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the-scribe-and-other-scribbles · 3 years ago

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code names and call signs | chapter 1. incidental introductions | hangman x reader

jake "hangman" seresin x reader

word count: 4.9K warnings: violence, blood, injury to reader, injury to others, strong language, hangman tries and fails to flirt

cn&cs!masterlist | AO3

(If you follow me for my hetalia fanfic on my other blog and you're seeing this, I swear to god, 'It Will Come Back' chapter 11 is on its way, mind ur business.)

chapter 1. incidental introductions ----------- Incidental: something that happens as a minor part or result of something else: something that is incidental — usually plural

When you get to San Diego in the morning, you don't waste any time. With your mission files and a perfectly plain-looking sedan given to you by your team, you take to one of your favourite pastimes, people watching.

Most of your subjects head right for their quarters on base. You watch for Lieutenant Reuben Fitch, a.k.a Payback, who arrives at his quarters with his WSO, Lieutenant Mickey "Fanboy” Garcia. They chat for a bit inside before heading out to grab some stuff. You decide not to follow them on their grocery run. Next to arrive is Lieutenant Natasha Trace, otherwise known as Phoenix, who quickly meets up with Fanboy and Payback.

Most of the other recruits named in your mission files aren’t due to arrive for another couple of hours, so you take to keeping tabs on the ones that have as the head off base. After checking in with command, Phoenix, Fanboy, and Payback head towards the Hard Deck, a common watering hole frequented by navy officers, says the brief about the bar included in your notes.

You follow the trio a respectable two cars behind, and your subjects have no idea they’ve caught a tail. However, the unmarked car tailing you isn’t so lucky. As you turn away down a road, abandoning the three people you’ve been following, you look into your rear view mirror to watch the grey SUV take its 3rd turn after you. You shake your head.

“And here, I expected better,” you sigh.

You recognize the men following you as low-level baddies from your last assignment. You’re surprised they were so determined that they followed you back state-side but knew they wouldn’t take long to lose.

Tightening your grip on the steering wheel, you step on the gas, your new friends following after you. You take sharp, sudden turns, doubling back on yourself, and driving through parking garages. You thank your past self for studying a map of the area on your flight over here because your pursuers can’t seem to keep up. Soon enough, you’ve lost them entirely, turning down a narrow alley on the opposite end of the beach, far from the bar you’re headed to.

You take an alcohol wipe from your bag and wipe your fingerprints from the controls, steering wheel and other touch points. You ditch the clothes that you’re wearing, throwing them into the back of the car and changing into different ones.

Then, you grab a bottle of lighter fluid and spray it all over the inside of the car, then take a cigarette from your shirt pocket and light it. Placing the cigarette so it hangs off the side of an ashtray, overtop the lighter fluid, you make a timed incendiary device. When the cigarette burns down, it will tonight the lighter fluid under it, setting the car on fire.

Rudimentary, but great for lighting a car on fire and giving yourself an alibi.

You exit the car, slamming the door and locking it but leaving the windows open a crack so the fire doesn’t suffocate before it had the chance to spread to the rest of the car.

You text a number on your phone.

SMS: RIDE COMPROMISED. NEED ANOTHER.

The sun beats down on you as you walk down the alleyway and out onto the sidewalk. You keep your head down and walk towards the beach. You plan to walk along the water towards The Hard Deck, hoping that you’ll avoid being spotted by your tail. You reach the sands of the beach and reach down to pull off your sandals before walking down the beach. The sand is soft under your feet, and the salty breeze rustles your hair and clothes. The sun is starting to set over the pacific and it's peaceful.

When you arrive at The Hard Deck, you see another face from your files. Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchel is standing on the beach, peering in through a window. You approach behind him, and he doesn’t notice you. Maverick is watching Rooster on the piano with a look that is obviously nostalgia mixed with sadness.

A footnote in your file on the two men said that Maverick was the one that pulled his navy application. It seems they still haven’t smoothed that over.

“Excuse me,” you say softly to him, pulling Maverick out of his thoughts. He mutters an apology, not really noticing you, and walks away. You slip inside the door and are faced with a rowdy establishment. Rooster continues playing his heart out on the piano, he and the rest of the bar shouting the words to “Great Balls of Fire” with no clue as to the moment that’s taking place outside. The patrons are dancing, some tipsier than others, and the floor vibrates under your feet.

Everyone assumes that CIA officers are elaborate, suave, and charming when undercover, like James Bond, but really, picking a cover is influenced by what the agent needs out of it. Sometimes, a flashy memorable character is perfect for infiltration and distraction. But right now, you need to be forgettable.

Your clothes make you look like any tourist. You’re wearing light wash denim and a muted linen shirt. A basic black purse hangs off your shoulder, filled with just enough pocket trash to make it seem like a real person used it. In reality, every card, id, or receipt in it is fake. The only proof that you exist is the fact that you’re standing there.

You walk up to the bar, shooting a timid smile to the bartender. She comes over and introduces herself, even though it’s not necessary. You already know who she is. In return, you offer her one of your many fake first names.

“And what can I get you?”

“Just a vodka soda.”

It’s not your favourite drink but you can’t stand the taste of beer and you didn’t come here for drinks. Penny nods and steps away to make your drink, and you scan the bar. All of the TopGun pilots selected for the mission are here. Most are gathered around Rooster at the piano, singing along with him. Some are still left behind at the pool table. As your eyes pass over them, you notice that one pilot, who you recognize from the blond hair and broad shoulders to be Lieutenant Jake Seresin, is staring at you. You don’t let your eyes meet him, hoping that he’ll ignore you, and turn back around.

Penny sets down your drink, throwing another subtle nod at Penny before you head to a table tucked away in the corner, empty and with a perfect view of the whole bar. No one should bother you there. You weave through the crowd and pull yourself onto the stool. You continue to watch the pilots make their way through the bar. You take note of how they interact together between pretending to scroll on your phone.

You watch Hangman and his friend, Lieutenant Javy "Coyote" Machado talking closely together. They smirk, and look from each other to you and then back, before talking more. Then, Hangman slaps his friend on the shoulder and starts walking.

“Shit.”

So much for going unnoticed by anyone. It seems that Hangman’s ability to pick out women in a crowded bar outperforms your stealth.

Men.

He walks over to you, with that stupid smirk stretched across his stupidly attractive face and you grit your teeth, still pretending to be lost in your phone. You hear his footsteps on the wood floors and the pressure of his presence entering your space.

“Hey.”

“No,” you say, looking up. Hangman is staring down at you. His eyes are a shade of light green and they are filled with smug charm.

“I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“That’s because there isn’t anything you could say that I haven’t heard before.”

He still looms over you, his fingers softly tapping on the table in front of you. “Are you a mind reader?”

You scoff. “I might as well be.”

He raises an eyebrow so you indulge him.

“First you were going to introduce yourself, say that you’re a soldier in the military and that you saw me from across the room, thought I was beautiful and wanted to say hello. Then you’d offer to buy me a drink, try to flirt with me, I’d politely say I wasn’t interested, you would keep trying, and we’d go around in circles until the bartender kicks us out.”

Hangman smiles even wider, laughing. “Well, you’re wrong about one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m not a soldier in the military, I’m a pilot in the navy.”

You knew that, but you just roll your eyes and let him think that you and a team of CIA operatives haven’t been monitoring every move these guys have been making since they were put on the list to be brought here.

Hangman continues talking. “What would’ve happened after?”

“Hmm?”

“What would’ve happened after Penny kicked us out of the bar?” He leans closer, his eyes darkening ever so slightly.

Now it was your turn to laugh. “No.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“You’re not actually interested.”

“You’re so sure?”

“I am, because I know guys like you. I’m new. I’m a shiny mystery on legs that you can chase. The only reason you are over here is because your friend at the back-“ you give a wave to Coyote who’s doing a terrible job of acting like he hasn’t been watching the two of you like a hawk. “-has bet that you couldn’t be able to get me into your bed. But the fact of the matter is, you couldn’t handle me,” you finish, taking a long sip of your vodka soda.

Hangman smiles, his eyes flickering down your face and then back up. “The least you could do is tell me your name,” he says softly.

You lean in so close that he can feel your heat. “Not tonight, blondie.”

You lean back into your chair, taking another sweep of the bar, and freeze when you see who’s walked through the front door.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Hangman is confused at your sudden change in demeanour.

“What? What’s going on.”

The three men that were following you earlier in the day were back. As you try to see if you can hide somewhere, you make eye contact with the three men from across the bar. They’ve spotted you, so there's nothing you can do. “It seems that you’re not the only man that’s come to bother me tonight.”

You look around at what you have at your immediate disposal. You’re right by the jukebox, Rooster’s just finished his impromptu performance. Perfect.

“If you’ll excuse me Lieutenant Seresin, I need to take care of this.” You give him a wink and push yourself off your chair.

“Wait a minute, I didn’t tell you my-“

You reach down and plug the machine back in and slide in a quarter. You punch in a number as your new friends make their way through the crowd. The familiar first bars of an AC/DC song play and you crank the volume all the way up.

The music blares through the small bar, startling everyone but you. The blood roars in your ears like an angry crown during a cage fight, your heart pounds like the stomping of feet on a stadium floor. This is it for you. You were made for this.

“Let’s do this,” you mutter to yourself. “Remember your training. Be fluid, be fluid.”

You walk through the crowd, meeting your adversary head-on.

“Hey buddy, how’s it going.” You smile, and before he can get over his confusion as to why you’ve decided not to run out the back, it’s too late. Grabbing the beer bottle out of some poor cadet’s hand, you swing hard and smash it over his head. The force of the blow throws him into the bar and then crashing onto the floor.

The second guy doesn’t stand much of a chance either. He pulls out a serrated hunting knife and points it at you. You roll your eyes.

“Why don’t you put that away before you hurt yourself.”

He yells as takes a couple of stabs at you. You dodge the first and block the second but can’t stop his head from smashing into you. His forehead connects to your nose with a sicking crack and you stumble and shake the stars from your vision. You throw a punch in the side of his head and send a swift kick to his knee, causing him to cry out.

“Fuck you,” He growls before lunging at you, trying to stab you again. You grab a wood bar stool to your left and raise it. The blade plunges through the seat and gets stuck in it.

“Fuck me?” You say, before spinning around and slamming the stool into his body, breaking the chair apart and sending him flying. “Fuck you!” You spit out, warm blood dripping down your face.

A sudden force makes impact with your body. You yell out and are shoved into the pool table, tumbling over it and knocking someone over.

“Sorry,” you grit out to Payback, pushing yourself off of him.

“Do you need help?” Asks one of the other pilots. They look shocked.

“No thanks, I’m just finishing up.” You say before you jump back over the pool table.

The last man left standing laughs and you sneer.

“Alright sweetheart, let’s see what you're made of,” He taunts you.

You smirk. “Believe me Handsome, you won’t make it that long.”

You reach back to the pool table behind you and grab the cue ball from its place on the green velvet and catch the eyes of a shocked-looking man with glasses. Bob.

“I need to borrow this,” you say, smiling. Bob nods, more out of fear than an understanding of what you're saying. Probably because, with all the blood that must be covering your teeth, your smile looks like something out of a horror movie.

Then, as quick as lightning, you hurl the cue ball at your opponent. The heavy white ball collides with his face with a loud ‘crack!’ and he falls back unconscious.

The other two men are still unconscious on the ground as well, which means that you get just a second to process everything. The bar is silent. Someone, Rooster actually, turns down the volume on the Jukebox so that the ending guitar of ‘Back in Black’ continues at an appropriate volume. You hear the soft clink of glasses and your own breath in the air. Everyone in the bar is either looking at you or the massive damages you’ve caused.

“Well, shit,” you whisper between breaths before you shrug and start walking back to the table you were at. Hangman is still standing where you left him, his mouth hanging open in excited surprise.

“Who are-“

“Don’t bother asking,” you say, reaching for the drink you left at the table. “Because I won’t tell you the truth.”

You lift the glass to your lips while making eye contact with him. You gulp down the cocktail, the taste of vodka mixing with the taste of the blood that’s dripped onto your lips. You grimace, half from the burn in your throat and from your nose bridge where you were head-butted. You set the glass down on a coaster and nod to Hangman. Then, without a word, you grab your purse and turn away.

You weave through the chaos that your fight left behind and step up to the bar. The brunette bartender, Penny, doesn’t look happy. She looks quite horrified, her mouth is wide open in shock and she looks at you.

You try to give her a smile, which from the view of her and all the onlookers doesn't look too friendly. You can feel the blood gushing from your nose and dripping from your chin onto the bar.

Yeah, you don't think your bloody smile will smooth this over. You reach into your bag for your wallet and place a large wad of cash onto the bar.

“For my tab, and everyone’s next round.”

Penny is shocked, mouth still open as she takes the money, nodding slightly. As you turn to leave, you say, “And some people will come around tomorrow morning to repair the damages I’ve caused, don't worry about paying them. You have a nice night, ma’am.”

You reach the door and the bartender seems to come out of her shock. The sound of Penny ringing her bell and the erupting cheers of drunk soldiers follows you as you close the door behind you.

You smile and shake your head, gently wiping at the blood that covers your lower face. You slide your shoes off your feet and begin your walk back down the beach towards where you're staying. You turn back towards the Hard Deck, and from the window, illuminated by the inside lights, you see Lieutenant Seresin, with his stupidly handsome smirk, watching you retreat down the beach.

You give him a mock salute, which he laughs at, and then you turn around to pull out your burner phone.

“Hey, Vinny! Yea it's me. I’m gonna need a clean-up crew right away... Yea, some friends will be waiting for you here.... And when you fix up The Hard Deck tomorrow, I want you to bug it.”

You hang up and continue your trek down the beach, holding your shoes in one hand and humming a sweet jazz melody as the taste of your own blood lingers on your tongue.

--- The apartment the CIA gave you is nestled above a shop downtown and your bed has a great view of the sun rising. That night, you sleep well, the fight at the bar working out any stress you were holding in. The next morning, you start your day the way you always love to. You get yourself ready, putting on cloths, makeup and tucking your gun into the back of your waist band, before walking into town.

You find a mom-and-pop diner with a cheap breakfast and take a seat in one of the dated booths at the back of the restaurant. The diner is perfectly quiet. An older lady comes to take your order and pour you a cup of coffee.

“Someone had a rough night.” The waitress says. You laugh. While you’ve certainly looked worse, even the poultice your mom had shown you how to make and an ice pack couldn’t keep away all of the bruising. A dark purple bruise covers the bridge of your nose, and the ones under your shirt are pretty uncomfortable.

“You should’ve seen the other guys.”

You order your food and wait, sipping your coffee and looking out the window. Your phone buzzes on the table and a text message appears.

VINNY: AT THE HARD DECK FOR THOSE REPAIRS. NEW CAR IS ON ITS WAY. GOV. ISSUE.

VINNY: THAT MEANS DON’T FUCK THIS ONE UP. SEE YOU SOON.

You smile and shake your head as the waitress sets down a plate of French toast and fruit. You eat your breakfast alone and watch the cars go by. When you finish, you wait for a minute to drink the last mouthful of coffee before looking out the window again.

True to Vinny’s word, a government issue, all-black SUV pulls up in front of the diner. You stand and walk to the counter to pay your bill, wishing your waitress a nice day and leaving a generous tip, before stepping out the door and walking towards the car. You open the back door and are greeted with a familiar face.

“Ma’am.” You smile.

Alexandra Cross, your unit chief and longtime friend, gives you a nod and a slight smile. “Agent (L/N).” You slide into the car, smoothing the fabric of your black slacks and silk shirt as you settle into the leather seat. “I trust you found your way back stateside with little issue.” She says.

“For the most part. There was a small hiccup.”

Alexandra is an older Hispanic woman, in her late 40s with medium brown skin and salt and pepper hair. She nods at you, with a knowing glint in her brown eyes. “Mhm, yes. I heard. We have those men in custody right now, heading back to a holding centre. And the bar?”

“While I didn’t plan on making such a memorable scene, it did allow us access to the building. After Vinny is finished this morning, we’ll be monitoring all chatter taking place inside the establishment.”

She nods and shares a smug smile, fiddling with the gold band on her left finger. “I do love that man,” she says.

Your driver comes to a stop at the entrance to the Airbase, where he’s greeted by armed guards.

“Roll down the back windows please, sir.”

The blacked-out windows come down and you and Alexandra looks out to the soldier. You hand her your credentials. She leans forward, the silver streaks in her dark curly hair catching the sunlight, and hands him the clearance cards. He brings it to the computer and when he scans it, his eyebrows raise in surprise.

“My apologies for the wait ma’am. You’re free to go.”

He nods at the two of you before your driver rolls back up the window and drives through the gate. Alexandra turns back to you.

“When we arrive, we’ll meet with Vice Admiral Simpson and his men. We’ll go over everyone's roles in the mission, and protocol on base. The rest of our team arrived this morning and are waiting for us. I’ve been told specifically that we aren’t authorized to conduct any surveillance of inside the walls of the base.”

“Vincent will be disappointed.”

“He’ll live with it. We need to be on our best behaviour for this one.”

“You expect there to be difficulties?”

Alex signs. “Our unit is known for being a tad unpredictable and Admiral Simpson is known to be a hard ass, so even though we are both vital to the success of the others’ missions, I’d rather we kept the peace between our organizations.”

“This might be difficult, Alex. Servicemen are often overly cocky, especially pilots.”

Alex smiles at you over the rim of her shades and says, “Well then I trust you to be your charming self.”

The car rolls to the front of the Air Base and comes to a stop. Alex leans back towards her driver. “Wish us luck, Rick,” she says and the two of you step out of the car.

The California sun beats down onto you, heating the top of your head and making you squint through your shades. On the pavement stand Hondo and Warlock, who great you and your supervisor.

“It’s a pleasure,” you say, stepping forward to shake their hands

“We can finish our introductions with the Admiral. the rest of your team is inside.” They say.

You are led inside, through a hall filled with pictures of TOPGUN alumni. From around the corner, someone appears and walks beside you, then another.

It’s Nichole Woods and Teresa, your technical engineer and analyst, respectively.

“Thank god you’re here,” Terri says.

“How was your flight in, ladies?”

“A nightmare, you know I hate packing,” Terri says. “TSA is always a nightmare.”

“You could always pack lighter. You should have seen the shit she brought. ” Nicky says.

“Everything I brought is vital to my performance on this team! Don’t talk about my babies like that.”

You turn down another hallway, and stop as a man dressed in a Navy uniform joins you.

“Admiral Simpson, these are the CIA operatives that we're assigned to.”

Before Cheif Cross can be introduced, she steps forward.

“Alexandra Cross, with National Clandestine Services. It's a pleasure, sir. I’ve heard much about you and TOPGUN.” She reaches over the desk and they shake hands.

“There’s another Cross on your team swell. Any relation?” Cyclone looks at your boss with a look the both of you recognize. He already knows the answer to this.

“You’re referring to our lead technical engineer, Vincent Cross, who is also my husband.”

“I see,” he says, without much emotion. Alex wasn’t wrong, this guy feels like a stick in the mud.

He begins walking with, you talking as you go. “We’re setting you up in one of the classrooms next to the one our pilots will be in. I’ve been told that your analysts have brought a lot of their gear.”

The admiral turns and opens up the doors to show a large room, with rows of chairs and a large screen at the front.

“I hope this will do.”

Terri looks around the room, checking the outlets on the side of the screen before nodding to Alex. “We’ve made do with much less, Admiral. This will be fine.”

“ Good. Your team comes highly recommended so I’ll be interested to watch your people work .”

“Thank you, sir.”

“For the rest of us,” you say. “We’d like to know if theirs a shooting range on the base, and a place for us to conduct weapons tests.”

“I beg your pardon, agent.”

