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tainsan · 11 months

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misfits (college!ateez x reader)

When your world comes crashing down, the only people who are able to comfort you are the notorious group, Ateez. You’ve heard rumour after rumour about the eight males who are ice cold, yet for some reason, they are the warmest people you know.

Please read me: {hello! so finally i have wrote enough for me to release the first chapter and i really hope it is good enough for the lovely people who have been patiently waiting. there will be more chapters to come in the future so please do look forward to them! just so you all know there is a few trigger warnings i have to go through so just in case you are uncomfortable with certain subjects to read with caution and with your own comfort in mind. at the start of every chapter i will put the warnings that correlate with the said chapter. in this story there are topics of swearing, depression, anxiety, ptsd, suicide, negelection and mental abuse. so if you are not comfortable reading these please either avoid this story or read with extreme caution. your wellbeing is more important than anything.

Now like i said in my previous post, this is going to be a poly!ateez story so hence there will be future smut and suggestive themes (which i will also put in the warnings before the chapter starts) but the message in the story is very much about past trauma and finding people who can help, heal and love you despite your imperfections.

With that all said! I hope you enjoy the first chapter of ‘Misfits’ and thank you kindly for waiting.

do not steal my work or repost on places other than tumblr.

with thanks to @musicdork and @moraxology for the help and ideas shared with me. thank you <3

-----THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT-----

Misfits, Chapter 1

⇢ masterlist ⇠

⇢ next chapter

warnings: anxiety attack, swearing, mentions of a house fire.

word count: 8.8k

Heart dropping to your stomach, you attempt to make sense of the words that are displayed on the small illuminating screen sat in front of you. Devastation hits you like a ton of bricks as you realise once again, it feels like the world is trying to punish you. Reading over the email once again, you let out an exasperated groan and let your head fall down onto your arms relaxing on the table.

“You’re homeless?” Your best friend almost screeches, scanning over the email present on your small laptop screen.

“Okay a little louder Jisung and the aliens on the Saturn will fucking hear you,” You react, your voice muffled by your clothes.

“What happened? I thought your place was in one of the nicer areas?”

Looking up from the desk, you see Jisung peering at you with a concerned expression.

“Do you remember those new tenants that moved in below me?” you ask, causing Jisung to nod his head, "Well they accidentally started a fire, and it burnt down half of the place because the owners weren’t smart enough to install fire hydrants around the residence.

“Isn’t it illegal to not have designated fire hydrants in a building?”

“Probably, I mean that’s what I get for going for the cheapest available housing I could find, they say it's going to take at least a year to repair the damage.”

"Are all of your belongings okay?"

"Not really, I managed to save most things like my books and some clothes but everything else is burnt. They say they are going to give me some money back for the damage, but I doubt it’ll be much."

"Then where are you staying now?"

"Yeji said I could stay with her for a few days, but she has a roommate moving in soon, so I have to get out before the end of this week."

"You have to start looking for a place to live __, I wish I could help you,"

Jisung lives with his boyfriend and friends in great student accommodation, there are only four rooms, yet they manage to fit eight grown men in there. Sadly, there's simply not enough space for another person.

“I’m aware of that, but all the school properties are full, and I’ve seen no flyers from people searching for roommates. There’s no way I'm looking for housing outside of the area, I would have to sell both my kidneys to afford a month's worth of rent. This apartment was the only place that was in my budget if I didn't want a roommate. At this point, I should probably start looking for a nice cosy bridge to live under.”

Jisung lets out a stifled laugh before quickly covering his mouth realising the two of you are residing in a library. Being in a secluded area, noise isn’t really a problem, yet three other people are sitting near you, resting on the opposite side of the large wooden table. Two huddled next to each other, sharing a laptop, likely watching YouTube and one with striking blonde hair resting his head on his arms, undoubtedly sleeping.

“How many days until you have to move out?” Jisung inquires, laying his head on his hand and gazing at you.

“Uh, I think like a week,”

“Oh, so it’s not like you have to move out right now,” your best friend replies, a calm smile covering his features.

“Yeah, but I doubt that somebody is abruptly going to need a roommate out of nowhere,”

Then, you hear rustling, then suddenly the guy who was sleeping on your table abruptly stands up, grabs his things, and rushes out of the library.

“Probably had a nightmare or something,” Jisung chuckles, lighting up your mood.

“When’s your next lesson?” You ask, hoping he doesn't have to leave too soon.

Observing as Jisung whips out his phone and looks at the time, he lets out a sigh.

“Starts in seven minutes, it takes like five minutes to walk there. I better get going,” Jisung replies, grabbing his books and laptop.

“Must you leave so soon? You can’t leave me here to tutor for three hours straight.” You let out a fake cry and hang onto his arm, pleading for him to stay.

“You're the one who wanted the extra credit, don't blame me!”

Bickering for a minute more, you eventually let Jisung get to his class, the two others across the table departing as well, leaving you alone.

Grumbling to yourself, you wonder why you even offered to tutor people, the extra credit is little to nothing. Alas, it’s too late to back out now as you have two people arriving soon. Typically, you only take people who you know personally, but Jisung’s boyfriend, Minho, said two of his classmates requested him to ask you to tutor, telling him they really needed assistance in maths. You hope they are pleasant because you are not about to be spending the next three hours with two arseholes.

You also typically only take one person at a time but due to your current tight schedule, you decided to just do two at once. You need the time later to look for new places to live anyway. The unknown two needed teaching in the same subject at least, works out fine.

Returning to your laptop you start typing, trying to finish as much of your lab report as you can before they show up.

“No Yeosang said she was around this corner.”

A hushed voice breaks you out of your concentration, yet you pay no interest and hurriedly get back to typing.

“You’re __ right?” A monotone voice speaks out from your left.

You turn upon hearing your name and see a guy standing next to where you are sitting. Quickly you scan over his face, noticing the way his cheeks display small dimples as his face shifts and the slit in one of his eyebrows.

“I’m San, Minho told you about us, right?”

Noting the way he said ‘us’, you turn fully backwards and see a noticeably built man standing by San, his face holding little to no emotion as he stares blankly towards you. In your mind, you hope these aren’t the two you are tutoring, noticing how intimidating their presence is.

“We are here for tutoring lessons,” the unnamed person speaks, and you curse upon your luck.

“Oh right, you can take a seat where you’d like.”

You mentally cuss out Minho for not informing you about how intense and handsome his classmates were, you let out a scoff under your breath as you start to pull out your maths textbooks.

“So, what were your guy's names, I’m not too good with names so if I forget, please don't take it personally,” you shyly confess, hoping they are not going to take it the wrong way. You detect the way some sort of stunned expression goes across their faces, but it disappears as soon as it had appeared.

“I’m Choi San, good to meet you.” San nods in your direction, his emotions still unreadable, a subtle glare still present along his features.

“San, I see. You too,” You mumble, slightly scared by his strong character. You attempt a small smile and shake his hand, trying to ignore the way you feel his eyes boring into your skull. Moving your attention to the man sitting next to him, you smile gently, noticing the way his cheeks are dusted with a light pink colour.

“Choi Jongho,” He reaches out his hand and you gladly take it, feeling slightly less intimidated by the seemingly kinder man.

Replying with your own name, you realise they already knew it, making you curse yourself for the sheer awkwardness emitting from your body as you notice Jongho and San are neither looking at you.

Slightly glancing up at you, San notices your flustered state and a faint smile ghosts his face.

Shaking off your clumsiness rapidly, you start to focus on the task at hand.

“So, what are you two looking to go over today?” you ask, opening your notebook that was conveniently placed in front of you. What you don’t expect is Jongho and San immediately look at each other with wide eyes, almost as if they are taken aback by the question.

“You guys don’t know what you want to go over?”

“No, sorry, we have been having problems with our two recent algebra assignments.” Jongho replies, his tough exterior cracking ever so slightly as he ruffles his black hair.

“Okay then,” you answer, a little puzzled at the two's sudden and strange gestures, yet you pay no mind to it as you reach into your backpack to grab your mathematics textbook. You’ve seen much stranger things in this college anyway.

When you proceed with the session you are surprised by the two men sitting in front of you. Although being very intimidating, the two are very good listeners and attentive to everything you say or do. Writing notes and nodding at almost every word you say. After an extensive explanation, you let Jongho and San try to solve a practice question. During this time, you take the time to admire the two in front of you. You can see they are extremely close by the way their bodies face each other naturally, and the way they look at each other. Meanwhile, you can’t help but wonder why you haven't seen them on campus before. Certainly, you would've heard or seen something about these two very good-looking men, knowing how much the people here like to gossip. Well after all, you have never been one for gossip and fangirling over the popular campus heartthrobs. Brushing your thoughts to the side, you start to read over the same page for the fifth time.

After the second hour, it intrigues you how smart they are, only needing you to once go over something and they already have the answer or even occasionally you swear you see one of them write an answer without you describing how to find it. Perhaps they are fast learners? Due to the fact, they are so quick, it only takes two of the three hours for you to cover everything they wished to go over, and their assignments are almost finished, just needing the final touches.

"There we go,” you exclaim, stretching your arms over your head, letting out a content groan as you let your back straighten up, "if you need future help, you can always call me." Even though it’s perhaps pretentious to offer this to such tough guys, you’re happy to be able to have such good students who actually listen. Unlike your last session which you spent way too many hours on.

Jongho looks up from his laptop with a wide eye look, "that’d be helpful,"

"Can you take my number?" San holds his hand open, expecting your phone and you are shocked at his utter forwardness. Even though you know it’s not intended in a flirtatious way, your heart quickens at the gesture, never having been asked for your number before.

Passing your phone to the male in front of you, you notice San observing the Sanrio stickers stuck to the back of it. The male lets out a short burst of air through his nose, and you don’t know whether he’s mocking you or scoffing. As you look at him to analyse his reaction, you see a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but it doesn’t seem in a taunting way. You continue staring at him as he puts his number into your phone.

Unexpectedly he looks up and straight into your investigating eyes, catching you by surprise, immediately looking away from him and at the open book in front of you pretending to read it, even though you know he knows you have already read over the page multiple times in the past ten minutes.

“Wait, what time is it?" Jongho asks San. Watching San pull out his phone, you see a glimpse of his phone case, it looks something like a character, but you can’t see it as he places his phone face up on the table.

"Quarter to twelve," San responds, his phone screen lighting up for a split second, you manage to catch a quick sight of his lock screen. It appears to be a group photo, with numerous faces smiling brightly at the camera. So, they have more friends.

"We have about thirty minutes till ecology, do you want to go to the canteen?" Jongho questions as he begins to put his belongings into his bag.

"I could use a snack,” San answers, stretching back into the chair, his arms above his head just as you did earlier.

"Coming with us?" Jongho asks as he stands up from his chair and pushes it back beneath the table.

Bewildered by the question, you wonder as to why they want you to come when they have been nothing but distant this entire time. Glancing back at your unfinished lab report displayed on your laptop, you feel conflicted. Yet a break from the tedious work would be rather nice. There's no harm in pulling another all-nighter.

"I could also do with something to eat," Your smile is bright as you stuff your laptop into your bag, happy to have a reason to escape the tedious work on the small screen of your laptop.

It is a rather fast walk to the canteen; it is conveniently on the same wing as the library. Expecting the canteen to be full to the brim of students getting lunch, you’re surprised to see the canteen completely empty. You are rather pleased with the serenity of the canteen, feeling at ease that there are no judging eyes watching your every move. Pacing over to the cooled section of food, your footsteps echo in the large room, then you notice San and Jongho trailing after you, looking quite lost.

"Have you guys never been to the canteen before or something?" You inquire, chuckling at their antics before grabbing a carton of banana milk and an apple.

"It's not particularly our scene, we eat our meals at our place." San answers, staring down at the banana milk in your hand. So, they live together, it makes sense seeing how close they are.

“You guys don't live in student buildings?” You question, that does explain why you've never seen them around, knowing most people who reside in the student dorms. You resume walking towards a table to sit, you grab two more banana milk before sitting down and popping a straw into your drink.

"No, we live near the new park, Eastwood Drive," Jongho replies.

This information almost makes you spit out your drink. Eastwood is not only part of a huge real estate area but one of the richest areas near our school. Absolutely no students would be able to afford that. It's an area full of houses like mansions or condos bigger than a regular house.

"Are you okay?" Jongho asks, hurriedly rushing to your side and patting your back, San chuckles at the scene and passes you a bottle of water from his seat.

"Yes, I'm fine," You say between coughs, "thank you," you take a gulp of water from the bottle before handing it back to him.

"Sorry it's just, how on earth do you afford that house there's no way you guys just have it. Did you have to sell your soul to the devil or something?"

Both males let out soft laughs and for the first time you see something other than scowls on their faces, instead replaced by gentle amusement.

"No, we didn't, one of our roommates' mothers is the owner of the real estate and she lets us live there," San answers your question.

"We do still have to pay rent, which is above average, but it's not anything like the rent we would have to pay if we were actually living there," Jongho adds, "plus we have quite a few roommates, so it's spread out pretty evenly." So, they have multiple roommates.

"I see," you hum as you let the information in. Of course, they have several roommates, the house is big enough for ten people, most likely.

"And you?" Jongho questions looking at you. His expression is back to his resting face, until he realises his question, eyes going wide he continues, “not in a creepy, I'm sorry please don't take it the wrong way!" he rambles on.

Laughing out, you wave your hands in a friendly way to dismiss his thoughts.

"No no, it's okay," you chuckle, not really sure how to explain to them that your house was recently made into a fresh stock of charcoal.

“It's kind of complicated I'll be honest," you start, San and Jongho’s expressions twitch in curiosity, "Well I was living at Coast Lane,"

"Oh, the one near the shopping centre?" Jongho inquires. You nod your head back in confirmation.

"Wait but wasn't that place burnt down a few days ago?" San asks, looking at Jongho and then back at you with a worried look. Their hearts fill with worry for you.

"Yep," you say, popping the p at the end, "that's why I said I was living," you say looking down, chucking dryly.

"Where are you living now then?" San asks, his voice laced with something similar to worry.

"I'm staying at a friend's house, but they are getting a new roommate at the end of this week, so I need to move out by then."

"Have you found anywhere to live yet?" Jongho questions, looking sorrowful. You are surprised by the amount of worry you suddenly feel from San and Jongho. However, you shake your head as 'no' and proceed to take another sip of your drink.

"I have an idea." San abruptly says standing up from his chair, catching your and Jongho's attention, "Excuse me I have to talk to someone, Jongho. Joong."

Jongho's eyes light up with some sort of awareness and he also rapidly stands from his chair, leaving you even more confused, unsure where the sudden energy comes from, you also wonder who the fuck 'Joong' is and why do they need to see him so suddenly.

"See you soon, __.” Jongho’s smile is warm and contagious, he then turns to leave with the taller man.

"Wait, guys!” You exclaim, "here," you hand them both a cartoon of banana milk that you grabbed earlier. "Drink these, you can't focus if you're dehydrated, " you say, heat rising up from your chest.

Both of the men look at you shocked at the kind gesture, surprised someone actually cares about their well-being. Giving you a thank you, the two men leave with red subtly covering their cheeks, both trying to immediately force it away before someone sees them with a giddy expression.

----

"Then they just stood up and left," You replay the events from earlier today to Jisung, who is sipping on a mojito. After the busy day you both shared, Jisung and you decided to go to a bar that recently opened not too far from campus. It is small and cosy, not too full of people, mostly students from your school rewinding from the day, just like you.

"Psycho behaviour," Jisung jokes whilst you take a sip of your drink. Laughing, you push Jisung's arm gently.

"I don't know, they were certainly intimidating but I could tell they were okay people," you exclaim truthfully. If you said that the three hours you spent with the two weren't pleasant you’d be lying.

"Do you have a crush on them or something?" Jisung inquires, rather loudly, getting far too excited. Hoping that no one heard him through the low jazz music resounding in the small bar, you quieten down your best friend quickly by covering his mouth with your free hand.

"Ji the entire bar does not need to know about my personal endeavours, and no I do not have a crush on them, they are just simply cute," you say exasperated.

“So, you do find them cute! The last time you had a crush as back in high school, this is big news,”

“There is no news dumbass, they are just cute. I find kittens cute, and I don’t want to date them.”

Jisung’s face contorts into a mixture of disgust and humour.

"Wait, what are their names?" Jisung questions his voice back to a reasonable volume.

"Choi San and Choi Jongho, I've never even heard of them, to be honest. You'd think I would've seen these handsome men bef, what is with that look on your face?" you stop your ramble as you see the very obviously shocked look on Jisung's face.

"Are you fucking serious?" Jisung says slowly.

Confused, you simply answer, "yeah they needed help with maths. it was your boyfriend who set the tutor session up."

"Yeah, because they probably threatened him?" Jisung says tensing up.

"What do you mean threatened, they were huge sweethearts," you say amused at Jisung. Your laughing momentarily halts when you see the serious look on Jisung's small face.

"What is it?"

"___, Choi San and Choi Jongho are part of that group."

Your baffled expression remains on your features, clearly unfazed by this information.

"What is that like a cult or something?" you joke.

"Girl, are you living under a fucking rock? Ateez, the group called Ateez. The super scary ones practically haunt this school. I'm surprised they talked to Minho. I'm pretty sure he's going to be scarred now."

Slowly but surely, your brain starts to put things into place.

"Wait, that group Sola told us about?”

As Jisung confirms your question, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise. A few months ago, you had been told by some classmates about them briefly, they were talking rather loudly about them. Apparently, they had done some terrible things when they were in high school then just disappeared for a few years. Most people thought they dropped out or moved abroad. The year they returned, they started this university out of nowhere together and have been a notorious group ever since, being known for staying foul and bitter towards everyone except themselves. Yet, nobody seems to know the reason for their ice-cold hearts. You never really bothered to keep up with the rumours or gossip, it wasn’t necessary for you to know, however you start to think maybe you should pay more attention due to your recent interaction with two of the people in the group.

"But they were nice?" your question, more to yourself than to Jisung.

"I don't know about you, but you probably got the wrong people."

You don't believe Jisung is lying but at the same time… The two men you had tutored earlier today were definitely not members of the notorious group.

Surely not.

Yes, they were intimidating, but nowhere near as bad as anything people say about them. From what you've heard about the group, they are cold, heartless, selfish, and miserable. Staying only in the group of eight, others not even daring to look them in the eyes as they pass them.

"If they were the people that you were tutoring yesterday, you may have gotten yourself into something you can't get out of. They have hundreds of fangirls, who are very possessive over them and people who want them dead. I don’t know of a single person who is fond of them. It’s best if you stay far away from them." Jisung says with a nervous expression.

Unexpectedly, his phone lights up and you see Minho's caller ID appear. Jisung glances back up at you with a questioning look, requesting if he can take it.

"Go ahead," you push your smile and watch as he leaves to find a quiet place.

Your heart beats heavily against your chest and you feel your throat tighten. ‘Come on’ you think, this isn't the best place for you to have an anxiety attack. Possibly, it's that the new information is far too overwhelming. You are barely keeping up with your classes, your apartment just burnt down, and now you’re somewhat engaged with an apparently dangerous group that has no good stories. Feeling your breathing getting jagged and your heart getting heavier by the second, you attempt to focus on your breathing. Trying to remember the breathing exercises your mother taught you when you were younger, you attempt breathing in deeply, but it doesn't work, leaving you to breathe in and out in a fast manner. It's okay, it's okay. You repeat yourself, in an attempt to comfort yourself, but your brain is yelling 'it's not okay, look how stupid you've been and got yourself into a senseless situation again. Fucking idiot'. You put your head in your hands and start gently rocking on the barstool, tears threatening to fall out of your eyes. Unexpectedly, a presence appears next to you and before you know it, their warm hand is rubbing up and down your back in a soothing manner.

"Shh it's okay, it's all going to be okay." a deep voice speaks from your right. You don't care to look up, only basking in the way the figure's hand caresses your back in a comforting way. To your surprise, it works miracles. Your breathing is back to a reasonable state within the next minute. Only then do you look up from your hands, your eyes lock with a beautiful man. He wears a comforting smile, his eyes full of sympathy and something else you can't quite put your finger on, his hand not slowing on your back. Trying to smile back at him, you wipe the tears you didn't even know had fallen, with the sleeves of your sweatshirt before regaining the words to speak.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," you say, abruptly embarrassed that a very handsome man just had to see a small breakdown of yours.

"It's perfectly okay. I've had enough anxiety attacks to know you can't control where you have them." the man admits, scratching the back of his neck with an awkward smile on his face. The voice of the man is deep, yet soft, making you feel awfully relaxed.

"You have anxiety?" you ask, sniffling your nose.

The man chuckles and looks down at his hands, "longer than I can remember, yeah," he looks back up at you, "rubbing my back is how my friends comfort me, so I hope it somewhat worked for you too."

"It worked amazingly, it's actually how my mother used to comfort me," you express, still slightly ashamed to be sharing this information with a stranger, let alone such a good-looking one. Yet knowing he goes through the same things as you, comforts you more than you realise. The male looks around him, almost as if he’s worried someone will see him, he then looks back down to your smaller figure which is closer to him than he remembered. Clearing his throat, he steps away a little bit, concerned you would feel uncomfortable with the closeness of your bodies.

“I do need to go now, but it was nice to meet you," The man says whilst leaving the barstool to your right. Not sure why, but you feel sad that he has to leave so soon. Feeling so relaxed around a stranger has you shocked, wishing you could stay with this unknown feeling.

"Thank you," you say, grateful to have him there for you.

"Anytime.”

"I’ll see you around." You return his smile.

Nodding his head, he gives one last smile before departing the bar's exit, a growing smile adorning his features as he exits the bar.

“Hey I’m back.”

Whipping your head to the left, you see Jisung sitting back in his stool. Opening your mouth to tell him about what just happened, you attempt to get the words out but for some reason, you are unable to find the words. Not wanting to worry your best friend with your sudden onset anxiety attack, you decide to stay quiet.

What are these unexplainable encounters you've been having with handsome men recently?

----

Climbing over bags and coats, you find a seat in a calmer area of the stadium you just arrived at. Spotting Minho in the field doing some warm-ups with his team, you feel relaxed to see someone you know. When he sees you, he waves happily. Smiling, you reach for your phone to quickly text Jisung asking where he is. All of a sudden, a rush of cold air gets swept in by the wind, causing you to freeze up. Never liking the cold, you debate heavily at this moment whether you should just leave. However, you travelled all the way from Yeji’s to here in the cold. It seems like a waste to just go back, even if it freezes you to death to stay. After all, you need to support Minho, him being one of your only friends, for the football game. Jisung is supposed to be joining you but you’re sure he's busy picking out a cute outfit to swoon Minho.

Over the past few days Jisung has been trying to teach you the names of Ateez so you know to run if they approach you. Seemingly stupid, but you do need fewer distractions in the hope to graduate with honours. From what Jisung has told you, there are eight members, and they are all of similar age, the youngest being in the same classes as he managed to skip a year due to him exceeding the level of people his age. However, Jisung teaching you their names doesn’t really stick to you, never being good at names it doesn’t help that you don’t know what they look like. It would be much easier learning their names if you actually had photos so you can put a name to a face, but of course they don’t have Instagram accounts, and if they saw people taking photos of them, they’d likely murder you on the spot. Or that’s what Jisung says.

You are suddenly brought out of your thoughts when a voice sounds in your ears.

“Could I sit here?” a soft, yet deep captivating voice speaks out.

Curiously, you look to your left to see who the owner of the voice is. Surprisingly, you see a blonde male with a mask covering his face. He is standing next to the seat where you have placed your bag, and you realise he is asking for the seat.

“Oh yes, of course, sorry,” you hurriedly grab your bag and place it between your legs, allowing the male to take a place next to you.

“Thank you,” he says, a very small smile on his lips. When he sits down, he takes off his mask, and you glance at him one more time, taking in his visuals. With his fluffy hair and red tinted cheeks and a small mark of pink next to one of his eyes, he is truly a work of art. Yet, for some reason, you can't help but feel like you've seen him before.

“I'm sorry have I met you before, you seem really familiar?” you ask inquisitively, not being able to match a name to a face.

“We may have run into each other once or twice,” the blonde male puts his hand out for a handshake.

Gladly taking his hand in yours, you shake with a small smile on your face.

“It is a small world, I'm __.”

The male takes his hand away and back into his coat pocket, shivering in the icy air.

“Are you Jisung's girlfriend?” he questions.

Rolling your eyes, slightly annoyed at the question, you go to answer. It has been thousands of times that people have asked about your and Jisung's relationship, mistaking you for a couple and not just a couple of friends. After a while it gets rather irritating, the question being asked countless amounts of times.

"No, we aren't, we are just best friends, I'm pretty sure Jisung came out as gay like two years ago. Plus, he's literally dating the quarterback, Lee Minho." you chuckle slightly.

"Oh sorry! I didn't mean to offend you in any way."

"No! It's really okay, it's just I get asked a lot, so it becomes annoying after a while. I mean look at Jisung, he has baby girl written all over him."

“Cold?” he questions.

The blondie next to you lets out a small chuckle acknowledging the man you are always with isn’t your boyfriend.

Sensing a gaze on you, you turn back to the blonde male whose eyes are looking at the goosebumps on your exposed arms.

“I probably should’ve brought at least a jumper. I've been so wrapped up with exams and tutoring I’ve been forgetting everything,” you say, laughing slightly, embarrassed that you went outside wearing just a t-shirt in the middle of November.

The male lets out a laugh before speaking, “it’s okay, I understand. If I’m being honest, I've also been having so much struggle with studying, my stress is all over the place.” He wonders for a second why he even shared this with you, concerned for a second you will see him in a bad light.

“I'm sorry to hear that.” you contemplate for a moment, “Look I have these if you want,” reaching into your pocket, you grab some rescue drops. “These help me a lot,”

You place the small bottle in his hand, and a giant smile covers his face. “What? I’ve actually been looking for these everywhere and I can never find them! They’ve been sold out in every shop.” Blondie looks back up at you, “but you have anxiety you need these more than me,”

Pausing for a second, you wonder how he knows you have anxiety, nonetheless, you continue “It’s perfectly fine, Jisung’s parents work at a pharmacy back in my hometown and they send me a few of these whenever they are in stock, you can keep them.” you inform him, his smile brightening your cold mood shockingly fast. You’re not even sure why you gave him them, it was your last bottle. You guess that’s what happens when you are a people pleaser. The smile on the male’s face only grows wider, his heart jumping at your kind action.

“Thank you so much __,”

“It’s no worries, if you ever need some more, look for the loud group of small guys acting like four-year-olds.” you laugh, and he chuckles along with you, making a mental note, even though he knows he will likely never approach the group.

Before you can focus back on the starting game, you feel a soft material cover your shivering body. It is a large zip-up that smells of rich, sweet perfume. Turning quickly to the blonde guy with confusion covering your features, you hurriedly dismiss the action, seeing his arms exposed to the winter air.

“I can’t take this; you’ll get too cold.” you stop your words as he pulls out another sweater from his bag.

“I've got my friend’s sweater, you keep mine until you’re warm.” he turns to face the game, "or until Jisung sees and freaks out and tells everyone you have a secret boyfriend." he jokes.

“You seem to know Jisung?” you ask, wondering how he knows Jisung’s personality quite well.

“Well, we know each other, but we aren’t particularly friends,” blondie turns fully towards you, “are you sure you don’t know me at all?”

“I'm sorry but I really only have like two friends, I don't really go out.”

“But Jisung is super popular, aren't you in his huge partying friend group?”

“Not really, his friends are lovely but I’m only close with him and his boyfriend, I'm not too good at making friends.” you quietly mumble the last part. You look over at the blondie and see he has slight confusion on his face.

“You are so kind, I’m sure anyone would want to be your friend."

"You’d be the first to think that" you dryly admit, which causes the male to feel a twinge of pain and guilt in his heart, "I would rather stay inside all-day binge-watching television whilst eating away my stress,"

"Well, that’s one thing we have in common."

Sharing a warm smile with him, you start to get lost in your thoughts again, but then you realise a question you never returned.

“I’m so sorry I never got your name.”

“No worries, I’m Yeosang.” he has the same smile on his face, making you feel warm despite the bitter winter air. Then his familiarity dawns on you.

“Kang?” you inquire, your voice rising ever so slightly.

“That’s me,” he smiles at me, and you don't know if your heart rises because of how beautiful his smile is or because you recognise the name from Jisung’s teaching session with the members of Ateez.

“Like from Ateez,” you question, watching your words, if Ateez is as bad as Jisung is saying then you definitely need to watch your words.

Yeosang turns to you, almost looking baffled.

“I thought you didn't know about Ateez?” he questions, shocked.

“What made you think that?”

“Just a guess I suppose, being that you don't really go out I assumed you weren’t really interested in the groups and stuff.”

“Ah well not particularly, but recently I suppose I’ve gotten to know about it better.”

“You're not scared, are you?” you see Yeosang tense up a little, his eyebrows furrowed. He hopes for the best, not knowing how you will react. Surprisingly, your heart softens at this question, he seems upset for some reason, as if he doesn't want to be seen this way. You feel bad for ever acting stressed towards him.

“Don't worry, the only person that scares me is Jisung when he's hungry.” you joke out, relaxing the tension and calming him. From what you can see, Yeosang is just kind and calm. The only thing that's menacing about him is the fact he’s drop-dead gorgeous.

Yeosang lets out a small chuckle, “well I guess now I know I need to avoid Jisung if he’s hungry,”

You agree with the blonde man, whilst lightly laughing.

“Wait, but why are you watching? Aren’t you supposed to be on the pitch?” You ask him, confused, remembering Jisung informing you that Yeosang is a part of one of the school's football teams, along with someone else whose name you can’t remember at the moment. For a moment Yeosang’s chest fills with pride, knowing you know something about him.

“Someone is taking my spot today, I was told to analyse the opposing team to find out their habits and stuff, hence the notepad.”

Looking down, you notice the small notepad with doodles all over the cover, making your heart swell. Yeosang continues to talk,

“Don’t tell my tactics to Minho,” he jokes with a grin on his face, knowing Minho is on the other team.

“I would never betray you like that,” you place your hand over your chest acting offended.

Both cracking up, you speak up again, “don't worry, your secrets are safe with me.”

“Sang!” You hear a voice call from the left, and your eyes lay on another attractive man, “Coach told us to sit with him,” this male also has a notepad in his grip.

You know this guy. He works in a small café not too far from campus, it is down a narrow alleyway, covered by vines and moss. It was a very hidden spot and only locals really knew the place. Only knowing it because you walked past it every day for a year as the alleyway was a shortcut to your housing from the campus. Barely anyone goes there, the regulars being either old women or businesspeople quickly rushing in to get a coffee before work starts. Back at the beginning of the semester, you used to go to the café a lot because of the raspberry muffins, yet they stopped selling them thus forth you stopped going as much. It was also due to the fact you had barely any time to sleep, so you cut it out of your morning schedule to be able to sleep in a little. You think the guy’s name was Wooyoung if you can remember his name tag correctly. You notice he sees you sitting next to Yeosang, with his friend’s hoodie over your shoulders and a smile consumes his entire face.

“Muffin?” he looks confused, yet somewhat glad to see you once again. The nickname extremely takes you aback. “Why did you stop coming to the café?”

As far as you can recall, back when you visited the café, this server was rather distant and limited to saying little to no words whilst waiting. Seeing him like this confuses you severely. Alas, you let out a giggle and both of the boys' grins widen visibly.

“You two better get going, I'm not sure your coach wants to wait any longer.”

Yeosang stands up and straightens out his pants before turning to you,

“Hopefully I’ll see you around.” he smiles warmly. Smiling back at him, you nod. Yeosang starts to leave with Wooyoung before he turns around.

“I better see you at the café tomorrow! Plus, that sweater looks good on you, Muffin.” he winks and Yeosang slaps the back of his head. You can’t help but giggle yet feel flustered.

Yeosang and Wooyoung walk towards the coach’s section, Yeosang slightly more affected than the male next to him. Hopefully he will get his hoodie back, and hopefully it will smell like you. After this interaction, your mind was even more confused. If you remember correctly, Yeosang and Wooyoung have a very big reputation for being some of the rudest and coldest towards people. Yet they were so friendly when you were with them. Is everything all these people are saying about them true or maybe the group of eight is just deeply misunderstood?

Whatever it is, you need to talk to Jisung about this, but you will wait until the game is over.

----

The night of the interaction between Yeosang and Wooyoung, Jisung, Minho and you reside at their apartment, eating chicken and watching a shitty romcom for background noise. The rest of his roommates are out celebrating the start of the football season. You have no idea why it started mid-way through November but okay.

“I said I would come; they were too sweet to say no to!” You exclaim, throwing your head back against the couch, regretting saying yes.

“It was definitely Yeosang and Wooyoung?” Minho questions, not believing any part of my story.

“Yes! Yeosang has the birthmark next to his eye like Ji described and Wooyoung was the guy who works at that one café I used to go to all the time,”

“Well, I never knew Wooyoung worked at a café, that doesn't really match the hardcore scary image they are going for, are you sure you’re not going delusional?” Jisung admits, chuckling.

“What are you going to do?” Minho questions, passing you a drumstick.

You take a big bite, before speaking, “I should just go, if I don't show up, they might murder me as you two say. Which is very unbelievable seeing how fucking cheerful they’ve all been.”

“Well, you’ve only met four, the rest are probably a nightmare,” Jisung says, his mouth full of chicken, Minho humming in agreement next to him.

“You two are supposed to be comforting me.” you groan, throwing your head into your hands.

“Okay, don't worry __, if they have been as nice as you’ve been saying then just show up and if they aren't nice then call Chan and Changbin and I’m sure they will gladly sort them out for you.” Minho laughs.

----

Keeping your promise, you showed up at the café the next day.

Opening the painted door, the bell rings notifying your entrance. Immediately you spot Wooyoung relaxing against the counter, scrolling through his phone, visibly bored. There are only a few people in the café, mostly reading books or typing on laptops. You see a flash of pink hair in the corner, yet you lose focus as quickly as you had it as you continue to walk further in.

“Welcome to Veranda Café,” Wooyoung says unbothered, still staring at his phone as you walk closer to where all the cakes were on display. Much to your dismay, you fail to see a raspberry muffin on display.

“I see you still don’t have any raspberry muffins.” You speak out in front of where Wooyoung is standing, making his head immediately snap up.

“__! I was starting to worry you weren't going to show up.” He exclaims, a contagious smile wide on his face. Immediately putting his phone in his pocket, giving his attention to you. He leans on the counter. Extremely happy you showed up.

“I never break my promises,” you grin at the black-haired man.

“Oh, one moment.” He speaks out excitedly, like a puppy, and turns to where he was sitting. Opening up a small fridge, he brings out the biggest, most beautiful raspberry muffin you have ever seen.

“Yeosang and I made this morning for you.” he gestures over to the corner, and you see the blonde male from yesterday, he is sitting next to someone, yet you can’t see them from where you’re standing. Yeosang shyly waves and you smile and wave back. Heart beating faster and cheeks warming up, you take the muffin happily. Wooyoung smiles brightly at you, feeling prideful at the way your eyes light up from the muffin.

“We stopped making these muffins because the owner didn’t think anyone was buying them, it made me upset because I knew you liked them,” Wooyoung says, making direct eye contact with you, making you weak at the knees. Wondering how he even remembered you, you still feel thankful he thought of you, even if it was a long time ago.

“It’s a shame but I'm sure there are lots of other tasty things here too. Anyways, thank you so much, you guys are the best.” you say, sincerity dripping in your words. Wooyoung just shrugs like he doesn't care, but the big smile on his face and the redness dusting his ears tells a different story.

“How much do I owe you?” you ask, getting out your purse.

Swiftly, Wooyoung grabs your hand halting its actions, “it’s on us, for being so kind, Yeosang and one of our friends really needed those rescue drops.” He lowers his voice, “between us, their anxiety has been really bad recently, and the stuff works wonders. Plus, you were always my favourite customer anyways.” Wooyoung admits, smiling, his cheeks get a deeper colour of red. Your heart warms up once again, which is strange to you. You haven't felt this happiness in a very long time. Maybe things are starting to get better. Happily taking the muffin, you make your way to Yeosang who is reading a book.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” you inquire, repeating his words from yesterday, yet when your eyes meet the figure sitting next to him, they light up as you recognise him.

“I know you!” You exclaim, a little too loudly, causing people around you to glare in your direction. Feeling overwhelmed by the sudden attention, you quickly sit down in a shielded area, away from all the glares.

“You two know each other?” Yeosang asks, intrigued by your sudden remark.

“It is you, right?” you ask just in case you’re mistaking him for another pink-haired male.

The tall male smiles widely, “Yeah, it’s me. I’m Mingi,” he turns to Yeosang, who is visibly confused, “we met briefly in a bar the other day,”

Yeosang lets out an ‘ah’ in realisation, yet you fail to see the jealous look he points at the pink haired man as he turns back to his book. Reaching for a dessert fork placed in the middle of the table, Mingi quickly grabs it and hands it to you. Quietly thanking him, you start to cut your muffin into four pieces. You acknowledge a gaze on you, so you halt your movements and look up, noticing Yeosang and Mingi’s eyes on you. Suddenly feeling awfully small, you start to feel your heartbeat rise and your breath deepen, never really liking people watching you eat, the stares from the two make you anxious. Luckily, they seem to immediately notice your change in behaviour and start apologising.

“I’m sorry, we will look away. We were just wondering whether you were going to like the muffin,” Mingi explains, his voice stumbling over words.

