#to other people who have given me asks on this au. I do read them!!

[azrakaban]

Augophile - Theodore Nott

N: RIGHT BITCHES! IT'S AU O'CLOCK! This is my first soulmate au, sorry if it's cringe <3 p.s. English is my first language but sorry anyway if there's any miss spellings

Requests: Still open <3

Requested by: Piss_Witch

Summary: AU where once you turn sixteen, you lose the ability to see colours until you meet your soulmate. But what if they don't want to see your colours?

Warnings: Angsty (a bit?), injury detail, i villainise McLaggen again <3 (He's racist for like one line and is a grade A asshole), mentions of amnesia, fluffy ending <3

Ships mentioned: Panstoria, Bluna

Dynamics: Grumpy X sunshine, miscommunication, soulmates, friends to lovers, tall and calm, short and excitable

Soul-mate. Soul-mate. Soul-mate.

Your heart beat in time with the words you'd been hearing all week long, unable to shake the excitable feeling that comes with approaching your sixteenth birthday.

Sweet sixteen held a meaning within teenagers, but a different one for magical teens such as yourself.

Having seen colours all your life, you were only partially prepared to lose sight of them all. You remembered Pansy's sixteenth, when she'd come downstairs crying.

"MY BI FLAG LOOKS LIKE SOME WEIRD ASS STRAIGHT FLAG!" She had sobbed, and you had comforted her until Astoria came into the room, and suddenly colours were visible again.

Your other friends weren't quite as lucky. Mattheo was unable to see colours, he stated plainly, while Theodore vehemently denied being able to see any colours at all. Just fifty shades of grey.

Draco was the youngest of the boys, and hadn't yet had his sixteenth. Blaise however was lucky, having been passing Ravenclaw dorm at the same time as a certain Luna Lovegood the week after his birthday.

And now here you were, in the week leading up to your birthday, saying your final goodbyes to colours.

"I'm going to miss seeing brown." You said idly as you fiddled with a blanket, lying across a couch in the Slytherin common room.

Draco snorted. "You'll miss brown? Why? It's such a boring colour." You sat up, indignant. "It's not. Cinnamon, trees in autumn, gingerbread, old vinyls, paper, vintage cars, antique bookshelves..." You listed, and a smile quirked at the corner of Theodore's mouth as he read.

"I think I'm just going to miss all the colours." You confessed.

"Our little Augophile." Blaise chuckled. You gave him a confused look. "Someone who loves colours." You thought for a second. "Sounds about right." You grinned.

The corner of Theo's mouth quirked again, but he looked back down to his book.

"I don't know if I'm ready." You said, sighing. The atmosphere of the room shifted instantly. "What do you mean?" Pansy said, unsticking herself from Astoria for a second.

"I mean I'm nervous. What if we're too similar? What if I hate them?" You said, stressing. "What if they hate me? WHAT IF IT'S DRACO." You yelled the last part, horrified. The others laughed.

Draco grimaced. "Thanks, l/n." You smiled. "Any time ferret." He glared at you, but you were too busy spiralling. 

"What do you want in a soulmate anyway, y/n?" Lorenzo asked, looking mildly curious. 

"Umm... nice, able to cook, ideally he'd be able to read, but given people like Crabbe and Goyle go to this school, that's not a guarantee..." You said, recieving a laugh. "My friends need to like him, and he needs to be willing to defend me." You said, finishing. (DON'T. MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER.)

"So... the bare minimum?" Mattheo said sarcastically. "Omg, babe, the bare minimum? You shouldn't have..." He rolled his eyes, laughing.

"I'm just kind of praying to a spiritual thing or whatever that they're not an asshole. That would suck." You said, fiddling with your hair.

Theo gently pulled your hand away from your hair. "You'll make your hair greasy." He said, not looking up.

You smiled and turned back to the conversation. "Look, y/n, I find it unlikely that the universe would give someone like you a bad person as a soulmate. I mean, that would be like you and me being together. Or you and Theo. It just wouldn't work." Mattheo said, shaking his head with a smirk.

"Right?!" You said, laughing softly. Theo stiffened slightly, unnoticed by everyone but the elder Riddle, who sat back reading a muggle book you had leant him.

You noticed Tom's smirk and turned to look at him. "What's on your mind Tomothy?" You said, smiling.

"Just Tom is fine, n/n. And I am merely amused by two characters in this story. Neil and Todd I believe? The two of them seem... rather well matched." Tom said idly. You smiled as Mattheo craned his neck to look at the book.

"Dead Poet's society?" He said, wrinkling his nose. "How do they write if they're dead? Ghosts don't have a present form to write with..." He frowned.

You laughed. "They don't write the poetry. Well, they do, but later on. They're obsessed with a poet called John Keats." Mattheo interrupted you.

"Sounds boooring, I don't wanna know." He said, groaning. Tom rolled his eyes as your smile faltered slightly. Theo noted that.

"I want to know." He said, placing his book carefully to the side, 'The secret history'.

You smiled. He had no idea what he was getting into.

You then spent the next two hours explaining the plot of dead poets to Theodore, who was, surprisingly, an avid listener. He asked questions in the right place, and although his expression didn't say much, he didn't move away or interrupt you, so you assumed he was interested.

"So... to be clear, they were never actually together, but you wish Neil and Todd were?" Theodore concluded. You nodded, brushing tears away from your eyes. A sniffle was heard from behind you, and you turned to see Lorenzo wiping his eyes with a tissue.

"My poor little homosexuals..." He said, looking genuinely sad. You and Theo exchanged a look, trying to work out if he was serious or not, which apparently he was, as you found out later. Theo awkwardly patted his back, trying to console him to the best of his ability.

You giggled to yourself, picking up your book and heading upstairs.

Theodore called after you. "Y/N!"

You turned, looking back at him from the steps to your dorm. "Yeah?"

"You're coming to the match tomorrow right?" He said hesitantly. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Matt's been pushing us hard, should be a good game." He continued, trying to gauge your reaction.

You nodded, smiling. "Oh yeah. I'll be there." You said, waving before you headed up to bed.

Theodore smiled to himself, before picking up his book again. You'd be there.

"TEN POINTS TO SLYTHERIN!" Lee Jordan's voice rang out across the stadium, amplified by his magical megaphone. You looked on excitedly as Enzo scored another goal for Slytherin, taking the lead from Gryffindor.

Gryffindor were clearly starting to get slightly worried, and their new beaters, Kirke and Sloper were clearly losing their nerve. They needed a distraction from the game, to give Gryffindor a lead.

They needed to take out someone who the entire Slytherin team would care about enough to stop the game for a moment.

They needed to take out you.

Throughout the game, Theodore's eyes flickered to you, making sure you were still watching. And every time he looked, there you were, eyes trained on the game and a happy smile on your face.

Theodore batted a bludger at Ginny Weasley, which Sloper deflected perfectly... until it wasn't perfect anymore.

The bludger came speeding towards you, too fast for you to move.

There was a sickening crunch, and then everything went black.

one week later

"-Mr Nott you need to leave, she needs rest and she'll probably be rather disorentated when she wakes-"

"-I don't care, I'm not leaving her like this."

"Huh?" You mumbled, eyes fluttering slightly before they opened a fraction.

A face swam into vision, looking down at you with a concerned frown. You felt a flash of something in your chest, and then the face came into colour.

"Careful, Mr Nott, she will be emotionally fragile after such damage." The woman's voice tutted as she bustled away.

It took you a minute of squinting to bypass the amnesia before a name came to you.

"Teddy?" You mumbled, and the figure rolled their eyes with a small smile.

"You haven't called me that since we were eight, y/n." The figure said, sitting back in the chair beside the hospital bed you were apparently in.

Right, y/n... that must be you. 'Teddy' frowned.

"Yes it's you, why wouldn't you be y/n?" He said, looking concerned, and you realised you had spoken aloud.

"She probably has some level of amnesia, from her head injury. She's also on a lot of pain meds, and may be a little honest." The lady said, bustling away near you. Teddy's mouth set into a hard line.

"Quel maledotto idiota. Non guarda dove sta colpendo quella dannata cosa, no, la colpisce semplicemente ovunque gli piaccia dannatamente." He grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he lapsed into his mothertongue. (That fucking idiot.  He doesn't look where he's hitting the damn thing, no, he just hits it wherever he damn well pleases)

"Uh, sorry, I don't speak Ravioli." You said, peering up at him curiously. "What did you say?"

"It doesn't matter." He said, shaking his head. "What do you remember from Saturday?" He said, looking at you intently.

You wrestled with your brain for a moment, trying to bypass your amnesia. "I remember walking to the quidditch stadium... and watching you. You were very good." You said absent mindedly, not noticing how that surprised him.

"I didn't know you were watching me particularly tesoro." He smirked, and you frowned. That name had stirred something in you... THEO! That was his name.

"I always do, I don't want any of you guys to get hurt, you're my best friends." You said, seeming confused as Theo's smirk dropped.

Right. Of course you wouldn't be watching just him. That would have been ridiculous. So why did he feel disappointed?

"But that's all I remember. What else happened?" You said, looking interested.

Theo hesitated. Did he tell you? Aw what the hell, you were going to find out anyway.

"You were watching the game with Pansy when an unnamed beater on the Gryffindor team threw a hissy fit and hit a bludger at you. I say unnamed because although I know exactly who it was that hit it, I couldn't be bothered to learn his name. Perhaps you can identify him?" Theo nodded towards a figure lying in a bed a few beds down to your right.

You craned your neck to see. They seemed to have a broken nose, and several bruises covering their face, making them look like some strange purple smurf.

"The grumpy lady said I have amnesia right? So honestly, given he looks like a bruised potato, I have no idea who that is." You said, smiling slightly, before looking again, this time noticing the patients name written on a get well soon card. 

"Actually, now that you mention it, a name does come to mind... A Jack Sloper I think?" 

Theo frowned, looking at the boy again. "If he's that recognisable, Tom and I clearly didn't do a good enough job." 

You giggled. "It's on his card, Teddy. His get well soon card. He probably needs all the well wishes he can get, given his current state."

Theo's lip twitched, and you saw a hint of a smile. "Glad to be of service." You smiled, which then flipped into a frown. "But... the scottish lady... what's her name... Old MacDonald?" At that Theodore laughed, a deep laugh that was all all too rare noise. 

"McGonagall, y/n." You beamed. "Right, thanks!" He shook his head, smiling at you. "Anyway, McGonagall, there's no way she let you get away with this." At that, Theo winced. 

"That bad huh?" He grimaced, and you braced for impact. "Two months detention." He said, shaking his head. You sighed. "Not expelled then." Theo looked shocked. "God no tesoro, she was rather sympathetic to my cause actually." You straightened. "Which was?" 

Theo frowned. "He hurt you y/n, I couldn't just let him get away with no repercussions." You looked confused. "You didn't beat up that Hufflepuff guy when he broke our blonde friends name..." You searched for a name, racking your brain. 

"Astoria, and I won't tell her you forgot her name, lest she murder you in cold blood." Theo chuckled lowly. You smiled gratefully, then remembered your question. "So, why'd you beat up Sloper and not the Hufflepuff when he hurt Astoria?" You asked softly, fiddling with your pale cream bedsheets.

"Perché Astoria non sei tu." He rolled his eyes. (Because Astoria isn't you.) 

You frowned. "There you go again with the ravioli. What's special about me? I can't mean much more than her." Theo hesitated, as if he'd made a mistake. "You're not special. I've just known you longer, you're an obligation, not a choice, y/n." He replied, voice slightly cold. 

That hurt, and he saw it in your face, internally cursing himself. This is why it was stupid to be close to you, he'd just end up hurting you with stupid words and silly lies and ridiculous promises.    

"I know. Don't worry." You whispered, eyes roving over the vibrant colours of the flowers on Sloper's bedside. "But you don't need to fight for me, Theo." Unknowingly, that hurt Theo. 

You'd said you wanted a soulmate who would defend you, and now that he'd done it for you, you were saying you didn't need him to. Clearly you didn't want him to be like your ideal soulmate. You didn't want him. And not only that, he was Theo again. Not Teddy. Just Theo, what everyone else called him. Well, everyone else he cared even a little for. 

"I know, don't worry." He replied coldly, standing and leaving. You felt horrible. He'd fought for you, risked his safety, and you'd rebuked him. You hoped he wasn't too upset over it. Something in you felt wrong when he was upset. 

He came back in after a moment. "Y/N, I'm sorry." He sighed. "This has probably been a lot for you. And I know what you're saying, don't feel bad. I gotta go to detention though, okay Tesoro? I'll see you later solare." He kissed your forehead and then left. And everything felt better. (Darling, sunshine)

A month had passed since you were freed from the jail of the hospital wing and you were flying high, except for the fact that you had hardly seen Theo, given his two months detention. You missed your best friend, least of all because of the major crush you'd been harbouring for a year or so.

You had been reminded of the existence of soulmates, but were still not sure how people knew they were soulmates, and hadn't wanted to ask for fear of being thought stupid. Unfortunately, you were about to find out. Or, think so.

"Y/N!" A voice called after you as you walked out of class. You span, and noticed Cormac McLaggen watching you with an unreadable expression. 

"Yeah?" You replied uncertainly. 

"Can I talk to you for a moment? It's really important." He called. You nodded carefully, following him. 

"I know this must come as a shock, but we're soulmates." You started. "What?" You were confused.

"I know, it shocked me too, I had no idea, it doesn't feel real. I'm so happy, though. I knew we were meant to be together." He said excitedly, smirking. "How... How do you know?" You asked, trying to look indifferent. 

"Well, I know you forgot how soulmates work, but the man in the relationship can always tell. You feel this weird pull towards her, and then you just know. I know you can feel it too." He said, so convincingly. 

You looked at him. He looked so convinced, so excited. How could you tell him you couldn't feel it? "Yes, I feel it." You said, trying to sound convinced. He looked surprised for a second, before his face relaxed. "Good, good! So, can I take you out?" 

You thought for a second. He was your soulmate after all. "Okay, sure." You put on a bright smile. 

"Awesome, meet me in Hogsmeade this weekend then." He said, walking away. Was that it? Your soulmate? You thought it would be more. A magical flash of light, some weird pull... but nothing. But he was. He was. So you would push through. 

(A month later)

You were in your dorm bathroom with Pansy and Astoria, getting ready for a date with Cormac. He wasn't a perfect soulmate, but he was okay? Right? He forced you to spend an awful lot of time with him. As a result, you'd barely seen your friends since he spoke to you the first time. As for Theo... you hadn't seen him properly since the hospital wing, besides a few group hangouts, due to his detention, which had finally ended tonight. And you missed him. 

"-Y/N!" A voice called you and you snapped out of your thoughts. "Hmm? Yes sorry?" 

"I was asking how it felt for you when you first saw colours again. You know, when you first looked at McLaggen." Astoria said, smiling.

You frowned. "What?" Pansy looked confused. 

"You know, when you look at your soulmate, and the colour comes back into your life after the grey." Pansy said, trying to prompt your memory. "Maybe your memory still isn't all there." She said sympathetically. 

"When you turned sixteen, you would have lost the ability to see colours for a bit, until you saw McLaggen." Astoria explained, smiling. "I was asking how it felt for you to see colours again." 

You froze, tensing up. You had been able to see colours before you see Cormac. You had been able to see colours way before then. Oh god. Why had Cormac lied to you?

"Y/N? So, how'd it feel?" You jerked back into consciousness. "Umm, yeah, it felt good." You said, and realised they were watching you. You noticed your expression had dropped and upped the wattage of your smile. That put them off for a little, at least until you were gone. 

You decided to wait near the library, which was where Cormac had said he'd meet you. Let the waiting begin. As you waited, you began to wonder. Was Cormac even your soulmate like he said he was? He'd have no reason to lie about that. And even so, if you'd always been able to see colours, maybe your soulmate was dead? That made sense. Maybe your soulmate was dead, and Cormac knew, so he replaced him. 

You frowned. That was ridiculous, nearly Aaron Warner level delusional. And McLaggen still wasn't there for you to ask. 

And little did you know, he wouldn't be for quite a while. 

Theo's POV

Finally, a night without detention. It had been a seriously long time since he'd had a free night, and he revelled in it. Not that it hadn't been worth it, Sloper would be much careful with his bat now, and he'd managed to get an apology to you. Not without Theo threatening him though and Tom glaring at him ominously. 

Although having to babysit a load of excitable and enthusiastic first years was not the way anybody would want to spend every Tuesday. How were they so happy? And enthusiastic? And not absolutely drowning in homework? No, Theo couldn't understand it. But hey, they were at least invested in learning chess, which he taught them with great patience. Tom, not so much. 

He had been asked to tutor second years, and reduced a poor Ravenclaw girl to tears, earning him another additional day of detention. 

Theo slid down onto a couch in the common room with Blaise to his left. Dracp clapped him on the back, grinning. "Welcome back to having a social life, Nott." Theo grimaced slightly, but let a smile grace his face.

"Catch me up then, what did I miss?" He said, trying to seem nonchalant, when in reality, he was dying to know the castle gossip. Not that he'd ever tell Pansy and Astoria, they'd hound him for eternity. 

"Umm... let me think. Oh yeah, so, Anna Dbrovnik in 7th year had a pregnancy scare, but it was okay because it turned out she hadn't even had sex, Lavender Brown has a crush on Ron Weasley, and Y/N and Cormac McLaggen started dating." Astoria reeled off, noticing Theo's face harden and him sit up at her last words. 

"What?" He said lethally quietly. "Oh yeah, turns out he's her soulmate, which none of us really saw coming, and now they're going out. Weird right?" Pansy continued brightly, obviously aware of what she'd just done.

"I didn't know it was possible to have two soulmates." Theo said quietly. Seven heads turned his way. "Alright man, what the flip?" Said Lorenzo, earning a badly disguised giggle from Mattheo. 

"Y/N's my soulmate, and now I find out I have to share her with McLaggen?" Theo spat bitterly. Some cruel trick of nature. "That's not possible. Everyone only has one soulmate, it's written into the laws of the universe or something." Tom said, trying to appear indifferent. 

"So that means either you're lying, which I doubt, or McLaggen is. WHAT A LITTLE WHORE!" Astoria screeched, furious on your behalf. "Alright, calm down babe." Pansy grabbed her shoulders, pulling Astoria back and kissing her head. 

"I WILL NOT BE SILENT! SOME UGLY GRYFFINDOR HOE HAS DECIEVED MY BEST FRIEND!" Astoria said, voice raising in decibels with each syllable. 

Pansy thought for a second, and then realised something. "She already knows."

There was a sharp intake of breath from several people, before Blaise asked the all important question. "How do you know?" 

Pansy slid down onto the sofa. "She froze up when we asked her how it felt to find out McLaggen was her soulmate. We mentioned the whole colours thing and she looked so confused, she clearly didn't know that that's how it works. How did we not see that?" Pansy groaned. 

Theo coughed. "So... if she knew he wasn't her soulmate and knew he'd been lying to her, why did she still go to him?" He said, trying to douse the flame burning in his chest with water. 

"Knowing Y/N, that's not going to be a date for her, it's going to be a confrontation." Draco smirked. The water became gasoline, the fire burning it's way through his body before reaching his brain and shocking him into motion.

"I have to tell Y/N. I have to at least talk to her, even if she rejects me." Theo said, standing quickly. Pansy scoffed. "Yeah, as if she's about to reject you." Astoria giggled, and Theo froze. 

"What?"

Theo, you're almost as blind as Astoria without contacts." Astoria stopped giggling and glared at her girlfriend, who gave her an apologetic look. "Y/N's had an itty bitty massive crush on you since you were kids, Theo." Pansy said, rubbing his shoulder sympathetically. "So don't screw this up, or we'll all hit you to Pluto." She said brightly. Theo turned to the group. 

"That true? You'd all hit me to Pluto if I hurt her?" There was a collective silence, and Theo exhaled. "Wow, thanks guys." He said sarcastically. 

"I'd only hit you to mars, but that's because of cracky joints." Enzo offered. Theo rolled his eyes, standing and leaving the common room, speed walking down corridors to try and find you. 

"WRONG WAY! SHE'S AT THE LIBRARY!" Pansy called after him. He flushed, before turning and running the correct way. 

...

Your POV

You had been waiting just under half an hour for McLaggen, with him still no show. You sighed quietly, before beginning to walk away from the library, wandering aimlessly towards the Gryffindor common room to try check on him. 

You had barely got a corridor away when McLaggen appeared infront of you, chest heaving and out of breath. "GOT- HELD- UP- WITH- UH... HOMEWORK!" He wheezed, catching his breath. Your eyes quickly roved over him, taking in his appearance. You noticed his half done belt, and a lipstick print on his ruffled collar, his rumpled shirt.

You didn't have to be a Ravenclaw to work that one out. But instead of feeling upset, or angry, or mad.. you felt nothing. Maybe a little disappointed, given you thought he was better than that, but honestly? Recent events had dissipated the few shreds of respect you still had for him. 

"Yes, I'm sure homework can be incredible distracting." You said quietly. He didn't appear to notice. "Right so, shall we go?" He said presumptuously. You shook your head. 

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you." You said nervously. He groaned. "Y/N, you talk too much, we'll be late." He said, rolling his eyes, gripping your wrist and attempting to pull you along. A few students looked on at this. You bit back a retort, wrenching your wrist from his grip. 

"Why'd you tell me we're soulmates?" You asked carefully. He turned, shock evident on his face as his hand became clammy. "Because we are, babe. Come along now." He said through gritted teeth. You shook your head vehemently, as Theodore and a few of your other friends came around the corner, out of breath, Theodore in front.

"I could see colours before I saw you. You took advantage of me, and you lied to me. I want to know why." You took a step closer, glaring at him. 

He took a step back, a smirk crossing his face, which you felt a burning urge to slap. "Calm it, Y/N, or I'll think you're confused. You sure you don't need to see madam Pomfrey?" He said in mock sympathy, obviously trying to get a laugh out of his audience. No-one laughed. 

Theo stepped forward, coming to stand beside you. "You can do this, Tesoro. Don't let him gaslight you." He whispered to you. You smiled. Cormac frowned.

"What are you saying to her?" He glared. 

"I'm telling her the best way to dismember you without getting caught." Theo deadpanned, smirking at you with that signature look of his. You grinned up at him, and Tom raised an eyebrow. "You're talking about method five right?" He said, frowning.

Theo rolled his eyes. "I was being sarcastic, but yes, if I was to tell her I'd use that one." Tom nodded and returned to his position against the wall. 

"You're being stupid, Y/N. You know I'm your soulmate, so stop being so ridiculous." He scoffed, pulling you towards him. Theo gently pulled you back, pulling McLaggen's hands off of you with such force that he winced. 

"You don't touch her, Signor Piccolo Cazzo." Theo taunted, glaring. He pushed you behind him. "You don't get to walze in here, gaslight her and act like she's the problem. È incredibile e tu non meriti di pulirle le scarpe." (Mr Small dick) (She's incredible, and you are not worth of wiping her shoes.)

McLaggen clenched his fists, clearly not knowing what Theo was saying, but getting the gist of it. "Look it's none of your goddamn business Nott, just fuck off back to your own country." You started at that, walking forward and slapping him across the face. Cormac reeled. 

"FUCK Y/N? WHY WOULD YOU HIT YOUR SOULMATE?" He yelled, clearly playing the victim. No-one came to help him. 

"She's not your fucking soulmate." Theo said, lethally quiet. You were surprised. How did he know that?

"YOU CAN'T PROVE THAT NOTT, CAN YOU? HOW DO YOU KNOW?" McLaggen taunted him. And that was Theo's breaking point. 

"BECAUSE SHE'S MY SOULMATE. SHE'S MEANT TO BE MINE, AND I'M FUCKING HERS, AND MERLIN DAMN ME IF I LET A STRONZO LIKE YOU STEAL HER HEART." Theo exploded, towering over McLaggen. 

You froze. Looking at Theo. Looking at McLaggen. Looking at Theo. Him looking at you.

 "It's you." 

It wasn't a question. It was barely a statement. It was a truth, unknown until now. 

"Whatever. You were a fucking bet anyway." Cormac said, rolling his eyes. At that, Theo turned, and you gripped his wrist, pulling him away from McLaggen. 

"I don't want you to get in trouble." You whispered to him. 

"Solare, right now I couldn't care less." He murmured to you. You smiled, shaking your head. "I don't think we need to do anything." You gestured to a furious Ravenclaw girl. 

"You said you'd broken up." She glared at Cormac. "Y/N, girl, I swear I wouldn't have gone near him if I'd known you were still together." She said, turning to you apologetically. You shook your head, smiling. 

"Don't worry." She smiled gratefully, before her friends dragged him off, no doubt to violently insult him.

You turned back to Theo, before you hugged him tightly. He started, before he wrapped you into a hug, putting his chin on your head. (Before someone says something about being a pick me short girl, I'm literally 5'2 irl lol I'm basing this off of my height and experiences (or lack of)

"So..." You whispered, looking up at him. He smiled down at you, that small smile reserved only for you. 

"I know." He exhaled. 

"Why didn't you tell me? It's not like you didn't have time, hell, you must have known like eight months?" You said, upset. 

"I wanted you to come to me because you like me, not because we habe some soul connection. And I was pretty sure I was the last guy around that you'd want as your soulmate. When you described your ideal soulmate, you said someone willing to defend you, and when I did, you told me I didn't need to. I was confused, Bella." He said desperately.

"I told you you didn't need to because I hate seeing you hurt! It physically pains me, Teddy." Theo tightened his hold on you at that. "I really really care about you Theo, and that's probably because I'm desperately in love with you." You said, cheeks warming as you looked down. "You feel right. And you were the first thing I saw when I woke up, which is why I was always able to see colours." You realised.

You felt a hand on your chin, tilting your face up before a pair of lips met your forehead. Then your nose. Then each of your cheeks. The corner of your mouth. And finally, your lips.

Your first kiss with Theo was everything you had imagined in your little daydreams before bed to help you fall asleep. Except, this time, your brain hadn't just skipped to the good part, you had actually gone through and experienced all the build up. And god was it worth it. 

He pulled back after a moment, and your lips chased his, eliciting a chuckle from him as he kissed you back. 

"I love you like you are my oxygen. My sunshine." He murmurs to you, holding you close and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You giggled.

"We've both been such idiots." You whispered, smiling. 

"Thank god Pansy told me you love me or this would have been mortifying." He smirked, laughing lowly. You gasped. 

"PANSY!" You struggled against the hands around your waist, attempting to get to her. "THEO- LET- ME- GO!" You glared at your soulmate as he chuckled.  

"Much as I'd love to see you try fight, love, I don't want you to hurt your friends." You glared. "WHY?!"

"You'd be sad in the morning." He said, smiling. 

"Seriously? That's your only objection?" Pansy looked unimpressed. 

Theo shrugged. "If it makes her happy." He smiled down at you, where you had given up in your attempts to escape and were relaxing back into his warmth. 

"Damn you and your stupid perfectness." You whispered to him, , and he leaned down and kissed you until you were smiling again.

A/N: My first soulmate AU! GAH! Hope you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment or reblog if you did, requests still open, have a good one <3

5.3K words

#harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherins #slytherin boys headcanons #slytherin boys fluff #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott #theodore nott x you #theodore nott headcanons #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x fem!reader #soulmate au

[i-am-a-fan]

Question time cuz now I'm curious! (Mainly pirate AU cuz you guys sorta caused a fixation) What is the mark on her forehead? Is it related to her inheriting the samadhi fire or is it related to her draconic past? :0 IS THERE A FIC I CAN CONSUME?? Is there other refs on the making? I'm interested to see Sandy's design :3 Are you and spoof like co-au authors, or do you guys kinda pass the au kinda like hot potato? (lol) I noticed that in the concept for the pirate AU it had a doodle indicating that the treasure (which I'm presuming is the staff from previous post 👀👀) is located on Macaques eye. (probably, idk) and that Mk is the key. So uh. Bestie. How does t h a t work???? (Am nervous of angst)

Loving the details! Love the Au! Love any silly thing, either way keep it up Speck!

