#I wonder if they’ll address this in their movie | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honeyhotteoks · 1 year

Text

this night together - chapter five (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter five: not so easy to ignore

chapter summary: things at the studio turn out just about as bad as expected, but wooyoung takes you under his wing and introduces you to some new friends.

warnings: references to a/b/o dynamics such as heat and knotting and designations, alcohol/drinking, angst, sad vibes, but also good vibes?, reference to work place sexual harassment but not like you think

notes: thank you all so much for your kind feedback on this fic. i'm having an absolute blast writing it, and i'm so thankful for all the people giving it a try even tho this genre isn't their thing! that means a lot. this is the last chapter i have written in full, so chapter six may take a little extra time. i'm about to hit a few insane weeks of work, so i'll do my best but please be patient with me. there's a lot more chapters to come though, i promise.....

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 6.9K

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

As it turns out, you can’t just go back to being friends. When you wake in the morning you still feel sick, and your first thought is to wonder if Yunho does too. Maybe Mingi feels the same, but was better at hiding it. Maybe you’ll get to the studio and they’ll take you in their arms like a movie and kiss the breath out of you and hold you close and tell you they should have never, ever driven you home. But you doubt it.

You’ve been in love before, and you’ve had crushes before that. You’re no stranger to getting tangled up in emotional webs, it’s just usually not with people you work with and it’s usually so much easier to walk away. Or run, as you’re used to doing. This body, this designation, this biology, it makes everything always feel so confusing and artificial. Do you want them or does your omega? Do you need them or is it just the after effects of heat?

It’s a lot easier when you lie to yourself.

You’ve been dealing with this biology all your life. That’s all this is, and after a little time and a little distance, your body will catch up to your mind and stop feeling this way about them.

You take those aching feelings and lock them away tightly and then you get up. You shower, you take a deep breath, and then you buy yourself the fanciest coffee you can think of despite the absolute lack of funds in your checking account. This momentary serotonin will be worth the overdraft fee if that’s where it puts you, you need this.

By the time you get to the studio, you’re pretty confident that you’re over them, convincing yourself that it was just fun, good sex. Great sex, even, but still just sex.

But the minute you see Mingi every stitch of the resolve you knit for yourself unravels, and he looks surprised to see you even though it was part of the plan that you’d return today. He leaves the room before you can even open your mouth and try to say something innocuous and you know right then and there you were right all along. It was never going to be that simple.

Yunho blushes when he sees you, his ears turning a dark shade of pink and for a second he trips over his words addressing the wider group.

Mingi avoids your touch when you cross his path at lunch, offering you just a quick hello and then he’s gone again.

Instead of searching for their eyes, you start to get really comfortable with the wood grain of the floor and do your best just to focus on yourself. You’re working on something new, and a week ago you would have stayed late to fine tune your understanding of the choreography with Mingi while he waited on Yunho to wrap up in the back office, but you know those days are gone.

When practice ends they disappear, and you’re left to pack up by yourself. You give it a few minutes, thinking maybe when the rest of the crew trickles out maybe they’ll come to you, but they don’t. So much for being adults about this. You blink back hazy tears as you pull on your jacket, focused on packing up as fast as you can now just to get the hell out of this room.

You don’t even hear him coming up behind you.

“Come on,” Wooyoung says with a roll of his eyes, “we’re going for drinks.”

“I really should get home,” You glance over at him as you finish packing up your bag.

“I’m buying,” Wooyoung counters, “so you really have no excuse.”

What you really want is to go home and bury yourself under the covers for the foreseeable future. Every awkward second glance with Yunho was making you want to curl into a ball and every moment Mingi spent pretending he barely knew you made you want to go home and cry. An entire day filled with almost sentences and troublesome glances and all you can tell yourself is that you knew it, you were right all along.

You don’t answer Wooyoung, and instead you just can’t help yourself, you look behind you towards the back office, but neither of the men you want to see are there.

“Are you really so afraid of making friends you’re turning down free drinks?” Wooyoung prods your side, “That’s really fucking lame of you,”

“Wooyoung,” You sigh, your head dropping back.

“It’s fine,” He says, his voice lilting up in a sing-song, “I thought you were cool,”

Your jaw tightens.

“And I’m not usually wrong,” He goes on, “but it’s fine, I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong, and you, y/n, are lame.”

“Fine!” You snap up and meet his eyes, “Fine, I’ll come, but just one drink.”

“Excellent,” He smiles, and you’re starting to get the sense that Wooyoung doesn’t really take no for an answer ever.

“One drink,” You repeat.

“Yeah,” He shrugs off, “come on, get your stuff, we’re meeting San at 1987.”

“Where?”

“Bar,” He brushes off your question without really answering, “let’s go,”

Wooyoung turns on his heel without a second thought, and he’s off. You have to jog to keep up with him to get out of the building, and he’s mostly quiet until you hit the evening street outside. He slows to a casual pace and turns his head to you when he says, “You like San, right?”

The question catches you off guard, “Of course,”

Wooyoung smiles, “He’s definitely all business at work, most of the time, but don’t worry.”

“Why would I worry?” Your brow furrows, every interaction you’ve had with San so far has been perfectly pleasant, albeit professional.

“I just mean he’s fun,” Wooyoung corrects himself, “he’s just really serious about the work,”

“You’re all kind of like that,” You point out, “mostly,”

“Right,” Wooyoung nods, winding his way through an alley and you divert off the main street to follow him as he leads you through the back way to their regular spot.

“He takes training really seriously,” You offer, “but I think that’s good. We could all hurt ourselves if we weren’t following his plans,”

Wooyoung grins, “Oh, he’s going to like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Wooyoung lays a hand softly between your shoulder blades to direct you through a small crowd, “follow that up with how handsome he is and you’ll get special treatment forever.”

You laugh sharply, “Noted.”

He points ahead, “Just up there,”

At the far end of the alley is a hanging neon sign, the ‘7’ in ‘1987’ flickering intermittently. It’s not as flashy as some of the other bars or restaurants along the street you’re walking, but that looks to be part of the charm. As you make your way up to the door and inside, Wooyoung is quick to greet a few people on the sidewalk, throw a wave to the bartender, and he throws around names and details to you faster than you can pick up on them.

San waits at a table in the far corner, two light, wheat beers already waiting on the table. When he glances up from his phone and sees you both his eyes widen but he smiles pleasantly.

“Hey!” He smiles, standing and pulling a chair out for you, “I didn’t realize you were coming, I would have ordered you something,”

“I’m not crashing plans, am I? Woo didn’t say,” You glance between them.

“Not at all,” San shakes his head, gesturing for you to sit, “you’re more than welcome. Seonghwa should be coming too at some point,”

“Oh,” Your stomach does a little nervous flip flop.

“Chill,” Wooyoung interrupts your thoughts immediately, “have a drink, make some friends.”

You smile, taking your seat and letting San push it in for you so you’re settled at the table before he returns to his own place, gesturing for the server’s attention, “What’s your drink?” he asks you.

“Whatever you’re having is good,” You make it simple.

San smiles and points to their glasses before holding up a finger and silently communicating to the server that they need one more. He’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, now outside of work full of easy, confident energy.

“Well,” Wooyoung smiles and takes a long sip of his drink, “this is nice,”

“Yeah,” You’re not entirely sure what you’re doing here, but you might as well go with it, “thanks for letting me tag along,”

“Mm,” San’s eyes are trained on the serving staff but he nods, and then stands as your server approaches, meeting them halfway and taking the beer, thanking them profusely for running it out so quickly. When he returns to the table he presents your drink with ease, “There we go,”

“Thank you,” You nod, accepting the cold glass, and now that it’s in your hand you’re grateful to have the drink after the day you’ve had.

The sip is calming, cool and crisp, and you sigh as you swallow, not realizing the way you’re being watched by both men.

Wooyoung’s words nearly knock you sideways, and a tiny piece of you is grateful he waited until you finished sipping your drink, “So, how was your heat?”

You cough anyways though, just the idea that someone would say it so brazenly, and in public, “What?”

“Youngie,” San slaps him with the back of his hand, “you can’t ask her that,”

Wooyoung ignores him, leaning forwards with his elbows on the table now, “The perfume isn’t helping as much as you think,” he says and you blanch, “and I’ve never seen Yunho stare at someone for so long in my life, so,”

He barely met your eyes all day, and your head snaps up, “He was staring?”

His mouth quirks up on one side and San swivels his head towards you. Wooyoung nods, “Like a puppy,”

“Fuck,” You breathe.

Both their eyebrows raise.

“Sorry, sorry,” You lean back in your chair, hiding your face in your hands. So much for a convenient story about them having the flu.

“You can curse,” Wooyoung laughs, “I just didn’t expect you to admit it that fast, I thought I’d have to pry it out of you.”

“Oh, this is so bad,” You groan.

“Why bad?” San asks, “Yunho’s nice,”

You sigh, still hiding your face.

“He’s easily one of the best guys I know,” San continues, “and there’s nothing that says we can’t date within the company, we’re not idols,”

“Oh god,” You groan again.

“Is it so bad he has a crush on you?” San asks.

Wooyoung breaks into hysterics and your hands fall away, a blank, open expression on San’s face as he tries to pick up on the joke. You wince, shaking your head, “It’s worse than that,”

“Worse,” San repeats, still slow on the uptake.

“Woo,” You find his eyes with yours, “please don’t make me say it.”

He sobers quickly, and takes a swig of his beer, “Right,” he faces San, “Yunho had the flu, but it wasn’t really the flu. They were heat partners.”

“Oh,” San says, “oh,”

“Exactly,” You sigh.

There’s a beat and then San’s brow screws up in confusion, “Didn’t Mingi have the flu too?”

Heat tints your cheeks pink instantaneously and you look down at your glass, suddenly focused on the tiny bursting bubbles at the top of your beer. You brace yourself for their reaction.

“Holy shit,” Wooyoung breathes, “y/n, you’re a god,”

“What?” Your head snaps up.

“Both of them?” Wooyoung shakes his head, “Tell me everything,”

“You don’t have to do that,” San interrupts him again, smacking the back of his arm, “he’s needlessly curious, but you know, you don’t have to share if you don’t,”

The words flood out of you, a small piece of you thankful that you don’t have to hold this whole thing inside yourself forever, “I went into heat at the studio,”

“What?” Wooyoung’s face softens, and you know that he understands just what that means. The anxiety, the fear, all of it.

“This is embarrassing,” You sigh.

“Then you don’t have to,” San tries again, wanting badly to save you from any further humiliation or pressure.

You ignore him and hold Wooyoung’s eyes, “Friends, right?”

He nods.

You swallow hard and then take the leap, “I can’t afford my suppressants right now,” you start and his eyes soften more, “I thought I had rationed them right, but after the recording it hit me like a truck.”

“I knew you seemed off,” Wooyoung says softly, “then what?”

“Mingi found me in the locker room, and then he got Yunho, and they made sure I got out of there okay,” You lean back, crossing your arms and biting the inside of your lip.

“Sharing your heat was unplanned?” Wooyoung clarifies.

“Yes,”

“And it was,” He searches for the right words, “I mean… were they okay? Everything was okay?”

You know what he’s asking without asking, and you nod, “Completely, it was more than okay, they were…”

“They’re both good guys,” San says, “it’s good they were there.”

“Yeah,” You breathe, before snapping yourself out of own head and reaching for your beer again, “anyways, yes, so they took me back to their place and now it’s four, five days later and everything’s so fucking awkward,”

“Hmm,” Wooyoung murmurs, “and it was good?”

You nod, lips pressed tight together in a line.

“Oh, it was too good,” Wooyoung grimaces, “yikes.”

“Right,” You sigh, “and Yunho and Mingi both made it pretty clear that this was a one-time casual sex thing, which is fine, but also you know how heat goes. Everything is all jumbled up now,”

“Mm,” Wooyoung nods, and then his eyes shift to above your head and he grins, “Hwa, right here!”

Park Seonghwa appears a moment later, a warm smile on his angular face and he pushes a lock of dark black hair behind his ear as he finds an open seat and slides into the table, “Hey,” he greets, and then turns to you, “hi, y/n, nice to see you outside the studio,”

“You too,” You smile.

San once again repeats his process for getting Seonghwa a drink, and your stomach tightens as you think about what Wooyoung might say in front of this man you barely know.

“It looks like I interrupted something,” Seonghwa says a few moments later when everything is still quiet and hanging still.

Wooyoung doesn’t say it, he just holds your gaze intently and raises an eyebrow as if to say - Can I?

You sigh, catching Seonghwa off guard, and then you nod.

“y/n just got back from heat leave,” Wooyoung turns to Seonghwa to explain, “with Yunho and Mingi.”

You expect a sheepish or embarrassed reaction, someone quick to divert the conversation away from sex, but it turns out you don’t know Seonghwa as well as you thought. He merely makes a noise of acknowledgement and glances to you, “How messy are things, then? They were both being weird today,”

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly with a sigh.

“They said they wanted it to be a one-time thing,” Wooyoung says, “but is the problem that you like them? Or one of them?”

“I can see that,” Seonghwa smiles, “Yunho kind of oozes perfect boyfriend,”

“It’s not that,” You shake your head, words bubbling up as you try to make sense of it, “it probably shouldn’t have happened at all, and I’m new, I don’t want to make anything weird or uncomfortable, but we spent like four days together… it was intense, and now I just feel like I can’t not think about it when I look at them,”

“Intense, good?” Wooyoung quirks a brow, nudging you under the table.

“Woo,” You sigh, “I’ve never felt like that,”

“What do you mean?” He asks softly, the two alphas at the table going silent to watch you both.

“I don’t know what it is about them,” You confess, “but the entire time all they did was make sure I was okay, they were so tender and kind, and when I left I just wanted to go back.”

“Oh,” Wooyoung murmurs, “you’ve got it bad,”

“My hormones are just out of whack,” You shake your head, “you know what it’s like. Have an alpha tell you they want to give you pups enough times and your brain short circuits,”

Seonghwa shifts in his seat and San clears his throat, but Wooyoung just laughs.

“Anyways, yes,” You take another sip of your drink, “I spent my heat with them, had the best sex of my life, and now I’m sitting here with a stomach ache because I don’t know where they are right now. I feel like the universe is playing a trick on me,”

“Wait,” Wooyoung starts to say, but you’re on a roll now, the single beer hitting just a little harder than it should have.

“Working here, with all of you, was my dream. I just think it’s funny that I haven’t even been here for three months and I’ve already managed to fuck it up, because now everytime I look at Yunho all I can hear is me begging him to claim me, which is insanity, pure and complete insanity,”

“Wait,” Wooyoung repeats again, hands up and out trying to get you to slow down, “I thought it was casual heat sex,”

“It was,” You resurface from your own panicked rambling and realize just how shocked the table looks, “what?”

“You asked Yunho to bite you?” Wooyoung asks, and when you nod he says, “and right now, how do you feel?”

“Fine,” You knee-jerk answer, “but, a little anxious I guess?”

“I don’t know how to explain this,” He says, looking to the two alphas for help who both shake their heads.

“Why do I feel like I’m missing something?” You glance between them.

“Okay,” Wooyoung claps his hands together, “listen, I have never asked Sannie to give me pups. I have never asked him to bite me, and I have never, ever, gotten all dizzy and sick when he’s not around.”

“Hey,” San grumbles, “I think she gets it,”

“I don’t,” You manage.

“What you had is a lot more than heat sex,” Wooyoung finally settles on, and your stomach drops.

“Woo,” You shake your head again, “no,”

“I’m serious!” He insists, “How else do you explain it,”

“You’re so dramatic,” You roll your eyes and reach for your drink, but find the glass empty, “it was good, really good, but that’s all it was.”

“He’s not wrong,” Seonghwa interrupts, his deep voice still calm and easy, “sometimes connections are just stronger. Scents match better, you know, everything just clicks. It doesn’t mean Yunho’s your soulmate, but if the pull is there, then there’s something there.”

You ignore the pull and flash him a weak smile, “Not for them.”

“Them,” Seonghwa corrects, “both of them?”

“I know,” You bury your head in your hands again.

“y/n,” San’s hand lays softly on your forearm, “no matter what happened, Yunho and Mingi are both still the guys from a few days ago. They’re still good men who care about you, even if that’s just as a member of the crew or a friend.”

“Can I ask a question?” Seonghwa interrupts.

“Sure,” You sigh, lifting your eyes to his.

“How do you know they don’t want you too?”

The question makes you feel awful, and you catch Wooyoung’s sympathetic look in your peripheral vision and nearly lose your composure, but the truth of it is simple. You clear your throat softly and straighten up, “They said so,”

“Oh,” He nods.

“And I’m not even sure I want them,” You tack on, “I don’t even really know them,”

Silence stretches at the table, and San’s eyes flick from yours to Seonghwa.

“Then let’s get another drink,” Seonghwa finally says, “let’s get your mind off it, and let’s have a good night. I know things are awkward at the studio, but don’t let them be. Just focus on the work and yourself and make some friends, and this whole thing will just be a funny story,”

You nod and sigh, “Okay,”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung offers, “a month from now no one’s going to remember,”

It’s around the third bar when someone brings it up again. You’re several more drinks deep, learning so much about the group dynamics that you can’t get while inside the studio walls. Wooyoung is quick to peel back all the layers for you now that you’re actually out with them and not just pushing it off a little longer for the sake of your wallet.

Leaning across the expanse of the table Seonghwa gets your attention with a drunken tap on your arm and his eyes narrow, “What’s this about you not being able to afford your suppressants?”

“What?” For a second his words don’t compute.

“Your meds, your suppressants,” He gestures, a little beer tipping over the edge of his glass, “why aren’t you on them?”

“I will be soon,” You lean in closer to hear each other over the music, “insurance window,”

“Ah,” He nods, “so what’s your plan next time?”

“Next time?” You turn your head so that his mouth is closer to your ear.

“Next heat,” He clarifies, a little slur in his speech, “while you’re onboarding,”

Your eyebrows shoot up at his words, “I don’t really know, I guess,”

“Mm,” He nods.

“Why?” You scoot your chair closer.

“I’m assuming you don’t want to,” His voice gets swallowed up by Wooyoung shouting something over the music and you shake your head.

“What?” You squint, shifting closer, bracing your hand on the table by his glass to steady yourself.

“Go back to Yunho and Mingi!” He all but shouts, “I’m assuming you don’t want to do that,”

“Fuck no,” You groan, “I’d rather take care of it myself than deal with feeling like this,”

“What about me?” He says and you laugh, but you don’t really know why. He clears his throat and shakes his head, sobering himself just a little, “Seriously,”

“What about you, what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Help with heat, I help Woo, San and I both do,”

“Oh,”

“Only if you need a hand,” He smiles, round eyes shining and kind, “or you know, a knot in this case,”

You clap a hand over your mouth and can’t help but fall apart into giggles, “You’re serious,”

He quirks his eyebrow at you, dropping his drink back onto the table so he can draw an X over his chest with two fingers, crossing his heart.

“What are you doing over there?” Wooyoung interrupts and your head snaps to the side, “Making a blood pact? You’re both trashed,”

“I am not trashed,” You insist, even though you can feel yourself slipping off the chair you’re on inch by inch.

“You’re allowed to be,” Wooyoung pushes a shot of soju towards you, “you’re broke and in love,”

“Wooyoung!” His words strike panic through you, “Seriously, stop that,”

“Alright, alright,” He throws up his hands, “broke and and in lust, whatever,”

San’s lips curl up in a half smile at his friend’s words. His eyes are closed, and he’s swaying a little from side to side, jerking back to center every now and again when his equilibrium feels too sideways. It’s entirely possible Wooyoung is the most sober one here and that thought makes you burst into laughter. San’s eyes fly open at the sound.

“I was offering my services,” Seonghwa cuts in, like he had been thinking about what to say that entire time and finally found the words.

“Your what?” Wooyoung laughs.

“For her next heat,” He explains, waving his hand like it’s simple addition, “my services,”

“Seonghwa,” San shakes his head sharply, “stop.”

“It’s not as if I’m with someone,” Seonghwa replies, holding San’s gaze intently, and for a split second it’s obvious there’s some kind of a backstory behind them all or their friendship or just Seonghwa himself that everyone knows and you don’t, but it isn’t the time to ask.

“Yeah,” San says a little gruffly, blinking hard to shake off the alcohol, “well, this still isn’t the time.”

Wooyoung wraps it up smoothly, “We’re all too drunk for this,”

“Exactly,” You take a moment of solace in the cup of soju.

“I mean it though,” Seonghwa tears his eyes away from San and a hand drops onto your knee, “you’re pretty, I’m pretty, just keep it in mind,”

There’s almost no way he’ll remember this tomorrow, so you let him off the hook with a smile and a hand on the side of his cheek, “Thank you, Hwa,”

“That’s what f-friends are for,” He hiccups lightly, and then you watch his eyes unfocus as the dizziness floods his vision and he drops his head unceremoniously onto your shoulder, “oh, God, I’m drunk,”

“There it is,” Wooyoung grins.

You slip forward as Seonghwa’s weight drops onto you and you brace yourself on the edge of the table, but San swoops in, “Come here, hyung, stop hanging on her,”

“Hmm?” Seonghwa’s eyes look tired when San gets him off you and over his shoulder, “Sannie?”

“Yeah,” San softens, “it’s just me,”

“I think I need to lie down,” Seonghwa murmurs, his head falling onto San’s ready shoulder.

“I know, hyung, I know,” San softens, and then turns to the table, “can we go?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung stumbles as he gets up but then straightens, tucking himself under Seonghwa’s other arm once he gets his feet under him, “y/n, you good?”