“It’s okay! I’m sorry, I’ve always been kind of awkward when people watch me eat.” you confess, your cheeks heating up. The two males nod trying to remember this information for the future. Instantly, the two men completely look away and focus on their own things, not paying any attention to you. Their antics make you giggle slightly, and you look back down at your muffin. Slowly, you pick up a quarter and place it on Mingi’s empty plate in front of him. You then do the same for Yeosang. They both look up at you with wide eyes.

“This is your favourite, we can't take it,” Yeosang says hurriedly, trying to put the cake back on your plate.

“Stop, stop! I want to. I want to share it with my friends!” You blurt out before you can control your mouth. The wide eyes on both Yeosang and Mingi, make you realise what you said. You have to remember that even though they seem normal they are very clearly part of a group who apparently can kill people with their stare. What the hell are you doing? Of course, they aren’t your friends, you met them both once for less than ten minutes.

“Wait, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to say that I didn't intend to push your boundaries, we have only met like twice I didn't just assume we are friends!” You start to ramble, scared they will take it the wrong way, trying to fix your words as quickly as possible so you don’t get on their bad sides.

Before you can say anything more, Yeosang cuts you off by taking a bite of the muffin, “it tastes amazing! Thank you,”

“Woo!” Mingi’s voice calls out, ignoring the angry glares of people around him, “come get some cake!” Watching Wooyoung jump over the counter towards the three of you, you smile to yourself, glad you haven't done something that would cause future problems. Yeosang feeds Wooyoung the cake and makes an over-exaggerated reaction, “the flavours are melting on my tongue!” he exclaims in a funny voice, making Yeosang and Mingi cringe but you just laugh at his amusing antics. You can’t help but imagine how the whole group is when they are together.

For the remainder of the hour, you are just conversing with Wooyoung and Mingi, sometimes Yeosang if he wants to add to the conversation, but more focusing on his book, yet looking up intently whenever you speak. You are broken out of your conversation as you hear the bell of the entrance ring, notifying the entrance of new customers. Wooyoung groans and stands up from his chair next to you. It seems to be three girls from our school. You recognise one of them from your calculus class.

Then the next thing that happens confuses you more than any other thing that has happened. As Wooyoung reaches the counter to take their order, his demeanour changes almost immediately, you would've missed it if you had blinked.

Mingi and Yeosang seem to notice your confusion but blatantly ignore it, their smiles quickly disappearing from their faces. The atmosphere turns from warm and friendly to cold and foreign.

“What do you want?” Wooyoung asks bluntly. You furrow your eyebrows, confused out of your mind as to where the sweet friendly Wooyoung disappeared to.

“You know you should be nicer to your customers, it would help with business,” one of the girls speaks out, looking smug as if she has immensely hurt the man’s feelings.

“You should probably focus on your studies rather than going to cafes, sitting with a random document open and pretending to study when we all know you are miserably failing all your classes.” Wooyoung says monotone, whilst scrolling through his phone, not even looking at the three girls who now have shocked and offended looks on their faces. Some curses are thrown before the girls end up storming out of the café without even beginning to look at the menu. As soon as the girls leave, Wooyoung returns to the table nonchalantly, acting as if nothing had happened. Opening your mouth to say something, it gets caught in your throat before you get the words out.

Are you going insane?

{feedback is always appreciated and i love hearing from all of you. remember you are loved.}

part two is out now!!!

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disneyprincemuke · 6 months

Text

midnights, 6 * mv1

a thunderstorm keeps you up at night, the same way it kept max up

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: -

notes: i was going to post and update my fem!driver but tumblr keeps reverting back to an old version and idK WHATS WRONG WITH TUMBLRRRR!!! i pUT MY WHOLE PUSSY INTO THAT BRO

(prev) // (next)

you sigh, hanging your towel onto the rack. the thunderstorm had been building up to what it is now the entire time you were out for dinner with alexandra and charles.

luckily, charles had offered to drive tonight. you weren’t given the hard task of navigating the streets late at night in the rain.

as much as solitary was what you craved all night, your mind seemed to change every time the thunder got a little too loud for your liking. suddenly, you were crying for help in your head that the night wouldn’t end too soon.

alas, here you are in your apartment while the rain raged on outside.

you try your hardest not to let the thunder get to you. but it’s almost impossible when the lightning lights up half of the room and the thunder rumbles in your chest.

it’s mind numbingly empty, being in your apartment during a thunderstorm without max by your side. even when he’s away, he always finds a way to stick by your side when the rain is pouring. all because he knows how much you hate it.

you’ve always felt bad keeping him up late when the weather decides to act up. he claims that it’s no problem, because your wellbeing is what matters the most, but you can’t help it.

you always note the way he struggles to keep awake on nights like these, his responses delayed by seconds at time when the gears in his head are slowed. but you also realised that he’d gotten better at staying up just to make you feel comforted and heard.

he eventually found different ways to keep you company during the long hours of a rainy night, the sounds only bothering you mildly when he’s there.

when he's away, it got harder to deal with. his voice over the speaker on your phone is too soft compared to what it is when he's in the room with you. it's the lack of a comforting embrace as well that made it that much harder to deal with.

jimmy and sassy often helped with coping with a thunderstorm a lot. they would snuggle up into your waist and purr when you cover them with a blanket while you're on the call with max.

but now you're all alone.

it's just you and the shadows of your poorly lit apartment.

you turn around and sigh loudly at the emptiness. it's a cold evening, so you're now by your dresser as you search for a sweatshirt to warm yourself up with.

you thought that you'd disposed of everything that screamed max, but you're immediately proven wrong when you notice a dark-coloured sleeve poking out of your bright-coloured selection of clothes.

dark coloured clothing means one thing. it only ever leads to one person - max.

your hands shake by your side as you stare at the sleeve, not finding the strength in yourself to grab it. you'd forgotten that you had one of his jackets from way before you moved into his apartment.

every breath you take feels heavier, the grief of losing max weighing you down once more. tears fill your eyes as you try to remember how the red bull jacket even ended up in your closet in the first place.

typically, you'd remember like it was yesterday. but for some reason, you can't remember it. and you want to be able to remember it. forgetting max and everything you've been through is never part of the plan.

you want to remember every single detail about that relationship you shared. it was the happiest couple of years you've had, the highs and lows of his career affecting you just as much while you tried your best to be there for him. you'd been there for most of it.

it feels odd now that you're not there anymore. you wonder if he feels the emptiness without you too.

when he started his career in formula 1, you entered his life months after that. you'd been there when he was promoted to the main racing team and you were there for every single podium finish thereafter. you'd even been there for every single crash and hospital visit.

you were there and suddenly you're not showered in champagne every weekend, reeking of the alcohol that soaked your clothes and hair.

a loud rumble makes you flinch, hands flying up to cover your ears. it doesn't get any easier dealing with it - the rumbling in your chest that accompanied the loud roar outside the window.

but you can't resist. you grab the jacket from your closet anyway, throwing the hanger back inside. you jump onto your bed and wrap the blanket over your shoulders and grab your phone from your nightstand.

you dial a number unconsciously and hold the phone up to your ear as you await an answer. you choke up when the ringing stops, knowing well yourself that this is not the person you meant to call. it's just to stick to your principle of backing up the break-up that you never wanted but brought up.

"hey."

"mum, i miss him," you sob into the phone, your hand coming up to your chest as you feel it close in on itself. "i miss max."

"i know, baby." you hear some shuffling from the other side of the line, then a hushed whisper from your father. the door shuts before your mother says something to you again. "but this is for the best, isn't it? you guys have not been happy for so long."

this makes you sob even harder, your wails being tuned out by the rain that has gotten stronger in the past second. the roaring in the night sky barely bothers you now.

you just want max.

"we are happy," you defend yourself and the relationship. nobody knows what happened. nobody knows that even if you fought endlessly, you were still happy when you pushed it all aside. you were happy with max. "we were happy. i ruined it, mama."

you resort to putting a hand over your mouth as you start to sob harder. if you'd known the rain was going to be such a trigger, you would have just gone to sleep the moment you stepped foot into your apartment.

"i love him," you manage to whisper. you close your eyes as the tears continue to fall, leaning your head on your headboard. the picture frame on your bedside table still stands tall, making you contemplate if you should hang up and call max instead. "i don't think i'll ever get over him."

but your mother will always be looking out for you. she doesn't encourage you to call him. she just says, "get it off your chest, baby. i'm here."

and you spend the next 3 hours crying over max, your framed picture sitting by your knee as you talk about him. you only fall asleep when the thunderstorm stops, wrapped in his jacket that weirdly still smelled just like him.

taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab @graciewrote @hollie911 @thatsojasminesworld @mycenterfold @princessria127 @ironmaiden1313 @dl-yum @crlsummer @brekkers-whore @minkyungseokie @honethatty12

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

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comicaurora · 4 months

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Hi! I finally got the chance to read Aurora a bit ago. It's a wonderful story--all I was expecting and better! I was particularly amazed and delighted by the artwork and visual mechanics used to tell the story, so I wrote a post to yell about how cool it is and break some of it down. (No criticism, just praise.) I'm mostly a hobbyist, so I'm hoping I've done it justice.

That said: zero pressure to read it or respond to this ask. Normally I wouldn't send it since I tagged, but I know Tumblr's notifs are a mess and things get lost very easily. I've been in both the "one (1) word of praise will feed me for a year" and the "oh gods don't talk about my writing/art because anything that seems Off will break my brain" modes before, and I absolutely don't want to push or make you uncomfortable!

If you are comfortable, however, I wanted to ask about your use of what I'm assuming are Screen and blending modes in sound effect words. (I'm only guessing that's the technique, though, so I could be totally wrong about how it's done! I'm mostly experienced in image manipulation in Photoshop.) Making them semi-transparent over the actions is genius :) What inspired you to do that, and are there specific techniques you use to make it work?

Same questions go for using specific colors to distinguish different characters' words and actions. I really noticed it in the cave sequence with Falst and Dainix, since their colors are so vivid in the dark (ex. Falst's little swats and Dainix's swooping kick at 1.20.9). It lends excellent clarity to busy scenes.

Thanks! Have a lovely day, enjoy your break, and happy holidays <3

You're correct about the technique! "Screen" is the blend mode I use most often for sound effects. I stumbled on it mostly through trial and error - I love how sound effects add depth to a comic panel, but it's very easy for them to obscure the art in a way I find counterproductive, so "Screen" lets me put the sound effect directly over the origin of the sound while still letting it be visible through the word. Early chapters didn't have it as much-

Most of the sound effects in early chapters are just solid colors with reduced opacity if I'm feeling fancy. But I started figuring it out around chapter 8 and 9, because Falst is kind of a sound-effect-heavy guy, especially in his fight scenes.

In order to make sure they don't impede the visibility of the action, I'll often soft-erase the top or bottom half of the SFX to reduce its opacity while still leaving it readable.

I'll usually double that up with an outline on the SFX so it's still readable. This is an especially important consideration if the SFX goes over an area of the background that's very bright or glowing.

Color-coding the speed lines and SFX to the character or force causing them isn't a hard and fast rule, but I like using it (in part because it's a habit from the OSP illustrations, where every character has a single pop of color in their lineart) mostly because it sort of codes every sound to make it clear where it's emanating from, or the general feeling of the sound. Since I normally do character-colors for SFX, something like this stands out more jarringly-

Which it's supposed to, but a big lightning strike doesn't register as anything too worrying because it's just Tess up to her usual shenanigans.

It's also very useful for magic effects, because each form of magic has its own associated palette.

And when I had a very complicated fight scene in a dark environment, I used the texture pattern I'd already made for the monster to color its SFX, so when I Screened them onto the panels they didn't obscure too much while still communicating "this is something else."

Changing the weight, lined-vs-not-lined, and opacity of the SFX words also helps to communicate that not every sound has the same feeling. A strong motion is solid and aggressive, but a crackling, unstable sound is more ephemeral and staticky.

It's definitely been a process of learning as I go - looking back at the earlier chapters I can actually see when I first tried various tricks I now use regularly, like doubling and distorting an SFX to produce the effect of a camera-shaking impact. I haven't really seen any other comics that do it like I do, probably because most other comics follow a more traditional production pipeline where text bubbles and sound effects get locked into the composition early, before the inking stage, because traditional physical comics don't have digital-art layers to play with. Adding sound effects to a page is almost the last thing I do before exporting them, and that only works because digital art and layers allow for a ton of flexibility.

#asks #aurora #art stuff

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sguidwards-bestfriend · 2 months

Text

So apparently pitchpearl is a thing, I've been on tumblr for a while and if you know any history then you understand why selfcest doesn't surprise me in the slightest

Anyway...

dpxdc Misunderstanding that becomes reality fic: 1.5k

part 1

Warning: I plan on a very melancholic ending, its a good ending but also kinda sad

...

When Danny moved to Gotham, he really had thought he wouldn't continue his hero work in this dimension.

But there was a little girl in the street that almost got hurt during a rogue attack.

But some kind of gas went off at the cafe he worked at and it's not like he really needs to breath and there were so many people.

But his University, Gotham U, was in a lock down from a random winter storm that definitely wasn't natural.

So he did what he could when he saw it and kept off of the news when he was doing class work, letting the other "vigilantes" pick up where he couldn't.

However, after a few more months of class, work, and being a vigilante (the news station that first showed him used the correct name!!), he was right back where he had been in Amity before he'd managed to close the portal.

Exhausted and failing at everything other than hero work.

The year after he had graduated high school he stayed in Amity and was able to make amends with the ghosts, being the crown prince definitely helped. He thought the ghost attacks stopping would have lessened his pa- Jack and Maddie trying to catch one. In reality they only became more and more frantic to catch the last ghost, "Mini Phantom".

Revealing he had a daughter, that that daughter was half ghost, hadn't gone well in the slightest.

The one shot Maddie managed to hit had almost destabilized her. He had grabbed her and ran into the portal. He wasn't sure how he'd done it, but in a fit of blinding rage he had destroyed both sides of the doorway to the Ghost Zone.

Frost bite had managed to get her to retract into her core. She'd need some time before she'd have a physical form again, and she'd need Danny to keep her stable for some time, but she would make it. She'd be fine in the end.

It felt weird to have two cores in his chest, but other than needing to take ecto shots it wasn't a huge change.

The last time he'd been to frostbite Ellie's core had some sort of shake to it. It could have been nothing, but a halfa was rare enough. A halfa making a never-born hadn't even been thought of. Add on, that that never-born could possibly be born a halfa was... concerning.

So here he was, in an entirely new dimension, nervously chewing on the end of his stylus, waiting to hear back from Frostbite. His study sessions lately kept being interrupted by thoughts of her. If she really was okay.

Then there was an earth shattering BOOM, that shook his entire building.

As he floated upwards and through the wall he caught a glimpse of something he had never seen before in his afterlife.

A daemon. An actual daemon with red skin and horns and a flaming tail crawling out of the ruble that used to be his front door.

Danny could sense immediately that the being wasn't from the ghost zone, but it held just as much power as one of the stronger ghost.

He transformed and landed in front of the being, "Hey! That was my front door! What gives, Rudolf?"

The daemon shook the dust off his head and looked at Phantom, then at his chest, and back at him. "I do not fight those that carry child."

"Oh... uh." He was not expecting that. "Are you okay?"

It was the daemons turn to look perplexed. "I am fighting a hellblazer, he owes me something. Refuses to pay."

"That's annoying." He looked around to see some guy in a trench coat at the end of the street. The yet to settle dust cloud making it hard to figure out any other features. "I can help if you-"

At that a massive blast of magic hit him and the daemon, sending them careening farther down the street.

Danny's vision went double and he thought he was going to throw up. All he could focus on at first was the pain as he tried to stand on wobbly legs, then it was the emptiness in his chest.

Ellie.

He closed his eyes and dropped back to the floor. He focused on her core. He found it quickly, checking it over, turning it every which way incessantly until he heard someone groan in front of him.

When he opened his eyes he was looking at two much smaller daemons, one a bright red, the other a darker wine red, sitting in a massive indent in the road. One he very luckily was on the very outskirts of.

The two immediately started to bicker, swatting at each other, but not actually fighting.

He heard footsteps on the wreckage behind him, some magic words were said and the daemons' were hand cuffed and poofed out of sight.

"Hey kid, you okay?" Trench coat asked him, not bothering to give him his hand.

"No thanks to you, you ass."

"I just saved your life." He said with a blank expression.

"The daemon wouldn't have done anything to me. Unlike you, they have a moral code."

Trench coat huffed, that seemed to ruffle his feathers. "And what would those morals be exactly?"

"They pay their debts, for one. And two, they don't magically attack people carrying children." Danny stood up and wavered. Trench coat grabbed his arm to steady him.

He stared at Danny for a few more seconds, "You're not human." It wasn't a question. He sucked in a breath, "You're not fully human."

"Ding, ding, ding." Danny tried to shake of the hellblazer's grip. "Let go of me."

"I know where to get medical attention for non humans. You need to be looked over." He said, starting the motion to make a portal.

"Nuh, uh. No. I'm fine." Danny said, patting the hand still wrapped around his arm. Trenchcoat let go and shoved him lightly, Danny felt the world twist around him as the pavement came up to meet his face.

Before he hit the ground he stopped in mid air, not by his own volition, and was gently propped back up.

"That blast spell is designed to not affect humans. You shouldn't have felt more than a breeze." Trenchcoat went back to opening up a portal, it glowed an eerie red. "Come on, well check the little one too."

Danny let himself get pulled through the red portal, it quickly closed behind them.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

His head was pounding.

"wha/t- morals- exactly?"

Talking.

"debts- two- atta/ckp/eo-ple- children."

Two voices. Two people.

"not human."

He feels empty.

"Letg/oof me."

He's hurt. His other half is hurt.

"You need to be looked over."

He opened his eyes, a man was holding his other half. His other half and his daughter.

"Nuh, uh. No. I'm fine." His other half swatted at the man.

The man pushed his other half to the ground.

He tried to reach out but his hand was barely a shimmering outline.

His other half didn't hit the ground.

There was ringing in his ears. The man would pay.

"Come on,- the little one too."

The man pulled his other half through a portal.

A sickly looking portal. A bloody color.

He floated up. Sped to the closing portal.

It closed too fast.

He wasn't fast enough.

...

It took Phantom 20 minutes to get his thoughts in order and another 10 before the ringing in his ears stopped.

He had been split in two before, but the ghost "dream catcher" the ecto-scientists made years ago had split his ghost half and his human half entirely. This was different.

He still felt a bit of his humanness. Transforming would suck though, he felt too low on ecto to do that.

His other half was in his human form when he looked. He still had Ellie nestled up against his core. But his core looked off. Although the silhouette was of a full sphere, he couldn't help shaking the thought that he saw some parts missing.

When Danny had been split before only his ghost had kept the core, it was what nearly killed them both. What made them promise to never split again.

Maybe if they both had bits of a core they'd be fine until they could reunite.

He tried to focus on his core but it made his head pound.

He'd have to hope his other half could manage as he tried to organize a rescue mission.

Although he'd managed to get a message from the Ghost Zone to Sam and Tucker, he wouldn't be able to get one dirrectly to their dimension.

He knew even trying to make a portal with his ecto as low as it was wasn't a good idea. And would be a waste of the ecto shots he had just chugged.

There was really only one hope of help he had left, one he really didn't want to ask.

A new friend he had made at the cafe.

Tim Drake-Wayne, son of Brucie Wayne. The very same Brucie Wayne that was definitely funding Batman's weird night life.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wow this got away from me, honestly was planning on like 500 words. I want to continue this, but if anyone wants to pick it up and play around please feel free to add stuff in the reblogs! I adore reading peoples additions to posts

(As always please please please help me writing tags i never knwo what to do with them, the lack of structure here compared to ao3 confuses me)

#pitch pearl #bad parents jack and maddie #dpxdc #my writing

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starlost-andfound · 9 days

Text

claire de lune | bang chan

bang chan x friend gn!reader

summary: on a particularly rough night, y/n and chan find comfort in each other's company under the moonlight

word count: 1.1k

warning: discussions of grief, losing loved ones, mentions of death, angst and a bit of bittersweet but comforting (?) fluff

authors note: i don't actually think anyone will read this but i'm missing some ppl a little more than usual tonight. i thought i'd write this as a comfort for myself and for others who feel the same too

additional note: also, after years of using tumblr, i just figured out how to do this three pictures in a row thing and i am absolutely ecstatic about it

_ _ _

The knock on his studio door snapped Chan out of his trance.

He blinked his eyes a few times, his vision slowly coming back to focus, staring at the black computer screen in front of him. How long had he been zoned out? His head drifting to other places, clinging to lingering thoughts?

He glanced at the clock. 1:45 AM. Had it really been that long?

The knock sounded and Chan cleared his throat, “Come in.”

The door opened slightly and y/n peaked through the small gap.

“Oh, hey you,” Chan smiled tiredly. “It’s been a while.”

Y/n smiled. “Mind if I step in?”

“You know you’re always welcome,” Chan gestured to the couch behind him. The bags under y/n’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed by him. He couldn’t deny that he held his own too. Chan had been in the studio for so long he could barely remember what time he had entered and how much time had passed.

Y/n closed the door behind them, leaning against it.

“Why are you up so late?” Chan asked.

“I could ask you the same.”

Chan chuckled. He glanced at the time again and sighed. He looked back at y/n, “Wanna go out on a walk?”

“Yeah, I could use some fresh air.”

_ _ _

Chan and y/n didn’t really have a destination in mind. They walked quietly side by side, matching each other’s pace. Occasionally, a soft sigh would break the silence or one of the two would point out the nice weather or a stray cat on the opposite side of the street. Both carried some kind of weight, a wearing shadow looming behind them.

Eventually the two found a park and made their way to a bench. Y/n let out a sigh as they sat. Chan followed, sitting a slight distance away from them. Neither made the first move to speak, both of their hearts aching to let go of the heavy anchor in their chest, but neither were courageous enough to say the words they needed to.

Chan looked up and sighed.

“Oh,” he whispered. “It’s a half moon tonight.”

Y/n followed his gaze up to the sky. They hummed in agreement. “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“You never did tell me why you were up,” Chan added.

A small pause. “Too much on my mind,” y/n mumbled.

“What were you thinking about?”

“It’s not so much of what I was thinking about,” y/n replied. “- but more of who i was thinking about,” they whispered.

Y/n inhaled deeply and cleared their throat. “Why were you up?”

Chan chuckled, but his laughter held some heaviness. “I guess the same as you.”

After a longer silence, Chan spoke again. “Were they a friend, family... or a lover?”

“Family,” y/n spoke quietly, afraid if they spoke any louder their feelings would burst. “You?”

“Friend,” Chan sighed..

He laughed lightly. “It doesn’t get easier, does it?”

“Nope,” y/n chuckled, fiddling with the hem of their t-shirt. “I feel like every time it hits me I drown again.”

“They say it comes in waves.”

“Yeah,” y/n bit their lip as their eyes started to water, a lump building in their throat.

“Sometimes it’s unforgiving like a high tide and it completely floods and it drowns you,” Chan continued with a deep breath. “But sometimes it’s gentle and kind like the low tide on a shore on a quiet morning.”

A tear slipped passed y/n’s eye and they quickly brushed it away.

“I hate it, I really do.” their lip trembled. They inhaled shakily. “I just wish it would go away.”

“I know,” Chan said. “Me too.”

He couldn’t tell when the first tear had fallen, quickly wiping away the tears smudged on his cheeks.

“I just don’t know how to deal with all of this pain that I have left, all of this love I have left for them. I don’t know where to put it. I don’t know how anyone lives with it. How the world just keeps spinning but I’m still stuck here.”

“I guess we just have to learn to live with it,” Chan whispered. “Slowly, step by step. We put the love we have left for them into the way we live.”

He paused, and breathed shakily. “Maybe by smiling a little more for them, or doing that crazy thing we’re scared of, just living more for them - because they would’ve wanted that for us.” His voice wavered, “They would’ve wanted us to be happy.”

Y/n sniffled. “You have a really good way with words.”

“Funny.” Chan laughed through his tears. “People say that a lot.”

“Sometimes, I feel really lost without them. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself, with my life.” y/n spoke. “They used to be a call away and now, I don’t know what to do when I need them the most.”

“It’s hard, learning to live and grow.” Chan said. “As you get older, you grow apart or you have to learn how to keep growing on your own.”

He sniffled. “But they’re always looking out for us, even when they’re gone. You just need to look for the signs.”

“Do you think they can see us from up there?”, y/n asked, looking back up at the sky.

“I think they do. They always watch over us, in the stars.” Chan pointed up in the far distance, to a small cluster of stars surrounding the moon.

The two sat in silence again, both looking up at the stars, the moonlight washing over them with a soft glow, wrapping them in a gentle embrace.

“For what it’s worth, I think they would be really proud of who you are today.” Chan looked at y/n.

Y/n’s eyes welled with tears again. “You really think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you,” y/n said quietly. They glanced at Chan. “For what it’s worth, I know that they’re really proud of you too Chan.”

Chan remained silent for a moment, composing himself before he replied. “Thank you, y/n.”

They sat together quietly for a few more minutes, each allowing the other to feel their own heaviness in their chest, in their own time.

After some time passed, the only sound heard was the distant chirp of crickets and their quiet breathing.

“Do you want to head back?”, y/n asked.

Chan looked back up at the moon and exhaled shakily. “I think I’d like to stay here for a bit longer, look at the stars a little more.”

“I think I’ll stay a little bit longer too.”

Up above them, in the light of the moon in the dark sky, a pair of stars shined a little brighter.

#bang chan angst #bang chan fluff #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan #bangchan fluff #bangchan angst

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dootznbootz · 6 months

Text

Odysseus was afraid the entire year on Aeaea in the Odyssey.

Content warnings: Rape, Sexual Coercion, Sexual assault, Sex Work, power dynamics, this will also be long as fuck as I talk too much. This is NOT a "Circe the Goddess Hate Post". I call her out but that's it. I tried to keep this neutral but still making a point (Let me know if I gotta put more)

Lots of lovely folks on here have written great essays on what Calypso did to Odysseus as it's soooo blatantly obvious there. It literally states how he cried every day and how he flinched from Calypso, very straightforward on how he was explicitly raped.

But I've noticed that a lot of people are always iffy about Circe's situation (understandably so, it's not so in your face.) She's usually always mentioned in the "Odysseus never cheated! He was raped!" posts but then the evidence is only ever given against Calypso, and then mentioning how you can't say no or disobey the orders of an immortal and how it was in exchange for freeing his men.

WHICH IS ALL CORRECT!!! But!!!

There ARE immortal/mortal couples who genuinely love each other. Dionysus and Ariadne, and Eros and Psyche are examples. Apollo and Hyacinthus. Psyche indeed becomes immortal eventually and in some versions, both Hyacinthus and Ariadne do too. But even while mortal themselves, their immortal lovers still remained respectful and loving towards them and definitely doted on them. There are definitely power dynamics at play here but there's some nuance.

Odysseus and Circe's relationship, however, is very different. We all know he slept with her at the very least once. And that was in exchange for his men being returned to humans. That was the only time it was explicitly stated. With Calypso, it tells you every night he was enchanted and slept beside her. It was the narrator speaking but Odysseus is the narrator now and it's his story. If you think he lied, this probably won't change your mind anyway.

But even if it was a one-time thing, (which isn't the only interpretation and I will have points that talk about others) then why did he stay a year? What was he doing?

I'm doing a deep dive into the year he spent on Aeaea based on evidence in Book 10 and then the beginning of Book 12. Step by step, and honestly I'm writing this for Tumblr, not as a thesis so I will be a bit more casual but still using sources. To me, it's very obvious that he was uncomfortable throughout the text simply based on the language that is used. But it's very subtle and not an outright statement of "He's been crying every day."

BTW, just so we're clear, this is not a "Circe is the root of all evil, etc." type of post.

This isn't meant to villainize her. She's an immortal being and in mythology that changes things. Everybody is morally gray. I genuinely think if we were to ask her feelings on it, she'd probably be like "Oh, yeah! Turned his men into pigs! Strange little man he was." I don't think she gave a flying fuck.

I just simply get pissed tf off when people think Odysseus was fine. It honestly disturbs me how often I'll go on other websites YouTube and see everyone call him a whore and a womanizer. It's sexism at its finest because 1.) "MaN AlwAyS wAnTs sEx" and 2.) women can't rape/coerce. THIS IS SIMPLY TO LOOK INTO HIS FEELINGS ABOUT IT.

This is also only for Homer's Odyssey, using different translations. If you want to discuss this, (I'd be happy to! Just be nice!) DON'T BRING UP ANY OTHER WORKS.

With all that out of the way, come yell with me 🤗

I've read multiple translations, as I know there's going to be bias depending on who's translating. And having done so, each one has basically the same situations described the same so that's nice for consistency. Also, there are some parts in the story that are vague and that we'll never have answers to.

Odysseus first simply sees the smoke from her chimney and then sends his men in, after drawing lots Eurylochus leads half of the men to check out the house. I mentioned here vaguely how the 2 immortals he sleeps with are both introduced while singing and weaving, which could be seen as an enchantment (which to me is most likely. They both possess magic and are goddesses). So I'm just gonna move past that. Just take a peek and come back or just know that enchantment was likely.

Next, I'll see people often joke on Tumblr about how

"Odysseus says that Polites is his best friend yet only mentions him once!"

I think Odysseus mentions his best friend, the one to jubilantly go in first, to show WHY he would go through with this. How much these comrades mean to him. That's his best friend, and there are approximately 20 others who are now pigs as well. Could you knowingly leave one of your best friends to live a life like that knowing you could've done something?

[...]Circe—and deep inside they heard her singing, lifting her spellbinding voice as she glided back and forth at her great immortal loom, her enchanting web a shimmering glory only goddesses can weave. Polites, captain of armies, took command, the closest, most devoted man I had: ‘Friends, there’s someone inside, plying a great loom, and how she sings—enthralling! The whole house is echoing to her song. Goddess or woman—let’s call out to her now!’ So he urged and the men called out and hailed her. She opened her gleaming doors at once and stepped forth, inviting them all in, and in they went, all innocence.

(Fagles, Book 10)

In the Odyssey, it's never mentioned why she turns people into animals. I think they were turned into pigs because, throughout the Iliad and Odyssey, Odysseus is often associated with boars. His men are associated with him, therefore: 🐖 Piggy. From what we know, the lads were just eating her food. With how much Xenia and hospitality are a large part of the story, they probably thought they were safe. They were GUESTS. This is especially welcome after the Cyclops and the Laestrygonians. And it literally says "All innocence". They were simply naive.

Then Eurylochus runs back, so terrified that he couldn't speak at first. He then begs Odysseus to just leave the men behind. Odysseus has shown that he does TRY to save his men when it is truly not reckless to do so.

But I shot back, ‘Eurylochus, stay right here, eating, drinking, safe by the black ship. I must be off. Necessity drives me on.’

(Fagles, Book 10)

Then the famous warning from Hermes. I've seen folks bring this up when talking about this. YES, he is literally commanded by Hermes to not refuse her if he wants his men back in basically every translation. It sounds like Circe was warned as well. When? We don't know, but it sounds like Hermes didn't pick "sides" here.

Strange that he was still like, "Sleep with each other" to both, because he could've been like, "Circe, there's this guy named Odysseus. When he comes to this island, change his men back." But who knows, maybe it was Circe's idea from the beginning and Hermes went along with it. Just food for thought.

Now here’s your plan of action, step by step. The moment Circe strikes with her long thin wand, you draw your sharp sword sheathed at your hip and rush her fast as if to run her through! She’ll cower in fear and coax you to her bed— but don’t refuse the goddess’ bed, not then, not if she’s to release your friends and treat you well yourself. But have her swear the binding oath of the blessed gods she’ll never plot some new intrigue to harm you, once you lie there naked— never unman you, strip away your courage!’

(Fagles, Book 10)

But that doesn't explain why he was there for a year afterward! Nor if he himself was okay with it, which is what I'm trying to delve into as he wasn't.

Also the knife thing? She's still immortal. It was meant to startle her. Her dad is Helios. Odysseus would've been toast, literally.

Also note this exchange wasn't a "Yippee! Hermes says I'm going to get laid!".

...just approaching the halls of Circe, my heart a heaving storm at every step, paused at her doors, the nymph with lovely braids— I stood and shouted to her there. She heard my voice, she opened the gleaming doors at once and stepped forth, inviting me in, and in I went, all anguish now …

(Fagles, Book 10)

Another translation by Ian Johnston, (they all say the same thing essentially but trying to make a point.)

I continued on to Circe’s home. As I moved on, my heart was turning over many gloomy thoughts. After I had walked up to the gateway of fair-haired Circe’s house, I just stood there and gave a shout. The goddess heard my voice. She came out at once, opened her bright doors, and invited me inside. I entered, heart full of misgivings.

HE👏WAS👏SCARED! The tone is solemn and suspenseful. He was just told that without Hermes' help with the root, he wouldn't be able to survive and bring back his men. Circe was dangerous.

He made her swear not to harm him.

Straightaway she began to swear the oath that I required—never, she’d never do me harm—and when she’d finished, then, at last, I mounted Circe’s gorgeous bed …

(Fagles, Book 10)

Please note that she NEVER promised that to his men. His comrades did NOT have moli in their systems. He had no way of truly ensuring their safety in any way from Circe.

He then refuses to eat or speak, literally "lost in grim forebodings". If he "just got laid", then why isn't he happy? Not many men can say that a goddess CHOSE to have sex with them. He did it to get his men turned back. It was an exchange. I don't think Circe is "Evil" so maybe it slipped her mind. Or yes, she could've thought, "Hey, I got what I wanted. He's handsome enough. Homer never shuts up about how hot this guy is He hasn't brought up the pigs yet. I'll just let this play out. Maybe HE forgot. I don't have to do anything." We don't know. But Odysseus probably felt like he got deceived.

"Hey, I did my part of the deal. I slept with you. Now do yours."

She pressed me to eat. I had no taste for food. I just sat there, mind wandering, far away … lost in grim forebodings. As soon as Circe saw me, huddled, not touching my food, immersed in sorrow, she sidled near with a coaxing, winged word: ‘Odysseus, why just sit there, struck dumb, eating your heart out, not touching food or drink? Suspect me of still more treachery? Nothing to fear. Haven’t I just sworn my solemn, binding oath?’

So she asked, but I protested, ‘Circe— how could any man in his right mind endure the taste of food and drink before he’d freed his comrades-in-arms and looked them in the eyes? If you, you really want me to eat and drink, set them free, all my beloved comrades— let me feast my eyes.’ So I demanded.

(Fagles, Book 10)

He doesn't trust her despite what she had told him that he should when they sleep together. He has figured out that while she will not hurt him, his men were not a part of that oath, the men he was trying to protect in the first place.

She is then moved by how they rejoice when they see one another again. While turning people into animals for funsies isn't cool and coercion is fucked up, I think she comes to see this group as not quite friends but I think she did find them entertaining in a way.

This is very strange but I've seen some folks say that since Odysseus was pissed at Eurylochus for still not believing him about Circe is proof that "Oh he was trying to defend her!". Which??? Uh, Eurylochus was literally questioning his leadership as a whole. Calling him reckless and shit. He is captain and he's the King, he can't let that shit slide. The text literally says "Mutinous". Also if I had to sleep with someone I did not want to especially if it was to save my friends and I got called names afterward I'd get fucking pissed too.

Only Eurylochus tried to hold my shipmates back, his mutinous outburst aimed at one and all: ‘Poor fools, where are we running now? Why are we tempting fate?— why stumble blindly down to Circe’s halls? She’ll turn us all into pigs or wolves or lions made to guard that palace of hers—by force, I tell you— just as the Cyclops trapped our comrades in his lair with hotheaded Odysseus right beside them all— thanks to this man’s rashness they died too!

They stay a year. Again it's never stated that Odysseus slept with her that whole time. You could interpret that. (Honestly, I feel Circe would get bored with him? She's a goddess, she's got more important matters than mortal men. And she definitely doesn't love him.)

His men DO have to bring it up that "Odysseus has forgotten his native land." Maybe they thought they could sneak out without her knowing??? I am fucking REACHING but hold on as Telemachus did because he knew Nestor would well, be Nestor and try to coax him with "Have a meal with us! Let me tell you about how badass I used to be in my youth." But to sneak away from a goddess? Without her permission? That won't end too well. Aeolus in the beginning kicked out Odysseus when he tried to ask for another bag of wind. If she didn't want him around, she could literally boot him out. While she didn't force him to stay like Calypso did, she didn't "release" him either.

We don't know if they've been asking for a long time. Odysseus does say to Circe that they have been begging him nonstop, but he could also be saying that to try and convince her. He's good at persuasion. I think while he knew he could rely on her for food, shelter, and good advice, he still didn't feel...SAFE with her. I think he was possibly avoiding her personally.

I think HOW he asks her to leave is important to know as well.

...but I went up to that luxurious bed of Circe’s, hugged her by the knees and the goddess heard my winging supplication: ‘Circe, now make good a promise you gave me once— it’s time to help me home. My heart longs to be home, my comrades’ hearts as well. They wear me down, pleading with me whenever you’re away.’

(Fagles, Book 10)

Throughout all of Homer's works, the characters grasp another's knees when they are desperate and are literally at the other person's mercy. Priam did when begging Achilles for Hector's body back. The man who literally killed his son and was defiling his body by dragging it around. Leodes grabs Odysseus' knees to beg for his life before Ody kills him. If he saw her as a friend, and not a captor, WHY DID HE FEEL THE NEED TO BEG IN ORDER TO LEAVE?! No one, who is in a healthy relationship, has to BEG for permission to leave. Or to "Break up", if you interpret them as still sleeping together.

