived in Vietnam, I'd found a man in the village who was looking for someone to care for his home while he traveled for a few months.

I arranged for it to be us. We only have to walk for a little longer until we arrive at his home.

It is small, just one bedroom, a kitchen, and a living area, but it is enough for us.

Мой ангел walks through the home with a pleasant smile on her face the whole time.

"This is perfect, James," she says, placing her hand on my arm. I kiss the top of her head and revel in the simple beauty of the action.

"I have a surprise for you," I say against her hair.

Мой ангел tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she smiles, unable to hide her excitement for what the surprise could be.

Beside the house is a few acres of empty land. I walk моя куколка out of the building and out toward the middle of the land.

"I want to give you the world," I say, voice tight with emotion that I have not experienced before. "But until then, I want to give you a home."

Confusion flickers across her gaze as she tries to understand what I've just said.

"We already have a place to stay; what do you mean?"

I look around at the land surrounding us. I imagine our possible future, and it finally is within reach.

"This is where I will build our home," I say, turning back to her. I take мой ангел's hands in mine, running my thumbs over her smooth skin. "This is where we will live our lives."

Tears pool in the corner of her eyes, and I release her hands to wipe them away. I know they are happy tears. She is not afraid of me.

"James," she whispers.

"I would burn this world to the ground, raze cities. I would follow you to hell and back. The least I can do for you is give you a home, принцесса ."

She laughs and leans up on her toes to kiss me. She tastes sweet as she presses against me, and I wrap my hands around her waist to pull her closer.

I have already figured out where I will get the materials from and what our home will look like.

When it comes to her, everything is so easy. It all falls into place with little effort. I imagine building our home will be the same.

I look forward to working with my hands, to finally creating something instead of destroying it.

No longer the fist of Hydra, I am fulfilling my new destiny.

Knowing that Zemo was the one to give up our location still makes my blood boil, but despite his hatred for super soldiers, I remain.

John Walker wanted us dead or captured by Hydra, but he failed. At every turn, when someone has been there to stop us, we have fought tooth and nail and won.

It gives me hope; it helps me find peace within myself. There is more to this world than pain and violence. I just have to open my eyes to it.

Translations:

ангел = angel

куколка (f) = little doll

принцесса (f) = princess

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist must be 18+

General tags- please let me know if you do not want to be tagged in this series

@peaches1958 @prettylittlepluviophile @writerwrites @w0nderw0mansw0rld @hawsx3 @meetmeatyourworst @harrysthiccthighss @goldylions @late-to-the-party-81 @luxeavenger

Series tags - 18+ only!! must have age in bio - message me to be added <3

@/cwbucky @emmabarnes @w0nderw0man-reading @summerofsnowflakes @winter-soldier-101 @littlered6307 @peaches1958 @callingsergeantbarnes @fandoms-writings @prettywhenicry4 @zombiexbody @trinitytheinfinityromanoff @cjand10 @buckybarnesandmarvel @red42985 @thats-a-gaybie @hallecarey1 @snugglingbucky @/goldylions @wickidlady @saraissleepy @buckybarnesthots @shirukitsune @elizacusi-blog @kitty1960 @searchf0rtheskyline @buckyshbic

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l3rking · 8 months

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PSA BANSHEE GODROLLL

Banshee has a 5/5 Retrofit. If you never got it go pick it up! My crafted version is over level 100 I use it so frequently. Crazy good with Gyrfalcon shenanigans.

#destiny 2 #destiny #destiny weapons #retrofit #banshee 44 #gunsmith #vendor reset

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vampiricsheep · 1 year

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GW2 Fight Night [NA] RP Scheduling

Hello all! Fight Night won the vote (and only 1 out of five voters said they absolutely would not go, versus 3 opting out of any tour). With the what settled, it's now time to choose the when! Options correlate to the highest voted time slot + an intermediate between it and the second-highest.

Additionally, if you are interested in offering a ranger or mechanist for the NPC combatant options, let me know! In-RP these will be considered mesmer illusions (as with the Crown Pavilion) so no actual pets will be harmed. You're also welcome to bring betting intermediaries, refreshment vendors, or any other "special role" that you like if you are so inclined!

Poll is open for one week, but depending on the number of responses, I may choose the final time before it ends (but at least after a couple days)!