You pull yourself up too, knocking back the final shot of soju so it doesn’t go to waste and pulling on your jacket, “Good,”

In the cool night air outside the bar everything gets dizzier, more watery and hazy, and something in your gut pulls hard. For a brief passing moment you wonder what Yunho and Mingi are doing right now.

San’s saying something and you shake yourself out of your stupor, “What’s that?”

“I said, where do you live?” He lets Wooyoung take more of Seonghwa’s weight as he turns his focus to you.

You give him your address, “I can call an Uber,”

“I live kind of close,” He nods, “let me take you,”

“You really don’t have to,”

“It would make me feel better,” San brushes you off immediately, “we’ve all been drinking, you shouldn’t be alone,”

“What about him?” You nod towards Seonghwa.

“I got him,” Wooyoung assures, “we live in the same building.”

“You sure?” San checks, “We can all go together,”

“It’s the opposite direction,” Wooyoung shakes his head, “and I’m tired, this just makes more sense,”

San nods and then checks on Seonghwa once more, “Make him drink some water, okay?”

“Yep,” Wooyoung salutes, rolls Seonghwa into an Uber, and then they’re gone.

Leaving you and San alone on the sidewalk.

“Let me get a car,” He says, shaking off some of his lingering drunkenness and pulling out his phone.

Of the three men, you talked to San the least. As the night had stretched on, you found yourself sidled up with Seonghwa or talking across the table animatedly with Wooyoung, but San seemed to give you a little space. He was also the one who commented the least on your recent sexual escapades and now standing in the middle of the street with him and him alone, you have no idea what you’ll talk about.

You watch as he types into his phone, lets it search, and then his nose crinkles, “Twenty minutes,”

“Oh,” You push up on your tiptoes to see his screen, “damn,”

He thinks for a minute and then sighs, “You want to walk a bit? I need to sober up a little anyways,”

“Sure,”

“Hungry?” His brows perk up.

“Definitely,” You smile.

“There’s places in our direction,” He waves you on, and you fall into lockstep with him as you wind out of the alley and back into the city streets.

It’s quiet for a moment, and you know one of you has to break the silence, but mercifully he gets there first, “You’re a good dancer, you know,”

“So are you,” You glance up at him, and he smiles.

He’s handsome, especially like this with his cheeks tinged pink with the night of drinking and his hair falling in his eyes. He directs you forward across an intersection and then looks down to keep talking, “You pick little things up really quickly, it’s impressive,”

“I appreciate that,” The alcohol seems to be less pervasive now that you’re out of the loud club and walking some of it off and you sigh, “honestly, I was staying late with Mingi a lot of nights. He was helping me catch up,”

“Ah,” San nods, “that makes sense,”

You keep walking. Normally you can get a conversation going without any problems, but with the alcohol and the late night and the fact that you really don’t know San all that well, you’re tongue tied.

He sighs heavily and looks at you, like he had been weighing whether or not to say something and finally chose to just do it anyway. “Don’t worry about what Seonghwa said,” He manages, “he was drunk, and I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” Your stomach knots up, “he didn’t,”

“Good,” San nods, looking relieved, “he’s a good man, he’s,” San searches for his words for a moment, “not the type to proposition a coworker, that’s not what,”

“Oh!” It makes sudden sense why San was being so careful, offering to walk you home and trying to keep Seonghwa in check, “No, San, that’s not at all what I thought,”

“It’s not?” His eyebrow quirks up.

“No, I mean,” Your gaze falls away from him, “it probably should be, but I know he meant well. Plus, I know you both help Wooyoung,”

“Well,” San shakes his head, “that’s a little different,”

“Because you’re all men?”

He smiles, a little sheepish, “No, I was going to say because we’re old friends, but I guess there’s that too.”

“Ah,” You turn towards him, “well, really, you shouldn’t worry about me like that. Hwa was just trying to be a good friend, and I’m sure he won’t remember it tomorrow anyways,”

He sighs, relieved this time, “Good, okay,”

“Is that what you were worried about?” You ask.

“Between that and Woo practically interrogating you,” His nose crinkles again, “that part of your life is private, he shouldn’t pry like that.”

“I would have told him to stop,” You shake your head.

“I hope so,” He says, “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with us after everything you’re dealing with. We like you in the crew,”

“You do?”

“Definitely,” He twists to meet your eyes, “you have fire. I saw it in the audition tape,”

Blush flushes your cheeks, “Thank you,”

“I’m just being honest,” He smiles.

You smile back.

It gets easier the more and more you walk with San. The alcohol slowly dissipates in both your systems, and after a few more blocks the idea of street food seems even more appealing. He refuses to let you pay and you only protest once, albeit weakly, before he gives you a simple shake of the head and takes care of things without another word.

It’s a thirty minute walk, especially at this meandering pace, but eventually you make it back to your block, and you don’t know what possesses you to turn the conversation back to Yunho and Mingi and everything it means but you do. He’s less shy to discuss it now, especially after enough time getting to know each other and sinking into a conversational rhythm.

By the time you make it to your apartment walkway, your corn dog is half eaten and your previous anxiety about talking to San is gone entirely. You gesture up to your building, “This is me,”

“Nice,” He comments, and then he takes a seat on your stoop and looks up at you, expectant.

“What?” You ask at his expression.

“You weren’t done, come on, tell me the rest,” He leans back against the railing, stretching out his legs.

“Right,” You remember yourself, flopping down onto the step next to him and running a hand through your hair, “where was I?”

“Yunho reminding you of your ex,” San prompts you.

“Ah,” You shake your head, “I mean not really, my ex was an asshole, but… I guess I didn’t know that for a long time. I thought he was nice, I thought he was the right guy.”

“And Yunho’s nice and the right guy?” He smirks.

“No, no,” You wave your hands, “fuck, I’m not making sense with this at all.”

“Can I guess?” San turns his body towards you a little more.

You nod.

“When your heat was over,” San’s expression is almost a little apologetic as he addresses it directly, “did you all agree it was just sex?”

“Yes,”

“And that you could all be adults about it?” He adds.

You nod again.

“And today you were all awkward as hell and avoiding each other?”

“Basically,”

“Listen,” San rests his hand on your knee, “I don’t know what your ex did or didn’t do, but they’re not that guy.”

“I know,” You sigh.

“But I get it,” San interrupts, “it feels like you had this connection and everything was good and now they’re pretending you don’t exist, and how is that different from any other guy?”

He has you there. You manage a nod.

“Well, I don’t know how they feel about you,” He offers, “but I promise you they’re just as embarrassed as you. It’s easy to say you’ll stay friends and that the lines won’t get blurred, but they always, always do.”

You study him for a moment, at the way he’s speaking so genuinely and it dawns on you, “You speak from experience, I’m guessing?”

He looks down and away, nodding before he brings his eyes back up to yours, “Yeah,”

“Woo?” You guess softly.

After an entire night of watching them lean against each other, touch each other, talk amongst themselves in their little bubble, you’re shocked when his mouth turns up into a sad smile and he shakes his head, “No, Woo and I have figured out how to make this whole thing easy,”

“Oh,”

“Wooyoung loves me, but he’s not in love with me.” San clarifies.

“And you?” You ask softly.

“He’s my best friend,” San says confidently, “and I’ll never let him be in pain,”

“But?” You nudge him.

“It was a long time ago,” He shakes his head and for the first time all night you know he’s told you a lie, but you let it pass. He shakes off the momentary lapse and continues, “but I know how you’re feeling.”

“Then how do I make it right?” You ask him.

“Sometimes you can’t,” He says honestly, “sometimes one person just feels so much more than the other, and you try to make it work until you bend so much for them you break.”

“I know what Woo said,” You shake your head, “but I’m not in love with them. I’m not.”

“I trust you,” San nods, “you know yourself better than Youngie.”

“It’s just this thing inside me,” You confess, and maybe it’s the alcohol or the lateness of the hour but you feel safer here on your stoop with him than you have in a long, long time, so you keep confessing. “I wish sometimes so much that I could just be a beta, that I could forget all about this and just know for sure. I’ve… never known anything for real and how am I supposed to trust anything I feel if my body just decides for me.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he says, “Being an omega is a beautiful thing,”

“Don’t,” You shake your head sharply, “I’ve heard that one all my life,”

“It is,” He insists, “all of it’s beautiful. Every part and piece of us is, alpha, beta, omega, all of it.”

“San, that’s not,”

“I know what you meant,” San says softly, sliding his hand into yours and giving you a squeeze, “and it would be easier to be a beta, and to not have to wonder every time. Does the person you like feel right because you like them or because something about them is a good biological match?”

“Exactly,”

“Believe me,” He squeezes you again, “I get it.”

Tears prickle in your eyes and you swallow hard to clear them, “Then how do I make this work? How do I go back to the studio and put this behind me?”

“Is that what you want?” He checks, thumb stroking along the back of your hand.

“Yes,” You sigh, “it doesn’t even matter how I feel or don’t feel, I can’t take that risk here,”

“The work is more important,” He finishes for you.

“Yes.”

“Then don’t let them in again,” San says simply, “not like before. Be friends, but keep things professional. Get some distance from this whole thing,”

“I have a feeling this is not the advice Woo would be giving me,” You smile.

“No,” San laughs, “Wooyoung would tell you to open yourself up to the great mystery of being loved or something,”

“And you’re not a romantic,” You smirk.

“No, no,” He shakes his head, “I am, but being a romantic doesn’t mean you have to let people hurt you. I’ve seen Woo get his heart broken a dozen times now, and he keeps trying. He’s the strongest person I know, and I love him for it, but it’s not the only way.”

“So what he said at the bar,” You tuck your unfinished food into the little bag and leave it to the side, “what he said about my heat?”

“I mean,” He shrugs, “y/n, this isn’t your first time. Don’t listen to him,”

“But Seonghwa,” You remember the way Seonghwa agreed, like a scent match was the stars aligning.

“Fuck them both,” San shakes his head, “just because you had a connection with them doesn’t mean they’re the only people you can connect with.”

Your eyes fill with tears again and he shakes his head when he sees your hazy eyes, brushing your jaw softly with his fingers. You swallow hard and sigh, breath hitching in your chest, “You know what’s funny about this?”

“Hmm?” He brushes your jaw again.

“I don’t even want to date right now, I just,” You shrug lightly, “I want to work. I want to have friends. I want to go out and meet people or stay in if I feel like it. I don’t want to sit on the couch pining or walk on eggshells at the studio,”

“y/n,” San steadies you, his voice low and calm, “listen to me, okay?”

“Okay,” You murmur.

“You have work to do, so focus on it. You have friends, including me, and Woo, and Seonghwa, okay? You come out with us… or don’t,” He smiles and squeezes your hand, “and the studio will feel weird for a little while, but trust yourself, it will fade.”

“It will,” You nod, “you’re right,”

He nods, holding your gaze a little longer until he gives you one more squeeze. San shifts back to give you a little space, his hands leaving you and clasping together to hang between his legs. He smiles, “Do you feel any better?”

“Yeah,” You run your hands through your hair and let out a long, tired exhale.

“Sobered up?” He checks.

“Mostly,” You nod, checking your watch, “but it’s so late I’m still going to be feeling it tomorrow,”

“Mm,” He nods, “we aren’t starting until eleven though,”

“True,”

The night is drawing to a close, you can feel it. You don’t really want to be alone with your thoughts again, but you’re also so tired you think you might drop on the spot, so you start to pull away and hope that you’ll be able to fall asleep the minute you hit the pillows.

He pushes himself up to stand and offers you a hand to help you to your feet, “Should I walk you up?”

You shake your head, “I got it,”

“I’ll wait until you get in,” He smiles and nods.

You make it two steps up before you turn back to him, “Thank you, San,” you tell him, “for everything tonight, really,”

He smiles wider, his eyes crinkling up and he nods again, “Don’t thank me, just remember what I said.”

“I will,”

“And y/n,” He calls after you as you start back up the path, “sleep well,”

“You too, Sannie,” You give him one last look before you push open your apartment door and start up the steps. He doesn’t budge, making sure you’re in the door before he pulls out his phone and starts his short walk home.

Coming home this time doesn’t hurt the same.

You hope for more of the same tomorrow.

You hope every day that it fades away, little by little.

#ateez #honeyhotteoks fics #honeyhotteoks series #this night together fic #yungi x reader #yungi smut #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #ateez ff #ateez series #yunho series #mingi series #yunho fic #mingi fic

587 notes · View notes

funkii4-blog · 2 months

Text

Something stuck out to me on the Puzzlevision show wiki page that I wanted to bring up here;

It says PV/Mr Puzzles is presenting specifically the gang’s struggles as shows for entertainment.

This first one had SMG4 as the main character, and it seemed to show two things; 1) his impatience with Mario continuing to grow thinner to the point of him even trying to kill his own avatar and 2) his overall anger issues that have been a frequent notable thing since this whole saga started.

This got me wondering what each next crew member’s specific struggle(s) will be shown off or addressed in PV’s future shows. I don’t know enough in-depth about Meggy or Bob’s characters to make any guesses for them (we don’t even know if Bob will get one based around him at all, the fifth slot could go to Mario for all we know), and my best guess for Tari is it’ll show how she wants to stop cowering and find more of a purpose.

I’m of course most curious about how and what they’ll bring up about SMG3 in the case this line from the wiki means what I think it does. The wiki also says 3 is PV’s primary nemesis, so I wouldn’t be very surprised if his struggles were exploited by him the most out of everyone.

Theres two obvious guesses as to what could be addressed for him; his insecurities and fears of being forgotten/seen as less-than (as mentioned in Trash Friends), and him wanting to be closer to and likely even having a crush on SMG4 (which, just like 4’s anger issues, has debatably been a reoccurring thing this whole storyline.) The former is the more likely to be the case or at least moreso but I can’t help but wonder if the latter will also be acknowledged to a degree. It may even be both, we’ll just have to see what happens.

One last note; since each show of PV’s (including past movies/wotfi) has been each of a different genre, I wonder if the romance genre will be touched upon at any point in this 0_0

#smg4 #smg4 theory #smg4 puzzlevision #puzzlevision

81 notes · View notes

queenof-curses · 1 year

Text

Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader

A Trip to the Dentist

Summary: You and Kento have been friends forever. Having tooth trouble, what better way to get it addressed immediately than to call up Dr. Nanami?

Word Count: 4.4k

Masterlist | More Jujutsu Kaisen

Tags: Minors DNI! Explicit, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Porn with some Plot, Oral, Fingering, Explicit Sex, Dirty Talk

“Hmm.. I’m sorry, Dr. Nanami is busy, can you call back at a later date?”

“Ha-Ha-Ha, very funny Kento…” You hold the phone to your ear, walking along the pavement of the small downtown area this town has.

You could practically feel the smirk he gives you over the line. It was just like him, his humor was always dry and somewhat teasing towards you. Not that you weren’t used to it at this point.

Kento Nanami. You knew him like the back of your hand, growing up in the same class and down the street from one another. He became your first friend when you were bullied by the mean girls in your kindergarten class. He saved you that one fateful day on the playground, and you never forgot it.

From then on, you two were inseparable. Two peas in a pod. You were science class partners, bus buddies, and more. However, that was years ago. You’re both adults now… both unable to leave the town you call home.

In fact, after college you both returned home to open your own businesses right here on the little downtown strip. Everyone in town spends their days here, and now you two have your own little part in its beauty. It really was something out of one of those movies.

Returning from pastry school you finally decided to say fuck it and opened your own bakery. The closest one was in the neighboring town anyway. You were welcomed with open arms and business has never been better for you.

Kento went into dentistry, opening up his own practice on the other end of the strip from your bakery. The townsfolk always joke how you two close friends ended up running opposite businesses in both location and practice. I mean, two best friends… one runs a sweets shop, the other is a dentist? It was comedic. They always teased the relationship between you two. However, they couldn’t be further from the truth.

You and Kento were friends. Very close friends and nothing more. In fact, you never really thought of him that way before. Have you?

Those thoughts are quickly pushed aside as Nanami responds to your teasing.

“You know I enjoy poking fun at you, I can imagine your blush now…” He says on the other end of the line. “What’s up?”

“Well.. I have an issue, and you CAN’T be mad at me.” You quickly add that last bit, thinking about how he’s certainly not going to like hearing this one.

“Do I even want to know?” He responds.

“Well…..”

“What did you do?” He asks, tone light but firm with you.

Uh oh, he’s using his Doctor voice.

You grimace before answering him. “Uhh… Well, I’m having some tooth pain. I was wondering if you could help me out real quick?” You ask, tone turning sweet.

“I told you to take it easy with those sweets, they’ll rot your teeth..” He nags from his end.

“I Know! Okay? But what do you expect? I run a freaking Bakery Kento! Now can you help or not?” You demand, matching his tone.

“Of course I can help, y/n… How could I say no to you?” He takes a minute to ponder. “Except I could say no…. Unless you bring me some of your special sourdough.”

Ha. Hook, Line, & Sink..

Your smile is huge. “Oh I think I can manage that…”

“Excellent, y/n. Let’s see… its 330pm. You close at 430 right? Just stop by after you lock up, I’m done with patients for the day so I sent home the assistant, but I think I can manage a cavity.”

“Ugh, thank you so much Kento! You’re a lifesaver!” You yell into the phone.

“Just don’t forget my bread, y/n” You can hear his light laugh through the speaker. “Also, NO SWEETS!” He yells at you right before hanging up the phone.

Hmmph, well then. Grumpy goose. As always.

Rolling your eyes, you reach the doors of your bakery and walk inside. Taking in the smell of fresh bread and cookies, you wave to your own assistant in passing. You let her go home for the day while you take care of the last of the customers. After a quick clean up and securing the money, you wrap a loaf of sourdough and set it aside for Nanami. 30 minutes later you find yourself locking up the shop and making the 2 block walk to Kento’s practice.

The sun was starting to set on this lovely spring day. As you walk you admire the storefronts and wave to recognisable friendly faces. You loved this town. It was safe and it was home. Finally arriving at the dentist's office, you knock on the glass door. Almost immediately, Kento walks up on the other side and you hear a sharp click as it unlocks. Stepping aside, he welcomes you inside then locks back up behind you.

“I got your bread for you, Dr. Nanami!” You smile as you present the loaf, cheesing hard enough for him to pick up on your teasing.

“Please, y/n stop calling me Doctor, I’m never used to it and technically I am off the clock. You know how I feel about overtime…” he mutters.

It only makes you smile harder. “Yeah Yeah, I know… I’m sorry, this tooth hurts like a bitch, so I had to give you a call.” You look up at him with wide eyes, trying to work your magic on him.

“It’s fine, y/n. I mean it. For your bread, I’d probably just do about anything…” he trails off, taking in your flour-covered outfit.

You notice his eyes on you, blushing. “Oh- sorry. Didn’t really have time to change…”

He simply nods and walks to the back, motioning for you to follow him. He’s much taller than you, lean and strong. How he has the time to work out, you’ll never know. He’s not wearing his scrubs, but a simple pair of dress pants and a white button down shirt, slightly undone at the top. His sleeves were bunched up, and he looks like he had a busy day as well. You watch him walk in front of you to the back, alcoves of chairs line the walls and he takes you to the very last one.

Motioning for you to sit, you set your stuff down and get comfortable in the chair. It was quiet. However, it wasn’t uncomfortable. You were so used to Kento’s silence, knowing how much he likes to work on his own. Not you though, you were the rambunctious one. The loud thunder to his quiet lightning. I guess that’s why people always thought you would make the best couple. Perfectly fitting together but so different, like puzzle pieces.

Whoa, Y/n. Where did those thoughts come from?

“Let me see inside, even though I have a feeling it is a cavity,” Nanami states, interrupting your traveling thoughts.

You comply and open your mouth, not giving him lip since you know he means business when that tone of his comes out. So you sit and let Kento do his work.

It was a cavity, of fucking course it was. What it really is, is new material for him to hound on you for your sugar addiction. You’re a pastry chef, how could you stay away?

He works on your tooth for the next 30 minutes, the sound of the drill and ejector being the only things in the room. Kento fills your filling and remolds your tooth. During this time, you really allowed your mind to wander back to your original thoughts.

You guess he was attractive. Well, of course he was, you weren’t blind. Kento was tall, but not too tall. Lean, but not muscle-ly. His blonde hair was always perfect, tousled just right. And when he took off those glasses, he was panty-melting.

Shit, maybe I should rethink this?

It wasn’t just his looks either, and you knew that. He always took care of you, that’s why people thought you were a couple. He helped you study your general education classes in college when you needed it most. He was there when your grandfather passed away. He was the one to help you choose a building for your bakery. It’s always been him and you, and you don’t think you could bear the thought of him being with someone else. He always brought you back down when you’d float too high.

Your thoughts escape you as Kento finally speaks, his voice seems hoarse as it cracks a little bit. “Uhh…. y/n.. I just have to finish checking the shape and then you can be on your way.” He was blushing down at you.

Uhhh... Did you miss something?

What you didn’t notice was that during your trail of thoughts Nanami had 3 fingers in your mouth. His thumb was on your chin, almost caressing it. He was holding your mouth open as he checked over your filling. Tension began to fill up the room as he looked at his hand and then down to you.

You locked eyes with him, thinking well, maybe I’ve always felt like this… there must be a reason behind neither of us never being able to commit to other people.

Your tongue snaked its way in between two of his gloved fingers, caressing the inner side of his digit. Not breaking eye contact with him, you slid your tongue up and down as you felt drool pool into your mouth.

With a sharp intake of breath, Kento asked “Y/n… what are you doing?”

