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#good books for medical students
hanakihan · 8 months
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man you have no idea the sheer DESIRE to write something about Titanic esque chulwoo AU
The main drill is that Sungs come from a rather wealthy old noble family (courtesy of Ashborn as their predecessor being royal knight or smth), Jin-Woo is a next heir while Jin-Ah studies to become a doctor (or a nurse depending on timeline it happens im not even completely sure with setting but probably og titanic vibe mixed with Korean Idek wheeze) and parents send them on a cruise ship for vacation (and in hopes jinwoo will meet nice noblewoman or any woman since sungs are pretty chill about bloodline)
Then there’s Jin-Chul who’s a ship engineer/captain in training courtesy of navy captain on pension Gun-Hee. Gun-Hee comes from rather humble background but managed to reach rather prestigious position of first navy and then civil ship captain but now he’s on pension, and this man is an example to Jin-Chul that you can reach your dream despite your upbringing. Jin-Chul himself also comes from rather humble background on verge of poverty but money and fame never fascinated him, but ships and sailing did. When Jin-Chul was assigned on Gun-Hee’s ship as a new engineer, Gun-Hee saw talent in boy and unofficially took him under his wing teaching him to be a captain. Then Gun-Hee left (or honestly more likely was forcefully dismissed) and Jin-Chul got assigned as one of engineers/coal workers on this giant ship, but Gun-Hee still sails under his own name as a trader or smth like that.
Cue sailing day and at evening Jin-Woo excused himself since noble parties bore him to death and anyway, evening is beautiful and sea is calm. Wandering around he stumbles upon Jin-Chul doing small repairs and who nearly hit Jin-Woo in nose with his elbow because he came too close without announcement. Jin-Chul stiffly apologizing because he knows how annoying nobles can be but is surprised when Jin-Woo is the one to apologize for being so careless and invites him for an apology tea or coffee since compared to other choices Jin-Chul seems as a perfect company thanks to his sharp tongue, wits and knowledge.
Some day of cruise pass and they become rather close friends, Jin-Woo visits Jin-Chul in lowest decks which surprises everyone here and they have a rather nice drinking and dancing session, while in turn Jin-Woo helps Jin-Chul to sneak in 1st class deck so they can chat and play chess in peace of room (and so he can introduce Jin-Chul to Jin-Ah). Jin-Woo even tries to gift Jin-Chul his sapphire brooch so he can sell it for nice sum of money and get his own ship or even open his own company or smth, but Jin-Chul politely refuses, satisfied with their friendship.
Cue disaster night. Now think about captain being an incompetent prick (maybe even on levels of Costa Concordia captain damn) and fucking up entire probably miss into sure hit (even if Jin-Chul risked it and asked people to follow his instructions despite it being a big ass discipline insubordination but no one really minded because people saw that captain gives shit orders) but since bridge was still under captains command, instructions contradicted, but it still allowed a graze hit rather than direct one. So yea this gets worse, Jin-Chul was in section that suffered from impact and got tore, barely got out of here along with most of his men. Seeing how fast water fills decks he tells people to go higher and himself runs to find Sungs or other people he knows. Apparently he finds panicking Jin-Ah and through dangers of ice cold water and falling construction manages to cross paths with Jin-Woo until they got separated again. They manage to get out of sinking shell that nearly becomes their coffin (because he promised Jin-Woo to take care of and save Jin-Ah no matter what goddamnit), Jin-Chul manages to place Jin-Ah on some drifting wood before starting to sink because of cold water.
Now, I’m a sucker for happy endings despite shit looking really bad, so let’s say Jin-Woo with others on safe boat manages to find shell shocked Jin-Ah wrapped in Jin-Chul’s coat, pointing at water and trying to say something with her teeth chattering and managing to say that he’s drowning, Jin-Woo saying ‘not on my fucking watch’ and jumps after, managing to grab him and drag on surface, man is absolutely freezing with lips blue and not really conscious but still weakly breathing.
ANYWAY they safely get back on shore, they all get medical treatment, Jin-Chul earns himself pneumonia (well fuck his sailing dreams ig), Sungs’ gratitude for saving their children and a fucking trial because captain blamed entire catastrophe on lower deck crew defying his orders and following engineer’s ones and that’s a big ass crime in navy. Things ain’t looking good because they want to prosecute him in shortest time to give people answers who’s the guilty one, Jin-Woo is really ready to throw hands with people, Jin-Chul’s patient explanations through coughs ain’t helping because no one can confirm accuracy of his words and that’s when Gun-Hee himself enters court saying smth like ‘maybe you should interrogate deck staff too to hear what commands captain was giving’ and then our sir proceeds to destroy this captain‘s whole career. Jin-Chul is cleaned of accusations and becomes a sort of a good example semi-legend, but thanks to extreme colds diving he now can’t sail on long distances but fear not Gun-Hee invites him to work for him since Jin-Chul is out of commission and Jin-Woo once again gifts Jin-Chul a sapphire brooch but this time asking if Jin-Chul will share future with him. Jin-Chul honestly having ??? reaction while Jin-Woo with the most deadpan face asks ‘You seriously think I’ll dive into cold waters of ocean at night to drag you on surface and then using my body warmth to keep you alive if i didn’t cared about you???’
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themysciraprincess · 2 months
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Rough post-it doodles I made during Maths - I was just thinking a lot about Shifty (with ducklings) and Luz. Then I thought of how Ron loved dogs, and then I thought about Trigger the dog, and then I learned I can't draw dogs..Then there's Rat Kiley from The Things They Carried as I imagined him.
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scarstomymoon · 9 months
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Yes, they say some infinities are bigger than other infinities, and that I'm standing between the lub and dub of your very dear heart, bargaining for a lifetime of love in those 0.5 seconds...
~simran, chips of poetry, peeling off from walls of my mind.🌼
PS- one pump of heart, i.e one cardiac cycle takes around 0.8 second. And between the two heart sounds, there's a normal gap of 0.5 seconds. Just my physiology notes. But can you imagine, half a second... Just that.
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This doctor goddamn just fucked my foot’s shit sideways with electrocution, big needles, anaesthesia, fire and carved a big, bloody hole in the bottom of my heel and had the audacity to be like “anything else?” on my way out, and as I’m grabbing my things and limping like Jaskier post-Rience in a daze I reply “lollipop?” and he straight up scoffs and sends me walking home with no fucking lollipop like I’m some cretin
I just—
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So there I was, limping home with blood soaking through my bandaid and no lollipop
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afieldinengland · 2 years
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dancingplague · 1 year
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Like the little cupid and psyche bit in rose in bloom makes zero sense thematically, the myth has absolutely zero analogies or relevance to Rose and Mac's situation, but I forgive it because it was my favorite myth even before I read the novel. It is just a complete coincidence that my favorite love story has a nonsensical passage about my favorite myth. He gets her a little cupid statue <3
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rboooks · 9 months
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The Adoptive Son. Part 3
A pair of large, cornflower blue eyes stare across the living room of a luxurious penthouse at a nervous-looking man. The pair belong to a young teenager named Tim Drake, who, for the past few weeks, had spoken only a handful of words with Dick since Operation Honey Pot had begun.
They were waiting for Crowne to go get the surprise he had special ordered for Drake from an acquaintance
He tended to stare at him whenever he was around. Sometimes Dick didn't think Drake would even blink. It felt a little like Drake was starstruck by Dick- but he couldn't figure out what he had done to earn such rapture from Drake.
Other times, Drake would study him the same way a scientist would study a newly discovered bug- fascinated but weary, as though he didn't know if it was dangerous. So the scientist needed to pin the bug to a board and take it apart to understand it.
It sort of made Dick uneasy.
The night Crowne had brought him back, Drake happily played some video games while his babysitter- a sweet college student named Nancy- had been working on her assignment at the table.
Drake had turned to greet Crowne and had promptly choked on his own spit at the sight of Dick. Crowne had run off to cook them a meal, insisting Nancy finish her homework and not worry as he cooked.
She had smiled gratefully, turning back to her books while Drake had been rooted by the tv, with the most awe-struck expression Dick had ever seen.
Dick is a little surprised by how well Crowne treats Nancy Salazar.
Nancy is studying to be a pediatric occupational therapist. She adores children and is fascinated by the physical therapist aspect of the medical field.
Dick had learned that Nancy had been struggling to pay her Gotham University tuition after losing her job to a rouge attacking her workplace and the company deciding they needed to make budget cuts to complete the repairs.
She had also fallen behind on her bills due to her father suffering a medical emergency and the family pooling together what little they had to help him get life-saving surgery.
Her dad had been the family's primary provider for as long as Nancy could remember. Since neither of her parents could speak English, they had limited employment options. Nancy's siblings were all younger then than her, so they couldn't help much with the bills.
She had tried to take over as the eldest daughter, but soon it became apparent she was close to losing the house her parents had left their home country for to build a better future for their children. It devastated her.
She had been on the brink of becoming desperate for any job when she had run into Crowne at a wifi-cafe shop. She had seen Tim struggling to get through the door with his wheelchair and had gone to help him. (the child had seen internet videos of parkour and chosen to attempt the tricks himself. He had broken his leg from jumping from one roof to another.)
Her kind actions got Crowne attention, and he invited her to sit with them, then witnessed her have a meltdown when the owner of the cafe told her he had just filled the barista position she had come for an interview for.
It must have all piled up until Nancy couldn't hold back.
Crowne and Drake had consulted her, listening to her woes. After she calmed down, the two adults exchanged contact information to get to know each other. He had offered a babysitting job with complete benefits and a full-ride scholarship. Crowne had even gone far and beyond, paying off all her father's medical expenses and debts.
Dick knew all this because he had done a background check on her to see if she was involved in Crowne's schemes. Her story felt just a tab bit too far fetch for all the good fortune of meeting Crowne that fateful day.
She even admitted that she was sure she would have resorted to a life of crime with how desperate she had been back then.
When she came back clean- just the eldest daughter of immigrants trying to make it in this hellish city- Dick had thought Crowne was infatuated with her.
Nancy was a very attractive young lady, and it would not be the first time a rich man took advantage of a woman in finical distress. He hadn't found evidence yet, but Dick would keep an eye on her to ensure she was safe.
Her involvement was a lot easier to dismiss than it was for Drake.
"You and Danny are dating. He told me last night." Drake says after about half an hour of Scientist-looking-at-bug staring.
Dick throws on his best Wanye smile, making sure it's both charming and besotted. "Yes. We've agreed to become official. I hope you don't mind."
Drake tilts his head, looking ironically enough like a bird. "That depends."
"On what?"
"On what your intentions with Danny are." Drake puts down his Crowne laptop, which Danny had been programming and designing back when they started talking. The design is still the slimmest Dick had ever seen, small enough that it sat comfortably in Drake's school back and robust enough that it worked for all his gaming and photo developing.
It took Crowne about two months to complete what he called "modern," but it wouldn't be out to the rest of the public until Christmas when Crowne planned to reveal it to raise profits as high as possible.
The only reason Drake was allowed to have a model so early was simply that Crowne obviously saw him as a younger brother and sometimes maybe even a son. Dick certainly pick that up in the two-month undercover mission.
He must win over Drake as soon as possible for the sake of the mission. So far, he's come up with nothing incriminating, but more kids have disappeared. If the other boy can't stand him, it will seriously risk his access to Crowne's home and any clues on the missing children.
"I want to give him the life he deserves." Dick settles on. He's noticed that Drake is crazy intelligent. There was no reason to outright lie and get caught if the boy was smart enough to connect the dots.
"Danny deserves the world." Drake nods, stating the words like a fact. "Whatever you searching for, you won't find here."
What?
"Do you not want me to date Danny?"
Drake pauses, carefully turning the question in his head before answering. "I want someone to date Danny because they like him"
"I do like him."
"Do you?" Drake's eyes are practically ice, and Dick gets the sense he just walked into a trap. Carefully, he double-taps his left belt loop sending a warning sound to the Batcave. They won't pull him out yet, but it will have either Babs or Jason nearby in gear, just in case.
A soft click is heard from his right earring, and he knows Alfred is listening.
"I really do." He says in a warm voice.
Drake seems skeptical.
"Danny always had people falling for him. I had to tell him Jenny Wilson wasn't asking him for a private tour of his kitchen when she tried to get him to bring her back to the penthouse. He honestly thought she cared about his grape peeler. He's like that, you know? Though thoughtful, caring, kind, intelligent, and strong, Danny can't see that people generally think he's what they would want in a romantic partner. I think he was bullied a lot as a kid before his adoption, and it's ruined his ability to see his worth."
Dick tries not to scowl. Yes, he's suspected the same thing. He just hopes it's not why Crowne has inflicted so much pain.
He can't stand people who use bullying as an excuse. It doesn't justify anything they do, it also demonizes the victims, and they get too scared to report what they are going through. ''I can't claim to not be like the other people because I don't know them. I know myself, and I can promise that every inch of me wants to see Danny living the life he deserves."
Whatever Drake is going to say gets cut off by Crowne walking back from the elevator carrying a box. "Tim, come look!"
He settles the box on the coffee table, so Drake can reach over and open it. There is a small gasp of delight from the boy as he pulls out a well-done Robin hoodie. It's not over the top like most Robin merch, but it's not subtle either. It's so nicely done. Dick can even tell it's based on Jason rather than him.
The second Robin is Drake's favorite. The teen prices it by holding it up and cheering, "Oh my gosh! I love it, I love it! Where did you get this!?"
"One of Nancy's friends is majoring in fashion design. She overheard me say I wanted to get the second Robin merch that wasn't a blatant grab for money, and she had her friend draw up some designs. I will sponsor her and sell her work in our stores."
Crowne is wearing a Robin hoodie of his own, but this one is based on Dick, and for a moment, his heart soars at the sight of Crowne in his family colors. It's a dangerous thing.
He knows one of the pitfalls of undercover work is getting too attached to the lies. He couldn't allow himself to actually fall for someone like Danny Crowne. Nothing good would come out of it once he saw him jailed for everything he's done.
He hasn't gotten anything to show Crowne's crimes, but Bruce had enough proof for the shell companies doing strange and dangerous experiments.
They needed to figure out what the experiments were attempting to do. Still, they found small clues: systematics showed weapons that didn't intend to harm humans, half-erased research on "eco-energy," what looked like machines attempting to rip holes in reality, and glowing green liquid that made Bruce pale when Jason brought back a simple.
It made Dick angry that the liquid prompted his ex-mentor to contact Talia al Ghul to ask, but she claimed to know nothing of Danny Crowne. Bruce felt she was lying, so after asking Wonder Woman and Superman for help, the big three went to Nanda Parbat to look for clues.
Dick wasn't sure what they found, but Bruce had a surprise for him back at the cave once he finished visiting his "boyfriend."
They could take down Crowne Co. with what they did have, but there was a chance Crowne could claim that his scientists went rogue and let them take the fall. Also, they didn't have any names of the scientists. It was like the invisible man was conducting them on his own.
Dick had to wait a little longer. See the big plan and unravel it so everything can never be rebuilt.
Yes, he's only seen a good man who may be socially awkward once you get past his regal composure, and his speech may be a bit too formal. A passionate inventor who always tried to find a new ways to improve people's lives, especially in medicine.
A man who cooked because he liked feeding people.
A man who offered a helping hand because his parents were often mocked for their careers- Dick suspected they may have been prostitutes based on the small comments of people thinking "it wasn't real jobs and they should be ashamed for themselves"- but most of all, Dick found a man who seemed lonely.
Someone lost after life displaced him, desperately trying to find himself again. It made Dick feel better knowing someone like him was doing the same.
"What is your opinion, Dick?" Crowne asks, doing a slight turn. Dic can't fight the urge to lean in for a quick kiss, telling himself it was all for the mission and the butterflies he felt in his stomach were terrible indigestion.
Crowne smiled into the kiss, pressing a second one on Dick's lips before leaning back, looking a little flustered still, and over his shoulder, he saw Drake's eyes narrow.
Maybe the kid was jealous?
He didn't know, but he better keeps an eye on Tim Drake. Something told him not to underestimate that boy.
"I got you a Nightwing too. The first Robin and Nightwing are one of my favorite heroes. They make me feel safe. I know I shouldn't worry with them guarding me at night." Crowne says, and Dick fights hard not to flinch.
You have no reason to feel guilt. It's for the mission.
He hopes he finds proof soon.
(Part 1), (part 2)
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kaiijo · 4 months
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FRIENDS TO LOVERS — [KNB]
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characters: aomine daiki, midorima shintarou, hanamiya makoto content: gn! reader, reader has implied tieable hair in midorima’s, toxicity (it’s hanamiya, no one is surprised) notes: scenarios inspired by prompt list here
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aomine daiki ✶
aomine yawns again as he reclines against your pillows, sitting up only to peer at you. you’re working on homework that’s due in a couple of days, headphones covering your ears. you promised that you’ll order in food and play super smash bros with him when you finished, but it’s nearing eight and you’re still hunched over a problem set.
aomine groans loudly, “are you even close to being done?”
you move one headphone cup off. “i would be closer if you didn’t interrupt me every ten minutes.”
“i didn’t ask to hang out just to sit around.”
you roll your eyes. “you can go if you want, daiki.”
he sits up fully now, moving to the edge of your bed. “why’re you even doing this? s’not due ‘til friday.”
“some of us want to be good students.” you slide your headphones back on and turn back to scribbling out complicated equations on paper.
a couple of minutes pass again and instead of asking you anything, aomine stands up and shuffles behind you, reaching around and snatching the paper from underneath you. “hey!” you protest, shooting up from your seat and tearing off your headphones. “give it back, daiki.”
“no, you said you’d be done, like, two hours ago.”
“i swear i’m almost done!” you make a lunge for it and aomine just holds it above his head, his long arm adding to his already-massive height.
“no.” he smirks at the way your eyes furrow and your cheeks puff out. your head tilts to the left, and he knows that you’re thinking. he’s sure you’re going to try and jump of it again, so as a show, he stretches up further, the hem of his shirt lifting slightly. he swears he catches your eyes flickering down and something in his body sings a song of triumph and satisfaction at the motion. he can’t say why.
what you do next though is nothing that he expects. you stand on your toes, rest your hands delicately on his shoulders, and gaze up at him through your lashes. he startles; there’s something so… heated about your expression, about those half-lidded eyes.
“daiki,” you say softly. it’s almost hypnotic, the way you say his name, and he’s watching you with one raised eyebrow. the tips of his ears feel like they’re on fire.
he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing as his arm lowers, heading for the dip of your waist. he only snaps out of it at your victorious cry. “ha!” you take advantage of his still half-dazed state and push him firmly out of your bedroom door, closing it. the lock clicks into place and he hears you call on the other side, “one more problem, daiki, i promise. be a dear and set up smash in the living room?”
he walks down your hall automatically, the fire-like feeling spreading to his neck.
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midorima shintarou ✶
takao holds up a porcelain statue of a cat. “what about this?’
“takao, what about that screams ‘midorima shintarou?’”
takao shrugs. “i don’t know, maybe it’ll be december 25th’s lucky item. does oha asa put out horoscopes ahead of time?”
“no, that’s why he listens every morning when it airs,” you reply, setting down a teapot from a bigger set. you thank the tired-looking cashier, who just waves drowsily as you two exit the shop.
the two of you have been shopping all day for midorima’s christmas present, wandering all over japan and into various tchotchke stores to look. he’s a notoriously hard person to please, especially with gifts, and neither of you want a repeat of the ‘grey’s anatomy incident’ where four people got midorima the same book last holiday season when he announced his intention to go to medical school. nor do any of you want to get that look from him that struggles to look somewhat grateful while being very, very obviously displeased.
“we’ve been walking all day!” takao whines, clutching his stomach as it lets out an ungodly rumble. you check your watch; you two have been out for at least four hours. you point at a small diner boasting american food. “would you be okay with that?”
“i’d eat you right now if you’d let me.”
you snort, “hard pass. come on.”
the hostess sits you two at a booth and you shrug off your heavy winter coats. you pick up a menu and glance over it, but when you go to ask takao what he’ll be getting and if he wants to split a large order of assorted fries with you, you see he’s not looking at the menu.
you definitely do not like the way takao is eying you right now. “what?” you ask defensively, hands flying to the top of your head to try and pet down at hair you presume has been ruined by your excursion. “do i look bad or something?”
“is that shin-chan’s sweater?”
fuck. you had forgotten about pulling on one of the sweaters midorima left at your house the last time you studied together. it’s insanely soft — a mix of gray wool and cashmere — not to mention extremely cozy and warm. you tried to return it to midorima before but he just pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and huffed, “wear it until you get proper sweaters. no, sweatshirts don’t count.”
you internally groan. you don’t need takao on your ass again about whether or not you’re sure you and midorima aren’t dating or if you like him like that. honestly, the only reason you haven’t given him a certain yes or no is because… you don’t really know yourself.
you don’t have proper time to answer before the bell to the restaurant chimes and you see very recognizable green hair. of all the time and places he has to show up. (well, he did text you this morning that your zodiac sign was the least lucky and to wear a blue watch in order to improve your fortune; you should’ve found the watch.)
“oh! shin-chan!” takao waves him over, giving you a sly look. “we were just talking about—” takao’s stupid hawk-eyes zero in on midorima’s wrist as he tugs off his gloves. he looks way too please with himself as he asks, “shin-chan, is that they’re hair tie?”
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hanamiya makoto ✶
hanamiya steps out of the locker room shower, cracking his knuckles as he makes his way to his locker to dry off and change. he rolls his shoulders, toweling off his hair as he changes back into his school uniform. yamazaki and hara a prattling away, snickering under their breaths about the injuries they inflicted: sprained ankle, a hairline fracture, a minor concussion.
hanamiya doesn’t even turn around as he growls, “can you two shut up?”
to just bug him more, hara pops his gum. loudly. “who pissed in your cereal, captain?”
furihara drones, “you were sloppier today. almost got fouled by the ref.”
hanamiya doesn’t reply, yanking the knot of his tie down furiously. “fuck off.”
hara lets out a low whistle and seto asks, “does this have to do with your little friend? they got a boyfriend, right?”
hanamiya lets out a long breath through his nose and he spins around to face his teammate. “for now,” he says, slamming his locker shut.
“you got a plan, captain?” asks yamazaki as he digs through his duffel bag.
“when do i not?”
———
you greet hanamiya’s mother with a thin smile when she opens the door. her face lights up when she sees you and she pulls you into a warm hug, telling you that hanamiya’s in his bedroom and that you could go right up.
you wonder if she can see the glossy film to your eyes or if she was polite enough not to comment on it.
hanamiya’s sitting at his desk, head propped up on his knuckle. he languidly flips through pages but you know he’s not really reading the material. he’ll get away with it too and get an a anyways, the bastard. he glances at you. “you look like shit.”
usually, you could banter with him. it’s why your friendship works; you have a thicker skin than most and you give just as good as you take, especially when it comes to hanamiya’s sneering, half-joking insults. normally, you would have replied with something like “still better than you,” but instead, your frayed nerves snap and you feels the hot tears start rolling down your cheeks.
hanamiya’s simpering expression sobers up and he sighs heavily, ushering you to sit on the bed. “why’re you crying?”
you sniffle and tell him that the guy you’ve been seeing from your literature class broke up with you. just out of the blue told you that you two wanted different things and you were going to colleges in different areas and that wouldn’t work and he was sorry and… that’s all you gleaned because his words were so rushed as he scurried off as fast as he could.
hanamiya’s brow furrows sympathetically and he draws you into a hug, saying, “i told you i didn’t like that guy. fuck him.”
you sink into his arms. “yeah,” you mutter, “fuck him.”
as you relax against him, hanamiya can’t help but smirk to himself in satisfaction. someone who runs off after a little confrontation doesn’t deserve anything from you.
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lostfracturess · 1 month
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【 ꜱʏᴍᴘᴛᴏᴍꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇꜱ 】 ch. 07
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x pairing professor!gojo x med student f!reader (medical au)
x summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.
x wc 12.2 k
x warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.
x author's note dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡
series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad
<- prev chapter | next chapter ->
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You shifted your weight from one leg to the other.
Then again.
No use. 
No position was comfortable anymore. How long have you been at it?
"Everything okay?"
You looked over to Satoru, nodding slightly. "I'm fine, just a bit stiff."
"We're almost done." Satoru seemed entirely at ease, his hands moving with his familiar precision and confidence as he navigated through the brain in front of him. 
It's almost criminal how good he was at masking his withdrawal.
"Can you hold on a little longer?"