“Our engineers have experimental equipment that we often test run, and some of these things shouldn’t be tested inside. Is there an area outside that would be suitable for them to use?”

“Near our outdoor gun range would probably be best. I’ll have someone bring you there.”

The door to the classroom opens again and in steps a middle-aged, handsome man who you know to be Pete “Maverick” Mitchel.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning. Everyone, this is Captain Pete Mitchel…”

“The man who will be instructing the recruits on the mission,” you finish. You introduce yourself to the man and shake hands. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Captain”

“And I’ve heard a lot of you,” Maverick says. “Was it your team that discovered the base?”

“No. An asset in the UN found it and sent it to us to take care of, then we were told to bring the navy on board.” Alex says. “While your priority for this mission is to destroy the enrichment plant, our team is more interested in the Airbase that defends it. We hoped that our analysts would be able to access the base remotely and that we would be able to shut off the SAM Systems before your people begin the assault but there’s a problem”

Maverick and the rest of the officers find seats as you gesture for Teresa to continue.

“Normally, servers are connected to the internet when they run complicated software. A server will use the internet to share information across multiple locations and those internet access points allow us to hack a network remotely. However, because of the secret nature of this base and plant, its creators chose not to do this.”

“To hide the plant from prying eyes, they’ve put themselves back into the dark ages. Everything runs offline. The server, computers, surveillance, even the SAMS that defend the valley, are on their closed off, completely isolated network.”

“Meaning any access to those servers and their data needs to happen on location.” Maverick finishes. “Jesus Christ.”

“Which is why we’re here,” Alex says.

You speak up. “Before your strike team is deployed, I will travel undercover and break into the airbase, retrieve any relevant info from their servers, and then escape the area on foot before the missile strike destroys the airbase.”

“With no backup.”

“I won’t need it.”

“If you’re delayed in the slightest, you would be on the ground while an airstrike is taking place up the mountain and tomahawk misses rain down on you.” Cyclone points out.

“Then it’s good that I’m fast on my feet, sir.” You smirk.

Alex continues for you. “We’d like to request that this portion of the assignment's details are kept from the recruits. At least until we’ve decided that they need to know them.”

“Then what should they be told?”

“All they’ll need to know is that we are CIA analysts, here to provide accurate intelligence for the coming assignment.”

“They might believe that story ma’am, but they won’t believe that that one,” Maverick points to you. “Is an analyst. The pilots are still talking about the three men she nearly killed in town last night.”

You chuckle.

“Whether they believe us or not, that’s the story they will be told.” Chief Cross finishes. “Will that be all gentlemen? Because my team would like time to get set up before we greet the recruits.”

Admiral Simpson nods. “I believe that’s all ma’am. He steps forward and shakes her hand. “I look forward to working with you.”

“You as well, sir.”

“Captain Mitchel,” you nod. “I look forward to seeing you fly. I’ve heard lots about you.”

“You can just call me Maverick, and I’ve heard quite a few stories about you too.”

You smile. “I hope you haven’t heard too much, ‘cause then I might not be doing my job right.”

You watch as Cyclone, Hondo, Warlock, and Maverick leave, the door clicking as it shuts behind them.

Alex turns back to you all, the smile dropping from her face. “Alright, let's get to work.”

Nick is up immediately and out the door. “I’m gonna go get my stuff!” She calls behind her, making Terri chuckle.

“I’m gonna go help her.”

“Before you do,” Alex says. “What’s the status of our asset?’

“They went radio silent, ma’am. I can’t get a hold of them.” She says.

“Then our job for today, along with appearing at the pilots’ briefing, will be to get that handled.”

“Speak and it shall be done.”

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

author's notes

alright! here it is! If you've made it this far, thank you for reading. I'm really excited for this fanfic.

First off, because I'm writing about the CIA it's important to know that the info about them isn't accurate. One major inaccuracy is that CIA "Agents" aren't a thing. They are called Operatives or Officers, and an "Agent" or "Asset" is a foreign citizen that supplies info to the CIA, like an FBI informant! However I've chosen to ignore that and just refer to the reader and her team as both 'agents' and 'operatives' because I think it sounds better. Another thing to know is that the National Clandestine Services is a Branch of the CIA that does the spy stuff. Just thought that was cool.

Sorry for the inacuracies, but I'm sure no CIA "Operatives" will care that I'm spreading lies, It probably helps them.

So far, this story will have 9 chapters. I don't know how often I'll update, as I'm not a very fast writer. I plan to add this Story to AO3 and when I do, I'll put this link at the top of the chapter!

Thanks for reading, if you have any questions, I'd love to answer them, just message me.

Scribe <3

Tag List: @srry-itshockeyszn, @saramaple

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick x reader #code names and call signs #the scribe writes!#top gun fic #top gun x reader #cn&cs!fic

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ukrfeminism · 2 years ago

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3 minute read

Children are being exposed to online pornography from as young as nine, according to a study for the children's commissioner for England.

A quarter of 16-21-year-olds first saw pornography on the internet while still at primary school, it suggests. By the age of 13, 50% had been exposed to it.

The findings have been linked to low self-esteem among young people and harmful views of sex and relationships.

Commissioner Dame Rachel de Souza said it was "deeply concerning".

In a nationally representative survey of more than 1,000 16-21-year-olds, 38% had found pornographic content accidentally.

Joanne Schneider's son stumbled across a pornography website, aged eight, after typing swear words he had heard at school into a search engine.

"We'd put all the normal safety features in place and had removed apps such as YouTube but didn't for one second think that my son could find himself on adult-entertainment sites within a few seconds," Ms Schneider, from London, said.

"As soon as I saw what was happening, I closed the site - but both him and I were left in shock at what he had seen. I felt so terrible about the whole thing.

"All of a sudden I was having to explain it all, including the fact that what he saw was artificial and far from what real people look like."

'Strangling' seen as normal

Of the 18-21-year-olds, 79% had seen pornography involving sexual violence as children.

Almost half of young people say girls expect sex to involve physical aggression, such as airway restriction, the commissioner's report says.

One 12-year-old told Dame Rachel her boyfriend had "strangled" her during their first kiss. He had seen it in pornography "and thought it normal".

The commissioner urges "every adult in a responsible position" to take the findings seriously.

The Online Safety Bill, going through the House of Lords, should be used to protect children from internet pornography, she says.

"It should not be the case that young children are stumbling across violent and misogynistic pornography on social-media sites," Dame Rachel says.

"I truly believe we will look back in 20 years and be horrified by the content to which children were being exposed.

"Let me be absolutely clear - online pornography is not equivalent to a 'top-shelf' magazine.

"The adult content which parents may have accessed in their youth could be considered 'quaint' in comparison to today's world of online pornography."

Dame Rachel encouraged parents not to shy away from the topic at home and make it clear extreme pornography is "not real, it's acting".

She told BBC Breakfast children "want their mums and dads to talk to them often, even when they're really young, in an age-appropriate way about the things they might see so they're not confused".

She said conversations about "simple boundaries" like why it might not be right for youngsters to have internet-connected phones or social media accounts were also important.

The Online Safety Bill is due to be debated in Parliament this week amid calls from some MPs and peers for it to include tougher measures on age restrictions on social media.

Dame Rachel said parents "can't stop the tide of this stuff" without government intervention and backed the law, before adding"frankly [tech firms] are multi-billion companies, they should be having a moral compass and doing this now" .

Twitter is the primary source of pornography for young people, the study suggests, with 41% saying they had accessed it there.

Dedicated pornography sites came next, followed closely by Instagram, Snapchat and search engines.

'Extreme material'

The National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children charity has long been urging the government to implement strong measures in the Online Safety Bill to protect minors.

Policy lead Richard Collard said the impact pornography could have was "deeply worrying".

"Ofcom must be given the powers to set minimum standards which ensure the rollout of robust age-assurance measures on platforms where pornographic material can be viewed," he said.

"This will ensure children are protected from immediate and future harm."

Andy Lulham, from safety-technology provider VerifyMy, said the report was "extremely worrying but sadly not surprising".

"As it stands, there is nothing to stop children from easily accessing pornographic and other extreme material online," he said.

"This issue has existed for far too long - it's time for politicians, regulators and the private sector to finally come together and help safeguard children, the most vulnerable section of society."

22 notes · View notes

la-fille-en-aiguilles · 4 years ago

Text

Dog Tags

Billy Russo x Female!Reader

Request by @nebulastarr : Hey! Whenever requests open up again, could you do a Billy Russo x Reader where the reader liked Billy but doesn’t want to tell him because she thinks he won’t feel the same way

A/N: I was going to wait and get down to writing this once I was finished with my series... But this one has simply hit a little too close to home. I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I saw it and I ended up putting a lot of personal stuff in it so I’m sorry if it feels chaotic at times. Thank you for requesting, love, I hope it lives up to your expectations. The Only Living Thing series will be back with its third part next week. The song: Isak Danielson - Power

All you heard was an excited scream, that raised above all of the New York’s past-6-pm commotion, as a slender tall body smashed into you, locking you in a bone-crushing hug. You laughed happily, albeit feeling a little bit uncomfortable in Karen’s strong hold. You knew it didn’t seem that way, but Karen packed a wicked punch in those elegant arms of hers. Those self-defense sessions with Frankie boy that she’s been gushing about over the phone must have been finally paying off.

“Once I am done hugging you, I am so kicking your ass,” she breathed out into your hair as she squeezed you harder, as if reading your thoughts. “You’ve been ghosting me for what, a month now?”

You sighed guiltily as Karen pushed you slightly away, keeping her hands on your shoulders. You watched her as she studied your face, a creeping smile stinging at the corners of her mouth.

Grabbing one of her elbows, you groaned dramatically, pulling her towards the busy road. With your hands locked, you finally admitted:

“I did suck at communicating these past couple of weeks. Work’s been…. hectic”, the lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but this was the best explanation you’ve been able to come up with so far. “Please don’t kill me”.

Trying to keep up with your power walk, Karen let a bubbling laughter leave her lips.

“You’re not the one who should be worried then,” she gave you one of those bright trademark smiles of hers. “Next time I’m going to interview Russo, I’ll…”

You stuttered at her tirade as you walked, and of course it didn’t go by unnoticed. Karen was the best journalist you have ever met during your prominent career. She just sensed that sort of thing.

“I’m getting this ‘I-meant-to-tell-you-Karen-but-I-didn’t-and-now-you’ll-need-to-fight-it-out-of-me’ vibe”, she gave you a scrutinising look. “Want to maybe share whatever it is you’ve been not telling me before I go full interrogation mode on your plump backside?”

You rolled your eyes as you led her to a terrace-ringed Upper East Side high-rise, waving to the doorman through the glass doors. Jackson, a thirty-five year old ex-military with three kids and a labrador, gave you a brilliant smile as he hurried to open them for you.

“Good evening, Mrs Y/L/N!” He bowed his head in a stiff, very army-like manner. “A package arrived this afternoon for you, should I bring it up?”

From the corner of your eye, you caught Karen looking around, confusion written all over her face. You had a lot to catch up on.

“Don’t worry about it, Jax, just give it to me,” you didn’t mean to urge him, but you couldn’t wait to change out of your corporate attire into some comfortable old pyjamas and crack open a bottle of whiskey - that’s right, some habits did die hard. And to think you were a bubbles-kind of girl a year ago when you met him.

You could feel Karen’s blue eyes drill a hole in the back of your head as you took a small, envelope-sized package from Jackson’s hands.

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the elevator that Karen cleared her throat.

“When you said you’d rather have a girls’ night in, I asked Frank to pick me up from Queens, not from…here,” she spoke, her eyes skimming expensive red wood and mirrors. “Did you finally sleep with Russo and moved in with him?”

Whatever it was that Karen expected you to say to that, it definitely didn’t include you spitting out a roaring laugh, as you nearly dropped the package on the floor.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” you informed her after you finally restored your breath. “I left Anvil. And, well, Russo. At the end of last month”.

—

A half-bottle of whiskey for you and a bottle of white wine for Karen later, both of you were sprawled out on the lambskins thrown over the hardwood floor in your living room. Jazz music was seeping out of the speakers by the TV, a couple of Diptyque candles emitting a soft yellow glow.

You stared at the ceiling of your new living quarters, your mind a blur. As you folded your hands on your stomach, you felt Karen twitch as she bent her elbow and leaned her blond head on the palm of her hand, facing you.

“So let me get this straight,” she paused, narrowing her eyes. “After becoming the Forbes’ hottest CSO, concluding what can easily be described as deals of the century - especially the one with Anthony Stark aka Iron Man and his magnificent goatee…”

Involuntary, you giggled at this. This talk brought out some very dear memories that you wouldn’t trade for the world - the way Billy’s dark eyes shimmered in the dim lights of the opera house as he gave you a look that said you did it, ever the perfect team… Or the way he threw his arms around your frame, his long fingers sliding down your back… You knew you looked good in that dress, but the moment Billy saw you wearing it… You felt like the only girl in the world, the way his jaw dropped a tad, his lips opening up in awe…

Oookay, Y/N, can’t go there, your mind screamed at you as you wiped that dreamy smile off your face. Sitting down, you took your whiskey glass, and washed those memories away with a gulp of amber liquid.

Meanwhile, Karen ranted on.

“…you just quit?!”

She jumped to her feet all of the sudden, brushing her blond hair away from her face as she watched you excitedly.

“Jesus Christ, did Billy make a move?! He made a move on you, didn’t he?”

The urge to facepalm was fierce, almost overpowering, but you managed to resist. Slamming your empty glass against the floor harder than you intended, you gave her a bored look.

“No, Karen, why… Why in the world would you think that?” You sounded just a little short of desperate, so you cleared your throat. “I was his second-in-command, that wouldn’t have been appropriate…”

When you were done studying the flame, dancing within the glass walls of one of the nearby candles, you raised your eyes to meet Karen’s. She wore quite possibly the most blatant look of ‘you are shitting me’ on her face.

“So you just quit?” she stared at you in disbelief, unblinking. “No explanations provided?”

“This wasn’t how it happened,” you said, hating the fact that you felt like you had to justify yourself. You brought your knees closer, hugging them tightly. “I…”

—

“…I’m here to see William Russo”.  

With a nonchalant gesture, you unbuttoned your Burberry coat, looking at a red-head secretary behind a desk that screamed power and status with every inch of its epic proportions.

Anvil was certainly new money. With all of those hedge funds injecting their cash into emerging companies, there was no shortage of these - entrepreneurial endeavours that didn’t last long.

You didn’t know that at the time, but you were going to make sure this one would.

“My name is Y/N Y/N/L,” you added, perching your sunglasses on top of your head. “He’s expecting me.”

The red-head gave you a polite smile before checking something on her Mac.

“Welcome, Miss Y/N/L,” she almost seemed shy, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before standing up. “Mr Russo is indeed waiting for you. If you would like to follow me, please”.

As the redhead led you through the training grounds, packed with fit men and women that looked like they walked straight outta Gym Shark ad, you did notice a couple of vagrant stares in your direction. You couldn’t blame them. You looked slightly out of place; more Vogue than the setting allowed for.

You quit your job as the COO of a global FinTech company just weeks ago, looking for a new challenge. It was an adventure of a lifetime, and while your ex-executive board had literally begged you to stay, once you’d decided something, no promise of a generous promotion could make you change your mind. While you absolutely loved your job, working for one of the most prominent online payment giants in the world, it felt like it was time for you to step down. Due to all the processes and wise investments you’d initiated, the company could make millions of profits without their CEO having so much as to lift a finger.

And you, well, you lived for the hustle. And that’s exactly what you were here for.

You still had your doubts about Anvil’s owner and acting CEO, though. William “Billy” Russo had already become a household name in the financial circles, albeit the company he was spearheading had little to do with the FinTech space. Some said he had the potential to succeed; others badmouthed him for being ruthless and balancing on the very edge of legal limits.

In short, the man had you intrigued. So the very moment he called and invited you to drop by Anvil to talk strategy, you knew you had to meet him.

See the beast for yourself, so to speak.

The first thing you noticed about William Russo as you walked into his office, spacious and entirely transparent, with its glass walls overlooking the training grounds, was experience, for the lack of a better word. It was etched into his every handsome feature, especially into his scruff strong-willed jaw. As he raised his gaze to meet yours upon the red-head’s announcement, his black eyes swallowing you whole, you realized no light reflected on their surface. There was a certain confidence to him as he raised from his chair, his white shirt straining some over his chest, long dark strands of hair falling onto his long eyelashes. This man meant business, as those black impenetrable eyes zeroed in on yours. He almost seemed too flawless - to spotless to be an ex-marine, stained with blood and murder.

All that Hallmark handsomeness was nothing but a cover.

Before William Russo had even got a chance to open his mouth, you were determined to find out what was lurking underneath.

“Mrs Y/L/N”, the hot-shot gave you a polite smile. “Thank you for coming”.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Russo”, you didn’t move an inch. He may have invited you for interview, but he wasn’t the only one with a long set of demands.

You briefly wondered if he knew that.

Before your thoughts could take you further, William Russo made his way to you, composed and calculated. He stopped by your side, albeit for a moment; rolling the sleeves of his shirt further up, he shot the red-head a charming smile (nothing like the one he gave you).

“Olivia, would you please bring a fresh pot of coffee to the conference room? Mrs Y/L/N and I have a lot to discuss”.

When he turned back to face you, you noted unconsciously that he was taller than you expected, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders. The cool and composed look was back on his face as he motioned towards the doors.

“Would you like to follow me, Mrs…”

“Y/N”, you cut in with a slight raise of your chin. “I’d also prefer to call you William while I tear Anvil’s strategy down”.

His reaction didn’t disappoint. Some tension left his arms, his stung-up body relaxing just enough for a spark of mischief and curiosity flicker its way to his eyes’ surface.

A twinkle of a smile danced across his lips as he bit on the inside of his cheek, nodding ever so slightly in approval.

“It’s Billy”, he said, amusement echoing in his every word. "I don’t expect any leniency, Y/N”.

“Good”, you replied instantly, looking him straight into his eyes. “That’s not what I came here for”.

He nodded again.

And this time, there was liveliness in the quirk of his brow and a touch of insecurity in the corners of his mouth.

Now that was the man you could potentially work with.

—

Working with William Russo was anything but predictable. There were, however, certain patterns to his way of handling things. Whatever the trouble was, Billy was good at seeing the bigger picture - he was usually able to put things into perspective, but there were occasions when he refused to. You dare say that sometimes, you felt like he thought that money didn’t matter - like Anvil’s financial prosperity didn’t matter - as long as his team got not to risk their lives one extra time. You watched him turn down several lucrative deals that you’d busted your ass to put on his table, because it involved sending his men a little too far from home, in a place where he had no strings to pull whatsoever should anything go south. A part of you (the part that wasn’t frustrated as hell) admired him for that - it didn’t, however, stop you from disagreeing with him, time and again.

You may have never been to Iraq, and may have never known the horrors of sleeping with the bombs exploding a mere kilometer away, but you knew a game-changer when you saw it. There were risks involved, there was no arguing about that, but those were calculated, and those kind of deals could make Anvil jump straight to the top of the private military sector overnight.

William and you disagreed.

When William and you disagreed, no voice was raised, no blood was spilt, but Billy usually became distant, cold and just short of snappy when those conversations took place. 

He only crossed the line once.

  You were three months into your job as Anvil’s Chief Strategy Officer when Mayhew happened.

The clock on your desk showed midnight as you paced in your office, on the phone with Rex Mayhew, the U.S. Ambassador in Cairo. A cat-and-mouse game between the Egyptian Armed Forces and the nefarious arms dealer group had become common knowledge since a week or so; the U.S. special forces got involved in the conflict when it’d been discovered that the arms were being transported onto American soil. Rex, an old friend from your Yale days, had let you in on the fact that General Richard Ravelin, in charge of the operation, was looking to reinforce his rangs with private military before “neutralising the threat”. This was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, with a potential governmental recognition in play… and Billy wanted to hear nothing of it.