-your friendly mutual Peony (I should change my pfp lol)

OKAY. IMMA JUST RAMBLE BECAUSE I GOT SOME ANSWERS THAT ARENT SPOILERS. WAHOOO!!! This got long. So just click see more for all the answers

summary:

1. Both. 2. Yes and no. 3. No refs but comics are still being sketched. 4. It’s more like a game of telephone, and 5. i’ll explain when we get there.

1. The mark on mei’s forehead is actually from both!

My inspiration was the pattern on the back of redson’s jacket in the show. It has 3 fireballs and three lines in the middle. Since i deeply love putting in tiny details I of course used this as inspiration for the markings on redson’s back in the au.

The same markings that they got when the samadhi fire was ripped away from their body and sealed into the golden rings. However, it looks like part of the pattern is missing from the burn marks on redson…

2. Is there a fic? Yes and no. I’m still super new at writing fan fiction and comics are my go-to place for storytelling, as a result I’m hesitant to actually release any fic to the public. More so, the comics give me some time to actually think about what I want the plot to be, since i’m just laying down train tracks as I go. (Terrible. i know.)

3. Are there any refs in the making? Honestly? right now, no. Ref sheets are fun but only when you draw that character a lot. And unfortunately, just doing the mei sheet took me around 20 hours total to get it where i wanted it to be. So, i’m still working on other sheets. However, since you asked about Sandy..

He’s supposed to appear in the next comic which will probably take me a while to do. So please be patient! With finals and everything I have no idea what my day to day looks like.

4. Are me and @spoofyleaf co-authors or is this a game of hot-potato? I think it’s closer to a game of telephone, where things get lost in translation sometimes, but over all the message gets passed. The amount of rambling they endure from me in ungodly and i appreciate them. so much.

5. The concept art… uhh don’t worry about :>

THANK YOU FOR YOUR QUESTIONS!!!

#to other people who have given me asks on this au. I do read them!! #i love them all so much #but a lot of them are story spoilers and i plan on getting to those later #so forgive me if i take a while to respond to them #thank you as always for asking! #i love your questions #:D!!! very excited #lmk pirate au #specks lmk au #lmk au #🐊?

[simpjaes]

idk if u would like this but. idol!jake fingering idol!reader while he reads out loud what people online say about her when they sexualize her / write smut abt her😂

i don't typically do idol aus but i literally haven't stopped thinking about this for like...days. wc: 706

"look how tight they think you are." Jake coos in your ear from behind, arms that were once wrapped around you in a warm hug now holding you against him just so he can keep up the pace under your shorts with his fingers. "imagine if they knew they were right."

you can't help the warmth that fans your cheeks. you'll never get used to it when he does this with you, always eager to read and see what people have to say about you online, only to end up hard and touchy after looking a bit too into it.

you know what you signed up for regarding this career path. there would be smut, there would be comments, there would be all sorts of pornographic materials made about you. that's something you came to terms with before you even made this decision, but realizing that Jake, a man within this same career path, ignores his own smut just to read yours?

you'd argue he may be one of the anonymous accounts writing it in the first place given how he reacts. sometimes he's jealous, other times he's reminded that he's the one who gets to do these things to you.

just like right now, as he recites specific passages from some raunchy fan fiction he said you had to hear about. you were gonna ask him how he found it, and why he's already read it, but you didn't really have to.

considering that warm and endearing hug from earlier absolutely included his cock already hard and probably leaking in his pants.

"pretty skin, all swollen from the bites." Jake continues to read, whispering in your ear as he starts dragging his teeth down your neck. "tight cunt, dripping and needy." he continues, scissoring his fingers open to remind you of just how well these fans must know you.

"Oh, look babe," Jake smiles, angling his fingers just right to have you rolling your eyes. "how come you say all sorts of dirty shit here, but you're too shy to do it for me?"

you can't turn to look at him with a quirked brow like you wish you could, but you're aware that he probably knows the dumbfounded look on your face.

"tell me to fuck you." He dead-pans behind your neck with a breathy whispers, moving to the other side to nibble against your ear. "Be like her, tell me how deep you wish i could be in you right now." ah, the flush is back and your cheeks are on fire. You've never been much of a talker in bed, but having to live up to the half-truths some horny fan wrote is...well.

both hot and creepy. You'd never have paid these websites a single glance if it weren't for Jake consistently reading them out to you.

you can't bring yourself to be like that for him, as you dip your head against his arm and shake your head 'no.' jake smiles at how cute you truly are, sliding his fingers out to circle your clit, reminding himself that he's got the real girl right here. "just say it once baby, please." Jake says playfully, kissing your jawline as he feels your hips move up and against the pads of his fingers, aiming your clit right where you want it. "You'd sound so pretty- just like they said you would." something inside of you cringes, but another part of you ignites at how into every version of you Jake seems to be. You take in a breathe, releasing a slight moan from the pressure below as you sigh out for him. "fuck me, jake." ah, he's so proud to be the one to hear those words. So, so fucking proud to be the one to get to do it to you. And fuck, he'd give just about anything to rub it in those chronically online loser's faces. After all, that's his girlfriend they're writing about. No matter how hot, no matter how much Jake would love for you to be just like the version of you in some of these fics, he'll be fucking damned not to love you how you really are. So pretty, so sweet, so willing to indulge him.

#enhypen smut #jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake sim smut #enhypen hard hours

[dcxdpdabbles]

I loved Summon AU, is it possible that you make more Summon AU?

The aftermath of the summoning leaves the Wayne Manor in a strange sense of foreboding. No one really knows what the Ghost King has done with their list or what it means for them that he has accepted.

Everyone tried to go about their daily lives, attempting to act like they weren't looking over their shoulders. Bruce had nearly broken a blood vessel when he heard about them doing a stupid online trend when they knew magic and gods were real.

They couldn't think of a better excuse for why they did besides "it seemed funny at the time."

Bruce had been so unimpressed with them all that he broke out the big guns.

That night, Alfred grounded them. He really sat everyone- minutes Cass because she had escaped through the window after Danny called- and told them they would not be allowed to use any form of technology unless it was related to their nighttime job.

They would also be given a chore list to complete every day until their punishment was over.

Even though neither Dick or Jason lived at home anymore, they too were grounded and didn't bother to even try to argue with the aging butler. Cass was informed of her own punishment through a text, and she returned about thirty minutes later, ready to face her punishment.

She reorganized everything in storage- and in Wayne Manor, there was a lot in storage- without a single complaint, but she did seem somewhat nervous. And excited?

Like a child waiting to open a present.

That was out of character for Cass, but no one was brave enough to ask her about it. Life before the manor was a taboo topic when it came to Cass.

A week later, her restless behavior finally came to light.

When the doorbell rang, Alfred was just looking over the wood polishing job Tim and Damian had been assigned. Confused- as there were no expected guests and the kids were all still grounded- he approached the door cautiously. Tim was on standby in case things went south.

A young adult, likely barely eighteen, with pretty blue eyes, a vast, charming smile, and a gorgeous winter-themed dress, was on the other side of the door. Their hair is short but styled to have one side longer than the other, framing their face perfectly.

A spinnable circle pin on her dress read Gender Fluid in the unmovable part and "She/Her day" in the spinal part.

"Hi there," She chirps, a dimple on full display. "I'm Danny."

"Good afternoon, Danny. My name is Alfred. How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if Cass was home?" Dany starts surprising Alfred and Tim -who were eavesdropping around the corner- as the girl carefully plays with her hair. "I was hoping to talk to her."

"Miss Casandra is currently not allowed guests." The butler starts slowly. He watches her face fall dramatically before humming. "I can, however, pass along a message to her."

"Oh yeah, that be great. Please let her know Danny was wondering if she would like to go with me to see a ballet tonight. Um if she's allowed to go out."

Tim's eyes widen. A date? Danny had come here in person to ask Cass if she wanted to go on a date? Then had the courage to ask Alfred, to his face, if she could take his grandaughter out?

Who is she? Tim thinks amazed. He wants to text the rest of the group chat, which would invade Cass' privacy. He waits a few minutes until Alfred responds.

"Miss Casandra is currently grounded. Unfortunately, she and her siblings cannot leave until their punishment ends."

Tim winces. Hopefully, Cass being nineteen and still being grounded at her age didn't scare off Danny. Some people didn't understand how much power Alfred's word had over the manor and frankly, those people didn't deserve Cass anyway.

But it would make her sad.

"Oh, that's okay. Thank you for letting me-"

A scream makes everyone jump. Tim whirls around to find Damian pressed against the main stairway. His face has gone three sheets of white, staring at Danny with horror.

"Y-you!"

Danny tilts her head. "Me?"

"Y-you!" Damian gasps and Tim is highly alarmed that his voice is tinted with fear. "Why are you here?!"

"I came to ask Cass if-"

"You will not take Cain from me, Ghost King! I will destroy your core before you try to get near her!" Damian screams, hand suddenly holding a glowing green sword, but his threat doesn't hold much because he is literally shaking in his boots. "You have your summon payment already! You shall leave Cain alone!"

What.

"Oh! You think no, no. I'm not here for her soul or anything. Cass and I go way back when she lived on the streets. " Danny- the ghost king they summoned using a list of their gay awaking apparently- laughs, waving her hands as if to calm the young child. "I liked her for a while but thought she didn't feel the same. Until the summoning, where I saw my name on the list. We talked it out, and I was hoping to take her on a first date, you know?"

"You lie!" Damian races down to point his sword at Danny, looking just as wild as a cornered animal about to fight for its life. "Why would the strongest being in the multiverse live on the streets?!"

"Well....it's not like they pay to rule the dead....I had a rough patch, but Cass helped me get back on my feet." Danny muttered, slightly embarrassed. Then she squits at Damian. "Wait, are you a al Ghul?"

Damian breaks into a sweat as Danny gasps, "You are! You're family owes me so much money in backed up taxes for the healing pool! We cut off contamination maintenance because Ra's refused to pay years ago! Kid, do you know I can get into contact with your family member about the Lazarus pit?"

Damian screamed again, turned around, and ran, leaving a stunned Alfred, Tim and Danny. "Guess not. Anyway, sorry to be a bother Mr. Alfred, I'll come back when Cass can go out. Bye!"

A familiar portal rips under Danny as she falls through with a cheerful wave. Alfred and Tim watch it close in a moment before Tim turns to the butler. "Did I inhale too many polishing chemicals? Am I hallucinating?"

"No, my dear boy, I saw everything as well."

"Oh, good. " Tim pauses. " One of us needs to speak to Damian and Cass."

Alfred closes the door slowly. "I'll find Master Damian. You go for Miss Cassandra and Master Tim?"

"Hmm?"

"The next time, Mister Conner sends you a fun trend to try. Don't."

"Yeah, that's fair."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Ghost King summon Dare Au #Cass and Danny know eachother on the streets #The al Ghul be running from the ghost IRS #Danny is gender fluid #Cass bought them the pin #Alfred is so done with his kids #They stress him out

[boiohboii]

The people's sweethearts

Chapter 1

(Verstappen!reader x tom holland x zendaya)

Soulmate au

YN Verstappen had been through hell, by her own father, for something she didn't even ask for. She grew up learning that she should hate what was given to her, after all it was the reason her father was always angry with her. So what should she do when the one thing she learned to hate is the one thing that brings her love, safe and comfort that not even her older brother can compare.

WARNING: not proof read, Jos Verstappen (worsned like 10 times for this fic) poly relationship, derogatory terms by father, abusive father. If I missed anything else please let me know

Masterlist

Max and Yn Verstappen are close, really close, some would even say they are too close for being siblings, after all it's not usual for an 18 year old to go live with her older brother in a country 2 hours away (by plane) from her university rather than just to rent something close by.

Everyone had very harsh words to say about the pair of siblings, some still do but these are just people who hate max verstappen and they know nothing angers him more than someone insulting his baby sister, everyone was very vocal about how strange, weird and abnormal it is for 2 grown siblings to live together.

Everyone thought that the Verstappen siblings would change their living arrangements after Max and Kelly found each other, only to be surprised by Max buying a bigger penthouse that'd be enough for all 4 of them.

Everyone was negative about the prospect of the redbull formula one driver being followed around by his little sister until the release of The Anatomy of A Champion came out.

When the producers of the show pitched in the idea of talking to yn, max had refused, he wanted his sister nowhere near any of these vultures knowing how bad it can, and most probably will, get. Max was aware from a very young age that what his dad was constantly saying and doing to him and his sister wasn't normal, whenever he was at a race he would see the other boys' dad's hugging them and telling them they did a good job even if they didn't get first place, he would see how other's would have their father waiting for them with water and towels, and most importantly he would see how other dad's had their daughter on their shoulder making the other little girls laugh; Why does dad only make yn cry?

He remembers it so clearly, the way his father hit his sister because of something out of her control, something that she didn't even ask for, something that was thrown at her, it was the day his sister got her soulmark.

Everyone had a soulmark that appeared on their 5th birthday and today was yn's which made jos take her to the soul doctor. Soulmarks were complicated, which is why soul doctors were important, they let you know more about your mark and the bond that's to form between you and your other half.

"Wow young lady, you'll have twice the amount of love it seems."

"What?"

Max knew his father's tone, he know that he's angry and he unconsciously held onto yn's hand, hoping that his father wouldn't take his anger out on her.

"Well Mr Verstappen you see these lines," the doctor gently held up yn's wrist, turning it over to show off her newly given mark "that's an indicator of one soulmate, I'd say he is 3 or 4 years older than her given the shade of the mark, while this other lines that are in a circular shape indicate the other soulmate, he seems to also be around 3 or 4 years older as well. It looks like the mark that indicates young miss yn here is the moon, with how the moon is in the center I would say that yn would be the last in the group meaning that her two other soulmates will meet each other before they meet her."

Jos was angry throughout their drive home, he had already smacked yn into the car while rushing her to get in and as soon as they were in the car he hit her across the head, his arms tall enough to reach the young girl in the backseat. That was the first time max heard these words that would be so easy to recite within a few weeks.

"Two soulmates? Why couldn't you just be normal, why do you have to be such a slut?"

The ride back home was one of the worst max and yn had ever expirenced.

"Two soulmates, ridiculous.They're not even going to want you! They'd meet each other before they even know you!! At least if you turn out to be good for nothing I can just pimp you out on the street, maybe then you'd be useful, and it's not like your soulmates will even like you or want you. Unlovable whore."

"So," the interviewer started as Sophie Kumpen sat on a white sofa in Max's home in Monaco "how is your relationship with your youngest?"

"It's not as close as I'd want it to be," the mother of three confessed as she looked into the camera "yn is a very sweet girl, she had been through a lot. When Jos and I divorced she wasn't really aware of what was going on, she was too young to understand, and as she grew older all she could see was Max. He had been the one to take care of her: i remember once when Max was around ten years old he called me up, asking me how to make a soup because yn was sick and jos was out god knows where.

Max and YN were and are always there for each other, and I don't think that will ever change. I'm sure everyone thought their relationship will sort of tweak a bit when Max and Kelly met each other, but I don't think Max will ever allow that and it's not like Kelly even tried to change their relationship, she was the one who was apartment hunting for all of them while Max was racing and Yn was back in England for her university." 

"Do you think yn is putting in the effort to be there for Max?"

"Oh definitely, I mean studying mechanical engineering along with aerospace engineering at one of the top universities in the world is enough proof. Her whole life revolves around Max and I don't think it's a bad thing. Max had been her everything, he's the one she always goes to cause he is all she knows. When she was deciding what to do right after high-school all she said was that she will choose the majors that'll help her get an internship at formula one so that she'd be there with Max for the rest of his races, however long he wants to be there."

"Do you know what happened between Jos, Max and Yn? Don't you think it's weird that once Max turned 18 he asked Christian Horner to ban his father from the paddock? And to help him have yn with him as much as possible?"

"I'm not really going to go into the details of it, but Jos has done a lot of damage, especially to yn. It's not something I can talk about, not that I even want to, but Jos was a terrible husband and a wose father, I'm insanely glad that yn and max turned out as good and well as they are. Seeing them so close is not something that's surprising me given what Jos did to them, to yn" Sophie's voice broke as a few tears escaped her eyes "sorry, it's just, what she had to go through, it's traumatic and I'm happy that she had Max with her through it all. It fills my heart with joy seeing the little family Max and Yn formed with Kelly and Penelope"

ch. II

#max verstappen x sister reader #verstappen reader #tomdaya x reader #f1 x reader platonic #verstappen!reader #older brother max #max verstappen sister #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #max verstappen fic #f1 x reader #f1 #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x oc #zendaya x reader #zendaya x yn #zendaya x oc #tom holland #zendaya #zendaya coleman

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 1

Covered in scars and left totally numb by your abusive previous owner, you’re considered an “unsellable doll”. That is, until the Doll House takes you in and Sukuna becomes your trainer.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

On the outskirts of town, there stands a particular shop called the “Doll House”. Inside its walls you can find a “doll” to match any taste you might have. All your desires will be fulfilled, no matter how depraved. Satisfaction is guaranteed! The dolls are exceptionally high quality, thanks to the skillful trainers who work with them twenty-four hours a day, molding them into perfect toys for your enjoyment.

Each trainer has a specialty that they focus on, and they all take great pride in their work. Their methods differ greatly, their approaches vary, but they all follow one rule: never get attached to a doll. After the training is complete, they hand the dolls over to their new owners, and never see them again. However, just once over the course of their careers, trainers are allowed to pick a doll they’ve personally trained and keep her as their own.

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Sukuna’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m not keeping the same tag list as before, since this part deals with darker themes. I will resume the tag list after Sukuna’s part is finished! So if you want to be tagged in this one, please specify!

Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. BDSM. Erotic Torture. Needles. Reader is covered in scars. Everything that happens between Sukuna and Reader is consensual but there is mention of abuse by a previous owner. Divider by @benkeibear!

“That’s all you’ll give me for her?”

“I think this is a generous offer, all things considered.”

You’re sitting in a plush leather chair in the office of the owner of the Doll House while your father argues with her about pricing. It’s been going on for thirty minutes now, your father growing more agitated while the owner remains calm and firm. 

“Sir,” the owner begins, leaning forward slightly over her desk, “there are two major issues with your daughter. For one, she has a previous owner. Most of our clients consider that a deal breaker.”

“She was just with that guy a little over a year!” your father retorts, his face slightly red. 

“I’m aware of that. But that leads us to the other issue.”  The owner pauses and glances at you. “Your daughter’s scars are quite prominent. They’re very hard to ignore.”

There’s a hint of an apology in her eyes. It’s unnecessary. You know better than anyone that you’re disfigured. Scars of various types and sizes cover over half your body, including a sizable portion of your face. 

Your father is sweating. “I‘ve heard some clients have weird  tastes, that they actually want… people like her.”

The owner leans back in her chair. “It is true that we sometimes get unusual requests. But it doesn’t happen often. She would have to be given highly specialized training, to emphasize that unique aspect.”

Your father’s face lights up. “Then do that!”

The owner looks from him to you, then says, “I need to speak to her privately before finalizing the purchase.”

“What? Why?” your father asks. 

“It’s a routine part of the interview, I assure you,” the owner replies smoothly. 

Your father hesitates, but then stands up from his seat. He gives you a stern look, a warning look, and then he’s out the door. 

The owner’s face seems to soften slightly. “How do you feel about this?” 

You shrug. “I don’t feel anything. I haven’t in a long time.”

The owner looks at a laptop sitting open on her desk. “Let’s go over a few things in your file first. It says here you were sold on the direct market on your eighteenth birthday. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“You were with your previous owner for sixteen months before being removed, during which time he breached the contract by doing permanent harm. Hence the scars.”

“Yes,” you answer again. 

“And I see that your father sued your previous owner, collecting quite the hefty sum for your suffering.”

You nod. 

The owner closes the laptop and looks at you again. “And I’m guessing your father already blew through that money, despite only two years passing. So he’s selling you again. How many other doll shops has he taken you to so far?”

“Three.”

“Any offers?”

“None,” you say, eyes lowering toward the floor. 

The owner sighs. “If I don’t take you, he’s going to sell you on the direct market again, isn’t he?”

“He already tried,” you tell her, “but he said the offers were too low. If no shop will take me, he’ll probably go back and take a low offer.”

The owner grimaces. “He’s a real sick fuck, your father.”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to take you on?”

You think for a moment, then say, “It doesn’t matter. I can’t feel anything anyway.”

“When you say that,” the owner says, “do you mean physically or emotionally?”

“Both. I’ve been numb for nearly three years now.”

The owner picks up a silk fan from her desk and lightly taps her chin with it as she regards you. After a few moments, she says, “Alright. I’ll take you. I’ll make a slightly higher offer to your father, one he would be foolish to refuse. And in light of your unique circumstances, I’m going to add two extra clauses to your contract. The first is that you will have the option to change trainers if the one I assign to you is too much for you.”

You nod. “And the second?”

“All dolls sold through the Doll House are allowed to come back within one week of being purchased by a client, if they provide sufficient reasoning. In your case, I’m extending that to two weeks, and you don’t have to provide a reason. I’ll take you back, no questions asked, if you feel like your owner isn’t right for you. However, I would advise you not to abuse this privilege.”

“I understand.”

“Alright then. Let’s get your father back in here and finalize the sale.”

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

Sukuna grins when he sees the message on his phone: “I have a new doll for you to train.”

He’s at home, in his swanky, upscale apartment in the city. Though he enjoys his alone time, he very much enjoys his work at the Doll House as well. Unlike the other trainers, Sukuna doesn’t keep a near constant flow of new dolls. He understands why of course. His training produces a very specific sort of doll that only a specific sort of client wants. But he trains enough dolls to keep himself well paid, and the work is incredibly satisfying. 

The standard training time is six weeks, which is exactly the right amount of time for Sukuna to thoroughly enjoy each doll without getting too bored with them before they’re handed over to their owners. He can’t imagine why anyone would want to keep the same doll for ten whole years. He knows he’s not alone in this thought, which is why doll rental services have been growing in popularity lately. 

He packs a few things into a small duffel bag. He keeps plenty of clothes and personal items in his room at the Doll House, so he only has to pack lightly for the six week stay. He’s in a good mood as he turns off the lights and locks the door. 

When  he arrives at the Doll House, he finds a rather interesting young woman sitting in the welcome room. Interesting because half her pretty face is covered in scars, as well as what’s visible of her left arm. Just how far do they extend? He’s looking forward to finding out. 

She glances up at him, but gives no reaction. Strange. Most new dolls look terrified, or at least nervous, when they see him for the first time. It’s probably the tattoos that frighten them. Sukuna is well aware that they make him look like a Yakuza member, or some criminal from a past era. But he so enjoys the way people instinctively shrink back away from them. 

The owner meets him in the welcome room and ushers him into her office. All trainers are briefed on their new dolls, except in unusual circumstances. But the owner looks troubled today, meaning this doll has a story. But he supposes the scars made that obvious already. 

Sitting in a chair across the desk from the owner, Sukuna places one elbow on the cushioned arm and props his face up with his hand. “So? What’s the deal with little Miss gloomy out there?”

The owner is tapping keys on her laptop, then he hears his phone chime from his pocket. “I’ve sent you her file. You really need to read over it. She has a complicated history.”

“Give me the short version,” he says, making a mental note to at least skim the file later. 

“Previous owner who abused and tortured her, shitty father who’s sold her twice now, and… she can’t feel anything.”

That last part captures Sukuna’s attention. “What does that mean?”

“She’s completely numb, both physically and emotionally. I’ve read over her medical reports, and they’ve concluded that there’s no significant nerve damage. The scar tissue dulls her senses in those areas somewhat, but they don’t leave her totally numb like this. And she can’t feel anything in the unscarred areas either.”

“Meaning it’s psychological,” Sukuna says. 

The owner nods. “It’s clearly a defense mechanism. Her body and mind simply shut off all sensation in order to cope. And that’s going to be her biggest issue as a doll. There are plenty of buyers who would find the scars exotic, but a doll who doesn’t react to anything? No one wants that. And if we don’t eventually find a buyer for her, she’s going to get passed around from one scumbag to another on the direct market for the rest of her life.”

Sukuna had little interest in the doll’s sob story, but he was intrigued by the fact that she couldn’t feel anything. “So you want me to fix her? Make her feel again?”

“Yes. I figured if anyone could, it would be you. But be careful. She’s already been shattered. I don’t need you grinding up the pieces.”

Sukuna stands up and heads for the door. “Don’t worry. I’ll reforge her,” he says with a smile, “in a way that pleases me.”

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

The man covered in strange black tattoos introduces himself as your trainer. He’s handsome, well-built, and dressed like a man far too rich to be working here. A few years ago, you might have been attracted to him. Your heart might have fluttered at the thought of him touching you. But now? Now you feel nothing as he tells you to follow him to his room. 

He opens the door and walks in first, turning on the lights as he goes. You follow behind him and look around. The room looks like someone converted a fancy hotel room into a dungeon. 

The deep red carpets and expensive looking furniture contrast with the various… devices around the room. There’s an X shaped table, harnesses and chains hanging from the ceiling, and a wall of leashes, whips, rods, and other such items along the left side of the room. 

Ah, so he’s this type. 

You’re not surprised. Actually, it makes sense. Give the girl who can’t feel pain to the trainer who tortures his dolls. 

The man, who said his name is Sukuna, is watching your face, looking for a reaction. He won’t find one. But instead of seeming disappointed, he’s grinning. 

“My specialty is probably obvious,” he says, to which you nod. Then he goes over to the wall of tools and toys, taking something small and shiny from it. When he returns, there’s a silver, claw-like item on his right index finger. Without a word of warning, he approaches you and quickly swipes the claw over your exposed right forearm. 

You look down, curious, to see a thin red line appear on your skin, small drops of blood beading along it before sliding down. You watch the blood with no expression for a moment before looking back up at Sukuna. 

His grin is wider than before. “You really didn’t feel that,” he says, not a question but a statement. He’s standing in front of you, staring at you, when he says, “Let me ask you something, and think hard about your answer. It’s going to determine how the training proceeds.”

You nod. 

“Do you prefer being this way to how you were before?”

You blink as the question settles into your mind. You’ve never really thought about it before, but do you prefer being numb? It’s helped you block out the hurt you felt upon being sold off by your father, being abused by your owner, but it also blocks out any joy. 

“I… I don’t know.”

He’s looming over you, looking down with an expression you can’t quite place. Is it desire? Pity? Disgust? Or have you lost the ability to distinguish them? 

“Do you want to feel again?” he asks, something about his deep tone telling you to answer honestly. The sheer intensity of his presence is overwhelming you. 

You can still remember when you felt things. You can remember a poor but happy childhood when your mother was still alive. Even after, when things got worse, there were still moments of happiness. Watching movies with a friend, eating cheap snacks from the convenience store down the street. A kiss from the boy you had a crush on in high school. You miss these feelings. And once you realize that, your answer is clear. 

“Yes, I want to feel again.”

“Even if what you feel is pain?” he asks. 

An emotion you haven’t felt in years bubbles to the surface, startling you so much that your voice cracks slightly as you reply, “Yes! I’d love to feel pain again. I’d love to feel anything!”

A smile spreads across his features, and his hands move to your shirt. “I’ll make you feel again,” he says as he pulls your shirt over your head and tosses it aside. “But it will only work if you want it.”

“I… I want it,” you say, realizing with some measure of shock that you’re already feeling emotions you thought long dead. 

He removes the rest of your clothes, leaving them strewn about the floor. Then he stands back to look at you. Completely bare before him, you don’t feel embarrassed. Shame is yet another emotion you can’t seem to feel anymore. But there is a strange prickling sensation on your skin as his eyes rake over you, taking in the scars that form a map of your suffering. 

“It’s like a work of art,” he says, his gaze lingering on the left side of your torso. The words make you feel something else, but you’re not sure what that is. Your own emotions have become unfamiliar to you. 

He leads you over to the X shaped table and lifts you onto it, then spreads you out on it like a meal. He slowly attaches the leather cuffs on each end to your ankles and wrists, still watching your face for any sign of fear. 

There is none. You’re starting to feel things for the first time in three years, but fear isn’t one of them. If he can bring back the girl you once were, one who could laugh and smile and feel, then you’ll accept anything he wants to do to you. 