"Yeah, I'm good." You forced yourself to push past the discomfort, ignoring the growing ache in your limbs. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other again. The sterile brightness of the operating room harsh against your tired eyes.
You mirrored his movements, every action synchronized seamlessly with his. As you retracted the tissue to reveal the implantation site, Satoru's sharp eyes caught something unexpected.
"Hold on a second," he interjected. "Come closer."
You leaned in, your focus shifting to where he was pointing his instrument. Amidst the intricate web of nerve fibers, a distinct cluster caught your attention, its arrangement defying the textbook descriptions you were used to seeing.
"This is an excellent example of neuroplasticity," Satoru explained. "See how the brain has restructured these pathways? It's adapting, compensating for lost functions. Beautiful, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it really is."
"That's something you won't find in books. Real-life experience is the best teacher."
"Thank you for showing me, Dr. Gojo."
Satoru turned to meet your gaze, his smile noticeable even under his mask. "It's my pleasure to teach you, first-year."
As Satoru carefully adjusted the microelectrodes to align with the neural pathways, you kept the surgical field clear, suctioning away any obstructions and adjusting the lighting to ensure Satoru had an unobstructed view of the implantation site.
"Speaking of teaching," Satoru began without looking away from his work. "What's the significance of the basal lamina in epithelial tissue organization?"
Caught off guard, you blinked. "What?"
"Was my question unclear, or are you pondering your answer?"
Oh my god. Not this again.
"It provides structural support and filtration, separating the epithelium from underlying connective tissue," you replied, focusing on assisting him while recalling your histology lectures.
"Correct. How about the roles of astrocytes and microglia in the CNS?" he continued, not missing a beat as he made another precise adjustment to the neuroimplant.
"Astrocytes support and protect neuronal cells; microglia act as immune cells within the CNS."
Satoru's smile grew slightly. "And the process and significance of axonal myelination in the CNS?"
"Oligodendrocytes wrap axons to form the myelin sheath, speeding up nerve impulse transmission," you explained as you handed him the next tool he needed.
"Excellent," Satoru acknowledged. "I wonder why you did so badly in your histology exam."
"Huh?"
Satoru turned to meet your gaze. "Your histology results. I've seen them. You didn't do well."
"That's because someone has been taking up all my study time," you said in a low tone. "Besides, stop snooping around my exam scores."
"Ah, so it's my fault, is it? Here I was, thinking I was quite the teacher."
"That's a bit of a stretch, considering you're the main reason I'm was behind the whole semester."
Satoru's grin widened. "But it helped with your anatomy exam, didn't it? And your pharmacology results were among the best."
You raised an eyebrow. "That had little to do with you."
"Anyway, shall we test the neuro connection now?" he suggested, flashing you a playful smile as he concluded the surgery.
As you both began the preliminary checks to ensure the equipment was ready for testing, the operating room door swung open. The anesthetist, a woman in her thirties with striking black hair and a prominent scar crossing her face over her nose, re-entered the OR and resumed her position.
"You know, as the anesthetist, I'd think your place is here, inside the OR, not out," Satoru commented.
The anesthetist waved it off with a dismissive gesture. "With a surgeon like you at the helm, Dr. Gojo, my worries are few and far between," she quipped. "Besides, I knew you had everything well in hand."
What is her mission here?
Your eyes wandered over to Satoru who seemed unfazed by her playful tone.
"Let's start with the diagnostic checks to confirm the implant's responsiveness. Pay close attention to the readings; we're looking for any signs of synaptic activity that align with our projections," Satoru said to you.
You monitored the screens closely, watching for the telltale signs. Satoru, too, kept a keen eye on the data streaming in, his expression tense. After a few moments, the first signs of success appeared. Relief washed over you.
"Looks like we're in business." Satoru's eyes meet yours, his lips curling into a smile. "Let's close the patient up."
"Would you like to do the honors?" Satoru asked, a slight nod towards the suture materials prepared on the tray beside him.
"Yes, I'd like that."
"Then come here," he said, adjusting the overhead light for you. You moved into Satoru's position as he stepped back. Satoru hovered close, his eyes never leaving your hands as they began their work.
"You can use a bit more tension." His hand briefly covered yours, guiding the needle with the precise pressure needed. "The skin has a few scars from past surgeries. If you stitch scar tissue too loosely, you compromise the incision's integrity."
His hands were a comforting presence, guiding but not controlling, allowing you to feel the right amount of tension necessary. "That's it, nice and steady. You're doing great." He stepped back to let you finish independently. 
The room fell into a concentrated silence. The process was methodical, each movement deliberate, as you worked to close the incision, layer by layer, ensuring the integrity of the closure.
"Good girl," Satoru whispered as you secured the final stitch. "Didn't expect anything less form you. The patient is going to be thankful for such a neat closure."
You glanced back at him. "Thank you Dr. Gojo."
"Always my pleasure."
After the surgery, you both scrubbed up in the washing room, the warm water cascading over your hands.
"Our first successful surgery," Satoru mused, his gaze meeting yours. "Looks like this summer's going to be a breeze."
"It will sure be an interesting summer with that anesthetist."
"What do you mean?"
"You didn't get it? The anesthetist was practically throwing herself at you earlier."
"Really?"
"Yeah, seriously. She wasn't very subtle."
He grinned. "What, are you jealous?"
Just as you were about to respond, the door to the washing room opened, and the anesthetist walked in. "Dr. Gojo," she began. "That was an impressive surgery. It's always a pleasure to work with such a skilled surgeon." 
Wow. Thank you.
She talked like you weren't even there.
Satoru offered a polite smile. "Thank you. But It was a team effort."
Undeterred, the anesthetist stepped closer, her intention clear. "I was wondering if you'd like to grab dinner sometime? To discuss more about your work, maybe?"
The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the sound of running water. You stole a glance at Satoru, who appeared momentarily paralyzed. You cleared your throat, reminding him that the anesthetist was waiting for his answer.
"I'm sorry, but I'm with someone," Satoru finally managed to say.
Huh?
The soap bar slipped from your grip at his words. It crashed into the sink with a sound that felt disproportionately loud in the tense silence that followed.
Satoru turned towards you. "You okay?"
"Yeah." You hastily reached for the soap again, your movements a bit too quick, a bit too shaky.
The anesthetist's expression faltered, a brief flash of embarrassment crossing her features before she quickly composed herself. "Of course, sorry. I should have seen that," she said, her gaze flickering between you and Satoru.
Oh fuck.
"Seen what?" Satoru asked.
"That you're dating. I just thought it'd be rather unusual for a professor and a student, but I'm not—," she stumbled over her words. Her exit strategy crumbled as gracefully as your grasp on the soap bar, which slipped from your fingers once more, causing another loud thud as it hit the sink.
"I should go now," the anesthetist hastened to add. She left the room in a rush, leaving you and Satoru alone once again. You felt as if all blood had drained from your face.
"Are you good?" Satoru asked again, his gaze piercing as if silently questioning your ability to perform surgery when you couldn't even hold a damn bar of soap in your hands.
"Yeah, I'm good." You quickly tried to shake off the lingering awkwardness. "You should probably clear that up."
"She's actually from another hospital. She's just here for today's surgery."
"Still, Satoru."
"Alright, alright, I'll clear things up with her. You have my word."
The hospital was a breeding ground for gossip. The last thing either of you needed was speculative gossip. Yet, Satoru seemed to find an odd sense of appeal in the idea.
"Actually, part of me thinks it wouldn't be so bad to let the rumor spread," he mused, running a towel over his hands. "It would certainly be easier than all this sneaking around."
"Are you out of your mind?"
He laughed. "Perhaps a bit." His eyes sparkled with mischief as they met yours. "But imagine it—no more tiptoeing around, no more fear of getting caught."
Before you could react, Satoru leaned in. His hands slipped around your waist to pull you closer. You pushed against him, a feeble attempt to keep some distance.
"You know, we're not in a relationship, Satoru."
"What, you're banning me to the friend zone?"
"It's not like you've ever left it."
"Harsh. That cuts deep."
You rolled your eyes. "Sure."
With a soft sigh, he released you, stepping back. "Come with me. There's something I want to show you."
─── ·✧· ───
Without further explanation, he led you through the quiet halls of the hospital to his office. The moment you entered Satoru's office, you were welcomed by the rhythmic pattering of rain against the windows. The office was dimly lit, the only light coming from the stormy sky outside.
Satoru shrugged off his coat and collapsed onto the couch, a deep sigh escaping him. For a moment, he lay still, his eyes fixed on his phone as he navigated through it.
You joined him on the couch. "What's this?" you asked as he handed you his phone.
"Just watch."
You pressed play on the video.
It showed the young patient from the first surgery, now equipped with his biometric arm you both had painstakingly worked for. The patient was in a training room, demonstrating an impressive range of motion and dexterity with the new limb. His movements were fluid and controlled. Almost perfect.
You couldn't help but smile.
Satoru's voice could be heard in the background, praising the patient's progress. The patient's face lit up with a broad smile as he looked into the camera.
The video ended.
"He was here yesterday for a checkup," Satoru said, running a hand over his face and through his hair. "This is your doing. You made this happen."
"It took all of us to get this done."
"No. You led the surgery. It was your doing. And now, he has a chance at a new life. All thanks to you. Feels good, doesn't it?"
"What?" You handed the phone back to him.
"Knowing that we can actually change things," Satoru mused as he flipped the phone idly in his hand, replaying the video. "Make a real difference in someone's life."
"It does." Your smile turned bittersweet as you observed him closely. "You look tired, Satoru."
Satoru glanced at you, a shadow of a smile crossing his lips. He rubbed his slightly bloodshot eyes. "Do I?"
"Yeah. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't look 'fine.'" You gently pushed the damp hair away from his forehead. His reaction was immediate; his hand captured yours, drawing it down to caress his cheek. He leaned into your touch, a sigh escaping him as he closed his eyes.
"You should really consider just taking some clonidine."
He exhaled deeply. "You really not stopping with that."
"Because you keep being stupid," you replied, pulling away to stand. "Where do you have it?"
"In my bag."
You crossed the room to where his bag lay, rummaging through its contents until you found the medication. Holding the clonidine in hand, you turned back to face him. Satoru had shifted to a sitting position, his gaze fixed on you.
Holding out the medication, you met his gaze, urging him silently to take it. But Satoru hesitated, a slight pout on his lips. "I can't."
"Why not?" Frustration edged into your voice. "Satoru, it's for your own good."
"It's not that simple."
"It is. You're making it complicated."
A tense silence filled the space between you, the rain's steady patter against the windows underscoring the moment. "I... I just can't take it like this."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't stand the taste."
He really got some nerves.
"Don't make me force you to take it."
Satoru's lips quirked up in a half-smile. "You couldn't make me swallow it if you tried."
"You think so?" you countered, your patience thinning.
Deciding on a more direct approach, you moved closer and sat down on his lap, straddling him. His eyes widened as you did so. He let himself fall back against the couch, his hands instinctively settling on your hips.
You reached for one of the pills, your movements deliberate under Satoru's watchful gaze. "What are you about to do?"
Holding the pill between your fingers, you met his gaze squarely. "I'm making sure you take this." You placed the pill on your tongue, savoring its bitter taste. 
His breath caught in his throat as your lips met his. Still, his tongue eagerly met yours. 
He swallowed the pill without a second thought.
That's it, isn't it?
You should withdraw.
Withdraw your lips from his soft and tender lips.
God, his lips were soft against yours. Just like you remember. How you missed it.
Ah fuck it.
His lips moved against yours. His kisses became more urgent, more possessive, as he hungrily devoured your lips. In that instant, nothing else existed except the two of you. With a sudden tug, Satoru pulled you closer until there was hardly any space left between your bodies.
"I thought we had an agreement?" Satoru gasped between kisses.
"Did we?" you said, throwing your own principles overboard.
They didn't stick around very long, did they?
I'm not judging you, reader. It's Satoru Gojo after all.
We would all bend the rules for him, wouldn't we?
His lips twitched into a wicked smile. His hands creep under the hem of your shirt, working their way up your back. Drawing closer, your body melded seamlessly with his.
You shifted slightly, arching your spine to grind against him, causing a low moan to escape his chest. In return, his touch grew urgent, fingers pressing into your flesh as if seeking comfort in your warmth. He kissed the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.
Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the strands, urging him onward. His lips moved down, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went. Then, with a tantalizing flicker, his tongue traced the curve of your neck, turning your core molten.
The world outside faded, the only sound the pouring rain outside and the whisper of fabric against skin—until the abrupt light from his phone broke the spell, its screen illuminating the dim room.
"Ignore it," he murmured against your lips.
Ignoring the insistent vibration of his phone, Satoru deepened his kiss. You could feel his longing pulsing through him, matching your own. As if in response to the sound of the phone, his touch became bolder and more intense, leaving heat wherever he touched you.
Yet, the persistent buzzing of the phone became impossible to ignore. You turned your head slightly to see who was calling him for the third time in a row.
"Don't," Satoru whispered, cupping your chin to bring your focus back to him. "Focus only on me." His lips sought yours once more.
But you couldn't help it when his phone rang a fourth time. You cracked open one eye and glanced at the screen. "Satoru, wait," you pulled away from his lips. "It's Director Yaga."
Groaning in frustration, he reluctantly released his grip on you.
"Hello?" he answered.
Satoru's brow furrowed as he listened, his occasional nods doing little to reveal the nature of the conversation. Finally, Satoru hung up. 
He looked at you, his expression grave. The sudden shift in his demeanor sent a chill through you, the air around you suddenly felt colder.
"Yaga wants to see us. In his office. As soon as possible."
"What? Why?"
"Didn't say anything."
"What did he say then?"
"Only mentioned it's urgent and that we both appear." He dropped his head back onto the back of the couch. "God, Yaga is such a cockblock."
You leaned back slightly, worry creasing your brow. "It's probably because of that student you punched. He must know something."
"He doesn't know anything."
"What if that student presses charges? What if rumors already spead? What if he wants to fire you?" The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them.
Satoru cupped your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Whatever it is, I'll handle it."
"How can you be so sure? What will we even say?"
"Trust me, I'll do the talking. Just stay quiet, okay?"
"Okay," you whispered, trying to push aside your concerns as you took a deep breath to steady your nerves.
The storm outside suddenly seemed much louder than before.
─── ·✧· ───
The clock was ticking.
It was the only sound in the tense silence.
Director Yaga sat behind his desk, his expression inscrutable, yet the sharpness in his gaze suggested a brewing storm. He watched the two of you for what seemed like an eternity.
He then leaned forward. His hands clasped on the desk. His gaze bored into Satoru with an intensity that made even the famous neurosurgeon shift uncomfortably.
"Director Yaga—" Satoru started, but then Yaga spoke himself.
"Why the hell did you punch that student in the face, Gojo?"
"Because he drugged one of my students." Satoru said. "I found out that he slipped something into her drink during the faculty party two weeks ago."
"And you thought the appropriate response was to physically assault the student?"
"I couldn't let it go, sir. What he did was dangerous. She could have been seriously harmed."
Yaga leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "Dr. Gojo, your method leaves much to be desired. We can't have our staff resorting to violence every time they're upset."
Satoru's jaw tightened. "I understand, sir. It was a lapse in judgment. But considering the circumstances—"
"Circumstances?" Yaga interrupted, his tone rising. "This is a university, not a back alley. We have protocols for dealing with misconduct. You know this."
"I do, sir. And I apologize for overstepping. But with all due respect, those protocols might not have protected her in time."
"And you think a punch was the immediate solution?"
"It was what I felt necessary at the moment."
Yaga's gaze hardened again. "Dr. Gojo, your 'momentary feelings' are becoming a liability. This isn't the first time your actions have caused complications. Your skills as a surgeon are beyond question, but your impulse control is, frankly, concerning."
"I understand the gravity of my actions, sir," Satoru said. "And I am prepared to face the consequences."
You needed to say something.
Do something.
You opened your mouth but Satoru raised his hand slightly from his lap so that only you could see it. He didn't want you to say anything.
Yaga studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "I'll deal with the student's misconduct appropriately. As for you, Dr. Gojo, there will be consequences. I expect better from you in the future. Much better."
Satoru nodded. "Thank you, sir. It won't happen again."
Yaga's gaze then shifted to you. "You're spending a lot of time with Dr. Gojo, right?"
Your eyes briefly flicked to Satoru. "Yes, sir. We're working closely on the neuroprosthetics project."
"And how do you find working with Dr. Gojo?"
You hesitated for a second. You could feel Satoru's gaze on you. "It's been an incredible learning experience," you said. "Dr. Gojo is a brilliant surgeon, and working with him has offered me insights and opportunities I wouldn't have had otherwise."
"Indeed," Yaga mused, leaning back in his chair. "It's good to see such teamwork among our staff. But remember, the university and the hospital are a small world. Rumors spread quickly."
Your blood ran cold.
The warning was clear.
"You can leave now," Yaga said, his tone indicating that the remainder of the discussion was meant for Satoru alone.
"Thank you, sir." You stood, casting one last glance at Satoru, who remained seated. Satoru caught your look, offering a subtle nod.
You found yourself pacing the corridor outside, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours. Every scenario imaginable played out in your mind, each more disconcerting than the last. 
Finally, the door opened, and Satoru emerged — a practiced smile on his face. Yet, the tightness around his eyes betrayed him.
"Everything's fine," he said.
"Is it really?"
"Honestly, it's nothing to worry about. Yaga just wanted to go over a few things. You know how it is."
"Satoru, if something's wrong—"
"Really, it's nothing. Just the usual Yaga being overcautious. We're fine."
The use of "we" didn't escape your notice. 
You knew Satoru well enough by now to recognize when he was shielding you — or perhaps himself — from worry. Yet, his insistence on handling matters alone, on bearing the brunt of any fallout without burdening you, was both admirable and, at times, maddeningly frustrating.
You studied him for a moment, searching his face for any sign of what truly happened behind closed doors. It was then that he stepped closer, closing the distance between you.
"Come on, don't make that face." His hands came up to cradle your face. "Everything's fine."
"You don't have to protect me from everything, you know that, right?"
"Still, you can't stop me from trying." He released you from his hold and turned. "Come on, let's grab something to eat. I'm starving."
─── ·✧· ───
The early morning sun bathed the hospital grounds in a soft, orange light, heralding the start of another beautiful summer day. A gentle breeze, carrying with it the scent of freshly mown grass, whispered through the trees.
As you made your way toward the hospital, your eyes found Geto and Satoru. They were seated on a bench under the expansive branches of an oak tree, bathed in the speckled sunlight that danced through the leaves, casting patterns of light and shadow around them.
Drawing closer, Satoru caught sight of you, his face lighting up with a smile. 
"There she is," Geto greeted you, a cigarette loosely held between his fingers. He exhaled a stream of smoke, the wisps dancing lazily in the morning light.
Satoru shifted to make room for you on the bench. "Ready for today?"
You took a seat beside him. "As ready as I can be," you said. "How about you?"
Satoru presented his hand in front of you, somewhat still. "See? No tremors today. All's well."
"I'm glad," you replied, though your eyes couldn't help but trace the faint bruises and scratches that still marred his otherwise flawless pale skin — remnants of the confrontation with that student. As your gaze shifted back to his, he offered you a wink, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Geto broke the sudden stillness. "So, heading into surgery number four today?"
"Yeah, your fourth one, eight more to go," you confirmed. "What do you have lined up for today, Geto?"
With a knowing smirk, Geto exhaled another stream of smoke. "An aneurysm clipping."
Intrigued, you leaned in slightly, your eyes brightening. "What really?"
Catching your reaction, Satoru teased, "Thinking of ditching me for Geto's surgery?"
You rolled your eyes. "Never, but you have to admit, nothing compares to the thrill of an aneurysm."
Satoru settled back, a shiver passing through him. "You know, you're kind of scary sometimes."
Geto let out a low laugh as he stood, crushing his cigarette underfoot. "Well then, I should get ready for my 'thrilling' surgery. Good luck with your procedure today."
Before Geto could stride away, Satoru's voice halted him. "Hey, Suguru, try not to scare your team away this time. We're running out of interns who don't break into a cold sweat at the mention of your name."
Geto turned. "Oh, please, Satoru. Interns come to me to recover from the trauma of working with you."
Leaning back on the bench, Satoru draped his arm across the back, subtly encircling you. "Scaring them is a necessary part of their training. Builds character. After me, they're ready for anything."
"You mean after they recover from the trauma," Geto said, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.
"You should be thanking me. Makes you look like the good guy for a change."
"That's your plan? Making me look good?" Geto raised an eyebrow. "Well, try not to traumatize them too much, will you?"
"No promises," Satoru replied. "But I'll consider it, just for you."
Geto waved a dismissive hand. "Just make sure you don't scare away this one." He gestured towards you. "She's a keeper."
As Geto disappeared into the hospital, Satoru turned to you, the smile still lingering on his face. "See what I have to put up with? It's a tough job, but someone's got to keep him in check."
"Seems like you both do a good job of keeping each other grounded."
"Yeah, we do. Couldn't ask for a better friend, even if he is a bit of a menace."
You observed him for a second. "How are you really feeling today?"
Satoru hesitated for a moment before extending his hand towards you. It was a subtle, but his hand was trembling, the fine tremors betraying his withdrawal. "See? Steady as ever," he joked, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just need a bit of caffeine."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, but," he edged closer, "you know, you could always help steady them."
You stood up and began to walk towards the hospital. "In your dreams, Satoru."
"Oh, so we're playing by the rules now?"
"The rules bend to my will. They're mine, after all."
"Wait," he interjected. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you."
You stopped, turning to face him. "What is it?"
"Next week, I've been invited to give a guest lecture at another university about our neuroprosthetics research. I was hoping you'd join me for the presentation. Would you be interested in co-presenting?"
"Me? Co-present with you?"
"I can't think of anyone better to share the stage with."
"But what about Geto? It's as much his project. Shouldn't he be the one to present with you?"
He shrugged. "But I’d rather have you with me. Besides, he won’t be mad at me for choosing you.”
"I don't know if I'm the right person for that, Satoru."
He leaned forward. "You won't be up there alone. I'll be with you every step of the way. Haven't we always worked best as a team?"
You watched him for a second, considering.
"There's more," he added. "The university, it's a bit far away. We'd have to stay overnight."
"And let me guess, you need someone to look after you?"
Without missing a beat, Satoru's grin widened. "You know, with my problems and all, I could use someone to keep me in line."
"Are you seriously using your addiction to guilt-trip me into this?"
"Absolutely. But seriously, I need you there. Not just for me, but for this. For us."
"You're impossible." You let out a sigh, defeated yet somehow exhilarated. "Alright, Satoru. I'll go with you."
"That's all I wanted to hear," Satoru beamed, his eyes softening. "Now, let's go open some skulls."
─── ·✧· ───
The morning air held a cool bite.
When the door creaked open, Satoru stood there, looking like someone who had just rolled out of bed. His hair stood in every direction, his eyes blinking against the daylight, and his clothes — a rumpled t-shirt and sweatpants — spoke volumes of his unpreparedness.
"Uh, good morning?" His greeting came out more as a question as he took in the sight of you, fully dressed and ready, suitcase and all. "You want to move in? Not that I would complain."
"You seriously forgot?"
"Forgot what?"
"We're supposed to head to the university today. Our meeting with the director is at noon. The lecture, Satoru. Remember?"
"That was today?" he murmured, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.
"Yes."
"Fuck." Satoru stepped aside and let you enter his apartment. "Give me ten minutes. Fifteen, tops."
You stepped inside, setting your suitcase down by the door. The apartment was quiet, save for the distant sounds of the city outside and Satoru's hurried movements from room to room. "Be right back," he said and disappeared into the bathroom. 
The sound of running water soon filled the space.
Left to your own devices, you began to pace the living area of his apartment. "So, what's the plan? Did you even prepare the lecture?" you called out, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the sound of the shower.
From the bathroom, Satoru's laughter echoed. "I'm always prepared, as you can see."
"Yeah, that's what I thought." You meandered around the room, straightening out a stack of papers here, realigning books there — a small attempt to bring order to Satoru's organized chaos. "You really haven't prepared, have you?"
"Ah, you know me too well," he called back. "Didn't you prepare something?"
"Of course, I did."
After a few minutes, the water turned off, and the apartment fell into a brief silence before Satoru reappeared. His hair was wet and slicked back, giving him a more put-together appearance, despite the fact he was only in his underwear. Droplets of water glistened on his skin, trailing down his chest and abs. Your gaze shamelessly lingered.