You were exhausted and barely hanging in there; Billy was categorical and stubborn.

You’ve dropped the phone on your table promising Rex you were going to give him an answer in two hours, tops. Taking a deep breath, you walked out of your office, your bare feet thudding on the parquet floors of the corridor. When you reached Billy’s hideout, you found the man leaning against his desk with a glass of whiskey in his unnerved hand.

“Billy…” you spoke firmly, barely stepping through the doorway. “Rex…”

“Can go fuck himself”.

Oh, okay. No sugarcoating this. Alright.

You saw his lips barely touch the amber liquid as he slammed the glass against the surface of his desk.

“I said no, Y/N,” he wasn’t facing you anymore, leaning on his desk with his hands digging into the wood, his back tense. “Please just go home. Have a good night sleep. We will talk about this tomorrow.”

You could have sworn you felt your head starting to fume. This was the third time Billy Russo was shutting you down. For the third time he was making you feel like an incompetent fool when you were trying to do your goddamn job.

Why in hell would he hire you if whatever vision you had for Anvil didn’t match with his own?!

“You could at least say this to my face, Billy,” you spoke a bit harshly before you could stop yourself. “You know, to my tired and disappointed face, with a mouth that you have been shutting up every time it offers you a deal of the century”.

This sounded so much better in your head.

“Why did you hire me?” you asked almost immediately, trying to soften the impact of the words that had already escaped. “If this isn’t the direction in which you want to take your company, maybe I should just…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Y/N, just fucking leave already!” Billy snapped like a branch that’s been holding too much weight, the sound of it dry and final.

…maybe I should just rethink the entire plan.

There was no point in finishing that sentence now, was there?

“I was there long before you came along, so I’d think I know a shitstorm in the making when I see one!” Billy was looking at you alright, brushing his hair back, his eyes black and void.

You had wished It would have been new to you - looking in William Russo’s eyes and not seeing him there. But it wasn’t. He was back to his Hallmark version of a man, but instead of playing a hero, he was now putting on his villain guise.

“Let’s get something straight here,” he leaned back on his desk, crossing his arms on his chest, his black eyes narrowed. “While you were making your way to the top of a rich-ass cookie-cutter FinTech company, I was crawling in the dirt in Iraq under a downpour of the Trident D5LE missiles. While the closest thing you’ve come to havin’ your hands dirty was bribing an investor or two, I was fucking beheadin’ people under the direction of the CIA,” his words were cold, measured and rhythmic, like a round of bullets being fired on a range. “You know nothing of what’s it like to be in the middle of that kind of shit show, princess, so when I fucking say no, you listen. Is that clear?”

Bark. Sit. Roll over.

“Crystal. Sir.”, you finally broke the heavy silence hanging in the air, just barely resisting the urge to salute him. “I’ll see myself out.”

Biting the inside of your cheek like your life depended on it, once you turned your back on him, your first thought was don’t you dare cry on his account, bitch and then almost right away wait at least until you’re home.

You could have sworn you heard William call your name in a stranded voice, but you made sure to slam the door somewhat hard as you left his office so you could pretend you didn’t hear him.

If you were to face him now, with all that power and toughness he exuded… You would never admit it, even to yourself, but you’d just end up on the floor, huddled into a shivering little ball.

—

You were grateful that the next day after the shit went down with Mayhew fell on a Friday. When you stumbled into your apartment in Queens at almost one in the morning, you immediately shot an email to the HR department asking for a day off. Once that’d been done, you dialled Rex to decline his offer to introduce Anvil to general Ravelin, washed the makeup off your face and crawled into bed, hugging the second pillow close to your chest.

You didn’t cry, if that’s what you’re wondering.

As you rolled out of bed in the morning at around 8 am, you took a shower and grabbed a coffee from the kitchen before settling behind your home office desk with a heavy head. When you opened up the Keynote presentation with your strategy outlined for the H1, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at the iPhone you left on your couch last night.

You weren’t going to check if you had any missing calls.

There was nothing you had left to say to each other.

…with your chest hollow, you powered up the screen. There were no missed calls and no new messages.

It all looked like you had another strategy to build now. If Billy Russo thought that calling you a rich-ass princess that knew nothing of the world, all butterflies and rainbows, was going to make you resign, then man, was he in for a surprise.

You once heard one of his men compare you to a military convoy, when the guy thought you weren’t listening.

He had no idea.

You spent the morning refilling you coffee cup and rebuilding your H1 plan from scratch. After about eleven calls with the people you knew could get you a foot in the door of the offices of some government officials, billionaires and generals, after typing, deleting and typing again for 5 hours straight, by 2pm you had a solid game plan. You were pretty sure it would still need some tweaking from Castle, who essentially held the role of the Chief Operating Officer, dispatching men and women on missions and planning operations, and, well, from Billy Russo.

The Badass-ex-Sniper-turned-CEO himself.

You kept the email short and to-the-point, sending the document over to Russo with Castle on copy, saying you’d be in the office to debrief on Monday.   Refusing to check whether your email’d been opened, you slammed your MacBook shut.

The rest of the day rolled on uneventfully. You grabbed a coffee with the People Culture Officer from your previous company, who also happened to be one of your dearest friends; then you picked up your dry cleaners and did some shopping, cracking for a pair of new shoes in Saks Fifth Avenue.

Shoes were, indeed, your weakness.

By the time you got home, the tired sun was yawning, stretching its rays in one last effort before rolling into bed. Humming a Dua Lipa song under your breath, you were putting your new Jimmy Choo’s away when you suddenly heard your phone ring.

You didn’t even have to look at it to know who it was.   You checked the time, however, noticing is was two minutes after the official end of the working day.

“Hi, Y/N”, Billy spoke, clearing his throat. “Are you… Um… Any chance you’re available to meet tonight? I would really appreciate it if you could give me fifteen minutes of your time. Please.”

It sounded like the real Billy Russo was back around. Insecure. Rugged. Imperfect.

“Can you pick me up?” you asked softly, “I’ll text you my address. There’s a pizza place just around the corner, I could use a free slice”, you circled the cold coffee cup you left on the counter with your finger. “Free as in you’re paying, Russo”.

A laugh that came somewhere from within caressed your ear.

“Uh, yes, I’m actually… Yeah, thanks. I’m leaving the office now,” even if he tried to hide it, a shocked surprise still seeped through the cracks in between the vowels.

You chuckled silently at his reaction.

“Just one more thing,” you ventured, placing the cup in the sink and making your way to the balcony - your small piece of heaven with a wooden chair, pillows and lavender. As you stepped outside, you put oyour free hand on the railing, just to feel the coolness of it, the evening air and the gentle flower smell stroking your skin. “What kind of car should I be on the lookout for?”

Billy hesitated, biting his bottom lip, running his nervous fingers through the thick strands of dark hair. The setting sun was hitting him just from the right angle, making his sculpted cheeks look like they were made of marble.

“A Rolls Royce Wraith”, he squirmed, rubbing his forehead, probably realising how lame and pretentious it sounded. “I’ll call you once I’m downstairs”.

“Uh-huh”, you smirked, leaning on the railing with your forearms.

You saw Russo pinch the bridge of his nose, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip again.   Your small balcony provided quite a view, when you really thought about it.

“Don’t take too long”, you couldn’t help it, it really was stronger than you. “I’m starving”.

With a wide grin, you dropped the call and went back into your apartment.

You were planning to make him wait for ten extra minutes when he would finally “arrive”.

Just for the hell of it.

—

“That’s a lot of hot sauce for one pizza”, Billy commented, watching you spray your truffles and cheese generously with the piquant olive oil.

You gave him a mischievous smile.

“What can I say,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair and licking the tip of your finger after you swept a drop of it from the top of the bottle. “I like them hot”.

That startled a laugh out of Billy as he eyed you with something in his irises looking a lot like awe.

Just when he was about to speak, a servant brought a glass of red wine for him and bottle of sparkling water for you.

You thanked the guy with a sweet smile, while Billy eyed him a bit coldly, obviously waiting for him to leave.

When the waiter had finally made himself scarce, Billy softly called your name.

You raised your eyes to meet him, struggling as hell to keep your stare vacant. (Which was hard to do with some foreign tightness in your throat).

“Before we dig in and I hope spend a nice evening as two friends, getting together on a Friday night”, he didn’t even blink? Was he blinking? You couldn’t tell, his black eyes swallowing you whole, again. “I want to apologise. I was completely out of line… It was unacceptable. You don’t need my validation, of course, but I still want you to know that you are doing a terrific job at Anvil, taking us to the heights I never even thought existed. It’s just… It’s hard for me sometimes to be a good CEO and someone who promised to take care of my men at the same time… Everything is happening so fast, I’m afraid to lose my footing.”

You reached out for his hand across the table before you could stop yourself. You didn’t take it, but your fingers brushed his ever so slightly before you realized what you were just about to do. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, searching for a reaction.   Billy remained perfectly still, not taking his eyes off you.

You grabbed a napkin next to his wrist, pretending this was what you had meant to do all along.   “We’ll get there, Billy”, you said, a small encouraging smile blooming on your lips. “We just need some tweaking”.

You weren’t sure if you were talking about strategy at this point anymore.

—

You had a great time at dinner.

(And a whole-hearted laugh as Billy finished your remainders of the truffle pizza, downing a litre of water to numb down the burning sensation in his throat afterwards).

You talked about your respective lives, your ex-colleagues, your hopes for the future… You dared think this who the real Billy Russo was.

And he was incredible.

After the two of you were done with dinner, you offered him to come upstairs to your place and go through the new strategy together. He didn’t hesitate, although you could swear you’d seen something ambiguous flash in the depths of his dark eyes before he nodded.

(You must have imagined it.)

The two of you ended up sprawled out on your soft faux fur carpet talking game plan, bouncing ideas off each other. You watched Billy frown, as he rubbed his mouth with his long fingers, smile in excitement and shake his head in awe when you voiced your ideas - you felt proud and appreciated, and you wouldn’t trade the sensation for anything in the world.

A couple of hours later the two of you had finally decided that it was enough brainstorming for one night, and you rose to your feet to go and make Billy a coffee before he got behind the wheel. As you pushed the start button on your coffee machine, you heard him speak over the noise.

“You know I’ve done four tours - three in Iraq and one in Afghanistan”, you popped your head up, only to see him play absentmindedly with something on his chest. “And every time I’m considering a mission for Anvil, I find myself back in there again… A part of a death squad.”

You carefully picked up his cup of coffee and made your way back to him. You didn’t say a word as you leaned lower to hand it over to him, encouraging him to go on.   Billy thanked you in a whisper before clearing his throat.

“Every time I have to send them somewhere, especially overseas, I force myself to stop and think… Is this really worth it? Is a fat check really worth putting the lives of my men and women in danger? And most importantly - you may think it’s stupid…” he avoided your gaze, staring into his coffee cup, a miserable smile on his lips. “I think, will it make a difference? If one of them dies on a mission, I have to at least know they made a difference… it’s selfish and it’s more about the peace of my own mind, but it is what it is, you know?”

When he looked up at you, his eyes were full, full to the brim. There was so much emotion in them, hatred, misery, hope, adoration, all whipped in a wild mix that was Billy Russo’s dark, velvet eyes.

“I carry these at all times,” the fingers of his free hand dropped to his chest, as he got a hold of something hanging around his neck. A necklace? “When in doubt, I just look at them - they help me remember where I’ve been and what I’ve done - and I just know if it’s worth it or not. The answer is usually no, by the way”.

He smiled again, the curve of his lips looking less haunted this time, as he sipped on his coffee.

Dog tags. Those were Russo’s dog tags.

“So they’re your reminder that, even being a badass CEO of a private military company”, you couldn’t help but feel some kind of zero gravity settling in your lower stomach as you saw him chuckle at your words. “…you still have a heart”.

“How poetic”, Billy teased you without missing a beat, putting the empty cup on the floor next to him. “But yeah. Sort of, I guess”.

As you fell asleep that night, you dreamed about explosions, piquant olive oil and holding Billy Russo’s dog tags in your hand.

—

The time flew by after that. In 8-month time (after some tweaking) Billy Russo and you became a team. It sometimes felt like nothing could stop you, as long as you were together.

It should not have come as a surprise that the two of you earned yourselves a catchy nickname - at first, it was spoken solely behind your backs, but soon enough it became some kind of a title, more powerful than that of the CEO or the CSO.

Anvil’s men and women (and especially Frank - the fact that he invented the nickname secretly tickled him pink) - were now calling you Bonnie and Clyde. The ultimate partners in crime, against all odds, doing the impossible.

The two of you also settled in an almost homely kind of routine. Ever since that Mayhew fiasco and the day that followed, Friday had become the non-spoken partners in crime day. What it meant in practice was exchanging Friday jokes on Anvil’s internal communications suite…

(Billy once attacked you with a “would you look at this, just found the actual footage of your interview @ Anvil”. Before you even got a chance to answer, he forwarded you a cheesy meme with two old women speaking to each other, one of them saying “We need someone who can do the job of two men”, and the other responding “oh, so it’s only a part-time job then”. When you shot him back a message asking whether he really considered himself an arthritic old woman, that seemed to have shut him up).

…grabbing a beer in a bar nearby…

(you sometimes invited your colleagues to join you, plus it was an unspoken rule that Frank and Karen were to be there as well)

…you making fun of Billy Russo’s eating habits…

(It was honestly a nuisance to have a lunch with him. The list of things he refused to eat went on and on: no asian food, no food chain restaurants (even high-rated), no soups, no cheesecakes… He sure was settling well in that peaceful life he earned after spending all those tours living off canned food).

…and just overall enjoying each other’s company.

By the time the ninth month of your being Anvil’s CSO had rolled in, you couldn’t imagine not seeing Billy Russo every day. Not noticing him rolling his eyes at a smart-ass comment you or Frank made, or his orbs lighting up every time you told him the deal with that or this decision maker had gone through. You simply could not understand how you managed to live day in and day out, and think you were genuinely happy, before you actually met Billy. Everything before him just faded away somehow, your memories lost their colour and spike in comparison to the life you were living now. You kicked ass at your job, your career thrived, but most importantly, you were feeling like this was exactly where you were meant to be, braving the obstacles by Billy Russo’s side, knowing he would catch you should you fall.

He would, wouldn’t he?

It was your usual Friday night outing, the seven of you - Billy, Frank, Karen, Curtis, James from legal, Ashley from mine clearance and yourself - occupying your usual table at Whimsy, the bar that must have made 90% or their revenus off of Anvil’s folk. It was just around the corner from the headquarters, after all.

The overall mood of the evening was rather nostalgic. It’d been four weeks since you’d lost a team member in a crossfire in Falluja, Iraq. After everything was said and done, his loss still hung heavy in the air, and it felt right to get one more drink in Jasper’s honour. The conversation flowed easily, even though the topics you’d spoken about were anything but.

“I remember how I felt when I lost Andy”, Ashley nursed her beer as she stared into the distance. “I just literally had the weight of the entire world on my shoulders, pinning me to the ground, I just couldn’t move on”, she finished her bottle in one go and motioned for the bartender to bring her another one. “Sometimes, I just ask myself, what would have I done if I’d known he was going to die the next day? Would I have stopped him from going? I think I would,” she thanked the bartender as he put the beer in front of her, her eyes a bit foggy. “Yeah, I definitely would have.”

Frank grasped Ashley’s shoulder and squeezed it hard in a comforting gesture; Karen gave her a tender look.

You didn’t know why your mind had gone there, but all of the sudden a memory of Billy sitting in his office chair, laughing his ass off at some offhand comment you’d made flashed before your eyes; it quickly got replaced by the recollection of his hand brushing against yours during the Zoom meeting you’ve had with general Warren Singer; then you remembered him putting his hand on the small of your back, staring daggers at some army brat wanting to join Anvil, eyeing you like a piece of meat (you learned later that day that the man’d been thrown out before having a chance to introduce himself); until finally, your brain stopped dead at the picture of Billy running his nervous fingers through his hair as he called you from his car, telling you he was only leaving the office.

What would you do if you knew he was going to die tomorrow?

Your heart sunk at the thought as you gulped hard, ducking your head and staring at your hands folded in your lap.

A soft touch enveloping your elbow had you facing the man of the hour, his black eyes shimmering with concern.

“Are you okay?” he half-whispered, half-mouthed, not letting go of your hand.

No.

Nothing is okay, Billy.

I’m so happy that I met you, but you’re scaring the hell out of me.

I never wanted any form of eternity until now, I never saw the point…

So stay. Please, stay forever, and feel something for me, too.

“Yes. I’m fine,” you whispered back, staring into his eyes, hypnotised and helpless. You watched him turn away from you as if in slow motion, the warmth of his hand leaving nothing behind but emptiness in your bones.

“Here is to always telling the things that matter to the people who matter”, Billy spoke firmly, raising his beer. “Here’s to never missing a chance to open up to the people we love”.

Well, if this was his way of crossing the t's and putting the dots to the i’s regarding his feelings for you, he couldn’t have been clearer.  

As far as confessions of love went, this one was non-existent.

—

You tried, time and again, to convince yourself you had to go. You learned the hard way that your unrequited feelings were feeding on a sort of inadvertent parasitic relationship where every moment of your day depended on the level of Billy’s unintentional emotional indifference. Your days were spent questioning his every move - every look and every touch; until, the grown-ass woman that you were, you’d commanded yourself to stop second-guessing everything - stop feeling - and decided your best course of action would be… to work yourself into the ground.

If Billy ever noticed anything, he didn’t show it - your were still you, after all, working hard, laughing when he said something funny, calling him out on his bullshit when needed. He didn’t notice slight change in your eyes, when their icy surface cracked at every other compliment he threw in your direction (and there was no shortage of those). He didn’t realize the smile you gave him was different from those tightlipped signs of appreciation you gave to Anvil’s potential clients, he didn’t think twice about the reason for which you glowed around him, your every move softening, your every gesture emanating warmth.

Because Billy hadn’t really known you until you started to have feelings for him.

You knew this couldn’t go on forever. This entire situation was bound to result in some explosion of nuclear proportions, and then all hell would break loose. You needed to get yourself out of this situations, but you just… couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine your life without Billy Russo. You couldn’t leave him.

Even if being friends with him meant tearing yourself apart and suffering in silence.

  Long story short, you waited with fear in your bones for someone to walk into your life and to get you out. You’ve had no fight left in you to do it yourself.

Your salvation came in the form of a phone call on a Friday evening, when Billy was on a recruiting mission in California.

You were typing back a response to his cheeky message when the call cut in half-sentence.

Billy Russo: Please remind me to take you with me instead of Frank next time? He’s driving me insane trying to set me up with the ladies from the Organising Committee. Any ideas on how I can calm him the fuck down?

You: Sorry, Billy, but recruiting is out of my mission scope. As for the calm down part, try bondage maybe? :)

Billy Russo: I’m going to pretend you did not just suggest I engage in sexual practices with Frankie. Karen will have my balls.

Billy Russo: But perhaps you’re right. Taking you with me is probably not a good idea. Wouldn’t want my new recruits’ brains to turn into mush because of how beautiful you are.

You: The flattery will….

“Hello? Y/N speaking”, you brought your phone close to your ear, your cheeks still a lovely shade of pink. If you were going to feel miserable when Billy came back, acting like nothing happened, you were sure going to make the best of that fuzzy feeling in your chest right now.