“Hasdihgja songwebo feidn"

He took a deep breath before slowly removing his hand to allow you to speak. The room was silent as you both watched the thick trail of drool pull away with his hand, connecting his fingers to your mouth. He groaned out loud, watching it fall on top of you.

“What do you think you are doing, Y/n?” He asked, sternly.

You looked up at him then, always being the outspoken one. “Kento… tell me, do you feel something for me?”

Your eyes were so wide, he couldn’t believe the question that fell out of your mouth. What did you mean? Could you possibly finally be putting the pieces together? He thought before answering, “Y/n… I’m not going to lie to you… not that I could anyways,” he muttered, as if annoyed with himself. “There’s a reason I’ve stuck by your side…you make me happy… You bring me joy, you make me believe in myself. What was once friendship made me feel something more a long time ago… I never planned on acting on it, until I knew for sure…” He said, trailing off as he looked at you.

“For sure, what? Kento?”

“For sure that you reciprocated, Y/N.” He states, leaning down towards you. “Now tell me, little lamb, have you ever felt anything more than friendship between us?”

His question had you thinking. Always with the nickname too, little lamb. You chuckled at the memory, him always comparing you to a lost lamb. But, then again, it seems that time and time again he was always there to help find your way home. In fact, Nanami was Home. He was your everything. You pondered this thought before answering him.

“Yes.” You said while looking up at him, confidence coming over you. “Kento… I- don’t really know how to put it into words, but it’s a feeling of wanting more. I just-I can’t-”

He cuts you off then, leaning down and locking his lips with yours for the first time. He sinks into you and you welcome him in. His lips taste of winter mint. You groan into his touch, wanting more from him.

Your lips challenge one another- fighting for dominance. Letting his tongue dance inside of your mouth, you let him win the battle this time. He pushes off you- allowing you both to catch your breaths.

You're both practically panting as you sit back and take one another in. Your lips were swollen and glistening, it had his member hard and ready to burst free. You looked down and noticed the tension behind his zipper. Smirking, you look back up to him with a challenging expression- “Excited to see me?”

Kento smirks right back at you as it seems your teasing turns a switch off inside of him. He huffs out a laugh, thick and laced with sexual energy. It has his chest heaving, and temporarily distracts you as you watch his muscles writhe underneath the tight shirt. Noticing you not completely paying attention, his dominant side comes out to play.

Shooting his arm out he catches your throat, holding it inside his large hand. He’s lightly squeezing the sides, adding just enough pressure to turn off your bratiness and lock eyes with his. He takes his other hand and brings his fingers into your mouth.

Still gloved, you can taste the latex as he plays with your tongue. Pushing a singular finger to the back of your throat he triggers a gag from you. He groans at the noise and you respond, giving into his predatory gaze. Your tongue circles his digits, coating them in your own saliva.

Nanami grows hard watching you slurp and suck on his fingers. He imagines his cock being shoved down your throat as you gag around his hardness.

“Fuck, Y/n… you’ll never understand what you do to me…” he whispers.

You lock eyes with his as he pulls his hand from your mouth once more. Together, you watch as your drool drips from his fingers. The air was thick with sexual tension and you waited for him to act on it first.

He stood from his chair suddenly. It gave you an eyeful of his growing erection, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your mouth water even more. He truly was beautiful, almost like a god. Looking up through your lashes, you gave him your puppy dog eyes you knew would work so well, silently begging for him to act.

Removing his gloves, he looked down at you. His gaze was so predatory, so controlled, you could feel his dominance in your bones.

“I am going to fuck you, y/n.”

You gasped. You never thought he’d be so straight forward.

I think I like bedroom Nanami, you thought.

“I’m not waiting, I can’t wait- I’m going to fuck you right now in this chair… I've been waiting long enough.”

And then he pounced.

I lied, I LOVE bedroom Nanami.

He was on your body in seconds, tearing your clothes off you as you reached for his buttoned shirt. Your lips were all over each other, the sexual tension finally snapped. He lifted your shirt from you then dived to pull your pants off.

All you could think about was him driving his cock deep inside of you. The thought had your panties wet. You’re both driven to move faster and remove the barriers between the two of you. You quickly unbuttoned his shirt and stuck your hand beneath it, feeling hot and smooth skin underneath.

Kento was peppering your body in kisses as he removed your shirt. He stopped to decorate your neck in bites, licking and sucking his way up your throat. He locked his lips with yours as his scent surrounded your whole body. Warm sandalwood and a hint of mint…. He was your undoing. He unclipped your bra and threw it to the side, sitting back to take in your bare breasts.

Your nipples were perked at the sudden cool air mixed with your arousal. Nanami eyed your chest in earnest, reaching out and taking them in his warm hands. Always one for details, he tweaked your nipples, earning a small yelp from you.

“Kento.. Please,” you begged.

“What was that Y/n? Please what?” He teased you, lightly tugging on your buds.

“Please…. Touch me..” you whispered, locking eyes with him.

You were a wet mess, left begging for him in nothing but a pair of panties. He still had most of his clothing on, just an unbuttoned shirt revealing his chiseled chest. Strong and lean, you admired his muscles in the low light of the room. He was breathing heavily and looked as if he was losing control of himself fast.

That part was true. Nanami couldn’t believe how beautiful you were in front of him. Your breasts heaving, nipples at attention, and that pleading look you gave him... God, it was his undoing. The controlled tether snapped within him at that look on your face.

He leaned over to kiss you. Passionate, and slow… that’s the least he could do before unleashing himself upon you.

You moaned into his mouth, welcoming his body between your legs. He took a hold of your thighs with his hands, pushing them apart as far as the chair would allow you to do. You gasped, you were spread open for him. Your thin wet panties being your only shield from his gaze.

He looked down, smirking at the wet spot on your underwear. Reaching down, he grabbed the thin cloth and shoved it to the side, revealing your glistening folds to him.

Kento groaned out loud, “Fuck… y/n, I need to taste you.”

Your breath hitched as he situated himself partway on his stomach, not taking an eye off of your bare flesh. Not one to waste time, it was mere seconds before his tongue met your cunt. His hot muscle spread your lower lips and slurped your juice as if he was a man starved.

Your moans quickly filled the room as Nanami teased up and down your slit, mixing his saliva with your juices. He held your lips open with two fingers, admiring your darkest parts before spitting on your exposed hole. You whimpered at the lewdness of it all.

“Y/n… listen to me. I want you to cum on my mouth, I need to taste your release…” he trailed off before diving back into you.

He licked and slurped and drove you higher and higher. His strong nose teased your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your whole body. You found yourself quickly reaching your peak.

“Fuck, Kento… faster, please!” you cried out for him.

He dips two fingers into you, curving them to run against that sweet spongy spot inside of you. You screamed in response, digging both your hands into his hair and tugging his face against you. He groaned out; you could feel the rumble on your clit as his tongue danced with your little bundle of nerves.

Driving his fingers in and out of your hole, Kento imagines his cock buried in you as he pumps his hips into the chair. He lets you grind onto his face, using it to build up your release.

Your legs begin to shake as you feel yourself reach that wonderful place. They part as far as they can go as you grind your hips into his face one last time before screaming out.

“FUCK! Fuck Kent-” You groan out, not finishing a complete thought. In fact, you can’t even think straight as he finger fucks you through your high. Riding it out with you, he savors your cream on his tongue, thinking it's the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“Sweeter than your baked goods, baby girl…” he says, looking up at you.

Removing his fingers from your cunt, he grabs the back of your head and forces your mouth on his. He runs his fingers through your hair, uncaring if your juices get tangled into it. He yanks your head back, forcing your eyes on his.

Panting, he says “I need to fuck you, I can’t wait any longer.”

You could only nod in response, not completely coming down from your pleasurable high.

Nanami stands once again, removing his button down shirt completely. You eye him like a kid in a candy store. He smirks down at you as he reaches towards your panties and yanks them down your legs.

“Perfect…” he purrs out.

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond to that statement as he takes your hips in both hands and maneuvers you onto your hands and knees. Facing the head of the chair, you could feel the cool leather kiss your forehead. You arched your back for him, giving him a show of your wet pussy.

You hear a belt buckle move and a zipper slide down. Turning back, you notice he has cock out and in his hand, lightly pumping it. You gasp out loud. Nanami was a gorgeous man. Gorgeous men have gorgeous cocks. And it was breathtaking. His member was long with a slight upward curve. You smile knowing it’ll hit your soft spot just right. He had a thick vein decorating the side of it, meeting the base of short, clean blonde hair. It was perfect… he was perfect.

Locking eyes with you, he stands behind your body. Not bothering to take off his pants all the way, he ran his cockhead up and down your slit, mixing his precum with your cream. Slowly, he began to sink inside your cunt, relishing the feeling of your hole squeezing him.

“Fuck Y/N… you’re so tight.” He groaned out.

Kento took your hips in his large hands. The action made you feel tiny as he hovered over your body. He continued to sheath himself inside of you, stretching your pussy over his member.

You groaned out at the stretch. He prepped you well and you were wet enough to enjoy every moment of him sinking into you. You couldn’t wait, you wanted him to fuck your brains out. You needed him to.

Patience breaking, you groan out. “Kento.. Please, I need you to fuck me.”

You were answered with silence.

Suddenly, the air changed in the room. Tension seeped from his body as he registered your words. He paused his actions.

“Mmmm, if you insist y/n.” He said, knowing you had no idea what you just signed up for.

He slammed the rest of the way in, jerking you forward and making you cry out. He pulled out immediately and slammed into you again. And again and again and again. Not stopping, the sound of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the entire office.

You screamed for him, moaning mumbled words and holding onto the chair as he fucked into you from behind. Gripping your hips hard, you were sure he’d leave bruises in the shape of his hands.

He drove your entire body forward as his cock pulsed inside your walls. You felt helpless as he used your body for his pleasure. Lost in your own delight, you shift so you can meet his thrusts. Your breasts bounced from the action. Moving in sync, your hips met his as your skin slapped against one another.

Nanami moaned out, “You feel so good… so fucking tight-you’re gonna make me cum little lamb.”

“Fuck- do it. I want it. Cum in me, please. Mark me Kento...I’m yours.” You groaned out.

He growled in response, increasing his speed. He drove in and out of your cunt, his thrusts turning reckless. You could feel his heavy balls slap against your clit. A familiar warmth started to bloom inside you from his harsh pace.

“Shit- I’m gonna cum again, fuck… please!” you cried out.

He continued fucking into you, hitting your sweet spot. How did he already know how to find it? You couldn’t be bothered to think. His body kissed your clit as he drove you higher and higher.

“Cum on my cock, baby… give it to me, fuck.. I want to feel you.” He said, taking a handful of your hair and yanking your head back.

Your back arched and he used you as leverage to drive himself deeper into your cunt. The action had you screaming out your release, hitting you suddenly as you moaned his name. It was out of nowhere. Nanami pulled your orgasm from your body as if he owned every inch of you. Your pussy fluttered around his shaft, gripping him as if to steal his own release as he did yours.

“Y/n…” he groaned out, “You’re squeezing me so tight… mm’ gonna finish..”

“Do it! Give it to me Kento… please! Cum inside me… I need it.” You begged as you pushed your hips into his, guiding his member in and out of you.

Shit, he thought. Your words were so dirty. Nanami’s thoughts of marking you had him releasing his seed into your tight cunt. With one last snap of his hips, he coated your walls in white as your pussy pulled every last drop from him. You were milking him dry. It was as if you needed his seed to survive. He couldn’t believe it.

“Fuck Y/N… you feel so good..” he said, lazily fucking into you before slowing down to a complete stop. He held himself inside of you, relishing the tightness of your cunt and the warmth of you around him.

With him fully seated inside of you, his cock plugged you up. You’ve never felt so full before, savoring the heat of his cum and his body on top of yours.

He pulled out of you slowly, eyes watching your hole drip with his seed. He groaned, loving you like this. Finally, he thought, you saw him in the same light he always saw you in. You were his and he was never going to let go.

Releasing his grasp on your hair, you drop down to the chair with your ass still in the air, now completely exposed to the room. He couldn’t look away as he watched a mix of both your juices drip from your body onto the chair below you. He reached out, taking two fingers to stuff his cum back inside of your pussy.

You hissed out, sensitive to touch after your little adventure together.

“Hey now.. I’m still sensitive!” You say, tone sarcastic and teasing.

He grins at you, letting out a light laugh. “Yes I know.. I just like to see it.”

You turn over at that statement, locking eyes with him. Taking in each other’s fucked-out expressions, you both smile wide knowing that this is only the first, but not the last time you share a moment like this.

#kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #kento x you #kento x reader #jjk x reader #queenofcursesfanfic #queenofcursesjjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #kento nanami imagine #jjk x you

288 notes · View notes

ask-missparker · 3 months

Text

Nice to meet you, where’ve you been? / Once Upon A Time AU fic ⚔️

—> Inspired by the Pilot episode of the series to give a quick glimpse of our characters, well some of them.

Summary: In Fighter-Town, Maine everyone is cursed to believe they are normal people. However there are certain things that are left unclear and to be discussed. So Riley and Belladonna, are on the case suggesting if a change would start to stir things up?

Context: Riley is the daughter of Little Red Riding Hood (Rick Banner) and Belladonna is the biological daughter of Ethan & adopted daughter of Liane

Pairings: Snow!Amelia x Charming!Nikolai, Prince of Hearts!Ethan x Maleficent!Liane, Red!Rick x Huntress!Luna

Note: I changed some last names cause of the curse lol

~~~

It was the late afternoon in Boston, as the dimly lit apartment shined with beer bottles and the sound GTA video game playing in the background, as Ethan lay across the couch. He had a week off from work and wanted to enjoy it when suddenly there was a knock on his door, as he stood up to answer it.

Once he opened it, he was met with a short tan Latina with bangs and a black coat. She held a serious face, raising an eyebrow as she held her hands behind her back and asked, “Are you Ethan Long?

“Yes? Are you here for something?” He replies, holding the doorknob.

“You’re smarter than you look. I’m Belladonna, you’re daughter.”

“I..huh?”

She didn’t give him a moment to collect his thoughts as she walked inside the apartment hearing him saying a couple of things. She sighed and turned around to ask, “More than a few years ago you gave up a baby girl for adoption and that was me. And no, I’m not here for money. It’s not worth it.”

“So why are you here? Where are your parents?” He asked narrowing his eyes, picking up his cell phone.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’ll tell them you kidnapped me if you call the cops.”

“And they’ll believe you cause I’m your birth father. Clever. What do you want?”

“I need you to take me downtown to an address, to pick someone, and then I want you to come home with me.”

“You’re good, real good. Look you’re not going anywhere expect the police station because I can tell your lying.”

“I ain’t. Don’t call the police, just come home with me and then you’ll never want to leave.”

“Why’s that?”

“My town has one of the best diners in Maine.”

“Alright let’s go.”

After a short ride downtown, Ethan stopped at a apartment building and watched his daughter get out of the car. Belladonna looked at her watch, as she knocked at the door of the apartment knowing time was ticking and Riley wouldn’t hold them occupied forever. She sighed and waited to notice a tall teenager around 2 years old than her opened the door.

He raised an eyebrow and looked around the hallway for a moment before facing her. He was confused not recognizing her from anywhere as a shiver of fear came into his spine, he’s been on the run for a few months now trying to lay low wondering if the agency sent her here.

“Hey eyes over here, dude.” Said Belleadonna with a short half smile, trying to be kind here.

“Look, I uh, don’t want to cause an trouble here..” He replied, as he tried to regain his composure quickly.

“Good to here. I just want to give you something and then ask you a few questions.”

“Are they drugs?”

“No. Do I look like a pothead to you?”

“No…?”

She opened her black bag and handed him a note. It said ‘Baby boy left the doorstep of a adoption house. I know who you are but you need to trust me.’, referring to Joshua Nolan’s small new article within the small note. He awkwardly stood there eyeing the young girl who seemed to know more than she lead on.

“What is going on?” He asked, leading her inside his small rental apartment that belonged to a friend of his.

She glanced over the place and responded, “Do you believe in fairytales Mr. Nolan?”

“I read my fair share of them. Why?”

“What if I told you there is more to the tales.”

“Okay I’ll bite. I spend my life watching tv and movies, anything to escape reality.”

“Then you’re coming with me.”

He raised an eyebrow, “I’m sorry?”

“You’re living on your own and you just said, you rather escape this time. So either you come with me or you’ll regret it.” She commented with a serious tone, “Names Belladonna, and your Joshua Nolan. We’re very different yet but somehow alike. There’s a place called Fighter-Town, in Maine, where I’m from and you’re welcome to come with me on the fact that you’re from there.”

“From there how?”

“Our parents used to be friends but then some stuff happened and well..here we are.”

“My parents are gone.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Eh, well not all parents are the best..but do you believe in the case of hope in what I’m saying?”

“…yes? Don’t take this for granted, Belladonna, but, you’ll always want your parents around even if they aren’t the best..”

They were silent for a moment. Belladonna wasn’t one for sympathy but she could tell he was alone for a good part of his life, as she stayed nodding. Telling him to grab his coat as she explained along the way down to her birth father’s car a few of things as the young teen just hummed in response.

Ethan was a little more than surprised that he had 2 teenagers in his car, driving them to Maine but he just shrugged what else could he lose? To be honest, it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him that week. Belladonna held onto a copy of her book, as Ethan asked what is it in her hand as she bluntly that they are fairytale. It may sound stupid but it’s true, the whole town where they are going to is unlike any other because of the secrets they hold. Joshua heard her the whole time and wondered a few things but stayed silent.

“You got problems kid.” Ethan said driving with a small chuckle.

She nods and adds, “Yeah, well, we all do. And you’re gonna fix ‘em.”

——

Meanwhile in Fighter-Town, Liane was pacing back and forth between the front yard of her home. Rick was watching her, sitting on the couch with his daughter who was pretending to mind her own business but he knew Riley was covering for Belladonna. The town sheriff, Erik, was trying to calm her down asking for answers but got nothing in return.

“How could she do that? Just run off and not say anything!” Liane said stopped in her tracks when the sheiff put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a mini glare, “..sorry. Where could she have gone?”

Erik rolled his eyes and scoffed, “She’s a teenager, Felton. They rebel more than most.”

Riley was playing with her nails and shrugged, “..maybe she’s at the library. We all know she loves to read.”

Rick scoffed with a half hearted comment, “Sweetie, your not helping. You kids are always up to something, for the 8th time where is Belladonna?”

“Well..”

“I’m right here..” They all turned around hearing the young brunette voice, being accompanied by Ethan standing on the sidewalk with Joshua who was playing with the pieces of paper in his pockets.

Liane ran up to them, almost breaking her kitten heel and pulled her daughter into a hug as the young brunette have her a pat on the back calling her mother dramatic. Liane asked, “What happened?! Where did you go? I was worried sick..”

“I found my birth father..and a uh, pen pal.” Belladonna repiled, glances over her shoulder to look at Joshua and then nods at Riley.

“Y-your Bella’s birth father?”

Ethan half smiled and shrugged sheepishly, “Hi.”

Rick was looking at the young boy who was mentioned to be a pen pal raising an eyebrow. Erik looked at Ethan and felt something striking familiar wash over him but couldn’t place it as he said, “Hey. Uh, how about I take Belladonna inside then go about my rounds? I’m Erik Lawson by the way.”

Ethan nodded, “Ethan Long sir, nice to meet ya. And this is uh, Joshua.”

Liane eyed the guy for a moment, something shifted in the way he presented himself as she smiled, “Well thank you for bringing her back, I guess. Would you like to come inside? Get a drink?”

The two eyes met as the man nodded following her and the sheriff inside the the house.

However. Joshua waved shyly with a grin, he bounced around foster home to foster home before meeting a lot of people but his confidence wasn’t ever this low, he was mainly trying to take it all in. He glanced at Rick who was eyeing him for a long moment, as if he was suspicious of the young boy.

The young brunette straighten up and gave a small smile, “Hey. She came all this way to meet me I guess..I thought it was best Belladonna went home..”

Rick could tell he was being somewhat honest and asked, “You agreed to come along to see her come home? What’s in it for you kid?”

“N-no, nothing sir..I have nowhere else to go and she uh kinda invited me..”

“I have a bit of a superpower, we can call it that, I can tell when a kid is lying. Why are you really here?”

“Like I said, I have nowhere else to go, living on my own with a old friend..and it’s been a weird night.”

Rick wasn’t just a father but a teacher, he has seen students of all kind walk in and out his doorstep to his classroom. By the look in the young brunette’s eyes and how odd his daughter has been acting, he could tell they wanted to be cautious yet kind to him. This kid was alone but yet he doesn’t seem to want to go back home anytime soon, maybe make a friend.

“Okay.” The blonde simply said, “I don’t trust anyone and I know for a fact you ain’t Belladonna’s boyfriend.”

“No sir i uhm. I ain’t that..” The brunettes said, fixing his backpack and then noticed the young blonde girl eyeing him as well.

The blonde had a tiny smirk on her face and asked, “He can stay at Grandpa’s diner, right? The bed and breakfast.”

Rick nodded and lightly pushed the young boy into the direction of the diner, telling him to stay out of trouble or else. Rick walked walked away with Riley, passing by the record store to notice his favorite short pink headed girl who shyly waved at him. And her son who was playing with the record in hand. Riley just grinned to herself.

As Ethan and Liane were chatting at her house that night, Joshua found himself wondering the town as he lead to the direction of the diner. There was something cozy but chilling about the town so late in the evening, he has been on the run for a few years now never staying for too long or just not finding anything that called him name.

And here is he is, wearing a coat and carrying his backpack being invited to visit a new place. Never done better. He had nothing going on for him back in Boston, he was never once to stay in school too often. It was new and freshly made but he didn’t want to get his hopes up just yet.

As he walked into the warm Diner also known as The Bed & Breakfast, he sat down pulling out the piece of paper left by Belladonna eariler and silently smiled softly seeing she left a phone number just in case. He quietly asked for a room and then went downstairs to get something to eat from the diner, hearing the plenty of people talk.

One of the workers there, Melissa smiled asking, “What can I get you kid?”

“Uh, um..a glass of water and um what do you got?” Joshua asked back with a kind smile.

“Hm it’s a school night and on Thursday’s our meals are half off for teen, how about some fries?”

“And a milkshake to dip it in?”

Melissa was entertained by his response with that being a classic move and chuckled, “My kind of kid! Coming right up, uh..?”

“Joe.” He answered, giving her his nickname growing up instead of his real one.

“Joe. Short, sweet and quick to say.”

“Yeah something like that..”

She returned with his milkshake and smile, returning back to the counter to toss some M&Ms into her mouth. She looked at the kid noticing that he might be new, she did see a dark navy brown car drive into the town earlier but didn’t suspect he drove it. She shrugged.

———

The next day at the sheriff station, in came a blonde followed by the blonde from last night, Liane, shouting that Belladonna left again as Erik tried to calm her down again.

“She left again! Cassie tell him! Oh god—” Liane yelled then stopped noticing Ethan standing there behind a cell door and she gasped, “Oh my what happened to you?”

“It was raining, I hit the side of the road..and saw a wolf. Yet, you’re Sheriff thinks I was drunk.” Ethan explained, leaning against the bar and sighed, “..where did the kid go?”

“I was gonna ask you the same thing. I swear it’s hard raising a teenager. I thought she was in school! Did you have something to do with it?”

“Me?! Honey, I have not seen or heard of her since I dropped her off at your place. Not even her little friend. But I can help you find her.”

Erik looked back at Ethan and furrow his brows, “You’re gonna help find her?”

“Uh yeah, I was an officer for a while. I track people down for a living and used to bring them back to the building.”

“She was probably with her little friends or her favorite place. You can look there if she’s not at school.”

Cassie was watching Ethan for a few short second then spoke up, “You can try the library..if students aren’t volunteering or hanging out at the mall, some at the library or the park.”

After a few moment of strong brickering between Erik and Ethan, he let the man go find the kid as Cassie went to bring Liane over to her flower shop for some tea to calm the nerves. Ethan went to the park first and didn’t find anything then decided to take a look at the library which was hugely interesting to him. He was always a bit of a bookworm and guessed Belladonna was the same way.

He looked over to notice a young man sitting at the front set of tables reading, who looked annoyed to be distracted from his book. Ethan noticed the man just pointed to the 5th row of books in the corner as that’s where he found his daughter.

Belladonna was reading a text and looked up to notice her birth father and groaned, “Can’t I have 5 minutes of silence please?”

“And here I thought you were happy to see me.” Ethan responded, taking a seat behind her, “Why aren’t you in school?”

“Because it’s boring, the teachers are decently nice but it’s not as interesting..you stayed?”

“Yeah, well, I was knocked out cold last night and woke up in a cell. Go figure. Why do you keep running away? You’re mother, despite her dramatic flares of action, seems pretty nice.”

“…she tries. She’s busy with work at the jewelry store and uh, she’s not who she says she is.”

“Who is she then?”

“…uh, Maleficent. She’s alright. Kinda strict and drama, uh she can be happy at time but always on edge other.”

“Because you can away.”

“No one gets it.”

Ethan paused taking a moment to think and looked directly at her, “I do, believe it or not. When your young, you feel like you alone and no one completely understands it, but yourself so you tend to stay in your own lane instead, parents can be tough at times may not always make the right decisions..so, as bad as you think she may be, she’s trying her best here, she wants you. That’s all anyone could ever ask for. You get where I’m getting?”

She thought she could ease him into the fairytale thing as she nodded, “..yeah. I do, i see what your saying. In the book, she’s a hardass but sorta nice when you get to know her. You know her.”

“I just met her.”

“Yeah, you just met her..but sometimes you meet someone you feel like you know ‘em.”

“Whatever, kiddo. I just met her and yes she’s seems like a piece of work but give her a break her.”

They decided to back to Liane’s place to smooth things over. Belladonna picked out a couple of books aside the women she already carried with her, going to the front desk with Ethan. The same guy from earlier, was at the checkout process, who they found out was named Cole stood there. Ethan decided to buy a couple of books for her.

As he was ringing him up, the guy Cole, asked, “Name?”

“Uh, Ethan Long and Belladonna.” He repiled with a nod handing his card as he looked around the room.

Cole blinked and paused for a slight moment, taking a peek of a breather as he smiled, “Ethan and Belladonna. I heard of her..but you, are you new?”

“Yeah, uh I’m new. Just here for her.”

“Alright good. Enjoy your stay.”

The father and daughter walked out of the library as Cole waited to stumbled into his chair, almost letting out a cough at the wave of realization hit him. That was his brother. A couple of memories came flowing back as he did as he took another breath. He remembered his father pushing his brother into a wardrobe, well hearing about it, as he was confused and slightly worried. Which is rare cause he was never worried for his brother.

Then it clicked for him what Erik did back then and the fact that he had a daughter.

He remembered that he casted a memory tickling curse on him to snap him out of it if and when he heard one of the children’s name. But, what he didn’t expect was it to be his own freaking niece?! Oh god—he’s related to Maleficent legally! Cole thanked the fact that he owned half of the town’s library because then he was able to slip out of there and go to his shop to pour himself a long ass couple of drinks.

He was gonna need all that information to sit in for a while.