Once you’re secured to the table, he stands back and unbuttons his shirt. When he slips it off his shoulders, you get a full view of the intricate tattoos on his body. They’re beautiful, the way they move and twist with his body’s motion. 

He steps back to the table and runs one large hand over your arm, trailing it down toward your chest, where he squeezes your scarred breast. You can’t feel it, so you don’t know if he’s squeezing hard or not, but when his fingers lightly slide over your nipple, a tingling sensation blossoms there. What was that? 

Did he notice that you felt something? You don’t think you visibly reacted in any way, but he’s smiling as if he knows. His fingers suddenly pinch your nipple, and you feel pressure, but little else. He maintains eye contact as he leans down and runs his tongue over that same nipple, then wraps his lips around it. You feel it again, that pleasant tingling. It reminds you of something, but you can’t remember what. 

His hand moves to your other breast, where his fingers grope and pinch. You feel this a little more, and your breathing quickens slightly. That’s when he stops abruptly and goes over to the wall again. This time he returns with a rolled up velvet pouch, which he unrolls to reveal a group of very long, very thin, shiny silver needles. 

He pulls one out and holds it up for you to see. “Let’s see how numb you really are,” he says. Then he grips your scarred nipple between his finger and thumb with one hand while using the other to bring the needle closer. He looks up at your face, perhaps still searching for a trace of fear. Finding none, he pushes the needle in, sliding it sideways through your flesh. 

Your breath hitches as a new sensation hits you. This… this is pain! You haven’t felt it in so long, you’d almost forgotten it. When he grips the other nipple, the one with no scar tissue to dull your senses, you almost flinch. He grins up at you, as if he’s reading your mind. He leans down and licks the nipple slowly, awakening it to sensation, before plunging the needle in. 

This time you gasp, your arms reflexively tugging on the restraints. You felt that! Not as keenly as a normal woman would, but far more than you’ve felt anything else in years. It hurt. It still hurts as his hand squeezes your breast, his tongue running over the needle imbedded in your skin. But you welcome the pain. It’s far more preferable to no feeling whatsoever. 

Then he steps back again, and walks around the table to the bottom, where he moves in between your widely spread legs. His hand moves to your pussy, kneading it gently for a moment before his fingers slip inside your folds, finding you clit. 

You draw in a sharp breath as he strokes it, feeling the pleasure so strongly that it’s almost as if you were never numb. Your previous owner had ignored your clit, having no interest in giving you pleasure, so these sensations were entirely new to you. 

When Sukuna uses his fingers to spread you open and leans forward to lick your quivering clit, your body nearly jerks off the table. He rises up and looks at you. “Not so numb down here, are you?”

You can only gasp out shallow breaths.  

His thumb begins stroking you again as he speaks. “I don’t care who your previous owner was.” He reaches over and pulls one more needle from the pouch, his tongue running over you again, making your nerves come alive. “I don’t care if you’ve had a thousand different owners before me.” His thumb and finger pinch your clit, holding it in position. Your heart races as you wait, now holding your breath. “Because now,” he says, gliding his tongue across the glimmering needle in his hand, “you belong to me.”

He pushes the needle into your clit from the bottom and out the top, so slowly that you feel every single bit of it. Your body bucks from the table, your arms and legs jerk against the cuffs, and a loud scream erupts from your mouth as you feel excruciating pain for the first time in three years. 

It’s wonderful. 

Tears spring to your eyes, and you cum on the spot, weeping and shuddering. You were certain you would never experience an orgasm again for the rest of your life, but here you were, riding out the insane pleasure while Sukuna’s tongue prodded your clit, licking over the needle stuck there. 

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

Sukuna watches his doll as she sleeps peacefully in his bed. She passed out not long after the “training session” was over, just as he was unfastening the cuffs on her wrists. He carried her to his bed and laid her there, and now he’s looking over her scarred form once more before covering her. 

He’s surprised by the progress they’d already made, but he can’t get too comfortable. 

Because he noticed it. When he pulled the needles out of her, which should have hurt, she didn’t even flinch. He’d squeezed one nipple afterwards, before beginning to uncuff her, just to test it. This should have made her scream, given how sore she should be, but she had no reaction at all. 

Meaning she’s numb again. The awakening of her senses was only temporary, and wore off after she came down from the high of her orgasm. 

Sukuna smiles. He certainly enjoys a challenge, and it’s clear to him that his job is far from over. 

Tag List:

@akaotv 

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #x reader #jjk smut

[engie-ivy]

(Fic I didn't know I wanted to write! So thank you for the inspiration, @wolfstarmicrofic!)

28th: Dogwalker AU

673 words

Some good old mutual pining between a dogwalker and his client!

Date My Hooman?

“Has he been a good boy?” Sirius is sitting on his knees, scratching Padfoot’s ears (and making quite the sight while doing so).

Remus crosses his arms over his chest. “Now you're just fishing for compliments. You know damn well Padfoot’s always a good boy.”

Sirius grins up at him. “Guilty as charged.” He looks back at Padfoot who's thoroughly enjoying his ear scratches. “I know my dog is great, but I love hearing other people tell me that my dog is great also.”

“Right you are,” Remus chuckles. “How was your day at the office?”

“Dreadfully dull,” Sirius replies instantly. “Really, Remus, you made some good career choices that you now get to play with dogs all day.”

“Well, I don't get to live in a house like that.” Remus nods towards Sirius’ three-story mansion with the sprawling garden around it.

Sirius winks at him as he gets up to his feet. “Maybe if you play your cards right.”

Remus can feel his cheeks heating up.

Before, he was just amused by Sirius’ flirtatious banter, and he actually gave it as good as he got. But now, he suddenly feels flustered, at a loss for words, and wholly out of his depth whenever Sirius makes a comment like that.

After long conversations, with Sirius being the last stop on Remus’ afternoon route, and being subjected to Sirius’ sharp mind and disarming sense of humour, things have changed for Remus.

He used to think that the best part of his day would always be seeing the excitement on a dog’s face when he reaches out to unclip their leash to let them run around the park and play with their friends, but now, it's like nothing compares to seeing the excitement on Sirius’ face at the end of the day as he crouches down to greet his beloved dog after long hours the office. Remus’ days have started to revolve around the moments he brings Padfoot home, and it's becoming A Problem.

“And that's not even taking into account cold, rain, new regulations, demanding clients,” Remus continues, as if he didn't hear Sirius’ last comment.

Then Remus’ own dog, Moony, dashes forward and starts licking a tail-wagging Padfoot’s face, like he knows he has to say goodbye to his friend for now, and Remus’ heart just melts. “Oh, who am I kidding? It's bloody amazing.”

When the dogs have said their goodbyes, it's time for their owners to do so as well.

“See you tomorrow?” Sirius asks.

“Of course.”

“Great.” Sirius beams at him. “Looking forward to it.”

Remus’ heart skips a beat at those words. Yes, definitely A Problem.

Sirius has given Remus the key to the annex besides the main house, so he can pick up Padfoot, take him for a long walk, and then, by the time they return, Sirius will be back from the office and usually already waiting on them.

Sirius has actually turned the annex into a space especially for Padfoot, with water and food, several dog beds, toys, and a dog door, so he can go in and out to the yard whenever he wants. Sirius has even hung framed pictures on the walls of him and Padfoot together. A fuzzy feeling spreads across Remus’ chest upon seeing those pictures. A Problem indeed.

Padfoot immediately comes running, happily wagging his tail, brimming with excitement to go on his walk.

“Calm down, Pads,” Remus laughs, as the dog keeps circling his legs and jumping up and down. “Come on, I need to attach your leash, otherwise we can't go. Hey, what you've got there, buddy?” He spots a piece of paper neatly tucked underneath Padfoot’s collar and he plucks it out. As he unfolds it, he realizes it's a note.

And as he reads, a huge smile starts to spread across Remus’ face.

Dear Remus,

You might have noticed that my hooman has quite a crush on you.

Will you please save me from his desperate pining, and let my hooman take you out on a date?

#give it a few months and remus will be living in that house #dogwalker #dogwalker remus lupin #pining remus lupin #pining sirius black #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Guileless

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, dejection, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The reader attempts to move past her ruination, but is reminded of her tarnish conscience at every turn. (Regency AU, tall!reader)

Masterlist

Character: Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson

Note: thanks to those who waited on this one!.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love coffee and that’s a lot and probably unhealthy. Take care. 💖

It should be the happiest time in your life. You should be elated, and yet, as ever it is, every victory precedes a treacherous defeat. A proposal one day, and despair the next. That nipping of doom in your gut, that ever present doubt, is made certain by the passage of time. It has been much too long. 

You sit in the pews, throat tight as you keep your chin locked. You breathe slowly, as if too sudden an intake might unleash the tempest brewing inside of you. It is more than nerves, you know it, that sicken you so. You should be happy for your pending nuptials but you are only horrified at the thought. 

The bishop reads out the banns before the rows; the first for yourself, the third for your sister. She will be permitted to wed and your mother has presided over much of planning already. You dip your head as your name rings out beside Lord Odinson’s and you swallow back a swell of bile. You’ve been gulping down your own stomach for much of the morning, ever since you caught a whiff of pickled shallots in passing the kitchens. 

You push your head up and your hand down to your lap, knowing you will be observed. You must at least look certain of your fate. You must sit proud for the engagement all would put into question. For the time until it shall all dissolve, you must play your part. 

You can barely keep from wilting where you are. A prudent woman might bite her tongue. She may commit to the theatre of it all. She might lie and get away with the folly. You glance over at Lord Odinson, just across the aisle, and you know you cannot. It isn’t one lie, it’s a lifetimes’ worth of betrayal. 

Yet how should you tell it? It isn’t only him who must know. Your father would need good reason why you’d rather the convent to a proper marriage. You will be ruined but you could not put that stain upon the only person who was ever kind to you. Lord Odinson deserves an honest wife and a child of his own. 

Your insides sour and you nearly spasm as you fight the tide of nausea, brought upon by more than your forsaken condition. Your eyes trail away from your betrothed to another man bound in promise. Lord Rogers sits with your sister, as ever, and she leans on him shamelessly, even beneath the Lord’s rafters. 

She would deny it. She would laugh in your face should you ever reveal the absolute truth. No, you must confess the sin as your own and that alone. You will not name the culprit for they would they never believe you and he would never admit it himself. 

Yet, you know that the Duke Rogers will ever be triumphant in knowing that he has brought the monstrous giant to her knees. You are his Goliath, the vile retched creature he has slain in his valour. He will be hero and you be the villain. 

💟

You hand the letter to the carrier just before noon. You don’t expect an audience to be granted until the next morning at earliest. Lord Odinson is a busy man; an ambassador in much demand between the house and society. Even his betrothed must request his presence. 

The cart rattles through the gates and you watch it fade off into the grim horizon. The winter bites in the air, adding to the chill in your bones. That coldness that freeze over your heart. You must be strong now, as strong as the valkyrie he misnamed you as. 

When you go to Lord Odinson, you will bring the crown to him. You will hand it back and admit your tainted stature to him. You will show him how truly small you are.  

At least, that is what you intend. You may prove yourself weak as ever. However it should unfold, this engagement cannot persist. 

“A day! A day and I shall call you husband,” Cora’s shrill tone greets you as you come through the front doors. She is in the sitting room with Lord Rogers. Your mother continues to fawn over the last-minute details for their wedding. “Isn’t it very exciting, my lord?” 

“And I shall call you wife.” 

“And Duchess,” she preens with a trilling laugh, “oh, how elaborate I shall be.” 

“My Athena,” Rogers drones back, “my goddess, my beloved.” 

“Oh, how darling,” your mother preens over them, “it shall be resplendent. I’ve made certain the cake will be exactly as you like it, dearie. The cook has even procured some citrus for the lemonade.” 

The mention of lemonade makes you shrivel. You recall the sunny day when Lord Rogers spoke to you over a weeping beverage. As you fell for that virulent charm. And all that came after. 

You peer at the grim windows and frown. How everything does change so quickly. Happiness is fleeting and yet disappointment comes as a chronic plight. You will never know a day without shame. 

You flit off without notice. Your heart rents at the thought that you will not have the same fervour. You will not sit and plan your own wedding with Lord Odinson. All your fanciful dreams have evaporated. It is one thing to put a mask on, to pretend as virgin, but you could never foist a bastard upon the kind man who has shown you a taste happiness. You will be certain to thank him for all he’s done but you will not spit in his face. 

As you get to the bedroom doors, your stomach churns violently and you burst through, not stopping as you rush to the pot and fall to your knees. You wretch into it as your body contracts painfully. You empty your stomach until you are panting and hollow. 

“Sister,” Alina startles you as she rolls to the edge of the bed, a novel in hand, “is it a winter ague?” 

“I...” you shakily wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, “I believe so.” 

That lie alone singes your tongue like a brand. Your eyes well with tears and you flick them away with your lashes. You sit back on your heels and heave out a pungent breath. 

“Oh, how awful, and just before the wedding,” she sits up and shuts the novel. “Let us pray it passes quickly. You needn’t delay your own nuptials.” 

“Mm, no, that wouldn’t be...” you let the sentence tail off and you stand, taking the pot with you, “I’ll dump it before it can stink.” 

“If you are unwell, call for the maid.” 

“No, it is fine,” you insist, “I didn’t mean to disturb your reading.” 

“You didn’t,” she insists. “What’s the matter, sissie? You hardly seem a lady about to marry.” 

“I...” you croak, “it is the ague, that’s all.” 

“Mm, perhaps Lord Odinson might offer some comfort should it get any worse. He does seem the character,” she offers. 

“Or perhaps he is better to stay away. You as well, should it pass onto anyone else,” you hold the pot to your stomach and turn, carrying it out without another word. Albina huffs and falls back onto the bed, the flutter of pages following shortly after. 

You descend and keep along the wall, passing through the kitchens and beyond the servants’ quarters to the rear of the manse. You come out into the crisp air and overturn the pot well away from the house. A wave of dizziness washes over you, silver spots dotting your vision. Perhaps it is an ague. Oh how you wish it were. 

You set the pot down as you grasp at some stability. You stand and wipe your clammy forehead. Your hand drifts down to your bodice and you let it venture further. You try to feel your stomach through the layers. It is tauter than it once was but no rounder. Not as yet. 

You sit on a low stump, the seat the stabler uses to shoe the horses. You let the frigid air seep through your dress and stare at the grey clouds that blot out the sun. You hold your chin, elbows on your legs, hunched over as you let the stagnancy of that moment swallow you. 

For a moment, you believe that you can make time stand still. That you might stretch on this fantasy a little longer. That a single second might be spent into an eternity. You shake your head and close your eyes as your cheeks tingle with the cold. 

You try to picture the convent. You imagine dark halls and darker mornings. Prayers and repentance filling the days and keeping wakeless the nights. Would the nuns even accept a ruined soul like yours? 

“Miss,” Mary, the broom girl, stands along the path back to the house, “you have a caller.” 

You sit up and blink, a caller? How long have you been there? You shiver and rise, towering over the young servant like the mottled forest creature of wives tales. You nod and stride past her, rubbing your arms to warm yourself as you return to the house. 

It cannot be him. Not already. You’re not prepared. It has been all you can think of and yet you are wholly unready for it. 

You carry on inside and come into the main hall. Lord Odinson waits, your mother chittering at his elbow as Lord Rogers and Cora stand in the archway to the west wing. 

“You will be at the wedding tomorrow? We did not receive your response sir,” your mother pleads as she tugs his sleeve. 

“Ah, yes, did I not give it?” Odinson says coolly, “certainly I will come with some Asgardian ale to christen the blissful newlyweds.” 

“And we thank you for such generosity,” Cora coos. 

“I’m certain refreshments will be plenty,” Lord Rogers deflects. 

“Ah,” Lord Odinson’s attention is drawn by your emergence from behind the staircase, “my valkyrie, you called for me and I am here.” 

“I... you have come so... swiftly,” you remark, your voice teetering. 

“Of course,” he assures as he crosses the polished floor, “as ever I will for my beloved.” He approaches and takes your hands in his, kissing your knuckles, “you are like ice,” he feels your hands and covers them with his gloved ones, “are you ill?” 

“No, uh, yes, no,” you stammer, “sir, I only meant... I only thought to speak with you.” 

“I do cherish the tenor of your sweet voice, lady, I would ride so fast as I might to hear it,” he assures. 

“You rode... all this way, my lord?” 

“I do prefer to be in a saddle,” he affirms, “so, shall we converse? Perhaps we might have some tea to warm you, my valkyrie.” 

“Please,” you cringe, wishing he would quit his honeyed words, “I do not require it. Perhaps somewhere private...” 

“With chaperone of course,” your mother insists. You blanch but do your best not to show your unease. “Pollo! Pollo!” She claps, “forgive me I will not be able to do so myself as I have much to attend to for the morrow, but we have a groom here... Pollo!” 

She cries out and the dark-haired man appears. The old groom has a round belly and wine-reddened cheeks. He doesn’t speak more than Italian but he is steadfast in his service. Your mother bids him, pointing at you, then shoos him with a flick of her fingers. 

He shrugs and bows his head, nearing you and the duke. You peer over at your sister and Lord Rogers as they watch. The former stares at your betrothed as he clings still to your hands and the latter narrows his eyes in your direction. Just the sight of him makes you even more sick than before. Of any, he cannot know though you expect should Cora find out, it will not be a secret. 

“The sun room, perhaps,” Odinson suggests. 

“As you wish,” you agree. 

He offers his arms and you accept it. He guides you along, well-acquainted to the halls already, and takes you around to the sun room. The curtains are closed and the space is dim with the shadow of winter. The groom claims the armchair in the corner, making it groan with his weight, as another servant follows to light a lamp and put flint to the fireplace. 

When all is lit, you detach from Odinson and retreat from him. You mash your hands together and sway, spinning back to face him as he watches you intently. He seems unbothered by the spontaneity of it all. 

“You missed me? I have longed to see you again,” he beams. 

“Please,” you show your palms, “please, I... we must speak.” 

“Of? Name anything and it shall be yours. As my wife, you will never want for anything, valkyrie.” 

You wince as if struck. You drop your arms and your head. You stalk over to the bench that looks toward the window and sit, slumped forward as you shake your head. He approaches as he lets out a long exhale. He sits beside you. 

“Something is amiss. Forgive me for making light, I came upon mistaken sentiment,” his voice is grave, “you have something to say and I must listen. As ever, I am the storm but these winds have calmed.” 

You rock and another hot tinge settles behind your eyes. You roll them up and sit straight. You crane to see over your shoulder. Rollo’s eyes are closed as he’s halfway to sleeping. It is propriety alone that has him sat in that chair. 

You look ahead once more, “I cannot marry you.” 

He sucks in air and snorts, “what?” 

“I cannot—it cannot—I'm sorry, Lord Odinson.” 

“Why ever should you change your mind? The banns are read and will be again,” he touches your arm and you shy away. 

“You deserve... better.” 

“I deserve you,” he insists. 

“Please, sir, let me find the words,” you beg touch your temples as you try to rein in your wits. You close your eyes and shudder. 

“You are cold still, perhaps you might move closer to the fire--” 

“It hardly matters,” you lower your hands and clutch them tight.  

You make yourself look at him. You must. He warrants at least the truth told to his face and not the floor. His blue eyes twinkle as his usually bright face is stern. 

“I am...” you take a breath and struggle to let it back out as the words burn the tip of your tongue, “I... am with... child.” 

You choke out the last word and nearly faint. You stare at him, waiting for him to explode. You mightn’t even have a say in who knows should he speak too loudly. His eyes search yours and he blinks. He turns his face down and looks at his lap, gripping his thighs as he nods and hums. 

“That’s wonderful,” he says. 

“Pardon?” 

“Yes, it’s wonderful. We’ll have a child.” 

“Sir, I—we haven’t... it is another man’s,” you feel as if you shouldn’t have to explain this. 

“Why certainly he put it there, yes, but I would claim it,” he faces you again. 

Your eyes round, “why should you do that? That isn’t... proper. I am not proper, sir. I am telling you that I have been... corrupted. I should never have said yes.” 

“But you did.” 

“You needn’t-- it isn’t fair.” 

“Perhaps it isn’t fair that you should have to carry the cad’s seed,” he agrees, “for any many who would lay with a lady and not seek her hand, well, he can be nothing else.” 

You’re quiet as disbelief clouds around you. He can’t possibly mean it. He must be in shock. Certainly, he wouldn’t just accept another’s child. 

“Sir, you shouldn’t-- you shouldn’t do this. I am releasing you.” 

��I don’t want to be released,” he says sullenly. 

“Why? Why would you do this?” You ask. 

“I meant all I said to you, from the first breath, my valkyrie,” he proclaims. “And I mean it still.” 

“But, sir, you cannot—I cannot live with myself--” 

“You are honourable. Honest. You have told me this when you did not need to. When you could’ve claimed an early birth, when you could have kept quiet, yet you did not. That says more than a fleeting tryst. For that’s what it was, yes? Or do you lay with this man still?” 

You shake your head and look down at your fingers as you twists them until they hurt, “just once. Only once. It was... unplanned. It wasn’t...” your voice cracks. 

His chest inflates with a sonorous breath, “did you want it?” 

“Pardon?” You murmur. 

“Unplanned... did you... was it... your tryst, was it willing?” 

You put your fist to your mouth and sob. You can’t say it. You won’t. You replay it in your head every night and you think of how you told him to stop and yet you did not stop him. You should have fought more. You should have screamed. 

“I didn’t make him stop,” you eke around your hand. 

“Make him? Did you ask him to begin?” 

“Please, sir, I cannot—please just end this and I will ask my father for the convent once more. I cannot bring this shame on you.” 

“Shame? Shame is the man, if I should call him that, who has done this,” he snarls and reaches for you, taking your hand. “I swore you would be my wife and I will hold to that. As you swore to be my wife. We will see the altar together. As one.” 

“You do not have to--” 

“I want to,” he growls and you look up at his angry face. You’ve never seen such fury in him. “I have never done anything but by my own whim and will not change that now.” 

“You are too nice, sir. Too nice, I cannot ask it--” 

“Who?” He sneers. 

“Sir?” 

“Who has done this to you?” 

“I cannot--” 

“I should know.” 

“No, please, I wouldn’t-- it would be my ruin--” 

“No, it would be his and you protect him still, so tell me.” 

“No, no I will not. That I cannot tell you, sir. To say it would defeat me completely.” 

He sighs into a snarls and lowers his chin. He sounds like a simmering bull, readying for the charge. You tug on your hand but he will not release you. You relent and let him cling to you. 

Silence, suffocating and still.  

“My brother was an orphan. We took him in when he was young. He is a duke, same as me, now,” he declares as he squares his posture. “You wouldn’t know the difference. And I won’t. Not between this child and our next.” 

“Sir, surely--” 

“We are to have a child,” he says, “that is happy news and I thank you for bringing me here to hear it.” He pets your hand and leans his arm against yours. He brings your fingers up to your mouth and kisses them, “one day, I will know who the culprit is and on that, I will surely split his skull. Not for his bastard, for that child has no sin, but for your honour, lady. For my wife’s honour.” 

💟

Cora’s wedding to Lord Rogers culminates in a grand luncheon. The bride is a beautiful mist of tears as she accepts the well wishes of her guests. She basks in the attention as you gladly languish in the shadows. 

Despite Lord Odinson’s unexpected and reassuring reaction, you’re still uncertain. You don’t know if he’s keeping a good face on until he knows how to act, perhaps renegs his grace, or if you might come to pay for your discretion later in your union. You’re prepared to meet your atonement, however it comes. 

As you sit for the meal, the chair beside you is claimed almost at once. Your betrothed has appeared throughout the event but you’ve hardly been at his side. Each time you see him, his eyes skim the crowd as if he can see right through every one of them. Yet, when he looks at you, you feel only warmth. You don’t understand how he can look at you as such. 

“How do you fare, today, my valkyrie?” He asks as he straightens his cravat, “you look well.” 

“Good, I think.” 

“Glad to hear it,” he raises his glass for a servant to fill it with sherry. You opt for lemon water, as much as your tumultuous stomach can handle. 

“I thought we might have our own reception at Nine Pillars,” he suggests. 

“I would like that,” you agree, your eyes drifting beyond him, to your father’s gardens, where... “whatever you may offer, I will be grateful for.” 

“Mighty valkyrie, full of grace,” he praises and reaches for a platter, “ooh, they have some sweet ham here with pineapple.” 

He takes a helping and puts it on your plate. You smell the tangy fruit and the underline savoury waft of the meat. You lurch and grasp the edge of the table. You give a panicked look to Odinson as he peers down at the food. He switches your plates out swiftly. 

“Tell me, what are you in the mind for then?” He leans in so his arm touches yours as you sip from the lemon water to quell your stomach. “Valkyrie, give me your command and I will obey.” 

You give him a coy grin, “you can be so silly.” 

“Silly. Mad. All for love,” he assures you.  

“Is their anything dry?” You ask, “bread, perhaps.” 

“Sourdough,” he reaches to take the basket as others help themselves to the spread. 

“I’ll have some of that.” 

“With marmalade?” He offers.  

“No,” your face pinches at the thought, “no, bread will do.” 

You blink and shake of another tide of sickness. As you do, your eyes meet another pair further down the table, amid the rabble of voices. Lord Rogers tilts his head as Cora tugs on his sleeve and giggles up at the couple behind them. He hardly seems to notice as he stares you down. 

You go rigid and quickly look away. You touch Odinson’s arm to keep from panicking. He looks at you, then down the table. He doesn’t say anything, merely carves off a chunk of bread for you. 

You pick away at the hard crust and the dry spongey inside. You take small bites, cautious of upsetting your volatile stomach. The afternoon wears on, course after course, and you avoid those dishes which threaten to overthrow your restraint. 

At last, the cake is serves, a tiered sponge with cream and fruit and candied sugar spun in a facsimile fountain atop it. It’s splended and beautiful. The couple are served first as they smiles in delight. The doling out of servings takes some time as guests wait patiently for their turn and the cake is pushed on a cart from chair to chair. 

When it comes your turn, your name rises over the crowd. You sit up and glance over, relieved at least not to watch the layers of custard and cake hit your plate. Lord Rogers has his hand on the back of his wife’s chair. 

“And how do you like the dessert? I believe you’ve been saving space for it all day, eh?” He chirps. 

You angle your head in confusion. You look down then at Odinson who sits a little taller as he leans forward. 

“You’ve hardly indulged, so I hope you might show your support and delight in this delectable dessert,” Rogers taunts. “A wedding is no place for a sour face.” 

Your lips part. You’re stunned. How could he be so bold as to call you out? Among all his guests and he must torment you. Was one night not enough. Your whole life as his violation thrives within your womb. Lord Odinson subtly touches your elbows. 

“I am most happy for you and my sister,” you rebuff, “and you are correct, I’ve been in much anticipation for dessert.” 

You take your fork and scoop up a heaping mouthful. You smile at it even as your insides rage. You make yourself taste it. It’s so sweet and smooth and wonderful, but your stomach mulches as if it is rubbish. Your cheeks tremble and you swallow, nearly gagging. 

“To you, sir, and my sister, Cora, I wish a happy marriage,” you force out as you hide your mouth behind a handkerchief. 

“To the happy couple,” Lord Odinson raises his glass and the table erupts, at once, the attention shifted back to them. 

You brace his arm and squeeze. You fight but you cannot withhold the uproar within. You stand and rush away, frantically searching for somewhere to hide and spew your guts. 

💟

The days overcome your doubts. The weeks come with more affectations; your sickness ebbs and flows and the temperature feels at times hotter then colder, swaying back forth, while some moments you spend with a throbbing head and pulsing feet. The most obvious symptom of your condition is the tightness of your stay. Soon, you will be showing more than you like, but for now, loosened laces can ease your discomfort. 

Your wedding day fast approaches. Time does seem to defy any human whim. You wish it would slow so you could catch your breath. Much like your husband-to-be who has yet to falter in his affections. 

You sit before the mirror with the grown of silver petals in your lap. There is one still bent from Cora’s envy but you will keep it to the back of your head. You will wear it as proudly as that night Lord Odinson gifted it to you. You hope for the day you might both forget all else. 