“Miss Y/N/L”, a smooth deep voice greeted you, and you could have sworn you’d heard it many times before. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Frowning in an attempt to remember, you urged:

“No, not at all. How can I help you?” you stared into the screen of your Mac, wheels turning in your head as you silently catalogued all the men you were in discussions with regarding a deal. “I didn’t catch your name…”

“Oh, how rude of me”, the man chuckled but there was no mockery in his voice, more like self-depreciation. “Tony Stark, from Stark Industries”.

Your mind went blank. Did you hear his last words correctly?

“Uh… Mr. Stark”, you quickly got a hold of yourself - well, as quickly as you could. “I appreciate you reaching out to me directly. What can Anvil do for you?”

You did a pretty bang-up job trying to mask your amazement with polite cheerfulness, and Stark had caught on that.

Tony Stark just called your cellphone number. What in the world?…

“We don’t really do alien invasions”.

Ohyourgod, did you just say it out loud?!

His uproarious laughter took you by surprise, reverberating through your entire body. It took every ounce of your self-control not to giggle in response.

“That’s a good one, I love it”, Stark finally said, restoring his breath. “And the better question would be, Y/N - can I call you Y/N? - what you can do for me”.

Before your brain could take you into some naughty direction, freaking Iron Man cleared his throat.

“Okay, this came out wrong,” he admitted with a sense of self-irony. “I um… I’m looking for the Co-Chief Executive Officer for Stark Industries. Well, Virginia Potts is actually looking for a Co-CEO, I’m just her errand boy. And my missions apparently include recruiting…. Anyway,” it was a bit of a challenge to follow Anthony Stark’s train of thought, but you were also still shocked, so that could explain it. “…I think you are the perfect fit for the job”.

You just stared into the screen front of you, your breathing barely audible.

“Mrs Potts and I would love it if you could swing by the A-Tower, let’s say, on Thursday? You’ll be surprised, but I can also whip up a mean cup of coffee…”

Say something.

Fucking hell.

Say something!…

“Thursday sounds great,” you blurted out without thinking. “Let me just shuffle my schedule around… I could stop by after lunch?”   Your hands were slightly shaking as you clicked on your mouse, opening your schedule window.

“Whatever works for you, Y/N”, you could hear Stark smile. “Not to sound like a creep, but I’ve been following your career for quite a while now, and I think that the work you've done in such a short span of time for Anvil is outstanding, even though you still don’t offer protection from alien invasions”.

That made you chuckle, pushing you halfway out of your stupor.

“I’ll put that on the list of things for us to consider”, you promised.

"Tell Mr. Russo I sent my best,” Stark added, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. “I actually might have some ideas for how we could collaborate. Let's discuss this on Thursday, too, shall we?”

After you said your goodbyes, you fell back in your chair, dropping your iPhone on the table.

You: The flattery will….

...get you nowhere.

You never finished that message, leaving Russo on Read.

—

Starting with that evening, things were moving fast - too fast for you to keep track.

After a three-hour long coffee and the tour of the A-Tower, Virginia Potts, the acting CEO of the Stark Industries, had offered you the job - just like that - and asked you to come back to her executive assistant should you wish to take the job, with your salary expectations and the information about your notice period. You thanked her for her time and promised to get back to her as soon as you made your decision.

Virginia Potts was a brilliant woman; but running a company like Stark Industries while being equipped with a vagina was certainly no walk in the park. Sexism was still very much present within the Boards of the Tech Businesses. You understood perfectly well why she wanted a woman in her corner - it would have been a massive slap in the Board’s face, but it was also about having someone to lean on, who just understood.

In any other circumstances you would have peed your pants in excitement. It was an opportunity to work for Stark Industries - no, scratch that - it was an opportunity to step in as a Stark Industries co-CEO. The idea of it still made you dizzy.

…but as you looked at Virginia’s email sent to your personal address thanking you for stopping by, your eyes were swimming with tears.

You weren’t ready to leave Billy.  You just couldn’t.  You couldn’t leave him.   There was no epic finale to your story. There was no big revelation, no closure, no moment of relief, no acceptance, nothing. Only a fat-ass what if.

And you didn’t know how to let go of a what if with Billy Russo.

And that was exactly why you had to do it.

You heard Billy come in the next Monday earlier than usual. He was positively humming Usher’s Yeah! quietly as he made his way past your office’s doors straight into his own.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You’ve been psyching yourself up during the entire weekend, telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal, we wouldn’t even flinch when you were going to tell him.

You had to tell him.

As you stood up from your chair, straightening you skirt with the palms of your hands, you suddenly heard the footsteps coming back in your direction. You froze in place like a deer in headlights when Billy swung open the door to your office, a box of Pierre Hermé macarons in his hands.

Your goddamn favorite Pierre Hermé macarons.

“You’re here!” Billy’s warm smile illuminated the room. “So much for a surprise, huh?”

He shook the box carefully in the air. You stared at it, dumbfounded, every single thought leaving you.

You couldn’t breathe.

In the hazy morning light seeping through the windows of your office, Billy looked beautiful and dissolute, shirt open at the collar, longer strands of dark hair falling into his eyes.

He was going to be the death of you. It really wasn’t fair.

“Billy, I have to tell you something.”

Was it you who spoke those words? They seemed distant and cold, so uncharacteristically detached.

Blood roared in your ears.

“What’s wrong?”

Billy’s reaction was instant. In three decisive steps he closed the distance that separated you, leaving the macarons on your desk. He stood still just mere inches away, and just like during your very first meeting, you had a fleeting thought cross your mind: you really were tiny next to him, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders.

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, trying to keep your composure. He stared at you unblinking. He wasn’t touching you, but it felt like his eyes were looking straight into your soul, undressing you, blowing that wall you built around yourself into dust. They were taking you down, piece by piece, determined to see what you’d been keeping from him.   Because, of course, he knew. He should have known something was going on. Hence the surprise this morning.

He had no idea what it was though.

“Maybe you should sit,” you said, making a physical effort to tear your eyes away from him, feigning sudden interest in the buttons of his shirt.

  That chest…

  …was going to be just fine. He didn’t feel the same way you did. He would just find someone else to fill your position. With brilliant women stalking him - in cooperative packs - that would not be a problem.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you”.

You squeezed your eyes shut as soon as his words reached your ears.  Fucking hell, you should have done that by phone. Or with other people around. You should have…

“You’re leaving”, you heard Billy repeat as his voice broke a little. He stepped away, burying his face in his hands as he dragged them down his jaw and neck, staring into the ceiling.

“Billy, listen, I…”

You were the one to close the space between the two of you this time, and before you could think too much into it… You threw your hands around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

The sensation struck you like a bolt of lightening when you felt his hands cross behind you back and pull you closer.

He smelled heavenly. Like a forest fire, a hint of smoke with oud and pine. You inhaled deep, deeper still, losing yourself in his comforting touch.

In his arms, just for a second there, you felt home.

“You… The company doesn’t need me anymore”, you nearly choked on words, screaming internally at yourself to keep the waterworks at bay. “It’s thriving, there’s not much else I can give you. My job here is done.”

I need to leave because your indifference is destroying me, and when I think I’m ready to let go, all it takes is one look from you, and I’m back to wanting you, to settling for anything you give me, like a goddamn fool.

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?!” Billy exclaimed, his hands grasping your shoulders as he distanced your bodies just enough for him to look into your eyes. “I nee- The company needs you! I was… You know, I was planning to make you the CEO of Anvil in a couple months time,” his smile, as earnest as it was, did not reach his eyes. “Yeah”, noticing your eyes go wide in shock, he let his hands slide down your sides. “You’re so much better at it than I ever was. I was going to join Frank and just manage operations… under you”.

You just stared at him, dumbfounded, not feeling a stray tear escape your eye and rolling down your cheekbone.

“These are the tears of happiness, I hope”, Billy added, and you barely registered his touch as his thumb wiped the salty drop off. “Well, I guess Anvil will have to settle for the little old me. With my best girl going places."

You gave him a strained smile before you carefully wiped your cheeks, just taking a moment to look at him. To try and read him.

Billy Russo was a goddamn ceiling. Plain white, cool and unattainable. In all of your time working for him, you have never seen this Hallmark version of him before. Which one was it?  

Oh wait, you guessed you knew. The happy-for-you friend.

“So where are you going?” Billy asked, his eyes empty. “Who snatched you away from m- Anvil?”

The stutter was so subtle you barely noticed. You were finally tired of reading into shit.

“Stark Industries. I’ll be their co-CEO”.

—

Before you left Anvil you promised yourself you’d get the deal with Stark Industries up and running. There was no one in the world you trusted more in terms of security than Billy.

(The fact that you couldn’t keep your heart safe from him didn’t really count, did it?)

As a matter of fact, Billy and you were going to shake hands with Anthony Stark on the deal on your last night of being Anvil’s CSO. It was happening in The Metropolitan Opera and required both Billy and yourself to dress for the occasion.   He promised to come pick you up at 6pm sharp; you were putting on the Jimmy Choo’s you’d bought a coulee months ago in Saks Fifth Avenue when you heard a low knock on your door.

Straightening up, you threw a quick glance at your reflection in the mirror. You decided to go with a long Marchesa black velvet gown with a rather deep V-line, a pair of long diamond earrings and an elegant half-up half-down hairdo, soft curls in the front framing your face.

“I’m coming”, you yelled out, picking up your leather jacket (because why the hell not) and your purse from the kitchen counter. Sharply opening the entrance door, you realized moments later that you didn’t even take time to prepare yourself for seeing William Russo in a tux.

If you weren’t already half in love with him, the sight before your eyes would have sealed the deal.

God-fucking-damn, like he needed any help being unforgettable.

With a black jacket thrown on a crisp white shirt with a couple of buttons undone and the tie hanging loosely around his neck, Billy was here to make a statement, to leave a mark. His hair was coiffed back in his usual style; honest to God, he looked like he just stepped out of the Man of the Year special GQ edition…

Just when your thoughts were about to switch to the way you must have looked next to him, ridiculous in your simplicity, like you refused to make an effort…

…Your eyes met his.

And the way he looked at you was so intense, his big black eyes with galaxies in them probing into yours, his strong jaw slack. There was beauty and tragedy reflecting in those orbs, but only just for a second - just for a second, he looked at you the way he probably looked at the sky he could never reach. Just for a second, he looked at you the way that made your heart beat twice as fast, like the world could crumble all around him and he still would not have blinked.

Would not have taken his eyes off you.

“Wow, Y/N, you look… You look beautiful”, he finally said. “I just can't spot a part of you that beats the other.”

Something in your chest exploded silently.

“Thank you, Billy,” you smiled at him - a genuine and happy smile, because you felt on top of the world with his adoring eyes on you. “You’re quite a catch yourself”.

Before you could scold yourself for your choice of words, you stepped out of your apartment and locked the door behind you.

“Shall we?” Billy offered his hand to you, without hesitation it seemed.

“We shall”, you replied instantly, slowly sliding your hand into the crook of his elbow.

And, just like always, you were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

—

The crowd in the opera was so posh, the looks all the women had been throwing you first made you question your choice of outfit. It’s after overhearing their conversations that you realized, the reason they stared daggers at you was the man that kept by your side no matter where you went.

Virginia and Anthony welcomed you at the buffet with sun-stained sincere smiles. After a short small talk, Anthony Stark informed you both that he had signed the contract earlier today, thus officially giving Anvil an exclusive security deal with Stark Industries. As of now, Anvil was the only company allowed on the Stark Industries’ premises in the quality of guards and protection officers.

The look Billy and you exchanged spoke volumes; while your eyes were sparkling with excitement though, screaming “we did it!!”, his bottomless black eyes were whispering “thanks to you”.

The four of you then shook hands and went through rounds of gratitude and appreciation; when a pleasant woman’s voice announced the imminent start of Onegin, inviting the guests to go to their seats. Virginia immediately took you hand, leading you straight into the Opera house, saying something about leaving men to finish their drinks. You threw Billy a laughing look over your shoulder, mouthing “come join me” before disappearing out of his sight.

“So on the scale of one to ten, how pissed at me are you, Mr. Russo?”

Billy turned his head sharply to a side, leaning on the high table, and spotted Anthony Stark himself, nursing a glass of whiskey. “For taking your queen away from you? Excuse the chess metaphor, but that woman”, Stark took a sip of his whiskey and savoured it before swallowing it down. “Is a goddamn queen.”

Billy chuckled, straightening up, digging his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“That, she is,” he whispered, his eyes still piercing the spot in the crowd where your smiling face was mere minutes ago.

—

When the opera ended, both Billy and you couldn’t be more relieved - because both of you hated it with passion.

Exchanging meaningful glances in the dark during the singers’ performances now and then, you had to bite your tongue in order to not just ask Billy if you could maybe sneak out. Russo proved to be more stoic than you, carefully covering your hand with his in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You didn’t look at him once after that, afraid to say or do something that would make him remove his hand.

How much more pathetic could you get?

When the performance was over, Billy led you out of the opera house without saying a word, his hand hugging carefully the small of your back.

His silence was unnerving. You didn’t know what to make of it. Should you have shaken his hand off back in the darkness of the concert hall? Or should you have caressed it with your thumb?

Your mind was spinning in circles by the time he opened the door for you and you slid into the front passenger seat of his Rolls goddamn Royce.

When he got in the car and gripped his steering wheel, you reached out and placed your hand on his whitening knuckles.

“Billy,” you spoke softly, barely audibly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” he whispered back, turning his head to a side to face you. His black eyes stared into yours, looking hypnotised and helpless. “Everything is fine.”

It didn’t take a degree in Psychology to see that he was lying. You could feel his gaze on you as you turned away from him, taking your hand away at the same time.

Billy started the car. The revving engine filled the silence, loaded with the unsaid words.

—

“…he then walked me to my door, we exchanged our goodbyes. And that was it,” you finished lightly, looking back at Karen.

Her eyes were red as she stared at you, unblinking.

“Unbelievable…” she whispered. “So you never told him?…” her lips barely moved.

You sighed.

“Have you ever felt like you’re potentially in love with someone? Like, you don’t actually love him, you know you don’t, but one day you realise that you could? You realise just how easy it would be for you to fall in love with him? With all the teasing and the banter, the play hitting each other, calling each other names, just…. You start to pick up on little things - like if you listen closely, in every shut up, there’s a barely-there ring of I could love you.”  You shifted on the floor a little, and Karen watched your memories transport you somewhere else again. While physically your were here, in your apartment - with your fluttering eye-lashes, uneven breathing and loaded expression - mentally, you were somewhere else.

“….You probably don’t notice it at first, but your body is drawn to him. Every accidental or absentminded touch…” you continued quietly. “And there’s that twinkle in his eyes when he looks at you and it messes you up, because - what’s going on with you? What the hell does it even mean? Are you imagining shit? You’re trying to make sense.”  

Karen didn’t interrupt, still staring at you as if she were seeing you for the first time

“I mean, he didn’t ask for any of it, you know?” you finally raised your foggy stare at Karen, as if searching for confirmation. “Maybe he just did something dumb one day, smiled at you or said something that seemed important and then all of the sudden you’re full on Looney Tunes, seeing stuff that isn’t there?”

Your words barely audible, you swallowed hard, before continuing.  “…I just kept looking at him with what ifs, and could haves, seeing all that goddamn potential. It’s so fucking twisted. Over-analyzing everything? Waiting for a sign?…” you chuckled bitterly all of the sudden. “…I was so fucking scared of reading too much into it, of crossing that line, because… It would be so easy!… Falling in love with him would have been so easy.”

Oh sweetheart, Karen’s eyes glowed with comfort as she reached out for your hand and squeezed it softly. But you already are in love with him.   

A loaded silence ripped through the air in your living room. The sound of an engine revving somewhere close squeezed its way through the slit of an opened window, and it seemed to break the trance.

Both Karen and you shuddered, and as you took in the realisation Karen’s eyes just bestowed upon you, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“It’s pretty late,” Karen spoke up, reading you like an open book. She knew it was her cue to leave the stage. You needed time to process. “Frank is in a bar nearby with Curtis, let me just give him a call, okay, sweetheart?” she gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze. “You know where to find me when you need me”.

“Yes”, you responded, blinking tiredly. “Thank you so much for coming, Karen. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that…”

“Shut the hell up,” the blonde advised, raising her eyebrows. “But honestly, Y/N, please call me once you… come to terms with things, okay?”

You nodded.

When Karen left, leaving the sweet and pleasant smell of her perfume behind, you closed the door behind her and turned around, leaning on the cold wood and metal with your eyes closed.

It’s been a month. This was supposed to pass by now. Billy was supposed to stop inviting himself into your dreams. You were supposed to heal.

You may have just realized you were in love with the man instead.

Letting out half a moan, half a groan, you peeled yourself from the door slowly, and brushed your hair back, wanting nothing more than to fall face-first into bed.

After you at least cleaned up a bit and put out the Dyptique candles, that is.

As your eyes scanned your living room in an attempt to asses the size of the job at hand, you stopped mid-way, zeroing in on the box Jax gave you earlier in the evening. It rested silently on the kitchen table.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you made your way to the kitchen area. Grabbing the package, you turned it around, looking for any indication of the sender.

The package wasn’t even stamped.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you took a moment to grab a knife from one of the drawers, and carefully swished it between the two cardboard sheets.

Flipping over the envelop, you heard something fall out of it before you could actually see it. A small sheet of paper floated in the air before falling on the surface, partially covering whatever fell out of the package.

Your heart squeezed the second your brain identified the object, attached to a worn silver chain.

With trembling fingers, you slid two metal pieces from under the paper, covering your mouth.

Finding their home in the palm of your hand, Billy’s dog tags shimmered in the dim candlelight.

Squeezing them in between your fingers, you grabbed the paper with your free hand, your eyes staring at one single sentence scribbled on its surface.

“You took my heart with you”.

#billy russo x you #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo angst #billy russo fanfic #billy russo story #the punisher imagine #billy russo imagine #the punisher story #billy russo request

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wooandthesun · 4 years ago

Text

balcony romeo | j. wooyoung

someday down the road i hope to be your romeo • romeo & juliet - peter mcpoland

genre: fluff, angst!!!, neighbours to lovers, university romance, comfort/hurt

pairing: music major!wooyoung x english major!reader (fem)

warning: swearing, mentions of insomnia, mentions of alcohol/substance abuse and trauma regarding alcohol, self-doubt and insecurities, not proofread, might have missed some stuff lmk

summary: it was finally that time of the year: the enrollment of university freshmen, together with the eventual full occupancy of the university's living quarters. everything goes smoothly, that was until you realised a stranger— one out of two of your nextdoor neighbors— shows up on his balcony at ungodly hours.

word count: 5k

__________________________________

chaos.

moving in has felt like chaos upon chaos, fuelled by adrenaline and agitation. you huffed as you placed the last of the gargantuan cardboard boxes on the dull carpeted floor, plopping next to them with your arm slung over its securely taped tops. your head tilted upwards to face the pearl coloured ceiling for a split second before you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to drive away the dizziness born from exhaustion and giddiness. your roommate walked in seconds after, clicking her tongue and shaking her head as she eyed you.

"i have anemia, also i'm fine," you muttered, throwing her a thumbs up. your eyes shot open for the sole purpose of shooting her a glare. "i am not as weak as you think i am." you added, folding your arms against your chest.

"i never said anything!" she defended, dropping her belongings on one of the twin size beds. she sat down and pointed at the other one that occupied the left side of the room facing the transparent balcony door. "you're taking that one. i'm afraid of glass doors." she clarified.

"look at us, first day in and we're sharing our own set of flaws." you remarked, finally standing up, only to lay back down onto your naked bed. "do you have a partner? should i be worried about.. you know what i mean?" you asked casually. "i mean i wouldn't be worried either way, i'm a very heavy sleeper." you added.