"I knew I could count on you," he teased, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. 
"Sometimes I wonder how you even managed to become a professor."
"Do you really hold such a low opinion of me? The lecture's all set on my laptop. We'll go over it during the drive," he reassured, before striding towards his bedroom.
You followed him, leaning against the doorframe. "And here I was, worried you'd forgotten about the professional part of being a professor."
He laughed, pulling on a pair of trousers and beginning to button up a shirt. "Never doubt my commitment to teaching. My methods may be unconventional, but the results speak for themselves."
He then began throwing random cloths on his bed to pack. His shirt, only half-tucked, fluttered with each brisk movement.
You stepped into the room to offer some semblance of help — or at least moral support. Making yourself comfortable on the bed beside the pile of cloths, you observed his somewhat arbitrary decision-making process, each choice seemingly dictated by a 'that'll do' attitude.
"Shall I help pick out a tie that will adequately convey 'accountable professor,' or have we already moved beyond such formalities?"
Satoru shot you a look. "Haha, very funny," he retorted. "I'll have you know, I perform excellently under pressure."
Adjusting his shirt, he secured his belt with a metallic click. "Besides," he continued, now fully dressed and giving off an air of readiness, "I was counting on your impeccable sense of organization to make sure we didn't forget anything important."
You arched an eyebrow. "So, I'm your security plan? Here I thought I was the co-presenter."
He paused, his gaze intensifying as he crossed the room in two strides. Climbing onto the bed, his presence loomed over you, his nearness overwhelming.
"You're much more than that," he said, his voice softer this time. "You're everything."
The room seemed to hold its breath, the early morning light casting long shadows that danced around you both. Without another word, Satoru leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. It was a fleeting touch, yet it sparked a longing that begged for more.
He didn't wait long to deepen the kiss, pressing his lips even harder against yours. Your lips locked together as if starved for each other's embrace. Savoring every moment, they explored each other deeply. Before parting, Satoru's teeth nipped at your lower lip.
Parting, Satoru's eyes shimmered in the morning light, his fingertip delicately tracing the line of your cheekbone. "Now, let's make sure we're not late because of my supposed unpreparedness."
─── ·✧· ───
The drive to the other university unfolded under a sky so clear and blue it seemed almost surreal. it was an eight-hour drive, maybe more. You may have slept half the way.
The closer you got to the coast, the more the air changed, imbued with a freshness that hinted at the vast expanse of water nearby. When you finally arrived at the university, the salty tang of the ocean breeze greeted you, wafting through the warm air. You stepped out of the car, stretching your legs and taking a deep breath.
Satoru led the way across the campus with a stride that suggested familiarity. The university itself was an impressive collection of modern and classical architecture, its buildings bathed in the golden light of the sun. 
You followed Satoru closely as you navigated through the lively campus. Students and faculty alike went about their day. Palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, casting playful shadows on the paths that crisscrossed the grounds.
"I have a feeling this isn't your first time here," you said.
Satoru glanced over at you, a smile playing on his lips. "Ah, the director here is an old friend of mine."
"So, this is a bit of a reunion for you two, then?"
"In a way, yes." The sun accentuated the subtle lines of amusement around his eyes. "But to be honest, he's always been a pain in my ass. We've been challenging each other since our university days. Always trying to outdo one another, whether in academics, research, or... well, less scholarly things."
What's that supposed to mean?
Satoru didn't hesitate as he approached the director's office. He raised his hand and knocked firmly on the door, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet hallway. You stood by his side, a whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind.
"Come in," called a voice from inside.
As Satoru pushed the door open, you both entered.
The director was a man in his thirties, the same age as Satoru, you guessed. His hair was loosely combed back, and his hair had a light pink blush that you found rather unusual. What caught your eye, however, were the geometric line tattoos adorning his arms, revealed by his rolled-up sleeves.
The director rose from his chair upon your entrance. The familiarity between him and Satoru was immediate. "Toru, it's been ages!" he exclaimed.
Toru?
Toru?
That casual nickname threw you for a moment.
The two of them embraced each other in a firm hug that seemed almost painful to an outsider. "Sukuna, you haven't changed a bit."
Turning his focus to you, Sukuna's sharp eyes found you. "And you must be the talented co-presenter I've heard so much about," he said, his voice carrying a smooth confidence that bordered on arrogance. "How was the drive over? I hope Toru here didn't bore you too much with his old university stories."
Stop calling him Toru, for fuck's sake.
Before you could muster a response, Sukuna took your hand in his, bending slightly to press a kiss to the back of it — a gesture that felt oddly out of place and left you feeling momentarily disoriented. "Please, call me Sukuna," he insisted, his grin wide.
I'm going to call you an asshole if you don't let go of my hand right now.
Sukuna stepped back and leaned against his desk. "So, Toru," he began, "are you still trying to save the world one brain at a time?"
"Someone's got to do it, especially when others are too busy terrorizing the next generation of doctors," he retorted.
Sukuna laughed. "Ah, but you know, adversity breeds excellence. Or so I keep telling them. I remember times, where you did the same."
Satoru chuckled. "You know me, always up for a challenge."
"That's for sure" Sukuna scoffed, he then adressed you. "You know that your professor always trying to beat me at... Well, anything, really."
"That's because you set the bar so low," Satoru shot back.
"Me? Low? I just see one person in this room leading a whole university." 
Satoru leaned back in his chair. "That's just because I hate paperwork. I can't believe they even suggested you for this job after you barely making it to morning rounds for years."
Sukuna laughed, leaning forward. "Ah yes, but who was it that set the record for the most successful procedures in a single semester? Remind me, Toru."
Satoru's smirk grew wider. "Must have been the same person who had to repeat almost every exam."
Sukuna waved dismissively. "Details, details. But what happened? You became so tame."
"Grow older, you know. Wiser. Would suit you as well."
Sukuna chraked a smile and turned to you again. "Ah, so it's your influence, then?" You winced. "Impressive. I've never seen anyone manage to keep Toru on a leash before."
What is wrong with this guy.
Satoru's reaction was immediate, his eyes narrowing just a touch. "Don't go there Sukuna. We're here for a lecture you asked for, not for you to come at my student."
Sukuna raised his hands in a mock surrender. "Alright, alright, I give in. It seems you've finally met your match."
Sukuna pushed away from his desk and walked around it. "I'm looking forward to your lecture. The students and faculty are in for a treat. But now I have to go, I have a meeting in 10 minutes. But, maybe we can catch up later, reminisce about the good old days."
"Sounds like a plan," Satoru said, rising from his seat.
"I'll call you." Sukuna collected some papers and his bag, nodding to both of you before leaving the office.
"I didn't expect you two to be so close," you commented as you both made your way down the sunlit hallway. "You seem like a different person around him."
Satoru raised an eyebrow. "Different, how?"
"It's just... It's like you're returning to your university self."
He pondered your words for a moment. "Sukuna was a close friend of mine during my university days. We went through a lot together. But somewhere along the way, our paths parted. He climbed the academic ladder, and I... well, I found my calling in neurosurgery."
"It must be nice to catch up after all these years."
Satoru nodded. "It is. We've both changed in many ways, but some things remain the same."
As you both made your way out of the university and to the car, the afternoon sun made the door handles almost too hot to touch. "So what are we gonna do now?" you asked as Satoru opened the passenger door for you.
"I know a place."
─── ·✧· ───
"Feels like holiday here," you observed, taking a sip of your ice-cold drink.
"That's why I brought you here," Satoru replied with an easy smile.
Seated at a cozy corner of a beachside bar, you and Satoru found a spot in the shade. The bar was open-air, offering an unobstructed view of the expansive beach and the calm sea beyond. Around you, the soft chatter of other guests and the gentle sound of the waves in the background.
With cold drinks in hand, you both relaxed into the comfortable silence, taking in the sight of the azure waters and the feel of the light sea breeze.
Curiosity eventually got the better of you. "So, how did you and Sukuna meet?"
Satoru leaning back, glancing at you over his sunglasses. "You're really asking a lot about him."
"Just curious."
"Sukuna and I did our undergraduate together, and eventually we both decided to do an exchange semester here," he explained, his gaze drifting towards the horizon. "This place, this university, it holds a lot of memories."
You watched him, waiting for him to continue.
"Sukuna was always the more... adventurous one, I guess. Always pushing the limits, dragging me along for the ride."
"Sounds like you had quite the time."
Satoru laughed. "Guess you can say that. Sukuna had this knack for finding trouble, and somehow, I always ended up being his wingman."
As a silence fell between you, you found yourself biting your lower lip, a sense of unease growing within you.
After a moment, Satoru broke the quiet. "What's on your mind, love?"
Taken aback, you paused. "It's nothing, really."
Satoru's expression softened. "I can see that something's bothering you." As he spoke, he reached across the table, his hand finding yours. His fingers wrapped around your hand, offering a comforting warmth as his thumb began to softly caress your skin.
"Just a bit surprising to see this side of you. It's so different."
He exhaled softly and turned his attention back to the horizon, where the sea met the sky in a seamless blend of colors, his hand still holding yours across the table. "Because I was different then. But Sukuna's idea of adventure was often too close to the edge for my liking. Still, I let myself get swept along." His eyes met yours again. "But not anymore."
You offered a faint smile in response.
The calm moment was abruptly shattered when Satoru's other hand unexpectedly twitched, causing his drink to slip from his grip. The glass hit the sand below with a loud thud.
You jumped at the sudden sound. "Are you okay?"
He looked down at his hand, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. "Seems so." He flexed his fingers as if to reassure himself. "Hm, that's new." His attempt at nonchalance did little to mask the undercurrent of concern in his voice.
Satoru turned his attention back to you. "Really, I'm fine," he reiterated, seeing the worry that hadn't quite left your eyes.
"How much clonidine did you take today?"
"I haven't taken any. Thought I'd try a day without." Satoru read the concern on your face, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Don't give me that face."
"What face?"
"That worried face. I'd rather see you smile."
"I wouldn't be so worried if you could just take your damn medicine."
Satoru suddenly rose from his seat, closing the distance between you two. His hands found the arms of your chair. He leaned in, his voice a low, coaxing whisper. "Then perhaps you'd be willing to administer it more... personally?"
"Satoru, we're not alone here," you reminded him, though the intensity of his gaze made the rest of the world seem momentarily distant.
He grinned. "Does it matter? No one here knows us."
"Still—"
Your protest was barely audible before he interjected, "I know something better." Before you could process his words, or even respond, you found yourself lifted effortlessly, the world tilting as Satoru slung you over his shoulder in one fluid motion.
"What? What are you doing?"
He strode towards the water's edge, the sand beneath his feet giving way to the firmer, wet surface as the waves lapped gently at the shore. 
"Put me down, Satoru!"
"Why so fierce, sweetheart?" His voice was teasing, laced with amusement.
Suspicion flickered in your eyes as you sensed his intentions, the vast, open sea just steps away. "Satoru, don't you dare—"
It was too late for warnings. With a mischievous grin, Satoru charged, plunging both of you into the shallow embrace of the ocean waves. The water was surprisingly warm, enveloping you both as you made a splash, your clothes instantly soaking up the sea. 
You were underwater for a second, before you broke the surface. Satoru shook his head, water droplets flying from his hair, which now clung to his forehead and temples in dark, damp strands. 
You pushed away, swimming a few strokes back to put some space between you. "You're insane!" you exclaimed as you splashed water in his direction. 
Satoru shielded himself with his hands, still laughing. "You have to admit, it's refreshing!" he retorted, dodging your playful splashes with ease. The sunlight, now a rich golden, bathed the water around you, each splash shimmering like liquid gold in the dying light.
"Come here," he said as he swam over to you, pulling you close to him in the water. The water lifted you both, gently swaying you in its embrace as you floated together, suspended between sea and sky.
His hand reached up to cradle your face. His hands trembled ever so slightly as he held you close. His eyes, reflecting the sky's ever-changing hues, held yours. You held your breath, momentarily lost in his gaze.
"Promise me this," he said, "as soon as I'm clean, we drop the act. No more hiding, no games. I want you, only you, and I want us to be official. I want you to be mine."
As he spoke, there was an honesty in his crystal blue eyes you hadn't seen before, a vulnerability he rarely showed. He was not the confident surgeon you knew, not the serious professor. He was just Satoru, raw and sincere, laying his heart bare before you — laying his love bare before you.
In that moment, with the waves gently crashing around you and the last rays of the sun setting the sky aflame, you knew there was no turning back. You were his, completely and irrevocably, and nothing could change that.
"I've always been yours," you whispered.
It was a promise, a plea, a surrender, a confession all at once. Because you felt like surrendering — surrendering to him — but it was easy — surrendering to him was easy. Because every moment you weren't in his embrace was lost. Empty. Meaningless.
Because in the end, nothing else mattered but him.
And he smiled.
His chest emptied of a breath he must have held for a long time.
And then, as naturally as the tide finds the shore, his lips found yours.
The kiss was soft, unhurried, as if time itself had slowed to savor the moment between you. Every worry, every fear melted away, replaced by the conviction that you were exactly where you were meant to be. It was a promise. It was home.
For in his kiss, you had found your home.
And he found his.
Your mouths part ever so slightly as you breathe out. The salty taste of the sea lingered on your lips. Satoru smiled at you, his forehead gently resting against yours. Then, with an intensity that spoke volumes, his lips found yours once more.
This kiss was different from any before, making you feel alive in a way that nothing else ever could. Beneath the water's surface, he pulled you even closer, his touch electric against your skin. You responded in kind, wrapping your legs around his hips as he held you both above the water's edge.
With the waves softly cradling you, you floated weightlessly, your bodies intertwined like seaweed in the gentle currents. And in that fleeting moment, you knew one thing for sure:
This man would either be your forever or your ultimate downfall.
─── ·✧· ───
As you entered the hotel lobby, the air conditioning hit you like a wave. The hotel staff cast sidelong glances your way, noticing the faint trail of saltwater you inadvertently left behind on the polished floor.
Your hotel rooms were conveniently located next to each other. The saltwater had left its mark, clinging to your skin and hair. After a refreshing shower, you were just in the process of drying your hair when a knock came at your door. 
You opened it to find Satoru leaning casually against the doorframe. He had changed into a fresh set of clothes, his hair still slightly damp from his own shower, giving him a carefree, almost boyish appearance.
"Hey, how about a game of pool?" he suggested with an easy smile. "Sukuna challenged us and I thought it might be fun."
You blinked. "I've never actually played before," you said as you dried your hair with a towel.
Satoru's smile widened. "Perfect, then I'll have the pleasure of teaching you. It'll be fun, I promise."
"But wouldn't it be a bit... weird? I mean, with me being a student and you both being professors..." 
Satoru shrugged. "It's just a game of pool. Besides, we're not at the university now, and Sukuna's not one to care about formalities. Trust me, it'll be fine."
You watched him for a moment, pondering.
"I really want you to come," he insisted, leaning in a bit closer.
"Okay," you said. "Let me just get dressed."
Satoru's grin widened. He pushed off from the doorframe. "Great! I'll wait for you outside."
Soon enough you found yourself leaning over a green baize-covered billiard table. 
In the dimly lit ambiance of the hotel's bar, the sound of clinking glasses and muffled conversations created a backdrop to the night's unfolding scene. The air was thick with the scent of polished wood and the faint hint of cigar smoke.
The weight of the cue in your hands felt foreign. Your focus narrowed to the white cue ball that awaited your command.
Satoru moved closer, his body brushing against yours as he positioned himself to guide your shot. "Just lean over the table a bit more," he said, his voice low and close to your ear. He placed one hand on your back to guide you down. "Yeah, like that."
"Now hold the cue like this." His hands gently cupped yours, adjusting your grip. His fingers intertwined with yours. The warmth of his hands seeped through your skin, sending a subtle shiver down your spine. "And aim just there," he continued, pointing to a spot on the cue ball.
In the background, Sukuna leaned against a nearby wall across from you, observing the scene. His eyes sparkled with an amused interest, clearly entertained by the exchange. Every now and then, his gaze would meet yours, a silent challenge, or perhaps a tease, lurking within their depths.
"Focus on where you want the ball to go," Satoru whispered, his breath ghosting over the nape of your neck as he spoke. With a deep breath, you attempted to steady your nerves, to push aside the awareness of Satoru's proximity and the curious gaze of Sukuna. 
You pulled back the cue, your eyes locked on the target, and with a push, sent the cue ball rolling across the table. The crack of the balls colliding echoed through the room. A stripe sank into a corner pocket.
"Well done." Satoru stepped back to allow you space to straighten up, yet his hand remained on the small of your back. "See, you're a natural."
"Don't let him fool you. He's just happy to have found someone who'll listen to him ramble about angles and force," Sukuna's voice cut in. 
Satoru laughed. "Maybe, but it seems to be working."
Sukuna pushed off the wall. "Watch and learn, kids." He set aside his glass of liquor and made his way over to the table.
Beside you, Satoru pulled you close, his arm casually wrapped around your shoulders. 
It felt oddly normal.
Oddly normal — the way his arm was around you, the way you shared a laugh with an old friend of his, the way the world's expectations drifted into insignificance. 
It was easy, in those moments, to forget the roles you each played in the outside world. Here, you were just two people, enjoying the company of each other.
The cue slid smoothly between Sukuna's fingers as he took aim. The shot was clean, the ball rolling into the pocket with a satisfying thud. "That's how it's done," he declared, turning to face you and Satoru, a broad grin on his face.
"Not bad, Sukuna. But you're not the only one with skills here," Satoru quipped. He drew you closer for a fleeting kiss on your temple before pushing away to snatch the cue from Sukuna's grip.
It all felt oddly normal.
As the game wound down and it was once again your turn at the table. You focused on lining up your shot, the cue stick feeling more familiar in your hands now. Satoru stepped back to give you space, joining Sukuna at the side of the billiard table.
"Didn't think you'd ever fuck a student," Sukuna said, in a not so low tone.
"Shut it Sukuna. She can hear you."
Yeah. You could hear him.
"You're not even denying it?" Sukuna pressed.
You could feel their eyes on you as you took your shot, the balls clattering against each other but not quite finding their way into the pockets.
"We're both adults," Satoru replied.
"Is that why you let her do surgery with you?" Sukuna insinuated with a smirk. "Is she that good in bed?"
You hated him.
He knew you could hear him. 
He was deliberately provoking you.
"You should stop drinking, Sukuna." Satoru put a hand on Sukuna's shoulder. He then moved closer to you. "Don't take him seriously," he said, gently taking the cue from your hands to take his turn. "He doesn't know when to stop."
Oh really?
You turned to meet Sukuna's gaze. He leaned back casually against the edge of the table. His gaze fixed on you as he took a sip from his drink. The casual flick of his wrist and the confident tilt of his head suggested a man used to getting his way.
"So, Sukuna," you started. "Why have you stepped back from surgery? Couldn't keep up, or were you just not cut out for it?"
Satoru's eyebrows shot up, a mix of surprise and amusement flickering across his face. Sukuna paused, his drink halfway to his mouth. A low chuckle escaped him.
"Didn't know you had such a sharp tongue," Sukuna remarked, his grin broad and unfazed. "For your information, Satoru and I were pretty much equal."
"Yet, here you are, no longer in the operating room. Couldn't handle the competition?"
Sukuna leaned forward, placing his drink on the table with deliberate slowness. "Competition?" he echoed, a trace of amusement in his voice. "Let me correct that for you. I was the one setting the pace. Satoru here was always two steps behind, trying to catch up."
Satoru scoffed. "If by 'setting the pace' you mean rushing into things without thinking them through, then sure, you were the leader."
"Ah, but where's the fun without a little risk?" Sukuna said.
You tilted your head. "And not missing the risk? Or did the thrill get too much for you?"
"The thrill, dear, never gets too much for me. It's just that I found a bigger game to play. One where the stakes are higher, and the victories, more satisfying. Running a university, shaping the future of medicine — that's where the real power lies."
You stepped closer to him. "So, this is all about power for you? Need to compensate for shortcomings elsewhere?" Without breaking eye contact, you picked up Sukuna's drink, taking a measured sip. "Or could it be that you seek power as a convenient escape from the harsh truth of your own irrelevance in the field of medical research?"
Sukuna's eyes traced over your form, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, I see why you like her, Toru."
"Only just realizing that now?" Satoru quipped with a smirk.
Sukuna retrieved the glass from your grasp, his fingers brushing against yours, and took a sip himself. "I'm quite intrigued to hear that lecture of yours."
"Make sure to listen well, you might learn a thing or two. After all, neurosurgery evolves rapidly, and you've been out of the game for quite some time."
Satoru approached you. "Don't tear him apart completely, sweetheart."
"Don't worry, Toru. I can handle a bit of attitude," Sukuna shot back with a grin.
As the evening progressed, the alcohol flowed freely, mostly from Sukuna's glass but Satoru didn't shy away either. You found yourself the only sober one left, Sukuna's teasing escalating in equal measure with his alcohol intake.
Sukuna draped an arm around your shoulder, the scent of alcohol clear as he spoke. "This man here used to be the life of every party," he pointed with his finger to Satoru, "there wasn't a dare he wouldn't take or a line he wouldn't cross. Isn't that right, Toru?"
"Those were different times," Satoru, who had been lining up his shot, paused, offering a tight-lipped smile. "We were just kids doing stupid things."
"But they're unforgettable," Sukuna persisted. "Especially that one night you decided to break the university record for the most girls fucked in a single night. How many was it again?"
The air thickened with tension, Sukuna's provocations cutting deeper with each word.
Why was he doing this?
It felt like Sukuna was intentionally trying to provoke you.
"Maybe we should get back to the game, Sukuna. Your shot," Satoru said.
But Sukuna was relentless. "Oh, but the best parts are yet to come. Like your experimental phase. How many substances did you try to 'expand your mind'? Always on the lookout for the next high, weren't you?"
Wait. 
Sukuna knew too? 
Why hadn't Satoru mentioned any of this to you? 
You felt sick—a tight knot forming in your stomach. You glanced at Satoru, noting the tension in his jaw.
"Sukuna, that's enough," Satoru's voice held a warning edge.
"What? I'm just reminiscing about the good old days," Sukuna said, his tone falsely innocent. "Unless... there are parts of your past you're not so proud of?"
You felt a chill run down your spine.
The way Sukuna wielded these stories like weapons, the ease with which he stripped bare Satoru's vulnerabilities, was nothing short of cruel.
You watched the scene unfold before your eyes. Witnessing. Unable to say anything. Perhaps a part of you wanted to hear it. Hear what Satoru had done in his past. Hear every dirty secret of the man you had fallen for, as you looked into his beautiful blue eyes.
You could see the strain in Satoru's posture, the effort it took for him to maintain his composure. It was clear that Sukuna's words had struck a nerve, peeling back layers of Satoru's past he had hoped to keep hidden.
Satoru set his pool cue down with more force than necessary. "Sukuna, what are you trying to do here? We all have things in our past we'd rather leave there. I'm no exception. But I've moved on. I suggest you do the same."
Sukuna raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Oh, come on, Toru. It's not like you to shy away from who you are. Or has this precious student of yours made you forget who you really are?" His grip on your shoulder tightened, the pressure suffocating.
You felt awful. Every point of contact with Sukuna felt awful. Dirty.
You unwound from Sukuna's hold. "It's late, I'll go to my room."
As you started to walk away, Satoru's hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you. "Please, wait. Don't leave."
"Satoru, I can't just stand here while he taunts you for his own amusement, and you shouldn't either. Come with me."
"He's just messing around. It's been ages since we've been together."
"Don't you see? He's a bad influence, Satoru. It's time to call it a night, for both of us."
Satoru sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sukuna's an old friend. Our history is complicated, but he's not all bad."
"Are you really that blind?" you questioned, freeing yourself from his grip. "Satoru, you should get some rest. We have a lecture tomorrow." With that, you turned and left the bar, leaving Satoru and Sukuna alone in the bar.
You had enough for the night.
─── ·✧· ───
You couldn't sleep.
You tossed and turned in your bed over and over, but sleep eluded you.
The hotel's corridors remained quiet. You didn't hear any sign of Satoru's return.
The digital clock on your bedside table had just flickered to 2:47 AM when you heard soft knocking on your door. Barefoot, you crossed the room, the carpet cool under your feet. You were wearing only a loose shirt and underwear as you opened the door.
Satoru stood before you,  a hand bracing against the doorframe. His hair was disheveled, clothes rumpled. The hallway light cast deep shadows over his face, accentuating the tiredness in his eyes and the unusual pallor of his skin.