If it is to be. If he is at the altar waiting still. 

Albina and Hannah take the crown from you and secure it among your styled locks. Albina smiles at your reflection as Hannah jabs you with a pin. You nervously wring your hands as you admire the lavender shade of your gown. You wish you’d had more of it, that you hadn’t needed to trim it in ivory to make up for your height. Still, it is beautiful and the nicest dress you’ve ever worn. 

“Are you nervous?” Albina asks. 

“Suppose,” you admit and lift your chin, “very, truly.” Though not for the reason she might think. 

“Lord Odinson is kind. He should be gentle,” Hannah says. 

Your cheeks tinge at her suggestion, “sister.” 

“Well, it is what we are all thinking, isn’t it?” She shrugs. 

“I hope I do not find a husband so soon,” Albina adds, “I would like to enjoy my books a little longer.” 

“You might take on the spinster’s mantel then,” Hannah snipes. 

“It shouldn’t be so bad,” you murmur. “Every woman must do it. Eventually. It cannot be so horrible.” 

You lower your head again, trying to hide the emotion battling in your chest. It was bad, that first time. Lord Rogers hadn’t been kind at all. Would Lord Odinson be any different? For Rogers seemed kind at first glance only to be cruel upon touch. 

What if you husband did not want to meet his duty? What if he could not knowing you had lain with another? You would not blame him and without consummation, he might still turn you away. 

“Cora said it was more painful than anything she’s ever felt,” Hannah undercuts your dread. “Though she still loves her husband well.” 

“You shouldn’t speak of that,” you gird. 

“Why not? Won’t you tell us how it is so we may be ready?” She challenges. 

“I... I... It’s rather strange to speak of it.” 

“You are strange,” Hannah retorts with a huff. 

“But pretty,” Albina chimes, “look at you, sissie. You truly look like a queen in that crown.” 

You meet the gaze of your reflection. You do look better than you ever have before. You wonder if they notice the new fullness in your cheeks. If they do, they don’t mention it. You take a deep breath. 

“I shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer,” you stand.  

If you wait any longer, you might lose your nerve. 

The bishop waits in the grand hall of Nine Pillars as you emerge from the rooms allotted for your preparations. The crowd stands among the columns and hushes as you appear at the end of the hall. You face the clergy man and for an instant, your heart dangles precariously, ready to plummet.  

Where is Lord Odinson? 

His golden head pops up beside the bishop and he fixes the flower tucked into his lapel. His long blond hair is draw back as a scarlet bow holds it back, its ears peeking out behind his nape. He is smiling as he pauses and his eyes meet yours across the space. 

You can see even from there how his features slacken and for a moment, you are breathless. He looks as stricken. You put one foot down and let your long legs carry you. 

All your doubts float away. The faces around you haze together and the world crumbles to dust. It's only you and that man.  

💟

The ceremony gives way to a soiree, bodies clustered together, partners dancing, and you among them. Your husband, a husband, has your hand in his as he leads you in the steps. This man, this wonderful forgiving man you vowed yourself too nearly sweeps you off your feet, a sensation you've never known before. 

Your cheer blooms from you as his cheeks flush in his excess. He barely pauses to receive kind words from his guest. His elation is contagious. It gives no way to your fears. 

"Do you know what I thought upon the altar, beautiful valkyrie," he purrs, "I nearly fell upon my knees even." 

"What?" You smile, glowing up at him. 

"That the gods did bless me. That you must be sent from them, a gift to me, mere mortal." 

You can't help but pat his chest, "you flatter." 

"You are too modest," he guides you along, "you are a statue come too life, art in the flesh." 

"My husband... you words are too sweet." 

"I know, I know, the wedding night is still ahead of us, I do run too fast," he chuckles, "but how can I help the anticipation? 

Your lashes flick and giggle, "husband." 

"That word has never sounded sweeter," he grins, "but a sweeter noise might be my own name. Say it for me, valkyrie." 

Your cheeks burn hot, "Thor?" 

"Delicious," he growls nearly baring his teeth, "and I shall savour every sound you make. Every moan and mewl. Every breath and laugh. Just as every part of you." 

It's too good to be true. You deign to let yourself feel it all but you must. If even only for tonight. If only for the next moment. You will have a morsel of happiness if it's all you have to chew on for the rest of your life. 

💟

The night wears on and so do you. Your feet ache, as does most of you, and your voice is raw from laughing and talking. It is the first that you ever spent an event not along the wall or hiding in some shadow. It is a night all your own, or so your husband has made it feel. 

Yet, he does not tire. Not as quickly. As he booms and bawls to the amusement of all, you cling to his arm and repress a yawn. You will not spoil his fun, you will persist. 

Still, you cannot ignore all urges of your humanity. You press a hand to his sleeve and excuse yourself, promising to return. Your husband pauses to bid you not be long and you're further abashed at his attention. 

You flit off to find the privy. You've been several times over the day. Your bladder swells no matter how little you drink. As you progress, you find your body is contradictory to your mind. 

You venture down the corridor and sweep into the room. Once relieved, you emerge feeling lighter but no less tired. The silent desolation of the corridor rather makes your exhaustion all the more potent. 

You turn towards the statue of a warrior, you recognise it, it is the means by which you've found your way. Before you can pass it, a figure appears from behind it and you falter in your slippers. 

You gasp and ball your hands, the man before you sending a ripple of horror through you as he smirks at your surprise. Lord Rogers' cheek dimples as he quorks his head like a cynical crow. 

"You are ever a creature of urges," he muses, "fluttering back and forth as a skittish bird." 

"My lord, I... what is the meaning--" 

"I'm afraid we've not had much of a chance to speak, have we? The blushing bride is much a titter," he chortles, "she has the gull to giggle like a maiden, even." 

"Lord Rogers," you utter, appalled. 

"But the sway of her hips do betray her true nature. That which is within her," he sneers, "as does the curdling of her face over any dish that tickles her nose." 

"Sir, I know not what you mean--" 

"I should laugh truly, to know that another will raise my bastard," he taunts, "that it is him, does entertain me more." He takes a step forward and you back, "so you will be certain to lay with him this night so he may believe he has vigour." He grabs your arms before you can elude him, "you will think of me, won't you, Athena, my fallen goddess? Of how I desecrated your--" 

Suddenly, you are staggered. Lord Rogers is swung backward and flung into the statue. There's a roar, tha same noise you would expect of a charging bear, and the flash of scarlet. You watch paralysed as Thor grabs Lord Rogers by his jacket and spins him, throwing him into the other wall. 

The smaller of the men, though they are both built well, slides to one knee, his hand on the plaster. The other is quick, wasting not a second before aims a foot into Rogers' stomach. The duke falls backward and is at once straddled beneath the larger. 

Thor lays blows upon the other man, hailing down on him like the tempest he claims himself. Your fear overflows and you push through the thick waves. You come forward numbly and pull your husband by the back of his collar.  

"Please sir, unhand him." 

"You would defend this animal!" He wails down another fist and growls. 

"No, no, I would not spare him but I would... I would have my husband not take me to my wedding night with bloodied knuckles. Thor," you pet the back of his head, "let this be a happy day. Please." 

He sits back on his heels and puffs out. He looks back at you as you step away. You put your hand to your middle.  

"Husband?" 

He snarls and spits on Lord Rogers, standing with a huff. You reach for his hand and he takes it. He squeezes as he sends one last kick of his toe to the man on the floor. 

"Let me save my strength for you, wife. I certainly would need it." 

#thor #steve rogers #thor x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #guileless #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #au #regency au

[staytinyville]

Stay Alive (1)

BTS ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N I am very excited for this story! It has a good amount of world building that I enjoy doing so much! I took inspiration from Stay Alive by Jungkook/Suga in case you guys didn’t know! The beginnings are of course slow but that’s how most stories are to build up the tension. I hopeful for this story and I hope you all like it! Please feel free to ask if you want to be added to the taglist!

People walk among the same earth constantly. However the thing that sets us apart is the path we all take. Sometimes it's the same, other times it's the opposite. Some of us are meant for higher things while some are meant to suffer until things start to look up for us all. 

In a lifetime sometimes we won’t ever get the chance to see ourselves reach the peak we want. There are struggles we all face that will cause setbacks in the path we are taking. Only the ones who are strong enough to see the road to the end make it out alive. 

There will always be those out there who will achieve their goals in life some way or another. Those are the ones who don’t allow those setbacks to dictate their entire life. And maybe along the way someone will come along to help you grow stronger. Whether it’s one person or a whole group. You will see to the end of your path one way or another. 

“Most often than not you will be working on filing. If we are understaffed on a day, like today, we might send you in to write reports on the medicine we have already administered.” Suho, the lady who was placed as your preceptor, explained to you.

You had a grateful smile on your face, happy to finally get to start working. While it wasn’t the place you had been hoping for, you knew the pay was well for the kind of student debts you had. The pharmaceutical lab was meant to administer different kinds of medicines to the people who would sign up for a trial. They did the test on patients before they were given out to people. 

While you were being placed on the front desk for the most part, you knew you would need to work your way up to the spot you wanted and you were more than happy to reach for it. 

“What kind of medicine do you guys make?” You asked, trying to think about all that you had read on the company's website. 

It didn’t really give much about what they focus on so you found it really odd that they were so wide when it came to the things they were trying to cure. 

“You applied here and don't even know?” Suho frowned, looking at you appalled.

“I tried asking at the interview but they just gave me vague answers.” You explained. “The website doesn't tell you anything either.”

“We are very on top of the things we do here at HYBE.” She began to tell you. “There aren’t many people we trust to be hired onto the team so consider yourself lucky to be apart of it.”

“We make sure that our patients here are taken care of because we are a company that is trying hard to reach their goals. Because of that we are detail oriented when it comes to the patients we accept. Not just anyone can be a patient here.” 

While she did a bit more about the kind of company you were working at, it still didn’t really tell you about what it was you were working for. You didn’t choose to question it, knowing that the paycheck they gave you was a luxury for a lot of people. 

“Here are some of your patients for the day. They have already been given the medicine, it's up to you to check up on them for daily research.” You took the six files the lady handed you, nodding your head. 

You placed them onto the small desk area they had given you before going through them to check on the appointment times and ordering them correctly. The first one on your list should be waiting in the lobby by now so you were quick to take the papers and move along to the waiting room.

“Mrs. Han?” You called, a smile on your face. 

An older woman with a younger one came to a stand, slowly shuffling over to where you waited for them at the door. 

“Hello, Mrs. Han. How are you today?” You asked politely, leading the two women towards the scale. 

“I'm doing great! I'm so excited to share some news about the medicine you gave me.” The older woman exclaimed, a bright smile on her face. 

You hummed, keeping the friendly look as you wrote down her weight on the paper. You told them to follow you to a patient room to speak to her privately. 

“I see it was something for your dementia.” You spoke, moving the laptop in the room closer so you could take down everything the lady would tell you. “Is everything going okay?”

“It's wonderful!” The other lady exclaimed for her mother. At least you assumed it was her daughter from the notes that people already had written for you. Her daughter was the one who was in charge of all Mrs. Han’s things.

“You would not believe it but it's almost as though she's regressed in her illness! Mother was in a terrible state when she was offered this trial medicine. She took it and suddenly it was almost like she went back to before it grew to be terrible.”

You tried to write down what the woman was saying, but you knew there were more questions to ask before concluding the entire meeting. 

“Maybe she can get back to normal if she takes more.” The daughter spoke in a hopeful tone. 

“One step at a time, Mrs. Byun.” You kept the smile on your face so as to not let them think they weren’t going to find the help they needed. “We have to see how long this medicine will last first before giving her more doses.” You explained.

“Also, memory loss is nothing to be overly worried about if it's on occasion. Even I forget something's as well.” You told them. 

If there was one thing you studied, it was medicine. You knew the consequences of taking too much or too little. This company was in the slow movement of developing them so they had to be careful about how they administered their projects. People probably came in thinking they could get more if they worked perfectly the first time. However these kinds of things were tests, not the real deal.

“Of course.” Mrs. Byun nodded in understanding. 

The rest of the visit went by smoothly as you took down all the older woman’s rants and aches about the whole thing. With these kinds of surveys it was really about asking how each patient felt even if it was the smallest of things. You wouldn’t be able to tell if it had to do with the medicine or with something else.

As you told Mrs. Han and her daughter goodbye, scheduling the next appointment, the rest of you patient trickled in one-by-one. 

There was a man who had come in for a bad liver–he was an avid drinker–so the medicine was for corrosion to that organ. While you really tried not to say something about it, you felt annoyed that the man had explained that he still had a drink every once in a while. He was like Mrs. Han, the medicine was doing wonders. 

There was a child who had chickenpox, who’s mother explained that the rash that had taken over her son’s body was slowly dwindling down. Another lady who had come in for amnesia which only said that her memory was returning to before she had gotten into an accident. The others had external injuries like scrapes of their knees or a deep cut that needed stitches. From what you could see they were just given some sort of pain medication. They had expressed that their wounds didn’t hurt and it was actually healing at a fast rate. 

“They really work with a lot of medicine.” You spoke to yourself as you looked over the last file you had. You frowned your eyebrows when you saw the patient was in another level of the building. It was the lower levels, which meant in the basement of sorts. From what you knew that was where the labs were. 

“That's odd.” You tilted your head in confusion but made your way over to the elevators anyway. With your ID card, you pressed onto one of the underground levels, leaning back against the metal wall. When the doors opened, you were met with a lobby that had a couple of different doctors moving about. 

Following the signs, you found the door that led to some of the rooms patients were stationed in. You showed the security guard your ID explaining you were in that level of the building to check up on a patient. He took a look at the file you had in your hand, humming as he opened a door to the back for you. 

Overlooking the file once more to make sure you had the right number, you quietly counted the doors. As you passed by one, you felt a shiver go down your back causing you to halt in your tracks. The number three stared back at you as a weird feeling flowed over your shoulders. It felt like something was brushing up against them, pushing at your form. 

You quickly turned back around making your way to the room next to it. You checked over the file one more time. It didn’t really give you much about the medicine the patient had been given. All it said was that they were someone who was meant to be staying in the building for better observation. There were a couple of papers that you seemed to be missing, you noticed.

Before opening the door, you knocked politely. “Hello?” You softly called as you stuck your head in. 

The only light on was the bedside lamp which illuminated the dark room. You frowned at the aspect of there being no windows that would allow light from outside to come in. As you walked in closer, you let go of the door to have it shut by itself. “Mr. Jeon?”

“Who are you?” You gasped, nearly tripping on your feet from the hard flinch you felt take over. 

You took in the man who was standing behind you, trying to regulate your breathing. He only looked at you with a raised brow, his expression passive. You took up his large form, noticing the blue scrubs he wore were almost tight around his physic. He didn’t wear any shoes–was even foregoing to wear socks. 

“Oh,” You said as your breath returned to your lungs. “My name is (Y/N). Today is my first day so I guess I'll be your new nurse.” You explained to him.

“What are you doing here?” As he took a step closer to you, you subconsciously took one back. “You don't deserve to be here.” His voice went quiet as his eyes turned soft. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in his worried expression, smiling awkwardly as you patted your hands to wipe the sweat forming on them. 

“I needed a job. Got school debt to pay off.” You tried to joke with him. He looked too serious, which made you anxious to touch him for his vitals. “I'm here to do a check up. Would you mind?” You asked, trying to build up the courage to get close to him. 

He didn’t say anything, just poked his cheek with his tongue, moving to the bed. You smiled in thanks, looking around the room to find the equipment needed. You purse your lips when you realize you would need to check his heart rate manually. Finding the padding needed to place around his arm, you made your way over to the man.

He flinched back as your hands moved to touch his arm, causing you to stop. “I’m going to check your heart rate.” You explained, remembering that you were the kind of person to make sure people knew what it was you were going to do. 

As he kept his dark eyes on you, he allowed you to softly touch his scrub sleeve as you moved the fabric up to place the padding in the right area of the arm. You moved your stethoscope from around your neck. “It’s going to be a bit cold.” You whispered. 

As you moved on with the check up, you watched the numbers on the dial move carefully counting to yourself. When you finished getting what you needed, you quickly let go of the air and moved the padding off his arm. As you did that, your eyes seemed to blur over the ink the man had. 

Your fingers gently squeezed his bicep, softly moving down the length of his arm. Your gaze drifted over each color and picture the man had, trying to figure out where one picture ended and the next started. As your fingers glided over his pulse on his wrists, the man involuntarily shivered at the touch. 

“Sorry.” You quickly pulled back, looking back up at him. “Your tattoos are really nice. I've never seen so many.” You bashfully smiled at him. 

He only looked at you curiously, his big eyes taking in your facial expressions. It made you feel flustered as he looked at you so deeply, causing you to lick your lips and look away. 

“You have a very strong heart. Very good blood flow.” You told him, turning away to write down his vitals. He slowly got off the bed and moved closer to you. 

“It doesn't say which medicine you've been taking which is really weird.” You frowned, looking over all the papers that you were given. There were some things missing but you assumed the high ups were looking over it. 

“You're different.” You jumped at the voice that spoke directly behind you. Turning around you tilted your head up at the man.

“How so?” You asked.

“You're nice.” The boy squinted his eyes at you, like he was trying to figure you out.

“Are the others not?” You frowned.

“Not the ones who come down here.” He told you.

You tried to quickly cover up your upset expression, looking up at the doe-eyed man with a smile. “Well I hope I'm able to come down here again.” You took up the paper you had written on. There wasn’t much explanation on what you had to ask him so you chose to go back up and see if you could figure out what else to do.

“Have a good day, Mr. Jeon.” You smiled brightly, waving from the door.

Jungkook tilted his head to the side as a warmth spread through his chest from your words. Not a day had gone by that he wasn't thinking about the dreaded place as though it was a sentence in hell. He had never met someone like you; someone who spoke to him as though he too was a person.

It made him light headed to think about the way your words affected him. He couldn't think of the last time someone had ever uttered those kinds of words to him. It had been so long-alone thinking this was what life was going to be like for the rest of his life. But suddenly things changed in the blink of an eye.

“Maybe.”

Series Masterlist

#bts #bts jungkook #bts army #bts jimin #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #run bts #namjoon #jimin #yoongi #min yoongi #hoseok #jhope #hobi #jung hoseok #jungkook #jeon jungkook #taehyung #bts fanfic #bts v #bts jungguk #bts jin #kim seokjin #bts suga #bts hoseok #seokjin #bts namjoon #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook x reader

[kaiser-author-san-iii]

Star Light, Star Bright | Fatui Harbingers x (Fem) Creator!Reader

A/N: okay okay. I'm very sorry for this overdue chapter. I've been busy farming for primogems and playing Stardew Valley. I have joined many other fandoms, especially with the release of the Spider-Man Across the Spiderverse movie, and have been collecting the comics. Sue me /j. I have a lot of stories that need updating haha. But anyway, thank you so much for the support you guys have given me. It's fantastic! I'll be sure to continue with the updates whenever possible! Any questions, please DM. Any suggestions, DM me!

Summary: Caring for children is hard, but it's especially harder when around the Fatui. Getting isekaied was the last thing on your mind after landing in the icy tundra of Snezhnaya all while your nephew is with you. What will happen when you encounter not only the Fatui Skirmishers but the Fatui Harbingers?

Tags/Warnings: female reader, Creator!reader, Cult Au, contains spoilers of the Archon Quests and World Quests (read at your own risk)

Not edited or beta read, we die like Signora

Chapter 3 | To Be Aware and Be Prepared

<<<First <<<Last Next>>>

MASTERLIST

OPERA EPICLESE, FONTAINE

It had started as a normal day. As normal as it could possibly get with the centrism of Lady Furina and the citizens of Fontaine. There was a pause before it then burst. At first, it was seemingly unnoticeable, but then the forests and the landscape became livelier. It seemed brighter and adventurers saw a decrease in Hilichurls, and slimes, and even the Abyss Order stopped whatever they were doing to... dance? It was certainly a strange sight, but at least there was less activity where civilians were being harmed. In fact, this was being seen all around Teyvat thanks to the Adventure's Guild insight and informing each nation's current ruling governments and Archons.

The archons themselves felt a different presence. A presence they have felt once upon a time ago. The same could be said with a certain Court Judge of Fontaine, a certain fellow dressed in blue, his long platinum blond hair and stoic expressions, he definitely felt a power he thought wouldn't be seen again in all of Fontaine.

A being almost as old as Teyvat themselves, but nowhere as powerful as the one that gave them life.

Before he could even make a decision as tremendous as the one all nations must follow, he needed more information.

He needed to send out anyone to locate their Beloved Creator.

Neuvilette felt to go himself and search for Them, but he had his duties. He simply couldn't abandon them. He is a powerful figure in Fontaine and everyone would be suspicious of his actions if he were to leave his office. They would be asking questions.

No.

This needed to be done in an orderly fashion.

If they were indeed in Teyvat, they would appreciate a calm and happy welcome instead of chaotic and frantic for their faithful followers.

Himself included as he needed to prove he, and Fontaine, would welcome Them with open hearts.

The Divine Creator... has finally descended onto Teyvat once again.

---

LIYUE HARBOR, LIYUE

The trembling of the mountains. The color in front of him wherever he faced. The weather the past few days was beautiful and the people, especially merchants who traveled through treacherous waters to make it to Liyue were grateful for calm waters.

But he knew of the reason why everything seemed so... calm, so perfect as if Teyvat themselves was behaving its absolute best. Especially with word from other nations that the monsters and even the Abyss Order had ceased their attacks on villages and cities. They had seen these beings celebrate nonstop and were quite stumped about what was happening. But the former Geo Archon knew all too well...

Zhongli, better known as Morax or Rex Lapis, had felt it within the very rocks around him. As a devout believer and follower of the Divine Creator, he was quite familiar with the power and aura They possessed.

It's said that the Sovereign Dragons were the very first to proclaim their loyalty to the Divine Creator and when their time of rule ended, the Archons and Gods followed in their footsteps. As an Adepti in the form of a great Dragon, or Exuvia, he would be loyal to his beloved Creator, a form he greatly prided in thanks to the words of the Divine Creator many centuries ago.

But now they were here.

They have descended at long last like they promised.

His many years of patience and loyalty were finally being rewarded with the very presence of They themselves.

Zhongli, the devout follower he is, must find them. Were they alright? Yes, they were an all-powerful being, but recalling correctly, even the mighty have weaknesses and with the importance of the Divine Creator, there's always a danger no matter how beloved you are. He had to go himself to find him.

No.

He could ask the other Adepti to relentlessly search through all of Liyue, to leave no rock unturned and locate where their Grace may be.

---

ZAPOLYARNY PALACE, SNEZHNAYA

The days have gotten warmer and brighter in Snezhnaya.

What with the presence of the Divine Creator that is. It was all that the Fatui and even the citizens of Snezhnaya were talking about. There was nonstop activity in the palace as everyone scrambled to perfect it all for the Divine Creator.

You.

Though it wasn't as overwhelming since your nephew was right beside you, who happily took everything with stride and awe.

He even became attached to the very people that he spoke with on the first day here. And there was no way to separate them or to even have the heart to tell him not to speak with them since he took after his parents and family. Stubborn little nugget.

He especially favored Childe and Scaramouche. He was quite heartbroken when he left and never came back. But, he has been receiving gifts 'anonymously' once in a while.

Meanwhile, you spoke more with the rest to know more about this world. They all unanimously agreed that the mortal body you and your nephew both have currently is due to the fact of the long absence from Teyvat you had. Since your nephew hasn't set foot in Teyvat until now, it might take him longer to adjust to his birthright powers and titles. But he was nonetheless Heir of Teyvat.

The Little Prince.

"They're working really hard, aren't they?" His voice echoed in the halls as you and him were on their way to play outside yet again. He was still a child and with no video games around, it was good for him to be active. Childe once made comment about how strong he was and what a potential warrior your nephew could be with proper training. However, you had the last say and it was not yet time to think about that.

Snezhnaya is still a cold nation so even with Teyvat making it slightly less cold, you and your nephew had to bundle up. This is where Pantalone's gifts came in handy. While you were still bedridden due to your injuries, he called in all the tailors of Teyvat to create a wardrobe fit for you and your nephew: The Divine Creator and the Heir of Teyvat.

It was a sight to behold all the boxes and bags that arrived at the palace - clothing made from rare beasts and cloth. All for you and your nephew.

"If there's one thing you don't question about other people, Nugget. It's their beliefs. It has a certain power that a lot of people have yet to understand." You commented, stopping to adjust his personal Harbinger Coat. It was one of the few items Pantalone commissioned - with the Heir of Teyvat present, might as well commission a child-sized Harbinger Coat.

"I think Mister Pierro and Mister Pulcinella said something about that. I don't know... it's not our birthdays though. We're just people, aren't we?"

"I'm not certain either. We're a long way from home and it might be a while before we can go back. But don't worry, we're together and that's all that matters. All we have to do is-"

"Go with the flow?"

"Ah. I taught you so well." You laughed, quickly moving to playfully pinch his cheeks before resuming your brief walk outside. Everyone else had their duties and you didn't want to disturb them. They all seemed to be important in the political and military worlds.

That was something that kinda threw you off. Something like this world seemed like in the past. Like maybe 1800's innovative past since there were snipers and even giant mechanical machines that can move on their own or by being piloted. It was definitely fantasy - like a dream.

But even in a fantasy world, with aspects aimed at child entertainment, there is danger. Arlecchino and Columbina were telling you all about it with a brief history lesson and a bit of current information about Teyvat today. It was definitely something to think about if you plan to travel Teyvat with or without the Harbingers, especially with your nephew.

"Your Grace. What a pleasant surprise." The voice was ahead and looking up, you could see the masked man, the Doctor. Dottore was the one who ended up healing you from your injuries from the accident. They never did find the person responsible for your accident. Though they never will.

The healing process went smoothly and tended to you alongside your nephew.

"My nephew wanted to play outside again. He saw everyone was occupied and didn't wish to intrude so we thought we could walk for a bit."

"The Heir has no worries. If he or your Grace has a request, we're bound to stop and fulfill your wishes."

Your nephew didn't need to be told twice and quickly marched his way over to the blue-haired man, took his hand, and started walking to the exit to face another cold day.

"Doctor, please play with Auntie and I."

Dottore was quite the character. The others filled you in on what they have done and their opinions of each other. Dottore was the one with the most negative background but no one could deny the intelligence or genius in his mind. But to think this wasn't even his true form. The man was quite the genius that he made a number of clones of himself of each stage of his life. As a scientist, as a pursuer of knowledge, even the kind that's better left alone, he thirsted for it.

"Of course, Your Highness. Your Grace, would it be troubling to accompany you two?"

He also performed...some experiments that in this world were unethical, from what you heard. But...they weren't the worst. No, there was definitely worse. You weren't justifying what he had done, you weren't one to stand on a higher moral ground than anyone else, you at least attempted to understand why. That is exactly what you concluded when you decided to speak and interact with Dottore.

"Not at all. My nephew has grown attached to you and the others."

The walk outside didn't take long. It was short and slow to appreciate the snowfall and the area around. Various Cryo Crystalflies quickly flew their way to your nephew and he gave chase all while a variety of animals appeared and decided to play with the Heir. Teyvat knew the little Prince's love for animals. You made sure he didn't stray too far, your eyes never leaving his form while Dottore kept the same pace as you, taking a few glimpses at you every now and then. There was a small silence - but it was comfortable.

"Why?" You broke the silence and Dottore turned his head, his mask hiding any expression he could have made.

"Pardon?"

"The Fatui. Why was it formed? I want the truth." Your eyes still focused on your nephew who danced along with the Crystalflies, laughing and happily throwing snow in the air before then falling and making snow angels.

Your reason for asking is with who you two have been identified as, and with a seemingly unknown way of going back home, you two will probably be dragged into this world's politics. Before you get involved, you have to see what it is all about. Would it be worth it? Are you currently with evil people? Misunderstood people? What is their goal?

Would it be dangerous to involve your nephew?

"There is quite a lot that a mere moment is not enough to disclose the Tsaristas and our organization's goal."