#gw2 rp #guild wars 2 roleplay #gw2 open rp night #it'll be in Lost Precipice courtesy of Oz!#i have learned not to give people a “show results” button and instead to choose one option and-#-keep in mind that the vote for that will be skewed by one

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official-megumin · 9 months

Note

I am thinking about trying to get an exotic hand cannon in destiny 2, as I have recently started to use a legendary one I brought at the tower; how would I go about trying to get one and which one would be the best one to try and get?

you should go for hawkmoon or ace of spades

both can be bought without thaat much of a grind, however. You will need an ascendant shard. Which likely will take a lot of grinding by itself. You'll have to reset a vendor rank, which you just do by playing an activity a lot.

You'll also need an exotic cipher, which you can get by grabbing a quest from Xur. He's there right now, so I can help you get the quest right now if you want

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meretrifles · 8 months

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Public Library of Ruina - Yesod

I still dither a little about Yesod. He's either Information Technology, Information Services, or both. Both feels a little self-indulgent, but it's kind of what I want.

Information Technology is basically regular IT-- have you tried turning it off and back on again. The library doesn't add a huge amount to that-- more databases, a website, shitty civic budget, unpredictable public users. You're gonna replace a lot of keyboards. (You should probably take the ones where people rearranged the keys into swear words out of service. Or at least fix them first.)

Information Services is, at this point, extroverted IT. Back in the day, this was the department that specialized in "reference" questions-- the weird stuff. People would ask librarians for all sorts of weird facts in the pre-google days. It does still happen, but less and less every year as search engines become ubiquitous and the people who remember that was a thing slowly die off. Still, reference will never completely die. People are always going to come to libraries with weird questions; that's kind of the point.

So why am I calling it extroverted IT? Because that's the primary function. There's the fairly obvious part-- people sometimes need help searching the catalogue or reading e-books. But here's the less obvious part. Myrtle has a new laptop, but she's not sure how to do anything with it and her kids all live hours away. Who's she going to call? Who can help people learn how to use technology? Without many other options, the answer frequently is-- the library.

Think everyone has a cell phone? Ask a public librarian. We know there are still plenty of people without a phone or with a secondhand POS with no sim card. Curious what happens if someone can't remember their gmail password? If you're prepared to deal with a post-traumatic response, ask a public librarian. Have you ever tried to help someone with no available cell phone recover their google account? It would probably save a lot of time if we could just tell them at the start they're SOL. But maybe they can remember the password, and technically there's a reset function that might work in a few days if you're approved.... Fun times when you're dealing with an upset person who can barely type on a good day and has just lost a ton of personally valuable and literally valuable information, probably forever. Think 2-factor authentication is great? It sure is, if you have a second factor. We have a list of free email sites that don't require you to already have an email address or a cell phone. It's hella short. And we took one off cause it was too Russian. Protonmail is a good bet if you can remember passwords. Which is a significant if. Some people just can't. Which is OK if you can save them on your computer. Oh, you don't have one and you have to use public devices all the time? Well, write it down and hope it doesn't get stolen and that you can remember which one is which. (Have you already guessed that sometimes people ask librarians to remember their passwords for them?)

In short, the library also serves as a public IT department, for services and devices it has zero control over.

Whether he's internal or public IT support, Yesod is also going to snap. Though, he will also have access to an abnormality that can affect people outside the library, which is a nontrivial perk. He will use it exclusively on vendors. I am hoping some of his bullets bend space and time to successfully hit whatever asshats decided it was OK to build the entire backbone of library ebook lending on Adobe Fucking Digital Editions, an old ass program with literally zero support. It would seem impossible for them to still be shackled to it in the City, but it also seems impossible that we're still shackled to it now, so I'm pretty sure the ultimate capitalist dystopia couldn't let it die.

Hmm? My specialty? I'm a reference librarian. Why do you ask?

#yesod lor #public library of ruina #library of ruina #bad librarian!!#polite ways to explain what the shift key is #the sheer number of weird printing workarounds i require every shift i s2g

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jasonbehrs · 9 months

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🍬 corollary 🍬

by airauralintensity (aka me, jasonbehrs!)