Your heart tightened at the sight.
"Satoru, what's—"
"I... I need to be with you," he barely whispered, the strain evident in his voice. 
You reached out, your fingers lightly caressing his face, pushing back the damp strands of hair from his forehead. "What happened, Satoru? Did you—"
"No," he cut in hastily, straightening a bit to meet your gaze more directly. "I didn't take anything. It's just—," he paused, his brows furrowed as he glanced away, "I wanted to so damn hard. I needed it so damn hard, to feel...better."
"Come inside," you said, stepping aside to let him into your room, closing the door with a quiet click behind him.
He moved hesitantly, as though unsure of his welcome. But you urged him inward. He walked into your hotel room, where he sat down onto the bed, his head in his hands.
"It's bad," he admitted after a moment, his voice muffled. "I thought I could manage it, but..."
You approached him, drawing him into an embrace where his head rested against your stomach, your fingers gently combing through his hair. "Talk to me. What happened?"
"Sukuna knows how to push all the wrong buttons." A bitter laugh escaped him. "I should have known better. It just brought everything back. The urge, the need—it's clawing at me."
"But you didn't give in," you said. "That's what matters."
"Does it? Because right now, it feels like I'm losing my mind."
"You're not losing your mind."
His gaze lifted to meet yours, there was a raw vulnerability in his eyes that stole the air from your lungs. It was fear — fear of addiction, fear of a possible relapse and, perhaps most of all, fear of losing you. "I'm sorry, I should have left with you. I shouldn't have let you go. I should have punched Sukuna in the face for what he said to you."
"It's okay. Sukuna is part of your past, it's not easy to cut ties with someone who's been important in your life. I get it. But still, you're stupid."
"Don't be so understanding. Hate me at least a little bit." 
Yeah, you were angry with him, angry that he didn't see that Sukuna was an asshole, that he deliberately tried to rile him you and Satoru up for his own sick amusement. 
But how could you be angry with him now? 
Not when he was so vulnerable.
Not when you could feel the slight trembling in his body.
Not when you could literally feel his craving to get high.
But he didn't. He resisted. Because he promised you to.
Satoru let out a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping. "I don't want to drag you into this mess. You deserve so much more than someone who can't even get his act together."
"But that's not for you to decide," you said. "I'm here, Satoru, because I want to be. Because I care about you. Through struggles and all."
"Even after what Sukuna said about me?"
"Are you asking me if I find you being a whore in your university days worse than you being an addict?" You arched an eyebrow. "Satoru, if I were easily deterred, I would have left the first time I found you high. I think we're past the point where anything about you could scare me away."
Satoru's laughter held a touch of bitterness as he rested his head against your stomach again. His hands trailed up your back, fingers tracing delicate patterns along your spine, sending shivers coursing through your body. "I don't deserve you."
"You're right, you really don't."
In one swift motion, he lifted your shirt, his warm breath cascading over your bare skin. His lips followed suit, planting tender kisses along the base of your ribcage, gradually traversing across your stomach. Each gentle touch elicited a soft sigh from you.
"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, every word a caress against your skin. "Every inch of you is perfect."
You gazed down at him. "Satoru, what—"
His tongue darted out to lick and kiss the contours of your waist, each movement deliberate and unhurried. Each brush of his lips sent a wave of yearning through you, forcing your body to arch towards him, each touch a silent plea for more.
"I know I'm being selfish," he whispered, his hands finding their place on your hips, drawing you closer to him. "But fuck, I need you now."
He wanted to stop, dear reader. He really did. 
He felt awful. But he couldn't. Simply couldn't. 
He needed you. 
Needed you like air. 
Needed you like drugs.
And you obliged.
Without hesitation, you gently pushed him back and straddled him. His arms enveloped you, pulling you close as you leaned in to capture his lips. 
His lips tasted like alcohol — they tasted like him.
His lips moved slowly and deliberately at first, tracing the contours of yours as if mapping out every curve. Then, his kiss became more urgent, more demanding. Tongue danced with tongue, awakening a hunger that neither of you could ignore.
"Are you sure about this?" he murmured between kisses, his breath warm against your skin.
"Yes," you responded equally breathlessly.
He released your lips, trailing tender kisses down the side of your neck. His hands wandered under your shirt, caressing the smooth skin of your waist and back.
He kissed down to the base of your neck, where your collarbones met. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as though committing your scent to memory. Then he traced the delicate line of your bone structure with his tongue, making you shiver.
You closed your eyes and let out a soft moan, surrendering entirely to him.
You began to grind against him, savoring the rough texture of his pants against your bare skin. Your fingers entwined in his hair as you leaned further into him, feeling his arousal pressing against you. You wanted him inside you, needed him to claim you completely.
He tilted his head back, strained moans escaping his throat—fuck, he was so hot when he moaned. You could feel his muscles tense, his breath hitching with every subtle shift of your hips. You felt him growing harder, his arousal swelling against your core.
He plunged forward once more, planting a wet, open-mouthed kiss right on the hollow of her throat. The suddenness of the move left you breathless. You clutched his shoulders tightly, trying to ground yourself in the rising tide of longing.
Slowly, he worked his way back up your neck, each kiss more intense than the last. By the time his lips returned to yours, you were panting heavily, your mind spinning with need. 
"God, I want you so badly right now," he muttered hoarsely, his eyes fixed on your parted lips. 
"Then fuck me already," you replied boldly, your heart pounding in your ears. 
He grinned wickedly.
Without breaking stride, he let himself fall onto the bed behind him and dragged you with him. He pushed you up onto him. His hands roamed over your thighs as he guided you to sit on his face.
Satoru wasted no time. He pushed your underwear aside with one hand, the other hand held you in place, fingers digging into your waist. Then his tongue darted forth to claim you, teasing you, causing you to gasp aloud. 
Savoring your initial reaction, he continued to tease you, licking your clit with expert precision. His tongue plunged deep into your core, tracing circles around your clit before flickering rapidly across its tip.
He slid one finger inside you, curling it upward to press directly against the inner wall of you. As he continued to thrust into you, you moaned, feeling your walls tighten around him in response. "You taste so good, I can't get enough of you," he purred, adding another finger as you cried out.
He began to move his fingers in a steady rhythm, driving himself deeper and harder into your core. Your legs began to tremble, overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers stroking your insides as his tongue continued to lick and suck your sensitive clit.
"Yes, right there...oh God!" You cried out as he hit all the right spots. Somehow that man seemed to perfectly understand precisely what you needed to push you beyond the point of mere pleasure and into the realm of wild, unbridled ecstasy.
"Come for me, beautiful," he urged, his warm breath against your skin drawing another moan from you. "Give yourself up to me completely."
Between his fingers and his talented tongue, you quickly approached a fever pitch. You cried out his name as the tension finally broke. Satoru pushed his fingers deeper into you than ever before, enjoying the way your walls contracted around him as you rode out your orgasm.
Breathless, you tried to regain your composure as Satoru continued to lazily lick your clit, making your legs twitch. "You get so fucking tight when you come," he said, then meticulously licked you all up and placed a final kiss on your clit.
You let yourself fall to the side of him. He rolled over to be on top of you in an instant. He wiped his mouth with the flat of his hand before his lips found yours again. The taste of you still lingered on his lips as Satoru deepened the kiss.
His hand reached up and gripped the side of your throat tightly, adding just enough pressure to make you moan into the kiss. Your hands began to move restlessly across his chest, clutching his shirt and pulling him closer.
You couldn't help but notice the way his shirt hugged his broad shoulders, the way his hair fell in soft strands around his face. Then you reached out and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the hard muscles of his torso underneath.
"God, you drive me wild," he rasped, reaching out to stroke the inside of your parted thighs. "The sight of you alone makes me insane." His lips brushed against your neck, trailing kisses along the length of you throat.
Your hands slid down, fingers deftly working at the buckles of his belt. "Take me, Satoru. Don't hold back. Use me however you need me," you whispered as you impatiently tugged at the leather strap.
"Don't say that." Satoru's eyes darkened as he watched you work at his belt, his fingers trembling slightly. When the belt finally came loose, you pushed at his pants, urging them downward until they pooled around his knees.
"Why?" you breathed, your gaze locked with his.
"Because I can't hold back if you say things like that."
"I don't want you to hold back. I want to feel every inch of you inside me, Satoru. Now. Please." With that, you leaned in, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, your body craving his heat and his touch.
At your words, Satoru felt a primal surge course through his veins. You offered yourself to him willingly, with no reservations whatsoever. It was an invitation he couldn't refuse — one that left him reeling with desire. He stripped off the rest of his clothes, leaving only his bare skin exposed.
Satoru grabbed you by the waist and rolled you over, pulling your underwear down.
You gasped as his hands slid down your back, caressing the smooth skin of your back before he lifted you just enough to be at perfect angle to him. You moaned softly, pressing against him as he positioned himself behind you.
He paused for a second, savoring the sight of you before him, the one who had captured his heart and soul in such a short time. It still didn't seem real — that someone like you would choose to be with someone like him.
You gasped as he started to push inside you, stretching you slowly but surely with each inch. As he sank deeper into you, he knew that he would do everything in his power to make you happy, to protect you, to love you.
But right now he only wanted to fuck you like you deserved it.
He grabbed onto your waist, pulling you back against him so he could delve even further into your depths. You moaned as he began to thrust into you, deep and hard, filling you completely. Each time he pulled out almost completely, before he slammed into you again and again.
Your head fell forward, your hair cascading down your face. Each time Satoru pushed deeper into you, low moans escaped his parted lips, his head thrown back. "You feel so good...so right..."
You closed your eyes, your fingers digging into the crisp white sheets below you as Satoru moved behind you. Your senses were on fire, every nerve ending ablaze with the intensity of his touch as you felt Satoru's fingers digging deeply into your skin, leaving bruises that would linger long after tonight was over.
Satoru's hands then moved up your chest underneath your shirt, pulling you close and up against his muscular frame. You're back against his chest as he continued to thrust deeper and deeper into you. His other hand found your throat, grabbing it tightly as you arched into him. His breath hot against your neck as he moaned into your ear.
He quickened his pace, each thrust more fervent than the last. It was almost too much. Sill, you craved more — needed more. "Please, Satoru. Make me yours."
He obeyed, slamming into you with renewed force, pushing you harder and faster toward your orgasm. Every inch of your being focused solely on the sensation of his thick shaft filling you, making you feel alive in a way you never thought possible. 
As Satoru continued to move inside you, you felt his hand reach up, parting your lips. Your heart skipped a beat as he slid two fingers into your mouth, pushing them deep inside. You gasped slightly, the sensation electric as he thrust his fingers into your mouth.
You moaned loudly, your head falling back as you surrendered completely to his will. In that moment, nothing else existed outside of the two of you. You didn't care if anyone would hear you. All that mattered was the overwhelming rush that pulsed through you, threatening to consume you whole.
With a sudden force, Satoru withdrew his fingers and pushed you forward, forcing you down on all fours. He wrapped his hand in your hair and yanked your head back sharply, causing you to cry out.
Without hesitation or mercy, he drove himself inside you, pain and pleasure melded seamlessly together. His hips pumped fiercely, pounding into you with an intensity that took your breath away. He gripped your hair even tighter, pushing you further and further towards the edge.
Your walls clenched tightly around him, desperate for release. And when you finally reached your peak, your cries blended seamlessly with his own moans. Satoru's body convulsed with the intensity of his climax as he released inside you. You could feel his muscles contract with each pulse of his ejaculation.
As you both tried to regain your composure and your breathing steadied, Satoru leaned in close, his warm breath caressing your skin. "How do I even deserve you," he whispered huskily.
You turned your head to meet his gaze. "Are you feeling better now?" you asked, the words slipping awkwardly from your lips as you felt a trail of fluid running down your inner thigh.
He leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss on your back before pulling out of you, wincing slightly as he did so. Satoru then collapsed next to you, one arm flung over his forehead, the other behind his head. 
Despite his heavy breathing and the slight furrow in his brows, a tender smile graced his features, the dimples on his cheeks deepening. "Yeah," he exhaled with a long sigh. "I feel fucking great."
Turning on his side to face you, his features were illuminated by the soft moonlight filtering through the window. He tenderly brushed a lock of hair from your forehead, tracing its path down to your cheekbone, he caressed your skin with utmost tenderness.
"Do you want to know what I thought when I first saw you?"
"What?"
"I thought, this woman knows her way around a challenging aneurysm like no one I've ever seen.'" His hand lingered on your cheek, the warmth of his touch caressing your skin. "It was... captivating to say the least. And beyond that, you were absolutely breathtaking."
"Captivating or arrogant to challenge you like that?"
He chuckled. "A bit arrogant, perhaps." His smile broadened. "Yet, I remember thinking, this woman is going to be the end of me.'"
"You're just saying that because you're flooded with oxytocin right now."
"No, it's the truth." He leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, a moment so full of emotion it seemed to pause time. "You are everything I've ever wanted," he whispered, affirming his words with another kiss.
"And I'm definitely going to talk to Sukuna tomorrow," he added.
"You don't have to. I'm a big girl, Satoru. I can defend myself."
"Yeah, I've seen that," he laughed.
Glancing at the clock, you sighed. "We should try to catch some sleep. We've got that lecture in like five hours."
"Sleep sounds good." Satoru shifted and pulled you closer into his embrace. You nestled into his arms, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. The warmth of his body enveloped you, soothing the lingering tension of the night.
As you drifted into a peaceful slumber, wrapped in each other's embrace, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.
─── ·✧· ───
<- prev chapter | next chapter ->
x a/n:  to be honest, i don't really like this chapter myself, but i've been editing forever, so i'll just post it now and hope i can make up for it in the next one. kinda afraid that satoru comes off like an asshole in this chapter, but he's just having a bad withdrawal day D: he'll protect our dear reader again in the next chapter, as he should! ♡
🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11
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inuyashaluver · 2 months
Note
i love your lessi fics so much<3 could you do a j flex x non footballer reader where they are both really shy and r goes to a chelsea match and sees jessie after the match but the other tease them and they both get flustered or smthn? thank you!!!
a couple of shy guys - jessie fleming
jessie fleming x reader
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description: in which being your girlfriend’s wag still makes her extremely shy
warnings: swearing, suggestive
a/n: hiya, lovely! thanks so much for the love request, enjoy!! ❤️
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you and your girlfriend, jessie are both incredibly shy people. it wasn’t uncommon for both of you support pink cheeks around each other when the other merely glances your way. it took a long time for either of you to make a move.
in 2020, you were studying in a cafe. you were currently a medical student studying to be a doctor while working at a small pub. the icy chill in england prompting you to bundle up and stay in the warm cafe as you tiredly read over your notes.
this cafe was your second home, it was extremely close to your house, as well as your uni, comforting and convenient all at the same time.
“to go please” the cafe was mainly filled with locals, so you couldn’t help but lift your head when you heard the unfamiliar canadian accent filling the atmosphere.
she was gorgeous, dressed in a training kit as she waited near the counter for her drink, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. ironically, your name was called, you hesitate but walk over to the counter.
“excuse me” you say softly, moving past the brunette quickly to retrieve your warm drink. she lifts her head from her phone and moves over, looking at one of the most beautiful girls in front of her.
“oh, uh, y-you’re all good” jessie breathes out, internally cursing herself for stuttering. you look up at her and make eye contact, nearly dropping your drink in the process but smiling at her shyly nonetheless, taking in her pink cheeks and chelsea jacket adorning her body. “thanks” you smile, when you turn away from her, you scrunch up your face, why were you so awkward?
jessie glances at you longingly before she walks out, desperately wanting to go up to you but shutting herself down, she needs to go to training, she can’t afford to miss her first day. you watch as she leaves, shaking your head at yourself for not having the guts to even talk to her.
a few days go by and you’re returning to your flat from uni, struggling to hold all your textbooks in your arms as your bag was too full. your hands were fumbling with your keys when you hear footsteps approaching making you nervous and prompting you to speed up, you just couldn’t find the right key.
it was when you dropped one of the books from the top of the pile that you lost all your patience.
“oh for fucks sake” you groan, leaning down to pick up the book before dropping all of them in the process. you huff out in frustration, about to pick them up before two hands beat you to it.
you stare at the hands carefully collecting your books before looking up to see the girl from the cafe. you look at her absolutely starstruck.
“hi, (y/n)” she says nervously, holding the pile of books in her arms, you swallow the lump in your throat when she remembers your name from the cafe. “hello” you breathe out, fiddling with your keys for a second just looking at each other.
“you live here?” jessie questions, nodding her head to the door you were standing in front of. “oh, yeah! sorry” you laugh nervously, hands shakily unlocking the door before turning around to her with a bashful expression.
she smiles at you, her cheeks pink, she gently hands you the stack of books and you look at her appreciatively.
“thank you so much..” you pause, she smiles, “jessie” filling in the blank, you nod repeating her name in your head, “jessie, thank you, really” you say relieved, she smiles sympathetically, “rough day?” she guessed, you looked exhausted and you were. one of your final exams for your third year at uni was fast approaching and it was taking a huge toll on your body.
“yeah, you could say that” you say with a little laugh, “i’ll let you go” she says reluctantly, moving to unlock her door which was coincidentally across from yours. you smile and give her a little wave, closing your door and immediately thumping your head on the back of it. it was a perfect opportunity to ask for her number and you didn’t do it. little did you know, jessie was doing the same thing in the back of her door.
it was a saturday, you were working your regular shift at the local pub. you were pouring a beer for one of your regulars until you heard a loud chatter of female voices coming in. you look up from the tap to see none other than jessie with a couple of other girls behind her.
your eyes widen and the beer overflows, “fuck, sorry, george, i’ll pour you a new one” you say apologetically, quickly grabbing another glass and getting rid of the old one. “don’t stress, love” you were alone, as it was a usually a quiet pub but not anymore.
you give him the new one and he thanks you, moving to another table while you wipe down the bar.
that’s when a familiar brunette makes her way, laughing loudly with a taller girl. “excuse me?” jessie asks politely, eyes widening in shock when you turn around. she looks down at your work uniform, a tight pair of black shorts with a black shirt making her heart pound out of her chest.
the taller looks at her with a knowing smirk, nudging the girl forward when she ogles over you.
“hi, (y/n)? you work here?” she asked a little too excitedly, you nod shyly, “hey, jessie, can i get you girls anything?” you ask sweetly, jessie swears she melted into a puddle right there.
“i’m niamh” the taller girl points out, sticking her hand out for a handshake which you gladly take, “niamh, nice to meet you” you laugh, “nice to meet you too” she smiles, giving another shove to jessie when she looks at you bewildered.
“can i just have a beer, please?” niamh smirks, you nod and grab a glass to pour her one. “jess?” you question, her breath hitches at the nickname she’s heard thousands of times but never from your pretty voice. “oh! um, i’ll just get a beer too” she rushes out, “please” she adds, her cheeks crimson when you giggle.
you get them both their drinks and smile, telling them it was on the house despite the refusal from the two girls, you sent them on their way to the rest of their friends.
after a short time of you and jessie stealing glances at each other, you anxiously walk up to their table to clear the glasses, hearing little “thank you”’s as you clear each person’s glass. when you approach jessie, you smile shyly, pointing to her glass.
“can i get that for you?” she nods and smiles back at you, your eyes suddenly fall to a medal hanging on her neck that you didn’t see at the bar.
you mindlessly pick it up off her chest and look over it. you hear jessie stop breathing and you look up to see how close you were in proximity. “sorry!” you blurted, taking a little step back. jessie just shakes her head and looks at you, both of you have the pinkest cheeks, it was painfully obvious you had something there.
you suddenly feel a hand on your shoulder, looking up to see niamh smiling at you sweetly. “we just won a championship, we’re here to celebrate” niamh informed, quickly glancing at jessie, “this one over here got us the winning goal” you look at jessie impressed, trying not to laugh at the glare she sent to niamh.
“well, congratulations!” you emphasised, “you didn’t tell me you were a footballer?” you tease, jessie coughs, “it’s not a big deal” she shrugs, completely embarrassed for some reason. you shake your head, “of course it’s a big deal” you assure, taking her glass and throwing her another smile,
“you should come and watch us!” niamh teases, throwing you a wink that you laugh at. “maybe i will” you shrug before walking back to the bar. you didn’t miss the harsh slap jessie gave niamh as you walked away, chuckling to yourself in the process.
the bar was emptying, and you were close to closing. niamh waves at you before walking out with some other girls, leaving jessie alone at the table. she looks nervous but she walks up to you anyway. “did you want to walk home together?” she offers with a shy smile, you look at her surprised, “sure!” you say a little too excitedly, causing you to cringe when she giggles at you.
you close up and walk alongside jessie, sharing shy giggles and small talk to the short walks to both of your places. when you walk on the busy streets with cars zooming past, jessie subconsciously places a hand on your waist to move you to the inside of the sidewalk. your cheeks were burning and you tried to avoid eye contact as much as possible.
when you both got inside, you wave, sharing quick bye’s before heading inside. you both touch your warm cheeks behind closed doors, smiling at the thought of all the interactions you had with each other that night.
you and jessie continuously ran into each other almost everyday, both of you questioning whether it was truly coincidental or not.
it took another shift at the pub for jessie to finally ask you out, the newfound confidence coming from niamh teasing the girl that she would ask you out if jessie didn’t.
“hi” she says shakily as she approaches you, you smile lazily at the girl, absolutely exhausted but seeing her perks you up. “hello” you smile, “another one?” you question, she shakes her head and swallows. “no, uh, i wanted to ask you something” she says nervously, you smile and cross your arms on the bar, leaning forward to be closer to her.
she visibly tenses but shakes it off at seeing your encouraging smile.
“would you maybe want to go on a date with me sometime?” she fiddles with the rings on her fingers as she rests her hands on the bar, yours were close to hers. at seeing her fidgeting, you don’t know what happened but your hand moved on its own, moving to rest over the top of hers. “i’d love to jessie” you give her hand a reassuring squeeze, her face fills with relief, a big smile making way to her features.
“great!” she smiles, you smile shyly at her, “could i get your number to text you?” you ask, hand still tingling on top of hers. “yeah sure!” she expressed, fishing her phone out of her pocket and handing it over to hers, you take your hand off hers to get your own out, handing it over to her.
you exchange numbers and she grins happily at you, “i’ll wait for you?” jessie offered, you shake your head at her, she wanted to walk you home and you’re not sure if your heart could take it at the moment.
“no, no, you don’t have to” you promised but she didn’t care, “i want to,” she reassured, you smile sheepishly, moving to grab her hand again and giving it a thankful squeeze, you watch as the blood rushes to her cheeks when you part, awkwardly waving at you before walking away.
you watch as she walks away, niamh throws you a smirk, mouthing, “you’re welcome” as she sends you a big thumbs up, you nod and throw her one back, shaking your head amusingly as you clean up.
you and jessie met up for your date, going extremely well and turning into 4 dates until she finally asked you to be her girlfriend. the first time you came to jessie’s game, she had a heart attack seeing you in the bleachers in her jersey. running over and giving you a shy hug and a kiss to your cheek.
in present times, you and jessie moved into a whole new place with each other, dating for over 2.5 years. you’re both incredibly in love with each other, anything but shy in the privacy in your home. it was until you were in public that you and jessie returned to being a couple of shy guys. something you’re teased about relentlessly.
you’ve completed your 5 years of university and are now completing your foundational program. jessie was so proud of you, bragging about how her gorgeous girlfriend was a doctor. not saying that you didn’t have your fair share of bragging, frequently gushing over your extremely talented, footballer girlfriend to anyone who would listen.
one day, jessie was set to play a match for chelsea, you had time off work and uni, deciding to surprise your girlfriend at her match. you smile when she dozes on your chest, stirring when you card a hand through her hair to wake her up. “happy game day” you say softly, making the girl smile tiredly and bury her face into your chest, giving you a little kiss on your sternum as she nuzzles into you.
“wish you were coming” she mumbles into your shirt, lifting her face up and puckering her lips. you giggle and pull her down to you, kissing her lips tenderly as she squeezes your hips gently, her thumbs dipping under your shirt to graze your skin.
you hum into her mouth, making her smirk against your lips, she pulls away with a peck, peppering kisses on your cheeks before kissing you longingly one more time on the lips.
you smile as you watch her get changed into her kit, winking as she catches you shamelessly checking her out. “bye, baby” she whispers against your lips as she kisses you goodbye and goes to the grounds. as soon as she pulls out of the driveway, you rush off to get ready yourself.
putting on her jersey always has you pink in the cheeks, proud to be representing the name of the girl you loved so much.
once you were ready, you head over to the grounds and sit down, you were early but you didn’t mind, rocking up in the friends and family section with an excited smile.
when the girls come out for warm ups, jessie out of instinct looks at the section you were in, hoping you’d be there and being shocked when you were. her face lights up, waving at you excitedly when you wave at her shyly. you blow her a quick kiss and she smiles brightly, immediately getting teased for her pink cheeks.