"Then I shall listen. I hear talk and before I pass 'judgment', I want to understand. I hear talk of other gods, but the mere mention of them besides the Tsarista, it's with contempt."

Dottore, like many of his colleagues and subordinates, has heard the stories, the creation of Teyvat that was retold by the very dragons they created and had them oversee Teyvat. And then Celestia arrived. They had become power-hungry, drunk from the love and attention the Divine Creator gave to them before. When the creator left, Celestia took over and everything changed. Teyvat became different, peace wasn't an option.

Wars started, innocents perished...

Nations demolished.

"The Tsarista fell in love with the idea of how Teyvat was before you left. A Teyvat where all lived in peace. Then Celestia came. Thousands of years ago, they proclaimed that seven gods would be chosen to rule over one of the seven nations. From the thousands of Gods that fought, along with mortals who fought to survive another day, Seven were indeed chosen to represent their following element. But even for Celestia that was not enough. Your Grace was fond of a nation, Khan'ri'ah. Khan'ri'ah was a nation that ruled without the intervention of a God, an Archon. So.. one day, Celestia proclaimed Khan'ri'ah to be sinners, a nation that went against the Divine Creator and was thus destroyed. The Tsarista understood, her eyes opened to what was being done, and isolated herself, to find people who shared her opinions on Celestia and the Divine besides you, Your Grace."

That was just a brief summary that you recreated after your talk with Dottore. He was quite honest and with a few words, you were able to piece together everything. And to think he was kicked out of the Akademiya because of his practices and the murder of a fellow scholar.

This was clearly a case of the black-white-gray morality.

Things aren't always what they seem.

"Several weeks ago, I thought I was human. A mortal who lived a mundane life who loves her nephew like her own. I'm here and I'm told I'm the God that created your world, but I somehow have no recollection of it."

The walk continued as your nephew seemed to head further away from you and Dottore. Dottore was listening. He knew you weren't done talking and he couldn't wait to hear. Would he hear criticism of the divine from the very being who created it in the first place? What kind of wisdom would she bestow that may rival the God of Wisdom herself.

"Pierro and the Tsarista mentioned that my memories of such events and my divinity would come back to me slowly. Especially for my nephew. He's still young, curious but young."

"Your Grace, you need not fear. The Fatui, us, the Harbingers, will be by your side for we and The Tsarista are loyal to no other than you and the Heir."

"But what if I am not who you think I am?" You asked, looking down at your arms, remembering the injuries and the blood that oozed. You remembered the color and thought it wasn't proof enough, but the gold blood was there. You even requested to see the bloodied gauze that had a clear gold color. The sparkle it held, the amount of power that it had.

"Highly unlikely. Every man, woman, and child knows firsthand that the Divine Creator's blood is unlike any living being in Teyvat. Eyewitnesses from your first time here have written quite a bit of information of you. There is no mistake. The Tsarista would have been the first to know."

"Auntie! Doctor! Look!" Your nephew shouted and quickly ran to you, the heavy atmosphere dissipating as your nephew smiled, his hands cupped to hide what it was that he was bound to show you two. Slowly, he opened his hands and a small light blue glow appeared and in the blink of an eye, a small Cryo Crystalfly appeared and took flight, joining the other Cryo crystalflies that surrounded the three.

Creation of new life.

A power only found in the Divine.

What kind of world did she find herself in?

TAGLIST:

@lizzhearthz, @yoshikuno, @anonclyde, @khalhaimdad, @ellenoir

@yunsblog030, @lsleepysimpl, @potol0ver, @kitty-chan33, @nasidibakar, @yoriichi-second-wife, @lilybythevalley, @esthelily, @liansh3ng, @bubbles-lounge, @chidouna, @okecaiditmemay, @angelofdarkness2, @emmbny, @vxsire, @mmeatt, @fybfjn, @nickey-diano, @reende-29,

If I missed anyone, let me know! I tried tagging some people, but tumblr must be weird. I probably will be posting this on Ao3 too. Thank you so much for your kind words, everyone! I hope to write more!

#genshin impact #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #Genshin impact cult au #fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #dottore x reader #pierro x reader #pantalone x reader #sagau cult au #sagau reader

[jade-len]

bad svsss fanfic/au idea: random marriage/guidance counselor transmigrates into PIDW, sees the absolute mess of lord luo bingge and his harem, goes "jesus fucking christ", and makes bank.

and like. they're probably not even that good of a counselor. it's just that people lack any sense when it comes to bingge, and since he's the emperor, that means pretty much everyone. also because therapy doesn't exist. i'll give them some credit though, whatever they hell they're doing works.

now, while sqq and sqh are having a grand ol' time in SVSSS with their husbands, this random, average counselor has to deal with being in the care of lord luo bingge. no wife beam. no anything. all they have is some basic empathy and common sense people just tend to lack in here for some reason.

it's even worse considering the fact that they've arrived after luo bingge completed his plan and became the hailed demon emperor. now, while they've never full on read the entire thing, they've heard enough from a close friend who has kept up with it to know the main character is the literal embodiment of the cycle of abuse and heavy unresolved issues. like, it got to the point where they started to unironically use luo bingge as an example of how to not deal with conflicts and trauma.

really, how could people like bingge? seriously, it's just another edge lord main character with way too many glamorized issues and abuse. red flag! (hey, who the hell is peerless cucumber and why does he keep defending binghe? lord, have mercy on these impressionable young men...)

so, after being kidnapped taken in by bingge and his wives after the bunch claimed that they were a "wise man" or whatever (all they did was offer some basic relationship advice to some poor woman, who turned out to be ning yingying, who told the other wives, and it just spiraled from there), they were deemed "special" and given their personal office and a room! hey, better than being on the streets in this god forsaken hentai-ish world, i guess.

quickly, a routine was established. one that, especially, consisted of luo bingge outright ignoring them. which, they weren't complaining about!

wake up, eat, meet with multiple of the wives, spend their hard earned money on delicious delicacies, meet with more wives, sleep, repeat. the most interaction they had with the demon emperor was him ordering them around, but even then, that was uncommon. it was, surprisingly, easy to fall into the rhythm of this undoubtedly odd life. you're upset that lord luo hasn't spent much time with you? maybe you can ask! the other wives are being annoying? remove yourself from the situation. you're upset that lord luo has so many other wives? oohhh... yeah. uhm.

luo binghe only tolerated them, they knew that. and they're sure that, if not for multiple of his wives insisting on keeping them, they'd be dead for even daring to be so "intimate" with them. a little bit of a shock, if they do say so themself. like, insecure much (something that they'll probably never get used to is the fact that bingge built an entire little village for his wives, though)?

but that's not the most shocking thing, oh, no.

it's this.

"i- i tried.. i tried to take the.. hiic-- other.. other shizun w-with me.." lord luo binghe, the powerful, almighty demon emperor, trembles and sobs. "b-but he! he wanted to-- s-stay with that.. stupid, inferior version of my- hic- self.."

despite the mountain of gold they're getting paid in, is it really enough to deal with this? probably not. will they get killed for witnessing luo binghe's vulnerability? perhaps. is he a dictator, the embodiment of the cycle of abuse, and a crazily vengeful bastard? definitely.

"it's-- s' not.." his voice breaks. something else inside of them probably does, too. "..n-not, hiic- fair."

should they feel bad? they shouldn't. he's hurt much too many people. isn't it a little late? can he even be redeemed? because, they are absolutely not here to try and "fix" him.

and yet.

"can you breathe, lord luo? deep breaths, don't focus on anything else but me, okay? i'll do it with you too. can you do that for me? there, there. you're doing a very good job, do you know that? here, when i'm upset, sometimes i like to do something called, '5-4-3-2-1'. i promise it'll help, binghe. would you like for me to do this one with you too?"

they can't help but think about a small, lonely boy on qing jing peak.

. . .

after that, bingbing slowly starts to come around and develop an actual bond! cool!! he just,,, can't believe only his wives were granted the "wisdom". how foolish was he?

"i know i'm only a mere human, but i can tell that lord luo is... masking things. you can put that away for now, okay? i promise, everything you say here will be confidential information, and it'll never leak... no no there's no enemy spies here-"

"i'm not even going to question this. you go back there right now and deal with it yourself if you cannot respect me or the other clients. aka, your wives."

"no, it's not stupid. this is how people help themself, and it's okay if you want to do it. as long as it doesn't hurt you or anybody. it helps, and that's all that matters."

"oh? one of your wife confronted to you about it? i'm glad to hear that, she's doing well, i see. i'm also happy that you're listening too, really."

"yes, and when something like that happens, you--- no- don't pull out xin mo now. what did we say about that? good job."

"here, can i touch your hands, binghe? there we go. when you're unsteady, you feel the need to pick at your skin, correct? well, let's try a few different things to keep those hands busy! it must be quite stressful being an emperor. how about we start with crocheting! it's quite popular back at my hometown."

"your mother sounds like a wonderful woman, lord luo. hey, how about you take a small break and visit her, okay? you want me to come with you? of course, it'd be an honor."

and thus, the story of the poor transmigrator counselor continues on with luo bingge added to their schedule!! this could be read as romantic or platonic lol. but i was thinking of this as luo bingge obtaining his first actual friend. it takes a long while due to bingge's... bingge-ness, but eventually it all works out lmao

#they dont give a shit about if they live or not tbh if lbh is acting wack hes acting wack #intended it to be more crac induced yk but... idk with bingge its a little hard bc i get sad lmao #sorry if it seems rushed this has just been sitting in my drafts for weeks uh oh #svsss ideas #svsss #mxtx svsss #luo bingge #pidw luo binghe #luo binghe #pidw #the scum villain's self saving system #i'm so tired

[dropsofletters]

sorry, who is mark lee?

—SUMMARY: she swore up and down on the night of her graduation as a doctor that she would never work with dr. mark lee. not under any setting. after all, she’s not here for people who get everything served on a silver platter just for being…nice?

however, years after their graduation, mark comes back into her life not brushing his hair and talking about a new project that they are supposedly going to be working on for the next three weeks, and all hopes of not working with him die down when she realizes…maybe, she had not truly known who he was.

sorry, but who the hell is mark lee?

—TITLE: sorry, who is mark lee?

—PAIRING: mark lee x reader

—GENRE: med school!au ; doctor!au ; neurosurgery resident!au ; gyn-ob resident!au ; enemies to friends to lovers!au ; idiots in love!au ; slowburn kind of.

—WORD COUNT: 12,000 words

—TYPE: fluff; humor; extra layer of fluff; angst

Heart wounded tight against her ribcage, she sits front row for the grand opening of a new chapter in her life. She relays perfectly still, wearing what Yoonoh had once called the ‘boring gray dress’ that she dreamed of having on for her graduation. Finally, as her pulse quickens, she is one step away from being called a title that holds so much interest and weight to her—to be able to put a name to everything she studied, to be recognized as such to the eyes of the world. For her, being a doctor is like exchanging identities, all the trials and errors coming to the flourishment of a new person ahead of her.

Now, the title that reads off her name and gives a certification to all the years she spent in between textbooks, needles and round-ups with doctors asking her endless questions, lays in between her fingers. Digits spreading against the tube with trembling motions, feeling the need to drop dead right at that moment. Yoonoh promised that he’d record the exact moment in which it happens. Her, called to the stage again, to give a speech to the rest of the graduates as the best grade of the entire career.

She had given it her all, though it wasn’t always the result she wanted on a piece of paper that weighted her will and thrive to continue down this path of endless studying. However, the road seemed a bit brighter now. Yoonoh, her best friend, sits right beside her—for, her family couldn’t make it because of the winter that had surpassed the city—, holding that pompous camera that he bought on a brim online as he sits on the edge of his chair. His caramel brown hair is pushed back, long nose crinkled as he squints one eye into the lens of the camera, pointing it towards the stage.

“It’s happening.” She mumbles, watching one of her cardiology professors—and representative of this graduation event—slip into the stage. He’s an old man, eyes wrinkled and lids heavier, though still wearing polished suits and raking a faint smell of the whiskey that, word has it, he’s been very familiar and all too lost in nowadays. She presses one hand to Yoonoh’s shoulder, the other weaving over her graduation cap, smiling as she bites on her bottom lip, holding in all the excitement that bubbles up from within her.

“Do you want me to record him or you?” Yoonoh is just as excited. Funny thing is, Yoonoh has been her best friend ever since they were neighbors back when they were just children. He surpasses her in age the slightest, not too much to make a difference, so he tried to protect her on the playground near their homes as ‘the older one’. As of now, she has to protect her friends from dating Jung Yoonoh. He has an eye for a med student.

“Him.”

“This group of people we have right here…” The cardiologist, Mr. Yoon, says as he inspects the groups of people. She remembers telling them off on their lack of studying back when they were rotating with him, nonetheless, now he smiles at the crowd. “Are all winners. I don’t see a single person in this room that I am not proud to say is my colleague now.” Those words flutter her heart, making her cling onto her hat the slightest. She’d throw it in the air now if she could, and get on that stage to read off the notes that she had oh-so-diligently practiced in front of the mirror. “I meet plenty of people every day. That’s the perk of being a doctor. You meet everyone to an extent that is universally deep, even your students. You see their hardship, tears, their biggest errors, their questioning and their will to try again. You either see them lose themselves or grow because of you. Good diamonds are made under pressure, and…” He trails his voice, taking off his glasses and rubbing at one eye before putting them on again. “There is one person that was already such a bright diamond. I remember the first time I got an answer in a grand round from this person and I was…sure about the kind of doctor I would have in front of me one day.”

“Fuck.” Yoonoh mumbles, smiling in a way that presents the dimples on his cheeks, before it happens. Just as her best friend is grasping her hand that had been on his shoulder, Dr. Yoon announces what she thinks is the winner of this entire race that is medicine.

“Doctors, family, friends, may I present to you the graduate with the highest graduation score.” Dr. Yoon smiles, extending a hand towards the screen behind him before his lips part to say what she had once imagined to be a dream, but has now turned into her grandest nightmare. “Please, let’s call to the stage Dr. Mark Lee. Let’s give him a round of applause. Dr. Lee, I know you’re there.”

Her world freezes.

She doesn’t know the precise quantifications, but a university student—much more in med school—should read more than a million words in order to be, somewhat, knowledgeable in his career. She spent day and night, losing her eyesight, blurring her sclerotic while looking at a laptop, writing notes time and time again, repeating stories written about patients, stammering through words just to get the answer out. She had tried so hard, wished for it and hunted for a dream that never happened.

“Stop recording.” She tells Yoonoh, spreading a hand on top of the lens when she realizes that it’s pointed towards her. The deception of not getting the first spot spread right in the main screen of the video that she planned on playing to her family when she went back home.

“I—I can’t. I’m trying.” Yoonoh stutters, giving the camera a few smacks to no avail. Both their gazes turn to the stage when they hear the cheering that follows after one of the two hundred graduates in the med field in this event. His black hair is parted in a comma hairstyle, from what she can tell by the little strand that peeks from under his cap. The gown is a little too long on him, cheeks dipped in what would be a childish smile as he shakes Dr. Yoon’s hand. She had seen this guy around, never coinciding in a grand round or talking through night shifts, but the face was definitely familiar. His eyes are twinkling when he reaches the podium, grasping the edges until his knuckles turn white.

She’s ready to stand up from her spot and leave, adding: “I’m leaving.” In a whisper that could only be heard by Yoonoh, but her best friend clasps a hand onto her forearm, dragging her down.

“The fact that you didn’t get first spot doesn’t mean you don’t get to celebrate your graduation. Stop pestering your mind when you’ve already reached so much. It’s your best day.”

“It’s not how I wanted it to go.”

“You’re still a doctor.” Yoonoh tugs her closer by her shoulder, practically pressing her into spot, unwilling to let her move.

Whoever Mark Lee is as a person doesn’t interest her. As he stands in the podium, stammering and stuttering to let out words in between a bunch of ‘uh’ and ‘well…’, she thinks that he may be the antagonist that she never expected to have. Clearly, he hadn’t prepared, and would it be so bad for her to feel envious towards what he is having right now? Sure, she’s not a woman of attention, always ready to keep her circle closed and straight to the point with the people whom she talked to and believed in, but she wanted her last moment in between those crowd of people that competed one against the other to be memorable. For her to say, in between all odds, that she had won.

Anyone who saw her would think that the tears in her eyes are out of emotion because of the speech Mark is giving, however, she’s tired. Of trying and never succeeding, so when the crowd goes crazy for, now, Dr. Lee, she proclaims him her biggest enemy, even when he doesn’t know her.

Tangled fingers in threads of hair, elbows propped on the desk where the medical records she had been working on are written and set in a handwriting that leaves much to the imagination, she wonders why she always likes difficulty. After the big failure of not even remotely called out as good when she graduated, venturing into the world of the easiest and perhaps, the most tranquil specialization and residency should have been her first thought. However, after years of not shutting an eye properly, and getting used to it like a toxic relationship does at most occasions, she decided it would have been a great idea to, two years later, become a full-time resident in the gynecology and obstetrics department. Where, sometimes, a woman just decides to pop by with her fetus almost popping out of her, because seven kids later…and the contractions aren’t quite as strong as they were with the first baby.

The problem relies on the fact that sleep deprived and thriving off coffee is not her best conceptualization of herself. She has attended seven births in what has been just twenty-one hours and, as a matter of fact, she was an observer in three c-sections. The problem is that, as a first-year resident, she’s asked to do most of the work. Hand wringed around a pen, and fingertips gliding across the keyboard to finalize the paperwork is something that she’s used to. As the third-year resident and the night shift’s boss, as well as her coworker, Dr. Johnny Suh, had decided to take a nap now that the seashore had died down a little, waves subsided because of teamwork.

All of this just to say that she needs sleep, if she doesn’t want to drool on all the graphics that include important details of the procedures that had taken place.

She had been nice enough to ask the interns to go sleep, but now that she’s alone, she’s not even in the mood to listen to music. Could keep her awake, but at what cost? All she needs at this moment is a tight shower that lets her glide a sponge on the deep crevices of her hands and a fluffy pillow that a hospital bed cannot provide, but her mattress back at home invites her to try. Only a few more hours and she can, after she finishes her work, go back to her apartment. Hoping that her roommate doesn’t decide to be an absolute ass the rest of the morning.

The problem is that when a night shift is far too quiet, it can only mean trouble. Much to her distaste, the sound of the emergency doors sliding open with a stretcher-bearer not following far behind is the notice that makes her stand up from her desk and hate this night. Not her job. God, providing some kind of relief to her patients is the only thing that keeps her awake, but when she expects to see a woman in her thirties perhaps being a few centimeters into birth, she’s received by a woman in her seventies, very clearly in pain.

“Doctor, this woman got to the emergency room bleeding.” The stretcher-bearer adds, rubbing his hands together, ready to take the next step.

With a frown to her features and a quick inspection to check skin—not too pale to consider the bleeding to be chronic—, and definitely still with even breathing and signs of being hydrated, she believes this could be something that happened very soon. “Put her on the examination bed.” The bearer does as he’s told, and while she’s being moved around, she sighs deeply. “Night, Miss. I’m the doctor of the shift tonight. Do you mind telling me what happened?”

Cheeks tinged red, the old woman looks to the side and huffs. “I—I just started bleeding.”

“Alright,” Though she’s not convinced, she thanks the bearer with a nod of her head and then, hums. The nurses don’t seem to be anywhere around her, so she starts moving around the room, waiting for the man to leave—which is done fairly quickly—to start looking for her gloves and speculum. “Do you have a history of endometriosis, fibroids, abnormal bleeding?”

The patient shakes her head. “Not at all.”

“How many kids?”

“Four.”

“All vaginal births?”

“One c-section. The rest were birthed.”

“Did you hit yourself, per chance?” She asks, sparing a look at the woman after fixing the inspection light. “I know this could be a little invasive, so I ask for your permission to have your clothes taken off so I can inspect with a speculum and vaginal palpation to see where the bleeding comes from.”

The patient trembles when she sits up, slowly taking off her pants and speaking to her while she does so. “No.” She responds, though something shifts within her. Perhaps, the delicacy and seriousness of her tone had been enough to grant the patient some kind of relief, because the patient toys with her hands, looking up at the ceiling as she drags herself to the proper position to be examined in. “Doctor…I…I was having sex with my partner. The bleeding started after a special position—”

Bingo.

The problem relays after she gets to the diagnosis. A cervical tear that must be taken to the operating room as soon as possible. Johnny gets there in the matter of seconds, only for the nurses to still be gone. The patient needed attention provided by them, and she knows there are around four or five nurses only for the Gyn-Ob night shift willing—or pressed—to work. None in sight, leading her to having to lurk through the hospital, through chilling corridors in bone white that breathe out the scent of isopropyl alcohol and iodine.

Once she reaches the nurses’ office, she’s surprised to see them gathered. At this hour of the midnight, grabbing bites of pizza and speaking to none other than a man whom she knows fairly well. Not personally, but she’d recognize that face just about anywhere. Mark Lee has let his hair grow the slightest, the black strands peaking from under his surgery cap, eyes dotted in tiredness behind rounded glasses. There are bags under his eyes and he smells like he has used cautery pen, a little bit like burnt meat. He has one leg crossed over the other, surgical gown opened in the back, munching on a pepperoni slice with all the tranquility in the world as he laughs along with the other older-aged women.

She clears her throat, making them jump and slicing through the lively conversation that they had been having with the super smart asshole, as she calls him, in his first year as a neurosurgery resident. “Oh, what a blessing. We have all my nurses here with Dr. Lee instead of attending the emergency that just got here. I have a seventy-six-year-old woman waiting for an IV line and for her surgical gown so we can fix her cervix tear. And our specialist is about to wake up, so we need to do it fast.”

She may not be the sweetest of residents, but she’s efficient. The oldest nurse, Mrs. Kang, yawns as she tosses what was left of her pizza on a plate. “Doctor, don’t get angry with us. I know it’s late, but we hadn’t eaten and Dr. Lee also hadn’t grabbed a bite.”

Oh, she knows. He had been operating since two in the afternoon. Lucky him that gets pushed into the operating room in his first year, while she’s Johnny’s little assistant. She does it with glee, for…various reasons. “You can’t all leave the emergency room. I was alone.”

“You’ve always done well alone.” Another nurse says and she glares at them.

“I know, but I shouldn’t be doing your job.”

Mark coughs a bit in his hand, and he’s looking at everyone with tension in his eyes. Irises trembling, legs now unfolded, and looking a bit stiff. “It’s my fault.”

Mrs. Kang gasps. “Not a chance! We’re just weak for your pretty little face and we wanted to share with you.”

Of course, everyone wants to share with Mark Lee, but not with her. “Dr. Lee,” She tells him, for she had been waiting for the perfect moment to pierce through his pride like he did with hers. Her chin juts forward, staring through the bottom of her lashes before speaking up: “I would be very happy if you didn’t steal all my healthcare workers to share pizza slices with you. Everyone speaks about how smart and good-looking you are, but here, we need to be respectful. Above all.”

“I understand.” Though, Mark has an air of innocence to him. Everyone sees him like a cloud in a world of pebbles, soft and kind, and she almost ate it up when he grabbed a slice from the box just as he says: “Would you like a slice? I watched you as I got out of the surgery room and you looked like you hadn’t eaten the slightest.”

She hasn’t, but she won’t admit to fucking Mark Lee that she was starving and perhaps, just about to cry.

She wants to grab it, but ugh—that would be losing against him, isn’t it?

Mrs. Kang is, luckily, loud enough to awaken her from the glare she has casted upon Mark’s face. He has dimples that form even when he is just speaking, slim eyebrows and tall cheekbones, a fold on his bottom lip that creates a shadow inviting in this nice lighting. “Aw, c’mon, Doctor, how could you be mad at Dr. Lee?”

“Could we just please hurry up the work so we can stop that poor patient’s bleeding, please?” She asks, closing her eyes tightly, torn away from that hypnotization that Mark Lee somehow does so well.

“Alright, come with me.”

Thankfully, she turns around and doesn’t have to look Mark Lee in the eye again. That’s how he gets people, portraying that sweet and innocent face that probably gets too many opportunities just for that alone. The least she needs is to be like the nurses going crazy over him. She won’t fall for the whole persona Mark has constructed.

Her laptop is about to die. Or she is about to die. Whatever happens next. Who knows?

Johnny, on the other hand, has decided that it is appropriate to just sit on the desk of their shared office—just for residents—, more like lay on it, as she types away on the presentation she’s preparing, keeping it as developed and actualized as possible. However, the topic that she should be presenting on the congress that the hospital will be hosting in their fiftieth anniversary is still a bit loose. In the sense that it hasn’t been approved, and she’s not quite sure if being granted Johnny’s spot is any better.

Locks of black hair cascade on each side of his face and she can only get distracted from her job by one person only. It’s a bit stupid that she was once Johnny’s intern, as he was fresh in the residency, and now they are colleagues. Back then, she never thought she’d hold a crush on someone so…basically loved. Everyone could fall for Johnny, but now that she knows him, she envies and likes him at the same time. Never breaking a sweat, dangerously threading through portions of her heart that she deemed unvisited for many years.

“Why didn’t you want to do this presentation?”

“I am not a great public talker. Or well, I am, I just don’t like doing it.” Johnny sits up, clearing his throat in a way that has her scrunching her nose the slightest. Okay, that wasn’t really attractive. He sniffles soon after. “…And I may be catching a cold, so the first person I thought about was you. You’re, like, the smartest one of our residency and you’re just beginning.”

Maybe, that’s why she likes him so much. It has been a while since someone has truly told her something of that kind, and she’s starting to believe that intelligence is not really her most fitted dress. However, sweet words won’t take away the stress she feels. “More of a reason for me to doubt you. First year residents are torn to shreds in congresses. Could you have—?”

“Taken this choice just to ruin something special for you? Jesus, I’m an asshole, but I graduated as a doctor. I have to have a bit of human in me. Within me. Not like in me. I don’t have anyone in me.” Johnny speaks a little too much before dropping off from the desk. Just when he’s about to say something else, her laugh is cut off by someone knocking on the door and before Johnny could even invite whoever is there in, a head pops through the small slit that was caused by the door being opened.

Lord and heavens. What kind of karma is she paying? Did she step on a puppy a little too hard or did she steal someone’s boyfriend? Because none other than Dr. Mark Lee is standing by the door, sporting that coat that he always wears and is a little too big on his bodies. His ties are a tad shorter than what they should and alongside Johnny, he looks frankly small. In confidence and, also, in height.

Judging by how close they are as Johnny hugs him.

“Dude, I’m totally freaking out.” Mark speaks a little too quickly and Johnny clicks his tongue.

“You’ll do fine. What kind of neuroscience shit are they having you talk about?”

Oh, she’s not even going to pretend like she’s surprised. She expected Mark to be invited as a spokesperson in the event. Everyone adores him, and he has also been one of the leaders of the theorical science studying team in the hospital for the past year. Of course, she understands him being picked. Nonetheless, when he widens his eyes towards her, she knows something is wrong. As in, for her.

“Oh, actually, that’s why I came here.” Mark stumbles, turning to look at her and lifting two fingers in the air as a form of a greeting. She only gives him a curt nod. “…Dr. Hong told me early this morning that you should check your emails more constantly. I was informed that we are going to present a study on the use of antiepileptics in eclampsia.”

No. No fucking way.

She can work with him in the same hospital meters away, but the way her ego would be torn just by sharing a stage with Mark alone is not something she wants to go through. Words will mingle across the room; with people saying that he’s better than her and that he had once won over her. She knows how people adore Mark Lee, and how gray she is in a world filled with color.

“Anticonvulsants? With you?” She questions, standing up and spreading her hands across the desk. She feels a little tense thanks to the skirt she had pressured herself to wear instead of her usual scrubs, just because she wanted to feel pretty and professional. Mark’s eyes gravitate towards her legs and she swears she sees a blush flying to his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Dr. Lee, but I already have a presentation that I have talked about with Dr. Hong.” The owner of the hospital, mind her.

“Yes, about eclampsia, but considering I am going to talk about antiepileptics and people rarely know the proper and organized treatment and ladder of management for pregnancy, I think it could be amazing to present—”

“Us two?”