If you lose your food-obsessed fiance in a crowd, here’s how to find her in three tries or less.

fandom: incurable case of love, koi wa tsuzuku yo doko made mo characters: sakura nanase, tendo kairi ship: sakurendo genres: romance themes: introspective, character study, tendo focus, post-canon word count: 3.3k+ book: 2/2 rating: T

read it on ffnet, aff, wattpad, ao3, or below!

~~~

A/N (7.26.2023): "Another Sakura-Nanase-loves-food fanfic from airauralintensity? What gives?" Listen, there are so many plot points in the show that are driven by Nanase's love of food. More fan content needs to acknowledge that if she had to choose between a falling patient and a falling plate… well, she would still choose the patient, but she would hesitate.

If you happen to be reading this fresh off of finishing the show, I'm ignoring the timeline of Episode 10. This fic is set after she returns but before they're married, which isn't a very long time period according to canon.

This isn't a sequel to 'a delicious conspiracy of love' in the consequential narrative sense, but they're still heavily related, so I encourage you to read that one first. I named this fic 'corollary' not just because it suits the plot but because this fic builds off of themes from the first one.

~~~

Sometimes, Kairi still needs to offer Nanase a hand.

He doesn't just mean pulling her to the side so that she doesn't accidentally run into a tourist because she's too busy window shopping to pay attention to her surroundings (though that does happen with an alarming frequency), but he also means literally.

In the times when she is too conscious of him, she won't hold his hand herself.

Despite the many professional advantages her year of community nursing abroad has brought, one of the personal disadvantages was that it also sort of reset their relationship, at least where Nanase was concerned. She didn't break off their engagement or anything, but there is a certain composure present where there was none previously.

They kept in regular contact during their time apart, which did a lot to ease the longing and keep their relationship feeling like a relationship, but he supposes a year's worth of conversational intimacy doesn't immediately nor necessarily translate into physical intimacy, even one as simple as this.

She has never been shy around him—as her blatant overtures for his affection back when she really was just a rock in his way made abundantly clear—but they were the actions of a woman on a mission. All years considered, she has spent more time pining for him than actually having him, and the relationship habits they were building before she left didn't have time to truly settle in.

All this to say: when she returned, she still treated him like he wasn't completely and irrevocably hers.

Kairi has enjoyed reminding her (oh, has he enjoyed reminding her), but now he thinks he needs to work harder.

He will. Once he finds her.

The Sumida Park Farmers' Market isn't that new, but it's new to them. It started up while Nanase was gone, and Kairi didn't have a reason to visit until she came back. It's also in the half of the park that isn't on their side of the river, so neither of them were that familiar with its layout even without the influx of people and vehicles and vendors.

Unfortunately, these are not as good excuses as he wants them to be. He ends up losing her in any given crowd nine times out of ten. She's always bouncing back and forth, admiring the wares and sampling the goods and talking to anyone who makes eye contact with her like the extrovert she is—which wouldn't be such a problem if only she would hold his goddamn hand.

But like he intimated, this happens pretty often; and he wouldn't be the man he is today if he didn't learn from his mistakes the first time. When a quick 360 doesn't immediately reveal his favourite smile or the sound of excessive cooing over someone's baby, he doesn't panic. He just closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing.

More specifically, the scents he's breathing.

If you lose your food-obsessed fiance in a crowd, here's how to find her in three tries or less: identify the smell of cooking then follow your nose to the closest food stall. It hasn't steered him wrong to date.

Nanase is always so surprised to be found, mostly because she's always surprised that she's lost in the first place. "How did Sensei know how to find me?" she would ask. He never tells, though, instead affecting a burdened air and moving forward with their date, lest he accidentally sully the sanctity of his trick.

The scent of friend dough catches Kairi's attention first. He follows the lead to a baby castella stall. There is no sign of his fiance, but he does buy a basket for her and dusts it with powdered sugar.

Repeating the process brings to his attention a smell that reminds him of the sea on a hot summer day. The takoyaki stall he comes upon also has no Nanase, but he buys a half-dozen anyway and prepares it the way she likes: topped liberally with pickled ginger and accompanied by a dollop of mayonnaise on the side.

Finally, he smells fried vegetables with an undercurrent of something sweet. It takes him to a crepe stall, and he's finally run out of hands and composure. Nanase is still nowhere to be seen.

He stands in the middle of the path and forces the flow of people to go around him as he furiously thinks of what to do now. This strategy has never failed him before. Besides, what good are two handfuls of warm food when there isn't a fiance with a never-ending appetite around to eat them?

Kairi spins in a circle, looking for a place to sit and set down his prandial burdens but mostly hoping that Nanase would still appear and validate his methodology. He needs to be right about this.

It was his job to be right about things like this.

An enthusiastic "Tendo-sensei!" was the first thing Kairi heard when he answered the phone.