“you’ve already got her and you’re still the same” niamh coos and laughs, getting a little shove from jessie before they warm up.
the game concludes, chelsea winning and jessie getting a goal. you smile as she bounds over to you, holding your arms out for a hug. she wraps you in her arms tightly, you let out a little yelp of surprise when she lifts you over the barrier, still hugging her tightly, your legs now around her waist.
“baby!” you say proudly, pulling back and cupping her face in between your hands, “my superstar” you kiss her cheek, “my goal scorer” another kiss, “my girl” you conclude, giving her a longer kiss on her cheek. her cheek grows warm at your contact, hands gripping you tightly.
“i’m so happy you’re here,” she says earnestly, placing you on the ground and tugging you into another tight hug.
she kisses you sweetly and briefly, immediately hearing the cheers and wolf whistling from her teammates around her. she rolls her eyes, tucking her head into the crook of your neck, her lips grazing your skin.
“you’re so cute” you coo, scratching the back of her neck gently and holding her close. she groans in embarrassment, walking you backwards towards the change rooms, her face still tucked away.
she sits you in her cubby, kissing your lips sweetly before running off to the shower, rushing to get you home.
“hello, doctor (y/n)” niamh teases, both of you small talking until your girlfriend comes back to you puffed out. “i’m ready, let’s go” she breathes out, you both bid goodbye to everyone and make your way to her car.
she opens your door for you and you kiss her quickly to show your appreciation. as soon as she gets in, her hand seeks refuge on her regular spot on your thigh, squeezing it gently when you hold it in your hands.
“thank you for coming today, baby” she says appreciatively, grabbing one of your hands and pulling it up to her mouth to place a kiss on the back of it. “of course, babe, gotta be a faithful wag” you say cheekily, making her laugh and look at you lovingly.
you both cuddled when you got home, she showed you her appreciation for you coming to the match and you were both extremely blissful.
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_jessflem: when she’s a doctor, absolutely gorgeous and is unbelievably a bonus as my girlfriend ❤️
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yourname: my pretty baby, absolute superstar
↳ _jessflem: my pretty wag
↳ yourname: better achievement than my degree honestly
niamhcharles17: you’re so welcome guys!!
↳ yourname: niamhy for the win
↳ niamhcharles17: never forget i’m here when your little girlfriend is gone
↳ _jessflem: watch it.
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dsybouquet · 4 months
Text
ceo! ellie - 3
what if a broke uni student met the ceo of one of the most impactful companies right now? without her even knowing?
lowercase is intentional
read part 1 aaaand part 2 right here ! xx
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"good to see you, ellie."
"hey dina."
ellie lightly said, giving her lawyer a hug. she in fact was relived to see the silghtly older woman sitting in her office chair, smiling ever so lightly.
"what's the news?"
the ceo asked, lighting herself a cigarette before loosening the hair tie that hold her bun together. she looked at the slightly older woman with confused eyes.
"good or bad news first?"
"good i guess?"
she sat down besides dina to have a look at the lawyers screen, like she would understand all the paragraphs and lawyer language she had all over her desktop.
it‘s been a while since ellie and dina had so much to discuss. when ellie became ceo, they would talk every day, also about non business topics. sometimes they both wonder how they grew apart like this.
"good news is, we will not get sued!"
dina exclaimed, clapping her hands slightly. she threw an encouraging smile at ellie.
"the client is mad, however.. they have a different way for you to make up for it. so the bad news is-"
"let me guess, our yearly charity event should be in honor to them instead of joel?“
the blackhaired woman raised an eyebrow.
"i mean, yeah kinda. they want to be more represented.“
ellie got up from her seat and walked around the office. the smoke of her cigarette hugging her face every time she blew it out.
„did i ever mention how i despise abby sometimes?“
„like every other day.“
dina just laughed it off, she knew how much of an temper ellie could have - and over the years it got just worse.
„no like, seriously. ever since joel died in that car crash i have to deal with her bullshit and i can‘t do anything because they are the biggest client we have!“
and here it goes. ellie threw her cigarette in the ashtray before slumping on her office chair again.
joels death resulted in her taking his place - being the ceo of miller enterprises. and as much as she loved the money and the big cars and the responsibility, she also hated it. none of this is her‘s, it‘s joels. he did all the work, she just had to be next in line.
he had adopted her years after his daughter has passed away due to an medical condition. to say the least, ellie was a rough child and teen. she was loud, sarcastic and had her own will. of course she would listen to joel, after all he wad the only parental figure she had ever have.
„it‘s almost five years now.“
she mumbled, looking at her desk.
ellie hated christmas season and winter. she hated the snow and the beautiful lights. she hated it because it reminded her of him. of the call from dina, the hours in the hospital, the beeping sound of the machine that so desperately tried to keep him alive.
„i know.“
dina added, leaning against ellie’s table. she gave her a encouraging smile.
„how about we start the planning tomorrow? go home and have a good nights rest.“
and so ellie left the office with a small goodbye to dina and went back to her car. she sat down in the drivers seat. as much she loved her car, she didn’t want to drive.
tears slowly build up in her eyes, but she quickly swallowed it when she saw an unfamiliar book on the passenger seat. a book about.. the human psyche ?
you must have forgotten it when ellie dropped you off at home.
„damn it.“
she said under her breath and whipped out her phone, calling your number immediately. and to her surprise you picked up very fast.
„hey ellie! are you okay ?“
your voice was so gentle, ellie was about to die from it’s sweetness.
„hey dear. yeah don’t worry. uh- you forgot your book in my car. need me to drop it off ?“
there was some noise on the background, sounding like you fumbling around in your bag to find it.
„that would be great, ellie. i‘ll make up for it.“
she smiled, starting her engine and looking up your adress from her recent routes.
„i will be there in 20! see ya, ______!“
and off she went, excitement now building up.
.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。
„hey, thank you so much.“
you smiled, waiting on your doorstep, still in the same hoodie, but with pyjamas pants below now.
„no worries.”
“are you free? i can cook you some dinner. you know, to make up for you having to drive here again?“
now ellie smiled but shook her head.
„no, it‘s fine. don‘t worry.“
„ellie, c‘mon. let me do something for you as well!“
and how could she say no to some with a pretty face like yours?
so she agreed, and you lead her up the stairs to your apartment. it was small but lovely and well decorated. scented candles burned in the hallway and the living room was dimly lit with a lap and the led strips behind your running tv.
„it‘s not much but it‘s affordable - for an uni student at least.“
you smiled before going to your kitchen counted which was connected to your living room.
„what do you mean? it‘s pretty!“
ellie eyes the nerdy figurines on your shelves and the pictures on your walls while you grabbed two wine glasses from your shelf.
„are you fine with a cheap rose?“
you asked her as you opened your fridge. ellie looked at you and just felt all the weight of her work falling off her shoulders. she felt.. normal. like you. oh, how she wished to be an uni student, living her best life in an small apartment instead of leading people and having responsibilities beyond imagination.
of course, she did not have to worry about bills or anything. but money and power doesn’t buy happiness. this does.
„absolutely!“
she sat down on one of your kitchen chairs and watched you pour in the wine with a smile.
„thank you dear.“
she said so softly your knees got weak. and you smiled, letting your glass softly hit hers before taking a sip, not breaking eye contact.
„so, i can offer you: noodles with green pesto, noodles with red pesto, or i can try my luck with a mushroom risotto. additionally, i can also make a side salad.“
you smiled, leaning against the kitchen counter. ellie hadn’t felt this carelessness and even happiness in a while. after all, she never had this.
„risotto sounds amazing.“
she smiled, watching you sigh in despair.
„of course you choose the hardest dish. will not guarantee that it will be good!“
you reached for a pan and put out all ingredients; mushrooms that would have to leave your fridge soon anyways, risotto rice, onion and garlic. the simplicity as so beautiful to ellie.
„let me help.“
and so she cut the mushrooms and washed the rice while you took care of the onions and garlic. the two of you laughed and made fun of each other’s cutting skills while emptying your wine glasses and watching the risotto take form.
„that‘d actually pretty bomb!“
you exclaimed while taking the first bite, already half way down on the second wine glass.
„ellie, we are a great team in the kitchen!“
ellie smiled, agreeing with you.
„like hell, we are!“
you spend your dinner laughing and talking about all sorts of things. friends, memories, drunk accidents that were embarrassing. it felt so light to finally not have business talks with people she couldn’t care less about.
after washing the dishes, and pouring a third glass of wine, you took the conversation to your small but comfortable couch.
and it got late, waaaay too late. and the snow kept falling, causing the streets to be white.
„you shouldn’t be driving home tonight.“
you said, looking at the streets while ellie smoked a cigarette on your balcony.
„nah, i will be fine. i don’t want to take up your space.“
„no ellie, i mean it. we drank, it‘s snowy. it would be better for you to sleep here.“
after a while of convincing, she finally agreed, snapping her cigarette off your balcony.
„and you get to spend more time with me. feel honoured!“
you joked, not knowing that it was exactly what she wanted. to spend more time with you, in this carefree environment. where she can be herself, where she can be just ellie and doesn‘t have to be ellie williams - ceo of miller enterprises.
after finishing the last glass of wine, you decided to call it a night. you gave ellie a hoodie from your closet and a pair of pyjama pants before brushing your teeth in the bathroom and doing your daily skincare. when you returned, you laughed a little. she looked so cute in your huge uni hoodie and the fluffy pj pants.
„why are you laughing?!“
„im just used to seeing you in business clothing. but this is adorable!“
she rolled her eyes and took the spare toothbrush you held in her direction.
„fuck off !“
one more laughter left your throat before you prepared the bed for two. luckily it was big enough. although your couch was comfortable, it was small and most likely would break either your or ellies back when sleeping a night on it.
so you shared a bed. after all, thats nothing to worry about, right?
both of you kind of awkward tugged in before facing each other. the wine did make all of this less awkward. once again you noticed how pretty ellie was. the freckles and little eyebrow scar.. her long lashes that made her green eyes even prettier, her auburn hair that hugger her face perfectly.. she was perfect.
and she thought the same about you. her hand reached out to your face and tugged a piece of your hair behind your ear. oh how she wanted to kiss you - yet she didn’t, not knowing you wanted it too.
“good night, ellie.”
“night, ______.”
.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。
THERE WE GOOOOO. different from what i wanted, but i hope you enjoy ✧*:.。.
part 4 is here ! ! bye bye xx
taglist: @harrysslutsstuff @vwonnie @mikaaj @elliewilliamsgf69 @weridcattty @feelsoseencantdream @honeymoonbbie @katymae12344 @aouiaa @bbglmfao
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ohtobeleah · 4 months
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Was It Over? // Jake Seresin
-> Series Masterlist
Summary: When Jake is tasked with taking his kids this festive season, he never though he’d get a call in the middle of the night that would change his life. Marriage is tougher than it seemed on paper—but whats harder than accepting your marriage is crumbling around you is watching you ex wife slowly fade away.
Warnings: Character Death. Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ANGST. Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil.
Author Note: Masterlist subject to change as series is still a work in progress. Descriptions, word counts and titles may vary.
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-> Chapter One: [The Diagnosis] The last thing you ever expected was to be diagnosed with breast cancer. To make matters worse? You’d been separated from the love of your life for just shy of a year. How do you tell the love of your life you might be dying? It’s simple really— You don’t. (Out Now) 2.1
-> Chapter Two: [Chemo & Charisma] Jake arrives in Rhode Island to accompany his three kids back to Houston Texas the next morning. He expects it to be slightly awkward, but something he doesn’t expect is to be cryptically seduced by you—his ex wife. (Out Now) 4.6
-> Chapter Three: [V For Vendetta] When your stomach can’t handle the Chemo medication, you empty the content of your stomach. While doing so, you and Jake come to a crossroads about your relationship going forward. (Out Now) 4.5
-> Chapter Four: [Parental Guidance] Jakes Mother simply cannot understand what he saw in you, your mother simply cannot comprehend why you left Jake. (Out Now) 4.1
-> Chapter Five: [Why Do They Call It Love?] Jake spends time with his side of the family and your kiddos in Texas. The lies quickly come to an end though when an overworked and overwhelmed nursing student makes the wrong call to your not so emergent contact. (Out Now) 5k
-> Chapter Six: [Chaos & Conflict] As panic consumes Jake after finding out about your current medical condition, Jake calls your mother to fill in the gaps. Nurse Lydia escapes being taken to her supervisor and Jake lets lose on his mother who tries to stop him leaving. (Out Now) 4.4k
-> Chapter Seven [Faucet Failure] Jake makes his way back to you after finding out the truth. While under sedation to give your brain some rest, you remember the good times and the bad with your husband. (Out Now)4.6
-> Chapter Eight [Oh, Honeybee] Jake can’t accept why you’d keep such a life threatening situation a secret and you can’t accept why he suddenly seems to care. (Out Now) 4k
-> Chapter Nine [The Pomegranate Theory] Jakes still trying to wrap his head around what’s happening with your health. Doctor Ignatii oversteps? And you settle in while Jake helps you write some of your newest book. (Out Now) 4.3
-> Chapter Ten [The Potato Head Society & The Other Guy, Jarred?] Jake helps you shave your head in hopes of keeping your power and control. Facing your own mortality makes you question your faith in a higher authority and Jensen and Jake met for the first, and what you hope, will be the last time. (Out Now) 4.0k
-> Chapter Eleven [The Man] When Jensen and Jake butt heads over who’s what to you, it blows way out of proportion to an extent so high, that Jake lashes out. (Out Now) 5.6
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phoneuserhana333 · 7 months
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.°˖✧ neighbor!doctor!abby / neighbor!producer!reader headcanons .°˖✧
tags: enemies to friends to lovers, cocky!yn/annoyed!abby, mutual pining, dumb lesbians, unresolved tension, more to be added.
PART2 — PART3 — NSFWHC — N(SFW)HC
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• after finishing med school, abby got a job at her dad’s private clinic outside of new york, which she quit after working there for a year
• during college, she was a victim of horrible gossip; everybody thought that she had it easy because of her dad being one of the best doctors in new york (to be fair, she was more privileged than other students because of this, but she would never admit it)
• and because of the desire to prove herself, she quit her “safe” job to go to work at the ER in the city to prove that she isn’t just somebody’s spoiled daughter who happened to be in the medical field
• she moved out closer to manhattan because of her new job, renting out a small brick red townhouse in a row of other copy-pasted houses, filling the shelves with books and the kitchen with spices. it was truly her home, which was something she took pride in.
• abby’s first interaction with her neighborhood critters went stellar; she met margaret, an old lady who lived across the street with her tortoiseshell cats clara and mima. margaret and abby grew close and she would go over to her house to have tea every saturday.
• abby’s second interaction with her neighbors however… didn’t go that as well as she thought it would
• she had some sense of what her next door neighbor was like- or at least she thought she did
• music would be blasting every night, approximately from 9pm to 6am- when she left for work. abby concluded that her neighbor was either a musician, a nepotism baby (pot calling the kettle black) or just insane.
• some days, her neighbor would be playing piano, guitar or banging on drums. on tuesdays, abby could hear her sing (“she’s screeching like a banshee manny, it’s like- 2:35am! wha- no, she doesn’t sound good, you’re just hearing things!”, she would complain to her friends) and on fridays, her mysterious musician neighbor held parties
• abby tired to be patient, but her abundant patience lasted her maybe one and a half month, before she found herself banging on her neighbor’s front door, dressed in a muscle tee with her hair falling out of her fishtail braid
• abby looked at her watch- 1244 steps, 4:22am, friday. she groaned and rubbed her face, realizing that she was about to meet her (probably very drunk) noisy neighbor, but to abby’s surprise- the door didn’t open
• she could hear the music turn down and a few girlish giggles behind the door, confusing her further
• right as the blonde started knocking again, the lights turned off and she could hear a familiar voice yell- “nobody’s home! go away!”, followed by muffled laughter
• this pushed abby over the edge- countless nights of sleeplessness, an irregular meal schedule and long day shifts at the ER finally caught up to her, and her annoying neighbor was about to be on the receiving end of her wraith
• “you’re troublesome, you know that?! always being so loud during the night, while some of us have work in the morning! get out here right fucking now and turn that god-awful music down!”
• abby let out a shaky, frustrated breath, suddenly being met with a tense silence, she took a step away from the door, thinking she finally got her neighbor to quiet down for once, before she hear that same agitating voice retort-
• “… whatever, grandma!”, followed by the music turning back on, laughter and chatter continuing into the night.
• by this point, abby’s chest and face were cherry red and she was stomping back to her house, trying to ignore the pang of embarrassment and frustration in her belly
• dr. anderson fell asleep with her earbuds in and woke up with a horrendous headache, only to have to get ready for her 7am shift at the hospital
• soon enough, abby was locking the door to her townhouse, double checking the contents of her lunch bag and briefcase (a gift from her dad, duh), when she noticed it, noticed her
• dressed in a kitsch black coat with fluffy white fur around the sleeves, donning gloves and a matching baby blue scarf in the middle of god forsaken october, was her favorite next door neighbor, blissfully unaware of the death stare she was receiving
• abby felt her eye twitch when she noticed her bare legs leaning against the railing that lead to her front door- the irony
• “hey! you!” abby made her way over to her neighbor’s staircase, nearly tripping over her bags and coat, before she stopped at the bottom, staring up at her with tired bloodshot eyes and a red, scrunched up face
• “um… hi? do i know you?”
• “don’t act all sweet now, you need to be put in your place. what the hell is wrong with you-“
• on the other hand, you lazily smiled, and continued staring at her. must be my lucky day, you thought, eyeing abby’s buff body and biting your lower lip, eyes sticking to her arms which were flailing around as she yelled at you for- oh, she’s the woman from last night!
• “y’know, you could’ve just joined us, right? i don’t bite”, you replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
• abby, who despite being caught off guard by your borderline flirty statement, was about to keep going off on you, suddenly got interrupted by her apple watch alarm, warning her that she’ll be late for work
• she looked back at you with storms in her eyes, her glare making you straighten up and cross your arms defensively; your neighbor wasn’t only hot, but also intimidating
• “i do. this isn’t over, you better be home later. we need to talk.”, and with that abby walked away, leaving you with the sight of her towering form disappearing in the streets of new york, prompting you to dramatically fan yourself as your body heated up from the sight
• oh, you were definitely feeling inspired now.
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onyourhyuck · 10 months
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Ultimate Spider-Man: Spider-Mark. | L.MK
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— Prologue: “Mark are you— Spider-Man?”
— Summary: Wherein one night you were saved by Spider-Man from a bunch of men harassing you and you find out it’s your enemy all along.
— Genre: Coming Of Age. Romance. Spiderman!mark. Mentions of hero duties. Smut smut smut minors Dni. enemies/rivals to lovers trope. Big dick mark agenda. Mention of getting harassed and attacked on the street. Mark jumps out a building with y/n. Medic students. Y/n is a confident queen. Fingering female receiving. Head receiving female. Spit mention. Breast play. Unprotected sex (wrap your willies pls ty.)
— Notes: Spider Mark fic <3
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Sometimes you hate the fact that you’re craving to be better than everyone around you and you wonder how come your first thought was to crush someone’s inability to be good at something? You blame your academic validation and growing up unloved but that doesn’t give you an excuse to want to be the best student on top of everyone’s graves. However someone was making it difficult.
Mark Lee was the top grader in your classes. Currently you’re both majoring in biology courses which are both to do with medical practices the more you progress within the year — you see it very much upsets you to have Mark get one question right than you or to see him get praised by the professors very much gets under your thin skin you can’t handle it. It doesn’t help that the boy seems genuinely humble and hard working too.
Maybe you’re being petty and so what if you are? No one’s got anything in university other than becoming successful and that’s exactly what your freaking goal is. If you cannot overcome this and defeat Mark in becoming the top student then you haven’t succeeded you’ve failed no matter if you get that damn medical degree.
You are envious of people who are laid back and could relax because they find things easy on the exams or the fact that they aren’t overburden by work. You really don’t understand how you are the one working hard ten times more and somehow they end up scoring good without trying. Maybe you’re different and it’s more of an you problem. But let yourself complain.
Walking down the stairs where many university students were occupied by the buddy next to them unlike you, you’re very much full on ‘social distancing don’t speak to me’ type of person, because you dislike social interactions. You’re here to study not to become buddy friendly with other students here and get distracted from your goal. In your hands you carried your workload books for studying that you wrote your class notes in. You don’t dare waste any detail out you honestly dote down everything the professors say in hope it will give you extra markings when the exams come.
Your eyes caught glimpse on a younger boy your age with coloured-hair that irks your eyes wherever you are it was impossible to miss them, skin full of melanin that the sun reflects onto it, beauty marks on specific places that could make someone weak to the knees. Your brain took in so much information at once that you didn’t even need it to confirm who it was, you simply just knew who it were coming up the stairway catching your attention’s breathe.
The man stops on the way up when the eyes walked to your direction stopping midway. You were the complete opposite direction but still all the attention went to you as if you were attracting it away from him without doing anything too much. The friend next to him stops, they were speaking but seeing how their friend went quiet to look over at you, they stop on the tracks as well and go quiet.
Mark feels like he was about to be eaten in a lion den with the way you’re watching him with your epiphany disgust. “Oh hey y/n. You off to study the new sheet professor Ahn gave us?” You hate how his voice was friendly and polite to you even though you’re both aware of your deep surrounding rivalry and dislike each others feelings.
“Yeah unlike you clearly.” You shot downwards raising suspicion that Mark was probably slacking off entirely. “You don’t look like you’re going to be studying it for tomorrow’s test.” You scorn. Mark’s eyes travel around as he tries to figure out how to use the information to you. Mark’s hands slipped in the front pockets and that smirk widens.
“I’ve already done the work, actually.” He said matter-of-factly as he saw the burning fire in your eyes. He was always ten steps ahead of you, always, it annoys you. No, actually it fucking angers you. Mark had the audacity to put it in your face because he was glad to see you near-wanting to murder him but he knew you wouldn’t. You’re just trying not to show how much it bothers you.
Your lips fell into a thin line that could seriously harm someone if they got too close, like it was a sword laying flat offensively ready to jab the heart of Mark Lee and fully discard it. Your voice scowls out to the storing area. “Shove off Mark.” You say trying to get past him and his friend, Donghyuck but the boys were blocking your pathway until your shoulders jumped each other roughly.
You leave them on the stairway and Mark turns around following you with a serious gaze. His shoulders clicked the moment you reached your destination with it and your shoulders were bumping roughly.
Donghyuck shakes his head. “Y/n and her bitchy attitude always on your case Mark Lee.” It was unbelievable how much you’re ready and willing to ruin his friends day. Mark on the other hand shrugs sighing. “Truth hurts sometimes.” He quotes. Donghyuck laughs following Mark from behind as they continue going uphill the stairs. “Your entire fucking existences hurts Y/n. It’s kind of funny to watch.”
The boys were trailing off to the distance and you were on your own once again. The location to your next finding was the café down the road. It was out of campus bounds but it was really the only place that you could relax and stay as much as you want because the owner of the café lets you stay there for extra timings whenever you need to do your serious revision. Sometimes being inside the school building was more of a destructive distraction than a place where you could focus and learn. It’s ironic really knowing some students aren’t as serious as you, but no harm done you found your own element where you can relax and become more active in studying.
The new work sheet that Mark has spoken about with you made you rethink how quick he must’ve figured this one out. For you it took a few minutes expending to an hour. It was a difficult question that has different interpretations than what you are looking for meaning it was a no right or wrong answer — but it really made it difficult too.
Somehow you struggle forming your own opinion of it because it doesn’t matter what you think you’re more of a ‘There is one answer wrong and one is correct, pick the right one’ type of person. You’re not here to analyse you’re here to get the right one so you are ensured to be correct.
You suck on your bottom teeth, watching the paper. “This freaking riddle… I can’t stand this type of questions. They’re always beating around the bush.” You complain. You can’t bring yourself to made a hypothesis like this about, so you close the book when you huff out.
The owner of the café seeing you blow rough air underneath your face made them look over seeing you struggle to come with an answer to the work question.