"you have absolutely nothing to worry about," your roommate mocked, rolling her eyes. "i'm aroace— that translates to sexy and untouchable," she flipped her hair dramatically, making you laugh. "i think i should be worried about you, instead, y/n y/l/n." she mentioned, pointing at you.

"i don't know. i came here to study, not to look for suitors." you replied. your roommate threw a pillow at you in response. "what?" you scowled, though playfully.

she kept her mouth shut and squinted at you, signalling 'i'm keeping an eye on you' with two fingers. you groaned, throwing a pillow at her as well, before the both of you laughed and unpacked.

___________________________________

your first week on campus flew by, leaving you no space for entertainment nor any form of socialisation apart from freshmen orientations and getting to know professors. as an english major, you found that university life so far had been nice to you. you couldn't say the same about your roommate, however, who was a stem major.

"a test on the first friday of the school year! they hate us, i swear." your roommate turned best friend spoke, throwing her arms up in annoyance. you chuckled as you unlocked the door, your hair wet and carelessly wrapped up with a towel. as you walked in, you finally got the chance to absorb the room's contents, smiling to yourself as you felt reality sink in. you really were a university student now.

"i'm going straight to bed, sorry. i literally can't right now." your roommate complained, already half-asleep by the time she practically flung herself onto the bed.

"goodnight." you muttered, but instead you were met by soft, tired snores. you shook your head, taking out your laptop and placing it on your desk. you sighed as you turned it on, immediately beginning that day's assignment, although you had time over the weekend to do it. you just felt like finishing it the same day it was assigned, because you were quite sure calm and relaxing weekends were scarce once you delve into university life.

by the time you finished everything, the digital clock on your desk showed 23:05. the night is still young, you thought. you stretched your overworked limbs, standing up to bend your waist from one side to another to get rid of their soreness. you ultimately decided to take a breather on the balcony.

you immediately let out a worn out sigh as your eyes met the pitch black sky. stars scattered the sky like splattered paint, lighting up small sections of clouds like lanterns. deliberately, you plopped yourself onto the bean bag your roommate had supplied for the both of you, taking a deep breath as you did so.

it wasn't until 5 silent minutes that you finally noticed the boy on the balcony next door, pursing his lip in thought as he stared at the ground.

you suddenly felt guilty for not getting to know your neighbours, especially since this was the freshmen's living quarters and you were bound to have to interact with a majority of them at some point. you did meet other freshmen who lived in the same building as you did during orientation, but your conversations were mostly dull and filled with questions about your high school life— which, well, you'd rather forget about.

yet here this boy was, looking sleepy but unwilling to sleep. his gaze was so fixated on the road that he didn't even notice when you moved over to the railing, closer to where he was standing and separated by a gap that measured not more than 40 inches between both balconies. as you reached your destination, you finally got a good look at him: brown droopy eyes, disheveled and swooshy black hair and to top it off, a run-down sweater. you were so preoccupied in examining him that you didn't notice he had diverted his gaze from the ground to you.

"you're staring at an insomniac." he spoke, voice husky and tired. your eyes widened the slightest bit, prompting you to turn to your right to face the sky once again. you could feel his smirk burn through your body. "why are you awake?" he asked. you wanted to ask his name first, because it didn't feel right referring to him as a handsome stranger in your head.

instead, you chose to reply. "i just got some work done. i'm planning on sleeping like a log this weekend." you stated before pressing your lips into a thin line; a half-smile.

"how does sleeping like a log feel like?" he questioned again, yawning mid-sentence. something about his behaviour made you want to give him a bear hug and coo him to sleep. you shook away your thoughts, finding them more absurd than adorable.

"sorry." you replied but the boy waved it off dismissively.

"no, no, i shouldn't have started a conversation by mentioning my key character flaw," he started, almost laughing.

"my key character flaw is that i'm anemic," you chuckled. "my roommate's scared of glass doors." you added, shrugging your shoulders. "character flaws make characters realistic and attractive. no one writes about perfect characters." you finished, only realising you've blurted out what probably sounded like nonsense to him after doing it.

"you an english major?" he asked. you thought he was mocking you, or making a joke out of what you just said, but when you looked at him, his face still expressed innocent interest.

"yeah. you?" you replied promptly.

"music." a hint of a smile surfaced on his lips; the corners of his mouth slightly tilting upwards. you were entranced for a second, mesmerised by the beauty, albeit riddled with a kind of sadness you couldn't fathom. you gave him a smile before speaking.

"that's really cool. my brother studied music too." you admitted. now, you were comfortable enough to lean forward, further engaging yourself in the conversation. your arms were placed atop the railing, dangling off the edge comfortably with your attention focused on none other than his smile.

"yeah?" he beamed.

"he's a music teacher now, at like, an elementary school. he was in a band when he was in high school, and i wondered why he didn't just continue to pursue that, but when he got married and had kids i realised he just really had a gift when it comes to educating and nurturing," you expressed, looking away with a reminiscent smile. the boy, too, smiled in response.

"that's cool. like, seriously, cool." he stated, clearing his throat. "sounds like you're really close with your brother." he added.

"yeah, we are." you answered. mindlessly, you glanced at your watch, surprised to see it blink the digits, 1:00.

"crap, it's late." you stated, hinting that it was time for you to drift into slumber.

"goodnight." the boy replied, waving at you. it seemed like he had no intentions of going to sleep any time soon.

"goo- wait, before that." you cut yourself off. "could i have your name?" you asked hastily.

"wooyoung. jung wooyoung." he spoke, now looking directly at you. you fought the weird feeling arising in your stomach.

"wooyoung, pleasure to meet you. i'm y/n." you stated, forgetting for a second that you were supposed to be asleep. "goodnight, wooyoung." you greeted, waving at him.

"goodnight, y/n." he mumbled in response, finishing off with a hardly noticeable smile.

you walked in and slid the glass door close, your heart beating twice as fast as its regular tempo as you slipped into the covers, unaware that the weird feeling in your stomach was, in fact, butterflies.

____________________________________

weeks passed by, with you occasionally repeating the events of that night again on other nights, having quite interesting conversations with wooyoung, although it did transpire on the balcony which wasn't the most convenient space to have a conversation. you wondered if your roommate had noticed by then, that you'd slip out around midnight after she fell asleep just to talk to a boy. would she be mocking you for the statement you made about not wanting to like anyone? you had no idea.

one night, however, stood out in particular to you.

you were dizzy with adrenaline at 2 am, having finished writing a story for a project you had for your midterm examination. you were pleased, to say the least, with the outcome of your hard labour, and bits of leftover inspiration were still freshly bloomed in the frame of your mind. you nearly cracked your brain finding solutions to try to rake out the remnants of ideas in your head, and ultimately decided to check if wooyoung would be on the balcony that late in the night.

before walking out, you grabbed your knitted blanket and wrapped it around yourself, sheltering yourself from the midnight breeze. you looked ridiculous, but you had gotten beyond comfortable with wooyoung, so much that you really didn't care how you looked like around him anymore.

you expected to see him gazing at the sky as always, but tonight, things were different. you were met with him sitting on the floor with a guitar in hand, patting its body as if he was waiting for someone—you— to appear. when you finally came into his line of sight, his tired eyes lit up like fireworks. he held up the guitar in a display of pride and affection, making you giggle in return.

"sing me a song," you beamed, eyes squinting from the lack of sleep. it seemed like the both of you were in a trance, lost in your own universe.

"that's the whole point," he chuckled, amused to see you so carefree.

a certain stillness took over the atmosphere when he strummed the first few chords, lulling you further into your already present reverie. the sound was sweet, broken and beautiful at the same time. when he began to sing, you felt your blood rush to your face, painting your cheeks pink and flushed. wooyoung glanced at you while he sang, like he meant something, but in your present state, you were only able to catch on to particularly significant words like romeo, juliet and marry. even those three words were enough to make you weak on the knees, despite the fact that you were already sitting down.

he finished with a single strum and you couldn't help but clap for him. he smiled and put the guitar away, looking at you from between the railing. if only you were conscious enough then, you would have seen the glint in eyes. you would have seen the amount of adoration he held for you, and perhaps you might have been able to see him in a light he was most afraid of you seeing him in: vulnerable, fragile, hopeful and stupidly in love.

____________________________________

"hey- woah. where are you heading off to?" you stopped in your tracks as your roommate barged out of the room with a duffle bag in hand, and a childish smile on her lips.

"i'm staying at my parents' this weekend. my grandparents are coming over." her reply was short and excited, as if she could burst out of joy any minute. "my dad's here, and yes, sorry, i forgot to tell you about it! i'll make it up to you when i get back, i promise." she threw her arms around you in a loose hug before she left, waving as she practically hopped away. you chuckled to yourself afterwards and entered the room.

you continued to busy yourself during the day, running errands like the laundry, planning ahead of the week, and you even had time to give your family a call. it was, all in all, a wonderful day, up until nightfall.

you realised, then, that the nocturnal silence was growing scarier by the minute. you processed the events that took place that day, recalling what you had for lunch and dinner and whatever else you did, but after all of that thinking, you felt a little bit empty without anyone occupying the bed across yours, although you wouldn't admit it to your roommate. you sighed, beginning your norm of walking to the balcony in the hopes of finding your neighbour, who'd you helplessly started liking within just a span of a few months.

to your surprise, the balcony was completely void of his presence. you frowned, wondering if he had finally had enough of the countless conversations. you were, once again, engulfed in excruciating silence; one you had no intention of keeping. you were used to ruckus, chaos and noise—and your family was very good with that, given their sociable personalities. perhaps your roommate's presence and the chatter you constantly had with wooyoung filled the emptiness from being away from your family.

all of a sudden, the peacefulness of the night was cut off by a thud and a sound of glass shattering, coming from next door where wooyoung lived. you furrowed your eyebrows in concern, resisting every urge to come up and knock at their door. you could have done that if your roommate was present, but her absence was too strong on you and you felt like you'd crumble if you were met with danger.

silence filled the air once again, this time, it felt almost eerie. you sat on your bed, too freaked out to move. on top of that, you were worried sick about wooyoung. you realised then that you had no idea who his roommate was, and let out a shaky breath when you considered that he could've been unlucky and got an inconsiderate roommate.

your thoughts were cut short by a knock on the door; frantic and out of beat. you rushed to the door, only to be met by wooyoung who practically bolted into your room, sitting down on your roommate's unoccupied bed. you fished out a bottle of mineral water from the box under your desk, sitting on your bed across him to give him space to breathe. his laboured, almost angry breaths eventually turned calm, picking up its regular rhythm. you hesitated to stand up and comfort him, but did so anyway.

"c-can i sleep here?" he asked with a hoarse voice, after taking a sip of the water you handed him. you didn't even think twice before agreeing to it. he looked like he needed it, and whatever just happened next door sounded like he didn't want to return to the place anytime soon. "thank you." he muttered, his voice pitchy. you wanted to ask what happened, but you knew better than to do so.

"if you need anything, just say it. i'll be sleeping over there, okay?" you cooed, brushing his hair out of his face and he nodded in reply. you stood up to turn the lights off, turning on the dusty, circular night light that your roommate insisted on having just in case one of you had a rough night. 'plain darkness isn't good, especially on a bad night, it's suffocating,' she'd say. as you laid on your bed, you silently thanked her in your mind.

a few minutes went by, and you were already falling asleep. you turned to face the wall, all ready to close your eyes and plunge into slumber when you hear wooyoung sobbing out your name. like a light switch, your eyes opened in an instant.

"y/n.." he trailed off, his voice still pitchy. you walked over to him, sitting down at the end of the bed and placing your arm on the blanket where his leg was. he looked at you, wiping away his own tears before he squeezed his eyes shut and pulled you into a hug.

the hug felt like melting ice; the transition of winter to spring. as time passed, you eased into the covers with him, letting your limbs arrange themselves comfortably. wooyoung held your hand against his chest, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles in circular motions to alleviate the pain in his chest. you looked to him and he looked to you.

"better?" you asked casually, although you felt your head spin with nervousness. you were so close to him now.

"yeah, thank you, and sorry." he muttered, watching you. he paused, thinking over his words before spoke. "my roommate came home drunk. he does that sometimes, but he's mostly harmless: stumbles into bed and just falls asleep." he started. you listened intently. "all of a sudden, like, just now, he shows up, wasted again, and he just starts throwing his shit on the floor. he still had a bottle of fucking beer in his hand and he just swings it and it's on the floor all shattered." his voice broke. "it just reminds me so much of.. a family member. freaks me out. not that i was ever hurt or anything but..." he trailed off, unwilling to speak further. silence fell over the both of you, though it felt rather comforting than heavy. your eyes moved from his lips, to his eyes, and then back to his lips.

"it's okay." you said, closing your eyes. you let your other hand travel to his head, entwining his hair in your fingers and combing out the tangled, messy knots. "it's okay, wooyoung." you brought your head closer to his neck, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. ultimately, you placed your forehead near his cheek, the both of you looking like a yarn balled together. you heard him heave a sigh out of relief, as if releasing all the tension he's had for months.

the two of you fell silent, with your breaths lulling one another into a deep, long anticipated sleep.

____________________________________

you were the first to wake up the next day, in a position that made you blush aggressively. your leg was draped on his, while your arms were wrapped securely around the frame of his body. you were surprised you didn't feel sore at all.

it took you a couple of seconds to realise that your roommate was sitting at her desk with her arms folded, staring at you with an 'i told you so' expression. you pouted, lying back down to feign sleep.

"y/n?" wooyoung mumbled, stirring his body to face you. your eyes signalled towards the direction where your roommate sat. wooyoung slowly turned his head, letting a comical smile slip as he rushed to back away from the bed, only for his back to meet the floor with a thud. you gasped as he toppled over, but your roommate merely stifled a laugh.

"god, i hope nothing happened on my bed." she said, eyeing the two of you. she proceeded to plop a bag containing breakfast treats on top of you. "be my guest. also, explain yourselves." she stated. you pried the bag open, handing wooyoung a breakfast wrap before grabbing one of your own. you recalled the events of last night— of course, excluding the intimate detail he had exposed to you— as each of you munched on your food.

"shit, sorry, wooyoung." your roommate sympathised. wooyoung nodded, silently chewing on his food. you looked over to him, suddenly yearning to feel the warmth of his body again, but tucked the idea away into the safety of the back of your mind. "you know what? you two should head out. it's sunday, the best day to get things out of your head before classes tomorrow," your roommate suggested, throwing the food wrapping back into the paper bag to be discarded later on.

you considered for a while, eyeing wooyoung to ask for his opinion. in return, the boy shrugged, but ultimately nodded in agreement. you could've sworn you felt your heart beat quicken in an irregular pace right then and there, but if it did, you showed no signs of it.

____________________________________

"well, you're awfully silent today."

you jolted awake from a momentary daze that consisted of you deliberately going over your thoughts and feelings for wooyoung. did you like him? like, romantically? or was it just platonic? you looked to him and raised your shoulders the slightest bit. even worse, did you only feel drawn to him because you wanted to somehow fix him? you shook your head. no. that's not it. that's definitely not it.

growing up, you had a habit of getting into short-term relationships that drained you. they didn't hurt you, no, but you became some sort of fixer upper, some mechanic providing upgrades for your lover only to have them fall into the hands of someone else. the worst part was also the fact that you were forgiving. all you did was fix and forgave, while others just walked away; compromising your peace. perhaps that is why you were scared and confused about what you presently felt for wooyoung. it—whatever the situation was between the two of you— read like a storybook, depicting prey and predator. only you felt like the predator, sniffing for blood in the air.

"are you okay?" you realised you ignored wooyoung's first attempt of getting you to talk. you sucked in a breath and let it out, nodding quietly as your eyes trailed along the skyline where it meets the sea. wooyoung's concerned gaze pierced through your build, evident in painful silence.

"just. thinking. about things." your reply came out in a broken staccato.

"things like?"

"like us." you finished, finally getting the courage to admit it. wooyoung looked taken aback. although he didn't want to display it, his hesitancy was present in the way he backed away just a few centimetres from you. you felt your stomach cramp from both dejection and disappointment. what were you expecting? for him to like you back in just a matter of weeks, although it felt longer than that?

"y/n, i can't."

it only took one sentence for you to start stomping away, driven by anger. your impulse was taking over now, like it always does, and it won't occur to you until its simmered down, not until you've processed it and regretted it. wooyoung, the poor boy, followed your footsteps, trying to catch up to you.

"y/n, stop. look at me." you ignored him, continuing to move ahead and away from him. it wasn't exactly resentment. you couldn't be angry with him for not feeling the same way you did, but there were so many instances that made you believe in the chance that he reciprocated your feelings. "y/n, please." he sounded bare and vulnerable now. you almost mistook his plead for a whimper.

you were suddenly ashamed by your own outburst. you couldn't face him. you remained with your back turned towards him as you spoke.

"what?" you questioned, promptly. if he could see your phase right now, it would look like a mess of pink and red, flustered and slightly angered.

"it's just. i can't be the guy you think i am."

"what kind of guy do you think i think you are?" you snapped bitterly. just a few hours ago you were in each other's arms, hugging each other whole. now you were at each other's throats.

"tough. like i could fight it through everything hard in life. like my only flaw is that i can't fucking sleep at night." he responded, voice tight and unlike anything you've heard before. the little predator in you is sniffling for blood now, like it always does. it searches for the broken, the most susceptible parts of the boy in front of you. no, you fought back. you can't do that to him.

"wooyoung, it's fine." your voice softened. his knitted eyebrows let loose, like he's about to break. "i don't care. it doesn't matter. we're human, for goodness' sake. human." you croaked out, raising a hand to caress his cheek.

"i'm sorry."

he walked away, leaving you shattered.

that was the last you'd hear from him in a while.

____________________________________

your regular nighttime visits to the balcony ceased until they stopped altogether, finding no purpose in doing so anymore.

heartbroken over a boy in the first year of university. model student behaviour, really.

"you sure you don't wanna go have a look outside tonight?" your roommate asked, pausing to yawn in the middle of her sentence. you shook your head. "it's been nearly a month, you know." she reminded you, staring at you through sleepy eyes.

"you don't have to worry about me, if that's what you're implying." you replied half-heartedly, kind of present in the moment but not really either. "goodnight." you muttered. your roommate sighed and replied with her own goodnight.

you rested your chin on your desk, bending in a hideous position. you felt like jelly. summer break was only a week away and while there were major successes in your life in academic terms, you felt like your social life had slipped away entirely the moment you and wooyoung stopped talking. other than your roommate and the study group you attend once every week, you were technically void of social contact and interaction, which was not something you were used to. to be fair, you were also burned out. you had a big paper to pass up by the end of the week, but it was wednesday and you were still 3 pages shy from finishing it up.

you surrendered. the digital clock showed 4 am. it's the latest you've ever stayed up. you don't feel the slightest bit sleepy.

you head out to the balcony.

outside, the air was hot and humid. the roads still showed signs of the afternoon shower through damp and darkened spots. you looked up, clouds were still swarming around, congesting the sky, hiding away the stars.

"hi." you heard his voice call out from your left side. you looked to him, giving him a faint smile. you still couldn't be angry at him. he smiled back. "uh, i have to tell you stuff." he cleared his throat abruptly.

"sure." you replied, looking away.

"can you- is it okay if you looked at me? i mean, please?" he pleaded.

you turned to him.

"um. i told my roommate about his whole, drinking thing. he apologised. he stopped- i mean he doesn't do it often anymore." he said. your eyes lit up in surprise, feeling a tinge of pride.

"that's good. that's really good." you responded.

"yeah, but i realised i couldn't have done it without you, you know?" he spoke. your eyes were fixated on his. "i'm sorry for the way i reacted that day. i've been meaning to reach out to you again but i couldn't find the words to say to you. and i had stuff i needed to take care of to be sure of myself." he added.

"it's okay." your body relaxed evidently. all the tension you had for a whole month dissipated into nothingness.