Nanase picked a good time to call. He had already eaten breakfast, and it's easier to talk when he isn't concentrating on not overcooking his food.

They realised pretty early on that her night shift ended just in time for his day shift to begin. This sweet spot when she's getting ready for bed and he's getting ready to go became the obvious choice for any video calls. They couldn't call every day; but when they could, it happened around now.

He chuckled as he set the phone on a stand he bought for this specific purpose. "You can start calling me Kairi, you know. Isn't it weird to call your fiance by his last name and an honourific? I'm not even your attending physician anymore."

"You still call me Sakura sometimes!" By the echo, he could tell she was in her bathroom too, and something about being in a similar place at the same time made the distance feel smaller.

"But I call you Nanase the other times."

"Awww." The pitying sound made him glance over from the mirror to see a cute little pout on his fiance's face. "I miss the sound of my name."

He leaned in closer so she could see his incredulity. "What do they call you over there if not by your name?"

"No, no! They do call me Nanase. It's just, with the accent, it sounds more like… Nan-ase? I don't know. I feel bad saying this because it's not like I get all their names right all the time either, but…"

"Nanase."

"Hm?"

He turned away from the camera to reach for a towel with the added benefit of hiding his smile. He didn't say her name to get her attention, but he could pivot. Flexibility was a strength of his. "Not too tired from the night shift?"

"Not too tired to talk to Sensei~ Besides, I had coffee in the second half of my shift. I'll be good until after the call ends!"

He stopped what he was doing and looked back at her. "Since when did you start drinking coffee?" He worked alongside her for over four months and never even saw her drinking matcha.

"It's recent! It actually surprised my coworkers that I wasn't drinking any. Besides the long shifts, Berlin has a huge coffee culture. I wanted to fit in, so I started ordering some from the cafes that my coworkers recommended in town. I like it! I think. There's a lot of variety, at least. They even have matcha over here!"

Kairi let her elaborate on her journey of discovering coffee and tried not to overthink. Sakura Nanase, more energetic than a fully-charged battery and sweeter than Japan's finest wagashi, was not the sort of person he associated with coffee. It wasn't something he thought she'd enjoy.

It's not that he was against her drinking coffee. It's not about the coffee at all. It's the fact that there could be things about her that he couldn't predict. Considering he fell in love with her for her transparency, the discovery unnerved him.

Kairi was a man who prided himself on accurate deductions. From the moment he received a patient's echocardiogram, he could map out their entire recovery journey in his mind's eye. Of course, when the facts changed, he changed his mind; but anticipating and addressing viable changes in condition were the cornerstones of his entire career, and he was only capable of such astute assessments because he was an expert on cardiology. He didn't become one of the most successful heart surgeons in the country by wasting mental or temporal resources on understanding things that didn't matter to him. Heart health mattered to him.

Sakura Nanase also mattered to him.

He knew exactly how much rain it took to dissuade her from her outdoor plans. He knew the earliest she could wake up given her bedtime the night before. He could narrow down to the minute the point at which she needs a snack to boost her blood sugar.

Nanase wasn't predictable, necessarily, but humans were creatures of habit; and he observed and studied hers to the point of expertise.

If he wasn't an expert on the things he loved, what was he?

This was why he wasn't nearly as worried about her study abroad as she was. The distance was immaterial. Whether she was right next to him or on the opposite side of the world, he remained the foremost, citable, preeminent authority on all things Sakura Nanase.

"Does this mean I'll have to start sharing my coffee supply with you when you come back?"

"Maybe!" She giggled. "I like sharing things with you."

But mastery wasn't a checkpoint. It was a lifelong endeavour, and his chosen field of expertise had a similarly lifelong intention to keep growing, evolving, maturing. He reminded himself that this was actually exciting, and he was actually lucky. He got to witness those changes in real time; he got to remain the expert.

Especially in circumstances like these, he needed that assurance. Their time apart wouldn't matter because when she came back to him, she wouldn't be a stranger.

"I'm running a little behind, but do me a favour before I go?"

He directed his full attention to the phone, as he always did for the last few minutes of their calls. She shuffled closer so that her whole face took up his screen, and he refrained from mentioning that he took a screenshot of it. "You name it!"

"What's the name of your hospital, again? I forgot."

The sight of her fond eye roll did more to wake him up than his own cup of coffee did. "You didn't forget, Sensei. You just like to hear me butcher German."

He shrugged. "I forgot how much I like hearing you butcher German."