“Yes.” Mark stops, sparing a glance towards Johnny from the corner of his eye. Silence basks them for a second before he asks: “Is there a problem I should be aware of…or that I am missing out on?”

She sighs deeply. Okay, this is the moment she sits Mark on a chair the same way she had been planted on one when she had lost her biggest goal to him. She spares Johnny the benefit of gossiping about this. “Dr. Suh, could you please wait for us outside? I have some matters to talk about with Dr. Lee.”

She rounds the table by the time Johnny adds: “Shit, and just when things were about to get saucy.” Johnny does as she says, however, opening the door and disappearing with a swoosh of his lab coat. Mark just stands there, looking like a lost deer in the headlights, black hair still not pushed back with enough gel to make him look perfectly polished and professional.

“So…” Mark trails and she chuckles sarcastically at his words.

“Yes, I have a problem with you.” She tells. “I didn’t know about your existence before, Dr. Lee, with all due respect and you decided to show yourself up the one time you shouldn’t have. You’ve been granted everything in a silver-platter and while we had almost the same score when graduating, people just loved you more for speaking in front of everybody. ‘Cause you are sweet and like a boy-next-door, but that’s not what medicine is about. This is about hardships, still trying, and succeeding at the end. It’s about being strong enough to study and make people survive.”

Mark raises his eyebrows at that moment, gaping at her words before shaking his head. “Let me understand this well.” He internalizes her words before splaying a hand on his chest. “I am truly sorry you feel like that, but I also tried hard. The fact that I have not grown bitter over the career doesn’t mean I don’t care about it, or that I don’t have to study like a madman every single day.”

“I can’t even shine by my own because I have to be your little shadow.” She tosses, only to have Mark shrugging.

“You’ll shine! I’m not here to make you feel any less. Geez, you’ve created this competition out of nowhere.”

Of course, Mark is always eager to make himself look more caring and sweet. She understands that he may be so, but to her, Mark doesn’t care about her the slightest bit. He’s just overrated, over the top, a little too dull for her to feel fine with losing to him.

“Well, if we’re going to talk about anticonvulsants—”

“Antiepileptics.”

“Jesus, can you let me talk for once?!” She raises her voice, only to have Mark crossing his arms over his chest.

“If we’re going to work together, you have to understand something. You know more about pregnancy than I do. I know more about the human brain than you do. And that’s just factual of specialization. If not, they wouldn’t exist.” He tells her, and for a reason, whenever he is granting information regarding his career, Mark’s voice turns deeper and sulkier. Why is she even listening to him this closely? “I say antiepileptics because the term anticonvulsant is no longer user, or not proper to use. Eclampsia counts as a cause of epilepsy.”

She sighs through her nose, pressing two fingers to her temple. “Alright. Antiepileptics. If we’re going to do this together, you…have to understand that I’m not used to getting along with you and I haven’t…thought about getting along with you. So, we’ll do our best to make a great presentation, and we’ll listen to each other as closely as we can without constantly interrupting ourselves. Am I correct?”

“Never planned on doing anything different.” Mark whispers, frowning deeply when they hear a bang against the wooden door. “Someone’s there.”

“Johnny!” She screeches, only to heard another bang against the door.

“Sorry, I fell!”

“Why are you listening through the door?”

“Who said I was?!”

“You’re listening right now.”

Then, the conversation goes dead silent.

“Fine.” Mark says.

“Fine.” She repeats, only to watch him open the door and that alone has her relaxing all the muscles in her body.

This will be the most horrible set of three weeks ever.

Mark can’t work in hospital settings, so he says. Yet, when he invites her to a packed-up park, the least she expects him is to see seated on a picnic cloth, wearing an oversized tank-top and reading from a neurology textbook with frowned eyebrows and squinted eyes. Even when his glasses are supposed to better his eyesight, he still has a hard time reading, it seems. The paper he has under his thigh, not even propped anywhere to be kept in place, holds scribbles of notes that he probably will forget about sooner or later. However, she inspects him from afar as she holds onto her backpack. Mark’s cheekbones tinge pink at the mere touch of the sun, short eyelashes glammed-up by the caress of the sunrays that pass by the tree over him. He has prepared some meals, too, from what she can see.

Next to him are two containers with what she can judge is bibimbap, and she wants to do nothing more than run away. Men are easier to understand when they don’t care about being nice, or people as a whole, as a matter of fact. She has never known someone that has truly been nice without expecting anything in return, and while Mark is now aware that she is not entirely pleased by his presence, he still tries to be…human.

“I wonder, sometimes, if you know about the existence of a hairbrush.” She whispers, though she doesn’t say it in a condescending way. A palm of hers splays on top of his hair, not even pushed back by gel, but messed up by the wind that tangles it in small waves. Then, she takes off her cap and places it on top of her head, only to have Mark looking up, eyes squinted because of the sunrays that probably surround her like a halo.

“I’m too lazy to do anything to it.” He says, though he doesn’t take off the cap. Instead, he turns the book around. Who would have thought Mark was a little bit of a nerd? “Did you know that magnesium sulfate is the first treatment that pops up to our heads when thinking of eclampsia, but that it is not the first line if we consider the antiepileptic treatments that are out there?”

“I stand by magnesium sulfate, and you’re not going to steal that away from me, Dr. Lee.”

“Mark.” He corrects, putting the textbook down as she sits. She looks at the pink cap on top of his head and she almost wants to laugh. He looks…innocent. “And as an obstetrician, you do. But as a neurosurgeon, I have to tell you you’re wrong.”

“Mark…”

“What?”

“We said no correcting.”

“You never said that. You said no interrupting.”

“Okay, let me read that book.”

The afternoon relays on the beauty of summer, August coming with the pressure of success as midterms arise in their residencies. However, for a moment, they are just two people studying together. She was right, though Mark doesn’t do much introduction to the meals he brought other than he made them, and while the pieces of meat he added are a bit burnt, she still eats with glee. Reading off the textbook Mark had brought while he’s lurking in his laptop and fixing their presentation, she starts to learn more from what he knows. The insight he has in the new, always lurking to be the difference, igniting protocols, excelling in research, not following after what is told and older doctors expect them to repeat.

Of course, they have to follow after what they know is correct but Mark actually ponders why such treatments are used. At some point, as Mark reads off one of the pages, she’s typing down the information on a presentation and their shared Google Document, laying on the picnic cloth and wishing the hours didn’t pass by so quickly. Now, she’s hungry again, and that doesn’t help her concentration, mind fading as she looks at the way the strap of Mark’s shirt had fallen off one of his shoulders, back dusted in endless freckles. Too many not to be noticed.

Without noticing, or perhaps, without really meaning to, she extends a hand. The tip of her finger trails a constellation of freckles on his back, his voice haltering suddenly, turning around with a jump to his movements. When their eyes connect, she can only spurt out an apology, but Mark’s eyes are widened, pulling the strap up his shoulder and almost hiding his back.

“I—I didn’t mean to make you feel insecure. Sorry.” She tells him and she’s about to let it be, but the image pops inside her head once again. And for some reason, maybe medical curiousness, she wants to know more. “You have a lot of freckles.”

Mark laughs about it, flicking a page to the side. “I didn’t have that many. I got them throughout med school.”

Her heart hammers a bit against her chest, worrying. Sure, Mark is not her favorite person, but she still doesn’t wish for him to go through real pain. “Are they benign?”

“Oh, they are freckles. Nothing like nevus or anything of that kind.” Mark replies, sparing her a look before spreading his hand on the side of his face, casting another shadow other than the one on his bottom lip. “Where I studied before I got exchanged here was really hot, so I’d have to walk to university every single day. I got severely sunburnt, even when I wore layers and layers of clothes. The skin on my back just changed tones a bit, that’s all.”

He didn’t have it easy. Sure, she had her family that could take her to classes on the first few semesters, and then it was Yoonoh helping her. She never had to go through that, but she felt for him. “Oh…” She trails, sitting up and sighing. “That’s why you decided to exchange here?”

Mark hums. “…Not really. I just wanted something different. I like being here and there. No matter the hardships.” Though, he does push the brim of his glasses higher up his nose. “The library was just a plus in our university.”

“Nerd.”

“Have to be so to be successful, don’t I?” Mark stands up at that moment, cracking his back and closing his laptop, that she had put aside. “I think I’ll head home now. Need me to give you a ride back home?”

“No.” Though, for some reason, she wishes Mark would invite her dinner. She means…it’s not like she wants to spend more time with him, but if they were both hungry, they could take a trip to the next street, where she knows there is an excellent pizza place. “I brought my car. I’ll head back home if we’re not doing much else.”

“I’ll email you what I find.”

“Same.”

With that, they both go separate ways. As it should. As it has always been meant to be.

“Has it always been common notice to you that we share the same shift?”

She scrunches up her nose upon the arrival of Mark to her triage. Where she’s locked, like a tiger ridden of its will of roaring, while Johnny is out there operating and bringing babies into the world. Luckily for her, she had sorted out all the patients of the night and after making some quick work with the stories and checking in with the hospitalized patients, at two in the morning, she can finally sit down to grab a bite of…whatever her potato puree is now. A blob, most likely. Granted, this time of the night is also when Mark finalizes his operating sessions and while his eyebags are probably on the verge of falling to the floor to match the backpack he has left there, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise to her that she sees him…again.

It has been like that for the past month, and they have gotten to exchange a few words for the last two weeks, ever since they got paired in their presentation together. However, one of the interns is seated on the desk not too far away from them, with her cheek squished against the wooden surface and lulled into the perfect world of dreamland. Johnny would give her an earful for never making the interns do anything, but she’s certain of something—the sooner she gets to do her stuff, the earlier she’ll leave tomorrow.

“I substantially tried to avoid you the first few times I noticed you were around.” Mark pushes away the container that she had set on the desk, where she was hoping that the blob wasn’t going to make her throw up or even worse later on the…morning. Yes, it’s the morning now. Midnight. Whatever it is. “Hey, I was planning on eating that.”

“You were planning on eating what was probably rotten potato. I know we attend emergencies, but I’d rather avoid having you in gastroenterology later tonight.” He announces, dragging a seat towards her and making her shush him.

“The kid’s sleeping.”

“The kid was with me last semester. Carmen. You should probably make her do something.”

“Why?”

“She never does anything! She failed last semester and needs to do well in this one. Push her to be better—”

“Ah, I can’t change people.” Mark’s far too close, though he’s not making any effort on turning her uncomfortable. Instead, he props his glasses down on the table and now, she realizes it’s the first time she has seen him without those. His hair is a mess after taking his surgery cap off, eyes puffed out, eyebrows slim and yet, somehow messy because of his palms roaming over his features. She continues speaking, because somehow talking to the person she likes the least feels liberating. “As a student, I think your value comes from how hard you work, but it’s also highly subjective. I can’t push a student to do better if they don’t feel inspired by me, and that’s just what I think. It’s like women trying to change their husbands, for example. It’s never going to happen unless he feels the need to really change, you know?”

And talking about Carmen as if she wasn’t there is a bit rude, so she nudges his side with her elbow.

“What have you brought? I’m sure it’s just as rotten as my potatoes.”

“Nope. I ordered some sushi from a place nearby.” Mark tells, opening the bag and introducing two black plastic containers which lids he takes off. The scent of freshly cooked spices, vegetables and rice has her mouth salivating. God, when was the last time she had a proper meal today? “I think they forgot the wasabi. In your mind, that must mean they don’t want to put effort into their jobs so I shouldn’t call for them to bring me my wasabi or place a complaint.”

“Precisely. Don’t be a Karen, Mark.” She replies, earning a laugh from Mark that has her neck feeling heated. He doesn’t cover up the fact that he’s genuinely happy, baring all teeth, tossing his head back and letting out a high-pitched laugh. He doesn’t let the title of a doctor rid him of the happiness in which he lives his life in, and she envies that to the point she kind of feels relieved that not everyone goes through the same thing she does. “You bought some for me?”

Mark is already lost in the magic of eating late at night, munching on a slice of sushi and letting a sprinkle of rice end on the tip of his mouth. He doesn’t notice it and she battles the twitch of her fingers to flick that piece of food away. “Of course. You know, every time I go to the operation room, I see you here, trapped in this emergency room just making the shift work. You give it your all every second you can. I wouldn’t be surprised if you hadn’t eaten a thing.”

“Thank you.” She retaliates. God, the hospital had been so cold just mere seconds ago, but since the moment Mark arrived, it feels like summers has embarked inside its walls. “I’ll have you know a little fact. Doctors are the main patients that can get type two diabetes. We eat the worst, even when we recommend to our patients to do otherwise.”

Mark crinkles his nose. “I’ll have you know something.” He tilts his head to the side, and she tries to embark in her own food and not look at him. The lulling nature of his smile, and the softness that comes with the tone of his voice, all detonators of thoughts that shouldn’t pass her brain. They’ll present the information they have gathered in the hospital’s anniversary and that will be it for them. She promises it’s just that. “I hated intern medicine. Whenever I had to read the ADA articles, I felt like a part of me died a little. It’s just…it’s so…”

“Non-surgical.”

“Exactly.” She laughs at his words, to which he responds with a twinkle in his eyes that she wants to erase, like a towel on top of a stain, rubbing away until it’s gone. Not because she wants to take the spark that makes him be so bright, but because he is…dizzying and blinding to the point of no return sometimes.

“You’re also like that. Though, I don’t know why Johnny just…doesn’t let you operate with him. You’re amazing with birth-care, but there has to be more to it.” Mark insists and she tries not to think about it. Johnny just likes doing things his way, and that’s never been wrong. They work well together, though separated. “Don’t try to defend him.”

“What? I’m not talking.”

“I know you always protect him. Johnny has gotten in so much trouble around the hospital, for reasons that I won’t judge him for because he is my friend and I know he’s a good worker, no matter how lazy he can look,” Mark stops for a moment and without noticing, she’s staring at his lips again. That fucking rice should leave, shouldn’t it? “Uh, you’re like, kind of into him, aren’t you?”

Johnny? It’s a little complicated to tell these days. “He’s different from me.”

“And?”

“I like different.” Because she can’t truly live with someone who voices out what goes inside her brain. She needs brightness in what she considers a dulling ocean of midnight thoughts. “But not a chance, Mark. Not a chance.”

“Took you too long to deny.” Mark points out, before sighing. “I’m not saying he’s not into you, I don’t want to be the guy to—”

“But he isn’t.” She replies. She knows how Johnny Suh is. That doctor can have anyone within his pocket and he does so. She’s aware of how far this crush can go, and a relationship or even a hook-up is not it. “That doesn’t hurt me, Mark.”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Alright, I’m the one saying it.”

“Don’t be so rude to yourself.” Always positive, Mark stammers. “All I’m saying is that, as his pupil, he should invite you to the operation room more often. My higher-up resident invites me and that’s why—”

Without noticing, she’s flicking a thumb over his bottom lip, moving away the rice that had gathered there. Mark’s eyes widen, his hand spreading on top of her own and she recognizes then how close they are. She sees the twitch of his tongue as it gathers his bottom lip until he traps it in between his teeth and as the sweet mood-ruin person he is, he adds:

“Ah, I—Fuck, I was talking and I had something there all along? Shit. Fuck. Uh, hold on, I’m cussing, aren’t I?” Mark, without noticing, plops another slice of sushi inside his mouth and she tries not to snort out a laugh directly at his face. “You should’ve told me.”

“We were talking about other things.” The tips of his ears are tinged red, and maybe the internal summer she’s going through is also happening to Mark Lee. “You’re blushing.”

“Fuck no.”

“You never cuss. Do you curse when you’re nervous?”

“Who said I was nervous?”

“It doesn’t take being a rocket scientist to know.” She answers, though, she doesn’t want to mortify Mark any longer, picking at her own food before giving a bite. “Either way, don’t worry about that crush. I think it’s more…admiring what he is able to do without being as inside his head as I am in mine. It’s never going anywhere. I don’t want it to.”

Mark nods, and she thinks she broke him, because he doesn’t speak for the rest of their little dinner until she resurfaces the matter of their presentation and its preparation.  

“Some sponsors are here, so I only want Mark to…you know, do the talking.”

Everyone adores Dr. Hong. He’s a neurosurgeon, head and owner of the hospital, and he was so at the mere age of fifty-two. Rather young for everything he has achieved and the textbooks he has written, she looks up to him even when she’s from a whole different field to his. However, as she wore her most elegant set of pants, flowing against recently shaven legs, along with a turtleneck that she had paid a little too much for, her shoulders fall at the sound of his voice. He’s sipping from his glass of water as people gather on their seats in the auditorium, and he says it in front of everyday, just so she doesn’t explode right at that moment.

Of course, he knows more about Mark as a student because he’s his own pupil. Nonetheless, he could have some shame. She had prepared with all the will and hardships in the world, balancing studying for her midterms and the presentation, while also investigating deeply with Mark almost every day. It’s no wonder that even Mark is a little surprised, and in the past, she would have thought he was fully aware of this. He pushes his classes to the top of his head, gasping at what Dr. Hong has just said.

“B—But…I can’t do it without her.”

“You should’ve learned both parts for the presentation.” Dr. Hong scolds, his bottle-bottom glasses making his eyes look significantly smaller. He smiles to one of the invites that briefly drops a hand on his shoulders before he’s returning to his hushed whispers with them. For a place so brightly decorated in balloons and signs in bright orange and yellow, she feels…hollow and mellow. “It’s nothing against you, darling, but people know more about Mark and his studies, and he’s more of an open personality. He’s the kind of sweet we need for an opener. Like a cocktail, you know?”

No, she doesn’t know shit about this. Because Mark gets opportunities that she doesn’t. Mark is already opening his mouth, spurting out: “It’s not fair. She worked just as hard as I did—”

Though, something that she has never gotten the benefit of, like Mark did and continues to do, is not to be disciplined. She tries to push a smile up her lips, but she’s sure it looks more like a mock. “I’d have to thank you for the opportunity, Dr. Hong, but then, I won’t stay. I haven’t…gotten enough sleep, so I’d rather leave right now.”

Dr. Hong trails his brown eyes over her features before giving her a half-hug that feels a bit forced. “I’m sorry for not telling you earlier, but you wouldn’t have worked as hard if I had done so, right?”

“Exactly, Dr. Hong. That’s how it is.” She spits out softly, giving him a curt bow before she turns around. She feels the corner of her eyes bottling up with tears, and she looks up in order not to let them fall. Familiar faces scatter across the rows of seats that feel endless, and she wishes she had gotten the chance to prove what she was made of. Maybe, another time, or that’s what she promises herself each time.

When getting out of the hospital’s auditorium, she feels the sudden need to take off her lab coat and heels right at that moment and cry like a baby just born in the world. However, as she rushes down the halls, she hears the sound of steps following after her, and she wants to say they are slow and just trying to reach the same destination as her per chance, but the elevator is within reach when Mark appears in front of her, hands extended to stop her from moving any father.

“Mark, could you move?”

“I’m not presenting that without you. You’re also the core of this investigation, I—” He’s rushed in the way he is speaking, and it surprises her that he has the heart to do what he does next. His palms gather her own in between his, trapping her and enticing their gazes to connect. Mark has the prettiest set of brown eyes, and when they are worried, they almost seem to gleam like diamonds. “Why…Why is it like this for you?”

“I guess that’s how the world works. I’m a woman, first and foremost. I’m more strong-willed than you are. I stick out like a sore thumb and being opinionated has never helped me much.” Saying those words out loud has tears dropping against her cheeks. Fuck, her makeup is ruined now. Hiccups escape her lips when she looks around, hoping that no more doctors arrive through those elevator doors just to see her cry. Fore-front, too. “Say mean shit to me, that way I’ll stop crying. God, I can’t believe I’m being such a pussy.”

“Hey…” Mark’s voice is softened, like the thumb he lets roam the brim of her knuckles. “I wouldn’t say anything mean to you. You…You hate me, for fuck’s sake, and I still wouldn’t think of you as anything more than worthy of being there more than I am. You’ve never gotten your chance to shine.”

“And I want to believe I never will, because it’s easier. Living life while being bitter just feels…more common to me.” She tells him, pushing at his chest and sighing. “Say I don’t deserve it, Mark. Just say it!”

“You do!” Mark replies, voice just as loud. She wants to shut him up, press those lips together and just let him look as handsome as he does right now, with a few buttons of his blue button down undone, gray suit clashing against the whiteness of his coat. “So please, get back in that auditorium. Let’s do things our way.”

“I…I can’t.” She responds, extending her back until her shoulders become straight, as if poised and entranced. “My pride doesn’t let me, and sure, I will probably never reach half the things you will while being like this…but if someone doesn’t want me there, I just won’t do it.”

“I want you here.”

“And when your vote counts, I hope you still wish for me to do so.” Just when she’s about to press the elevator’s button to watch the doors open, they are caught off guard. The doors do open, but a set of doctors plan on passing through by them. Mark moves quicker than she does when a small curse leaves her lips, pushing her until she’s relying on the wall, his body used as coverage as he drops his head and shelters her from the eyes of others. He is probably seeing the trails of mascara and the runny lipstick, but he doesn’t show his discomfort. Perhaps, he doesn’t feel so.

“Don’t move.”

“Don’t let them see me.” She replies, looking up at his eyes. Mark nods, though she sees the fraction of second of distraction that passes by his features. She wants to run her fingers through his hair, fix that goddamned strand that he always lets out, but that breath of connection is broken by the clearance of his throat as he gives one step back.

“They’ve left. And you’re leaving with me.” Mark complies, only to have her shaking her head.

“Not a chance.”

“I’ll carry you there.”

“You’re too shy and non-assertive to do such a thing, so I’m not worried.” Rubbing a hand against her eye and perhaps, ruining her makeup even more, she says: “Just go steal the show, Mark, you’ve done it time and time again. Why not do it now?”

“I know how much this means to you now. I didn’t…I didn’t know when we graduated just how much you care about education.”

“Well, shit just happens.” Before Mark could say anything else, she pops inside the elevator, hearing him bang his fists against the doors when she closes them with rushed fingertips against the buttons. Soon after, she’s sighing when dropping herself against the wall, looking up at the bright lightbulb and feeling more tears gathering and dropping. One by one, like her worries, piling up until she doesn’t know what to do with them.

Somehow, she can’t hate Mark at this moment. Not this time around. Yoonoh would probably laugh at her for giving Mark excuses for always getting her chances, but it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it, either. He may be the kind of person people want posing on pictures and being their doctor, and that’s something she has to live with. Not being his shadow, but also, not shining on her own. One day, it will come—and she hates that she’s thinking like this, because she’s starting to sound like Mark.

A month later.

She uses the pendant as a joke.

Dr. Hong wanted to apologize in some way or another—or so she wants to believe. Isn’t there something along the line of bosses being very political and not wanting to look bad in front of their workers?—, so he decided to give his staff necklaces as a gift. Necklaces and keychains, she forgets about that sometimes, but she’s reminded when she feels the new weight of a pendant against the lines of her palms. But, that’s not what she decided to sport ironically today, as she’s wearing her favorite pair of gray scrubs and a braid that she learned how to do on a TikTok video. The point is…that Dr. Hong must have made a mistake, because when he gave her the box that was supposed to hold her necklace with her name as a pendant, she got Mark’s instead.

Today is Thursday, a month after they were paired together to work on that presentation that was, according to the attendees, the best one to date coming from residents of this hospital. However, she doesn’t want to ponder back and forth on what could have been. Instead, she’s knowledgeable of the fact that Mark should be consulting his post-operation patients today. Hence, she pops through the neurosurgery portion of the hospital, greeting a few familiar faces with a nod of her head—and a swing of her hand against someone’s shoulder, when the newest intern and last year student, Na Jaemin, decides to give her a hug a little too tight and call her by name instead of doctor—, and clinging to the necklace as if it is her pride and joy.

She waits for the last patient to leave, and she remembers Mark talking about this case. An astrocytoma that he had extracted and was scared of the neurological outcome of the patient. Luckily for him, the patient was not walking on two feet, but when he pushed his wheel-chair away from the consulting room, he was talking to his partner. She smiles, pushing the door open once again and not missing the way Mark perks up at that moment, always eager to welcome his patients.

“Oh, Mr. Jude, did you happen to forget something—?” Mark stops on his tracks when he turns around, seeing her with a shit-eating grin that must be weird for him to look at. Through the other wall of the consulting room, the specialist must be working and examining the patients that Mark presents to him, but for now, only the two of them are left in this room. “…You’re happy.”

“I can be.” Though, she sprints and jumps a bit on her step as she moves closer to him. Mark is already speaking, not paying too much attention to her, just because he had seen her in these scrubs before.

“Dr. Hong made a huge mistake. I have this necklace that was supposed to go to you. But either way, how are you doing?” Mark’s unaware of the way she fidgets with the necklace around her neck, leaning back on his desk and looking through a few of the papers his handwriting his scribbled on, when she shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s okay. I am supposed to go check how the patients are doing upstairs and then, head back to the emergency room to check on a patient I had with a vaginal infection. Well, she contacted me outside the hospital and wanted some help because it’s recurrent, but whatever.” Once again, she wiggles her eyebrows at him. “Mark, I need you to look at me.”

“Yeah,” Mark’s, once again, lost in his thoughts, before he’s frowning. “You need me to look at you? Do you have anything? Oh God, how’s the Glasgow? Are you having memory loss?”

“No, dumbass.” She rolls her eyes, swinging the necklace back and forth. “What’s different?”

“The hair?” Mark snaps his fingers, happiness trailing after his smile. “It looks lighter!”

“No wonder you wear glasses.” She gets closer to him, still holding onto her necklace, and perhaps, Mark does have that medical eye that everyone prides him on, because a motion of his gaze across her body that electrifies the utmost recondite portions of her muscles has him squinting his eyes at the necklace and then, she full on laughs at his realization. “I knew I got the wrong necklace, but I thought it would be funny. It kind of looks like one of those couple things, doesn’t it? Like that Taylor Swift song—”

Mark’s pupils dilate, eyes darkened. As a matter of fact, she expected him to be a stuttering, sweating mess at this point. She must not know all sides of Mark Lee, precisely. His digits trace the necklace with just the tip before he’s engulfing the pendant in his palm. She looks at him, watching the even breathing, rising and falling of his thorax, followed by the purse of his lips and the eccentricity of the simplest of movements from his eyebrows. He rotates the pendant, studies it with fervor, before he tugs her closer by it. The skin of her nape arises in goosebumps, throat contracting in a thick swallow when she finally realizes that Mark is just not a cute, quite obnoxious and oblivious, guy that she can play around with.

There is a man in there.

The broadness of his shoulders, barriers to the smallness of his waist, clashing worlds that come together with the scent of his perfume and…is that an aftershave? Mark uses an aftershave?

Maybe, she had been unable to see what really made him so attractive to the rest of the world.

His chin perches up, looking at the necklace from underneath his eyelashes. “Don’t take it off.” He musters, deep from within his chest, rumbling in a vibrato that has the curve of her back deepening and transcending towards him.

“What?” Now she’s the one stammering, and it’s incredible that Mark has this kind of power.

“It looks…great on you.” And the way he toys with the silver material, rotating it in the axis of his index finger, has her aware of how awfully close the digit is to her skin, as if the desire to have that finger trailing down the column of her throat and towards the expanse of her chest is…unbearable.

Summer. He has brought summer to her face again. It’s not a blush, she swears.

“It has your name.”

“So what? It still looks amazing on you.” Mark recites, pulling away to hoist her chin in between his index and thumb before he moves her face from side to side.

“Do you have a fascination with necks, Mark?”

“Not that I know of. Could be my debut as a neck-fascinator, y’know.” He jokes around, and she would laugh if it wasn’t for the tightened knot in the pit of her chest. When he lets go of her, she feels like she can finally breathe, and why is that something that comes out as poor in comparison to the way his touch feels on her? “As much as I would like to keep talking to you, I have more patients waiting for me outside and…” He moves over to the door, and she’s eager to have him opening it so she can cool off, but when his hand spreads on the doorknob, he adds, while looking at her: “Shit, don’t take it off, okay?”