And even Circe acknowledges that he is there against his will!

‘Royal son of Laertes, Odysseus, old campaigner, stay on no more in my house against your will.

(Fagles, Book 10)

[...]Odysseus, man of many resources, scion of Zeus, son of Laertes, don’t stay here a moment longer against your will

(A.S. Kline, Book 10)

This is probably another reach that you can ignore but the whole "they wear me down", could be trying to appease her. "Look, you're REALLY cool, it's actually my crew that wants to leave hahahah please don't kill them"

I mentioned before how Telemachus snuck away from Nestor but that was simply out of necessity because he needed to go home now. Not rest for the night. NOW. Nestor is just everyone's grandpa. Menelaus kind of talked more but Telemachus is very straight up in "Please I have to go now" and Menelaus immediately got things ready for him. He never has to beg and clasp his knees. Telemachus was never afraid. Menelaus is a fun uncle and Helen is your cool auntie.

Back to Circe! She tells him instructions for the underworld, they were in her bedroom. But that might've been the only way to speak with her. As even Penelope is usually away from the suitors when they are in her halls, Circe may have done the same. The text never states she played hostess physically. If she was hosting in the halls during the day, why did Odysseus wait until night to talk to her? He could've just asked her while she was on her throne in front of everyone. (He did so with the Phaeacians)

Or maybe he went alone because she only swore an oath to not harm him and so he didn't want his men near if she decided she didn't want to let them go. I could be missing something here so feel free to say something. Idk if this was a pride thing on how "I don't want others to see me beg".

She has info he needs in order to go home as well. She tells him to go to the Underworld.

She gave him new fine clothes and put on pretty clothes herself but that doesn't mean they had sex. Nausicaa gave him nice clothes as well but he never slept with her.

Then he leaves. Immediately. Not even doing a headcount as he didn't realize one of his men had died. (That was negligence on his part but he wanted out) He booked it, to the UNDERWORLD BY THE WAY. Circe even had to sneak the animals he needed for the sacrifice. Odysseus even basically said "She's a goddess. She can do things mortals can't" at the end of the book. And it almost feels...Numb? Solemn? Neutral? Gives a "It is what it is" vibe.

But Circe got to the dark hull before us, tethered a ram and black ewe close by— slipping past unseen. Who can glimpse a god who wants to be invisible gliding here and there?

(Fagles, Book 10)

She’d slipped past us with ease, for who can see a god move back and forth, if she has no desire to be observed?

(Johnston, Book 10)

She's a goddess. She has magic. She can do whatever the fuck she wants.

NOW ON TO BOOK 12!!! That was long! GET A SNACK AND WATER! LUCKILY THIS'LL BE SHORTER!

In Book 11, Odysseus swears, upon all his loved ones in Ithaca, to Elpenor that he'd give him a proper burial as he's been "unwept, unburied". So in Book 12, he sails back to Aeaea to fulfill his promise.

But you know what's funny to me?

He didn't tell Circe he was there.

He didn't even go to greet Circe himself. He sent his men to go get Elpenor's body.

The biggest clue that he didn't love/trust her is that if she was his "Affair partner" then why not go see her for "one last night together"?

SHE came out herself and pulled him aside to know what happened and then gave more advice.

I dispatched some men to Circe’s halls to bring the dead Elpenor’s body. [...]

Nor did our coming back from Death escape Circe— she hurried toward us, decked in rich regalia, handmaids following close with trays of bread and meats galore and glinting ruddy wine. [...]

But Circe, taking me by the hand, drew me away from all my shipmates there and sat me down and lying beside me probed me for details

(Fagles, Book 12)

In every translation, it talks about how he sits, and she lounges/lies down. That's not sex 🙃 In some translations, it even says he tried to be with his shipmates but she pulled him away!

So we lay down and slept beside our ship’s stern cables. But Circe took me by the hand and led me away, some distance from the crew. She made me sit, while she stretched out beside me on the ground.

(Johnston, Book 12)

Then, she gives advice about the sirens, Charybdis, Scylla, and her father's Cattle. He tries to ask if he could save all his men. She scolds him for even thinking he could try. He again books it out of there.

I think we all know it wasn't "love". But I think a lot of people think Odysseus was willing and happy with whatever this was. "Friends with Benefits", if you will. I guess you could see it that way but I will say that makes me feel itchy with the whole power dynamic and fear. I don't think folks who have that arrangement have to beg on their knees to ask if they can leave though.

I mean the entirety of Book 10 gives me the vibes of "Laughing uncomfortably because you don't want to upset the other person". To just grin and bear it.

A lot of this was just putting the text here and picking it apart step by step. What you do with this is up to you. It's rambling while banging pots and pans together.

Maybe you see him as drugged the entire year and still sleeping together, as the moli "wore off". Even then, just because her magic can't affect him, there are plenty of natural concoctions that can be created that can affect mortals.

Maybe you see the entire year as sex work in exchange for shelter and food.

Maybe he was just alongside his men the whole time under her roof and was avoiding her after the exchange. After he got asked by his men to finally leave, he would start to walk up to that room only to freeze and turn around, thinking "One more day won't hurt. Should wait until I know she's in a sympathetic mood".

I beg of you, however, PLEASE understand that there was fear and coercion throughout his entirety on Aeaea. He wasn't staying to get laid. While there is so much going on and too many things that are left vague to really know exactly what happened, it is consistent that he was scared/numb. Lots of people go through with things they don't really want to do just to appease others. There are plenty of situations of sexual trauma where one person goes through something and the other has no idea the other person isn't okay. ESPECIALLY WHEN SOMEONE CAN HARM THE PEOPLE YOU CARE ABOUT AT ANY MOMENT!

Sexual trauma is a very complicated thing and while he was scared, he definitely wasn't as traumatized by her as he was by Calypso. Calypso was a torturous hell while Circe was a year of walking on eggshells. Not comparable but I still think it should be acknowledged. It's wild because I read the Odyssey and kept thinking "Y'all are calling the sex slave a cheater? The guy who slept with a goddess to get his men back? The ultimate simp apparently doesn't love his wife??"

Things I'm adding that shouldn't affect the argument as it is not in the Odyssey but I want to mention as it's a "fun fact": Odysseus' dad was an Argonaut. Laertes probably met Circe as well, (or knew of her) with the whole purifying thing and maybe Odysseus heard his dad tell stories of her. Later myths also have Circe with the habit of turning her crushes (or their lovers) into something with Scylla and Picus.

In conclusion, Yeah, he was afraid of her. At least to an extent. And don't pull the whole "Ancient men didn't get raped". Male victims exist and deserve compassion for what was done to them and women are capable of sexual abuse. If you think otherwise, you are not a true feminist and Fuck you. I said in the beginning this'll be casual and I don't wanna write a fancy ending. You can still think Circe is neat but you have to know that this was fucked up.

If you think a lot of this is bullshit or wanna give more context or wish to yell with me but still know he wasn't alright on Aeaea, cool. If you want to point out mistakes or something I should keep in mind with interpretations then feel free to say so but give text evidence. If you try and bring up the Telegony and/or Madeline Miller's Circe, fuck clean off. This is Homer. If you call Odysseus a whore and not the malewife he canonically is I'll start biting. 😤

#feel free to add thoughts! just be nice #Was a bit afraid to post this but now I don't care lol #I'm a tired bitch #Youtube and idiots on tumblr got me acting up.#This may be too thorough but idc.#idk why the colors get weird #I don't know how other people can see all these things lined up together and not see how he was not okay.#like I said you can still like circe the goddess but know this was wrong!#might make private sometime but fuck it #anti-madeline miller #Circe the goddess is “fine”. Circe the book is not #It sounds like it does her dirty anyways. Odyssey Circe would take book Circe out back and beat the absolute shit outta her.#As another Madeline I'm ashamed.#if you bring up the tele-GONE-y then BEGONE yourself #odysseus #the odyssey #odyssey #circe #tagamemnon #tw rape #tw sa #tw sex assault #crying shaking throwing up #greek mythology #circe rant #odyssey rant #anti madeline miller #anti circe #the BOOK #Mad rambles

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dfortrafalgar · 5 days

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I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings

(also it's far too late in the game for me to be asking this but can someone help me figure out why everyone's blogs outside of the first five people in the tag list dont show up. ive been on tumblr since like 2014 and still cannot figure this stuff out im sobbing)

Chapter 28

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Your maternity leave had started early, not helped by how active one of your babies was at the crack of dawn. Every morning when you woke up to the sound of your alarm and rolled over to hoist yourself out of bed, you felt a kick against your abdomen. When you stood up, you felt that familiar fluttering sensation. One morning, you slept in only a few minutes longer than you normally did, and were punished with a small shove against your bladder that had you involuntarily unloading your urine into your pajama bottoms.

That one made you cry, Law keeping his chuckles to himself as he helped you clean up in the bathroom.

“Stop berating them through my stomach,” you sobbed. “I just pissed my pants.”

Your husband had answered you with a soft kiss to your swollen skin as he bent down to pick up your soiled clothing and bring them to your washing machine. “It happens, darling. It wasn’t your fault.”

Needless to say, it had been an emotional third trimester thus far.

On a Friday evening, you were sitting reclined against the arm of your couch, a book resting on your belly as you munched on some apple slices when Law came bursting through the door. He was frantic to kick off his shoes and shrug off his lab coat, hanging it on the hooks in the entryway before scrambling into the living room and plopping himself down next to you. He was holding a notebook in his hand.

“Hello to you, too,” you stated sarcastically, placing a paper bookmark in your novel to mark your spot and adjusting yourself on the couch to sit with your legs crossed under you.

“I was busy on my break today,” Law stated matter-of-factly, flipping through the wrinkled notebook with a fervor. When he found the page he was looking for, he folded the journal in half and held out the exposed page to face you.

A bunch of squares and barely legible writing covered the lined paper. You squinted. “I have no idea what I’m looking at, babe.”

Law rarely had moments where he got so excited that he couldn’t speak, but this was clearly one of those moments. He would forget that other people didn’t have over 20 years of medical training going back to the age of five. “Sorry, sorry.” He turned the notebook back toward him, using his finger to point out what he had scribbled down. “These are genetic predictions. It’s estimated that about 50% of fraternal twins will be opposite genders, so a boy and a girl. Which means about 25% will be both boys, and about 25% will be both girls.” He moved his finger from one scribble to another. “I have black hair, which I’m assuming to be the dominant gene among the two of us. However, I’m also a carrier for brown hair, because my mother and sister both were brunettes. Accounting for your hair color, I’m estimating that it’s a 75% chance that both of our babies will have black hair. At least one of our babies will have my eye color, but I believe your eyes are the dominant trait. I remember you saying at one point that someone in your family had curly hair, right? I’m estimating a 25% chance that at least one of our kids will have curly hair. If both of our babies are boys, the chances are 75% that they’ll be colorblind, and 25% that only one of them will be colorblind. If both are girls, it’s a 75% chance that both of them will be carriers for the colorblind gene, 25% that only one of them will be. But again, this is all approximations. So then I started thinking about more technical stuff. I have B+ blood, but I couldn’t remember what your blood type was, so we have to go off of the Rh factor, which is dominant with positive Rh, which means that at least one of our babies will have Rh positive blood, likely both. Male pattern baldness is also a dominant trait in most families, but I’m 26 and still have a full head of hair, so hopefully if we have a boy, he won’t have to worry about hair loss. Funnily enough, I learned today that having six fingers on one or both hands can actually be a dominant allele in some genetic lines, but neither of our family members have had any form of polydactyly that I can recall. Just an interesting thought. Anyway–”

Your shoulders were shaking with your laughter. “Law, slow down! Breathe!” Your hands reached forward to grab his shoulders to settle his excited rambling, his face slowly losing color as he was speaking more than he was absorbing oxygen.

You watched as your husband took a long gulp of hair in before blowing it out slowly. “Sorry. I got excited.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re adorable,” you replied, stroking your hand along his cheek. “How long did it take you to write all that down?”

Law glanced one more time at his notebook before closing it and discarding it on the coffee table. “About 15 minutes.”

You snorted. “I hope intelligence is a dominant trait so that both of our kids will be as smart as you.”

“You’re smart too,” he argued back, his voice light and content.

“Not ‘scribble down multiple punnett squares in 15 minutes’ smart,” you countered. “Have you eaten anything yet?”

He shook his head, stretching his arms behind his back. “Nope, I came straight home. I was too excited to show you that.”

You grinned, struggling to lean forward to kiss the tip of his nose. He assisted you by leaning forward on his own legs, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How have you been feeling?” he asked suddenly, diverting the topic. One of his hands came to rest on the crest of your belly, petting the taught skin through your shirt.

“Tired,” you replied. “It’s hard to stand up. Robin said both babies are probably around 2 or 3 pounds by now, but honestly it feels like I’m carrying lead weights when I stand. I feel like a turtle.”

“Any more movement?” he asked, scooting over the cushions to be closer to you, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders to pull you into him. You gladly followed his gesture, dropping your head into his neck.

“One of them moves in the morning still, the other likes to kick when I go to bed. The only reason I’ve been able to tell is because I feel them on different sides,” you groaned. “I don’t know what it looks like with them folded up in there, but they haven’t made it easy on me.”

Law hummed in response, his free hand stroking your belly. The feeling of his palm against your bump felt more soothing than the finest lotion. “I’m just glad that they’re both okay… not like I’m thrilled that you’re in pain, obviously, but…”

“No, trust me, I am too,” you sighed, closing your eyes. “I’ve made it this long now, and both of them are still alive. And pretty soon…”

Your husband knew exactly what you were going to say when your voice trailed off. It was a subject the two of you had been tip-toeing around for quite some time.

The birth.

“That’s the one thing that’s still scaring me,” you admitted. “I’m already high risk, and anything could go wrong. I might have to be ripped open while awake to get them out. I might die, even.”

Law felt his chest clench. “Don’t say that, you won’t die.”

“But we don’t know that,” you sighed, your voice growing more nervous by the second.

“No, you won’t die,” he replied firmly.

You felt mildly guilty for broaching the subject. You knew how difficult it was for him to even think about the slim chance of losing his family again, not when he had come so far and achieved so much with you. You leaned your head upward to kiss the soft skin of his neck, his sideburns tickling your forehead. You felt his arm around your shoulder pull you even closer to him, his breaths shallow.

“I’m sorry…” you muttered.

“Don’t be,” he responded quickly. “I mean it. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His hand dropped from your belly to grasp your own, tilting his head down to meet your own as his lips gently pressed against yours. Your eyes slipped closed, leaning into his tender kiss and wrapping your free arm around his torso. The size of your belly made it hard to be flush against him, but you made do. After all, you would have to get used to cuddling with two babies soon enough.

You pulled away from his lips. “Hey, so how’s the studying been? For that surgery?”

Law groaned, not at you, but at the mere thought of the looming procedure that had been bearing on his mind for the past eight weeks. “I feel like I’m back in med school, that’s for sure. I feel ready for it, but at the same time I can never be too prepared. It’s going to be… a lot.”

Dual heart-lung transplants were very, very rare, and used for the most severe of cases. The procedure had never been performed at Law’s hospital before. Single heart transplants had been done, and a few lung transplants, but never at the same time. Law’s cardiac ward was specifically chosen for the operation because of the young doctor’s expertise in the field. The patient’s life was quite literally in Law’s hands.

A small smirk flashed on his face. “I started wearing gloves in that patient’s room with his family. I don’t want them to see the tattoos on my fingers.”

“Do you not wear gloves for any other patients?” you asked with a small giggle.

“No, I do, when performing treatments. When I’m on rounds, I just stick my hands in my pockets,” he explained. He had one dimple on his cheek that showed up when he smiled. You couldn’t help but peck a quick kiss to it. His stomach suddenly grumbled, startling the two of you.

“You stay right here, I’ll make us some dinner,” he said, making a move to stand up.

“Pancakes,” you demanded with your own mischievous smirk.

“We had pancakes a week ago,” he replied with a smile.

“And?”

Law leaned down for one last kiss on the crown of your head. “Alright. Pancakes it is.”

—

Your pregnancy journal had gone from an anxious possession that you worried would jynx your good luck to a vice that you crawled back to whenever you were bored. The pages were filled with the ink from your pen as you used the prompts to delve into some of the thoughts you kept to yourself, your feelings about your body, your babies, your relationships, the hopes and dreams and the worries and troubles you tried not to stress about. You kept track of the gifts you had received, the words of advice from your doctor, and the unprovoked comments from elderly ladies at the supermarket who liked to comment about how cute of a couple you were when you shopped for food with your husband.

The grouchy, black-haired surgeon with bags under his eyes and a resting bitch face, and you, his slightly shorter, glowing wife with a very large pregnant belly and a polite, shining smile on her face. You were truly a match made in heaven, one might say.

Law had been busier and busier in the weeks getting closer to your due date. As the weather got colder, the holidays came and went, and the new year began, he was diving more and more into his studies preparing for what was easily the largest, most intense, and most serious surgery of his professional career. Some might assume that you would get tired of the neglect, growing frustrated that he wasn’t around to spend time with you in your third trimester, but in reality, you couldn’t be more proud.

The sight of him hunched over your kitchen table surrounded by old textbooks and papers was an image straight out of your college days, where you’d let yourself into his single dorm room close to midnight and find him on his floor in the dim lighting surrounded on all sides by professional journals, research papers, and textbooks from every esteemed surgeon in his field. You’d sit down next to him and diligently push french fries against his lips as his eyes stayed glued to his studies, rewarding you during his sparse downtime with awkward kisses that tasted like salt and firm yet shaky hands that were obsessed with traveling up and down your body.

The only difference now was that Law was that professional in his field, that he was in an apartment, and that you both had rings on your fingers. The french fries stayed the same, but he at least had a piece of mind to feed himself while you watched from the couch and giggled. Every once in a while, he would lean back against his seat and pop his spine with a satisfied groan, toss you a fond look across the room, and go back to reading. Sometimes, you would stand behind him and rub his stiff shoulders, encouraging him to stand up and stretch his legs just as he would do to you to ensure you remained strong during the final weeks of your pregnancy.

The only thing weighing on your mind was the panging worry that he would be in the middle of this massive procedure when you went into labor. You were both informed by your doctor that most twins would be delivered either naturally or induced at around 36 weeks, almost a month before single babies were usually born, and with your due date at 38 weeks being in the middle of May, you had a nagging feeling in your head that he would miss it.

You both tried to hold onto hope that your babies would be delivered any other day that month. He would be gone for only a day, a full 24 hours, in total the day of the surgery. What were the odds that your babies would be born on that specific day? Slim, to say the least.

At around 32 weeks, it was getting hard for you to stand up. Your movements were slow and labored, and you were spending most of your days in your apartment either on your couch or in your bed, standing up when instructed by Law, or Shachi and Penguin when he was at work, to walk laps around your home. The fear of blood clots forming in your legs and traveling to your lungs, as described by your lovely husband in far too much detail, was enough to make you more determined to keep the blood pumping in your body.

“Alright, ready?” Law stated, standing behind you in the kitchen as you slowly made your way through a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“Ready,” you stated back, your eyes focused on washing the silverware in your hands.

His inked hands traveled around your torso and under your belly, lifting up against the bottom of your bump. The sudden relief of having the weight lifted off of your back made an almost erotic moan leave your lips, your grip on the silverware releasing slightly as the tension in your entire body flooded from your veins like a broken dam.

“Feel good?” he asked from behind you with a smirk, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “I saw a lot of posts that said that it feels good, but I didn’t think it would feel this good. I wish you could do that constantly.”

Sparse kisses were placed to the back of your head as his hands slowly released their pressure against the bottom of your bump, leaving your back aching once more as your body was forced to bear the brunt of the weight in your abdomen. You stifled a whimper as you were forced to hold what felt like 50 extra pounds on your own again, but Law’s lingering presence behind you with his hands resting idly on your belly soothed your aches subconsciously.

“Busy spring, huh?” he asked, filling the room where the only other sound was the sloshing from your dish washing.

You hummed in response, rinsing your hands and turning off the tap, drying your hands on a towel that lay on the counter beside you. “You could say that.” You turned around to lean against the counter, Law’s hands remaining on your body as you rotated. He leaned forward to capture your lips in his, you rewarding him with a smile.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be more physical with you…” you sighed.

Law pulled away. “Why are you sorry for that?”

You shrugged. “You seem like you’ve been a lot more handsy with me lately, and I can’t reciprocate. And I’m probably not going to be able to reciprocate for a while after I give birth.”

Your husband chuckled, planting chaste kisses across your cheeks. “I’m not ‘being handsy with you’ because I want anything. I’m ‘being handsy’ because I want you to be happy and comfortable. I’m not expecting anything in return. And by the way,” he pulled away to stare into your worried eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about your post-birth body being somehow inferior to how you were before pregnancy, I know it.”

You averted your gaze, your lips pinching together.

“And I know you don’t like the stretch marks on your belly,” he added.

“Where are you going with this?” you asked, your voice quiet.

“Because I’m going to remind you every day how beautiful you are. Always. Even the changes that come with having a child. You’re always going to be beautiful to me. I’ll never be repulsed by your stretch marks or wrinkled skin or cellulite like you think I’m going to be. The person standing in front of me is a beautiful woman who has given me a life worth living, and I’m going to cherish her and support her through everything.”

Your eyes darted toward his neck, where his glass necklace still sat between his collarbones. He religiously wore it every single day, only taking it off to shower, sleep, and perform surgeries. Likewise, you never removed your glass ring. Hot tears began to form in your eyes, but your lips curled into a smile. Your expression fought for dominance over being happy or sad, and what resulted was a shaky grin, furrowed eyebrows, and watery eyes.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you asked, letting a few lose tears escape the corners of your eyes.

Your husband kissed the damp streaks that your tears left behind on your cheeks. “You fed me french fries on the floor of my dorm room in college. I think that’s when I knew you were going to be my wife one day.”

A bubbly laugh left your throat as your hands gripped his shoulders for stability. “I think I knew when you found me out behind my dorm building that night.”

Law leaned in to kiss you one more time, but a sudden gasp left your lips as your entire body tensed up. A stinging cramping sensation rippled across your abdomen, lingering in your muscles. It lasted about 30 seconds, where your shaking hands clenched the cotton of Law’s shirt, his eyes wide and frenzied as his hands supported your upright posture, before the pain finally dissipated into a mild buzz, then nothing at all.

You stared into Law’s eyes. “Can you help me sit down?”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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stxrvel · 1 year

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welcome home (1)

series summary: you woke up from a long coma with no memory of a part of your life only to be told by your teammates that you're married to the man you hated seven years ago. even though that seemed to be the only problem, as time goes on you're realizing there's a lot more history and mystery behind the accident that left you in medical care for months. blackouts, more memory loss, mistrust and a strange man who seems to be connected to everything. every day it gets harder to trust anyone around you, but you won't stop until you can finally uncover the truth behind the accident.

chapter summary: when an accident makes you forget the last seven years of your life, you're lucky to have someone like Bucky to support you in your recovery. except he's not the Bucky you remember.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4k

warnings: angst. that's all.

note: this wasn't planned. at all. i had the day off and wanted to write something but nothing was coming to me enough to write another part of the outbreak or how to break a routine in one year, so i was just browsing tumblr until i saw something related to memory loss and this popped into my head. i thought i wasn't going to finish writing it but it came out more than i expected. and clearly this gives for a part two and even more, but at the moment i don't know when that will happen. also, i suck with titles, i think i'll change it later. meanwhile, i hope you enjoy it! feedback is always appreciated, thank u for the support! 💜

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Bucky was right to be scared. He was right to feel his soul leaving his body and his heart bursting with pain. He was completely right to be frightened, unsure of the future and the opportunities it had taken with it. Bucky was right to feel that his world was crumbling, that he was left with half a heart to survive for the rest of his life.

But he was also right in deciding not to show how scared he was. He could have his nerves frozen inside his body and feel his blood boiling inside his veins, his whole insides churning and messing up without any compassion, but he couldn't let that rule his life. He knew that the only solution was to cope rationally and objectively, even if he wanted to burst into tears every ten minutes.

“Okay, everything looks good for now,” Bucky heard the doctor, along with the others who were in the room.

He had been standing in the corner of the room the whole time, not moving a millimeter barely to breathe. The mood was so bleak and melancholy that he feared the sadness would rub off on him if he blinked any faster.

“So, can you discharge her now?” Tony Stark asked, his body closer to the door than any other.

“Yes, she can leave after you sign some paperwork. I'm going to need her to come back for some monthly checkups and let me know if she comes to remember anything.”

“Of course,” Steve Rogers stated.

Bucky wandered his gaze over the other two men in the room and the two women behind them, Natasha Romanoff and Carol Danvers. They all looked wary, not taking their gazes off your figure lying on the gurney after the doctor finished checking something in your eyes. He didn't like the way their bodies moved, anxious to talk, anxious to ask questions. He didn't like how Steve constantly opened and closed his hands; how Tony crossed and uncrossed his arms over his chest; how Natasha suspiciously watched the doctor every time he approached you and asked what he was doing; how Carol glared at the man every time he told them there was no news or progress. They had overwhelmed you before with so many gestures and words that the orderlies had to take them all out almost by force.

In a way, Bucky understood them. He too had been terrified at the beginning, still was to some degree, but it had been a while before they began to regulate their behavior. Bucky understood that the situation was difficult for them, as it was for him, but they also had to think about what it was like for you.

You were on the brink of death and awoke to find that about seven years of memories had been erased from your head.

Bucky had not taken it well at first. He was in a constant panic and searched the internet for all possible solutions that could make up for the mistake that was made. He was anxiously talking to Wanda trying to convince her to find something to do. He had gone to Strange almost begging him for some spell that could fix everything. He had asked the doctor a hundred times on the verge of insanity if it was possible to fix it with another surgery. It had simply been the worst news he had ever been given in his life.

Until, by some divine miracle, the rational part of his brain took control of his thoughts and emotions. That's when his “there's nothing we can do” thought came. The rest of the team was surprised when they saw him calmly walking around the Complex and going on missions, when Bucky had finally understood that he couldn't stop his life for something he couldn't fix. He had to learn to live with that and he hoped the others would too.

But no, it seemed that moment of enlightenment hadn't come to anyone but him.

They returned to the Complex after signing papers and picking up medications with the orders the doctor had given them, some pills for the eventual migraines and muscle relaxants if needed.

The trip was tense. Everyone sent you wary glances and purposely averted their gazes when they saw you watching them. Bucky could tell you were starting to get nervous. Even more, anxious.

Lacking knowledge of your family's whereabouts and that your current address was the Complex, that was where you would spend the rest of the days of your recovery -although Bucky had other options in mind-. The doctor had put his buts in, believing that being in such a tense, busy and overwhelming environment as the main Avengers facility was could hinder your process of getting better, but Tony was very specific and quick to tell him that there was a part of the Complex, a wing, that they had almost completely isolated to keep you in a safe place and away from the stress of the job. The mechanic spoke confidently about how you would be totally at ease as if the decision was entirely up to the doctor, while giving Bucky a helpless look. Finally, to please Tony, the doctor agreed to let you go spend your recovery at the Complex.

Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that Bucky was your husband.

The doctor who treated you for almost a year, from the time you arrived injured and near death, to your subsequent surgeries and recovery, always knew that the final decision was out of his hands. It was funny to watch Tony argue his points to influence his decisions, but in the end that was not something he had any power in. His gazes always turned to Bucky, waiting for a nod or a shake.

Tony knew that too. You had invited him to the wedding because you were closer to him than Bucky, plus they had to see each other constantly for work. They weren't best buddies, but they maintained a relationship that was professional and affectionate and friendly enough to keep you satisfied. That is, until the accident. Since that day, Tony had taken a completely different stance towards Bucky and he really didn't find it strange. He hadn't even been able to speak to him since the day he had almost apologized with his knees to the floor when they had to tell Bucky that you almost died because of a mistake.

Over time, Bucky had let go of the anger along with his realization that he couldn't do anything to change the past, but it seemed to him that Tony still felt guilty about what had happened.

Bucky looked away from the road when he saw you stir in your seat as they were about to arrive at the Complex. The team tried to make small talk after several minutes of traveling in awkward silence, but it resulted in a much more tense atmosphere with everyone turning their heads to look at anything but you like fish out of water.

Bucky watched you from his position in the back of the van as you moved forward to view the Complex facilities in delight. He couldn't help but smile after spending months in constant stress, realizing that you had done the same thing the first time you had gone over ten years ago.

Carol and Natasha took it upon themselves to guide you through the isolated wing of the Complex to the room you would be staying in. Bucky stayed a few floors down along with Steve and Tony in the living room.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky heard Steve ask next to him, as Tony quietly approached the bay window.

“Fine.”

“Buck, you don't have to-”

“Really, I'm fine,” Bucky nodded, noticing Steve's incredulous look. He had to fight not to roll his eyes in disgust.

One thing the team had taken to doing constantly was treating him like a child, like someone who didn't know what he was feeling and didn't know how to control his emotions. That had been happening since the moment he accepted that he couldn't fix something that was out of his control. That you'd had an accident, you'd lost your memory, you'd forgotten him, and there was nothing he could do about it. He had tried everything, and there was nothing.

But the team thought his attitude was that he was trying to hide his feelings and, well, in part he was. He didn't deny that it still made him scared and angry to think of all the opportunities and moments that were gone along with your memory, but he was aware that showing himself that way in front of you wouldn't bring you any good. Unlike him and completely unaware of the truth, the team believed he was in denial. They believed that Bucky had been trying for months to avoid dealing with his feelings and that at any moment he would break down and suffer fighting the horrible reality.

Bucky had only responded to their unconscious attacks and questions with the truth, but it seemed the team was in more denial than he was.

“The doctor said the chances of her regaining her memory were high. Don't worry.” Steve patted Bucky on the shoulder to accompany his words, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Steve, I'm not wor-”

“And she'll adjust well to the routine in this place. You know we'll be constantly keeping an eye on her and making sure she's okay, right?”

“I'd rather you stay away,” Bucky mumbled, his teeth grazing at the discomfort.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Bucky kept his distance at first. He wanted to first meet and see how you were adjusting to your new home and how you related to others. Besides, he was also a little nervous about talking to you. You had done it before, yes, at the hospital. You had introduced yourselves and asked him a few questions when he was around. But when Bucky finally confessed to you that he was your husband, it was as if something had disturbed the gravity around the both of you. Clearly Bucky was quick to notice that change in your behavior and began to pull away trying to give you your space and not overwhelm you, unlike others.

You had some memories with him, Bucky was sure. You had lost the memory of about seven years, and you had come to the team ten years ago. That would have been good for him and your relationship, except that in the beginning neither of you could stand the other.

That's right. You two hated each other's guts. And Bucky eternally regretted waiting until the fifth year of meeting you to make his feelings known to you. Because, at that point, all you remembered about him were his stinging comments and his cold, calculating stares. When he remembered the things he had said to you to hurt you on purpose, he would cringe and his body would tremble in rejection.

Before confessing, he had thought about the possibility of keeping everything hidden, maybe try to win your trust again and suddenly have what you had before. And maybe the Bucky of six years ago would have done that, wouldn't have hesitated to keep the truth hidden just to guide you down the path he wanted to walk. But the Bucky who was there, in year ten, couldn't look you in the eye and try to keep something in the dark. He knew it wasn't right and that lies usually backfired on the person telling them. Besides, ever since you had decided to try to have a relationship, you had made him promise never to keep anything from you, no matter how stupid or horrible it was. You had been in such a toxic relationship with him before that you only wanted to look out for each other's welfare. A relationship based on trust and communication was a good relationship.

And Bucky wanted to keep his promise, even if you couldn't remember it.

So he was keeping his space, but he was always aware of what you were doing. And that's why he noticed every time you would give him a questioning look and then pull back and focus your attention on something else when you noticed he was looking at you.

Bucky wasn't sure if it was a good or bad idea what he was doing. He could just walk up and talk to you, maybe you were willing to do that. Or you might think he was crazy for watching you from afar like he was an eagle and didn't want you near him under any circumstances. Bucky didn't know what to do, and asking the team wasn't in his options, so he just decided to do what he thought best.

One day, a couple of weeks after you returned to the Complex, Bucky met you casually. Really, casually.

He had spent a whole week in constant stress so he hadn't even been able to get near the side of the Complex where you were staying. He had been assigned an undercover mission and it had turned out to be a little more complicated than it seemed at first. There were too many fights involved in the end, but he had achieved his goal.

The day he arrived at the Complex he took a long shower and a long nap. It was the least he deserved. After waking up, he went to the kitchen to make himself a coffee because it was just getting light, when he saw you leaning on the kitchen counter.

You froze at the same time he did. Bucky wasn't expecting the first person he would meet to be you, he didn't even know you were already freely leaving your safe place, but life is full of surprises, apparently. Bucky noticed your wary gaze on him, how the cup you held in your hands had been halfway to its destination and how your body moved only to breathe.

He moved, continuing with what he had gone to do, despite feeling that captivating electricity coursing through his body and asking him to move closer to you. Moving his eyes away from yours felt like a sin and his body was almost reluctant to follow the directions in his head.

Bucky finally approached the coffee pot to notice the steaming liquid coming out of it. So, it was coffee that was in your cup.

He was a little hesitant to drink from the coffee you had made because he didn't know how you would react to his intrusion, so he decided to move to the other side of the kitchen where the drawers were and grab the first cereal to be found.

“You can have some of that coffee,” you spoke to him suddenly, resuming your movements and he could barely turn to look at you over his shoulder. “Clint did it.”

Bucky followed your eyes moving all over the instance, anywhere but on his, and even though he felt he'd had a year to prepare for this, it seemed completely insufficient: nothing would have prepared him to ever again hear your nonchalant voice directed at him the way you spoke to him before you decided to become a couple. Bucky thought that those years had been buried in the back of his head, that the situation you were going through wouldn't bring back memories he preferred to keep hidden, but thinking about doing it was easier than actually doing it.

He moved his body almost groaningly until he was back in front of the coffee pot next to you. Hearing you talking to him like that had knocked his mood to the floor. He wasn't too high either, that mission was both physically and mentally exhausting, but he was more relieved to be back at the Complex.

“I didn't see you this week,” you spoke again as Bucky thought you were about to leave the kitchen. He moved his head to look at you, his expression indescribable, you could barely describe him as dumbfounded and bewildered.

Bucky mumbled a few words before responding. “I was on a mission. Far away.”

“Mhm,” you hummed in response, and Bucky nearly melted at the sound. Even though he recognized your demeanor, because that was how you acted before when you wanted to get information out of him or when talking to someone you suspected was hiding something from you, he couldn't help but rejoice at finding little gestures that made him reminisce about the good times he had with you.

With more encouragement, Bucky poured his black coffee under the umbrella of your expectant indifference.

“How have the others been?”

He moved to stand in front of you with the cup in his hands, and could notice how subtly your shoulders slumped a little. He couldn't define whether in calm or ennui.

“It's been… complicated.”

“Are they very insistent?”

You turned your head to look at him, and Bucky nearly choked on the sip of coffee he'd taken. He thought you'd keep visually ignoring him and not turn to look at him like he was a life preserver in the middle of the ocean.

“They're horrible,” you barely whispered, your head bobbing closer in complicity. Far gone was your mask of coldness the moment you found someone to complain to about how terrifying those weeks at the Complex had been. “I feel like I can't move my hair without having someone behind me asking me if I want my hair combed for me or if I was moving it because I had a headache. Anything I do is over-analyzed and that's so…ugh, so frustrating.”

Bucky definitely didn't expect you to spew all those words in front of him, but he did understand how overwhelmed you must be and mentally berated himself for agreeing to you having visitors from the moment you arrived. His idea was that you would have time to clear your thoughts and to adjust to that new place on your own, but somehow the team managed to convince him to let them in from time to time to greet you because being alone too much all of a sudden wasn't good for your sanity.

He should have known better knowing how clingy and pushy his teammates were.

When he was around you, they behaved, but they seemed to pretty much take advantage of the times when he wasn't around to behave as they pleased.

“I hate being treated like I'm a piece of glass. I understand well what happened and its aftermath and that it affected them too much, but I can still live peacefully without needing them to do things for me. I'm not incapacitated or anything like that.”

“I understand.”

Wow, Bucky, couldn't you have said something much more interesting?

“I'm fine,” you continued speaking as Bucky noticed how your eyes were lost in the distance in the kitchen. “I really feel fine. But they're always on me like trying to convince me otherwise and talking about my memories every other time.”

Bucky furrowed his brow and suddenly felt the sting in his chest from anger. There was only so much Bucky had in life to control his temper and that was you. With anything else, Bucky was nothing but walking indifference. He didn't care about the fights the others on the team had, he didn't care about the decisions that had to be made, he didn't care about what the majority chose, he didn't care about the discussions about the rooms when they had to stay in hotels. But when it came to you, there was no stormo chaser that could withstand his tempestuous attitude.

The limit was that the others could get angry, fight and argue about whatever they felt like, but the moment that started to affect you, Bucky didn't hesitate to step up and shut them all up. That was one of the reasons he was the leader of the mission most of the time. It was easy to recognize his leadership ability, even if he tried to hide it through that window of indifference. He was very objective when it came to making tough decisions and was very capable of organizing whatever chaos had been created around him.