~~~

Joshua was on his own at the park, watching a couple of kids after school play as he snacked on bag of blueberries when he felt a pair of eyes spot him. He looked up from his phone and almost jumped out of his pants as the same pair of eyes from the night before was staring at him.

This time she was alone, a part of him thanked god because he was kinda scared of her father but won’t admit it. She sat down on the park bench beside her, wearing her school uniform as her feet dangled above the ground. She must’ve been 8 years old, maybe even 10 because she looked kinda older. But he could be wrong. He noticed she was holding a stuff rabbit in one hand and a book in the other.

“Uh..hi?” Joshua asked, giving her a tiny smile as he eyed her movements.

“Hi! You are welcome.” She replied with a soft little grin, “..for recommending Grandpa’s diner, i mean.”

“Oh right, thanks for that. I would’ve just slept anywhere but thank you..whatcha got there?”

“Oh! My storybook! D-did Bella tell you?”

Riley held it up with a smile that made her look younger than most that moment, almost full of sweet memories and spirt, holding up the front page with such determination. She explained how theses stories are real, well they feel very real to her, especially the ones about her parents. She said her daddy was little red riding hood.

He stopped her for a moment, “You’re father is little red..riding hood? Like with the red cape, the grandparents and big bad wolf?”

“Yup!” She replies like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “..well um..Bella is better at this than i am..”

“Try to explain it to me then..in your own way, of course.”

“Well she says that the stories here are very different from the movies. Not very simple or tr-trad-traditional..they have twists to them..like Red Riding Hood is a guy and he has a grandpa who is very sweet!”

“Uh honey, how do you know Red is your father?”

“I just do. I believe it.”

“Hmm..”

“Red Riding Hood is very kind, strong, cool and protective of everyone. Like he knows a lot. But a little silly and goofy! Just like my daddy.”

What Riley said all was true, she just believes it to be true. One of the sweetest and most beautiful gifts children of all ages have is this sense of hope, of belief in something, a strong feeling in their heart. You can’t always take it away from that but it will come back no matter what.

Joshua kinda wanted to believe what she did and he didn’t have the heart to break her spirt, seeing how much her eyes sparkled with pride. So he simply nodded, “Hm, alright I’ll humor you sweetie, anything else about your book?”

“Well I’m in it. Cause he is my father..” She said with a smile, confidence laced in her movements and continued, “A lot of people are in it..like you! You’re in this book.”

“Yeah right. I don’t think I’m in a fairytale sweetie, i think i would know that.”

“Well duh! You don’t remember cause you were a baby.”

“Huh?”

“I think time in this town is frozen for some people here. It’s why everyone looks so young, they all age slower.”

“Hmm..let’s say i am in this book, who am i?”

“You’re parents are Snow White and Prince Charming.”

Joshua snorted and his body softly shake with laughter but noticed Riley was serious, a look similar to her father but her eyes were of someone else. Possibly her mother, who he doesn’t know about yet.

“O-oh you’re serious?” He asked, as he stopped laughing as he started to grow curious.

“Mhm!” She replies with a loud hum.

“But I’m not as white as snow or have jet back hair..?”

“Duh! Different types of story, it does look like the normal thing.”

“I’ll see it when I believe it, sweetie. But I’ll keep an open mind.”

“Good! I gotta go we are have chicken fingers tonight.”

Before he could ask anything else, she was off the bench and running away to say goodbye to her friends, being a set of redhead twins, as she went on her merry way. He chuckled seeing her and the other kids, he then realized he hasn’t had anything to properly eat yet then rushed off to Grandpa’s diner for lunch.

As he made his way to the center of the town, passing the streets and stories buzzing with children, teens and adults, he realized he stepped on something. He picked it up, realizing it was an earbud. A set of blackberry colored earbuds, as if the someone was rushing off and it fell out of their pocket. He looked up to see someone a few feet away from him jogging, as if he was late for something.

He called out to them, jogging up to the guys at a similar pace calling out him again, until he turned around to face realizing he was talking to him. The moment he turned around he was met a brunette with short styled curls, a jean jacket, black jeans and a white sweater underneath. His brown eyes were dark yet rich with color, as he pulled down his hoodie a hint of a tattoo could be seen. He was holding a stake of paperwork underneath his armpit and a coffee in the other, as a backpack swinging over one side.

“Yeah?” He asked breathless from his running, a soft smile on his cheeks.

Joshua could help but return the soft smile, “You dropped this? Your headphones.”

“Oh shit. I didn’t even realize it, thanks man.”

“No problem. You should be lucky I didn’t break them with my boot.”

“Yeah, well it’s not the first time i lost theses headphones and won’t be the last.”

“That I can relate to. When you headed off to in such a hurry..? Don’t mind to ask.”

The young man huffed and gave a slight crooked smile, “Errands to run. I have to drop stuff off at town hall, then pick up some food and uh, buy some more gasoline.”

“Yikes, tough break. Sorry about that.” Joshua replied offering him a kind smile, understanding he must be busy.

“Yeah well, gotta make a living somehow. Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”

“Uhh yeah, not a student—here. Not a student here, kinda out of town.”

“Out of town, that’s odd…ohh, you’re the one kid i heard Melissa was telling me about.”

“Come again?”

“Don’t worry, she’s a waitress who is very observant, she likes to gossip a tiny bit.”

He felt a little at least with that part, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. The guy smiled, something about this kid made him not feel uncomfortable or anything, like a familiar feeling. But then the thought quickly rushed away, as he noticed something in his eyes.

He spoke up, “Oh hey, like i said don’t worry about her. She’s all good! If your not at school, are you here with your parents or something?”

“Nope. I’ve been on my own, it’s cool.” He repiled with a shrug feeling at ease with him for a moment, “Just staying for a while.”

“Well if you do, then you will love our record store and bakery.”

“Duly noted.”

The man was about to say something else when he got a text message on his phone that he ignored for a second and looked back at him with a apologetic smile. The teen seemed to get the sign and nodded with understanding. He apologized betting they might cross paths again, just as he was about to walk away he realized something. It was silly but still.

The older brunette softly shouted, “Hey?”

“Hm?” Hummed the younger brunette in response.

“What’s your name?”

“Um, Joshua Nolan.”

“Nikolai. Nikolai Hawkins.”

Joshua smiled, “Nice to meet you, Nikolai.”

“Nice to meet you too, Joshua.” He replied before running off to answer the message he got a couple of minutes ago.

———

—> Sooo I may or may not gotta a little carried away with the fic (sorry if it’s a little all over the place oops 😅 ). What did you think?

=> I really wanna do some inspired by moments from episodes like ‘Snow Falls’ and ‘Red-Handed’, idk just trying to remember my favorite episodes. Idk yet let’s see how fics I will roll out 🤷‍♀️

—> Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @mallowbee4 @thechoooooosenone @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @thecavalrywife and etc

#ouat au #ask missparker #ask my ocs #danielle campbell #thomas doherty #marvel oc #shadow and bone #red riding hood #maleficent #snowing #the dark one #king of hearts #ouat rewatch #ouat fic #ouat fanfiction

21 notes · View notes

laracrofted · 1 year

Text

baby, i'm high octane (ii)

synopsis: nora recovers from friday night and in an attempt to evade a persistent jake, she overplays her hand.

pairings: jake seresin x nora rogers (oc)

warnings: 18+, minors dni, explicit language, existential dread, mentions of alcohol consumption and hangovers, more slutty (affectionate) rooster, not a love triangle though, eventual smut in later chapters. set after the movie, so spoilers!

note: reading everyone's comments on the first chapter made my whole week. thank you for all the love! i'm aiming for six chapters total.

previous chapter | series post | next chapter

tagging: @theharddeck @rolycolysficrecs @t-nd-rfoot @double-j @bioodforbiood and a few of the people who reblogged which motivated me to keep posting (@princessphilly @winterrebel04 @deadratio @a-littlebit-ofeverything @wildxwidow) and as usual, let me know if you want to be added or removed!

Gulls caw in the distance, and over the ongoing buzzing sound from the mounted AC unit on the wall, Nora can almost imagine the sound of the ocean waves, crashing onto the shore, pulling back out to sea in an endless white noise machine. It is so peaceful here.

Could get used to this, Nora thinks, nuzzling further into the sheets, tucking her hand under her head. Letting out a gentle sigh like an actress in some cheesy Tempur-Pedic commercial.

A persistent knock-knock-knock starts up again.

“Fuck off, asshole,” Nora grumbles, voice scratchy from sleep and alcohol. She blindly fumbles for her phone, buried under the pillows, and a cheery 8:24 AM shines from the screen, along with a 10% battery notification. She must’ve forgotten to charge it after the Hard Deck last night.

Plugging it in, Nora casts it aside, pulls a pillow over her head, and tries her best to ignore the steady pounding at the front door. Probably a delivery person with the wrong address. They’ll go away.

She hopes.

It continues for another two minutes with no signs of stopping soon, and finally, Nora gives up and drags herself out of bed with an overdramatic groan, leaving behind a pile of sheets and pillows that cartwheel from the mattress in her wake. She ignores them.

Muttered curses spill from her chapped lips the whole way down the short hall that connects the bedroom to the living room and kitchen. She can feel the telltale tightness in her forehead that often signals an oncoming headache. Pressure expands in her skull like a hot air balloon.

Another knock, and Nora is close to blowing a fuse.

“Heard you the first 50 fucking times. I’ll be there in a second!”

She doesn’t even bother to look through the peephole – which, in hindsight, is probably unsafe – before unlatching the door and turning the lock in two jerking motions. Throws the door open without a warning, and unfortunately, Bradley Bradshaw doesn’t so much as lose his balance, freezing in place with a half-raised fist, ready to knock again.

It is exceptionally bright outside, and Nora holds up a hand to block the light to keep her eyes from watering. It is a little hard to give someone a full-force death glare with tears streaming from the corners of her eyes.

“It’s 8:30 in the morning. What could you possibly want?”

He is still wearing the same sunglasses from last night, and Nora wants to ask if Bradley sleeps in those things too. They seem to be perpetually glued to his face. He tugs them down his nose with a crooked finger, looking her over: oversized NYU shirt that’s better than any nightgown on the market, pale tangles that desperately need a comb and some anti-frizz oil, and finally, an unimpressed scowl on her face, promising violence.

He smiles wide and obnoxious, without self-preservation, and Nora briefly wonders if Admiral Simpson would fire her for decking a Naval officer. “Morning to you too, sunshine. Did I wake you?” She glares at him, and Bradley holds up the cardboard carrier in his left hand like a shield. “Coffee?”

Coffee is his saving grace and the only reason Nora decides to let him into the apartment, weighing the pounding in her head against the tease of a good cold brew and begrudgingly stepping out of the threshold. He moseys on over to the kitchen, whistling a jolly tune, and Nora retreats back down the hall to throw on some pants and wash the sleep from her eyes.

Mascara’s still crusted under her eyelashes from last night, and Nora scowls at her reflection in the bathroom all the same. Her flushed cheeks are pillow-creased, lined with red patches and indents from a really good, really hard slumber. Bradley interrupted a jet lag and hangover double feature. They should make laws against that sort of thing.

She pulls on a pair of loose sweat shorts, tightening the drawstring, and returns to the living room a new woman. Feeling better after splashing some cold water on her cheeks and wrestling her hair into a loose braid. Significantly less disoriented, but unfortunately for Bradley, no less annoyed.

He is lounging across the pale blue couch, like a house cat in a warm patch of sunlight, making himself right at home in her living room. He spots her on approach and reading something in her sour expression that promises a slow and painful end if Nora doesn’t have that coffee in her hand in about five seconds, gives a silent nod to the coffee table.

She sinks to the carpet on the opposite side of the table, tucking her legs underneath her weight, cross-legged. Carpet fibers scratch against her bare legs, and for a brief moment, Nora regrets both not having more pairs of full-length sweatpants in her suitcase and not forcing him to move off the couch.

Free food is enough of a consolation, and after a moment of quiet contemplation, poking around various brown paper bags, Nora finds an everything bagel with cream cheese and a cold brew. It’d be better with a splash of oat milk and a little vanilla, but Nora hasn’t been here long enough to get to the grocery store.

Bradley tucks his sunglasses into the neck of his dark blue United States Navy shirt – at least, not paired with a Hawaiian shirt this time – and reaches for a grease-soaked wrapper labeled BEC. It leaves a smudge of wet condensation behind on the table, and Nora holds back a sigh.

She might not own that couch, but Nora doesn’t want to spend the next two months sitting on stained cushions that smell like singed cheddar and bacon grease. Thinking about it is enough to make her gag a little or – Nora takes a deliberate sip of coffee to wash the rising nausea down – maybe it is the four Old Fashioned hangover talking there.

A haphazard stack of crumpled napkins sits on the table, and Nora plucks one from the top and flattens it against the surface. Holds it between two fingers and shakes it in his direction for a good 20 seconds until Bradley takes it, making a choked sound that sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

“So,” Nora starts, between delicate nibbles of the bagel. Cream cheese spills onto her fingers. She makes a point to wipe it off with a napkin, not licking it from her fingers like a hungover gremlin. She has more dignity than that. “What’s with the room service? Did you kill my cat or something?”

He’d been chewing a mouthful of bagel. Doesn’t even bother to swallow before asking something unintelligible and taking another overlarge bite, dark brows raised like Nora should’ve totally gotten all that.

Sometimes, Nora just wants to… “Chew with your mouth closed, Bradshaw.” He shrugs and kicks his socked feet onto the edge of the table. She swats them away from her food and more importantly, away from the coffee. If Bradley knocks her coffee onto the floor – onto the carpet, mind you – even Admiral Simpson won’t be able to save him. Something occurs to her all of the sudden. “How come you’re not comatose right now? You were so drunk last night.”

“Pilots have great metabolism, baby.”

He shoots her a wink between bites, and Nora wrinkles her nose.

“Right. Sorry I asked.”

Unbothered, Bradley explains: “Couldn’t find my keys, so I had to sleep on Payback’s couch last night. Crazy bastard gets up at the crack of dawn every morning to go sit on the beach and practice mindfulness.” He says it with such disdain, like a borrowed phrase. Payback is… Reuben, right? He must be the one to call it that. “Kicked me out onto the street, and I had to find my way home.”

“You all live in the same building. Here.”

“I know…” Bradley lets out a forlorn sigh. Sets the greasy bagel down in his lap, as if remembering such a dark ordeal made him lose his appetite. “It was awful.”

Such a drama queen. Nora rolls her eyes.

“Totally get it. I didn’t have the best morning either,” Nora replies mildly, sending him a pointed look. “Some asshole wouldn’t stop pounding at my door at like 8:30 in the morning. He also didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

Nora sends him an unimpressed look, and Bradley folds like a lawn chair.

“Fine.” Bradley blows out a long breath, shaking out his legs, and in the up-down shift of his thigh, the bagel comes that much closer to being in immediate danger of sliding from his athletic shorts onto the cushion. Her left eye twitches a little. “I was pretty drunk last night, and Phoenix gave me an earful this morning. Something about being an overbearing asshole and ruining her chances of making new non-male friends.”

He pitches his voice up an octave in an impression that sounds nothing at all like the smooth, cooler than you voice of the female aviator, but Nora rewards his effort with a tired smile.

“Think I overdid it too,” Nora admits, “I underestimated the lethal jet lag and alcohol combo. You weren’t so bad…” She remembers the heated back-and-forth at the end of the night. “Except that little display between you and…”

It’s Jake. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, said low and intent in her ear, and Nora can almost feel the vibration of the warm words against her throat.

She clears her throat. “...Hangman. What was that all about?”

“That was…” Bradley sucks down the rest of the bacon, egg, and cheese bagel and balls up the discarded wrapper. He overhand tosses it into the nearest trash can. It misses by a good foot, bouncing on the kitchen tile and rolling out of sight under a cabinet. She tries not to laugh. “We only started to tolerate each other pretty recently, since the October mission really. He used to be a real asshole, got a kick out of showing me up, and I guess I just… It really had more to do with him than you. ‘M sorry about that.”