"i like you, y/n. i've liked you since the day you came out here and just, talked like the wonders of the universe were just at the tip of your tongue. like key character flaws were the most essential elements of any story. i like you." he finished, looking at you with timid eyes.

"i like you too." you responded, eyes still glimmering with tears.

you smiled, your eyes glassing into tears. silence overtook the atmosphere, though comfortable. you gripped the railing, lightly swaying from happiness.

"can i kiss you?"

that was all it took for you to dash out of your room, not caring if you woke your roommate up. the two of you showed up breathless in the hallway.

the two of you stood in front of each other, panting but filled with adrenaline. you leaned forward but hesitated, turning away at the last second to stop yourself from blushing. wooyoung fought back the urge to smile widely, and instead cupped your cheek—four fingers on the lower back of your head, and his thumb tilting your head to bring you forward into a deep kiss.

you kissed him until you felt whole again. you kissed until your lungs gave out. wooyoung laughed as you pulled away, simmering in joy.

"what?" you asked, placing your forehead against his.

"remember that romeo and juliet song i sang to you?" he questioned. you nodded. "i wrote it about you, you know?" he said, gently tracing circles on your cheek.

"balcony romeo." you muttered, poking his arm playfully.

in the silence of the night, in the unlit hallway, you realised that happiness sprouted from the oddest places, that perhaps, it had always been true. that real and raw flaws were what actually made us human.

and they were what made us equal parts capable of loving and being loved.

#sun: wooyoung #ateez #ateez imagine #ateez x reader #ateez au #ateez fluff #kpop imagine #ateez scenarios #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung ateez #wooyoung imagine #jung wooyoung

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imhereformr · 4 years ago

Text

"Tell me why you did it" "Because I'm in love with you"

I had a prompt request for this an eternity ago (sorry...) but I think I deleted the ask 😬 Here's the prompt anyways.

It made no sense to her. One minute she’d been staring down Lord Darkar with the most courage she could muster – thankfully her stubbornness helped her there – and having death threatened. Next thing she knew, there was a body between her and the skeleton-man (could he be considered a man?). A loud no had echoed through the cavernous space accompanied by a flash of magenta-topped blue. She’d been so stunned by the action that it took her a moment to register why the voice was so familiar.

Riven.

He’d jumped in front of her.

He’d saved her life.

He’d risked his.

For her.

After that, everything was a blur. Somewhere in the back of her mind she’d been aware that the Trix had shown up and helped them. She knew that that distraction had broken Darkar’s spell; the one that had kept her, and her friends frozen in place; the one Riven had somehow broken through to save her. She knew that thanks to that distraction Brandon and Helia had managed to get to Riven and bandage him up, bringing an end to the blood that she swore – though her memory may be faulty – was spilling endlessly out of Riven’s abdomen and temple. All those details had barely managed to make a scratch in her mind – as if they were happening somewhere else to someone else - as she stared at his closed eyes begging the gods – any gods - to let her see that violet she loved so much; that violet that had tinted her dreams since she’d met him.

Nothing. At least not between the brief moment when he’d flickered into consciousness after she reached him and called out to him and when he’d woken for an even briefer moment on the flight back to Red Fountain.

Musa knew that, in some twisted series of events, it was thanks to the Trix that Riven was still alive. She refused to acknowledge it, though; refused to acknowledge that it was thanks to them that she’d been able to spend every free moment by his side as he recovered. Not that there were many of those, or, at least, as many as she’d like. Apparently helping to save the entire universe didn’t count as a valid reason to miss finals in Griselda’s mind so Musa made her to way to Red Fountain’s infirmary every day after classes. She’d spent so much time there that she was on a first name basis with the nurses; they even let her use their coffee machine now so she wouldn’t have to go down to the cafeteria to get some. She’d set herself up on the empty bed across the room with her books sprawled out in front of her, trying - and mostly failing - to study. She knew she wouldn’t fail any of her classes – she had nearly perfect grades in all of them – but she wasn’t too keen on failing her finals considering they were worth a quarter of her final grade. It didn’t matter how much she forced herself though because her eyes always seemed to wander away from the books over to Riven.

Musa arrived at Red Fountain today with a bag full of books that she intended to get through. Three classes to study for and just under five hours to study. She needed to get through the books or else she’d be kicking herself tomorrow when she was trying to take those exams. Whose bright idea had it been to schedule three exams in one day anyways?

He slept through the first few days; she’d expected that. What she hadn’t expected was for him to sleep through the entire first week and a half after the mission. According to the nurses, he had woken up a few times but mostly when no one was there. Timmy had spoken to him once, albeit very briefly. Musa hated the thought of Riven waking up to an empty hospital room. He deserved to know that his friends were checking on him; that they cared. That she cared. That his friends were checking on him. When she’d arrived yesterday, Brandon was set up in the room with a set of weights (the nurses had complained but Brandon shrugged them off). Sky and Timmy had been there the day before that and Tecna and Flora had accompanied her the day before that.

She strode into the infirmary, greeting Doris, the nurse at the front desk, with a nod. Musa was vaguely aware that the nurse tried to tell her something, but she had headphones on and too much on her mind, so the movement of the nurse's lips only registered after she’d passed the desk. Upon turning to question what she’d wanted to say, Musa found that Doris had had her attention diverted by a phone call, so she shrugged it off and continued to Riven’s room. Her bag slid off her shoulder, dropping to the floor a mere inch from her toes when she entered his room.

It was empty.

Nobody hanging around in case Riven woke; nobody on the bed; no book or flowers (courtesy of Flora) on the bedside table; nothing. The bathroom door was wide open, revealing a pristine shower, sink and toilet. No Riven. Musa poked her head out of the room, checking the number beside the door. Twenty-one: she had the right room. Where was he?

“He was discharged about two hours ago” Doris, a sweet older woman with greying brown hair and bright green eyes, informed her, coming up behind the fairy.

“B-but he’s barely woken up in the last week?” Musa managed to stammer as she turned to face the woman. Doris shrugged. Apparently Riven had woken up late last night – just before midnight, two hours after she’d left to make Alfea’s ten PM weekday curfew – and stayed awake all night. When the doctor had checked him that morning, his vitals were good and Riven was in functional condition. “We knew him already; he spent enough time in here last year after all the fights he got in-” Fucking Riven “-so the doctor agreed to let him go as long as he promised to come in everyday for a checkup and to take it easy for a bit.”

No. She would go back to Alfea. She needed to study. If she went to see him now she’d be too tempted to demand answers and that would lead to her getting absolutely zero studying done. But then again... if she went back to Alfea to study she’d never be able to focus knowing that he was awake and she could be talking to him.

Take it easy? The man had jumped in front of a death blow without a second thought, and they expected him to take it easy? He clearly had no sense of self-preservation! “Oh... okay, thanks” Musa mumbled, picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder as she walked away. She stood outside the main infirmary door watching blankly as students in unnecessarily tight blue uniforms walked past her. What now? She hadn’t ever considered the possibility of showing up with him gone. Did she just go back to Alfea? Find Riven? And say what? What the fuck were you thinking? Why would you do something so reckless? So stupid? So... so... so... romantic???

“Musa?! Hi” Helia gasped, opening the door before she could knock. Musa lowered her arm, grasping at her bag’s strap tightly. “Looking for Riven?”

Musa was surprised to find that she’d started moving, and that her absentminded walking had led her right to dorm 307 – the guys’ dorm. Her subconscious had decided for her: she would go see him. Musa raised her arm to knock, but she hesitated. What if he thought it was weird that she’d shown up right after his discharge from the infirmary? Or that he was freaked out by the thought of her being by his side every day? No, he’d risked his life for her. He’d be happy that she was there with him. …That you’ll come back, you’ll come back... to me. That’s what he’d said before their groups had split at the cave entrance; he would be happy to see her. She’d knock. Just one deep breath and...

Musa nodded dumbly. She didn’t know why she’d suddenly lost the ability to speak; it wasn’t as if the entirety of Magix wasn’t aware of her feelings for the angry specialist at this point. They’d already gone on a date for crying out loud. Her eyes had drifted down to the dark brown sketch pad in Helia’s hand as she nodded, but she forced them back up to meet his. “Yeah... Is he here?”

“No. I think he’s in the back courtyard.” Musa thanked Helia and began to make her way back down the corridor. She turned to ask Helia if Riven had said anything about, well, anything, but her in particular, but the artist was already halfway down the hall in the opposite direction. Not that it mattered; Riven wasn’t the kind to talk about stuff and the odds of him feeling particularly chatty when he was in pain were not good. Logically Musa knew that the odds of him explaining why he’d jumped to her were minimal too, but she needed to ask anyways.

Her pace sped up to just short of running as she made her way down to the back courtyard. Red Fountain’s new building had three courtyards. The most magnificent one, the front courtyard, was at the top of the school overlooking the forest with the city of Magix visible in the distance of the Southern side. The central one was halfway down the building inside the four gushing waterfalls and contained nothing but training fields. The back courtyard was at the base of the building at ground level. It was made up of the ruins of the old Red Fountain and where the students mostly hung out when they stayed on campus. What could be salvaged of the old brick building had been turned into courtyard décor – picnic tables, benches, stools – and, most notably, the large wall that ran along the edge of the forest. Tecna had questioned if the wall was structurally sound when they’d first seen it, but Sky assured them it was.

When she made it to the crowded yard, her pace slowed a bit. She wasn’t worried about missing him – there was no doubt in her mind she’d be able to pick him out in a crowd – but she didn’t want to appear like she’d been searching for him frantically when she did find him. She took a quick look through the crowded parts, opting instead to search the more secluded areas thoroughly. She knew Riven; he wouldn’t want to be in the packed areas.

She found him in the front corner closest to the forest, next to one of the gates that led to one of the many footpaths that meandered through Gloomy Wood. He was seated atop the wall, leaning back on the arch of the gate. Musa’s eyes flitted to the open iron gate, wondering what the purpose of the gate was if they were just going to leave it open. Then, just as quickly as her eyes had traveled to the gate, they were back on him. It seemed natural at this point to be watching him if he was in the vicinity. No matter how hard she tried not to spend all her time admiring and observing him, she seemed to be eternally doomed to have her eyes find him. It wasn’t her fault he was so fucking beautiful. Especially right now, sitting there with the back of his head leaning against the wall and his eyes closed. His arms rested on his stomach where he’d been hit – she could see the bandage poking out under his shirt – and one leg propped up while the other dangled off the wall. He looked so comfortable and peaceful. It was unfathomable how easily he made her stomach do flips, it –

Wait a minute.

What the fuck was he doing on top of the wall? There was no way to get up there except to boost yourself up. That wasn’t ‘taking it easy’.

“Hi” she said loudly, butterflies having turned to annoyance. It was bad enough that he’d risked his life jumping in front of her, did he also have to risk worsening his injuries?!

Riven’s eyes snapped open and when he looked at her, it was obvious he hadn’t been expecting to see her. Their eyes met briefly as he stuttered out a M-Musa… Hi. He lowered his leg, trying to hide the way he flinched in pain at the movement. Musa dropped her bag and stepped forward to help him as he slid himself down, but he brushed her off. Stubborn ass.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine, you know, considering…” he shrugged, motioning towards his abdomen.

“Right…” Musa fiddled with her ring – a cheap mood ring she and Bloom had gotten at the fair a few months back – as she tried to formulate a coherent thought or sentence. How was it that she still found herself stupidly tongue-tied around him? He knew how she felt; she knew he felt the same. They’d already kissed and gone on a date. They would’ve gone on another already if fucking fake Avalon hadn’t kidnapped Bloom. Logically, there was no reason for her brain to turn to mush anymore.

Her eyes snapped up to Riven’s face. The bandage that had been around his head wasn’t there anymore, leaving the scar and bruising on his temple visible. His mouth was drawn as his eyes raked over her. He was assessing her; she could see his mind working as his eyes roamed over every visible inch of skin. “How are you?”

“Good. Completely unharmed... thanks to you.” You fucking moron. He should know by now that her fairy form offers her an extra layer of protection that non-magical beings don’t have. He should know that the skimpy outfit is deceptive.

He brushed it off. Riven. The cocky asshole. He brushed it off. Like risking your life – quite literally almost sacrificing it – was nothing more than passing the salt at the dinner table. “Really. Thank you. You didn’t-“

And he laughed at Timmy for being nervous around Tecna. What a goof. “I’ve been here everyday…”

“It’s nothing. Not for…” Riven trailed off. She wished he would finish the sentence, but she knew where it was going. You. Not for you. Would it kill him to give her any sort of sign of liking her? She knew he did, but was it really so hard for him to say: It’s no big deal, Musa. I’d do anything for you. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting to, um, see you h-here…”

If she could burn the memory in her mind and pull it out whenever she felt down, that would be the most incredible thing. The way his eyes widened in surprise only to soften drastically a few seconds later. The small smile that played on his lips that he tried – and failed – to suppress. The redness in his cheeks. He was perfect. “Oh?”

“I wanted to know you were… okay.” Gods, the way he was looking at her made Musa want to close the space between them and never let him go. But she needed to know. It would eat at her until she had an answer, so she dove. “Why’d you do it?”

“Huh?” He cocked his brow curiously. He couldn’t possibly be that daft? What could she possibly be asking about besides him using his body as a shield?

“Why’d you jump in front of me?” she demanded, her patience already starting to thin.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does! Riven, you could have died! You…” almost did. Musa stopped herself from saying it aloud. She didn’t know if Riven knew he’d been on the brink of death and, frankly, she didn’t want to think about that. One of the advantages – and occasional disadvantages – of having sound-based powers was that her hearing was so much stronger than the average person’s; she could hear the faintest of sounds with enough concentration. Like a heartbeat. Like his. Loud and erratic at this moment, but faint and barely existent after he’d fallen. Musa had no idea how he’d survived, only that somewhere in the background the spell that had been put on Bloom went away, there’d been a bright glowing light in Musa’s peripheral vision and then Riven’s heart had started to gain strength.

“So could you. Just let it go, Musa” he bit back. The fucking goddamn stubborn asshole.

“No! I need to know.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Riven started to walk away from her, but she was determined not to let him. She would have her answer. She needed her answer. Maybe that made her as stubborn as him – no, it definitely did – but she was known for being stubborn and she was fine with that. Musa stepped in front of him, blocking him from the path that would lead back to the courtyard.

“It does matter!”

“No.”

“Yes, Riven. We... I...” Her voice started to break and it took a few seconds before she managed to finish the sentence. Musa would usually do everything she could to avoid someone knowing how sensitive and emotional she really was, but frankly, she was past caring now. Riven had already seen her break before anyways. And she wanted him to know how much she cared and how worried she’d been. “I could’ve lost you.”

“Well, you didn’t” he dismissed with a shrug. There was no way he could be so careless with his life. It infuriated her to think that being moments away from death was something he took so nonchalantly.

“But I could have!”

“But you didn’t so it doesn’t matter.”

“Why are you being so fucking stubborn? I just want to know why you thought that jumping in front of me was-”

“Musa! For fuck’s sake. Just drop it” Riven snapped. She’d never had him snap at her before – Stella, Brandon, Sky (multiple times), even Timmy once. Never her. His snapping didn’t scare her, but rather fueled her and made her more determined to get an answer.

“No! Just fucking tell me instead of shutting me out. You risked your life for me. Why? I need to know; I deserve to know. You have no idea how much knowing that you could’ve died for me has been eating at me. How much-”

“It’s because I’m in love with you!” Riven’s eyes went wide as soon as the words slipped out. He opened his mouth to speak - to backtrack or explain – but no words came out. Musa was so surprised by the outburst – and more specifically, it’s content – that she had to take a step back to steady herself. Her jaw dropped and she tried to form a coherent thought, but she couldn’t.

He loves her.

He’s in love with her.

Riven is in love with her.

“I... I have to go.” Riven took off through the gate at much faster speed than she’d anticipated from someone who’d been seriously injured not even two weeks ago. Musa allowed herself a few seconds to blink away the residual shock, something that she regretted once she realised that he was out of her line of sight by the time her head was clear.

“Fuck” she muttered before taking off after him. She followed the path for a few hundred meters before deciding that she wasn’t going to find him on foot; that, knowing Riven, he’d probably strayed off the path specifically to make it harder for her to find him.

Ignoring her frustrations with Riven and his inability to face any potentially emotional or uncomfortable moments, Musa took to the skies. She forced herself to focus on what he had said – even if it had been blurted out. I’m in love with you. The butterflies in her stomach still fluttered to life every time she thought about it – and she’d been replaying the moment in her mind the entire time she’d been walking.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that she found him sitting at their spot. A small clearing in the middle of the forest – about a half hour walk from both Alfea and Red Fountain – with a ledge that overlooked the lake. Musa had found it last year after a fight with Stella that had resulted in her storming away. Riven had known about it for years before, using it as sanctuary anytime he needed peace for most of his teen years, if not all, she wasn’t entirely sure. They’d met here multiple times over the last year. Most of the time it hadn’t been on purpose, they’d just both happened to need space from the people around them. And what better way to be away from others than together.

Musa landed behind him as quietly as she could. She wanted a few seconds to admire him. She wanted to admire the broadness of his shoulders and the sculpt of his body. The way his maroon hair slicked back and the baby hairs tickled the nape of his neck. She admired his high cheekbones and angular chin. Finally, his soft, full lips. Gods, she wanted to kiss those lips so badly.

The lips of the man that loves her.

“Riven…” Musa stepped forward tentatively, changing out of her fairy form and back into the loose black pants and baggy cropped red t-shirt she’d thrown on haphazardly that morning. She saw the way his shoulders tensed, but he didn’t answer so she sped up. When she reached him, she sat in front of him, folding her legs under her. “Riven?”

His hands were balled into fists that he tapped on the ground nervously as he refused to meet her eyes. Musa reached her hands out and grabbed his, forcing them open so that they would hold hers back. She requested that he look at her. When he didn’t, she pulled her hand out of his grip – he’d been surprisingly quick to take her hand given how adamant he was about avoiding her gaze – and gently turned his head to look at her. “Look at me, Riven” she said in a forceful voice that denied the gentility of her touch.

“I-“ he started.

“I love you, too.”

“Really?” The surprise in his voice nearly broke her heart. She knew Riven came with a whole slew of issues, but she was still surprised that cocky, arrogant Riven didn’t deem himself worthy of being loved. But regardless of what he thought, he was loved.

By her.

She loved him.

She was in love with him.

“Gods help me, yes, really. I love you.” Saying it felt like a weight lifted off her shoulders. She’d been in love with him for so long now and, until recently, she never thought she’d get to tell him. Part of her wanted to the moment they first kissed in the Wildlands, but she knew how comfortable he was with emotion – that was, not at all – and she didn’t want to scare him away so she said nothing.

Riven’s hand pulled away from hers and he brought it up to touch her cheek. He’d given her no sign of relationship – they had to be in one now, right? – in public, so she was always surprised when he was soft in private. Especially the first kiss – after she’d confessed her feelings for him in what, she was willing to admit, was probably the worst timed confession ever – when they were packing up their stuff on the beach. She’d pulled him aside, driven to talk to him about the confession by Brandon’s silent nagging, but realised when she had him in front of her that no words would explain her feelings properly, and it certainly wasn’t the right moment for a song. So, she kissed him. He responded positively, so she took that as her sign to pull him in more. The kiss was wonderful, but more so was the way everything about him softened – his eyes, his touch, his posture, everything. Like he had so much love to give, he just needed someone willing to receive it.

This time was different. Riven was the one to initiate; he was the one to use his hand to bring her head forward. There were no words to describe the way she lit up when they kissed – her lips, her mind, her heart, body and soul; all of her felt like it was coming to life after an eternity of nothingness.