And, at that moment, Bucky felt he had reached his limit. He had let himself be convinced by the team to bring you here to carry out your recovery contrary to what he had thought of leaving you in the city with one of your closest friends that you remembered very well; and then he had let himself be convinced to let them invade your space when it was clear that they were not going to know how to behave around you and would overwhelm you just like they did in the hospital.

Bucky couldn't understand how he could have made such bad decisions about you. He felt he had completely failed you as your husband by not giving you a truly safe place in which to heal.

“I'll tell them not to come back,” Bucky told you after a few seconds in silence and your blank stare focused on his suddenly elated face.

“What?”

Bucky met your gaze. “This wasn't the way I wanted you to spend your recovery, and it's certainly not the way you should spend it. You should be calm, but I don't see that happening. I'm sorry.”

You watched his face, transfixed. Bucky looked quizzical for a few seconds at your dumbfounded stare and no response. His eyes moved around your face trying to figure out if he had said something wrong… until it all clicked in his head.

You didn't remember.

Yes, it seemed stupid because he'd been living with that thought all last year, but apparently he had to remind himself. For a moment, he had gotten so lost, not only in the familiarity of your ramblings and gestures, but also in the annoyance and self-reproach, that he had forgotten for a few measly minutes that you didn't remember. You didn't remember that protective side of him. You didn't remember how much he loved to sit and listen to you talk about others, good things or bad things. You didn't remember how much it made him angry when other people made you the least bit uncomfortable or angry. You didn't remember the way he showed that appreciation, that love for you.

That attitude Bucky was giving you was completely new to you. Surely it was like seeing a different person. Bucky mentally cringed at the thought that you must be thinking of him as a jerk who acted like a teenager and said hurtful things just for the fun of it.

At that moment, he would have liked to take more time when you were in the hospital to talk to you, so he could get to know you and you could see that he was different and not the same person he was six years ago. But at that time he felt so scared. Just the memory of your face contorting when he had told you he was your husband still sent shivers down his spine.

One thing he couldn't deny was that he had lived constantly, even up to that moment, in fear of rejection. When you had reacted that way that time at the hospital, Bucky had at first turned away in fear. But then he had tried to be nice to you, as if nothing had happened. However, he could tell that it was much more strange for you to see the flowers on the table in the room or to have him bring you lunch because the hospital food was so simple. It seemed that no matter what he did, that reluctant expression on your face would not go away.

Then, he stopped trying. He would only show up in your room when you were sleeping, in the daytime or at night, and when everyone gathered for the doctor's checkup. Bucky didn't know how to get back into your life and the very idea was driving him to the brink of panic again. So he tried to have that moment of enlightenment again, but all he got in response was that maybe he should continue to keep his distance.

At that point, Bucky didn't know what to do. It wasn't your fault to react that way because it wasn't what you remembered about him, that wasn't wrong. He felt again that incessant need to pull away and go back to watching over you from a distance, because the look you had given him was so similar to the others that it was scary. Too scary. The possibility that he could never get back even half of what you two had before danced around him like a taunt. The ring on his ring finger too heavy to bear.

“Thank you…? I think,” you replied at last, but without changing the quizzical look on your face.

“I'll talk to Steve,” Bucky announced, a little more impassively than he had planned, and took the cup tightly in his hands with the thought in his head to get out of the kitchen so he wouldn't keep invading your space.

He felt your gaze follow him until he was near the living room.

“Hey, wait.”

He heard your footsteps following him and planted his feet on the floor. He gave you a questioning look over his shoulder, waiting for you to say something. Bucky watched you move from side to side, shifting your weight on your legs, a clear sign of your nervousness. When you looked directly at the contents of your cup instead of his eyes as you spoke, he couldn't help a small smile.

“I'm sorry about that. It's just… This is too weird for me. I wish I could get close and talk to you because that's what my body wants, but my head keeps me alert and defensive when you're around. What I remember about you is not…”

You cocked your head and twisted your lips. Bucky thought that had been the kindest way to describe it.

“You don't have to apologize.”

“But I do have to!” you exclaimed, scowling at him. “It's been a year and you've been nothing but kind to me. You've given me space and time, unlike others-”

Bucky nodded strongly at your words.

“-but I've given you nothing in return.”

He relaxed his features, letting the tension dissipate away from his body. He momentarily pushed away his worries and negative possibilities because you stood there in front of him with such a contrite expression on your face that it caused him physical pain.

“You don't owe me anything, Y/N, okay? What I do I do because I want to, not because I'm expecting anything in return from you. If you feel like you need another week before you talk to me, that's fine, take it. If you feel it's a month, six months, a year, it doesn't matter. Take as much time as you need. Either way, anytime, you know where to find me. I'm not going anywhere.”

Bucky hadn't missed the journey of emotions that roared across your face and he was genuinely happy about it. It had been a while since he had seen you feel not only comfortable but joyful around him, that he had begun to think that those moments would only live on in his memory from now on. But, perhaps, that might not have been the case…

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmured after sighing, and if Bucky hadn't been so attentive to you he surely would have missed it. Along with the small smile you gave him that would be enough to keep his sanity afloat for the rest of the month.

You saw him give you a small nod and then begin to walk away, leaving as the sun's rays began to appear through the living room window. A strange feeling settled in your chest, and it seemed like a turf battle was taking place between your reluctance to accept that Bucky had changed and that you two had taken your relationship four levels higher than expected, and this new feeling that was akin to hope. You could barely recognize it.

You didn't know how you were going to begin to deal with the reality that you were married to Bucky, but you suddenly felt a little less afraid to know the history of the decisions that had brought you to this point.

You remembered the wedding ring that was tucked away in your nightstand drawer and how it shone just as brightly as the one you saw on Bucky's finger. Maybe you felt a little closer to being ready to start dealing with it.

#bucky imagine #bucky fic #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes x fluff #avengers #bucky fluff #bucky x you #marvel #calmly remember

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corrupted-nightshade · 4 days

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List of things that point towards Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru being kissers of boys with connections to eachother

(If they did kiss though is another story)

Note: the list will be divided into different sections with space in between. So don't go speed scrolling through if you don't want spoilers. :"3

Some of these are less serious, but are still included because all the more content for these two sillies.

--- Last updated: April 26th, 2024 Note: Make sure to check the original post if viewing a reblog version in case Tumblr does not update things under the "read more" like it used to be able to.

Various

572. This number is used frequently as a ship number for the two as "GoGe" the ship name can also be produced as "GoNatsu". Go means 5 and the rest sound similar to 72. These numbers ironically show up accross the series a few times and also in official merch. (Some examples being a clock in season 2 episode 1 stopped at 5 hours 7 minutes 20 seconds or a Gojo teddy bear priced at ¥57,200)

JJK official fanbook

"Q: Please tell us his first impression when he first met Geto. A: Bangs."

"Q: He seems to be aware that he is handsome, but doesn't he want a lover? A: I can't imagine Gojo being faithful to a particular woman."

"Q: Is there anything you are particular about Geto's character design? A: Bangs"

One of Gojo's songs & one of Geto's songs given to them. "Shame on you" by "Avicii" (a break up song) for Gojo and "Come back Home" by "Two door cinema club" for Geto. Stated in volume 3 chapter 24.

The sheer amount of times Geto shows up in MMVs for Gojo and how they display the impact Geto had on Gojo (For example, the latest MMV for volume 26's release)

Their birthday's solar terms tying in with parts. (Geto being "Risshun" beginning of spring & Gojo being "Taisetsu" heavy snow.)

Rings for them that were released on August 8th, which is "Pairing day" in Japan

Jujutsu Kaisen 0

Geto's kesa is specifically a Gojo kesa

Gojo stating in 0 that

"I've always believed... ...Love manifests the most distorted curses." / "This is my personal theory, but there's no curse more twisted than love."

Even after 10 years, Gojo recognized Geto's smell. (The mall scene after Yuta & Toge fought the curse)

Geto renaming someone to "Sato" because

"That's what I've decided, so Sato is better."

This sunset scene

Gojo's veil is black & Geto's veil is white. Gojo's veil causes darkness, Geto's does not. [Peep who reminded me]

The song "This is pure love" not only plays over Yuta & Rika vs Geto, but also plays over Geto & Gojo's conversation

The way that Geto looks at Gojo & says his name, and how Gojo looks at Geto & says his name

Geto's blushing face at Gojo that we were robbed of in the anime

Some of the lines from the JJK 0 light novel lines

"Yet Gojo's bandage-covered eyes kept watching, kept following the shape of Geto's soul."

"But to Gojo Satoru, he was —— '————, ————' '...ha.' When he heard the words Gojo blurted out, Geto couldn't help but laugh. Such embarrassing [...] words. Even why they were students, those words had never been said before. 'You should've at least cursed me a little before the end.' December 24, 2017. The curse called Geto had been well and truly exorcised."

Season 1

JJK Juju stroll

"Q: What kind of person is your type?" Gojo: "[...]The one who seemed nice. With the notable bangs."

yes, i know who he stated but the way he answered was so half arsed as he struggled to come up with an answer as an example of his type. 💀

Season 2

Again, the way they look at each other and say each other's names (There's another picture with Gojo looking at Geto, but I'm missing it right now)

THE HECKIN GOJO & GETO VALENTINES CAKE??

They literally even have a themed honeymoon place???

Geto makes sure Gojo has his favorite soda. :3

Part 1 / volume 8 - 9

The intro for season 2 part 1

"Even after I got to know the smell of you, different from mine"

"In such a color as if it were a silent love"

"I've got a curse word for you stuck in the back of my throat"

The outro for season 2 part 1:

"Even trivial conversations are fine Show me your blushing face once more"

"It only exists here I want to touch you"

The fish in the outro

The flowers in the intro & outro. [Peep who reminded me]

The purple ones (Located on table in the part where older Gojo is sitting in a chair by a window) are possibly Primula/Primrose flowers. They can represent young love, beauty, desire, desperate, and can be a symbol of spring and renewal/new beginnings. etc.

The yellow ones (Located in the part where Gojo & Geto are sitting together with their hands & cans of soda surrounded by the flowers) are possibly osmanthus flowers. They can represent love, passion, happiness, beauty, etc.

[See here , here, here , here , here , here ]

Geto not answering Tsukumo Yuki's question of what kind of woman is his type more than once

When Geto is asked by Haibara if he would like a sweet or savory souvenir, Geto says

"Satoru will probably have some too, so maybe something sweet."

Part 2 / volume 11

This whole image (Geto in the glasses on the left, and Kenjaku's silhouette on Gojo's face on the right)

Season 2 part 2's "Specialz" intro hidden meaning

Despite the following about Geto's state, Geto's body still instinctively reacted to stop Kenjaku from hurting Gojo.

"Q: Fake Geto's arm was moving during the Shibuya Incident, but how much of Geto's consciousness remains in the body? A: Not much. He was moving like how a dragonfly whose neck was torn off can move."

Fun fact: Some owls pair/bond for life (Whether the owl is supposed to be Geto's because Kenjaku is using Geto at the time or it's not Geto's animal because that is Kenjaku is up to you)

Volume 26

The Camilla flowers with snow. Not only do they represent Gojo well with their meaning, including one meaning being unchanging/strong love alongside modest love / beauty for pink, but flowers are given to different dates. The birth flower of February is this flower, said to bloom on the 3rd of this month. Aka Geto's birthday.

Chapter 236

Gojo actively chose to fight on December 24th (a day considered romantic for Japan) which is now the day both Geto and him have died on. Even Kenjaku acknowledges the days significance with

"Ha ha! How romantic. Isn't it gross to make plans with each other on Christmas eve?"

These lines

Both Gojo & Geto's volumes' numbers can have bad meanings in Japan. 4 can mean death & 9 can mean to suffer/agony. (I put this under volume 26's section because of the spoiler)

---

There's likely more, but this is what we could think of right now. XD If you have anything you want to add on, feel free to send it my way because the more help the better & easier this is. (^w^ ) Same for any corrections to the list (as it's just me writing up this post and I may make slip ups)

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo #gojo satoru #geto #geto suguru #goge #satosugu #corrupted nightshade's talks

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luvrrszn · 7 months

Text

and they were roommates *

COLLEGE ROOMATE!MIGUEL O'HARA x FEM READER (18+)

summary miguel o'hara is your roommate, and then he's more than that

warnings [all sexual themes are at the bottom end of the post] explicit/18+ (smut), unprotected sex, dom!miguel, not proofread

a/n (gif posted originally by @/cantstoptheimagines, can't figure out tumblr's gif shit so i'm doing this instead, hope that's okay :)) guys i'm so bad at writing smut please go easy on me also if u have requests PLEASEEE send them in i'm so bored

masterlist

"oi! you left your panties on the countertop again, you goblin! take it back!" miguel yells at you from your shared bathroom.

"my bad." you mumble, a piece of toast in your mouth as you shuffle into the bathroom, in a hurry to grab your underwear off the marble countertop.

miguel watches, amused, as you scramble to get your things together before your 8am class. it's 7:48am, and it takes you at least 15 minutes to drive to campus, and that's if you make every green light on your way there.

you're lacing up your sneakers by the door as miguel pours himself a cup of coffee. he walks over to shut the door behind you after you leave. as you run down the hallway to the elevator, he calls out after you, "buy some juice on the way back, we're out of that."

you give him a thumbs-up before disappearing around the corner.

—

you're cooking your favourite homemade meal—pesto pasta. turning off the stove, you turn around to grab a bowl from the shelves. when you turn back around, you see miguel hunched over your pan of pasta, mouth stuffed with food. YOUR food.

you slap him away from the pan, as he feigns hurt, "ow, ow, that hurts. now you gotta give me pasta to make up for it."

"you ate two bowls of instant noodles already, how are you still hungry? get away, boy." you swat his fork away.

"c'mon, please?"

you roll your eyes and give in.

you were never truly going to say no to miguel o'hara. you had cooked enough for two because you knew this was going to happen, and you knew you weren't going to say no to miguel.

—

"miguel! stop using my shampoo! and my lotion! you know they're super expensive, get your own!" you yell at him from the bathroom, inspecting the fullness—or now, emptiness of your body care products.

"hey, mami, what can i say? those are the real deal." he replies, barely looking away from his laptop.

"yeah, and they cost a shit ton. stop using my stuff and go back to your nasty 30-in-1 soap or whatever." you huff, glaring at miguel angrily.

—

saturday evenings are spent at the dining table going over the grocery list, preparing for your weekly sunday grocery runs.

saturday nights are spent on the sofa in the living room, watching a movie.

sunday mornings are spent at the grocery store, wandering down the aisles even though you've been there every sunday for the past year and a half, ever since you moved in with miguel after a mutual friend introduced the two of you upon finding out you were both looking for a roommate.

sunday noons are spent unpacking the bags of groceries, which more often that not contain bags of junk food that miguel somehow managed to sneak into the cart.

sunday afternoons are spent doing laundry. miguel loads the washing machine while you handwash the delicate pieces that require extra care. afterwards, you toss what can be put into the dryer into the dryer while miguel hangs up the rest of the clothes to dry. then, the two of you settle into a comfortable routine of folding laundry.

that's just how it was. every week, without fail.

—

the moment you fell for miguel was when you caught a horrible cold and he took care of you.

despite you trying to shoo him away multiple times, he never gave up.

"come on, princesa. you're sick, let me help you."

"i look like a hot mess right now, miguel. just leave me alone, i'll be okay." barely finishing your sentence, you broke out in a fit of coughs and wheezes.

"no can do. you're sick, so get your ass back into bed. i'll bring you some chicken soup, so for now, just rest." miguel replied, placing a bottle of water and some cold medicine on your bedside table.

when he returned, he found you curled up in your bed, duvet tucked under your chin. he placed the bowl of soup on your bedside table, before placing the back of his hand on your forehead, only to realise that you were burning up.

"take your meds, princesa. you're running a fever."

with his help, you washed your fever medicine down with a gulp of water. then, you snuggled back under the duvet. when miguel turned to leave, your hand shot out from under the duvet, grabbing his wrist. you croaked out a "stay".

without a word, miguel got into bed next to you, slipping his arm under your head. you curled into his chest, falling asleep to the steady rhythm of his heart beating.

—

the moment miguel fell for you was when you left to visit family during summer break and he opened the refrigerator to find each shelf lined with containers of food.

you had left that morning, hand gripping your suitcase handle as you said to miguel, "try not to die, finding a new roommate with such short notice would be hard."

miguel grinned and flipped you the bird as you turned around and disappeared down the hallway to the elevator. closing the door behind him, miguel beelined for the refrigerator. maybe there was some yogurt he could have for a quick breakfast.

upon opening the refrigerator, he found that each shelf was packed containers of home-cooked meals, all prepared by you. well, that answered the question of why the apartment smelled so good when he got home last night.

there were containers of pasta, rice, chicken, salad, whatever you could think of, it was there. turning around, miguel spotted the sticky note you had left on the kitchen island. he picked up the light pink sticky note and read your note.

"seriously though, miggy. try not to die. i'd be a little sad if you did."

he couldn't help but let out a little chuckle.

—

you are the one who first confesses your feelings. on saturday night, after movie night, you gather all your courage and say, "miguel, look, i-i have to tell you something. and when i do, or even after i do, i need you to promise you won't hate me."

miguel's heart is racing. worries fill his head and his heart, and he can't help but wonder if you are going to tell him that you want to move out. he takes a deep breath, and replies steadily, "i could never hate you. go ahead, princesa."

you turn to look at miguel, and you say, "you're my best friend, and there's nothing i wouldn't do for you. you know that, right?" he nods.

taking in a shaky breath, you continue, "i like you. and it's okay if you don't feel the same way. i can't remember a time where i didn't know you, and i'm not sure i want to either. so if you don't feel the same way, can we at least still stay—"

"shut up," miguel cuts you off.

you're taken aback, stammering, "w-what?"

"just shut up," miguel repeats as he moves towards you, encasing your lips with his. you let out a slight gasp, and miguel takes that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

the kiss is everything you've imagined and more. it's hungry and passionate, but also gentle and reassuring. words were no longer needed; words weren't enough for miguel to express how much he liked you back.

you let miguel take control. you surrender, savouring every moment of the kiss.

and it leaves you breathless.

—

from that night on, nothing much changes. but at the same time, everything changes.

your weekend routines remain the same, but throughout the week, there's sex. so. much. sex.

miguel's sex drive is crazy, and you can barely keep up. not that you're complaining.

"miguel," you let out a breathy moan. your left hand is tangled in his hair, your right hand littering his back with scratches. miguel fucks you relentlessly, pulling his hips back and slamming into you in one fluid motion.

his hands slide downwards towards your nipple, and he toys with them, tugging gently and rubbing them between the pad of his thumb and his index finger. one of his hands slides even further downwards, and traps your clit. he rubs slow circles on it, drawing a moan past your lips.

his coordination is crazy, and you're stimulated in all the right places.

miguel senses that you're near your climax, and he speeds up, slamming into you with such tenacity that you almost believe he's in such a rush because the world might be ending in two seconds.

miguel goes faster, rougher, deeper, helping you chase your finish. the knot in your stomach tightens, tightens, tightens—then it snaps. you scream miguel's name as you cum all over his cock and go limp, seeing stars from what you think might have been the best orgasm of your life.

still deep in you, miguel feels every contraction of your pussy around his cock. you tighten around him, and after two more strokes of his hips, you're milking his cock for every drop of his cum.

out of breath, you lay there on the bed while miguel cleans up the mess on the bedsheets.

—

that afternoon, as you take out the trash, you bump into your next door neighbour, mrs palma. she looks and you and chuckles, "glad the two of you finally got together, but keep it down, wouldya, sweetheart?"

you turn as red as a tomato.

#📓—juniwrites #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #atsv #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #across the spider-verse

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echo-bleu · 10 months

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Noldor hair headcanons (1/4)

With AO3 down, it seems like a good time for some good old tumblr bullet-point pseudo-fic (I'll post it on AO3 eventually).

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | On AO3

Note: Inspiration for some parts of this came from @mynameisjessejk's wonderful Otter Mayhem series which you should go read when it's possible again.

The Noldor wear their hair in elaborate braids.

Hairstyle is a status thing, so noble Noldor have the most complex styles. They’re meant to show off craft, so there’s a lot of jewellery and gemstones involved, and the nobles’ hairstyles purposefully can’t be self-braided.

But touching hair is a very intimate thing and it’s never done by servants, always by family (spouse, siblings, parents or children). It’s a show of love and respect, if someone has a particularly complex hairstyle it’s supposed to mean that they’re well-loved.

Now Finwë as the king must have the most complex hairstyle of all. Míriel was of course very good at it, she’d weave and sew beads into his hair every morning, making each hairstyle a work of art.

When she fades, Fëanor is still really young, and he has to learn real quick to do his father’s hair, which he of course takes as a challenge. He starts making all of Finwë’s hair jewellery himself, he experiments with dozens of braiding styles. In the early months/years of their grief Finwë finds a lot of comfort in having his hair braided and they’ll both spend entire days beside Míriel’s body, with Fëanor braiding his father’s hair over and over.

Then Indis comes along, and hair braiding is traditionally the spouse’s work. It’s very hard for Fëanor not to feel like he’s been replaced (and not just his mother), especially since Indis has zero interest in it and Finwë’s hairstyles grow markedly simpler. Which is also not great for his reputation.

Nerdanel and Fëanor, once they marry, are extremely competitive and keep trying to outdo each other’s braids. It’s highly entertaining to outsiders, especially since it’s the only remnant of the Crown Prince’s more playful side. When little Maitimo comes out with red hair like Nerdanel’s, Fëanor bitches about having to make even more copper jewellery (he’s secretly overjoyed because he loves Nerdanel’s hair).

Fëanor is also careful to always have better braids than his half brothers, though Findis starts braiding Fingolfin and Finarfin’s hair as soon as she’s old enough, and she’s pretty good at it, unlike Indis.

Anairë’s hair texture is very different from anyone Fingolfin knows. He’s never been that into hair before, but he learns to do her braids with his tongue poking out. Once she figures out what to do with straight hair, she braids his into brand new styles that Fëanor is terribly jealous of.

Fingon has extremely thick kinky hair that takes a ridiculously long time to braid, and he’s very proud of it, thank you very much.

Thankfully for Fingolfin and Anairë, none of their other children have hair quite as thick.

Eärwen is Teleri and keeps her hair mostly loose. She wants none of that nonsense, especially not gems in her hair, come on. If she puts anything in her hair it’s gonna be pearls. She’ll do Finarfin’s hair if he really insists on it but if he wants the children to follow Noldor rites so much, he’ll have to take care of it himself. (He’s pretty good at it, actually.)

Maedhros and Fingon start doing each other’s hair in secret before Fëanor’s exile.

Celegorm switches from Noldor style to hunting braids when he joins Oromë’s hunt. They’re more practical and involve a lot less metal.

People have whole legends about how great it must be to braid Artanis’s hair, but it’s actually really fine and fragile and a nightmare. She insists that the only one who can do it right is Finrod. He tries to foist that chore on others a lot.

Aredhel and Curufin bond over hating to have their hair touched (sensory issues). Eventually they start doing each other’s hair because they know what to avoid.

Fëanor asking Galadriel for her hair is an Actual Taboo given that they’re not close (by the time Gimli asks, Galadriel has adopted Sindarin hair practices, but it’s also a fuck-you to Fëanor that she accepts).

At Losgar, (lightly-toasted) Amrod has part of his hair burned off. He is, after that, the very first elf to sport a side-cut, as hair won’t grow back over the scars. He never let anyone but his twin do his hair again.

Crossing the Helcaraxë, Fingolfin’s people try to keep up with tradition, but hair-braiding is hard when your fingers are constantly frozen stiff.

Still, Fingon insists on doing his father’s hair every day, even when he nearly loses fingers to frostbite.

He refuses to let anyone do the same for him, though, and he’s the first to start braiding his own hair. That’s when he starts braiding in golden ribbons, because they’re easier to do than beads, and frozen metal can burn skin.

Gradually they move away from long flowing braids and start making up crown-braid styles that protect their ears. As they progress, braiding becomes less and less about status and more and more practical.

Turgon and Elenwë (who adopted the Noldor style upon marrying) still keep to the tradition and braid each other’s hair and Idril’s right up until Elenwë dies. After that Turgon doesn’t let anyone touch his hair again until Gondolin (and then only Idril).

Finrod and Galadriel do each other’s hair. Galadriel’s fine, brittle hair suffers a lot in the cold, and for a long time she’s afraid that it will never go back to its former glory. It does eventually, but it takes decades.

In Beleriand, Maglor’s main contribution as King Regent is the invention of Mourning Braids (and also a slightly unhealthy number of laments).

Let’s be honest, he’s wearing them more for Maedhros than for Fëanor or Finwë, even though Maedhros is demonstrably still alive.

(No one thinks that will last.)

(Maglor can’t go save his brother and the guilt is staggering.)

(For some reason, Curufin is the one who does Maglor’s impossibly complex Kingly Mourning Braids.)

Then Helcaraxë Team arrives with their frozen fingers and their crown braids and It’s A Mess, Actually.

The Sun has just risen and Fingon’s golden ribbons are really blinding, no one can even look at him.

Listen, they haven’t had proper light in about forty years, they’re really light-sensitive now.

Everyone argues, Fingon makes at least two attempts to sneak out to Thangorodrim but he’s caught because he’s just way too shiny.

Third time’s the charm.

The only reason Maedhros doesn’t see him before he hears him is that he’s even more light-sensitive and just keeps his eyes closed. Also he’s tired. So very tired.

In Angband, Sauron took great pleasure in hacking Maedhros’s hair off and messing with it. When he’s rescued, what has regrown is a tangled, discoloured mess and they have to cut it all off.

Fingon stays with Maedhros a lot throughout his (physical) recovery, which in my mind takes at least the 55 years between his rescue and Dagor Aglareb, and he braids Maedhros’s hair every day, even at the start when it’s barely past his ear. Eventually Maedhros stops fighting and crying when someone touches his hair.

Mostly.

Fingon does tone down the golden ribbons eventually. Mostly because he runs out of Valinorian gold and has to do with Beleriand gold, which just isn’t the same.

To be continued.

#silmarillion #silm fic #tolkien #the silmarillion #feanor #maedhros #maglor #fingon #turgon #idril #echo's fanfiction #noldor hair headcanons

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byeoltoyuki · 8 months

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✧ Give it to me ✧ - part 1

↳ Pairing: Bangchan x Reader / Felix x Reader (kind of)

❧ Genre : gang au / romance / smut / strangers to lovers / fluff / some fake texts

❧ Words: 31k

Part 1 : +17k ⎢Part 2 : +13k

❧ Warnings : Violence / mention of death / guns / mention of drugs / mention of human trafficking / smut (in part 2)

❧ Summary: Everything in life has a cost. Even freedom. To be finally out of your father’s clutches you were ready for everything. Including making a deal with the Devil.

❧ A/N: After rewritting this story twice, I'm finally done with it. Can't say it was easy and I can't thank enough my friends who had to deal with my mental breakdowns, all my complaining and frustration. Thank you to my baby koala for this lovely moodboard ❤️

It was supposed to be a prompt but somehow I got carried away.

Since tumblr didn't let me post the story in one part, I cut it. The 2nd part will come out shortly ❤️.

Hope you enjoy your reading!

▾▾▾

“Boss wants to see you.” Ren interrupted your peaceful, and only way of escape, reading time as he stepped inside your room without knocking.

You barely glanced at him. One, your book was way more interesting than whatever he had to say. Two, it was Ren, your bodyguard, and your probably only friend in this place, which meant he was completely used to your behavior and could definitely deal with it. Three, the mention of the ‘Boss’ who happened to be your father, was a good enough excuse for ignoring him.

And Ren expected nothing less from you. From the moment he was asked to bring you to your father’s office, he knew, he was sent to a bloody loud battle. “Can you please for once make it easy?”

You slammed the book shut, giving him your undivided attention, trying to look as sweet and innocent as possible. Which would have worked on anyone other than Ren. He had seen it all and saw through you. Not surprising (yet still incredibly annoying in your opinion) considering you had spent the last two years in his company. Two years in hell could be a very long time.

“You’d get bored if it was easy.” You commented and crawled to the edge of your bed; eyes locked on him.

Ren considered for a moment to just throw you over his shoulder and carry you to the office. It was so damn tempting. Instead, he sighed and pleaded. “Please.”

“Boring.” You huffed, disappointed. However, you quickly recovered from your disappointment as you spotted a bright red cut showing from under his shirt. You frowned and immediately got on your feet. “What’s this?” You pulled at his shirt too harshly, fingers brushing the cut – Ren winced and slapped your hand away.

“Nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing. If Ren could read you like a book, so could you. You had been around him long enough to pick up his habits, especially when he was lying. He was trying to look everywhere except at your face and he was clenching his fists.

Ren wanted you to drop the subject, he didn’t need you to be noisy about it and do something probably incredibly stupid that would attract attention on the two of you. But he knew a lost battle when he saw one.

And he was right. You reached for the edge of his shirt and lifted it without asking for his permission, knowing damn well he wouldn’t agree to it, knowing he would do anything to avoid troubling you. Your grip on his shirt tightened, knuckles turning white, as you saw the damage. His chest wasn’t covered in just cuts but also with bright purple bruises.

“Who?” You whispered, voice shaking in both anger and pain.

“I got into a fight with John.” Ren ended up admitting. He could have tried to lie his way out, but one glance at your face was enough to convince him that telling the truth was the better option.

You let go of his shirt and took a step back. Of course, it was John. Nobody in their right mind would mess with Ren, he was known for being a strong fighter and a cold killer. But John? John was your father’s right-hand and a real piece of shit. You had known him half of your life and hated it him from day one.

You counted to ten, breath in, breath out. Nope, still angry.

“This fucker! God, can he just die already? Nobody is going to mourn him.” You yelled in frustration. “Except maybe for my father.” You pointed an accusing finger at him. “Why the hell did you let him beat the crap out of you? I refuse to believe that you’re weaker than him.”

Ren was touched that you had such a high opinion of his skills. “I’m not. But John is Boss’s right-hand. I can’t mess with him without risking my position. Unless you want someone else as your bodyguard.”

You cringed at his suggestion. You didn’t want him to be your bodyguard to begin with, but with time you got used to him. But getting another one? Hell no.

“What does he want?” You changed the subject.

“No idea.” Ren shrugged.

▾▾▾

You never liked visiting your father’s office. You couldn’t explain why it bothered you so much, but it did. Maybe it had something to do with him doing his evil business from inside, or maybe whether he summoned you inside, he had bad news for you. Today was not an exception.

John was standing by your father’s desk, hands behind his back, his face wore a smug expression which caused your unease to grow only more. There was definitely some bad news for you.

Without fully realizing it, you glanced over your shoulder just to confirm that Ren was following you, his presence bringing a very needed comfort while facing your father. You fully ignored John and instead approached your father’s desk, trying not to show your annoyance (which would bring you even more problems). “You asked for me?”

“I did.” Your father confirmed without raising his head from the documents he was reading. “We’re attending a charity party tonight. I had your dress delivered to your room.”

The urge to complain was burning through you. Those parties had always been the bane of your existence; boring, filled with arrogant people; some were politician, some were just filthy rich, but some, like your father, were criminals who had no problem to blend in.

“I expect you to be on your best behavior.” Your father finally raised his head to look at you, his brows furrowed. He thought that he had you finally under control, especially after the little incident from last year, but something told him he should be careful. Especially tonight, when so much was on stake.

“Why?” You dared to ask. There had to be a reason he insisted on you being a good girl, one that would probably displease you, but you still wanted to hear it.

Your father approached you without a word but his eyes spoke louder than any word could. He didn’t hesitate, not even for a second – he slapped you. “Listen well, Y/N. Tonight, I’m going to introduce you to a very powerful man who’s also my new business partner. You will present yourself as the perfect daughter that you are. A pretty, polite, lady. If you don’t-“ He paused, choosing carefully his next words, “Let’s say that what happened last year would seem like a nice dream.”

▾▾▾

“What an asshole!” You screamed the moment you got back inside your room, Ren following you like your shadow. He didn’t need to be so close to you when you were stuck in your room, in fact, he had no business at all following you inside your room, but he was worried.

“I can’t believe he wants to parade me like a damn trophy.” You continued mumbling to yourself, fuming with rage.

Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time he would bring you to one of those parties just to show his beautiful little girl, but you could tell tonight would be different. You didn’t know in what way, but it couldn’t be anything good. Not when he threatened you so nicely. Not when out of all the threats he could have chosen, he chose to remind you of the consequences of your last attempt at escaping.

You grabbed a vase from the cupboard and threw it across the room.

“Y/N.” Ren grabbed your hands, stopping you in your fit of rage. “Look at me.”

You refused, shaking your head. The need to lash out, to scream was just so strong, you could barely hold back. Even Ren’s presence was making you angry, his attempt at calming you made things so much worse. You tried to get rid of his grip, to put space between the two of you but it was of no use. Ren was much stronger; he didn’t even budge which only fueled your rage.

“Let me go. Right now.” You ordered; your voice filled with poison. A wrong word from him and he would feel the power of your rage.

But Ren being Ren kept his calm. He had been around you long enough to know, to understand how you worked. He saw what you could become when trapped. “Y/N.” He let go of your hands, only to cup your face and force you to look at him.

It was really unfair how big, how bright, how gentle, his eyes were. There was no resent, no anger in his eyes, no will to tell you what to do, only genuine worry and wish to help you. “Breath.”

Easy thing to say when your whole body was boiling with rage.

“Come on, pretty. Do it for me, please.”

You closed your eyes and concentrated on his voice, on this touch, his scent to ground you. His deep yet incredibly sweet voice.

“Yes, just like that.” He praised you while he stroked your cheek with his thumb, trying to help you to calm down. “You’re doing so well, pretty.”

Slowly, his gentle strokes along with his praises helped you to breath properly, your heartbeat slowed down, your blood no longer boiling. Resentment was the only thing left inside you and sadly, there was nothing to get rid of it.

“It’s red.” Ren commented, his thumb brushing lightly against the red mark on your face.

It didn’t hurt that much anymore. In fact, you forgot all about it because of your anger. “Nothing makeup can’t hide.”

“I still hate it.”

Of course, he did.

You were truly amazed how things had changed between you two in just two years. The first time your father had introduced you to the freckled man, you hated his guts instantly, no matter how pretty he looked with his long blond hair, pretty nose and pretty freckles.

It wasn’t like he had done anything for you to hate him, but he was your father’s man and someone he trusted enough to deal with you. And you had been right to be wary of him. After all, he was the one who found you and brought you back after your last attempt at escaping. He was the one who, because you refused to come back, killed your friend without blinking an eye. You loathed him for that.

Now, you could wonder why you managed to get past that. You didn’t really know yourself. Maybe because he was forced to be your shadow. Maybe because whenever you got beaten up, he was the one taking care of your wounds and comforting you. Maybe because despite his loyalty to your father, he still showed you compassion and would even help you to go out more often than you were allowed. to

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ren asked

You watched him closely; his pretty lips that were too inviting for your liking. His pretty, shining eyes. His curls. Everything about Ren was pretty and tempting. For a moment, you forgot all about your rage and instead felt rather playful. Why the hell not. “Want to help me to get dressed?”

Ren rolled his eyes in response and gently pushed you from him. “Don’t start.” It wasn’t a first time he was warning you. But did you listen? Not really.

You laughed instead. “Too bad for you!”

You pulled your shirt over your head, unbothered with his presence. In fact, you made sure to stand close enough to him, just to see if he still had it in him to resist. You had to give it to him; Ren had a strong self-control, but for how long? It wasn’t the first time you undressed with him in the room; you loved seeing him clench his fists, frowning as you were testing his patience.

“Y/N.” Ren called for you, his voice getting incredibly deep and dangerous, sending shivers down your spine. “You can’t keep doing that.” But did it stop him from admiring you? Did it stop him from looking at your fully exposed, pretty breasts? Absolutely not. Unknowingly to him, he licked his lips.

“Says who?” You challenged him, your hands slowly reaching for the buttons of your shorts.

It was apparently the wrong thing to say and to do. In a matter of seconds, he had you pinned against the wall, one hand wrapped around your throat while the other was holding your wrists above your head. His body was pressed against yours, warm and firm. A knee right between your thighs – you had to bite back a moan.

If he was trying to look intimidating, he was doing a poor job. Did he expect you to cower before him just because you were pinned against a wall? What a joke. His proximity set your whole body on fire. You didn’t care at all about getting dressed, you wanted him to touch you, to feel those lovely lips on your skin.

“Stop doing that.” He growled. A growl that vibrated through you.

“Do what?” You tried to look innocent, pretending not to know what you were doing.

Ren clicked his tongue in annoyance and moved his face closer, patience running thin. “I’m still a man remember?” His lips mere inches from yours, so easily to reach for, so tempting.

“Are you?” You dared him, wishing nothing more than for him to lose his self-control and have some fun.

It was a bad idea. A very bad idea. You knew, he knew. And nobody gave a damn.

“Fuck.” Ren cursed, his lips crashing against yours. He completely let go of your hands, letting you wrap your arms around his neck, letting you press yourself harder against him as you kissed him back with just as much intensity, with just as much need and despair.

Ren didn’t hesitate. He lifted you from the floor. You wrapped your legs around his middle, your mouth devouring his. Gone was the sweet-looking man, replaced with a hungry beast who wanted nothing more than devour you whole. And he did.