"Fine, fine. I'll say it so you won't be late." She cleared her throat. "Ge-ma-i-n-sha-fu-su-ka-n-ke-n-ha-u-su Ha-fu-hu-u."

"Oh, that's why it's so small? It's half of a real hospital?"

"One day, that joke will stop being funny," but the smile on her face said otherwise.

"Kairi! There you are, I've been looking all over for you."

He whirls around, barely keeping the food in their containers as he does. "What. No, you weren't. I was looking for you."

Nanase tilts her head. "Couldn't we have been looking for each other, then?"

He doesn't have an answer for that, still hung up on how his three-tries-or-less strategy failed him. "Where were you?" he asks instead.

"Oh! Here, have some." She opens her mouth, encourages him to mimic her, then plops something smooth and sweet onto his tongue. "Isn't it so good?"

Hard candy. She was buying hard candy. Hard candy does not emit an odour.

He doesn't know if he's annoyed that his strategy doesn't account for things like this or pleased that it still has merit under most but specific parameters.

"I saw a family back there holding a bag of something colourful," she continues, "so I asked them where they got it."

He follows her pointed finger to find that the hard candy vendor is literally right behind the castella stand, which is only a few stalls down from when he noticed he lost her.

He makes up his mind: he's definitely annoyed.

"Can I have some?" she asks about the food he forgot he is holding.

He offers both of his hands to her, looking down at the food both literally and figuratively. "They're for you," he grumbles.

Her eyes light up at the prospect of eating, and it says something that that alone isn't enough to lift his mood.

She points out a seating area with picnic tables a little ways away from where they're standing—which Kairi probably would have seen sooner if he were actually looking for those instead of blatantly focused on looking for Nanase instead—and he follows her lead. There appear to be no places for them to sit together, but a pointed glare at a pair of teenagers who are done eating rectifies that problem very quickly.

"Ah! I love pickled ginger with my takoyaki!" she effuses once they're seated side by side.

He waits until she takes her first bite—"It's the perfect temperature, too!"—before he brings up his concern: "Nanase, you need to hold my hand more often when we're in public."

"Really?"

"Yes…?" He meant to say that definitively, but the absolute delight and obvious relief on her face puzzle him. "That isn't a problem?"

"Not for me! I thought it would be for Sensei, though."

He ignores the reversion to an honourific. "What possibly gave you that idea?"

She does a quick, breezy shrug, more focused on preparing the next takoyaki ball for her consumption. "I didn't think you were happy to hold my hand when we're in public. You always looked burdened. I thought, 'Ah, he doesn't like it,' so I stopped," she explains casually, like she didn't just shatter his entire perception of their relationship in the ten seconds it took her to say that.

He, unfortunately, knows exactly what she's talking about; but the burden is fake!

Moreover: "That never stopped you before," he accuses. If there's one thing he understands about Sakura Nanase, it's that she chases after the things she wants without abandon or shame, even in the times when it would behoove her to exhibit more abandon or shame.

"Yeah, but I was pretty single-minded before, wasn't I?" she says plainly. This self-reflection is evidently not new to her. Where was he when she decided these things about herself? "I did and said so many things just because I wanted you to keep looking at me, even if it was in annoyance… which it usually was. You didn't like it even back then."

Sure, but that was back then.

"I was able to calm down in Germany, though," she reminisces. "Not getting to see you every day made me treasure the times I do have your attention, so it became easier to respect your boundaries."

"I don't have those!" he blurts out.

"Eh?"

He doesn't even know where to start. He was so misunderstood. He misunderstood so much. He's spiralling.

"I love it when you hold my hand. I love holding your hand. Hold my hand all the time."

"O-okay," she agrees with wide-eyes and an offered palm, thinking the directive started now.

He stares at her waiting hand, suddenly feeling like he doesn't deserve to hold it, but ultimately grasps it like a desperate man.

He is pretty desperate. He's spiralling, but her touch is a tether. "You're not a burden. You haven't been for a while, and I thought you knew that."

Her smile is brilliant. "Yeah, I worked hard to become an asset in the ward—"

"—With me, too," he interrupts. "It's an act; it always has been. I can't be straightforward about my affection; it feels weird. I'd rather be subtle about it,"— he gestures to the food—"but that only worked because I thought you knew to look past my pretense."

"I definitely thought it was real," she admits sheepishly. "Or at least coming from a real place. I just was willing to ignore it."