The hand on her cheek slid into her hair, deepening the kiss. Riven’s other hand slid out of hers and landed on the small of her back. With very little effort on his part, he pulled her more and more into him until she was straddling his lap and pressed up against him. Musa brought her hands up to rest on his chest, sliding one of them up to wrap her arm around his neck and pull him closer, if it was even possible.

When they pulled apart for air, Musa rested her forehead against Riven’s. Violet met blue in the sweetest gaze. Musa offered Riven a gentle, sincere smile that he returned, making her heart turn to love-struck mush. They stayed like that for a few minutes until he spoke.

“Did you mean it?” he whispered so low that she almost missed it.

“I do. I love you, Riven.” Musa planted a kiss on his forehead that made him smile even wider. His arm moved down her body to wrap around her waist so that she was fully locked into his embrace. Riven had never looked so genuinely happy and at-ease in the two years she’d known him and it warmed her to know she was the one that made him feel like that. His forehead and eyes found hers once more as he whispered: “I love you, Musa.”

#winx club #winx #winx musa #winx riven #rivusa #muri #oneshot #prompt #canon compliant

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wornoutmouse · 4 years ago

Note

Can you please do a Midnight x Reader x Aizawa? After the one we’re the reader was stuck in elevator, my mind has been racing with the idea.

When I tell you my ability to focus was so bad while writing this one it’s not even funny. But alas these requests are to help me practice when I have to write random stuff in college

After the first initial “meeting” between you and Aizawa, you two came to an understanding. And by understanding you mean he would find you after class and fuck you behind a random closet or classroom. You felt the slightest bit cheap as you slipped your panties over your used cunt, but you still could “feel the love” as Aizawa walked you to your dorm room for the rest of the evening.

Something that you couldn’t help but notice, however, was the way pro-hero Midnight began showing a little more than a passing interest in the relationship that you and the hero teacher had shaped for each other.

Often she’d stop the two of you on your weekly path back to your quarters with baseless conversation as her hands conveniently found themselves touching you in some shape or form. “Y/n, my young hero friend, you are looking absolutely delectable today!” You laugh tiredly as Midnight slung her arm over your shoulder.

As the two of you walked, Midnight busied herself with small talk. The feeling of her thumb tracing the skin on your neck sent tremors down your spine and it took inner strength for you not to react when the rough pad of her finger dragged against a far-from-faded hickey left behind by her colleague.

“What’s with the stiffness my dear?” She mumbled out lowly against your ear with a small smirk on your face. You ignore her as you walk into your room and thank her for the company. A chill of both fear and slight curiosity overtook your features as a knowing look crossed the woman’s face.

These passing interactions went over your head completely as weeks went by and for a while, the strange behavior was completely forgotten in your mind. It only came to your attention again when you entered your room and found both teachers of interest waiting for you in your room.

It was silent as you sat your book bag next to your closet. Aizawa was leaning against your left wall while Midnight was seated on your bed, legs crossed in elegance. “What’s going on in here?”

Shouta looks at Midnight in a way to signal her silence for now. “Nemuri and I want to propose an.... experiment of sorts.” The way they were both looking at you left little to the imagination regarding what these ‘experiments’ would entail.

Midnig- Nemuri, sat up straighter with renewed interests as her dark purple eyes raked over your form. “You just don’t realize how long I’ve been thinking of sinking my teeth in a spry young thing like yourself!” You were taken aback due to the unexpected statement.

Aizawa shrugged off his jumper while watching you venture further into your room. The atmosphere was heavy, and from your hero training, you could tell both bodies were tense as if waiting for you to bolt at any minute. The average person would in most circumstances, but you felt a tremor of excitement from the thought of a new experience.

You confidently walked towards Nemuri, placing your hands on her shoulders as you came to straddle her. “Oh, we have a passionate one on our hands!” Aizawa’s deep chuckle could be heard from behind you, distracting you for just enough time that Nemuri could pull you closer. “Well we’ve been screwing long enough, it would be a shame if she was still jumpy.”

Her hands were different from the familiar ones of Shouta’s that you had come accustomed to. While his hands were large and battle-worn, hers were soft and petite but still managed to hold the same power a great hero should.

Nemuri wasted no time fondling your plump ass as her eyes studied you predatorily. Outside your line of sight, Aizawa had settled down on a small stool you had in the corner of your room. The lower half of his jumper was still pulled up his legs with only his dick being in view. Neumuri kissed you deeply and you can faintly taste a sweet lip bomb on her mouth.

When you pull away, a small smirk is rested on her plump lips as she licks them. Leaning to look behind you she sends Shouta a look, “You mind if I hinder our darling a bit?”

��“Do whatever you want but I am getting impatient.” Nemuri wasted no time shoving you off her lap and pushing you back down on the bed. Delving her hand in her cleavage, she pulls out a dark blue fabric. Getting the message, you scoot closer and relax as you felt warm silk being tied around your eyes.

The loss of one sense, heightened others, making the room seem larger than it had before. Your clothes are removed one by one making a small noise as it crumples to the floor. Sitting naked in a room you can’t see, as hands roam your body like a map. You feel them slide along your slick ponytail that had long since become frayed from sweat.

Your legs are raised to rest on presumably Nemuri’s shoulders and you reflexively look down though your sight was hindered. A shiver crawled up your spine from her warm breath hitting your thighs. The mattress dips next to you and your head is turned with a firm hand, “Open your mouth.” You smirk, “I don’t even get a please?”

Aizawa grunts and his thumb tapped your chin impatiently. You open your mouth, allowing your tongue to rest over your bottom teeth, and no time is wasted when Aizawa rubs the head of his dick on your wet muscle. An equally wet muscle is pressing against your ass and you make a noise of confusion.

Nemuri’s silky voice is heard slightly muffled, “Relax, and let me take care of you dear.” Her request is followed as you allow Aizawa to turn your head more in order to push his cock deeper inside. You wrap your lips around his shaft but your face is tapped again, “Don’t suck, just let me use your throat.”

A slight huff is all you can do before relaxing your jaw and letting him buck his hips against your chin. The salty musk emanating off of him was familiar and you quickly fell into your comfortable position as a breathing fleshlight.

Aizawa’s movements were lazy and self-pleasuring but Midnight had other plans. The rapid movements her tongue made were short yet precise as it coaxed your clit from under its protective hood. She could feel your heartbeat on her tongue every time she dragged the rough muscle over the fleshy button so it was only so long until your pussy was wet enough to start painting her face and chin.

Nevertheless, she continued fascinated by your personal fragrance and taste.

Two pairs of predator-like eyes gazed at your lax body as it sat poised with feminine grace. You had soft curves in all the right directions with a nice squish factor. The feeling of strong trained legs on Nemuri’s shoulders, gave her a sense of duty and power when they began to twitch every so often.

Atop your head, Aizawa’s fingers twitched with the urge to clench hair too gelled down to breakthrough. “Oh, your mouth is so damn sexy and hot for me.” Nemuri giggled, stopping for a breath, “I don’t know how you don’t spend time down here for hours.” Your eyes were half-closed as your lust-ridden state forced your eyes to only focus on the black abyss the silk cloth around your eyes.

The rumbling sound you made as Nemuri returned to your cunt, vibrated Shouta’s balls making them tighten as he spurted hot cum down your throat. You swallowed it as you were taught long ago and wait for further instructions. Aizawa would be out of commission having already come twice today so now you were at the mercy of the fragrance hero.

Licking her lips, Neumuri sucked on her fingers making them slick with saliva before pressing them inside you all the way to the knuckle. Her hands poked and prodded with every twist of her wrist as she switched from rubbing your wall to searching for your most sensitive spots. “Shouta dear, can you please get me my things.”

Behind you, still on the bed, Aizawa grumbled, “You get it yourself woman.” Nemuri huffed with a pout you couldn’t see and you clenched down as her fingers exited you. The shuffling movement from every corner made you more aware of your vulnerable position. You squeaked as a calloused hand came down with a hard slap before its respective finger resumed Nemuri’s pace.

Your back arches as you grinding against his hand behind for stimulation against your thriving clit. You can hear a liquid being squeezed out of a bottle but your focus is taken once again as Aizawa’s other hand pinches at your nipple.

You turn your head to follow the steady noise of footsteps coming closer. A faint sweet smell filled your nose, “What is that?” Lips press gently against yours, Nemuri moans as she caresses your bottom lip with her tongue. “Just a relaxer my dear, no need to fret.”

As the scent got stronger, your skin felt warmer, the constant circles Aizawa’s finger rubbed onto your clit felt like flames. Your back arched and sweat gathered on your brow. “She’s getting very sensitive.” Aizawa chuckled. From behind you could feel his interests peeking in thoughts of another round.

Your hips bucked uncontrollably when you feel the head of Nemuri’s artificial cock rubbing against you. “Please!” You rolled your eyes behind your blindfold at the sound of your teachers cooing at you mockingly.

Midnight positions her strap against your twitching hole. Angling her hips, Midnight dips the head of it inside of you, watching you clench around it before she pulls it away. Aizawa’s fingers form a V surrounding your cunt as he rubs soothingly around it, no longer touching your clit directly. “You guys are assholes, please just fuck me.” You squirm against Aizawa, not appreciating the small minuscule touches they give you.

Your legs are hoisted further and your body scoots down. Ironically Aizawa’s exposed member rubs against your head in the process but you have no time to dwell on it once Nemuri thrusts inside of you. “Fuck!” Experienced hips are slamming against you as Midnight fucks you with precision. “Come on pretty girl, cum for Ms. Midnight.”

Your thoughts, jumbled by the constant in and out motions of Nemuri, and you are unable to decipher who the order is coming from. Either way, you find yourself yelling with pleasure. Aizawa turns your head to the side and you feel something wet, sliding along your face. “You’re being too loud.” It’s a brief struggle to get him in your mouth as the force of Nemuri’s thrusts forces your body up against Aizawa’s, but the taste of old cum is immediate yet weak on your tongue as you lick around his needy cock.

Nemuri leans over you more, grinding against you while simultaneously stimulating herself. High moans leave her soft pink lips and Shouta wastes no time devouring them. Teeth clatter together as Nemuri struggles to focus on fucking you. Aizawa knows just how to kiss Nemuri to make her legs weak. You whimper feeling her large chest against your face and you give up Aizawa’s cock in favor of sucking on her pert nipples. The sound of her pretty moans quickly becomes your favorite as fingers try once again to curl into your slicked hair, this time succeeding due to the sharp pain your teeth deliver from nibbling on the warm mounds.

Sitting up, Nemuri shimmies out of her harness. You both moan as she grinds your squishy mound against hers, combing your fluids in a sinful mixture. You grip her hips and raise yours to add more friction. The sound of your sweet essence flowing makes Aizawa throb painfully. However, instead of disrupting your impending orgasms, he helps by slotting his hand between the both of you causing the roughness of his hand to provide more friction. “Yes, Please.” “I’m so close.” is all that can be muttered.

The nonchalant look Aizawa gave, could only be described as loving admiration while he watched Nemuri hold your face ever so gently to be brought into a lustful kiss. It’s messy the way your tongues intertwine each other in fruitless attempts at muffling the sobs wracking your bodies as you cum over each other. Aizawa pulls his hand away and scoffs when he notices how wet his fingers are. Nemuri takes them and licks around his fingers to clean them while you watch from below with drooping eyes.

As tired as you both are, Aizawa makes it known that you weren’t done till he was done. The smell of sweat and musk is evident as Aizawa angles his lower body over your face. You open your mouth, sucking on his balls gently meanwhile Nemuri takes on the task of deep throating him. The view of two beautiful women such as yourselves sucking him off was almost too much as he tossed his head back in a low groan.

Inside your mouth, you can feel his balls go from twitching orbs to impossibly tight as he moaned brokenly above. The sound he makes is almost as pitiful as a squeak when Neumri sucks hard for the final time. Her throat is flooded with cum that she shamelessly swallows down despite the most likely off-putting taste. “Always a slut aren’t you Midnight?”

She wipes her face with the grace of a queen only to lick the excess cum off her fingers with the mannerisms of a commonplace whore. “Only for you Shouta.”

In the end, you never did get the blindfold taken off.

#aizawa x reader #midnight x reader #mha smut #black reader #mha x black reader

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nim-lock · 4 years ago

Text

Art Career Tips, 2021 Edition

Here’s an edited version of my 2019 answered ask, because... this feels relevant.

It is a problem of capitalism that folks equate their income as a judgement of their value as people; and let me preface. You are worth so much. You have inherent value in this world. Your income is not a judgement on who you are (plenty of billionaires are actively making the world worse). LARPing self-confidence will go a long way to helping you get paid more for your work, because clients will believe that you know what you are doing, and are a professional.

& real quick—my own background is that I’ve been living off my art since 2018. I went to art school (Pratt Institute). I work in a publishing/educational materials sphere, and a quarter of my income is my shop. Not all of this information may apply to you, so it is up to you to look through everything with a critical eye, and spot pick what is relevant.

So there are multiple ways of getting income as an artist;

Working freelance or full-time on projects

Selling your stuff on a shop

Licensing (charging other companies to use your designs)

This post primarily covers the freelance part; if you’re interested in the other bits there is absolutely info out there on the internet.

IF you are just starting (skip to next section if not applicable) dream big, draw often (practice helps you get better/more efficient), do your best to take "a bad piece” lightly. You’re gonna RNG this shit. At some point your rate of “good” works will get higher. Watch tutorial videos & read books. A base understanding of “the rules”; anatomy, perspective, composition, color helps you know what the rules are to break them. This adds sophistication to your work. One way you can learn this stuff is by doing “studies”—you’re picking apart things from life, or things other people have done, to see what works, and how it works.

Trying to turn your interests into a viable career means that you are now a SMALL BUSINESS; it really helps to learn some basic marketing, graphic design, figure out how to write polite customer service emails; etc. You can learn some of this by looking it up, or taking skillshare (not sponsored) classes by qualified folks. Eventually some people may get agents to take care of this for them—however, I do recommend y’all get a basic understanding of what it takes to do it on your own, just so you can know if your agent is doing a good job.

Making sure your portfolio fits the work you want to get

Here is a beginner portfolio post.

Research the field you’d like to get into. The amount people work, the time commitment, the process of making the thing, the companies & people who work for them.

Create work that could fit in to the industry you’re breaking into. For example, if you want to do book cover illustration, you draw a bunch of mockup book covers, that can either be stuff you make up, or redesigns of existing books. If you’re not 100% sure what sort of work is needed for the industry, loop back into the portfolios of artists in a similar line of work as whatever you’re interested in, and analyze the things they have in common. If something looks to be a common project (like a sequence of action images for storyboard artists), then it’s probably something useful for the job.

CLIENTS HIRE BASED ON HOW WELL THEY THINK YOUR WORK FITS WHAT THEY WANT. If they’re hiring for picture books, they’re gonna want to see picture book art in your portfolio, otherwise they may not want to risk hiring you. Doesn’t have to be 100% the project, but stuff similar enough. If you aren’t hired, it doesn’t mean your work is bad, it just wasn’t the right fit for that specific client.

If you have many interests, make a different section of your portfolio for each!

Making sure you’re relevant

Have a social media that’s a little more public-facing, and follow people in the career field you’re interested in. Fellow artists, art directors, editors, social media managers; whoever. Post on your own schedule.

Interact with their posts every so often, in a non-creepy way.

If you’ve made any contacts, great! Email these artists, art directors, editors, former professors, etc occasional updates on your work to stay in touch AND make sure that they think about you every so often.

Show up to general art events every once in a while! If you keep showing up to ones in your area (when... not dying from a sneeze is a thing), folks will eventually start to remember you.

Industry events & conferences can be pricey, so attend/save up for what makes sense for you. Industry meetups are important for networking in person! In addition to meeting people with hiring power, you also connect with your peers in the community. Always bring a portfolio & hand out business cards like candy.

Active job hunting

Apply to job postings online.

If interested in working with specific people at specific companies, you could send an email “I’d love to work with you, here’s my portfolio/relevant experience”, even if they aren’t actively looking for new hires. Be concise, and include a link to your work AND attached images so the person reading the email can get a quick preview before clicking for more.

Twitter job postings can be pretty underpaid! Get a copy of the Graphic Artists’ Guild Handbook Pricing & Ethical Guidelines to know your rate. I once had a twitter post job listing email me back saying that other illustrators were charging less, and I quote, “primarily because they’re less experienced and looking for their first commission”. This was not okay! For reference, this was a 64-illustration book. The industry rate of a children’s book (~36 pages) is $10k+, and this company’s budget was apparently $1k. For all of it.

Congrats you got a job! Now what?

Ask for like, 10% more than they initially offer and see if they say yes. If they do, great! If not, and the price is still OK, great! Often company budgets are slightly higher than they first tell you, and if you get this extra secret money, all the better for you.

Make sure you sign a contract and the terms aren’t terrible (re: GO GET THE Graphic Artists’ Guild Handbook Pricing & Ethical Guidelines)

Be pleasant and easy to work with (Think ‘do no harm but take no shit’)

Communicate with them as much as needed! If something’s going to be late, tell them as soon as you know so they aren’t left wondering or worse, reaching out to ask what’s up.

And if all goes well, they’ll contact you about more jobs down the line, or refer you to other folks who may need an artist, etc.

Quick note about online shops/licensing and why they’re so good

It’s work that you do once, that you continuously make money off of. Different products do well in different situations (conventions vs. online, and then further, based on how you market/the specific groups you are marketing to), so products that may not do well initially may get a surge later on.

Start with things that have low minimum order quantity and are relatively cheap to produce, like prints and stickers.

If you are not breaking even, go back to some of the earlier portions of this and think about how you could tweak things as a small business. Ease of access is also very important with this; for example, if you only take orders through direct messages, that immediately shuts off all customers who don’t like talking to strangers.

Quick resource that you could look through; it’s the spreadsheet of project organizing that I made a while back

Licensing is when people pay you for the right to use your work on stuff they need to make, like textbooks or greeting cards. This is generally work you’ve already made that they are paying the right to use for a specified time or limited run of products. This is great because you’ve already done the work. I am not the expert on this. Go find someone else’s info.

“I am not physically capable of working much”/ “I need to pay the bills”

Guess who got a hand injury Sept 2020 that messed me up that entire month! I had a couple jobs going at the time that I was terrified of losing, but they were quite understanding when I told them I needed to heal. So: Express your needs as early as you know you need them. Also do lots of stretches and rest your hands whenever you feel anything off; this will save your health later. Like, the potential of a couple months of no income was preferable over losing use of my hands for the rest of my life.

This continues to apply if you have any other life situation. Ask for extra time. Ask for clarification. If you tell people ahead of time, folks are often quite understanding. Know how much you are capable of working and do your best not to overdo it. (I am.. bad at this)

Do what MAKES SENSE for your situation. If doing art currently earns you less money than organizing spreadsheets, then do that for now, and whenever you have the energy, break down some of the tips above into actionable tiny chunks, and slowly work at em.

The original ask I got in 2019 mentioned ‘knowing you’re not good enough yet’. Most artists experience imposter syndrome & self-doubt—the important thing is to do your best, and if anything, attempt to channel the confidence of a mediocre white man. If he can apply to this job/charge hella money for Not Much, then so can you!

Check out this Art Director tumblr for more advice!

Danichuatico’s Literary Agent guide

Kikidoodle’s Shop Shipping Tutorial

Best of luck!

–

Once again disclaimer this post is just the ramblings of a man procrastinating on other things that need to be done. I’ve Long Posted my own post so that it turns into mush in my brain if I try to read it, but I wrote this so I should know this content. If you got down here, congrats. Here’s a shrimp drawing.

Yee Ha.

My reference post tag My tip jar

#reference #artist information #UHHHHH I don't know man

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 4 years ago

Text

His children

(How did Davarax end up with his troubled children?)