▾▾▾

Just like you had expected it, the party was not your cup of tea. Fortunately for you, whatever your father had planned for you, he didn’t expect it to happen right from the beginning which left you some very deserved freedom. Ren had followed you to the party, like expected from him, but instead of staying by your side like he would usually do, he chose to watch you from afar, looking dashing in his suit with his hair pushed back. He stared back at you, his face blank, making it impossible to guess what he was thinking about.

You licked your lips as memories of him between your legs, feasting on you, mere hours ago, played in your mind.

“I must say,” Soojin started saying, her eyes also on Ren, “This man is hot.”

You looked at your friend with a smile. You had met Soojin at one of those parties. She was bored, you were bored and just like that you had bonded. It wasn’t that hard considering how bold Soojin was. She was a free spirit, a beautiful young woman, an excellent actress who had your father fooled. Or maybe she was just that charming. Your father accepted your friendship and even let you meet her outside of those boring parties. You admired her for this miracle.

“I know.” You hid your smile in your drink.

“You’re hot too by the way.”

You knew you were. Despite your hatred for your father, you couldn’t deny that he had great taste when it came to clothes. Especially those you had to wear. He had chosen a long, sleeveless, bright red dress that hugged all your curves perfectly. “When am I not?”

“True!” She laughed heartily. “But there must be a special occasion or?”

See, in addition to being extremely beautiful and charming, she was also incredibly perceptive and clever. “Apparently, I’m about to meet his new business partner. I’m not looking forward.”

Soojin nodded her head in understanding. “Probably another rich, arrogant, old man.”

‘Just like my father.’ You wanted to add but refrained. Your face however said it all.

Soojin patted your arm. There wasn’t much she could do to help you except being herself and try to distract you from bad thoughts. But even that wouldn’t last.

Soojin noticed your father walking towards you with a frown. “Get ready, the monster is approaching.”

To avoid an open argument, you chose to join your father before he could reach the two of you. You gave Soojin a reassuring smile before looking back at your father. It was time to play pretend. With him and the others.

“Remember what I told you.” He said the moment you joined his side, linking your arm with his.

How could you forget. You put on your prettiest smile and walked with him. Two men were waiting for you in the middle of the room. One around your father’s age, looking dangerous and just evil with the way he was looking at people. The younger man, however, looked simply out of place.

“Rick!” The older man called for your father; a big smile plastered on his face.

Your father walked faster to reach the man, clearly excited. You, on the other hand, was dreading this encounter.

“Hope you’re enjoying the party.” Your father shook his hand with the man, before turning to you. “Kang, this is my daughter, Y/N.”

Kang eyed you from head to toe, eyes lingering longer than acceptable on your chest. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, instead, you outstretched your hand for him to shake. “Pleasure to meet you.” Except it wasn’t a pleasure at all.

“I must say, you are a very lucky man. Your daughter is really beautiful.” Kang commented, satisfied with your presence. Then, he pointed at the younger man beside him. “This is Matt, my son.”

Matt nodded his head to acknowledge your presence but surprisingly that was it. You quirked your brow, curious about the turn of event. You thought he would be like his father, watching you like a prize to win, but instead he barely looked at you, his interest completely somewhere else. Curious, you followed his eyes, only to find him looking at Ren. And you recognized that look. Matt was interested in your bodyguard.

‘Oh boy.’

You took advantage of the fact that your father was too busy discussing about business with Kang, to get closer to Matt. You put your hand on his arm and enjoyed how tensed this simple touch got him. He was not enjoying it while you definitely were.

“He’s pretty, isn’t he?” You whispered to Matt, startling him in the process.

“Wha-what?” He quickly cleared his throat, just in case his father would look his way. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Can’t blame you. Ren is pretty.” You completely ignored his attempt at hiding his preferences. You leaned even closer. From outside it looked like the two of you were really getting along, when in reality, you were simply making things clear with him. “But he’s mine.”

He was not. But Matt didn’t need to know that.

“I think, Y/N will make a fine wife.” Kang’s comment brought your attention back on them.

You cringed at his words from inside. Of course, he would make a comment like that, it was expected but still, it disgusted you to no end. It was one thing dealing with your father and his view of the world, or his opinion about women but it was a whole different story dealing with his acolytes.

Your father laughed at his comment. “I’m looking for a good husband. It’s time for her to settle down.”

His words left you speechless. Since when had he been thinking about marriage? Worse yet, why was Kang looking at you like a potential bride? Then it dawned on you that the reason your father wanted so badly to introduce you to Kang wasn’t only to show his pretty daughter. No. He wanted to sell you off.

No. You couldn’t let that happen. Never.

With shaky hands, you looked at Kang and then at your father who with just one glance understood that you were about to go against his orders.

“If you’ll excuse me.” You turned your back on them and walked away as fast as you could, back to the safety of Soojin’s company.

There would be consequences for your disobedience, but right now you couldn’t care less.

“Bad luck?” Soojin handed you a shot of vodka, surprised they would even have it at the party – you emptied it in one go. “That bad huh.”

“Bunch of assholes.” You wanted to punch someone, to relieve your anger, sadly, Ren couldn’t save you from yourself this time, instead, you grabbed another shot and another.

“Are you going to be ok?” Soojin worried, realizing that your behavior would mean trouble for you.

You looked at her, pondering whether you should tell her the truth or not. Scratch that, it was Soojin, of course you could tell her. “I guess I deserve a slap at best.” Soojin winced. “Don’t worry.”

“Hard not to.”

You sighed in defeat and grabbed another shot. “Soojin.” You stared at your shot, your anger completely vanished, only to be replaced with sadness. “I need to find a way to escape and make sure he never finds me.”

“What are you planning to do?”

You wished you knew. You brought your shot to your lips – a shot you never get to finish as you found yourself staring at an unfamiliar face across the room. An extremely handsome face. Black hair, sharp jaw, strong nose, plump lips, pretty, dark eyes. He wore black trousers, black shirt with three undone buttons, rolled sleeves that revealed strong, veiny forearms (which happened to be one of your many weaknesses).

‘Well shit.’ Maybe your night wasn’t a waste of time after all. You stared at him, shamelessly, not minding for a second that he could catch you, in fact, you wanted him to look at you. Why not make this night a little bit more exciting?

It didn’t take him long to notice you and you had to admit that his piercing eyes sent shivers down your spine in both excitement and fear of what could come out of it. He stared at you with just as much intensity, interest and a hint of amusement. He brought his glass to his lips to hide the beginning of a really pretty smile.

“Who’s that?” You asked Soojin because despite hating those parties, she understood this world the best and she knew all the people in this room.

Soojin followed your gaze and paled at the sight of the man. “Oh hell no. Forget about it right now, Y/N.” She spoke quickly, clearly panicking at your sudden interest in the man. She knew, you were reckless, daring, always scheming which always got you in trouble and this time wouldn’t be different if she didn’t try to stop you. “He’s someone you don’t want to mess with. I heard that-“

Too late, you were already walking over.

▾▾▾

He watched your every move, your every step - it made you smile; you had his full attention. You could have walked straight to him and start a conversation but where would the fun be? You stopped by the table near him and his friend, pretending to look for the food and not for them, not for him. You could feel his eyes on you but it didn’t stop him from talking to his friend either.

“Damn, this looks yummy.” His friend commented while eying the food on the table, drooling on the spot.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you.” You commented with a chuckle. You pointed at the food that indeed looked good. “Saw few people leaving and throwing their guts up after eating from this table.”

The man jumped, startled, from the table as if it had burned him. His shocked face was quite endearing, you had to admit. But of course, your attention was all on the mysterious man - he smirked, noticing how you couldn’t stop yourself from watching him.

“You should thank your savior, Jisung.”

And he did, without hesitation. Jisung took a step towards you and gently grabbed your hand. “Thank you, my lady.” And with that he planted a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“Y/N is fine.” You laughed at his behavior. You didn’t expect to be called a lady and even less have your hands kissed (on second thought, you were glad it was from someone as lovely as Jisung and not as disgusting as Kang); he didn’t look like an old fashion man. Never judge a book by its cover, you should know that better than anyone.

“Y/N. Lovely. I’m Jisung and the broody friend is Chris.” Feeling bold, he leaned closer to you. “He looks scary but he’s actually a teddy bear.”

Chris sighed at the description. He could always count on his friends to make fun of him in any possible situation and destroy his reputation and probably ruin his chances with any hot woman. He did his best looking menacing, making sure that boring, greedy people just wouldn’t strike up a conversation with him.

“Ok, that’s enough.” He grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled him away from you in case he would try to get even more touchy and daring. “Please ignore him.”

You waved your hand. “I think he’s cute.”

Chris snorted at that. “As cute as he can get.” He outstretched his hand for you to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

Oh boy, you liked the sound of your name coming out of his mouth. Without hesitation, you shook his hand, smiling widely.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” Chris commented, still holding your hand. You could have pulled away any time, but it felt too nice for you to let go. “I would have remembered.”

You would have remembered him too. How could you not when he was looking so damn good? And more importantly, he felt different from the other people present in the room. You didn’t doubt he was part of this world, but he didn’t have this arrogant, rich aura around him.

“I hate attending these stupid parties.” You admitted and he finally let go of your hand. You almost whined at the loss. Almost.

“Ha!” Jisung scoffed loudly and nudged his friend. “He too hates these parties. I come for the food.”

Soojin would have loved this guy. Your smile softened at his remark. “I-“

“There you are, Y/N.” You got interrupted by Ren. He had his hand on your back, ready to pull you away from the two men. Whenever you were happy about it or not.

Was it just an impression or the temperature in the room dropped by few degrees? Ren looked incredibly pissed; a vein popped out in his neck as he looked straight at Chris. If looks could kill both Chris and Jisung would be dead.

“You always have a bad timing.” Jisung commented, still smiling, but he didn’t sound that excited anymore.

You didn’t know what to think. They obviously knew each other which meant either Ren had worked for them at one point in his life or they had been enemies for a while. Did it mean they were your father’s enemy? You wondered.

You grabbed Ren’s arm, making sure that he wouldn’t do something stupid. He was always calm, composed, but right now he seemed ready to throw punches and you really didn’t want that.

“You chose the wrong side, Ren.” Chris finally said but his eyes moved to you, understanding dawned on him.

Ren rolled his eyes at his words. “Did I give you the impression that I care about your opinion?”

Before the situation could get out of hands you moved and stood right between Ren and Chris. You glanced at Chris, feeling sorry that you didn’t get a chance to spend more time with him and see where it could lead, before averting your eyes to Ren. “That’s enough. Let’s go?”

▾▾▾

The moment you got back home, you completely ignored Ren, not even sparing him a glance, still upset with how the night had unfolded. He let you leave without a word, knowing there was no point in talking, no point in fighting. He had done his job.

You sat on the floor by the window, watching the stars in silence. Except in your head, it was far from silent, thoughts running wild. You couldn’t stop thinking about Chris, about his interaction with Ren, his realization about who was your father.

“Where’s this wench?!” You heard your father yelling through the house – you winced and wrapped your arms around yourself, to give you strength or maybe in hope to protect yourself.

Just from his yelling alone, you knew he was furious. Best behavior? You forgot all about it and he was ready to make you pay for it. You wished there was something you could do to prevent him from coming to your room, but even if you tried, it would only make things worse for you.

“Dammit.” You cursed

“She’s sleeping.” You heard Ren’s voice right behind your door.

“Move.” Your father ordered but Ren did none of that. “Are you defying me right now?”

“Of course not, Boss.” But he was, you thought to yourself. He was trying to stop your father from getting his hands on you which made your heart ache. You made his life difficult and he still tried to defend you in his own twisted, sometimes, way. “But I think she had her share of emotions for the night.”

You didn’t think Ren could convince your father to spare you, but his words clearly caught his attention as you heard him ask, “What do you mean?”

“Christopher was at the party. She met him.” There was a dead silence, following Ren’s words. You couldn’t, obviously, see your father’s reaction, but whatever it was, Chris’s name made him pause.

“What did he say to her?” Your father finally asked, much calmer now, and yet, you swore there was something in his voice. Could it be panic? It couldn’t be.

“I’m not sure.” Ren admitted, “I don’t think she spent much time in his presence.”

“Good. I don’t need this bastard getting any closer to her.”

You heard him loud and clear. If your father hated Chris so much, then it was your chance to start planning. Maybe Chris was just as bad as your father, maybe he wasn’t, but you knew you needed a way out.

You grabbed your phone and texted Soojin, the only person you could really count on and someone who was really good at looking into someone’s life.

You stared at your phone and thought for a moment. Soojin had a point, even if it pained you to admit it. Even if you managed to get out and reach Chris, you had nothing to give him in exchange for his help. There was nothing you could give him to help him to get rid of your father.

But you soon realized that it wasn’t entirely true. It was still night and you were at your father’s place which meant you could sneak around and try to find valuable information. Was it risky? Hell yes. Did you have a choice? Not really.

With this goal on mind, you left the safety of your room and prayed to whoever wished to listen that you would not get caught.

▾▾▾

Your father’s office was too big for your liking. There were so many places to look through and not enough time. It was the middle of the night, but you couldn’t be hundred percent sure your father wouldn’t come to his office. He was after all a workaholic which meant you had to be quick.

You looked through his papers, trying to find information about his business and especially his illegal activities but there were none which didn’t make sense. Was your father that careful? That paranoid? Or was he just so good at hiding his dirty secrets?

There must be something. You refused to give up so easily. You looked through his drawers but still nothing. It was slowly driving you crazy. But then, when you thought all hope was lost, a frame caught your eyes. It was a picture of your mom and a very young you. You didn’t take your father for a sentimental, not after what he had done to your mom. The official story was she had filed for divorce and left. But you knew better.

You grabbed the frame and stilled for a moment. Your heart ached at the sight of your mom. Ever since her disappearance, you avoided looking at the pictures. Too scared of your feelings, of the pain that would follow. You missed her, so much. Living with both your father and your mom was hard, but mom’s presence had always made things bearable. Whenever your father got violent, she was always there to mend your wounds. She did her best with what she had and you always loved her for that.

“I miss you, mom.” You whispered, fingers trailing over the picture.

Just when you were about to put it back to its place, you felt something brushing your fingers on the back of the frame. “What-“ You turned it around only to find an usb-stick taped on the frame.

“I thought I heard you sneak out.” Ren’s voice startled you, giving you a heart attack.

“Bloody hell, Ren!!” You muffled your yell. “What are you doing here?”

Ren quirked a brow at you. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking this question? Are you out of your mind?”

You quickly hid the frame behind your back, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He did but chose not to comment. Instead, he stayed by the door, fists clenched.

The tension was thick between the two of you. You, still upset about his behavior earlier at the party. Him, upset with you sneaking around and looking for more trouble. He managed, by some miracle, to stop your father from punishing you, but should you be caught tonight, there was nothing he would be able to do to protect you. And it pained him, more than you could know.

“Whatever you’re planning. Don’t.”

Of course, he would say something like that. You kept your lips sealed in fear of revealing too much and risking your plan.

“You know there’s nothing you can do.”

But you could, he just hadn’t realized it yet.

“Y/N,” Ren took a step toward you but stilled. He shook his head and held back. “He will ask me to bring you back.” And here you had thought, he didn’t know about your plan. “And you know I will come for you. I always will.”

If only he could disregard his loyalty to your father, his words would have been so much more meaningful. Still, your treacherous heart fluttered at his voice.

“I really don’t want to hurt you.” He admitted, “Not again.”

With that, Ren left.

▾▾▾

Escaping your house was never the hardest part in your different plans. Sometimes, because it amused your father, sometimes because he didn’t care until he needed you. Today was no exception. You walked out of the house without trouble. No Ren on sight which did worry you for a moment but in the end, it was for the better. You couldn’t imagine yourself dealing with him right now, because he would know what you were up to.

Soojin didn’t disappoint you. Two days, it was the time it took her to gather all the information she could on Chris. About his business, about his life - it was impressive. He was a very powerful man without big scandals which, in your opinion, was remarkable. Soojin tried to dig as much as she could, wanting to find dirt on him and prove to you that getting involved with him was a very bad idea. She found nothing. Either the stories about him were just some baseless rumors or he was really good at concealing the truth. Honestly? You didn’t care. He was your only hope and you were willing to make a deal with the devil if it meant freedom.

That was how you found yourself walking straight to his company’s headquarters. You weren’t invited, had no meetings planned but you were a confident, strong woman who knew how to behave to get what you wanted.

For the past twenty-four hours, you went through different scenarios, wanting to be as ready as you could be once facing the different obstacles. However, once you got to the reception, you were met with a sight you had not counted on at all. Jisung was leaning against the counter, chatting happily with a pretty brunette, clearly flirting. The sight of the man brought a small smile on your face. Maybe you had all the chances to get what you wanted.

“Hey Jisung!” You called after him, walking slowly towards him.

“Y/N!” He almost squealed at the sight of you.

After spending so much time with fake people, you could tell when someone was pretending, Jisung, however, seemed genuinely happy seeing you.

He surprised you once more by hugging you tightly as if you had been friends for years. You wouldn’t have minded. “What are you doing here?”

“To see Chris.”

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. Jisung looked over his shoulder, at the brunette and smiled. “I’ll take her to see the boss.”

“But-“ She was ready to protest. You couldn’t tell whether Jisung worked here or if they were just used to see him because he was Chris’s friend but clearly, he was going against the rules.

“It’s okay, don’t worry!” He reassured her by being a sunshine. He was really charming.

He showed you the way to the lift. Only when the doors were fully closed, he looked back at you. “He’s not expecting you, is he?”

“Of course not.” You smirked proudly

Jisung laughed loudly, clapping his hands in delight. “Oh you’re such a naughty little thing. I like you.”

▾▾▾

“Okay, so we might need to wait a little. I think he’s not done with the meeting.” Jisung said as he pointed at a huge wooden door that apparently led to Chris’s office.

The reasonable thing to do would be to listen to Jisung and wait patiently for your turn. But were you a patient woman? Sometimes, yes. Most of the time, no. And right now, you just couldn’t wait. You wanted to see the man and hopefully make a deal with him.

You glanced at Jisung, feeling almost sorry for him - he would get in trouble for bringing you here, you guessed. “Sorry, Jisung.”

“Sorry? For wha-“ He couldn’t finish his sentence as he saw you walking to the door. He realized too late what were your intentions. He palmed his face in despair, he was about to get his ass whooped, for sure.

You barged inside the office while your confidence hadn’t worn off. You eyed the room, noticing that there were at least ten people in the room, looking all positively shocked with your rude (according to them, you bet) interruption. You quickly disregarded their confused-angry-appalled look and averted your eyes to the man you were dying to see. He looked just as handsome as in your memory, if not better, wearing a suit. His aura was still as impressive, screaming power and strength.

A tiny part of you squirmed under his glare, but just a tiny part.

If Chris was surprised seeing you, he didn’t show it. He glanced over your shoulder, giving a stern glance at the poor Jisung (you really felt bad for involving him) before his eyes were back on you.

You stared at each other for a moment, ignoring the world surrounding you. You weren’t particularly fond of the attention but right now it seemed like a little to price to pay to have Chris’s eyes on you.

“Leave us.” Chris ordered, dismissing his people without even sparing a glance.

They all hurried to get out of the room as if sensing things could get out of control real quick. Was it because of your presence? Or was it also because of Jisung? You wondered.

“I tried to stop her!” You heard Jisung saying behind you, whining.

“I’ll deal with you later.” Chris replied with a roll of his eyes. “Leave us and don’t eavesdrop.”

Jisung muttered under his nose but did as he was told.

“He really tried.” You tried to defend him.

Chris, to your surprise, chuckled. “No, he didn’t.”

‘Thank god, he’s not angry.’ You told yourself, a tad relieved.

“Don’t get me wrong, Y/N, it’s a pleasure seeing you again so soon. But, what are you doing here?”

“Interrupting your meeting?” You played coy.

Chris ignored your attempt, seeing right through you. “Does your father know you’re here?”

You checked the time on your watch. “Well, by now, he might know I escaped. Again.”

Chris looked both impressed and pleased with your answer. Obviously, he knew nothing about you except for the fact that you were his enemy’s daughter.

“Why would you escape? He’s your family.” He asked, genuinely curious.

You scoffed. How could he say that? Didn’t he know what kind of man your father was? No, he was testing you.

“Please. You don’t strike me as a fool. I’m sure you know what kind of man, my father is. You know his worth.”

Chris stayed quiet for a moment, observing you. It was nerve wrecking. “Why are you here, Y/N?”

He tapped his fingers on the table, waiting for you to explain yourself.

It was now or never, you knew it, he knew it and yet no words left your mouth. It wasn’t like you to lose your composure but maybe your nerves were finally at their limits or maybe you were losing your shit because of importance of what you had to ask of him.

You dismissed your thoughts and your fear, you could do it. You walked towards him, hoping you looked confident and convincing enough. You sat on the edge of his desk and crossed your legs, getting comfortable.

Slowly, Chris’s gaze lowered to your exposed legs. Really, how could he resist when it was so nicely presented to him. After all, he was just a man. A powerful man, but still a man. You weren’t trying to seduce him, not yet, but if it helped your case then, why the hell not.

“I need your help.” You admitted. “I don’t know what’s kind of relationship you have with my father, but I believe you’re the only one who can help me to get free.”

Chris, from the moment you walked inside his office, guessed your visit had something to do with your father. In fact, he was convinced he was the one sending you as an offering, it would definitely be his style. A nice offering, he would admit; you were a pretty woman, with bright eyes, pretty plump lips and amazing curves that did not go unnoticed by Chris.

But this? This, he did not see it coming.

Chris stood up, towering over you easily. He put his hands on each side of your body, trapping you as he leaned closer. His proximity was overwhelming but you refused to budge. You let him study your face, looking for any signs of lies. He found none.

“You’re really serious about this.” It wasn’t a question but you nodded either way.

He let go of you and took a step back. “Let’s say I agree to help you. What makes you think you’ll be free? Do you expect me to help you out of good will?” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m not a good man, Y/N.”

“Maybe you aren’t, but are you worse than my father?” You asked, genuinely curious. He could of course lie to you, but you had the impression that he was rather trying to paint a bad image of himself in order to make you fear him.

“Depends on whom you ask.”

You jumped from the desk and got closer to him. As you watched him, you came to realization that there was no way he could be worse than your father, just because he was trying to look like a villain.

“Let me ask you this, then.” You grabbed his hand and you had to resist the urge to look at it because hell it felt nice. Chris’s frown, on the other hand, deepened as he looked at your hand. “Let’s pretend for a second that I’m your girl and because I’m a brat, I decide to disobey you. Would you lock me up?”

“What?” His eyes snapped back to your face, clearly taken aback.

“You heard me.”

Chris should have been surprised with your words but sadly, he wasn’t. Your questions showed only what you went through and he expected nothing less from a man like your father. An insect who believed he could rule the world and treat people like shit.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

You let go of his hand took few steps back. “See, you’re already better than him.

Chris closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Give me time to think this over.”

You wished you could. You let go of his arm and smiled sadly. “Sadly, time is the only thing I don’t have.”

▾▾▾

Instead of sending you home, Chris asked Jisung to take you for a coffee. It gave you hope, maybe he wasn’t about to refuse to help you after all. You accepted without much protest and Jisung was too happy to oblige.

“Sorry for putting you into a bad position.” You apologized as Jisung put the cup of coffee before you.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Chris was happy with the interruption. He’s not fond of those meetings.” Jisung was way too nice which made you think that angering this man wouldn’t be easy. Not like you were planning to. “By the way, why are you here?”

You could have come up with a lie, easily, but something about Jisung made you trust him instantly. Maybe because he was so likable or maybe because Chris trusted him. Probably both. “I need his help to escape from my father.”

Jisung chocked on his coffee, coughing strongly, hitting his chest to recover. Someone was not expecting this kind of answer from you.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you right away.” Jisung laughed, clapping his hands.

“I know, I’m charming like that.” You flipped your hair playfully. “I just hope he’ll accept.”

Jisung hummed, pondering on the question. He knew his friend well enough to guess that Chris would avoid useless conflicts if he could, however this time he wasn’t so sure. Chris wasn’t fond of your father, far from it even, there was a high possibility that he wouldn’t mind messing with him. Jisung would gladly help too.

“I don’t think he’ll say no. You’re offering him an opportunity to mess with your father. I bet he’s tempted.”

Whether Jisung was sincere or not, his words gave you hope. But not for long. Your attention went from Jisung to the man walking through the doors. You tensed, gasping in surprise. You thought you had more time before your father or his men would realize that you hadn’t left for shopping or for a walk. Worse yet, you expected to see Ren. But no, John was the one who walked through the door, his eyes finding you right away.

Your change of mood didn’t go unnoticed. “What’s wrong?”

He had his answer before you could even think about it. Without invitation, without even caring about checking his surroundings because he was just that arrogant and confident, John sat at your table, looking relaxed and unbothered, clearly Jisung’s presence meant nothing to him. Or maybe he didn’t look enough to recognize a threat when faced with one. His mistake.

“You’re getting sloppy, Y/N.” John commented, taping his fingers on the table. “You know why I’m here.”

To say that you were a tad worried would be an understatement. You had to think quickly, to find a way out without getting hurt and without bringing even more trouble to Jisung.

“Yeah.” You sighed, annoyed with the turn of the event. “And you know I won’t come with you.”

“And you know I’ll make you. You can either make it easy for both of us or-“

Jisung, bless the man, chuckled at the interaction. Apparently, John wasn’t the only unbothered one in the room. “And I think, you completely forgot where you are.”

Jisung’s whole demeanor changed from cheerful to dead cold - you shivered in response. What a whiplash. Here you thought he was a sweet and odd person by Chris’s side. You should have known better. He wasn’t just a friend. No, he was much more and you should have noticed it sooner.

John seemed to finally notice the man sitting beside him and for the first time you saw a glimpse of fear and recognition in his eyes.

‘Who’s getting sloppy huh.’ You thought, repressing a chuckle.

“You-“ John stuttered, recognizing the man by his side. He slid his hand in his jacket, trying to reach for his gun.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Because Jisung was much faster. He was half turned and was pointing his gun under the table.

John hesitated, eyes darting back and forth between you and Jisung. You had to admit that you were feeling particularly confident just because of the way Jisung behaved - seeing John squirming under his gaze was worth the risk.

“I would advise, you go back to your boss without causing any more trouble.”

“She has to come back with me.” John groaned. Obviously, he didn’t want to cause ruckus in the middle of a cafe and deal with Jisung, but coming back without you would make his life much more difficult.

“Nope.” Jisung pointed at you, “The pretty girl stays with me.”

What a flirt.

You blew him a kiss.

▾▾▾

It was extremely satisfying to watch John leave empty handed. You felt more relaxed and confident - you had made the right choice to come to Chris. Now, all you needed was for him to accept the deal.

Jisung brought you back to Chris’s office once sure John wouldn’t follow you and attempt anything reckless.

He didn’t.

“You’re out of your mind! Please stop thinking with your dick and think with your brain!” A loud and angry voice echoed from the half-opened door of Chris’s office.

Jisung stopped you right away by gently grabbing your arm and pulling you against his chest. He sighed, clearly recognizing the voice.

“You always have stupid ideas. She’s a brat. Worse yet, she’s his daughter! Why the hell would you bother with her?”

Jisung shook his head in disapproval before looking apologetically at you. “Sorry.”

You raised your hand to stop him from apologizing. He hadn’t done anything wrong and whoever was behind those words obviously knew nothing about you.

You winked playfully before storming inside like you owned the place, wanting to face the two men. Chris only quirked a brow at your presence while the other man’s frown only deepened at the sight of you. If looks could kill you would be dead. But instead of being intimidated (you definitely were), you chose to play it cool - you smiled sweetly at them.

“Y/N, this is Minho, a friend.” Chris introduced the angry man.

Just to spite him some more, you waved your hand cheerfully. “Hi, Minho.” Of course, he didn’t return the greeting but you didn’t mind. His opinion meant nothing to you.

Chris shook his head at your behavior, half amused half desperate. “Leave us, guys.”

“It’s a bad idea.” Minho muttered, not bothering hiding his displeasure.

“Come on.” Jisung almost pounced at Minho, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “They have to talk; we have no business in there.”

Minho had little choice but to follow Jisung judging by how strong his grip around him was. On his way out, Jisung winked at you, encouraging you. Yet, before leaving, he looked over his shoulder, at Chris. “Just so you know, they tried to get her back.” And with that he left the two of you alone, making sure to close the door behind them.

You realized that Jisung’s presence was comforting. Now, that you were standing alone with Chris, you were scared. Not of him, obviously, but about his decision. “So. What’s your answer?”

Chris watched you like a hawk for a moment which, despite your effort, unnerved you. He took slow steps towards you, hands in his pockets, looking as nonchalant as possible, stopping mere inches from you. You couldn’t ignore the warmth radiating from his body, his scent invading your senses – it would be so easy to get lost in him.

“I’ll take you to my place for the timing being.” He finally said

His answer should have made you happy, but it didn’t. “Another cage?”

Chris shook his head. “What you’re asking of me isn’t that easy. I need you to stay discrete for a while. Once Rick understands that I’m not giving you back, he’ll do something stupid.”

Sadly, you couldn’t refute it. You didn’t know to what extent your father would go in order to get you back and you didn’t really want to imagine it either.

“Maybe he’ll ask his dog to bring you back.”

“John? Already tried and failed thanks to Jisung.”

Chris shook his head and laughed. “Oh no, I wasn’t talking about John. Ren.”

You felt a flash of irritation at his words. Ren was someone you deeply cared for, even if he was your father’s man. Even if he had made the wrong choices. “Don’t talk about him like that.” For a short second you forgot you were supposed to be nice, to stay on his good side, but the moment he insulted your friend, you lost it.

Chris was half surprised with your sudden hostility. From what he saw at the party, the two of you were close but he didn’t imagine to this extent. “Is he your lover? Really?”

“He’s my friend.”

“Oh Y/N. I doubt it. But fine. I apologize for my poor choice of words.”

Scared your voice would betray your annoyance, you simply nodded your head. You couldn’t really pick a fight with Chris, not when you needed his help. Which reminded you; he still didn’t mention the price for his help.

“Chris, what do you want in exchange for your help?”

“I’ll come up with something.” Was all he said.

It should have terrified you. What if in the end he would ask something impossible to give? What if it was something that could make your life worse? Did you have any choice? Not really.

▾▾▾

Chris’s place was huge, not like you expected anything less from this man. Everything inside was either black or white which gave a rather classy atmosphere to the place. And the view – you would die to have such a view. Huge bay windows that led to a giant balcony, giving a perfect view on the town.

“Wah!” You squealed at the view, unable to refrain yourself from running to the window to admire the sight. It was dark outside but the city’s lights gave an almost eerie atmosphere that captivated you.

“Here,” Chris approached you, “You can have my t-shirt to sleep in. I’ll get you clothes and everything you need tomorrow.”

You glanced over your shoulder and smiled. “Thank you.” You weren’t only thanking him for the clothes. No, you were thanking him for everything he was doing for you. Technically, you were a stranger to him, he had no obligations towards you and yet, there you were.

Slowly, you returned your attention to the town. You wrapped your arms around yourself, comforting yourself. You were free. You did it.

“You’re ok?” Chris worried. You might be his enemy’s daughter, but you were also a human with deep wounds – he saw them, even if you tried to hide behind your smiles and confidence.

“Yeah. Feels weird to be free.” You admitted and chuckled at your silliness. “Well, almost free.” You turned, this time, to fully face him. In this dim light he looked even more handsome which shouldn’t be allowed. “Why did you really agree on helping me?”

Chris took another step towards you, hesitated before touching your cheek. His soft touch took you off guard but it was also comforting - you leaned into his touch, welcoming it.

“Let’s say, I have a soft spot for damsels in distress.”

Living with Chris promised to be an interesting experience.

▾▾▾

The very next day, just like Chris had promised, he had, everything you needed, delivered to you. You supposed he would be the one bringing it to you but no, half awake, you were met with a very loud, cheerful and now familiar voice.

“Special delivery!” Jisung yelled through the whole place just to make sure you would hear him and be aware of his presence.

Impossible to miss.

When you joined Jisung in the main room, he surprised you with tons of bags on the floor waiting for you. You halted, eyeing all the bags suspiciously. “Are these all for me?”

“Yep.” Jisung confirmed, “I picked everything myself!”

“Should I worry?” He looked way too excited and smug about it. Something was fishy. Had to.

“Probably.” He didn’t even try to deny, smirking. He plopped on the couch, acting as if this place was actually his (and maybe in a way it was seeing how close he and Chris were). “Check it.”

As you approached the bag, you kept your eyes on Jisung. “You look too excited for my liking. What did you do?”

Jisung gasped, feigning being hurt as he put his hand over his chest. “How can you doubt me like that?”

“Call it a hunch.”

Despite his smug expression, the first two bags were rather innocent; dresses, jeans, all kind of clothes. Too many clothes in your opinion. Another bag was filled with skincare and different brands of makeup – you glanced at Jisung wondering how he guessed what you needed and what you liked but he only shrugged in response. Either he had done some serious research on you or he was just good like that.

The fourth bag was the one that made you pause, pull the item from it and then groan. Red, lacy lingerie. Definitely your style, definitely sexy, but absolutely unnecessary. “What the hell, Jisung?”

“What? It’s hot!” He pointed at the lingerie, excited. “This will look good on you!”

“Yeah, but why the hell would I need it?”

“To seduce.”

“Who? You?”

Jisung actually laughed at that. “Me? Consider me already seduced.”

You shook your head, chuckling at his joke but really, you wouldn’t mind wearing this piece of clothes for Chris. You slapped yourself mentally for the thought. There was definitely something wrong with you.

“Hey Ji, thank you.”

▾▾▾

Despite spending most of your life in a rich household, it didn’t prevent you from developing some useful skills such as cooking. For some it was a sign you were a good wife-to-be, for others it was a waste of time. For you? It was a hobby you truly enjoyed.

There wasn’t much you could do to thank Chris for everything he was doing for you, but cooking a nice meal for the two of you seemed like a good plan. A part of you did it to thank him, but it was also a way for you to distract yourself from annoying thoughts. And boredom.

Music in your ears, a glass of wine in your hand, you danced and sang while cooking, wearing one of Chris’s shirts. You could have changed into your new clothes, but really, his clothes were just much more comfortable.

You were moving to the rhythm of the music, swinging your hips, bobbing your head– you hadn’t felt this good in years. Completely in your own little world, you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings, you hadn’t noticed the moment Chris got back. Until it was too late.

The moment you turned around and saw him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, looking amazing, smiling at you – you froze. You took your headphones off your head and smiled sheepishly at him. “Hi?”

“You know, I can get used to that.” Chris admitted, clear fondness in his voice.

Even if Chris had accepted to help you and brought you to live with him, he had absolutely no clue how the cohabitation would work. He didn’t know you. But the sight of you, so comfortable, so relaxed and so lively – he found it endearing. You were nothing like your father and far from a brat.

Instead of feeling embarrassed, you felt even more at ease. There was something with Chris that made you feel safe, comforted, in fact, it felt like you were long lost friends, despite being strangers.

Chris eyed your outfit for a moment, eyes lingering longer than necessary on your exposed legs. “I thought Jisung brought you clothes.” He pushed himself from the wall and walked slowly towards you. Despite the pretty smile still on his face, there was a predatory glimpse in his eyes that caused your heart to flutter. The traitor.

“He did.” You answered as you watched him getting closer to you.

He stopped right before you. There was nowhere for you to run, to hide; you were half trapped between the counter and a smiling Chris. “And?”

“Your shirt is more comfortable.” You joked, “Moreover, trust me, you don’t want me wearing the clothes he brought.” That was a half lie. Yes, Jisung had brought you tons of sexy outfits that were useless since you would be staying at Chris’s place most of the time, but there were also normal, casual clothes.

Chris arched a brow, clearly amused with your explanation and not that surprised either knowing his friend. “Why?”

Feeling particularly bold tonight, you smirked and pushed him gently off your way. “Wouldn’t want you to fall in love with me.”

Chris burst into laughter; his laugh was like music to your ears. Maybe you were the one in danger after all.

“Want a glass of wine?”

“With pleasure.”

▾▾▾

Chris surprised you once more by leaving one morning a phone for you with a note.

“I figured you might need it. Add whoever you need, but be careful.”

There wasn’t much in it except for his, Jisung and Minho’s number. Just in case. You perfectly understood why he saved Jisung’s number – in a matter of days, this man had become your favorite person. Minho’s number, on the other hand, was not needed. You could have deleted his number right away, but reasoned yourself; Chris had added his number for a reason, you couldn’t get rid of it like that.

You plopped on the couch, legs under your butt, you stared at your phone. You wanted so badly to add Soojin’s number, number that you had memorized long ago, and talk to her. You wanted her to know that you had escaped and that you were safe, but you couldn’t do it. Not that you didn’t trust your friend, no; your father knew about your relationship with her which put her in danger and risked your freedom.

Ren’s face crossed your mind. His number too, you knew by heart. A tiny part of you worried for him. Did his father get rid of him because he had failed? Did John blamed him for not being able to get you back? There was no way for you to know without exposing yourself.

With a long and tired sigh, you threw your head back. You closed your eyes for a moment and thought about what you should do. There wasn’t much you could do despite having Chris’s whole place for you, you were getting bored.

Since there was nothing to do and your thoughts were getting too much for you, you grabbed your phone and decided to text Chris.

You sighed again, disappointed with his response. You understood perfectly that he was a busy man and he didn’t have time to always entertain you, but you couldn’t stop yourself from hoping he would spend some time with you.

‘Oh well.’