She didn't even know he was acting. He relied on the notion that she knew he was acting. Does he know anything about her, about this relationship?

"I thought you had become self-conscious," he confesses like a man who gambled everything he had and lost it all.

"I-I sort of did!" she gets out in a rush, a misinformed attempt to uplift her dour fiance. "I became conscious of how my past self behaved when I was pining after you and realised that I didn't need to do that anymore because I actually have you now," she ends optimistically.

He misunderstood so much. "What else don't I know about you?" he asks in all seriousness.

"Huh?" She chuckles in confusion. "What are you talking about? You know everything about me."

"Evidently not."

"Of course you do!" She holds up her half-finished takoyaki. "You remembered the mayonnaise!"

"Nanase, this is important!" he groans. "Just because I supplied mayonnaise for your takoyaki doesn't mean I know everything about you."

"And just because you misunderstood this one little thing about me doesn't mean you don't."

She doesn't get it. It's not just the hand-holding. It's the illusion of transparency, it's about inaccurate deductions, it's because she matters—

Nanase tugs his mouth open and puts in a baby castella. "Here."

For a split second, he considers spitting it out on principle before realising spitting it out would be disgusting. "I got those for you," he reproves once he's done chewing.

"And I'm letting you have some. I'm not the only one between the two of us who likes sweet bread, right?" she argues as she holds up another one to his mouth.

Kairi acquiesces on sharing the food, but he doesn't let her feed him. "See, you do have a limit on public displays of affection," she points out when he eats a castella of his own volition. "I just misjudged where that limit was."

He looks at her incredulously. "We're already holding hands," he retorts, covering the sight of his half-chewed food with one hand while the other waves their joined ones for emphasis. "Additional intimate interactions are superfluous."

"I would certainly appreciate 'additional interactions'."

"Appreciate what you have," he snarks on habit before remembering himself. He checks her reaction out of the corner of his eye. Will she start looking past his pretense?

Her exaggerated, coquettish blinks are answer enough. "So you won't hug me?"

He maintains a beleaguered veneer through the relief. "Hugging and hand-holding are mutually exclusive activities. One must replace the other; therefore neither will surpass my quotient for ardent displays."

She immediately releases their grasped hands and sticks her arms out in a low invitation. "How about now?"

He knows—he knows—his heart is not physically swelling from overwhelming fondness. His syncopated heartbeat is not arrhythmia. He requires no medical attention… but the sight of his adorable fiance and her cheeky but earnest ploys for his affection wreaks just so much havoc on his constitution.

He can't smile, or blush, or do something else with his face to betray that affection, but he doesn't have to. That isn't what she's asking for.

He wraps her up in intentional, unhurried movements, and he's rewarded with the squeeze of her arms around him. It's as grounding and reassuring as it always has been.

"I can't say I fully understand what you're worried about," she murmurs right below his ear, "but I can say I'm just as in love with you now as I was six years ago. I can also say that I know you love me, too."

He does. He doesn't say it nearly as often or as easily as she does, but he loves her.

"So how about this," she continues. "I show you love the way I know how, and you show me love the way you know how, and we can make up for the difference with honesty." It is framed like a proposal, but she speaks like she already knows how he'll respond.

Maybe she does.

"I can agree to those terms," he says as a formality, and she hugs him tighter.

Maybe she is the foremost, citable, preeminent authority on all things Tendo Kairi.

~~~

A/N (7.26.2023): Believe it or not, this was only supposed to be around 500 words…

The location I picked for Nanase's community nursing study abroad program is Gemeinschaftskrankenhaus Havelhöhe (Havelhöhe Community Hospital) in Germany, which is a small academic teaching hospital in a very suburban area of Berlin and actually practises community nursing. It's associated with Charité, one of Europe's biggest university hospitals and the primary hospital in Berlin, which makes it even more likely to actually host a study abroad nursing program. (It does not in real life, though. The Gemeinschaftskrankenhaus Havelhöhe mostly trains doctors, not nurses.)

Kairi's joke about it being half of a hospital is because the first two syllables of the neighbourhood it's located in, Havelhöhe (hæ-fu-heu-eh), is pronounced like how the English word 'half' is pronounced in Japanese.

#恋はつづくよどこまでも #incurable case of love #love lasts forever #koi wa tsuzuku yo doko made mo #jdramas #sakura nanase #tendo kairi #jdrama fanfiction #sakurendo #jaso*#corollary #a lukewarm can of soda

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