“Apology accepted. Both in verbal and bagel form.”

“Got a banana bread too.”

Her brows raise, and Bradley bends to push a tan pastry bag across the table. She peers inside, breaking off a large chunk and popping it into her mouth. Cinnamon coats her fingers.

“Wow,” Nora says, both to the gesture and the banana bread. “You either felt really bad or are really scared of me. Am I really that scary, Bradshaw?”

“Nope, but Phoenix is.”

She grins. Now that Nora believes.

He doesn’t stay long, less than an hour, but in that time, Bradley fills her in on the last year or so of his life in here in San Diego. All of the Daggers were sent back to their squadrons after the October detachment – only for Maverick to call him up two months later and tell him that Cyclone wanted to pull most of them back to North Island to form an official squadron.

“Some of them,” Bradley explains, “are still finishing up missions with their old squadrons. Maverick’s busting his ass to get them transferred here later in the year. Hopefully sooner.”

Callsigns that Nora doesn’t recognize like Coyote, Fritz, and Halo come up in that category.

He seems to be in a much better place with Captain Mitchell than the last time Nora saw him. He used to duck out of those Naval parties early if the infamous Maverick was rumored to show his face, and now, Bradley is working under the man, taking orders from him.

She asks if Bradley has forgiven and forgotten, remembering how Bradley had seemed to hate his godfather. It’s a lot of bad blood to put aside.

He pauses in thought, staring into space for a long moment.

Eventually, Bradley says, “I don’t know about that. Total forgiveness is a ways off, but I was willing to try if Maverick was,” and Nora tamps down the journalistic urge to pry deeper into that and changes the subject.

Naturally, Bradley has some follow-up questions about the documentary and what exactly Nora will be doing on the base, having only caught fragments of her conversation with Bob last night.

She explains it in bits and pieces: a Naval sponsored project with a goal run-time of around 30 to 40 minutes for the YouTube audience, versus the Oscar hopefuls and Netflix specials that ran in the 60 to 120 range. She’ll be on the base with them every day for the next eight weeks, observing them in their day-to-day environment and sitting down with them for interviews at some point. Getting to know the men and women who made up Naval Aviation’s newest and most elite – repeated with a wry smile and a knowing look to check his ego – squadron.

She’ll have a small production crew, joining her later in the week to take care of the lighting and sound logistics that are as important to a successful feature as the script and the camera work. Two guys, based out of Los Angeles who’ve worked on similar projects before. They’ll come armed with the equipment and the expertise to manage what the magazine expects to be a huge part of the documentary: capturing footage of the Naval aviators in their other natural habit, soaring through California’s blue skies in an F-18.

He takes it all in with a surprisingly attentive expression and minimal interruptions. Can’t blame him for the excited flood of follow-up questions after Nora mentions the in-air footage. She thinks all Naval aviators probably wanted to be Hollywood action heroes in another life.

Bradley doesn’t ask why Nora would take such a random pause in her seemingly blossoming career to come out here and do something like this, and Nora doesn’t offer it up either. They move on.

Around 9:20 AM, Bradley mentions running a few errands and hitting the gym with Payback and Fanboy. It is a vital part of their usual Saturday morning routine to stay so shredded, Bradley claims. He doesn’t say the last part quite like that, but Nora can make her own conclusions.

Are all Naval aviators immune to hangovers? It’s hard enough for her to push to her feet and walk him the whole five feet to the door. She can’t imagine doing a full resistance workout right now.

Lingering in the threshold, Bradley is tall and broad enough to shield her from most of the light that pours in, arms stretched out to grasp either side of the door frame.

He unfolds his sunglasses with one hand, sliding them back over his eyes, and Nora doesn’t trust the mischievous expression on his face. Not for a second. He leans down, bringing his face closer to hers. A crooked grin hangs from his lips, and Nora narrows her eyes.

“What’re you doing later tonight? Still got the Bronco.”

He’s about as subtle as a freight train, and Nora gives him a blank stare. “Really, Bradshaw? You had to go there, didn’t you? We were having such a nice little catching-up moment here.”

“Seemed worth a shot.” Bradley shrugs, still grinning. “No then?”

“It is a definite no.”

Harmless flirtation was all well and good, but in the light of morning, Nora doesn’t plan to take it any further than that. Well… Take it any further than that again. It is easy enough to chalk up any potential interest from last night to exhaustion, too many drinks, and the fact that Bradley is the only familiar face Nora has seen on North Island.

Lieutenant Jake Seresin, on the other hand…

She’s less sure about that. She’ll cross that bridge on Monday.

“Understood.” Bradley nods, looking unbothered. “Let me know if you change your mind because I did get the back seats redone recently if you’re…”

Nora cuts him off with an emphatic, “Goodbye, Bradley” and shoves him out into the sunlight with a hand on his chest. She shuts the door behind him, ignoring the disembodied snicker from behind the door, and looks around the living room, warming up with the promise of noon in the near future.

She is wide awake now, and in an ideal world, Nora might shower and spend the rest of the day out and about, seeing the sights and getting used to being back on American soil. Check out the darling little coffee shops and boutiques in the Gaslamp Quarter. Pick up her rental from the San Diego airport and drive up the PCH to Del Mar for dinner in that little beachside seafood restaurant Mom always loved.

Instead, Nora clears the trash from the coffee table and snags the second pastry bag containing what looks like a half-melted chocolate croissant, before crawling back into bed. Fishes her laptop from her backpack and by the opening credits of Ocean’s Eleven, Nora is fast asleep again.

Monday comes in a blink, and at 7:30 AM on the dot, Nora is walking across the Naval Base to meet Captain Mitchell. Dressed in her favorite button-down – buttoned over a neutral tank, in case the San Diego heat decides to be especially brutal this afternoon – and wide-leg trousers. Hair flowing around her shoulders. She has an iced coffee in one hand, resting the other on the strap of her black Madewell backpack.

It is big enough to fit the essentials – camera, water bottle, laptop, chapstick, claw clip, chargers, a million extra pens, etc. – but slim enough to not make Nora feel like an undergrad walking home from their last lecture of the afternoon.

She recognizes Pete Mitchell in an instant, pulling into the parking lot on a motorcycle in the same jacket that Nora had seen hanging off Penny Benjamin’s shoulders on Friday night. He has a few more wrinkles and a few more grey hairs, but Pete is a spitting image of his 20-something self from Charlie’s old Top Gun photo album. He holds himself in the exact same here. Like a firecracker burning down the fuse, seconds from ricocheting off the damn walls and waiting for everyone else to realize.

Even so, Nora can’t look at him without flashing back to sitting on the roof of Aunt Charlie’s suburban home as a 17-year-old. She snuck an illicit cigarette on the same night that Pete Mitchell came to ‘visit’ Charlie and ‘catch up for old times’ sake’ during his DC trip. And watched the illustrious Naval aviator slink from a second-floor window in his underwear, only to immediately trip over a knee-high shrub and scatter his clothes across the lawn, before picking them up – leaves and all – and hopping on his rented motorcycle.

Good times.

Seeing Pete again goes as well as Nora could’ve hoped. Always the professional during billable hours, Nora takes it upon herself to extend the olive branch. She orders him a cordial handshake and the promised well wishes, in case Penny Benjamin hasn’t had the chance to pass them along.

Pete Mitchell greets her with a genuine if slightly awkward close-lipped smile and gets right down to business, sparing them from further awkwardness. He offers her a quick tour around the building, pointing out all the important spots – like the main cafeteria, closest women’s locker room and bathroom, vending machine – and fills the silence with short anecdotes. Some of them are even clever. She makes a note to ask him to repeat one or two during the on-camera interviews in the coming weeks.

“We’ll set you up in a temporary space in here during the week,” Pete Mitchell explains, propping open the door to the Ready Room so Nora can peer inside. Not a single inch of white wall is wasted in the room, decorated meticulously with rows and rows of framed photographs. Is it aircraft carriers? Combat jets? She steps in to give the ones closest to the door a better look and sees TOP GUN, CLASS 07-1989 in neat black type, underneath a faded photograph of men in uniforms.

“You’ll be able to listen in on the radio during the drills and talk to some of the pilots in their downtime. Good view of the tarmac too.” Pete pauses, sounding slightly uncertain. “Did you need a real office? We might have an empty one somewhere or…”

Her ‘office space’ looks to be little more than a small fold-up table in the back corner of the room, hidden between the bar and the windows with a chair on either side. It is better than being elbow to elbow back in the cheap seats of a sardine can airplane. At least the Ready Room has some natural light and a rotating fan.

Nora shakes her head. “I’ve done with more with less, but I appreciate it.”

He seems disproportionately pleased by that response, but Nora doesn’t have much time to ponder it before Captain Mitchell is leading them down the stairs and onto the next few stops.

He ends the tour in the Debriefing Room, waving her in ahead of him and crossing the room to the podium.

And with approximately eight thousand screens behind him, like the goddamn Batcave, Captain Mitchell explains, “We start our days in here at 0800 hours. We’ll usually go over the drill schedule for the morning and afternoon, and if anything needed a special emphasis from the day before, run through a few simulations, but I’ll make it quick today. Let you run through the basics with the team.”

He picks up a remote and starts clicking buttons left and right to turn on the screens. “We’ve got a few minutes to kill. Make yourself comfortable.”

Nora finds the seat in the back of the room that’s closest to an outlet and sinks into it. It’s not hard to make herself comfortable in a chair that feels like a first-class airplane seat. She pops open her laptop, dives into a mountain of reminders, emails, and reference notes, and doesn’t reemerge until after the six Daggers have trickled in for the 8:00 AM meeting.

Pete Mitchell gives his opening remarks, and as promised, soon enough, Nora is standing at the front of the room, resting her hands on the camera hanging around her neck. She looks out at the rows of familiar faces and opens with a casual, “Hello, I’m Nora Rogers. Nice to meet you in a place that doesn’t have the soundtrack of a John Hughes movie.”

Mickey chuckles in the third row, along with Natasha and Bob on the other side of the aisle. A certain someone is parked right in the front row, like a straight-A student, but Nora doesn’t look to see if Jake laughs.

She gets through her usual spiel in record time, walking them through the same basics that Nora pitched to Bob on Friday and Bradley on Saturday. It was good practice in hindsight, giving her the confidence to say it all with ease in front of a live studio audience.

They are surprisingly attentive.

Her 8:10 AM introduction turns into an 8:15 to 8:53 AM Q&A session – Mickey is either really curious about the logistics of the in-air footage or really does not want to start the drills for the day – and afterward, the Daggers who are scheduled for the AM drills head to the locker rooms, and Nora follows Phoenix and Bob to the Ready Room, dropping her backpack onto one of the couches and setting off to explore the base with her camera in hand.

Over the weekend, Nora had developed a mental checklist of tasks for her first day, so when Bob had ever so politely raised his hand and asked if the Daggers should prepare for any interviews this week, Nora had an answer for him.

“Not this week. I’ll be playing the role of location scout for the first few days, getting to know your routines and scoping out the best locations on the base to do the interviews.” She’ll want one for each solo pilot and each tandem team. “And I’ll be developing a shot list.

Not a single ounce of comprehension in those stares.

“It’s like… a guide that’ll make out what I want to film, where I want to film it, and all that good stuff. Like…” She didn’t know enough about the Navy to make a good comparison. “It’s a guide.”

Wandering around the base, Nora gets a solid start on it, snapping pictures of the more cinematic spaces, looking for the exact right spot to pushpin for the interviews.

Just after 11:30 AM, Nora ducks back into the Ready Room to switch out her camera battery and write down her notes, and sitting side by side at the counter, Natasha and Bob greet her with warm smiles and hellos, then duck their heads back together in front of the radio. She catches phrases like fin flash and Cobra maneuver.

She feels a little out of her depth – and playing the part of both filmmaker and location scout this week, a little behind in both roles, but Nora moves her backpack to the makeshift desk and pours herself a coffee from the half-full pot on the counter, settling down and popping her earbuds in.

Time to get to work, Rogers.

She is busy typing away at her laptop, and so focused that when Natasha tries to grab her attention a little while later, the Naval aviator has to wave a hand in front of Nora's face.

Nora removes her earbuds with a sheepish expression, and Natasha says, “They’re headed back down, so Bob and I were going to grab coffee and pick up some lunch off-base to bring back. Want us to get you anything?”

As if on cue, Nora’s stomach grumbles.

Natasha passes over her phone, saying, “You’ll need my number anyway for our movie night, because yes, I will be holding you to that promise,” and after Nora enters her number with a smile, Natasha and Bob clear out, mentioning something about grabbing Rooster from the gym on their way out.

She makes sure to pull up the menu from the cafe Natasha mentioned and text her coffee and lunch order – along with a few back-up options just in case – to the newly saved contact. And then, Nora slides her laptop to the side, still offloading the photos from the morning, and opens her notebook on the table, flattening it between a vending machine granola bar and the barely touched coffee.

Let’s just say… Nora is looking forward to the off-base coffee.

Biting down on the edge of her thumb, Nora looks down at the page, reviewing her transcribed notes. Twirls a Pilot G2 pen with the fingers of her opposite hand, thinking hard.

Someone approaches the other side of the table, and Nora catches a glimpse of an olive green flight suit, sleeves knotted around the waist. She, perhaps childishly, decides to pretend not to see him. He, irritatingly, decides to make that impossible.

“We can’t keep meeting like this, sweetheart.”

Calloused fingers curl around the back of the chair, and on the third finger, gleams a large sapphire, set in an ornate ring with the words United States Naval Academy skirting the edges.

If Nora hadn’t recognized him by the sound of his voice, that smooth as melted butter and brown sugar accent, or the flirtatious sweetheart, the Naval Academy ring would be a dead giveaway.

She looks up, and Lieutenant Jake Seresin flashes her a smile that’s all teeth, gleaming white. She almost expects a cartoon ding to pierce through the steady rattling of the fans. Someone get this man a box of Crest 3D White and a brand deal stat.

Sweat glints from his brow, down his neck, where Nora can just make out the silver chain of his dog tags disappearing into the collar of the black t-shirt. She wonders if Jake skipped the locker room and came straight here after landing his F-18.

She doesn’t have much time to wonder what that might mean because Jake pulls the chair out in one smooth flourish and plops down. It rocks under the sudden weight. He curls his arms behind his head and laces his fingers at his nape.

Is that to counterbalance, Nora wonders, or to show off his obscenely ripped biceps in that short sleeve shirt? Better call in Benoit Blanc to solve this one.

“Hi Lieutenant. We’ve only met once,” Nora says, returning to her scribbles, finishing up the tail end of an earlier thought with an aggressive period. “Hardly enough times to create a pattern, don’t you think?”

“Maybe not,” Jake concedes, still smiling that plastic smile. His eyes look even greener in the early afternoon light, a stark contrast to the artificial glow of the Hard Deck. “Consider this: If you’ve got your head buried in that notebook of yours every time I come around to say hello, I might start to feel a little ignored.” God forbid. “You’re fixing to bruise a man’s ego, honey.”

What is with this man and the pet names?

She adds an unnecessary flourish to an existing exclamation point on the page, turning the dot into a little heart. It’s a good enough excuse to avoid eye contact with him. “You don’t strike me as a man who’s ever had his ego bruised.”

“You ditching me over at the bar to have your happy little reunion with Rooster gave me a twinge. We were just getting to talking.” He taps a flat palm over his heart to illustrate his point. “It hurt. Right here.”

She replies coolly. “You seem to have recovered just fine.”

“Don’t know about that,” Jake drawls, accent thick as molasses. He fishes a toothpick from one of the many, many pockets in his flight suit and sets it between his teeth. Smirks around it. “Might need some sexy as hell documentary filmmaker to come around and kiss me all better.”

She is pressing down so hard with the pen that Nora wouldn’t surprised if the cartridge broke and spilled ink across the lined paper. It’d be some sort of cosmic reckoning for allowing him to talk to her like this when Nora’d vowed to shut it down at the first hint of dimples and a crooked smile.

Nora bends her head, brushing her hair over her ear. “She’s working.”

“Who said I was talking about you?”

Surprise makes her mouth gape open, a stuttered sound escaping from between her lips without her consent, and Nora promptly snaps it shut, biting down on her cheek before Jake can realize that yeah, maybe Nora does reluctantly find him amusing.

It doesn’t seem to work, and Jake traps the toothpick in a grin.

“Asshole,” Nora laughs, shaking her head. “Did you actually need something or are you just here to cause trouble?”

A muscle jumps in his jaw and Jake rocks forward to plant his elbows on the table, chair legs cracking against the linoleum. He leans in, and Nora is grateful to have the table between them. It’s a barrier of sorts.

“When can I see you again?”

Oh, Nora thinks, grin sliding from her face. We’re doing this right now.

She’d thought Jake at least wait until after business hours to make any reference to Friday night, but no, apparently not. She wants… Never mind that. She needs to shut this down before Jake gets the wrong idea. She’s here to work, not flirt with him.

Charming as the good Lieutenant might be.

Handsome too.

Goddammit.

“Tomorrow,” Nora answers without missing a beat, and the victorious light that shines in his eyes is short-lived. “Weren’t you listening this morning? I’ll be on the base every day. Same as you.”

Rejection rolls off his back like water off a duck. “How about 6:30 tonight?”

“How about…” Nora leans over and taps the touchpad on her laptop, checking on the download progress of the 100+ photos. It is less than 60% complete and offers her no help. “…never because I am here to work, and I don’t have time to go to dinner with you. I’m already behind.”

Confusion wrinkles his brow. “How could you be behind? You just started.”

She shrugs. It seems too hard to explain, but Nora always feels behind.

��Coffee then?”

“Jake,” Nora tries for stern and lands somewhere closer to begrudging amusement, and judging from the smirk that spreads across his face, activating his dimples, Jake can hear it in her voice. Damn. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He grabs one of her pens from the open pouch, half-clicking and releasing the end a few times, and Nora resists the urge to snatch it from his hands. “I want to get to know you better. What’s wrong with that?”

“You’ll see me every day on the base. Isn’t that enough?”

“Not by a long shot.”

God. He really, really is persistent.

She had a chance to comb through the redacted files over the weekend, learn a little bit about the different members of the Dagger Squadron in preparation for Monday. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, a skilled pilot with a reputation for leaving his teammates in lurch during drills and despite his penchant for not playing well with the team, an occasional doer of good deeds. Something had earned him that medal back in October.

And between Friday at the Hard Deck and what Bradley had said on Saturday, Nora had even more information to add to this mental profile of him. He was an incorrigible flirt with a competitive streak, one that seemed to be particularly activated by Bradley Bradshaw for one reason or another, and given that Friday had inadvertently revealed a certain familiarity between her and the man in question, Nora didn’t have to be a PhD applicant to connect a few dots.

“Listen, Lieutenant,” Nora starts, defaulting to his rank to create some much needed distance between them. His first name is starting to feel… overly familiar. She can only blame herself for that one.

He shoots her down in an instant. “Jake.”

“Right. Listen, Jake.” Nora lets out a slightly exasperated breath that only serves to make him look that much more amused. “I am here to work.”

“So I keep hearing.”

Her lips quirk, and again, Nora bites the inside of her cheek.

“And,” Nora continues, tasting a little copper in her mouth, “I really don’t have any plans to be caught in the middle of some pissing contest between you and your teammate. It’s not my idea of a good time, believe it or not.”

It looks to be a great show of willpower that Jake manages not to ask her to explain her definition of a good time, with pictures and supplementary examples, if available. He twirls the toothpick around his teeth.

“Who, Rooster? He’s the one who was show-boating at the Hard Deck and trying to keep you all to himself after I…” She raises her eyebrows, and Jake lets the end of that sentence die, shifting into a cocky yet determined expression. “He’s got nothing to do with it. This is between you and me.”

She stares him down. “You’re right. It is between you and me, and between you and me…” Sometimes, Nora runs out of options, and the only one left is an outright lie. “I’m not interested. At all.”

Jake raises his brows, shooting them sky-high.

Disbelief colors his tone. “Is that right?”

“Yeah, I’m not,” Nora says, picking up her coffee and making herself drain a few gulps as a distraction. It is lukewarm and tastes god-awful. She drinks it like a fine champagne. “Cocky aviators who worship Quentin Tarantino just aren’t my type. You can take your toothpick and your…” She gestures to him as a whole, in all his general him-ness. “…elsewhere. Sorry, Tex.”

Something flits across his face, quick as lightning, and Nora instantly realizes her mistake. She drains the rest of the coffee in a few swallows and clamps her mouth shut to keep from coughing all over the table – or saying something else that’s equally as embarrassing as that.

A wide, insufferable smirk fills his face. “Someone’s been reading my file.”

She backpedals, with the speed of an Olympic cyclist who missed a turn. “Warlock gave me all of your files. I read all of them. It’s…. um, part of my job to know who I’m working with as a filmmaker.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Jake is still smirking. “Happen to remember where Payback’s from then? How about Fanboy?”

He’s got her there. She’s not too proud to admit that.

“Well, I…”

He waits a few seconds, brows raised, and Nora can’t manage to piece together even a half-baked guess. A wrong guess is probably more undignified than not bothering at all. She goes silent, and Jake nods, unbearably smug.

“That’s what I thought.”

She opens her mouth, looking for a last-ditch attempt to get her out of this, but Jake stands abruptly. He casts a feline smile down at Nora and drawls, “See you around, Hollywood.”

She frowns. “Hollywood?”

“Hollywood,” Jake confirms with a dip of his chin that gives no further explanation. He raps his knuckles on the tabletop once, twice, then strides over to the door, still spinning that damn toothpick around with his tongue.