“You okay there miss?” The man said with a look grasping at you where you sat on the table locating near the window. You look up at where the voice was pointing from.
The man with blonde hair and glasses on, holding with both palms a table cloth and water spray bottle. Seemingly they were cleaning up from previous customers who dine at the café before they left.
Your eyes linger on the man who was surprisingly quite handsome. He looked way older than you but he was hella charismatic enough to leave you thinking he were a musician or a model with the face he’s got. “Ah yes. Just revisiting previous work because of upcoming exams.” You explain looking back at the paper and then at the man.
Taeyong’s mouth forms a large ‘Oh?’ as he comes forward trading on the table he shows a gentle smile seeing how you must be an university student. You even had a bunch of notes on the side and your bag was on the other chair sitting on it there. It really reminds him of past him when he was a student stressed with Uni work to the point he considered dropping out — nearly.
“What are you studying if i can ask you?” Taeyong would ask pointing the daggers at the sheets. You would spare the man a short glance. “Biology and Medicine. It’s a combined effort course.” You’d explain as your mind moves to the question.
He was impressed seeing how well you were handling this subject he knows many medical students who tell people it’s so difficult it left them mentally drained out — half looking corpses even. But you? You had a bright face and a good smile. You seem like you know what you’re doing but at the same time you don’t get the pressure get to you.
“You must be smart. I heard that courses to do with medicine related require a high dropping rate.”
You smirk eyeing Taeyong up and down. “Yeah well… I try my hardest to stay on the top of the list.” The owner sensed a little arrogance but it wasn’t necessary a bad thing when it came now. You’re proud and that’s it. “What did you study then?” You ask suddenly.
Taeyong’s eyes travel around the café as he walks away to clean more tables and as he did this you watch him wipe down more of the white round tables with the cloth while he sprays the cleaning spray bottle on it.
“Me? I went to university to study a little bit of languages.” Your eyes widen as you spoke over. “Whoa languages? You must be more of a genius than i am then.”
Taeyong scoffs. “Trust me. I can barely speak the language we’re speaking in right now. I wish though. Now I’m just a simple café owner.”
It was nice knowing that Taeyong lives the life he feels comfortable and the happiest in even though it wasn’t exactly an easy path when he was younger, in university trying to learn languages and hopefully become a translator with a good paying job. But now even if he wasn’t making that much money he was happy that he got to open up this café in this first place; it was like a new beginning, a new opportunity has risen into his life trying to show him a way to live. And the man took it. It made you think about yourself and how your life is looking currently.
Even the smallest person you think of can change the course of the future.
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The road is midnight under the cloud, yet beyond is the dawn. You’re walking through the tunnel trying to make sense of the starry painting above as the sun has set a long ago. its rising is alternating between the times, it was too late and you left the café now. Taeyong has kept you company by speaking with you giving the courage who wait in faith for your upcoming exams. And so, even though you left happier and refreshed it dimmers down the minute you were alone. Walking with your hands cold and shuddering inside the pockets of your hoodie. You didn’t bring a jacket with you, it was quite warm in the day and suddenly the night made it freezing as if it were a course of the winter.
Sometimes you rather think the forecasts have it out for the weather. It’s too bipolar to even consider.
The bag slipped on your singular right shoulder resting there with its long beige straps. It was a tote bag enough to hold your university stuff as well as a laptop if you wanted to bring it along. It can hold textbooks and even some clothing if you wished to bring them in or with you anywhere. It was conscientious convenient that these bags exist without them you’d be stuck with a stuffed school bag having to drag it on your poor back. You’d imagine the back pain to be a hassle.
Nonetheless you were spacing through the tunnel and then making your way out. You’d take the route from the café to the park late at night. There was a long tunnel you have to pass through from the streets and under it you go through revealing the large park pathway. The dark green grass sticking out and the trees around you occasionally watch out of boredom.
Your hands were under your waistband area holding in one palm your phone. It has probably thirty percentage left on it. You reckon you’d stay longer in the café if only your portable charger wasn’t out of battery. It leaves you with only one choice to leave and head back to your apartment.
The park was closed away from the people, normal residents were asleep at this time and only the people working night shifts were roaming but not inside the park. You thought you were the only one, until in the far distance you saw a group huddling the path from the far. Right now it was far too away to tell what the men were doing so you didn’t think anything of it.
Your apartment was close by the university and slightly far away from the café and the park you’re strolling down through. If you had to make a guess it would only take twenty minutes by foot to make it back to your home.
‘Just what on earth was happening over there?’ You can’t help but come closer taking a look at the crowd. It was a bunch of men beating down another man.
They sent down a panic alert to your spine and you rush forward when the men turn to notice your presence approaching. Big wrong move because you’re now having fullest attention brought to you, a young woman alone in a dark part trying to get by, looking like you were trying to disturb them from teaching a young guy a lesson.
The man with a ragged tooth was the most interested in you. He showed the more intrusive thoughts of you. He found you quite charming with the way you rushed into a dangerous situation without a single thought.
“Yah! Leave that man alone. He is bleeding. You’ll kill him at that rate.” You scream but kept a promising distance still but enough for you to have a view of what they did to the poor boy.
He was coughing out blood on the floor trying to get up but whenever he brought the strength to do something the men surrounding him looking like gangsters were ready to kick his back down forcing him to be flat on the ground, defenceless and unable to move. You couldn’t stand watching something this cruel and gruesome, heck the sight of blood was too much for you to take, you hate seeing blood. It freaks you out and to see another man bleeding near-to-death really ruins you up with anxiety.
The man cackled at your reactions, you can’t help but think they might be on the psychopath side more than the humane. It wasn’t normal to be this cruel. “You can join us how about that?” The man was taking steps to you and the minute you tried to run back showing your phone. “I will call the police if you take another step forward!” You threaten them.
It didn’t work.
You weren’t sure why you thought it would work. The men in front of you look like they don’t care for consequences, so why would they care for police? Your threats were pushed aside just like you were grabbed with your wrist throwing you on the ground discarding your phone you drop it. The man crawling above you made sure your wrists were straddling both ways in his hands.
Then you look over to the man. Your brain soon realised you’re being crowded by not one man but now you were cradled by multiple men — all together they were ten men guarding you with a demonic look on their faces you can’t explain. It felt like a dark power within them that scared you.
You were gripped so hard you can’t avoid their slimy hands that touched your hair, finding it super soft and beautiful, the others tried the best to sneak their way to your clothing but you were squirming and screaming. Heck you even tried to bite them off literally!
The man laying on the floor saw you becoming their target and he ran away for it. You widen your eyes watching him run away. ‘That bastard! He ran away!’ You can’t believe it, you literally tried to save him!
The minute you thought you were doomed, the men were practically near to ready to strip you off the clothes. Your blouse was coming undone with the ribbon knot coming off revealing your collarbones and then you clench your eyes screaming. “SOMEONE HELP ME, ANYONE.”
You prayed, you really did. You’re not even a religious person anyways but you prayed for you to be safe and saved by someone. The minute you thought you died you were welcomed to see a man flying across the park, thrown with a kick and flying so many yards it was inhuman for a normal person to kick someone in the air so far with such speed and precision. Your eyes widen trembling at who this new person coming in, it felt like a new predator ready to eat you and the gangsters men who near-harassed yourself. You couldn’t tell if he was helping you or if he was ready to kill you too. The men were distracted by the new force encouraging them to fight.
Yourself you felt a shiver down your spine. No one saw the person who was assassinating them in the darkness it’s as if they were the darkness itself. You felt too exposed meanwhile you trying to track the invisible force targeting the enemies were one by one dropping like freaking flies over here.
It scared you, scared you because you might be the next fly who drops dead.
“Where is that bastard coming from?!” One man yelled out loud.
“Woohoo, here piggy!” A voice suddenly called out causing them to turn around to see a hanging man on a tree floating by a spiderweb. Your eyes itch on what you saw.
The man thrown a punch the minute he saw the red man only to get a headbutt falling unconscious with a possible broken nose.
He unlatch from the tree. The spiderweb retracting back into the hands and he begins to walk on the park pathway you were laying there onto. The last man standing was behind you grabbing you up getting out a knife to your neck which made you confused, everything was so quick happening in just a span of zero point five you can’t figure out how you’re now held against a knife to your throat. You felt your oxygen pressure levels rising and you could no longer breathe.
The figure that was outlined disappeared and you can’t help but close your eyes murmuring prayers. “Please God help me, I’m sorry for not doing enough good for this world! I swear I’ll be a changed woman if i live…”
You can’t believe yourself you’re literally praying out loud. The man clench the blade to your throat and suddenly a warm liquid drops down on it. Your eyes widen as you felt the scar incoming. Your own blood slowly dripping down the blade and the man’s wrist too on the park ground.
“Shut up, or I will slice your throat.”
You take a mental note shutting up instantly, but then a thrust of wind blows you off the ground and your eyes shut down seeing blackness till you’re feeling two muscular arms pull you up and your clothing blew on the cold air sliding on your body. You felt the chest brush on your skin and you look up opening one eye, slowly opening your second eye, shocked to see spiderman has come back to save you. You, the person who was supposed to be in another man’s arms with a knife to your throat.
The spiderman came round with a web attaching to a tree flinging back with his legs doing a round house kick knocking the man over unconscious and the knife into the air landing somewhere on the grassy land. You couldn’t help but stay mesmerised he was holding you while fighting the bad guy?
What can he not do?
Your body was in the air as Spider-Man kept his hand on your body never letting you go. He swung with one muscular hand with a spider web between the buildings. He spoke to you breaking the silence, but didn’t look you into the eye, you were the one staring at him all this freaking time panicking deep inside. “Where do you live I’ll drop you off there.” He asked you firmly but you were here pausing for a long silence.
He wasn’t sure why you were so quiet until you break out of your long thoughts making you so absent minded it was out of your character.
“I- live in…” you nearly forgot where you lived you couldn’t believe it. The Spider-Man wanted to laugh seeing you so confused and lost while trying to figure out your tongue when to speak.
“There in that apartment block.” You simply move your hands pointing to the building.
Without a reply you were brought inside the building dropping you off by your door where spiderman stood still seeing your feet latch on the ground once again. Your clothing were on your body but your blouse was undone and Spider-Man occasionally avoided looking at you and instead he found the ground rather more interesting — you wanted to ask him to look at you so you could thank him but you soon realise what the problem was.
You loudly stutter out. “O-oh shit…” you grumble turning around fixing the buttons on your blouse. He turns to you again. “You’re not hurt right?”
The question was something you weren’t even sure if you were physically hurt or mentally hurt? How do you answer a question you don’t know how to answer.
You were going to say no but your hands suddenly rub down your neck and you brought it back to your view seeing blood on your palm from where you touched your neck on. Your eyes widen and you look back at the man in front of you, covered in a disguise. You weren’t sure who you were even speaking to — in reality it’s awful discomfiting how much you feel safer with a man in a fucking suit than people who don’t wear a disguise.
“I’ll be oka—“
He grabbed your wrist so softly you felt like he was cautiously careful with you. You had no choice but to come forward and love your neck to the side so he can get a full access view of the little cut on your neck from how hard that man was bruising the knife blade to your skin. You felt his hand caress the wound with his free hand and he looks at your apartment door pulling away from your neck.
He wanted to think ‘you’re not okay, you’re far from it.’ He can’t help but think why on earth were you out there so late and don’t you realise how dangerous the world is? He prays to God you realise and take notes from this situation to not make it repeat itself like old history. You saw the man look at your apartment door and letting your wrist go, you retract it back down holding it yourself.
“Can you invite me inside your apartment so i can tend to your neck wound? I cant leave it untreated.” He was so strict and stern, you wonder if he does this to everyone he saves.
‘He probably has to do this. It’s his job, Y/n.’
You couldn’t refuse the offer because two things: one he was doing his job and he probably had no choice but to treat you, and two, you want to repay him for saving your ass somehow. You were reckless today and thanks to your kind actions all you got was nearly being killed.
So much for being selfless, that man who was beaten up left you to die. He saved himself and he didn’t save you at all.
“Sure come in.” You open the apartment door unlocking it with your keys. Both entering a dark apartment you dimly lit the lamp over so you can see roaming the apartment that wasn’t too small nor too big it was probably a good spacious space for a single student studying down the road. This apartment was the only thing you could afford thankfully your parents gave you enough money to pay for this renting it.
Luckily you sometimes work down the library doing volunteering and you happen to get paid that way too. It pays a good amount of money that you allows you to pay the upcoming month’s rent.
Not like it matters you’re almost done with university, almost there you just have to ‘defeat’ Mark Lee with your grade paper by scoring higher and bam; you’ll be satisfied with your hard longing work and you will get your results and degree.
The man coming inside your apartment saw the opportunity to look around your apartment by letting his eyes wander. It was a nice cozy apartment. The couch was leather black and you had a decently size tv on the wall attached. The windows were large letting enough sunlight if it was day but since it’s night currently the only light source was the lamp.
He saw you coming back after hearing you rummage through your kitchen getting the first aid kit out and seeing you walk over he was sitting down on the couch letting you sit next to him. You were both silent until you let your mouth open.
You had so much questions, so many answers you were looking for, but he couldn’t answer them. He wanted to let you to not take it to heart.
He wanted to but he couldn’t answer them.
“Thank you for saving me…” you say softly as you saw the man in the suit sitting in front of you looking like he knew what he was doing exactly, you couldn’t believe it he knew how to professionally apply disinfectant on a cotton pad, he knew how to handle stitches too and he knew what to use on an open bleeding wound.
It shouldn’t surprise you, but you found yourself wondering how come he moved like a medical student?
His deep voice hit you like a train. “It’s my job. You don’t have to thank me for anything.” He goes quiet for a minute when applying the burning cotton pad on your wound rubbing it in stripping motion. You flinch and he saw you bite on your bottom lip at the burning dent on your neck.
It was a stinging sensation you couldn’t fight.
He spoke again trailing at one thought he was wondering all this night ever since saving you. “Why were you out this late anyways? Don’t you know bad guys are out on about the streets at night.” He was almost scolding you but you couldn’t help it when finding it was kind of comforting to have someone care for you. Even though you’ve never met them before.
“I am a busy uni student. I have my priorities to become the best of my class.” You state firmly, somehow stunning the man bearing you to say that you’d rather do everything in your power to succeed.
Somehow he felt your perfectionism and determination inspiring.
“I can’t let Mark Lee get a higher score than me.” You mutter suddenly out thinking back to the boy in your class who just boils your blood by being perfect.
You look away but you felt your throat clench when seeing his face come closer to clean it with another clean cotton pad letting the wound sink and dry no longer becoming a dry blood mess. He was making sure your neck was clean and not just tending to your wound, meanwhile cleaning he checked the rest of your body by quickly scooping with his eyes checking for any more casualties. “I don’t know why i got involved. I did an altruistic thing to someone and look where it got me.”
You scowl out scoffing with irony in your throat. This is why you prefer not being kind to people because this ends up later on. You get hurt in return.
“So much for being altruistic my ass.” You grumble.
You heard the man chuckle deeply shaking his head. He found it quite hard to believe you got involved to protect someone but at the same time there was a humane side to you where you do care. He puts the first aid equipment back into the box and closed it for you indicating he was done.
“Well you’d rather study your brain off so late to the point you could nearly get murdered? You must be the brightest student your school has.” It was a compliment melting your heart and you felt exposed and embarrassed. You can’t believe you rented to him about Mark Lee, your obsession with your grades and now your current near to death experience.
He saw your flustered expression as you gently laugh it off under your breathe, it was the softest laugh, the laugh you can’t hear but barely your ears could hear a glimpse of it in the longing air distance between your bodies.
“I’m sure you can beat that guy Mark Lee at your exams. I believe in you.”
The first time someone said they believe in you. Your heart couldn’t take such words in at first until your brain duly processed them and proclaim them to be true. It felt like a lie but in reality it was truth spoken from the heart deep inside the saviour who risked their life and time to keep you safe and protected. You smile, unconcealed by your frown or the usual expression you wear. You smiled from your heart and not from your logical perspective self.
You grumble. “Hate to break it to you but I don’t think i can because tomorrow we have this test and i don’t have a written answer for the question we are answering tomorrow.”
You pull the sheet out from your bag that you nearly forgot back into the park thankfully, your saviour has grasped it for you. The sheet of paper was placed in front of the man and you.
You sigh out wanting to pull your freaking hair out of your head because you couldn’t find or come up with an answer to this question.
He read it aloud. “What other medications could you provide to a patient who is diagnosed with a non-ST elevation myocardial infarction?” You look at him from the side humming.
“Meaning you have to make your own hypnosis as to why you’re picking this medication and what will you do once you give him it and what furthermore will you proceed.” You sigh out. “I don’t do well with questions like this and honestly i can only think of one medicine. But you can’t use this one. It has to be other medications and methods used.”
You weren’t expecting anything from the man sitting down but the minute you saw him grabbing a pencil from the table that was lying about randomly he starts writing a diagram for you to see on the sheet and your eyes widen at what you’re seeing written down within the same time space. Your thoughts about the man being a professional medic was now coming back and you were so convinced with the way he was giving you an explanation that he was something close to your subject.
Heck maybe he was a doctor who the fuck knows?
“Here,”
He puts the pencil down now facing you again. “You can use enoxaparin for the patient’s medication with a side of dual anti platelet treatment and resistance that way they will be able to get a higher chance of recovery.”
It’s the way he explained this to you and you finally had a light bulb moment it literally felt like it. He opened your eyes to an answer and you face the man in a spiderman suit. If you’re being honest you weren’t expecting spiderman to be helping you with your exam answer for tomorrow so you could pass heck you weren’t even sure if this was real. It felt like a fever dream being saved by a superhero while you were still stressing with work and now he was helping you with your school work.
You stutter out reading the whole planned out section that you could do in your exam. “Wait… how— how did you know that you can use enoxaparin for a patient with a non-ST elevation myocardial infarction.”
But the minute you turned to look around to your side to see the man in the suit disguised becoming a whole enigma to your existence he was gone no longer next to you as if he vanished from thin air and you held your breathe.
Looking around the apartment helplessly.
Your eyes land back to the sheet paper holding eye contact with the handwriting and rub your fingers on them.
‘Just who are you, Spiderman?’
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The freshman passing to get to their classes made you wonder if you would ever miss these classes and traffics on your way to get to them, you’d have to say no. You can’t wait to graduate and leave this hell joke because freshman are truly the most annoying grade you’ve ever encountered.
On your way to the great hall where everyone in your class was seated ready to do the test ahead. You spent your whole night writing an hypnosis and memorising it so you could re write it on the real exam paper.
As you walk to your seat you bump into a boy you’ve not been looking forward to meeting, again. “Mark move out my way you’re blocking my seat.” You are complaining this early in the morning? How do you have the energy to do this.
Mark can’t help but not argue back it’s been so early in the morning he doesn’t even want to hear you and your disgraceful attitude to constantly get on his case. You push through his seat and sit down the same lane but only three seats away from him. Mark was asleep resting on the table but you were revising and re reading your notes meanwhile he was sleeping. You can’t help but think he’s being incredibly rude by not taking this as seriously as you and everyone else in this hall.
From every corner there was a medical student looking back on to their notes, so why wasn’t he? Even if you’re so tired you can’t move, you should at least try to look like you’re doing something.
You murmur under your breathe. “So much for showing off. If you wish to sleep you shouldn’t of come at all.”
‘He’s so unbearable.’ You complain.
The boy lifts his head up. You notice the fleek of his blue-ish silver alike hair was messy almost as if he didn’t even try to brush it yet he made it look super good despite being the normal bed hair.
He shots at you trotting back with the same energy and attitude as you. If you’re going to be insufferable he might as well match your horrible words too. “Mind your own business and focus on your own work.”
He grits his teeth at you. “I ain’t the one who constantly gets a point lesser than the work I’ve submitted.” He stalls. “Starting to think you’re a bitch by default.”
You stop watching him completely bite back and chew you open and then, just to chew you up again and spit you out into the bin like you’re nothing but rotten gooey mess that cannot be digested.
You didn’t reply but you can’t help but find Mark to be incredibly off the edge today and the minute the professor came in handing out the test papers the game was on. Your brains were on the A game trying to answer with much detail to the question everyone should’ve been revising yesterday. You remember that last night Spiderman has helped you and you were taking his advice with a mix of your own method process to make it your own work too. You felt confident now and unlike before, you’d actually think you might finally have a good hypothesis —better than Mark Lee’s.
The exam surprisingly went well however and you and Mark were both left in the hall finishing up the last touches. You finished before Mark only by twenty minutes until he came running his eyes behind you seeing you walk away with a proud smug.
Your paths disconnected. You walked away but unlike then you realised you forgot your own phone and airpods on the desk.
“Shit!”
You ran back going up the stairs in hurry and then forcing your way back into the hall you open the door wifely. The professor was out of bounds for a little bit only leaving Mark walking out of the lane but you bump into him suddenly knocking his stuff out of the arms and he looks at you.
He was staring you down in disbelief finding this incredibly annoying. He founds you super annoying today and he doesn’t know why or what. He can’t put his fingers on why you keep getting in his way.
You look away glaring. “Ugh watch where you’re going Lee.” You grumble going down on your knees lifting his stuff up. Hey at least you’re helping him.
Mark sighs grabbing his back and pen off the floor meanwhile you grab his piece of exam sheet he’s written loads on. But your eyes caught onto something similar and your brain suddenly flickers like you’ve connected a dot to another dot.
enoxaparin and Dual anti pallet?
You couldn’t believe it but the same handwriting and the same words you’ve heard from last night it really struck you until a harsh arm reaches out grabbing it out of your fingers glaring at you.
Mark looks at your dazed expression grumbling. “Hope you’re not cheating by being nosey Hm?” He side tracks pushing past you putting his exam paper on the pile with the rest of them and then going back up the stairs leaving through the door .
You held your gaze at him grabbing your phone and airpods running after the boy suddenly, suddenly you’re looking for an answer for your conspiracy theory.
‘There’s no way he’s spiderman, there’s no way!’
You caught him outside walking out the campus and down the road you’ve seen Mark stop turning around to see you shouting his name on top of your lungs. You catch your breathe, he saw the bright red colour on your cheeks from simply running after him all the way from the campus Uni to the freaking city roads. Mark raised an eyebrow judging why you’re following him when in reality — you wanted answers you seek so badly.
You want to wish you’re wrong. Your enemy cannot be your saviour that you are thankful for.
It makes this whole situation stupid on yourself. If you’re the one being fooled, god you don’t know what you’d do.
“Mark are you— Spider-Man?”
You ask him panting out heavily catching your legs before straightening upwards your body. The way your gaze fell apart the minute Mark raised his eyes up in surprise at your assumption.
Mark didn’t know why he couldn’t say no to you.
He wasn’t even sure why you’re catching onto him and if you are he wants to know how.
Somehow, you knew from his gaze. His gaze alone gave you an answer.
Mark grabs your wrist suddenly pulling you away. “What makes you say that, Y/n?” He was seriously asking you now and you were terrified wondering what he’s about to do.
He grabbed your wrist leading you up to a rooftop on a building that wasn’t even locked. The lock in the door was broken letting anyone walk up there for a long view of Seoul city and you’ve never felt more terrified of heights until now.
The boy from your class, your enemy and rival, the one you despise pushed you to the railings of the building staring into your eyes. His eyes were filled with tension and fear wondering what you’ll do if you find out his truth. His secret he’s kept from even his family.
Heck you weren’t sure what you’d do yourself if it was true.
“Wait why are we here?” You blabber out suddenly. Why the rooftop?
Mark ignored your requested question and simple puts the bag down and his shoes off. Your eyes widen as you saw Mark now trailing over the freaking railing of the rooftop standing on the edge and your mouth drops down thousand pieces before you knew it you shouted for him to stop.
“Wait- Mark holy fuck what are you doing!!” You slowly approach him and Mark turns to you making you stop with a single look at you.
He paused looking down at the heights above. It was fifteen stories high, maybe even more fox knows what. You couldn’t believe what Mark was doing and you felt like you were pressured into doing something to save your freaking enemy.
He spoke so seriously and sternly. “You asked me if I’m spiderman,” he looks at you again. “What do you think is the correct answer, Y/n?”
You weren’t sure.
If anything you were going based on your instinct and the handwriting you saw last night. It looked identical to the one Mark wrote on the exam paper today. It just made you think maybe it was him.
But now that Mark was standing on the railings looking like he was about to jump any minute you weren’t fucking sure. You’re contemplating. Second guessing your answer.