▾▾▾

The next morning, you were woken up by noises coming from the kitchen. it took you a moment to realize, in surprise, that you were back in your bed while you remembered clearly falling asleep on the couch while watching a movie. You stared at your blanket; did Chris carry you to your bed? This simple thought brought a tiny smile to your face.

Eagerly, you jumped out of your bed and walked out of your room. You followed the delicious smell of pancakes – your stomach grumbled in response.

You had to admit that it was a rather odd sight: Chris in the kitchen. Seeing this big, powerful and dangerous (according to rumors) man preparing breakfast, was both amusing and charming. Chris had prepared everything; pancakes, coffee, juice, fruits – it was everything you liked and everything you needed.

“Morning.” As you watched him setting the table, you thought about his remark when he saw you cooking. You had to agree, you could get used to it too.

“Good morning. Hope you like pancakes.”

“Love it.” And even if you didn’t, you would have said the same thing because he did it for you. How could you complain?

“Did you steal another of my shirt?” Chris watched you, sipping his coffee in peace.

“Me? No!” That was obviously a lie, as if Chris wouldn’t recognize his own clothes, but you felt in rather playful mood. He arched a brow at your blatant lie. “Fine! I did. So what? Sue me!”

Chris put his cup back on the table and got closer to you. Your eyes locked, he played with the edge of the shirt that was barely hiding your body since you were sitting.

“Or I can just take it off.” He suggested

You opened your mouth ready for another snarky remark but nothing came out of your mouth. He let go of the shirt, only to put his hands on your thighs. His hands felt warm against your skin, nevertheless you shivered.

“You’re a tempting little thing.” Chris admitted

“Look who’s talking.” Your voice came out shaky, betraying your state of mind. You wanted to blame your needs but really it was all because of Chris.

You sincerely thought Chris would kiss you, in fact, you prayed he would. Sadly for you, he pulled back, shook his head as if to convince himself that it was a bad idea. It was probably a bad idea but you found yourself not caring much about it.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

▾▾▾

Despite your impressive (according to Chris) cooking skills, you were human which meant that from time to time you craved some junk food. Luckily for you, you had a new phone (bless Chris for that) which helped you to order some crispy chicken and fries.

You put everything on a plate and brought it to the couch where you had prepared your little nestle (which meant tons of pillows and a huge fluffy blanket that surprisingly you found in Chris’s room). You looked at your work proudly, satisfied with the outcome, before finally plopping on the couch.

For a moment, you scrolled through a very long selection of movies, trying to figure out what was your mood for the night. You glanced to the side, through the windows; it was already late and dark outside, rain pouring. You switched the light off, welcoming the darkness.

A good horror movie sounded perfect. You went for Conjuring 2; no matter how many times you had watched this movie, it still gave you the creeps and you loved it.

Completely immersed in the movie you didn’t notice Chris’s presence, not like it was the first time either. Except this time, the moment he switched the light on, you screamed, almost throwing the plate from your laps.

“Bloody hell!” You put your hand over your chest, your heart ready to jump out of it.

“Hi?” He said half sorry half trying to hold back his laugh.

“I think, I won’t survive living with you.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

You stuck your tongue in response. Yes, very adult of you.

Chris shook his head, smiling fondly at your antics. “Mind if I join you after a shower?”

“Sure. There’s some chicken left. Fries, not so much, sorry.”

“Chicken it is then.”

But by the time Chris came back you managed to prepare some additional dishes to satisfy his hunger. He came back wearing black sweat pants and a white t-shirt. His hair still completely wet, in fact some water was still dripping from his head to his neck, attracted your attention to the point you forgot all about the movie. Nobody should be allowed to look that good in sweatpants, but we were talking about Chris, he made everything look good on him.

You sighed to yourself and pulled the blanket closer to your face, wishing it could swallow you whole, wishing to hide the unbearable attraction. You didn’t know how long you could keep this up. The two of you kept flirting, there was no other way to describe your banter, your closeness.

Chris took his place beside you and the moment his eyes landed on the TV; he regretted his decision. He slowly turned his head to you, ready to give any valid or not excuse if it could save him from a horror movie.

“Why are you hiding?” He asked surprised that you would be hiding when you were the one to choose the movie. “Is it that scary?”

You lowered the blanket for a short moment, revealing only half of your face – you regretted it instantly. Nope, he still looked too good and you still wanted to grab his face and kiss him.

“I-No. I mean-“ You cursed yourself for sounding so unsure. You cleared your throat and removed the blanket from you. “It’s scary but no, I’m not hiding because of the movie.”

Chris tilted his head, curious. “No? Then why?”

There was no escape from the truth. You jumped from the couch and pointed an angry finger at him. “Because of you!” Still very adult of you. You cursed yourself for losing your composure whenever this man was around and so close to you.

“Me?”

“Yes you. You’re making things extremely difficult for me!” And hot, but you refrained from saying it.

Chris had to muffle his laugh but did a poor job at it which obviously made you only angrier.

“Are you laughing at me, right now?”

“Sorry.” He really couldn’t hold it as he burst into laughter.

You grabbed the closest pillow and hit him with it, once, twice, until Chris grabbed your arm and pulled you too hard – you fell right onto his laps. With a pretty smile on his face, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, not letting you any chance to escape from his grip. Not like you wanted anyway.

“I’m sorry, you’re just too cute.” He apologized, “As for me being a problem-“

You cut him right before he could finish his thought. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Wha-“ He stopped, cleared his throat and then looked more seriously (or not) at you. “Is it working?”

Just like that you completely relaxed in his arms and laughed. “Does it work? I’m that close to a mental breakdown because of you!”

▾▾▾

The day you asked Chris for help, you knew it wouldn’t be easy, not for him and not for you. Bringing down your father wouldn’t be that simple, no matter how powerful and resourceful Chris was. And yet, you hoped. But days turned into weeks and slowly you were losing your mind. Even when you lived with your father, you still could go out, meet with Soojin and have some fun, but living with Chris wasn’t all that thrilling.

Yes, you enjoyed the few moments you had together (you did more than enjoyed) but half of the time you were left alone in this huge flat and you were getting bored. Really bored. You needed fresh air, you needed to meet people. Even if it meant putting yourself in danger.

Against your better judgment, you decided enough was enough – you left the safety of Chris’s place.

There wasn’t a place you particularly wanted to visit, or something you wanted to do. No, just being outside, hearing the usually annoying noises of the city was enough to make you feel alive and free.

As you walked down the street, you let a sigh of pure satisfaction out. The weather was lovely; a vivid blue sky, a soft breeze, it was perfect. You could say it was one of those perfect days.

Your spirits brightened, nothing and nobody could stop you from enjoying your little trip in town, by yourself, with your father’s money. Obviously, you knew that spending his money would warn him about your whereabouts but it didn’t really matter considering he already knew you were involved with Chris. So, why not have some fun?

▾▾▾

You went from one store to another, buying yourself clothes you absolutely didn’t need, clothes that costed more than it should be allowed to. But did you care? Absolutely not. Was it worth it? Definitely.

Your moment of fun, however, was interrupted by a phone call you were waiting for. There was no way Chris would have left you alone at his place without thinking that one day or another you would be tired of waiting – he expected you to leave and he needed to make sure he could track you.

“Please tell me you’re not that dumb.” Came his voice, harsh and dark and filled with anger.

You bet anybody would cower in fear before him just at the sound of his voice. You? You were feeling a bit rebellious and daring. “Hello to you too, darling. I’m fine and you?”

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, Y/N?” Chris growled, unable to hold back.

“I’m doing some very deserved shopping, why?”

Chris chose not to answer to that, he was simmering with anger and a bit of worry (but he wouldn’t admit it out loud). “You’re not making it easy for me.”

“Do you want me to apologize for that?” You realized that to him, you probably sounded ungrateful and maybe like a brat.

“I want you to go back to my place.”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

“Y/N, please.”

“Listen, give me at least one more hour. I need it.” Compromising seemed like the best option. You weren’t ready to go back to his place yet and he clearly wouldn’t leave you alone.

“No. Get back.”

“No? Come on, Chris. Just one hour!”

Chris completely ignored your plea. “Where are you?”

Your irritation flared. How dare he be so unreasonable? Why couldn’t he understand your feelings? “None of your business.”

“Oh Y/N, you are my damn business. I agreed to help you and right now you’re making things extremely difficult.”

It appeared that both you and Chris had one (annoying) thing in common: you were both extremely stubborn. You didn’t know to what length he would go to get you back, but it also meant he didn’t know how unreasonable you could actually get.

“Tell me where you are, I’m sending Jisung.”

“Nope.” With that you hung up on him.

▾▾▾

If Chris would have accepted your terms, you would have complied. You would have gone back after one more hour outside. Instead, you found yourself walking some more, grabbing some snacks on your way before deciding that having an ice-coffee would be actually nice.

You waited for your order, watching as the pretty brunette prepared it for you.

“Here you go.” She handed you your drink with a smile.

You grabbed your drink, turned around, ready to leave – your face turned pale. When Chris told you he would send Jisung, you knew he would do it with or without your consent, whether you told him where you were or not. But apparently, since you weren’t playing by his rules, he decided that sending Minho, the man who seemed to hate your guts, was the most appropriated choice. The best punishment.

Your body went cold with dread as you stared at a very unpleased man. He had his hands in his pockets, looking almost relaxed but you swore his eyes were burning with anger and probably some hatred too.

Running away was tempting but would do you no good. There was a reason Chris had sent Minho – you bet he was good at what he did which meant you had no chance at escaping him. Trying to win him over with your natural charms would have been nice, but sadly Minho wanted nothing to do with you.

You decided that being yourself was the only thing you could do which probably would annoy him too. “Hello Minho. Why so grumpy?”

Minho considered for a moment that knocking you down would resolve all his problems, but sadly it would make Chris incredibly pissed too and dealing with a pissed Chris was not on his to-do list. “Why? Maybe, because I had to go looking for a spoiled little girl who decided to throw a tantrum?”

A vein popped out in your neck at the mention of ‘spoiled little girl’, he sure knew how to push your buttons, but you refused to show him how much his comment actually affected you. You refused to let him win. Rather than showing your true emotions, you simply took a sip of your drink, looking as unbothered as you could muster. “How rude. What a bitch.”

“You do realize that I’m getting you back?”

“No, you’re not.” He obviously was, you weren’t naïve to believe you could avoid him.

Minho tried to still his rage but you were making it hard. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Chris could take so much risks just for the sake of one woman. A woman who was their enemy. Minho just couldn’t accept that easily that you were so willing to give up on your life.

Sadly for him, it didn’t matter what he wanted or what he thought. He had a job. A damn hard job. There was no way he could bring you back home without a fight, without attracting any more unwanted attention on you two.

“I’m bringing you back whether you like it or not. We can do this the hard way or the easy way. Choose.”

Daring, you took a step closer, looking straight into his eyes.

“Do your worst, pretty boy.” You smirked as you almost purred your words.

What a mistake. Big, big mistake.

You realized a little too late how serious Minho was about doing it the hard way. With a swift move, he had you thrown over his shoulder, making you shriek and drop your drink.

“Minho! Put me down!” You hit his back in hope he would drop you down but he didn’t budge. “Minho!”

“Shut up.” With that he slapped your ass for good measure which clearly did it work: you stopped talking and fighting.

Boy, you were in trouble.

▾▾▾

Minho was the worst company you could ever dream of. The moment he got you back to Chris’s place, he dropped you right on your bed, gave you a death glare, promising you a slow death if you dared to move, and left you alone. You regretted for a short moment not agreeing to Chris’s demand in the first place because clearly dealing with Jisung would have been more pleasant than dealing with a very grumpy and upset Minho.

But was Minho really the one you should be scared of? Probably not. You dreaded the moment you would have to face Chris. You weren’t completely scared but you didn’t want him to be upset with you, you wanted him to understand your point of view and how you felt.

After one hour of sulking in your room, your stomach grumbled, reminding you that despite all the excitement of this afternoon, you didn’t get yourself a proper meal. You left your room, convinced that Minho had left. Another mistake on your part.

The moment you got in the kitchen, you realized how little you knew about Minho. Yes, he was frowning and throwing daggers at you every single time. Yes, he looked like he would murder you in your sleep. And yet, despite being deeply annoyed with your attitude, you found him in the kitchen, cooking and looking like he fully belonged to the place. What an odd thing to witness, you told yourself.

Apparently, one of Minho’s talents was to have eyes behind his head. You did your best not to make any sound and yet he somehow knew you were lurking. “Done with sulking?”

“I- I wasn’t sulking!” You definitely were.

Minho ignored your blatant lie and glanced over his shoulder. “Take a seat. I bet you’re hungry.”

You were, a lot and you should be grateful that he cooked for you, but the need to fight him was just too strong. “Are you going to poison me?”

Minho actually paused. You were clearly joking but you weren’t far from the truth. “Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t waste my precious poison on you. Not yet at least.”

“Noted. Understood. Please, don’t kill me.”

He chuckled. “I’ll think about it.”

The end was nearing, it had to be. Here you were joking with Minho, the person who hated your guts and the person you wanted to avoid at all cost for the sake of your sanity. You expected him to be mean to you, to snap at you, but no, he took you completely off guard by being nice. There was definitely something wrong.

“Should I worry that you’re being nice to me?” You asked, unable to refrain yourself.

Minho didn’t answer right away. He put a plate with food before you and then sat across from you, eying you. “Let’s say that cooking is a way for me to calm down.” Minho contemplated the idea of being honest with you. His opinion of you didn’t change, but while cooking he pondered about your little escapade. He put himself in your shoes and realized that he would have lost his mind too if he had to stay alone for so long. “I understand why you left. I would have done the same.”

That was pleasantly unexpected. “Thank you, I guess.”

“However, you should worry about Chris. He doesn’t get angry easily but when he does,” Minho looked at you, feeling sorry which worried you a little. “Let’s say I don’t want to witness it.”

You rubbed your temples trying to sooth the beginning of a headache. Minho’s warning about Chris didn’t come out as a surprise, from the time you had spent together, you had an insight into his personality. Did it scare you? Not really, but it did worry you. You wanted to avoid a fight with him, if you could.

“I’ll be fine.”

▾▾▾

Minho left once he received a message from Chris. Instead of feeling relieved that Minho was finally leaving and Chris would soon be home, you found yourself wishing for Minho to stay, for moral support.

Just in case Chris was still in bad mood, you chose to wait in the safety of your room. Maybe if he didn’t see you waiting for him, you could avoid a fight. Maybe he would think you were sleeping.

You were wrong. The moment Chris got home; you heard his footsteps getting dangerously closer to your room. Clearly, you couldn’t avoid him in his own home. But you didn’t let yourself worry about it; you were strong enough to face him. You told yourself at least.

With a book in your hands, you laid in your bed, unbothered, from outside. Inside? You were screaming and shaking.

Chris didn’t knock, he didn’t bother which gave away his mood. He stood by the door, watching you too calm for his liking.

“Hello Y/N.” He finally said, voice awfully calm.

You glanced from your book, pretending that there was absolutely nothing wrong, and smiled. “Hi you. How was your day?”

Chris had to give it to you, you were really something. He knew you were fearless and strong and would not cower so easily before anyone, him included, but it didn’t mean your behavior didn’t piss him off. He swallowed down his frustration, he had to if he wanted to have a proper conversation with you.

“You know,” Chris started walking towards your bed, undoing his tie in the process. “I’m trying really hard right now not to snap at you.”

“Effort appreciated.” You closed your book, not that you were really reading it anyway, and stared back with just as much intensity. “You’re angry.”

Against better judgement, you crawled to the edge of the bed where he stood. You sat with your hands on your knees, waiting for him to vent, to say everything he thought about you, about how spoiled you are. But he said none of that.

“Are you ready to talk or are we going to fight?” You asked

You hoped you could avoid a fight, especially with him. Considering how stubborn the two of you were, you weren’t sure a fight would lead to anything good. Chris, apparently, thought the same thing as he let a tired and long sigh out. He pulled at his tie and took it completely off before sitting beside you on the bed.

“I don’t want to fight.” He admitted, “But I’m still pretty pissed at what you did.”

You could understand why he was pissed, in his shoes you would have been pissed too, but you still hoped he could understand your point of view too. You reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I really am. But I also need you to understand why I had to get out of this place.”

Chris squeezed your hand back and closed his eyes, trying to get his emotions under control. “I guess; I should apologize too. I didn’t realize how hard it was for you.”

“Let Jisung come with me next time.” You suggested. There was no way Chris would accept leaving you alone, exposed to danger, but if someone strong enough was with you, it was a different story. “Or Minho.”

Chris quirked a brow at the mention of Minho. He knew how you felt about the man and he definitely knew Minho’s opinion of you too. “Minho? Really?”

You chuckled at his surprise. Of course, he would. But after the little chat with Minho, you realized he wasn’t that bad – you could actually picture yourself getting along with him, given times. “I know. Shocking, right?”

“Yeah. I thought you hated him.”

“We had a chat and kind of bonded?”

Chris shook his head, amused with the outcome. “You being comfortable with Jisung is already alarming. But now Minho?”

“Oh come on, we’re not that bad!” Well, you could definitely see why you and Jisung being a team bothered Chris; the two of you were troublemakers and Jisung would choose your side without batting an eye.

“You and Minho? Terrifying.”

▾▾▾

For some reasons (you imagined it had everything to do with your little incident), Chris chose to work from home for the time being. A part of you was delighted, you didn’t feel so lonely anymore. On the other hand, Chris had been a tease. Not touching you was one thing, walking around shirtless was a whole other level of torture for you.

Just like today. He worked from the living room, once more shirtless, messy hair, looking like a damn meal that you wished you could devour. There was nothing you could do except stare at him from your seat, admiring his perfect, strong body. You watched as he would frown at the screen (and managing to look adorable while doing so), as he would rake his fingers through his hair in frustration.

With those thoughts came a realization.

‘Damn. I think it’s safe to say I like him.’ You thought

It wasn’t supposed to happen. Of course, it wasn’t a first for you, but considering the situation, you didn’t think it was appropriate. With a long sigh, you left your spot and went to the kitchen to get yourself a very much needed drink. Didn’t matter that it was only eleven in the morning.

Right before you could grab the bottle, you felt a warm presence behind your back. Chris reached for a bottle of water, half trapping you between his warm chest and the fridge. You gulped nervously, feeling his warm breath caress your nape. He nudged your neck with his nose, inhaling sharply.

“Did you use my shower gel?”

“No.” Yes. But really, you hadn’t done it on purpose; you were sleepy and grabbed without thinking and now you smelled like him which clearly was driving you crazy and had an effect on him too.

He clicked his tongue at your lie.

“Since you already smell like me, should I mark you?” He whispered as his lips brushed your ear.

This man was testing your patience and your self-control which surprisingly you still had. But not for long. All he had to do was put his lips on you and you would melt in his arms.

Chris pulled away the moment he got the bottle and went back to his business as if nothing had happened.

The little shit.

You took a deep breath, slapped your cheeks for good measure and then followed his steps. “Ok, that’s enough! Put a shirt on!”

Chris glanced at you and chuckled at your behavior. You tried to look as stern as possible with your hands crossed over your chest, frowning at him.

“Now, why would I do that?”

“For my sanity.”

Chris laughed at that. And did not put a shirt on.

▾▾▾

You got woken up in the middle of the night because it was getting particularly noisy which was odd. Last time you checked, there was only Chris and you, but you swore you heard other voices and rather familiar ones. You contemplated the idea of staying in bed, after all whatever was going on outside your room was none of your business. But could you really resist to your curiosity? Not really.

On tip toes you walked through the hall, following the yelling. It wasn’t hard to find the source; it came from Chris’s office. The door was half-opened but you hesitated. You weren’t sure how any of them would react to your presence, to you getting involved in their business. Even if you were Chris’s guest and someone who he swore to protect, you were still his enemy’s daughter.

“I’m going to fucking kill him!” Chris growled and banged his fist on the table.

Minho snorted, “Get in the line, dude.” Apparently, he too had grudges.

“Well look at that.” A sinister chuckle echoed right behind you. “What do we have here?”

Your blood froze in your vein as you felt a gun pointed right at your head. Whoever was standing behind you was clearly not taking it lightly to your eavesdropping. You gulped nervously and tried not to move, not to breath.

The man pushed the door with his feet and then forced you to get inside - all eyes on you. Nobody seemed surprised to see you walking inside. You smiled sheepishly at the men. “Hi Ji. Hi Minho.” Then you looked at Chris, silently apologizing. He only shook his head.

“I guess this is the infamous Y/N.” The man behind you finally dropped the gun and faced you. “You don’t look like Rick.”

You scoffed at his words. “Thank God! Have you seen his face?” You were indeed very lucky. You had inherited everything from your mom, your face, your body, your character. “I took after my mom.”

There was a moment of silence and you wondered what bothered them in your response. The man, however, cut short to your thoughts. He outstretched his hand for you to shake and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Changbin.”

Without his gun pointed at you, he looked way more charming. You shook his hand, delighted to meet another of Chris’s family member. Changbin looked quite different from Jisung or Minho, big strong muscles, eyes dark until he smiled, then it was all about mischief.

You chose to sit beside Jisung who without hesitation pulled your chair closer to him, choosing to ignore Chris’s displeased gaze.

“Why aren’t you wearing the pretty nightdress?” Jisung whispered to your ear, smiling wickedly at you.

It amazed you how easily Jisung could change the subject and forget about the current situation. You shook your head, amused. “You would have loved that, wouldn’t you?”

He playfully wiggled his brows in response.

“Can you guys stop and reconcentrate on our current problem?” Minho scolded the two of you, giving you the stinky eye.

“What happened?” You asked

It was unlikely they would actually share this information with you, but a girl could hope. There wasn’t much you could do anyway, but maybe you could give advices.

Chris took you by surprise by actually answering your question. “There was a fire, a criminal one, at one of the buildings I own. Five people died.”

You put a hand over your mouth to muffle a gasp.

“We checked the cameras and saw some suspicious men.” Jisung added. He took his phone out of his pocket and showed you one short video.

Your initial shock was replaced with confusion and a frown. The video was dark and you could barely see but Jisung zoomed on the image, showing one man in particular. One man you had seen a few times at your house. Incredulous, you looked at Chris. “My father is behind the fire?”

“Yes.” He didn’t try to deny it.

“Please, tell me you’re planning to fight back.”

Chris didn’t answer but his eyes promised you your father would pay for it. Dearly.

▾▾▾

Going to a club like any normal person was a foreign concept to you. Living the life you had, meant you didn’t get many chances to go clubbing, in fact it happened only once and you could barely remember the night. Tonight, however, was different.

The club was loud, crowded and yet with very chic vibe which made sense considering it was Chris’s.

Jisung brought you to Chris’s table who welcomed you with a set of shots, reminding you of your first meeting.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” You teased but accepted the challenge. You grabbed the first shot and emptied it in one go.

“I’m joining in.” Jisung was way too eager to get wasted.

Chris shook his head but didn’t try to stop his friend. He knew better than to try. “I’m not trying to get you drunk.” He then told you and took your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. “I want you to enjoy the night. Drink to your heart, dance, do whatever you want. This place is safe.”

To say that your heart melted a little at his words would be an understatement. Your heart throbbed with joy, making you a little daring. You leaned closer to Chris and placed a kiss right in the corner of his lips. “Thank you.”

“I need something stronger if I have to deal with that.” Jisung groaned to himself.

▾▾▾

You did exactly what Chris had suggested. You drank more than you should have, you danced among the people on the dance floor, body buzzing with energy, feeling so alive, so free. It felt incredible as if your life had just begun.

With all the dancing, you completely lost track of time. You didn’t know for how long you had been dancing and you didn’t really care. You changed your dance partners a few times. Chris humored you by dancing for a moment with you but quickly gave up. Jisung had joined you too, just as relaxed and probably drunk as you.

Another handsome man joined Jisung, whispering to his ear as his eyes were locked on you. You quirked a brow and wondered if he was another of Chris’s close circle. If he was, it made you question whether Chris was hiring people based on their looks. How else could you explain that all of his friends were all that good looking?

Jisung outstretched his hand and you took it. He pulled you towards them with too much strength, making you stumble and fall right into his friend’s arms.

“Hi there.” He laughed and helped you to recover your composure. “I’m Hyunjin.”

Since you were that close to him, you took a moment to admire his face. Long brown hair, model-like face and that mole under his eye made him somehow even more captivating. “How come you’re that pretty.” Then you looked at Jisung, feeling incredibly offended. “How come all of you are that pretty?”

The two men laughed at your question but couldn’t deny they were pleased too.

“You fit just fine then.” Hyunjin smiled.

▾▾▾

You stumbled out of the bathroom, feeling that maybe it was finally time to find Chris and ask him to bring you home. You had drunk more than enough and your feet were killing you with all the dancing. Before you could do that, a man grabbed your hand and pulled you back to the dark hall.

“Hi Y/N.”

You blinked once, twice, your drunken brain slowly proceeding the sight before you.

Ren.

Ren was in the club. Ren had found you and cornered you. Once you fully realized he wasn’t just a hallucination, you sobered up right away.

“What are you doing here?” A tiny part of you was glad seeing him. You wondered what your father had done to him for letting you escape so easily; seeing him safe and sound brought relief. But being alone with him worried you.

“You know damn well why I’m here.” He snapped, raising his voice. Ren never lost his patience with you. He never rose his voice at you. And yet.

“I’m not going back.”

You pushed him with all your remaining strength to get him out of your way. He didn’t budge. At all. Instead, he pushed you against the wall and trapped you with his hands at each side of your head.

“Let’s be realistic Y/N.” He sounded cold, bringing the memory of one particular night, back to your mind. A memory you wished you could forget forever. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me from bringing you back.”

“And I believe you have overstayed your welcome.” Chris’s voice forced Ren to put space between the two of you. His hand flied to his gun just in case he needed it.

Chris’s eyes went back and forth between you and Ren, analyzing the situation, calculating.

“Leave.” Chris ordered, leaving no room for discussion.

Knowing Ren, you didn’t expect him to obey but he did. Maybe he realized there was nothing he could do with Chris around. Worse yet, he was joined by Hyunjin who looked just as pissed with Ren’s presence.

Ren spared you one last look before leaving, bumping into Hyunjin’s shoulder on purpose.

“Make sure he doesn’t try anything stupid.” Chris told Hyunjin.

“You have Jisung for that.”

“Hyunjin.”

“Fine! Fine!”

With Hyunjin gone, it left the two of you alone. All this time you had kept your mouth shut, simply because you were too stunned to speak. Chris pulled you into his arms and only when you felt him against you, you realized you were shaking.

“I shouldn’t have brought you here. I’m sorry.”

Despite your state, you managed to find your voice. “Don’t. I’m glad you did.”

▾▾▾

You thought you had seen Chris angry before. You were wrong.

That night, he came back from work pissed as hell, talking (not to say yelling) on the phone and completely ignoring your existence. You watched him from the coach, trying to figure out what was wrong and what you could do to make it better. But he didn’t give you any chance; he walked right to his office and slammed the door behind him.

It was a sight you weren’t used to and yet, instead of feeling intimidated, you were curious. You had no intention on eavesdropping but considering how loud he was talking on the phone, you heard him even with the door closed.

“I don’t give a fuck! Find him.” You heard Chris through the door, sounding even angrier than before, if possible.

It wasn’t your business, you told yourself but you worried. You grabbed your phone and hesitated. Asking Jisung would be the easiest, but would he have the answer? From what you gathered, despite being extremely close to Chris, the one who knew everything wasn’t him. Minho on the other hand was the real deal.

You lied.

Obviously.

Maybe you would come to regret it and remember way too late Minho’s attempt at warning you – but you couldn’t stop yourself from walking towards his door. It wasn’t hard to imagine how much Chris blamed himself for the loss but it wasn’t completely fair either. He was a good man, in your opinion, and he tried to do his best every time, whatever happened couldn’t be his fault, no matter what he thought.

By the time you got to the door, the yelling had stopped. You knocked, knowing all too well that there was no chance he would let you in. You bit on your lips and hesitated. Could you actually handle him right now? Maybe not but you couldn’t stop yourself. You took a deep breath and let yourself in.

Chris sat by his desk in the dark, the only source of light coming from outside illuminated his body. He looked both tensed and tired, his head resting between his hands.

“Chris?” You tried; your voice weaker than you intended.

You thought he didn’t hear you but the moment you took another step towards him, he snapped.

“Leave.” He ordered without even looking at you, in fear that if he saw you, he would say something he could potentially regret later.

Did you obey? Of course not.

“I’m not leaving.” You replied stubbornly.

Chris groaned in response. He didn’t want to see you or talk to you when he was so damn angry; he would look for any chance to start a fight if it meant he could get rid of all those feelings. But he didn’t want to fight with you, you didn’t deserve all the mean things he could say without meaning any of it. Despite better judgment, and because you were too stubborn, he finally looked your way. Even in the darkness, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. Your body knew that right now, the man before you was dangerous, but your heart knew better.

“Why can’t you listen for once?” He was quickly losing his patience. Any other day, he would have played along and let you have your way, tonight, however, he wished to be left alone, to deal with his guilt and rage.

Chris jumped out of his chair, so fast it fell on the floor with a loud noise, startling you. “Get the fuck out.”

You shook your head, refusing again.

“Y/N, I swear to god-“ He clenched his fist and inhaled sharply. He had little to no control left and you were making things impossibly hard.

You walked faster to get to him before he could say anything else. You stood inches from him. It pained you to see him this way, because despite his anger, you could feel his pain and regret.

“Don’t push me away.” You pleaded as you reached for him. You expected him to reject you but he didn’t. He let you put your hand on his shoulder and you gave it a gentle, comforting squeeze. “I know there’s nothing I can do to help you, but I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

You took the final steps between you two before finally wrapping your arms tightly around him and pulling him to you. To your surprise, Chris didn’t resist, instead, he fully buried his head in the crook of your neck, shaking in your arms.

Your heart melted at the sight. He was no longer the scary boss, but just a wounded man. You ran your fingers through his locks to sooth him. “I’m here for you, if you need me.”

Without fully realizing it, your words unsettled Chris. He wasn’t used to people confronting him whenever he was angry, whenever he just wanted to punch someone to relieve his pain and anger. But you? You showed him compassion and offered a shoulder to cry on if he needed – for that, he was grateful.

He pulled away from your arms only to get a good look at your face. Such a pretty face. He gently cupped your face, his thumb stroking your cheek lovingly, hoping to convey his feelings without needing to speak. He didn’t trust himself. Not yet. And you understood it. You simply closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, savoring the moment.

“You’re too good, Y/N.” He whispered, “I don’t deserve it.”

Your only response was to plant a kiss on the hand that was touching your face.

Chris observed your every move, your every breath, memorizing every inch of your face, every mole and the tiny scars that he had never noticed before. As you opened your eyes to look back at him, he inhaled sharply, completely bewitched by your beautiful eyes, drowning in them. You didn’t speak but the silence and your gaze spoke louder.

“Y/N.” He called for you without even fully realizing it. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to keep you with him forever, even once you reached your common goal.

He pressed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, savoring the moment, to think about what he should or shouldn’t do. But really, how could he resist you any more?

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered

Your reply came in the form of a gentle press of your lips against his. You didn’t hesitate, but seeing how this moment was intimate and fragile, you didn’t want to rush, you didn’t want to unleash all your feelings at once. And he understood.

Chris’s lips felt divine. Just like the kiss. It was slow and sweet and gentle and filled with unspoken promises.

#stray kids #stray kids smut #bangchan #stray kids fic #stray kids x reader #bangchan x reader #felix #felix x reader #bang chan smut #give it to me

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dem-obscure-imagines · 3 months

Text

You're So Timeless | Vol. 1

Steve Rogers x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Summary: In 1943, Steve Rogers was visited by his soulmate. He fell hard. Problem is, she was from the future and didn’t stick around for long. Now, in the twenty-first century, he finally found her again, except this version of her hasn’t met him yet and won’t know he’s her soulmate for another year.

Note: So this is a combination of my other two Steve Rogers soulmate AU fics, but lengthened and fleshed out into a full fic. I was literally possessed to write this. I have no other explanation. I really like how it came out. I gave this one chapter headings (I am also going to post it to Ao3) and yes some are Taylor Swift titles. Sorry about that. It takes place roughly around the time Civil War would, but we have managed to avoid the war this time around. I also moved some other characters up the timeline because I think they’re neat and I said so. Without further ado, please enjoy my new Magnum Opus.

Also Tumblr made me split it into two parts. Part 2 linked HERE and also at the end of the post.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/injuries, soulmate au, tons of mutual pining, kind of a slowburn but in reverse. Light angst, but a happy ending.

Word Count: 38.7k total (I am not sorry)

Reader Is: Enhanced (forcefields), 24 years old, female

The End

Time.

It was a fickle thing. In the blink of an eye, a year had passed. A mere twelve months earlier, you had been living a different life. The only life you had been responsible for was your own. And your plants, but…they never seemed to last that long under your care. Now, everything was different.

It was the day before your birthday. Your twenty-fifth birthday, which, in the world you lived in, meant that tomorrow, a name would appear on your wrist, the name of your soulmate. It had been stressing you out all day, the weight of tomorrow and everything it meant.

It was late, and you were exhausted from a day of overthinking. The longer you stayed up, the longer you delayed the inevitable reveal, and thinking about it too much made you nervous, so you just decided to get to sleep sooner than later.

It was once you were just about to climb into bed that there was a knock at your door.

“It’s open!” You called. The door opened slowly, revealing Steve, who was leaning in your doorway, arms crossed, that pensive look in his blue eyes. “Oh, hey.”

“Hi.” He chuckled. He seemed nervous, although you weren’t sure why.

“Everything alright, Steve?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I actually came in here to check on you. Wanda said you were…quiet.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” You hugged your arms around your frame and bit your lip, looking up at the super soldier standing in front of you. “Just…I don’t know. I’ve been looking forward to tomorrow for my entire life, but…now that it’s here, I’m so scared.”

“Hey, come here.” He said, pulling you to him, strong arms wrapped around you, as if he could protect you from the future itself.

“I don’t know what to do…”

“(Y/N), whoever they are, they are incredibly, incredibly lucky. You don’t need to worry about anything. It’ll all work out. It always does.” He said it like he was certain. Like somehow he knew what would happen in the morning when suddenly your life was turned on its head and you had to venture out to find your other half.

Since you’d met him, Steve wore a leather band around his wrist, covering his soulmate’s name. You’d figured he must have met them in the forties and…maybe they hadn’t made it long enough to see him come out of the ice. But you didn’t ask about it. You never dared to put that question into words. He’d been through enough heartbreak already.

“What if they don’t like me…?”

He scoffed, holding you tighter. “That’s impossible. They’re going to love you. So much. I promise.”

“And…and we’ll still be f-friends?”

Steve pulled away, looking down at you, a hand very carefully touching your cheek. “Of course we will still be friends. Nothing is ever going to change that. I promise.”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Good. Thank you, Steve. For everything.”

He gently wiped the tear away, the pad of his thumb warm. Once he was sure you were okay, he let go, looking at you with that knowing sparkle in his eye once more. He took a little extra time to look at the shirt you were wearing, the Star Wars tee you’d had since high school. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You agreed.

“And happy birthday, (Y/N).”

We’ll Meet Again

“Ma’am? Are you alright? Ma’am?” The voice sounded far away. You were pretty sure you were still dreaming. You opened your eyes slowly and immediately became aware of the pounding pain in your head.

“Ow, oh my God.” You reached up and felt there, but it didn’t feel like you were bleeding or anything.

“Ma’am?”

You froze for a second, slowly looking up at the figure standing above you, confusion written all over his familiar features. It took you a long moment to put the pieces together. You were on a porch somewhere in what appeared to be New York, but it was…different. A lot different than the parts of the city you knew. Alright, it had to be a dream.

You looked up at the man standing above you and did a double-take. But no, it was him. It was a tiny, frail version of Steve. Your eyebrows furrowed and you sat up slowly, staring at him for a long moment before whispering, “Steve?”

His mouth opened and then shut again and he made a face of confusion, like he was trying to place where he knew you from, but he didn’t know you yet, and wouldn’t know you for several more years, to say the least. “Do I know you?”

“It’s complicated.” You exhaled. “Can we go inside? You’re going to need to sit down for this.”

Dumbfounded, Steve nodded and you stood up from the porch, only to find that he was at your eye level when you did. Weird. He led you into the small apartment and you looked around. It was quaint. There was an easel in the corner of the room and…Bucky Barnes sitting on the couch? You stared at him for a good, long moment, a shiver running down your spine.

“Who’s the dame?” He read your shirt. “What is Star…Wars…?”

“About to find that out myself.” He chuckled, leading you into the living room. “Buck, could you give us a minute?”

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” Bucky got up and walked to the other half of their tiny two-bedroom.

You sat down on the couch and so did he. The silence was thick. You thought for several moments. You weren’t quite sure how you had ended up in the 1940s. You looked down at your hands and it was then that your gaze finally landed on the writing on your wrist. And then everything made sense.

“What’s the date today?”

“It’s July 4th, why?”

“July 4th…” You whispered. “What, 1943?”

You could see the wheels turning behind his eyes before he replied, “Yes ma’am.”

“Well, happy birthday, first of all. And second of all…” You held up your wrist so he could read it. Steve’s eyes went wide and he stared at the three words written neatly on your skin in his own handwriting.

Steven Grant Rogers.

“You’re my…” He looked at you for a long time, his eyes wide. He hastily undid the cuff around his wrist and held it out to you, your own name written there. He ran a finger across the letters, as if to prove they were really there.