And less than two minutes later, Natasha and Bob return to find Nora sitting in the exact same spot, a crumpled coffee cup balled up in her fist.

end note: likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. and if you have any thoughts and feelings, feel free to shout in my asks or my messages. i'd love to hear from you!

and for anyone who enjoys a slutty (affectionate, always) rooster, this chapter is more or less the end of the bradley x nora pairing (we're here for the jake fic, after all), but i am planning to write a smutty flashback one-shot for them.

read the next chapter!

#i'm fully aware hollywood is a character in the first movie #but i'm using the nickname anyway #because i like it 🤠#fic: baby i'm high octane #hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x nora rogers #jake seresin fic #hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #top gun: maverick fic #laracrofted writes

116 notes · View notes

booklove22 · 11 months

Text

The Black Door Theory - aka I think I’ve connected some S4 mystery dots

I’m currently leaning toward the idea that having your memory erased/rewritten at the Black Door eventually requires a human sacrifice. And that’s what the 8 corpses represent, those that were sacrificed so that the town “sinners” could wipe their memories clean of some horrible truths. But it isn’t as simple as a 1 to 1 trade, where a 1 memory wipe requires 1 human sacrifice. I think its more complex than that.

We know of two “sins” so far, both of which occurred in the 1990′s:

1) 4x02 Logan Rhodes/Magpie Lake/Judge Abbott coverup (occurred in 1996)

2) 4x04 - Councilwoman Brie watching Jim Stanley, the Director of the original Killer Hook movie die and not helping him back when she was working on set (occurred in the 1990′s).

That’s two town sins occurring in the 1990′s - but only one corpse seems to be from that period - India Burnett (the most recently deceased corpse - died in 1998). The second most recent death occurred in the 1970′s.

So that is definitely not a 1:1 trade. Two 1990′s sins (that we know of), but only one 1990′s body doesn’t add up.

So what I’m thinking is that maybe the Black Door has a limit - a maximum number of times it can be used before it stops working. And, as long as the door’s limit isn’t hit, the memories will live contained inside the black door. But once the door hits its limit, the only way to get it to work again is to transfer the memories it is holding to a human sacrifice host (manifesting as black sludge).

And that’s how our 8 corpses died - they became the new vessels for the sins of the town.

So how will this all play out? Anyone’s guess...but.....

nancyaces theorized on Twitter that maybe India is actually Tristan’s biological mother which is just a *chef’s kiss* kind of theory. If India died in 1998, that would make Tristan somewhere in the vicinity of 22 or 23 years old depending on when he was born. So it makes sense.

I’ve also been wondering about the Glasses and Tristan. Like, we know the Glasses are horrible people who won’t hesitate to kill. But all the best villains have redeeming qualities. And I wonder if the one good and pure thing about them is that they genuinely love and care for Tristan.

From the trailer, it looks like Tristan is close to death (someone resembling Tristan in Nancy’s arms with an arrow visible in his chest - “you are not going to die tonight!”).

I wonder if Tristan does indeed die, and if the Glasses are either responsible for his death OR not responsible but simply desperate to erase their memory of the pain of losing their son. But when they try to do so, the Black Door is at its limit.

So they decide to make Nancy the next vessel so that the Black Door can be reset. Just noticing the blood in Nancy’s palm here...and the knife next to the Glasses.

Anyway, I’ve been marinating on this for days. Its amazing what your brain can start to process when Nancy and Ace aren’t allowed to interact for a whole episode.

Things I’m still marinating on:

1) Even with the 4x06 episode title The Web of Yesterdays, the weird Tristan jumping through a worm-hole looking scene in the trailer, AND India’s yacht having the heavy-handed name “Lost Time”... I’m hesitant to believe proper time travel is going to be introduced. I’m thinking more that it might be reminiscent of the Tom Riddle diary and pensieve scenes in Harry Potter - where some supernatural artifact allows the Drew Crew to go back and visit things that happened in the past. But, like in Harry Potter, they can’t interfere or change anything. They can only watch the past history happen around them like its happening in a movie. No one from the past can see or interact with them or vice versa. I think they’ll learn more about some possible sins in this episode that have occurred at different times in the past.

2) I’m purposely not addressing the how/what/why of the curse here. Too much for one post.

#nace #nancy drew #cw nancy drew #nancy drew speculation #nancy drew meta #nancy drew season 4

13 notes · View notes

posebean · 11 months

Text

Summer Rain: Sick in the Rain 1

Writer: Beanosei

Season: Spring

Characters: Niki

Niki: Nee-san~ I’m just being plain dumb? Why are you calling me dumb now, too? What did I do to deserve this treatment~

Disclaimer: This chapter includes Anzu heavily as a character. She is her own character here, but it's still Niki directly addressing her as "Nee-san" in order to stick to the Enstars story format as much as possible.

Studio, 2 days after

Niki: Is this where you wanted the camera? A little to the left? Okay!

Niki: There, all moved just like how you wanted.

Niki: I don’t need to help out? Oh, no no no, it’s fine. It’s the least I can do to help, Director-san! I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to meet your expectations.

Niki: Nahaha, it’s not like I have much else to do. I can just take over a side character role if you need that.

Niki: The rest of my unit is still here, and I already called off from Cinnamon for the filming period. I might as well help out in any way I can.

Niki: Come back~? I’m sorry Director-san, anything but that. I can cook snacks for the crew, I can help with props and such. But I really can’t act. I’ve been holding the whole team back, it’s for the best~

Niki: You haven’t found a replacement yet? Oh…

Niki: Definitely not Kohaku-chan…What about Himeru-kun? Or we can try asking someone else from the agency? Maybe Vice Pres has someone in mind?

Niki: You asked Himeru and Himeru refused? And you really don’t want to have to talk with Vice Pres again? Honestly, understandable from an outsider’s perspective, nahaha.

Niki: Vice Pres can be a little much at times, but he’s very fun once you get to know him~

Niki: I’m your only hope? You give me too much credit, Director-san. I’m just a chef~ If you want good food, I’m your best hope. You don’t come to me if you need a movie made~

Niki: Oh, is that your phone ringing?

Niki: I guess you’ll be going back to check on the others. Don’t worry, I’m fine here! I’ll make sure this camera stays in place and doesn’t budge at all~

Niki: (Nahaha…Director-san is understanding but still a little pushy~ As expected of an industry professional.)

Niki: (sits down in a chair, watching the filming in the distance)

Niki: (While they’re looking for a replacement for me, the other three are filming the scenes that they can. They’re still working hard, way better at this than me.)

Niki: ... I wonder why Himeru-kun rejected the role?

Niki: I’m a little glad-

Niki: (Wait- why am I glad? This movie is going nowhere without a second lead!)

Niki: Ugh…too much thinking. Need to get some food into my stomach ♪ Let’s see, I should have a leftover granola bar in my pocket.

Niki: Eh?

Niki: Oh right. I finished it two hours ago.

Niki: … Guess I’ll just wither away and starve here until everyone’s done…that shouldn’t be that long, I hope.

Niki: ...!

Niki: (Hmm? What’s that…delicious yet familiar smell? Almost like…that bread that I really love~♪)

Niki: Ah! Nee-san, fancy seeing you here.

Niki: Are you here to check in on the filming? If Vice Pres is pushing you around dumping work on someone else when he’s supposed to be the one handling our ragtag group, feel free to complain~

Niki: You’re here out of your own will? Really Nee-san, your arrival is too convenient to be a coincidence. Someone must’ve told you something~

Niki: Himeru-kun and Kohaku-chan? What did they tell you?

Niki: That me and Rinne-kun are being stupid and need someone to straighten us out because whatever they’re trying isn’t working? Ehhh~ They’re wrong Nee-san, everything is sorted out.

Niki: Ignore the fact that we’re at a standstill in all of the main scenes~ They’ll find a more experienced replacement quickly. They’ll be able to re-record everything and all the scenes that we missed at twice the speed compared with what we could with me as the second lead.

Niki: Oh, you have something for me?

Niki: Nee-san! I knew I smelled my favorite bread ♪ How did you know it was my favorite? It’s not really common knowledge, and it’s a little hard to get a hand on it normally.

Niki: ... You ran into Rinne-kun over there and he told you to give it to me? Oh…I see…

Niki: (Stares down at the bread in his hands)

Niki: He looked sad? Even while filming? Huh…

Niki: But he was so excited when we started…what changed?

Niki:?

Niki: No way, it can’t be because I quit. Even Rinne-kun understood, I did it for the good of the movie!

Niki: Some of the most important things are left unsaid?

Niki: …Nahaha, Nee-san. You’re really saying Rinne-kun was having fun…and enthusiastic…because I was there with him?

Niki: You’re really giving me too much credit. Maybe he was, but that was because he had someone to pick on~

Niki: You doubt that? Geez, why is everyone saying that? Is everyone saying that I, the one who knows Rinne-kun the most, don’t actually know him that well?

Niki: Not at all?

Niki: Nee-san~ I’m just being plain dumb? Why are you calling me dumb now, too? What did I do to deserve this treatment~

Niki: You’re joking? But you also mean it too? Nee-san…

Niki: I know that, I know that Rinne-kun cares for me. But that’s in the same way he cares about Kohaku-chan and Himeru-kun! And how he cares about his brother, his juniors, and everyone. He’s a very caring person, you know? He just doesn’t like to show it often~

Niki: It’s different? Very different?

Niki: Haha Nee-san, how are you so sure? I'm even starting to wonder if I really do know Rinne-kun…

Niki: You’re saying you have something else for me? Ah, what’s this CD for? Oh, I see, that’s why you have a laptop with you~

Niki: Eh? Nee-san, I put the CD in but it’s a blank video with just a black screen. Is this some sort of secret message or something?

Niki: Turn the volume up? Oh, it is muted. Let me do that-

Computer: ♪

Niki: (This…song…)

Niki: (It’s a completely different feeling… and the key is shifted… but…)

Niki: (It’s there. It’s definitely there. This instrumental, wherever Nee-san got it from…)

Niki: (It has the melody of mine and Rinne-kun’s duo debut song. Heartbeat Honey Drop.)

Niki: (The song that we started with. The song that symbolized the beginning of our journey to chase our dreams. Dreams…that we have at our hands right now, as Crazy:B.)

Niki: Nee-san, where did you get this? Do you know what it’s for? What it’s…from?

Niki: It’s a secret where you got it from? Ehh~ Oh? It’s the instrumental for a scene from the movie?

Niki: You don’t know what it’s from? You only know that I recognized it from watching me listen to it? Haha, you could say it’s nostalgic for me. In some way.

Niki: But if it’s for the movie…how on Earth did Director-san get ahold of that song…we weren’t popular and I doubt you’ll even find anything besides Crazy:B stuff when searching us up-

Niki: (Oh.)

Niki: (There’s only one way this could’ve happened. The only other person that knows that melody by heart.)

Niki: (The one that’s been there by my side this whole time. Waiting patiently, always there for me. The one that broadened my world, dragged me against my will into a world of blinding lights.)

Niki: (I didn’t forget this tune, but it did fade away behind all the new things we’ve experienced. But Rinne-kun…Rinne-kun, you kept it with you this whole time, chasing after me for so many years…)

Niki: (Nahaha, I guess everyone is right. Maybe I am a little dumb. Why else would Rinne-kun do all these things, only want to be a lead if I was the second lead, only be able to put his all in when I’m there, somehow get the Director to repurpose a song so special to us…)

Niki: Nahaha, Nee-san~ You’re saying that Rinne-kun only looks at me in that soft way? Haha, he’s such a sap.

Niki: It’s cute how loyal he is, even if it comes to the detriment of other things, nahaha.

Niki: (Sighs) It really can’t be helped. Nee-san, can you tell Director-san that I’ll do it? I’ll finish the movie, play the second lead like what was originally planned.

Niki: Nee~san. Why are you smiling at me like that?

Niki: Nee-san you are so sly. You are as sly as Rinne-kun is sometimes. You planned this. You definitely planned this, knowing what would happen. I don’t know with who, but you definitely had an accomplice…or accomplices.

Niki: Nee~san stop smiling at me like that you’re gonna make me cry~

[Back][Next] [Masterlist]

#enstars #rinniki #insanabean #bean writes #Summer Rain #rinky

18 notes · View notes

astranva · 1 year

Note

nova , i hope u don’t mind but i’m a lil confused about the pe! living situation so i figured i’d ask <3

so they’re staying at the farmhouse for the first year with Riv right ? but i’m just wondering like what the long-term plan would be ? coz obvs they have a place in NY, Boston, LA and the Farmhouse but they’re probably not gonna bounce around between 4 cities constantly - so where would you say their more permanent address is gonna be , like the place the kids are gonna go to school and be raised and things like that? xx

(ik i’m probably reading too much into it so feel free to ignore this <33)

They’ll mostly be in New York; it’s where they’ll film Sound of Metal and Mr. and Mrs. Smith, where pe!reader will write and direct Good Morning, Good Night (the women-only movie starring Flo Pugh), where Louie will be born, etc.

so as a family, they’re mostly a New York family with frequent visits to Boston, pe!reader’s hometown, and the farmhouse. the least place they all enjoy even when Birdie is here is LA but they do visit it at times.

hope that answers it xx

when it all gets confusing, just imagine what you think is best lmaoo

#planet evans universe #planet evans

20 notes · View notes

veryberrydreamer · 11 months

Note

Do you think they’ll address the absence of Lola in the movie? And where do you think they might say Lola is? I completely understand why Victoria made the decision to not do the movie, but since Lola was one of my favourites I will be upset if they don’t even give her a shoutout, especially considering I always thought Quinn & Lola were actually closer than Quinn & Zoey. I kind of hope that Lola is maybe off doing a movie or something and that’s why she can’t be there. I’d prefer that over the fact they simply lost touch, especially considering they want us to believe they are close enough with Stacy & Mark to have them in the wedding party.

I think they'll probably address her absence but not dwell on it. I can't imagine they'd write them as having lost touch since Victoria probably would've come back if her schedule had looked different. I think you're on the right track with the movie thing! Like Victoria, maybe Lola just has a "busy schedule." What I'm really wondering is how they're going to explain a lack of Dustin. I mean, I know he wasn't best buddies with Quinn and Logan or anything, but if people like Mark and Stacy are there, shouldn't he be too?

#zoey 101 #zoey 102 #lola martinez #victoria justice #quinn pensky #logan reese #dustin brooks

8 notes · View notes

riahlynn101 · 2 years

Text

"Safe In Your Arms."

Summary: Izuku manifests an All for One quirk during his fated battle with All for One.

They stand atop the ruins of what-Izuku thinks might have-once been a movie theater or a bank. Most of the refugees were evacuated via helicopter, and those that weren’t are either bunkering down somewhere or….

Izuku doesn’t want to think about the or in that particular situation. He can’t afford to lose control of his emotions.

“One for All!” All for One calls out. His face isn’t hidden away behind a mask, and for some unmistakable reason Izuku feels a weird sort of wrong (familiar, the word you’re looking for is familiar) when he stares too long at his enemy’s face.

“I’m going to stop you!” Izuku shouts back, letting One for All crisscross his body in lines of green-white lightning. He won’t attack, at least not yet. Not without a semi-thought-out plan. But he still needs to keep All for One at bay or amuse him (judging by the smirk on his smug, very familiar, punchable face).

“Will you now?” He asks, taking a step closer. “I would love to see you try.”

He’s closer now, and Izuku can’t stop staring at his face. All the alarm bells are going off in his head.

(You know him; he knows you.)

“Get back!” Izuku gets into position to fight just in case All for One lunges for him. His hands are shaking quite badly, and his palms are starting to itch.

“Now, One for All,” he croons, mockingly, “it almost seems like you’re afraid of me. But that can't be true, can it?”

Izuku itches at his palms, trying to avoid looking at All for One longer than absolutely necessary. “You know nothing!”

(He knows you; he’s always known you.)

An odd look comes over All for One’s face. “I know you, Izuku Midoriya.”

Izuku cringes back. This can’t be good. U. A’s student files have a lot of information in them. Everything from what allergies they have to their home addresses and everything in between. It’s likely he got the file from Aoyama. He hopes his friend, despite the current circumstances, is faring alright in protective custody.

All for One continues on. “Your favorite color is red. Katsudon is your favorite food.” He clasps his hands behind his back, the smirk returning to his face. Slowly, he starts to creep closer. “You live in an apartment with your mother right here in Musutafu.”

Izuku feels warm, like he’s slowly but surely burning up from the inside out. His palms hurt, and it takes everything in him not to draw attention to it.

All for One is a few feet away now. “Her name is Inko Midoriya-”

“Leave my mother out of this!” He yells, even though it’s unlikely All for One will listen. Using people’s families against them is his thing.

“-she’s forty-one,” he continues on as if never interrupted. “She’s married to your father.” The villain monologues more, but Izuku can’t concentrate. Even with everything at stake, all the lives on the line, and seven predecessors cheering him on, he can’t focus.

All Might would be so disappointed in him. He’s certainly disappointed in himself.

A sharp pain radiates from the center of Izuku’s palms all the way up to his wrists. “Ah!” He cries out, knees folding in. Izuku clutches his hands to his chest.

“Have you finally given up?” All for One ask, but his voice doesn’t have the same mocking edge it did a few moments earlier. When Izuku doesn’t respond, he sighs heavily.

Izuku stares at the ground, eyes unfocused. There’s so much dust. When the heroes get everything back under control and they can start rebuilding their livelihoods, he wonders where they’ll start first. It’s hard to imagine what this town, the town he’s grown up in most of his life, used to look like.

A hand is shoved in front of his view. “Let me see,” All for One says, voice oddly monotone.

“No!” Izuku shouts, coming back to his senses. He scoots back, ignoring how the pieces of rubble dig into the ripped areas of his costume. “Get away!”

All for One kneels down. He doesn’t look the least bit happy. “Izuku Midoriya, give me your hand.” The tone of his voice reminds Izuku vaguely of the times when he was younger, and his mom or dad needed to get his attention for something important.

Izuku hunches in on himself, holding his sore hands to his chest even tighter. He shakes his head, dirtied curls bouncing with the movement.

“I won’t ask again. Hand now,” he says.

Seeing as how he let his enemy get right in front of him, Izuku doesn’t think he has the upper hand here. Maybe if All for One sees his hands have simply been banged up from the excessive number of fights Izuku has had to get into during the last few days, he’ll leave him alone.

Izuku pulls his trembling hands away from his chest. Cautiously, he places it in the steady hands of the enemy. His hands tingle and burn without pressure being applied to them.

All for One’s hands are calloused and rough from his many years of being alive, but they are also comfortably warm. (Izuku remembers the feeling of his dad holding his hand tightly because otherwise Izuku would slip away and get caught up in the villain attack down the street.)

The villain hums, peeling off one of Izuku’s gloves. The humming stops suddenly, and Izuku thinks he might have heard All for One’s breath hitch. “Oh, no,” the villain says, sounding horrified.

A thumb gently runs across his aching palms, soothing the hurt just a little. “I’m so sorry, Izuku.”

Izuku looks up, alarmed. “Wha-” Whatever he wants to say dies on his lips, because his hands-at least one of them-has a hole in the center of the palm. Just like….

(You know him; he knows you.)

“No!” Izuku screams, throwing himself backward. “What-what…. did you….” he can’t bring himself to say it, but the proof stares at him when he looks down at his ungloved hand.

“Izuku, I know you’re afraid. But it’s alright.” All for One speaks to him as if Izuku is some kind of frightened animal. He maintains a respectful distance. “I can help you.”

“No! Stay away from me! Get away! I-I don’t want your help,” Izuku struggles not to cry.

Growing up, his mom always told him there’s strength in crying and showing your emotions, but right now, in front of the very person he’s been training to fight (and hopefully end), Izuku feels so, very weak.

“You know, I manifested All for One right before my tenth birthday. It was during a tumultuous time, and my parents didn’t understand it. They refused to let my brother, or I leave the house in fear we’d be hunted down. Even all these years later I can still recall the searing pain as the holes in my palms made themselves known. I remember being afraid. I remember thinking I was a monster, and that was before I even learned what I could do.”

Izuku glances up, the confession taking him by surprise.

“The worst part, though, wasn’t the pain, or the whispers from my parents. It was the greed that came with my newfound ability.”

All for One reaches a hand out. “I don’t want the same for you. I’ve always wanted better for you, Izuku. Let me help you.”

He thinks briefly of telling All for One where he can stick his so-called ‘help,’ but quickly thinks better of it. His enemy has already stuck him with some copy of the All for One quirk, and there’s no telling what other damage he’s done. Maybe if Izuku plays along, he can get the villain to undo whatever he’s done to him.

Izuku takes All for One’s hand, hating himself for being reminded of his parents and All Might.

“Good,” All for One hauls him back up to his feet. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

In the back of his mind, Izuku thinks he might be hearing the vestiges scream at him to run away.

“Are you going to vault me?” He asks, still light-headed and in no state to fight (but he would if he has to, especially if the outcome is being locked away for however many years).

All for One laughs. “No, you only make that mistake once.” He strokes the freckles on Izuku’s cheeks. “Besides, I’m having too much fun to lock you up. Maybe another day.”

“Oh, okay. Can you take back your quirk now?”

A deep sigh and then, “no.”

Izuku blanches. “No-no? What does that mean? I thought you said you’d help me.”

“Calm yourself,” All for One says, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Izuku’s ear. “I’ll answer all your questions, after we get somewhere safe.”

Izuku wants to ask how All for One plans to leave this absolute hellhole Izuku used to proudly call home, but he finds his throat feels funny. He coughs trying to expel whatever it is. All that comes up is a dark liquid and then there’s more of it, and then even more of it until it’s all he can taste and think about.