Conflicting information accounts your reality.
“Answer.” He demands shouting at you.
Seeing you flinch like you’re freezing and terrified to death he could see you shout back just as much at him.
“Yes! Okay! I think you’re fucking spider-man who saved me last night.”
And that is when your heart sank like it was drowning in between the seven seas completely squished between the contracting waves and the black hole draining you to a drift mark between your only breath of hope. As your heart broke down you could feel yourself dropping down after Mark. You crawled down the railings and jumped down right after the boy trying to grab his hand. He was dropping fast from each floor story —
15…
14…
13…
By the time you knew it you’re linking past two digits into singular and Mark opens his eyes widening seeing you drop down to grab him. ‘You’re so stupid…’ he couldn’t help but find your way down with him recklessly looking on you. For someone who’s so smart you have a way of becoming irrational.
You thought you were going to die until Mark grabbed you suddenly by your hands interlocking them. As he held your hand so tightly you felt your entire world swoosh open like an upside tennis ball on an open court. A huge spiderweb as connected you back to the rooftop that you jumped out off in the first lane.
Mark carried you over the railings as you were shaking gasping out for breath because he took it away.
You nearly doubted him being spiderman, because the only reason you jumped down was to save him knowing he was spiderman.
You fell to your knees holding your chest. Mark follows your outline silhouette of your hourglass and you glare looking at him.
“I’m not sure if you’re fucking dumb or if you enjoy being in dangerous situations.”
He seethes between his teeth harshly.
“Me dumb?” You repeated. You wanted to laugh for a minute at his audacity. You’re not the one who jumped down a flight of fifteen stories because you wanted to prove something to someone.
He was suddenly hit by hit hand against his chest. “You fucking— psycho!”
“Okay I deserve that.” He states understanding why you’re exactly cursing him.
Mark saw you curse him in long strings of words and shouts he couldn’t tell which one it was — words or freaking lyrics to a Kanye west song?
“What the fuck was your motive for this.”
“I didn’t know if i could trust you with my identity.” He sores out and you face him with your gaping mouth.
“So you think jumping down fifteen stories and me jumping after you will make you trust me? What’s fucking wrong with you— Y’know what you need to be put into a psych ward.” You blast. “There’s a thing called communication, Mark Lee!”
“Right…”
Mark looks at you finally calming down as you reclaimed your oxygen inside your deprived body it felt like the whole adrenaline was hunting you down. The boy came to an conclusion that you were one of a kind — no one would jump for their enemy or even an academic rival you wish to destroy. But you did it.
He wants to know how you caught him too, but he could take a guess.
“Question Y/n—“
“Hm?” You hum out softly turning around and the boy stops speaking as your calm and relaxed eyes rest on him.
You weren’t looking at him like you want to hate him in fact you were just looking at him without a singular emotion except perhaps, a hint of gladness maybe?
You could feel Mark’s breath returning. “How’d you find out I’m… spiderman.”
You’d smirk. “Your handwriting.”
He sighs out. “Dammit. I knew that would be a problem.” You laugh a little knowing he must feel slightly caught but lucky for him you aren’t going to expose him.
He did save you, you owe him that much.
“Hey Mark?”
Mark looks up at you finally catching a whiff of your hair scent when the air blows behind your head and your back. He couldn’t smell anything else but a hint of your watermelon and strawberry shampoo. It made him somehow feel better about it, knowing it was such a pleasant smell.
You smile at him. “Wanna come to my apartment and start anew?” You couldn’t help but think maybe you and Mark could become friends.
He saved you, even though you treated him like badly because of wanting to be better than him.
He could photosnap a picture of your smile like this if he was honest. He would. “Sure Y/n.”
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It’s crazy how much the dynamic between you wanting to ram Mark Lee’s face into a wall every morning whenever you’re on the way to your class to now actually cooking with Mark Lee in your apartment kitchen casually making ramen together.
You weren’t sure how you got here.
But let’s not question it, you thought.
Mark casually chops spring onion into thin slices as you drain the ramen out the water and then slowly put them into two bowls: one for you and one for mark.
Mark sees you opening the sauce packets and pour the sauce over the noodles in the bowls. He brings out the chopsticks and walks to the fridge humming.
“Now let’s see what drinks you have in the fridge.” He’d look inside the fridge and he sees the options looking very sad and bleak.
He looks at you from the side. “Really? No juice except for water?”
You thinly smile. “If you’re going to complain how about you buy yourself juice down the store.”’
He rolls his eyes as you blatantly throw a sarcastic threat that wasn’t very, sarcastic at the same time. He grabs the cold iced water out the fridge slamming the door and walking over pouring it into one cup. He passed you it and you look up.
“For me?” You let out taking it. “Thanks. You’re not so bad as i thought.”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He laughs.
You shrug smirking grabbing the bowl to take it inside the living room. The boy follows you from behind with his very own plate of the noodles in and you put the tv on letting it play in the background.
As you guys ate in peace occasionally you guys spoke asking each other questions about the most random things.
It started off asking about the weirdest thing that happened to you.
You both answered each other, guess it was fate?
“I really envied you Mark.” You boost as you dig your chopsticks into the ramen eating. Mark couldn’t really understand how you can envy him, but he always had a feeling you were out to destroy him for whatever reason.
You guess he now knows how you truly felt. You were filled with jealousy and hate because he in your eyes was probably the most perfect person out. The ideal student. The ideal son. The ideal husband for a woman. You kinda grew a sour taste in your mouth ever since meeting him but you feel now perhaps it could be a sweeter one where you don’t have to actively hate each other.
Mark sat there watching you eat but he really doesn’t know how you could be there envying him when you are there sitting looking effortlessly pretty on the face overall eating ramen, at home while you’re equally smart too.
“Do you need help with that?”
He would ask pointing to the hair that keeps falling down into your food everytime you lower your face to take a bite from the chopsticks. You were caught by surprise when Mark’s hands moves closer rolling up your long hair around his fists like a ponytail and lets you take a clean bite on the ramen. You chew happily smiling and Mark felt a sort of happiest seeing you eat with a wide smile.
You look back at him seeing how he stayed still holding your hair in his hands, rolling it up so nicely. You never told him to do that, but he did it anyways.
You guess it must be the side effect of being a worldwide super hero. You have to help others without asking.
Your eyes take a moment to appreciate Mark up close. It’s a rare moment given, so you didn’t waste time taking all the small details about his handsome face.
Yes, he is handsome. You have to give him that.
Mark saw the way your eyes fell on his lips and then back to his eyes going in a circle trying to see where you can look. It’s like you can’t keep a straight eye contact with him at the same time, you don’t have to look at his lips to be obvious.
It wasn’t long till his deep timber voice brought you back to reality where your bodies closeness was still there awaiting for sign movement. “Earth to Y/n?” He softly chuckles seeing you break apart.
You look up at him. “You zoned out on me Y/n.” He beams lightly watching you put the chopsticks down. You clear your throat.
“Sorry.” You reply with a smile, your attention goes back onto Mark no matter what. He’s a magnet for your eyes.
“Must be my handsome face distracting you.” It was a joking quote but little did he know it was exactly why you’re zoning out. Because of his handsome face and you weren’t sure how to reply until you’d roll your eyes over scoffing out as if that could ever happen.
You hum. “So you’re crazy and delusional.” You quote back and Mark smirks turning to you giving you a little nudge.
“All the best people are, honey.” He throws.
You sometimes wonder how did he get such quick comebacks for everything you’ve got to say it’s like he’s a complete generator ready and made to defeat you at every word on the end.
He has to have the last word.
“Honey?” You said back surprised to know he used such a given nickname.
He looks at you smiling as he ate more of the ramen. You felt your cheeks grew slightly pink.
‘Honey.’ You repeated.
Your attentions were soon moved to another conversation you two ended up bringing in and it was about your class. Of course the thing you’re both seriously insane about and you could tell this would be a whole war between you two.
But somehow this was different at the same time it wasn’t too. You both were disagreeing and debating argument but now you are talking with it like normal people. You’re not avoiding him.
Mark enjoys seeing you debate with him.
He loves a good challenge and a different point of view too.
“Right so you’re telling me you’d rather be in surgery than a cataract operation?” Mark couldn’t believe you’d rather chose the most stressful option of the day, he was leering at you shaking his head.
An operation leaves you more free loaded work to do meanwhile surgery can go wrong many ways because it has more people involved.
You strain out. “Of course. Surgery is more important than an operation.”
“So you’d take one for the team no matter what the outcome is?”
You shrug. “I either come out as a hero or come out as a failure.” You smirk out. “But we both know I only take wins so, I will never come out as a failure.”
You’re too much of a perfectionist to come out as a failure surgeon in a surgery.
“You’re too confident for your own good.” He stated with a laughter and you smirk watching Mark. “Of course i am. What is there about me that’s not good?”
For a minute Mark was told to look at you trying to figure out a flaw but he could not. He trails down capturing every little figure detail on your face which made his heart skip a beat and he wore it on his sleeve when he answers you truthfully, staring at your lips beginning to list out your features like he was drunk on them.
“You have perfect kissable lips, beautiful eyes…” he stops himself halfway through, he wanted to compliment your hands, saying how easy they fit into his when that night he held you.
“I have kissable lips?” You blurt out.
Mark awkwardly pauses looking away. God he shouldn’t of said that.
“No- I mean- yes— wait god no. What am I saying.”
You move closer and he flinches at your sudden movement pulling the man closer your mouth closes the gap and he can feel your lips slowly kissing him enough to give Mark the confidence for his arms to slowly wrap them underneath your body lifting you falling. He falls back on the couch with you on top kissing him with so much powerful he had no idea you were feeling this way, he felt your emotions, every bit and one of them. The kiss spoke a million words that you wanted to say with your voice but couldn’t. Mark’s hands caress down your back roaming under your shirt feeling your warmth body than they slip down groping your ass.
You press harder into the kiss you share with the man underneath you when he grabbed it giving it a tight squeeze on your round and perfect shape ass. He could die from how perfect your body is, a hourglass that could leave him dead on the train tracks. He loves every inch of you it’s to die for.
His voice strains past the red lips achingly adding. “God you’re fucking perfect, Y/n.” You loved hearing him moan from just a single kiss.
You’d wonder what noises he’d made once he’s inside you, you were craving to know.
You were stressing on his lap freely trying to undress yourself as soon as possible however you were struggling with the buttons and Mark couldn’t help but smile watching your fingers slip away. He slowly moves on the shirt unbuttoning you sensually while eyeing you up and down.
You felt your face grow red when you saw how he was watching you so intensely you weren’t even aware. Mark captured a kiss on your lips. “You looked like you needed help.”
You smirk on the short lived kiss. He slid off your shirt revealing your shoulders and your cleavage between your bra on. He swore he loves every part of you, even your chest looks out of this world. Every little detail about you turns him on.
It was magical in a way what you do to him.
Mark lays you down putting one hand between your spine undoing your bra uncoupling it with just one hand and you felt it go loose as he stripped the rest of you spreading his mouth down your chest now. Kicking between your nipple folds and kissing your breasts so tenderly, fondling them. You were arching your back grinding your stomachs together as you were rolling out your soft moans.
The next thing you knew it his mouth was around your pelvis slipping out your panties to the side and pressing the thin tip of his tongue on your folds through the panties you couldn’t help but watch yourself fold down, apart, sideways — every position freaking possible you were in. Mark loved seeing you break down for only his mouth wait until he fucks you for real.
He made sure his mouth left you wet and warm, he also made sure you would come and give him a taste of yourself because he’s not going to fuck you until you do exactly that.
You moan into your hand when you felt his teeth gently brush on your sensitive clit and your body clutch onto the couch flatly as Mark pinned a hand on your stomach hitching inside with each ragged finger inside your hole or when overstimulating you with his tongue you took the largest breathe inside. Everytime you did so his hand on your stomach felt it and he loved seeing and feeling your body tense up from all the ways he’s eating you out, like he was practically starved for you, made for you to do this to you. You loved the fact that his nose rests flat on you sometimes because he loves to see you above as he eats you out underneath.
He loves seeing your head fling back or your eyes roll back. He loves seeing your hair become a brush out mess and your neck veins popping out from how much you’re withdrawing your moans or you’re stuttering out your noises like they were broken recording tapes you would listen back on to.
Mark felt your wet leaning pussy throb and his eyes lit up seeing you moan higher. He knew you were close now and you’re running away from it.
He however, was not letting you go run.
You moan loudly. “Fuck-fuck I’m going to come.”
Mark muffles against your leaking hole pushing his tongue further deep now enough to stretch between your folds in a circular motion you shake your thighs uncontrollably. “Don’t run away from it now honey.” Mark wanted to taste you finally.
Without you knowing what’s to come next Mark’s fingers roughly entering you hitting the g spot loosely stretching your walls out in places you’ve never known could be done before and then his tongue was stuck on your clit going on and on like a running wheel on a car. Non stop driving you to your maximum speeds and mileage you couldn’t handle so much at once, especially his fingers, they felt too good to be true. He knew how to work with them, it’s like he will never catch you slipping. He had, spidery senses where he could just make you come on his fingers with just one movement.
Snap…
It’s all he needed to see when he saw you spew on his fingers right there and then wetting them with your pussy juices. He brought them out momentarily licking them clean and you watch him before he retract them back inside you seeing you moan out loud when he did so.
“Fuck, Mark….” You blabber.
You’re already so out of it and Mark can’t help but think how you’ll look and sound when his cock is in the picture with you.
He dug inside your pussy with his fingers humming down loving to see your juices come in and out. “You’re so… sweet tasting.” He trails loving you on his taste buds more than he anticipated.
“Can’t wait to feel you come undone on my cock.” And that’s when you felt your world splitting into two as he said this getting out the erected cock in front of you. You let your mouth spit on his tip massaging it with your saliva and Mark groaning out as he positions his tip to your aligning entrance, you felt the anticipation kill you till you feel a large wound coming in and pulling you widely apart.
You’re underneath Mark gazing into his eyes as you held on the side to his arms for support. You began to clench your eyes tight to adjust to him fully, who the heck knew he was going to be this big?
You didn’t see it coming until now you’re feeling it coming.
You were mourning for your grave the minute your done with him you’ll going to be the first person to have troubles walking after getting fucked out by your saviour Spiderman. You weren’t expecting it for him to be good in bed now too — you arch your back slowly when Mark starts thrusting as he feels you taking the shape of his cock. Your body was following him so well he feel like you were the perfect match for a rhythm player.
Mark could feel everything about you as much as you feel everything about him. His cock pumping you up until you will be ready to come undone chasing your high, or should in this case be highs. Mark was making sure you come out of here with so much drain energy that you will get lost counting the times you came in the scene. You knew he was making you feel the ultimate pleasure he can produce and you, you were shocked he could go on so much.
He loves seeing your stomach take an image of his manhood deep working inside. He loved the sight more than he should’ve because next he’s ramming in you to see a rougher sight of his cock hitting your stomach.
You were there arching constantly wondering how did he find the most sensitive places for your body, even yourself you never knew this could make you become a moaning mess under him.
He loves see your face scrunch up whenever you moan his name. He loves to hear your voice and to feel your words reach his heart.
Next thing you know, you’re the one becoming a blabbering fool who’s going on about how good he feels and how amazing he’s fucking you out till you lost your mind. Mark wants to tell you he knows, because he can feel every inch of you clenching his cock wanting to milk him dry within you nonstop. You want this to become a limitless.
Limitless moment with him.
Mark groans clutching your pelvis down. “I’m going to…!”
He couldn’t finish his sentence faster than his body. You hold your breath as you felt him snap finally inside you feeling a pair of warm fluid inside your body and you achingly put a hand on his shoulder as he was breathing heavily against your neck.
You could sense his heartbeat and your own too, Mark loves the sound of yours matching his. It made this moment somehow more memorable and special.
You tiredly close your eyes sighing out.
“So, Spiderman how do you feel about a date?”
Mark couldn’t believe his ears until he lifts his fave away from your neck staring into your eyes.
He might be becoming a fool for you.
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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu! Please reblog this fic and follow me for more it helps a girl out. <3
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Do you think Riddle is so short because of what his mom made him eat ?
Like only making him get the perfect amount of calories like in his overblot backstory
Maybe it is because his mom is also short? Anyways she doesn't seem tall, also where is his dad.
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***PLEASE NOTE: I am NOT speaking as a dietician or a doctor; the information and interpretations presented here are based my own scientific knowledge and research, and apply ONLY to the analysis of a fictional character. This post is NOT meant to be taken as any sort of medical or dietary advice.*** Personally, I'm not of the belief that Riddle is short due to his controlled dietary intake. In very simple terms, calories can be thought of as the fuel you burn to get through activities. While a caloric deficit can contribute to stunting of growth, I don't think this applies to Riddle since he lives a relatively sedentary lifestyle (sitting and studying) and is provided an adequate amount of calories per meal. I want to take a quick moment to dispel the commonly held belief that Mrs. Rosehearts underfeeds Riddle. This seems to sprout from a misinterpretation of a line in 1-25 when she is serving Riddle a birthday meal. Here, she states the exact amount that Riddle must have in order to not overshoot 600 kilocalories. This is led some fans to think that Mrs. Rosehearts restricts Riddle to 600 kilocalories a day, which is just not true. From the dialogue, it is clear that Riddle is granted 600 kilocalories per meal. Assuming 3 meals a day, that means 1800 kilocalories per day, which is very close to the recommended 1745 kilocalories for the average 8-year old boy (not accounting for fluctuations from individual child to individual child). This is a perfectly normal intake, but is appears strange at first glance because very few parents actively calorie count what their child eats to this extent.
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Back to the original topic, nutrient intake also contributes to height. (Think of nutrients as the building blocks to a building called your body, and the calories as workers or the 'energy' that assembles the building/your body.) However, that doesn't mean that I think Riddle didn't get enough nutrients; it is possible to have low calorie meals which are nutritious. (For example, athletes may have to follow specialized diets in order to attune their bodies to whatever sport or activity they do. Similarly, Vil crafts a diet for the VDC/SDC squad in book 5 which cuts out junk food, is overall lower in calories, and still provides the group with the energy they need for practice.) Mrs. Rosehearts has dialogue where she describes the nutritional content of the meals she has prepared, which seem to be tailored for brain function. I'm going to assume that those meals also adequately provided for Riddle's other nutritional needs. I don't have reason to believe Mrs. Rosehearts, a doctor and mother who is detail-oriented and hellbent on her child's success, would knowingly and intentionally sabotage his health.
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It’s canon that maintaining physical wellbeing makes for a good mage (which is why NRC makes its students take P.E.). Additionally, eating well is said to be one way a mage can make a recovery from blot accumulation. If Riddle were eating poorly and/or was of poor health, that would only mean struggles with concentration and his magic suffering the consequences—and that’s very much counterintuitive to the success that Mrs. Rosehearts envisions for her son.
You don’t need an abundance of calories or nutrients for growth and development. The excess will get stored as adipose tissue/fat or (depending on the nutrient) exit the body as waste. It’s important for a child to be fed well in order to grow properly, but generally if they aren’t malnourished (ie getting less than what they need) then they wouldn’t be stunted.
By in large, genetics is the major deciding factor in height. I believe current studies suggest as much as 60-80% of one's height is predetermined by DNA sequences (although those DNA sequences can be altered by the environment and outside other factors). It could very well be that Riddle is just short because his ancestors had the "short" gene. Looking back at manga images of Riddle's mom from the manga, she doesn't seem that short to me. Even when Mrs. Clover is bowing her head to her, both moms appear to be about the same height (if Mrs. Clover were standing). Maybe Mrs. Clover is a little taller (it's hard to say just staring at the image), but not by a lot. If I had to guess, they seem to be about average height for women. That doesn't mean anything in terms of genetics though, you could be any height and still carry the "short" gene to pass onto your children (the shortness trait just isn't always expressed outwardly.)
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If I had to guess, I’d say Riddle is just “naturally” short or drew a bad lot in terms of genetics (since his height seems to be a sore spot for him). He’s about that age where most men will stop growing too (although some do grow well into their late teens and even early twenties).
Regarding Mr. Rosehearts, we haven't seen him yet but he's definitely mentioned a few times! He is said to be a medical mage like his wife and is implied to not have a happy marriage with her (according to Riddle). That's about all we know of him now. Some parental figures just get less focus than the other, and that’s the case for Mr. Rosehearts as well as many others (Mrs. Trappola, Mr. Spade, Mrs. Asim, etc.).
It’s possible that the short gene came from Mr. Rosehearts, but we don’t know for sure since we’ve never gotten so much as a silhouette for him. Again though, he could be tall or average but have an unexpressed short gene. I believe many fans headcanon him as short though, as the King of Hearts in the source material is smaller and meeker than his wifez
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gloomwitchwrites · 4 months
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Captain John Price x Female Reader Dark Romance
Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): alcohol, club atmosphere & dynamics, suggestive themes, foul language, canon-typical violence
Word Count: 6k
A/N: Part One of Dangerous Pursuit (shoutout to @glitterypirateduck for sending this idea my way)
At your place of employment, a customer delivers a bloody blow. Captain John Price makes you an offer.
Chapter Two
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // dangerous pursuit masterlist
The booming bass of the music filters through the wall and greets you like a familiar companion. This is how your Friday nights always begin. And your Saturdays. Like clockwork, you can always rely on the pulsing, thudding beat to keep your rent paid.
It’s a necessary evil, because your day job just doesn’t fucking cut it. You were told as a child that if you just “worked hard” and “went to college” you’d have a good, happy, healthy life.
What a goddamn fucking lie.
Your student loans from grad school are shackles dragging you deeper into the muck of the earth. There are bills piling up on your kitchen counter, and you’re fairly certain your electric is about to be switched off in a few days. Not to mention all the unpaid medical bills. None of them are yours.
Even in death, your mother haunts you still. Your entire life is full of ghosts.
No one tells you that this is the reality of life. It is just one beatdown after another until you’re nothing but bloody pulp on the pavement baking in the sun.
In the moments upon waking, and the spaces right before you dream, your mind drifts to those places in your life that you wish were different. If this one thing didn’t happen, maybe you wouldn’t be staring at yourself in a dirty backroom mirror.
You always come in early to your weekend job.
Thirst is not all it appears to be. Out front, there is always a show. Sometimes it’s drag, and sometimes it’s burlesque. Other times—usually later in the night—there are dancers on poles wearing clothing that makes it seem like they’re in nothing at all. The main floor is where the public dwells. That is where they stay.
In the back—in private VIP rooms—is where the real money rolls in. Booking a private room starts at $10,000, and it’s worth every penny—at least to the customers who book them. It’s a mini-Thirst within Thirst. The walls are soundproof, the seating is spacious and comfortable, and certain illicit services are widely available. The public doesn’t have access to these services, and to even secure a room, a vetting process is required.
No one wants the Feds at the door.
You’re not one of the dancers or performers, and you certainly aren’t one of the workers who fornicate in the VIP lounges. That is not your job, and you purposefully keep it that way. The money you earn by simply making sure the liquor keeps flowing in the VIP lounges is the only thing preventing you from drowning.
It’s not like you haven’t considered it, but you’re not desperate enough to take the leap. The detachment is what appeals to you. You’re not interested in doing something that would put you into intimate proximity with the private clientele. Some of them make your skin crawl and the distance is your safety net.
The dirty mirror is doing nothing for you. Placing your belongings in your designated locker, you seek out one of the tall mirrors next to the various vanities. They’re technically for the performers, dancers, and companions, yet none of them care that you use it.
You twist and turn, checking every angle and curve. While your black cocktail dress is revealing, it’s mostly for appearances sake. You’re not on the menu, but you need to look like you are to a certain extent. The black dress is mostly to mark you as service staff, and while you’ve never had a direct problem, there have been customers in the VIP areas who know they’re not supposed to but blatantly ignore the rules anyway.
“You’re here. Thank God.” At the sound of Holly’s voice, you turn toward the blonde, dabbing off the excess red lipstick you just applied. She plops down in the chair next to you and sighs, her elbow resting against one of the many vanities. “Your regular is here.”
“Already?” you ask in surprise, and Holly grimaces. It’s a pained expression, one that says your regular is already on a rampage. “Is everything okay?” This time you speak slowly, knowing what her answer might be.
“Peachy,” she grins, but the smile is strained, and doesn’t reach her eyes.
You frown. “Tell him I’m here and I’ll be with him shortly. Maybe that’ll smooth over whatever it is he said to you.” This doesn’t seem to relax Holly at all. Her exhalation involves the heave of her shoulders as she slowly pushes herself to standing.