She would have laughed at herself years ago if she heard herself saying, in a small tone: “I won’t, Mark.”

Four months later.

“Care to explain why Mark Lee’s drunken ass is in your birthday party? Because I’m all for change of pace, but this is a whole new story we’re talking about.”

She had missed Yoonoh, dearly, so when he had decided to tag along to her dinner birthday party with his new girlfriend, she thought it would be the greatest of ideas. She must have forgotten that in between all the mess that is being a resident, and also the fact that Mark’s position in her life is as much of a question mark—pun intended—as it is settled, she had not told Yoonoh about his existence as a…well, friend? Supposedly?

Yoonoh’s hair is shorter, bleached with the tips painted in a bright pink, and she has to adjust to the colors even when the restaurant is bathed in colors of purple and blue, the VIP section pushed into the agenda of her birthday thanks to Mark’s idea. He had been the one behind all this, but how does one say that to Yoonoh when he was there, listening to her complain about Mark’s existence, for whole months? She wouldn’t stop talking about him.

She tilts her head back, moistening her mouth with a daiquiri before shrugging. “Life happens. Mark had to work on a project with me and then, we just…I’m not going to say we’re friends.”

Yoonoh bares his teeth as a wolf would do before eating its prey alive. Yes, she’s the prey, but she’s just going to get shit-eating grins the entire night. “Oh, but you’re so friends. Tell me, what is it that has made you forgive him for putting you through the biggest turmoil of your life?”

Considering that he is now standing on a table, swinging hips from side to side in a comic way, with a few buttons of his shirt undone and almost popping a nipple, she’s thinking that he wasn’t that much of a threat to start with. “Just look at him. He’s singing Fifty-Fifty. A man that truly wants to ruin your entire life wouldn’t make hearts while karaoke-ing to ‘Cupid.’”

“I wouldn’t put it that way. Men are menaces, me being a man is enough for me to prove it.” And the way Yoonoh has slowly pulled away from his new girlfriend, letting her go get drinks on her own side as she’s now talking with a whole different group of women, lets her know that, maybe, just maybe, he’s not the best one to date. Johnny is somewhere around, too, speaking with a few other residents of the Gyn-Ob program. “Is he treating you well?”

“Don’t start with the brother talk.”

“I’m not giving you the brother talk.”

“Well, you’re asking me questions a brother would think about when his sister has a new boyfriend but hey, newsflash, I don’t—”

“I don’t like Mark Lee, she said, totally lying to herself. Come on, you’ve been eye-fucking him.”

“What do you know? You’re drunk.”

“Two of these?” He holds the two empty soju bottles he has around him. “Don’t bother me. Cupid boy over there, though? He’s on cloud nine and I think it’s about time we slice the cake and take him home.”

“You just want cake.”

Yoonoh quirks a perfectly trimmed eyebrow before chuckling. “Trust me, babe, I’m getting a good slice of cake tonight, but the sweet kind wouldn’t do me wrong, either.”

This memory could be one for the books, considering Yoonoh has one arm wrapped around Mark’s shoulder as they both drunkenly—or not so—sing into the camera Yoonoh is holding on one hand the goddamned birthday song. She’s clapping along, laughing when Mark dips a finger into the icing and tries to smear it on the tip of her nose but completely misses.

Okay, maybe he doesn’t handle soju just as well.

Yoonoh says his goodbyes and finally decides to return to his date, or girlfriend, or whatever it is that he calls women in his life these days. That’s the moment she wraps an arm around Mark’s shoulder, hoisting her hand until she’s clasping the two ends of his button down closed so he doesn’t show more of his chest. For his sake. Or hers.

“I didn’t ask for nudity tonight.” Mark’s cheeks tinge pink and he laughs at her words, shaking his head.

“Dude, I’m not naked.” Though, he does take a second glance, creating a double-chin when he looks down at his chest and then, it’s her turn to giggle. “See? I didn’t have to check or anything.”

“I’m taking you home.”

“But Johnny’s still here!”

“Don’t care. I’m taking you home. Enough celebrating. It’s four in the morning, not my birthday anymore.” She replies, tugging him along with her as she carries on her empty hand a bag with the half-eaten burger he had left on his plate on a container and the slices of cake respective to them. She waves the hand that she has on Mark’s chest as a goodbye to the rest of the group before they’re engulfed by the night. “Okay, Mark—”

He’s not in this world, or this night, because he’s singing slowly to himself: “I’m feeling lonely. Oh, I wish I could find a lover that could—”

“Mark.”

“Hold me.” He does a few runs with his voice at that moment, which is not unpleasant, but definitely uncalled for as she is trying to take them back home.

“I need you to do either one of two things. Reach into my purse and grab my car keys, or button your shirt so you don’t die of a cold.” He chooses the latter, popping his hand inside her purse and lurking around. His body rolls on the curve of her arm, a crease growing between his brows as he tries his best to find the key in this darkened night. From the closeness, she can smell the soju in his breath, mixed with the mustard that he reapplied on the burger that was served to him.

“I’m on it. Just give me…a second.”

“We don’t have many seconds.”

“Eh, eh, dude, no rushing.” Mark complains, dragging his voice. “A true surgeon doesn’t rush, you know?”

“I’m an obstetrician-to-be.”

“Babies take time, too, you know? To make them, pop them out…” Mark’s voice starts to face until he grabs the keys, grabbing them harshly in the palms of his hands before smiling. “Here they are! We can go…back…home…” His tone grows duller when he looks at her, faces inherently close, in positions that almost translate to being chest to chest, only separated by the purse in between them, and it doesn’t help that she has one arm wrapped around his waist. “Can you smell the mustard?”

“Mark—” She’s about to pull away, but Mark tugs her closer, perfecting the position she had put them in. He wraps both hands around her waist, molding and digging until all she feels is his skin, muscles and bones. His abdomen contracts against her own, insufferably tight and making her own stomach flip a bunch of times. The breeze plays with the hair he lets fall on his forehead and she swears she sees a hint of condensation in his glasses.

“I’m sorry. All I’ve done is ruin every opportunity I’ve had with you.” Mark whispers, almost like a drunken blues, before he licks his lips. His eyes divert to the necklace hanging in between her collarbones, his name still there, most of the time covered by her coat at work or her scrubs, but he wears her name around her neck, as well. She’s sure someone has figured out their little game by now. “…But you still wear the necklace.”

Freezing is the tip of his nose against her septum, trailing against the skin as his lips part. The shuddering breath he lets out speaks a thousand languages, each more confusing than the other. Those eyes of his remain closed, while she only looks at him. The crease of his brows, the trembling of his bottom lip and the palpable need to kiss her, only to be interrupted by his own insecurities:

"Just kiss me." She pleads, though she would have never imagined that her voice would let out such things. Mark was supposed to be the man she hated for the rest of her professional life, but somewhere in between, the lines had blurred.

"I can't." Mark announces and when he doesn’t let go of her waist, she knows that said words don’t mean that he doesn’t want to. “Because I don’t know if us wearing our names on each other’s neck means we are really good friends, or that you want to kiss me just as bad. And you may have a stronger heart than I do, taking disappointment after disappointment, accepting life to be unfair with you, but I am not quite as strong as you are.”

He breathes in deeply and she takes that as a cue of him not being over his speech.

“I’m afraid you’ll break me.”

“I would never.” She admits, trailing her nose to the skin of his cheeks, deepening the tip on the hollow where his dimples form, before breathing his scent deeply. “Mark, I’m tired of running from things just because I am bitter. I don’t want to be bitter anymore. If life is going to suck, then, at least I want to say I tried having a good thing, however way it turns out.”

When he dips his mouth to taste hers, he does it as if he can’t handle the tremor of his lips. He’s unused to her motions, growing impatient and then, falling back into rhythm. One can feel that he’s nervous, but that doesn’t stop him. He puts the effort to trace the outline of her mouth with a simple caress of his lips, puckering them up the slightest in a peck before he’s parting them to grant himself the benefit to learn the shape of her upper lip and her bottom one. She sighs against his mouth, finally pushing back that one hair that he never brushes back quite well, guiding his mouth deeper into her own. For him to finally scratch that source of curiousness that had built to be a warm feeling at the tip of her stomach, and the bottom of her heart.

She had once not known who Mark Lee was.

But now she’s certain that he won’t let her forget through this kiss, and if she’s lucky, the ones that will come after.

#mark scenarios #mark x reader #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct fluff #nct au #mark fluff #mark au #writing #kpop scenarios

[swordsmans]

do you have any zolu fic recs? 🤔

oh boy do i.

my deepest apologies to others who have asked and only gotten "i promise i'll make a post!!" in response. now... here is my list! 36+ fics, including a few series i'm counting as "single" recs, (+3 not counted).

Spin a Yarn by SrirachaBunny

technically a series, this is a time travel fix-it that has expanded outward from its original premise over the years but is still very much THE zolu fix-it of all time.

Of First Mates and Duty by Whatev3rs

“First mates… we devote our lives to our captains. Our entire beings. We live for them, breathe for them. And they expect us not to fall in love?”

Devotion by BasicallyACat

two part canon compliant series that lives rent-free in my mind. this is my go-to "must read for new zolu fans" fic

without guilt by Augment

Luffy hungers, Zoro thirsts. (+ bonus honorable mention to "But Patience Boasts", which is the sanji-pov portion of this fic and is one of my faves of all time)

got all my attention fixed on you (and you're just where you said you'd be) by nevermordor

Luffy looks again at the bitemarks that he left on Zoro’s wrist. Zoro’s usually hurt, one way or another. Sometimes it’s definitely been Luffy’s fault too, but the bitemarks feel different. (honestly, just read all of nevermordor's fics; they are a fave of all time)

to cut your teeth on love by freckledshoulderblades

Zoro meets Luffy and gives himself over wholeheartedly the instant Wadō is placed between his teeth again. Luffy meets Zoro and decides in a heartbeat that Zoro is his.

tidings of war, tidings of joy by queerweather

Zoro is drenched in sweat already, but at least with his haki holding Luffy’s at bay he isn’t suffocating. And Luffy, damn him, looks completely unruffled.

Don't Go Where I Can't Follow by Leoporidae_Lagomorpha

Because before the Pirate King and the World's Greatest Swordsman there were two lost boys in East Blue. How people grow and promises change. (Zoro finds the color of his devotion.)

Fate and death are made in pairs by demonsLOver

"It's not because of his power or skill. He makes enemies and allies fight for his side. Among all the men of the sea, he has the most frightening ability." Mihawk stated to his pupil. (+ honorable mention to "Forged By Fire" as well)

our shores of starlight (come sailing in) by kurgaya

At Shells Town, Luffy does not meet Roronoa Zoro. Instead, he acquires a sword.

let me carry your scars by arkhamsjason

What Zoro didn't expect, as he made himself comfortable, as so many night before, to keep watch along with Luffy, was that he'd finally have the chance to know what his captain's ruined chest would feel like beneath his calloused hand and guilt filled heart.

and i will learn for you by blueacorn

Zoro will begin to realise that there are other ways to protect.

ship to wreck. by thychesters

Nami is the first one to notice something is amiss, but then given her current competition is Luffy and Zoro, it isn’t surprising. (+ honorable mention to "the salt & the sea.", a reincarnation AU!)

unspeakable love by gadgetronic

A character study with a focus on Zoro that explores promises, sacrifices, beginnings, and devotion.

Precipice of a Change by xpiester333x

Zoro stood there. He was on the precipice of something. One wrong move would send him over the edge into an unknown. He needed to step back, but his feet were locked and frozen on spot. (one of the few AUs to make this list! the characterization here is SPOT ON!)

First Mate, Soulmate by kkuroshii

Fighting with Luffy comes as easy as breathing to Zoro, and he can’t help but wonder what accomplishing his dream with this boy would be like

Robin Knows by leopardgeckoz

In which Nico Robin has always known how her captain and first mate feel for one another, and the scenario's in which the rest of the crew discover it.

with this heart of mine that's guilty; (not remorseful) by phosphenical

It had been two weeks, four days, and twenty-something odd hours since Zoro died. (WARNING FOR PERMA-MCD/HEAVY ANGST)

thank you. / goodbye. by Kenshi

WARNING FOR PERMA-MCD; short and... not "sweet", exactly; the style of this one does nice things to my brain

Blood Song by blue_wonderer

There's nothing to scream about because nothing happened.

blood-spitting loyalty by guiltylights

One day, you’re going to find something worth more to you than your own pride.

axiomatic by grainjew

Reflections on Zoro's devotion.

Providence by taizi

"You know, Zoro," he says, "I broke my end of that deal." 'If you ever come between me and my dream—' Ah, but then, "So did I."

Mutiny by VIKAN

Zoro disobeys a Captain's Order and it's all Sanji's fault. (not strictly ZoLu in the romantic sense, but this fic is a masterclass in both tension-building and how to write an in-character ZoLu argument)

something happened by torkz

Things are changing fast, and Zoro doesn't want to walk into the future with any secrets from his Captain.

Recognition by VickyVicarious

Zoro on titles, dreams, and Luffy. (old-school)

In the Blink of an Eye by InsaneMelon/Acewithapaintbrush

honorable mention to another old-school oneshot from FFnet UPDATE!! this has been re-written and the link has been updated.

Coming Home by thricepiercedpirate

What begins as a happy reunion, because everyone is accounted for and more-or-less in one piece, unexpectedly turns awkward as hell… (the only explicit entry on this list, but i'd be remiss if i did not include the fic that introduced/converted me to ZoLu for life back at the dawn of time... thanks from past-gyro, we wouldn't be here without you, dude.)

Stakes by CaptainJojo

Zoro has a good grasp of what fights are- and are not- worth his time. Or: Zoro gets lost and gets in one (1) fight about it.

Like a Dawning by WhirlyBird70

I am the man who will be King of the Pirates, Luffy said, says, and it’s not a promise but a will, and Zoro knows – knows that of anyone Zoro has ever seen, Luffy is the one to have the Haki of the Conquering King.

invisible threads that bind us by Pure_Night_Fury

Yin and Yang some people would say. Soulmates, others would mention. Or: Nami meets two idiots.

greed by species_baby

Something about his self-assuredness, his conviction makes Zoro dizzy. Although, that could also be the starvation.

Smile, Darn Ya, Smile by sciencemyfiction

Wouldn’t it be fucked up if Zoro was made to eat a smile fruit? And what would Luffy and the other Straw Hats do to help him?

Also, I'm including a shameless and horribly self-indulgent plug for my own stuff, because this is a ZoLu rec list and hey! I write that! lol

poly philtatos (the most loved by far) by swordsmans

25k; Zoro protects the crew and his Captain, and does not realize they will go to the ends of the earth to protect him, too.

ocean theology by swordsmans

40k; canon-compliant enma-asura/nika reincarnation. kinda.

the sea makes bones of bodies by swordsmans

88k; Only one is a monster, but both are a little monstrous. mafia hitman/underground fight club champion/reincarnated moon god x merman/legendary sea monster/reincarnated sun god AU. my magnum opus, probably.

#one piece #zolu #fic recs! #answers #srry this took like. one million hours #days even

[demonslayedher]

Low-Key Married AU fluff

Kochou said that I was disliked, so I asked her if she disliked me too. For someone so quick to have a smiling response to everything, she struggled to reply. She was the one who proposed marriage and swayed me, so I had thought that meant she had feelings for me. There would be no other way to read it. However, with as unbothered as she is by my absence, I have to wonder.

It’s been ten days since I had last contact with her. I went home to the Butterfly Mansion, but she had just departed for a mission, so I didn’t stay long so as not to trouble the girls. It may still be a few days before I can return again, but it’s always likely she’ll be busy. She’s incredible in that way, taking on all the care of our injured Corp members in addition to her Pillar missions. It must be in her personality to keep adding to what keeps her busy, like taking me in as though I looked like I needed the care. Although the times we’ve spent together have been nice, I don’t require it. My duties call for me to always be ready for battle, and I’ve always kept my heart steady.

So has she. We are Pillars first, and no amount of affection can sway us—whether an abundance or a lack.

I’m not bothered by lacking something I didn’t deserve in the first place.

Last night again, I was too late to prevent a family from being slaughtered. There were no survivors this time, aside from the eldest child who was still ravenous with a recent transformation. Having to chase him down and keep him from harming anyone else kept me off the trail of the progenitor of demons, who had to have been close by. For centuries, he’s evaded us this way over and over, sacrificing entire families to throw us off his trail. If I were to chide myself over every failure, I would have lost the ability to do anything ages ago. Each time, the anger is something I carry with me, to push myself harder the next time, and the next. Any extent more that I can push myself may be the difference to someone’s survival, no one can afford to lose their life over any of my own lost confidence.

“CAW!! TOMIOKA GIYUUUU! NEWS FOR TOMIOKA GIYUUUU!”

Each time it's a crow I think I recognize, my stomach drops. My mind is already playing the words I dread to hear, as though trying to protect my mind once I someday hear them.

"Kochou Shinobu has died."

Even if I hear them, I'm a Pillar first. That was what we promised each other. I'll always do as I must.

The crow says nothing as it delivers a letter.

YES, YES, I KNOW, THIS FANDOM HAS TURNED ME INTO SHIPPER TRASH. For this pairing, it was more specifically my own joke AU which later bit me in the back and made me start really, really enjoying GiyuShino (which, for the record, I do not consider canon). Was throwing ideas back and forth with @reicchel again the other day and so here we are with ship content!

Part of the reason I love the Low-Key Married AU (in which it's mostly canon as usual, except that Shinobu and Giyuu have been married for over a year or so, and it's not a secret but they make such little deal about it that many people don't even know they're married) is that it's a frame through which to see every interaction and either make it really, really funny, or very, very, sad. Everything was supposed to be funny, but it keeps hurting, hahaha... aaahhhh.

For instance, in a regular romcom situation, it should be funny that Kanzaburo doesn't deliver all of Giyuu's letters. Knowing these two, who might had started this whole "well, we'll be a couple when we have time" thing by actively writing regular letters, this could had simply given the impression that the other person wasn't writing as much, so they both naturally decreased frequency to match. It's a little lonely, but neither one is going to push the other for more attention.

No!! I refuse to let this post end with angst! Time for omake!!!

#I spent a few days enjoying high-brow Noh and now I'm back to shipper trash #giyushino #giyuu x shinobu #tomioka giyuu #tomioka giyu #kocho shinobu #kochou shinobu #my art #too bad for you Tanjiro your karma in this AU had to even out somehow #also that is the happiest Giyuu I have ever drawn and it's adorable #GiyuShino Low Key Married AU

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Hey first of all, thank you for your writing! I enjoy reading your work a lot. I wanted to request an addition to the older sister! Reader AU where the avengers manage to catch a person who used to be a high ranking officer in the red room and has a lot of intel. They specifically requests to see reader. And reader goes in and the person is smug and taunts r about everything she did under dreykov and what dreykov did to r. (Hints to a lot of sexual assult trauma, if you dont mind) and r has gotten used to the taunts, having bward plenty during her red room days. Carol though who was outside in the interrogation room with r’s sisters is livid. She is very protective of r and so she comes inside the room angry. But as the person keeps taunting and saying demeaning stuff about r u still remain unaffected but carol cannot take it. I mean thats the idea I had, you could do whatever u want with it! Thanks again. And sorry for the longg request

Mine to Protect

Family is More Than Blood Masterlist

There things in this story that be triggering of people, please advise the warnings!

Warnings: heavy description of past sexual experiences (usage of handcuffs, voyeurisms, power dynamic, ) implied sexual assault (uses it to taunt the Reader and Carol), original male character uses pet names from the reader, gross dirty talk, past trauma mentioned, self harm, death of an original character, mention of killing, Carol is hella pissed this this and protective.

Relationships: Carol x Reader, Yelena x Natasha x Reader (Platonic), Avengers x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 3.0k

All of your life, you’ve known pain. The pain was physical suffering\ or discomfort. It caused great trouble, and it could be mental or physical. Pain in the Red Room was negative. It was mystery hands that held you down and took whatever they wanted from you. Hours spent at training, at the ballet bar, or forced to kill your fellow Widows because of an order given. You hated pain and all the negative thoughts that came with it.

However, your life changed. It wasn’t contained by the Red Room. You had room to grow, dream, and create the person Dreykov tried to destroy. Now, pain wasn’t always negative. There was pain that morphed into pleasure when Carol bit down on your neck and soothed it with her tongue; a warmth would fill your belly. Sometimes, you went a little too hard as you trained against Steve and felt each punch from the super soldier, but your laughter bounced off the walls. Other times, you brunt your hand when cooking with Wanda or lose an arm wrestling match with Maria. All that pain was good, a reminder that you were free.

You sat outside. The brisk New York fall air filled your lungs. There was an ache in your fingers as you played the guitar. It would take time for callouses to form on your fingers. You heard the door open and close, but it didn’t stop you from humming to the song you were playing. It was Steve, Tony, and Maria. Oh boy. Stopping, you put the guitar beside you and gave the trio your attention. “Why do I smell trouble?” You asked.

“It’s not me,” Tony said, sniffing under his arm. “I showered.” You rolled your eyes at the billionaire.

“Does the name Andrei Lebedev?” You kept your face neutral, but your stomach dropped. That name would forever be in your nightmares.

“Yes, he was part of Dreykov’s second ring. He disappeared when the Red Room fell. He’s been on Melina’s list, but we haven’t been able to locate and deal with him,” you explained.

“Deal with him?” Steve questioned. “So would kill him if you found him?” You huffed in frustration.

“Don’t act all high and mighty, Rogers. These men have power even with the Red Room gone; they are better off dead.” With a vacant spot, there was a fight to be at the top. You and some of the other freed Widows were working on eliminating them before they could gain momentum. You looked at Maria. “What’s going on?” She handed you a file.

“Lebedev was found in New Asgard,” you opened it and saw a mug shot. The man was 6 feet, 5 inches tall. He had striking blue eyes. Unlike the last time you saw him, his dark brown was longer instead of neatly combed. However, a faint beard outlining his jaw gave you the idea that he was going somewhere safe to shave. “He was looking for asylum, but Val thought he was acting odd and brought him in for questioning.”

“Once they learned who he was, Fury had him transferred to us for questioning,” Tony added. You handed back the file.

“What does this have to do with me?” You had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“He won’t talk to anyone, not me, Maria, or Natasha,” Steve said. “He’s asking for you.” Fuck. Of course, he fucking was. God dammit. Why was Wanda away on a mission?

“What do we want from him?” You asked. Killing him would be the easiest solution.

“Fury wants whatever information we can get from him before sending him to the RAFT,” Maria explained. “Will you talk to him?” You sighed, stood up, and grabbed the guitar.

“Let’s get this over with.”

*

Sometimes you used pain to punish yourself. Your time at the tower was perfect. Self-inflected pain was the best tool you used to remind yourself of the past. Of the blood you shed and the countless lives ended by your hand.

On the other hand, pain helped ground you. A pinch of the skin on your thigh, biting down on your lip, or fingernails digging into your palm. Anything to help you stay present, preventing your mind from slipping away.

You stared at the door that separated you from him, nails digging into your palm. Your sisters and Carol will be watching. There was no fighting them on that. Sighing, you opened the door. “My malen’kiy pauk (little spider),” it had been a long time since you’ve heard someone call you that name. You closed the door. Immediately, pulling the chair away from the table to sit down. “I’ve missed you so much,” he continued. “But our last meeting was a little different,” he moved his handcuffed hands onto the table. The clash of metal echoed in the quiet room. “If I remember correctly, you were the one handcuffed. No matter to me,” he leaned forward. “I do love a change in a power dynamic.”

You crossed your arms against your chest, placed your right leg over your left, and leaned back into the chair. You remembered that day. Andrei Lebedev was part of Dreykov’s second circle or the vtoroy. These men were trusted as handlers and could leave the Red Room on missions or requests from Dreykov or his inner circle. But they were still seen as less than. They aimed to become part of the pervyy, the men closest to Dreykov. Although Dreykov was the face of the Red Room, it was impossible to run it without help. These men had the same amount of power as him; their word was God because you knew Dreykov knew about the order. A majority of the members of the party were killed in the Red Room explosion. The men you were after were part of the vtoroy. If the Red Room remained, Andrei would be part of the pervyy. He was a cable solider, a little hot-headed, but Dreykov would have crushed that spirit into submission. As a mission success, the pervyy granted Andrei’s request: a night with you. It wasn’t the only time you laid underneath this main.

“Being an Avenger looks good on you, kotenok (kitten). It fills you out nicely,” he groaned, licking his lips. “I bet you taste just as sweet. Do you want to be a good girl again? Just for me.” Still, you remained unfazed, face neutral. Men like this loved to talk, to inflate their ego with their sexual conquests. With time, he would reveal everything.

“I think about our time together a lot,” he smiled. “Your moans were music to my ears. They helped me through many lonely nights.” Lonely nights? The phrase stuck out to you for some reason. How many nights was he truly alone? He was freshly shaved and showered; you figured Val wouldn’t give him time alone to do all these things before locking him up. The man disappeared without a trace once the Red Room fell. Not even Melina, with her contacts, could find him. Andrei was bright but needed to be more smart to avoid capture. Who was helping him?

“Come on, baby,” he whined, mimicking a child throwing a tantrum. “Let me hear that voice again. You were very talkative when we last saw each other. I miss it,” his fingers tapped against the table. “Tell me, pretty, can anyone make you cum like I can?”

No one could see how your nails dug into your bicep, nails so sharp you knew it would pierce your skin. Pain. It grounded you, saved you from slipping into memories of that night, and kept your face stoic when all you wanted to do was scream.

*

As Carol recognized the true strength of her powers, she practiced keeping her emotions in check. Anger was powerful. Her rage could bring down skyscrapers, collapse entire planets, and turn the milky way into chaos if she wasn’t careful. Through her space travels, she witnessed horrible injustices that boiled her blood, ground her teeth, and left her fuming. Still, she kept her anger in check. However, she was struggling. The way this pig spoke to you was disgusting and vile, and you were just taking it. The only time Carol saw you move was when you first entered the room. She wasn’t sure if you were still breathing.

Unlike you, Natasha couldn’t stop pacing. She would get to one side of the viewing room, turn around, and repeat the process. Not even Maria could get her to stop; Carol believed it had to do with Natasha still being upset with her girlfriend. The youngest of the trio was quiet, playing with the ring all three of you shared. A quiet Yelena was never good, in Carol’s opinion. She saw the blonde tense up every time the man said something about her sister. Andrei laughed. “Why don’t you undo these cuffs? We can put on a show one more time before the cart me away. If I remember correctly, zaychonok (bunny), you loved having an audience,” he groaned, eyes rolling in the back of his head. “My little slut. It got you so wet.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Carol mumbled. All she saw was red. Unlike before, no one was there to protect you; no one was there to tell him to stop. But she was here now. You were hers to protect. She felt her powers itching at the palm of her hands, begging to let loose. It was getting harder to control it, this anger growing inside her. She knew he was still taunting you; maybe she heard Natasha or Maria’s voice, but it was becoming white noise. All of it was pointless besides one singular thought. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.” To her surprise, no one stopped her when she left the room.

*

The door busting open startled you. The hinges barely had enough strength to keep it upright as your girlfriend entered the interrogation room, eyes glowing. Andrei was pulled to his feet and pinned to the wall by her forearm. You saw her entire body shaky. “Oh, is this the pet’s new master,” he teased. There was a shake in his voice as Carol was cutting off air into his lungs. “Tell me, do you pass her around like her old master, or do you keep her to yourself?”

“If you say one more word,” she hissed. “I will crush your windpipe.” You stood up, barely making a sound, but Andrei saw you.

“Oh, this is your lover, isn’t it?” He laughed, gasping slightly. “I’m jealous,” he taunted. “She is a gem—a queen among women. Tell me,” he whispered. “Can you make her scream like I can?”

“I won’t hesitate to paint this wall red with your blood,” you wanted her to do it so this nightmare could end. But it wasn’t the mission. “You can’t hurt her,” Carol continued, putting more pressure on his neck. The man gasped. “She is mine to protect, and I will kill all of you if I have to to keep her safe.” The man smiled, and for the first time entering this room, a chill went down your spine.