He’s tossed into a vast, near-ending void. At first, Izuku thinks he might be dreaming. The void looks similar to the vestige world he finds himself in every time he falls asleep, but it doesn’t last long before Izuku finds himself staring at concrete flooring.

“Come on,” All for One says, pulling Izuku to his feet. “We have much to discuss.”

The room they’re in is large and filled with rows of vats with nothing inside them. The large computer in the center of the room has a giant crack in the middle of it.

“Where are we?” Izuku asks, eyeing All for One.

“Does it matter? We’ll be safe here, for now.”

Izuku says nothing after that.

He follows the villain to a side room in the back of the lab. All for One herds Izuku inside first before easing the door closed behind him.

“Now, can we discuss you taking your quirk back?”

“Sit down,” he orders, motioning to a chair in the corner of the room. He sits, crossing his arms. All for One takes the chair across from him.

“There, now-”

“Yes. Ask your questions.”

Izuku still hasn’t figured out why All for One would pass on a quirk he holds so dear, or is it a copy? He hasn’t figured that part out yet either. Does he want to isolate him? Maybe he doesn’t need to vault Izuku if he has him under his protection. Yeah, that sounds right. All for One gives him a quirk to control him.

“One problem with that, Izuku.”

He was muttering again, wasn’t he?

“I wouldn’t give such a powerful ability away just to spite my enemies. Especially one that’s as unpredictable as All for One. Furthermore, when I said I wanted better for you, I meant it.”

That doesn’t make any sense, and he wishes first would come out of hiding and explain what his brother’s going on about.

“You keep saying that, but none of it makes any sense. Before I got One for All, and even for a little while after, I didn’t even know you existed. So, how could you have always wanted better for me?”

All for One runs a hand through his neatly trimmed hair, taking a deep breath. “Do you…” he licks his lips. “Do you remember your father?”

Izuku thinks of hot summer days and walking hand-in-hand with his father down the streets of their neighborhood, ice cream cones in hand. He thinks of warm, strong arms that would pick him up and hold him tight every time he had a nightmare. He thinks of his parents swaying to music a generation or three too old for Izuku’s tastes in the living room of their apartment. Of dad jokes and burnt pancakes and of being chased around the oak tree in front of their first house.

Izuku closes his eyes, a feeling of longing welling up in him. He hasn’t thought much of his dad since he left on that business trip however many years ago now. He’s had his mom and now All Might to fill the hole in his heart that his dad left behind.

“Not much,” his voice shakes. Izuku feels his throat tighten up, and for a second, he thinks All for One has simply gotten bored with him and is teleporting him somewhere else. Tears well up in his eyes, but he keeps them stubbornly closed, refusing to let them fall.

“Not much, hm?” Thumbs are brushed gently but firmly across his lower lash line. “Then why, my dear, are you crying? Do you miss him?”

Izuku hates these questions. Hates himself for allowing All for One to do this to him. He can feel One for All crackling underneath his skin, always within reach.

“That’s none of your business,” Izuku snaps.

“I have a son,” All for One admits, a wistful look in his eyes.

A gasp leaves Izuku. Whatever he expected All for One to say, it certainly wasn’t that. “A son?” He asks, flabbergasted. Izuku wonders what such a person might look and act like. Out of curiosity and nothing more he looks up at the villain and asks, “what’s he like?”

The villain gives a light chuckle, running his fingers through Izuku’s curls. “Well,” he starts, “for one thing, he’s a big fan of heroes.”

“Karma,” Izuku says, simply. It had to be.

“Perhaps,” All for One agrees reluctantly. “But I’ve never held his love of heroes against him. It’s the only thing that’s ever made him smile.” He frowns at that.

“Why not give this quirk to your son?”

“Izuku, do you really not recognize me?” All for One scoots his chair closer, knees touching Izuku’s.

“Yes, you’re All for One,” he answers. If the man wasn’t his mortal enemy, then Izuku would definitely be asking if the rewind quirk he used to heal his face didn’t also rewind all his brain cells.

“Correct, I am All for One. But that’s not what I was hoping you would say.”

“...Sorry…?” Izuku tries, clenching his fists to ward off another round of stabbing pain.

“You’re forgiven,” All for One says without a hint of irony. “I guess we’ll have to come back to this conversation later. For now, let me see your hands.”

Just as before, Izuku places his hands in All for One’s. He stares at Izuku’s hands for an uncomfortable amount of time. “You’ll have to wear gloves from now on. Not that seems to be a problem for you.”

He yanks his hands out of the man’s grasp. “You said you would help me!”

“I did, and I will.”

“Then why won’t you take your quirk back? Why burden me with it?”

All for One tilts his head to the side, looking at Izuku like one would a particularly cute but annoying puppy. “I thought you were smarter than this. Perhaps I was wrong.” Before the insult can set in, All for One leans in closer. He takes Izuku’s face in his hands.

“I suppose I need to bring you up to speed on a few things. One of which is that I’m Hisashi Midoriya. Ah, ah, don’t interrupt just yet, I can tell you want to say something but save it for the end. Which, in case you haven’t caught on, means I’m your father. And since you're my son you had the potential to inherit my quirk.”

Izuku can do nothing but stare back, mouth agape. His mother….did she know? She had to know, right? But she seems so happy that All Might’s his mentor. Unless she’s allowing it for purely petty reasons, but that’s not like his mom. His mom is kind and gentle and would never settle for the scrounge of Japan.

“My mom…did she…”

“Know? No, I took an interest in her for an unrelated project of mine.” A soft, dreamy look crosses All for One’s face. “But Inko was kind to me. She has this way about her that makes you feel wanted.”

Izuku sighs, exhausted. “Yeah, mom’s the best. I hope she’s doing alright.”

“She is, don’t worry. Even when I was gone, I never left you guys alone.”

“Can you skip to the part where you tell me why I suddenly have your quirk?” Izuku would usually love to engage in small talk with his estranged father, but at the current moment his head is killing him and he is three seconds away from seriously considering cutting off his hands.

“Not one for casual discussion, are you? No matter.” He lets go of Izuku’s face in favor of grabbing his hands. “You started manifesting the quirk at a very young age. One day you were a happy, cheerful two-year-old, the next you were constantly sobbing and clinging onto Inko or I. The contrast was night and day. We thought perhaps you were teething, but a trip to the doctor’s revealed you already had all your baby teeth. Then we thought that you were just going through a phase. Well, at least, your mother did. I personally thought someone was hurting you, and you didn’t have the words to tell me yourself. Turns out, we were both sorely mistaken.” All for One smiles, widely, showing off all his teeth.

The air in the room is stale, and Izuku suddenly wishes to be back on the battlefield again. The vestiges of One for All hover anxiously over his shoulder (minus the first). They whisper words of comfort. At one point he swears he can feel Nana’s long, dark hair tickle his face when she presses a kiss to the crown of his head.

“Go on,” Izuku presses, teeth gritted to bear the pain.

He’s broken his bones countless times, over and over again. So, why does this hurt so much?

“Ah, be patient, I’m getting there.” He takes Izuku’s hands and turns them palms up. Gently, he strokes his thumbs across Izuku’s palms, just like he did back at the ruins of Musutafu. It helps the ache, and he finds himself relaxing ever so slightly. “For what it’s worth, little one, I am sorry. I didn’t want you to manifest my quirk. The moment I realized what was going on, I did everything in my power to suppress it.”

“How?” There existed pills that could maybe, potentially suppress quirk symptoms, but-to his knowledge-there exists no way to fully suppress the quirk-itself.

“I won’t lie, it was hard. I went back-and-forth with Doctor Garaki about different solutions. We came up with a three-step plan. First, you were exposed to videos and conversations on why ‘villainous’ quirks are wrong. To make you feel shame, which, according to Doctor Garaki, works to make you unconsciously try to suppress it.”

That….sounds….exactly what a villain would do. Izuku doesn’t understand why he feels so shocked at the admission. Then something occurs to him. “But I didn’t know All for One was a dangerous, or a villainous quirk. In fact, I probably didn’t know about the quirk at all. So, how would I associate discrimnation against villainous or unsavory quirks with the one I was still developing?”

“That,” All for One starts, looking to the side, “wasn’t thought of. Not my brightest idea. The project was scrapped immediately. Steps two and three worked a bit better.”

“And they were…?”

“Memory alteration and then, a couple years later, making you think you were quirkless.”

Izuku’s heart skips a beat.

All the bullying.

The loneliness.

The isolation.

The pain.

It was a….lie?

Izuku stands up, pushing All for One away. “How dare you,” he says, jabbing a finger into the villain’s chest. “How fucking dare you.”

“Izuku,” All for One tries, voice uncharacteristically soft.

“No!” He knocks his chair over in an effort to maneuver around his nemesis. All for One grabs onto him. Shaking with anger and weak from the pain, Izuku silently begs his body for one last adrenaline boost. “Let me go!” He hits at the villain’s arms and chest, throwing himself to the floor in an attempt to get away.

It works, for a moment. He lays there, on the ground, looking up at the ceiling. Wires stick out in places and there’s obvious signs of water damage. If he stays still, maybe he can count all the tiles…..

There’s a clicking sound and then All for One is standing above him, blocking his view.

“Please,” Izuku begs, he has no energy left to fight or argue, “just go away.”

His nemesis doesn’t respond. He sits down next to Izuku, a serious expression on his face.

They sit like that for a while, side-by-side, not touching, and quiet.

Izuku’s hands tingle and every so often he has to clench them into fists to make the stabbing pains manageable. Out of the corner of his eye, Izuku can see All for One move forward as if to touch him, but then jolt to keep himself from touching Izuku.

“I would never leave you-”

“Yeah? Well, you did,” Izuku snaps.

Fingers card through his hair, an expression of long-lost paternal love. “They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it only made me grow weaker.” A kiss is pressed to his forehead. “I can’t begin to imagine how hard it was for you and your mother, but please, please never, for one second, think I didn’t want to come home.”

Tears well up in Izuku’s eyes. “I needed you. Mom needed you,” his voice breaks. The lump in his throat grows, and he struggles to keep his composure. “I thought I did something wrong. I thought you went away because I was defective, and no matter what mom said, it never made the pain go away.”

“Oh , Izuku,” All for One-his father (that feels almost illegal to think)-warbles.

He’s pulled onto his father’s lap. The villain holds him tightly to his chest.

His father hums a familiar tune under his breath, rocking them back-and-forth. Just like he used to do when Izuku was small. Well, smaller.

“I can’t go back like this,” Izuku says, voice hoarse. “I-I can’t face All Might and my friends like this.”

He’s shushed, and a hand resumes carding through his curls. “Not now. That is tomorrow's problem.”

“It hurts. Why does it hurt so much?” He squeezes his eyes shut, the semi-darkness helps with his mounting headache.

His father kisses his temple, muttering something unintelligible. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Can’t you take it away?” Izuku asks, hating how safe he feels in the confines of his father’s arms.

“I’ve tried,” his father admits.

Something wet falls on Izuku’s face. It takes a second for him to realize it’s his father’s tears.

He goes on. “I tried so hard to protect you guys. I kept you hidden in plain sight, and when you started developing your own version of All for One, I panicked. I thought of what the hero commission would do if they ever caught wind of your ability. I thought of what heroes with morals on par with the lowest criminal scum and the backing of the law could potentially do to you and your mother. I…I didn’t know what to do.” Tears fall onto Izuku’s face faster. “I didn’t know how to make it all better…..I wanted to make you smile again.”

Izuku cries harder. “All Might’s going to be so angry with me.”

“No, the blond oaf is a lot of things. But he seems to genuinely care for you as if you were his own. Loathe as I am to admit that.”

“But-but he hates you,” Izuku insists, tired brain latching onto any relevant thought.

“Yes, and I can guarantee any hatred he has for me will be instantly overridden by his love for you.” His father shifts. “I wish I had more concrete answers and permanent solutions, but alas I do not. Tomorrow, I will answer all your remaining questions, and then we will find a viable solution to get you back out there, unashamed and as brave as you’ve always been,

together.”

#mha fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #mha au #dfo #dad for one #hisashi midoriya

43 notes · View notes

ninebluehearts · 2 years

Note

Hey I was wondering can you do a Marc Spector/Steven grant/ Jake Lockley x reader where the reader has Wanda’s powers and has know Steven for a month and they’ve gotten close to the point where she asks him out but he misses there date due to Marc taking the body to the alps, Steven shows up to the restaurant two days later and calls her to ask her where she is and she reveals that it was Sunday not Friday and he missed there date, not wanting to lose her he offers an explaintion and she tells him they’ll talk about it in person the next day. She arrives at his apartment and eventually find the scarab in the duffel bag Steven brought in (not knowing what it is) she hides when the police barge in and follows Steven to harrows place. The reader gets wrapped into stopping Harrow when she decided to follow Marc to Cairo to help Steven but Marc is very angsty towards her and they fight like an old married couple because secretly Marc likes her but struggles to admit it in fear of rejection so instead he hopes that being mean to her will push her away but in the end they get their happy ending (Layla doesn’t exist)

Warnings: Knifes, murder, etc.

A/n: I'm gonna be dead honest, Wanda's powers changed so much over the movies and shows that I'm fully basing this off of what I remember- Sooo, don't come for me if I messed anything up! I hope this is what you were picturing!! I'm sorry it took me so long to write this 😅 Also, this is the longest fic I've ever written, so please enjoy 💕

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

You've only known Steven for a little over a month now, but you already knew that you were starting to fall for him. He was just so sweet and kind, you couldn't help it. Ever since you stumbled into him at the museum, you couldn't stop thinking about him.

Steven had been carrying a box filled with assorted stuff animals that were dressed up as the ancient gods of Egypt, walking back over to his small desk in the corner room, a large LED sign above reading "GIFT SHOP."

The box was surprisingly heavy from the amount of stuffed toys, causing Steven to only focus on getting the box to his desk without dropping it, instead of his surroundings. He glanced over at his desk for just a second, getting ready to shout to a Mom and her son that he would be with them in a moment, when he crashed into you.

Causing not only both of you to fall over, but also the box he had been carrying, the stuffed animals now scattered across the floor. "Oh! I'm so, so sorry, ma'am!" He stammered, quickly getting onto his knees and grabbing up the fallen toys.

"Don't worry about it! Here," You said as you stood up, starting to dust off your clothes.

Steven watched in shock as the toys made their way back into the box on their own. He looked up at you, only to find a strange red cloud surrounding your fingers.

Once the toys were back in the box, you bent over and picked it up, then held it out to Steven. "Here you go! Oh, I'm y/n by the way." You said with a kind smile.

"Uhm, Steven.. And thank you.." He mumbled as he took the box from you, obviously still shocked from what just happened.

"Don't worry about it! Hey, you wouldn't happen to know anything about the Statue of Menkaure, would you?" You had asked, following him back to his desk.

You explained how you needed to write a paper on it for your college essay, but you had no idea where to begin. He actually offered to tutor you and you agreed, giving him your personal phone number and address.

After your seventh study session with Steven Grant, you finally decided to ask him out, sick of your hands 'accidentally' touching, or catching each other staring at the other. Luckily for you, he said yes, both of you settiling on dinner Thursday night.

Which was today.

You spent the entire day getting ready, picking out the perfect outfit, even getting your hair, nails, and make up done. You arrived at Tróger Gasztró Bisztró at nine o'clock. Just on time. And so you found your table, texted Steven to let him know you were there, and waited. And waited.. And waited.. ten thirty rolled around and you were asked to leave due to the restaurant closing.

You were absolutely heartbroken. You didn't know if you should be sad or angry. On the one hand, he obviously stood you up. But he also wasn't answering any of your calls or texts, which made you worry. You went home and flopped down onto the couch, refusing to let any of your tears fall just yet.

So, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "He'll call." You said to yourself, before getting up to getting yourself ready for bed.

You kept your phone turned up for the rest of the weekend, checking it every time it made a noise or vibrated. After hearing nothing from him all day Saturday, you gave up and spent the day at home on Sunday. You were curled up on the couch, eating ice cream out of the tub while watching a new season of Gossip Girl when your phone started to ring.

Steven

You hit the 'answer' button then pressed your phone against your ear, sighing before answering with a, "What do you want?" You wanted to give him a chance to explain himself, but you were just so mad.

"Hey! Um, is everything alright? I thought we agreed on 9:00.. it's half past.." He sounded so nervous, it almost broke your heart.

"Yeah, 9:00 o'clock on Thursday." You said, starting to get really annoyed. What was this, some kind of joke?

"Yeah, today?" Steven said, confusion evident in his tone.

"Three days ago, Steven! What is this? You stand me up and now you're rubbing it in my face? Haha, very funny, jackass!" Tears started to well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over.

"W-What? No- today is Thursday- I just.."

"No, Steven, welcome to Sunday. Lose my number." But right as you were about to hang up, Steven's panicked voice yelled to you through the phone.

"Wait! Please, listen, can I try again? Please? I promise, I-I'll explain everything! Please?"

You sighed. You didn't want to be stood up again, but you were also kind of worried still. He did sound genuinely confused.. "Fine. When and where?"

"Will you come over to mine? I can even make you tea! How does 3 o'clock sound?"

"Fine, just text me the address." You then hung up, staring at the wall, wondering if you just made the stupidest mistake of your life, or the best one.

The next day, you arrived at Steven's flat fifteen minutes earlier than you agreed, wanting to see him as soon as possible. But as you walked up to the door, hand reaching out to knock on the thick wood, the panic started to set in. What if this is someone else's address? What if he gave me the wrong one on purpose? What if, what if, what if..

But as you started to pull your hand away from the door, getting ready to leave, you heard a man yelling in the small apartment. Steven. You could recognized that british accent anywhere. Without over thinking it again, you reached up and knocked on the door five times. "Steven? It's me!" You called out, waiting for a response.

"Of course I'm gonna let 'er in! Bugger off, mate!" You heard Steven whisper yell as he started to unlock the door. And when he opened it, you were met with those beautiful, tired brown eyes that you absolutely adored. "Sorry 'bout that, love. Come in! Please!" He held the door open for you, motioning for you to come in with a wave of his arm.

"Are you sure? I can come back if you have someone over." You leaned forward and glanced around his flat, trying to see who he was talking to.

"What? Oh, no, no, no! Don't worry about that. I-I was on the phone! Yeah.." As you walked into the small space, Steven shut the door behind you, locking two out of the three locks. "Just go on a make yourself comfortable, love, I'll just be a seco-"

"Are you leaving?" You interrupted as you picked up the black duffle bag that had been sitting on his table.

"Oh, no, please don't touch that!" Steven took a step towards you, but stopped when you looked at him, tilting your head with a confused look on your face.

'Steven, they'll come after her too if she looks at what's in there.' Marc warned from the reflection in Gus' tank.

"What's in it?" You set the bag down on the table and slowly unzipped it, glancing inside before looking back at Steven, panic evident on his features.

"Listen, love, you don't wanna touch that! Lord knows I wish I didn't." He mumbled, glancing at the fish tank. "Listen, maybe we should res-" Steven was cut off by a loud bang on the door. "Bloody hell.." He mumbled, making his way over to the door.

You turned back to the bag and quietly dug around. You pushed past a passport, two stacks of American and Egyption money, and even a gun. But the thing that really captured your attention was a small golden beetle. "What the..?" You whispered, glancing over at Steven before pocketing the beetle.

"Uh, now?" Steven asked, starting to panic as the people outside asked to come in. You didn't have a good feeling about this, so you quietly ran over to the window, climbing out of the apartment and onto the roof, hiding further up and out of the way behind the brick frame surrounding the window.

You waited a good twenty minutes before slowly making your way back down and into the apartment again. "Steven?" You called out, cautiously looking around the flat, only to find that it was empty. "What the fuck.." You mumbled, walking over to check the apparently empty bathroom.

You looked out of the window and saw a strange black car speeding away from the building. "Jesus Christ." You ran out of the apartment, accidentally pushing an old lady as you raced out of the door. "Sorry!" You yelled as you hopped onto your motorcycle and raced after the black car, hoping that you were right about this...

You followed Steven and an older man to some kind of building that you could only call a sanctuary. It even had a damn theater. But you didn't have time to look at all the details. Right now you had to keep yourself hidden. So, you sat down at an empty table in the back of the room, pulling your hood up to hide your face as much as possible.

"..His retribution comes too late. By the time his fist of vengeance arrives, people have already suffered. Ammit knows this too well. She tears evil up from the root, casting her judgment before any evil's done. That's why we must resurrect her." The man told Steven, his tone rather convincing.

"Right. But.. Isn't that a bit dodgy? Like, trusting the judgment of a weird crocodile lady?" Steven asked.

"You don't need to doubt her judgment. Ammit will light the path to good by eradicating the choice of evil," The man said, watching Steven nod with a small hum, before sipping another spoonful of the soup. "Which brings us to the scarab.." You knew this man had to be powerful, but with the way everyone in the room suddenly stood up and started to surround Steven, you knew something strange was going on.

"That scarab functions as a kind of compass, leading us to Ammit's tomb. She's out there, waiting, longing to be freed.."

"Hi.." Steven nervously mumbled to the growing crowd around him.

"While the cruel masses deserve to face her judgment. And in the wake of their screams? Evil eradicated." The man let out a breath, grinning at the mere thought of his plan coming to life. "Steven, to exist in that moment? Heaven on Earth." The man leaned back, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "So, the scarab?"

"Oh, I don't have it." Steven said shyly, he sounded so nervous and it was killing you.

"No?"

"Honestly, I don't have it."

"Well, maybe you know someone who does? Hm? Maybe Marc?"