“I’m your soulmate.” You said certainly.

It hit you like a truck, then. The weird look on your Steve’s face, the way he was so certain that everything would work out. It was because he had already lived through this. And that meant that in all the time he’d known you, he’d been hiding his mark not because his soulmate had died, but instead because you were his soulmate and you didn’t know it yet.

Your entire year of friendship, of memories, of roadtrips and missions and movie marathons…he had known the whole time. And that look in his eyes wasn’t just his protective side coming out. It was love. It had been love the whole time.

Oh.

Steve exhaled a long, shaking breath, really taking you in. Once again, he had a million stars in his eyes. He let out a whispered, “Wow,” as tears began to form.

You came back down to earth. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, sniffling as a tear ran down his cheek. “I’ve just, I’ve got a lot of…health problems, so I wasn’t sure if I’d ever…meet you. And you’re here and you’re great and I just…I’m sorry.”

That brought tears to your eyes. “Oh, Steve…” You pulled him into your arms and he didn’t hesitate to surrender to your embrace, his arms wrapping tight around you and holding you close, head nestled into the crook of your neck. “Just breathe. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Always.

He took your advice, doing his best to avoid an asthma attack on what was shaping up to be the best day of his life. Once he finally caught his breath, he pulled away to look at your face again. “I have to ask…How did you know?”

“I don’t know if you can tell from these clothes,” you motioned down to the t-shirt and sweatpants you were wearing, “but I’m not from around here, exactly.”

“I kind of thought so, but I didn’t want to be rude.” He smiled softly. “Um, where are you from, then?”

“I’m from the future. Like…a while from now. It’s hard to explain why or how, and I’m not really sure how I got here, to be honest, but I’m glad I am.” You sighed, thumb grazing his cheek, wiping away his tears. He crooned at your touch. “I don’t know how long we have before I have to go back.”

“Am I there? Where you’re from?”

“You are. It’s complicated. We’re really good friends and…when I get back, I’m sure we’ll probably be even more than that.” You smiled, shaking your head. “I can’t believe I didn’t put the pieces together sooner.”

“(Y/N)?” Steve asked, trying out your name for the first time.

“Yeah?”

“Let me take you out today, show you a good time here before you have to go back.” He took your hand and carefully laced his fingers through your own, testing the weight of it, the feel of it.

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Not to eavesdrop, lovebirds — congratulations, by the way — but if you’re going to take her out, we’re going to need to find her some clothes that aren’t so…‘not from around here.’” Bucky leaned in the doorway.

“Yeah, I thought the same thing.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call one of my girls and we’ll get her squared away. Sit tight.”

“Thanks, Bucky.” You said, chuckling when his eyes widened after you addressed him by name. “I know you, too. From the, uh, future.”

“Weird…” Bucky decided.

“Long story?” Steve asked, studying the look on your face.

“Very.” You agreed. After staring at him for another long moment, you pulled him back into your arms again, exhaling a long breath before whispering, “Steve, I’m so glad it’s you…”

***

“Wow.” You stared at yourself in the mirror, studying the way Bucky’s, ahem, lady friend, had curled your hair, done your makeup. You did a little twirl and relished in the way the skirt of your dress twirled. It was navy blue, short ruffled sleeves with a flared skirt and buttons down the front. “I think it suits me.”

“I agree. Blue is a good color on you.” Steve was sitting in a chair at the edge of the room, absolutely enamored as he watched you. “Although, I’m sure they’re all good colors on you, doll.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “Thanks.”

“I mean it.” He stood up and walked to you, slipping one of his hands into each of yours and staring into your eyes, looking at the way you looked standing next to him in his reflection. His soulmate. The kind of girl people write poems about. “You look great.”

“I don’t look out of place?”

“No one is gonna think you’re a time traveler. Well, unless you tell them.” Bucky said. “Maybe don’t do that anymore.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it.” You chuckled and gave Steve’s hands a squeeze. “Where to first, soulmate?”

His cheeks reddened as soon as you said the word. “Well, I was thinking we could go to my favorite little diner down the street to grab something for lunch, and then maybe we could take a walk through the park, catch a movie, and then go out for drinks tonight?”

“What, you aren’t gonna take her dancing?” Bucky teased, ruffling Steve’s hair under a large hand. “Show the girl a good time?”

“I would if I didn’t have two left feet.” Steve chuckled, a sheepish smile on his face. He looked at you, waiting for some kind of response. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a great time, Steve.”

He smiled. “Good.”

The two of you left the apartment not long after that, and walked side by side towards the diner. Your hands were swinging in the space between you and your hand brushed Steve’s once, twice, a third time, and then you slipped your hand into his, intertwining your fingers.

You caught him smile out of the corner of your eye. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, of course it’s okay.” He grinned and chuckled to himself. “You can hold my hand as much as you want, doll.”

When the two of you finally got to the diner, a little bell rang over your heads and you got seated at a booth by the window. The two of you ordered drinks and you skimmed the menu while you waited.

“So, tell me about yourself.” You said, resting your chin against your fist and looking over at Steve. You studied the way his blue, blue eyes flicked up to your own and the blush that covered his cheeks shortly thereafter.

“You probably know a lot of it already.” He chuckled. “Unless we don’t talk a lot?”

“We talk quite a bit, but I still want to know about this you. Here and now.”

“I like art. Drawing and painting and stuff.” He said. “I haven’t had time to do much lately, but I’d like to get back into it.”

“See, that I didn’t know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know you were into art.”

“I could, uh, show you sometime.” He offered.

“I’d like that.” You smiled. “What else?”

“I like to read. I like going to Dodgers games with Bucky. One time he took me to Coney Island. I don’t like rollercoasters, but I liked playing the games. He wasted three whole dollars trying to win a teddy bear for a redhead named Dot.”

“Three whole dollars…” You chuckled. “Well you don’t have to worry about the rollercoasters too much, I can’t go upside down without throwing up.”

“That makes two of us. Enough about me, tell me about you.” Steve nudged, his hand slowly moving towards yours. “How do we know each other? When did we meet?”

“We’re…coworkers, I guess you could say. We met about a year back and now we live in the same building? I’m sorry for being so vague, I just—”

“Don’t want to give it away, yeah, I get it.” He nodded, understandingly.

“You took me under your wing as soon as I moved in and really made me feel welcome. You’re the one that brought me onto the team, actually.” You took a sip of your drink. “We’ve been through a lot together already, and I’m sure it’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Mmm…” Steve nodded. “I know I just met you, but I’m really glad you and I are close. Well, will be close.” He paused before chuckling and shaking his head. “There’s still some little voice in the back of my head telling me all of this is just some amazing dream.”

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it.” You chuckled, tucking a piece of curled hair back behind your ear. “I’ve…I’ve had a crush on you forever, Steve. I can’t believe this is happening.”

He stared at you, almost dumbfounded. “O-on me?”

“Yeah.” You agreed. You’d forgotten, you supposed, that Steve had had this phase, the self-depreciation, the insecurity. Your Steve, when complimented, was shy, sure, but you knew he understood what people were talking about. This Steve didn’t see it that way. Not yet. But it would be your job to use your one day with him to change that, to make your soulmate see that he was worthy of love, even self-love. “Yeah, of course on you, Steve. I can’t believe I get to have you.”

His cheeks reddened and he finally took the leap, taking your hand across the table, thumb grazing your knuckles with care. His blue eyes sparkled. “Funny. I was gonna say the same thing about you.”

***

Once the two of you were finished up at the diner, you took a walk through the park. It was gorgeous out, a bright, sunny, warm summer afternoon. Several couples were strolling down the paths, hand in hand, and you were one of them, your hand held tight in Steve’s, his thumb gently stroking the back of yours.

You went to the theater and caught a movie together. Luckily enough, they were showing the Wizard of Oz. Your current situation had you feeling like Dorothy in more ways than one. The movie had only come out four years earlier, which was definitely strange. Not to mention the fact that the tickets were only twenty-five cents, the popcorn a mere ten cents.

And then, once the movie was over and the sun was setting, you went to a bar, where Steve ordered each of you a drink. You took a sip of yours, something sweet, and smiled at him across the table.

“So, how’s your day been, birthday boy?” You asked coyly.

“The best I’ve had so far,” he replied, his eyes sparkling. The sparkle faded, however, when his expression grew somber. He hesitated, but then asked, “Okay, I have to know…How long do I have to wait to see you again?”

You exhaled a long sigh, biting your lip. If you told him the truth, he might ask questions you couldn’t tell him the answers to. And besides, the real answer would require some math. You didn’t know the specifics.

“I’ll be honest, Steve, it’s…it’s a pretty long time.” You thought for a long moment before continuing, “I…I can’t really tell you why. It’s all really complicated, and if I tell you too much, it might not happen the way it’s supposed to.”

“Oh…” Steve nodded and took a sip of his drink. Once he set down the glass, he reached across the table and took your hand. “Well, however long it is,” he looked straight into your eyes and a chill ran down your spine, “It’ll be worth it. Every second. I promise.”

You could have cried. “I hope so.”

“There you two are! I was wondering which bar you’d wandered into!” Bucky was, apparently, already slightly intoxicated as he approached you and Steve with a date of his own. “How was your day on the town, lovebirds?”

“Spectacular.” You replied. “I wish there was more time to soak it in.”

“New York sure is something, huh?” Bucky’s date asked, giggling innocently. If only she knew the half of it.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You laughed and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You guys wanna sit with us?” Steve asked.

“If you don’t mind too much, punk.” Bucky grinned.

Steve got up and switched sides of the booth so he was sitting next to you instead of across from you. You slid your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. He smiled, chuckling softly to himself as he gave your hand a squeeze.

“Did you give the lady her dance, Rogers?” Bucky asked, smirking.

“Not yet.” Steve chuckled. “We’ll see. The asthma makes it a bit difficult sometimes.”

“Never seems to stop you from getting into fights.” Bucky muttered, causing Steve’s cheeks to flush.

“Just wait until the band plays something slow,” Bucky’s date pointed out.

“There you go!” Bucky raised his glass to his lips. “Great idea, Maggie.”

“Glad to be of service.”

And so, the four of you chatted until the band started to play something sweet and slow. Steve looked at you for approval and you nodded. He led you out onto the floor with the other couples.

Steve blushed, flustered, and he looked at you before saying, “I don’t know how to do this.”

“It’s easy.” You promised, guiding one of his hands to your waist and holding the other. “That’s it. And then we just move to the music. You can twirl me around if you feel so inclined.”

“Alright.” He chuckled, swaying in time with you. “Hey, uh, (Y/N), I need you to know…I had a really, really great time today. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a soulmate and I’m so excited to spend the rest of my life with you someday, however far away that someday is.”

“I’m glad I met your expectations.” You smiled, tugging him a bit closer.

“No, you exceeded them. You’re better than anything I could have imagined. I’m so lucky.” He paused, and his expression fell a little. “I know I’m a lot. I have a lot of problems and they might complicate things sometimes, but…”

“Steve, you’re perfect.” You shook your head and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “The universe gave you to me for a reason and I’m so, so glad it did. You’re amazing. I can’t think of anyone better to spend the rest of my life with.”

He was quiet for a moment before whispering, “Can I please kiss you, doll?”

You leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, the music swelling around you as you guided his hands to your waist, cupping his cheeks to hold him close to you. When the moment had passed, you rested your nose against his, meeting his eyes and inhaling his scent, committing this version of him to memory before he was reduced to just that, a memory.

“Steve Rogers, I am so sorry you will not hear me say these words until after I go back tomorrow, but I love you. I have loved you for a very long time. And I know I will love you for the rest of my life.”

You spent the rest of the night together. Twirling across the dancefloor, talking, soaking each other in. But when you reached the front porch of the townhouse, Steve looked back down the steps to find you’d disappeared, leaving him with nothing but the memory of your lips, your laugh, your smile.

“You gonna be alright?” Bucky asked, a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know.” He replied, words swallowed up by the sounds of the night. “Just give me a minute, pal.”

Bucky nodded, solemn. “Take all the time you need.”

The Beginning

Steve remembered the day you’d met—for the second time, though he didn’t realize it right away—like it was tattooed on his brain. It was a few years after he’d come out of the ice and he had taken Tony’s advice to get out more, which had led him to the local mall.

It had been an uneventful day. He strolled around the perimeter, taking in the storefronts, studying the fashion, browsing the menu of a pretzel place, reading the posters on the exterior of the movie theater, the things that were coming out in the coming months. Nothing interested him in particular. He didn’t really care for war movies.

After a few quiet hours, his peaceful walk was interrupted by screams, people running away at top speed, which, of course, caused him to spring into action, assessing the situation. He ran towards the source of the chaos, scanning, scanning, until his eyes landed on the attacker, a guy with a flamethrower, aimed at a teenage theater employee. Steve hurdled over a trash can, moving people out of the way, directing them to safety and trying to put himself between himself and the mallgoers, but before he could, you did, hands out in front of you and what seemed to be an invisible shield poised there, redirecting the flames and protecting the movie theater employee that had nearly been caught in the crossfire.

A quick flick of your wrist knocked the attacker’s gun out of his hands and it slid across the floor to Steve’s feet. He chucked it into the fountain without a second thought, where it fizzled pathetically. The guy lunged at you with heavy metal gauntlets, and you dodged the first swing but caught the second in the face, falling backwards. When you landed, however ungracefully, you sent a blast of energy at the guy, knocking him over a plant and sprawling onto the tile floor.

While the guy was on the ground, Steve tackled him, wrenching the gauntlets off of his hands and chucking them away, too. Soon, the police arrived, apprehending the guy while mall security comforted the distressed mall patrons, ushering them to safety and medical attention.

You sat on a bench after, breathing heavy, a cut on your forehead. Steve walked over, interested in this superpowered rescuer, someone who wasn’t yet on the Avengers’ radar, but would most definitely be on the news the next day if the sheer amount of phone footage recorded was any indication.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad everyone is okay.” You told him, meeting his eyes.

He finally got a good look at you and froze, looking bewildered. A deer in headlights. “You’re…”

There you are, doll. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.

It was you. Of course it was you. Since the moment he’d been unfrozen, he’d been looking for you. His soulmate. The girl from the future that popped in on his twenty-fifth birthday, turned his whole life on its head, and then left without warning, hours after their first kiss. Back when he was five-foot-nothing with asthma and more medical conditions than he could even remember.

Back before he was anything.

And you’d loved him anyway. You’d given him the day of a lifetime and hope for not only a future, but for love. That someone could love him for him despite it all.

“I know.” You knew? “I…I don’t know what it is or…why I can do it. I’ve been like this since college.”

Your powers, you meant. You thought he was talking about your powers and not your name, which was burning a hole into his wrist beneath the thick leather band keeping it hidden.

“Right. Well, it’s…” He sighed, gathering his words, hiding the elation and pain behind a warm smile. “It’s a good thing you were here. I don’t have my shield on me.”

“Mine is built in.” You chuckled.

“You, uh…have a cut. On your forehead.”

“Oh, do I?” You reached up and found it with your fingers and they came away a bit bloody. “Shit.”

“Come on.” He offered you his hand and you took it, letting him lead you over to the counter of the theater. “Hi, do you have a first aid kit we could borrow?”

“Yeah, of course.” The girl at the counter said, rushing to grab it.

Steve patched you up with gentle hands, off in a corner on your own, in the room the theater used for birthday parties. Staring up at him, you finally realized the obvious. This was Captain America. And he was using a careful finger to spread a triple antibiotic ointment on your cut.

Play it cool, (Y/N).

“Do you do this often? The hero thing?” Steve asked, trying to sound somewhat indifferent. He couldn’t be, though. Not entirely. Not when it came to you.

“No.” You shrugged. “Haven’t had much opportunity, thankfully. I mean…I’d like to, I just didn’t know how to…get into it, I guess. Any email I sent to Stark or S.H.I.E.L.D. or whatever would end up on a slush pile.”

“Well, I’ve got some connections. If you’re seriously considering it. I can’t say I recommend it, but…Obviously you’ve got that protective instinct and you seem to work well under pressure.”

“I don’t know about that. My heart is about to leap out of my chest.” You admitted, laughing as he carefully laid a Bandaid over the cut, closing the kit.

“That makes two of us.”

“Well, if you think I’m really cut out for it…I’d love to help.”

***

It was three days later that Nick Fury got in touch with you. You thought it was a scam call at first, but no one else would possibly have the info about you that he did. That was S.H.I.E.L.D. for you, you supposed.

You packed up your apartment, your boxes of books, your old journals, your clothes and makeup, your life, and hopped in the jet that was waiting for you at the meeting place. Inside was a pilot with flaming red hair, Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. It was hard not to get a little starstruck.

She helped you load your things into the jet, let you settle into the copilot seat, and then you took off, soaring away from your old life and towards your new one, the mysterious, magnificent facility tucked into upstate New York, that iconic A emblazoned on the front of the building.

“Steve said you’re telekinetic. That’s cool.” She complimented with a smirk.

“Yeah, I’ve got force-field stuff. I don’t know what else, exactly.”

“Oh, we’ll figure all that out. Banner already has a list of tests he wants to run. Nothing too intense. I made him promise not to give you the lab rat treatment too soon.”

“Reassuring.” You chuckled.

“Wanda’s been decorating your room all day. It’s not often we get new blood.”

“I appreciate it. I can’t wait to meet everyone.”

“They can’t wait to meet you.”

The jet landed a little under an hour later and Natasha helped you haul boxes towards the front door, where Steve was waiting. It was like time slowed, that look in his eyes, glistening little stars.

“Come on, Rogers, these boxes aren’t going to move themselves.” Nat waved him over, snapping both of you out of your trance.

“Right, right.” He jogged over. “Is there anything heavy?”

“That one.” You pointed. “It’s got my candles in it.”

“On it.”

You grabbed a few tote bags, slinging your computer bag over your shoulder. A few others came out to help, Clint and Wanda namely, the latter of whom used her shimmering red powers to speed the process along. Were you any more confident in your own powers, you would do the same, but you hadn’t had much opportunity to use them yet, and you didn’t want to drop anything fragile on your first day.

You started unpacking the essentials, your smart speaker, your laptop, some books and your favorite candle. You put some clothes in the dresser, hung some up in the large sliding closet in the wall. Upon further examination, you had your own bathroom, too, which was nice. There was a wall tapestry with sunflowers on it, and several little knickknacks. Wanda’s loving touch.

Someone cleared their throat and you turned to find Steve there, arms crossed, leaning in the doorway.

“Hi there, um, just checking in. Figured you might want a tour when you got settled in. No rush, of course.”

“I would love a tour. I can already tell I’m gonna get lost in this place.”

He grinned. “Not on my watch. Come on. I’ll show you around.”

Steve walked with you through the office spaces, the computer labs, Bruce’s lab, Tony’s. Tony was in the city, but Bruce was home and introduced himself with a dad joke about the Hulk and a warm handshake. You saw the training facility, a giant room with floor to ceiling windows, a wall of mirrors, practice dummies, landing mats, and plenty of sparring weapons. There was, separately, a fully furnished gym, and then the basics, a large, modern kitchen, living areas and lounges, study spaces, a library, a party room with a bar, and a very fancy coffee machine.

You could see yourself making a home here.

Steve walked you back to the hallway where all the bedrooms were. “If you need anything or have any questions, my room is just down the hall on the left. Wanda is next door. Dinner is at six.”

“Six o’clock it is. Thank you, Cap.”

“You can call me Steve.”

“Steve.” You nodded, slowly accepting the fact that you were now on a first name basis with Captain America. “And you can call me (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N).” He said, some twinge of nostalgia at the end of his words. You turned back into your room to get some more unpacking done and Steve walked back down the hall, taking a deep breath and looking up at the ceiling, doing his best to hold in his tears.

…Ready For It?

You spent the first few days in your room for the most part, unpacking but also hiding, if you were honest. You met Vision. He seemed nice. He also had the ability to phase through walls, apparently. Still no sign of Thor, but you weren’t holding your breath. You were sure he was a busy guy.

Sam Wilson introduced himself with the same offer everyone else had so far, to let them know if you needed anything. You appreciated it.

And then, finally, there was Tony, whose dry humor came across immediately. He sized you up, drilling questions about where you went to college, what you majored in, what your top three movies from the 1980s were. You were pretty sure he liked you, but you didn’t think he trusted you. And that was okay. You knew that was something you’d have to earn around there.

“No soulmark yet, kid?” He asked, eyeing up your bare wrist.

“Not yet.” You confirmed.

“That makes you what, twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

“Twenty-four. As of last month, actually.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Well that’s exciting. I’m sure you’re counting down the days.”

“More or less.” You chuckled, catching Steve watching you out of the corner of your eye. He did that a lot, you noticed.

Before Tony could come up with some witty comeback, the lights flashed red, accompanied by a loud siren.

“Vis? What’s going on?” Tony asked as Vision walked into the room, his sophisticated sweater melting into the uniform you’d seen on the news, red and green with a golden cape.

“There seems to be a stir at the local fairgrounds. Tremors and gunshots. Hostages.”

“Alright, let’s go pay them a visit then.” Tony pressed a button on his watch and transformed into Iron Man in front of your very eyes. “You can stay here or come with us. Up to you. But suit up fast. We’re out in five.”

You stood there for a moment, waiting for the shock to wear off, but the sirens definitely weren’t helping.

“Stick with me.” Steve instructed, voice calm, confident.

“Okay.” You nodded, following after him, towards the hangar where they kept the jets.

Natasha was standing at a locker, pulling her catsuit on with impressive speed, Clint beside her, loading a quiver with arrows, checking his bow.

“Nat, can you get her ready?”

“Baby’s first mission?” She asked, impressed.

You nodded, waiting for orders.

“Well, it should be an easy one, from the sound of it. Here, put this on. We’ll get you your own gear in the next few weeks.”

She chucked you an extra suit and you did your best to shimmy into it. Surprisingly, you could actually move in it. There were holsters, but you weren’t gun trained, so you figured it was best to leave that to the professionals. Instead, you followed the others onto the jet, hoping your forcefields and blossoming battle instincts would be enough to protect you out there.

***

The fair had devolved quickly into madness. There was fire, screaming, running, and gunshots. You flinched at the onslaught of it, but followed the others out anyway, listening to the voice in your earpiece, Steve’s voice, as he issued orders. You were put on civilian evacuation with Sam while the others engaged with the attackers. Six of them.

You did your job diligently, ushering people to a safe distance while law enforcement arrived. Until one of the attackers engaged with you, however, mistaking you for a civilian. Something snapped. In an instant your flight instinct vanished, replaced with the need to fight. He punched at you and you countered, sweeping a leg under him and then using a forcefield to knock him into the cornfield.

One of them launched a bazooka at Tony while he wasn’t looking, and without a thought, you trapped the explosive in a bubble, forcing it into the air where it exploded harmlessly, away from everyone.

And when the dust settled, the rest of the team turned to look at you, sharing looks with each other.

“Thanks for the save, kid. I owe you one.” Tony complimented, clapping you on the back on his way into the jet. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

Your heart raced with the adrenaline of battle, the feeling of a job well done. Steve gave you a thumbs-up, a proud grin. His risk had paid off. You weren’t a total failure.

“You doin’ okay?” He asked, slinging his shield onto his back.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You replied, letting the energy fizzle back into your palms.

He watched with interest at the faint crackles of blue that made up your powers. “You did good out there.”

You felt your cheeks flush. “Thanks, I—"

“Alright new girl, were are we stopping for food?” Natasha asked, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“I get to pick?” You asked with a laugh.

“And don’t be afraid to pick something fancy. It’s Tony’s treat.” Clint added, walking with the rest of you onto the jet. You strapped in while the others tried their darndest to influence your pick, bickering like siblings. Like your family.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

Waypoint

Your training started shortly after that first mission. Bruce took all your vitals, measured them before, during, and after use of your powers. He recorded said powers with every device known to man until he had your ability down to a science. He had a hunch they were of cosmic origin, but you had no idea when you could have possible come in contact with something like that.

Next came a uniform. At the moment, it was a dark indigo color, something similar to navy blue, but leaning a bit more purple. The chest area was left blank, Tony claiming he’d add a symbol once his graphic design team came up with something. He did add some accents up the arms and down the legs, thin, light blue lines that matched the color of your powers.

Natasha and Clint gave you a few crash courses on weapons and your aim left a bit to be desired, but your hand-eye coordination wasn’t bad. Sam put you on a modified military workout regimen to get in shape, get your stamina up with the rest of the team.

You practiced making forcefields, seeing how big you could make them, how small, how much force they could endure before they broke. Natasha shot some bullets at them, and your fields caught them, allowing you to kill their momentum and drop them harmlessly to the ground. They could withstand some electricity, but not Wanda’s powers. And they held against Steve’s superstrength, but not for long. Still, a few hits from a supersoldier was more than most could endure, so it would buy you some time in the field.

Eventually, you moved on from just forcefields and started learning to move objects. It turned out, you were not limited to bubbles. You could create platforms underneath things. This evolved into creating platforms underneath people, that they could jump on, or ride on top of while you moved them.

You practiced using them for transport too, but it was harder standing on them while controlling them, especially if you tried to jump from platform to platform. It was a bit like patting your head and rubbing your tummy, and it would take a lot of practice.

There weren’t many missions, and the ones that popped up, you didn’t get sent on. They were high level things, and while your powers were improving, and very quickly, Bruce was always quick to reassure you, you weren’t ready for covert ops yet, especially ones that had been months in the making.

Every time Steve got sent off, he left with that sad little half-smile of his, the one where he pressed his lips together, eyes glittering like a lake under moonlight. He’d give you some words of comfort, usually dealing with how short the mission was supposed to be. It didn’t often make you feel better.

Bruce stayed behind with you, most times. More like all of the times. Code Greens, as they were called, were seldom necessary, and besides, as they had learned with Wanda back during the Ultron days, Bruce could be a liability if someone else got in his head. But it was nice not being completely alone in the big empty facility.

“He always looks so sad when he leaves.” You noted, sipping from a mug of warm tea. Steve had left only moments before, the last member of the team that was shipping out.

Bruce thought about it for a moment. “Does he?”

“Oh. I don’t know. Maybe I don’t know him that well.” You shrugged, the sounds of Animal Crossing resonating from the TV.

“You know, he has, lately. He didn’t used to.” Bruce noted.

“Weird.”

“Uh-huh.” He replied absentmindedly. “So explain to me this game?”

“Okay, so you move to this island and have to spend all your money paying off debt to this raccoon…”

It was in another training session that there was a malfunction. A shock grenade went off dangerously close to Sam. Before you could even process what you were doing, your hand shot out, a bright, pulsating star crackling in front of him, another, second star on the other side of the room. Steve assessed the situation and used the shield to knock Sam into the star, neutralizing the grenade right after. There was a bright flash and Sam appeared on the other side of the room, tumbling out of the second star.

You froze, curling your fingers and closing both of them. There was a slight pinch in your shoulder, near the base of your neck. The others all stared.

“Wait, what was that?” Bruce asked over the intercom.

“You did that?” Steve asked, motioning to Sam as he walked over.

“I think so.”

“What was that?”

Natasha asked, looking you up and down. Sam stared at you like you’d sprouted a third eye.

“I don’t know.”

“Do it again.” Bruce insisted. “Hang on, I’m coming in there.”

The door from the observation room opened and Bruce joined the rest of you in the circle that was steadily forming, all of them watching you, waiting.

“I don’t know, it was just like…” You focused on that feeling again, the desperation to get Sam the hell away from that grenade, and as though you were punching a hole through reality, it opened in the center of the circle, an eight-pointed star, bobbing and ebbing and flowing, made of the light blue energy you were so familiar with.

Carefully, you opened another one, ten feet in the air above the first. Clint shrugged and chucked a tennis ball into it. Sure enough, it popped up to the second one, before falling down through the first one again. This continued until eventually you closed the bottom one, letting the tennis ball bounce harmlessly across the floor.

“Well shit.”

“Waypoints.” Bruce said, deep in thought. “Teleportation. This…this opens up a lot of doors.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve murmured.

“Hey, that’s kind of cool. Waypoint.” Clint said, drawing attention to it. “What do you think?”

“What, like as a codename?” You asked, weighing it as an option.

“I like it.” Sam grinned. “Waypoint.”

“Waypoint.” You repeated, trying it out. Hi, I’m Waypoint. I’m an Avenger.

It sounded silly, but it was getting more official by the day. There was, of course, only one way to make it official official, and that was with one of Tony Stark’s famed parties…

Wonderstruck

You let out a sigh, staring at your reflection in the mirror. It was the night of the big party. Your first, as an Avenger, and the official induction of what Tony was deeming the second class of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Sam: the Falcon, Wanda: the Scarlet Witch, Vision, and You: Waypoint.

He’d gotten you a dress to wear, one that matched your uniform. It was long, sleek, that navy blue/indigo color. It glittered like stars and moved like a dream. And in the middle of it, poised at the base of the sweetheart neckline, was the eight-pointed star that Tony had turned into your symbol.

Your hair and makeup were done, and all that was left was the zipper.

Someone knocked on the door.

“It’s open!” You called, expecting Natasha or Wanda. Instead, it was Steve, who, when he saw you were unzipped, pulled the door almost all the way closed and shielded his eyes with his hand.

“Sorry! I’ll leave—”

“Wait, actually, could you help me zip this up? I can’t reach.”

Steve nodded, slowly lowering his hand and entering the room. He closed the door behind him to give you some privacy. He was dressed in a sharp black suit with a blue tie. His lapel pin looked like a tiny version of his shield.

“Wow…” He murmured, taking you in. “You look great, (Y/N).”

“You think so? I’m not sure blue is really my color…”

He scoffed. “It most certainly is.” He swept the hair off of your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the reflection in the mirror as he gently pulled the zipper higher until it was secure in place. “In more ways than one.”

“Yeah, guess so.” You agreed, nervous energy crackling around your fingers, blue as ever. You dispelled it, snapping out of it.

Steve looked at the two of you in the mirror for a long time before turning towards the door again. Halfway there, though, he turned back around, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a flat velvet box. “This is, um…for you.”

“Oh! Thank you.” You reached for it, heart racing. Inside was a necklace, its pendant a silver star with eight points. In the center, an aquamarine gem. You gasped, looking at it. It was beautiful, delicate. “Steve, this is beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“It’s the least I could do.” He said, offering his hand. “May I?”

“Please.” You said, handing him the necklace and moving your hair out of the way. He did the clasp behind your neck. It settled between your collarbones.

“There. Now it’s official.” He whispered.

“Almost.”

“Almost.” Steve agreed, offering you his elbow. “Right this way.”

You looped your arm through his, letting him lead you out into the initial murmurs of the party. What Natasha dubbed the “extended family” had shown up. Rhodey, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, Happy Hogan, Pepper Potts, and, of course, Thor.

He was a sight, that was for sure. He towered over everyone else at 6’5”, arms the size of tree trunks. It was a bit intimidating to say the very least.

“Rogers!” Thor bellowed.

“Thor! I didn’t think you were coming.”

He grinned. “I never miss a feast.” His eyes fell on you. “And you must be this new team member Banner spoke of.”

“I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“The honor is mine.”

“Here.” Natasha handed you a champagne flute. She eyed up your necklace. “That’s cute.”

“Steve gave it to me.”

She quirked an eyebrow and looked up at the supersoldier, who still had your arm. “Steve has good taste.”

“Steve had help.” He admitted, smiling sheepishly.

“I’d get you one too, Rogers, but Thor has the strong stuff.” Natasha said, patting his other arm while you took a sip of the champagne. It was sweet, tangy. “God’s favorite boy scout has trouble getting drunk.”

“My tolerance is too good.”

“I think we just need to get you a Four Loko. Or two.”

“A what?” Steve asked.

“It’s like four drinks in one can. They’re insane. I tried in college, but tapped out halfway through.”

He considered it for a moment, letting out a laugh. “See, that just might work.”

Tony wandered around the lounge, greeting everyone. He looked you up and down. “You look beautiful, Portal Girl.”

You internally chuckled. The others had advised you not to feed his ego when he used his nicknames. “Thank you, Tony.”

“And you’re also here, Rogers.”

“Tony.” Steve nodded.

“You her date tonight?” He asked, motioning to your joint arms.

“Oh. Yeah, I suppose I am.” Steve agreed, not budging. Neither were you.

“Well, I hope you’ve taken some dance lessons since last time, Rogers. I’m sure (Y/N) wouldn’t want to have her feet walked all over.”

Steve chuckled and rolled his eyes as Tony moved onto his next targets. Sam emerged, looking very sharp in a red suit. Even Vision had dressed up for the occasion, Wanda beside him wearing an elegant red dress. The two of them talked and laughed on the other side of the room and you smiled. You could tell when you moved in that he cared about her.

You wondered if robots could have soulmates, too. If any android had a soul, surely it was Vision. Maybe you’d ask him about it sometime.

Once all of the expected guests were accounted for, Tony did the briefest ceremony in the history of ceremonies, introducing you all to the few members of the press he had allowed to come. You spent the beginning of the evening shaking hands, networking, and then once the strangers left, the real party started.

Nat switched you to something a lot stronger to champagne, and she was running the bar, so it was easy to get refills. Clint and Thor were arm wrestling on one of the tables which was…hilarious, admittedly.

Steve found you after a few hours apart. “Hey, will you be my partner?”

“Sure, for what?”

He laughed, loosening up quite a bit with Thor’s Asgardian mead in his system. “Sam and Bruce are trying to teach me how to play Beer Ball or something.”

“Beer Pong?”

“That one, yeah.” He nodded. “Winners play Clint and Nat.”

“That checks out.” You chuckled. “Yeah, I’m game. I haven’t played since college, though.”

“I haven’t played ever so I’m sure you’re a step ahead of me anyway.”

“We’ll see about that. Your physics skills are pretty good, what with the shield and all.” You complimented, earning that charming smile of his. “We might just give them a run for their money.”

“Enough flirting, kids, get over here.” Bruce grinned as he finished lining up the cups.

“You know how to play Beer Pong?” You asked, plucking a ping pong ball off of the table and fiddling with it.

“Kid, I have seven PhDs. I have played my share of Beer Pong.” Bruce admitted.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. It was nice to see the Avengers loosen up like this, have a good time together, really truly bond.

You gave Steve the basic rundown of the rules: no elbows past the edge of the table, balls back, stoplight, island, and that if you let Sam and Bruce get too many cups, you and Steve would get “schwaisted” as the kids said, or, at the very least, you would. Steve would probably be fine.

“Ladies first.” Sam said, giving you the second ping pong ball, one of which, you handed to Steve.

“You’re gonna regret that.” You said, rubbing the ball between your hands before perfectly bouncing it into the cup at the front of the pyramid. “Your turn, Steve.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He said, sinking the ball into the same cup. “I believe that’s three cups, gentlemen.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. He shared a look with Bruce. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“You’re telling me.” Bruce chuckled, retrieving the ping pong ball and rolling it back. He started drinking the contents of the first cup, leaving the other two to Sam. “Alright, do your worst.”

Needless to say, you wiped the floor with the other two. Barely even gave them a chance. Which is why it was only fair that Clint and Natasha kicked the absolute shit out of the two of you.

You struggled to down your third cup, which is why when you reached for the fourth, Steve shook his head and took it from you, only offering a wink when you opened your mouth to protest.

“Hey! Steve, it’s supposed to be five each.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, she already finished hers.” Steve shrugged, chugging another like it was water. “Right, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah absolutely. What he said.” You shrugged.

You helped clean up the mess a bit after the game was over, rounding up empty cups, wiping down the table, and then washing your hands as Tony switched the music to something upbeat, dancing music.

“Come on, let’s dance.” Steve urged, clearly toeing the line between tipsy and drunk. He reached out for your hand and you couldn’t resist. You didn’t even try.

You let him lead you out to the middle of the room, where Wanda and Vision were already dancing together and looking adorable doing it.

“I thought you couldn’t dance.” You laughed as he spun you around to the music.

“I’m a quick learner.” He whispered, mouth against your ear.

You swore your entire body flushed red, but you let your feet lead you through the dance. Steve took both of your hands, swinging you out and then back in, spinning you around. You blamed the alcohol on what happened next. Your heel caught on the fabric of your dress and you fell over the back of one of the couches, tugging Steve down with you.

He laughed, using an arm to push himself off of you, hovering, eyes soft. “Sorry.”

“It’s my fault. You’ve got me falling for you, Rogers.” You murmured, gazing up at him through your eyelashes.

You said it as a joke, a quip, but there was some truth in it. More than some. It had been a magical, magical night. And if it weren’t for the leather cuff on his wrist, you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with him.

Steve closed his eyes, smiling and sitting up, helping you upright again. “I’ll go get us some water.”

You sighed and sat back against the couch, heart hammering in your chest.

Natasha perched on the armrest, looking down at you. “What was that?”

“Not sure. I think I fumbled the bag. If…if there even was a bag I guess.” You chuckled, shrugging.

“No, there is something there. I can see it.” Natasha said, thinking as she nursed a glass of wine. “Hmmm…”

Steve stood in the kitchen, getting two glasses of filtered water from the fridge. He exhaled a deep sigh, leaning against it. He replayed the moment in his head over and over. The look in your eyes, the way your necklace glimmered in the light, the sound of your voice, the flush of your cheeks. You were catching feelings for him, that much was clear. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Steve Rogers, I am so sorry you will not hear me say these words until after I go back tomorrow, but I love you. I have loved you for a very long time. And I know I will love you for the rest of my life.