“Oh, you think with her living with Earth’s mightiest heroes, she’ll be safe; you are wrong.” Got him. It only took Carol intervening, but he was ready to talk. Gently, you placed a hand on Carol’s shoulder. Her eyes flickered to you.

“It’s okay,” you forced a smile. “Let him go.” You saw the internal debate happen in her eyes. Soon, she released him and threw him back into the chair.

“Power dynamic,” he said, rubbing his throat. A bruise was already forming. “I guess I was wrong about you two.” You sighed and sat down, this time closer to the table. Carol closed the door but stayed in the room, standing in the corner. Your arms were still crossed, and your nails again found the indent in your arm. “You got yourself an impressive guard dog over there. She needs a lesson in obedience.”

“I don’t own her, and she doesn’t own me,” you said. “Who helped you avoid detection after all this time?” He gasped.

“I’m offended you don’t think I could do it alone.”

“You aren’t smart enough, Lebedev,” you deadpanned. “So give me names, or my guard dog will attack.” His eyes glanced at Carol in the corner, and you saw him gulp in fear. Instead of talking, he leaned forward, faces inches apart, and you could feel his breath on your skin. A sharp pinch of your skin kept you present.

“Answer me this, kotenok (kitten). Do you feel safe here?”

“Is that a threat?” You countered.

“Merely a question,” he said. “Do you feel safe here with your sisters close by, Captain America as an ally, and Tony Stark’s super fancy AI keeping watch?” He slammed his hands down, but the sound didn’t scare you. Your nails dug deeper. “Do you feel safe?” He asked again. “Because Oriel Sergeev wasn’t the only person upset when the Red Room fell from the sky.” Oriel Sergeev? He was the man who created that ‘fun’ room.

“Who is helping you?” You asked again. He shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in the chair.

“I don’t kiss and tell; you should know that. The Red Room provided stability, a balance, and you and those cunts you call sisters broke it,” your jaw clenched. He huffed out a laugh at your reaction. “It’s only a matter of time before bad girls like you get punished.”

*

You watched Maria and a few other agents lead Andrei to transport. A body collided with you that almost sent you falling to the ground, but Carol’s arm kept you upright. It was Yelena. Her jasmine scent perfume invaded your senses, grounding you further. “Ugh,” you groaned. “I hated that. I hated the way he talked to you.” You chuckled, kissing the top of her head.

“You aren’t the only one,” Natasha said, and you looked past Yelena as the redhead joined the small group. “Carol beat me to it. I was about to go in there and kick his ass.” You heard Carol laugh behind you, kissing the side of your head. “Are you okay?”

“I’m,” you stopped before you lied to them. “No, but I will be,” you sighed, ending the hug with Yelena. “I think I need a shower, then I’ll start feeling better.”

“Do you want me to join you?” Carol asked. You shook your head.

“I just need a moment by myself,” you smiled. “I’ll be okay, I promise.” As you turned to walk back to your room, Yelena grabbed your hand. Spinning you back around and flipping your arm to show everyone the cut on your arm.

“Your bleeding,” she said, and you pulled your arm back.

“It’s nothing, and it will heal by the time I get in the shower,” you saw the unasked questions from all three of them. “I needed to ground myself when I was in there with him. That’s all. I promise I’m okay, and I’ll come to you guys if I need anything.”

*

A towel was tightly secured around your body as you stepped out of the bathroom. You hated the way his words crawled underneath your skin. No matter how frequently you scrubbed your skin raw, you felt his hands on you. There was a part of you that wanted to track down his escort van and kill him, to watch his blood stain the pavement. Or maybe have Melina take care of it. But you knew if one of the Widows took the job, it would get traced back to you. Still wet from the shower, you sat on your bed and picked up your phone. The number you dialed wasn’t saved in your phone. It was a number you had memorized as Widows kept giving it to you. She answered on the second ring. “My favorite Black Widow,” she said. “What do I owe the pleasure? Have you considered my offer?” You sighed.

“No, Valentina, I’m still not joining your team. I need a favor.” You were speaking as you could hear cars driving by.

“I’m not a charity, darling. Favors will cost you/” You nodded.

“I know, and I’m willing to pay for it,” you stood up and walked into your closet. “I need to put on a hit. His name is Andrei Lebedev. He is currently in SHIELD custody and on his way to the RAFT. I need it done without using any of the Widows you have employed, and not a single agent hurt.” Valentina laughed.

“You are making a lot of demands for someone not in charge,” you dropped the towel and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top.

“I always repay my debts, you know this?” This wasn’t the first time you’ve asked a favor from her. Her contacts ran deeper than Melina’s, and in this world, information was valuable. But you knew she would do it and come back to you when she needed something. The Widows that worked for her always told you what they did. You had enough dirt to bury the director, but it would hurt your fellow Widows.

“This will cost you, but I’ll get it done.”

“Thank you.”

“Aw, don’t go getting soft on me,” you rolled your eyes. “My offer is always on the table for you. That will never expire,” you huffed.

“Bye, Valentina.” You hung up the phone before she could respond. You refused to join her every time she asked, even when she proclaimed how much money you could make with your skill set. You feared it would be impossible to say no to her one day.

Two days passed when Maria announced that Andrei Lebedev was killed; no agents were hurt in the ambush. The agent’s eyes never left yours when she told everyone the news. Maybe it was bad you didn’t care if she believed you or not when you claimed you had no part in his death—effortlessly passing blame to whoever helped him. His death was one you never lost sleep over. Like you told Steve, these men were better off dead.

#family is more than blood au #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers x y/n #black widow sisters #yelena belova x natasha romanoff x reader #yelena belova x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

[saerins]

⋆୨ chapter one ୧˚ thorns without flowers, bars with no drinks

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: prologue - all see through just like glass <> next: chapter two - a million miles away, still you connect me in your way ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 5k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, hostility on sae’s part, profanity, your marriage is not off to a very good start, both yn and sae both have other … options. | notes: ty i appreciate all of you who are reading this <3 i added everyone who asked to be tagged ^_^ lemme know if i missed you !!

The day has finally arrived. After two months of painstaking preparations, it’s your special day today. Not that your parents have given you any say on your own special day. You wonder if your future husband got the same treatment too. That is, if he was even interested in it.

Everyone has arrived, the chefs are ready, people are dressed to the nines, photographers are already snapping away. More than half the guests, most of which you barely know, have come to speak to you, to congratulate you, but it all still feels so surreal.

Is this really happening?

There’s a lot of important people in attendance today, a lot of them you don’t even know personally. Which is funny, considering that it’s your wedding. Of course, both sets of parents were in charge of the invites, and your actual friends probably only account for fifteen percent of the entire list. (With Sae’s friends, probably totaling thirty percent.) The rest are spaces filled by people in power—political, business, what have you. It’s no surprise; your parents (and you guess Sae’s as well) are great at networking, and of course these people would attend such an event—two kids of rivalling companies getting married would signify a possibly huge shift in market share, and they’d probably like to be here to witness for themselves if this is some sort of sham. If this lasts, then they’ll have to move their money around, that’s for sure.

It is kind of a sham, but you’re trying to get that out of your head. This can’t possibly be anything but a ruse to further their own gains. Parents are like that, as much as you know.

“Hey, are you sure about this? There’s still time to back out, you know?”

Beside you, your ever observant younger sister offers you a sad smile; a product of the guilt she feels because despite you not telling her, she knows you’re just trying to keep the crosshairs away from her. She must’ve realised that your feet are colder than you thought. But as far as you’re concerned, better you than her.

She has a happy relationship with one of the nicest guys she’s ever met, and the last time you’d spoken to him, he’d confessed to wanting to marry her. The only downside to it all is that your sister is way too filial—if your parents tried to force her to get married to someone of their choice, she’d give in eventually, and you don’t want that.

Besides, you don’t have anyone. No love interest, no potential suitors—what’s the worst that could happen to you? As long as Sae is decent enough of a human being, you’re sure you’ll be fine.

“I’m sure, so don’t worry about me, okay?” Your hands come up to her shoulders, squeezing slightly, offering your best and most radiant smile.

Sensing that there’s only more of your dear sister’s worry coming, you’re grateful that a timely knock comes from the doorway. You hold back a sigh of relief before turning to look at your visitor, and you stiffen up when you realise who it is.

“Is this a bad time?”

Your sister speaks up before you do. “Oh, Itoshi Sae, of course not!” There’s a sense of excitement in her voice that masks her earlier concern; it’s kind of sad that the art of faking is a necessity of living in the world you do. It’s one of the essential skills. You either fake it or face consequences. “I’m all done here, you two should talk.”

With that, she bounces out of the room, and you wonder just what kind of thoughts she’s having—her happiness is kind of infectious. Sure, Reo had said countless times that if Sae was ever a dick to you, he’d punch him in the guts for you. So far, he doesn’t have to. It’s nice that he made the time to visit you before the ceremony, it’d be nice to meet just once before after all.

“Hi, um, it’s nice to meet you.” It’s the best you can do when you’re halfway gaping at how good your future husband looks. There’s nothing that needs to be said for his face; his red-brown hair frames his face just nice, his teal eyes makes it feel like he can see right through you, and those naturally long lashes of his makes you envious. He’s wearing a simple black tux—but you know there’s nothing simple about the price tag. Not for his tux, nor for your couture wedding dress. He still looks handsome all the same, and you realise now why so many girls seem to be all over him from all those forums you’d been reading up on.

Still, as charming as he looks, he makes you slightly uncomfortable with that especially long silence, your eyes falling on his gaze, his teal eyes seeming like they’re posing you silent questions. You remain quiet, waiting for his next move. It’s almost like you submit by default.

Some foolish part of you, the hopeless romantic, is hoping you and him can hit it off right away, but even you know that’s asking for too much. Sae proves you right when he finally opens his mouth.

“I wanted to set things straight before we go through with anything.”

Just like that, with just those few words, Sae has managed to strip all the hope out of you. Nothing good can come out of those words, coupled with that monotonous tone of his. This isn’t the face of a man who’s happy to get married, and certainly not one of a man who is even willing.

Though, can you really say you are?

“I only said yes because I was forced to,” Sae tells you, not explaining more than he needs to. The line is drawn—thick with a black marker, something you can’t miss even if you wanted to. “Just play your part, act happy, and you can drop the act once we’re done with this today.”

There’s something in his bossy attitude that doesn’t sit right with you, but you’re too busy being disappointed in yourself to do anything about it. All you allow is a nod, because even without Sae saying it, you had planned to give your biggest smile later anyway, no matter how fake it is. Thing is, you had imagined that Sae was less… hostile than this. Honestly, maybe you had been hoping for him to at least put some effort into liking the situation, but from how he is now, it doesn’t look like it at all.

“Okay then, see you.”

Sae barely looks at you before he turns and walks off toward the door, right about to turn the corner when he’s stopped by your parents. Of course, they’re more than delighted to see him. They’d been convincing you hard to this arranged marriage, claiming how you’re so horrible at romance that they really are just pushing you to do this so they can have an heir early. If you ever did have a child, you can only be sure how you want to not treat them like. Your parents can be credited for that.

“You look wonderful, Sae!” Your mother is already gushing over Sae’s look as your father has his arm around him, pulling him back to the door.

“So, this is the first time you’re meeting our Y/N right? What do you think, son?” Your father has his Client Services voice switched on—after seeing him work all this time, you can distinguish it in an instant. You wonder if Sae can.

In front of your parents, you’re shocked to see that he’s already putting on an act. There’s a very subtle smile on his face—something that seems so soft and secretive, something that looks like it’s meant to be viewed by exclusive people only—and you find your own heart skipping a beat. You wonder if anyone’s ever been so lucky to be able to see that naturally.

“Your daughter is…” Sae trails off, and you find yourself swallowing the lump in your throat, inwardly asking. yourself why on earth would his opinion matter to you at all. “Pretty.”

It’s a simple word, with an even simpler meaning, and Sae doesn’t even mean it, but you find a heat creeping up your cheeks and you’re not sure why it’s so easy to appease you.

“You’re hopeless, you know that?” Reo says later on, after your parents and Sae have headed off somewhere and Reo takes their place.

Covering your head with your hands, you groan, absolutely annoyed with yourself. “Is it so wrong that I just want my future husband to remotely like me even just a little bit?”

Reo sighs, wondering what kind of luck you have to be born into a family where that isn’t even possible. Usually, people marry someone after they dated them for a while. After they can ascertain they’re good for them and that they have the capacity to put them first. Somehow, you’d been stripped of that because your parents, of all people, are the ones encouraging you to get married to someone who doesn’t love you. Hell, they even know that you and Sae don’t even know each other.

It’s pitiful, really. You’re a nice person, and Reo would shake you and convince you not to do this if he could, but it’s not like you can afford anyone to lose faith in you. If they do, how will you keep up your act? So, he’ll play his part as your best friend and just support you—he’ll deal with Sae separately if he ever dares to treat you horribly.

“Does he even know how to be nice to people?” You ponder out loud, whining, pouting as you gaze at nothing at all, the ticking of the clock making you more nervous by the second.

The wedding ceremony is half an hour away now.

Reo takes a seat beside you, leaning an elbow against your dresser. “Hmm, I heard about him from friends of friends—but all of them say he’s more of an asshole than your average person,” Reo fills you in, though you probably guessed that by yourself.

Of course, he chooses not to disclose the fact that Sae has an alleged ex he can’t get over, because what good would that do you? You’ll just get all FBI-mode and try to find her socials and find reasons you’ll never measure up and say shit like maybe that’s why Sae isn’t interested in you.

Still, you look like a hot mess and Reo has to encourage you somehow, or else you’ll end up walking up that aisle like you’re marrying Lord Farquaad. “Oi, Y/N, what I hear is he’s just a tough nut to crack.”

“I get it, Reo, I’ll probably end up talking to the wall everyday at home since my husband won’t even talk to me.”

Reo rolls his eyes, pressing his lips into a firm line and putting his hands on your shoulders, taking care not to shake you or else your hairdo will come off and he’ll have your hairdresser absolutely seething. He’s not about to try and owe her anything or else he’ll end up bald just from having to offer her a wig.

“Hey, he’s just a tough nut to crack,” he repeats, and he sighs in exasperation when you still don’t get it. “So crack him, stupid. You’re good at that, right?”

Your eyes widen at Reo’s insinuation, and even more so when you realise it’s an actual good attempt at trying to encourage you. You crack a small laugh and Reo smiles along with you—he thinks that smile looks the best on you.

“If you can crack Nagi of all people, who’s Itoshi Sae?” Reo affirms. Nagi Seishiro, the son of the dean back when all of you were in university, who wanted for nothing except laying in bed all day and playing games, somehow managed to show an interest in helping his mother with her business, and it’s all because of you. Reo still doesn’t know how you did it, but all he knows is that you’re probably magic. (No, he knows you definitely are. You were, once, his once upon a time after all.)

His words stay with you even as you walk down the aisle fifteen minutes later, arm looped around your father’s.

“Be a good wife, okay?” Your father’s words break you out of your reverie. It isn’t the normal way a father would show concern for his child. No, the way he says it is cold and sinister, like it’s a threat. He reminds you why you’ve never had a good relationship with him. “If you screw this up, we’ll all have hell to pay.”

Trust your father to drop a bomb on you right before he passes you to Sae, who receives you with a polite nod. Perhaps, his original reaction is to have no reaction at all—is that nod his form of ‘acting’?

“Dearly beloved, we are all gathered here today—”

The words are lost on you as you try to keep your head in the present. Different thoughts are invading your head from different places that you almost feel overwhelmed from the mess. You can see Sae right in front of you, staring at you, and all you can think of is how you’re going to get along with someone who looks like he doesn’t want to. Growing up with a distant father and a far-too-subservient mother gives you anxiety—what if you end up just like that? Aside from that, instead of the holy words of matrimony, all you can hear is your father’s words repeating themselves in your head.

Hell to pay? Why, exactly? Why did he let go of the flimsy excuse of simply wanting to be his daughter’s matchmaker? What’s he talking about when he involves you in a possible blowback? What’s going on?

“Anytime now, princess.”

Sae’s hushed voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you scramble to gather yourself. “Yes, I do.”

For some reason, Sae’s hands are now around yours, and the glimmer of the diamond on your ring finger reminds you of the gravity of what you’re doing. You’re getting married—to someone you barely know, for a reason you’re somehow not privy to. You’re signing away your life to be with someone who made it clear he’s definitely not interested, who views you as a chore before he bothers to get to know you.

It all terrifies you, if only because this was not what you ever envisioned for yourself. In the audience, you see Reo’s vibrant purple eyes looking at you, a confident smile on his face, nodding as though telling you that you’ve got this. In some ways, it’s reassuring, because once upon a time, you’d thought of Reo as your Prince Charming.

In front of you—not completely oblivious to your subtle actions: trembling fingers, eyes flicking over to that purple-haired boy in the front row, your shallow breathing—Sae puts a gentle hand on your cheek, slowly guiding you to look straight at him. For his part, he has to at least make this believable, to make his parents believe that he’ll follow through with this for years and years so that they’ll never have to bother Rin. Unfortunately for you, you’re his ticket to that end. Like it or not, both of you are in this together.

“Try to look like you’re happy, at least,” Sae breathes against your lips, a soft curve on his lips just for show, as he slowly presses his lips against your own, a satisfaction washing over him as he feels you kiss him back.

Great, step one is done. Now, for the rest of the wedding.

It’s a tough sell. During the reception, you’re acutely aware of how awkward you and Sae are around each other. He tries, occasionally tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, or offering to feed you food. It’s only because there’s a lot of eyes on both of you.

His hand on your back feels foreign, and forced, and you can’t help feeling sad that he’s not someone who cares for you. The only thing tiding you through is that it’s not necessarily that way for you too.

“You’re a horrible actress,” he whispers, low so only you can hear. He’s right, too. You really do suck at this. “If you don’t at least look happy, we’re both in trouble.”

As if you need a reminder. In some ways, his attitude is similar to your father’s, and not in a good way. It only serves to make his touch more alien.

“Hey, look who’s here,” you hear a very boisterous voice approaching.

A quick turn of your head and you can see who you assume to be Sae’s friends, because surely they’re not yours. The one approaching first looks older, dark hair with green tips, behind him another one with blonde hair and wild pink highlights.

“Hello there, beautiful,” the first one says, reaching out to grab your hand and place a kiss on the back of it.

With a click of his tongue, Sae yanks his hand off of you. “Stop playing, Oliver.”

Oliver. That name sounds oddly familiar.

“At least I wasn’t like Mr Embarrassing here who spilled the wine all over one of the bridesmaids.”

Mr Embarrassing cocks a brow, ready to challenge Oliver. But before either of them can say anything more, Sae cuts in.

“These are my friends—”

“I’m Oliver Aiku,” he introduces himself, properly reaching out his hand this time now, waiting for you to take it at your own pace. 

You stare at him dumbly for a moment before shaking it. “As in, the law firm?”

“At your service,” Oliver smirks.

Of course one of Sae’s friends is the son of the most influential law firms in the whole of Japan. Right as you’re still collecting yourself, Oliver nudges Mr Embarrassing.

Looking completely disinterested, he sighs. “Ryusei Shidou.”

“As in,” you pause for a while, afraid you might be wrong. “As in… the governor Shidou?”

Annoyed, Shidou nods anyway, and Oliver begins to tell you to excuse him because he’s in a shitty mood but you’re not really hearing any of that.

Holy crap. So that must be the infamous son of the governor, the one he keeps carefully hidden away from prying eyes. Given how he’s behaving, and how he looks completely unlike a… typical person here, you’re not that surprised. That’s probably just how tradition is, in their family. Much like how you and the Itoshis have their own as well.

The rest of the celebration goes uneasily, your anxiety forever creeping up your spine, threatening to unravel itself and have you running off to Reo for some sense of familiarity—but that won’t look well: new bride choosing to spend the entire celebration with her best friend instead of her new husband? That’ll just bode a scandal for all three of you, and with this many influential people in the room, from governors to influencers, that’s the dumbest move you can make.

“Well, you two look absolutely beautiful together!”

After your first dance, the Itoshis approach you, both of them seemingly happy on the surface, but given how Sae absentmindedly tightens his grip around your hand, you’re not so sure you should believe in the superficial. Right, because you of all people should know the complications that come with being children of such parents.

It’s like Sae realises what he’s doing before he drops your hand, acting like nothing happened at all.

“Sae. What did we discuss?” The way his father calls his name is absolutely sinister. If you didn’t know any better, you swear they feel like absolute strangers.

Fortunately for you, some other guests come by and steal their attention, both of them relegating to one of the other tables. Beside you, Sae’s jaw is clenched—he’s lost any interest in faking anything for now.

Still, you suppose, if you’re going to get along with him, you probably have to try to reach out… right? Steeling your resolve, you place your hand over his, squeezing it a little, “what was that—”

Without even letting you finish, Sae yanks his hand away, and for the first time today, you’re seeing some genuine emotion behind his eyes. 

And they’re not kind. They’re pretty, but they’re ice cold—the veins on his temple are prominent now, and he really doesn’t care if anyone sees.

“You’re my wife, only on paper,” he hisses through his teeth, still cautious in keeping his voice down. His frustration doesn’t know its boundaries, choosing to take this anger out on you. “Stop trying to poke your nose into my fucking business, we’re strangers, and that’s all we’ll ever be. Drop the act, I’m done for today.”

Just like that, he storms off, which doesn’t quite particularly cause a ruse because for a wedding held for the both of you, there’s not a lot of people here that actually care for either of you. It’s as though this wedding is just a pathetic excuse for a larger-scale networking session.

Feeling even more pathetic yourself, you make sure nobody’s looking before you slip away, retreating to the rooftop garden—you need some fresh air after being so uprightly rejected by your on-paper husband.

Back in the dressing room, Sae locks the door behind him, knowing full well you didn’t deserve to be on the other end of his temper but not being able to bring himself to just apologise. Just as well, he figures. From the looks of it, you seemed pretty hopeful for the bare minimum being a good relationship but Sae can’t see it.

He catches his reflection in the mirror, barely recognising himself. A year ago, getting married wasn’t even in his radar. He’d thought of it before, sure, but would never have guessed in his wildest dreams that he’d get married to you of all people. 

There’s always an agenda for why his parents force these things on their children. If he was a shittier brother, he’d have let them drag Rin back for all he cared. But maybe it’s the way he can’t bear for them to ruin yet another dream that he so easily gave in. Or maybe he thought that this idea wouldn’t be so bad in the first place, maybe it’ll give him the chance to want to move past certain things.

Evidently, it’s not working well.

You’re pretty, and that’s something he didn’t lie about. You really are, but that’s all he can say. He can’t say he sees anything, any hope, any reason for him to want this to work out.

Sae sits down on one corner of the bed, pulling his phone out. He scoffs upon realising he doesn’t even have your number. What kind of fucked up marriage is this? Nothing was handled for either of you, so it’s safe to say that the only thing either set of parents cared about was that this went through. 

As he looks through his phone, contemplating whether to ask Oliver or Shidou to think of an excuse to let him bail from the celebrations before it ends, a text comes in, and this time, all the anger and disappointment disappears, all that’s left is the warm feeling of nostalgia and familiarity.

The contact he hasn’t seen in his notifications for a few years now lights up his phone, and all of a sudden he feels somewhat better. Though, her message itself makes him feel complicated inside.

Sae types a couple of responses, staring at it for a few moments before rephrasing himself and sending it through.

Hours later, after the celebrations are done and both of you are forced to drive back to your new apartment together, you sit in the passenger seat, staring out the window as Sae drives, sitting in complete silence.

As much as you want to save what this marriage could be, you’re not sure where to even start after how he flared up earlier.

Sae keeps his eyes on the road, too enveloped in his own thoughts to bother even turning on the music. His eyes occasionally flick over to your figure. Your fingers are trembling. Are you scared of this all or are you just feeling cold? Either way, he can’t bring himself to care. All he cares about right now is just finding a way out of this stupid farce.

After a fifteen-minute drive, both of you arrive at the apartment building; sleek black walls on the front and twenty-storeys high. Each floor is an apartment in itself, and it doesn’t take a genius to know that only the rich and wealthy stay here. By extension, that means your neighbours are either going to be complete strangers who don’t bother each other, or annoying young kids who host parties and have to be complained against.

Both of you head up to the top floor, neither of you knowing what it’ll look like—it was a gift from both your parents, saying how they picked out the best of the best for their children, and then periodically joking about wanting grandchildren. (You and Sae had completely ignored that part of the conversation.) Sae let you carry your heavy bags on your own, choosing to avoid any sort of eye contact all the way up. He’s just busy on his phone, and you can’t help feeling a little lost.

When you reach the top floor, Sae opens up the door; it’s made of heavy mahogany, slamming right back at you after he strolls in. You take a deep breath, pushing on the door to open and barely making it in, sucking it up because the last thing you want after an entirely shitty day is to have an argument.

Sae doesn’t even stop, just keeps walking, placing his suitcase in what seems to be the master bedroom. Truthfully, you wouldn’t know; this is the first time you’re even seeing the apartment. This entire place is huge, and thanks to this being on the top floor, there’s two floors and a high ceiling. All crisp and clean, walls a bright white, full contrast to the outer walls of the apartment.

Ten seconds later, Sae comes back out, finally making eye contact as he looks at you like you’re dumb for just standing there. If he does think that, he doesn’t say it out loud.

“There’s another room at the far end down the hall, you can use that one,” he tells you, matter-of-factly, as though you wouldn’t retort. (You don’t, but it’s annoying that he takes it as a given.) “And there’s only one key, but I’ll make a copy tomorrow and pass it to you.”

How romantic. The first night of your new life together and he’s relegated you to the far end of the house to sleep alone. You’re sure it wouldn’t be past him to enforce a rule of minimum contact at this point.

“Yeah, sure.”

You’re trying not to make a big deal out of this, because what would it even amount to? It’s not like you can get out of this, or else what’ll that do? Just impact your sister. But still, it completely sucks that your husband isn’t someone you love, isn’t someone who even wants to give it a shot, isn’t someone who’s willing to make himself bearable to live with.

An exhausted sigh leaves Sae’s lips as he tosses the keys onto a tray placed carefully atop the kitchen island. “I don’t think I need to remind you, but I didn’t want this and I think neither do you,” he says, his eyebags more apparent now that some of his makeup has caked off. “So I’ll keep out of your way if you keep out of mine.”

Spoken as if he truly hates your guts.

The wariness from everything that happened earlier—the wedding, the entertaining, the scepticism, your unwilling husband. What’s supposed to be a typically happy occasion has drained the complete life out of you, though it deigns to strip your hope entirely. Some nauseatingly optimistic cell in your brain is telling you that you still have to try, that it takes longer for some people to warm up to you, that if you give up then this might really just be it for the rest of your life.

So you nod your head and force a smile, even when Sae doesn’t return it, even when you know he won’t. “Mhm, okay,” you say, obediently, even though Sae just looks on at you emotionlessly, the only sliver of human that you see in him being the slight furrow of his brows. When he turns to walk back to his room, you call a goodnight! to him. All it gets you is a grunt of acknowledgement before he slams the door once he’s in.

Trudging your bags behind you, you dump them on the floor of your bedroom. The walls are pearly white, and the dresser is huge, a top-to-bottom mirror rests on the wall next to the closet. There’s even a bathroom inside, too, though you’d bet it’s smaller than the one Sae’s room has. 

It’s all very nice. Expensive, like the suite of a five-star hotel, and decorated lavishly.

But that’s all this is.

Nice. On the surface. It’s nice only to the eyes. Yet it can’t shake the foreboding feeling inside you that nags at you, warning you that Sae is just going to get even worse as you go.

Right as you’re about to spiral into a descent, you get a text from Reo.

You smile at his offer. Maybe if this was a few years ago. Maybe if both of you had acted on it when you knew the feelings were there. It’s been too long since then, everything that could’ve been is not—but what is doesn’t seem to have any hope of working out. 

Sighing to yourself, you make a mental reminder in your head to keep trying tomorrow. After all, you’re probably the only hope this sham of a marriage has at making it.

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