Marc? Who the hell is Marc? You thought to yourself, wondering if you should intervene yet.

'Just give me the body, Steven.' Marc said from the reflection of the bread bowl, losing more of his patience by the minute.

"No, I don't." Steven snapped a little.

"May I speak with Marc?"

"Um... Ah.."

"Marc, what has Khonshu promised you? That this is your last mission? Then you'll be free? Trust me when I tell you, Khonshu is a liar. There's always one last thing.." The man seemed to stare straight into Steven's soul; it's like he expected him to be someone else. But that was impossible. Steven was Steven.

"Sorry." Steven seemed to interrupt the mans strange spaced out stare. "If Ammit judges people pre-evil, like, before the fact, then, isn't she judging an innocent person? I mean, a thought can't be evil, can it? I mean, I think about killing my boss all the time, but I wouldn't actually do it."

"Steven.."

"W-What about a child? Would she kill a child for something they might do in thirty years?" At this point, Steven was full on panicking and you couldn't just sit there anymore. You had to think of something.

"I'm glad you mentioned that.. Sometimes the cure is a little taste of the disease. The difference between medicine and poison sometimes is only the dosage. Consider a diseased limb. Amputation, horrific, grotesque, but it's necessary for the larger health." Everyone (except for you and Steven) nodded in agreement to the mans horrific analogy.

"But a child is not a diseased limb. Sorry, is that... Is that what... You're all into? Killing children and that? Maybe that's just me, but that's... I kind of draw a line there, at child murder.."

"Do you know what this is?" The man asked as he gestured to his staff, designed with two crocodile heads faced back to back as a handle.

"Yup. It's a cane, yeah." Steven said, almost making you laugh with his sarcasm.

"This was Ammit's gift to her first Avatar." The man picked up the staff and held it up for Steven to see, certain parts of the head starting to glow purple.

"Alright."

"It contains in it a tiny sliver of her power. I don't want to use it.. I don't.."

"Then don't. I can't help you-" Steven said, standing up and slowly backing away from the man. You stood up too, watching as everyone else in the room started to slowly back away from the staff as well.

"Yes, you can. I need to know, where is the scarab?" The man took a step closer, gripping the base of his staff. "Where is the scarb?" He asked again, and when Steven didn't reply, he repeated himself for a third time.

"No.."

"Where's the scarab?"

That was it. You couldn't let him scare Steven like this any longer. "I have it." You said, pulling the scarab out of your pocket and holding it up for everyone to see, pulling your hood back with your other hand.

"Y/n?" Steven asked, the panic on his features now replaced with confusion and concern.

"You couldn't possibly understand the value of what you're holding. Let me have that, I'll keep it safe." The man held out his hand to you, gesturing to the scarab.

THERE IS NO DEAL IN THIS, MARC. FIX THIS. FIX THIS! Khonshu hollered at Steven; even the god was starting to panic.

Steven ran to your side, grabbing your arm. "You really shouldn't be here! How the hell did you get here?"

"We don't have time for that. We have to go." You whispered, shoving the scarab into Steven's chest. "Keep this safe." You then grabbed his hand and pulled him towards a staircase at the back of the room.

"So be it." You heard the man say, followed by whispering in another language you didn't recognize. The ground shook when he slammed his staff into the ground, a purple cloud of dust swarming around the staff.

You dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time, before crashing straight into a random guy, both of you surprised at the others presence. You panicked, punching the guy in his jaw out of instinct. He started to fight back, throwing a punch back at you. Luckily, you managed to duck just in time, grabbing the edges of his jacket and tossing him over the railing. You watched as he landed on top of a wooden roof, then roll onto the ground.

You glanced behind you, seeing that Steven was shocked by what just happened. "Come on!" You said, grabbing his arm and pulling him through a small doorway that lead to a hallway.

"That was awesome!" Steven said, following you into a room at the end of the hall.

"Thanks, now bolt the door!" You said as you both closed the door, Steven bolting it shut with a wooden plank.

You ran around the room, looking for an exit. Though, it seemed like Steven wasn't too focused on that. "Oh, my god.." He mumbled, looking at all of the ancient artifacts and egyptian tombs. "I'm gonna die in an evil magician's man cave."

You ran over to him and grabbed his shoulders. "No, hey, listen to me-" But both of your heads snapped over to the door when something big seemed to pounce on it.

"Bloody hell.." Steven's breathing started to pick up, his eyes glued to the door.

"Steven? What is that?" You started panicking, gripping his shoulders tighter.

'Give me the body.'

"Well, I could be wrong. But I'm pretty sure it's the jackal from the museum."

"The what?"

But he didn't have time to explain any further when the creature hit the door again, this time chipping a large crack down the middle.

'Steven, let me in.'

"Okay, listen, Steven, we have to think. How do we get out of here?" But Steven just stared at you, seemingly just as clueless as to what to do. "Oh, wait. Who's Marc? Maybe he can help?" You suggested, watching his entire demeanor change.

'She's right, Steven. Give me the body.'

"No." He said, almost defensively, glancing between you and the shiny tomb behind you.

"We'll put a pin in that-" But then the door burst open, though when you looked, nothing was there. "What the..?"

"JACKAL!" Steven covered his mouth with one hand, pointing at the doorway with the other.

"What? Steven, there's nothing there. What jackal?" You looked between Steven and the doorway, confusion written all over your face.

"Jackal... Jackal... Jackal.." Steven murmured, panic evident in his tone. He kept backing up, pointing at something you obviously couldn't see.

"Steven-" But then suddenly Steven flew out of the window. "STEVEN!' You screamed, running over to the window to see him. Though, when you looked down, nobody was there. "Steven?" You called out, waiting for a reply. When he didn't answer, you climbed out of the window and onto the roof, running over to climb down the fire escape ladder built into the side of the building.

You stepped onto the ground and started to walk down the alleyway, your thoughts all scrambled from the panic.

"ACK-"

When you turned around at the loud yelp, you saw a man in a white suit and mask crash through a wooden gate, landing on the bricks a few feet away from you. "Steven?"

He either didn't hear you or just didn't answer, because he reached up and grabbed the metal bumper of a car and gripped it, completely bending the metal and ripping it off with ease.

"Woah.." You mumbled, a rush of chills flooding throughout your body as your cheeks turned a bright pink. "Um- Y-You look different." You stammered, your eyes trailing along his body. You took in how the well fitted suit showed off and complimented everything it needed to.

Before Steven could respond, the invisible being pushed him forward, causing him to drop the large chunk of metal. It then pulled him up right, only to slam him into the front of a car.

"Steven!" You ran over to help him, but he held his hand out to stop you.

"Get away!"

"What?" But then he was lifted back into the air, his arm accidently pushing you over. You sat on the ground, helplessly watching as the being lifted Steven onto a car and started choking him.

"Steven!" Your hand reached out for him, a red blast following it. Suddenly, you could see it. The red glow of your magic holding it in the air was enough to show just how big the creature was. "What the hell.." You mumbled, staring at it for just a moment, before swiping your hand through the air, causing the jackal to fly across the alleyway and slam into the side of a building, making a noise similar to an injured dog.

You stood up and ran over to Steven, crouching down to his level while rubbing his back. "Are you okay?"

Steven coughed, his hand gently rubbing his neck. "How do you do that?" He mumbled, looking at you through the white glow of the mask.

"I-" But the jackal grabbed your ankle and lifted you into the air, slamming your body into the wall. "Fuck, Steven!" You called out, unable to turn your body enough to get a grip on the being.

"I've got you, love!" He called out as he slammed an old, rusty frame of a tire at the jackal. It fought him for a minute, but then dropped you and grabbed the piece of metal, hitting Steven with it.

Steven laid on the ground, trying to catch his breath.

'Give me control, Steven. You can't handle this.' Marc said, staring back at him from the reflection of a car's bumper.

Steven thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "I think I can." He then jumped to his feet, starting to do a ridiculous prance around the jackal, his fists clutched to his chest. "Leave her alone! Yeah, I see you, you plug-ugly coyote. You're in the wrong ends, mate. You're in my yard now." Steven ripped off his jacket and threw it onto the wet, brick covered ground, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. "Yeah. Come on. That's right. Come on."

Though it was a serious situation, something about the way he taunted the creature caused butterflies to erupt in your belly. You watched as he and the jackal jumped around, back and forth like professional boxers.

"Ohh, lookie here. Lookie here." Steven continued to taunt, his fists clenched and ready. "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, my name's Steven with a V!" He yelled, before clocking the creature in the face, effectively knocking it out. "Haha, wow! Did you see that? Y/n, did you see that? That was amazi-" But the jackal jumped up and kicked Steven in his stomach, causing him to roll into the busy street.

"Is he having a seizure?" A stranger asked.

"Nah, he's just a fancy drunk." Another stranger replied.

The jackal slammed Steven onto the side of a bus three times, before he was able to turn around and grab it, throwing them both at the oncoming car.

"Steven?" You called out, trying to push your way through the growing crowd.

Steven groaned, slowly making his way back onto both of his feet.

'That was one hell of a punch back there. But look around. Someone's gonna get hurt if you don't let me help.' Marc said, both of them knowing he was right.

"Fine. Take control, but just for now.."

As you made your way to Steven, you watched his head fall back; it looked as though he was being electrocuted. "Steven?" You placed your hand on his arm, gently pulling it to turn him around.

And as he did, white strips of fabric snaked around his body, creating a whole new suit with a cape. You stared into the bright, glowing eyes, knowing something was different. "You're not Steven." You said, taking a step back.

"No, I'm not." The man said with an American accent instead of Steven's English one. He then ran and jumped on top of a car, then onto the side of a building, climbing onto the roof.

He must be leading the jackal away. You thought to yourself, running down the street to try and find him. It didn't take long, the sound of him angrily yelling followed by glass shattering was enough to lead you right to him.

When you could finally see him, he seemed to be talking to someone, but again, nothing was there.

"Where are we going?" He asked whomever he was talking to. He didn't seem too happy with the response; his shoulders slumped over and he sighed. "Cairo? Again? Fucks sake.." He cursed, his mask rising up to cover his face again, before a giant gust of wind hit you like a brick wall, the sound of crows screams echoing throughout the small space.

And when you looked up, he was gone. Why would he need to go to Cairo? Who was this Marc? Why couldn't you see what he saw? You didn't know everything, but you did know that you were going to follow him to Egypt.

After a thirteen hour flight, multiple calls to a bunch of hotels, and three taxi's later, you got a room three doors down from Steven. Or was it Marc now? You were honestly too tired to think about it.

You tossed your bag on your bed with a sigh, popping it open to dig around for your pajamas. After a long, hot shower, you climbed into the neat white bed, a yawn forcing it's way out of you. You reached over and turned off the lamp on the nightstand, curling up into a ball as you slowly drifted to sleep.

That was, until a rather loud knock sounded from your door.

"You've gotta be kidding me." You mumbled, angrily ripping the blankets off of your body before stomping across the room, yanking the door open. "What?" You snapped.

"You're following me." Marc said, his arms crossed against his chest.

You stared at him for a long time, your eyes practically bugging out of your skull. "Steven?" You whispered, tilting your head as you noticed how he slightly deflated at the name. "Or Marc? You don't have the accent, so I assume-"

"What are you doing here?" Marc interrupted, annoyance evident in his tone.

You shrugged. "Keeping Steven safe. Plus, I can help."

"No way." Marc pushed his way past you, entering your room before you could object. "Listen, I appreciate what you're doing, I really do, but I've got this. You're just gonna get in the way."

You shut the door then leaned against it, crossing your arms over your chest. "I think I can take care of myself."

"I didn't say you couldn't."

"It was implied." You snapped, now growing irritated yourself.

Marc shook his head, pressing his fingers against his temple. "Look, I set up a flight back home for you in ten hours. Just go home and Steven will be back in two weeks."

"No."

"No?" Marc repeated, surprised with your attitude.

You only shrugged in response, trying not to laugh at the way Marc kinda looked like the muppet Sam Eagle when he was mad.

"What? You think this is funny? I'm serious y/n!"

It must've been on your face then. "Look, Marc, I don't know how any of this works," You gestured to him, referring to the whole Steven-And-Marc situation. "But I know that Steven wouldn't want this."

Marc put his hands on his hips, quickly growing defensive. "How would you know? You don't even know him!"

"I saw how he looked when that guy asked to talk to you instead of him. He was scared. He wants to be in control and you make him feel powerless." You felt guilty when you saw how Marc's shoulders fell, his eyes focused on the floor.

"Yeah, well after this he won't have to worry about me ever again." He walked over and put his hand on the doorknob, not even looking at you. "Move."

You looked up at him and studied his face; it was nothing like Steven. Marc carried himself in a way that made himself look bigger, more standoffish, while Steven was the complete opposite.

Marc finally looked at you, his eyes staring into yours for a moment, before glancing down to your lips. You couldn't help but do the same, your eyes fixed on his chapped lips. You both stayed like that for a moment, the distance between your faces slowly closing by some invisible force.

"You should get some rest. You have a flight to catch in the morning." Of course he had to ruin the moment.

"Will you still be here when I wake up?"

Marc just stared at you, not answering your question.

You pulled yourself off of the door, shrugging your shoulders once again. "Sounds like I'm not going to sleep then."

"Fine by me." Marc said as he pulled the door open and walked out, practically slamming it behind him.

You pulled a chair over to the window and sat down, watching the parking lot to see if he would leave. You'd stay there all night if it meant keeping them safe. Even Marc.

The next morning, you woke up to a knock on the door, followed by a, "Room service?" You sat up and groaned, your hand flying to rub your neck. You had fallen asleep in a strange position on the chair last night and with the deep sleep you were in, you barely moved a muscle throughout the night.

After you politely declined the room service, you quickly got dressed and headed down the hall to talk to Marc, but when you reached his room, two maids were inside making the bed, talking about an affair between a Tina and the hotels janitor.

"Excuse me?" You said, ignoring the glares they looked at you with for interrupting their gossip session. "Sorry, but where's the man that stayed here last night?"

One of the maids sighed, rolling her eyes. "He just left not five minutes ago. You could probably catch him if you run."

"Shit- thank you!" You hollered, already racing down the hallway towards the elevator. You slammed your thumb against the G button on the elevator, impatiently tapping your foot as you counted down the floors. When you reached the ground-floor you quickly ran out, scanning the room for the familiar mop of dark brown curls.

You saw him right as he walked out of the door, sliding his sunglasses down from on top of his head to cover his eyes.

You slipped out of the exit on the other side of the building and followed him throughout a very crowded market. You kept your distance, even when he chased a group of mercenaries throughout the streets. There was gonna be a perfect moment for you to step in, you could feel it. So for now, you watched.

Marc had one of the mercenaries pinned to the wall, asking him were a man named Harrow was. He glanced at the mirror on the wall next to him, distracted by whatever he was seeing. The other mercenary took that opportunity to hit him over the head with a piece of wood, effectively knocking Marc to the ground.

He laid there for only a moment, but you watched his body tense and shake like it did in the street the other night. "Steven?" You whispered to yourself, hoping to finally see him.

But this was worse. This couldn't be Steven and you didn't think it could be Marc.

He jumped to his feet with a random surge of energy, running towards the men at full speed. The look in his eyes was purely primal, almost hungry. And though you only saw him for a second, he seemed to be smiling.

You quickly ran after them, surprisingly able to keep up. He chased them to the top of a cliff, punching one of the men with what could only be described as deadly force.

"Jesus, you're gonna kill him!" You yelled, right as he sank a knife into the other man's stomach.

"Huh?" He turned around and looked at you. "What are you doing here?" He questioned with a strange spanish accent.

"You just killed him! I- Who are you?" You asked, hesitantly taking a step closer to him.

"Nobody. Forget you ever saw me."

"Wait-" But before you could question him further, his eyes rolled back and his body tensed for a moment. And when he looked at you again, he had that damn muppet expression on his face.

"Y/n? What the hell ar-"

"Look out!" You pointed to the man sneaking up on him from behind, knife in hand.

Marc turned around, but he wasn't fast enough. The man drew the knife back, but before he could do any damage, you focused all of your attention on the knife, ripping it out of his hand and sending it flying towards you in a red cloud. You caught it by the handle, then immediately dropped it, not wanting anything to do with the murders.

"What the-" The man started, but Marc grabbed him by his scarf and dragged him to the edge of the cliff, dangling him over the edge. "Where's the tomb?"

"Marc, don't!"

"Jesus! You're just as bad as Steven!" Marc snapped, causing him to grip the mans scarf tighter.

"Praise Ammit." The guy said, before pulling a knife out of his pocket and cutting the scarf, falling to his death.

Marc stood there in shock, still gripping the remaining piece of the scarf.

You slowly walked over to him, gently placing your hand on his back. "Marc-"

"I told you to go home!" Marc yelled, turning around and getting in your face.

"Hold on, I just saved your life-"

"That would've never happened if you had just gone home!" Marc pointed his finger at you, his entire body shaking with rage. "Go home, y/n. Now." He then stalked off, heading back towards the busy street from before.

You sat on the edge of the cliff and sighed, burying your face in your hands. You tried your best to calm yourself; reassure yourself that it wasn't your fault, but not even five minutes after Marc left, the sunlight began to disappear. When you looked up, it seemed to be covered by a large, dark circle. The moon.

"What the..?" You mumbled, standing up while keeping your eyes on the dark circle in the sky. Though as quick as it was there, it was gone. And while you were still confused on what the hell was going on, you couldn't ignore the aching feeling that Steven -or Marc; or even that spanish man- were in danger. So you made your way back to your hotel room, doing the only thing you could.

Wait.

You were laying on your bed in a robe, still fresh from the shower. As you stared at the ceiling, you couldn't help but finally let all of your thoughts swarm around your mind.

Who was that? Are there more? Where's Steven? Is he okay? Was Marc really gonna kiss me? Did he want to as much as I did?

But your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your hotel room's phone ringing on the nightstand. You sighed, sitting up and grabbing the phone, holding it up to your ear. "Hello?" You mumbled, rubbing your forehead.

"Y/n? Is that you?" You'd know that british accent anywhere.

"Steven?" You gasped, standing up to start pacing. "Where are you? Can I see you?"

You heard Steven chuckle on the other line. "That's what I was calling for, actually. I need your help."

"Of course. Where are you?" You grabbed a pen and paper and wrote down the address Steven gave you. "Wait, why are you at a pyramid?"

"I'll tell you when you get here. Just please hurry. I don't know how much time I have before Marc tries to take over again."

"Okay, I'm on my way." You said as you yanked on a pair of jeans.

"I'll see you soon. Laters gators." And then Steven hung up, not even knowing how big you were smiling just at his silly catch phrase.

You showed up to the pyramid on your motorcycle, easily finding Steven's tent that was set up outside of what you assumed was the entrance. You propped your bike up on it's kickstand before heading over to the tent. But before you pulled the curtain back, you heard Steven talking to someone. So, you stood still, eavesdropping on his conversation.

"..don't be silly. I won't let anything happen to her."

'Steven, I'm serious. Trust me, you don't want her getting roped into this kinda stuff. Just give me the body. She's gonna be here soon.'

"Which is exactly why I'm not giving you the body. Bloody hell, I've barely seen her throughout this whole mess."

'Yes, I know. If you just give me the body I'll give it back in a week or two and you'll never hear from me again. Promise.'

"Yes, well, while that does sound tempting, I'm not gonna miss out on exploring an ancient pyramid with my girlfriend."

Girlfriend? You thought to yourself, your cheeks heating up. You didn't mind the label, it's just that you guys never had a chance to talk about it.

'Girlfriend? Since when did you have time to make things official?' Marc spat in a mocking tone.

Steven just shrugged. "Dunno, I've gotta talk to her about it first, but I just like her so much, Marc. I swear, I've never felt this way about anyone before. And- And I think she feels the same."

You smiled, knowing that he was right. You fixed your clothes, took a deep breath, then pushed the curtain aside. "Steven?"

Steven jumped, quickly turning around. "Y/n!" He quickly rushed over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Bloody hell, I've missed you so much! It's like, I was there, you just couldn't hear me. And don't you worry, Marc got quite the ear full this morning for the way he yelled at you."

Though you could hear Steven rambling, you just couldn't pay attention to what it was about. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face against his shoulder. "Steven." You said, trying to get his attention.

"..and I was in a mirror? I think? I'm not quite sure how it works, actually."

"Steven."

"..I honestly can't help but wonder how long he's been in there. Like, is he the only one? Or what if I have a little french man in there as well?"

Or a spanish one, you thought. He obviously wasn't going to listen to you like this. You reached up and cupped his cheeks, pulling his face close to yours. "Steven."

Steven finally looked at you, a bit shocked. "Yes, love?"

"Shut up." You said, breathing out a laugh as you leaned up and pressed your lips to his, wrapping your arms around his neck once again.

Steven just stood there, his eyes wide, lips unmoving.

'Kiss her back!' Marc hissed.

Before you could pull away, thinking he was uncomfortable, Steven snaked his arms around your waist, holding you as close as he could, finally kissing you back.

When you both pulled away a few moments later to catch your breaths, you just stared at each other, soft pants escaping your smiling lips.

"Shall we?" Steven asked sheepishly, jerking his head towards the entrance of the pyramid.

You adored the bright pink shade of his cheeks in that moment, wanting to take a mental picture to keep forever. "Yeah." Was all you could manage, still light headed from your kiss.

You knew this was going to be a long journey; both this mission of Marc's and your relationship with Steven, but you were ready. For what? You didn't know exactly, but as long as you had Steven, you could do anything.

Tag list: @hot-mess-express1

38 notes · View notes