Maybe it was a good thing, he reasoned, thinking back on his first night with you all those years ago. But you still couldn’t know why. Not yet.

It was going to kill him to keep it a secret for ten more months.

Timeless

Sherbert rays of the sunrise lit the training room, filling it with a warm orange glow. You were sitting on the floor, stretching your legs while you listened to music. That was another thing on the growing list of skills that had improved during your stint as an Avenger: your flexibility.

Suddenly, Steve was standing over you, saying something you couldn’t hear due to the noise cancelling headphones over your ears.

You slid one off, looking up at him. “Good morning.”

“Morning. You’re here early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You shrugged, reaching for your other leg.

“Sorry to hear that. Wanna talk about it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I think I drank too much caffeine before bed last night. Learned my lesson. No caffeine after six.”

“That’s a good rule. Mind if I stretch with you?” He asked.

“I don’t mind.” You tossed your headphones onto your workout bag and connected your phone to the Bluetooth speakers, putting on some music you could both listen to.

“I recognize her. This girl’s voice.”

“Taylor Swift.”

“Ah. Yes, her. I keep hearing about her.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” You laughed. “Have you liked any of her songs so far?”

“I don’t know if I could name one for you, to be honest.” He listened to the song that was playing. “This one’s not bad, though.”

“I’ll send you some recommendations. There are some I think you’d really vibe with.”

He smiled. “I’d really like that.”

The others came in not long after, did their warm-ups, and then Steve briefed everyone on the plan for their training session, one in which everyone would swap weapons, practice using each other’s things in case they ever had to in battle if one of their teammates got disarmed.

You started with Clint. He showed you the absolute basics of archery, how to pull back the bow, how to notch an arrow, how to aim, taking into account distance. You fired a few arrows into a target and did okay, you supposed, but you would need some practice if you wanted to actually get good at it. Years of it, realistically.

Natasha showed you how to use her electric batons, which were fun, but did intimidate you a little. You definitely did not want to end up on the wrong end of those things.

And then, inevitably, you were standing in front of Steve. He offered you his shield, which on its own seemed daunting. You held it for a second, assessing the weight of it. It was noticeably lighter than you thought it would be.

“Woah.”

“Yeah. People always expect it to be heavier.” He said, a hand resting on his hip as he watched you hold it. It looked so right in your hands, he decided. “It’s good for a lot of things, but first…” Carefully, he helped you put your arm through the straps on the back of it, holding it in front of your body in its primary and most famous purpose.

You let out a sigh, shaking your head. “This is so crazy.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, you have no idea.” You chuckled, waving it around a bit.

“You keep looking at it like it’s Thor’s hammer or something.” He teased.

“Feels like it.”

“Well the good news is, this thing is not password protected by some Asgardian magic words. The bad news is, that means the bad guys can pick it up, too.” Steve said, gently positioning your body in an offensive stance, nudging a foot with his own, switching your arms around. “You can use it to bash somebody head on, or you can angle it a bit to get a more direct blow. It will take the force of most things. I…I actually kind of don’t know the limits. Hasn’t failed me yet. The paint does come off from time to time, though, so don’t worry about that.”

“Okay, wow.” You nodded. “Good to know.”

“I trust you with it.” He said, eyes meeting yours.

You smiled, heart racing. “I’m honored.”

He showed you a few other tricks, and then training wrapped up for the day, everyone grabbing some water, taking a shower, or making plans for lunch. Once you walked off with Wanda, Nat cornered Steve.

“What was that?” She asked, that catlike grin on her face.

“What was what?”

“I saw it, you know, the way you looked at her. I think you’ve got a soft spot.”

“Yeah, well, I did rope her into all this. Can’t say I don’t feel responsible for her.” He dodged expertly, weaving through Natasha’s mental gymnastics with skill and precision, or so he thought.

“Uh-huh sure. Well, she, Wanda, and I are going antiquing this afternoon. You should come. After all, you know quite a bit about vintage valuables.”

He laughed. “Hey!”

She walked off, smiling to herself. Steve thought about it for all of four seconds before he decided he would tag along. He hadn’t been to an antique shop in this century, so he couldn’t imagine the kinds of things they had there now. He might even learn a thing or two.

***

After a quick lunch, Steve did decide to tag along. It wound up being him, Vision, and the girls, which he certainly didn’t mind.

You and Wanda were buzzing with excitement, Natasha looking on and following behind with Steve. Vision lingered, studying everything, picking things up to get a closer look. He had projected a human disguise over himself, something Steve didn’t know he could even do, but it seemed to work. No one had batted an eye at him since they stepped foot in the shop.

“This place is…huge.” Steve said, glancing down the hall of the seemingly endless store.

“Biggest one in the state.” You chimed. “It’s the whole city block.”

“There’s a basement, too. And a second floor.” Natasha informed him, patting his arm. “This is gonna be an all day kinda thing.”

“Oh undoubtedly.” He said, setting down the teacup in his hands, a petite, floral thing.

You sifted through a box of records, picking up the soundtrack of the Muppets Movie.

“Is that a frog?”

“This is Kermit thee Frog, show some respect.” You laughed, putting the record in your basket.

“Kermit?” Steve asked again, seeming genuine.

“Oh I forgot you missed the Muppets, oh my god.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound familiar.”

“We need to fix that as soon as possible.” You told him. “Can’t have you missing out on cultural icons like Gonzo and Miss Piggy.”

“Okay now you’re making things up.” He chuckled, shuffling through the records as well. You showed him a few good ones and he added them to his basket, saying something about how he’s been meaning to use his new record player.

Wanda browsed some vintage rings, picking out a few, and Natasha rifled through a rack of vintage dresses, most of them from the forties and fifties from the look of it. Nat held up a navy blue one, silky, with short ruffled sleeves and buttons down the front. Steve froze, looking at it. For a moment, it looked just a little too familiar. Like the dress you had worn that night.

Eventually Nat put the dress back. You hadn’t seen it. You were distracted by a shelf of VHS tapes, looking for the old Barbie movies, whatever those were. Wanda was with you, on the next shelf over, calling out movie names when she found something cool.

Steve wandered off on his own, looking around at the different trinkets and toys, old letterman jackets and jewelry, dishes that may or may not contain lead. Finally, he came upon a little room full of art, paintings and photographs, handmade pottery.

Time stood still.

He stared at the large painting on the wall, oil on canvas. Two star-crossed lovers dancing in a bar in Brooklyn, a little guy with a dream, dancing with the most beautiful girl in the world, twirling in her dark blue dress. His heart raced. He never thought he’d see this painting again.

It had been his last painting before leaving for Camp Lehigh, the last painting he did before his life and body changed forever. He’d used the last of his paints to make it, every color mixed with care to get the exact color of your hair, your eyes, your lips, all from memory.

And it was here in front of him. When he had been presumed dead, it must have been sold off. He didn’t really have anyone left it could go to.

In that moment, he wasn’t Captain America. Standing in his shoes was that little guy from Brooklyn.

“Woah.” You murmured, suddenly right next to him. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it…it is.” He agreed, looking away from it. He didn’t want you to get too close of a look at it. However, that didn’t stop you from walking forward to inspect it closer.

“‘Soulmates.’ Artist unknown.” You read from the plaque. “Oh, it’s from the 40s. 1943. Does it look familiar?”

“Yeah, actually. Bucky liked that bar.” Steve said, pointing to the details of the interior. “It’s a little place in Brooklyn, called Val’s. Well, it was I guess. I don’t know if it’s still open anymore.”

Your eyes lingered on the woman’s face, on the man’s. You didn’t say anything about how they looked, about the uncanny resemblance to yourself and Steve. Instead, you sighed. “Someday, I want to be that in love with someone.”

He just about cried. But instead, he gathered his words, put a hand on your shoulder, and told you with confidence, “You will be.”

***

Hours later, when you were all shopped out and you’d checked out with your things, Steve stayed at the counter while the rest of you went to the car.

“Hey, um, that painting in the art room. The soulmates in the bar. I’m interested in buying it. Would it be possible to have it held here for a while, though?”

“Oh I’m sure we could arrange something,” said the old man at the counter with a smile and a nod. He started writing out the purchase form.

Steve glanced back towards where it was, that fragment of his soul he didn’t think he’d ever see again. He knew the fact that he’d stumbled upon it was nothing short of fate.

Wildest Dreams

It had been Tony’s idea. Of course it had. It always was, wasn’t it? He’d insisted that all the members of the team who hadn’t yet been exposed to Wanda’s mind manipulation should be, just in case there was a misfire during combat and one of you got caught in the crossfire. It would be important to see how each of you reacted, the kinds of things you saw so you’d be able to snap out of it.

Theoretically, of course.

This left Natasha, Steve, Thor, Bruce, and Tony out, as they’d already had their fun with Wanda’s magic. The rest of you, however, were waiting for your turn.

Wanda felt conflicted about it. She didn’t want to hurt her friends on accident, let alone on purpose, but Tony was insistent, and he had some of the others on his side. Namely, Rhodey, who had been hanging out more and more, and Clint, who’d had his experience with a different kind of mind control shortly before the Battle of New York.

It was part of why he’d volunteered to go first. Once he came to, he gave you a thumbs-up, shaking it off and walking over to Natasha.

“You sure you’re good?” She checked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. No big deal. Who’s next?”

Sam looked at you and the despondent look on your face before volunteering himself to go next. Rhodey went in solidarity, despite being too busy with his government responsibilities to be a full-time member of the team. And then it was your turn. You stood next to Wanda. She offered an apologetic smile before red crackled around her fingertips and it hit you.

For the first few seconds, you were fine. You felt tingly. You blinked a few times and your eyes felt weird. No doubt, your eyes were red, like the others’ turned when they were under the influence of Wanda’s powers.

“Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Steve asked, voice urgent.

“Think so.” You replied, mouth full of cotton. It felt like that time in college someone had given you an edible that was too strong. The first and last time you’d ever gotten high. Like you were sinking and melting. Your legs buckled and Steve surged forward, catching you before you hit the floor, gently lowering you into a comfortable position. “Hey, you’re pretty strong…” You murmured, head lolling onto his shoulder.

The others all looked at each other. Clint dragged over a bean bag and Steve gently lowered you onto it, adjusting it so you’d be comfortable.

“She’ll be okay, Steve.” Natasha reassured him, the guilt in his eyes palpable, yet still not explained. Not entirely. She had a sneaking suspicion whatever it was had something to do with the name written on his wrist, the name he wouldn’t show anyone. Not her, not Nick Fury, not even Sam.

“Yeah, I know.” He nodded, slowly taking a step back. His eyes didn’t leave you. He had to force himself to look away. “I, um…I have to go…There’s a…” Steve motioned towards the door before leaving the room, while you sat there, catatonic, off in your own little world.

***

“Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Steve asked, his voice close. “That was a long nap. Forget to set your alarm?”

You opened your eyes and you were laying down on the couch. Steve was standing at the island in the kitchen, cooking something. It smelled good. Really good. He was wearing a button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, still wearing his slacks from work. He had music playing from the record player, your vast collection of hits from decades of music, and he was still hooked on 40s jazz. You supposed you couldn’t blame him.

“You cooking?”

“Mmhmm.” He nodded. “Come over here and get a taste.”

You followed, out to the kitchen. He set down his wooden spoon and swiftly intercepted you, pulling you up onto the countertop, kissing you deeply, a hand running through your hair. Your hand came up to frame his cheek. He was growing a bit of a beard these days. You liked it, thought it suited him.

You sighed against his lips and then pulled away to look at him. He grabbed your wrist, pressing a long kiss to your soulmark. Three simple words. Steven Grant Rogers.

“I love you, doll.” His words cut through you, eyes tender and sincere. “Always have.”

But this wasn’t your Steve. And it wasn’t your reality, given away by the slightest tinge of red in his irises.

It wasn’t real. And neither was the glimmering wedding ring around your finger.

***

You blinked awake, the power dispersing from your head, leaving you shockingly sober. And hungry. That familiar sting was back, right between your neck and shoulder. You wondered how long it’d been.

Clint was in the room with you. So was Sam. Natasha was gone. Wanda too, surprisingly. As was Steve.

You got chills even thinking about him, the phantom of the wedding ring still clinging to your finger.

“You alright?” Sam asked, making eye contact with you first.

“Yeah, I’m good. How long…?”

“Three minutes. New record.” Clint said with a grin.

“Oh.” No wonder it had felt so short. Part of you wanted it to last longer.

“We’re sending Rhodey to get some food, if you’re hungry.” Sam said.

“Where from?”

“The golden arches.”

“I could go for some nuggies.” You admitted. “A McFlurry, perchance.”

Clint laughed. “How did I know you would say that?”

In the kitchen, Steve stood, hands on the counter, mug of coffee steaming in front of him, untouched. He stared at the cupboard door.

“That must be one interesting cupboard. You’ve been standing there for like five whole minutes.”

“It’s only been three.” Steve said, glancing at the clock.

“And the fact that you know down to the exact minute is why I’m so intrigued.” Natasha chimed, tilting her head. “What is going on with her? I have never seen you look at anyone like that in the entire time I’ve known you. Is she…what, the kid of an old friend? Grandkid?”

“It’s nothing, Natasha. She’s the newest member of the team, I’m just worried—”

“Steve.” She said, cutting him off, that look in her eye. “If you want to get all defensive about it, fine. Keep your secrets.” She sighed. “But if you need someone, I’m here. Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Steve let out a long sigh, weighing his options. It was something to the tune of eight months until your birthday. That was still a long time. A lot of time for that secret to slip through the cracks and, potentially, break the timeline. The Butterfly Effect was something he had researched extensively. Your future together was something he wasn’t willing to risk.

No, it was too important that you stay in the dark, even if that meant keeping his friends in the dark, too.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. But I’m fine, really. It’s nothing.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded unconvinced. “Well, she’s out of it. Clint just texted. She wants twenty chicken nuggets and an Oreo McFlurry.”

The relief was immediate. You were okay. He could only wonder what you had seen in there, and why it had been so quick. The others had been under for upwards of ten minutes. You’d only been down three. “Well good. I’ll let Rhodey know.”

Invisible String

It was late. A few weeks after your tussle with the Scarlet Witch, if you could even call it that. You could tell Wanda felt guilty about the whole thing, but it wasn’t her fault. If anything it was Tony’s. Sure, the exercise had prepared you for a worst case scenario, but it had also dug a very awkward gap between you and Steve. You could barely even look at him without wanting to burst into tears.

He had his soulmate, whoever they were. You really needed to let it go.

You walked down to the kitchen to get a cold drink, but there was already someone sitting at the table. Steve, sitting there, hand resting on his chin, papers spread out in front of him. There was a picture you recognized as Bucky Barnes.

You’d heard whispers of him around the Compound from time to time. Steve’s best friend turned Hydra assassin, brainwashed for decades and now, rogue, out there somewhere. Sam always seemed to be looking for the guy. Natasha and Clint, too. And there had never been any sign of him. Well, until now, it seemed.

On the TV, Star Wars was playing. Empire Strikes Back. Steve looked up at it every so often.

“Star Wars?” You asked.

He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Your first time?”

“No. They were the first things I watched when I was out of the ice. I like them a lot. The hope, the Force, the Jedi stuff, the music.” He shrugged. “They’re good.”

“Who’s your favorite?”

Steve smiled, sheepish. “Han Solo.”

“And here I thought you’d say Luke Skywalker.”

“He’s great, too. You like Star Wars?”

“Yeah, I used to be obsessed with them in high school. Haven’t seen them in a while, though. I’m something of a Leia girl myself.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

“Does it?”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded. “You’ve got that spark.”

“What order did you watch them in?”

“Nat made me watch the originals first.” He confessed. “I like the prequels, though. Well, two of the prequels. Phantom Menace is…”

“Oh yeah. You’re not alone in that.” You laughed softly. “You know, I never really pegged you as a sci-fi nerd.”

“Yeah, well, someone I really care about seemed to like them a whole lot, so I knew I had to check them out.” He shrugged. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Getting a drink. What are you doing up so late?”

He looked down at the papers and then back up at you. “Oh. Yeah, this is just…Trying to get some stuff figured out.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You offered.

He thought about it for a long moment, letting out a little sigh before nodding. That was the only reassurance you needed before grabbing a can of soda from the fridge and plopping down into the seat next to him.

“They found him. Clint and Natasha. They think he’s hiding out in Kentucky somewhere.” Steve said. He shook his head. “He saved my life a few years ago. After all the brainwashing, he still pulled me out of the water. I don’t know how much of him is still him, but…”

“But it’s worth a try.” You reasoned. “Obviously he’s been through a lot, but he must be pretty strong to have made it through everything.”

“I don’t know when I’m going. They haven’t narrowed it down all the way. And Tony doesn’t want me to even go at all.”

“Tony is full of shit.”

He laughed. “Yeah…”

“If you want to go, you should go. And if you need me, I’m there. You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

He met your eyes with a sobering gaze. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, of course.” You agreed. “When, uh, when I was in the eighth grade, my class took a trip down to DC. There’s a Captain America exhibit in the Air and Space Museum, it had just opened. We learned about you and Bucky. How close you were, what happened. There are videos of me just crying uncontrollably there, learning about it. They had to take me outside, get me some water. I couldn’t go back in. I don’t even know why. Something about it…”

“About me?” Steve whispered.

“That’s embarrassing. I shouldn’t have told you that.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“It’s not embarrassing. It’s sweet.” Steve said, reaching for your hand on the table. You let him take it, fingers curling.

“So when you found me that day, I guess I always knew it would lead to something like this. A stroke of fate, or something.” You admitted. “Some part of me knew that you would mean something to me someday. I guess I never thought we would be friends.”

“How old were you?”

“God, this would have been like ten years ago at this point. I was like fourteen or something. I was twenty-one when they found you in the ice. It was all over the news my sophomore year of college, kind of right when I was figuring my powers out, actually. And then everything was all over the news and I…went into hiding more or less, hoping it wouldn’t be me on the TV next.”

“Until the mall?”

“Yeah. But I couldn’t just…let it happen, you know? It was like some part of me knew that I had these powers for a reason, and that if I didn’t stop it, who would? I didn’t know you were there, obviously, but, I think even if I had, I still would have jumped in.”

He smiled softly, eyes earnest. He gave your hand a squeeze. “Well I’m really glad you did, for the record. I think we’re all a little better off because of it.”

There was a moment of quiet. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“How old are you?”

“Oh, um…I’m ninety-eight.”

You chuckled. “No, like how old are you really?”

Steve took a breath. No one ever asked him that. No one really cared about that. No one except you, it seemed. “I’m not sure. I’d have to do some math. I think I’m twenty-eight maybe. Twenty-nine.”

“Thought so.” You smiled. “Well, Steve, whenever you get it figured out, say the word and I’ll suit up. We’ll bring him home.”

Out of the Woods

The next mission you were sent on wasn’t to bring back Bucky. Not yet. Instead, you were on the team that got deployed into a rainforest to break up a rogue Hydra base. It was warm, almost too warm for your uniform, but you were grateful for the coverage, especially when they started shooting.

You ran down the makeshift path, evading enemies and throwing up forcefields to stop them in their tracks. Thor was in town, so he was zipping around through the trees with his hammer, the force of it bringing some down every once in a while.

“On your six.” Steve reported through the comms. You dodged out of the way and sure enough, a Hydra agent tumbled ahead, tripped by a small field you cast at his feet. A few of Natasha’s bullets took care of that.

“Thanks.” You replied.

“Don’t mention it. I could actually use some backup. I’m in the building. There’s more of them than I thought there would be.”

“I’m on my way.” You reported, changing directions and sprinting towards the building housing the Hydra base. What they were doing here, you had no clue, but Bruce theorized it had something to do with a meteor that had landed out that way a few months prior. They were probably harvesting whatever materials had been inside it.

You kicked down the door. Steve had six guys on him, two of which he disposed of quickly. You made a portal beneath one guy, sending him falling down a flight of stairs with the second portal you opened.

The other three guys went down quickly enough, only for a guy in a giant mech armor to come crashing through the interior wall. He shot and Steve jumped in front of you, taking a hit to the neck. A tiny syringe filled with shimmering purple liquid.

“Fuck! Steve!” You ran to him, but that didn’t take care of the large problem looming behind you. Seeing red, you made another portal at the feet of the robot, opened it in the ceiling, and cut it off as it was halfway through, destroying it in a flash of sparks and shredded metal. It shut down, giving you time to get to Steve.

He was sitting against the wall, head slumped to the side. You took the syringe out of his neck, tucking it into a pouch on your belt for testing. If this thing was poison, you’d need Bruce to start whipping up an antidote as soon as possible.

“Steve, hey, stay with me.” You touched his face, trying to wake him.

At your touch, he blinked a few times, drowsy. He gave you a crooked smile. “Heyyy, there you are.”

“Come on, we’ve gotta get you back to the jet.” You told him, pulling him to his feet, but he slumped in your arms like dead weight. You had been working out since you’d been recruited, but he was still heavy. “You’ve gotta work with me, big guy.”

“They used to call me little guy.” He murmured, sounding drunk. “Back in Brooklyn.”

“I’m sure they did.” You slung his arm around your shoulders and started hauling ass out of the building. A few agents shot at you, trying to hit you while you were distracted with carrying Steve to safety, but they forgot you were the one Avenger whose specialty was defense.

You lit a forcefield in your left hand, using its faint blue light to guide the two of you through the dim hallways. It slowed all the bullets to a stop, causing them to drop to the floor harmlessly. There was something kind of poetic about it, you supposed. Steve was so famous for that shield of his, but now you were the shield, protecting him.

“Did you guys find anything in there?” Clint asked.

“The good news is, we cleared most of it out. Bad news is, Steve got shot with something. I’m bringing him back to the ship now. I don’t know what it was but he’s acting really drunk.”

“Tranq darts seem to have that effect on him, yeah.” Bruce explained. “Bring him back here and I’ll make sure it wasn’t laced with something else.”

“On it.”

You lugged Steve along, stopping to rest and readjust against a wall for a second.

“Thank you for takin’ care of me even when I don’t feel so good.” He said, leaning his full weight against you.

“Of course, Steve. I’ve got ya.” You pulled his arm around your shoulders again. “You would do the same for any of us.”

He smiled, face impossibly close to yours. “Oh, I’d do anything for you, (Y/N).”

You knew it was probably just the drugs talking but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you when he said it anyway.

Once you were outside, you opened a waypoint in front of the two of you, the second portal in front of the jet, and then stepped through, closing it behind you. Bruce opened the door and helped you haul Steve inside, onto the cot of the makeshift mobile infirmary.

You handed Bruce the empty vial.

“Thank you for remembering. Thor always breaks these and then I have to do bloodwork to figure out what was in them.” He chuckled.

“He’s very smash first, ask questions later.”

“No wonder he and Hulk get along so well.” Bruce joked. “Alright, get back out there. I’ll make sure he’s alright.”

“Thank you.”

“Be careful out there.” Steve advised, eyes half-lidded. “They have guns.”

“I’ll be extra careful, alright? I promise.” You met his eyes and he smiled immediately. Once you were sure he was okay, you stepped out of the jet again, getting back to help the others.

***

When you got back, you were nursing a bullet wound. They’d gotten you in the arm. It wasn’t too bad, though, the bleeding had almost stopped. Natasha went straight for the med kit when you two stepped foot on the jet, motioning you over to the stool.

Steve was there, still on the cot. He stared as Nat started cleaning your wound. “Wait, you got hurt?”

“I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”

He nodded and reached for your hand. “I’m really glad you’re alright, doll. Had me worried sick.”

Doll. You replayed the word in your mind. Steve had called you a lot of things in the past few months, but never once had he used that somewhat outdated term of endearment. You liked it, though.

You met Natasha’s eyes and she smirked while the supersoldier held your hand.

Sam walked in next, eyeing up the scene unfolding in front of him. “Woah, what’d I miss? Feels like I missed several chapters.”

“Steve is drunk.” Clint explained, counting his remaining arrows.

“Tranq dart. He’s fine. Just needs to ride it out for a few hours. He should be back to normal by the time we get home.” Bruce explained as he put away his tablet.

“You feeling alright, buddy?” Sam walked over and put a hand on Steve’s other arm. “You’re holding (Y/N)’s hand kinda tight there.”

“Huh?” Steve asked, directing his eyes to your joint hands. He let go. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Steve.” You reassured him.

The others trickled in slowly until everyone was accounted for, the base destroyed, the Hydra operatives in SHIELD custody for questioning. Fury and his team would handle it from there. You couldn’t help but play the mission over and over in your head.

Never had you used a waypoint to split something in half. But something had clicked in you when Steve was hurt. You’d never felt like that before, like part of your soul itself was being ripped out. He meant more to you than you cared to admit, especially when your fate was tied elsewhere.

Still, your new ability needed training. It was a dangerous skill to have, and if you didn’t hone it properly, you could end up doing some serious damage on accident.

Come Find Me in the Future

It was the night before you and a select group of the team were heading out to find and recover Bucky. Clint had finally gotten a hit on him. But if he had, that meant others could be after him, too. People that wanted him back. Badly.

You were nervous about it for that reason. You weren’t sure why the rest of you hadn’t already left, to be honest. You didn’t want to race with Hydra. It wasn’t one you were sure you’d win.

To stave off the feeling of dread, you had commandeered the living room TV and popped in Howl’s Moving Castle. You were nursing a mug of chamomile tea in your hands, playing games on your Switch.

You were near the end of the movie, at the part where Sophie was whisked to the past, when Steve walked into the room, in his pajamas, a tank top and a pair of plaid pants.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hey. You’re up late. Big mission tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it’s almost over.” You told him. “Drinking my sleepy tea as we speak.”

“Sleepy tea?”

“Chamomile mint. It’s good. There’s some over by the Keurig if you want any.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, walking over. “What’s this?”

“Howl’s Moving Castle. One of my favorites.” You told him.

“What’s it about?”

“That is a complicated question.” You laughed. “I’d have to start it over, I think.”

“Another time, maybe.” He chuckled, crossing his arms.

Steve watched as Sophie got sucked back through the wormhole to the present.

She called out “I know how to help you now! Find me in the future!”

He perked up. “Wait, she…there’s time travel?”

“Yeah, she gets pulled into the past for a bit and tells him to find her and then years later, the first words he says to her are ‘There you are, sweetheart. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’ It’s really sweet.”

“They’re soulmates?”

“They are.” You nodded.

“Does that happen? Often?” Steve asked, hung up on it. “In real life?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of that happening before.” You shook your head. “I don’t think anyone would believe it, even if it did. Happens a lot in fiction, though.”

“Oh. Cool.” Steve nodded. He met your eyes and then looked down at his lap, tongue flitting across his pink lips. “I, uh, wanted to apologize.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “For what?”

“The mission last week. I, uh…I said some things and, uh…I just, I’d hate to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I did.”

“You didn’t.” You assured him. “No apology necessary. You were drugged. I probably would have said worse, to be honest.”

He smiled. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. And thank you for agreeing to come tomorrow. We could really use the help.”

“Of course. I’ve got your back, always.” You told him, earning another one of those earnest, lovesick smiles. “Anywho, I finished that playlist for you. The Taylor Swift one. I can make you a more general one with different songs, but…figured that was a decent starting place.”

“Great, yeah, thank you.” He nodded, looking at his phone as it pinged with the notification you had sent it to him. “I’ll give it a listen.”

“Let me know what you think.”

“Oh I will.” He chuckled to himself. “Really, thank you. I appreciate it. And um, have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early.” You saluted.

He nodded before repeating, “Bright and early.”

Bygones

Bright and early was an understatement. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when your alarm went off. You groaned, rolled over and silenced your screaming phone, forcing yourself to sit up so you didn’t drift back off.

Today was too important for that.

Instead, you got up, brushed your hair, and went out to the kitchen, where Vision had whipped up a full breakfast for everyone going out. It was you, Steve, Nat, Wanda, and Sam. A small team, but enough firepower to bring him back without overwhelming and/or scaring him off.

“Morning.” Steve said, eyes landing on you the moment you walked into the room.

“Morning.”

“Coffee?” He offered, pushing a cup of your favorite iced coffee over to you. You couldn’t lie, you were impressed.

“Thanks.” You grinned, taking a long sip to kickstart your morning. You loaded a plate up with eggs, sausage, bacon, and toast, plus a little side of hashbrowns, thanking Vision thoroughly.

“It is my pleasure, (Y/N). As someone who does not require sleep, it would be rude of me to let you all starve so early in the day.”

“(Y/N), you got him listening to Taylor Swift?” Sam asked, eyes drilling into you.

You laughed. “Uh, yeah. What about it? She’s a cultural icon, do you want him left out of the loop?”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” Steve shrugged, sipping on his coffee.

“Of course you’re not.” Natasha chuckled, words warbled by her own cup. You noticed the way her lips pursed. If you weren’t mistaken, you’d say she was nervous. About what, you couldn’t tell. She seldom got nervous. Or at least, she seldom let it show. But it was definitely there.

Wanda was the last into the kitchen, already fully put together. She gave the chef her thanks with a warm smile and sparkling eyes. You couldn’t help but smile. Those two, beyond a shadow of a doubt, were absolutely made for each other. You wondered what her wrist would have to say about it when the time came.

Once everyone had eaten, those who weren’t suited up got ready, locked and loaded for a tense mission. You’d have Clint on the coms here, doing recon from a drone. The rest of you loaded up onto the jet, strapping in.

Nat and Sam hopped into the cockpit. Wanda sat next to you, Steve across the aisle, his eyes meeting yours every so often.

“It’ll be alright.” You said, trying to dispel his nerves.

He nodded, but didn’t reply, just giving a short nod and staring at the holographic map on the wall as you approached closer and closer. You could see that little guy from Brooklyn peeking through the eyes of the supersoldier sitting across from you, nervous about his best friend.

You unbuckled just before you landed, walking across the jet to strap on your weapons. The others did the same, arming themselves. Nat was going to keep the jet warm for a speedy exit, the look in her eyes still unreadable. The rest of you got ready for war.

It was an abandoned warehouse, large garage door, broken windows, slanted roof with a hole in it. Definitely not the most secure of places. According to Clint’s drone, Bucky was in the back room.

“Waypoint, I need you out here ready to get us a quick escape.”

“Got it.” You nodded, positioning yourself within eyeshot of the warehouse and the jet so you could make a portal either way.

“Wanda, Sam, you’re with me.” Steve instructed, taking a minute to breathe, to think. “He’s gonna be ready to run. We have to talk him out of it.”

“Uh, Cap. Might wanna work a little faster. There’s another plane incoming. About three minutes out.”

“Alright.” Steve nodded, taking off his helmet and slinging his shield onto his back. He led the other two into the building.

For a heartwrenching two minutes, you didn’t hear anything. And then you heard a plane. And then gunshots.

“(Y/N), now!” Steve instructed.

You did as you were told, opening the waypoint in the warehouse, another just outside. Nat had picked the jet up off of the ground, firing at the one Hydra had brought. She took another shot, damaging the wing and causing it to go down.

“Shit, wait—!”

There was a flash of light and you expected it to be Steve that came through first. Maybe Bucky, even. Instead, it was a grenade. And a split second later, it exploded, knocking you unconscious.

***

Steve stood over you, horrified. Thanks to your suit, the damage didn’t seem too bad. But you had blood and soot caked on your face, the ends of your hair singed.

It was his fault. He had told you to open the Waypoint, only for a Hydra agent to toss a grenade right through it.

He all but collapsed to his knees, collecting you in his arms. Bucky was on the jet already, Sam, too. Only he and Wanda were outside with you.

“(Y/N), come on. Open those eyes for me.” He pleaded, voice soft, eyes aching with tears. “Hey, come on. Please…”

“We should get her back to the jet.” Wanda goaded softly, a hand on Steve’s arm.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek. He scooped you off of the ground, an arm beneath your legs, the other around your back. Your arms hung down, limp. Your head rested heavily against his shoulder, eyes closed.

By the time Steve walked up the ramp, Nat already had the infirmary cot down, ready to go. Bucky watched, eyes intense. He looked up when Steve approached, eyes falling on you. They widened when he got a look at you.

“Woah, is that…?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “It is.”

Natasha helped him get you situated in the cot, wrapping the cuff around your arm that would measure your vitals. With everyone accounted for, Sam closed the door, lifting the jet into the air.

“I’ve got Banner on the line.” Natasha told him.

“Good.” Steve’s eyes didn’t leave you for a second, watching as the breaths entered and left your lungs. “Tell him to get the infirmary ready for her.”

“Already on it, Cap. She’ll be okay. Her vitals look…well they look good, all things considered.” Bruce relayed. “Just get back here as fast as you can.”

***

As soon as the jet landed, Steve unhooked you from the vitals monitor and collected you in his arms, carrying you to the gurney Bruce had ready, walking with him as he wheeled you towards the infirmary. Bruce insisted he needed some time and sent Steve away, taking a piece of his heart with him.

Vision checked over Bucky, giving him the okay almost immediately before going to help Bruce in the infirmary.

Steve sat at the table, Bucky sitting down to join him. The others gave them a minute alone.

“Hey, pal.” Steve exhaled, trying to force a smile. “Glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” He agreed. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Of course.” Steve nodded. “I’m with you—”

“Til the end of the line.” Bucky smiled, eyes soft. His irises flicked towards the infirmary and back. “You wanna talk about it?”

Steve let out a sigh, the wall finally coming down and more tears slipping down his cheeks. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. She’s—”

“She’s gonna be fine. I promise you.” Bucky’s hand grabbed onto Steve’s wrist, the covered one. The one with her name etched onto it. “She has to be. Has she…does she know yet?”

“No one does. Just me. And you.” Steve confessed. He wiped his thumb under his eye. “So you’re right. She has to pull through.”

Steve held onto that spark of hope for the coming hours. He showed Bucky to the room that had been prepared for him, but Sam offered to give him a tour of the place, knowing their friend was in a fragile mental state.

Eventually, Vision found him and told him he could enter the infirmary. Bruce had finished treating you. When Steve walked in and saw you, still unconscious, laying on that bed, he choked on more sobs. The bruising on your face was pretty severe. You were hooked up to several monitors, an IV. Supposedly, your injuries were not too extreme, but you had a cracked rib and would need time to heal before you could do any missions or training.

Hours later, Nat found Steve in there, wringing his hands, tears in his eyes. He fiddled with the cuff around his wrist. The playlist you’d made for him played softly from a speaker in the corner of the room. Timeless. As if he wasn’t already crying enough.

“She’s gonna be okay, Steve. Bruce thinks she might wake up soon.” Nat comforted, sitting in the chair next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, confused by her friend’s sudden mood. Members of the team had been injured before and sure, he checked on them, but he never reacted like this.

“I know, I just…” He shook his head. “I’m worried about her is all. It’s…kinda my fault this happened.”

Nat pressed her lips together, tilting her head. “This seems like a little more than that. You wanna tell me what’s really going on?”

He wanted to hold onto his secret. He did. But he was feeling fragile, vulnerable. It couldn’t hurt to have just one more person on his side. “I can, just…not here.” Steve nodded, leading her out of the room, out of your earshot, if you could even hear him while you were out, but still in sight thanks to the soundproof windows.

Nat’s hands settled on her hips, waiting for an answer. Instead, Steve took the cuff off of his wrist and held it out to her, letting her read the letters that had been etched there for the better part of a century.

Her jaw dropped. She stammered, arms crossing. She met his eyes and when she saw the sadness there, the guilt and longing, her expression softened.

“I should have told her. A long time ago, I should have told her but I can’t. In six months, on her twenty-fifth, she’s going back in time to 1943 to meet me on mine. And it…didn’t seem like she knew until she was already there.”

“So you’ve just been holding it in this whole time?” Natasha asked. “You’ve been in love with her…”

“Since the forties, yeah.” Steve nodded. “My great lost love, as Tony likes to call her when he rags on the band I wear.”

“Does he know?”

“No. Just you. And Bucky.” Steve amended. “He was there when she…”

“Right. Weird.” Natasha let out a long sigh, looking through the window. Her fingers reached for her own cuff. She hesitated, but pulled it off, holding her soulmark out to him. “Fair is fair.”

Steve stared at the letters for a long time, realization slowly filling his eyes. The name on her wrist was none other than James Buchannan Barnes. “Oh my God.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you until all the dust settled, but it just settled, so…” She shrugged, putting the cuff back on. “I’ll figure out how to tell him, too, if he doesn’t know already.”

“Buck’s mark was grayed out back then. We thought…well, we didn’t know what it meant.” Steve said, shaking his head. It was the reason Bucky had dated around so much back then. He’d figured if he just found someone else, his mark would change and he wouldn’t have to be alone. Never could he have guessed what it actually meant, that his soulmate wouldn’t be born for another forty or so years. “And then he lost his arm…”

“Yeah, that part I did know.” She smirked. “Well, I’ll keep an eye on her. Let you know if she says anything you need to hear.”

“She probably thinks my soulmate is dead, too. Everyone else does.”

“Ironic.”

“No kidding.” Steve sighed, gazing longingly through the window.

“We’ll get you through it, Steve. You’ve waited seventy years. Six months is nothing.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna sit with her for a while. I don’t want her to wake up alone.”

He slinked back into the infirmary and sat in the chair beside your bed, watching your steady breaths and listening to the beeping of the heart monitor. Natasha watched him through the window, feeling lighter and heavier at the same time. Nevertheless, she was glad they had talked. At least now, they could be there for each other.

Vol. 2 Here

Tags: @cap-lu20

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers soulmate au #steve rogers imagine #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #marvel #mcu #avengers

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