“On second thought,” you interject before Holly can leave. “Have one of the boys do it. Wait. No. Have security tell him.”
The relief that oozes off Holly is palpable. “I will,” she replies, her step lighter as she exits. The pounding bass smashes into your face the moment she opens the door to enter Thirst’s main floor.
Holly shouldn’t have to deal with assholes. She’s too sweet and gentle for that. The smallest emotion can send her right into tears.
And this regular of yours is particular about who serves him drinks, and which people are allowed in his VIP room. He always comes on Friday. He always books the same private lounge. He only ever wants the same girls to cater to him and his friends’ needs. And he only wants you to serve and make his drinks.
You only know him by his first name, Dimitri. His last name is completely unknown to you, and you don’t dare ask around or try to find out. Is it possible to learn that information? Yes. VIP clients are always vetted, but the owners of Thirst keep that information close.
Dimitri bleeds violence. Every action and word are laced with the threat of brutality. This man is attached to you, has been since your first day serving him. While Dimitri has never been cruel or touched you inappropriately, his gaze is a heated one, and never welcome.
He sounds American, but over the course of several months, you’ve noticed little nuances to the way he speaks. There is a slant to his vowels that leans toward a Russian accent, but you can’t be sure even if his name gives that impression.
But it’s also none of your business.
You tell yourself that every shift you work at Thirst. The things you see and hear stay. They don’t follow you out the door. They don’t follow you home.
Maybe that’s why Dimitri always asks for you. You’re consistent and you don’t ask questions. But you also know better. There is no reason for you to stick your face somewhere it isn’t wanted.
Smoothing out the front of your cocktail dress, you inhale deeply, attempting to soothe your nerves. Closing your eyes, you hone in on your heart, counting the beats until they don’t seem so loud in your head. When you open your eyes, you curve the corner of your lips upward, pasting on that customer service smile.
You just need to fake it for a few hours, and then you’ll be walking out of this place with a stack of cash in hand.
The thudding bass of the main room swells in volume when you open the door. You don’t even glance at the main stage to see if anyone is performing. Instead, you keep your gaze sweeping over the tables. Most of them are full, which is a good sign. Walking right by all of it, you aim for the bar, slipping behind it to snag a clean cocktail tray.
Chase, Bree, and Damon all man the bar, working with and around each other in a fluid dance that’s as natural as breathing. Chase notices you grabbing a tray and waves while topping off a beer.
With tray secured, you head for the VIP door. It’s not clearly marked, and that’s on purpose. It blends in with the dark, giving guests an extra layer of privacy. Greg, one of several security personnel working tonight, opens the door with a nod. When it shuts behind you, the thudding bass becomes a low hum.
Just like the VIP rooms, the main hallway that connects them all is also soundproofed. The lights overhead are evenly spaced, but are low, creating long shadows all the way to another door with a glowing red “EXIT” sign above it.
Dimitri always books the room down at the very end on the left, like he wants to by close to the emergency exit in case he needs to use it.
Approaching the correct door, you punch in the code to unlock it. Each door has its own code, and the code is reset with each new guest. The owners thought of everything, but it’s not surprising given some of the fuckery you’ve seen go down in these spaces.
You hear the whirl of the lock disengaging, and then you enter into a small server station. It’s a tiny space, extending out along the wall with a storage room at the end. It’s blocked off by a curtain that separates the two spaces. As of now, Dimitri has no idea you’ve entered the room.
You set the tray down and mentally prepare yourself. Deep down, you know Dimitri is a dangerous man, and you always tiptoe around him because of it. You never do anything that might upset him, and you always take careful measure of his demeanor.
The moaning greets your ears even before you push back the curtain.
The VIP room starts as flat flooring. As you walk across its shiny surface, it rises, requiring you to step up onto a large platform. There are three sofas in total, all angled around a flat table that comes up to your knees. Sitting on the sofas are Dimitri and his four guests. Of the four, you only recognize three. They’re the trio who always tag along.
Abram. Nikola. Lev.
You never asked them their names. You never cared on wanting to know. Dimitri is the paying customer. They simply cruise by, consuming the women and booze Dimitri supplies.
The fourth is a new face, and you immediately pick up on his nervousness. He’s older, perhaps in his late fifties, with a balding head, and slight belly. He’s not wearing a nice black suit like Dimitri and his crew. This man looks like a professor or even a stereotypical watchmaker.
He is completely out of place.
There are three women in the room as well. Olivia dances against a pole behind the sofas on a raised platform, Addie is on her knees between Lev’s spread legs, and Megan is perched in Dimitri’s lap. You deliberately keep your gaze on Dimitri’s face instead of Megan’s bouncing body.
Club music pumps from the speakers but it’s not overly loud. The lighting on the stage is red, and you never get used to it. Dimitri likes it like this. It reminds you of dark, congealing blood.
Dimitri’s gaze immediately draws to you the moment you walk up to the stage. He never breaks away once. His arms splay out over the back of the couch even as Megan writhes on him. He doesn’t touch her. Doesn’t even glance her way.
You have his full attention, and it’s awful. Degrading, like he wants you to watch Megan fuck him.
“Dimitri,” you say in greeting, keeping your tone cool and neutral.
“Sparrow,” he replies cooly, the corner of his mouth twitching as it turns upward.
Sparrow. The pet name Dimitri always uses with you is affectionate and yet sounds like a threat when it rolls off his tongue.
“Do I need to ask?”
“You know what I like,” he says slowly. It’s nearly a croon, like he’s attempting to seduce you.
Indeed, you do know what he likes. Dimitri is specific, and he always orders the exact same thing. He never waivers.
“We don’t need to do this dance every time, Dimitri.”
You’re playing into your role, but the words taste sour in your mouth. It makes you appear flirtatious and interested when you’re the exact opposite.
“But I enjoy our dance, Sparrow. Don’t you?”
No, Dimitri. I fucking hate it.
Your face hurts from smiling. “I’ll be back soon.”
Dimitri’s gaze is smoldering. “I look forward to your return.”
The entire walk to the curtain is like slowly melting ice. You feel Dimitri’s gaze latched on your back. It’s a wet horror of a sensation, like the slimy texture of a slug sliding up your spine.
When you stand on the other side of the curtain, you have to take a moment, inhaling sharply and exhaling slowly in repetitions until your heart ceases its insistent hammering. Dimitri always does this to you. It’s like he has completely control over you even when he doesn’t.
Calmness seeps in, and you step out into the quiet hall, heading for the main room. You’re not exactly peaceful, but you’re not shaking anymore which is better than nothing.
At the bar, you enter in the same order you do every Friday. It’s a waste of time for you to go to Dimitri and then back again. It’s a fucking power trip. He indulges himself, and you’re only option is to give in.
Once everything is in the system, you start pulling bottles. It’s a habit to prep these things in advance. It’s mostly to bring Dimitri what he wants quickly and then making yourself scare.
Behind the bar, Chase grabs several slightly chilled bottles of vodka. They’re top shelf and Russian-distilled, selections Dimitri made himself on the first night. He’s never strayed from it. There are also several bottles of champagne and tequila you pull, along with salt and lime for shots.
Chase deposits the vodka next to the champagne and says your name over the music. You glance up at him and immediately noticed his “I’m sorry I have to tell you this” smile.
“What it is?” you ask.
“Sara called out. Sick kid.”
“I’m guessing we need coverage?”
“Booth section in the back.”
You glance over and frown. They’re all full. Some already have drinks in front of them while others have nothing at all.
“VIP comes first,” you shrug, hating that you have to say it at all.
Chase waves away your words as if it doesn’t bother him. “No rush.” He winks. “I’ll keep an eye on the tables.”
The last items you collect are Dimitri’s cigarettes. Thirst provides a plethora of services, and one of those is freshly rolled cigarettes served tableside. There are cigars as well, but those are not done in house. In the back room where the wine is stored, you carefully weigh out and divide the tobacco and flavor additives, collect the correct sized rolling papers and two crystal ashtrays.
Once you have everything, Chase steps out from behind the bar and follows you back to Dimitri’s private room, carrying the things you can’t. Usually, you only bring yourself because it’s what Dimitri prefers, but if you have to cover for Sara, this entire affair needs to be done quickly so you can go to the floor.
Under the blood lights, you notice the way Chase awkwardly stares at the wall to avoid the pumping movement of Megan’s hand. She is no longer in Dimitri’s lap but next to him. While this is nothing new for you, it is Dimitri’s harsh gaze that gives you pause.
Chase seems oblivious to Dimitri’s fury. Those dark, cold eyes are like spikes on knuckles, meant to shred skin. Dimitri is a walking threat, and you need to get Chase out of here fast.
Clearing your throat to snag Dimitri’s attention, you roll his cigarettes quickly, presenting them to him with a soft sway of your hips. It’s a diversion, and Dimitri appears to seize it, placing a cigarette between his lips.
You strike a match and light it for him. When he inhales, Megan takes the liberty to remove it as he releases the smoke. The exhale is slow, but it’s clear that her action upsets him by the soft curl of his lip and the way his hand forms a fist.
“Thank you.”
“Do you need anything else from me before I return?” you ask, keeping your professional demeanor intact.
Dimitri inhales and then exhales a rolling cloud of smoke. “I always need you, Sparrow. But I can wait until you come back to me again.”
The fact that you keep it together at all is a miracle. Dimitri’s behavior tonight is…odd. And even Chase notices because the moment you’re out of the room, he comments on it.
“That guy is fucking weird. How do you do it?”
“I think about the money,” you reply flatly, because it’s the truth. The money is the only reason you put up with Dimitri’s bullshit.
As the two of you enter the main you, you take stock of Sara’s section along the wall. Booth seating is one step down from VIP. They are relatively private and can be closed up if the people in them so wish it, but they’re also incredibly comfortable and have the best views of the stage. People always think that front row is the best row, but it’s not. Not at Thirst.
You begin at the far end, checking in with each table, making sure that all the items they currently have are in the system while also taking additional orders. Just like VIP, booth seating requires a flat fee for the space, and then a minimum monetary order to keep the booth for the evening.
Everything is fine. Everything is great. Everything is usual.
Until it’s not.
The final table closest to the VIP door brings you to a dead halt.
It’s three men. No. Scratch that. Four? They all have drinks in front of them but there is a fourth drink—whiskey—with no companion. This trio are also severely underdressed. They’re not dirty or unkempt, but lean toward the casual side like they’re at their local dive bar.
The drinks in front of them aren’t nearly enough to cover the minimum. They will need to order more or you’ll have to ask them to leave. It’s one of your least favorite things to do.
“Evening, gentlemen.”
To your left, the one with a short mohawk grins. It’s disarming how handsome his smile is. He looks like trouble. “Evening,” he replies, the Scottish accent startling you for a brief second.
Next to him is a man with dark eyes and hair. He smiles too but it’s much softer. Cozy is the word you’d use to describe him, like he’d be the boyfriend who does things for you because he wants to and not because he has to.
The other man, the one to your right, is an older gentleman. He isn’t nearly old enough to be your father. He may have ten to twelve years on you at the max. Of the trio, he is the most relaxed, with one arm draped over the back of the booth cushion while he nurses a beer.
He’s wearing a black windbreaker and beanie. His facial hair is neatly trimmed, starting at the sides of his face only to stop near his lips, coming up over his top lip to form a mustache. There is a small spot beneath his bottom lip that isn’t touched. It’s…a statement, but you like it. It’s unique and suits him.
The other two are dressed similar to him but neither of them wears beanies. Their casualness throws you off, makes you question their intentions. The people who frequent Thirst do not show up in windbreakers, jeans, and boots.
The older gentleman turns to look up at you, and your heart momentarily flutters. His eyes are a lovely shade of blue that draw you in to their depths. You feel yourself falling, moving toward them, only realizing what you’re doing when he speaks.
 “Evening,” he answers, and the roughness of his voice is like sugar on the tongue.
You want to fall into him, to hear him speak soft nothings into your ear. But that momentary desire is quickly squashed.
Instead, you keep a professional tone, presenting one of the menus. “Booth seating requires a minimum purchase amount. You have not met the requirement.” Using just the hand you hold the menu with, you open it up, revealing the lists within.
Those blue eyes slowly draw away from your face, glance down at the words on the paper, and then promptly return to you. “Can you make an exception?”
Fuck. His voice is lovely.
“I’m very sorry, but I cannot.” You shift on your feet, turning your body toward him without thinking about it. “But I am more than happy to help you make a few selections to get you there.”
The corners of his mouth pull back as he glances at his companions. “On me.”
“Would you like me to go over your options?”
“I didn’t catch your name,” he replies.
You give it, and apologize for not stating it earlier. That’s something you always do when you greet new guests. That’s common sense, but apparently all that went right out the door when you came to their table.
He says your name, and you immediately form a core memory. The sound of it rolling off his tongue is luscious. Sinful. There is no reason for him to say your name like that. And why do you like it so much?
“Along with our extensive selection of alcohol, we offer food, freshly rolled cigarettes, as well as the finest cigars.”
Mohawk whistles lowly. “Simon is gonna hate missing those smokes.” He nods and then looks up at you. “Get me a scotch.”
“Preference?” you ask.
“Nah. You pick it for me. Meet that minimum.” He winks. “Isn’t that right, John?”
John grins. “Careful, Soap.” He turns that smile on you and you feel your cheeks heat. “I’ll have the same. And a cigar. Pick for me.”
Soap snorts and then leans in to whisper something to the man next him. John’s gaze is still fixed on you as you start to walk away from the booth, but you notice a small flicker, a quick snap to the VIP door before looking back at you.
Odd.
You return with the two glasses of scotch and the cigar on a silver tray. You trim and prep the cigar in front of John, and then present it to him. “Would you like me to light it?”
“Is it extra?” he asks.
“I can certainly make it so.”
Along with other things.
“Do it,” he says, taking the cigar from the tray and placing the end between his lips.
Lifting the matches, you remove one and strike it sharply, the little flame igniting in the dark of the club. You hold it out and John leans in. The movement is like two lovers meeting in wanton anticipation.
He puffs on the end until the cigar glows red and smoke seeps out from around it. John leans back, and removes the cigar from his mouth, the smoke curling upward slowly.
“Thanks, love,”
“My pleasure,” you reply, and it takes all your control to make it sound like that one word—love—didn’t just turn you on.
His gaze flick upward and lock with yours. They’re heated, almost interested, but you must be mistaken. You’re the one acting like an idiot. This is all in your head.
You gently dismiss yourself and move away, preparing to go back to Dimitri’s VIP room. On the way back, your heart is thudding and your palms are sweaty.
What the actual fuck is wrong with you? This behavior is absurd. You’re like a goddamn teenager swooning over their crush. This is unlike you, and you want the feeling gone.
As you enter Dimitri’s private room, you head for the table, removing the empty bottles and glassware, taking them back to the small service area. When you return to empty the ashtrays, Dimitri’s demeaner is entirely different.
This man has always been terrifying but this is horrific. It is not a lurking darkness but a present threat. Dimitri’s gaze is fixated on the man who appeared so nervous earlier. All of the women look fearful and on edge, their bodies rigid with tension. Even Olvia who dances on the stage isn’t really working anymore. She stands behind the pole as if that thin metal will protect her.
You’re immediately alert. Vigilant.
“Say that again,” snarls Dimitri. The man mutters something and Dimitri’s lips curl back to show his teeth. “Louder!”
The man looks down at his feet, shaking. Dimitri sneers and then leans back against the couch, shaking his head. “Can’t even admit when he’s a snitch. How am I supposed to trust you then?”
“I didn’t. I promise. I—”
“Shut up!” screams Dimitri. He smashes a half-empty vodka bottle against the table. The glass shatters, and little shards of crystal go flying, chilled vodka splattering everywhere. Megan and Addie shriek, shooting out of their seats and congregating near you. On stage, Olivia looks stricken.
Her eyes are wide, and she cowers behind the pole. You try to coax her with your gaze, silently imploring her to come to you.
“You’re a liar, Legasov. A fucking liar!” Dimitri wields the broken bottle top like a weapon, slashing at the man’s face.
It strikes true, and even under the red lighting, you notice the arc of blood. That is when Olivia moves, nearly tripping off the stage as she runs to you, Addie, and Megan.
“Go,” you whisper at them, pushing at their arms toward the door. “Go.”
They start to move, and you with them.
“Stay here, Sparrow!”
Dimitri’s shout is a blow. You are facedown in the dirt and dragged back over gravel. Slowly, you turn on your heel, facing this demon.
He places his hand on the sofa next to him. “Sit.”
You shake your head.
“I wasn’t asking,” he says, and his voice is almost light, airy. Like he isn’t mad at all. And that is fucking terrifying.
On shaky legs, you go to him, sinking down on the sofa. Dimitri leans in with a gentle smile that is so at odds with his body language. The backs of his knuckles hover just shy of your cheek. “I have a question for you, Sparrow. I’m seeking some advice.”
“What sort of advice,” you murmur, swallowing. The salvia sticks in your throat.
“How should disloyalty be rewarded?” Dimitri points at the cowering man. His hands cradle his face, and blood pools between his fingers, dripping.
When you don’t answer, Dimitri’s head tips to the side, his lips pursed in thought. “What’s the saying you Americans love to use?” Dimitri’s wrist snaps back and forth like he’s knocking on a door. The broken vodka bottle moves with it. “About getting stitches.”
“Snitches get stitches?”
Dimitri laughs. “That’s the one! It sounds so cute when you say it, Sparrow.” His hand hovers just shy of your skin and you don’t dare move. You don’t want him to touch you or even to close the distance.
“But they don’t always get stitches, do they?”
That’s when you notice the gun on the table.
“Go, my Sparrow” murmurs Dimitri. “Don’t come back to this room unless someone fetches you.”
You bolt up so fast you almost knock your knees against the table. You don’t even glance at the cowering man as Lev reaches over and grabs the man by the throat. You don’t glance back even as he starts begging for his life.
As you stride up to the door, the fear starts to give. It starts to melt like ice in the sun. Deep down, you understand that Dimitri has made you an accomplice in this. You step back, let the door slam loudly, and then you turn on your heel, moving to the edge of the curtain, watching through the small break between the curtain and the wall.
The man in question is on his knees before Dimitri. Dimitri presses the barrel of the gun to the man’s head.
“Stitches aren’t nearly enough.”
But there is no loud shot. No slumping of the man’s body as the bullet exits the chamber.
Behind the man, Nikola steps from the shadows, holding a baseball bat. He swings it round and round in slow sweeps until he doesn’t.
Until he brings it up over his head only to bring it down in a powerful blow.
You hear the crunch.
See the head of the bat return to it’s peak. See it come right back down again.
You bear witness. Watching Dimitri and the others observe Nikola’s brutal beating.
You taste blood in your mouth, and you realize you’ve bitten the inside of your cheek.
When Nikola stops swinging the bat, that is when Dimitri steps forward, and uses the toe of his boot to kick the dead man’s shoulder.
“Clean up this mess.”
He steps off the raised platform and you bolt for a dark corner, sliding down until you make yourself small. You hear his heavy footsteps before you see him. Dimitri throws back the curtain and strides out the door without a backward glance.
The three men beyond the curtain talk in another language, but their voices are distant. Slowly, you unfurl, checking to see where they are in the room. They’re still on stage, surrounding the bloody mess on the floor.
Fingers shaking, you silently slip through the door, nearly sprinting to the main room.
When you emerge, you aim for the employee door, needing to isolate until you can calm yourself. Glancing up, John is looking right at you, face grim. Your gazes lock, and his eyes widen slightly as if he’s recognizing the terror on your face.
You promptly look away, bursting through the door, collapsing onto one of the stools. Your breathing becomes a beast, all hulking gasps and harsh tears. Everything comes roaring forward like a monsoon, and you are bending like the trees to its emotional battering.
The door opens and you whirl around, tears stinging your cheeks.
“Get out!” you bark through the tears, not really seeing who is standing in the open doorway. You blink rapidly, some of the tears giving, clearing your vision.
It’s John and a man in a fucking skull mask.
“Watch the door, Simon,” says John over his shoulder.
The masked man only nods, slipping out like a shadow, closing the door behind him. You’re instantly on alert. A frozen deer sensing danger.
“Are you with them?” you mange to say through a hiccup. You’ve shifted on the stool, poised to run out to the back parking lot if you need to.
John takes a step forward. “With who, love?”
You want to like it when he calls you love. Really, you do. But right now, all you can think of is Dimitri calling you sparrow.
“Get out. Get. Out.” He doesn’t budge. “This is an employee area and you—”
“—You’re shaking.” He strides forward with purposeful intent, his gaze focused on your hands. Instinct kicks in, and you draw back. John immediately stops and puts his hands up. “I won’t touch you. Promise.”
“What do you want?”
John places one hand on his chest, keeping the other up. “My name is Captain John Price. I work for the Special Air Service of the British Army. I’m here wanting—”
You shake your head. “Oh, fuck,” you mutter, rising from the stool, backing away from him. “Fuck—just…leave me alone. Whatever it is, I’m not involved.”
He’s on American soil, which likely means he and the people sitting at that booth are together. Is the federal government involved? They have to be. Why else would he be here.
John matches your steps. “I simply want information. That’s all. I’m not after you.”
“Respectfully, go away.” Whatever heated thoughts you had about John Price are quickly flushed from your head. Survival is the most important thing. Him being in this room with you puts a target on your back.
“Just talking. That’s it. Talk to me and I’ll go.”
“About what?”
“About the man in your VIP room.”
“Which one,” you snap. “There are several.”
“Dimitri Radovic.”
Of course, it is. You know it is. Why would it be anyone else?
“I don’t know what kind of information I can offer you,” you reply, extending your arms. “Dimitri and I don’t talk, and you need to leave.”
John’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “But you’re on a first name basis?”
“Fuck you,” you snap, anger replacing everything you’re feeling.
“Not until I get what I came for.” Is he flirting you with? Or is he simply trying to rile you up? John’s tone softens. “Did he do something to you? Is that why you look so frightened?”
You look at the ground, unable to form the words as a lump forms in your throat. “Get out,” you whisper.
“I’m not your enemy.”
When you glance up, John is right there. He is so close and yet you don’t feel threatened. “But you can’t help me. And I don’t want it.”
John reaches into his jacket and presents a small piece of paper. It’s not a business card. You unfold it, revealing a phone number.
“If you realize you need my help, call me.” He retracts his hand and your gaze locks with his. Those blue eyes drill into your soul, swallow you up until all you can think about is him. “Paid out by the way. Left you a generous tip. Have a good night, love.”
John walks backward, knocking on the door once he reaches it. The skull-masked man appears, and John exits through the opening.
With his leaving comes a wave. The force of it slams into you. You sink to the floor, cradling your face in your hands, the tears welling quickly. At some point, you manage to scrape yourself off the linoleum, dragging yourself to a mirror to fix your disheveled appearance.
The rest of the night is a dull drone of noise. You hardly hear anything or anyone, moving through the motions just to stay sane.
By the end of the night, you’re ready to collapse.
“Walk you to your car?” asks Chase, tossing a rag into the linen bin.
“Please,” you sigh, wanting the familiar. Chase is someone you’ve known for a while. You trust him.
“Everything okay? You seem off?” he asks.
You open your mouth, a vague reply forming on your lips, but when the two of you exit through the side door into employee parking, you come to a halt.
Chase nudges your arm with his elbow, noticing your abrupt shift. “What is it?”
“The van,” you answer. It’s black with tinted windows. There are no markings and no signs of a license plate.
Chase squints and shrugs. “What of it?”
It’s parked right next to your car. Chase starts walking in that direction, and while your feet don’t want to move, you force them anyway. You purposefully stay to Chase’s left, keeping him between you and the black van.
When you reach your car, Chase leans against the trunk as you fumble with your keys. “You know,” he says. “If you ever want to grab a drink—”
You glance up at him and your mouth falls open. “—Chase!”
The metal pipe comes down fast and Chase doesn’t see it coming. He drops like a stone and his assailant is on you, placing a sack over your head. You lash out but this person is so much stronger. When you hit something on their body, you hear a grunt before they strike you. You whimper, staggering slightly, as their large hand grips your upper arm.
They shove and pull. There is no light. There is only hard metal as you’re half-pushed half-thrown into the back of the van.
This is not John Price’s doing. This is someone else.
With the world dark around you, and the sound of the van roaring to life, all you can think about is John’s offer. If you had said yes to him, if you had talked to him, would you be in this van right now?
Or, would you be safe?
Chapter Two
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