“Davarax. A word.”

Slightly surprised, Davarax glances over as Mardsk walks towards him. The guy is one of the Teachers, one who rarely spoke to the Fighting Corps. Sure, Davarax had been a Teacher once too but that was years ago and most just consider him a Fighter now.

“What can I help you with, ner vod?” Davarax asks, curious.

Mardsk comes to a halt in front of him, seems to struggle for words and gives a big sigh before he just jumps into it. “Paz Vizla.”

Davarax frowns. The heir to the Vizla clan, he's seen the young boy around and knows he will one day be a valuable member of the Fighting Corps, judging by his size and love for battle. “What about him?”

“He's a problem.” Mardsk blurts out. “The boy is a bully. He keeps picking on my Spring Class, beats them up and terrifies them.”

Davarax' frown deepens and he crosses his arms thoughtfully. “Wait. Your Spring Class? Aren't they, what, three or four years older than him?”

“Yeah, so?” Mardsk replies with a slight edge to his voice. “The boy is a bully nonetheless. He's disruptive and constantly challenging my authority, thinking he's above the rules because he's a Vizla.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” Davarax does not like where this is going.

“You train him.” Mardsk plows on. “You have experience with difficult kids and you know she would approve of us keeping the Vizla clan quiet.”

Not liking Mardsk using his connection to her one bit, Davarax still doesn't reject the request right away. He's always had a weakness for the outcasts. “Let me talk to him...”

And true to his word, later that day, Davarax hunts down the kid. He finds him sitting in one of the study rooms, reading on one of the datapads there.

Paz Vizla is big, Davarax has no trouble seeing how he can take on and defeat children years older than himself, but there is nothing menacing about the young boy right now. He is devouring the information on the datapad, which a quick peek reveals to be Mandalorian history. Interesting.

“Hey.” Davarax gets his attention. “You know who I am?”

Paz looks up at him, slightly curious but completely self-assured. “Yeah. You're Davarax. You're-”

Davarax nods. “That's me. Pleased to meet you, Paz Vizla.”

Now Paz frowns and he sits up a little straighter. “What do you want?” There is a challenge in his words as well as in the insolent stare. He is his father's son, alright.

“I wanted to meet you.” Davarax sits on the desk next to him. “Because they want me to train you.”

“Figures.” Paz scoffs with obvious contempt. “Mardsk is a coward.”

Amused, Davarax tilts his head and scans the kid's body language. It's a wonderful mess of arrogance and insecurity. He's angry, but also clearly hurt by Mardsk's action. Not completely corrupted by his father, then. Good. “He just knows when he's out of his league. That's not a bad thing, ad'ika. It can save your life outside the Covert.” Davarax sees the youngster wobbling between the lingering hurt and the inferred compliment. “So, would you be okay with that? Me training you?”

Paz looks at him, scans him in return and leans back in his chair. “Why would you want to do that? You're on the Fighting Corps. You don't do teacher stuff anymore.”

Davarax shrugs. “I might make an exception for you.”

“For me? Why? Because I'm a Vizla?” Paz drawls, suspicious.

“No.” Davarax says. “Because I think you have a lot of potential and you will do great things for the Covert. I also think that maybe you need someone who understands you a little better to help that happen.”

Paz shifts uneasily on his chair, his gaze flickers and ruins his pretend arrogance. He swallows and makes himself meet Davarax' gaze. “And that's you?”

“That's me.”

“And who is to say you won't just hand me off to some other teacher?”

Davarax shakes his head. “I won't do that.” His words are calm and secure, no doubt whatsoever.

Paz considers it, then turns back to the datapad and shrugs. “Fine. Sure. Whatever.”

And just like that, Davarax had the first of what would be known as the Fearsome Four.

It takes a long time for him to gain Paz' trust and respect, but with a calm and steady approach, not responding to Paz' tantrums but rather making him use his words; the boy's energy is eventually channeled where it is meant to go.

It doesn't mean Paz stops getting into fights, not by a long shot, but now he at least goes after the ones capable of defending themselves and guilty of some kind of offense, and not just some random victim that crosses Paz' path.

Then comes the morning when Davarax hears a knock on the door to his quarters, opens it and finds another teacher standing there with a tight grip on a tiny, skinny boy's neck.

The boy stares sullenly at the floor, curly hair poking up at all angles, the neckline of his shirt pulled a little to the side and showing a prominent collarbone due to his skinniness. His tiny hands are clenched into tight fists. That is how Davarax meets Barthor.

Unlike Paz, Barthor doesn't show much emotion at being 'handed off' to a new teacher, but those eyes speak volumes. He is furious and filled with spite. Being small and skinny in a society that values strength and fighting abilities can't be easy, but he's been getting back at them in inventive and sometimes fire hazardous ways. Davarax could smell the stench of singed hair through his air filter when the teacher had appeared on his doorstep with the little culprit.

Barthor had pulled one stunt after another,a proper troublemaker, but what Davarax admires is the fact that they were never able to prove it was him. Not once. That speaks of intelligence. So he agrees to train him as well.

Where Paz uses anger and brute strength to intimidate, Barthor immediately tries to sneak his way into Davarax' brain and heart, mapping Davarax' mind to manipulate him while trying to act small and helpless to appeal to his protective instinct. Sneaky little thing. He's going to go far in life.

It turns out that once Barthor realizes that Davarax doesn't fall for his tricks, but treats him with respect and actually talks to him and not over him, the little one thaws and becomes his shadow.

It's kind of cute, really.

Paz isn't pleased at first, but decides the runt isn't a threat or a challenge so he ends up mostly ignoring Barthor, who keeps a wary distance in return. They focus on Davarax, not each other.

“Please...” A third teacher pleads some time later. He holds out his arm and pulls up the fabric and shows the painful mark there. “She bit me! I pulled her off a kid she was pummeling and she bit me. She held on for so long I considered prying her jaws open with a stick!” The man lowers his arm and shakes his head. “You gotta help me, Dav. Please!”

Now this one Davarax asks for some time to consider. He has heard a lot about Raga Saxon, have seen her in action, and she might be the one child he's not entirely sure he can help. He has no idea how to deal with that kind of volatile temper. There is fearless and then there is reckless.

Somehow Paz finds out that Raga's teacher has asked to move her to Davarax and the boy instantly starts to hassle him to say yes.

“She's awesome. She really is! You gotta see her fight.” Paz pleads, walking next to Davarax.

“I have seen that very thing. That is what worries me.” Davarax mutters. “There is no discipline to her. She's basically feral, Paz.”

“I know!” Paz' grin is the brightest Davarax has even seen on the boy. “As I said, she's awesome. You got to let her join us. I'll look after her, I promise. You won't even notice she's there. Please?”

Paz rarely asks for anything so Davarax promises him he'll think about it. And the next day, he stays hidden and watches Raga. He sees the energy crackling under her skin, the wild hair and her complete lack of fear. It's the kind of personality that can ruin a mission and get other Mandalorians killed, but then he sees her with Paz and observes, to his surprise, the other side to her. She 'is' capable of team work, she can be still and patient, and for some weird reason it seems like Paz is the one who brings that out in her.

Fine. She deserves a chance as well. She's a tough little fighter, like a Mandalorian should be. They just need to work on her mean streak.

Bringing Raga in changes the dynamics as she instantly goes after Barthor, like a predator sensing prey. Davarax hopes that Paz will put an end to it, but no such luck. The bigger boy just chews on his snacks and watches with lazy amusement. Davarax is on the verge of interfering when Barthor strikes back.

Raga's shrieks of fury echoes through the hallways, Barthor runs for his life, while Paz chews his snacks with lazy amusement, and Davarax struggles not to laugh. Yeah, Barthor is going to be fine. He doesn't need help.

It is almost a year later when he opens a hatch and finds a frightened boy staring up at him. His name is Din.

Davarax reaches out a hand, Din takes it.

When the request comes if Davarax can train Din too, there is a lack of teachers and Din is severely affected by the trauma he's been through, Davarax doesn't hesitate. He found the boy, he feels responsible for him.

And against all odds, Din is the glue that makes them all stick together.

Paz' protective instinct is triggered hard, Raga senses Paz' approval and actually behaves for long enough to realize she likes Din, and Barthor is so happy to no longer be the lone one against the other two that he reaches out a hand in friendship as well. And Din finds safety from his nightmares in their presence.

It shouldn't work. Not at all. But it does.

He even finds them, more than once, sleeping in a pile together.

And as they learn, as they grow, they keep amazing him and there's not a single day that goes by where he doesn't feel proud of them. They are difficult, yes, complicated, definitely, but they are good students and will do good things for the Covert, he knows this.

The others start referring to them as the Fearsome Four, but Davarax calls them his children and he knows in his heart that he will love them until the day he dies.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #the one-shots start coming and they don't stop coming #here have some fluff and some sad #Davarax

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thebookreader12345 · 4 years ago

Text

Identity Loss - Chapter Three

Chapter One Chapter Two

It had been about a week since my apparent accident, and my memories still hadn’t come back, no matter how much I tried to get them to resurface. Will was trying to help me out too. Whenever he wasn’t working, he was doing things that we used to love, or ordering foods I used to enjoy. The hope was that maybe something would click a memory, but so far, nothing had worked.

I groaned as the alarm clock next to be beeped for the hundredth time, and reached over to turn it off for good. I had been trying to get some more sleep, but every ten minutes, the alarm would blare in my ear, jolting me out of my sleep. Since that obviously wasn’t working out, I guess it was time for me to get up. I sat up and stretched my arms above my head, enjoying the feeling of stretching my stiff limbs. I then pushed the blanket off of my body and climbed out of the bed, slipping on the slippers that were right next to me. Padding out to the living room, a yawn escaped my lips, and just as it did, the front door to the apartment opened, and Will stepped inside.

“Hey,” Will greeted and set him stuff down before scanning me up and down. When he saw that I was still in my pajamas, he frowned. “Did you just wake up?”

“Uh, yeah. Why?” I question and run a hand through my hair, which was probably a mess at the moment, but I didn’t care.

“Y/N, it’s time for lunch,” Will noted.

“I reckon I didn’t use to sleep in this late,” I guess and make my way to the kitchen to make some coffee.

“No. You were more of an early bird. Are those my slippers?” Will quizzed as he glanced down at my feet. I looked down at the house shoes covering my feet, and a slight blush tinted my cheeks as I noticed that I was indeed wearing Will’s slippers.

“Oh. Uh, sorry,” I confess.

Will smiled. “No worries. You uh, you actually used to do that quite a lot.”

I stopped making coffee to turn and look at him. “What are you saying? Is this a repressed memory coming back or something?”

Will shrugged. “No idea. But it’s a start.”

“So, what are you doing back so early? You’re supposed to be at work,” I point out.

“Ms. Goodwin let me take a half day. I’ve got a bunch of plans for us,” Will told me. “We’re gonna head downtown to see some of your favorite spots and then we’re going to-”

I cut Will off as a bit of anger swelled up inside of me. “What’s the point, Will? Ordering all of my favorite food didn’t work, and neither did doing all of my favorite activities, so this probably won’t either. Lets just face it. I’m never going to get my memories back.” I walked over to the couch and took a seat, pulling my knees up to my chest. Seconds later, Will did the same. He sat down on the cushion next to me and placed a comforting hand on my knee.

“Look, I know it may seem like you’re never going to remember anything. But trust me when I say that you will get your memories back. It may be today or next month, but it will happen. I’ve seen plenty of patients have similar accidents, and they’ve all come back, so I have hope that you’ll do the same. I just, I need you to have hope too,” Will explained.

I took a deep breath, and all at once, the anger seemed to leave my body. This situation felt very familiar; Will trying to calm me down just by using his words. The little moments like these made me feel connected to my past self, and in a way, they filled me with content.

“Okay,” I murmur. “What have you got planned for us today?”

...............................................

Stop One: Buckingham Fountain

I stared up at the fountain in front of me, contemplating why my former self liked to come here. The fountain was beautiful in a majestic kind of way, but the current me would never go out of my way to come here.

“What’s the point of this place?” I ask Will, who was standing beside me admiring the fountain.

“It’s a fountain,” Will stated as if it were obvious. “You make a wish and throw a coin into the water, hoping that it will come true.”

“And I used to believe in this?” I question.

“A little, yeah,” Will confessed. “We came here on our first date, and you threw a coin into the fountain, wishing that our relationship would keep growing and stay strong forever. And look where we are now. We’re supposed to be getting married in a few months.” Will then took a quarter out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Here. Make a wish. Maybe it’ll come true.”

I hesitantly took the coin from his hand, staring down at the dull metal disc in my palm. I closed my fingers around the quarter and shut my eyes, thinking about the wish I wanted to make. But it didn’t take me that long to come up with one. I wish I could remember my old life. And with that, I tossed the coin into the fountain, watching as it sank to the floor where it settled in with all of the other wishes.

Stop Two: The Bean

I’ll admit, the Bean was pretty cool. It was just a large sculpture of a bean, but the way it was covered in one big mirror was what made it special. I loved the way you could see Chicago’s many skyscrapers from the reflective sides of the figure, and I also enjoyed the way the light bounced off of the statue.

“Wow,” I breathe out. “This is amazing.”

“Yeah. The old you used to think so too. You always came here when you wanted to be alone. Whether it was because of a tough shift at work or because you needed to make a big decision, you’d be here,” Will told me.

“Why do I get the feeling I used to come here after we had a big fight?” I question and turn to face Will.

Will laughed softly. “Because you did. One day during shift, we had a heated argument over the course of treatment for a patient, and after work you came here. I gave you some alone time before I drove down here so we could talk things out. We eventually figured things out, but that was the moment I knew I never wanted to lose you.”

Stop Three: The Riverwalk

The Riverwalk was filled with families and tons of smiling faces. There were college kids sitting around studying, parents watching their children talk excitedly, and even couples strolling alongside the river. I glanced over at Will, who was walking next to me, and my eyes traveled down to his hand. All I could think about was what it would be like to hold his hand and lace our fingers together. My eyes also caught sight of the engagement ring sitting on my finger. I kept it on, hoping it would help me remember my past life, but it didn’t do much seeing as I still had no memories.

“It’s a shame I can’t remember any of these places,” I say. “It seems like we had some good memories in all of them.”

“One of the perks of living in Chicago; there’s always something to see or do,” Will noted. Again, my gaze shifted down to Will’s hand, and the desperation to take hold of it overpowered me, so I did it. I reached over and took his hand in mine, entwining our fingers. Will didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to in order for me to understand that he didn’t mind. He didn’t pull his hand away, and he gave my hand a small squeeze, so we kept our hands locked together as we walked.

Stop Four: Lakefront Trail

“Here we are. The last stop,” Will announced as he parked the car. I climbed out of the passenger seat and took in the lake in front of us. The trail in front of us wasn’t as crowded as the Riverwalk, but every few seconds, someone either jogged by, walked along, or rode past on a bicycle. From where we were on the trail, the Chicago skyline stood in the distance, it’s tall buildings jutting into the bright sky. That’s when I recognized where we were. This was the Lakefront Trail, the same place where the engagement photo back at the apartment was taken.

“You recognize this?” Will asked me.

I nodded. “Yeah, but not from a memory. This is where that engagement photo in the living room was taken.”

“You actually picked out the destination,” Will spoke. “I wanted to do it on the beach, but you convinced me that this was a better spot.” For a few moments, the two of us stared at the horizon in silence, admiring the view. Finally though, I spoke up.

“Can I ask you something?” I question.

“Sure,” Will replied. “What’s up?”

“What happens if I don’t get my memories back?” I quiz.

“Y/N,” Will started, only for me to interrupt him.

“I’m serious, Will. Be honest with me here,” I plead. “What’s gonna happen to my career if I can’t remember anything? What’s gonna happen to us?”

Will sighed and kept his gaze trained at the lake in front of us. “I uh, I don’t know. I would love for you to get your memories back so that things could go back to the way they were before. And if that doesn’t happen, I guess you’ll have to start all over again. You know, figure out what you want to do. I don’t want to say this, but if that means we have to split up because you don’t want to be with me anymore, then so be it. I’m not going to force you to stay with me, and I’m definitely not going to force you to go back to Med if you don’t want to.”

“It’s funny that you bring that up. I remember everything I learned in med school to be a doctor. I could diagnose a patient right now if I wanted to, and I guarantee you that my diagnosis would be spot on. I don’t know why I can remember all sorts of illnesses and diseases, but not remember my life the way it was before, and that annoys me. All I want is for things just to go back to normal,” I let out.

“Yeah. Me too,” Will murmured. For a few more minutes the two of us stayed and took in the view, but Will soon turned his eyes away from the setting sun. “You ready to head back to the apartment?”

“Actually, there’s one more thing I want to do,” I declare and lean up, pressing my lips to his. All day, the one thing I wanted more than anything was to kiss Will and relish the way his lips feel against my own. And now, here I was doing just that. I cupped Will’s cheeks in my hands as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to his chest. One moment, I couldn’t remember anything, and the next, a rush of memories flooded my brain.

I remember Will and I’s first date at Buckingham Fountain, and the kiss we shared when he dropped me back off at my apartment. I remember staring at the Bean, hoping that it would help me figure out how to go home and face Will after we had an argument. I remember the countless walks Will and I shared on the Riverwalk. I remember taking the engagement photo here on the Lakefront Trail. And there were many more memories popping up in my head as well. Natalie, Maggie, and I drinking wine at on the couch in Nat’s house. Me helping Connor diagnose a cardio patient whose symptoms didn’t seem to fit any illness. April and I chatting away at the nurses’ station about our love lives. Will proposing to me in the lobby of Chicago Med. And I remembered my accident, the day my life went to hell.

“Y/N? You okay?” Will asked when he noticed that I had pulled away from him.

“Will, I remember. I remember everything,” I state. Will grinned widely and picked me up, spinning me around. When he placed me back on the ground, he swooped in and kissed me again, this time more passionately.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Will mumbled and leaned his forehead against mine. “I told you this would work.”

“Oh shut up,” I joke. “Mind if we head back to the apartment now? I’m kind of tired after today. Getting all of my memories back really wore me out.”

“Yeah. Of course. Lets go. There are so many things I want to you with you right now, but I think I can manage to hold them off until later. Lets go,” Will said and laced his hand with mine before leading me back to his car.

The Next Day...

“Will, the cafeteria is that way,” I point out as Will led me down a hallway towards the ED. I hadn’t eaten breakfast this morning, so I was pretty hungry at the moment.

“I know, but there’s something I’ve got to show you first. Come on,” Will ordered lightly. I continued following Will, and he led me all the way to the residents’ lounge, inside of which were all of my friends and co-workers.

“Welcome back Y/N!” they all shouted as Will and I entered the room.

I smiled at all of the people in front of me and turned to Will. “Did you do this?”

Will shook his head. “As much as I would love to take credit for all of this, it was Natalie and Maggie’s idea.”

“Well, I guess I should go and thank them. And say hello to everyone else,” I add. “But I will come find you later. I believe the day of my accident, we were interrupted just before we were about to do something. I’d very much love to continue that.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Now go and talk to everyone else. You’ve spent enough time with me,” Will exclaimed.

“Okay,” I mutter and lean up to place a quick peck on his lips. “I love you.”

Will grinned. “I love you too. Always have, always will.”

THE END

..........................................

And that’s the end of the story! I hope you all enjoyed it. I know I certainly did. Comment down below your favorite chapter out of the three, and also tell me your favorite part of the story. Thanks for reading!

_____________________

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#one chicago #one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #chicago med #chicago med x reader #chicago med imagine #chicago med imagines #will halstead #will halstead x reader #will halstead imagines #will halstead imagine #x reader #imagine #imagines #multi chapter #multi chapter fic #romance #amnesia

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